Wilson"s Tales of the Borders and of Scotland.
Volume XXIV.
by Revised by Alexander Leighton.
WILSON"S TALES OF THE BORDERS, AND OF SCOTLAND.
THE MINSTREL"S TALES.
I.
EDMUND AND HELEN.
CANTO FIRST.
Come, sit thee by me, love, and thou shalt hear A tale may win a smile and claim a tear-- A plain and simple story told in rhyme, As sang the minstrels of the olden time.
No idle Muse I"ll needlessly invoke-- No patron"s aid, to steer me from the rock Of cold neglect round which oblivion lies; But, loved one, I will look into thine eyes, From which young poesy first touched my soul, And bade the burning words in numbers roll;-- They were the light in which I learned to sing; And still to thee will kindling fancy cling-- Glow at thy smile, as when, in younger years, I"ve seen thee smiling through thy maiden tears, Like a fair floweret bent with morning dew, While sunbeams kissed its leaves of loveliest hue.
Thou wert the chord and spirit of my lyre-- Thy love the living voice that breathed--"aspire!"-- That smoothed ambition"s steep and toilsome height, And in its darkest paths was round me, light.
Then, sit thee by me, love, and list the strain, Which, but for thee, had still neglected lain.
II.
Didst thou e"er mark, within a beauteous vale, Where sweetest wild-flowers scent the summer gale, And the blue Tweed, in silver windings, glides, Kissing the bending branches on its sides, A snow-white cottage, one that well might seem A poet"s picture of contentment"s dream?
Two chestnuts broad and tall embower the spot, And bend in beauty o"er the peaceful cot; The creeping ivy clothes its roof with green, While round the door the perfumed woodbine"s seen Shading a rustic arch; and smiling near, Like rainbow fragments, blooms a rich parterre; Grey, naked crags--a steep and pine-clad hill-- A mountain chain and tributary rill-- A distant hamlet and an ancient wood, Begirt the valley where the cottage stood.
That cottage was a young Enthusiast"s home, Ere blind ambition lured his steps to roam; He was a wayward, bold, and ardent boy, At once his parents" grief--their hope and joy.
Men called him Edmund.--Oft his mother wept Beside the couch where yet her schoolboy slept, As, starting in his slumbers, he would seem To speak of things of which none else might dream.
III.
Adown the vale a stately mansion rose, With arboured lawns, like visions of repose Serene in summer loveliness, and fair As if no pa.s.sion e"er was dweller there Save innocence and love; for they alone Within the smiling vale of peace were known.
But fairer and more lovely far than all, Like Spring"s first flowers, was Helen of the Hall-- The blue-eyed daughter of the mansion"s lord, And living image of a wife adored, But now no more; for, ere a l.u.s.trum shed Its smiles and sunshine o"er the infant"s head, Death, like a pa.s.sing spirit, touched the brow Of the young mother; and the father now Lived as a dreamer on his daughter"s face, That seemed a mirror wherein he could trace The long lost past--the eyes of love and light, Which his fond soul had worshipped, ere the night Of death and sorrow sealed those eyes in gloom-- Darkened his joys, and whelmed them in the tomb.
IV.
Young Edmund and fair Helen, from the years Of childhood"s golden joys and pa.s.sing tears, Were friends and playmates; and together they Across the lawn, or through the woods, would stray.
While he was wont to pull the lilies fair, And weave them, with the primrose, round her hair;-- Plait toys of rushes, or bedeck the thorn With daisies sparkling with the dews of morn; While she, these simple gifts would grateful take--- Love for their own and for the giver"s sake.
Or, they would chase the b.u.t.terfly and bee From flower to flower, shouting in childish glee; Or hunt the cuckoo"s echo through the glade, Chasing the wandering sound from shade to shade.
Or, if she conned the daily task in vain, A word from Edmund made the lesson plain.
V.
Thus years rolled by in innocence and truth, And playful childhood melted into youth, As dies the dawn in rainbows, ray by ray In blushing beauty stealing into day.
And thus too pa.s.sed, unnoticed and unknown, The sports of childhood, fleeting one by one.
Like broken dreams, of which we neither know From whence they come, nor mark we when they go.
Yet would they stray where Tweed"s fair waters glide, As we have wandered--fondly side by side; And when dun gloaming"s shadows o"er it stole As silence visible--until the soul Grew tranquil as the scene--then would they trace The deep"ning shadows on the river"s face-- A voiceless world, where glimmered, downward far, Inverted mountain, tree, and cloud, and star.
"Twas Edmund"s choicest scene, and he would dwell On it, till he grew eloquent, and tell Its beauties o"er and o"er, until the maid Knew every gorgeous tint and mellowed shade Which evening from departed sunbeams threw, And as a painter on the waters drew.
VI.
Or, when brown Autumn touched the leaves with age, The heavens became the young Enthusiast"s page Wherein his fancy read; and they would then, Hand locked in hand, forsake the haunts of men; Communing with the silver queen of night, Which, as a spirit, shone upon their sight, Full orbed in maiden glory; and her beams Fell on their hearts, like distant shadowed gleams Of future joy and undefined bliss-- Half of another world and half of this.
Then, rapt in dreams, oft would he gazing stand, Grasping in his her fair and trembling hand, And thus exclaim, "Helen, when I am gone, When that bright moon shall shine on you alone, And but _one_ shadow on the river fall-- Say, wilt thou then these heavenly hours recall?
Or read, upon the fair moon"s smiling brow The words we"ve uttered--those we utter now?
Or think, though seas divide us, I may be Gazing upon that glorious...o...b..with thee At the same moment--hearing, in its rays, The hallowed whisperings of early days!
For, oh, there is a language in its calm And holy light, that hath a power to balm The troubled spirit, and like memory"s gla.s.s, Make bygone happiness before us pa.s.s."
VII.
Or, they would gaze upon the evening star, Blazing in beauteous glory from afar, Dazzling its kindred spheres, and bright o"er all, Like LOVE on the Eternal"s coronal; Until their eyes its rays reflected, threw In glances eloquent--though words were few; For well I ween, it is enough to feel The power of such an hour upon us steal, As if a holy spirit filled the air, And nought but love and silence might be there-- Or whispers, which, like Philomel"s soft strains, Are only heard to tell that silence reigns.
Yet, he at times would break the hallowed spell, And thus in eager rhapsodies would dwell Upon the scene: "O"er us rolls world on world, Like the Almighty"s regal robes unfurled;-- O"erwhelming, dread, unbounded, and sublime-- Eternity"s huge arms that girdle time And roll around it, marking out the years Of this dark spot of sin amidst the spheres!
For, oh, while gazing upon worlds so fair, "Tis hard to think that sin has entered there; That those bright orbs which now in glory swim, Should e"er for man"s ingrat.i.tude be dim!
Bewildered, lost, I cast mine eyes abroad, And read on every star the name of G.o.d!
The thought o"erwhelms me!--Yet, while gazing on Yon star of love, I cannot feel alone; For wheresoe"er my after lot may be, That evening star shall speak of home and thee.
Fancy will view it o"er yon mountain"s brow That sleeps in solitude before us now; While memory"s lamp shall kindle at its rays, And light the happy scenes of other days-- Such scenes as this; and then the very breeze That with it bears the odour of the trees, And gathers up the meadow"s sweet perfume, From off my clouded brow, shall chase the gloom Of sick"ning absence; for the scented air To me wafts back remembrance, as the prayer Of lisping childhood is remembered yet, Like living words, which we can ne"er forget."
VIII.
Till now, their life had been one thought of joy, A vision time was destined to destroy-- As dies the dewy network on the thorn, Before the sunbeams, with the mists of morn.
Thus far their lives in one smooth current ran-- They loved, yet knew not when that love began, And hardly knew they loved; though it had grown A portion of their being, and had thrown Its spirit o"er them; for its shoots had sprung Up in their hearts, while yet their hearts were young; Even like the bright leaves of some wandering seed, Which Autumn"s breezes bear across the mead, O"er naked wild and mountain, till the wind, Dropping its gift, a stranger flower we find.
And with their years the kindling feeling grew, But grew unnoticed, and no change they knew; For it had grown, even as a bud displays Its opening beauties--one on which we gaze, Yet note no seeming change from hour to hour, But find, at length, the bud a lovely flower.
IX.
Thus, thrice six golden summers o"er them fled, And on their hearts their rip"ning influence shed; Till one fair eve, when from the gorgeous west, Cloud upon cloud in varied splendour pressed Around the setting sun, which blinding shone On the horizon like its Maker"s throne, Till veiled in glory, and its parting ray Fell as a blessing on the closing day; Or, like the living smile of Nature"s G.o.d Upon his creatures, shedding peace abroad.
The early lark had ceased its evening song, And silence reigned amidst the feathered throng, Save where the chaffinch, with unvarying strain, Its short, sweet line of music trilled again; Or where the stock-dove, from the neighbouring grove, Welcomed the twilight with the voice of love: Then Edmund wandered by the trysting-tree, Where, at that hour, the maid was wont to be; But now she came not. Deepening shade on shade, The night crept round him; still he lonely strayed, Gazed on the tree till grey its foliage grew, And stars marked midnight, ere he slow withdrew.
Another evening came--a third pa.s.sed on-- And wondering, fearing, still he stood alone, Trembling and gazing on her father"s hall, Where lights were glittering as a festival; And, as with cautious step he ventured near, Sounds of glad music burst upon his ear, And figures glided in the circling dance, While wild his love and poverty at once Flashed through his bursting heart, and smote him now As if a thunderbolt had scorched his brow, And scathed his very spirit; as he stood, Mute as despair--the ghost of solitude!
X.
Strange guests were revelling at the princely hall-- Proud peers and ladies fair; but, chief of all, A rich and haughty knight, from Beaumont side, Who came to woo fair Helen as his bride; Or rather from her father ask her hand, And woo no more, but deem consent command.
He too was young, high-born, and bore a name Sounding with honours bought, though not with fame; And the consent he sought her father gave, Nor feared the daughter of his love would brave In aught his wishes, or oppose his will; For she had ever sought it, as the rill Seeketh the valley or the ocean"s breast; And ere his very wishes were expressed, She strove to trace their meaning in his eyes, Even as a seaman readeth on the skies The coming breeze, the calm, or brooding gale, Then spreads the canvas wide, or reefs the sail.
Nor did he doubt that still her heart was free As the fleet mountain deer, which as a sea The wilderness surrounds; for she had grown Up as a desert flower, that he alone Had watched and cherished; and the blinding pride Of wealth and ancestry had served to hide From him alone, what long within the vale Had been the rustic gossip"s evening tale.
That such presumptuous love could e"er employ The secret fancies of the cottage boy, He would have held impossible, or smiled At the bold madness of a thought so wild--- Reading his daughter"s spirit by his own, Which reared an ancient name as virtue"s throne, And only stooped to look on meaner things, Whose honours echoed not the breath of kings.