Danish Folklore: Proud Margaret (a ballad) PROUD Margaret’s father of wealth had store, Time with me goes slow.— And he was a king seven kingdoms o’er, But that grief is heavy I know. To her came wooing good earls two, Time with me goes slow.— But neither of them would she hearken unto, But that grief is heavy I know. To her came wooing princes five, Time with me goes slow.— Yet not one of them would the maiden have, But that grief is heavy I know. To her came wooing kings then seven, Time with me goes slow.— But unto none her hand has she given, But that grief is heavy I know. And the hill-king asked his mother to read, Time with me goes slow.— How to win proud Margaret he might speed, But that grief is heavy I know. "And say how much thou wilt give unto me," Time with me goes slow.— "That herself may into the hill come to thee ?" But that grief is heavy I know. "Thee will I give the ruddiest gold," Time with me goes slow.— "And thy chests full of money as they can hold," But that grief is heavy I know. One Sunday morning it fell out so, Time with me goes slow.— Proud Margaret unto the church should go, But that grief is heavy I know. And all as she goes, and all as she stays, Time with me goes slow.— All the nearer she comes where the high hill lay, But that grief is heavy I know. So she goeth around the hill compassing, Time with me goes slow.— So there openeth a door, and thereat goes she in, But that grief is heavy I know. Proud Margaret stept in at the door of the hill, Time with the goes slow.— And the hill-king salutes her with eyes joyful, But that grief is heavy I know. So he took the maiden upon his knee, Time with me goes slow.— And took the gold rings and therewith her wed be, But that grief is heavy I know. So he took the maiden his arms between, Time with me goes slow.— He gave her a gold crown and the name of queen, But that grief is heavy I know. So she was in the hill for eight round years, Time with me goes slow.— There bare she two sons and a daughter so fair, But that grief is heavy I know. When she had been full eight years there, Time with me goes slow.— She wished to go home to her mother so dear, But that grief is heavy I know. And the hill-king spake to his footpages twain, Time with me goes slow.— "Put ye the gray pacers now unto the wain," But that grief is heavy I know. And Margaret out at the hill-door stept, Time with me goes slow.— And her little children they thereat wept, But that grief is heavy I know. And the hill-king her in his arms has ta’en, Time with me goes slow.— So he lifteth her into the gilded wain, But that grief is heavy I know. "And hear now thou footpage what I unto thee say," Time with me goes slow.— "Thou now shalt drive her to her mother’s straightway," But that grief is heavy I know. Proud Margaret stept in o’er the door-sill, Time with me goes slow.— And her mother saluteth her with eyes joyful, But that grief is heavy I know. "And where heat thou so long stayed ?" Time with me goes slow.— "I have been in the flowery meads," But that grief is heavy I know. "What veil is that thou wearest on thy hair ?" Time with me goes slow.— "Such as women and mothers use to wear," But that grief is heavy I know. "Well may I wear a veil on my head," Time with me goes slow.— "Me hath the hill-king both wooed and wed," But that grief is heavy I know. "In the hill have I been these eight round years," Time with me goes slow.— "There have I two sons and a daughter so fair," But that grief is heavy I know. "There have I two sons and a daughter so fair," Time with me goes slow.— "The loveliest maiden the world doth bear," But that grief is heavy I know. "And hear thou, proud Margaret, what I say unto thee," Time with me goes slow.— "Can I go with thee home thy children to see ?" But that grief is heavy I know. And the hill-king stept now in at the door, Time with me goes slow.— And Margaret thereat fell down on the floor, But that grief is heavy I know. "And stayest thou now here complaining of me," Time with me goes slow.— "Camest thou not of thyself into the hill to me?" But that grief is heavy I know. "And stayest thou now here and thy fate dost deplore ?" Time with me goes slow.— "Camest thou not of thyself in at my door ?" But that grief is heavy I know. The hill-king struck her on the cheek rosie, Time with me goes slow.— "And pack to the hill to thy children wee," But that grief is heavy I know. The hill-king struck her with a twisted root, Time with me goes slow.— "And pack to the hill without any dispute," But that grief is heavy I know. And the hill-king her in his arms has ta’en, Time with me goes slow.— And lifted her into the gilded wain, But that grief is heavy I know. "And hear thou my footpage what I unto thee say," Time with me goes slow.— "Thou now shalt drive her to my dwelling straightway," But that grief is heavy I know. Proud Margaret stept in at the bill door, Time with me goes slow.— And her little children rejoiced therefòre, But that grief is heavy I know. "It is not worth while rejoicing for me," Time with me goes slow.— "Christ grant that I never a mother had been," But that grief is heavy I know. The one brought out a gilded chair, Time with me goes slow.— "O rest you, my sorrow-bound mother, there," But that grief is heavy I know. The one brought out a filled up horn, Time with me goes slow.— The other put therein a gilded corn, But that grief is heavy I know. The first drink she drank out of the horn, Time with me goes slow.— She forgot straightway both heaven and earth, But that grief is heavy I know. The second drink she drank out of the horn, Time with me goes slow.— She forgot straightway both God and his word, But that grief is heavy I know. The third drink she drank out of the horn, Time with me goes slow.— She forgot straightway both sister and brother, But that grief is heavy I knew. She forgot straightway both sister and brother, Time with me goes slow.— But she never forgot her sorrow-bound mother, But that grief is heavy I know. Page last updated 28 Dec 2008 Website Design and Myths & Magic logo by Míchealín Daugherty Music "Faerie King" arranged by CelticGhost Copyright © 2008 Ireland's OWN All Rights Reserved.