& PL.- ■ ■ TO i wr <& Jri? . v. .^.-tCI A Wr * YV /* Stf9 :ii "*7f? &■ • 4l '?&£■ #&i /L. mfM mum X- 14406 ■■'• .* * TALES OF WONDER; WRITTEN AND COLLECTED BY M. G. L E W IS, E s q. M. P. AUTHOR OF THE MONK, CASTLE SPECTRE, LOVE OF GAIN, &C. IN TWO VOLUMES. Black spirits and white, Blue spirits and grey, Mingle, mingle, mingle, Ye that mingle may i macbeth. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED BY W. BULMER AND GO. CLEVELAND-ROW, FOR THE AUTHOR ; AND SOLD BY J. BELL, NO. 148, OXFORD-STREET, OPPOSITE NEW BOND-STREET. 1801. CONTENTS OF VOL. I. No. page I. Both well's Bonny Jane - - - 1 IT. Osric the Lion - ---♦'- 1 ] III. SirHengist - - 17 IV. Alonzo the Brave, and Fair Imogene - 21 V. Giles Jollup the Grave, and Brown Sally Green . 26 VI. Elver's Hoh - - - - - 31 VII. The Sword of Angantyr - - 34 VIII. King Hacho's Death-song - 45 IX. TheErl-Kinff - - - - 51 J s X. The Erl-King's Daughter - - - 53 XI. The Water-King - - 56 XII. The Fire-King - - - ' 62 XIII. The Cloud-King - 70 XIV. The Fisherman - - - - 79 XV. The Sailor's Tale - - 81 XVI. The Princess and the Slave - - 84 XVII. The Gay Gold Ring 90 XVIII. The Grim White Woman - 101 XIX. The Little Grey Man - - - 113 XX. Glenfinlas, or Lord Ronald's Coronach - - 122 XXI. The Eve of Saint John - 137 XXII. Frederick and Alice - - 148 XXIII. The Wild Huntsmen - - - 153 XXIV. The Old Woman of Berkeley - - 164 XXV. Bishop Bruno - - - 17.3 CONTENTS. No. page. XXVI. Lord William - - - 179 XXVII. The Painter of Florence - - - 187 XXVIII. Donica - - 194 XXIX. Cornelius Agrippa/s Bloody Book - - 201 XXX. Rudiger - - - - £04 XXXI. The Elfin-King ... 214 XXXII. The Sorceress, or Wolfwold and Ulla. 226 ERRATA. Page 11, line 12, for dead, read dread. — 34, — 2, for slumber's, read slumbers — 41, — 17> omit both commas. — 64, — 2, for size, read rise. — 71, — 19, omit the comma after Saviour. — 73, — 3, omit the comma after tissue. — 74, — 6, for hears, read heard. — 77, — 4, after perform, put ! instead of ? — 121, — 13, for arms, read arras. — 133, — 4, for brow, read vow. — 144, — 7> f* 01 black friars sing, read white monks they sing. — 235, — 7? f°r tumbling, read trembling. No. I. BOTHWELLS BONNY JANE. ORIGINAL. M. G. LEWIS. Botlmell Castle is beautifully situated upon the Clyde, and fronts the ruins of B/antyre Priory. The estate of Both-well has long been, and continues to be, in the possession of the Douglas family. Loud roars the north round Both well' s hall, And fast descends the pattering rain : But streams of tears still faster fall From thy blue eyes, oh ! bonny Jane! Hark ! hark ! — I hear, with mournful yell, The wraiths * of angry Clyde complain ; But sorrow bursts with louder swell From thy fair breast, oh ! bonny Jane ! * Water-spirits. B " Tapl — tap !" — who knocks? — the door unfolds ; The mourner lifts her melting eye, And soon with joy and hope beholds A reverend monk approaching nigh : His air is mild, his step is slow, His hands across his breast are laid, And soft he sighs, while bending low, — " St. Bothan* guard thee, gentle maid!" — To meet the friar the damsel ran ; She kiss'd his hand, she clasp'd his knee. — * Now free me, free me, holy man, * Who com'stfrom Blantyre Prio-rie!' — — " What mean these piteous cries, daughter? " St. Bothan be thy speed 1 Then first with amazement Fair Imogine found That a stranger was placed by her side : His air was terrific ; he utter'd no sound ; He spoke not, he moved not, he look'd not around, But earnestly gazed on the bride. His vizor was closed, and gigantic his height; His armour was sable to view : All pleasure and laughter were hush'd at his sight; The dogs, as they eyed him, drew back in affright ; The lio-hts in the chamber burnt blue ! His presence all bosoms appear'd to dismay ; The guests sat in silence and fear : At length spoke the bride, while she trembled : — " I pray, " Sir Knight, that your helmet aside you would lay, " And deign to partake of our cheer." The lady is silent: the stranger complies, His vizor he slowly unclosed : Oh ! then what a sight met Fair Imogine's eyes! What words can express her dismay and surprise, When a skeleton's head was exposed ! 24 All present then utter* d a terrified shout ; All turn'd with discrust from the scene. o The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out, And sported his eyes and his temples about, While the spectre address'd Imogine : 11 Behold me, thou false one ! behold me !" he cried ; 11 Remember Alonzo the Brave! " God grants, that, to punish thy falsehood and pride, " My ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side, " Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride, 11 And bear thee away to the grave !" Thus saying, his arms round the lady he wound, While loudly she shriek'd in dismay ; Then sank with his prey through the wide-yawning ground Nor ever again was Fair Imogine found, Or the spectre who bore her away. Not long lived the Baron : and none since that time To inhabit the castle presume ; For chronicles tell, that, by order sublime, There Imogine surfers the pain of her crime, And mourns her deplorable doom. 25 At midnight four times in each year does her sprite, When mortals in slumber are bound, Array'd in her bridal apparel of white, Appear in the hall with the skeleton-knight, And shriek as he whirls her around. While they drink out of skulls newly torn from the grave, Dancing round them pale spectres are seen : Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave They howl : — " To the health of Alonzo the Brave, " And his consort, the False Imogine 1" 26 No. V. GILES JOLLUP THE GRAVE, AND BROWN SALLY GREEN. ORIGINAL. M. G. LEWIS. This is a Parody upon the foregoing Ballad. I must acknowledge, however, that the lines printed in italics, and the idea of making an apothecary of the knight, and a brewer of the baron, are taken from a parody which appeared in one of the news-papers, under the title of " Pil-Garlic the Brave and Brown Celestine." A Doctor so prim and a sempstress so tight Hob-a-nobb'd in some right marasquin ; They suck'd up the cordial with truest delight : Giles Jollup the Grave was just five feet in lieight, And Jour feet the brown Sally Green, " And as," said Giles Jollup, '.* to-morrow I go 1 • 'To physic a feverish land, " At some sixpenny hop, or perhaps the Mayor's show, 27 11 You'll tumble in love with some smart city beau, " And with him share your shop in the Strand."- — " Lord ! how can you think so?" brown Sally Green said ; " You must know mighty little of me ; " For if you be living, or if you be dead, " I swear, 'pon my honour, that none in your stead " Shall husband of Sally Green be. 11 And if e'er for another my heart should decide, " False to you and the faith which I gave, " God grant that, at dinner too amply supplied, 11 Over-eating may give me a pain in my side ; 11 May your ghost then bring rhubarb to physic the bride, " And send her well-dosed to the grave !" Away went poor Giles, to what place is not told: Sally wept, till she blew her nose sore ! But scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when behold 1 A brewer, quite stylish, his gig that way roll'd, And stopp'd it at Sally Green's door. His wealth, his pot-belly, and whisky of cane, Soon made her untrue to her vows; 7 he steam of strong beer now bewildering her brain, He caught her while tipsy ! denials were vain, So he carried her home as his spouse. 28 And now the roast beef had been bless'd by the priest, To cram now the guests had begun : Tooth and nail like a wolf fell the bride on the feast ; Nor yet had the clash of her knife and fork ceased, When a bell — ('twas a dustman s) — toll d — " one!" Then first with amazement Brown Sally Green found That a stranger was stuck by her side : His cravat and his ruffles with snuff were embrown'd; Heiate not, he drank not, but, turning him round, Sent some pudding away to be fried ! ! ! His wig was turricl forwards, and short was his height ; His apron was dirty to view : The women (oh ! wondrous) were hush'd at his sight : I he cats, as they eyed him, drew back (well they might) ', For his body was pea-green and blue ! Now, as all wish'd to speak, but none knew what to say, They look'd mighty foolish and queer : At length spoke the bride, while she trembled — " I pray, II Dear sir, your peruke that aside you would lay, " And partake of some strong or small beer .'" * The sempstress is silent ; the stranger complies, And his wig from his phiz deigns to pull. Adzooks ! what a squall Sally gave through surprize! 29 Like a pig that is stuck how she open'd her eyes, When she recognized Jollup's bare skull ! Each miss then exclaim'd, while she turn'd up her snout, " Sir, your head isn't fit to be seen t" — The pot-boys ran in, and the pot-boys ran out, And couldn't conceive what the noise was about, While the Doctor address'd Sally Green : " Behold me, thou jilt-flirt ! behold me !" he cried; " You've broken the faith which you gave ! •' God grants, that, to punish your falsehood and pride, " Over-eating should give you a pain in your side : " Come, swallow this rhubarb ! Ill physic the bride, " And send her well-dosed to the grave 1" Thus saying, the physic her throat he forced down, In spite of whatever she could say; Then bore to his chariot the damsel so brown ; Nor ever ag-ain was she seen in that town. Or the Doctor who whisk'd her away. Not lono; liv'd the Brewer : and none since that time To make use of the brewhouse presume ; For 'tis firmly believed, that, by order sublime, There Sally Green suffers the pain of her crime, And bawls to get out of the room. 30 At midnight four times in each year does her sprite With shrieks make the chamber resound : ■ — " I won't take the rhubarb !" she squalls in affright, While, a cup in his left hand, a draught in his right, Giles Jollup pursues her around ! With wigs so well powder'd, their fees while they crave, Dancing round them twelve doctors are seen : They drink chicken-broth, while this horrible stave Is twang'd through each nose — " To Giles Jollup the Grave, " And his patient, the sick Sally Green 1" — 31 No. VI. ELVER'S HOH. DANISH. M. C. LEWIS. The original is to be found in the " Kiampe-Viiser," Copenhagen, 1739. My version of this Ballad fas also of most of the Danish Ballads in this collection) was made from a German translation to be found in Herder's " Volkslieder." The knight laid his head upon Elver's Hoh, Soft slumbers his senses becmilincr ; Fatigue press'd its seal on his eyelids, when lo ! Two maidens drew near to him, smiling ; The one she kiss'd softly Sir Algamore's eyes ; The other she whisper'd him sweetly, " Arise I thou galiant young warrior, arise, " For the dance it goes gaily and featly ! " Arise, thou gallant young warrior, arise, " And dance with us now and for ever ! 32 " My damsels with music tliine ear shall surprise, " And sweeter a mortal heard never — " Then straight of young maidens appear'd a fair throng, Who their voices in harmony raising, The winds they were still as the sounds flew along, By silence their melody praising. The winds they were still as the sounds flew along, The wolf howl'd no more from the mountains ; The rivers were mute upon hearing the song, And calm'd the loud rush of their fountains : The fish, as they swam in the waters so clear, To the soft sounds delighted attended, And nightingales, charmed the sweet accents to hear, Their notes with the melody blended. •" Now hear me, thou gallant young warrior, now hear ! ' ' If thou wilt partake of our pleasure, " We'll teach thee to draw the pale moon from her sphere, " Well show thee the sorcerers treasure ! " Well teach thee the Runic rhyme, teach thee to hold 11 The wild bear in magical fetters, " To charm the red dragon, who broods over gold, " And tame him by mystical letters." 33 Now hither, now thither, then danced the gay band, By witchcraft the hero surprising, Who ever sat silent, his sword in his hand, Their sports and their pleasures despising. — " Now hear me, thou gallant young warrior, now hear ! " If still thou disdain'st what we proffer, •■ With dagger and knife from thy breast will we tear 11 Thine heart, which refuses our offer !" — Oh ! glad was the knight when he heard the cock crow ! His enemies trembled, and left him : Else must he have stayed upon Elver's Hoh, And the witches of life had bereft him. Beware then, ye warriors, returning by night From court, dress'd in gold and in silver ; Beware how you slumber on Elver's rough height, Beware of the witches of Elver ! D 34 No. VII. THE SWORD OF ANGANTYR. RUNIC— M. G. LEWIS. The original is to be found in Hick's Thesau. Ling. Septen. I have taken great liberties with it, and the catastrophe is my own inven- tion. Several versions of this Poem have already appeared, parti- cularly one by Miss Seward. HERVOR. Angantyr, awake! awake! Hervor bids thy slumber's fly! Magic thunders round thee break, Angantyr, reply ! reply ! Reach me, warrior, from thy grave Schwafurlama's magic blade ; Fatal weapon, dreaded glaive, By the dwarfs at midnight made. 35 Hervardur, obey my charms, Hanri too, and Angantyr : Hither, clad in bloody arms, Haste with helmet, sword, and spear ! Hasten, heroes, hasten all ; Sadly pace the spell-bound sod ; Dread my anger, hear my call, Tremble at the charmer's rod ! Are the sons of Angrym's race, They whose breasts with glory burn'd, All deprived of manhood's grace, All to dust and ashes turn'd ? Where the blasted yew-tree grows, Where the bones of heroes lie, What, will none his grave unclose, None to Hervor's voice reply ? Shades of warriors cold and dead, Fear my wrath, nor longer stay ! Mighty souls to Hela fled, Come ! my powerful spells obey. D 2 36 Either instant to my hand Give the sword of mystic power, Which the dwarf and spectre-band Bathed in blood at midnight hour ; Or, in Odin's hall of cheer, Never shall ye more repose, Never more drink mead and beer From the skulls of slaughter'd foes ! ANGANTYR. Hervor ! Hervor ! cease thy cries, Nor oblige, by impious spell, Ghosts of slaughter'd chiefs to rise ; Sport not with the laws of hell ! Know, nor friend's, nor parent's hand Laid in earth's embrace my bones : Natives of a distant land Raised yon monumental stones : I the Tyrfing gave to these ; Twas but justice ; 'twas their due. Hervor ! Hervor ! rest in peace, Angantyr has told thee true. 37 HERVOR. Dar'st thou still my anger brave ? Thus deceitful dar'st thou speak ? Sure as Odin dug thy grave, Lies by thee the sword I seek. I alone may call thee sire, I alone thine heir can be ; Give me then the sword of fire, Angantyr, oh ! give it me ! ANGANTYR. Hervor ! Hervor ! cease, and know, It endures no female hand ; Flames around her feet shall glow, Who presumes to touch the brand But from thee a son shall spring, (So the Valkyries declare) Who shall reign a mighty king ; He the magic blade shall wear. HERVOR. Hela ! Hela ! thrice around This enchanted spot I pace : Hela ! Hela ! thrice the ground Thus with mystic signs I trace . 38 While I swear by Odin's might, Balder' s locks, and Sculda's wing, By the god renown'd in fight, „ By the rhymes the sisters sing, Still the dead unrest shall know, Still shall wave my magic rod, Still the shivering ghosts shall go Round and round this spell-bound sod, Till the sword, the death of shields, Shall my sire to me resign, Till my hand the Tyrfing wields. As in his grasp, fear'd in mine ! ANGANTYR. Bold enchantress, since no prayers Can this impious zeal abate, Since thy haughty bosom dare To dispute the will of Fate, I no more retard thy doom : Arm'd with magic helm and spear Seek the Tyrfing, seek my tomb, When the midnight hour is near. 39 HERVOR. Stormy clouds around me lour! All is silent, mortals sleep ! 'Tis the solemn midnight hour ! Angantyr, thy promise keep. 'Tis the time, and here the grave : Lo ! the grate with pain I lift : Father, reach me forth the glaive, Reach the dwarf's enchanted gift. ANGANTYR. Know, beneath my head it lies, Deep embrown'd with hostile gore. Hervor, daughter, cease thy cries, Hervor, daughter, ask no more. Flames curl round in many a spire, Flames from Hilda's mystic hand ; Ne'er may woman touch the fire, Ne'er may woman wield the brand 1 HERVOR. Wherefore, father, this delay, Wherefore break the word you gave? Coldly burn the flames which play In a breathless warrior's grave. J 40 Give rne straight the spell-fraught sword, Then my potent charms shall cease : Be the dead to sleep restored, Rest, sad spirit, rest in peace ! ANGANTYR. Oh! what daemon's direful power Hapless Hervor, fires thy brain ? Fain would I retard the hour, Destined for my daughter's pain ! Yet be wise, the sword forego : It endures no female hand ; ' Flames around her feet shall glow, Who presumes to touch the brand. hervor. Wilt thou still the brand conceal? I must haste my friends to join, Where Hidalvar, clad in steel, Leads his troops, and waits for mine : Father, now the sword bestow ; Soon 'twill hew my path to fame ; Soon 'twill make each trembling foe Shrink with fear at Hervor's name ! 41 ANGANTYR. Hark ! what horrid voices ring Through the mansions of the dead ! 'Tis the Valkyries who sing, While they spin thy vital thread. — " Angantyr !" I hear them say, Sitting by their magic loom, — " Yield the sword, no more delay, 1 ' Let the sorceress meet her doom ! " Soon the proud one shall perceive, " Anguish ends what crimes begin: * ' Lo ! her web of life we weave, " Lo ! the final thread we spin !" — I obey the voice of hell, It ensures repose to me : Hervor, now unbind the spell, And the Tyrfing thine shall be. HERVOR. Since thy dread commands, my sire, Force the Tyrfing to forego, On thine altars, sisters dire, Thrice twelve heroes' blood shall flow. 42 With respect the mandate hear ; Angantyr, the sword resign : Valued gift, to me more dear, Than were Norway's sceptre mine. ANGANTYR. I obey ! the magic glaive Thirty warriors' blood hath spilt; Lo ! 1 reach it from my grave, Death is in the sheath and hilt ! Now 'tis thine : that daring arm Wields at length the flaming sword ; Hervor, now unbind the charm, Be my ghost to sleep restored. HERVOR. Rest in peace, lamented shade 1 Be thy slumbers soft and sweet, While obtaind the wondrous blade, Home I bend my gladsome feet. But from out the gory steel Streams of fire their radiance dart! Mercy! mercy 1 oh! I feel Burning pangs invade my heart ! 43 Flames amid my ringlets play, Blazing torrents dim my sight! Fatal weapon, hence away ! Woe be to thy blasting might 1 Woe be to the night and time, When the magic sword was given ! Woe be to the Runic rhyme, Which reversed the laws of Heaven ! Curst be cruel Hilda's fire, Which around the weapon curl'd ! Curst the Tyrfing's vengeful ire, Curst myself, and curst the world*. What ! can nothing cool my brain? Nothing calm my anguish wild? Angantyr, oh, speak again ! Father ! father ! aid your child ! ANGANTYR. 'Tis in vain your shrieks resound, Hapless prey of strange despair ! 'Tis in vain you beat the ground, While you rend your raven hair ! 44 They, who dare the dead to wake, Still too late the crime deplore : None shall now my silence break, Now I sleep to wake no more ! HERVOR. Curses ! curses ! oh ! what pain ! How my melting eye-balls glow ! Curses 1 curses ! through each vein How do boiling torrents flow ! Scorching flames my heart devour ! Nought can cool them but the grave ! Hela ! I obey thy power, Hela ! take thy willing slave ! H No. VIII. KING HACHO'S DEATH SONG. RUNIC. M. G. LEWIS. The Original, but in a mutilated state, is inserted in Bartholin. Cans. Contemt. Mort. Here again, as also for the translations of " the Water-King," and of the " Erl-King's Daughter," I must express my obligations to Mr. Herder's Collection, Gaundul and Skogul came from Thor, To choose a kino- from out the war, Who to Valhalla's joys should speed, And drink with Odin beer and mead. Of Ingwa's race the king renowned, Biarner's brother, soon they found, As arm'd with helmet, sword and shield, With eager step he sought die field, 46 Where clashing glaives and dying cries Already told die combats size. With mighty voice he bids appear Haleyger brave, and Halmygeer, Then forth to urge the fight he goes, The hope of friends, the fear of foes. The Norman host soon round him swarms, And Jutland's monarch stands in arms. Firmly is grasp'd by Hacho bold, The millstone-splitters hilt of gold, Whose blows give death on every side, And, as 'twere water, brass divide ; A cloud of javelins veils the sky ; The crashing shields in splinters fly ; And on the casques of warriors brave Resounds the stroke of many a glaive. Now Tyr's and Bauga's weapons brown Break on the Norman monarch's crown ; Now hotter, fiercer grows the fight, Low sinks the pride of many a knight ; And, dyed in slaughter's crimson hue, Torrents of gore their shields bedew ; From meeting weapons lightning gleams; From gaping wounds the life-blood streams : 47 With falling corses groans the land, And purple waves lash Storda's sand. The warring heroes now confound Buckler with buckler, wound with wound : As eager as were battle sport, Renown they seek, and death they court; Till, never more to rise, they fall In myriads; while, to Odin's hall, The daemon of the tempest brings A blood stream on his sable wings. Apart the hostile chiefs were placed, Broken their swords, their helms unlaced ; Yet neither thought his fate would be, The hall of Odin soon to see. — " Great is the feast of gods to-day," Propp'd on her sword, did Gaundul say, 11 Since to their table they invite •' Hacho, and all his chiefs from flight!" — The fated monarch hears too plain, How speaks the chooser of the slain ; Too plain beholds his startled eye, On their black coursers mounted high 50 Who in Valhalla thus shall be Loved and revered, oh ! bless'd is he; His conquest and his fame shall long Remember'd be, and live in song. Wolf Fenris first his chain shall break, And on mankind his fury wreak, Ere walks a king in Hacho's trace, Or fills so well his vacant place. Since to the gods the king hath fled, Heroes and valiant hosts have bled : The bones of friends have strow'd the sand Usurping tyrants sway the land; And many a tear for Hacho brave Still falls upon his honour'd grave. i3 No. X. THE ERL-KINGS DAUGHTER. DANISH. M. G. LEWIS. The Original is in the Kiampe-Viiser. O'er mountains, through vallies, Sir Oluf he wends To bid to his wedding relations and friends ; Tis night, and arriving where sports the elf band, The Erl-King's proud daughter presents him her hand. — " Now welcome, Sir Olufl oil ! welcome to me! " Come, enter our circle my partner to be." — — " Fair lady, nor can I dance with you, nor may; •• To-morrow I marry, to-night must away." — — " Now listen, Sir Oluf! oh! listen to me 1 Two spurs of fine silver thy guerdon shall be; A shirt too of silk will I give as a boon, Which my queen-mother bleach'cl in the beams of the moon. n a i 54 " Then yield thee, Sir Oluf 1 oh! yield thee to me ! " And enter our circle my partner to be!" — — " Fair lady, nor can I dance with you, nor may ; •' To-morrow 1 marry, to-night must away." — — " Now listen, Sir Oluf; oh ! listen to me ! " An helmet of gold will I give unto thee !" — — " An helmet of gold would I willingly take, " But I will not dance with you, for Urgela's sake." — ■ — " And deigns not Sir Oluf my partner to be? " Then curses and sickness I give unto thee; " Then curses and sickness thy steps shall pursue : 11 Now ride to thy lady, thou lover so true." — Thus said she, and laid her charm'd hand on his heart ;- — Sir Oluf, he never had felt such a smart ; Swift spurr'd he his steed till he reach'd his own door, And there stood his mother his castle before. — " Now riddle me, Oluf, and riddle me right : •' Why look'st thou, my dearest, so wan and so white?" — ■ — " How should I not, mother, look wan and look white? " I have seen the Erl-Kings cruel daughter to-night. 55 " She cursed me ! her hand to my bosom she press' d ; " Death follow'd the touch, and now freezes my breast ! " She cursed me, and said, " To your lady now ride ;" " Oh! ne'er shall my lips press the lips of my bride."— — " Now riddle me, Oluf, and what shall I say, " When here comes the lady, so fair and so gay?" — — " Oh ! say, I am gone for awhile to the wood, " To prove if my hounds and my coursers are good." — Scarce dead was Sir Oluf, and scarce shone the day, When in came the lady, so fair and so gay; And in came her father, and in came each guest, Whom the hapless Sir Oluf had bade to the feast. They drank the red wine, and they ate the good cheer; — " Oh ! where is Sir Oluf! oh, where is my dear?" — — " Sir Oluf is gone for awhile to the wood, 11 To prove if his hounds and his coursers are good." — Sore trembled the lady, so fair and so gay ; She eyed the red curtain ; she drew it away; But soon from her bosom for ever life fled, For there lay Sir Oluf, cold, breathless, and dead. 56 No. XI THE WATER-KING. DANISH. M. G- LEWIS, The original is in the Kiampe Viiser. With gentle murmur flow'd the tide, While by its fragrant flowery side The lovely maid, with carols gay, To Mary's church pursued her way. The Water- Fiend's malignant eye Along the banks beheld her hie ; Straight to his mother-witch he sped, And thus in suppliant accents said : — "Oh! mother! mother! now advise, " How I may yonder maid surprise : " Oh ! mother! mother! now explain, " How I may yonder maid obtain,"— 57 The witch she gave him armour white ; She form'd him like a gallant knight : Of water clear next made her hand A steed, whose housings were of sand. The Water-King then swift he went ; To Mary's church his steps he bent : He bound his courser to the door, And paced the churchyard three times four. His courser to the door bound he, And paced the churchyard four times three ; Then hasten'd up the aisle, where all The people flock'd, both great and small. The priest said, as the knight drew near, — " And wherefore comes the white chief here?" The lovely maid she smiled aside ; ■ — ■• Oh ! would I were the white chief's bride !"- He steppd o'er benches one and two ; — " Oh ! lovely maid, I die for you !" — He stepp'd o'er benches two and three ; — " Oh ! lovely maiden, go with me !" — - 58 Then sweetly smiled the lovely maid ; And while she gave her hand, she said, — " Betide me joy, betide me woe, " O'er hill, o'er dale, with thee I go." — The priest their hands together joins ; They dance, while clear the moon-beam shines : And little thinks the maiden bright, Her partner is the Water- Spright. Oh ! had some spirit deign'd to sing, — " Your bridegroom is the Water-King!" — The maid had fear and hate confess'd, And cursed the hand which then she press'd. But nothing giving cause to think How near she stray 'd to danger's brink, Still on she went, and hand in hand The lovers reach'd the yellow sand. — " Ascend this steed with me, my dearl " We needs must cross the streamlet here : " Ride boldly in ; it is not deep ; " The winds are hush'd, the billows sleep." — 59 Thus spoke the Water- King. The maid Her traitor-bridegroom's wish obey'd : And soon she saw the courser lave Delighted in his parent wave. — " Stop ! stop ! my love ! The waters blue " E'en now my shrinking foot bedew. — — " Oh ! lay aside your fears, sweet heart ! " We now have reach'd the deepest part." — — '* Stop ! stop ! my love ! For now I see " The waters rise above my knee/' — — " Oh ! lay aside your fears, sweet heart! " We now have reach'd the deepest part." — — " Stop ! stop ! for God's sake, stop ! for oh ! " The waters o'er my bosom flow ! — Scarce was the word pronounced, when knight And courser vanished from her sight. She shrieks, but shrieks in vain ; for high The wild winds rising, dull the cry ; The fiend exults ; the billows dash, And o'er their hapless victim wash. 60 Three times, while struggling with the stream, The lovely maid was heard to scream ; But when the tempests rage was o'er, The lovely maid was seen no more. Warn'd by this tale, ye damsels fair, To whom you give your love beware ! Believe not every handsome knight, And dance not with the Water-Spright !* * As I have taken great liberties with this Ballad, and have been much questioned as to my share in it, I shall here subjoin a literal translation : THE WATER-MAN. . — " Oh ! mother, give me good counsel ; " How shall I obtain the lovely maid ?" — She form'd for him a horse of clear water, With a bridle and saddle of sand. She arm'd him like a gallant knight, Then rode he into Mary's churchyard. He bound his horse to the church door, And paced round the church three times and four. The Waterman enter'd the church ; The people throng'd about him both great and small. The priest was then standing at the altar. — " Who can yonder white chieftain be ?" — 61 The lovely maiden laugh'd aside — — " Oh ! would the white chieftain were for me !" — He stepp'd over one stool, and over two ; — " Oh ! maiden, give me thy faith and troth !" — He stepp'd over stools three and four. — " Oh ! lovely maiden go with me \" — The lovely maid gave him her hand. — " There hast thou my troth ; I follow thee readily."- They went out with the wedding guests : They danced gaily, and without thought of danger. They danced on till they reached the strand : And now they were alone hand in hand. — " Lovely maiden, hold my horse : " The prettiest little vessel will I bring for you." — And when they came to the white sand, All the ships made to land. And when they came to deep water The lovely maiden sank to the ground. Long heard they who stood on the shore, How the lovely maiden shriek' d among the waves. I advise you, damsels, as earnestly as I can, Dance not with the Water-man. 62 No. XII. THE FIRE-KING. " THE BLESSINGS OF THE EVIL GENII, WHICH ARE CURSES, " were upon him." Eastern Tale. ORIGINAL. WALTER SCOTT. (By the translator of Goethe's " Goetz of Berlichingen." ) For more of this gentleman's Ballads, both original and translated, see. " Glenfinlas," and the Poems following it. Bold knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear, Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear, And you haply may sigh in the midst of your glee At the tale of Count Albert and fair Rosalie. O see you that castle, so strong and so high? And see you that lady, the tear in her eye ? And see you that palmer, from Palestine's land, The shell on his hat, and the staff in his hand ? 63 — •■ Now palmer, grey palmer, O tell unto me 11 What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie; " And how goes the warfare by Gallilee's strand, 11 And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land?" — — •■ O well goes the warfare by Gallilee's wave, " For Gilead, and Nablous, and Raman we have, " And well fare our nobles by Mount Libanon, " For the Heathen have lost, and the Christians have won." — A rich chain of gold mid her ringlets there hung; That chain o'er the palmers grey locks has she flung; " — Oh ! palmer, grey palmer, this chain be thy fee, 11 For the news thou hast brought from the East Countrie. 11 And palmer, good palmer, by Gallilee's wave, *' O saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave? " When the Crescent went back, and the Red-cross rush'd on, " saw ye him foremost on Mount Libanon ?" — — " O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows, " O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows, " Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on high, 44 But lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die. 64 " The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls, "It leaves of your castle but levin-scorch'd walls, '* The pure stream runs muddy, the gay hope is gone, " Count Albert is taken on Mount Libanon." — O she's ta'en a horse should be fleet at her speed, And she's ta'en a sword should be sharp at her need, And she has ta'en shipping for Palestine's land, To ransom Count Albert from Soldanrie's hand. Small thought had Count Albert on fair Rosalie, Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood had he ; A heathenish damsel his light heart had won, The Soldan's fair daughter of Mount Libanon. -" Oh! Christian, brave Christian, my love would'st thou be? Three things must thou do ere 1 hearken to thee — • Our laws and our worship on thee shalt thou take, 1 And this thou shalt first do for Zulema's sake. < < " And next in the cavern, where burns evermore " The mystical flame which the Curdmans adore, " Alone and in silence three nights shalt thou wake, 11 And this thou shalt next do for Zulema's sake. 65 41 And last, thou shait aid us with council and hand, " To drive the Frank robbers from Palestine's land ; 11 For my lord and my love then Count Albert I'll take, 11 When all this is accomplish'd for Zulema's sake." — He has thrown by his helmet and cross-handled sword, Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord ; He has ta'en the green caftan, and turban put on, For the love of the maiden of fair Libanon. And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground, Which fifty steel gates and steel portals surround, He has watch'd until day -break, but sight saw he none, Save the flame burning bright on its altar of stone. Amazed was the princess, the Soldan amazed, Sore murmur'd the priests as on Albert they gazed; They search'd all his garments, and under his weeds, They found, and took from him, his rosary beads. Again in the cavern, deep deep under ground, He watch'd the lone night, while the winds whistled round ; Far off was their murmur, it came not more nigh, The flame burn'd unmoved, and nought else did he spy. F 66 Loud murmur'd the priests, and amazed was the king, While many dark spells of their witchcraft they sing; They seai ch'd Alberts body, and lo 1 on his breast Was the sign of the Cross, by his father impress'd. The priests they eraze it with care and with pain, And the recreant return'd to the cavern again ; But as he descended a whisper there fell ! — — It was his good angel, who bade him farewell ! — High bristled his hair, his heart fluttered and beat, And he turn'd him five steps, half resolved to retreat; But his heart it was harden'd, his purpose was gone, When he thought of the maiden of fair Libanon. Scarce pass'd he the archway, the threshold scarce trod, When the winds from the four points of heaven were abroad; They made each steel portal to rattle and ring, And, borne on the blast, came the dread Fire-King. Full sore rock'd the cavern whene'er he drew nigh, The fire on the altar blazed bickering and high ; In volcanic explosions the mountains proclaim The dreadful approach of the Monarch of Flame. 67 Unmeasured in height, undistinguish'd in form, His breath it was lightning, his voice it was storm, I ween the stout heart of Count Albert was tame, When he saw in his terrors the Monarch of Flame. In his hand abroad faulchion blue-glimmer'd through smoke, And Mount Libanon shook as the monarch he spoke ; — — " With this brand shalt thou conquer, thus long, and no more, " Till thou bend to the Cross, and the Virgin adore." — The cloud -shrouded arm gives the weapon — and see! The recreant receives the charm'd gift on his knee. o The thunders growl distant, and faint gleam the fires As, born on his whirlwind, the phantom retires. Count Albert has arm'd him the Paynim among, Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was strong ; And the Red-cross wax'd faint, and the Crescent came on, From the day he commanded on Mount Libanon. From Lebanon's forests to Gallilee's wave, The sands of Samaar drank the blood of the brave, Till the Knights of the Temple, and Knights of Saint John, With Salem's King Baldwin, against him came on. F 2 68 The war-cymbals clatter'd, the trumpets replied, The lances were couch'd, and they closed on each side; And horsemen and horses Count Albert o'erthrew, Till he pierced the thick tumult King Baldwin unto. Against the charm'd blade which Count Albeit did wield, The fence had been vain of the King's Red-cross shield ; But a page thrust him forward the monarch before, And cleft the proud turban the renegade wore. So fell was the dint, that Count Albert stoop'd low Before the cross'd shield, to his steel saddle-bow; And scarce had he bent to the Red-cross his head — — -" Bonne grace , noire Dame" — he unwittingly said. Sore sigh'd the charm'd sword, for its virtue was o'er, It sprung from his grasp, and was never seen more ; But true men have said, that the lightning's red wing Did waft back the brand to the dread Fire-King. He clench'd his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand, He stretch'd with one buffet that page on the strand; As back from the strippling the broken casque roll'd, You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold! 69 Short time had Count Albert in horror to stare On those death-swimming eye-balls and blood-clotted hair, For down came the Templars, like Cedron in flood, And dyed their long lances in Saracen blood. The Saracens, Curdmans, and Ishmaelites yield To the scallop, the saltier, and crosletted shield, And the eagles were gorged with the infidel dead From Bethsaida's fountains to Naphthali's head. The battle is over on Bethsaida's plain — Oh ! who is von Paynim lies stretch'd mid the slain ? And who is yon page lying cold at his knee? Oh ! who but Count Albert and fair Rosalie. The lady was buried in Salem's bless'd bound, The Count he was left to the vulture and hound ; Her soul to high mercy our Lady did bring, His went on the blast to the dread Fire-King. Yet many a minstrel in harping can tell How the Red-Cross it conquer'd, the Crescent it fell; And lords and gay ladies have sigh'd, mid their glee, At the Tale of Count Albert and fair Rosalie. 70 No. XIII. a THE CLOUD-KING. ADJECTIVES HAVE BUT THREE DEGREES OF COMPARISON, THE POSITIVE, COMPARATIVE, AND SUPERLATIVE." English Grammar. ORIGINAL. M. G. LEWIS. Why how now, Sir Pilgrim ? why shake you with dread? Why brave you the winds of night, cutting and cold? Full warm was your chamber, full soft was your bed, And scarce by the castle-bell twelve has been toll'd. — " Oh ! hear you not, Warder, with anxious dismay, " How rages the tempest, how patters the rain? " While loud howls the whirlwind, and threatens, ere day, ■ ' To strow these old turrets in heaps on the plain !" — Now calm thee, Sir Pilgrim ! thy fears to remove, Know, yearly, this morning is destin'd to bring Such storms, which declare that resentment and love Still gnaw the proud heart of the cruel Cloud-King. 71 One morning, as borne on the wings of the blast, The fiend over Denmark directed his flight, A glance upon Rosenhalfs turrets he cast, And gazed on its lady with wanton delight: Yet proud was her eye, and her cheek flush'd with rage, Her lips with disdain and reproaches were fraught ; And lo! at her feet knelt a lovely young page, And thus in soft accents compassion besought. — " Oh drive not, dear beauty, a wretch to despair, " Whose fault is so venial, a fault if it be ; " For who could have eyes, and not see thou art fair? 11 Or who have an heart, and not give it to thee? " I own I adore you! I own you have been " Long the dream of my night, long the thought of my day; 11 But no hope had my heart that its idolized queen 11 Would ever with passion my passion repay. 11 When insects delight in the blaze of the sun, " They harbour no wish in his glory to share : " When kneels at the cross of her Saviour, the nun, " He scorns not the praises she breathes in her prayer. (« (( 72 When the pilgrim repairs to St. Hermegild's shrine, " And claims of her relics a kiss as his fee, His passion is humble, is pure, is divine, " And such is the passion I cherish for thee!" — — " Rash youth ! how presumest thou with insolent love,'* Thus answered the lady, " her ears to profane, " Whom the monarchs of Norway and Jutland, to move ** Their passion to pity attempted in vain? '.' Fly, fly from my sight, to some far distant land ! " That wretch must not breathe, where Romilda resides, if Whose lips, while she slept, stole a kiss from that hand, " No mortal is worthy to press as a bride's, " Nor e'er will I wed till some prince of the air, " His heart at the throne of my beauty shall lay, " And the two first commands which I give him, shall swear, " (Though hard should the task be enjoin'd) to obey." — She said. — Straight the castle of Rosenhall rocks With an earthquake, and thunders announce the Cloud-King. A crown of red lightnings confined his fair locks, And high o'er each arm waved an huge sable wing. 73 His sandals were meteors ; his blue eye reveal'd The firmament's lustre, and light scatter'd round ; While his robe, a bright tissue, of rain-drops congeal'd, Reflected the lightnings his temples that bound. — " Romilda!" he thundered, " thy charms and thy pride " Have drawn down a spirit; thy fears now dismiss, «' For no mortal shall call thee, proud beauty, his bride ; 11 The Cloud-Monarch comes to demand thee for his. " My eyes furnish lightnings, my wings cloud the air, •' My hand guides the thunder, my breath wakes the storm; 11 And the two first commands which you give me, I swear, " (Though hard should the task be enjoin'd) to perform." — He said, and he seized her; then urging his flight, Swift bore her away, while she struggled in vain ; Yet long in her ears rang the shrieks of affright, Which pour'd for her danger the page Amorayn. At the Palace of Clouds soon Romilda arrived, When the Fiend, with a smile which her terrors increased, Exclaim'd — " I must warn my three brothers I'm wived, " And bid them prepare for my wedding the feast." — - 74 Than lightning then swifter thrice round did he turn, Thrice bitterly cursed he the parent of good, And next in a chafing-dish hasten'd to burn Three locks of his hair, and three drops of his blood: And quickly Romilda, with anxious affright, Hears the tramp of a steed, and beheld at the gate A youth in white arms — 'twas the false Water-Spright, And behind him his mother, the sorceress, sate. The youth he was comely, and fair to behold, The hag was the foulest eye ever surveyed ; Each placed on the table a goblet of gold, While thus to Romilda the Water-King said. — — " Hail, Queen of the Clouds ! lo ! we bring thee for drink " The blood of a damsel, both lovely and rich, " Whom I tempted, and left 'midst the billows to sink, '* Where she died by the hands of my mother, the witch. " But see'st thou yon chariot, which speeds from afar? " The Erl-King with his daughter it brings, while a throng " Of wood-fiends and succubi sports round the car, " And goads on the night-mares that whirl it along." — 75 The maid, while her eyes tears of agony pour'd, Beheld the Erl-King and his daughter draw near: A charger of silver each placed on the board, While the fiend of the forests thus greeted her ear. — " With the heart of a warrior, Cloud Queen, for thy food, 11 The head of a child on thy table we place : 11 She spell-struck the knight as he stray 'd through the wood; " I strangled the child in his father's embrace." — The roof now divided. — By fogs half conceal'd, Suck'd from marshes, infecting the air as he came, And blasting the verdure of forest and field, On a dragon descended the Giant of Flame. Fire seem'd from his eyes and his nostrils to pour ; His breath was a volume of sulphurous smoke ; He brandishd a sabre still dropping with gore, And his voice shook the palace when silence he broke. — •' Feast, Queen of the Clouds ! the repast do not scorn; • ' Feast, Queen of the Clouds ! I perceive thou hast food ! M To-morrow I feast in my turn, for at morn 11 Shall I feed on thy flesh, shall I drink of thy blood ! 76 " Lo! I bring for a present this magical brand, '* The bowels of Christians have dyed it with red ; " This once flamed in Albert the renegade's hand, " And is destined to-morrow to strike off thy head."— Then paler than marble Romilda she grew, While tears of regret blamed her folly and pride. — " Oh ! tell me, Cloud-King, if the giant said true, And wilt thou not save from his sabre thy bride?" — it — " 'Tis in vain, my fair lady, those hands that you wring, " The bond is completed, the dye it is cast; 11 For she who at night weds an element-king, '* Next morning must serve for his brother's repast/' — — " Yet save me, Cloud-King ! by that love you profess'd " Bear me back to the place whence you tore me away."— — " Fair lady ! yon fiends, should I grant your request, " Instead of to-morrow, would eat you to day." — — -" Yet mark me, Cloud-King ! spread in vain is your snare, M For my bond must be void, and escap'd is your prey, " The two first commands which I give you, howe'er " The task should be wondrous, unless you obey." — - 77 - — " Well say'st thou, Romilda; thy will, then, impart, " But hope not to vanquish the King of the Storm, Or baffle his skill by invention or art ; Thou can'st not command what /cannot perform ?"- «< < < Then clasping her hands, to the Virgin she pray'd, While in curses the wicked ones vented their rage. — " Now show me the truest of lovers !" — she said, And lo ! bv her side stood the lovely young Page. His mind was all wonder, her heart all alarms ; She sank on his breast as he sank at her knee. — " The truest of lovers I fold in my arms, " Than the truest, now show me a truer T — said she. Then loud yell'd the daemons ! the cloud-fashion'd halls Dissolved, thunder bellow'd, and heavy rains beat; Again stood the Fair midst her own castle walls, And still knelt the lovely young page at her feet. And soon for her own, and for Rosenhairslord, Did Romilda the truest of lovers declare, Nor e'er on his bosom one sigh could afford, That for him she had quitted the Monarch of Air. 78 Full long yonder chapel has shelter'd their urns, Lone* ceased has the tear on their ashes to fall ; Yet still, when October the twentieth returns, Roars the fiend round these turrets, and shakes Rosenhall. Oh I Pilgrim, thy fears let these annals remove, For day to the skies will tranquillity bring ; This storm but declares that resentment and love Still gnaw the proud heart of the cruel Cloud-King. * * Lest my readers should mistake the drift of the foregoing tale, and sup- pose its moral to rest upon the danger in which Romilda was involved by her insolence and presumption, I think it necessary to explain, that my object in writing this story, was to shew young ladies that it might possibly, now and then, be of use to understand a little grammar ; and it must be clear to every one, that my heroine would infallibly have been devoured by the demons, if she had not luckily understood the difference between the comparative and superlative degrees. 79 No. XIV. THE FISHERMAN. GERMAN. M. G. LEWIS. From the German of Goethe. The water rush'd, the water swell'd, A fisherman sat nio-h. : Calm was his heart, and he beheld His line with watchful eye : While thus he sits with tranquil look, In twain the water flows ; Then, crown'd with reeds, from out the brook, A lovely woman rose. To him she sung, to him she said, — '* Why tempt'st thou from the flood, " By cruel arts of man betray 'd, " Fair youth, my scaly brood? 80 11 Ah! knew'st thou how we find it sweet " Beneath the waves to go, 11 Thyself would leave the hook's deceit, " And live with us below. " Love not their splendour in the main " The sun and moon to lave ? •■ Look not their beams as bright again, 11 Reflected on the wave? " Tempts not this river's glassy blue, " So crvstal, clear and bright? " Tempts not thy shade, which bathes in dew, " And shares our cool delight ?" — o The water rush'd, the water swell'd, The fisherman sat nigh ; With wishful glance the flood beheld, And long'd the wave to try. To him she said, to him she sung, The river's guileful queen : Half in he fell, half in he sprung, And never more was seen. 81 No. XV. THE SAILOR'S TALE. ORIGINAL. M. G. LEWIS. Landlord, another bowl of punch, and comrades fill your glasses ! First in another bumper toast our pretty absent lasses, Then hear how sad and strange a sight my chance it was to see, While lately, in the ' Lovely Nan,' returning from Goree ! As all alone at dead of night along the deck I wander'd, And now I whistled, now on home and Polly Parsons ponder'd, Sudden a ghastly form appear'd, in drippino- trowsers rigg'd, And soon, with strange surprise and fear, Jack Tackle's ghost I twigg'd. — " Dear Tom," quoth he, " I hither come a doleful tale to tell ye ! '* A monstrous fish has safely stow'd your comrade in his belly ; 82 " Groggy last night, my luck was such, that overboard I slid, 11 When a shark snapp'd and chew d me, just as now you chew that quid. << Old Nick, who seem'd confounded glad to catch my soul a napping, " Straight tax'd me with that buxom dame, the tailor's wife at Wapping ; " In vain I begg'd, and swore, and jaw'd ; Nick no excuse would hear ; " Quoth he, — ' You lubber, make your will, and dam'me, downwards steer.' — " Tom, to the 'foresaid tailor's wife I leave my worldly riches, " But keep yourself, my faithful friend, my bran-new linen breeches ; " Then, when you wear them, sometimes give one thought to Jack that's dead, M Nor leave those galligaskins off while there remains one thread." — At hearing Jack's sad tale, my heart, you well may think, was bleeding ; The spirit well perceived my grief, and seem'd to be proceeding, But here, it so fell out, he sneezed : — Says I — " God bless you, • Jack!"— And poor Jack Tackle's grimly ghost was vanish'd in a crack ! S3 Now comrades, timely warning take, and landlord fill the bowl; Jack Tackle, for the tailor's wife, has damn'd his precious soul ; Old Nick's a devilish dab, it seems, at snapping up a sailor's, So if you kiss your neighbour's wife, be sure she's not a tailor's. \ V G 2 S4 No. XVI. THE PRINCESS AND THE SLAVE. ORIGINAL. M. G. LEWIS. Where fragrant breezes sigh'd through orange bowers, And springing fountains cool'd the air with showers, From pomp retired, and noon-tide's burning ray, The fair, the royal Nouronihar lay. The cups of roses, newly-cropp'd, were spread Her lovely limbs beneath, and o'er her head Imprison'd nightingales attuned their throats, And lull'd the princess with melodious notes. Here roll'd a lucid stream its gentle wave With scarce heard murmur ; while a Georgian slave Placed near the couch with feathers in her hand, The lady's panting breast in silence fann'd, And chased the insects, who presumed to seek Their banquet on the beauty's glowing cheek. This slave, a mild and simple maid was she, Of common form, and born of low degree, 85 Whose only charms were smiles, devoid of art, Whose only wealth, a gentle feeling heart. While thus within her secret loved retreat, Half sleeping, half awake, oppress'd with heat, The princess slumber'd ; near her, shrill, yet faint, Rose the sad tones of suppliant sorrow's plaint. She starts, and angry gazes round : when lo ! A wretched female, bent with age and woe, Drags her unsteady feet the arbour nigh, While every step is number'd by a sigh, Meagre and wan her form, her cheek is pale; Her tatter'd garments scarce her limbs can veil; Yet still, through want and grief, her air betrays Grandeur's remains, and gleams of better days. Soon as to Nouronihar's couch she came, Low on the ground her weak and trembling frame Exhausted sank ; and then, with gasping breast, She thus in plaintive tones the fair addiess'd. — " If e'er compassion's tear your cheek could stain, " If e'er you languished in disease and pain, M If e'er you sympathized with age's groan, " Hear, noble lady, hear a suppliant's moan ! 11 Broken by days of want, and nights of tears, " By sickness wasted, and oppress'd by years, 86 " Beneath our sacred Mithra's scorching fire " I sink enfeebled, and with thirst expire. " Yon stream is near : oh ! list a sufferer's cry, " And reach one draught of water, lest I die !" — — M What means this bold intrusion ?" cried the fair, With peevish tone, and discontented air; " What daring voice, with wearying plaint, infests " The sacred grove where Persia's princess rests ? " Beggar begone, and let these clamours cease 1 " This buys at once your absence, and my peace." — Thus said the princess, and indignant frown'd, Then cast her precious bracelet on the ground, And tura'cl again to sleep. With joyless eye The fainting stranger saw the jewel lie : When lo ! kind Selima (the Georgian's name), Softly with water from the fountain came; And while, with gentle grace, she gave the bowl, Thus sweetly sad her feeling accents stole. j — " Humble and poor, I nothing can bestow, •' Except these tears of pity for your woe : " 'Tis all I have ; but yet that all receive " From one who fain your sorrows would relieve, 87 " From one who weeps to view such mournful scenes, " And would give ??wre, but that her hand lacks means, " Drink, mother! drink ! the wave is cool and clear, " But drink in silence, lest the princess hear!" — Scarce are these words pronounced, when, bless'd surprise The stranger's age-bowed figure swells its size ! m No more the stamp of years deforms her face ; Her tatter'd shreds to sparkling robes give place ; Her breath perfumes the air with odours sweet ; Fresh roses spring wherever tread her feet, And from her eyes, where reign delight and love, Unusual splendour glitters through the grove ! Her silver wand, her form of heavenly mould, Her white and shining robes, her wings of gold, Her port majestic, and superior height, Announce a daughter of the world of light ! The princess, whom her slaves delighted cries Compelld once more to ope her sleep-bound eyes, With wonder mix'd with awe the scene survey'd, While thus the Peri cheer'd the captive maid. 11 Look up, sweet girl, and cast all fears aside! " I seek my darling son's predestined bride, " And here I find her : here are found alone, 11 Feelings as kind, as gracious as his own. 88 " For you, fair princess, in whose eyes of blue, " The strife of envy, shame, and grief, I view, " Observe, and profit by this scene ! you gave, " But oh ! how far less nobly than your slave ! " Your bitter speech, proud glance, and peevish tone, et Too plain declared, your gift was meant alone " Your own repose and silence to secure, li And hush the beggar, not relieve the poor ! " Oh ! royal lady, let this lesson prove, " Smiles, more than presents, win a suppliant's love; M And when your mandates rule some distant land, ?* Where all expect their blessings from your hand, " Remember, with ill-will and frowns bestow'd, U Favours offend, and gifts become a load !" — She ceased, and touching with her silver wand Her destined daughter, straight two wings expand Their purple plumes, and wave o'er either arm ; Next to her person spreads the powerful charm ; And soon the enraptured wondering maid combined A faultless person with a faultless mind. Then, while with joy divine their hearts beat high, Swift as the lightning of a jealous eye The Peries spread their wings, and soar'd away To the bless' d regions of eternal day. 89 Stuncr with regret, the princess saw too plain, Lost by her fault what tears could ne'er regain ! Long on the tablets of her humbled breast The Peri's parting words remain'd impress'd. E'en when her hand Golconda's sceptre sway'd, And subject realms her mild behests obey'd, The just reproof her conscious ear still heard ; Still she remember'd, with ill grace conferr'd, Crowns, to a feeling mind, less joy impart, Than trifles, offer'd with a willing heart. 90 No. XVII. THE GAY GOLD RING, ORIGINAL. M. G. LEWIS. — " There is a thing, there is a thing, ' * Which I fain would have from thee ! " I fain would have thy gay gold ring; " O ! warrior, give it me ?" — He lifts his head ; Lo ! near his bed Stands a maid as fair as day; Cold is the night, Yet her garment is light, For her shift is her only array. — " Come you from east, " Or come you from west, 91 " Or dost from the Saracens flee? " Cold is the night, 11 And your garment is light, " Come, sweetheart, and warm you by me !" — — ■' My garment is light, 11 And cold is the night, " And I would that my limbs were as cold : " Groan must I ever, " Sleep can 1 never, 11 Knight, till you give me your gay ring of gold ! " For that is a thing, a thing, a thing, " Which I fain would have from thee ! 11 I fain would have thy gay gold ring ; " O ! warrior, give it me?" — — " That ring Lord Brooke " From his daughter took: . . r " He gave it to me, and he swore, " That fair la-dye •• My bride should be, 11 When this crusade were o'er. " Ne'er did mine eyes that lady view, 44 Bright Emmeline by name: 92 " But if fame say true, •' Search Britain through, " You'll find no fairer dame. '* But though she be fair, " She cannot compare, " I wot, sweet lass, with thee; " Then pass by my side " Three nights as my bride, " And thy guerdon the ring shall be!'' — - In silence the maid The knight obey'd ; Low on his pillow her head she laid : But soon as by hers his hand was press'd, Changed to ice was the heart in his breast ; And his limbs were fetter'd in frozen chains, And turn'd to snow was the blood in his veins. The cock now crows ! The damsel goes Forth from the tent; and the blood which she froze, Again through the veins of Lord Elmerick flows, And again his heart with passion glows. Donned the knight His armour bright ; 93 Full wroth was he, I trow t — " Beshrew me!" he said, " If thus, fair maid, M From my tent to-morrow you go !" — Gone was liglit ! Come was nio;ht ! o The sand-glass told, 'twas three ; And again stood there The stranger fair, And murmur again did she. — " There is a thing, there is a thing, " Which I fain would have from thee 1 " I fain would have thy gay gold ring ; " O ! warrior, give it me !" — — " One night by my side 11 Hast thou pass'd as my bride ; '.' Two yet remain behind : " Three must be pass'd, " Ere thy finger fast 11 The gay gold ring shall bind." — A o;ain the maid The knight obey'd ; iy 94 Again on his pillow her head she laid ; And again, when by hers his hand was pressd, Changed to ice was the heart in his breast : And his limbs were fetter' d in frozen chains, And turnd to snow was the blood in his veins ! Three days were gone, two nights were spent; Still came the maid, when the glass told " three ; How she came, or whither she went, None could say, and none could see ; But the warrior heard, When night the third Was gone, thus claim d his plighted word. — " Once ! — twice ! — thrice by your side Have I lain as your bride ; Sir Knight I Sir Knight, beware you '. " Your ring I crave ! " Your ring I'll have, " Or limb from limb I'll tear you!" — She drew from his hand the ring so gay ; No limb could he move, and no word could he say. — •« See, Arthur, I bring " To my grave, thy ring," — Murmur d the maiden, and hied her away. < i >( 95 Then sprang so light From his couch the knight ; With shame his cheek was red : And, filled with racre, His little foot page He call'd from beneath the bed. — " Come hither, come hither, " My lad so lither; " While under my bed you lay, " What did you see, " And what maiden was she, " Who left me at breaking of day ?" — — "Oh! master, I " No maid could spy, " As I've a soul to save; " But when the cock crew, " The lamp burn'd blue, " And the tent smell'd like a grave ! 11 And I heard a voice in anauish moan, " And a bell seem'd four to tell ; *' And the voice was like a dying groan, " And the bell like a passing bell !" — 96 Lord Brooke look'd up, Lord Brooke look'd down, Lord Brooke look'd over the plain ; He saw come riding tow'rds the town, Of knights a jolly train : — " Is it the king of Scottish land, " Or the prince of some far coun-trye, " That hither leads yon goodly band " To feast awhile with me?" — — c ' Oh ! it's not the prince of some far coun-trye, 11 Nor the king of Scottish land: " It's Elmerick come from beyond the sea, " To claim Lady Emmeline's hand." — Then down Lord Brooke's grey beard was seen A stream of tears to pour ; — " Oh! death my daughter's spouse has been " These seven long years and more ! 11 Remorseful guilt and self-despite " Destroy'd that beauteous flower, " For that her falsehood kill'd a knight; • " 'Twas Arthur of the Bovver. 97 ** Sir Arthur gave her his heart to have, 11 And he save her his troth to hold ; 11 And he gave her his ring, so fair and brave, 11 Was all of the good red gold : " And she gave him her word, that only he 11 Should kiss her as a bride; " And she gave him her oath, that ring should be " On her hand the day she died. " But when she heard of Lord Elmerick's fame, 11 His wealth, and princely state; 11 And when she heard, that Lord Elmerick's name Was praised by low and great, <( 11 Did vanity full lightly bring 11 Mv child to break her oath, " And to you she sent Sir Arthur's ring, " And to him sent back his troth. ** Oh ! when he heard, V That her plighted word " His false love meant to break, " The youth grew sad, •* And the youth grew mad, '* And his sword he sprang to take : H 98 " He set the point against his side, " The hilt against the floor ; " I wot, he made a wound so wide, " He never a word spake more. 11 And now, too late, my child began " Remorseful tears to shed; " Her heart grew faint, her cheek grew wan, " And she sicken'd, and took to her bed. " The Leech then said, " And shook his head, " She ne'er could health recover ; " Yet long in pain '* Did the wretch remain, " Sorrowing for her lover. " And sure 'twas a piteous sight to see, " How she prayed to die, but it might not be; " And when the morning bell told three, " Still in hollow voice cried she, — c< There is a thing, there is a thing, 11 Which I fain would have from thee ! ** I fain would have thy gay gold ring ; " Oh ! warrior, give it me !" — 99 Now who than ice was colder then, And who more pale than snow? And who was the saddest of all sad men? Lord Elmerick, I trow ! — if Oh ! lead me, lead me to the place •« Where Emmeline's tomb doth stand, 11 For I must look on that lady's face, " And touch that lady's hand!" — Then all who heard him, stood aghast, But not a word was said, While through the chapel's yard they pass'd, And up the chancel sped. They burst the tomb, so fair and sheen, Where Emmeline's corse inclosed had been ; And lo ! on the skeleton's finger so lean, Lord Elmerick* s gay gold ring was seen! Damsels! damsels! mark aright The doleful tale I sing ! Keep your vows, and heed your plight, And go to no warrior's tent by night, To ask for a cay gold ring.* o / t> * I once read in some Grecian author, whose name I have forgotten, the story which suggested to me the outline of the foregoing ballad. It was, as H 2 100 follows : a young man arriving at the house of a friend, to whose daughter he was betrothed, was. informed, that some weeks had passed since death had deprived him of his intended bride. Never having seen her, he soon reconciled himself to her loss, especially as, during his stay at his friend's house, a young lady was kind enough to visit him every night in his chamber, whence she retired at day- break, always carrying with her some valuable present from her lover. This intercourse continued till accident shewed the young man the picture of his deceased bride, and he recognized, with horror, the features of his nocturnal visitor. The young lady's tomb being opened, he found in it the various pre- sents which his liberality had bestowed on his unknown inamorata. 101 No. XVIII. THE GRIM WHITE WOMAN. ORIGINAL. M. G. LEWIS. Lord Ronald was handsome, Lord Ronald was youn ?" 108 — " Say, why on my castle a black banner flies, " And why trickle tears from my fair lady's eyes?" — — " In your absence the Grim White Woman was here, " And dead is your son, whom you valued so dear." — Deep sorrow'd Lord Ronald : but soon for his grief, He found in the arms of sweet Ellen relief: Her kisses could peace to his bosom restore, And the more he beheld her, he loved her the more ; Till it chanced, that one night, when the tempest was loud, And strong gusts of wind rock'd the turrets so proud, As Ronald lay sleeping he heard a voice cry, — " Dear father, arise, or your daughter must die 1" — He woke, gazed around, look'd below, look'd above ; — " Why trembles my Ronald? what ails thee, my love?"- — " I dreamt, through the skies that 1 saw a hawk dart, 11 Pounce a little white pigeon, and tear out its heart. ' — — " Oh hush thee, my husband; thy vision was vain." — Lord Ronald resign'd him to slumber again : But soon the same voice, which had routed him before, Cried — " Father, arise, or your daughter's no morel" — 109 He woke, gazed around, look d below, look'd above; — " What fears now, my Ronald? what ails thee, my love?" — — " I dreamt that a tiorcss, with jaws open'd wide, 11 Had fastend her fangs in a little lamb's side!" — — u Oh! hush thee, my husband; no tigress is here." — Again Ronald slept, and again in his ear Soft murmur'd the voice, — " Oh! be warn'd by your son; Dear father, arise, for it soon will strike — " one 1" — : C *' Your wife, for a spell your affections to hold, 11 To the Grim White Woman her children hath sold; " E'en now is the Fiend at your babe's chamber door; 11 Then father, arise, or your daughter's no more !" — From his couch starts Lord Ronald, in doubt and dismay, He seeks for his wife — but his wife is away ! He gazes around, looks below, looks above ; Lo ! there sits on his pillow a little white dove ! A mild lambent flame in its eyes seem'd to glow ; More pure was its plumage than still-falling snow, Except where a scar could be seen on its side, And three small drops of blood the white feathers had dyed. 110 — " Explain, pretty pigeon, what art thou, explain?"— — " The soul of thy son, by the White Daemon slain; " E'en now is the Fiend at your babe's chamber door, " And thrice having warn'd you, I warn you no more!" — The pigeon then vanish'd ; and seizing his sword, The way to his daughter Lord Ronald explored ; Distracted he sped to her chamber full fast, And the clock it struck — M one !" — as the threshold he past. And straight near the hearth, by a cauldron's blue light, He saw the tall form of a female in white; Ellen wept, to her heart while her baby she press'd, Whom the spectre approaching, thus fiercely address'd. — " The Grim White Woman, who haunts yon wood, " The Grim White Woman, who feasts on blood, " Since now she has number' d twelve months and a day, " Claims the heart of your daughter, and comes for her prey !"— This said, she her nails in the child would have fix'd ; Sore struggled the mother; when, rushino- betwixt, Ronald struck at the Fiend with his ready-drawn brand, And, glancing aside, his blow lopp'd his wife's hand! Ill Wild laughing, the Fiend cauoht the hand from the floor, Releasing the habe, kissd the wound, drank the gore ; A little jet ring from the finger then drew, Thrice shriek'd a loud shriek, and was borne from their view 1 Lord Ronald, while horror still bristled his hair, To Ellen now turn'd ; — but no Ellen was there 1 And lo ! in her place, his surprise to complete, Lay Janet, all coverd with blood, at his feet ! — ■« Yes, traitor, 'tis Janet!" — she cried ; — " at my sight " No more will your heart swell with love and delight ; " That little jet ring was the cause of your flame, " And that little jet ring from the Forest-Fiend came. " It endow'd me with beauty, your heart to regain ; 44 It fix'd your affections, so wavering and vain ; " But the spell is dissolved, and your eyes speak my fate, 11 My falsehood is clear, and as clear is your hate. " But what caused my falsehood? — your falsehood alone ; 11 What voice said — * be guilty ?' — seducer, your own ! " You vow'd truth for ever, the oath I believed, " And hadjytfw not deceived me, /had not deceived. 112 " Remember my joy, when affection you swore ! " Remember my pangs, when your passion was o'er! " A curse, in my rage, on your children was thrown, " And alas ! wretched mother, that curse struck my own !"- And here her strength fail'd her ! — the sad one to save In vain the Leech labour'd ; three days did she rave ; Death came on the fourth, and restored her to peace, Nor long did Lord Ronald survive her decease. Despair fills his heart ! he no longer can bear His castle, for Ellen no longer is there : From Scotland he hastens, all comfort disdains, And soon his bones whiten on Palestine's plains. If you bid me, fair damsels, my moral rehearse, It is, that young ladies ought never to curse ; For no one will think her well-bred, or polite, Who devotes little babes to Grim Women in White. 113 No. XIX THE LITTLE GREY MAN. ORIGINAL. H. BUNBURY. Mary-Ann was the darling of Aix-la-Chapelle; She bore through its province, unenvied, the belle ; The joy of her fellows, her parents' delight; So kind was her soul, and her beauty so bright : No maiden surpass'd, or perhaps ever can, Of Aix-la-Chapelle the beloved Mary -Ann. Her form it was faultless, unaided by art ; And frank her demeanour, as guileless her heart ; Her soft melting eyes a sweet langour bedeck'd, And youths gawdy bloom was by love lightly check'd ; On her mien had pure nature bestowd her best grace, And her mind stood confess'd in the charms of her face. « ( « '. 114 Though with suitors beset, yet her Leopold knew, As her beauty was matchless, her heart it was true, So fearless he went to the wars ; while the maid, Her fears for brave Leopold often betray'd : Full oft, in the y;loom of the churchyard reclined, Would she pour forth her sorrows and vows to the wind. — " Ah me 1" — would she sigh, in a tone that would melt The heart that one spark of true love ever felt ; — " Ah me!" — would she sigh — " past and gone is the day, When my father was plighted to give me away ! My fancy, what sad gloomy presage appalls ? " Ah ! sure on the Danube my Leopold falls !" — One evening so gloomy, when only the owl (A tempest impending) would venture to prowl ; Mary-Ann, whose delight was in sadness and gloom, By a newly-made grave sat her down on a tomb ; But ere she to number her sorrows began, Lo ! out of the grave jump'd a Little Grey Man ! His hue it was deadly, his eyes they were ghast ; Long and pale were his fingers, that held her arm fast ; — She shriek'd a loud shriek, so affrighted was she ; And grimly he scowl'd, as he jump'd on her knee. With a voice that dismayed her — " The Danube !" — he cried ; " There Leopold bleeds ! Mary-Ann is my bride !" — - 115 She shrunk, all appall'd, and she gazed all around; She closed her sad eyes, and she sunk on the ground : The Little Grey Man he resumed his discourse — — " Tomorrow 1 take thee, for better, for worse : — " At midnight my arms shall thy body entwine, Or this newly-made grave, Mary Ann, shall be thine !" — < < With fear and with fright did the maid look around, When she first dared to raise her sad eyes from the ground ; With fear and with fright gazed the poor Mary-Ann, Thoucrh lost to her sight wa s the Little Grey Man : With fear and with fright from the churchyard she fled ; Reach'd her home, now so welcome, and sunk on her bed. — " Woe is me !" — did she cry- — " that 1 ever was born 1 " Was ever poor maiden so lost and forlorn ! " Must that Little Grey Man, then, my body entwine, " Or the grave newly dug for another be mine ? O JO 11 Shall I wait for to-morrow's dread midnight? — ah no ! " To my Leopold's arms — to the Danube I go 1" — Then up rose the maiden, so sore woe-begone, And her Sunday's apparel in haste she put on; Her close studded boddice of velvet so new ; Her coat of fine scarlet, and kirtle of blue; Her ear-rings of jet, all so costly ; and last, Her long cloak of linsey, to guard from the blast. i i 116 A cross of pure gold, her fond mother's bequest, Bv a still dearer riband she huno- at her breast; Round a bodkin of silver she bound her long hair, In plaits and in tresses so comely and fair, 'Twould have gladden d your heart, ere her journey began, To have gazed on the tidy and trim Mary-Ann. But, oh ! her sad bosom such sorrows oppress'd, Such fears and forebodings, as robb'd her of rest ; Forlorn as she felt, so forlorn must she go, And brave the rough tempest, the hail, and the snow 1 Yet still she set forth, all so pale and so wan — Let a tear drop of pity for poor Mary -Ann t Dark, dark was the night, and the way it was rude ; While the Little Grey Man on her thoughts would obtrude ; She wept as she thought on her long gloomy way ; She turn'd, and she yet saw the lights all so gay : She kiss'd now her cross, as she heard the last bell ; And a long, long adieu bade to Aix-la-Chapelle. Through the brown wood of Limbourg with caution she paced ; Ere the noon of the morrow she traversed the waste ; She mounted the hills of St. Bertrand so high ; And the day it declined, as the heath she drew nigh," And she rested a wide-waving alder beneath, And paused on the horrors of Sombermond's heath : 117 For there, in black groups (by the law 'tis imposed), Are the bodies of fell malefactors exposed, On wheels and on gibbets, on crosses and poles, With a charge to the passing, to pray for their souls : But a spot of such terror no robbers infest, And there the faint pilgrim securely may rest. Sore fatigued, the sad maid knelt, and said a short prayer ; She bound up her tresses, that flow'd in the air : Again she set forth, and sped slowly along ; And her steps tried to cheer, but in vain, with a song : In her thoughts all so gloomy, sad presages ran, Of Leopold now, now the Little Grey Man. The moon dimly gleam'd as she enteral the plain ; The winds swept the clouds rolling on to the main; For a hut e'er so wretched in vain she look'd round ; No tree promised shelter, no bed the cold ground : Her limbs they now faulter'd, her courage all fled, As a faint beam display'd the black groups of the dead. Shrill whistled the wind through, the skulls, and the blast Scared the yet greedy bird from its glutting repast; From the new-rack'd assassin the raven withdrew, But croak'd round the wheel still, and heavily flew; While vultures, more daring, intent on their prey, Tore the flesh from the sinews, yet reeking away. US But the dread of banditti, some strength it restored; And again she the aid of the Virgin implored ; She dragged her slow steps to where corses, yet warm, Threw their tatters and fresh mangled limbs to the storm She reach'd the fell spot, and, aghast, looking round, At a black gibbet's foot senseless sunk on the ground. Now the battle was over, and o'er his proud foes The Austrian eagle triumphantly rose ; Midst the groans of the dying, and blood of the slain, Sorely wounded lay Leopold, stretch'd on the plain. When reviving, he first to look round him began, Lo! close by his side sat a Little Grey Man ! The Little Grey Man he sat munching a heart, And he growl'd in a tone all dismaying — " Depart ! " Don't disturb me at meals ! pr'ythee rise, and pass on ! " To Mary-Ann hie ! — bind your wounds, and begone 1- " In a score and three days shall you meet Mary -Ann; " And perhaps, uninvited, the Little Grey Man." — With fear and dismay rose the youth from the ground, His wounds he with balms and with bandages bound; To quit his grim guest he made little delay, And, faint though he was, he sped willing away : For a score and three days did he journey amain, Then sunk, all exhausted, on Sombermonds plain. 119 By the screams of the night-bird, though dark, he could tell 'Twas the gibbets amongst, and the wheels, where he fell. — Now still her sad station did Mary-Ann keep, Where Leopold, fainting, had sunk into sleep : Ah ! little thought he that his dear one was by ! Ah 1 little the maid that her love was so nigh ! Perch'd grim on a wheel sat the Little Grey Man, Whilst his fierce little eyes o'er the sad lovers ran; The Little Grey Man down to Leopold crept, And open'd his wounds, all so deep, as he slept ; With a scream he the slumbers of Mary-Ann broke, And the poor forlorn maid to new horrors awoke. To her sight, sorely shock'd, did a moon-beam display Her lover, all bleeding and pale as he lay : She shriek'd a loud shriek ; and she tore her fine hair, And she sunk her soft cheek on Lis bosom so fair ; With her long flowing tresses she strove to restrain, And stop the dear blood that now issued amain. To his wounds her fair hands she unceasingly press'd ; Her tears fast they fell on her Leopold's breast : Entranced, and in slumber still silent he lay, Till the Little Grey Man drove his slumbers away ; With a vision all horrid his senses betray'd, And fatal to him and his much-beloved maid. 120 He dreamt, from his wheel an assassin had stepp'd, And silent and slowly had close to him crept ; That the wretch, mangled piece-meal, and ghastly with gore, From his wounds both the balms and the bandages tore ; And to search for his dagger as now he began, — " Strike ! strike !" cried the voice of the Little Grey Man. " Strike! strike!" cried the fiend, "or your wounds bleed anew!" He struck — it was Mary-Ann's life-blood he drew — With a shriek he awoke, nor his woes were they o'er ; He beheld his pale love, to behold her no more ! — Her eyes the poor maiden on Leopold cast, Gave him one look of love, 'twas her fondest, her last ! The Little Grey Man now he set up a yell, Which was heard in the halls of fair Aix-Ia-Chapelle, He raised up his head, and he raised up his chin; And he grinn'd, as he shouted a horrible grin ; And he laugh'd a loud laugh, and his cap up he cast, Exulting, as breathed the fond lovers their last. As in each other's arms dead the fond lovers fell, O'er the black lonely heath toll'd a low, distant bell; From the gibbets and crosses shrieks issued, and groans, And wild to the blast flew the sculls and the bones; Whilst the Little Grey Man, midst a shower of blood, In a whirlwind was hurl'd into Sombermond's wood, 121 Of Mary- Ann's sorrows, and Leopold's woes, Lono- shall Maise's dark stream tell the tale as it flows : Long, lono; shall the gossips of Aix-la-Chapelle, Oi the heath and its horrors, the traveller tell ; Who shall prick on his steed with what swiftness he can, Lest he meet in the twilight the Little Grey Man. On the Feast of St. Austin, to Somhermond's fair Flock the youth of both sexes, its revels to share; And in dainty apparel, all gallant and gay, With dance, and with carols, and mirth, cheer the day: While the proud castle's portal expanded, invites To the hall's ample board, and its festive delights : And there, on the richly-wrought arms, they view Depicted, the woes of these lovers so true; The troubles their sorrowful days that befel, And the fate of the darling of Aix-la-Chapelle ; Behold, as she bloom'd, the beloved Mary-Ann, And the heart-freezing scowl of the Little Grey Man. 122 No. XX. GLENFINLAS, OR LORD RONALD' S CORONACH.* " For them the viewless forms of air obey, " Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair: " They know what spirit brews the stormful day, " And heartless oft, like moody madness, stare " To see the phantom train their secret work prepare. ORIGINAL. WALTER SCOTT. Glenfinlas is a tract of forest ground lying in the Highlands of Perthshire, not far from Callender, in Menteith. To the west of the forest of Glen- Judas lies Loch Katrine, and its romantic avenue, called the Troskachs. Benledi, Benmore, and Benvoirlich, are mountains in the same district, and at no great distance from Glenfinlas. The river Teith passes Cal- lender and the castle of Donne, and joins the Forth near Stirling. The Pass of Lenny is immediately above Callender, and is the principal access to the Highlands, from that town. Glenartney is a forest near Ben- voirlich. The whole forms a sublime tract of Alpine scenery . O hone a rie ! hone a rie ! The pride of Albin's line is o'er, And fallen Glenartney's stateliest tree, — We ne'er shall see Lord Ronald more ! * Coronach is the lamentation for a deceased warrior, sung by the aged of the clan. hone a rie signifies — " Alas for the prince or chief." 123 O, sprung from great Macgilliannore, The chief that never fear'd a foe, How matchless was thy broad claymore, How deadly thine unerring bow. / Well can the Saxon * widows tell How, on the Teith's resounding shore, The boldest Lowland warriors fell, As down from Lenny's pass you bore. But in his halls, on festal day, How blazed Lord Ronald's beltane + tree ; While youths and maids the light strathspey So nimbly danced with Highland glee. Cheer'd bv the strength of Ronald's shell. JO ' E'en age forgot his tresses hoar ; — But now the loud lament we swell, O ne'er to see Lord Ronald more! * The term Sassenach, or Saxou, is applied by the Highlanders to their Low-country neighbours. f Beltane-tree; the fires lighted by the Highlanders on the first of May, in compliance with a custom derived from the Pagan times, are so called. It is a festival celebrated with various superstitious rites, both in the north of Scot- land and in Wales, 124 From distant isles a chieftain came, The joys of Ronald's halls to find, And chase with him the dark-brown game That bounds o'er Albin's hills of wind. 'Twas Moy ; whom in Columba's isle The Seer's prophetic spirit* found, As with a minstrel' s fire the while He waked his harp's harmonious sound. Full many a spell to him was known, Which wandering spirits shrink to hear, And many a lay of potent tone Was never meant for mortal ear. For there, 'tis said, in mystic mood High converse with the dead they hold, And oft espy the fated shroud That shall the future corpse infold. * Seer's spirit. I can only describe the second sight, by adopting Dr. John- son's definition, who calls it " An impression either by the mind upon the eye, or by the eye upon the mind, by which things distant and future are perceived and seen as if they were present." To which I would only add, that the spec- tral appearances thus presented usually presage misfortune ; that the faculty is painful to those who suppose they possess it ; and that they usually acquire it while themselves under the pressure of melancholy. 125 O so it fell, that on a day, To rouse the red deer from their den, The chiefs have ta'en their distant way, And scour'd the deep Glenfinlas glen. No vassals wait their sports to aid, To watch their safety, deck their board, Their simple dress, the Highland plaid; Their trusty guard, the Highland sword. Three summer days, through brake and dell, Their whistling shafts successful flew, And still, when dewy evening fell, The quarry to their hut they drew. In grey Glenfinlas' deepest nook The solitary cabin stood, Fast by Moneira's sullen brook, Which murmurs through that lonely wood. Soft fell the night, the sky was calm, When three successive days had flown, And summer mist, in dewy balm, Steep'd heathy bank and mossy stone. 126 The moon, half hid in silvery flakes, Afar her dubious radiance shed, Quivering on Katrine's distant lakes, And resting on Benledi's head. Now in their hut, in social guise, Their sylvan fare the chiefs enjoy, And pleasure laughs in Ronald's eyes, As many a pledge he quaffs to Moy. — «■ What lack we here to crown our bliss, " While thus the pulse of joy beats high, " What but fair woman's yielding kiss, 11 Her panting breath, and melting eye? 11 To chase the deer of yonder shades, •' This morning left their father's pile 11 The fairest of our mountain maids, r " The daughters of the proud Glengyle. " Long have I sought sweet Mary's heart, " And dropp'd the tear, and heaved the sigh ; " But vain the lover's wily art, " Beneath a sister's watchful eye. 127 «' But thou may'st teach that guardian fair " While far with Mary I am flown, 11 Of other hearts to cease her care, "And find it hard to guard her own. M Touch hut thy harp, thou soon shalt see " The lovely Flora of Glengyle, " Unmindful of her charge, and me, " Hang on thy notes 'twixt tear and smile. 11 Or if she choose a melting tale, " All underneath the greenwood bough, " Will good St. Oran's* rule prevail, " Stern huntsman of the rigid brow ?" " Since Enrick's fight, since Morna's death, " No more on me shall rapture rise, " Responsive to the panting breath, " Or yielding kiss, or melting eyes. 11 E'en then when o'er the heath of woe, " Where sunk my hopes of love and fame, *' I bade my harp's wild wailings flow, " On me the Seer's sad spirit came. t * St. Oran was a friend and follower of St. Columbus, and was buried in Icolmkill. n$ •• The last dread curse of angry heaven, " With ghastly sights, and sounds of woe„ " To dash each glimpse of joy was given, " The gift, the future ill to know. " The bark thou saw'st yon summer morn " So gaily part from Lulan's bay, " My eye beheld her dash'd and torn 11 Far on the rocky Colensay. " The Fergus too — thy sister's son, ( " Thou saw'st with pride the gallant's power, " As, marching 'gainst the Laird of Downe, 11 He left the skirts of huge Benmore. M Thou only saw'st his banners wave, " As down Benvoirlich s side they wound, " Heard'st but the pibroch * answering brave " To many a target clanking round. " I heard the groans, I mark'd the tears, " I saw the wound his bosom bore, ** When on the serried Saxon spears " He pour'd his clan's resistless roar. A piece of martial music adapted to the Highland bagpipes. 129 11 And thou who bidst me think of bliss, M And bidst my heart awake to glee, 11 And court, like thee, the wanton kiss, 11 That heart, O Ronald, bleeds for thee ! " I see the death damps chill thy brow, 11 I hear the warning spirit cry ; ■• The corpse-lights dance — they're gone, and now .... I " No more is given to gifted eye !" " Alone enjoy thy dreary dreams, " Sad prophet of the evil hour; 11 Say, should we scorn joy's transient beams, " Because to-morrow's storm may lour? 11 Or sooth, or false thy words of woe, " Clangillian's chieftain ne'er shall fear; 11 His blood shall bound at rapture's glow, " Though doom'd to stain the Saxon spear " E'en now, to meet me in yon dell, " My Mary's buskins brush the dew;" — He spoke, nor bade the chief farewell, But call'd his dogs, and gay withdrew. K 130 Within an hour return'd each hound, In rushd die rouzers of die deer ; They howl'd in melancholy sound, Then closely couch'd beside ihe Seer. No Ronald yet — though midnight came, And sad were Moy's prophetic dreams, As bending o'er the dying flame He fed the watch-fire's quivering gleams. Sudden the hounds erect their ears, And sudden cease their moaning howl ; Close press'd to Moy, they mark their fears By shivering limbs, and stifled growl. Untouched the harp began to ring, As softly, slowly, oped the door, And shook responsive every string, As light a footstep press'd the floor. And by the watch-fire's glimmering light, Close by the Minstrel's side was seen An huntress maid, in beauty bright, All dropping wet her robes of green. 131 All dropping wet her garments seem, Chill'd was her cheek, her bosom bare, As bending o'er the dying gleam, She wrung the moisture from her hair. With maiden blush she softly said, — " O gentle huntsman, hast thou seen, 11 In deep Glenfinlas' moon-light glade, " A lovely maid in vest of green : " With her a chief in Highland pride, " His shoulders bear the hunters bow ; 11 The mountain dirk adorns his side, 11 Far on the wind his tartans flow?" — — " And who art thou ; and who are they ?" All ghastly gazing, Moy replied ; *' And why, beneath the moon's pale ray, " Dare ye thus roam Glenfinlas' side?" — - — " Where wild Loch Katrine pours her tide " Blue, dark, and deep, round many an isle, 11 Our father's towers o'erhans her side, " The castle of the bold Glengyle. K i 132 44 To chase the dun Glenfinlas deer, 44 Our woodland course this morn we bore, 44 And haply met, while wandering here, *' The son of great Macgilliannore. " O aid me then to seek the pair, " Whom loitering in the woods I lost; 4< Alone I dare not venture there, 44 Where walks, they say, the shrieking ghost."- — " Yes, many a shrieking ghost walks there; 44 Then first, my own sad vow to keep, " Here will I pour my midnight prayer, 44 Which still must rise when mortals sleep." — — " O first, for pity's gentle sake, 44 Guide a lone wanderer on her way, 44 For I must cross the haunted brake, 44 And reach my father's towers ere day/' — - — 44 First three times tell each Ave-bead, 44 And thrice a Pater-noster say, 44 Then kiss with me the holy reed, 4 So shall we safely wind our way." — 133 — " O shame to knighthood strange and foul ! " Go doff die bonnet from thy brow, ** And shroud thee in the monkish cowl, * c Which best befits thy sullen brow. " Not so, by high Dunlathmon's fire, " Thy heart was froze to faith and joy, " When gaily rung thy raptured lyre, 11 To wanton Morna's melting eye." — Wild stared the Minstrel's eyes of flame, And high his sable locks arose, And quick his colour went and came, As fear and rage alternate rose. — ■ * And thou ! when by the blazing oak " I lay, to her and love resign'd, " Say, rode ye on the eddying smoke, '« Or saild ye on the midnight wind? " Not thine a race of mortal blood, " Nor old Glengyle's pretended line; •« Thy dame, the Lady of the Flood, " Thy sire, the Monarch of the Mine." 134 He mutter'd thrice St. Oran's rhyme, And thrice St. Fillan's * powerful prayer, Then turn'd him to the Eastern clime, < And sternly shook his coal-black hair : And bending o'er his harp, he flung His wildest witch-notes on the wind, And loud, and high, and strange, they rung, As many a magic change they find. Tall wax'd the Spirit's altering form, Till to the roof her stature grew, Then mingling with the rising storm, With one wild yell away she flew. Rain beats, hail rattles, whirlwinds tear, The slender hut in fragments flew, But not a lock of Moy's loose hair Was waved by wind, or wet by dew. Wild mingling with the howling gale, Loud bursts of ghastly laughter rise, High o'er the Minstrel's head they sail, And die amid the northern skies. * I know nothing of St. Fillan, but that he has given his name to many chapels, holy fountains, &c. in Scotland. 135 The voice of thunder shook the wood, As ceased the more than mortal yell, And spattering foul a shower of blood, Upon the hissing firebrands fell. Next dropp'd from higli a mangled arm, The fingers strain'd an half-drawn blade : And last, the life-blood streaming warm, Torn from the trunk, a gasping head. Oft o'er that head, in baUlino; field, Stream'd the proud crest of high Benmore; That arm the broad claymore could wield, Which dyed the Teith with Saxon gore. Woe to Moneira's sullen rills ! Woe to Glenfinlas' dreary glen ! There never son of Albin's hills Shall draw the hunter's shaft agen 1 E'en the tired pilgrim's burning feet At noon shall shun that sheltering den, Lest, journeying in their rage, he meet The wayward Ladies of the Glen. J36 And we — behind the chieftain's shield No more shall we in safety dwell ; None leads the people to the field — And we the loud lament must swell. O hone a rie ! O hone a rie ! The pride of Albin's line is o'er; And fallen Glenartney's stateliest tree, We ne'er shall see Lord Ronald more! * The simple tradition upon which the preceding stanzas are founded, runs as follows. While two Highland hunters were passing the night in a solitary bathy (a hut built for the purpose of hunting), and making merry over their venison and whisky, one of them expressed a wish that they had pretty lasses to complete their party. The words were scarcely uttered, when two beautiful young women, habited in green, entered the hut, dancing and singing. One of the hunters was seduced by the syren who attached herself particularly to him, to leave the hut : the other remained, and, suspicious of the fair seducers, continued to play upon a trump, or Jew's harp, some strain consecrated to the Virgin Mary. Day at length came, and the temptress vanished. Searching in the forest, he found the bones of his unfortunate friend, who had been torn to pieces and devoured by the Fiend into whose toils he had fallen. The place was, from thence, called the Glen of the Green Women. 137 No. XXI. THE EVE OF SAINT JOHN. ORIGINAL. WALTER SCOTT. Smaylho'me, or Smallholm Tower, the scene of the following Ballad, is situated on the northern boundary of' Roxburghshire, among a cluster of wild rocks, called Sandiknow-Crags, the property of Hugh Scott, Esq. of Harden. The tower is a high square building, surrounded by an outer wall, now ruinous. The circuit of the outer court being defended, on three sides, by a precipice and morass, is only accessible from the west, by a steep and rocky path. The apartments, as usual, in a Border Keep, or fortress, are placed one above another, and communicate by a narrow stair ; on the roof are two bartizans, or platforms, for defence or pleasure. The inner door of the tower is wood, the outer an iron grate ; the distance between them being nine feet, the thickness, namely, of the wall. From the elevated situation of Smaylho'me Tower, it is seen many miles in every direction. Among the crags by which it is surrounded, one more eminent is called the Watchfold, and is said to have been the station of a beacon in the times of war with England. Without the tower-court is a ruined Chapel. The Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day, He spurr'd his courser on, Without stop or stay, down the rocky way That leads to Brotherstone. 138 He went not with the bold Buccleuch, His banner broad to rear ; He went not 'gainst the English yew To lift the Scottish spear. Yet his plate-jack* was braced, and his helmet was laced, And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore; At his saddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe, Full ten pound weight and more. The Baron return'd in three day's space, And his looks were sad and sour, And weary was his courser's pace As he reached his rocky tower. He came not from where Ancram Moort Ran red with English blood, Where the Douglas true, and the bold Buccleuch, 'Gainst keen Lord Ivers stood ; * The plate-jack is coat armour ; the vaunt-brace (avant-bras), armour for the shoulders and arms ; the sperthe, a battle-axe. f A. D. 1555, was fought the battle of Ancram Moor, in which Archibald Douglas Earl of Angus, and Sir Walter Scott of Buccleuch, routed a superior English army, under Lord Ralph Ivers, and Sir Brian Latoun. 139 Yet was his helmet hack'd and hew'd, His acton pierced and tore ; His axe and his dagger with hlood embrued, But it was not English gore. He lighted at the Chapellage, He held him close and still, And he whistled twice for his little foot page, His name was English Will. o — " Come thou hither, my little foot page, " Come hither to my knee, " Though thou art young, and tender of age, '* I think thou art true to me. 44 Come, tell me all that thou hast seen, " And look thou tell me true; 11 Since I from Smaylho'me Tower have been, «* What did thy Lady do?" — — " My Lady each night, sought the lonely light, ' ' That burns on the wild Watch/old ; ** For from height to height, the beacons bright, " Of the English foemen told. 140 11 The bittern clamour'd from the moss, " The wind blew loud and shrill, " Yet the craggy pathway she did cross " To the eiry* beacon hill. 11 I watch'd her steps, and silent came * ' Where she sate her on a stone ; " No watchman stood by the dreary flame, " It burned all alone. 11 The second night I kept her in sight, " Till to the fire she came; " And by Mary's might, an armed knight 11 Stood by the lonely flame. "And many a word that warlike lord " Did speak to my Lady there, •* But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, And I heard not what they were. Black knares of blasted oak, embound With hemlock, fenced the cell : The dreary mouth, half under ground, Yawn'd like the gate of hell. Soon as the gloomy den she spied, Cold Horror shook her knee ; — " And hear, O Prophetess," she cried, 11 A Princess sue to thee." — 228 Aghast she stood ! athwart the air, The dismal screech-owl flew; The fillet round her auburn hair Asunder burst in two. Her robe of softest yellow, glow'd Beneath the moon's pale beam ; And o'er the ground, with yew-boughs strew'd, Effused a golden gleam. The golden gleam the Sorceress spied, As in her deepest cell, At midnight's magic hour she tried A tomb o'erpowering spell. When from the cavern's dreary womb Her groaning voice arose, — " O come, my daughter, fearless come, " And fearless tell thy woes." — As shakes the bough of trembling leaf, When whirlwinds sudden rise ; As stands aghast the warrior chief, When his base army flies ; 229 So shook, so stood, the beauteous maid, When from the dreary den A wrinkled hag came forth, array'd In matted rags obscene. Around her brows, with hemlock bound, Loose hung her ash-grey hair ; As from two dreary caves profound Her blue flamed eye-balls glare. Her skin, of earthy red, appeard Clung round her shoulder bones, Like wither'd bark, by lightning sear'd When loud the tempest groans. A robe of squalid green and blue, Her ghostly length array'd, A gaping rent, full to the view Her furrow'd ribs betray'd. — ■• And tell t my daughter, fearless tell, ■■ What sorrow brought thee here ; *' So may my power thy cares expel, 11 And give thee sweetest cheer." — {( 230 -" O, mistress of the powerful spell, " King Edric's daughter see ; Noithumbria to my father fell, 11 And sorrow fell to me. " My virgin heart Lord Wolfwold won ; 11 My father on him smiled ; Soon as he gain'd Noi thumbria's throne, " His pride the youth exiled. < c il Stern Denmark's ravens o'er the seas 11 Their gloomy black wings spread, " And o'er Nortluimbria's hills and leas, " Their dreadful squadrons sped. " — « Return, brave Wolfwold,' — Edric cried, * O generous warrior, hear, ' My daughter's hand, thy willing bride, 1 Awaits thy conquering spear.' — Cl (( The banish'd youth in Scotland's court " Had pass'd the weary year; And soon he heard the glad report, " And soon he grasp'd his spear. 231 11 He left the Scottish dames to weep, " And wing'd with true love speed; " Nor day, nor night, he stopt to sleep, " And soon he cross'd the Tweed. " With joyful voice, and raptured eyes, 11 He press'd my willing hand; " — ' I go, my fair, my love/ — he cries, c To guard thy father's land. " ' By Edon's shore in deathful fray ' The daring foe we meet, 1 Ere three short days I trust to lay I My trophies at thy feet.' — " Alas, alas ! that time is o'er, II And three long days beside, " Yet not a word from Edon's shore " Has cheer'd his fearful bride. " O, mistress of the powerful spell, " His doubtful fate decide." — — " And cease, my child, for all is well," The grizzly witch replied. 232 — " Approach my cave, and where I place " The magic circle, stand, 1 ' And fear not aught of ghastly face " That glides beneath my wand."— The grizzly witches powerful charms, Then reach* d the labouring moon, And, cloudless at the dire alarms, She shed her brightest noon* 9 The pale beam struggled through the shade, That blackd the cavern's womb, And in the deepest nook betray'd An altar and a tomb. Around the tomb, in mystic lore, Were forms of various mien, And efts, and foul wing'd serpents, bore The altar's base obscene. Eyeless, a huge and starved toad sat In corner murk aloof, And many a snake and famish'd bat Clung to the creviced roof. 233 A fox and vulture's skeletons A yawning rift betray'd, And grappling still each other's bones, The strife of death display'd. — •■ And now, my child,'"' the Sorceress said, ** Lord Wolfwold's father's grave '■' To me shall render up the dead, " And send him to my cave. " His skeleton shall hear my spell, " And to the figured walls «' His hand of bone shall point, and tell " What fate his son befalls." — cold down Ulla's snow-like face The trembling sweat drops fell, And, borne by sprites of gliding pace, The corse approach'd the cell. And thrice the Witch her magic wand Waved o'er the skeleton ; And slowly, at the dread command, Up rose the arm of bone. 234 A cloven shield and broken spear The figure wander' d o'er, Then rested on a sable bier Distain'd with drops of gore. In ghastly writhes her mouth, so wide And black, the Sorceress throws, — •' And be those signs, my child," she cried, " Fulfill'd on Wolfwold's foes ! " A happier spell I now shall try; " Attend, my child, attend, " And mark what flames from altar high, 11 And lowly floor, ascend. •• If of the roses softest red " The blaze shines forth to view, " Then Wolfwold lives — but Hell forbid " The glimmering flame of blue !" — The Witch then raised her haggard arm, And waved her wand on high ; And, while she spoke the mutter'd charm, Dark lightning fill'd her eye. 235 Fair UlLi's knee swift smote the ground, Her hands aloft were spread, And every joint as marble bound, Felt Horror's darkest dread. Her lips, erewhile so like the rose, Were now as vi'let pale, And tumblino- in convulsive throes, o Express'd o'erwhelming ail. Her eyes, erewhile so starry bright, Where living lustre shone, Were now transformed to sightless white, Like eyes of lifeless stone. And soon the dreadful spell was o'er, And glimmering to the view, The quivering flame rose through the floor, A flame of ghastly blue. Behind the altar's livid fire, Low from the inmost cave, Young Wolfwold rose in pale attire, The vestments of the grave. 236 His eye to Ulla's eye he rear'd, His cheek was wan as clay, And half cut through his hand appear'd That beckon' d her away. Fair Ulla saw the woeful shade, Her heart struck at her side, And burst — low bow'd her listless head, And down she sunk«$ and died. TALES OF WONDER; WRITTEN AND COLLECTED BY M. G. L E W IS, Esq. M. P. AUTHOR OF THE MONK, CASTLE SPECTRE, LOVE OF GAIN, &C. IN TWO VOLUMES. Black spirits and white, Blue spirits and grey, Mingle, mingle, mingle, Ye that mingle may ! macbeth. VOL II. LONDON: PRINTED BY W. BULMER AND CO. CLEVELAND-ROW, FOR THE AUTHOR ; AND SOLD BY J. BELL, NO. 14 8, OXFORD-STREET, OPPOSITE NEW BOND-STREET. 1801. CONTENTS OF VOL. II. No. page. XXXIII. Tarn O'Shantcr - - -237 XXXIV. The Witches' Song - - - 250 XXXV. Admiral Hosier's Ghost - - - 254 XXXVI. Margaret's Ghost - - 259 XXXVII. The Hermit - - - 263 XXXVIII. Edwin of the Green - - - 275 XXXIX. Theodore and Honoria - - 284 XL. Dreams - 302 XLI. History of Porsenna, King of Russia - 309 XLII. The Fatal Sisters - - 347 XLIII. The Descent of Odin - 352 XLIV. The Witch of Wokey - - - 358 XLV. The Marriage of Sir Gawaine - - 362 XLVI. King Arthur's Death - - - 379 XLVII. Fair Margaret, and Sweet William - - 389 XLVIII. Sweet William's Ghost - - - 394 XLIX. The Boy and the Mantle - - 398 L. St. Patrick's Purgatory - 409 LI. The Cinder King - - - - 416 LII. The Bleeding Nun - - 419 LIII. The Maid of the Moor, or the Water Fiends 426 LIV. The Laidley Worm of Spindlestone Heughs 434 LV. Mary's Dream - - - - 443 LVI. Clerk Colvin - - 445 LVII. Willy's Lady - - 449 LVIII. Courteous King Jamie - - - 451 LIX. Tarn Lin - 457 LX. Lenora - '- 469 ERRATA. Page 257, line 8, for meet, read met. — 296, — 20, for launched read launced. — 323, — 22, for high read hie. 237 No. XXXIII. TAM O'SHANTER. ROBERT BURNS. When chapman billies ' leave the street, And drouthy * neebors, 3 neebors meet, As market-days are wearing late, An' 4 folk began to tak the crate ; s While we sit bousing 6 at the nappy, An' getting fou 7 and unco 8 happy, W r e think na 9 on the lang 10 Scots miles, The mosses, waters, slaps," and styles, That lie between us and our hame," Whare ,3 sits our sulky sullen dame, 1 Billies, brothers. * Drouthy, thirsty. % Neebors, neighbours. 4 An', and. 5 Tak the gate, return home. 6 Bousing, drinking. 7 Fou, drunk. 8 Unco, very. 9 Na, not. 10 Lang, long. " Slaps, gates, or breaches in fences. ** Home, home. 1J Whare, where. 238 Gathering her brows like gathering storm, Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. This truth fand ' honest Tam O'Slianter, As he frae 2 Ayr ae 3 night did canter, (Auld 4 Ayr wham 5 ne'er a town surpasses, For honest men and bonny 6 lasses.) O Tam ! had'st thou but been sae 7 wise, As ta'en thy ain 8 wife Kate's advice ! She tauld 9 thee weel ,0 thou was a skellum," A blethering, 12 blustering, drunken blellum; That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou was nae * 3 sober; That ilka I4 melder, wi' IS the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller; ,6 That every naig ,? was ca'd ,8 a shoe on, The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; That at the L d's house, even on Sunday, Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. I Fand, found. a Frae, from. 3 Ae, one. 4 Auld, old. 5 Wham, whom. 6 Bonny, or bonnie, handsome. 7 Sae, so. 8 Ain, own. 9 Tauld, told. ,0 Weel, well. II Skellum, a rogue. ir Blethering, talking idly. * 3 Nae, never 14 Ilka, each. '* Wi', with. l6 Siller, money. 17 Naig, a horse. ,8 Cad, nailed 239 She prophesy'd that, late or soon, Thou would be found deep drownd in Doon ; Or catch'd wi' warlocks ' in the mirk, 1 By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. 3 Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet, 4 To think how mony s counsels sweet, How mony lengthen'd sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises ! But to our tale : Ae market night. Tarn had got planted unco right; Fast by an ingle, 6 bleezing 7 finely, Wi' reaming swats, 8 that drank divinely; And at his elbow, Souter 9 Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; * Tarn loed him like a vera brither ; ' They had been fou for weeks thegither. " The nifrht drave ** on wi' sangs and clatter ; ,4 And ay the ale was growing better : I Warlock, a wizzard. * Mirk, dark. 3 Kirk, church. + Gars me greet, makes me weep. 5 Mony, many. 6 Ingle, fire. 7 Bleezing, burning. 8 Reaming swats, a sort of liquor. 9 Souter, a shoemaker. ,0 Crony, or cronie, an old acquaintance. II Vera brither, very brother. IZ Thegither, together. 13 Drave, passed. ' 4 Sangs and clatter, songs and discourse. 240 The landlady and Tain grew gracious, Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious : The souter tauld his queerest stories ; The landlords laugh was ready chorus : The storm without might rair ' and rustle, Tarn did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himself amang* the nappy, As bees flee hame wi' lades 3 o' 4 treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure : Kings may be bless'd, but Tarn was glorious, O'er a 5 the hills o' life victorious ! But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white then melts for ever ; Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place ; Or like the rainbow's lovely form, Evanishing amid the storm. — Nae man can tether 6 time or tide ; The hour approaches Tam maun 7 ride ; 1 Rair, roar. * Among, among. 3 Lades, loads. * 0', of. s A', all. 6 Tether, tie. 7 Maun, must. 241 That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, That dreary hour he mounts his beast in ; And sic ' a nicrht he tacks * the road in, o As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn 3 its last; The rattling showers rose on the blast ; The speedy gleams the darkness swallow' d ; Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd : That nigjht, a child might understand, The deil 4 had business on his hand. Weel 5 mounted on his grey mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tarn skelpit 6 on through dub and mire, 7 Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles 8 holding fast his gude 9 blue bonnet; Whiles crooning 10 o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles crlow'ring XI round wi' prudent cares, Lest bogles 1 * catch him unawares : Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Whare ghaists 13 and houlets 14 nightly cry 1 Sic, such. * Tacks, takes. 3 As "twad blawn, as if it would have blown. ♦ Deil, the devil. s Wed, well. 6 Skelpit, galloped. 7 Dub, a pool. 8 Whiles, sometimes. 9 Gude, good. 10 Crooning, humming. " Glow' ring, staring. ,x Bogles, bad spirits. 13 Ghaists, ghosts. ,4 Uoulets, owls. 242 By this time he was cross the ford, Whare in the snaw 1 the chapman smoor'd ; z And past the birks 3 and meikle stane, 4 Whare drunken Charlie brak's 5 neck-bane; 6 And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 7 Whare hunters fand 8 the murder'd bairn;' And near the thorn, aboon 10 die well, Whare Mungo's mither " hang'd hersel. — Before him Doon pours all his floods ; The doubling storm roars thro' the woods ; The lightnings flash from pole to pole ; Near and more near the thunders roll : When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze ; ,a Thro' ilka bore 13 the beams were glancing; And loud resounded mirth and dancing. — Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! 14 What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! Wi' tippeny, I5 we fear nae evil ; Wi' usquabae we'll face the devil ! — 1 Snaw, snow. * Smoor'd, smothered. 3 Birks, birch trees. 4 Meikle stane, a large stone. 5 Brak's, broke his. 6 Neck-bane, neck bone. 7 Cairn, a heap of stones. 8 Fand, found. » Bairn, a child. 10 Aboon, above. " Mither, mother. n Bleeze, blaze. 13 Bore, crevice. l * and IS Jo/in Barleycorn, and Tippeny, terms for malt liquor. 243 The swats 1 sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, 2 Fair play, he car'd na 3 deils a boddle 4 But Maggie stood right sair 5 astonish'd, Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, She ventured forward on the light; And, vow ! Tarn saw an unco 6 sight! Warlocks and witches in a dance ; Nae cotillion brent 7 new frae France, But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels. A winnock-bunker 8 in the east, There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast ; A towzie-tyke, 9 black, grim, and large, To aie I0 them music was his charge : He screw'd the pipes and gart" them skirl," Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. 13 — Coffins stood round, like open presses, 14 That shaw'd ,5 the dead in their last dresses ; And by some devilish cantrip 16 slight, Each in its cauld 17 hand held a light. — 1 Szcats, fumes. % Noddle, head. 3 Card na, minded not. * Boddle, a farthing. 5 Sair, sore. 6 Unco, strange. 7 Brent, brought. Winnock-bunker, a window. 9 Toz:zic-tyke, a shaggy dog. To gie, give. » Gart, made ,a Skirl t t0 C1 T out - 13 Dirl, rattle, shake. ,+ Presses, closets for linen, a sort of cupboards. 15 Shaw'd, shewed. ,6 Cantrip, a charm, or spell. "7 Cauld, cold R 2 8 10 244 By which heroic Tarn was able To note upon the haly * table, A murderer's banes 1 in gibbet aims; 3 Twa span-lang, 4 wee, 5 unchristen'd bairns; A thief, new-cutted fiae a rape, 6 Wi' his last gasp his gab 7 did gape ; Five tomahawks, wi blude 8 red-rusted, Five scymitars, wi J murder crusted ; A garter, which a babe had strangled, A knife, a father's throat had mangled, Whom his ain 9 son o' life bereft, The grey hairs yet stack 10 to the heft;" Wi' mair' 2 o' horrible and awefu', Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'. As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : The piper loud and louder blew ; The dancers quick and quicker flew; They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, Till ilka carlin I3 swat I4 and reekit, IS 1 Haly table, holy table. a Banes, bones. 3 Aims, irons. 4 Twa span-lang, two spans in length. s Wee, little. 6 New-cutted frae a rape, new cut from a rope. 7 Gab, mouth. 8 Elude, blood. * Ain, own. l0 Stack, stuck. " Heft, haft. 11 Mair, more. ,3 Carlin, a stout old woman. X4 Swat, sweated. ,s Reekit, smoked. 245 And coost her daddies 1 to the wark, a And linket 3 at it in her sark ! 4 Now Tarn, O Tarn ! had thae 5 been queans, A' plump and strapping in their teens, Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, 7 Been snaw-white" seventeen hunder linnen ! Thir breeks 9 o' mine, my only pair, That ance IO were plush, o' glide blue hair, I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies, For ae blink " o' the bonnie burdies ! " But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, Rigwoodie hags wad spean ,3 a foal, Lowping ,4 an* flinoing on a crummock, IS I wonder didna 16 turn thy stomach. But Tarn kend 17 what was what fu' brawlie, 18 There was ae winsome 19 wench and wawlie,' 20 1 Coost her duddies, cast off her clothes. a Wark, work. 3 Linkit, danced. 4 Sark, a shift. s Thae, these. 6 Queans, lasses. 7 Chreeshiejiannen, greasy flannel. 8 Snaw-white, snow-white. 9 Thir breeks, these breeches ,0 Ance, once. " Ae blink, one look. 12 Bonnie burdies, pretty creatures. ,3 Wad spean, would wean. 14 Lowping, jumping. Is Crummock, a crutch. 10 Didna, did not. *7 Kend, knew. ,8 Brawlie, very well. 19 Winsome, buxom. *° Waivlie, comely. 246 That nio-ht enlisted in the core,' (Lang after tend on Carrick shore; For mony a beast to dead* she shot, And perish'd mony a bonnie boat, And shook baith 3 meikle corn and bear, 4 And kept the country-side in fear), Her cutty sark, 5 o' Paisley harn, 6 That while a lassie 7 she had worn, In longitude tho' sorely scanty, It was her best, and she was vauntie. 8 — Ah ! little kend thy reverend grannie, 9 That sark she coft ,0 for her wee Nannie, Wi' twa pund Scots," ('twas a' her riches), Wad ever grace a dance of witches ! i:. But here my Muse her wing maun cour; Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r ; To sing how Nannie lap and flang, *■ (A souple I4 jade she was and Strang 15 ), And how Tarn stood, like ane 16 bewitch'd, And thought his very een ,7 enrich'd ; 1 Core, corps. a Dead, death. 3 Baith, both. 4 Bear, barley. 5 Cutty sark, short shift. 6 Harn, a sort of cloth. 7 Lassie, a little girl. 8 Vauntie, proud. 9 Grannie, grandmother. ,0 Coft, spun. 11 Twa pund Scots, two pound Scottish. ,2, Maun cour, must lower. ,3 Lap and Jiang, jumped and flung. 14 Souple, supple. ** Strang, strong. ,6 Ane, one. * 7 Ecu, eyes. 247 Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain, 1 And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main : Till first ae caper, syne anither, 1 Tarn tint 3 his reason a' thegither, 4 And roars out, " Weel done, Cutty-sark ! *' And in an instant all was dark : And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, When out the hellish legion sallied. As bees bizz s out wi' angry fyke, 6 When plundering herds 7 assail their byke ; 8 As open pussies 9 mortal foes, When pop ! she starts before their nose ; As eager runs the market-crowd, When " Catch the thief! " resounds aloud ; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' mony an eldritch I0 skreech and hollow. Ah, Tarn ! Ah, Tarn ! thou'll get thy fairin 1 In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin! 1 Fidg'd fu' fain, became very restless. z Syne anither, then another. 3 Tint, lost. 4 A' thegither, entirely. 5 Bizz, buzz. 6 Fyke, mood. 7 Herds, shepherds. 3 Byke, a bee-hive. 9 Pussies, a hare. 1 ° Eldritch skreech, frightful scream. " Fairin, a fairing, a present. n 248 In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin !* Kate soon will be a woefu 1 woman ! Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, And win the key-stane* of the brig;* There at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they dare na cross. But ere the key-stane she could make, The fient a tail 3 she had to shake ! For Nannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie prest, And flew at Tarn wi' furious ettle; 4 But little wist she Maggie's mettle Ae spring 5 brought off her master hale But left behind her ain 7 gray tail : The carlin claught 8 her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. 6 > Now, wha 9 this tale o' truth shall read, Ilk ,0 man and mother's son, take heed : * It is a well known fact, that witches, or any evil spirits, have no power to follow a poor wight any farther than the middle of the next running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls in with bogles, whatever danger may he in his going forward, there is much more hazard in turning back. * Comin, coming. a Brig, bridge. 3 The fient a tail, fient is a petty oath, as ? t* the devil a tail." 4 Ettle, zeal. 5 Ae spring, one jump. 6 Hale, whole. 7 Ain, own. * Claught, seized hold on. 9 Wha, who. I0 Ilk, each. 249 Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd, JOr cutty-sarks run in your mind, Think, ye may buy the joys, o'er dear,* Remember Tarn o' Shanter's mare. ' O'er dear, too dear. 250 No. XXXIV. THE WITCHES' SONG, BEN JONSON. From the Masque of Queens, presented at Whitehall, Feb. 2d, 1609.'' I WITCH. I have been all day looking after A raven feeding upon a quarter ; And, soone as she turn'd her beak to the south, I snatchd this morsell out of her mouth. 2 WITCH. I have beene gathering wolves haires, The madd dogges foames, and adders eares ; The spurging of a deadman's eyes : And all since the evening starre did rise. o 3 WITCH. I last night lay all alone On the ground, to heare the mandrake grone; 251 And pluck'd him up, though he grew full low : And, as I had done, the cocke did crow. 4 WITCH. And I ha' beene chusina out this scull From charnell houses that were full ; From private grots, and publike pits ; And frighted a sexton out of his wits. b WITCH. Under a cradle I did crepe By day ; and, when the childe was a-sleepe At night, I suck'd the breath ; and rose. And pluck'd the nodding nurse by the nose. 6 WITCH. I had a dagger : what did 1 with that ? Killed an infant to have his fat. A piper it got at a church-ale, I bade him again blow the wind i' the taile. 7 WITCH. A murderer, yonder 1 , was hung in chaines ; The sunne and the wind had shrunke his veines I bit off a sinew ; I clipp'd his haire ; I brought off his ragges, that danced i' the ayre. 252 8 WITCH. The scrich-owles egges and the feathers blacke, The bloud of the frogge, and the bone in his backc I have been getting; and made of his skin A purset, to keep Sir Cranion in. 9 WITCH. And I ha' beene plucking (plants among) Hemlock, henbane, adders-tongue, Night-shade, moone-wort, libbards-bane; And twise by the dogges was like to be tane. 10 WITCH. I from the jawes of a gardeners bitch Did snatch these bones, and then leap'd the ditch : Yet went I back to the house againe, Kili'd the blacke cat, and here is the braine. 1 1 WITCH. I went to the toad, breedes under the wall, I charmed him out, and he came at my call ; I scratch'd out the eyes of the owle before ; I tore the batts wing : what would you have more ? 253 DAME. Yes : I have brought, to helpe your vows, Horned poppie, cypresse boughes, The fig-tree wild, that growes on tombes, And juice that from the larch-tree comes, The basiliske's bloud, and the viper's skin And now our orgies let's begin. 254 No. XXXV. ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST. GLOVER. u This was a Parti/ Song, written by the ingenious Author o/*Leonidas, on the taking of Porto-Bel/o from the Spaniards by Admiral Vernon, Nov. 22, 1739- — The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetically represented, was briefly this: In April, 1J26, that commander was sent with a strong fleet into the Spanish West Indies, to block up the galleons in the ports of that country, or should they presume to come out, to seize and carry them into England: he accordingly arrived at the Bastimentos near Porto-Bello ; but being employed rather to overawe than to attack the Spaniards, with whom it was probabhj not our interest to go to war, he continued long inac- tive on that station, to his own great regret. He afterwards removed to Carthagena, and remained cruizing in these seas, till far the greater part of his men perished deplorably by the diseases of that unhealthy climate. This brave man, seeing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken heart. Such is the account of Smollet, compared with that of other less partial writers. " As near Porto-Bello lying, On the gently swelling flood, At midnight, with streamers flying, Our triumphant navy rode ; 255 There, while Vernon sate all glorious From the Spaniards' late defeat, And his crews, with shout victorious, Drank success to England's fleet, On a sudden, shrilly sounding, Hideous yells and shrieks were heard ; Then, each heart with fear confounding, A sad troop of ahosts appear'd, All in dreary hammocks shrouded, Which for winding sheets they wore, And with looks, by sorrow clouded, Frownincr on that hostile shore. o On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre, When the shade of Hosier brave His pale bands was seen to muster, Rising from their watery grave. O'er the glimmering wave he hied him, Where the Burford* rear'd her sail, With three thousand ghosts beside him. And in groans did Vernon hail. — " Heed, oh heed our fatal story, " I am Hosier's injured ghost; " You, who now have purchased glory, " At this place where I was lost! * Admiral Vernon's ship. 256 •« Though in Porto-Bello's ruin, •■ You now triumph, free from fears, " When you think on our undoing, " You will mix your joy with tears. •* See these mournful spectres sweeping «* Ghastly o'er this hated wave, " Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping ; " These were English captains brave. •• Mark those numbers, pale and horrid, " Those were once my sailors bold : *' Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead, M While his dismal tale is told ! .*' I, by twenty sail attended, " Did this Spanish town affright ; " Nothing then its wealth defended, " But my orders not to fight. 11 Oh ! that in this rolling ocean ,c I had cast them with disdain, " And obey'd my hearts warm motion ' ' To have quell'd the pride of Spain 1 " For resistance I could fear none, ** But with twenty ships had done " What thou, brave and happy Vernon, 11 Hast achiev'd with six alone. 257 •' Then the bastimentos never " Had our foul dishonour seen, " Nor the sea the sad receiver •• Of this gallant train had been. 11 Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying, " And her galleons leading home, il Though condemn'd for disobeying, 11 1 had meet a traitor's doom ; •' To have fallen, my country crying •' He has play'd an English part, ** Had been better far than dying " Of a grieved and broken heart. " Unrepining at thy glory, 11 Thy successful arms we hail; " But remember our sad story, " And let Hosier's wrongs prevail. " Sent in this foul clime to languish, " Think what thousands fell in vain, •' Wasted with disease and anguish, u Not in glorious battle slain. " Hence with all my train attending " From their oozy tombs below; *' Through the hoary foam ascending, " Here I feed my constant woe : s 258 " Here, the bastimentos viewing, " We recal our shameful doom, " And, our plaintive cries renewing, *' Wander through the midnight gloom. " O'er these waves for ever mourning " Shall we roam, deprived of rest, " If, to Britain's shores returning, " You neglect my just request; " After this proud foe subduing, " When your patriot friends you see, " Think on vengeance for my ruin, *' And for England shamed in me."-— 259 No. XXXVI. MARGARETS GHOST. MALLET. 'Twas at the silent solemn hour, When night and morning meet, In glided Margaret's grimly ghost, And stood at William's feet. Her face was like an April morn, Clad in a wintry cloud; And clay-cold was her lily hand, That held her sable shroud. So shall the fairest face appear, When youth and years are flown : Such is the robe that kings must wear, When death has reft their crown. S 2 260 Her bloom was like the springing flower, That sips the silver dew ; The rose was budded in her cheek, Just opening to the view. But love had, like the canker-worm, Consumed her early prime : The rose grew pale, and left her cheek; — She died before her time. — " Awake !" she cried, " thy true love calls, V Come from her midnight grave ; " Now let thy pity hear the maid 11 Thy love refused to save. " This is the dark and dreary hour, ' ' When injured ghosts complain ; *' Now yawning graves aive up their dead, " To haunt the faithless swain. << " Bethink thee, William, of thy fault, " Thy pledge, and broken oath ; " And give me back my maiden vow, " And give me back my troth. 261 11 Why did you promise love to me, 11 And not that promise keep ? •' Why did you swear mine eyes were bright, " Yet leave those eyes to weep ? " How could you say my face was fair, " And yet that face forsake? " How could you win my virgin heart, " Yet leave that heart to break? " Why did you say my lip was sweet, " And made the scarlet pale? " And why did I, young witless maid, " Believe the flattering tale? " That face, alas 1 no more is fair; " These lips no longer red : 11 Dark are my eyes, now closed in death, " And every charm is fled. " The hungry worm my sister is ; 11 This winding sheet I wear ; 11 And cold and weary lasts our night, 11 Till that last morn appear. 262 " But hark ! the cock has warn'd me hence ! 11 A long and last adieu ! '* Come see, false man, how low she lies " Who died for love of you.'' — The lark sung loud, the morning smiled With beams of rosy red ; Pale William shook in every limb, And ravine left his bed. He hied him to the fatal place, Where Margaret's body lay ; And stretchd him on the grass-green turf, That wrapt her breathless clay. And thrice he calfd on Margaret's name, And thrice he wept full sore ; Then laid his cheek to her cold grave, And word spake never more. 263 No. XXXVII. THE HERMIT. PARNELL. Far in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend Hermit grew; The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well : Remote from men, with God he pass'd the days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. A life so sacred, such serene repose, Seem'd heav'n itself, till one suoro-estion rose ; That Vice should triumph, Virtue Vice obey, This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway: His hopes no more a certain prospect boast, And all the tenour of his soul is lost : So, when a smooth expanse receives impress'd Calm nature's image on its watery breast, 264 Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow, And skies beneath with answering colours glow : But if a stone the gentle sea divide, Swift ruffling circles curl on every side, And glimmering fragments of a broken sun, Banks, trees, and skies, in thick disorder run. To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, To find if books, or swains, report it right, (For yet by swains alone the world he knew, Whose feet came wandering o'er the nightly dew,) He quits his cell ; the pilgrim-staff he bore, And hVd the scallop in his hat before; Then with the sun a rising journey went, Sedate to think, and watching each event. The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, And long and lonesome was the wild to pass ; But when the southern sun had warm'd the day, A Youth came posting o'er a crossing way ; His rayment decent, his complexion fair, And soft in graceful ringlets waved his hair. Then near approaching, — " Father, hail ! " he cried ; And — " Hail, my Son," — the reverend sire replied; Words follow' d words, from question answer flow'd, And talk of various kind deceived the road ; 265 Till each with other pleased, and loath to part, While in their age they differ, join in heart : Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound, Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around. Now sunk the sun ; the closing hour of day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray ; Nature in silence bid the world repose ; When near the road a stately palace rose : There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass, Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of grass. It chanced, the noble master of the dome Still made his house the wandering stranger's home : Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise, Proved the vain flourish of expensive ease. The pair arrive : the liveried servants wait ; Their lord receives them at the pompous gate. The table groans with costly piles of food, And all is more than hospitably good. Then led to rest, the day's long toil they drown, Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down. At length 'tis morn; and at the dawn of day, Along the wide canals the Zephyrs play; Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep, And shake the neighbouring wood, to banish sleep. 266 Up rise the guests, obedient to the call : An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall ; Rich luscious wine a golden goblet graced, Which the kind master forced the guests to taste. Then pleased, and thankful, from the porch they go; And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe ; His cup was vanish'd ; for, in secret guise, The younger guest purloin'd the glitt'ring prize. As one who spies a serpent in his way, Glistning and basking in the summer ray, Disorder'd stops, to shun the danger near, Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear; So seem'd the sire ; when, far upon the road, The shining spoil his wily partner show'd. He stopp d with silence, wahVd with trembling heart, And much he wish'd, but durst not ask, to part : Murmuring, he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard, That generous actions meet a base reward. While thus they pass, the sun his glory shrouds, The changing skies hang out their sable clouds ;. A sound in air presaged approaching rain, And beasts to covert, scud across the plain. Warn'd by the signs, the wandering pair retreat, To seek for shelter at a neighbouring seat : 267 'Twas built with turrets, on a rising ground, And strong, and large, and unimproved around ; Its owner's temper, timorous and severe, Unkind and griping, caused a desert there. As near the Miser's heavy doors they drew, Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew; The nimble lightning, mix'd with showrs, began, And o'er their heads, loud-rolling thunder ran. Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain, Driven by the wind, and batter'd by the rain. At length some pity warm d the master's breast, ('Twas then his threshold first received a guest,) Slow creeking turns the door, with jealous care, And half he welcomes in, the shivering pair; One frugal faggot lights the naked walls, And nature's fervour, through their limbs recalls : Bread of the coarsest sort, with meager wine, Each hardly granted, served them both to dine ; And when the tempest first appeard to cease, A ready warning bid them part in peace. With still remark, the pondring Hermit view'd, In one so rich, a life so poor and rude ; And why should such, within himself he cried, Lock the lost wealth, a thousand want beside? 268 But what new marks of wonder soon took place, In every settling feature of his face. When from his vest, the young companion bore That cup, the generous landlord own'd before, And paid profusely with the precious bowl, The stinted kindness of this churlish soul ! But now the clouds in airy tumult fly, The sun emerging opes an azure sky ; A fresher green the smelling leaves display, And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day; The weather courts them from the poor retreat, And the glad master bolts the wary gate. While hence they walk, the Pilgrim's bosom wrought With all the travail of uncertain thought; His partner's acts, without their cause, appear, 'Twas there a vice, and seem'd a madness here : Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes, Lost and confounded with the various shows. Now night's dim shades again involve the sky, Again the wanderers want a place to lie, Again they search, and find a lodging nigh. The soil improved around, the mansion neat, And neither poorly low, nor idly great : 269 It seeem'd to speak its master's turn of mind, Content, and not for praise, but virtue kind. Hither the walkers turn, with weary feet, Then bless the mansion, and the master greet : Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise, The courteous master hears, and thus replies : Without a vain, without a grudging heart, To Him who gives us all, I yield a part ; From Him you come, for Him accept it here, A frank and sober, more than costly cheer. He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread, Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed, When the grave household round his hall repair, Warn'd by a bell, and close the hours with prayer. At length the world, renew'd by calm repose, Was strong for toil ; the dappled morn arose ; Before the Pilgrims part, the younger crept Near the closed cradle where an infant slept, And writhed his neck : the landlord's little pride, O strange return ! grew black, and gasp'd, and died. Horrour of horrours! what, his only son! How look'd our Hermit when the fact was done ! 270 Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part, And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. Confused, and struck with silence at the deed, He flies, but, trembling, fails to fly with speed. His steps the Youth pursues : the country lay Perplex'd with roads ; a servant shew'd the way : A river crossed the path ; the passage o'er Was nice to find ; the servant trod before ; Long arms of oaks an open bridge supplied, And deep the waves, beneath the bending, glide. The Youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin, Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in ; Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head, Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead. Wild sparkling rage inflames the Father's eyes, He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries : — " Detested wretch !" — But scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man : His youthful face grew more serenely sweet ; His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet ; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair ; Celestial odours breathe through purpled air ; And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day, Wide at his back their gradual plumes display. 271 The form ethereal bursts upon his sight, And moves in all the majesty of light. Though loud at first the Pilgrim's passion grew, Sudden he gazed, and wist not what to do ; Surprise in secret chains his words suspends, And in a calm his settling temper ends. But silence here the beauteous angel broke, The voice of music ravish' d as he spoke : — ." Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life, to vice unknown, * In sweet memorial rise before the throne : ' These charms, success in our bright region find, * And force an Angel down, to calm thy mind ; ' For this, commissiond, J forsook the sky, 1 Nay, cease to kneel — thy fellow-servant I. '* Then know the truth of government divine, " And let these scruples be no longer thine : " The Maker justly claims that world he made, M In this the riojic of Providence is laid : *' Its sacred majesty through all depends, M On using second means to work his ends : *' 'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, M The Power exerts his attributes on high; 272 " Your actions uses, nor controls your will, " And bids the doubting sons of men be still. " What strange events can strike with more surprise, " Than those which lately struck thy wandering eyes? " Yet, taught by these, confess the Almighty just, " And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust. " The great, vain man, who fared on costly food, " Whose life was too luxurious to be good; 11 Who made his ivory stands, with goblets shine, " And forced his guests to morning draughts of wine, " Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, " And still he welcomes, but with less of cost. " The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er moved in duty to the wandering poor ; { With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, " And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. " Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, " With heaping coals of fire upon its head ; 11 In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, " And, loose from dross, the silver runs below. c- 1 «( i ( 273 " Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, " But now the child half vveand his heart from God ; •* Child of his age, for him he lived in pain, 11 And measured back his steps to earth again. u To what excesses had his dotage run ! M But God, to save the father, took the son. 11 To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow : The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns, in tears, the punishment was just. His gifts, his constant courtship, nothing gain'd ; For she, the more he loved, the more disdain'd. He lived with all the pomp he could devise, At tilts and tournaments ohtain'd the prize ; But found no favour in his lady's eyes : Relentless as a rock, the lofty maid Turn'd all to poison that he did, or said ; Nor prayers, nor tears, nor ofFer'd vows, could move; The work went backward ; and the more he strove T' advance his suit, the farther from her love. Wearied at length, and wanting remedy, He doubted oft, and oft resolved to die. But pride stood ready to prevent the blow, For who would die/"to gratify a foe? His generous mind disdain'd so mean a fate ; That pass'd, his next endeavour was to hate. But vainer that relief than all the rest, The less he hoped, with more desire possess'd ; Love stood the siege, and would not yield his breast. Change was the next, but change deceived his care ; He sought a fairer, but found none so fair. He would have worn her out by slow degrees, As men by fasting starve th' untamed disease : But present love required a present ease. 286 Looking, he feeds alone his famish'd eyes, Feeds lingering death, but looking not he dies. Yet still he chose the longest way to fate, Wasting at once his life and his estate. His friends beheld, and pity'd him in vain, For what advice can ease a lover's pain ! Absence, the best expedient they could find, Might save the fortune, if not cure the mind : This means they long proposed, but little gain'd, Yet, after much pursuit, at length obtain'd. Hard, you may think it was to give consent, But, struggling with his own desires, he went, With large expence, and with a pompous train, Provided as to visit France and Spain, Or for some distant voyage o'er the main. But love had clipp'd his wings, and cut him short, Confin'd within the purlieus of the court, Three miles he went, no farther could retreat ; His travels ended at his country seat: To Chassi's pleasing plains he took his way, There pitch'd his tents, and there resolved to stay. The spring was in the prime ; the neighbouring grove Supplied with birds, the choristers of love : 287 Music unbought, that minister'd delight To morning walks, and lull'd his cares by niorht : There he discharged his friends ; but not th' expence Of frequent treats, and proud magnificence. He lived as kings retire, thoucrh more at large From public business, yet with equal charge ; With house and heart still open to receive ; As well content as love would give him leave : He would have lived more free ; but many a guest Who could forsake the friend, pursued the feast. It hapt one morning, as his fancy led, Before his usual hour he left his bed ; To walk within a lonely lawn that stood On every side surrounded with a wood ; Alone he walk'd, to please his pensive mind, And sought the deepest solitude to find ; 'Twas in a grove of spreading pines he stray'd ; The winds within the quivering branches play'd, And dancing trees a mournful music made. The place itself was suiting to his care, Uncouth and savage as the cruel fair. He wander' d on, unknowing where he went, Lost in the wood, and all on love intent : The day alied r Iy half his race had run, An 1 summou'd him to due repast at noon, tut love could ieel no hunger but his own. c 288 Whilst listening to the murmuring: leaves he stood. More than a mile immersed within the wood, At once the wind was laid ; the whispering sound Was dumb ; a rising earthquake rock d the ground ; With deeper brown the grove was overspread ; A sudden horror seized his giddy head, And his ears tinkled, and his colour fled. Nature was in alarm ; some danger nigh Seem'd threaten'd, thouoh unseen to mortal eye. Unused to fear, he summond all his soul, And stood collected in himself, and whole ; Not long; : for soon a whirlwind rose around, And from afar he heard a screaming sound As of a dame distress'd, who cried for aid, And fill'd with loud laments the secret shade. A thicket close beside the grove there stood, With briers and brambles choked, and dwarfish wood; From thence the noise, which now approaching near, With more distinguish d notes invades his ear ; He raised his head, and saw a beauteous maid, With hair dishevel'd, issuing through the shade; Stripp'd of her clothes, and e'en those parts reveal'd, Which modest nature keeps from sight conceal'd. Her face, her hands, her naked limbs, were torn, With passing through the brakes, and prickly thorn; 289 Two mastiffs gaunt and grim her flight pursued, And oft their fasten'd fangs in blood imbrued : Oft they came up, and pinch'd her tender side, — " Mercy, O mercy, Heaven !" — she ran and cried ; When heaven was named, they loosed their hold acrain, Then sprang she forth, they follow'd her amain. Not far behind, a Knight of swarthy face, High on a coal-black steed pursued the chase ; With flashing flames his ardent eyes were fill'd, And in his hand a naked sword he held ; He cheer'd the dogs to follow her who fled, And vovv'd revenge on her devoted head. As Theodore was born of noble kind, The brutal action roused his manly mind ; Moved with unworthy usage of the maid, He, though unarm'd, resolved to give her aid. A sapling pine he wrenchd from out the ground, The readiest weapon that his fury found. Thus furnish'd for offence, he cross'd the way Betwixt the graceless villain and his prey. The Knight came thundering on, but, from afar, Thus in imperious tone forbad the war : u «( 290 ■" Cease, Theodore, to proffer vain relief, Nor stop the vengeance of so just a grief ; " But give me leave to seize my destined prey, " And let eternal justice take the way : " I but revenge my fate, disdaind, betray'd, " And suffering death for this ungrateful maid." — He said, at once dismounting from the steed; For now the hell-hounds with superior speed Had reach'd the Dame, and, fastening on her side, The ground with issuing streams of purple died ; Stood Theodore surprised, in deadly fright, With chattering teeth, and bristling hair upright; Yet arm'd with inborn worth, — " Whate'er," said he, " Thou art, who know'st me better than I thee ; " Or prove thy rightful cause, or be defied ;" — The Spectre fiercely staring, thus replied : — " Know, Theodore, thy ancestry I claim, " And Guido Cavalcanti was my name. " One common sire our fathers did beaet, " My name and story some remember yet : " Thee, then a boy, within mine arms I laid, " When, for my sins, I loved this haughty maid; " Not less adored in life, nor served by me, " Than proud Honoria now is loved by thee. 1 1 ( ( 291 What did I not, her stubborn heart to gain? But all my vows were answer'd with disdain ; She scorn'd my sorrows, and despised my pain. 11 Long time I dragg'd my days in fruitless care : " Then, loathing life, and plunged in deep despair, 11 To finish my unhappy life, I fell " On this sharp sword, and now am damn'd in hell. " Short was her joy ; for soon th' insulting maid " By Heaven's decree in this cold grave was laid. 11 And as in unrepented sin she died, " Doom'd to the same bad place, is punish'd for her pride " Because she deem'd I well deserved to die, " And made a merit of her cruelty. " There, then, we met; both tried, and both were cast, M And this irrevocable sentence pass'd : — 11 That she, whom I so long pursued in vain, " Should suffer from my hands a lingering pain : " Renew'd to life that she might daily die, 11 I daily doom'd to follow, she to fly; " No more a lover, but a mortal foe, " I seek her life (for love is none below) : " As often as my dogs with better speed " Arrest her flight, is she to death decreed : o 11 Then with this fatal sword, on which I died, " I pierce her open back, or tender side, u 2 292 11 And tear that harden'd heart from out her breast, " Which, with her entrails, makes my hungry hounds a feast. " Nor lies she long, but, as her fates ordain, " Springs up to life, and fresh to second pain, " Is saved to day, to-morrow to be slain.'' — * This, versed in death, th' infernal Knight relates, And then for proof fulfill'd the common fates ; Her heart and bowels through her back he drew, And fed the hounds that help'd him to pursue ; Stern look'd the Fiend, as frustrate of his will, Not half sufficed, and greedy yet to kill. And now the soul expiring through the wound , Had left the body breathless on the ground, When thus the grisly Spectre spoke again : — " Behold the fruit of ill-rewarded pain : '• As many months as I sustaind her hate, " So many years is she condemn'd by fate 11 To daily death ; and every several place, " Conscious of her disdain, and my disgrace, " Must witness her just punishment, and be " A scene of triumph and revenge to me ! " As in this grove I took my last farewell, " As on this very spot of earth I fell, * ' As Friday saw me die, so she my prey " Becomes e'en here on this revolving day."—- 293 Thus while he spoke, the Virgin from the ground Upstarted fresh, already closed the wound, And, unconcernd for all she felt before, Precipitates her flight along the shore : The hell-hounds, as ungorged with flesh and blood, Pursue their prey, and seek their wonted food : The Fiend remounts his courser, mends his pace, And all the vision vanish'd from the place. Long stood the noble youth, oppress'd with awe, And stupid at the wondrous things he saw, Surpassing common faith, transgressing nature's law. He would have been asleep, and wish'd to wake, But dreams, he knew, no long impression make, Though strong at first; if vision, to what end, But such as must his future state portend? His love the damsel, and himself the fiend. But yet reflecting, that it could not be From heaven, which cannot impious acts decree, Resolved within himself to shun the snare, Which hell for his destruction did prepare ; And, as his better genius should direct, From an ill cause to draw a good effect. Inspired from heaven, he homeward took his way, Nor pall'd his new design with long delay : 294 But of his train a trusty servant sent To call his friends together at his tent. They came ; and usual salutations paid, With words premeditated thus he said : — " What you have often counseld, to remove " My vain pursuit of unregarded love ; 11 By thrift my sinking fortune to repair, " Though late, yet is at last become my care : " My heart shall be my own ; my vast expence " Reduced to bounds by timely providence ; " This only I require ; invite for me " Honoria, with her father's family, " Her friends, and mine ; the cause I shall display, " On Friday next, for that's th' appointed day." — Well pleased were all his friends, the task was light, The father, mother, daughter, they invite ; Hardly the Dame was drawn to this repast ; But yet resolved, because it was the last. The dav was come, the quests invited came, And, with the rest, th' inexorable Dame : A feast prepared with riotous expence, Much cost, more care, and most magnificence. The place ordain'd was in that haunted grove, Where the revenging ghost pursued his love : The tables in a proud pavilion spread, With flowers below, and tissue overhead : 295 The rest in rank, Honoria, chief in place, Was artfully contrived to set her face To front the thicket, and hehold the chase. The feast was served, the time so well forecast, That just when the desert and fruits were placed, The Fiend's alarm began ; the hollow sound Sung in the leaves, the forest shook around, Air blacken'd, roll'd the thunder, groan'd the ground. Nor long before the loud laments arise, Of one distress'd, and mastiffs' mingled cries ; And first the Dame came rushingr through the wood, And next the famisli'd hounds that sought their food, O And grip'd her flanks, and oft essay'd their jaws in blood. Last came the Felon on his sable steed, Arm'd with his naked sword, and urged his dogs to speed. She ran, and cried, her flight directly bent, (A guest unbidden,) to the fatal tent, The scene of death, and place ordain'd for punishment. Loud was the noise, aghast was every guest, The women shriek'd, the men forsook the feast; The hounds at nearer distance hoarsely bay'd ; The hunter close pursued the visionary maid, She rent the heaven with loud laments, imploring aid. 296 The gallants, to protect the Lady's right, Their faulchions brandish'd at the grisly Sprite ; High on his stirrups he provoked the fight; Then on the crowd he cast a furious look, And wither'd all their strength before he spoke : — " Back on your lives ; let be," said he, " my prey, " And let my vengeance take the destined way : " Vain are your arms, and vainer your defence, 11 Against th' eternal doom of Providence : " Mine is th' ungrateful maid by Heaven design'd : " Mercy she would not give, nor mercy shall she find. At this the former tale again he told : With thundering tone, and dreadful to behold : Sunk were their hearts with horror of the crime, Nor needed to be warn'd a second time, But bore each other back ; some knew the face, And all had heard the much lamented case Of him who fell for love, and this the fatal place. And now th' infernal minister advanced, Seized the due victim, and with fury launch'd Her back, and, piercing through her inmost heart, Drew backward, as before, th' offending part. The reeking entrails next he tore away, And to his meagre mastiffs made a prey. The pale assistants on each other stared With gaping mouths, for issuing words prepared ; 297 The still-born sounds upon the palate hung, And died imperfect on the faltering tongue. The fright was general ; but the female band (A helpless train) in more confusion stand : With horror shuddering, in a heap they run, Sick at the sight of hateful justice done ; For conscience rung th' alarm, and made the case their own. So, spread upon a lake with upward eye, A plump of fowl behold their foe on high ; They close their trembling troop ; and all attend On whom the sousing eagle will descend. But most the proud Honoria fear'd th' event, And thought to her alone the vision sent. Her guilt presents to her distracted mind Heavens justice, Theodore's revengeful kind, And the same fate to the same sin assign'd. Already sees herself the monster's prey, And feels her heart and entrails torn away. 'Twas a mute scene of sorrow, mix'd with fear: Still on the table lay th' unfinish'd cheer : The Knight and hungry mastiffs stood around, The mangled Dame lay breathless on the ground ; When, on a sudden, re-inspired with breath, Again she rose, again to suffer death ; 298 Nor staid the hell-hounds, nor the hunter staid, But follow'd, as before, the flying; maid : Th' avenger took from earth th' avenging sword, And mounting light as air, his sable steed he spurr'd : The clouds dispell'd, the sky resumed her light, And nature stood recover'd of her fright. But fear, the last of ills, remain'd behind, And horror heavy sat on every mind. Nor Theodore encouraged more the feast, But sternly look'd, as hatching in his breast Some deep designs, which, when Honoria view'd, The fresh impulse her former fright renew'd ; She thought herself the trembling dame who fled, And him the grisly ghost that spurr'd th' infernal steed : The more dismay'd, for when the guests withdrew, Their courteous host, saluting all the crew, Regardless pass'd her o'er; nor graced with kind adieu ; That sting infix'd within her haughty mind, The downfall of her empire she divined ; And her proud heart with secret sorrow pined. Home as they went the sad discourse renew'd Of the relentless dame to death pursued, And of the sight obscene so lately view'd. None durst arraign the righteous doom she bore, E'en they who pitied most, yet blamed her more : 299 The parallel they needed not to name, But in the dead they damn'd the living dame. At every little noise she look'd behind, For still the knight was present to her mind ; And anxious oft she started on the way, And thought the horseman ghost came thundering for his prey. Return'd, she took her bed with little rest, But in short slumbers dreamt the funeral feast: Awak'd, she turn'd her side, and slept again; The same black vapours mounted in her brain, And the same dreams return'd with double pain. Now forc'd to wake, because afraid to sleep, Her blood all fever'd, with a furious leap She sprang from bed, distracted in her mind, And fear'd, at every step, a twiching sprite behind. Darkling and desperate, with a staggering pace, Of death afraid, and conscious of disgrace ; Fear, pride, remorse, at once her heart assail'd, Pride put remorse to flight, but fear prevail'd. Friday, the fatal day, when next it came, Her soul forethought the Fiend would chancre his game, And her pursue, or Theodore be slain, And two ghosts join their packs to hunt her o'er the plain. 300 This dreadful image so possess'd her mind, That desperate any succour else to find, She ceas'd all farther hope ; and now began To make reflection on the unhappy man. Rich, brave, and young, who past expression lov'd, Proof to disdain, and not to be remov'd : Of all the men respected and admir'd, Of all the dames, except herself, desir'd : Why not of her? preferr'd above the rest By him with knightly deeds, and open love profess'd ? So had another been, where he his vows address'd. This quell'd her pride, yet other doubts remain'd, That, once disdaining, she might be disdain'd. The fear was just, but greater fear prevail'd, Fear of her life by hellish hounds assail'd : He took a lowering leave ; but who can tell, What outward hate might inward love conceal? Her sex's art she knew; and why not, then, Might deep dissembling have a place in men? Here hope began to dawn ; resolvd to try, She fix'd on this her utmost remedy ; Death was behind, but hard it was to die. 'Twas time enough at last on death to call, The precipice in sight : a shrub was all, That kindly stood betwixt to break the fatal fall. 301 One maid she had, beloved above the rest; Secure of her, the secret she confess'd; And now the cheerful light her fears dispell'd, She with no winding turns the truth conceald, But put the woman off, and stood reveal'd ; With faults confess'd, commission'd her to go, If pity yet had place, and reconcile her foe; The welcome message made, was soon received; 'Twas to be wish'd and hoped, but scarce believed ; Fate seem'd a fair occasion to present ; He knew the sex, and fear'd she might repent, Should he delay the moment of consent. There yet remaind to gain her friends (a care The modesty of maidens well might spare) ; But she with such a zeal the cause embraced (As women, where they will, are all in haste) ; The father, mother, and the kin beside, Were overborn by fury of the tide ; With full consent of all, she changed her state; Resistless in her love, as in her hate. By her example warnd, the rest beware; More easy, less imperious, were the fair; And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd For one fair female, lost him half the kind. 302 No. XL. DREAMS. DRYDEN. From the Tale of" The Cock and the Fox/ Two friends or brothers, with devout intent, On some far pilgrimage together went. It happend so that, when the sun was down, They just arrived by twilight at a town : That day had been the baiting of a bull, 'Twas at a feast, and every inn so full, That no void room in chamber, or on ground, And but one sorry bed was to be found : And that so little it would hold but one, Though till this hour they never lay alone. So were they forced to part ; one stayed behind, His fellow sought what lodging he could find : 303 At last he found a stall where oxen stood, And that he rather chose than lie abroad. 'Twas in a farther yard without a door ; But, for his ease, well litter'd was the floor. His fellow, who the narrow bed had kept, Was weary, and without a rocker slept : Supine he snored ; but in the dead of night, He dreamt his friend appear'd before his sight, Who, with his ghastly look, and doleful cry, Said, — " Help me, brother, or this night I die: " Arise and help, before all help be vain, 11 Or in an ox's stall I shall be slain." — Roused from his rest, he waken'd in a start, Shivering with horrour, and with aking heart; At length to cure himself by reason tries ; — " Tis but a dream, and what are dreams but lies?" — So thinking, changed his side, and closed his eyes. His dream returns ; his friend appears again : — " The murderers come ; now help, or I am slain : ' — 'Twas but a vision still, and visions are but vain. He dreamt the third : but now his friend appear'd Pale, naked, pierced with wounds, with blood besmear'd : Thrice warn'd, — " Awake," said he, " relief is late, " The deed is done ; but thou revenge my fate : 304 " Tardy of aid, unseal thy heavy eyes, " Awake, and with the dawning day arise : " Take to the western gate thy ready way, " For by that passage they my corpse convey : «' My corpse is in a tumbril laid, among '.' The filth and ordure, and inclosed with dung : " That cart arrest, and raise a common cry ; " For sacred hunger of my gold, I die s" — Then shew'd his grisly wound ; and last he drew A piteous sigh, and took a long adieu. The frighted friend arose by break of day, And found the stall where late his fellow lay. Then of his impious host inquiring more, Was answer'd that his guest was gone before : — " Muttering, he went," said he, *' by morning light, " And much complain'd of his ill rest by night. 1 ' — This raised suspicion in the pilgrim's mind ; Because all hosts are of an evil kind ; And oft, to share the spoils, with robbers join'd. His dream confirm'd his thought ; with troubled look, Straight to the western gate his way he took ; There, as his dream foretold, a cart he found, That carried compost forth to dung the ground. This, when the pilgrim saw, he stretch'd his throat, And cried out — " murder!" — with a yelling note. 305 My murder d fellow in this cart lies dead, Vengeance and justice on the villain's head. Ye magistrates, who sacred laws dispense, On you I call, to punish this offence. The word thus given, within a little space, The mob came roaring out, and throng'd the place ; All in a trice they cast the cart to ground, And in the dung the murder'd body found ; Though breathless, warm, and reekincr, from the wound. Good heaven, whose darling attribute, we find, Is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, Abhors the cruel : and the deeds of night By wondrous ways reveals in open light : Murder may pass unpunish'd for a time, But tardy justice will o'ertake the crime. And oft a speedier pain the guilty feels : The hue and cry of heaven pursues him at the heels. Fresh from the fact, as in the present case, The criminals are seized upon the place : Carter and host confronted face to face. Stiff in denial, as the law appoints, On engines they distend their tortured joints : So was confession forced, di offence was known, And public justice on th' offenders clone. 306 — " Here may you see, that visions are to dread; " And, in the page that follows this, I read," — — Of two young merchants, whom the hope of gain Induced in partnership to cross the main : Waiting till willing winds their sails supplied, Within a trading town they long ahide, Full fairly situate on a haven's side ; One evening it befel, that, looking out, The wind they long had wish'd was come about : Well pleased they went to rest ; and if the gale Till morn continued, both resolved to sail. But, as together in a bed they lay, The younger had a dream at break of day. A man, he thought, stood frowning at his side ; Who warn'd him for his safety to provide, Nor put to sea, but safe on shore abide. — " I come, thy genius, to command thy stay ; " Trust not the winds, for fatal is the day, " And death, unhoped, attends the watery way." — The vision said : and vanish'd from his sight : o The dreamer wakened in a mortal fright : Then pull'd his drowsy neighbour, and declared What, in his slumber, he had seen and heard ; 307 His friend smiled scornful, and with proud contempt Rejects, as idle, what his fellow dreamt. — " Stay, who will stay ; for me no fears restrain, " Who follow Mercury, the god of gain ; " Let each man do as to his fancy seems, " I wait not, 1, till you have better dreams. 11 Dreams are but interludes which fancy makes; * c When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes : 11 Compounds a medley of disjointed things, •' A mob of coblers, and a court of kings : 11 Light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad : 11 Both are the reasonable soul run mad ; " And many monstrous forms in sleep we see, " That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be. " Sometimes forgotten things, lono- cast behind, " Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind. " The nurse's legends are for truths received, '* And the man dreams but what the boy believed. '• Sometimes we but rehearse a former play, " The night restores our actions done by day ; 11 As hounds in sleep will open for their prey. " In short, the farce of dreams is of a piece, " Chimeras all, and more absurd or less : " You, who believe in tales, abide alone ; •' Whatever I get this voyage is my own.'' — X 2 308 Thus while he spoke, he heard the shouting crew Thatcall'd aboard, and took his last adieu. The vessel went before a merry gale, And, for quick passage, put on every sail : But when least fear'd, and e'en in open day, The mischief overtook her in the way : Whether she sprung a leak, I cannot find, Or whether she was overset with wind, Or that some rock below her bottom rent ; But down at once, with all her crew, she went : Her fellow ships from far, her loss descried ; But only she was sunk, and all were safe beside. 309 No. XLI. HISTORY OF PORSENNA, KING OF RUSSIA. -" ARVA, BEATA FETAMJJS ARMA, DIVITES ET INSULAS. HOR. EPOD. l6. LISLE, BOOK I. In Russia's frozen clime, some ages since, There dwelt, historians say, a worthy prince, Who to his people's good confined his care, And fix'd the basis of his empire there ; Enlarged their trade, the liberal arts improved, Made nations happy, and himself beloved ; To all the neighbouring states a terror grown, The dear delight and glory of his own. Not like tho.se kings, who vainly seek renown From countries ruined, and from battles won; 510 Those mighty Nirarods, who mean laws despise, Call murder but a princely exercise, And, if one bloodless sun should steal away, Cry out, with Titus, they have lost a day ; Who, to be more than men, themselves debase Beneath the brute, their Maker's form deface, Raising; their titles by their God's disgrace. Like fame to bold Erostratus we give, Who scorn'd by less than sacrilege to live ; On holy ruins raised a lasting name, And in the temple's fire diffused his shame. Far different praises, and a brighter fame, The virtues of the young Porsenna claim ; For by that name the Russian king was known, And sure a nobler ne'er adorn'd the throne. In war he knew the deathful sword to wield, And sought the thickest dangers of the field, A bold commander; but, the storm o'erblown, He seem'd as he were made for peace alone ; Then was the golden age again restored, Nor less his justice honour'd, than his sword. All needless pomp, and outward grandeur spared, The deeds that graced him were his only guard ; No private views beneath a borrow'd name ; His and the public interest were the same. 311 In wealth and pleasure let the subject live; But virtue is the king's prerogative : Porsenna there without a rival stood, And would maintain his right of doing good. Nor did his person less attraction wear, Such majesty and sweetness mingled there ; Heaven, with uncommon art, the clay refined, A proper mansion for so fair a mind ; Each look, each action, bore peculiar o-race, And love itself was painted on his face. In peaceful time he suffer'd not his mind To rust in sloth, though much to peace inclined ; Nor wanton in the lap of pleasure lay, And, lost to glory, loiter'd life away : But active rising ere the prime of day, Through woods and lonely deserts loved to stray ; With hounds and horns to wake the furious bear, Or rouze the tawny lion from his lair ; To rid the forest of the savage brood, And whet his courage for his country's good. One day, as he pursued the dangerous sport, Attended by the nobles of his court, It chanced, a beast of more than common speed, Sprang from the brake, and through the desert fled. 312 The ardent Prince, impetuous as the wind, Rush'd on, and left his lagging train behind. Fired with the chase, and full of youthful blood, O'er plains, and vales, and woodland wilds, he rode, Urging his coursers speed, nor thought the day, How wasted, nor how intricate the way : Nor, till the night in dusky clouds came on, Restraind his pace, or found himself alone. Missino- his train, he strove to measure back The road he came, but could not find the track; Still turning to the place he left before, And only lab'ring to be lost the more. The bugle horn, which o'er his shoulders hung, So loud he winded, that the forest rung; In vain, no voice but Echo from the ground, And vocal woods make mockery of the sound. And now the gathering clouds began to spread O'er the dun face of night a deeper shade; And the hoarse thunder, growling from afar, With herald voice proclaim'd th' approaching war ; Silence awhile ensued, — then by degrees A hollow wind came muttering through the trees. Sudden the full-fraught sky discharged its store, Of rain and rattling hail a mingled shower; 313 The active lightning ran along the ground ; The fiery bolts by fits were hurl'd around, And the wide forests trembled at the sound. Amazement seized the Prince : — where could he fly ? No guide to lead, no friendly cottage nigh. Pensive and unresolved awhile he stood Beneath the scanty covert of the wood ; But, drove from thence, soon sallied forth again, As chance directed, on the dreary plain ; Constrain'd his melancholy way to take Through many a loathsome bog, and thorny brake, Caught in the thicket, floundring in the lake. Wet with the storm, and wearied with the way, By hunger pinch'd, himself to beasts a prey ; Nor wine to cheer his heart, nor fire to burn, Nor place to rest, nor prospect to return. Drooping and spiritless, at life's despair, He bade it pass, not worth his farther care ; When suddenly he spied a distant light, That faintly twinkled through the gloom of night, And his heart leap'd for joy, and bless'd the welcome sio-ht. Oft times he doubted, it appear'd so far, And hung so high, 'twas nothing but a star, Or kindled vapour wandering through the sky, But still press'd on his steed, still kept it in his eye; 314 Till, much fatigue, and many dangers past, At a huge mountain he arrived at last. There, liehtina from his horse, on hands and knees Groped out the darksome road by slow degrees, Crawling or clamb'ring o'er the ruo-ged way ; The thunder rolls above, the flames around him play. Joyful at length he gain'd the steepy height, And found the rift whence sprang the friendly light. And here he stopped to rest his wearied feet, And weigh the perils he had still to meet ; Unsheathd his trusty sword, and dealt his eyes With caution round him to prevent surprise ; Then summon'd all the forces of his mind, And, entering boldly, cast his fears behind, Resolved to push his way, whate'er withstood, Or perish bravely, as a monarch should. While he the wonders of the place survey 'd, And through the various cells at random stray'd ; In a dark corner of the cave he viewd Somewhat, that in the shape of woman stood ; But more deformd than dreams can represent The midnight hag, or poet's fancy paint The Lapland witch, when she her broom bestrides, And scatters storms and tempests as she rides. 315 She look'd as nature made her to disgrace Her kind, and cast a blot on all the race; Her shrivel d skin, with yellow spots besmear'd, Like mouldy records seem'd ; her eyes were blear'd ; Her feeble limbs with age and palsy shook ; Bent was her body, haggard was her look. From the dark nook outcrept the filthy crone, And, propp'd upon her crutch, came tottering on. The Prince in civil guise approach'd the Dame, Told her his piteous case, and whence he came, And till Aurora should the shades expel, Implored a lodging in her friendly cell. — " Mortal, whoe'er thou art," the Fiend began, And, as she spake, a deadly horror ran Throucrh all his frame ; his cheeks the blood forsook. Chatter' d his teeth, his knees together struck. — " Whoe'er thou art, that with presumption rude " Darest on our sacred privacy intrude, 11 And without licence in our court appear, " Know, thou'rt the first that ever enter'd here. 11 But since thou plead'st excuse, thou'rt hither brought M More by thy fortune than thy own default, " Thy crime, though great, an easy pardon finds, il For mercy ever dwells in royal minds; " And would you learn from whose indulgent hand " You live, and in whose awful presence stand, 316 Know farther, through yon wide extended plains Great Eolus the King of Tempests reigns, And in this lofty palace makes abode, Well suited to his state, and worthy of the God. The various elements his empire own, And pay their humble homage at his throne ; And hither all the storms and clouds resort, Proud to increase the splendour of his court. His Queen am I, from whom the beauteous race Of winds arose, sweet fruit of our embrace !" — She scarce had ended, when, with wild uproar And horrid din, her sons impetuous pour Around the cave ; came rushing in amain Lybs, Eurus, Boreas, all the boist'rous train; And, close behind them, on a whirlwind rode In clouded majesty, the Blust'ring God. Their locks a thousand ways were blown about ; Their cheeks like full blown bladders strutted out ; Their boasting talk was of the feats they'd done, Of trees uprooted, and of towns oerthrown ; And, when they kindly turn'd them to accost The Prince, they almost pierced him with their frost. The gaping hag in fix'd attention stood, And at the close of every tale, cried — " Good !"- Blessing with outstretch'd arms each darling son, In due proportion to the mischief done. 317 — " And where," said she, " does little Zephyr stray ? 11 Know ye, my sons, your brother's route to-day ? *' In what bold deeds does he his hours employ ? " Grant heaven no evil has befall'n my boy ! " Ne'er was he known to linger thus before/' — Scarce had she spoke, when at the cavern door Came lightly tripping in a form more fair Than the young poets fond ideas are, When, fired with love, he tries his utmost art To paint the beauteous tyrant of his heart. A satin vest his slender shape confined, Embroider'd o'er with flowers of every kind, Flora's own work, when first the goddess strove To win the little wanderer to her love. Of burnish'd silver were his sandals made, Silver his buskins, and with gems o'erlaid ; A saffron-colour'd robe behind him flow'd, And added grace and grandeur as he trod. His wings, than lillies whiter to behold, Sprinkled with azure spots, and streak'd with gold; So thin their form, and of so light a kind, That they for ever danced, and flutter'd in the wind. Around his temples, with becoming air, In wanton ringlets cuiTd his auburn hair, 318 And o'er his shoulders negligently spread ; A wreath of fragrant roses crown' d his head, Such his attire ; but O ! no pen can trace, No words can shew the beauties of his face ; So kind ! so winning ! so divinely fair ! Eternal youth and pleasure flourish there ; There all the little Loves and Graces meet, And every thing that's soft, and every thing that's sweet. — " Thou vagrant," cried the Dame in angry tone, " Where could'st thou loiter thus so long alone? " Little thou carest what anxious thoughts molest, " What pangs are labouring in a mother's breast. " Well do you shew your duty by your haste, " For thou, of all my sons, art always last; " A child less fondled would have fled more fast. *' Sure 'tis a curse on mothers, doom'd to mourn, " Where best they love, the least and worst return." — — " My dear mama 1" the gentle youth replied, And made a low obeisance, " cease to chide, 11 Nor wound me with your words, for well you know 11 Your Zephyr bears a part in all your woe ; 11 How great must be his sorrow then to learn, " That he himself s the cause of your concern ! 319 11 Nor had I loiter'd thus, had I been free, 11 But the fair Princess of Felicity 11 I nt rested me to make some short delay ; 11 And, ask'd by her, who could refuse to stay ? " Surrounded by the damsels of her court, 1 She sought the shady grove, her loved resort ; ' Fresh rose the grass, the flowers were mix d between, ' Like rich embroidery on a ground of green, 1 And in the midst, protected by the shade, ' A crystal stream in wild meanders play'd ; ' While in its banks, the trembling leaves among, ' A thousand little birds in concert sung. • Close by a mount, with fragrant shrubs o'ergrown, ! On a cool mossy couch she laid her down ; ' Her air, her posture, all conspired to please ; 1 Her head, upon her snowy arm at ease ' Reclined, a studied carelessness express'd ; ' Loose lay her robe, and naked heaved her breast. • Eager I flew to that delightful place, • And pour'd a shower of kisses on her face; ' Now hover'd o'er her neck, her breast, her arms, 1 Like bees o'er flowers, and tasted all her charms ; ' And then her lips, and then her cheeks I tried, ' And fann'd, and wanton'd round on every side. 1 — ' O Zephyr/ cried the fair, ■ thou charming boy, ' ' Thy presence only can create me joy ; 320 " * To me thou art beyond expression dear, *' ' Nor can I quit the place while thou art here.'— " Excuse my weakness, madam, when I swear " Such crentle words, ioin'd with so soft an air, " Pronounced so sweetly from a mouth so fair, " Quite ravish'd all my sense ; nor did I know •* How long I staid, or when or where to go. " Meanwhile the damsels, debonnair and gay, " Prattled around, and laugh'd the time away : " These in soft notes address'd the ravish'd ear, 11 And warbled out so sweet, 'twas heaven to hear ; And those in rings, beneath the greenwood shade, Danced to the melody their fellows made. " Some, studious of themselves, employ'd their care " In weaving flowery wreaths to deck their hair ; " While others to some favourite plant convey'd " Refreshing showers, and cheer'd its drooping head. 11 A joy so general spread through all the place, •-' Such satisfaction dwelt on every face, 18 The nymphs so kind, so lovely look'd the queen, " That never eye beheld a sweeter scene." — Porsenna like a statue fix'd appear'd, And, wrapp'd in silent wonder, gazed and heard; Much he admired the speech, the speaker more, And dwelt on every word, and grieved to find it o'er. << u 321 — ■• Oh gentle youth," he cried, ■■ proceed to tell, " In what fair country does this princess dwell ; " What regions unxplored, what hidden coast " Can so much goodness, so much beauty boast?"— To whom the winged god, with gracious look, Numberless sweets diffusing while he spoke, Thus answer'd kind, — M These happy gardens lie 11 Far hence removed, beneath a milder sky ; *' Their name — the Kingdom of Felicity. 11 Sweet scenes of endless bliss, enchanted ground, " A soil for ever sought, but seldom found ; " Though in the search all human kind in vain " Weary their wits, and waste their lives in pain. 41 In different parties different paths they tread, " As reason guides them, or as follies lead ; 44 These wrangling for the place they ne'er shall see, " Debating those, if such a place there be ; <( But not the wisest, nor the best, can say *' Where lies the point, or mark the certain way. " Some few, by Fortune favour'd for her sport, 11 Have saifd in sight of this delightful port ; "In thouo-ht already seized the bless'd abodes, " And in their fond delirium rank'd with gods. *' Fruitless attempt I all avenues are kept " By dreadful foes, sentry that never slept. Y 322 " Here fell Detraction darts her pois'nous breath " Fraught with a thousand stings, and scatters death ; " Sharp-sighted Envy there maintains her post, " And shakes her flaming brand, and stalks around the o coast. " These on the helpless bark their fury pour, iC Plunge in the waves, or dash against the shore; " Teach wretched mortals they were doom'd to mourn, '* And ne'er must rest but in the silent urn. " But say, young Monarch, for what name you bear " Your mien, your dress, your person, all declare; " And though I seldom fan the frozen north, " Yet have I heard of brave Porsenna's worth. " My brother Boreas through the world has flown, " Swelling his breath to spread forth your renown; " Say, would you choose to visit this retreat, ' ' And view the world where all these wonders meet ? " Wish you some friend o'er that tempestuous sea " To bear you safe, behold that friend in me. " My active wings shall all their force employ. " And nimbly waft you to the realms of joy : jf c As once, to gratify the God of Love, " I bore fair Psyche to the Cyprian grove; '* Or as Jove's bird, descending from on high, *' Snatch 1 d the young Trojan trembling to the sky. 323 " There perfect bliss thou may'st for ever share, " 'Scaped from the busy world, and all its care; *' There in the lovely princess thou shalt find " A mistress ever blooming, ever kind." — All ecstasy on air Porsenna trod, And to his bosom strain'd the little God : With grateful sentiments his heart o'erflow'd, And in the warmest words millions of thanks bestowVl. When Eolus in surly humour broke Their strict embrace, and thus abruptly spoke : — " Enough of compliment ; I hate the sport " Of meanless words : this is no human court, " Where plain and honest are discarded quite, " For the more modish title of polite; ii Where in soft speeches hypocrites impart " The venom 'd ills that lurk beneath the heart ; " In friendship's holy cruise their guilt improve, " And kindly kill with specious shew of love. " For us, — my subjects are not used to wait, " And waste their hours to hear a mortal prate ; 11 They must abroad before die rising sun, " And hioh 'em to the seas : there's mischief to be done. o " Excuse my plainness, Sir, but business stands, " And we have storms and shipwrecks on our hands." — - y 2 324 He ended frowning, and the noisy rout Ea i to 1 is several cell went puffing out. But Zephyr, far more courteous than the rest, To his own bower convey'd the royal guest ; 1 nere, on a bed >f roses neatly laid, Beneath the fragrance of a myrtle shade, His limbs to needful rest the Prince applied, His sweet companion slumbering by his side. BOOK II. No sooner in her silver chariot rose The ruddy Morn, than, sated with repose, The Prince address'd his host ; the God awoke, And leaping from his couch, thus kindly spoke : — " This early call, my lord, that chides my stay, " Requires my thanks, and I with joy obey. Like you, I long to reach the blissful coast, Hate the slow night, and mourn the moments lost. The bright Rosinda; loveliest of the fair " That crowd the Princess' court, demands my care; '* E'en now with fears and jealousies o'erborn *' Upbraids, and calls me cruel and forsworn. •• What sweet rewards on all my toils attend, 11 Servino- at once my mistress and my friend ! t i 1 1 i c Q 25 *• Just to my love and to my duty too, " Well paid in her, well pleased in pleasing you." — This said, he led him to the cavern gate, And clasp'd him in his arms, and poised his weight ; Then, balancing his body here and there, Stretch'd foith his agile wings, and launrh'd in air; Swift as the fiery meteor from on high Shoots to its goal, and gleams athwart the sky. Here with quick fan his labring pinions play ; There glide at ease along the liquid way : Now lightly skim the plain with even flight ; Now proudly soar above the mountain' s height. Spiteful Detraction, whose envenomd hate Sports with the sufferings of the good and great, Spares not our Prince, but with opprobrious sneer Arraigns him of the heinous sin of fear; That he, so tried in arms, whose very name Infused a secret panic where it came, E'en he, as high above the clouds he flew, And spied the mountains less'ning to the view, Nought round him but the wide expanded air, Helpless, abandond to a stripling's care, Struck with the rapid whirl, and dreadful height, Confess'd some faint alarm, some little fright. 326 The friendly God, who instantly divined The terrors that possess'd his fellow's mind, To calm his troubled thoughts, and cheat the way, Described the nations that beneath them lay, The name, the climate, and the soil's increase, Their arms in war, their government in peace; Shew'd their domestic arts, their foreign trade, What interest they pursued, what leagues they made. The sweet discourse so charm'd Porsenna's ear, That, lost in joy, he had no time for fear. From Scandinavia's cold inclement waste O'er wide Germania's various realms they pass'd, And now on Albion's fields suspend their toil, And hover for awhile, and bless the soil. O'er the gay scene the Prince delighted hung, And gazed in rapture, and forgot his tongue ; Till burstino- forth at length ; — " Behold," cried he, •' The promised isle, the land I long'd to see; " Those plains, those vales, and fruitful hills, declare " My queen, my charmer must inhabit there." — Thus raved the Monarch, and the gentle Guide, Pleased with his error, thus in smiles replied. — " I must applaud, my lord, the lucky thought; " E'en I, who know th' original, am caught, '* And doubt my senses, when I view the draught. 327 " The slow-ascending hill, the lofty wood •■ That mantles o'er its brow, the silver flood " Wand'ring in mazes through the flow'ry mead, 11 The herd that in the plenteous pastures feed, " And every object, every scene, excites *' Fresh wonder in my soul, and fills with new delights : " Dwells cheerful Plenty there, and learned Ease, " And Art with Nature seems at strife to please. " There Liberty, delightful goddess, reigns, '* Gladdens each heart, and gilds the fertile plains; " There, firmly seated, may she ever smile, *' And shower her blessings o'er her favourite isle ! " But see, the rising sun reproves our stay/' — He said, and to the ocean wing'd his way, Stretchino- his course to climates then unknown, Nations that swelter in the burning; zone. There, in Peruvian vales, a moment staid, And smooth d his wings beneath the citron shade ; Then swift his oary pinions plied again, Cross'd the new world, and sought the Southern main ; Where, many a wet and weary league o'erpast, The wish'd-for Paradise appear'd at last. With force abated, now they gently sweep O'er the smooth surface of the shining deep ; The Dryads haild them from the distant shore, The Nereids play'd around, the Tritons swam before, 328 While soft Favonius their arrival greets, And breathes his welcome in a thousand sweets. Nor pale disease, nor health-consuming care, Nor wrath, nor foul revenge, can enter there; No vapour'd foggy gloom imbrowns the sky; No tempests rage, no angry lightnings fly ; But dews, and soft refreshing airs are found, And pure ethereal azure shines around. Whatever the sweet Sabaean soil can boast, Or Mecca's plains, or India's spicy coast ; What Hybla's hills, or rich (Ebalia's fields, Or flowery vale of famed Hymettus yields ; Or what of old th' Hesperian orchard graced; All that was e'er delicious to the taste, Sweet to the smell, or lovely to the view, Collected there with added beauty grew. High tow'ring to the Heavens the trees are seen, Their bulk immense, their leaf for ever green; So closely interwove, the tell-tale sun Can ne'er descry the deeds beneath them done, But where by fits the sportive gales divide Their tender tops, and fan the leaves aside. Like a smooth carpet, at their feet lies spread The matted glass, by bubbling fountains fed : 329 And on each bough the feathered choir employ Their melting notes, and nought is heard but joy. The painted flowers exhale a rich perfume, The fruits are mingled with eternal bloom, And Spring and Autumn hand in hand appear, Lead on the merry months, and join to clothe the year. Here, o'er the mountain's shaggy summit pour'd, From rock to rock the tumbling torrent roar'd, While beauteous Iris in the vale below Paints on the rising fumes her radiant bow. Now through the meads the mazy current stray'd, Now hid its wand'rings in the myrtle shade ; Or in a thousand veins divides its store, Visits each plant, refreshes ev'ry flow'r; O'er gems and golden sands in murmurs flows, And sweetly soothes the soul, and lulls to soft repose. If hunger call, no sooner can the mind Express her will to needful food inclin'd, But in some cool recess, or op'ning glade, The seats are placed, the tables neatly laid, And instantly convey'd by magic hand In comely rows the costly dishes stand ; Meats of all kinds that nature can impart, Prepared in all the nicest forms of art. 330 A troop of sprightly nymphs array'd in green, With flow'ry chaplets crown'd, come scudding in; With fragrant blossoms these adorn the least, Those with officious zeal attend the guest ; Beneath his feet the silken carpet spread, Or sprinkle liquid odours o'er his head. Others in ruby cups with roses bound, Delightful ! deal the sparkling nectar round; Or weave the dance, or tune the vocal lay ; The lyres resound, the merry minstrels play ; Gay health, and youthful joys o'erspread the place, And swell each heart, and triumph in each face. So, when embolden'd by the vernal air, The busy bees to blooming fields repair; For various use employ their chymic power; One culls the snowy pounce, one sucks the flower; Again to different woiks returning home, Some * steeve the honey, some erect the comb ; All for the general good in concert strive, And every soul's in motion, every limb's alive. And now descending from his flight, the God On the green turf released his precious load ; There, after mutual salutations past, And endless friendship vow'd, they part in haste; * Or stive, stipant. 33 1 Zephyr impatient to behold his love, The Prince in raptures wind ring through the grove; Now skipping on, and singing as he went, Now stopping short to give his transports vent ; With sudden gusts of happiness oppressd, Or stands entranced, or raves like one possess d ; His mind afloat, his wandring senses quite O'ercome with charms, and frantic with delight: From scene to scene by random steps convey'd, Admires the distant views, explores the secret shade, Dwells on each spot, with eager eye devours The woods, the lawns, the buildings, and the bowers; New sweets, new joys at every glance arise, And every turn creates a fresh surprise. Close by the borders of a rising wood, In a green vale a crystal grotto stood ; And o'er its side, beneath a beechen shade, In broken falls a silver fountain playd. Hither, attracted by the murmuring stream, And cool recess, the pleased Porsenna came, And on the tender grass reclining; chose o o To wave his joys awhile, and take a short repose. The scene invites him, and the wanton breeze That whispers through the vale, the dancing trees. 332 The warbling birds, and rills that gently creep, All join their music to prolong his sleep. The Princess for her morning walk prepared ; The female troops attend, a beauteous guard. Array'd in all her charms appear'd the fair; Tall was her stature, unconfined her air ; Proportion deck'd her limbs, and in her face Lay love inshrined, lay sweet attractive grace Temp' ring the aweful beams her eyes convey'd, And like a lambent flame around her play d. No foreign aids, by mortal ladies worn, From shells and rocks her artless charms adorn; For grant that beauty were by gems increased, Tis rendered more suspected at the least ; And foul defects, that would escape the sight, Start from the piece, and take a stronger light. Her chesnut hair in careless rings around Her temples waved, with pinks and jess'mine crown'd, And, gather'd in a silken cord behind, Curl'd to the waist, and floated in the wind ; O'er these a veil of yellow gauze she wore, With amaranths and gold embroider'd o'er. Her snowy neck half naked to the view Gracefully fell ; a robe of purple hue 333 Hung loosely o'er her slender shape, and tried To shade those beauties, that it could not hide. The damsels of her train with mirth and sono- Frolic behind, and laugh and sport along. The birds proclaim their Queen from ev'ry tree ; The beasts run frisking through the groves to see ; The Loves, the Pleasures, and the Graces meet In antic rounds, and dance before her feet. But whate'er fancy led, it chanced that day They through the secret valley took their way, And to the crystal grott advancing spied The Prince, extended by the fountain's side. He look'd as, by some skilful hand express'd, Apollo's youthful form retired to rest ; When with the chase fatigued he quits the wood For Pindus' vale, and Aganippe's flood ; There sleeps secure, his careless limbs display 'd At ease, encircled by die laurel shade ; Beneath his head his sheaf of arrows lie, His bow unbent hangs negligently by. The slumb'ring Prince might boast an equal grace, So turn'd his limbs, so beautiful his face. Waking, he started from the ground in haste, And saw the beauteous choir around him placed ; 334 Then, summoning his senses, ran to meet The Queen, and laid him humbly at her feet. — " Deign, lovely Princess, to behold," said he, 11 One, who has traversed all the world to see " Those charms, and worship thy divinity : " Accept thy slave, and with a gracious smile 11 Excuse his rashness, and reward his toil." — Stood motionless the fair, with mute surprise, And read him over with admiring eyes ; And while she stedfast gazed, a pleasing smart Ran thrilling through her veins, and reach'd her heart. Each limb she scann'd, consider'd every grace, And sagely judged him of the phoenix race. An animal like this she ne'er had known, And thence concluded there could be but one; The creature too had all the phoenix' air ; None but the phoenix could appear so fair. The more she look'd, the more she thought it true, And call'd him by that name, to shew she knew. — " O handsome Phoenix, for that such you are * We know ; your beauty does your breed declare ; 1 And I with sorrow own through all my coast ' No other bird can such perfection boast ; ' For Nature lorm'd you single and alone, ' Alas ! what pity 'tis there is but one ! 335 " Were there a queen so fortunate to shew " An aviary of charming birds like you, 11 What envy would her happiness create *' In all, who saw the glories ol her state !" — The Prince laugh'd inwardly, surprised to fiud So strange a speech, so innocent a mind. The compliment indeed did some offence To reason, and a little wrong'd her sense ; He could not let it pass, but told his name, And what he was, and whence, and why he came; And hinted other things of high concern For him to mention, and for her to learn; And she 'ad a piercing wit, of wond rous reach To comprehend whatever he could teach. Thus hand in hand they to the palace walk, Pleased and instructed with each other's talk. Here should I tell the furniture's expence, And all the structure' s vast magnificence, Describe the walls of shining sapphire made, With emerald and pearl the floors inlaid, And how the vaulted canopies unfold A mimic heaven, and flame with gems and gold : Or how Felicity resales her guest, The wit, the mirth, the music, and the feast ; 336 And on each part bestow the praises due, 'Twould tire the writer, and the reader too. My amorous tale a softer path pursues : Love and the happy pair demand my Muse. O could her art in equal terms express The lives they lead, the pleasures they possess ! Fortune had ne'er so plenteously before Bestow* d her gifts, nor can she lavish more. 'Tis heaven itself, 'tis ecstacy of bliss, Uninterrupted joy, untired excess; Mirth following mirth the moments dance away ; Love claims the night, and friendship rules the day. Their tender care no cold indifference knows ; No jealousies disturb their sweet repose ; No sickness, no decay ; but youthful grace, And constant beauty shines in either face. Benumbing age may mortal charms invade, Flowers of a day, that do but bloom and fade ; Far different here — on them it only blows The lily's white, and spreads the blushing rose; No conquest o'er those radiant eyes can boast ; They, like the stars, shine brighter in its frost; Nor fear its rigour, nor its rule obey ; All seasons are the same, and every month is May. 337 Alas ! how vain is happiness below ! Man, soon or late, must have his share of woe ; Slight are his joys, and fleeting as the wind ; His griefs wound home, and leave a sting behind. His lot distinguish^ from the brute appears Less certain by his laughter than his tears ; For ignorance too oft our pleasure breeds, But sorrow from the reasoning soul proceeds. If man on earth in endless bliss could be, The boon, youno- Prince, had been bestow'd on thee. Bright shone thy stars, thy fortune flourished fair, And seem d secure beyond the reach of care, And so miojit still have been, but anxious thought Has dash'd thy cup, and thou must taste the draught. It so befel : as on a certain day This happy couple toy'd their time away, He ask'd how many charming hours were flown, Since on her slave her heaven of beauty shone. — " Should I consult my heart," cried he, " the rate '* Were small, a week would be the utmost date : 11 But when my mind reflects on actions past, " And counts its joys, time must have fled more fast; 11 Perhaps I might have said, three months are gone/' — — »f Three months!" replied the fair, " three months alone ! z a i i 338 " Know tliat three hundred years have roll'd away, " Since at my feet the lovely Phcenix lay.'' — — " Three hundred years!" re-echo'd back the Prince, '• A whole three hundred years completed since " I landed here ! O ! whither then are flown " My dearest friends, my subjects, and my throne? " How strange, alas ! how alter d shall I find " Each earthly thing, each scene 1 left behind! Who knows me now? on whom shall I depend To gain my rights ? where shall I find a friend ? " My crown, perhaps, may grace a foreign line, " A race of kings, that know not me nor mine ; " Who reigns may wish my death, his subjects treat " My claim with scorn, and call their Prince a cheat. " Oh had my life been ended as begun ! 11 My destined stage, my race of glory run, " I should have died well pleased; my honoured name " Had lived, had flourish'd in the list of fame ; " Reflecting now, my mind with horror sees " The sad survey, a scene of shameful ease, " The odious blot, the scandal of my race, " Scarce known, and only mention'd with disgrace." — The Fair beheld him with impatient eye, And red with anger made this warm reply. e o i i i i ood advice ; But chief she gave, and what he most would need, The fleetest of her stud, a flying steed. — " The swift Grisippo," said th' afliicted lair, (Such was the coursers name) " with speed shall bear, 11 And place you safely in your native air ; Assist against the foe, with matchless might { Ravage the field, and turn the doubtful light; 1 With care protect you till the danger cease, Your trust in war, your ornament in peace. 11 But this, I warn, beware ; whateer shall lay " To intercept your course, or tempt your stay, *' Quit not your saddle, nor your speed abate, " 'Till safely landed at your palace gate. 1 1 ( c 342 " On this alone depends your weal or woe ; " Such is the will of Fate, and so the Gods foreshew." — He in the softest terms repaid her love, And vow'd, nor acre, nor absence, should remove His constant faith, and sure she could not blame A short divorce due to his injured fame. The debt discharged, then should her soldier come Gay from the held, and flusli'd with conquest, home ; With equal ardour her affection meet, And lay his laurels at his mistress' feet. He ceased, and sighing took a kind adieu ; Then urged his steed ; the fierce Grisippo flew; With rapid force outstripp'd the lagging wind, And left the blissful shores, and weeping fair behind; Now o'er the seas pursued his airy flight, Now scower'd the plains, and climb'd the mountain's height. Thus driving on at speed the Prince had run Near half his course, when, with the setting sun, As through a lonely lane he chanced to ride, With rocks and bushes fenced on either side, He spied a waggon full of wings, that lay Broke and o'erturn'd across the narrow way. The helpless driver on the dirty road Lay struggling, crush'd beneath the incumbent load. 343 Never in human shape was seen before A wight so pale, so feeble, and so poor. Comparisons of age would do him wrong, For Nestor's self, if placed by him, were young. His limbs were naked all, and worn so thin, The bones seem d starting through the parchment skin, His eyes half drown'd in rheum, his accents weak, Bald was his head, and furrow'd was his cheek. The conscious steed stopp'd shoit in deadly fright, And back recoiling stretch'd his wings for flight. When thus the wretch with supplicating tone, And rueful face, began his piteous moan, And, as he snake, the tears ran trick lino- down. — " O gentle youth, if pity e'er inclin'd " Thy soul to generous deeds, if e'er thy mind " Was touch'd with soft distress, extend thy care " To save an old man's life, and ease the load I bear. " So may propitious heaven your journey speed, " Prolong your days, and all your vows succeed.' — Moved with the prayer the kind Porsenna staid, Too nobly-minded to refuse his aid, And, prudence yielding to superior grief, Leaped from his steed, and ran to his relief; 344 Removed the weight, and gave the prisoner breath, Just choak'd, and gasping on the verge of death. Then reachd his hand, when lightly with a bound The ^rizly Spectre, vaulting from the ground, Seized him with sudden oripe, th' astonish'd Prince Stood horror-struck, and thoughtless of defence. — " O King of Russia," with a thundering sound liellow'd the ghastly Fiend, " at length thou' it found. " Receive the ruler of mankind, and know, "My name is Time, thy ever-dreaded foe. " These feet are founderYI, and the wings you see " Worn to the pinions in pursuit of thee ; " Through all the world in vain for ages sought, " But Fate has doom'd thee now, and thou art caught. "- Then round his neck his arms he nimbly cast, And seized him by the throat, and grasp'd him fast ; 'Till forced at length the soul forsook its seat, And the pale breathless corse fell bleeding at his feet. Scarce had the cursed spoiler left his prey, When, so it chanced, young Zephyr pass'd that way; Too late his presence to assist his friend, A sad, but helpless witness of his end. He chafes, and fans, and strives in vain to cure His stieaming wounds ; the work was done too sure. 345 Now lio-j)tly with a soft embrace uprears The lifeless load, and bathes it in his tears ; Then to the blissful seats with speed conveys, And graceful on the mossy carpet lays With decent care, close bv the fountain's side, Where first the Princess had her Phcenix spied. There with sweet floAvers his lovely limbs he strew'd, And gave a parting kiss, and sighs and tears bestow'd. To that sad solitude the weeping Dame, Wild with her loss, and swoln with sorrow, came. There was she wont to vent her griefs, and mourn Those dear delights that must no more return. Thither that morn with more than usual care She sped, but oh what joy to find him there ! As just arrived, and weary with the way, Retired to soft repose her Hero lay. Now near approaching she began to creep With careful steps, loth to disturb his sleep ; Till quite o'ercome with tenderness she flew, And round his neck her arms in transport threw. But, when she found him dead, no tongue can tell The pangs she felt; she shriek'd, and swooning fell. W r aking, with loud laments she pierced the skies, And fill'd th' affrighted forest with her cries. Q 46 That fatal hour the palace gates she barr'd, And fix'd around the coast a stronger guard : Now rare appearing, and at distance seen, With crowds of black misfortunes placed between; Mischiefs of every kind, corroding care, And fears, and jealousies, and dark despair. And since that day (the wretched world must own These mournful truths by sad experience known) No mortal e'er enjoy'd that happy clime, And every thing on earth submits to Time. 317 No. XUI. THE FATAL SISTERS. FROM THE NORSE TONGUE.- GRAY. To be found in the Or cades of Thormodus Torfeeus ; Hafnice, 1697, folio; and also in Bartholinus : Vitt er orpit fyrir valfalli, &e. In the eleventh century Sigurd, Earl of the Orkney Islands, went with a fleet of ships and a considerable body of troops into Ireland, to the assistance of S/ctrug with the silken beard, who was then making war on his father-in- law, Brian, King of Dublin : the Earl and all his forces were cut to pieces, and Sictrygwas in danger of a total defeat ; but the enemy had a greater loss in the death of Brian their king, who fell in the action. On Christ- mas-day (the day of the battle), a native of Scotland saw, at a distance, a number of persons on horseback riding full speed towards a hill, and seeming to enter it. Curiosity led him to follow them, till looking through an opening in the rocks, he saw twelve gigantic figures resembling women: they were all employed about a loom ; and as they wove, they sung the fol- lowing dreadful Song ; which, when they had finished, they tore the web into twelve pieces, and (each taking her portion) galloped six to the north, and as many to the south. These were the V 'alkyriur, female divinities, servants of Odin Cor Woden) in the Gothic mythology. Their name signifies Choosers of the Slain. They were mounted on swift horses, with drawn swords in their hands ; and in the throng of battle selected such as were destined to slaughter, and conducted them to Valkalla, the hall of Odin, or Paradise of the Brave, where they attended the banquet, and served the departed heroes with horns of mead and ale. 348 Now the storm begins to lower, (Haste, the loom of hell prepare,) Iron-sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air. Glittering lances are the loom, Where the duskv warp we strain, Weaving many a soldier's doom, Orkney's woe, and Kandver s bane. See the grisly texture grow ! ("Tis of human entrails made) And the weights, that play below, Each a gasping warrior's head. Shafts for shuttles, dipp'd in gore, Shoot the trembling cords along. Sword, that once a monarch bore, Keep the tissue close and strong. Mista, black terrific Maid, Sangrida; and Hilda, see! Join the wayward work to aid ; 'Tis the woof of victory. 349 Ere the ruddy sun be set, Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, Blade with clattering buckler meet, Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. (Weave the crimson web of war) Let us (to, and let us fly, Where our friends the conflict share, Where they triumph, where they die. As the paths of Fate we tread, Wading through th' ensanguined field, Gondula, and Geira, spread O'er the youthful King your shield. We the reins to slaughter give, Ours to kill, and ours to spare : Spite of danger he shall live. (Weave the crimson web of war.) They, whom once the desert beach Pent within its bleak domain, Soon their ample sway shall stretch O'er the plenty of the plain. 350 Low the dauntless Earl is laid, Gored with many a gaping wound Fate demands a nobler head ; Soon a Kino- shall bite the ground. Long his loss shall Eirin* weep, Ne'er again his likeness see ; Long her strains in sorrow steep : Strains of immortality ! Horror covers all the heath, Clouds of carnage blot the sun. Sisters, weave the web of death. — Sisters, cease : the work is done. Hail the task, and hail the hands ! Songs of joy and triumph sing ! Joy to the victorious bands ; Triumph to the younger King 1 Mortal, thou that hear'st the tale, Learn the tenour of our song. Scotland, through each winding vale Far and wide the notes prolong. * Ireland. 351 Sisters, hence with spurs of speed : Each her thundering faulchion wield Each bestride her sable steed. Hurry, hurry to the field. 352 No. XLIII. THE DESCENT OF ODIN. FROM THE NORSE TONGUEi GRAY. The original is to be found in Bartkolinus, de causis contemnendoe mortis ; Hafnice, 1689, quarto. Uprcis Odinn allda gautr, &c. Uprose the King of Men with speed, And saddled straight his coal-black steed : Down the yawning steep he rode, That leads to Hela's drear abode.* Him the Dog of Darkness spied ; His shaggy throat he open'd wide, While from his jaws, with carnage fill'd, ' Foam and human gore distill'd : * Niftheimr, the hell of the Gothic nations, consisted of nine worlds, to which were devoted all such as died of sickness, old age, or by any other means than in battle. Over it presided Hela, the Goddess of Death. 353 Hoarse he bays with hideous din, Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin ; And long pursues, with fruitless yell, The Father of the powerful spell. Onward still his way he takes, (The groaning earth beneath him shakes,) Till full before his fearless eyes The portals nine of Hell arise. Right against the eastern gate, By the moss-grown pile, he sate ; Where long of yore to sleep was laid The dust of the prophetic Maid. Facing to the northern clime, Thrice he traced the Runic rhyme ; Thrice pronounced, in accents dread, The thrilling verse that wakes the dead ; Till from out the hollow ground Slowly breathed a sullen sound. PROPHETESS. What call unknown, what charms, presume To break the quiet of the tomb? Who thus afflicts my troubled sprite, And dra^s me from the realms of night? .a a 354 Long on these mouldering bones have beat The winter's snow, the summer's heat, The drenching dews, and driving rain ! Let me, let me sleep again. Who is he, with voice unbless'd, Calls me from the bed of rest ? ODIN. A traveller, to thee unknown, Is he that calls, a warrior's son. Thou the deeds of light shalt know ; Tell me what is done below, For whom yon glitt'ring board is spread, Dress'd for whom yon golden bed ? PROPHETESS. Mantling in the goblet see The pure bev'rage of the bee ; O'er it hangs the shield of gold ; 'Tis the drink of Balder bold : Balder' s head to death is given. Pain can reach the Sons of Heaven ! Unwilling I my lips unclose : Leave me, leave me to repose. 355 ODIN. Once again my call obey. Prophetess, arise, and say, What dangers Odin's child await, Who the author of his fate? PROPHETESS. In Hoder's hand the Hero's doom ; His brother sends him to the tomb. Now my weary lips I close : Leave me, leave me to repose. ODIN. Prophetess, my spell obey, Once again arise, and say, Who th' Avenger of his guilt, By whom shall Hoder's blood be spilt ? PROPHETESS. In the caverns of the west, By Odin's fierce embrace compress'd, A wond'rous boy shall Rinda bear, Who ne'er shall comb his raven-hair, Nor wash his visage in the stream, Nor see the sun's departing beam, a a 2 356 Till he on Hoder's corse shall smile, Flaming on the funeral pile. Now my weary lips I close, Leave me, leave me to repose. ODIN. Yet awhile my call obey ; Prophetess, awake, and say, What Virgins these, in speechless woe s That bend to earth their solemn brow, That their flaxen tresses tear, And snowy veils, that float in air. Tell me whence their sorrows rose : Then I leave thee to repose. PROPHETESS. Ha ! no Traveller art thou, King of Men, I know thee now ; Mightiest of a mighty line ODIN. No boding Maid of skill divine Art thou, nor Prophetess of good; But mother of the giant-brood ! 357 PROPHETESS. Hie thee hence, and boast at home, That never shall enquirer come To break my iron sleep again : Till Lok * has burst his ten-fold chain ; Never, till substantial Night Has reassumed her ancient right ; Till wrapp'd in flames, in ruin hurl'd, Sinks the fabric of the world. * Lok is the Evil Being, who continues in chains till the Twilight of the Gods approaches ; when he shall break his bonds ; the human race, the stars, and sun, shall disappear ; the earth sink in the seas, and lire consume the skies : even Odin himself, and his kindred deities, shall perish. For a fur- ther explanation of this mythology, see " Introduction a l'Histoire de Danne- marc, par M. Mallet," 1755, quarto; or rather a translation of it published in 1770, and entitled, " Northern Antiquities ;" in which some mistakes in -*he original are judiciously corrected. 358 No. XLIV. THE WITCH OF WOKEY. DR. HARRINGTON. Wokey-hole is a noted cavern in Somersetshire, which has given birth to as many wild fanciful stories as the Sybils Cave, in Italy. Through a very narrow entrance, it opens into a very large vault, the roof whereof, either on account of its height, or the thickness of the gloom, cannot be discovered by the light of torches. It goes winding a great way under ground, is crost by a stream of very cold water, and is all horrid with broken pieces of rock : many of these are evident petrifactions ; which, on account of their singular forms, have given rise to the fables alluded to in this poem. In aunciente days tradition showes A base and wicked elfe arose, The Witch of Wokey hight : Oft have I heard the fearful tale From Sue and Roger of the vale. On some long winter's night. 359 Deep in the dreary dismal cell, Which seem'd and was ycleped hell, This blear-eyed Hag did hide : Nine wicked elves, as legends sayne, She chose to form her guardian trayne, And kennel near her side. Here screechino- owls oft made their nest, While wolves its craggy sides possest, Night-howling thro' the rock : No wholesome herb could here be found ; She blasted every plant around, And blister'd every flock. Her haggard face was foul to see ; Her mouth unmeet a mouth to bee ; Her eyne of deadly leer, She nought devised, but neighbour's ill ; She wreak'd on all her wayward will, And marr'd all goodly chear. All in her prime, have poets sung, No gaudy youth, gallant and young, E'er blest her longing armes ; And hence arose her spight to vex, And blast the youth of either sex, By dint of hellish charms. 360 From Glaston came a lerned wight, Full bent to marr her fell despight, And well he did, I ween : Sich mischief never had been known, And, since his mickle lerninge shown, Sich mischief ne'er has been. He chauntede out his godlie booke, He crost the water, blest the brooke, Then — pater noster done, — The ghastly Hag he sprinkled o'er ; When lo ! where stood a hag before, Now stood a ghastly stone. Full well 'tis known adown the dale ; Tho' passing strange indeed the tale, And doubtfull may appear, I'm bold to say, there's never a one, That has not seen the witch in stone, With all her household gear. But tho' this lernede Clerke did well ; With grieved heart, alas ! I tell, She left this curse behind : That Wokey-nymphs forsaken quite, Tho' sense and beauty both unite, Should find no leman kind. 361 For lo ! even, as the Fiend did say, The sex have found it to this day, That men are wondrous scant : Here's beauty, wit, and sense combined, With all that's good and virtuous join'd, Yet hardly one gallant. Shall then sich maids unpitied moane ? They might as well, like her, be stone, As thus forsaken dwell. Since Glaston now can boast no clerks ; Come down from Oxenford, ye sparks, And, oh! revoke the spell. Yet stay — nor thus despond, ye fair; Virtue's the gods' peculiar care ; I hear the gracious voice : Your sex shall soon be blest agen, We only wait to find sich men, As best deserve your choice. 3G2 No. XLV. THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE. From " Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry." PART I. King Arthur lives in merry Carleile, And seemely is to see ; And there with him Queene Guenever, That bride soe bright of blee. And there with him Queene Guenever, That bride so bright in bowre : And all his barons about him stoode, That were both stifle and stowre. The King a royale Christmasse kept, With mirth and princelye cheare; To him repaired many a knighte, That came both farre and neare. 363 And when they were to dinner sette, And cnps went freely round ; Before them came a faire damsclle, And knelt upon the ground. i — " A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthure, " I beg a boone of thee ; " Avenge me of a carlish knighte, " Who hath shent my love and mee. " At Tearne-Wadling * his castle stands, " Near to that lake so fair, " And proudlye rise the battlements, 11 And streamers deck the air, " Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay, '* May pass that castle-walle : " But from that foule discurteous knighte, ■■ Mishappe will them befalle. * Tearne-Wadling is the name of a small lake near Hasketh in Cumber- land, on the road from Penrith to Carlisle. There is a tradition, that an old castle once stood near the lake, the remains of which were not long since visible. Team, in the dialect of that country, signifies a small lake, and is still in use. 364 * Hee's twyce the size of common men, 11 Wi' thewes, and sinewes stronge, ' And on his backe he bears a clubbe, 11 That is both thicke and longe. << it 1 1 This grimme Barone 'twas our harde happe, " But yester morne to see ; When to his bowre he bare my love, •■ And sore misused mee. 1 And when I told him, King Arthure " As lyttle shold him spare ; Goe tell, say'd hee, that cuckold kinge, M To meete mee if he dare." — Upp then sterted King Arthure, And sware by hille and dale, He ne'er wolde quitt that grimme Barone, Till he had made him quail. " Goe fetch my sword Excalibar: " Goe saddle mee my steede; " Nowe, by my faye, that grimme Barone 44 Shall rue this ruthfulle deede. 365 And when he came to Tearne-Wadlinge Benethe the castle walle . " Come forth; come forth ; thou proude Barone. " Or yielde thyself my thralle." On magicke grounde that castle stoode, And fenced with many a spelle : Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon, But straite his courage felle. Forth then rush'd that carlish Knight, King Arthure felte the charme : His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe, Do wire sunke his feeble arme. — ■■ Nowe yield thee, yield thee, Kinge Arthure, " Now yield thee unto niee ; '* Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande, " Noe better termes maye bee. 41 Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood, 11 And promise on thy faye, 11 Here to returne to Tearne-Wadling, * ' Upon the new-yeare's daye ; 366 11 And bringe me worde what thing it is " All women moste desyre ; " This is thy ransome, Arthur," he sayes, ** He have noe other hyre." — King Arthur then helde up his hande, And sware upon his faye, Then took his leave of the grimme Barone And faste hee rode awaye. And he rode east, and he rode west, And did of all inquyre, What thing it is all women crave, And what they most desyre. Some told him riches, pompe, or state; Some rayment fine and brighte ; Some told him mirthe ; some flatterye ; And some a jollye knighte. In letters all King Arthur wrote, And seal'd them with his ringe : But still his minde was helde in doubte, Each tolde a different thinge. 367 As ruthfulle lie rode over a more, He saw a Ladye sette Betweene an oke, and a greene holleye, All clad in red scarlette. Her nose was crookt and turnd oulwarde, Her chin stoode all awrye ; And where as sholde have been her mouthe, Lo ! there was set her eye : Her haires, like serpents, clung aboute Her cheekes of deadlye hewe : A worse-form'd ladye than she was, No man mote ever vie we. To hail the King in seemelye sorte This ladye was fulle faine ; But King Arthure all sore amaz'd, No aunswere made againe. — " What wight art thou," the Ladye say'd, " That wilt not speake to mee ;. " Sir, I may chance to ease thy paine, •• Though I bee foule to see. o 368 — " If thou wilt ease my paine," he sayd, " And helpe me in my neede; '* Ask; what thou wilt, thou grimme Ladye, 11 And it shall bee thy meede." — — " sweare mee this upon the roode, 11 And promise on thy faye ; •' And here the secrette I will telle, " That shall thy ransome paye." — • King Arthur promised on his faye, And sware upon the roode : The secrette then the Ladye told, As lightlye well she cou'de. — " Now this shall be my paye," sir King, 11 And this my guerdon bee, " That some yong fair and courtlye knight, *' Thou bringe to marrye mee." — Fast then pricked King Arthure Ore hille, and dale, and downe : And soone he founde the Barone's bowre, And soone the grimme Baroime. 369 He bare his cluhbe upon his backe, Hee stoode bothe stiffe and stronge; And, when lie had the letters reade, Awaye the letters flungc. — — " Nowe yielde thee, Arthur, and thy lands, " All forfeit unto mee ; 11 For this is not thy paye, sir King, " Nor may thy ransome bee.'' — — " Yet hold thy hand, thou proud Barone, " I praye thee hold thy hand; 11 And give mee leave to speake once more "In reskevve of my land. " This morne, as I came over a more, "I saw a Lad ye sette " Betwene an oke, and a greene holleye, * ■ All clad in red scarlette ; 11 She sayes, all women will have their wille, 41 This is their chief desy re ; " Now yield, as thou art a Barone true, " That I have payd mine hyre. ' £ b 370 — " An earlye vengeaunce light on her!" The carlish Baron swore : " Shee was my sister tolde thee this, " And shee's a misshapen whore. " But here I will make mine avowe, " To do her as ill a turne : " For an ever I may that foule theefe gette 3 '* In a fyre I will her burne/' — PART II. Homewarde pricked King Arthurs, And a wearye man was hee ; And soone he mette Queene Gue never, That bride so bright of blee. — " What newes ! what newes ! thou noble Kino, •• Howe, Arthur, hast thou sped? " Where hast thou hung the carlish Knighte? " And where bestow'd his head ?" o r 371 — " The carlish Knight is safe for mee, M And free fro mortal harme : 44 On magicke grounde his castle stands, 44 And fenced with many a charme. 44 To bo we to him I was fulle faine, " And yielde mee to his hand ; 44 And but for a lothly Ladye, there 44 I sholde have lost my land. 11 And nowe this fills my hearte with woe, 44 And sorrowe of my life; 44 I swore a yonge and courtlye knight, 44 Sholde marry her to his wife." — Then bespake him Sir Gawaine, That was ever a gentle knighte : — 44 That lothly Ladye I will wed ; 44 Therefore be merry e and lighte."— — 44 Nowe naye, nowe naye, good Sir Gawaine; 44 My sister's sonne yee bee; 44 This lothlye Ladye's all too grimme, 44 And all too foule for yee. b b 2 372 11 Her nose is crookt, and turn'd outwarde; " Her chin stands all awrye ; " A worse form'd ladye than shee is 11 Was never seen with eye." — - — " What though her chin stand all awrye. " And shee be foule to see : " I'll marry her, unkle, for thy sake, " And I'll thy ransome bee." — — " Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good Sir Gawaine; " And a blessing thee betyde ! " To-morrow wee'll have knights and squires, " And wee'll goe fetch thy bride. 11 And wee'll have hawkes, and wee'll have houndes, " To cover our intent ; 11 And wee'll away to the greene forest, " As wee a hunting went. — Sir Lancelot, Sir Stephen bolde, They rode with them that daye; And foremoste of the companye There rode the stewarde Kaye : «73 ) Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore, And eke Sir Garratte keene ; Sir Tristram too, that gentle knight, To the forest freshe and greene. And when they came to the greene forrest, Beneathe a faire holley tree, There sate that Ladye in red scarlette That nnseemelye was to see. Sir Kay beheld that Lady's lace, And looked upon her sweere ; — *' Whoever kisses that Ladye," he sayes, " Ofhis kisse he stands in feare." — Sir Kay beheld that Ladye againe, And looked upon her snout ; — " Whoever kisses that Ladye," he sayes, " Ofhis kisse he stands in doubt/' — — " Peace, brother Kay," sayde Sir Gawaine, «« And amend thee of thy life; " For there is a Knight amongst us all, " Must marry her to his wife. i » m 74 — " What, marry this foule queane," quoth Kay, " I' the devil's name anone ; " Gett mee a wife wherever I maye, " In sooth shee shall be none."— - Then some tooke up their hawkes in haste, And some tooke up their houndes ; And sayd they wolde not marry her, For cities, nor for townes. Then bespake him King Arthure, And sware there by this daye ; — " For a little foule sighte and mislikinge, " Yee shall not say her naye." — *— "■ Peace, Lordings, peace;" Sir Gawaine sayd; " Nor make debate and strife ; " This lothlye Ladye I will take, 11 And marry her to my wife/' — - « — " Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good Sir Gawaine, " And a blessinge be thy meede ! " For as I am thine owne ladye, " Thou never shalt rue this deede." — 375 Then up they took that lothly Dame, And home anone thev bringe « And there Sir Gawaine he her wed, And married her with a ringe. And when they were in wed-bed laid, And all were done awaye : — " Come turne to mee, mine owne wed-lord, M Come turne to mee I praye." — Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head, For sorrowe and for care ; When, lo ! instead of that lothelye Dame, Hee sawe a young Ladye faire. Sweet blushes stayn'd her rud-red cheeke, Her eyen were blacke as sloe : The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe, And all her necke was snowe. Sir Gawaine kiss'd that Lady faire, Lying upon the sheete : And swore, as he was a true Knighte, The spice was never soe sweete. a 76 Sir Gawaine kiss'd that Lady brighte, Lying there by his side : — " The fairest flower is not soe faire : " Thou never canst bee my bride." — . — " I am thy bride, mine owne deare Lorde, " The same whiche thou didst knowe, *f That was soe lothlye, and was wont 11 Upon the wild more to goe. n. Nowe, gentle Gawaine, chuse," quoth shee, " And make thy choice with care ; ' Whether by night, or else by daye, 11 Shall I be foule or faire ?"• — — " To have thee foule still in the night, ' ' When I with thee should playe ! (i I had rather farre, my lady deare, " To have thee foule by daye." — - — " What, when gaye ladyes goe with their lordes " To drinke the ale and wine ; 44 Alas ! then 1 must hide myself, " I must not goe with mine?" — 377 — " My faire ladye," Sir Gawaine saycl, 11 I yield me to thy skille ; 11 Because thou art mine owne ladye " Thou shalt have all thy wille." — — " Nowe blessed be thou, sweete Gawaine, " And the daye that I thee see ; " For as thou seest mee at this time, " Soe shall I ever bee. " My father was an aged knighte, " And yet it chanced soe, " He tooke to wife a false ladye, " Whiche brouo-hte me to this woe. o 11 Shee witch'd mee, being a faire yonge maide, " In the greene forest to dwelle; " And there to abyde in lothlye shape, " Most like a fiend of helle. " Midst mores and mosses ; woods, and wilds ; " To lead a lonesome life : " Till some yong faire and courtlye knighte L< Wolde marrye me to his wile : 378 " Nor fully to gaine mine owne trewe shape, " Such was her devilish skille ; 11 Until he wolde yielde to be ruled by mee, " And let mee have all my wille. 44 She witchd my brother to a carlish boore, 44 And made him stiffe and stronge : 44 And built him a bowre on magicke grounde, " To live by rapine and wronge. 44 But now the spelle is broken throuohe, 44 And wronge is turnde to righte ; 44 Henceforth 1 shall be a faire ladye, 44 And hee be a gentle knighte." — 379 No. XLVI. KING ARTHURS DEATH. A FRAGMENT, From " Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. On Trinitye Mondaye in the morne, This sore battayle was doom'd to bee ; Where manye a knighte cried — " Weli-awaye 1" — Alacke, it was the more pittie. Ere the first crowinge of the cocke, When as the Kinge in his bed laye, He thoughte Sir Gawaine to him came,* And there to him these wordes did saye. * Sir Gawaine had been killed at Arthur's landing, on his return from abroad. 380 — " Nowe, as you are mine unkle deare, " And as you prize your life, this daye " O meet not with your foe in fighte : " Putt off the hattayle, if yee maye ; 11 For Sir Launcelot is nowe in Fraunce, " And with him many an hardye knighte 11 Who will within this moneth be backe, " And will assiste yee in the fighte."— The Kino;e then call'd his nobles all, Before the breakinge of the daye ; And tolde them howe Sir Gawaine came, And there to him these wordes did saye. His nobles all this counsayle gave, That earlye in the morning, hee Shold send awaye an herauld at armes, To aske a parley faire and free. Then twelve good knightes King Arthure chose, The best of all that with him were : To parley with the foe in fielde, And make with him agreement faire. o 581 The King he charged all his hoste, In readi nesse there lor to bee : But noe man sholde noe weapon sturre, Unlesse a sword drawne they shold see. And Mordred on the other parte, Twelve of his kniahts did likewise bringe ; The beste of all his companye, To hold the parky with the Kinge. Sir Mordred alsoe charged his hoste, In readinesse there for to bee ; But noe man sholde noe weapon sturre, But if a sworde drawne they shold see: For he durste not his unkle truste, Nor he his nephewe, sothe to tell: Alacke ! it was a woeful le case, As ere in Christentye befelle. But when they were together mette, And both to faire accordance brougbte ; And a month's league betweene them sette. Before the battayle sholde be foughte ; 382 An addere crept forth of a bushe, Stunge one o' th' King's knightes on the knee : ALicke! it was a woefulle chance, As ever was in Christentie. When the Knighte found him wounded sore, And sawe the wild-worme hanginge there ; His sworde he from his scabberde drewe : A piteous case as ye shall heare. For when the two hostes sawe the sworde They joy ned battayle instantlye; Till of soe manye noble knightes, On one side there were left but three. For all were slain that durst abide, And but some fewe that fled awaye : Ay mee ! it was a bloodye fielde, As ere was foughte on summer's daye. o Upon King Arthur's own partye, Onlye himselfe escaped there, And Lukyn Duke of Gloster free, And the King's butler Bedevere. 383 And when the King beheld his knightes, All dead and scattered on the molde; The teares fast trickled downe his face; That manlye face in fight so bolde. — " Nowe reste yee all, brave knights, he said, 11 Soe true and faithful to your trust : 11 And must yee then, ye valiant hearts, 11 Be lefte to moulder into dust! 11 Most loyal have yee been to mee, 44 Most true and faithful unto deathe : 11 And, oh J to rayse yee up againe, 11 How freelye could I yield my breathe ! *' But see the traitor's yet alive, " Lo where hee stalkes among the deade! *' Nowe bitterlye he shall abye : " And vengeance fall upon his head. ** O staye, my liege," then sayd the Duke; " O staye for love and charitie; *' Remember what the vision spake, " Nor meete your foe, if it may bee 384 11 O, staye mee not, thou worthye wight, ** This debt my loyal knights I owe : M Betide me life, betide me death, " I will avenge them of their foe." — Then straite he grasp'd his trustye speare, And on his horse then mounted hee : As his butler holpe him to his horse, His bowels gushed to his knee. — " Alas! then sayd the noble King, " That I should live this sight to see ! " To see this good knight here be slaine, " All for his love in helping mee!" — He put his speare into his reste, And to Sir Mordred loud gan crye ; — " Nowe sette thyself upon thy guarde, " For, traitor, nowe thy death is nye." — Sir Mordred lifted up his sworde, And fierce to meet the King ran hee : The King his speare he through him thrust ; A fathom thorow his bodie. S85 When Mordered felt the stroke of death, And found that he was wounded soe ; He thruste himselfe upon the speare, And strucke the King a deadlye blowe. Then grimmlye dyed Sir Mordered, Presentlye upon that tree : And bloody streames ranne from the Kinge Ere to the Duke returned hee. Sir Lukyn then he thus bespake, — " Sir Knighte, thou hast beene faithfulle tryde, " Nowe take my sword Excalibar,* " That hangs so freelye by my syde : ■• O take my sword Excalibar, " And there into the river throwe : 11 For here, henceforth, benethe this tree, " All use of weapons I foregoe. " And fare thee well, thou trustye sword, " A better neer had valiant knighte, " With thee full ofte, and manye a daye, " Have I withstood my foe in fighte. * More commonly called, Caliburn. c c 386 " With this good fauchion in my hande, 1 ' Oft have I reapd the bloody feelde : 11 But nowe the fatalle houre is come, 11 That never more I may thee weelde."- — The Duke to the river side he went, And there his owne sword in threwe he : But he kept back Excalibar, He kept it back in privitie. For all of coleyne was the blade ; And all the hike of precious stone : — " And ever alacke ! " then sayd the Knighte, " Must such a sword awaye be throwne ?" — Then backe he came unto the Kinge, Who sayd, — " Sir Lukyn, what did yee see?"- — " Nothing, my liege, save that the winde " Blewe o'er the waters faire and free. — — «' O goe againe, " then said the Kinge, *' O good Sir Lukyn, goe againe : '* Into the rivere thro we my sword, " Nor keepe me lingering here in paine." — 387 The Duke then to the river went, And the Kino's scabbeid in threwe hee ; But hee kept backe Excalibar, And hid it undernethe a tree. Then backe he came to tell the Kinge, Who sayde, — " Sir Lukyn sawe ye oughte?"- — ■•' Nothinge, my liege, save that the winde M Nowe with the angrye waters fought."— — •• O Lukyn, Lukyn," said the Kinge, ** Twice haste thou dealt deceytfullye : " Alacke, whom may wee ever truste, " When suche a Knight soe false can bee? o " Saye, would'st thou have thy master dead ; " Ail for a sword, that wins thine eye : " Nowe goe againe, and throwe it in, " Or here the one of us shall dye." — The Duke, all shent with this rebuke, No aunswere made unto the Kinge : But to the rivere tooke the sworde, And threwe it far as he coulde flino-e. o C C 2 388 A hande and an arme did meete the sworde, And flourishd three times in the air ; Then sunke benethe the renninge streme, And of the Duke was seene noe mair. All sore astonied stood the Duke ; He stood as still, as still mote bee : Then hastend backe to telle the Kinge ; But he was gone from under the tree. But to what place he cold not tell, For never after hee did him spye : But hee sawe a barge goe from the land, And hee heard ladyes howle and crye. And whether the Kinge were there, or not, Hee never knewe, nor ever colde : For from that sad and direfulle daye, Hee never more was seene on molde. 389 No- XLVII. FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM. From " Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry." As it fell out on a long summer's day Two lovers they sat on a hill ; They sat together that long summer's day, And could not talk their fill. — •■ 1 see no harm by you, Margaret, 1 ' And you see none by mee ; " Before to-morrow at eight o' the clock " A rich wedding you shall see." — Fair Margaret sat in her bower- window, Combing her yellow hair ; There she spyed Sweet William and his bride, As they were a riding near. 390 Then down she layd her ivory combe, And braided her hair in twain : She went alive out of her bower, But ne'er came alive in't again. When day was gone, and night was come, And all men fast asleep, Then came the spirit of Fair Marg'ret, And stood at William's feet. — " Are you awake, Sweet William? shee said ; " Or, Sweet William, are you asleep ? " God give you joy of your gay bride-bed, " And me of my winding sheet." — When day was come, and night was gone, And all men wak'd from sleep, Sweet William to his lady sayd, — *' My dear, I have cause to weep: " I dreamt a dream, my dear ladye, " Such dteames are never good : et I dreamt my bower was full of red wine, " And my bride-bed full of blood."— • S91 — " Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured Sir, I * They never do prove good ; '* To dream thy bower was full of red wine, " And thy bride-bed full of blood." — ■ He called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three ; Saying, — " I'll away to Fair Marg'ret's bower, II By the leave of my ladie/' — And when he came to Fair Marg'ret's bower, He knocked at the ring ; And who so ready as her seven brethren To let Sweet William in. Then he turned up the covering-sheet, — •• Pray let me see the dead ; " Methinks she looks all pale and wan, 11 She hath lost her cherry red. " I'll do more for thee, Margaret, ■« Than any of thy kin ; 11 For I will kiss thy pale wan lips, 11 Though a smile 1 cannot win." — 392 With that bespake the seven brethren, Making most piteous mone : — " You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, " And let our sister alone." — " If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, 11 I do but what is right ; M I neer made a vow to yonder poor corpse " By day, nor yet by night. " Deal on, deal on, my merry men all, * ' Deal on your cake and your wine :* " For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day, •• Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine."— Fair Margaret dyed to-day, to-day, Sweet William dyed the morrow : Fair Margaret dyed for pure true love, Sweet William dyed for sorrow. Margaret was buryed in the lower chancel, And William in the higher : Out of herbrest there sprang a rose, And out of his a briar. * Alluding to the dole anciently given at funerals. 393 They grew till they grew unto the church-top, And then they could grow no higher ; And there they tyed in a true lovers knot, Which made all the people admire. Then came the clerk of the parish, As you the truth shall hear, And by misfortune cut them down, Or they had now been there. 394 No. XLVI1I. SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST. From Allan Ramsay's " Tea-table Miscellany." There came a Ghost to Margaret's door, With many a grievous grone, And ay he tilled at the pin ; But answer made she none. — " Is this my father Philip? " Or is't my brother John? " Or is't my true love Willie, " From Scotland new come home?" — — " 'Tis not thy father Philip ; " Nor yet thy brother John : " But 'tis thy true love Willie " From Scotland new come home. 395 11 O sweet Margret ! O dear Margret ! " I pray thee speak to mee : 11 Give me my faith and troth, Margret, ° As I gave it to thee." — — " Thy faith and troth thou'se nevir get, " Of me shalt nevir win, " Till that thou come within my bower, " And kiss my cheek and chin." — — ** If I should come within thy bower, " I am no earthly man : 11 And should I kiss thy rosy lipp, " Thy days will not be lang. " O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, " I pray thee speak to mee : " Give me my faith and troth, Margret, " As I gave it to thee." — " Thy faith and troth thou'se nevir get, " Of me shalt nevir win, 11 Till thou take me to yon kirk yard, 11 And wed me with a ring." — 396 " My bones are buried in a kirk yard " Afar beyond the sea, M And it is but my sprite, Margret, " That's speaking now to thee." — She stretched out her lilly-white hand, As for to do her best : — t ' Hae there your faith and troth, Willie, " God send your soul good rest."— Now she has kilted her robes of green, A piece below her knee : And a' the live-lang winter night The dead corpse followed shee. — " Is there any room at your head, Willie? " Or any room at your feet ? *' Or any room at your side, Willie, " Wherein that I may creep?" — — " There's nae room at my head, Maroret, " There's nae room at my feet, 11 There's no room at my side, Margret, " My coffin is made so meet."— 397 Then up and crew the red red cock, And up then crew the gray : — " Tis time, 'tis time, my dear Margret, 11 That I were gane away." — No more the Ghost to Margret said, But, with a grievous grone, Evanish'd in a cloud of mist, And left her all alone. — " O stay, my only true love, stay," — The constant Margret cried : Wan grew her cheeks, she clos'd her een, Stretch'd her saft limbs, and died. 398 No. XLIX. THE BOY AND THE MANTLE. From " Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. In Carleile dwelt King Arthur, A prince of passing might ; And there maintain'd his table round, Beset with many a knight. And there he kept his Christmas With mirth and princely cheare, When, lo ! a straunge and cunning boy Before him did appeare. A kirtle, and a mantle, This boy had him upon, With brooches, rings, and owches, Full daintily bedone. a 99 He had a sarke of silk About his middle meet ; And thus, with seemely curtesy, He did King Arthur greet* •— " God speed thee, brave King Arthur, " Thus feasting in thy bowre ; " And Guenever thy goodly Queen, " That fair and peerlesse flowre. •' Ye gallant Lords, and Lordings, ** I wish you all take heed, •' Lest, what ye deem a blooming rose " Should prove a cankred weed."— Then straitway from his bosome A little wand he drew ; And with it eke a mantle Of wondrous shape, and hew. — «• Now have thou here, King Arthur, 11 Have this here of mee, '* And give unto thy comely Queen, " All-shapen as you see. 400 " No wife it shall become, " That once hath been to blame." — Then every Knight in Arthur's court Slye glaunced at his dame. And first came lady Guenever, The mantle she must trye. This dame, she was new-fangled, And of a roving eye. When she had tane the mantle, And all was with it cladde, From top to toe it shiver'd down, As tho' with sheers beshradde. One while it was too long, Another while too short, And wrinkled on her shoulders In most unseemly sort. Now green, now red it seemed, Then all of sable hue. — " Beshrew me," quoth King Arthur, " I think thou beest not true." — 40! Down she threw the mantle, Ne longer would not stay ; But storming like a fury, To her chamber flung away. She curst the whoreson weaver, That had the mantle wrought : And doubly curst the froward impe, Who thither it had brought. — " I had rather live in desarts " Beneath the green-wood tree, " Than here, base King, among thy groomes, The sport of them and thee." — it Sir Kay call'd forth his Lady, And bade her to come near : — " Yet dame, if thou be guilty, 11 I pray thee now forbear."— This lady pertly giglirig, With forward step came on, And boldly to the little boy With fearless face is gone. D d 402 When she had tane the mantle, With purpose for to wear : It shrunk up to her shoulder, And left her b — side bare. Then every merry knight, That was in Arthur's court, Gibed, and 1 aught, and flouted, To see that pleasant sport. Downe she threw the mantle, No longer bold or gay, But with a face all pale and wan, To her chamber slunk away. Then forth came an old knight, A pattering o'er his creed ; And proffer'd to the little boy Five nobles to his meed ; — ■« And all the time of Christmass " Plumb-porridge shall be thine, 11 If thou wilt let my lady fair " Within the mantle shine." — ', 403 • A saint liis lady seemed, With step demure, and slow, And gravely to the mantle With mincing pace doth goe. When she the same had taken, That was so fine and thin, It shriveU'd all about her, And show'd her dainty skin. Ah ! little did her mincing, Or his long prayers bestead ; She had no more hung on her , Than a tassel and a thread. Down she threwe the mantle, With terror and dismay, And, with a face of scarlet, To her chamber hyed away. Sir Cradock call'd his lady, And bade her to come neare : — «« Come win this mantle, lady, " And do me credit here. Ddz 404 11 Come win this mantle, lady, 11 For now it shall be thine, <{ If thou hast never done amiss, " Sith first I made thee mine." — The lady gently blushing, With modest grace came on, And now to trye the wond'rous charm Courageously is gone. When she had tane the mantle, And put it on her backe, About the hem it seemed To wrinkle and to cracke. — " Lye still, she cried, O mantle ! 11 And shame me not for nought, «' I'll freely own whate'er amiss, " Or blameful 1 have wrought. " Once I kist Sir Cradocke " Beneathe the green wood tree : « f Once I kist Sir Cradocke's mouth 41 Before he married mee." — 405 When thus she had her shriven, And her worst fault had told, The mantle soon hecame her Right comely as it shold. Most rich and fair of colour, Like gold it glittering shone : And much the knights in Arthur's court Admird her every one. Then towards King Arthur's table The boy he turn'd his eye : Where stood a boar's-head garnished With bayes and rosemarye. When thrice he o'er the boar's head His little wand had drawne, Quoth he, — •' There's never a cuckold's knife *' Can carve this head of brawne." — Then some their whittles rubb'd On whetstone, and on hone : Some threwe them under the table. And swore that they had none. 406 Sir Cradock had a little knife Of steel and iron made ; And in an instant through the skull He thrust the shining blade. He thrust the shining blade Full easily and fast : And every knight in Arthur's court A morsel had to taste. The boy brought forth a home, All golden was the rim : Said he, — " No cuckolde ever can " Set mouth unto the brim. 11 No cuckold can this little home * * Lift fairly to his head ; " But or on this, or that side, " He shall the liquor .shed." — Some shed it on their shoulder, Some shed it on their thiorh : And hee that could not hit his mouth, Was sure to hit his eye. 407 Thus he that was a cuckold, Was known of every man : But Cradock lifted easily, And wan the golden can. Thus boar's head, horn, and mantle, Were this fair couple's meed : And all such constant lovers, God send them well to speed. Then down in rage came Guenever, And thus could spightful say, — " Sir Cradock's wife most wrongfully I * Hath borne the prize away. •' See yonder shameless woman, " That makes herselfe so clean : " Yet from her pillow taken II Thrice five gallants have been. " Priests, clarkes, and wedded men " Have her lewd pillow prest : " Yet she the wonderous prize forsooth 4t Must beare from all die rest." — 408 Then bespake the little boy, Who had the same in hold : — ■* Chastize thy wife, King Arthur, " Of speech she is too bold : " Of speech she is too bold, " Of carriage all too free; " Sir King, she hath within thy hall " A cuckold made of thee. " All frolick light and wanton o " She hath her carriage borne : o " And given thee for a kingly crown •' To wear a cuckold's home."— 409 No. L. ST. PATRICK'S PURGATORY. In the Reliques of Ancient Poetry, is the following — " Owaine Myles it a Ballad, giving an account of the wonders of St. Patrick's Purgatory. This is a translation into verse, of the story related in Mat. Paris's Hist, sub Ann. 1152." — The version which is here offered to the Public is evidently modern: I am ignorant of the Author. I think the lQth stanza, in particular, has a great degree of merit. — " Now enter in ! " — the Prior cried, — '* And God, Sir Ouvain, be your guide ! " Your name shall live in story : '* Many there are who reach this shore, M But few who venture to explore " St. Patrick's Purgatory." — Adown the deep and dark descent With cautious step Sir Ouvain went, And many a pray'r he pour'd ; No helm had he, nor guardian crest, No hauberk mail'd the warrior's breast, Nor grasp'd he shield or sword. 410 The earth was moist beneath his tread, The damps fell heavy on his head, The air was piercing chill ; And sudden shudd'rings o'er him came, And he could feel through all his frame An icy tremor thrill. At length a dim and doubtful light Dawn'd welcome on th' advent'rer's sight ; Th' adventrer hastened on. And now the warrior's steps attain To where a high and stately fane With gem -born radiance shone. — *' Come, enter here !" — the Warden cried, " And God, oh Pilgrim, be your guide, " Since you have reach'd this bourne! " Enter, and take assistance due — " 'Twill then be time to welcome you, 11 If ever you return." — Sir Ouvain pass'd the open gate, The Warden him conducted straight To where a coffin lay : The train around in silence stand, With fun'ral torches in their hands, That gave a gloomy day. 411 — ** Few pilgrims ever reach this bourne, " Scranger! but fewer still return : 11 Receive assistance due 1 " Stranger, a dreadful hour is near : u Cast off all mortal feelings here, " This coffin is for you. " Lie here, while we with pious breath " Shall o'er you chaunt the dirge of death, — f Best aid that we can give : " The rites that wait the Christian dead * ' Shall never o'er your corpse be said — " Receive them while you live." — Sir Ouvain in a shroud was drest, He held the cross upon his breast, And down he laid his head ; The funeral train enclos'd him round, j * ! And sung with deep and solemn sound The service of the dead. — " Now, go your way," — the Warden cried, M And God, oh Pilgrim, be your guide ! " Commend you to the Lord 1" — Adown the deep and dark descent, With cautious step, the warrior went, And many a pray'r he pour'd. 412 Now deeper grew the dark descent, With timid step Sir Ouvain went — 'Twas silence all around ; Save his own echoes through the cell, And the thick damps that frequent fell, With dull and heavy sound. But colder now he felt the cell, Those heavy damps no longer fell, Thin grew the piercing air : And on the advent'rer's aching sight Far rose a pale and feeble light, — Th' advent'rer hastened there. And now at length emerged to light, A frozen desart met his sight, A desart waste and wide ; Where rocks of ice piled mountain high, That towered into the sunless sky, Appear'd on every side. There many a wretch, with deadly fear, Ribb'd in the ice, he saw appear Alive in this their tomb ; Sir Ouvain' s blood stood still with dread, And then a voice in thunder said, — ** Retire, or share their doom !" — 413 Awhile his heart forgot to beat, Then on he urged his falt'ring feet, And sought for strength in pray'r; Sudden, a pow'r, whose unseen hand No mi^ht of mortal could withstand, Upgrasp'd him by the hair ; And through the sky resistless swung, And full against an ice-rock flung ; The ice encas'd him in : Thus by the arm of Daemon thrown, He felt the crash of ev'ry bone, And still he lived within. — ** Now, mercy Christ!" — the warrior cried, Instant the rocks of ice divide, And ev'ry pain was gone; He felt new life in ev'ry limb, And raised to heav'n the grateful hymn, And fearless hasten'd on. New fears, new dangers doom'd to meet, For now a close and piercing heat Relax'd each loosen'd limb ; The sweat roll'd out from every part, In short quick beatings toil'd his heart, His throbbing eyes grew dim. 414 For through the wide and wasted land A stream of fire, through hanks of sand, Its burning billows spread ; The vapours, tremulously light, Hung quivring o'er the glowing white, The air he breath'd was red. Beyond a stately well arose, — He saw its crystal sides disclose Green fields and shady trees, And running waters cool and clear, Whose murmurs reach'd his tortured ear, Born on the fierv breeze. A voice in thunder cried — " Retire 1" — He look'd, and lo, a form of fire ! — c< Return!" — the Daemon said. His soul grew sick with deep alarm, The Fiend reach'd out his burning arm, And touch'd Sir Ouvains head. Sir Ouvain shriek'd — for then he felt His eye-balls burn, his marrow melt, His brain as liquid lead : And from his heart the boiling blood Roll'd fast an agonizing flood, Through limbs like iron red. 415 The anguish brought a brief despair, Then mindful of the aid of pray'r, He call'd on Christ again ; Instant the gales of Eden came, At once they quenchd th' infernal flame, And heal'd each scorching vein. To him, relieved from all his woes, The adamantine gates unclose, Free entrance there was giv'n ; And songs of triumph met his ear, Enrapt Sir Ouvain seem'd to hear The harmonies ofheav'n. — '• Welcome to this, the bless'd retreat, " Thou who hast pass'd, with fearless feet, " St. Patrick's Purgatory; ■• For after death these seats divine, " Reward eternal shall be thine, " And thine eternal glory." — Inebriate with the deep delight, Dim grew Sir Ouvain' s swimming sight, His senses died away ; To life again revived, before The entrance of the cave once more He saw the light of day. 416 No. LI. THE CINDER KING. The following was sent me anonymously ; the Reader will of course observe, that it is a burlesque imitation of the ballads of " the Erl-King," and « the Cloud-King."— 11 Who is it that sits in the kitchen, and weeps, 11 While tick goes the clock, and the tabby-cat sleeps ; 11 That watches the grate, without ceasing to spy, " Whether purses or coffins will out of it fly ?"— 'Tis Betty; who saw the false tailor, Bob Scott, Lead a bride to the altar ; which bride she was not: 'Tis Betty ; determined, love from her to fling, And woo, for his riches, the dark Cinder-King. Now spent tallow-candle-grease fatten'd the soil, And the blue-burning lamp had half wasted its oil, And the black-beetle boldly came crawling from far, And the red coals were sinking beneath the third bar ; 417 When, " one" struck the clock — and instead of the bird Who used to sing cnckoo whene'er the clock stirr'd, Out burst a orim raven, and utter' d " caw ! caw !" While puss, tliouo-h she 'woke, durst not put forth a claw. Then the jack fell a-going as if one should sup, Then the hearth rock'd as though it would swallow one up; With fuel from hell, a strange coal-skuttle came, And a self-handled poker made fearful the flame. A cinder shot from it, of size to amaze, (With a bounce, such as Betty ne'er heard in her days,) Thrice, serpent-like, hiss'd, as its heat fled away, And lo ! something dark in a vast coffin lay. — " Come Betty !" — quoth croaking that non-descript thing, — " Come bless the fond arms of your true Cinder-king! " Three more Kings, my brothers, are waiting to greet ye, " Who, — don't take it ill ! — must at four o'clock eat ye. 41 My darling ! it must be, do make up your mind ; '* We element brothers, united, and kind, " Have a feast and a wedding, each night of our lives, " So constantly sup on each other's new wives." — e e 418 In vain squall'd the cook -maid, and pray'd not to wed; Cinder craunch'd in her mouth, cinder rain'd on her head, She sank in the coffin with cinders strewn o'er, And coffin nor Betty saw man any more. 419 No. LI I. THE BLEEDING NUN. I" am not at liberty to publish the name of the author of this Ballad: it is founded on the fourth chapter of the Romance of " Ambrosio, or the Monk." Where yon proud turrets crown the rock, Seest thou a warrior stand ? He sighs to hear the castle clock Say midnight is at hand. It strikes, and now his lady fair Comes trippincr from her hall, Her heart is rent by deep despair, And tears in torrents fall. — " Ah! woe is me," my love, she cried, " What anguish wrings my heart : " Ah ! woe is me," she said, and sigh'd, ' * We must for ever part. let 420 >.< «( Know, ere three days are past and flown, " (Tears choak the piteous tale !) A parents vow, till now unknown, 11 Devotes me to the veil." — — " Notso, my Agnes!" Raymond cried, * ' For leave thee will I never ; " Thou art mine, and I am thine, 11 Body and soul for ever! " Then quit thy cruel father's bower, *' And fly, my love, with me." — — " Ah ! how can I escape his power, " Or who can set me free. M I cannot leap yon wall so high, " Nor swim the fosse with thee; " I can but wring my hands, and sigh " That none can set me free." — — -" Now list, my lady, list, my love, u I pray thee list to me, 1 ' For I can all your fears remove, 1 ' And I can set you free. 421 •' Oft have you heard old Ellinore, " Your nurse, with horror tell, 11 How, robed in white, and stain'd with gore, o * •■ Appears a spectre fell, " And each fifth year, at dead of night, •' Stalks through the castle ^ate, 11 Which, by an ancient solemn rite, 11 For her must open wait. •* Soon as to some far distant land, •' Retires to-morrow's sun, 11 With torch and dagger in her hand, 11 Appears the Bleeding Nun. " Now you shall play the bleeding Nun, " Array'd in robes so white, " And at the solemn hour of one, 11 Stalk forth to meet your knight. " Our steeds shall bear us far away, " Beyond your father's power, 11 And A ernes, lone ere break of dav, " Shall rest in Raymond's bower,'* — 422 — " My heart consents, it must be done, — " Father, 'tis your decree, — M And I will play the Bleeding Nun, 11 And fly, my love, with thee. 11 For I am thine," fair Agnes cried, *' And leave thee will I never; " lam thine, and thou art mine, *' Body and soul for ever !" — Fair Agnes sat within her bower, Array'd in robes so white, And waited the long wish'd-for hour, When she should meet her knight. And Raymond, as the clock struck one, Before the castle stood ; And soon came forth his lovely Nun, Her white robes stain d in blood. He bore her in his arms away, And placed her on her steed ; And to the maid he thus did say, As on they rode with speed : 423 — " Oh Agnes ! Agnes ! thou art mine, 44 And leave tliee will I never ; 11 Thou art mine, and I am thine, 44 Body and soul for ever ! v — — " Oh Raymond ! Raymond, I am thine, 44 And leave thee will I never ; 44 I am thine, and thou art mine, 44 Body and soul for ever !" — At length, — 44 We're safe !" — the warrior cried ; 44 Sweet love abate thy speed ;"— - But madly still she onwards hied Nor seem'd his call to heed. Through wood and wild, they speed their way, Then sweep along the plain, And almost at the break of day, The Danube's banks they gain. — 44 Now stop ye, Raymond, stop ye here, " And view the farther side; 44 Dismount, and say Sir Knight, do'st fear, " With me to stem the tide." — 424 Now on the utmost brink they stand, And gaze upon the flood, . She seized Don Raymond by the hand, Her grasp it froze his blood. A whirling blast from off the stream Threw back the maiden's veil ; Don Raymond gave a hideous scream, And felt his spirits fail. Then down his limbs, in strange affright, Cold dews to pour begun ; No Agnes met his shudd'ring sight, — " God ! Tis the Bleeding Nun •"— A form of more than mortal size, All ghastly, pale, and dead, Fix'd on the Knight her livid eyes, And thus the Spectre said. — " Oh Raymond ! Raymond ! I am thine, * ' And leave thee will I never ; 11 I am thine, and thou art mine, " Body and soul for everl" — 425 Don Raymond shrieks, he faints ; the blood Ran cold in every vein, He sank into the roaring flood , And never rose again ! 426 No- LIII. THE MAID OF THE MOOR, OR THE WATER FIENDS. G. COLMAN, JUN. This Tale, -which is unavoidably misplaced, should have formed No. XXXVI. On a wild moor, all brown and bleak, Where broods the heath frequenting growse, There stood a tenement antique, Lord Hoppergollop's country house. Here silence reign 1 d with lips of glue, And undisturb'd maintain'd her law ; Save when the owl, cried — " whoo ! whoo! whoo!"— Or the hoarse crow, croak'd — " caw ! caw ! caw!"— Neglected mansion ! for 'tis said, Whene'er the snow came feathering down, Four barbed steeds, from the Bull's-head, Carried thy master up to town. 427 Weak Hoppergollop ! Lords may moan, Who stake in London their estate, On two small rattling bits of bone, On little figure, or on great. Swift whirl the wheels, — he's gone; — a Rose Remains behind, whose virgin look, Unseen, must blush in wint'ry snows ; Sweet beauteous blossom ! 'twas the Cook i A bolder, far, than my weak note, Maid of the Moor ! thy charms demand : Eels might be proud to lose their coat, If skinn'd by Molly Dumpling's hand. Long had the fair one sat alone, Had none remain'd, save only she ; She by herself had been, if one Had not been left, for company. 'Twas a tall youth, whose cheek's clear hue Was tinged with health and manly toil ; Cabbage he sow'd, and when it grew, He always cut it off to boil. 428 Oft would he cry, — *' Delve, delve the hole ! " And prune the tree, and trim the root! " And stick the wig upon the pole, " To scare the sparrows from the fruit !" — A small mute favourite by day Follow'd his steps ; where'er he wheels His barrow round the garden gay, A bob-tail cur is at his heels. Ah man ! the brute creation see, Thy constancy oft need to spur ! While lessons of fidelity, Are found in every bob-tail cur. Hard toil'd the youth, so fresh and strong, While Bob-tail in his face would look, And mark'd his master troll the song, — " Sweet Molly Dumpling ! O, thou Cook For thus he sung : while Cupid smiled, Pleased that the Gard'ner own'd his dart ; Which pruned his passions, running wild. And grafted true-love on his heart. i'» 429 Maid of the Moor, his love return ! True love ne'er tints the cheek with shame; When gard'neiV hearts, like hot-beds burn, A cook may surely feed the flame. Ah ! not averse from love was she ; Though pure as heaven's snowy flake ; Both loved ; and though a Gard'ner he, He knew not what it was to rake. Cold blows the blast, the night's obscure : The mansion's crazy wainscots crack, The sun had sunk, and all the moor, Like ev'ry other moor, was black. Alone, pale, trembling, near the fire, The lovely Molly Dumpling sat; Much did she fear, and much admire, What Thomas gard'ner could be at. Listening, her hand supports her chin, But ah I no foot is heard to stir ; He comes not from the garden in, Nor he, nor little bob-tail cur. 430 They cannot come, sweet Maid, to thee; Flesh, both of cur and man, is grass : And what's impossible cant be, And never, never, comes to pass 1 She paces through the hall antique, To call her Thomas, from his toil ; Opes the huge door : the hinges creak, Because the hinges wanted oil. Thrice on the threshold of the hall, She — ** Thomas" — cried with many a sob; And thrice on Bob-tail did she call, Exclaiming sweetly — " Bob! Bob I Bob!"- Vain Maid ! a gardner's corpse, 'tis said, In answers can but ill succeed ; And dogs that hear, when they are dead, Are very cunning dogs indeed ! Back through the hall she bent her way, All, all was solitude around ; The candle shed a feeble ray, Though a large mould of four to the pound. 431 Full closely to the fire she drew, A down her cheek a salt tear stole ; When, lo ! a coffin out there flew, And in her apron burnt a hole. Spiders their busy death-watch tick'd ; A certain sign that fate will frown; The clumsy kitchen clock, too, chick'd, A certain sign it was not down. More strong, and strong, her terrors rose, Her shadow did the maid appall ; She trembled at her lovely nose, It look'd so long against the wall. Up to her chamber damp and cold, She climb'd Lord Hoppergollop's stair, Three stories high, long, dull, and old, As o;rcat Lords' stories often are. o All nature now appear'd to pause ; Ant! — " o'er the one half world seem'd dead;"- No — " curtain'd sleep," — had she ; because She had no curtains to her bed. 432 Listening she lay ; with iron din, The clock struck twelve, the door flew wide, When Thomas grimly glided in, With little Bob-tail by his side. Tall like the poplar was his size, Green, green his waistcoast was, as leeks ; Red, red as beet-root, were his eyes, And pale as turnips were his cheeks ! Soon as the spectre she espied, The fear-struck damsel, faintly said, — " What would my Thomas?" — he replied, — " Oh ! Molly Dumpling, I am dead 1 •■ All in the flower of youth I fell, " Cut off with healthful blossom crown'd; 44 I was not ill, but in a well, " I tumbled backwards, and was drown'd. •■« Four fathom deep thy love doth lie, u His faithful dog his fate doth share ; " We're fiends ; this is not he and I, " We are not here, for we are there. 433 "Yes! two foul water-fiends are we; 11 Maid of the Moor, attend us now ! " Thy hour's at hand, we come for thee !" — The little fiend-cur said, — " bow ! wow!"- " To wind her in her cold, cold grave, " A Holland sheet a maiden likes, 11 A sheet of water, thou shalt have; " Such sheets there are in Holland dykes."— The fiends approach ; the Maid did shrink, Swift through the nights foul air they spin, They took her to the green well's brink, And, with a souse, they plump'd her in. So true the fair, so true the youth, Maids, to this day, their story tell, And hence the proverb rose, that truth Lies in the bottom of a well. F f 434 No. LIV. THE LAIDLEY * WORM OF SPINDLESTONE HEUGHS, I have seen another version of this story, with some variations, under the title of Kempion ; the one, which I here insert, in my opinion, is by far the best of the two. It is taken from the 3d volume of " Evans's Old Ballads." The King is gone from Bamborough castle Long may the Princess mourn, Lone may she stand on the castle wall, Lookino- for his return. She has knotted the keys upon a string, And with her she has them ta'en ; She has cast them o'er her left shoulder, And to the gate she is gane. * This is a northern corruption for loathly, i. e. loathsome ; worm means serpent. 435 She tripped out, she tripped in, She tript into the yard ; But it was more for the King's sake, Than for the Queen's regard. It fell out on a day, the King Brought the Queen with him home ; And all the lords in our country To welcome them did come* — " Oh ! welcome father," the lady cries, " Unto your halls and bowers ; 11 And so are you, my step-mother, " For all that is here is yours.'' — A lord said, wond'ring while she spake, — '* This Princess of the north, " Surpasses all of female kind, " In beauty and in worth.'' — ■ The envious Queen replied, — " at least " You might have excepted me ; " In a few hours I will her brino- •' Down to a low decree. o F f 2 436 11 I will liken her to a laidley worm, " That warps about the stone, " And not, till Childy Wynd* comes back, " Shall she again be won." — The Princess stood at her bower door, Laughinp- : who could her blame ? But e'er the next day's sun went down, A long worm she became. For seven miles east, and seven miles west? And seven miles north and south, No blade of grass or corn could grow, So venemous was her mouth. The milk of seven stately cows, (It was costly her to keep,) Was brought her daily, which she drank Before she went to sleep. At this day may be seen the cave, Which held her folded up, And the stone trough, the very same, Out of which she did sup. * There is now a street called the Wynd, at Bamborough. 437 Word went east, and word went west, And word is gone over the sea, That a laidley worm in Spindleston Heuo-hs Would ruin the north country. Word went east, and word went west, And over the sea did go ; The Child of Wynd got wit of it, Which filled his heart with woe. He called straight his merry men all. They thirty were and three ; — " I wish I were at Spindleston, " This desperate worm to see. " We have no time now here to waste, " Hence quickly let us sail; " My only sister Margaret " Something I fear doth ail." — They built a ship without delay, With masts of the rown tree,* With fluttering sails of silk so fine, And set her on the sea. * Mountain ash. 438 They went aboard : the wind with speed Blew them along the deep ; At length they spied an huge square tower On a rock high and steep. The sea was smooth, the weather clear; When they approached nigher, King Ida's castle they well knew, And the banks of Bamboroughshire. The Queen look'd out at bower window, To see what she could see ; There she espied a gallant ship Sailing upon the sea. When she beheld the silken sails Full glancing in the sun, To sink the ship she sent away Her witch-wives every one. Their spells were vain. The hags return'd To the Queen in sorrowful mood, Crying, that witches have no power Where there is rown-tree wood. 439 Her last effort — she sent a boat, Which in the haven lay, With armed men to board the ship ; But they were driven away. The worm leapt up, the worm leapt down, She plaited round the stone ; And as the ship came to the land, She bang'd it off again. The Child then ran out of her reach, The ship on Budle sand, And, jumping into the shallow sea, Securely got to land. And now he drew his bonny brown sword, And laid it on her head, And swore if she did hasten to him, That he would strike her dead. — " O 1 quit thy sword, and bend thy bow, " And give me kisses three ; " For though I am a pois'nous worm, " No hurt will I do to thee. 440 " Oh ! quit thy sword and bend thy bow, " And give me kisses three ; " If I am not won e'er the sun go down, " Won I shall never be/' — He quitted his sword, he bent his bow, He gave her kisses three ; She crept into a hole a worm, But stept out a lady. No cloathing had this lady fine To keep her from the cold ; He took his mantle from him about, And round her did it fold . He has his mantle from him about And it he wrapt her in ; And they are up to Bamborough castle As fast as they can win. His absence and her serpent shape The King had long deplor'd, He now rejoic'd to see them both Again to him restor'd. 441 The Queen they wanted, whom they found, All pale and sore afraid ; Because she knew her power must yield To Childy Wynd's; who said, • — " Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch, •* An ill death may st thou dee; 11 As thou my sister hast likened, 11 So likened shalt thou be. " I will turn thee into a toad, " That on the ground doth wend ; **■ And won and won shalt thou never be, " Till this world hath an end." — Now on the sands near Ida's tower, She crawls a loathsome toad ; And venom spits on every maid She meets upon the road. The virgins all ofBamborough town Will swear that they have seen This spiteful toad of monstrous size, Whilst walking they have been. 442 All folks believe, within the shire, This story to be true ; And they all run to Spindleston, T hecave and trough to view. This fact now Duncan Frasier Of Cheviot sings in rhime; Lest Bamboroughshire men should forget, Some part of it in time. 443 No. LV. MARYS DREAM. The moon had climb'd the highest hill, Which rises o'er the source of Dee, And from the eastern summit shed, Her silver light on tower and tree : When Mary laid her down to sleep, Her thoughts on Sandy, far at sea, When soft and low a voice was heard Say, — " Mary weep no more for me. She from her pillow gently raised Her head, to ask, who there might be ; She saw young Sandy shiv'ring stand, With visage pale and hollow eye ; — " O ! Mary dear, cold is my clay, " It lies beneath a stormy sea ; " Far, far from thee, 1 sleep in death, "So Mary weep no more for me. 444 " Three stormy nights, and stormy days, " We toss'd upon the raging main; " And long we strove our bark to save, " But all our striving was in vain : " E'en then when horror chill'd my blood, 11 My heart was fill'd with love for thee; " The storm is past, and I at rest, " So Mary, weep no more for me. •' O Maiden dear, thyself prepare, " We soon shall meet upon that shore, " Where love is free from doubt and care, " And thou and 1 shall part no more." — Loud crow'd the cock, the shadow fled, No more of Sandy could she see, But soft the passing spirit said, — " Sweet Mary, weep no more for me."— 445 No. LVI. CLERK COLVIN. Clerk Colvin and his Lady gay, They walked in yonder garden sheen : The girdle round her middle jimp * Had cost Clerk Colvin crowns fifteen. — " Oh hearken well, my wedded Lord, " Oh hearken well to what I say; cl When ye gae * by the wells of Stane, " Beware, ye touch nae well-faced may." J — — •* Oh ! haud 4 your tongue, my Lady gay, " And haud my Lady gay, your din : 11 Did I never yet see a fair woman, " But wi' her body I wad sin ?" — 1 Jimp, stays. a Gae, go. 3 M ay, maiden. * Haud, hold. 446 Then he's rode on frae his lady fair, Nought reeking what that lady said, And he's rode by the wells of Stane, Where washing: was a bonnie maid. o 11 Wash on ! Wash on ! my bonnie may! " Sae clean ye wash your sark * of silk." — lc And weel fa you, a fair gentle knight, " Whose skin is whiter far than milk !" — t He has ta'en her by the lilly hand, He has ta'en her by the grass-green sleeve, And thrice has pried her bonnie mou, 3 Nor of his lady speered he leave. 4 Soon as his mouth her lip had press'd, His heart was fill'd with doubt and dread ; — " Ohan '. and alas!" Clerk Colvin says, " Ohan, and alas ! What pains my head ?" — — " Sir Knight, now take your little penknife, " And frae my sark ye's cut a gare ; 5 * Sark, shift. a Weel fa you, good luck to you. * Pried her mou, kiss'd her mouth. 4 Speered he leave, asked her leave, y Gare, a piece. 447 11 Row * that around your face so pale, " And o' the pain yell feel na mair." a — Syne 3 out has he ta'en his little penknife, And frae her Sark he cut a gare, He row d it around his face so pale, But the pain increased still mair and mair. Then out, and spake the knight again, — " Alas ! more sairly throbs my head !"• And merrily did the mermaid laugh, — *' 'Twill ever be wae, 4 till ye be dead 1" He has drawn out his trusty blade, All for to kill her where she stood, But she was changed to a monstrous fish, And quickly sprang into the flood. He has mounted on his berry-brown steed, And dowie, s dowie, on he rides, Till he has reach'd Dunallan's towers, And there his mother dear resides. 1 Row, wrap. z Na mair, no more. 3 Si/ne, then, 4 Beicac, be painful, 3 Dowie, swiftly. 448 — «« Oh ! mother, mother, make my bed, 11 And lay me down, my fair la-dye; " And brother dear, unbend my bow, "'Twill never more be bent by me !" — His mother, she has made his bed, She has laid him down, his fair la-dye ; His brother has unbent his bow, And death has closed Clerk Colvin's ee ! ' 1 Ee, eye. There is a great resemblance between this old Scotch Ballad, and the Danish tradition, of " the Erl-King's Daughter." 449 No. LVI. WILLY'S LADY. Willy's gone over the salt sea foam, He has married a wife, and brought her home ; He wooed her for her yellow hair, But his mither wrought her mickle care : And mickle dolour surfers she, For lighter* she can never be ; But in her bour she sits wi' pain, And Willy mourns over her in vain. Then to his mither he speaks his mind, That vile rank witch of foulest kind; He says — " my ladye has a cup, " With gold, and silver all set up, " The handles are of the ivory bones, " And all set round wi' sparkling stones; £X£gRR: <• ? •$■?"■■ :&*■• >^p .»:'./. i'.JB* ■E ^ . ' ' . ' • 1