Queen Dagmar’s Death

Queen Dagmar lay in Ribe sick,
To Ringsted did she fare;
All the dames of Denmark’s land
She bade them seek her there.
—In Ringsted rests Queen Dagmar.

“Go fetch me four, go fetch me five,
The wisest among them all!
Go fetch little Kirsten of Rise,
The sister of Sir Karl.”

All so modest and so mild
She came to the bower door;
So fain of her was Dagmar the Queen
That she raised her head once more.

“Now canst thou read and canst thou write
To help me in my need,
Then shalt thou don the scarlet fine,
And ride my good grey steed.”

“Oh, can I read and can I write
I’ll do it for thee full fain,
For by my troth I tell thee
Sharper than steel is thy pain.”

She’s taken up Saint Mary’s book,
And the sheen of the golden crown
She could not see whenas she read,
So fast her tears ran down.

They led her up, they led her down,
And still her pain was sore:
“Oh, send ye word to the King our lord
To speak with me once more!”

Up he stood, the little page,
Full fain was he to speed,
He reached his saddle down from the beam
And mounted the milk-white steed.

The King stood on the tower so tall
And looked out far and wide:
“Oh, yonder I see a little page,
And ruefully doth he ride.

“Yonder I see a little foot-page,
And mournful is his mien;
Now grant, Almighty God in heaven,
That all be well with the Queen!”

In he came the little foot-page,
Before the board stood he:
“Now wilt thou speak with the Queen again
Thou must speak right speedilie!”

The King smote hard upon the board
That all the goblets rung:
“Almighty God in heaven forbid
That Dagmar should die so young!”

The King he rode by Skanderborg
With a hundred swains and one,
But when he rode by Ribe
Then rode he all alone.

Oh, woe there was in the women’s bower,
And bitter dule and harm,
For the Queen, or ever the King rode up,
Lay dead in Kirsten’s arm.

And when he entered in the door
He saw the bier beside:
“Now help me, God our Father in heaven,
My bitter grief to bide!

“Now pray for me, dames and damsels all,
And see that ye pray not in vain,
So fain am I to speak a word
With Dagmar once again!”

Uprose the Queen upon the bier,
And red, red were her eyne:
“Now woe is me, my noble lord,
That thus we meet in pine!

“The first boon that I beg thee now
I beg for love of me;
Give peace to every outlawed man,
And set the captives free.

“The second boon I beg thee now
I beg for love of thee;
Oh, take not Bengerd for thy mate,
So sour a shrew is she!

“The third boon that I beg thee now
I beg for love so dear;
That thou let Knud, my youngest son,
Be King in Denmark here.

“Ne’er need I ha’ burnt in bitter pains
By night and else by day,
Had I ne’er on the Sabbath tired my head
And tied my ribbons gay.

“Now time it is I were away,
No longer may I bide;
The bells of heaven are ringing for me,
And the angels wait beside.”
—In Ringsted rests Queen Dagmar.