Untouched, the harp began to ring, And by the watch-fire's glimmering light, All dropping wet her garments seem; She wrung the moisture from her hair. With maiden blush she softly said, With her a chief in Highland pride; Far on the wind his tartans flow?" "And who art thou? and who are they?" "Where wild Loch Katrine pours her tide To chase the dun Glenfinlas deer, Our woodland course this morn we bore, And haply met, while wandering here, O aid me, then, to seek the pair, Whom, loitering in the woods, I lost; Alone, I dare not venture there, Where walks, they say, the shrieking ghost." 'Yes, many a shrieking ghost walks there; Then first, my own sad vow to keep, Here will I pour my midnight prayer, Which still must rise when mortals sleep." "O first, for pity's gentle sake, Guide a lone wanderer on her way! For I must cross the haunted brake, And reach my father's towers ere day." "First, three times tell each Ave bead, Then kiss with me the holy reed; "O shame to knighthood, strange and foul! Not so, by high Dunlathman's fire, Wild stared the Minstrel's eyes of flame, "And thou, when by the blazing oak Not thine a race of mortal blood, He muttered thrice St. Oran's rhyme, And, bending o'er his harp, he flung Tall waxed the Spirit's altering form, Rain beats, hail rattles, whirlwinds tear: But not a lock of Moy's loose hair Wild mingling with the howling gale, The voice of thunder shook the wood, Next, dropped from high a mangled arm; Oft o'er that head, in battling field, Streamed the proud crest of high Benmore; Woe to Moneira's sullen rills! Woe to Glenfinlas' dreary glen! E'en the tired pilgrim's burning feet And we-behind the chieftain's shield, O hone a rie'! O hone a rie'! The pride of Albin's line is o'er, THE EVE OF ST. JOHN. SMAYLHO'ME, or Smallholm Tower, the scene of the following ballad, is situated on the northern boundary of Roxburghshire, among a cluster of wild rocks, called Sandiknow-Crags. The tower is a high square building, surrounded by an outer wall, now ruinous. The circuit of the outer court, being defended, on three sides, by a precipice and morass, is accessible only from the west, by a steep and rocky path. The apartments, as is usual in a Border keep, or fortress, are placed one above another, and communicate by a narrow stair. On the roof are two bartizans, or platforms, for defence or pleasure. The inner door of the tower is wood, the outer an iron gate; the distance between them being nine feet, the thickness, namely, of the wall. From the elevated situation of Smaylho'me Tower, it is seen many miles in every direction. Among the crags by which it is surrounded, one, more eminent, is called the Watch Brother fold, and is said to have been the station of a beacon, in the times of war THE Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day, Without stop or stay, down the rocky way He went not with the bold Buccleuch, He went not 'gainst the English yew, Yet his plate-jack was braced, and his helmet And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore ; At his saddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe, The Baron returned in three days' space, He came not from where Ancram Moor Where the Douglas true, and the bold Buccleuch, Yet was his helmet hacked and hewed, His acton pierced and tore; His axe and his dagger with blood imbrued, But it was not English gore. He lighted at the Chapellage, And he whistled thrice for his little foot-page, His name was English Will. "Come thou hither, my little foot-page; Thou art young, and tender of age, I think thou art true to me. Come, tell me all that thou hast seen, And look thou tell me true! Since I from Smaylho'me tower have been, What did thy lady do?" "My lady, each night, sought the lonely light, For, from height to height, the beacons bright The bittern clamoured from the moss, I watched her steps, and silent came No watchman stood by the dreary flame; The second night I kept her in sight, And, by Mary's might! an armèd Knight And many a word that warlike lord Did speak to my lady there; But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, The third night there the sky was fair, As again I watched the secret pair, And I heard her name the midnight hour, And name this holy eve; And say, 'Come this night to thy lady's bower, He lifts his spear with the bold Buccleuch; The door she'll undo to her knight so true, 'I cannot come; I must not come; I dare not come to thee; On the eve of St. John I must wander alone: may not be.' 'Now, out on thee, faint-hearted knight ! For the eve is sweet, and when lovers meet, And I'll chain the blood-hound, and the warder And rushes shall be strewed on the stair; So by the black rood-stone, and by holy St. John, "Though the blood-hound be mute, and the rush And the warder his bugle should not blow, Yet there sleepeth a priest in the chamber to the east, And my footstep he would know.' |