Torbens
datter og hendes faderbane
Vi
vare saa mange søskende smaa,
– under lide –
saa
aarlig faldt os faderen fraa.
Der
dagen han dages, og duggen den driver saa vide.
Om en søndag ad
aften skured de deres spjud,
– under lide –
om en mandag ad
morgen rede de saa vrede ud.
Der
dagen han dages, og duggen den driver saa vide.
Der
de komme for norden skov,
der
gik hr. Torben og holdt sin plov.
‘Her
gaar du hr. Torben, favr og fin,
jeg
vil nu have bod for frænde min.’
‘Jeg
vil give eder hus og gaard,
dertil
min datter, saa væn en maar.’
‘Vi
er ikke kommen for hus eller jord,
men
vi er kommen for dit hjerteblod.’
Saa
hugge de hr. torben saa smaa
alt
som løv, udi lunden laa.
Saa
rede de til hr. Torbens gaard,
ude
stod hans datter, den væne maar.
Ude
stod hans datter, saa smal som en vaand,
met
et guldkar paa hver sin haand.
Hun
skænked deri med lyst og spil,
hun
drak først sin faders banemand til.
‘Havde
jeg vidst, du havde været saa god,
aldrig
skulde jeg set din faders hjerteblod.’
‘Og
har I slaget min fader til død,
da
har I gjort mig saa stor en nød.’
‘Har
jeg ikke gjort vel mod dig,
da
skal du herefter have saa godt som jeg.’
Han
satte hende paa ganger graa,
saa
slog han over hende kaaben blaa.
Saa
red han over de sorte heder,
– under lide –
aldrig
saa hun sin fader mere.
Der
dagen den dages, og duggen den driver saa vide.
Torben’s
daughter and her father’s murderer
We
all were his offspring but barely,
– by the hillside –
when
we all lost our father so early.
The
day it is dawning, and dew it is drifting so worldwide.
On a Sunday evening
their spears they did sharpen,
– by the hillside –
On
a Monday morning they rode, their hearts hardened.
The
day it is dawning, and dew it is drifting so worldwide.
North of the wood rode
this fearsome band
and found Sir
Torben, tilling his land.
‘Ah,
handsome Sir Torben, with your consent,
To
avenge my kinsman’s my firm intent.’
‘For
this my house, my estate I’ll trade,
also
my daughter, so fair a maid.’
‘We
have not come here for house or for land,
Your
own heart’s blood is what we demand.’
They
hacked Sir Torben in pieces so small,
like
leaves in the grove they looked withal.
Then
off to Sir Torben’s estate they made
outside
stood his daughter, the fair, sweet maid.
Outside
stood his daughter,as slim as a wand,
with
a golden vessel in either hand.
She
filled them both full to quench their thirst,
she
toasted her father’s murderer first.
‘Had
I but known you were kind and good,
I’d
never have shed your father’s heart’s blood.’
‘If
my father you’ve killed, why then I confess,
You
are the source of my great distress.’
‘Should
I unkindly to you have been,
From
now on you’ll live just as well as me.'
He
placed her then on his ash-grey steed,
With
a blue cloak covered her in her need.
Then
rode he over the ink-black moor
– by the hillside –
Her
father – she saw him never more
The
day it is dawning, and dew it is drifting so worldwide.
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