Sir Buris and Christine

King Waldmar and Sophie his queen
Spake in their hall of fair Christine.

"My lord, be not my wish denied,
"Let fair Christine be Buris' bride.

"Thy sister she, my brother he,
"These two a noble match might be."

"Never, while me is granted life,
"Shall horse-thief take Christine to wife.

"She stands adorn'd with every grace,
"But stamped the groom' on his low face."

Pale grew as corpse the queen Sophie;
"And why this disrespect to me?"

"With angry hand she struck the board;
"I'll get revenge that churlish word."

King Waldmar marched to a foreign land,
And left his realm in Buris' hand.

With him went many a gallant knight
Sworn in his country's cause to fight.

To one amid this noble band
He gave Christine his sister's hand.

A mighty prince and gently bred
Was he who should his sister wed.

Sophie and Buris sat at board.
And much she thought of Waldmar's word.

"Now, Buris, hark, dear brother mine,
"Try to decoy this maid so fine."

Sir Buris stared, as spake the queen,
"But what can this, my sister, mean?

"A deed so foul I'll never do,
"As her for aught but bride to woo."

"To woo or wed her thou wert free,
"Had not my lord so jeer'd at thee."

With that she struck the board in ire;
"I rede thee do as I desire/'

Sir Buris cloak'd and left the queen,
And went to see the fair Christine.

Early and late he sued in vain,
The maiden's love he could not gain.

"Sir Buris, would you me mislead?
"Would Waldmar pardon such a deed?"

He turn'd with pallid cheeks away,
For much he loved that gentle may.

Sir Buris took his scarlet cloak,
And went to queen Sophie and spoke.

"To win a maid so good and chaste
"The bravest knight his breath would waste."

"A lover's part thou playest well,
"And knowest not a Runic spell!"

"I'll serve my lord till he return,
"Thy spells I'll never stoop to learn.

"Me, whom he left his realm to sway,
"Me his own sister lead astray!"

"Take in thy hands the Runes I write,
"Use them thyself this very night."

Those fatal Runes he duly spread,
Where the fair maid Christine must tread.

And all o'erwhelm'd with shame and woe
That night to Buris she must go.

She came and tapped with gentle knock;
"Sir Buris, rise, the door unlock!"

He rose in scarlet robe array'd,
And led within the lovely maid.

That night in Buris arms she passed,
Of health and happiness the last.

As month by month stole on, was seen
A change of shape in fair Christine.

She bade her maid in saddest tone
Come with her to the room of stone.

"Bring the five women in to me,
"And bring with them the queen Sophie.

"Run thou, my page, to yonder hall,
"Sir Buris seek, and hither call."

There on the threshold met the twain,
And told their mutual tale of pain.

Linked arm in arm and faint with woe,
They paced the chamber to and fro.

Now closed the king his yearns campaign,
And came with glory home again.

As at the door she saw him stand,
Gave him the queen her open hand.

The king looked round, "But tell me where,
"And why not here my sister fair?"

Beneath her mantle smiled the queen;
"Her for three months I've never seen."

"Were I the queen, I'd pains bestow
"To make my maids good manners know."

"Me she no longer will obey;
"She little cares for what I say."

"What of my sister dost thou tell,
"Who all her life behaved so well?

"That in the ston room she was laid,
"And bare a child, an infant maid."

"Hash!" said the king, and angry grew,
"Thy tale, Sophie, is all untrue."

"'Tis naught but sober truth I've said,
"Myself I saw her laid in bed."

Five gallant knights then call'd the king;
"Ride, and my sister hither bring."

The knights on Waldmar's errand sped,
But wished they rather had been dead.

They came and tapped with gentle knock;
"'Tis we, Christine; the door unlock."

Her maid got up and drew the pin;
"We pray you, may we enter in?"

"Enter you may this room of stone,
"But borne an infant here has none."

Full sad of heart Sir Peter grew;
"Would that thy words were only true!

"Rise, fair Christine, and dress," he cried,
"This night to your brother you must ride.

"Dress with all haste, make no delay,
"For home your brother came today."

"Then swathe my child in linen fold;
"Me she will never more behold.

"Rear her, my maids, in Christian lore;
"Sad is the fate for her in store.

"Call her the little 'Ingelille,'"
"My luck is like to play me ill.

"And thou, dear bower-woman mine,
"Bring to me here my gilded shrine."

The coins that stored in it were found,
She dealt to her faithful servants round.

To her she gave the largest share
Who should the little infant rear.

A goodly heap for her she piled
Kindly to treat her little child.

"Too well does every woman know,
"If I this ride can undergo;

"Will know, how ill in such a plight
"I'm fit to take a ride by night."

They rais'd her up so woebegone;
Like threads of gold her tresses shone.

The long rough ride so ill she bare.
She fainted on the chamber stair.

Up at the window laughed Sophie;
"Come hither now, your sister see."

She dandled little Knud and smiled;
"Rejoice, in Jesus' name, my child."

They lent her help to mount the stair;
"Lady, repose in Jesus' care."

She pass'd the door, she crossed her breast;
"Christ, on thy grace alone I rest."

When at the door he saw her stand,
King Waldmar held her forth his hand.

She gave him her's "And glad' said she,
"Am I that you at home I see."

Such grace to fair Christine he show'd,
That queen Sophie with anger glow'd.

King Waldmar fill'd a glass with wine,
"Now drink to me, dear sister mine.

"And hear, Christine, nor say me nay,
"Sing me of love some tender lay."

"Lovelays, my brother, know I none,
"I'll try to sing some other one."

"I'll have thee dance and sing thy lay,
"And make my guests a festive day."

The fair Christine began her song.
Behind her tripp'd a gallant throng.

While she so gaily danced and sang,
The king amid the dancers sprang.

He danced her in, he danced her round,
With all his trials nothing found.

He proved her much, he proved her long,
But nothing found in dance or song.

"Sophie my queen, rest on thee shame
"With lies to soil my sister's fame!"

"Now by God's holy word I swear,
"That she indeed a daughter bare/'

With that she seiz'd her, bared her breast,
And out a milky streamlet pressed.

The king with grief turn'd pale as clay,
And swoon'd Christine, and senseless lay.

"Thy wedding feast I thought was nigh,
"But thou this very night shalt die.

"Thou should'st have been a Prince's wife,
"This very night shalt end thy life.

"A death, as hard as death can be
"This very night shall light on thee."

Down on her knees she humbly pray'd;
"O brother, be thine anger stay'd."

"To such can I no mercy show;
"On earth thou shalt no longer go.

"For crime so insolent and great
"Naught less than death shall be thy fate.

"Unweeting all I promised thee
"To the King's son across the sea."

His little pageboy call'd the king;
"Hither five heavy scourges bring."

"Thou needest not four whips or five;
"One will not leave me more alive."

She knelt and pray'd on naked knee,
"Lord God, in mercy look on me."

As in his hand the whip he took,
With deepest sorrow Waldmar shook.

"O rise and help me, Queen Sophie;
"You and your brother ruin'd me."

"Dishonoured were my name and race,
"If I should plead for one so base.

"Nay let her death be so severe,
"It fill with terror every ear."

He scourg'd her, till upon the floor
Were trickling round her streams of gore.

She turn'd her to the queen and wept,
And fain beneath her robe had crept.

"O let me hide beneath your pall,
"For His sake, His, who died for all!"

In tears and anguish prayed Christine,
But spurn'd her back the cruel queen.

"So long, my brother, let me live,
"That I my last bequests can give.

"Take you my forts and all my lands,
"For life and death are in your hands.

"My child I give my gold so red;
"She'll yet avenge me, when I'm dead.

"The queen I give my silver'd knife,
"For she betrayed my tender life.

"Thee, Boris, too may God reward,
"That here I've had a fate so hard.

"So then my testament I've made;
"My brother, be thine anger stay'd.

"To Christ I yield my soul and die;
"None other friend on earth have I."

As "Fare ye well" she bade them all,
Wept every guest that sat in hall.

In tears both dame and maid were seen,
All save Sophie, the wicked queen.

So gently sank that rose to death,
In God's hand yielded up her breath.

'Twas then King Waldmar sorely griev'd.
And deep remorse his bosom heav'd.

"Sophie, a vicious wife thou art,
"That pity could not touch thy heart.

"On thee, Sophie, rest lasting shame!
"For what is done 'tis thou to blame.

"And now is dead this gentle rose,
"And where shall her poor corpse repose?"

"Toss her upon the Riber street,
"Where daily tramp my horses feet/'

"That triumph thou shalt never have,
"To prance thy horses o'er her grave.

"At Westerwick in cloister gloom
I'll leave her corpse and raise a tomb"

He buried her in solemn state,
And all his days be mourned her fate.

"rn now to a gloomy cell retire,
"And live debarred of light and fire.

"On me shall shine no beam of sun,
"Till penance for my sins I've done."

His page he then was heard to call;
"Sir Buris bring to the audience hall.

"Hark, Buris, what I say to thee;
"How hast thou kept thy faith with me?

"A vineyard gave I thee to keep,
"And bitter now the fruit I reap.

"Its fairest vine hast thou laid waste,
"And lifelong sorrow thou shalt taste."

Humbly Sir Buris bent him low;
"My lord, thy mercy on me show."

"Nay, but on thee shall be repaid
"The death that died th' unhappy maid."

"The direst vengeance, thou canst take,
"I'll gladly bear for her dear sake."

"His horse-thief eyes tear from his head,
"For he that lovely wife misled."

Tom from his head were both his eyes
Despite the queen his sister's cries.

They lopp'd him off the stirrup foot,
They lopp'd the dexter hand to hoot;

Then brought him on the castle green
To taunt and mock Sophie the queen.

With feign'd respect in courtly guise
They served her up her brother's eyes.

"This mighty lord, thy brother, see,
"Him who so princely great would be."

To forge a chain then bade the king.
And him to Westerwick to bring.

Eleven long years he there was kept,
But day by day to her tombstone crept;

And all his lands to Waldmar gave
Only with her to share her grave.

He died, was laid beside Christine;
But Waldmar ne'er forgave the queen.