He led the boy o'er bank and fell,
Until they came to a woodland brook;
The running stream dissolved the spell,
And his old elvish shape he took,
Could he have had his pleasure vilde,
He had crippled the joints of the noble child :
Or, with his fingers long and lean,
Had strangled him in fiendish spleen :
But his awful mother he had in dread,
And also his power was limited;
So he but scowled on the startled child,
And darted through the forest wild;
The woodland brook he bounding crossed,
And laughed, and shouted, Lost! lost! lost!"
Full sore amazed at the wonderous change,
And frightened, as a child might be,
At the wild yell, and visage strange,
And the dark words of gramarye,
The child, amidst the forest bower,
Stood rooted like a lilye flower;
And when at length, with trembling pace,
He sought to find where Branksome lay,
He feared to see that grisly face
Glare from some thicket on his way.
Thus, starting oft, he journeyed on,
And deeper in the wood is gone,-
For aye the more he sought his way,
The further still he went astray,
Until he heard the mountains round
Ring to the baying of a hound.
And hark! and hark! the deep-mouthed bark
Comes nigher still, and nigher;
Bursts on the path a dark blood-hound,
His tawny muzzle tracked the ground,
As his red eye shot fire.
Soon as the wildered child saw he,
He flew at him right furiouslie.
I ween you would have seen with joy
The bearing of the gallant boy,
When, worthy of his noble sire,
His wet cheek glowed 'twixt fear and ire!
He faced the blood-hound manfully,
And held his little bat on high;
So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid,
At cautious distance hoarsely bayed,
But still in act to spring;
When dashed an archer through the glade,
And when he saw the hound was stayed,
He drew his tough bow-string;
But a rough voice cried, 'Shoot not, hoy!
Ho! shoot not Edward-'tis a boy!'
The speaker issued from the wood,
And checked his fellow's surly mood,
And quelled the ban-dog's ire.
He would not do the fair child harm,
But held him with his powerful arm,
That he might neither fight nor flee;
For when the red cross spied he,
The boy strove long and violently.
'Now, by St. George,' the archer cries,
'Edward, methinks we have a prize!
This boy's fair face and courage free,
Shows he is come of high degree.'—
'Yes, I am come of high degree,
For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ; And, if thou dost not set me free,
False southron, thou shalt dearly rue!
For Walter of Harden shall come with speed,
And William of Deloraine, good at need,
And every Scot from Eske to Tweed;
And if thou dost not let me go,
Despite thy arrows, and thy bow,
I'll have thee hanged to feed the crow!'
'Gramercy, for thy good will, fair boy!
My mind was never set so high;
But if thou art chief of such a clan,
And art the son of such a man,
And ever comest to thy command,
Our wardens had need to keep good order:
My bow of yew to a hazel wand,
Thou'lt make them work upon the Border.
Meantime, be pleased to come with me,
For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see;
I think our work is well begun,
When we have taken thy father's son.'"
His old elvish shape he took. Those who describe the power of witches and dwarfs, pretend that they cannot cross a brook in their assumed form. The dwarf had appeared to the deceived boy to be a companion of his own age. When he took his own shape, and darted away, yelling as he disappeared, the child was frightened —but the real danger from the blood-hound does not terrify him.
His awful mother he had in dread. The dwarf was afraid of the child's mother. She was more skilled in necromancy, or gramarye, than he was.
THE GALLIARD'S WHITE HORSE.
Under the feudal system, the vassals were considered as cattle. A man was not valued at so much as a warhorse. At length, however, the vassals began to feel their importance, and they did not always comply with the demands of their Lord, who might, if he would, punish them for their disobedience, or sell them with the lands they cultivated, or give them another master. The tenants under this system were superior to mere labourers, they held lands in fief-as the grant, under certain conditions, of thelr lord. These were called feudatories, and their property was called a fief.
When a man received his fief, he became the liegeman of the liege, or lord; and when he acknowledged the relation subsisting between himself and the lord, the liegeman offered the lord homage.-He then knelt before him, and placing his hands upon the lord's knees, said, "Sire, I become your liegeman for such a fief, and I promise to guard and defend you against all people." The lord answered, "I receive you; and your lands I will defend as my own:" and he then kissed his tenant as a pledge of faith.
An instance of the spirit of resistance to feudal power, and its consequences, is told by Sir Walter Scott:
"Earl Morton was lord of that valley* fair,
The Beattisons were his vassals there.
The Earl was gentle, and mild of mood,
The vassals were warlike, and fierce, and rude;
High of heart, and haughty of word,
Little they recked of a tame liege lord.
The Earl to fair Eskdale came,
Homage and Seignory to claim :
Of Gilbert the Galliard, a heriot† he sought,
Saying, 'Give thy best steed as a vassal ought.'
'Dear to me is my bonny white steed,
Oft has he helped me at a pinch of need;
Lord and Earl though thou be, I trow,
I can rein Bucksfoot better than thou.'
Word on word gave fuel to fire,
Till so highly blazed the Beattisons' ire,
But that the Earl the flight had ta'en,
The vassals there their lord had slain.
Sore he plied both whip and spur,
As he urged his steed through Eskdale muir;
And it fell down a weary weight,
Just on the threshold of Branksome gate.
+ The feudal superior, in certain cases was entitled to the best horse of the vassal, in name of Heriot, or Herezeld.
The Earl was a wrathful man to see,
Full fain avenged would he be.
In haste to Branksome's lord he spoke,
Saying, Take these traitors to thy yoke ;
For a cast of hawks and a purse of gold,
All Eskdale I'll see thee to have and hold:
Beshrew thy heart, of the Beattisons' clan
If thou leavest on Eske a landed man;
But spare Woodkerrick's lands alone,
For he lent me his horse to escape upon.’—
A glad man then was Branksome bold,
Down he flung him the purse of gold;
To Eskdale soon he spurred amain,
And with him five hundred riders has ta'en.
He left his merrymen in the midst of the hill;
And bade them hold them close and still;
And alone he wended to the plain,
To meet with the Galliard and all his train.
To Gilbert the Galliard thus he said :-
'Know thou me for thy liege lord and head ;
Deal not with me as with Morton tame,
For Scotts play best at the roughest game.
Give me in peace my heriot due,
Thy bonny white steed, or thou shalt rue.
If my horn I three times wind,
Eskdale shall long have the sound in mind.'
Loudly the Beattison laughed in scorn ;-
'Little care we for thy winded horn.
Ne'er shall it be the Galliard's lot,
To yield his steed to a haughty Scott.
Wend thou to Branksome back on foot,
With rusty spur and miry boot.'
He blew his bugle so loud and hoarse,
That the dun deer started at far Craikcross;
He blew again so loud and clear,
Through the gray mountain mist there did lances
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