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« And who art thou, thou Gray Brother,

| along the Eske, which is there joined by its sister stream That I should shrive to thee,

of the same name. When be, to whom are given the keys of earth and

Note heaven,

Stanza xviii.

7.

And classic llawthornden. Has no power to pardon me?»

Hawthornden, the residence of the poet Drumond. «O I am sent from a distant clime,

A house of more modern date is ciclosed, as it were, Five thousand miles away,

by the ruins of the ancient castle, and ove angs a treAnd all to absolve a foul, foul crime,

mendous precipice, upon the banks of the Eske, perDone here 'twixt night and day.”

forated by winding caves, which, in former times,

formed a refuge to the oppressed patriots of Scotland. The pilgrim kneeld him on the sand,

Here Drummond received Ben Jonson, who journeyed And thus began his saye

from London, on foot, in order to visit him. The When on his neck an ice-cold hand

beauty of this striking scene has been much injured, Did that Gray Brother laye.

of late years, by the indiscriminate use of the axe. The traveller now looks in vain for the leafy bower,

Where Jonson sate in Drummond's social shade.

Upon the whole, tracing the Eske from its source, NOTES.

till it joins the sea, at Musselburgh, no stream in Scotland can boast such a varied succession of the most in

teresting objects, as well as of the most romantic and Note 1. Stan za xvii.

beautiful scenery.
From that fair dome, where suit is paid

By blast of bagle free.
The barony of Pennycuik, the property of Sir George
Clerk, Bart., is held by a singular tenure; the proprietor

THE FIRE-KING. being bound to sit upon a large rocky fragment, called The blessings of the evil Genii, which are curses, were upon him. the Buckstave, and wind three blasts of a horn, when

Eastern Tale. the king shall come to hunt on the Borough Muir, near Edinburgh. Hence, the family have adopted, as their This ballad was written at the request of Mr Lewis, crest, a demi-forester proper, winding a horn, with the to be inserted in his Tales of Wonder. It is the third molto, Free for a Blast. The beautiful mansion-house in a series of four ballads, on the subject of Elementary of Pennycuik is much admired, both on account of the Spirits. The story is, however, partly historical; for it architecture and surrounding scenery.

is recorded, that, during the struggles of the Latin Note 2. Stanza xvii.

kingdom of Jerusalem, a Knight Templar, called Saint To Aachondinay's hazel glade.

Alban, deserted to the Saracens, and defeated the

christians in Auchendinny, situated upon the Eske, below Penny

many combats, till he was finally routed cuik, the present residence of the ingenious H. Mac- and slain, in a conflict with King Baldwin, under the

walls of Jerusalem. kenzie, Esq. author of The Man of Feeling, etc.

Note 3. Stanza xvii.
And baunted Woodhouselee.

Bold knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear, For the traditions connected with this ruinous man

Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear; sion, see Notes to the ballad of Cadyow Castle, p. 451.

And you haply may sigh, in the midst of your glee,

At the tale of Count Albert, and fair Rosalie.
Note 4. Stanza xviii.
Who knows not Melville's beechy grove.

O see you that castle, so strong and so high?
Melville Castle, the seat of the honourable Robert And see you that lady, the tear in her eye?
Dundas, member for the county of Mid-Lothian, is de- and see you that palmer from Palestine's land,
lightfully situated upon the Eske, near Lasswade. It The shell on his hat, and the staff in his land ?-
gives the title of viscount to his father, Lord Melville.
Note 5. Stanza xviii.

« Now palmer, gray palmer, 0 tell unto me, And Roslin's rocky glen.

What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie? The ruins of Roslin Castle, the baronial residence of And how goes the warfare by Galilee's strand ? the ancient family of Saint Clair. The Gothic chapel, And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land ?» which is still in beautiful preservation, with the roman

« () well goes the warfare by Galilee's wave, tic and woody dell in which they are situated, belong to the right honourable the Earl of Rosslyn, the repre

For Gilead, and Nablous, and Ramah we have;

And well fare our nobles by Mount Lebanon, sentative of the former lords of Roslin.

For the heathen have lost, and the christians have won..
Notc 6. Stanza xviii.
Dalkeith, which all the virtues lovo.

A fair chain of gold mid her ringlets there hung : The village and castle of Dalkeith belonged, of old, O'er the palmer's gray locks the fair chain has she flung: to the famous Earl of Morton, but is now the residence « () palmer, gray palmer, this chain be thy fee, of ihc noble family of Buccleuch, The park extends For the news thou hast brought from the Holy Coun

trie.

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« And palmer, good palmer, by Galilee's wave, The priests they erase it with care and with pain, O saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave?

And the recreant return'd to the cavern again; When the Crescent went back, and the Red-cross rush'd But, as he descended, a whisper there fell, on,

It was his good angel, who bade him farewell! O saw ye him foremost on Mount Lebanon ?»—

High bristled his hair, his heart flutter'd and beat, O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows ;

And he turn'd him five steps, half resolved to retreat; O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows;

But his heart it was harden'd, his purpose was gone, Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on high; When he thought of the maiden of fair Lebanon. But lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die.

Scarce pass'd he the archway, the threshold scarce trod, « The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls, When the winds from the four points of heaven were It leaves of your castle but levin-scorch'd walls;

abroad: The pure stream runs muddy; the gay hope is gone;

They made each steel portal to rattle and ring, Count Albert is prisoner on Mount Lebanon.»

And, borne on the blast, came the dread Fire-King.

Full sore rock'd the cavern whene'er he drew nigh, 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; In volcanic explosions the mountains proclaims

The fire on the altar blazed bickering and high; And she has ta'en shipping for Palestine's land,

The dreadful approach of the monarch of flame. To ransom Count Albert from Soldanrie's hand.

Unmeasured in height, undistinguish'd in form, Small thought had Count Albert on fair Rosalie,

His breath it was lightning, his voice it was storm; Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood had he; I ween the stout heart of Count Albert was tame, A heathenish damsel his light heart had won,

When he saw in his terrors the monarch of flame. The Soldan's fair daughter of Mount Lebanon.

In his hand a broad falchion blue-glimmer'd through « Oh christian, brave christian, my love wouldst thou be, smoke, Three things must thou do ere I hearken to thee:

And Mount Lebanon shook as the monarch he spoke :Our laws and our worship on thee shalt thou take;

« With this brand shalt thou conquer, thus long, and And this thou shalt first do for Zulema's sake.

no more,

Till thou bend to the Cross, and the Virgin adore.» « And, next, in the cavern, where buras evermore

The cloud-shrouded arm gives the weapon; and, see! The mystical flame which the Kurdmans adore,

The recreant receives the charmed gift on his knec : Alone, and in silence, three nights shalt thou wake;

The thunders grow distant, and faint gleam the fires, And this thou shall next do for Zulema's sake.

As, borne on his whirlwind, the phantom retires.

« And, last, thou shalt aid us with counsel and hand, Count Albert has arm'd him the Paynim among,
To drive the Frank robber from Palestine's land; Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was strong;
For my lord and my love then Count Albert I'll take, And the Red-cross wax'd faint, and the Crescent came on,
When all this is accomplish'd for Zulema's sake.» From the day he commanded on Mount Lebanon.
He has thrown by his helmet and cross-handled sword, From Lebanon's forest to Galilee's wave,
Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord; The sands of Samaar drank the blood of the brave;
He bas ta en the green caftan, and turban put on, Till the Knights of the Temple, and Knights of St John,
For the love of the maiden of fair Lebanon.

With Salem's King Baldwin, against him came on.
And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground, The war-cymbals clatter'd, the trumpets replied,
Which fifty steel gates and steel portals surround, The lances were couch'd, and they closed on cach side;
He has watch'd unul day-break, but sight saw he none, And horsemen and horses Count Albert o'erthrew,
Save the flame burning bright on its altar of stone. Till he pierced the thick tumult King Baldwin unto.
Amazed was the princess, the Soldan amazed, Against the charm'd blade which Count Albert did wield,
Sore murmur'd the priests as on Albert they gazed; The fence had been vain of the king's Red-cross shield;
They searchi'd all his garments, and, under his weeds, But a page thrust him forward the monarch before,
They found, and took from him, his rosary beads. And cleft the proud turban the renegade wore.

Again in the cavern, deep deep under ground, So fell was the dint, that Count Albert stoop'd low He watch'd the lone night, while the winds whistled round; Before the cross'd shield, to his steel saddle-bow; Far off was their murmur, it came not more nigh, And scarce liad he bent to the Red-cross his head, The flame burn'd unmoved, and nought else did he spy. « Bonne grace, notre Dame,» he unwittingly said.

Loud murmur'd the priests, and amazed was the king, Sore sigh'd the charm'd sword, for its virtue was o'er, While many dark spells of their witchcraft they sing, It sprung from his grasp, and was never seen more ; They search'd Albert's body, and, lo! on his breast But true men have said, that the lightning's red wing Was the sign of the cross, by his father impress'd. Did waft back the brand to the dread Fire-King.

Wild she curs'd, and wild she pray'd ;

Seven long days and nights are o'er; Death in pity brought his aid,

As the village bell struck four.

He clench'd his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand;
lle stretch'd with one buffet that page on the strand;
As back from the stripling the broken casque roll'd,
You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold.
Short time bad 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 lauces in Saracen blood.
The Saracens, kurdmans, and Ishmaelites yield
To the scallop, the saltier, and croslelted shield;
And the eagles were gorged with the infidel dead,
From Bethsaida's fountains to Napthali's head.

Far from her, and far from France,

Faithless Frederick onward rides ; Marking, blythe, the morning's glance

Mandling o'er the mountain's sides.

Heard ye not the boding sound,

As the tongue of yonder tower, Slowly to the hills around,

Told the fourth, the fated hour?

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Hark! for now a solemn knell

Some account of him may be found in «Sully's MeFour times on the still night broke:

moirs,» who says he was called, Le Grand Veneur. At Four times, at its deaden'd swell,

one time he chose to hunt so near the palace, that the Echoes from the ruins spoke.

attendants, and, if I mistake not, Sully himself, came

out into the court, supposing it was the sound of the As the lengthiend clangors die,

king returning from the chase. is.'

This phantom' is elseSlowly opes the iron door;

where called Saint Hubert. Straight a banquet met his eye,

The superstition seems to have been very general, But a funeral's form it wore!

as appears from the following fine poetical description

of this phantom chase, as it was heard in the wilds of Coffins for the seats extend;

Ross-shire.
All with black the board was spread ;

Ere since, of old, the haughty thanes of Ross, -
Girt by parent, brother, friend,

So to the simple swain tradition tells, -
Long since number'd with the dead!

Were wont with clans, and ready vassals throng'd,
To wake thy bounding stag, or guilty wolf,

There oft is beard, at midnight, or at noon,
Alice in her grave-clothes bound,

Beginning faint, but rising still more loud,
Ghastly smiling, points a seat;

And nearer, voice of hunters, and of bounds,
All arose, with thundering sound;

And borns boar8e-winded, blowing far and keen :-
All the expected stranger greet.

Foribwith the hubbub multiplies; the sale
Labours with wilder sbrieks and rif dia

or bot pursuit; the broken cry of deer High their meagre arms they wave,

Mangled by throuling dogs; the shouts of men,
Wild their notes of welcome swell ;-

And hoofs thick beating on the bollow hill. « Welcome, traitor, to the grave!.

Sudden the cruing heifer in the vale

Starts at the noise, and both the herdsman's ears
Perjured, bid the light farewell !»

Tingle with inward dread. Aghast, he eyes
The mountain's height, and all the ridges round,
Yet
et not one trace of living wight discerns;

Nor knows, o'erawed, and trembling as he stands,
THE WILD HUNTSMEN.

To what, or whom, be owes bis idle fear,
To ghost, to witch, to fairy, or to fiend ;

But wonders, and no end of wondering finds..
This is a translation, or rather an imitation, of the

Scottish Descriptive Poems, pp. 167, 168. Wilde Jager of the German poet Bürger. The tradition

A posthumous miracle of Father Lesly, a Scottish upon which it is founded bears, that formerly a Wild-capuchin, related to his being buried on a hill haunted grave, or keeper of a royal forest, named Falkenbury, by these unearthily cries of hounds and huntsmen. was so much addicted to the pleasures of the chase, After his sainted reliques had been deposited there, the and otherwise so extremely profligate and cruel, that

voise was never heard more. The reader will find he not only followed this unhallowed amusement on

this, and other miracles, recorded in the life of the Sabbath, and other days consecrated to religious Father Bonaventura, which is written in the choicest duty, but accompanied it with the most unbeard-of

Italian, oppression upon the poor peasants who were under his vassalage. When this second Nimrod died, the people adopted a superstition, founded probably on the many

The Wildgrave winds his bugle horn, various uncouth sounds heard in the depth of a German

To horse, io horse! balloo, halloo! forest, during the silence of the night. They conceived

His fiery courser snuffs the morn, they still heard the cry of the Wildgrave's hounds; and

And thronging serfs their lord pursue. the well-known cheer of the deccased hunter, the sound of his horse's feet, and the rustling of the

The eager pack, from couples freed, branches before the game, the pack, and the sports

Dash through the bush, the briar, the brake; men, are also distinctly discriminated; but the phan

While answering hound, and horn, and steed, toms are rarely, if ever, visible. Once, as a beniglited

The mountain echoes startling wako. chasseur heard this infernal clase pass by him, at the sound of the halloo, with which the spectre Huntsman

The beams of God's own hallow'd day cheered his hounds, he could not refrain from crying, « Gluck zu, Falkenburg!» (Good sport to ye, Falken

Had painted yonder spire with gold, burg!) « Dost thou wisla me good sport?» answered a

And, calling sinful man to pray, hoarse voice; «thou shalt share the game;» and there Loud, long, and deep the bell had tolld: was thrown at him what seemed to be a huge piece of foul carrion. The daring chasseur lost two of best But still the Wildgrave onward rides; horses soon after, and never perfectly recovered the Halloo, halloo! and hark again! personal effects of this ghostly greeting. This tale, When, spurring from opposing sides, though told with some variations, is universally be Two Stranger forsemen join the train. lieved all over Germany.

The French had a similar tradition concerning an Who was each Stranger. left and right, aerial hunter, who infested the forest of Fontainebleau. Well may I guess, but dare not tell; He was sometimes visible; when he appeared as a The right-hand steed was silver white, huntsman, surrounded with dogs, a tall grisly figure. The left, the swarthy hue of hell.

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