XI. Of noble race the Ladye came; Her father was a clerk of fame, Of Bethune's line of Picardie: He learned the art that none may name, In Padua, far beyond the sea. Men said he changed his mortal frame By feat of magic mystery; For when, in studious mood, he paced St Andrew's cloistered hall, His form no darkening shadow traced Upon the sunny wall! XII. And of his skill, as bards avow, He taught that Ladye fair, Till to her bidding she could bow And now she sits in secret bower, In old Lord David's western tower, And listens to a heavy sound, That moans the mossy turrets round. Is it the roar of Teviot's tide, That chafes against the scaur's* red side? Is it the wind, that swings the oaks? Is it the echo from the rocks? What may it be, the heavy sound, That moans old Branksome's turrets round? XIII. At the sullen, moaning sound, The ban-dogs bay and howl; And, from the turrets round, Loud whoops the startled owl. In the hall, both squire and knight Swore that a storm was near, And looked forth to view the night; But the night was still and clear! *Scaur, a precipitous bank of earth. XIV. From the sound of Teviot's tide, Chafing with the mountains side, From the groan of the wind-swung oak, From the sullen echo of the rock, From the voice of the coming storm, The Ladye knew it well! It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke, And he called on the Spirit of the Fell. XV. RIVER SPIRIT. "Sleepest thou, brother?" MOUNTAIN SPIRIT. "Brother, nay On my hills the moon-beams play. From Craik-cross to Skelfhill-pen, By every rill, in every glen, Merry elves their morrice pacing, To aërial minstrelsy, Emerald rings on brown heath tracing, Trip it deft and merrily. Up, and mark their nimble feet! Up, and list their music sweet!" XVI. RIVER SPIRIT. "Tears of an imprisoned maiden Mix with my polluted stream; Margaret of Branksome, sorrow-laden, Tell me, thou who viewest the stars, What shall be the maiden's fate? Who shall be the maiden's mate ?" XVII. MOUNTAIN SPIRIT. "Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll, In utter darkness round the pole; The Northern Bear lowers black and grim; Orion's studded belt is dim; Twinkling faint, and distant far, But no kind influence deign they shower XVIII. The unearthly voices ceast, And the heavy sound was still; It died on the river's breast, It died on the side of the hill.- But round Lord David's tower The sound still floated near; For it rung in the Ladye's bower, And it rung in the Ladye's ear. She raised her stately head, And her heart throbbed high with pride :- "Your mountains shall bend, And your streams ascend, Ere Margaret be our foeman's bride!" |