George Henry Borrow

George Henry Borrow
George Henry Borrow (1803-1881) was an English author known for his travel literature and novels, most notably "The Bible in Spain" and "Lavengro." His works often drew on his extensive travels across Europe and his deep interest in the Romani people and their culture. Borrow's unique storytelling combined his personal adventures with rich cultural and linguistic observations, making his writings a significant contribution to 19th-century literature.

Author's Books:

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TORD OF HAFSBOROUGH It was Tord of Hafsborough,   O’er the verdant wold would ride,And there he lost his hammer of gold,   ’Twas lost for so long a tide. It was Tord of Hafsborough,   His brother he addressed:“Thou shalt away to the Norland hills,   My hammer be thy quest.” It was Lokke Leyemand,   A feather robe o’er him drew;And away to the Norland mountains high   O’er the... more...

INTRODUCTION Early in the present year Mr. Thos. J. Wise discovered among the miscellaneous MSS. of Borrow a fragment which proved to be part of a version of Oehlenschläger’s Gold Horns.  His attention being drawn to the fact, hitherto unknown, that Borrow had translated this famous poem, he sought for, and presently found, a complete MS. of the poem, and from this copy the present text has been... more...

ACT THE FIRST. BALDER and THOR are seated upon stones at some distance from each other.  Both are armed—THOR with his hammer, and BALDER with spear and sword. BALDER.  Land whose proud and rocky bosomBraves the sky continually! THOR.  Where should strength and valour blossom,Land of rocks, if not in thee? BALDER.  Odin’s shafts of ruddy levinBack from thy hard sides are driven;Never sun thy... more...

My Dearest Carreta, I arrived this day at Venice, and though I am exceedingly tired I hasten to write a line to inform you of my well-being.  I am now making for home as fast as possible, and I have now nothing to detain me. Since I wrote to you last I have been again in quarantine for two days and a half at Trieste, but I am glad to say that I shall no longer be detained on that account.  I was... more...

Faustus, having long struggled with the shadows of Theology, the bubbles of Metaphysics, and the ignes-fatui of Morality, without being able to bring his mind to a firm conviction, at length cast himself into the dark fields of Magic, in the hope of forcing from Nature what she had so obstinately withheld from him.  His first attainment was the remarkable invention of Printing; but his second was... more...

THE TALISMAN From the Russian of Pushkin. Where fierce the surge with awful bellowDoth ever lash the rocky wall;And where the moon most brightly mellowDost beam when mists of evening fall;Where midst his harem’s countless blissesThe Moslem spends his vital span,A Sorceress there with gentle kissesPresented me a Talisman. And said: until thy latest minutePreserve, preserve my Talisman;A secret power... more...

THE VERNER RAVEN The Raven he flies in the evening tide,   He in day dares not intrude;Whoever is born to have evil luck   In vain may seek for good. Lustily flies the Verner Raven,   High o’er the wall he’s flown,For he was aware that Irmindlin fair   Sate in her bower alone. He southward flew, and he northward flew,   He flew high up in the cloud;And he beheld May Irmindlin   Who... more...

THE SONG OF DEIRDRA Farewell, grey Albyn, much loved land,   I ne’er shall see thy hills again;Upon those hills I oft would stand   And view the chase sweep o’er the plain. ’Twas pleasant from their tops I ween   To see the stag that bounding ran;And all the rout of hunters keen,   The sons of Usna in the van. The chiefs of Albyn feasted high,   Amidst them Usna’s children shone;And... more...

THE TALE OF BRYNILD Sivard he a colt has got,   The swiftest ’neath the sun;Proud Brynild from the Hill of Glass   In open day he won. Unto her did of knights and swains   The very flower ride;Not one of them the maid to win   Could climb the mountain’s side. The hill it was both steep and smooth;   Upon its lofty headHer sire had set her, knight nor swain   He swore with her should... more...

MARSK STIG’S DAUGHTERS Two daughters fair the Marshal had,O grievous was their fate and sad. The eldest she took her sister’s handAnd away they went to Sweden’s land. Home from the Stevn King Byrgye rode;Up to him Marsk Stig’s daughters trode. “What women ye who beset my gate?What brings ye hither at eve so late?” “Daughters of Stig, the Marshal brave,So earnestly thee for help we... more...

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