The power who, now so mild a guest,
Gives dangerous yet delicious zest
To the calm pleasures of thy breast,
Will soon, a tyrant o'er the rest,

Let none his empire share.

V.

One morn, in kirtle green array'd, Deep in the wood the maiden stray'd,

*And, where a fountain sprung, She sate her down, unseen, to thread The scarlet berry's mimic braid,

And while the beads she strung, Like the blithe lark, whose carol gay Gives a good-morrow to the day, So lightsomely she sung.

VI.

Song.

Lord William was born in gilded bower,

The heir of Wilton's lofty tower;
Yet better loves Lord William now
To roam beneath wild Rookhope's
brow;

And William has lived where ladies fair
With gawds and jewels deck their hair,
Yet better loves the dewdrops still
That pearl the locks of Metelill,

"The pious Palmer loves, I wis,
Saint Cuthbert's hallow'd beads to kiss ;
But I, though simple girl I be,
Might have such homage paid to me;
For did Lord William see me suit
This necklace of the bramble's fruit,
He fain-but must not have his will-
Would kiss the beads of Metelill.

"My nurse has told me many a tale,
How vows of love are weak and frail;
My mother says that courtly youth
By rustic maid means seldom sooth.
What should they mean? it cannot be,
That such a warning's meant for me,
For nought-oh! nought of fraud or ill
Can William mean to Metelill!"

VII.

Sudden she stops-and starts to feel A weighty hand, a glove of steel,

Secured within his powerful hold,
To bend her knee, her hands to fold,
Was all the maiden might;
And "Oh! forgive," she faintly said,
"The terrors of a simple maid,

If thou art mortal wight!

But if of such strange tales are told-
Unearthly warrior of the wold,

Thou comest to chide mine accents bold,
My mother, Jutta, knows the spell,
At noon and midnight pleasing well
The disembodied ear;

Oh! let her powerful charms atone
For aught my rashness may have done,
And cease thy grasp of fear."
Then laugh'd the Knight—his laughter's
sound

Half in the hollow helmet drown'd;
His barred visor then he raised,
And steady on the maiden gazed.
He smooth'd his brows, as best he might,
To the dread calm of autumn night,

When sinks the tempest roar ;
Yet still the cautious fishers eye
The clouds, and fear the gloomy sky,
And haul their barks on shore.

IX.

"Damsel," he said, "be wise, and learn Matters of weight and deep concern: From distant realms I come, And, wanderer long, at length have plann'd

In this my native Northern land

To seek myself a home. Nor that alone a mate I seek; She must be gentle, soft, and meek,No lordly dame for me;

Myself am something rough of mood,
And feel the fire of royal blood,
And therefore do not hold it good

To match in my degree.
Then, since coy maidens say my face
Is harsh, my form devoid of grace,
For a fair lineage to provide,
'Tis meet that my selected bride
In lineaments be fair;

I love thine well-till now I ne'er
Look'd patient on a face of fear,
But now that tremulous sob and tear

Become thy beauty rare.

One kiss-nay, damsel, coy it not !—
And now go seek thy parents' cot,
And say, a bridegroom soon I come,
To woo my love, and bear her home."

Home

X.

the maid without a pause, sprung As leveret 'scaped from greyhound's jaws;

But still she lock'd, howe'er distress'd,
The secret in her boding breast;
Dreading her sire, who oft forbade
Her steps should stray to distant glade.
Night came to her accustomed nook
Her distaff aged Jutta took,

And by the lamp's imperfect glow, Rough Wulfstane trimm'd his shafts and bow.

Sudden and clamorous from the ground
Upstarted slumbering brach and hound;
Loud knocking next the lodge alarms,
And Wulfstane snatches at his arms,
When open flew the yielding door,
And that grim Warrior press'd the floor.

But as he scann'd, his courage sunk,
And from unequal strife he shrunk,
Then forth, to blight and blemish, flies
The harmful curse from Jutta's eyes;
Yet, fatal howsoe'er, the spell
On Harold innocently fell!
And disappointment and amaze
Were in the witch's wilder'd gaze.

XII.

But soon the wit of woman woke, And to the Warrior mild she spoke: "Her child was all too young."-"A toy,

The refuge of a maiden coy." Again, "A powerful baron's heir Claims in her heart an interest fair." "A trifle-whisper in his ear, That Harold is a suitor here!"Baffled at length she sought delay: "Would not the Knight till morning stay?

Late was the hour-he there might rest Till morn, their lodge's honour'd guest. Such were her words, her craft might

XIV.

Scarce was she gone, her dame and sire Upon each other bent their ire;

66

A woodsman thou, and hast a spear,
And couldst thou such an insult bear ?"
Sullen he said, "A man contends
With men, a witch with sprites and
fiends;

Not to mere mortal wight belong
Yon gloomy brow and frame so strong.
But thou-is this thy promise fair,
That your Lord William, wealthy heir
To Ulrick, Baron of Witton-le-Wear,
Should Metelill to altar bear?
Do all the spells thou boast'st as thine
Serve but to slay some peasant's kine,
His grain in autumn's storms to steep,
Or thorough fog and fen to sweep,
And hag-ride some poor rustic's sleep?
Is such mean mischief worth the fame
Of sorceress and witch's name?

Fame, which with all men's wish conspires,

With thy deserts and my desires,
To damn thy corpse to penal fires?
Out on thee, witch! aroint! aroint!
What now shall put thy schemes in joint?
What save this trusty arrow's point,
From the dark dingle when it flies,
And he who meets it gasps and dies."

XV.

Stern she replied, "I will not wage
War with thy folly or thy rage;
But ere the morrow's sun be low,
Wulfstane of Rookhope, thou shalt know,
If I can venge me on a fɔe.
Believe the while, that whatso'er
I spoke, in ire, of bow and spear,
It is not Harold's destiny
The death of pilfer'd deer to die.
But he, and thou, and yon pale moon,
(That shall be yet more pallid soon,
Before she sink behind the dell,)
Thou, she, and Harold too, shall tell
What Jutta knows of charm or spell."
Thus muttering, to the door she bent
Her wayward steps, and forth she went,
And left alone the moody sire,
To cherish or to slake his ire.

XVI.

Far faster than belong'd to age
Has Jutta made her pilgrimage.
A priest has met her as she pass'd,
And cross'd himself and stood aghast :
She traced a hamlet-not a cur

His throat would ope, his foot would stir;
By crouch, by trembling, and by groan,
They made her hated presence known!
But when she trode the sable fell,
Were wilder sounds her way to tell,—
For far was heard the fox's yell,
The black-cock waked and faintly crew,
Scream'do'er the moss the scared curlew;
Where o'er the cataract the oak

Lay slant, was heard the raven's croak;
The mountain-cat, which sought his prey,
Glared, scream'd, and started from her
way.

Such music cheer'd her journey lone To the deep dell and rocking stone: There, with unhallow'd hymn of praise, She call'd a God of heathen days.

XVII.

Invocation.

"From thy Pomeranian throne,
Hewn in rock of living stone,
Where, to thy godhead faithful yet,
Bend Esthonian, Finn, and Lett,
And their swords in vengeance whet,
That shall make thine altars wet,
Wet and red for ages more
With the Christian's hated gore,—
Hear me ! Sovereign of the Rock,
Hear me mighty Zernebock !

Mightiest of the mighty known, Here thy wonders have been shown; Hundred tribes in various tongue Oft have here thy praises sung; Down that stone with Runic seam'd, Hundred victims' blood hath stream'd! Now one woman comes alone, And but wets it with her own, The last, the feeblest of thy flock,Hear and be present, Zernebock! "Hark! he comes! the night-blast cold Wilder sweepers along the wold; The cloudless moon grows dark and dim, And bristling hair and quaking limb