Den
dyre kaabe
Thett war
skiønnen iomfrue,
hun ganger y
lunden saa ienne:
møder hinder
fouveren unger-suend
udi thi grønner
enge.
:: Alt om en somerssens morgenn. ::
‘Well møtt,
fowerenn ungen-suend,
udi thesse
grønner ennge!
thager y begis
wor kabe,
y reder oss enn seng
theraff!’
‘Ieg breder icke
min kabe under thig,
thend er aff
skarlagen grøenn:
bliffuer hun et
sind y dogenn bløtt,
hun rømper y huer
end søem.
Ieg breder icke
min kobe under thig,
hun er af
skarlagenn niu:
allenn stod meg
XV mark,
ieg kiøbtenn y
Stackholems biu.’
‘Mynn moder hun
bour her nør y by,
hun haffuer thi
bolster fem:
y bider meg,
fouveren unger-suend,
men ieg henther
oss ien aff dem!
Min moder hun
boer her nør y biu,
hun haffuer thi
bolster ni:
y bider meg,
fouvren unger-suend,
men ieg henther oss ien aff di!’
Hun slou kobenn
øffuer hanns hoffuit,
bad, hannd skulde
stannde och bide:
hun gick bourt,
hun kom icke igienn,
hun sueg hannom
under lide.
Hun slo kobenn
offuer hanns hoffuit,
bad, hannd skulde
bide enn stund:
hun gick bourtt,
kom aller igienn,
hun sueg hannom
mange fald.
Bourtt tha gick
thenn skiønne iomfrue,
saa hierthelig
hun loe:
hindis kabe thend
war aff gyldenn-støcke,
hindis kiorttell
paa iorden drog.
Hand stod ther y
dag, hannd stod ther y tho,
udi thi grønne
ennge:
icke kom thend
skiønne iomfrue
med kleder thill
thieris sennge.
Thett stod saa
fra paaske
och enndthill
pindtz-dags thide:
icke tha thuorde
thennd unger-suend
thill kierkenn
for thend iomfrue ride.
Thennd suend
hannd kom for kiercke-døer,
och hand thennd
iomfrue kiende:
‘Huor bleff the
goude wille, wy haffde thill-sammell?
hui fick thet saa
skiden en ende?’
‘Thett matt thu
thacke din kabe for,
hun war aff
skarlagen ny:
allen stod deg
femttann marck,
thu kiøbt-en i
Stackholoms by.
Thet matt thu
thacke din kabe for,
thu hagde then
alt saa kier:
hagde hun
bløffuen y dogen bløtt,
hun hagde rømpet
y huerende søm.
Hør thu, herre
Mognos!
alt om thu wilt
mig thro:
ieg bød theg
enganng ett hoffmandtz-bud,
thu thuord icke
thage ther-emod.
Hagde ieg werit
en skiøn unger-suend som thu,
och hagde meg en
iomfrue møtt:
hagde min kobe
werit aff gyllden-støcker,
y dogen thuorde
ieg hinder bløtt.’
:: Alt om en somerssens morgen. ::
The
costly cloak
There was a
beautiful maiden
she walks in a
grove on her own:
a handsome man
chances to meet her there
in green meadows
all alone.
:: All on a bright summer morning.::
‘Well met, you
fine and handsome young man,
out in these
meadows so green!
take you our
cloaks and make us a bed
that’s fit for a
king and his queen!’
‘My cloak I will
never spread under you,
it’s made of best
scarlet so green:
were it made the merest
bit moist by dew
it would come
apart at each seam!
My cloak I will
never spread under you,
of fine new
scarlet it’s wrought:
full XV marks by the
ell it cost –
in Stockholm town
it was bought.’
‘My mother lives
near in the town due north,
five cushions no
less does she own:
just wait for me,
you handsome young man,
while I fetch one
now for our throne!
My mother lives
near in a town due north,
nine cushions no
less does she own:
just wait for me,
you handsome young man,
while I fetch one
to grace our throne!’
Over his head she
spread his cloak,
she bade him wait
and stand still:
off she went, and
did not come again,
she tricked him below
the hill.
Over his head she
spread his cloak,
she bade him wait
for a while:
off she went, and
did not come again,
she tricked him there
with great guile.
Off the lovely
maiden went,
laughed at him then
with great mirth:
her cloak it was
of gold brocade
her kirtle it
touched the earth.
He stood there
one day, he stood there two,
out in the meadow
so fair;
the lovely maiden
ne’er returned
with clothes for
to line their lair.
So things stood
from Easter
right up to
Whitsuntide:
the young man all
that time for the maid
to the church did
not dare ride.
The young man
came then to the church,
where he
recognised the maid:
‘What became of
the goodwill we once shared?
why have I been
so betrayed?’
‘That you must
thank your fine cloak for
the one of new
scarlet wrought:
that cost you XV
marks by the ell
and in Stockholm
town was bought.
That you must
thank your fine cloak for,
that too dear to
you has been:
the one that if
moistened by the dew
would come apart
at each seam!
Just listen here,
Sir Magnus!
Believe it or
not, it’s true:
You did not dare
accept what I
most graciously
once offered you.
Had I been a handsome
man like you,
and a maiden I
had met:
though my cloak
had been of gold brocade
with dew I’d have
let it get wet.’
:: All on a bright summer morning. ::
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