The Brownie of Bodsbeck, and Other Tales Volume Ii Part 17

CHAPTER V.

The Keylan Rowe.

An' round, an' round, an' seven times round, An' round about the Eildon tree!

For there the ground is fairy ground, And the dark green ring is on the lea.

The prayers were pray'd, and the ma.s.ses said, And the waning Moon was rising slow; And ane dame sits at the Eildon-tree, Whose cheike is pale as April snow.

Ane cross is claspit in her hand, Ane other lyis on her breiste bone; And the glaize of feire is on her ee, As she looks to the Eildon-stone.

And aye she sung her holy hymn; It was made to charm the elfin band, And lure the little wilderit things, Whose dwelling is in Fairy-land.

And first she heard the horses' tread, Like drifting leaves come through the dell; And then she heard their bridles ring, Like rain drops tinkling on a bell.

Then the wild huntsmen first came on, An' sic ane band was never seen!

Some wanted cheike, some wanted chin, And some had nouthir nose nor een;

One had ane ee in his forehead, That ee was like ane glaizit pole; His breiste was like ane heck of hay; His gobe ane rounde and boral hole.

And ilk ane held ane bugle horn, And loud they tout.i.t as they gaed by-- "Ycho! ycho! The Keylan Rowe!

Hie to the weird-hill! huntsmen hie!

"The little wee hare o' Eildon Brae May trip it o'er the glen, O; But nane shall bear the prize away.

But Keylan and his men, O.

"Gil-Mouly's raid, and Keylan's Rowe, Shall sweep the moore and lea, O; And the little wee hare o' Eildon Brae In heaven shall never be, O.

"O'er wizard ground, with horse and hound, Like rattling hail we'll bear, O-- Ycho! ycho! The Keylan Rowe!

The quick and dead are here, O!"

Then came their collarit phantom tykis, Like ouf-dogs, an' like gaspin grews; An' their crukit tungis were dry for blood, An' the red lowe firled at their flews;

Then came the troopis of the Fairy folke, And O they wore ane lovely hue!

Their robes were greine like the hollin leife, And thin as the web of the wiry dew.

And first went by the coal-black steedis, And then a troop o' the bonny bay; And then the milk-white bandis came on, An' last the mooned and the merlit gray.

An' aye the sang, an' the bridles rang, As they rode lightly rank an' file; It was like the sound of ane maydenis voice Heard through the greene-wood many a mile.

"Hey, Gil-Mouly! Ho, Gil-Mouly!

On we fly o'er steep and stile!

Hey, Gil-Mouly! Ho, Gil-Mouly!

Hunt the hare another mile.

"Over fen and over fountain, Over downe and dusky lea; Over moss, and moore, and mountain, We will follow, follow thee!

"O'er the dewy vales of even, Over tower and over tree; O'er the clouds and clefts of heaven, We will follow, follow thee!

"Nae mair the dame shall young son rock, And sing her lilli-lu the while; Hey, Gil-Mouly! Ho, Gil-Mouly!

Hunt the hare another mile!"

The phantom huntsmen scaled the steep, "Ycho! ycho! for Keylan's fame."

The Fairy barbs were light and fleet; The chirling echoes went and cam.

The roe fled into the greine-woode, The dun deire boundit far away; But nought wald serve the hunteris rude, But the little wee hare o' Eildon-Brae.

She heard, she knew, an' sped alone, Away, away, with panting breiste; The fairy houndis are lilting on, Like Redwings wheepling through the mist.

Around, around the Eildons greine, Das.h.i.t the wild huntsmen furiouslye!

Och! sic ane night was never seine, Sin' Michael cleft these hills in three!

The sky was bright, and the dame beheld The brattling chace o'er moonlight brow; Then in the darksome shade they rus.h.i.t, With yelp, and yowle, and loud halloo.

O, but the little Fairy grews Swept lightly o'er the Eildon-Brae; The houndis came youffing up behind, As fast as they could win their way.

And the wild huntsmen's gruesome tykis All urgit the chace, but stop or stande.

"Ycho! ycho! The Keylan Rowe!

For earth, an' death, or Fairy-lande!"

The dame she claspit the halye roode, And dreddour wilde was in her ee; And round, and round, and seven times round, And round about the Eildon-Tree!

The hunt still near and nearer drew-- Weel moght the matronis herte be wae!

For hard they pressit, and aft they turnit The little wee hare o' Eildon-Brae.

They mouthit her aince, they mouthit her twice; Loud did she scream throu fear and dread; That scream was like ane bairnyis cry Quhen it is piercit in cradle-bed.

But the dame behelde ane bonny hounde, White as the newly drift.i.t snaw, That close beside the leveret kept, And wore the elfin grews awa.

Hard did she toil the hare to save, For the little wee hare was sair foreworne; And the ghaistly huntsmen gatherit on, With whoop, and whoo, and bugle-horne.

O but the hounde was hard bestedd!

For round and round they harder press'd,-- At length, beneath the Eildon-Tree, The little wee leveret found its rest.

It sprung into the matronis lap, Wha row'd it in her kirtle gray; And round, and round, came horse and hound, With snort, and neigh, and howl, and bay.

But the white hounde stood by her side, And wore them back full powerfullye; And round, and round, and seven times round, And round about the Eildon-Tree!

They turn'd the hare within her arms A c.o.c.katrice and adder sterne; They turn'd the hare within her arms A flittering reide het gaud o' ern.

But still within her kirtle row'd, She sung her hymn and held it fast; And ere the seventh time round was won, Her child clung to his parent's breast.

"Ycho! ycho! The Keylan Rowe;"

Away the fairy music sped, "The day is lost, a maid has wonne, The babe maun lie amang the dead.

"The babe maun grow as gra.s.s has grown, And live, and die, and live anew, Ycho! ycho! The Keylan Rowe Must vanish like the morning dew."