tongue

60

Such are the lays that Zetland Isles supply;

ping sky,

Weary and wet, a sea-sick minstrel I.

SONGS AND VERSES FROM WAVERLEY

So much of the preceding prose is given with these separate pieces as will furnish the needed setting.

I

'AND DID YE NOT HEAR OF A MIRTH BEFELL'

To the tune of I have been a Fiddler,' etc.

"The following song, which has been since borrowed by the worshipful author of the famous "History of Fryar Bacon," has been with difficulty deciphered. It seems to have been sung on occasion of carrying home the bride. Appendix to General Preface.

AND did ye not hear of a mirth befell
The morrow after a wedding day,
And carrying a bride at home to dwell?
And away to Tewin, away, away.

The quintain was set, and the garlands were made,

'Tis pity old customs should ever decay; And woe be to him that was horsed on a

From Chapter v. 'His tutor, or, I should say, Mr. Pembroke, for he scarce assumed the name of tutor, picked up about Edward's room some fragments of irregular verse, which he appeared to have composed under the influence of the agitating feelings occasioned by this sudden page being turned up to him in the book of life, i. e., his being appointed captain in a regiment of dragoons.'

LATE, when the autumn evening fell
On Mirkwood-Mere's romantic dell,
The lake returned, in chastened gleam,
The purple cloud, the golden beam:
Reflected in the crystal pool,
Headland and bank lay fair and cool;
The weather-tinted rock and tower,
Each drooping tree, each fairy flower,
So true, so soft, the mirror gave,
As if there lay beneath the wave,
Secure from trouble, toil, and care,
A world than earthly world more fair.

But distant winds began to wake,
And roused the Genius of the Lake!
He heard the groaning of the oak,
And donned at once his sable cloak,
As warrior, at the battle cry,
Invests him with his panoply:
Then, as the whirlwind nearer pressed,
He 'gan to shake his foamy crest
O'er furrowed brow and blackened cheek,
And bade his surge in thunder speak.
In wild and broken eddies whirled,
Flitted that fond ideal world;
And, to the shore in tumult tost,
The realms of fairy bliss were lost.

Yet, with a stern delight and strange, I saw the spirit-stirring change

As warred the wind with wave and wood.
Upon the ruined tower I stood,

And felt my heart more strongly bound,
Responsive to the lofty sound,
While, joying in the mighty roar,
I mourned that tranquil scene no more.

From Chapter xiii. The view of the old tower, or fortalice, introduced some family anecdotes and tales of Scottish chivalry, which the Baron told with great enthusiasm. The projecting peak of an impending crag, which rose near it, had acquired the name of St. Swithin's Chair. It was the scene of a peculiar superstition, of which Mr. Rubrick mentioned some curious particulars, which reminded Waverley of a rhyme quoted by Edgar in King Lear; and Rose was called upon to sing a little legend in which they had been interwoven by some village poet,

"Who, nameless as the race from which he sprung, Saved other names, but left his own unsung."

She muttered the spell of Swithin bold, When his naked foot traced the midnight wold,

When he stopped the Hag as she rode the night,

And bade her descend and her promise plight.

He that dare sit on St. Swithin's Chair When the Night-Hag wings the troubled air,

Questions three, when he speaks the spell, He may ask, and she must tell.

The Baron has been with King Robert his liege,

These three long years in battle and siege; News are there none of his weal or his

woe,

And fain the Lady his fate would know.

She shudders and stops as the charın she speaks;

Is it the moody owl that shrieks?
Or is that sound, betwixt laughter and

scream,

The voice of the Demon who haunts the stream?

The moan of the wind sunk silent and low, And the roaring torrent had ceased to flow; The calm was more dreadful than raging storm,

When the cold gray mist brought the ghastly form!

VII

'YOUNG MEN WILL LOVE THEE MORE FAIR AND MORE FAST'

From Chapter xiv. 'The next day Edward arose betimes, and, in a morning walk around the house and its vicinity, came suddenly upon a small court in front of the dog-kennel, where his friend Davie was employed about his fourfooted charge. One quick glance of his eye recognized Waverley, when, instantly turning his back, as if he had not observed him, he began to sing part of an old ballad.'

YOUNG men will love thee more fair and more fast!

Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?