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The Chosen Knight Post by :Andrewatx Category :Poems Author :George Borrow Date :July 2011 Read :2330

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The Chosen Knight

Sir Oluf rode forth over hill and lea
Full seven mile broad and seven mile wide,
But no one living discovered he
Who a joust with him dare ride.

He saw, whilst forward glancing,
A gallant knight advancing,
Black was his courser, his helm was lac'd,
He came with bounding haste.

Upon his spurs all gory
Twelve gilded birdies bore he;
Each time with the rowel he pricked his horse
The birdies sang with all their force.

Twelve gilt wheels on his bridle
He bore, nor were they idle;
Each time through them the breezes blew,
How quickly around the little wheels flew.

He carried before his breast
A long lance, placed in rest;
Far sharper than diamond was that lance,
It laid Sir Oluf in deadly trance.

Aloft on his helm he show'd
A chaplet of red glare;
Three maidens in proof of their love bestow'd,
The youngest was so fair.

Sir Oluf enquired of the knight,
An he were come down from the realms of light:
"Art thou the Christ, for if thou be,
I'll willingly bend before thee the knee?"

"I am not the Christ of power,
Thou need'st not before me cower;
An unknown knight thou see'st in me,
Sent forth by three maids of high degree."

"If thou be a chosen knight
Whom maidens three have sent this way,
Then for love of those damsels bright,
Thou shalt joust with me to-day."

The first course they together rode
Of their coursers trial made they,
The second course they together rode
Their best manhood well display'd they.

The third joust they together rode
Neither one the other humbled,
But the fourth joust they together rode
Dead to the green earth they tumbled.

Now on the wold the heroes lie,
With their blood the grass is red;
In the chamber high sit the maids and sigh,
But the youngest soon is dead.

(The end)
George Borrow's poem: The Chosen Knight

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Ulf Van Yern
It was youthful Ulf Van Yern Goes before the King to stand:"To avenge my father's death Lend me warriors of thy band.""Of my kemps I'll lend thee them Who to follow thee consent;Ask'st thou Vidrik Verlandson Thou wilt further thy intent."I will lend thee of my men, Thou shalt have the very flower;Vidrik, and stark Diderik, Many kemps have felt their power."They are heroes strong and bold Who have battles often won;Feared are they in every land Where their names' renown has gone."In walked he,

Sir Swerkel Sir Swerkel

Sir Swerkel
There's a dance in the hall of Sir Swerkel the Childe,There dances fair Kirstine, her hair hanging wild.There dance the good King and his nobles so gay,Fair Kirstine before them she warbles a lay.His hand to the maiden Sir Swerkel stretched free:"Come hither and dance, little Kirstine, with me."Her finger he pressed, and moved up to her near:"Sweet Kirstine, I pray thee become my heart's dear."Her finger he pressed, on her sandal trod he:"Fair Kirstine, with pity my agonies see!"They danced to the left, and they danced to the right,And her troth the fair damsel bestowed on the knight.Upon him Sir