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

THE DANCE OF BALLOCHROY.

I

“If e'er you woo'd a loving maid,
And having won her, you betray'd,
Beware, Lord Edward, thoughtless boy,
Nor pass the hills of Ballochroy.

II

“For there, 'tis said, the livelong nights
The sward is trod by elves and sprites,
And shadowy forms of maids departed,
And ghosts of women broken-hearted.

III

“And aye they dance a mystic round
Upon these knolls of haunted ground,
And sing sweet airs till break of day,
To lure the traveller from his way.

IV

“Though if your soul from guilt be clear,
Ride boldly on;—you need not fear;
For pleasant sounds, and sights of joy,
Shall hem you round on Ballochroy.

V

“But if you've brought a maid to death
By guileful words and breach of faith,
Shut ear and eye, nor look behind,
Nor hear their voices on the wind.

VI

“They'll seek your senses to entrance—
They'll woo you to their airy dance;
And press, with winning smiles and quips,
Their melting kisses to your lips.

VII

“And every kiss shall be a dart
That through your lips shall pierce your heart;
For short the life and short the joy
Of those who dance on Ballochroy.”

VIII

Lord Edward laugh'd his words to scorn—
“I must be wed to-morrow morn;
Your idle tale I may not hear;
I cannot linger from my dear.”

IX

He gave the reins to his dapple gray,
And o'er the mountain rode away;
And the old man sigh'd, “I wish him joy
On the haunted hills of Ballochroy!”

X

And three miles west, and three miles north,
Over the moorland went he forth,
And thought of his bonny blushing May,
The fairest maid of Oronsay.

XI

And he thought of a lady dead and gone—
Of Ellen, under the kirk-yard stone;
And then he whistled a hunting-song
To drown remembrance of a wrong.

XII

But still it came. “Alas!” thought he,
“I fear she died for love of me:
Soft be her sleep in the fresh green sod—
I trust her spirit is with her God.

XIII

“But to-morrow is my bridal day
With the bonnie Bell of Oronsay;
From her no fate my soul shall sever,
So let the past be past for ever.”

XIV

And still he whistled his hunting-tune,
Till high in the heavens arose the moon,
And had no thought but of future joy,
Till he came to the hills of Ballochroy.

XV

And there, beneath a birken-tree,
He found a lady fair to see,
With eyes that might the stars eclipse,
And a smile upon her ripe red lips.

XVI

Her garments seem'd of azure bright,
Her dainty hands were rosy white,
And her golden hair so long and sleek,
Fell clustering o'er each glowing cheek.

XVII

He gazed upon this bonnie May,
Fairer than Bell of Oronsay,
Fairer than Ellen, dead and gone,
Or any maid the sun shone on.

XVIII

“Oh, lady dear! the night is chill,
The dews are damp upon the hill,
A fitful wind begins to moan—
What brings thee here so late alone?”

XIX

The lady blush'd, and on her tongue—
Timid—the faltering answer hung—
“I have come for thee, dear lord,” she said,
And on his arm her hand she laid.

XX

“For I have loved thee long and well,
More than a maiden ought to tell,
And I sit beneath this birken-tree
To pass one hour of love with thee.”

XXI

He sprang from his steed of dapple gray,
And at the lady's feet he lay;
Her lily hand in his he press'd,
And lean'd his head upon her breast.

XXII

Her long fair tresses o'er him hung,
As round his neck her arm she flung;
Her beauty charm'd both touch and sight—
His pulse beat quicker with delight:—

XXIII

“Oh, lady dear! these eyes of mine
Never saw beauty like to thine!
Those loving lips, oh, let me kiss!
Never was rapture like to this!”

XXIV

She smiled upon him as he spoke,
And on his ear these accents broke;
“Deep was the love for thee I bore—
Thou shalt be mine for evermore.

XXV

“Come to my bower—'tis fair to see,
And all prepared, dear lord, for thee;
Come!” and such smiles her face suffused,
He had been stone had he refused.

XXVI

His heart was full, his reeling brain
Felt the sharp pleasure prick like pain;
And his eyes grew dim with love and joy
On the haunted hills of Ballochroy.

XXVII

On every side—above—below—
He heard a strain of music flow,
Dying in murmurs on his ear,
Gentle and plaintive, soft and clear.

XXVIII

Anon a bolder voice it took,
Till all the air with music shook—
A full, inspiring, martial strain,
Heaving like waves upon the main.

XXIX

Amid the tangling flowers and grass
The fitful echoes seem'd to pass;
And then it sank, and sweet and slow,
Mingled the notes of joy and woe;—

XXX

Then changed again: a jocund lay
Rose 'mid the tree-tops far away;
And brisk and light, and tuned to pleasure,
Floated in air the merry measure.

XXXI

And nearer as the rapture came,
He felt its power in all his frame;
His pulse beat quick, his eyes grew bright,
His limbs grew supple with delight.

XXXII

With throbbing heart and loving look,
The lady by the hand he took;
And as she smiled, her fairy feet
Moved to the measure brisk and sweet.

XXXIII

He would not, if he could, resist,
Her beauty wrapp'd him like a mist;
And gliding with her, kind yet coy,
They danced the dance of Ballochroy.

XXXIV

He clasp'd her round the dainty waist,
Their glowing hands were interlaced;
And now they glided—now they flew—
And tripp'd in circles o'er the dew.

XXXV

And still the music sounded high
The full free tide of harmony;
Responsive still to every note
Their nimble footsteps seem'd to float.

XXXVI

And now they bounded, now they tripp'd,
With panting pleasure, open-lipp'd,
And brisker, merrier, louder still
Sounded the music o'er the hill.

XXXVII

Faint with the joy, he craved delay;
But no—his limbs refused to stay,
And danced impulsive to the sound,
And traced a circle on the ground.

XXXVIII

There seem'd a film before his eyes—
He saw new shapes of beauty rise;—
They seem'd to gather at the tune
Between him and the western moon.

XXXIX

In robes of azure and of green,
Amber and white, and purple sheen—
A troop of maidens young and fair,
With sparkling eyes and flowing hair.

XL

And as before his sight they pass'd,
Each maid seem'd lovelier than the last,
And smiled upon him as she came,
With looks of love, and eyes of flame.

XLI

Then smoothing back their tresses bright,
They join'd their fingers long and white,
And lightly shook their sparkling feet
To the glad measure as it beat.

XLII

And as the fairy round they danced,
And now retreated, now advanced,
Their noiseless footsteps on the sod
Left a green circle where they trod.

XLIII

Like dragon-flies upon a stream,
Or motes upon a slanting beam,
They parted—met—retired—entwined
Their loose robes waving in the wind.

XLIV

Transparent as the network light
Spun by the gossamer at night,
Through every fold each rounded limb
Shone warm and beautiful, but dim.

XLV

Dazzled and reeling with delight,
He turn'd away his aching sight,
Then fell exhausted in a swoon,
In the full radiance of the moon.

XLVI

Not long endured his soul's eclipse;
He felt warm kisses on his lips,
And heard a voice in accents clear
Breathe a soft whisper in his ear,—

XLVII

“Rise, my dear lord! shake off this trance,
And join my sisters in their dance;
'Tis all to give thee joy they play;
My hand shall guide thee—come away!”

XLVIII

He rose;—her bright eyes brighter shone,
Raining kind looks to cheer him on;
While the celestial music still
Roll'd its glad echoes o'er the hill.

XLIX

And once again the dance they twined—
They seem'd like feathers on the wind—
Their hands they waved, their feet they twirl'd—
They ran, they leap'd, they tripp'd, they whirl'd.

L

But as he danced his eyes grew dim,
His blood ran thick through every limb;
And every face, so fair and bright,
Appear'd distorted to his sight.

LI

The lustre of their eyes was gone,
Their cheeks grew wrinkled, pale, and wan;
Their fair plump arms grew shrivell'd skin,
Their voices hoarse, and sharp, and thin.

LII

Bloodshot and blear, and hollow-eyed,
Each raised her finger to deride;
And each, more hideous than the last,
Chatter'd and jabber'd as she pass'd.

LIII

And with discordant yell and shout,
They wheel'd in frantic droves about,
And gibing, in his visage, scowl'd,
And moan'd, and shriek'd, and laugh'd, and howl'd.

LIV

Again he fell in speechless dread;
And then came one with drooping head,
And looks all pity and dismay,
And gazed upon him where he lay.

LV

Her glancing eyes were black as jet,
Her fair pale cheeks with tears were wet;
And beauty, modesty, and grace
Strove for the mastery on her face.

LVI

He knew her well; and, as she wept,
A cold, cold shudder o'er him crept:
'Twas Ellen's self! ah, well he knew
That face so fair—that heart so true!

LVII

He felt her tear-drops fall and flow,
But they were chill as melted snow;
Then looking on her face, he sigh'd,
Felt her cold kiss, and shivering—died!

LVIII

Next day, with many an anxious fear,
His father sought him far and near;
And his sad mother, old and gray,
Wept with the bride of Oronsay.

LIX

They found his body on the knoll,
And pray'd for mercy on his soul;
And his bride a widow's weeds put on,
And mourn'd Lord Edward, dead and gone.

LX

If you have brought a maid to death
By guileful words and breach of faith—
In weal or woe, in grief or joy,
Beware the hills of Ballochroy!