 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
334
FAIR MARGARET
[A LEGEND OF THOMAS THE RHYMER.]
[_]
[I am indebted to Hugh Cameron, Esquire, of Buffalo, N. Y., for this strange and strikingly beautiful legend. Mr. C. informs me that it has long formed a part of the fire-side lore of his own clan; and from a remote period has lived in the memory of Scotland's peasantry. He expressed surprise that men of antiquarian taste, in compiling border ballads and tales of enchantment, had not given “Fair Margaret” a conspicuous place in their pages; and at his suggestion I have attempted to clothe the fanciful outlines of the original in the drapery of English verse. The Elidon tree referred to in the poem, was the favorite seat of Thomas the Rhymer, and there he gave utterance to his prophecies.]
Old yews in the church-yard are crumbled to dust,
Deep shade on the grave-mound once flinging:
But oral tradition, still true to its trust,
Her name by the hearth-stone is singing;
For never enshrined by the bard in his lay
Was a being more lovely than Margaret Gray.
Deep shade on the grave-mound once flinging:
But oral tradition, still true to its trust,
Her name by the hearth-stone is singing;
For never enshrined by the bard in his lay
Was a being more lovely than Margaret Gray.
Her father, a faithful old tenant, had died
On lands of Sir Thomas the Seer—
And the child who had sprung like a flower by his side,
Sole mourner, had followed his bier;
But Ercildoun's knight to the orphan was kind,
And watched like a parent the growth of her mind.
On lands of Sir Thomas the Seer—
And the child who had sprung like a flower by his side,
Sole mourner, had followed his bier;
But Ercildoun's knight to the orphan was kind,
And watched like a parent the growth of her mind.
The wizard knew well that her mind was endowed
With sight mortal vision surpassing—
Now piercing the heart of oblivion's cloud,
The Past, in its depths, clearly glassing;
Anon sending glance through the curtain of dread
Behind which the realm of the Future lies spread.
With sight mortal vision surpassing—
Now piercing the heart of oblivion's cloud,
The Past, in its depths, clearly glassing;
Anon sending glance through the curtain of dread
Behind which the realm of the Future lies spread.
He gave her a key to decipher dim scrolls,
With characters wild scribbled over;
And taught her dark words that would summon back souls
Of the dead round the living to hover:
Or oped, high discourse with his pupils to hold,
Old books of enchantment with clasps of bright gold.
With characters wild scribbled over;
And taught her dark words that would summon back souls
Of the dead round the living to hover:
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Old books of enchantment with clasps of bright gold.
The elf-queen had met her in green haunted dells,
When stars in the zenith are twinkling,
And time kept the tramp of her palfrey to bells,
At her bridle-rein merrily tinkling:
By Huntley Burn oft, in the gloaming, she strolled
Weird shapes, that were not of this earth, to behold.
When stars in the zenith are twinkling,
And time kept the tramp of her palfrey to bells,
At her bridle-rein merrily tinkling:
By Huntley Burn oft, in the gloaming, she strolled
Weird shapes, that were not of this earth, to behold.
One eve came true Thomas to Margaret's bower,
In this wise the maiden addressing:—
“No more will I visible be from this hour,
Save to those sight unearthly possessing;
But when I am seen at feast, funeral or fair,
Let the mortal who makes revelation beware!”
In this wise the maiden addressing:—
“No more will I visible be from this hour,
Save to those sight unearthly possessing;
But when I am seen at feast, funeral or fair,
Let the mortal who makes revelation beware!”
Long years came and passed, and the Rhymer's dread seat
Was vacant the Elidon tree under,
And oft would old friends by the ingle-side meet,
And talk of his absence in wonder:
Some thought that, afar from the dwellings of men,
He had died in some lone Highland forest or glen:
Was vacant the Elidon tree under,
And oft would old friends by the ingle-side meet,
And talk of his absence in wonder:
Some thought that, afar from the dwellings of men,
He had died in some lone Highland forest or glen:
But others believed that in bright fairy land
The mighty magician was living—
That newness of life to worn heart and weak hand
Soft winds and pure waters were giving;
That back to the region of heather and pine
Would he come, unimpaired by old age or decline.
The mighty magician was living—
That newness of life to worn heart and weak hand
Soft winds and pure waters were giving;
That back to the region of heather and pine
Would he come, unimpaired by old age or decline.
Astir was all Scotland! from mountain and moor,
With banner-folds streaming in air,
Proud lord and retainer, the wealthy and poor,
Thronged forth in their plaids to the fair;
Steeds, pricked by their riders, loud clattering made,
And, cheered by his clansmen, the bag-piper played.
With banner-folds streaming in air,
Proud lord and retainer, the wealthy and poor,
Thronged forth in their plaids to the fair;
Steeds, pricked by their riders, loud clattering made,
And, cheered by his clansmen, the bag-piper played.
336
Gay lasses with snoods from the border and hills
In holiday garb hurried thither,
With eyes like the crystal of rock-shaded rills,
And cheeks like the bells of the heather;
But fairest of all, in that goodly array,
Was the Lily of Bemerside, Margaret Gray.
In holiday garb hurried thither,
With eyes like the crystal of rock-shaded rills,
And cheeks like the bells of the heather;
But fairest of all, in that goodly array,
Was the Lily of Bemerside, Margaret Gray.
While Ayr with a gathering host overflowed,
She marked with a look of delight
A white-bearded horseman who gallantly rode
On a mettlesome steed black as night,
And cried, forcing wildly her way through the throng,
“Oh, master! thy pupil hath mourned for thee long!”
She marked with a look of delight
A white-bearded horseman who gallantly rode
On a mettlesome steed black as night,
And cried, forcing wildly her way through the throng,
“Oh, master! thy pupil hath mourned for thee long!”
Then, checking his courser, the brow of the seer
Grew dark through his locks long and frosted,
And making a sign with his hand to draw near,
Thus the lovely offender accosted:—
“By which of thine eyes was thy master descried?”
“With my left I behold thee,” the damsel replied.
Grew dark through his locks long and frosted,
And making a sign with his hand to draw near,
Thus the lovely offender accosted:—
“By which of thine eyes was thy master descried?”
“With my left I behold thee,” the damsel replied.
One moment he gazed on the beautiful face,
In fondness upturned to his own,
As if anger at length to relenting gave place,
Then fixed grew his visage like stone:—
On the violet lid his cold finger he laid,
And extinguished forever the sight of the maid.
In fondness upturned to his own,
As if anger at length to relenting gave place,
Then fixed grew his visage like stone:—
On the violet lid his cold finger he laid,
And extinguished forever the sight of the maid.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |