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Chap. VI.
QUEEN DAGMAR.
79
Ion, on an island in the centre of a lake, surrounded by
wood, rock, heath, and moor—with such colouring—all
that could make it beautiful ? Skanderborg, too, a castle
famous in history and romance, and sung by the
minstrel in the ballads of the Valdemars’ day. When
Queen Dagmar lay sick in Ribe she cries:—
“ If then it be the will of God,
And I must surely die,
Fetch quick my lord from Skanderborg,
And hither let him fly.”
It was at Skanderborg that King Valdemar stood on
his “ high lofty bridge ” (an exterior balcony or
gallery), and spied from afar the “ lille smaa dreng ”
(little page-boy) of Queen Dagmar galloping on the
white “ ors ”—let no one for the future laugh and jeer
at those who talk of “ orses ”—it’s pure Scandinavian,
and, as such, should be respected. The King imagines
evil, and exclaims, “ Oh, counsel me, Father in heaven,
how Dagmar may be now!” He rides off in such
haste—
“ As the king set off from Skanderborg
Thirty squires they swelled his train,
But when he came to Gridsted bridge,
Did the page alone remain.”
He arrives in time to receive her last words.* ’Tis
a charming ballad — and I am thankful I had not read
it before I reached Skanderborg, or I should have railed
more than I now do against the barbarity of Struensee
in destroying so interesting a castle of romance. The
destruction, too, was ordered without the sanction,
* Dagmar died in 1212.
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