Part 7

He turns, and lo! on either side The ripples on his path divide; And the track o’er which his boat must pass Is smooth as a sheet of polished glass. Around, their limbs the sea-nymphs lave, With snowy arms half swelling out, While on the glossed and gleamy wave Their sea-green ringlets loosely float; They swim around with smile and song; They press the bark with pearly hand, And gently urge her course along, Toward the beach of speckled sand; And, as he lightly leaped to land, They bade adieu with nod and bow, Then gaily kissed each little hand, And dropped in the crystal deeps below.

XXIV.

A moment stayed the fairy there; He kissed the beach and breathed a prayer, Then spread his wings of gilded blue, And on to the elfin court he flew; As ever ye saw a bubble rise, And shine with a thousand changing dyes, Till lessening far through ether driven, It mingles with the hues of heaven; As, at the glimpse of morning pale, The lance-fly spreads his silken sail, And gleams with blending soft and bright, Till lost in the shades of fading night; So rose from earth the lovely Fay— So vanished, far in heaven away!

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Up, Fairy! quit thy chick-weed bower, The cricket has called the second hour, Twice again, and the lark will rise To kiss the streaking of the skies— Up! thy charmed armour don, Thou’lt need it ere the night be gone.

XXV.

He put his acorn-helmet on; It was plumed of the silk of the thistle-down; The corslet-plate that guarded his breast Was once the wild-bees’ golden vest; His cloak of a thousand mingled dyes, Was formed of the wings of butterflies; His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen, Studs of gold on a ground of green; And the quivering lance which he brandished bright, Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight. Swift he bestrode his firefly steed; He bared his blade of the bent grass blue; He drove his spurs of the cockle-seed, And away like a glance of thought he flew, To skim the heavens and follow far The fiery trail of the rocket-star.

XXVI.

The moth-fly, as he shot in air, Crept under the leaf, and hid her there; The katy-did forgot its lay, The prowling gnat fled fast away, The fell moscheto checked his drone And folded his wings till the Fay was gone, And the wily beetle dropped his head, And fell on the ground as if he were dead; They crouched them close in the darksome shade, They quaked all o’er with awe and fear, For they had felt the blue-bent blade, And writhed at the prick of the elfin spear; Many a time on a summer’s night, When the sky was clear and the moon was bright, They had been roused from the haunted ground, By the yelp and bay of the fairy hound; They had heard the tiny bugle-horn, They had heard the twang of the maize-silk string, When the vine-twig boughs were tightly drawn, And the nettle shaft through air was borne, Feathered with down of the hum-bird’s wing. And now they deemed the courier ouphe, Some hunter sprite of the elfin ground; And they watched till they saw him mount the roof That canopies the world around; Then glad they left their covert lair, And freaked about in the midnight air.

XXVII.

Up to the vaulted firmament His path the firefly courser bent, And at every gallop on the wind, He flung a glittering spark behind; He flies like a feather in the blast Till the first light cloud in heaven is past, But the shapes of air have begun their work, And a drizzly mist is round him cast, He cannot see through the mantle murk, He shivers with cold, but he urges fast, Through storm and darkness, sleet, and shade, He lashes his steed, and spurs amain, For shadowy hands have twitched the rein, And flame-shot tongues around him played, And near him many a fiendish eye Glared with a fell malignity, And yells of rage, and shrieks of fear, Came screaming on his startled ear. His wings are wet around his breast, The plume hangs dripping from his crest, His eyes are blurred with the lightning’s glare, And his ears are stunned with the thunder’s blare, But he gave a shout, and his blade he drew, He thrust before, and he struck behind, Till he pierced their cloudy bodies through, And gashed their shadowy limbs of wind; Howling the misty spectres flew, They rend the air with frightful cries, For he has gained the welkin blue, And the land of clouds beneath him lies.

XXIX.

Up to the cope careering swift In breathless motion fast, Fleet as the swallow cuts the drift, Or the sea-roc rides the blast, The sapphire sheet of eve is shot, The sphered moon is past, The earth but seems a tiny blot On a sheet of azure cast. O! it was sweet in the clear moonlight, To tread the starry plain of even, To meet the thousand eyes of night, And feel the cooling breath of heaven; But the Elfin made no stop or stay Till he came to the bank of the milky-way, Then he checked his courser’s foot, And watched for the glimpse of the planet-shoot.

XXX.

Sudden along the snowy tide That swelled to meet their footsteps’ fall, The sylphs of heaven were seen to glide, Attired in sunset’s crimson pall; Around the Fay they weave the dance, They skip before him on the plain, And one has taken his wasp-sting lance, And one upholds his bridle-rein; With warblings wild they lead him on To where through clouds of amber seen, Studded with stars, resplendent shone The palace of the sylphid queen. Its spiral columns gleaming bright Were streamers of the northern light; Its curtains’ light and lovely flush Was of the morning’s rosy blush, And the ceiling fair that rose aboon The white and feathery fleece of noon.

XXXI.

But oh! how fair the shape that lay Beneath a rainbow bending bright, She seemed to the entranced Fay The loveliest of the forms of light; Her mantle was the purple rolled At twilight in the west afar; ’Twas tied with threads of dawning gold, And buttoned with a sparkling star. Her face was like the lily roon That veils the vestal planet’s hue; Her eyes two beamlets from the moon, Set floating in the welkin blue. Her hair is like the sunny beam, And the diamond gems which round it gleam, Are the pure drops of dewy even That ne’er have left their native heaven.

XXXII.

She raised her eyes to the wondering sprite, And they leaped with smiles, for well I ween Never before in the bowers of light Had the form of an earthly Fay been seen. Long she looked in his tiny face; Long with his butterfly cloak she played; She smoothed his wings of azure lace, And handled the tassel of his blade; And as he told in accents low The story of his love and woe, She felt new pains in her bosom rise, And the tear-drop started in her eyes. And “O, sweet spirit of earth,” she cried, “Return no more to your woodland height, But ever here with me abide In the land of everlasting light! Within the fleecy drift we’ll lie, We’ll hang upon the rainbow’s rim, And all the jewels of the sky Around thy brow shall brightly beam! And thou shalt bathe thee in the stream That rolls its whitening foam aboon, And ride upon the lightning’s gleam, And dance upon the orbéd moon! We’ll sit within the Pleiad ring, We’ll rest on Orion’s starry belt, And I will bid my sylphs to sing The song that makes the dew-mist melt; Their harps are of the umber shade That hides the blush of waking day, And every gleamy string is made Of silvery moonshine’s lengthened ray; And thou shalt pillow on my breast While heavenly breathings float around, And, with the sylphs of ether blest, Forget the joys of fairy ground.”

XXXIII.

She was lovely and fair to see, And the Elfin’s heart beat fitfully; But lovelier far, and still more fair, The earthly form imprinted there; Nought he saw in the heavens above Was half so dear as his mortal love, For he thought upon her looks so meek, And he thought of the light flush on her cheek; Never again might he bask and lie On that sweet cheek and moonlight eye, But in his dreams her form to see, To clasp her in his revery, To think upon his virgin bride Was worth all heaven and earth beside.

XXXIV.

“Lady,” he cried, “I have sworn to-night On the word of a fairy knight, To do my sentence-task aright; My honour scarce is free from stain, I may not soil its snows again; Betide me weal, betide me woe, Its mandate must be answered now.” Her bosom heaved with many a sigh, The tear was in her drooping eye; But she led him to the palace gate, And called the sylphs who hovered there, And bade them fly and bring him straight Of clouds condensed a sable car. With charm and spell she blessed it there, From all the fields of upper air; Then round him cast the shadowy shroud, And tied his steed behind the cloud; And pressed his hand as she bade him fly Far to the verge of the northern sky, For by its wan and wavering light There was a star would fall to-night.

XXXV.

Borne afar on the wings of the blast, Northward away, he speeds him fast, And his courser follows the cloudy wain Till the hoof strokes fall like pattering rain. The clouds roll backward as he flies, Each flickering star behind him lies, And he has reached the northern plain, And backed his firefly steed again, Ready to follow in its flight The streaming of the rocket-light.

XXXVI.

The star is yet in the vault of heaven, But it rocks in the summer gale; And now ’tis fitful and uneven, And now ’tis deadly pale; And now ’tis wrapped in sulphur smoke, And quenchéd is its rayless beam, And now with a rattling thunder-stroke It bursts in flash and flame. As swift as the glance of the arrowy lance That the storm-spirit flings from high, The star-shot flew o’er the welkin blue, As it fell from the sheeted sky. As swift as the wind in its trail behind The elfin gallops along, The fiends of the cloud are bellowing loud, But the sylphid charm is strong; He gallops unhurt in the shower of fire, While the cloud-fiends fly from the blaze; He watches each flake till its sparks expire, And rides in the light of its rays. But he drove his steed to the lightning’s speed, And caught a glimmering spark; Then wheeled around to the fairy ground, And sped through the midnight dark.

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Ouphe and goblin! imp and sprite! Elf of eve! and starry Fay! Ye that love the moon’s soft light, Hither—hither wend your way; Twine ye in a jocund ring, Sing and trip it merrily, Hand to hand, and wing to wing, Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

Hail the wanderer again, With dance and song, and lute and lyre, Pure his wing and strong his chain, And doubly bright his fairy fire. Twine ye in an airy round, Brush the dew and print the lea; Skip and gambol, hop and bound, Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

The beetle guards our holy ground, He flies about this haunted place, And if mortal there be found, He hums in his ears and flaps his face: The leaf-harp sounds our roundelay, The owlet’s eyes our lanterns be; Thus we sing, and dance, and play, Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

But hark! from tower on tree-top high, The sentry elf his call has made, A streak is in the Eastern sky, Shapes of moonlight! flit and fade! The hill-tops gleam in morning’s spring, The skylark shakes his dappled wing, The day-glimpse glimmers on the lawn, The cock has crowed, and the Fays are gone.

J. RODMAN DRAKE.

Travels in Fairyland.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART FIRST—ANCIENT.

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank A ferlie he spied wi’ his ee; And there he saw a ladye bright Come riding doun by the Eildon Tree.

Her shirt was o’ the grass-green silk, Her mantle o’ the velvet fine; At ilka tett o’ her horse’s mane Hung fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas, he pulled aff his cap, And louted low down to his knee, “All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For thy peer on earth I never did see.”

“O no, O no, Thomas,” she said, “That name does not belang to me; I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee.

“Harp and carp, Thomas,” she said; “Harp and carp along wi’ me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be.”—

“Betide me weal, betide me wo, That weird shall never daunton me.” Syne he has kiss’d her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree.

“Now, ye maun go wi’ me,” she said; “True Thomas, ye maun go wi’ me; And ye maun serve me seven years, Thro’ weal or wo as may chance to be.”

She mounted on her milk-white steed; She’s ta’en true Thomas up behind: And aye, whene’er her bridle rung, The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on; The steed gaed swifter than the wind; Until they reach’d a desert wide, And living land was left behind.

“Light down, light down, now, true Thomas, And lean your head upon my knee; Abide and rest a little space, And I will show you ferlies three.

“O see ye not yon narrow road, So thick beset with thorns and briers? That is the path of righteousness, Though after it but few inquires.

“And see ye not that braid braid road, That lies across that lily leven? That is the path of wickedness, Though some call it the road to heaven.

“And see not ye that bonny road, That winds about that fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae.

“But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see; For if you speak word in Elflyn land, Y’ll ne’er get back to your ain countrie.”

O they rade on, and farther on, And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea.

It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light, And they waded through red blude to the knee; For a’ the blude that’s shed on earth Rins through the springs o’ that countrie.

Syne they came on to a garden green, And she pu’d an apple frae a tree— “Take this for thy wages, true Thomas, It will give thee the tongue that can never lie.”

“My tongue is mine ain,” true Thomas said; A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! I neither dought to buy nor sell, At fair or tryst where I may be.

“I dought neither speak to prince or peer, Nor ask of grace from fair ladye—” “Now hold thy peace!” the lady said, “For as I say, so must it be.”—

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green; And till seven years were gane and past, True Thomas on earth was never seen.

PART THE SECOND.

When seven years were come and gane, The sun blinked fair on pool and stream; And Thomas lay on Huntlie bank Like one awakened from a dream.

He heard the trampling of a steed, He saw the flash of armour flee, And he beheld a gallant knight, Come riding doun by the Eildon-tree.

He was a stalwart knight, and strong; Of giant make he ’pear’d to be: He stirr’d his horse, as he were wode, Wi’ guilded spurs, of fashion free.

Says—“Well met, well met, true Thomas! Some uncouth ferlies show to me.” Says—“Christ thee save, Corspatrick brave! Thrice welcome, good Dunbar, to me!”

“Light down, light down, Corspatrick brave, And I will show thee curses three, Shall gar fair Scotland greet and grane, And change the green to the black livery.

“A storm shall roar this very hour, From Ross’s hills to Solway sea—” “Ye lied, ye lied, ye warlock hoar! For the sun shines sweet on fauld and lea.”—

He put his hand on the Earlie’s head; He showed him a rock beside the sea, Where a king lay stiff beneath his steed, And steel-dight nobles wiped their ee.

“The neist curse lights on Branxton hills: By Hodden’s high and heathery side, Shall wave a banner red as blude, And chieftains hung wi’ meikle pride.

“A Scottish King shall come full keen, The ruddy lion beareth he; A feather’d arrow sharp, I ween, Shall make him wink and warre to see.

“When he is bloody, and all to bledde, Thus to his men he still shall say— ‘For God’s sake, turn ye back again, And give yon southern folk a fray! Why should I lose the right is mine? My doom is not to die this day.’

“Yet turn ye to the eastern hand, And we and wonder ye shall see; How forty thousand spearman stand, Where yon rank river meets the sea.

“There shall the lion lose the gylte, And the libbards bear it clean away; At Pinkyn Cleuch there shall be split Much gentil bluid that day.”—

“Enough, enough, of curse and ban; Some blessings show thou now to me, Or, by the faith o’ my bodie,” Corspatrick said, “Ye shall rue the day ye e’er saw me!”

“The first of blessings I shall thee show, Is by a burn that’s call’d of bread; Where Saxon men shall tyne the bow, And find their arrows lack the head.

“Beside that brigg, out ower that burn, Where the water bickereth bright and sheen, Shall many a falling courser spurn, And knights shall die in battle keen.

“Beside a headless cross of stone, The libbards there shall lose the gree; The raven shall come, the erne shall go, And drink the Saxon bluid sae free. The cross of stone they shall not know, So thick the corses there shall be.”

“But tell me now,” said brave Dunbar, “True Thomas, tell now unto me, What man shall rule the isle Britain, Even from the north to the southern sea?”

“A French Queen shall bear the son, Shall rule all Britain to the sea; He of the Bruce’s blood shall come, As near as in the ninth degree.

“The waters worship shall his race; Likewise the waves of the farthest sea; For they shall ride over ocean wide, With hempen bridles and horse of tree.”

PART THE THIRD.—MODERN.

_By Walter Scott._

When seven years more were come and gone, Was war through Scotland spread, And Ruberslaw show’d high Dunyon His beacon blazing red.

Then all by bonny Coldingknow, Pitch’d palliounes took their room, And crested helms, and spears a-rowe, Glanced gaily through the broom.

The Leader, rolling to the Tweed, Resounds the ensenzie; They roused the deer from Caddenhead, To distant Torwoodlee.

The feast was spread in Ercildoune, In Learmont’s high and ancient hall: And there were knights of great renown, And ladies, laced in pall.

Nor lacked they, while they sat at dine, The music nor the tale, Nor goblets of the blood-red wine, Nor mantling quaighs of ale.

True Thomas rose, with harp in hand, When as the feast was done: (In minstrel strife, in Fairy Land, The elfin harp he won.)

Hush’d were the throng, both limb and tongue, And harpers for envy pale; And armed lords lean’d on their swords, And hearken’d to the tale.

In numbers high, the witching tale The prophet pour’d along; No after bard might e’er avail Those numbers to prolong.

Yet fragments of the lofty strain Float down the tide of years, As buoyant on the stormy main A parted wreck appears.

He sung King Arthur’s Table Round; The Warrior of the Lake: How courteous Gawaine met the wound, And bled for ladies’ sake.

But chief, in gentle Tristrem’s praise, The notes melodious swell; Was none excell’d in Arthur’s days, The Knight of Lionelle.

For Marke, his cowardly uncle’s right, A venom’d wound he bore; When fierce Morholde he slew in fight, Upon the Irish shore.

No art the poison might withstand; No medicine could be found, Till lovely Isolde’s lily hand Had probed the rankling wound.

With gentle hand and soothing tongue She bore the leech’s part; And while she o’er his sick-bed hung, He paid her with his heart.

O fatal was the gift, I ween! For, doom’d in evil tide, The maid must be rude Cornwall’s queen, His cowardly uncle’s bride.

Their loves, their woes, the gifted bard In fairy tissue wove; Where lords, and knights, and ladies bright, In gay confusion strove.

The Garde Joyeuse, amid the tale, High-rear’d its glittering head; And Avalon’s enchanted vale In all its wonders spread.

Brangwain was there, and Segramore, And fiend-born Merlin’s gramarye; Of that famed wizard’s mighty lore, O who could sing but he?

Through many a maze the winning song In changeful passion led, Till bent at length the listening throng O’er Tristrem’s dying bed.

His ancient wounds their scars expand, With agony his heart is wrung: O where is Isolde’s lily hand, And where her soothing tongue?

She comes! she comes!—like flash of flame Can lovers’ footsteps fly; She comes! She comes!—she only came To see her Tristrem die.

She saw him die; her latest sigh Joined in a kiss his parting breath; The gentlest pair, that Britain bare, United are in death.

Then paused the harp: its lingering sound Died slowly on the ear; The silent guests still bent around, For still they seem’d to hear.

Then wo broke forth in murmurs weak: Nor ladies heaved alone the sigh: But, half ashamed, the rugged cheek Did many a gauntlet dry.

On Leader’s stream, and Learmont’s tower, The mists of evening close; In camp, in castle, or in bower, Each warrior sought repose.

Lord Douglas, in his lofty tent, Dream’d o’er the woful tale: When footsteps light across the bent The warrior’s ears assail.

He starts, he wakes;—“What, Richard, ho! Arise, my page, arise! What venturous wight, at dead of night, Dare step where Douglas lies!”—

Then forth they rush’d; by Leader’s tide, A selcouth sight they see— A hart and hind pace side by side, As white as snow on Fairnalie.

Beneath the moon, with gesture proud, They stately move and slow; Nor scare they at the gathering crowd, Who marvel as they go.

To Learmont’s tower a message sped, As fast as page might run; And Thomas started from his bed, And soon his clothes did on.

First he woxe pale, and then woxe red; Never a word he spake but three;— “My sand is run; my thread is spun; This sign regardeth me.”

The elfin harp his neck around, In minstrel guise, he hung: And on the wind, in doleful sound, Its dying accents rung.

Then forth he went; yet turn’d him oft To view his ancient hall: On the gray tower, in lustre soft, The autumn moonbeams fall;

And Leader’s waves, like silver sheen, Danced shimmering in the ray; In deepening mass, at distance seen, Broad Soltra’s mountains lay.

“Farewell, my father’s ancient tower! A long farewell,” said he: “The scene of pleasure, pomp, or power, Thou never more shalt be.

“To Learmont’s name no foot of earth Shall here again belong, And on thy hospitable hearth The hare shall leave her young.

“Adieu! adieu!” again he cried, All as he turn’d him roun’— “Farewell to Leader’s silver tide! Farewell to Ercildoune!”

The hart and hind approach’d the place, As lingering yet he stood; And there, before Lord Douglas’ face, With them he cross’d the flood.

Lord Douglas leap’d on his berry-brown steed, And spurred him the Leader o’er; But though he rode with lightning speed, He never saw them more.

Some said to hill, and some to glen, Their wond’rous course had been; But ne’er in haunts of living men Again was Thomas seen.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

KILMENY.