Legends of the isles and Highland Gatherings :: :: University of Virginia Library

THE WRAITH OF GARRY WATER.

I

“Go, Evan! go;—the heart you swore
In weal and woe alike to cherish,
You've broken by your cold deceit,
And thrown upon the world to perish.

II

“A woman's curse is hard to bear—
But may be turn'd, if love endeavour;
But the curse of a man with hoary hair,
It weighs upon the soul for ever.

III

“And for the wrong that you have done,
Upon your head all sorrow gather.
And in your soul, for evermore,
Deep sink the curses of a father!”

IV

The old man bared his gray, gray head,
And clasp'd his wither'd hands together;
And Evan curl'd his lip in scorn,
And rode his way across the heather.

V

“Why should I heed this dotard's words?
The needle from the pole will vary—
And time will wear and hearts will change;—
I love no more his bonnie Mary.

VI

“I trust that happy she may be,
Nor pine with sorrow overladen;
And she may love another man,
And I will love another maiden.”

VII

The night was fair—the moon was up—
The wind blew low among the gowans;
Or fitful rose o'er Athol woods,
And shook the berries from the rowans.

VIII

And Evan rode through Garry strath,
And quite forgot the old man's daughter;
And when he came to Garry stream,
It ran a red and roaring water.

IX

The summer rains had fallen fast,
The voice of streams made music merry;
And brae-side burnies leap'd and danced,
And mingled in the tide of Garry.

X

And Bruar raised a joyful shout,
And Tilt to Ben-Y-Gloe resounded;
And Tummel in the pride of strength,
Down to his fall, rejoicing, bounded.

XI

Green were the birks on Garry braes,
Soft through their leaves the moon was peeping;
And 'mid the heather on the rock,
There sat a bonny maiden weeping.

XII

Her kirtle seem'd of velvet green;
Her robes were azure, loosely flowing;
Her eyes shone bright amid her tears;
Her lips were fresh as gowans growing.

XIII

“What brings thee here, my lily-flower?
High on the strath the storm-winds tarry;
The night is chill—the hour is late;—
Why weep'st thou by the banks of Garry?”

XIV

The maiden raised her tearful eyes,
And with her silvery voice replying,
Said, smoothing back her yellow locks,
And speaking low and softly sighing:—

XV

“Though dark and swift the waters pour,
Yet here I wait in dool and sorrow;
For bitter fate must I endure,
Unless I pass the stream ere morrow.

XVI

“Oh! aid me in this deep distress,
Nor seek its causes to unravel;
My strength, alas! is weak at best,
And I am worn with toil and travel.”

XVII

“Though swift,” said Evan, “is the flood,
My good bay mare is strong and steady;
So trust thee lassie to my care,
And quickly mount and make thee ready.

XVIII

“For one glance of those eyes of blue,
Thy bonnie burden I will carry;
For one kiss of those honey lips,
I'll guide thee o'er the raging Garry.

XIX

“What is it ails my good bay mare?
What is it makes her start and shiver?
She sees a Kelpie in the stream,
Or fears the rushing of the river.

XX

“Ah, coward jade!—but heed her not,
For, maiden dear, we may not tarry;—
The beast has swum a swifter flood;
I'll see thee safely through the Garry.”

XXI

They mounted on the good bay mare—
But vainly Evan strove to guide her;
Through all her frame a terror crept—
She trembled at her bonnie rider.

XXII

Then as she heard the maiden's voice,
And felt her gentle fingers pat her,
She gave a neigh as loud and shrill
As if an evil sprite had sat her.

XXIII

And with a desperate bound she sprang
High from the bank into the current;
While sounds of laughter seem'd to mix
Amid the roaring of the torrent.

XXIV

The waters rush'd in eddying whirls,
And dash'd the foam-drops o'er the heather;
And winds that seem'd asleep till then,
Let loose their fury altogether.

XXV

Down—down—the awaken'd tempest blew—
And faster down the flood came pouring—
And horse and riders, overwhelm'd,
Sank 'mid the rush of waters roaring.

XXVI

But on the surface of the flood,
Her yellow locks with spray-fall dripping,
The maiden with the kirtle green
And azure robe, came lightly tripping.

XXVII

And now she sank, now rose again,
And dash'd the wave in rain-like shiver;
Then lay afloat, or tiptoe stood
Upon the foam-bells of the river:—

XXVIII

And laugh'd the while, and clapp'd her hands—
Until at last the storm subsided,
When, like a gleam of parting light,
Away upon the mist she glided.

XXIX

And Evan's corpse at morn was found,
Far down by Tummel, pale and mangled,
His features bruised by jutting rocks,
His auburn curls with gore entangled.

XXX

Few were the mourners at his grave,
But 'mid them two—a sire and daughter;
And loud she sobb'd, and loud she wept,
Though tenderly her sire besought her.

XXXI

“He loved me,—and he did me wrong,”
She said, “and darken'd all my morrow;
But in his grave Resentment sleeps,
While Love survives to feed on Sorrow.”