The hart and hind approach'd the place, Lord Douglas leap'd on his berry-brown steed, But though he rode with lightning speed, Some said to hill, and some to glen, Few personages are so renowned in tradition as Thomas of Ercildoune, known by the appellation of The Rhymer. Uniting, or supposed to unite, in his person, the powers of poetical composition, and of vaticination, his memory, even after the lapse of five hundred years, is regarded with veneration by his countrymen. To give anything like a certain history of this remarkable man, would be a difficult task; but the curious may derive some satisfaction from the particulars here brought together. It is agreed, on all hands, that the residence, and probably the birth-place, 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 this subject. In a charter, the son of our poet designs himself, "Thomas of Ercildoun, son and heir of Thomas Rymour of Ercildoun," which seems to imply, that the father did not bear the hereditary name of Learmont; or, at least, was better known and distinguished by the epithet which he had acquired by his personal accomplishments. I must, however, remark, that, down to a very late period, the practice of distinguishing the parties, even in formal writings, by the epithets which had been bestowed on them from personal circumstances, instead of the proper surnames of their families, was common, and indeed necessary, among the border clans. So early as the end of the thirteenth century, when surnames were hardly introduced in Scotland, this custom must have been universal. There is, therefore, nothing inconsistent in supposing our poet's name to have been actually Learmont, although, in this charter, he is distinguished by the popular appellation of The Rhymer. 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 belief of posterity, it seems difficult to decide. If we may believe Mackenzie, Learmont only versified the prophecies delivered by Eliza, an inspired nun, of a convent at Haddington. But of this there seems not to be the most distant proof. On the contrary, all ancient authors, who quote the Rhymer's prophecies, uniformly suppose them to have been emitted by himself. Whatever doubts, however, the learned might have as to the source of the Rhymer's prophetic skill, the vulgar had no hesitation to ascribe the whole to the intercourse between the bard and the Queen of Faëry. 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 Ercildoun, 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 com posedly 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. According to the popular belief, he still "drees his weird" in Fairy Land, and is expected one day to revisit earth. In the mean while, his memory is held in the most profound respect. 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. A neighbouring rivulet takes the name of the Bogle Burn, (Goblin Brook,) from the Rhymer's supernatural visitants. The veneration paid to his dwelling-place even attached itself in some degree to a person, who within the memory of man, chose to set up his residence in the ruins of Learmont's tower. The name of this man was Murray, a kind of herbalist; who, by dint of some knowledge in simples, the possession of a musical clock, an electrical machine, and a stuffed alligator, added to a supposed communication with Thomas the Rhymer, lived for many years in very good credit as a wizard. The ballad is given from a copy obtained from a lady, residing not far from Ercildoun, corrected and enlarged by another MS. To this old tale the author has added a Second Part, consisting of a kind of Cento, from the printed prophecies ascribed to the Rhymer; and a Third Part, founded upon the tradition of his having returned with the hart and hind, to the Land of Faëry. - Sir W. Scott. THE OUTLANDISH KNIGHT. AN outlandish Knight from the north lands came, He told me he'd take me unto the north lands, A broad, broad shield, did this strange Knight wield, Yet never, I ween, had that strange Knight been. And out and spake this strange Knight, This Knight of the north countrie; "O maiden fair with the raven hair, "Thy sire he is from home, ladye, And his shaggy blood-hound is sleeping sound She mounted her on her milk-white steed, And they forward did ride till they reach'd the sea-side, Then out and spake this strange Knight, This Knight of the north countrie; "O maiden fair with the raven hair, 66 Do thou at my bidding be. Alight thee, maid, from thy milk-white steed, Six maids have I drown'd where the billows sound, "But first pull off thy kirtle fine, And deliver it unto me; Thy kirtle of green is too rich, I ween, "Pull off, pull off thy silken shoon, And deliver them unto me; Methinks that they are too fine and gay "Pull off, pull off thy bonny green plaid, It is woven fine with the silver twine, "If I must pull off my bonny green plaid, And gaze on the sun, which has just begun He turned his back on the damoselle, And gaz'd on the bright sunbeam— She grasp'd him tight, with her arms so white, "Lie there, Sir Knight, thou false-hearted wight, Lie there instead of me: Six damsels fair thou hast drowned there, But the seventh has drowned thee." That ocean wave was the false one's grave, Though with dying voice faint, he prayed to his saint, She mounted her on her dapple grey steed, She rode till she reached her father's hall, The parrot hung in the lattice so high, "Some ruffian, I fear, has led thee from home, For thou hast been long away." "O do not prattle, my pretty bird, O do not tell tales of me; And thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold, The earl, as he sat in his turret high, "What ails thee, what ails thee, my pretty bird, "Well may I prattle," the parrot replied, "And call, brave earl, on thee; For the cat has well nigh reach'd the lattice so high, And her eyes are fix'd on me." "Well turn'd, well turn'd, my pretty bird, Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold, THE sun had risen above the mist, "Alas!" sung one, "for Chatsworth oaks, They droop in fulness of honour and fame, "How fair they stand amid their green land, The sock or share ne'er pain'd them; Not a bough or leaf have been shred from their strength, Nor the woodman's axe profaned them." "Green," sung another, "were they that hour And saddest queen, in the sweet twilight, |