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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538817" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hildebrand And Hellelil</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Hellelil sitteth in bower there,<br>None knows my grief but God alone,<br>And seweth at the seam so fair,<br>I never wail my sorrow to any other one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But there whereas the gold should be<br>With silk upon the cloth sewed she.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where she should sew with silken thread<br>The gold upon the cloth she laid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So to the Queen the word came in<br>That Hellelil wild work doth win.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then did the Queen do furs on her<br>And went to Hellelil the fair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“O swiftly sewest thou, Hellelil,<br>Yet nought but mad is thy sewing still!”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Well may my sewing be but mad<br>Such evil hap as I have had.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My father was good king and lord,<br>Knights fifteen served before his board.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He taught me sewing royally,<br>Twelve knights had watch and ward of me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well served eleven day by day,<br>To folly the twelfth did me bewray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And this same was hight Hildebrand,<br>The King’s son of the English Land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But in bower were we no sooner laid<br>Than the truth thereof to my father was said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then loud he cried o’er garth and hall:<br>‘Stand up, my men, and arm ye all!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Yea draw on mail and dally not,<br>Hard neck lord Hildebrand hath got!’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They stood by the door with glaive and spear;<br>‘Hildebrand rise and hasten here!’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lord Hildebrand stroked my white white cheek:<br>‘O love, forbear my name to speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Yea even if my blood thou see,<br>Name me not, lest my death thou be.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out from the door lord Hildebrand leapt,<br>And round about his good sword swept.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The first of all that he slew there<br>Were my seven brethren with golden hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then before him stood the youngest one,<br>And dear he was in the days agone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then I cried out: ‘O Hildebrand,<br>In the name of God now stay thine hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘O let my youngest brother live<br>Tidings hereof to my mother to give!’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No sooner was the word gone forth<br>Than with eight wounds fell my love to earth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My brother took me by the golden hair,<br>And bound me to the saddle there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There met me then no littlest root,<br>But it tore off somewhat of my foot.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No littlest brake the wild-wood bore,<br>But somewhat from my legs it tore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No deepest dam we came unto<br>But my brother’s horse he swam it through.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when to the castle gate we came,<br>There stood my mother in sorrow and shame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My brother let raise a tower high,<br>Bestrewn with sharp thorns inwardly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He took me in my silk shirt bare<br>And cast me into that tower there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And wheresoe’er my legs I laid<br>Torment of the thorns I had.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wheresoe’er on feet I stood<br>The prickles sharp drew forth my blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My youngest brother me would slay<br>But my mother would have me sold away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A great new bell my price did buy<br>In Mary’s Church to hang on high.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the first stroke that ever it strake<br>My mother’s heart asunder brake.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So soon as her sorrow and woe was said,<br>None knows my grief but God alone,<br>In the arm of the Queen she sat there dead,<br>I never tell my sorrow to any other one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Morris">William Morris</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538817" data-title="Hildebrand And Hellelil de William Morris" data-description="TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH.


Hellelil sitteth in bower there,
None knows my grief but God alone,
And seweth at the seam so fair,
I never wail my sorrow to any other one.

But there whereas the gold should be
With silk upon the cloth sewed she.

W..."></div>
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