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Not only had the regent notice of the intended his barn. After he came in, he halted a little, attempt upon his life, but even of the very house leaning upon a chair-back, with his face covered; from which it was threatened.
when he lifted up his head, he said, “There are With that infatuation, at which men wonder af- in this house that I have not one word of salvation ter such events have happened, he deemed it would unto;' he halted a little again, saying, “ This is be a sufficient precaution to ride briskly past the strange, that the devil will not go out, that we dangerous spot. But even this was prevented by may begin our work! Then there was a woman the crowd: so that Bothwellhaugh had time to went out, ill looked upon almost all her life, and take a deliberate aim.-Spottiswoode, p. 233. Bu- to her dying hour, for a witch, with many prechanan.
sumptions of the same. It escaped me, in the former passages, that John Muirhead (whom I
have often mentioned) told me, that when he THE GRAY BROTHER.
came from Ireland to Galloway, he was at family
worship, and giving some notes upon the Seripture, Tar imperfect state of this ballad, which was when a very ill looking man came, and sat down written several years ago, is not a circumstance within the door, at the back of the hallan: (paraffected for the purpose of giving it that peculiar tition of the cottage:) immediately he halted, and interest, which is often found to arise from ungra- said, "There is some unhappy body just now come tified curiosity. On the contrary, it was the au- into this house. I charge him to go out, and not thor's intention to have completed the tale, if he stop my mouth.' The person went out, and he had found himself able to succeed to his own satis- insisted, (went on,) yet he saw him neither come faction. Yielding to the opinion of persons, whose in nor go out.”—The Life and Prophecies of Mr. judgment, if not biassed by the partiality of friend- Alexander Peden, late Minister of the Gospel a: ship, is entitled to deference, the author has pre- New Glenluce, in Galloway, part ii, section 2. ferred inserting these verses, as a fragment, to his intention of entirely suppressing them.
The pope he was saying the high, high mass, The tradition, upon which the tale is founded, All on saint Peter's day, regards a house, upon the barony of Gilmerton, With the power to him given, by the saints in Dear Lasswade, in Mid-Lothian. This building, now heaven, called Gilmerton-Grange, was originally named To wash men's sins away. Burndale, from the following tragic adventure. The pope he was saying the blessed mass, The barony of Gilmerton belonged, of yore, to a
And the people kneeled around; gentleman, named Heron, who had one beautiful And from each man's soul his sins did pass, daughter. This young lady was seduced by the
As he kissed the holy ground. abbot of Newbottle, & richly endowed abbey, upon the banks of the South Esk, now a seat of the And all, among the crowded throng, marquis of Lothian. Heron came to the knowledge
Was still, both limb and tongue, of this circumstance, and learned, also, that the While through vaulted roof, and aisles aloof, lovers carried on their guilty intercourse by the
The holy accents rung. connivance of the lady's nurse, who lived at this At the holiest word he quivered for fear, house, of Gilmerton-Grange, or Burndale. He form- And faltered in the sound; ed a resolution of bloody vengeance, undeterred And, when he would the chalice rear, by the supposed sanctity of the clerical character, He dropped it on the ground. or by the stronger claims of natural affection.
“ The breath of one, of evil deed, Choosing, therefore, a dark and windy night, when
Pollutes our sacred day; the objects of his vengeance were engaged in a stolen interview, he set fire to a stack of dried He has no portion in our creed, thorns, and other combustibles, which he had
No part in what I say. caused to be piled against the house, and reduced " A being, whom no blessed word to a pile of glowing ashes the dwelling, with all To ghostly peace can bring; its inmates.
A wretch, at whose approach abhorred, The scene, with which the ballad opens, was Recoils each holy thing. suggested by the following curious passage, ex
Up, up, unhappy! haste, arise! tracted from the life of Alexander Peden, one of the wandering and persecuted teachers of the sect 1 charge thee not to stop my voice,
My adjuration fear! of Cameronians, during the reign of Charles II,
Nor longer tarry here!” and his successor, James. This person was supposed by his followers, and, perhaps, really be- Amid them all a pilgrim kneeled, lieved himself, to be possessed of supernatural
In gown of sackcloth gray; gifts; for the wild scenes, which they frequented, Far journeying from his native field, and the constant dangers, which were incurred
He first saw Rome that day. through their proscription, deepened upon their for forty days and nights so drear, minds the gloom of superstition, so general in that I ween, he had not spoke, age.
And, save with bread and water clear, “ About the same time he (Peden) came to An- His fast he ne'er had broke. drew Normand's house, in the parish of Alloway, Amid the penitential flock, in the shire of Ayr, being to preach at night in
Seemed none more bent to pray; This tradition was communicated to me by John But, when the holy father spoke, Clerk, esq. of Eldin, author of an Essay upon Naval Tac- He rose, and went his way. tics; who will be remembered by posterity, as having taught the genius of Britain to concentrate her
thunders, Again unto his native land, and to lanch them against her foes with an unerring aim. His weary course he drew,
To Lothian's fair and fertile strand,
“I comc not from the shrine of saint James the And Pentland's mountains blue.
divine, His upblest feet his native seat,
Nor bring relics from over the sea; Mid Eske's fair woods, regain;
I bring but a curse from our father, the pope, 'Through woods more fair no stream more sweet
Which for ever will cling to me." Rolls to the eastern main.
“Now, woful pilgrim, say not so! And lords to meet the pilgrim came,
But kneel thee down by me, And vassals bent the knee;
And shrive thee so clean of thy deadly sin, For all 'mid Scotland's chiefs of fame,
That absolved thou may'st be.” Was none more famed than he.
“And who art thou, thou gray brother, And boldly for his country still,
That I should shrive to thee, In battle he had stood,
When he, to whom are given the keys of earth
and heaven, Ay, even when, on the banks of Till, Her noblest poured their blood.
Has no power to pardon me?" Sweet are the paths, 0, passing sweet!
“O I am sent from a distant clime, By Eske's fair streams that run,
Five thousand miles away, O’er airy steep, through copse-wood deep,
And all to absolve a foul, foul crime, Impervious to the sun.
Done here 'twixt night and day: There the rapt poet's step may rove,
The pilgrim kneeled him on the sand, And yield the muse the day;
And thus began his sayeThere Beauty, led by timid Love,
When on his neck an ice-cold hand May shun the tell-tale ray:
Did that Gray Brother laye.
By blast of bugle free,
1. From that fair dome, where suit is paid
By blast of bugle free.-P. 411. Who knows not Melville's beechy grove,
The barony of Pennycuik, the property of sir And Roslin's rocky glen,5
George Clerk, bart., is held by a singular tenure; Dalkeith, which all the virtues love, 6
the proprietor being bound to sit upon a large And classic Hawthornden??
rocky fragment, called the Buckstane, and wind Yet never a path, from day to day,
three blasts of a horn, when the king shall come The pilgrim's footsteps range,
to nunt on the Borough Muir, near Edinburgh. Save but the solitary way
Hence, the family have adopted, as their crest, To Burndale's ruined Grange.
a demi-forester proper, winding a horn, with the A woful place was that, I ween,
motto, Free for a Blast. The beautiful mansion
house of Pennycuik is much admired, both on acAs sorrow could desire;
count of the architecture and surrounding scenery. For, nodding to the fall was each crumbling wall, And the roof was scathed with fire.
2. To Auchendinny's hazel glade.-P. 411. It fell upon a summer's eve,
Auchendinny, situated upon the Eske, below While, on Carnethy's head,
Pennycuik, the present residence of the ingenious The last faint gleams of the sun's low beams
H. Mackenzie, esq. author of The Man of Feeling,
&c. Had streaked the gray with red;
3. And haunted Woodhouselee.-P And the convent bell did vespers tell,
For the traditions connected with this ruinous Newbottle's oaks among,
mansion, see Notes to the ballad of Cadyow Car And mingled with the solemn knell
tle, p. 409. Our ladye's evening song;
4. Who knows not Melville's beechy grove.-P. 411. The heavy knell, the choir's faint swell,
Melville castle, the seat of the honourable RoCame slowly down the wind,
bert Dundas, member for the county of Mid-LoAnd on the pilgrim's ear they fell,
thian, is deligh:fully situated upon the Eske, near As his wonted path he did find.
Lasswade. It gives the title of viscount to his faDeep sunk in thought, I ween, he was,
ther, lord Melville. Nor ever raised his eye,
5. And Roslin's rocky glen.-P. 411. Until he came to that dreary place,
The ruins of Rosliu castle, the baronial residence Which did all in ruins lie.
of the ancient family of St. Clair. The Gothic He gazed on the wall, so scathed with fire,
chapel, which is still in beautiful preservation, With many a bitter groan;
with the romantic and woody dell, in which they And there was aware of a gray friar,
are situated, belong to the right honourable the Resting him on a stone.
earl of Rosslyn, the representative of the former
lords of Roslin. “Now, Christ thee save!” said the Gray Brother;
6. Dalkeith, which all the virtues love.-P. 411. “ Some pilgrim thou seemest to be.
The village and castle of Dalkeith belonged, of But in sore amaze did lord Albert gaze,
old, to the famous earl of Morton, but is now the Nor answer again made he.
residence of the noble family of Buccleuch. The “O come ye from east, or come ye from west, park extends along the Eske, which is there joined Or bring relics from over the sea,
by its sister stream of the same name. Or come ye from the shrine of St. Jaines the divine, 7. And classic Hawthornden.-P. 411. Or saint Johu of Beverley?”
Hawthornden, the residence of the poet Drum
mond. A house of more modern date is enclosed, The pure stream runs muddy; the gay hope is gone; as it were, by the ruins of the ancient castle, and Count Albert is prisoner on mount Lebanon.” overhangs a tremendous precipice, upon the banks o she's ta'en a horse, should be fleet at her speed; of the Eske, perforated by winding caves, which, And she's ta'en a sword, should be sharp at her in former times, formed a refuge to the oppressed
need; patriots of Scotland. Here Drummond received And she has ta'en shipping for Palestine's land, Ben Jonson, who journeyed from London, on foot, To rapsom count Albert from Soldaprie's hand. in order to visit him. The beauty of this striking scene has been much injured, of late years, by the Small thought had count Albert on fair Rosalie, indiscriminate use of the axe. The traveller now Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood had he; looks in vain for the leafy bower,
A heathenish damsel his light heart had won, “Where Jonson sate in Drummond's social shade,"
The Soldan's fair daughter of Mount Lebanon. Upon the whole, tracing the Eske from its “O christian, brave christian, my love wouldst source, till it joins the sea, at Musselburgh, no thou be, stream in Scotland can boast such a varied succes- Three things must thou do ere I hearken to thee; sion of the most interesting objects, as well as of Our laws and our worship on thee shalt thou take; the most romantic and beautiful scenery. And this thou shalt first do for Zulema's sake. THE FIRE KING.
" And, next, in the cavern, where burns evermore
The mystical flame which the Kurdmans adore “ The blessings of the evil genii, which are curses, were
Alone, and in silence, three nights shalt thou wake; upon him.” This ballad was written at the request of Mr. And this thou shalt next do för Zulema's sake. Lewis, to be inserted in his Tales of Woniler. It
“ And, last, thou shalt aid us with counsel and is the third in a series of four ballads, on the sub
hand, ject of Elementary Spirits. The story is, however, To drive the Frank robber from Palestine's land; partly historical; for it is recorded, that, during for my lord and my love then count Albert I'll take, the struggles of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, When all this is accomplished for Zulema's sake." a knight templar, called saint Alban, deserted to He has thrown by his helmet and cross-handled the Şaracens, and defeated the christians in many sword, combats, till he was finally routed and slain, in a Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord; conflict with king Baldwin, under the walls of Je- He has ta’en the green caftan, and turban put on, rusalem,
For the love of the maiden of fair Lebanon. Bold knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear, which fifty steel gates and steel portals surround,
And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground, Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear;
He has watched until daybreak, but sight saw he And you haply may sigh, in the midst of your glee,
none, At the tale of count Albert, and fair Rosalie.
Save the flame burning bright on its altar of stone. O see you that castle, so strong and so high?
Amazed was the princess, the Soldan amazed, And see you that lady, the tear in her eye?
Sore murmured the priests as on Albert they And see you that palmer from Palestine’s land,
gazed; The shell on his hat, and the staff in his hand?
They searched all his garments, and, under his “Now palmer, gray palmer, O tell unto me,
weeds, What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie? They found, and took from him, his rosary beads. And how goes the warfare by Galilee's strand? And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land?” He watched the lone night, while the winds whis
Again in the cavern, deep deep under ground, “ well goes the warfare by Galilee's wave,
tled round; For Gilead, and Nablous, and Ramah we have; Far off was their murmur, it came not more nigh, And well fare our nobles by Mount Lebanon, The flame burned unmoved, and nought else did be For the heathen have lost, and the christians have
Loud murmured the priests, and amazed was the A fair chain of gold mid her ringlets there hung: king, O’er the palmer's gray locks the fair chain has she While many dark spells of their witclicraft they flung;
sing; “O palmer, gray palmer, this chain be thy fee, They searched Albert's body, and, lo! on his breast For the news thou hast brought from the Holy Was the sign of the cross, by his father impressed. Countrie.
The priests they erase it with care and with pain, “ And palmer, good palmer, by Galilee's wave, And the recreant returned to the cavera again; O saw ye count Albert, the gentle and brave?
But, as he descended, a whisper there fell, When the crescent went back, and the red-cross It was his good angel, who bade him farewell!
rushed on, O saw ye him foremost on Mount Lebanon?”
High bristled his hair, his heart fluttered and beat,
And he turned him five steps, half resolved to re“O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows;
treat; O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows: But his heart it was hardened, his purpose was Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on
When he thought of the maiden of fair Lebanon. But lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die,
Scarce passed he the archway, the threshold searce “ The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt trod, falls,
When the winds from the four points of heares It leaves of your castle but levin-scorched walls; were abroad;
They made each steel portal to rattle and ring, For down came the templars, like Cedron in flood,
slain? When he saw in his terrors the monarch of fame. And who is yon page lying cold at his knee? In bis hand a broad falchion blue glimmered thro' Oh, who but count Albert and fair Rosalie. smoke,
The lady was buried in Salem's blessed bound, And Mount Lebanon shook as the monarch he The count he was left to the vulture and hound: spoke:
Her soul to high mercy our lady did bring; “ With this brand shalt thou conquer, thus long, His went on the blast to the dread Fire-King.
and no more, Till thou bend to the cross, and the virgin adore.” How the red-cross it conquered, the
crescent it fell;
Yet many a minstrel, in harping, can tell, The cloud-shrouded arm gives the weapon; and, And lords and gay ladies have sighed, mid their see!
glee, The recreant receives the charmed gift on his At the tale of count Albert and fair Rosalie.
knee: The thunders grow distant, and faint gleam the
FREDERICK AND ALICE. fires, As, borne on his whirlwind, the phantom retires. from a fragment introduced in Gæthe’s Claudi
Turs tale is imitated, rather than translated, Count Albert has armed him the pay nim among, na von Villa Bella, where it is sung by a member Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was of a gang of banditti, to engage the attention of the strong;
family, while his companions break into the casAnd the red-cross waxed faint, and the crescent tle. It owes any little merit it may possess to my came on,
friend Mr. Lewis, to whom it was sent in an exFrom the day he commanded on Mount Lebanon. tremely rude state; and who, after some material From Lebanon's forest to Galilee's wave, improvements, published it in bis Tales of WonThe sands of Samaar drank the blood of the brave; der. Till the knights of the temple, and knights of St. John,
FREDERICK leaves the land of France, With Salem's king Baldwin, against him came on.
Homeward hastes his steps to measure,
Careless casts the parting glance The war-cymbals clattered, the trumpets replied,
On the scene of former pleasure.
Joying in his prancing steed,
Over mountain, moor, and glade.
Helpless, ruined, left forlorn, wield,
Lovely Alice wept alone; The fence had been vain of the king's red-cross Mourned o'er love's fond contract torn, shield;
Hope, and peace, and honour flown. But a page thrust him forward the monarch be
Mark her breast's convulsive throbs! fore, And cleft the proud turban the renegade wore.
See, the tear of anguish flows!
Mingling soon with bursting sobs,
Loud the laugh of frenzy rose.
Death in pity brought his aid,
As the village bell struck four. o'er, It sprung from his grasp, and was never seen more:
Far from her, and far from France, But true men have said, that the lightning's red
Faithless Frederick onward rides; wing
Marking, blith, the morning's glance Did waft back the brand to the dread Fire-King.
Mantling o'er the mountain's sides. He clench'd his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand;
Heard ye not the boding sound,
As the tongue of yonder tower, He stretched, with one buffet, that page on the
Slowly, to the hills around, strand;
Told the fourth, the fated hour? As back from the stripling the broken casque rolled,
Starts the steed, and snuffs the air,
Yet no cause of dread appears; You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold.
Bristles high the rider's hair,
Struck with strange mysterious fears.
In the steed the spur he hides:
From himself in vain he flies;
When this second Nimrod died, the people adoptAnxious, restless, on he rides.
ed a superstition, founded probably on the many
various uncouth sounds heard in the depth of a Seven long days, and seven long nights,
German forest, during the silence of the night Wild he wandered, wo the while!
They conceived they still heard the cry of the Ceaseless care, and causeless frights,
wildgrave's hounds; and the well-known eheer of Urge his footsteps many a mile.
the deceased hunter, the sound of his horse's feet, Dark the seventh sad night descends; and the rustling of the branches before the game,
Rivers swell, and raid-streams pour! the pack, and the sportsmen, are also distinctly While the deafening thunder lends
discriminated; but the phantoms are rarely, if All the terrors of its roar.
ever, visible. Once, as a benighted chasseur heard Weary, wet, and spent with toil,
this infernal chase pass by him, at the sound of the Where his head shall Frederick hide? halloo, with which the spectre Huntsman cheered Where, but in yon ruined aisle,
his hounds, he could not refrain from crying, By the lightning's flash descried.
“ Głuck zu, Falkenburg!” (Good sport to çe,
Falkenburg!) “ Dost thou wish me good sport?" To the portal, dank and low,
answered å hoarse voice; “thou shalt share the Fast his steed the wanderer bound;
game;" and there was thrown at him what seemed Down a ruined staircase slow,
to be a huge piece of foul carrion. The daring Next his darkling way he wound.
chasseur lost two of his best horses soon after, and Long drear vaults before him lie!
never perfectly recovered the personal effects of Glimmering lights are seen to glide! this ghostly greeting. This tale, though told with “ Blessed Mary, hear my cry!
some variation, is universally believed all over Deign a sinner's steps to guide!”
The French had a similar tradition concerning Often lost their quivering beam, Still the lights move slow before,
an aerial hunter, who infested the forest of Fone Till they rest their ghastly gleam
tainebleau. He was sometimes visible; when he Right against an iron door.
appeared as a huntsman, surrounded with dogs, a
tall grisly figure. Some account of him may be Thundering voices from within,
found in “Sully's Memoirs,” who says he was Mixed with peals of laughter, rose; called, Le Grand Veneur. At one time he chose As they fell, a solemn strain
to hunt so near the palace, that the attendants, and, Lent its wild and wond'rous close!
if I mistake not, Sully himself, came out into the Midst the din, he seemed to hear
court, supposing it was the sound of the king reVoice of friends, by death removed;
turning from the chase. This phantom is elseWell he knew that solemn air,
where called saint Hubert. 'Twas the lay that Alice loved.
The superstition seems to have been very ge. Hark! for now a solemn knell
neral, as appears from the following fine poetical Four times on the still night broke;
description of this phantom chase, as it was heard
in the wilds of Ross-shire. Four times, at its deadened swell, Echoes from the ruins spoke.
« Ere since, of old, the haughty thanes of Ross,
So to the simple swain tradition tells,As the lengthened clangours die,
Were wont with clans, and ready vassals throng'd, Slowly opes the iron door!
To wake the bounding stag, or guilty wolf,
There oft is heard, at midnight, or at noon, Straight a banquet met his eye,
Beginning faint, but rising still more loud, But a funeral's form it wore!
And nearer, voice of hunters, and of hounds, Coffins for the seats extend;
And horns hoarse-winded, blowing far and keen:All with black the board was spread;
Forthwith the hubbub multiplies; the gale
Labours with wilder shrieks and rifer din Girt by parent, brother, friend,
Of hot pursuit; the broken cry of deer Long since numbered with the dead!
Mangled by throttling dogs; the shouts of men,
And hoofs thick beating on the hollow hill. Alice, in her grave-clothes bound,
Sudden the grazing heifer in the vale Ghastly smiling, points a seat;
Starts at the noise, and both the herdsman's ears All arose, with thundering sound;
Tingle with inward dread. Aghast, he eyes All the expected stranger greet.
The mountain's height, and all the ridges round,
Yet not one trace of living wight discerns; High their meagre arms they wave,
Nor knows, o'erawed, and trembling as he stands, Wild their notes of welcome swell;
To what, or whom, he owes his idle fiar,
To ghost, to witch, to fairy, or to fiend; “Welcome, traitor, to the grave!
But wonders, and no end of wondering finds." Perjured, bid the light farewell!”
Scottish Descriptive Poems, pp. 167, 168.
A posthumous miracle of father Lesly, a Scottish THE WILD HUNTSMEN.
capuchin, related to his being buried on a hill This is a translation, or rather an imitation, of haunted by these unearthly cries of hounds and the Wilde Jager of the German poet Bürger. The huntsmen. After his sainted relics had been detradition upon
which it is founded bears, that for-posited there, the noise was never heard more merly a wildgrave, or keeper of a royal forest, The reader will find this, and other miracles, renamed Falkenburg, was so much addicted to the corded in the life of father Bonaventura, which is pleasures of the chase, and otherwise so extremely written in the choicest Italian. profligate and cruel, that lie not only followed this unhallowed amusement on the Sabbath, and other The wildgrave winds his bugle horn, days consecrated to religious duty, but accompa- To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo! nied it with the most unheard-of oppression upon His fiery courser snuff's the morr, the poor peasants who were under his vassalage And thronging serfs their lord pursue.