A BALLADE OF THE SCOTTYSHE KYNGE by John Skelton (1513)
Kyng Jamy / Jamy your Joye is all go 1 Ye sommnoed our kynge why dyde ye so? To you nothyng it dyde accorde 2 To sommon our kynge your soverayne lorde. A kynge a somner it is wonder 3 Knowe ye not salt and suger asonder? In you sommynge ye were to malaperte 4 And your harolde no thynge experte. Ye thought ye dyde it full valyauntolye 5 But not worth thre skippes of a pye. Syr squyer galyarde ye were to swyfte 6 Your wyll renne before your wytte. To be so scornfull to your alye 7 Your counselye was not worth a flye. Before the frensshe kynge /danes/ and other 8 Ye ought to honour your lorde and brother. Twowe ye syr James his noble grace 9 For you and your scottes wolde tourne his face Now ye prode scottes of gelawaye 10 For your kynge may synge welawaye. Now you must knowe our kynge for your regent 11 Your soverayne lorde and presedent In hym is figured melchideseche 12 And ye be desolate as armeleche. He is our noble champyon 13 A kynge anoynted and ye be non, Thrugh your counseyle your fader was slayne 14 Wherfore I fere ye wyll suffre payne And ye proude scottes of dunbar 15 Parde ye be his homager And suters to his parlyment 16 Ye dyde not your dewty therin. Wyerfore ye may it now repent Ye bere yourselfe som what to holde 17 Therfore ye have lost your copholde Ye be bounde tenauntes to his estate 18 Gyve up your game ye playe chekmate For to the castell of norham 19 I understonde to soone ye cam. For a prysoner now ye be 20 Eyther to the devyll or the trinite. Thanked be saynte Gorge our ladyes knythe 21 Your pryd is paste adwe good nyght. Ye have determyned to make a fraye 22 Our kynge then beynge out of the waye But by the power and myght of god 23 Ye were beten with your owne rod. By your wanton wyll syr at a worde 24 Ye have lost spores, cote armure, and sworde Ye had better to have busked to huntey bankes 25 Than in England to playe ony suche prankes But ye had som wyle sede to sowe 26 Therefore ye be layde now full lowe, Your power coude no longer atteyne 27 Warre with our kynge to meyntayne Of the kyng of naverne ye may take hede 28 How unfortunately he doth now spede, In double welles now he doeth dreme. 29 That is a kynge witou a realme At hym example ye wolde none take 30 Experyence hath brought you in the same brake Of the out yles ye rough foted scottes 31 We have well eased you of the bottes Ye rowe ranke scottes and dronken danes 32 Of our englysshe bowes ye have fette your banes. It is not syttynge in tour of towne 33 A somner to were a kynges crowne That noble erle the whyte Lyon, 34 Your pompe and pryde hath layde a downe His sone the lorde admyrall is full good 35 His swerd hath bathed in the scottes blode God save kynge Henry and his lordes all 36 And sende the frensshe kynge suche an other fall Amen / for saynt charite And god save noble Kynge /Henry The VIII.
BALLATA DEL RE DI SCOZIA di John Skelton (1513)
Giacomo, re Giacomo, la tua gioia se n’è andata; 1 Come mai hai diffidato il nostro Re? Non c’era proprio nessun motivo 2 Di far questo al tuo Signore e Sovrano. Un re che diffida è una cosa strana, 3 Non sai distinguer lo zucchero dal sale? Quanta impudenza nella tua diffida, 4 Ed il tuo araldo proprio non era esperto. Pensavi d’agire con tanto coraggio, 5 Ma quel che facevi non valeva nulla. Signor Mio valente, sei stato precipitoso, 6 Più del tuo senno poté il tuo volere. Per esser sì sprezzante verso il tuo alleato 7 [in corso di traduzione]
O what can ail thee Knight at arms, 1 Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the Lake And no birds sing! O what can ail thee Knight at arms, 2 So haggard, and so woe-begone? The squirrel’s granary is full And the harvest’s done. I see a lily on thy brow, 3 With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose Fast withereth too - I met a Lady in the Meads 4 Full beautiful, a faery’s child; Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild - I made a garland for her head, 5 And bracelets too, and fragrant Zone; She look’d at me as she did love And made sweet moan - I set her on my pacing steed, 6 And nothing else saw all day long; For sidelong would she bend and sing A faery’s song - She found me roots of relish sweet, 7 And honey wild, and manna dew; And sure in language strange she said I love thee true - She took me to her elfin grot, 8 And there she wept and sigh’d full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. And there she lulled me asleep, 9 And there I dream’d, Ah Woe betide! The latest dream I ever dreamt On the cold hill side. I saw pale Kings, and Princes too, 10 Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried, "La belle Dame sans merci Thee hath in thrall." I saw their starv’d lips in the gloam 11 With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke, and found me here On the cold hill’s side. And this is why I sojourn here 12 Alone and palely loitering; Though the sedge is withered from the Lake, And no birds sing.
LA BELLA DAMA SENZA PIETÀ di John Keats (1819)
Che cosa t’affligge, cavaliere d’armi 1 Che solo vaghi pallido? La carice del lago è sfiorita E nessun uccello canta. Che cosa t’affligge, cavaliere d’armi 2 Così addolorato e sofferente? Pieno è il granaio dello scoiattolo E la messe è stata raccolta. Vedo un giglio sulla tua fronte 3 Madida d’angoscia e di sudore, E sulla tua guancia una rosa Sfiorita anch’essa troppo in fretta. Ho incontrato una dama nei prati 4 Bellissima, figlia di fata; Lunghi aveva i capelli, il passo leggero E selvaggio lo sguardo. Feci un serto per la sua fronte 5 E braccialetti e profumato un cinto: Mi guardò come se amasse E dolce emise un gemito, Sul mio destriero al passo la posi 6 E altro non vidi quel giorno Perché si piegava e cantava Una canzone fatata. Per me trovò radici dolci e miele, 7 La manna come rugiada scese, E certamente mi disse Ti amo In un linguaggio strano. Mi portò alla sua grotta fatata 8 E là pianse, e triste sospirò, Ed io le chiusi gli occhi selvaggi Con quattro baci. Lei poi mi addormentò cullandomi 9 Ed io -sciagurato- sognai L’ultimo sogno sul fianco Della collina fredda. Vidi re pallidi e principi 10 E guerrieri bianchi di morte; Gridavano tutti, "La bella dama senza pietà Ti ha in suo potere." Vidi le loro labbra scarne nella sera 11 Aperte orribilmente per il grido, E qui sveglio mi ritrovai sul fianco Della collina fredda. Ecco perché adesso sto qui 12 A vagare pallido e solo, Anche se la carice del lago è sfiorita E nessun uccello canta.
THE BALLAD OF THE DARK LADIÉ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798)
Beneath yon birch with silver bark 1 And boughs so pendulous and fair The brook falls scatter’d down the rock: And all is mossy there! And there upon the moss she sits, 2 The Dark Ladié in silent pain; The heavy tear in her eye, And drops and swells again. Three times she sends her little page 3 Up the castled mountain’s breast, If he might find the Knight that wears The Griffin for his crest. The sun was sloping down the sky 4 And she had linger’d there all day - Counting moments, dreaming fears - Oh wherefore can he stay? She hears a rustling o’er the brook, 5 She sees far off a swinging bough! " ‘Tis he! ‘Tis my betrothéd Knight! Lord Falkland, it is Thou!" She springs, she clasps him round the neck, 6 She sobs a thousand hopes and fears, Her kisses glowing on his cheeks She quenches with her tears. "My friends with rude ungentle words 7 They scoff and bid me fly to thee! O give me shelter in thy breast! O shield and shelter me!" "My Henry, I have given thee much, 8 I gave what I can ne’er recall, I gave my heart, I gave my peace, O Heaven! I gave thee all." The Knight made answer to the Maid, 9 While to his heart he held her hand, "Nine castles hath my noble sire, None statelier in the land. "The fairest one shall be my love’s, 10 The fairest castle of the nine! Wait only till the stars peep out, The fairest shall be thine: "Wait only till the hand of eve 11 Hath wholly closed yon western bars, And through the dark we two will steal Beneath the twinkling stars!" "The dark? the dark? No! not the dark! 12 The twinkling stars? How, Henry? How?" O God! ’twas in the eye of noon He pledged his sacred vow! And in the eye of noon my love 13 Shall lead me from my mother’s door, Sweet boys and girls all clothed in white Strewing flowers before: But first the nodding minstrels go 14 With music meet for lordly bowers, The children next in snow-white vests, Strewing buds and flowers! And then my love and I shall pace 15 My jet black hair in pearly braids, Between our comely bachelors And blushing bridal maids.
LA BALLATA DELLA DAMA DAI NERI CAPELLI di Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798)
Sotto quella betulla argentata 1 Coi rami penduli, così aggraziati Scende giù dalla roccia, impetuoso Il torrente tra ciuffi di muschio! Lei siede proprio, la scura Dama 2 Su quel muschio in penoso silenzio, Gli occhi imbevuti di pianto, Lacrime e lacrime ancora. Ed il paggetto manda tre volte 3 Sulla montagna, al castello Cercando il Cavaliere che porta Come cimiero il Grifone. Via dal cielo scivolava il sole, 4 L’intero giorno vi aveva trascorso A contar gli attimi in sogno e paura - Perché non viene, perché? Ode un fruscìo su dal torrente, 5 Da lungi vede muoversi un ramo! "È lui, il mio amato cavaliere! Lord Falkland, sei tu, sei tu!" S’alza fremente, lo abbraccia e piange 6 In preda a mille speranze e paure, Il fuoco dei baci sulle guance Gli spegne con le sue lacrime. "Dicon gli amici, con duro scherno, 7 Che io da te dovrei rifuggire, Ma tu, accoglimi fra le tue braccia! Dammi accoglienza e riparo!" "Enrico mio, t’ho dato sì tanto, 8 T’ho dato quel che non posso più avere; T’ho dato il cuore, t’ho dato la pace, Mio Dio! Io tutto t’ho dato." Portandosi la mano al cuore 9 Le ha risposto quel cavaliere: "Nove castelli ha il mio nobile padre, In questa terra non ve n’è più belli. "Il più bello sarà del mio amore, 10 Fra nove, il più bel castello! Aspetta solo che spuntin le stelle E tuo sarà quello più bello, E che la mano della sera 11 Abbia sbarrato le porte al sole; E nelle tenebre noi fuggiremo, Sotto il brillìo delle stelle! "Tenebre? Tenebre? No, non le tenebre! 12 Il brillìo delle stelle? Enrico, come puoi?’ Perdio! Nel mezzogiorno, nel fulgore Giurato aveva quel solenne impegno, E a mezzogiorno, sì, verrà il mio amore 13 A prendermi alla porta di mia madre! Dolci fanciulli e ancelle infioreranno Biancovestiti i passi che cammino! Ma prima i menestrelli, accompagnando Musica a gesti andranno a inaugurare 14 I nostri appartamenti principeschi, E poi fanciulli spargeranno i fiori Vestiti anch’essi in bianco, ed i germogli! Mentr’io cammino a fianco del mio amore 15 Di perle ornata i miei capelli neri, Fra i bei ragazzi ancora senza sposa E ancelle dal rossore virginale.
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, 1 The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the cloudy seas The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor And the Highwayman came riding, riding, riding The Highwayman came riding up to the old inn-door. He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, 2 A coat of claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin; They fitted with never a wrinkle, his boots were up to the thigh! And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, his pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky. Over the cobbles he clatter'd and chlash'd in the dark innyard 3 And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was lock'd and barr'd He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair. "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight, 4 But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light; Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day Then look for me by the moonlight, watch me by the moonlight, I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way." He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand 5 But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast; And he kissed its waves in the moonlight (oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight) Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight and gallop'd away to the west. He did not come at the dawning; he did not come at noon, 6 And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, A red-coat troop came marching, marching, marching, King George's men came marching up to the old inn-door. They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead, 7 But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed; Two of them knelt at the casement, with muskets at their side! There was death at every window, and hell at one dark window; For Bess could see through the casement the road that he would ride. They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest, 8 They had bound a musket beside, with the barrel beneath her breast! "Now keep good watch!", and they kissed her. She heard the dead man saying, "Look for me by the moonlight, watch for me by the moonlight, I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!" She twisted her hands beside her, but all the knots held good! 9 She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood! They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years! Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, cold, on the stroke of midnight The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers! Tlot-tlot! had they heard it? The horse-hoofs were ringing clear, 10 Tlot-tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear? Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill The Highwayman came riding, riding, riding! The red-coats look'd to their priming! She stood up straight and still. Tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot, in the echoing night! 11 Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light! Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one last deep breath, Then her finger mov'd in the moonlight, her musket shatter'd the moonlight, Shatter'd her breast in the moonlight and warn'd him with her death. He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know she stood 12 Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood! Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear How Bess, the landlord's daughter, the landlord's black-eyed daughter Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there. Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky 13 With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandish'd high! Blood-red were the spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat When they shot him down on the highway, down like a dog on the highway And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat. Still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees, 14 When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas, When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor A Highwayman comes riding, riding, riding, A Highwayman comes riding up to the old inn-door.
IL BANDITO DI STRADA di Alfred Noyes (1905)
Il vento, un fiume di tenebre fra gli alberi squassati, 1 La luna, un vascello fantasma sbattuta nei mari di nubi; La strada, un nastro di luna sulla brughiera fiorita; Il Bandito arrivava a cavallo, a cavallo, a cavallo, Il Bandito arrivò a cavallo alla porta della vecchia locanda. Cappello piumato in fronte, pizzi infioccati al mento, 2 Mantello di velluto viola, calzoni di daino bruno Calzati senza una grinza; stivali fino alla coscia! Cavalcava col brillìo d'un gioiello, brillavano i calci delle pistole, Brillava l'elsa dello stocco sotto il cielo ingemmato. Entrò nella corte pestando i ciottoli, sbattendo i ferri, 3 Bussò col frustino agli scuri, ma tutto era chiuso e sbarrato; Fischiò un'arietta alla finestra, e chi altro c'era a aspettare Se non la figlia dell'Oste, Bess dagli occhi neri Che intrecciava un rosso nodo d'amore tra i lunghi e neri capelli. "Amore mio, dammi un bacio; mi stan dando caccia stanotte 4 Ma tornerò all'alba dorata, prima della piena luce; E se m'incalzano o m'attaccano per tutto quanto il giorno Cercami al chiaro di luna, aspettami al chiar di luna, Verrò da te al chiar di luna anche se l'inferno mi sbarrasse il cammino." S'alzò in piedi sulle staffe, quasi non le arrivò alla mano, 5 Ma lei sciolse i capelli dalla finestra, il suo viso come incendiato Mentre la nera cascata di profumo gli cadeva sul petto E lui baciava le sue onde alla luna, dolci onde nere alla luna! Tirò le redini, e via!, al chiardiluna cavalcando a occidente. All'alba non venne, non venne neanche a mezzogiorno; 6 E al rosso tramonto, prima che sorgesse la luna, Quando la strada era un nastro gitano sulla brughiera fiorita Dei soldati dai rossi mantelli vennero in marcia, in marcia, Gli uomini di Re Giorgio giunsero alla porta della vecchia locanda. Non dissero niente all'oste e si bevvero la sua birra, 7 Ma imbavagliaron la figlia legandola a piedi del letto stretto; Moschetti al fianco, due s'inginocchiarono alla finestra! La morte era ad ogni finestra, l'inferno a una finestra scura Ché Bess vedesse attraverso di essa la strada che lui avrebbe fatto. Legata, le avevan detto di stare attenta ridendo sotto i baffi, 8 Le avevan legato un moschetto accanto, la canna puntata al seno! "Ora fai ben la guardia!", e la baciavano, quando udì il morto dire Cercami al chiaro di luna, aspettami al chiar di luna, Verrò da te al chiar di luna anche se l'inferno mi sbarrasse il cammino!" Si torse le mani dietro, ma i nodi tenevan bene! 9 Si torse le mani finché le dita non le si bagnaron di sudore e sangue! Si stesero tesi nel buio, le ore sembravan anni Finché battè mezzanotte; e freddo, al batter della mezzanotte Lo toccò con la punta del dito: il grilletto era suo, infine. Tlot, tlot! Lo avevan sentito? Gli zoccoli scalpitavan forte, 10 Tlot, tlot, in lontananza! Eran sordi, che non li sentivano? Al nastro del chiardiluna, sul ciglio della collina Il Bandito arrivava a callo, a cavallo, a cavallo! I rossi mantelli guardavan la loro preda; lei s'alzò in piedi, calma. Tlot, nel silenzio di gelo! Tlot, nell'eco della notte! 11 Sempre più lui s'avvicinava, il volto come illuminato! Gli occhi le s'allargarono per un momento, diede un ultimo respiro Profondo, e le dita si mossero alla luna, il fucile squarciò alla luna, Il petto le squarciò alla luna e avvertì lui con la sua morte. Si girò, spronò il cavallo a occidente; non sapeva che lei 12 Stava piegata, la testa al moschetto, bagnata del suo rosso sangue! Non lo seppe fino all'alba; il suo viso divenne cupo e affranto Ché Bess, la figlia dell'oste, Bess dagli occhi neri, alla luna Aveva fatto la guardia al suo amore, ed era morta lì, nelle tenebre. Spronò il cavallo come un matto, tirò una bestemmia fra i denti, 13 La bianca strada fumava dietro di lui, che in altro brandiva la spada! Rossi di sangue gli speroni nel dorato mezzogiorno, rosso il suo mantello di velluto Quando gli spararono sulla strada, e lo ammazzarono come un cane; E lui giacque nel suo sangue sulla strada, col fiocco di trina alla gola. E ancora, dicono, in una notte d'inverno, quando il vento squassa gli alberi 14 E la luna è un vascello fantasma sbattuta nei mari di nubi, E La strada è un nastro di luna sulla brughiera fiorita Il Bandito arriva a cavallo, a cavallo, a cavallo, Il Bandito arriva a cavallo alla porta della vecchia locanda.
** La ballata è stata musicata e cantata da Loreena McKennitt (1997)
SIR HALEWYN A version of the Dutch Heer Halewijn by Alexander Gray (1949)
Sir Halewyn sang sae sweet and braw, 1 That nane that heard cud bide awa. The King’s young dochter heard him sing; 2 Her father lo’ed her abune a’ thing. She gaed to her father: Father o’ mine, 3 Hae I leave to gae efter Sir Halewyn? Na, lassie, na, -her father spak,- 4 There’s mony that gae, but few come back. She gaed to her mither: Mither o’ mine, 5 Hae I leave to gae efter Sir Halewyn? Na, lassie, na, -her mither spak,- 6 There’s mony that gae, but few come back. She gaed to her sister: Sister o’ mine, 7 Hae I leave to gae efter Sir Halewyn? Na, sister, na, -her sister spak,- 8 There’s mony that gae, but few come back. She gaed to her brither: Brither o’ mine, 9 Hae I leave to gae efter Sir Halewyn? It’s ane to me: gang whaur you wud; 10 But see and no tine your maidenhude; And wear your croon as a King’s lass should. She has risen and gane to her bed-chawmer, 11 And put on her brawest cleithin there. What has she put on her fair bodie? 12 A sark, was finer than silk cud be. What has she put on her best bodice? 13 A’ stiff wi’ gowden bands it is. What has she put on her scarlet goon? 14 Tassels o’ gowd a’ hingin doon. What has she put on her cloak sae feat? 15 A glistenin pearl at ilka pleat. What has she set on her yallow hair? 16 A croon o’ gowd that was heavy to wear. She has gane into her father’s sta’, 17 And lowsed the fleetest horse o’ them a’. She has bestridden the horse sae guid, 18 And aye she sang as she rade through the wood. Half through the forest she has gane, 19 And has met Sir Halewyn ridin alane. To a tree nearby his horse he tied; 20 The lassie, trummlin, grew flichtered and fleyed. Greetin! Quo’ he, fairest o’ fair! 21 Greetin! Quo’ he, broon een sae rare! Come, sit you doon, unbind your hair. Sae mony hairs as she unbound, 22 Sae mony tears fell to the ground. And syne they rose and gaed awa, 23 Wi’ mony a word atween thae twa. Sae to a gallows-field they pass, 24 Whaur hung sae mony a bonnie lass. He, turnin to his fere, quo’ he: 25 Since a bonnier lass there canna be, I’ll let you wale the death you dee. Gin I may choose hoo I shall dee, 26 I pray you, draw your swoord on me. But first, your mantle lay aside; 27 A maiden’s bluid may spatter wide. ‘Twere shame your claes should a’ be dyed. But ere he cud his cloak undae, 28 His sindered heid before her lay; His tongue begoud thae words to say: Gae to yon field o’ bere; 29 Blaw on my horn sae clear, That a’ my friends may hear. I winna gang among the bere, 30 Nor blaw upon your horn sae clear, Nor heed the word o’ a murderer. Gae under the gallows-tree; 31 A pot o’ salve you’ll see: Bring’t for my neck that’s sae bluidie. I winna gang to the gallows-tree, 32 Nor heal the neck, sae ill to see, O’ him wha wad hae slauchtered me. By the hair she has gripit his bluidie heid, 33 And washed it clean that was sae reid. She has bestridden her horse sae guid, 34 And aye she sang as she rade through the wood. She has ridden half through the wood, and syne 35 She met the mither o’ Halewyn: Did my son come this wey, fair queyn? Your son, Sir Halewyn, is a huntin gane! 36 In your life you’ll never see him again. Your son, Sir Halewyn, he is deid! 37 Here in my lap I carry his heid; Wi’ his bluid is a’ my bodice reid. When her father’s yett was near at han’ 38 She blew her horn wi’ the strength o’ a man. Her father heard the trumpet plain, 39 And was blithe that his lass was hame again. In the muckle ha’ they birled the wine, 40 And glowered on the heid o’ Sir Halewyn.
MESSER HALEWYN Versione della ballata olandese Heer Halewijn di Alexander Gray (1949)
Messer Halewyn cantava sì dolcemente e bene 1 Che nessun che l’ascoltasse lo mandava via. La giovane figlia del Re lo udì cantare, 2 Suo padre la amava più d’ogni cosa. Andò da suo padre: "Padre, padre mio, 3 Devo partire e seguire Messer Halewyn?" "No, ragazza mia, no", disse suo padre, 4 "Ci son molti che vanno, ma pochi ritornano." Andò da sua madre: "Madre, madre mia, 5 Devo partire e seguire Messer Halewyn?" "No, ragazza mia, no", disse sua madre, 6 "Ci son molti che vanno, ma pochi ritornano." Andò da sua sorella: "Sorella, sorella mia, 7 Devo partire e seguire Messer Halewyn?" "No, sorella mia, no", disse sua sorella, 8 "Ci son molti che vanno, ma pochi ritornano." Andò da suo fratello: "Fratello, fratello mio, 9 Devo partire e seguire Messer Halewyn?" "Fa lo stesso per me, va’ dove vuoi, 10 Ma guarda di non perder la tua verginità; E cingi la corona, come deve la figlia d’un Re." S’è alzata ed è andata nella sua camera, 11 E s’è messa il più bel vestito che aveva. Che cos’ha messo sul suo bel corpo? 12 Una camicia più fina della seta. [in corso di traduzione]
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