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34
SILKEBORG.
Chap. XXX.
mere. The lover introduced himself into Laven Castle
o
in disguise; some say as a blind harper. Be that as it
may, the tire-woman one morning at early dawn found
her mistress’s bed untenanted, like in the old song—
“ Lady Jane she’d gone off with that silly blind harper,
That silly blind harper who plainly could see.
Twang-twankadillo, Twang-twankadillo, dillo, dillo, dee.”
And now the coursers are saddled, and hot pursuit gains
on the flying pair: closely the maiden clings to her
lover’s neck. They pass where Sveibæk ferry-house now
stands—you see the spot before you—then reach the
forest, and near the old ranger’s house among the oaks
he loses his hat—“ Hattenæs ” the place is still called—
and then, closely pressed by his pursuers, he tries to
ford the river. Horse and riders both plunge into the
stream; the courser stumbles, sinks, then rises again,
and now sinks deeper and deeper and gradually
disappears, for no human aid can avail them — horse,
king, and damsel suffocated, drowned in the morass,
which closes above their heads, before the eyes of the
agonized father. The place where the king lover lost
his life is still called by the peasants of the country
“Kongensdyp.” Tradition tells no more; but maybe
the body of that fair princess has been rescued from its
muddy grave, and later reposed beneath the green høi
on that little promontory before remarked, jutting out
into the waters of the Juul lake.
But if Himmelbjerg holds her court here on high, an
English princess, not less powerful—Morgana, sister
of good King Arthur, fairified by tradition—reigns below
on that black moor, striking wonder and admiration
into the minds of the simple Jutlanders. We did not
meet her—she was absent during the time of our visit.
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