Untouch'd, the harp began to ring, As light a footstep press'd the floor. All dropping wet her robes of green. Far on the wind his tartans flow?". Our father's towers o'erhang her side, [isle, Our woodland course this morn we bore, Whom, loitering in the woods, I lost; 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! " So shall we safely wend our way.' "O shame to knighthood, strange and foul! Go, doff the bonnet from thy brow, And shroud thee in the monkish cowl, Which best befits thy sullen vow. 'Not so, by high Dunlathmon's fire, Thy heart was froze to love and joy, When gaily rung thy raptured lyre To wanton Morna's melting eye." Or sail'd ye on the midnight wind? "Not thine a race of mortal blood, Nor old Glengyle's pretended line; Thy dame, the Lady of the Flood Thy sire, the Monarch of the Mine." He mutter'd thrice Saint Oran's rhyme, And thrice Saint Fillan's powerful prayer; Then turn'd him to the eastern clime, And sternly shook his coal-black hair. And, bending o'er his harp, he flung His wildest witch-notes on the wind; Till to the roof her stature grew; Was waved by wind, or wet by dew. Loud bursts of ghastly laughter rise; High o'er the minstrel's head they sail, And die amid the northern skies. The voice of thunder shook the wood, As ceased the more than mortal yell; And, spattering foul, a shower of blood Upon the hissing firebrands fell. Next dropp'd from high a mangled arm; The fingers strain'd a half-drawn blade: And last, the life-blood streaming warm, Torn from the trunk, a gasping head. Oft o'er that head, in battling field, Stream'd the proud crest of high Ben 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 property of Hugh Scott, Esq., of Harden [Lord Polwarth]. 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 Watchfold, and is said to have been the station of a beacon, in the times of war with England. Without the tower-court is a ruined chapel. Brotherstone is a heath in the neighbourhood of Smaylho'me Tower. This ballad was first printed in Mr. LEWIS's Tales of Wonder. It is here published, with some additional illustrations, particularly an account of the battle of Ancram Moor, which seemed proper in a work upon Border antiquities. The catastrophe of the tale is founded upon a wellknown Irish tradition. This ancient fortress and its vicinity formed the scene of the Editor's infancy, and seemed to claim from him this attempt to celebrate them in a Border tale. THE Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day, He went not with the bold Buccleuch, Yet his plate-jack+ was braced, and his And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore; At his saddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe, Full ten pound weight and more. The Baron return'd in three days' space, He came not from where Ancram Moor He lighted at the Chapellage, [page, He held him close and still; "Come thou hither, my little foot-page, Though thou art young, and tender of age, "Come, tell me all that thou hast seen, "My lady, each night, sought the lonely That burns on the wild Watchfold; For, from height to height, the beacons bright Of the English foemen told. "The bittern clamour'd from the moss, The wind blew loud and shrill; Where the Douglas true, and the bold Yet the craggy pathway she did cross Buccleuch, 'Gainst keen Lord Evers stood. Yet was his helmet hack'd and hew'd, The plate-jack is coat-armour; the vauntbrace, or wam-brace, armour for the body; the sperthe, a battle-axe. To the eiry Beacon Hill. "I watched her steps, and silent came "The second night I kept her in sight, "And many a word that warlike lord Did speak to my lady there; But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, And I heard not what they were. "The third night there the sky was fair, "And I heard her name the midnight hour, 'Now, out on thee, fainthearted knight! Thou shouldst not say me nay; For the eve is sweet, and when lovers meet, Is worth the whole summer's day. ́ ́ ́And I'll chain the blood-hound, and the warder shall not sound, And rushes shall be strewed on the stair; So, by the black-rood stone, and by holy St. John, I conjure thee, my love, to be there!'"Though the blood-hound be mute, and the rush beneath my foot, And the warder his bugle should not blow, [the east, Yet there sleepeth a priest in a chamber to And my footstep he would know.'"O fear not the priest, who sleepeth to [ta'en; For to Dryburgh the way he has And there to say mass, till three days do pass, the east, For the soul of a knight that is slayne.'"He turn'd him around, and grimly he frown'd; Then he laugh'd right scornfully— 'He who says the mass-rite for the soul of that knight, May as well say mass for me: The black-rood of Melrose was a crucifix of black marble, and of peculiar sanctity. Dryburgh Abbey is situated on the banks of the Tweed. After its dissolution, it became the property of the Halliburtons of Newmains, and is now the seat of the Right Hon. the Earl of Buchan. All under the Eildon Tree."t"Yet hear but my word, my noble lord! For I heard her name his name; And that lady bright, she called the knight Sir Richard of Coldinghame."The bold Baron's brow then changed, I From high blood-red to pale- [trow, "The grave is deep and dark-and the corpse is stiff and starkSo I may not trust thy tale. Where fair Tweed flows round holy And Eildon slopes to the plain, [Melrose, Full three nights ago, by some secret foe, That gay gallant was slain. "The varying light deceived thy sight, And the wild winds drown'd the name; For the Dryburgh bells ring, and the white monks do sing, For Sir Richard of Coldinghame!" He pass'd the court-gate, and he oped the tower-gate, And he mounted the narrow stair, To the bartizan-seat, where, with maids that on her wait, He found his lady fair. That lady sat in mournful mood; Over Tweed's fair flood, and Mertoun's † Eildon is a high hill, terminating in three conical summits, immediately above the town of Melrose, where are the admired ruins of a magnificent monastery. Eildon Tree is said to be the spot where Thomas the Rhymer uttered his prophecies. |