'Den dyre Kaabe' - a song from Queen Sophia's Song Book

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. ::