And yielded to a father's arms
An image of his Edith's charms,-
Mortham is come, to hear and see
Of this strange morn the history.
What saw he?-not the church's floor,
Cumber'd with dead and stain'd with gore;
What heard he?-not the clamorous crowd,
That shout their gratulations loud:
Redmond he saw and heard alone,

Clasp'd him, and sobb'd-" My son! my son!"

XXXV.

This chanced upon a summer morn,
When yellow waved the heavy corn:
But when brown August o'er the land
Call'd forth the reaper's busy band,
A gladsome sight the silvan road
From Eglistone to Mortham show'd.
A while the hardy rustic leaves
The task to bind and pile the sheaves;
And maids their sickles fling aside,
To gaze on bridegroom and on bride;
And childhood's wondering group draws near,
And from the gleaner's hands the ear
Drops, while she folds them for a prayer
And blessing on the lovely pair.

'Twas then the Maid of Rokeby gave
Her plighted troth to Redmond brave;
And Teesdale can remember yet
How Fate to Virtue paid her debt,
And, for their troubles, bade them prove
A lengthen'd life of peace and love.

Time and Tide had thus their sway,
Yielding, like an April day,
Siniling noon for sullen morrow,
Years of joy for hours of sorrow!

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

IN THREE PARTS.

FEW personages are so renowned in tradition as Thomas of Ercildoune, known by the appellation of The Rhymer. It is agreed on all hands, that the residence, and probably the birthplace of this ancient bard, was Ercildoune, a village situated upon the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed. The ruins of an ancient tower are still pointed out as the Rhymer's castle. The uniform tradition bears, that his surname was Lermont, or Learmont; and that the appellation of The Rhymer was conferred on him in consequence of his poetical compositions. There remains, nevertheless, some doubt upon the subject.

We are better able to ascertain the period at which Thomas of Ercildoune lived, being the latter end of the thirteenth century.

It cannot be doubted that Thomas of Ercildoune was a remarkable and important person in his own time, since, very shortly after his death, we find him celebrated as a prophet and as a poet. Whether he himself made any pretensions to the first of these characters, or whether it was gratuitously conferred upon him by the credulity of posterity, it seems difficult to decide. The popular tale bears that Thomas was carried off, at an early age, to the Fairy Land, where he acquired all the knowledge which made him afterwards so famous. After seven years' residence, he was permitted to return to the earth, to enlighten and astonish his countrymen by his prophetic powers; still, however, remaining bound to return to his royal mistress, when she should intimate her pleasure. Accordingly, while Thomas was making merry with his friends in the Tower of Ercildoune, a person came running in, and told, with marks of fear and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left the neighbouring forest, and were, composedly and slowly, parading the street of the village. The prophet instantly arose, left his habitation, and followed the wonderful animals to the forest, whence he was never seen to return. The Eildon Tree, from beneath the shade of which he delivered his prophecies, now no longer exists, but the spot is marked by a large stone, called Eildon Tree Stone.

The following ballad is given from a copy, obtained from a lady residing not far from Ercildoune, corrected and enlarged by one in Mrs Brown's MSS. To this old tale the Editor has ventured to add a Second Part, consisting of a kind of cento, from the printed prophecies vulgarly ascribed to the Rhymer; and a Third Part, entirely modern, founded upon the tradition of his having returned with the hart and hind to the Land of Faërie.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART FIRST.

Ancient.

TRUE THOMAS lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied wi' his ee;

And there he saw a ladye bright,

Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o' the velvet fyne;
At ilka tett of her horse's mane,
Hung fifty siller bells and nine.
True Thomas, he pull'd aff his cap,
And louted low down to his knee,
"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see."-
"O no, O no, Thomas," she said,
"That name does not belang to me;
I am but the Queen of fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee.

"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said;
"Harp and carp along wi' me;
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be."-

"Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunton me."
Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips,

All underneath the Eildon Tree.

""

"Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said;
"True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me;
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be."
She mounted on her milk-white steed;
She's ta'en true Thomas up behind:
And aye, whene'er her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on;

The steed gaed swifter than the wind; Until they reach'd a desert wide,

And living land was left behind.

"Light down, light down, now, true Thomas, And lean your head upon my knee;

Abide and rest a little space,

And I will show you ferlies three.

"O see ye not yon narrow road,

So thick beset with thorns and briers?

That is the path of righteousness,

Though after it but few enquires.

"And see ye not that braid braid road,
That lies across that lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,

Though some call it the road to heaven.

"And see not ye that bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland,

Where thou and I this night maun gae.

That weird, &c.-That destiny shall never frighten me.

"But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see;
For, if ye speak word in Elflyn land,

Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie."

O they rade on, and farther on,

And they waded through rivers aboon the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,

But they heard the roaring of the sea.

It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,
And they waded through red blude to the knee;
For a' the blude that's shed on earth

Rins through the springs o' that countrie.

Syne they came on to a garden green,
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree-

"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;

It will give thee the tongue that can never lie."-
"My tongue is mine ain," true Thomas said;
"A gudely gift ye wad gie to me !
I neither dought to buy nor sell,

At fair or tryst where I may be.

"I dought neither speak to prince or peer,
Nor ask of grace from fair ladye."-
"Now hold thy peace!" the lady said,
"For as I say, so must it be."

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green;
And till seven years were gane and past,
True Thomas on earth was never seen.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART SECOND.

Altered from Ancient Prophecies.

CORSPATRICK (Comes Patrick), Earl of March, but more commonly taking his title from his castle of Dunbar, acted a noted part during the wars of Edward I. in Scotland. As Thomas of Ercildoune is said to have delivered to him his famous prophecy of King Alexander's death, the Editor has chosen to introduce him into the following ballad. All the prophetic verses are selected from Hart's publication of the Rhymer's Predictions, printed at Edinburgh A.D. 1615.

WHEN seven years were come and gane,
The sun blink'd fair on pool and stream;

And Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
Like one awaken'd from a dream.

He heard the trampling of a steed,
He saw the flash of armour flee,
And he beheld a gallant knight

Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

He was a stalwart knight, and strong;
Of giant make he 'pear'd to be:
He stirr'd his horse, as he were wode,
Wi' gilded spurs, of faushion free.

Says "Well met, well met, true Thomas!
Some uncouth ferlies show to me."-
Says-Christ thee save, Corspatrick brave!
Thrice welcume, good Dunbar, to me!

"Light down, light down, Corspatrick brave!
And I will show thee curses three,
Shall gar fair Scotland greet and grane,
And change the green to the black livery.

"A storm shall roar this very hour,
From Ross's hills to Solway sea.
"Ye lied, ye lied, ye warlock hoar!

For the sun shines sweet on fauld and lee."

He put his hand on the Earlie's head;
He show'd him a rock beside the sea,
Where a king lay stiff beneath his steed,
And steel-dight nobles wiped their e'e.
"The neist curse lights on Branxton hills:-
By Flodden's high and heathery side,
Shall wave a banner red as blude,

And chieftains throng wi' meikle pride.
"A Scottish King shall come full keen,
The ruddy lion beareth he;
A feather'd arrow sharp, I ween,

Shall make him wink and warre to see. "When he is bloody, and all to bledde, Thus to his men he still shall say"For God's sake, turn ye back again, And give yon southern folk a fray! Why should I lose, the right is mine? My doom is not to die this day.' "Yet turn ye to the eastern hand, And woe and wonder ye sall see; How forty thousand spearmen stand, Where yon rank river meets the sca. "There shall the lion lose the gylte, And the libbards bear it clean away; At Pinkyn Cleuch there shall be spilt Much gentil bluid that day.""Enough, enough, of curse and ban; Some blessings show thou now to me, Or, by the faith o' my bodie," Corspatrick said, "Ye shall rue the day ye e'er saw me!""The first of blessings I shall thee show, Is by a burn, that's call'd of bread;