[p. t.o. 113]
Bl: 113.
[p. 113]
Boudewyn de Yzeren,
Eerste graef van Vlaenderen1.
I.
Dichters van voorledene eeuwen
Zongen 't treffend mingeval
Van den dappren Woudbeheerscher,
Dien myn lied u noemen zal.
Karels vorstelyke dochter
Was de pronk van Frankryks hof,
Was een meisje, die de schoonsten
Nog in schoonheid overtrof.
England had zyn jongen kroonprins
Weggebannen en verjaegd:
Deze kroonprins landde in Frankryk,
En hy zag de schoone maegd.
't Minnevuer drong in zyn harte,
En hy knielde voor haer neêr;
Judith schonk hem wederliefde,
En de balling scheen weêr heer.
II.
Frankryks koning was onwillig
Om te luistren naer hun bêe.
't Hof moest de arme Brit verlaten
Onvertroostbaer in zyn weê.
Judith, die hem trouw beloofd had,
Brak haer eed in 't onheil niet,
Neen! zy wou haer minnaer volgen
Nu hy Karels hof verliet:
[p. 114]
En zy hebben afgesproken
Zich t' hervinden in den nacht.
Hy, in 't eenzaem bosch verlangend,
Stond van 's morgens daer ter wacht.
Maer een deel verwoede roovers
Hebben hem, met snood geweld,
Diep gewond in 't overvallen,
En barbaersch hem neêrgeveld.
III.
Judith zwerft, heur minnaer zoekend,
Door het uitgestrekte bosch;
Zy stapt angstig op en neder,
Schrikt, en breekt in tranen los.
Zy bemint, de teedre Judith:
Ze is voor roovers niet beducht.
Zy bemint, de onzaelge Judith,
En in klachten schept zy lucht:
‘Echoos van dees donkre wouden,
(Riep zy), waer myn lief me in wacht,
Brengt myn zuchten tot hem over,
En herhaelt myn jammerklacht.
Waer, waer schuilt gy, myn geliefde?
'k Lyde om u zoo bittre smart.
'k Heb voor u myn land verlaten,
En myns vaders hoon getart.’
IV.
En zy zwierf door onbekende,
Onbeperkte bosschen heên,
En slechts de echo scheen bewogen
Met haer klachten en geween.
Eindlyk hoorde ze, in de verte,
Door den wind, die 't bosch bewoog,
Onder afgebroken zuchten
Als een stem die tot haer vloog:
‘'k Sterf. Vaerwel, myn zielsgeliefde,
Die ik nimmer wederzie,
Mogt ik u nog eens beschouwen!
Zonk ik nog eens voor uw knie!
[p. 115]
Troffen my nog eens uw blikken,
Waer een hemelstrael in zweeft;
O! dan waer myn sterfuer zachter,
Nu het leven my begeeft!’
V.
Nauwlyks had de jammerstemme,
Die hem 't hart nog eens verligt,
Judith's luistrend oor getroffen,
Of hy sloot zyn oogen dicht.
Naer het plekjen toegetreden,
Waer de lyder snikkend lag,
God! hoe schrikte en ysde Judith,
Toen zy haer beminden zag,
Toen zy hem zag neêrgezonken
In zyn stollend bloed gesmoord!
't Bosch, waer zy haer heil ging zoeken,
Werd nu 't allerschriklykst oord!
Wie, wie zal heur jammren malen?
Wie heur nypende verdriet?
Neen! heur wanhoop was t'ontzetlyk!
Judith weende of klaegde niet;
VI.
Maer zy kuste hem de lippen,
Hem de wangen twintig keer,
Glinstrend biggelden haer tranen
Op des dooden aenzicht neêr.
En zy waschte zyne wonden,
Stelpte 't bloed in d'open aêr,
En verbondze met de trensen
Van haer golvend geluw haer.
‘Open toch uw liefdryke oogen,
ô Myn ridder,’ zuchtte zy,
‘Open toch voor my uw lippen,
Spreek een enkel woord tot my.’
Magtloos zonk zy naest hem neder,
En, in snerpend droef geween,
Zat zy nog by haer beminden,
Toen de dageraed verscheen.
[p. 116]
VII.
Treurend zat zy daer en weende
Over haer rampzalig lot;
‘Nimmer,’ zei zy, ‘keer ik weder,
Nimmer worde ik 't hof ten spot.
Liever eenzaem rond gezworven
Van het een naer 't ander land!’ -
Boudewyn, de Woudbeheerscher
Op het Nederlandsche strand,
Kwam toevallig daer gereden,
Zonder weiman, zonder stoet;
En hy zag de diepbedrukte,
By het lyk, bespat met bloed:
‘Zeg, welk toeval, jammrend meisjen,
Bracht u in dit yslyk oord?’
- ‘Roovers hebben mynen minnaer
By zyn doortocht hier vermoord.’
VIII.
- ‘Koom met my, ô jammrend meisjen!
Treur niet meer om 't bange lot,
Treur niet meer, ô lieve schoone!
Koom met my naer 't vorstlyk slot.’
En hy plaetste d'eedle Judith
Nevens hem, op 't moedig ros,
En haer in zyn armen vattend,
Ron hy heên, den teugel los.
Soms sloeg hy zyn vonklende oogen
Op haer treurend aengezicht;
En een blik, de blik eens engels,
De afdruk van een rein gemoed,
Kwam somwyl zyn oog ontmoeten
En ontstak zyn minnegloed.
IX.
Boudewyn beminde Judith,
Zwoer haer eeuwig liefde en trouw,
[p. 117]
Hy verhief haer op zyn zetel,
En de vreugd verving haer rouw.
Zeven zonen schonk hem Judith
Eer hy uit haer mond vernam,
Dat zy, spruit eens grooten konings,
Stamde uit Karlemagne's stam.
En haer zonen kleedde Judith,
Telg van hooger heerschappy,
Ten bewyze van hunne afkomst,
Half in laken, half in zy1.
Eens verdoolde de oude koning,
In het woud, ter hertenjagt,
En hy trad het burchtslot binnen,
By den neêrgezonken nacht.
X.
In de ridderzael gekomen,
Vond hy daer die kindren staen,
En hy zag verbaesd hun zyde -
En hun laken-kleeding aen.
Fel vergramd vroeg straks de koning
Aen den jongen vlaemschen vorst,
Hoe hy dus zyn zeven kindren
In de zyde kleeden dorst.
Boudewyn, de Woudbeheerscher,
Sprak tot hem, met rustig woord:
‘Niet ten onrecht zyn hun kleederen
Zyde, van den linker boord,
[p. 118]
Daer myn gâ, hun wyze moeder,
Sproot uit koninklyken stam,
En zy, onder hare vadren,
Groote keizers noemen kan.’
XI.
't Beeld van Judith kwam den koning
Thans weêr in 't geheugen voor:
Nu herkende hy zyn dochter,
Die hy, tot zyn smart, verloor.
Zy herkende meê haer vader,
Viel, met hevig hartgeklop,
Weenend aen zyn voeten neder;
Maer hy hief haer vriendlyk op.
En hy kuste mond en wangen
Van de langvermiste vrouw,
Nam haer kindren in zyn armen
En bevestigde haer trouw,
Ja, verhief den Woudbeheerscher
Tot genoot van Frankenland,
En schonk hem den gravenscepter
Van 't bekoorlyk Vlaemsche strand.
Gent, 1836.
PH. BLOMMAERT.
Het engelsch origineel luidt als volgt:
The king of France's daughter.
In the dayes of old,
When faire France did flourish,
Storyes plaine have told,
Lovers felt annoye.
5
The queene a daughter bare,
Whom beautyes queene did nourish:
She was lovelye faire,
She was her fathers joye.
A prince of England came,
10
Whose deeds did merit fame,
[p. 119]
But he was exil'd, and outcast:
Love his soul did fire,
Shee granted his desire,
Their hearts in one were linked fast.
15
Which when her father proved,
Storelye he was moved,
And tormented in his minde.
He fought for to prevent them;
And to discontent them
20
Fortune crossed ‘these’ lovers kinde.
When these princes twaine,
Were thus barr'd of pleasure,
Through the kinges disdaine,
Which their joyes withstoode:
25
The lady soone prepar'd
Her jewells and her treasure;
Having no regard
For state and royall bloode;
In homelye poore array,
30
She went from court away,
To meet her joye and hearts delight;
Who in a forrest great
Had taken up his seat,
To wayt her coming in the night,
35
But, lo! what sudden danger,
To this princely stranger
Chanced, as he sate alone!
By outlawes he was robbed,
And with ponyards stabbed,
40
Uttering many a dying grone.
The princesse, arm'd by love,
And by chaste desire,
All the night did roye
Without dread at all:
45
Still unknowne she past
In her strange attire,
Coming at the last
Within echoes call,
[p. 120]
You faire woods, quoth shee,
50
Honoured may you bee,
Harbouring my hearts delight;
Which encompass here
My joye and only deare,
My trustye friend, and comelye knight.
55
Sweete, I come unto thee,
Sweete, I come to woo thee,
That thou mayst not angrye bee
For my long delaying:
For thy curteous staying
60
Soone amendes Ile make to thee.
Passing thus alone
Through the silent forest,
Many a grievous grone
Sounded in her eares:
65
She heard one complayne
And lament the forest,
Seeming all in payne,
Shedding deadly teares.
Farewell, my deare, quoth hee,
70
Whom I must never see,
For why my life is att an end,
Through villaines crueltye:
For thy sweet sake I dye,
To show I am a faithfull friend.
75
Here I lye a bleeding,
While my thoughts are feeding
On the rarest beautye found.
O hard happ, that may be!
Little knowes my ladye
80
My heartes blood lyes on the ground.
With that a grone he sends
Which did burst in sunder
All the tender ‘bands’1
[p. 121]
Of his gentle heart.
85
She, who knewe his voice,
At his wordes did wonder;
All her former joyes
Did to griefe convert.
Strait she ran to see,
90
Who this man shold bee,
That soe like her love did seeme;
Her lovely lord she found
Lye slaine upon the ground,
Smear'd with gore a gastlye streame.
95
Which his lady spying,
Strieking, fainting, crying,
Her sorrows cold not uttered bee;
Fate, she cryed, too cruell!
For thee - my dearest jewell,
100
Would God! that I had dyed for thee.
His pale lippes, alas!
Twentye times she kissed,
And his face did wash,
With her trickling teares:
105
Every gaping wound
Tenderlye she pressed,
And did wipe it round
With her golden haires.
Speake, faire love, quoth shee,
110
Speake, faire prince, to mee,
One sweete word of comfort give.
Lift up thy deare eyes,
Listen to my cryes.
Thinke in what sad griefe I live.
115
All in vaine she sued,
All in vaine she wooed,
The princes life was fled and gone.
There stood she still mourning,
Till the suns retourning,
120
And bright day was coming on.
[p. 122]
In this great distresse
Weeping, wayling ever,
Oft shee cryed, alas!
What will become of mee?
125
To my fathers court
I returne will never:
But in lowlye sort
Will a servant bee.
While thus she made her mone,
130
Weeping all alone,
In this deepe and deadlye feare:
A for'ster all in greene,
Most comelye to be seene,
Ranging the woods did find her there.
135
Moved with her sorrowe,
Maid quoth he, good morrowe,
What hard happ has brought thee here?
Harder happ did never
Two kinde hearts dissever:
140
Here lyes slaine my brother deare.
Where might I remaine,
Gentle for'ster, shew me,
Till I could obtaine
A service in my neede?
145
Paines I will not spare.
This kinde favour doe me,
It will ease my care,
Heaven shall be thy meede.
The for'ster all amazed,
150
On her beautye gazed,
Till his heart was set on fire.
If, faire maid, quoth hee,
You will goe with mee,
You shall have your hearts desire.
155
He brought her to his mother,
And above all other
He sett forth this maidens praise.
Long was his heart inflamed,
[p. 123]
At length her love he gained,
160
And fortune crown'd his future dayes.
Thus unknowne he wedde
With a kings faire daughter;
Children seven they had,
Ere she told her birth.
165
Which when once he knew,
Humblye he besought her
He to the world might shew,
Her rank and princelye worth.
He cloath'd his children then,
170
(Not like other men)
In partye-colours strange to see;
The right side cloth of gold,
The left side to behold,
Of woollen cloth still framed hee.
175
Men thereatt did wonder,
Golden fame did thunder
This strange deede in every place:
The king of France came thither,
Being pleasant weather,
180
In these woods the hart to chase.
The children then they bring,
So their mother will'd it,
Where the royall king,
Must of force come bye:
185
Their mothers riche array,
Was of crimson velvet:
Their fathers all of gray,
Seemelye to the eye.
Then this famous king,
190
Noting every thing,
Askt how he durst be so bold
To let his wife soe weare,
And decke his children there,
In costly robes of pearl and gold.
195
The forrester replying,
[p. 124]
And the cause descrying1.
To the king these words did say,
Well may they, by their mother,
Weare rich clothes with other,
200
Being by birth a princesse gay.
The king aroused thus,
More heedfullye beheld them,
Till a crimson blush
His remembrance crost.
205
The more I fix my mind
On thy wife and children,
The more methinks I find
The daughter which I lost.
I am that child, quoth shee,
210
Falling on her knee,
Pardon mee, my soveraine liege.
The king perceiving this,
His daughter deare did kiss,
Wile joyfull teares did stopp his speeche.
215
With his traine he tourned,
And with them sojourned.
Strait he dubb'd her husband knight,
Then made him erle of Flanders,
And chiefe of his commanders,
220
Thus were their sorrowes put to flight.
1Gevolgd naer de oudengelsche ballade in de Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, by Percy, D. III, bl. 162.
1Men denke hier aen de zinspreuk van Karel Brandon, toen hy de koningin douairiere van Vrankryk, zuster van Hendrik VIII, huwde. By een tournooispel ter dezer gelegenheid gehouden, waren de kleederen der peerden half van goudlaken en half van wolle laken, met het volgend opschrift:
Zie W. Temple's Misc. Vol. III. p. 356.
Cloth of gold, do not despise,
Tho' thou art matcht with cloth of frize,
Cloth of frize, be not too bold,
Tho' thou art matcht with cloth of gold.
1Vs. 83. Strings, MS. and P.
1i.e. describing.
