Up brizzled the locks of Malcom's heir, And his heart it quickly beat, And his trembling steed shook under his hand, And Swain cower'd close to his feet. When, lo! a faint light through the porch Still strong and stronger grew, And shed o'er the walls and the lofty roof And slowly entering then appear'd, As in honour of the dead. The first that walk'd were torchmen ten And each wore the face of an angry fiend, And the next that walk'd as mourners meet, Each with a cut-cord round his neck, And after these, in solemn state, There came an open bier, Borne on black, shapeless, rampant forms, And on that bier a corse was laid, As corse could never lie, That did by decent hands composed In nature's struggles die. Nor stretch'd, nor swathed, but every limb In strong distortion lay, As in the throes of a violent death And in its breast was a broken knife, With the black blood bolter'd round; Its features were fix'd in horrid strength, But, oh! the horrid form to trace, In fashion of the chief mourner, In his lifted hand, with straining grasp, The other half of the cursed blade Was that in the corse's breast. And in his blasted, horrid face, Full strongly mark'd, I ween, The features of the aged corse In life's full prime were seen. * gnash thy teeth and tear thy hair, Back from the bier with strong recoil, Still onward as they go, Doth he in vain his harrow'd head, And writhing body throw. For, closing round, a band of fiends With their fangs of red-hot steel. But what of horror next ensued, No mortal tongue can tell, For the thrill'd life paused in Malcom's heir, The morning rose with cheerful light, They sought him east, they sought him west, And met him at last on the blasted heath, He will to no one utter his tale, But the priest of St. Cuthbert's cell, And aye, when the midnight warning sounds, He hastens his beads to tell. THE ELDEN TREE. A FEAST was spread in the baron's hall, Each had fought in war's grim ranks, But who thinks now of blood or strife, As we poor lovers feel. "Come, pledge me well, my lady gay, Come, pledge me, noble frere ; Each cheerful mate on such a day, Is friend or mistress dear." And louder still comes jeer and boast, As the flagons faster pour, Till song, and tale, and laugh are lost Ay, certes, 'tis an hour of glee, For the baron himself doth smile, And nods his head right cheerily, And quaffs his cup the while. What recks he now of midnight fear, Or the night wind's dismal moan? As it tosses the boughs of that Elden Tree, Which he thinketh so oft upon? Long years have past since a deed was done, By its doer only seen, And there lives not a man beneath the sun, Who wotteth that deed hath been. So gay was he, so gay were all, They mark'd not the growing gloom; Nor wist they how the darkening hall Lower'd like the close of doom. Dull grew the goblet's sheen, and grim A flash of light pass'd through the place, Fierce glanced the momentary blaze O'er all the gallant train, And each visage pale, with dazzled gaze, And the thunder's rolling peal, from far, And varied its sound like the broil of war, Still glares the lightning blue and pale, And roars th' astounding din; And rattle the windows with bickering hail, And cowering hounds the board beneath At length in the waning tempest's fall, "The thunder hath stricken your tree so fair, "White bones are found in the mould below, Like the bones of a stripling child." Pale he became as the shrouded dead, And down on his bosom dropp'd his head, "O, father! I have done a deed Which God alone did know; A brother's blood these hands have shed, "For fiends lent strength like a powerful charm, And my youthful breast impell'd, And I laugh'd to see beneath my arm "A mattock from its pit I took, Dug deep for the Elden Tree, And I tempted the youth therein to look "The woodmen to their meal were gone, I had planted that tree with my strength alone, "Ah! gladly smiled my father then, And seldom he smiled on me, When he heard that my skill, like the skill of men, "But where was his eldest son so dear, And his father's love beside : Who under his cold eye lives! "His elder rights did my envy move, "Now thirty years have o'er me pass'd, And, to the eye of man, My lot was with the happy cast, "O! I have heard in the dead of night, "My very miners, pent in gloom, Whose toil my coffers stored, And cursed belike their cheerless doom, "O, holy man! my tale is told With pain, with tears, with shame; May penance hard, may alms of gold, Some ghostly favour claim? "The knotted scourge shall drink my blood, To earn Heaven's grace for me." And the meek'st monk, whose life is there Still spent on bended knee, Is he who built that abbey fair, THE GHOST OF FADON. ON Gask's deserted ancient hall Seem'd lofty, void, and vast. All sounds of life, now reft and bare, From its walls had pass'd away, But the stir of small birds shelter'd there, Dull owl, or clattering jay. Loop-hole and window, dimly seen, With faint light passing through, When the trampling sound of banded men, But mingled echoes from within A mimic mockery made, And the bursting door, with furious din, On jarring hinges bray'd. An eager band, press'd rear on van, And their chief, the goodliest, bravest man Then spoke forthwith that leader bold, "We war with wayward fate: These walls are bare, the hearth is cold, And all is desolate. "With fast unbroke and thirst unslaked, "Hard hap this day in bloody field, Ye bravely have sustain❜d, And search if yet remain Some homely store, but good at need, "Cheer up, my friends! still heart in hand, Though few and spent we be, We are the pith of our native land, And we shall still be free. "Cheer up! though scant and coarse our meal, In this our sad retreat, We'll fill our horn to Scotland's weal, And that will make it sweet." Then all, full cheerly, as they could, Their willing service lent, Some broke the boughs, some heap'd the wood, Some struck the sparkling flint. And a fire they kindled speedily, Where the hall's last fire had been, Red gleam on each tall buttress pour'd And tall and black behind them lower'd As light and shadow o'er it broke, Their scanty meal was on the ground, Spread by the friendly light, And they made the brown horn circle round, As cheerly as they might. Some talk of horses, weapons, mail, Some of their late defeat, By treachery caused, and many a tale "Ay, well," says one," my sinking heart "But well repaid by Providence And cursed let him be." "O! curse him not! I needs must rue That stroke so rashly given: If he to us were false or true, Is known to righteous Heaven." "Rouse ye, my friends!" the chieftain said, "And bring me tidings. Speed ye well!" Was heard the bugle blast. Out pass'd three warriors more; then shrill As banded scouts, went forth. Till from their chief each war-mate good And he, who fear'd not flesh and blood, He stood, wrapp'd in a musing dream, O'er-mantling hill and plain. Then to the fitful fire he turn'd, Which higher and brighter grew, Till the flame like a baleful meteor burn'd Then wist the chief, some soul unblest, Of spirit of power was near; But he felt a strange, unearthly breath And he heard at the gate, like a blast of wrath, Owls, bats, and swallows, fluttering, out As loud and long it blew. His noble hound sprang from his lair, He hid, and with strange piteous wail The porch seem'd void, but vapour dim The vapour wore away, Like a form in the noon of day. Well Wallace knew that form, that head, But when the spectre raised its arm, And brandish'd its glittering blade, The threaten'd combat was to him Then the spectre smiled with a ghastly grin, And its features grew stony, fix'd, and thin, The head a further moment crown'd, Back shrunk the noble chief aghast, But quickly to the portal pass'd, To shun the horrid spot. But in the portal, stiff and tall, And Wallace turn'd and cross'd the hall, By other door he hoped to snatch, Whose pent arch darkly lower'd, O'er wall and ditch he quickly got, Through brake and bushy stream, He look'd behind, and that lurid light Red glow'd each window, slit, and door, And tint of deepest blackness wore The walls and steepy moat. But soon it rose with brightening power, And wall-flower, fringing breach and tower, Then a spreading blaze with eddying sweep, Its spiral surges rear'd, And then aloft on the stately keep, Fadon's Ghost appear'd. A burning rafter, blazing bright, And its warrior form, of human height, With tints sulphureous blent, High, high it rose with widening glare, Sent far o'er land and main, And shut into the lofty air, And all was dark again. A spell of horror lapt him round, Till harness'd warriors' heavy tread, "Thank God!" with utter'd voice, he said, "For here come living foes." With kindling soul that brand he drew Which boldest Southron fears, But soon the friendly call he knew, Of his gallant, brave compeers. With haste each wondrous tale was told, How still, in vain pursuit, They follow'd the horn through wood and wold, And Wallace alone was mute. Day rose; but silent, sad and pale, Stood the bravest of Scottish race; And each warrior's heart began to quail, When he look'd in his leader's face. A NOVEMBER NIGHT'S TRAVELLER. HE, who with journey well begun, Of smoke, dark spires and chimneys showing,) And yet, When moon is dark, and sun is set, With dull November's starless sky The carriage lamps a white light throw Or herdboy gather'd in his plaid, Of turf or peat, or rooty wood, For cottage fire the winter's food.""Ha! yonder shady nook discovers A gentle pair of rustic lovers. Out on't! a pair of harmless calves, Through straggling bushes seen by halves.""What thing of strange unshapely height Approaches slowly on the light, That like a hunchback'd' giant seems, And now is whitening in its beams ? 'Tis but a hind, whose burly back Is bearing home a loaded sack."— Through village, lane, or hamlet going, |