The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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Willie Wilkin.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
Willie Wilkin.
The real name of this famous warlock was Johnston: how he came to acquire that of Wilkin I can get no information, though his name and his pranks are well known in Annandale and Nithsdale. He seems to have been an abridgment of Mr. Michael Scott; but though his powers were exhibited on a much narrower scale, they were productive of effects yet more malevolent.
When Wilkin rode away,
And much his aged mother feared,
But wist not what to say:
At deepest midnight tide,
He hied him to yon ancient fane
That stands on Kinnel side.
His speeches fierce and few;
But who he met, or what was done,
No mortal ever knew.
O stay at home with me!
I fear I'm secretly forewarned
Of ills awaiting thee.
When all were fast asleep;
And aye it rung, and aye it sung,
Till all my flesh did creep.
My senses dormant lay,
I saw a pack of hungry hounds,
Would make of thee their prey.
Or death with thee to share;
When straight you bound my hands and feet,
And left me lying there.
Thy life-blood dyed the way;
I saw thy eyes all glaring red,
And closed mine for aye.
O stay at home with me!
Or take with thee this little book,
Thy guardian it shall be.”
What means this senseless whine?
I pray thee, mind thine own affairs,
Let me attend to mine.”
That warmed thy tender mind,
Is now extinct, and malice keen
Is only left behind.
That yearns thy woes to share?
Thou still has been my only grief,
My only hope and care.
Of joy I took farewell;
With Craigie on the banks of Sark,
Thy valiant father fell.
With meikle care and pain;
And saw with pride thy mind expand,
Without one sordid stain.
Before the throne of grace;
And on thy Saviour's blessed day,
Frequent his holy place.
Which from our castle rose,
Are silent now; and sullen pride
In hand with envy goes.
To pride and passion fell;
O, for thy little children's sake,
Renounce that path of hell!
O, with thy mother stay!
Or tell me what thou goest about,
That I for thee may pray.”
And for his horse did call:
“An hundred fiends my patience rend,
But thou excell'st them all!”
A book of psalms and prayer,
And hastened to you ancient fane,
To listen what was there.
Where graves are green and low,
She saw full thirty coal-black steeds
All standing in a row.
'Twixt Dee and Annan whole;
But placed beside that mighty rank,
He kythed but like a foal.
Her heart grew cold as stone!
The cold sweat ran from every hair,
He trembled every bone!
His bulky side to stroke;
And aye she reached, and aye she stretched—
'Twas nothing all but smoke.
Of films and sulph'ry wind;
And every wave she gave her hand,
A gap was left behind.
Yet nothing marred her way,
And left her shape in every shade,
For all their proud array.
Though mutt'ring holy prayer;
And filmy veils assail'd her face,
And stifling brimstone air.
Straight to the aisle she flew;
But what she saw, and what she heard,
No mortal ever knew.
And blackest blasphemye,
Did fast abound; for every hound
Of hell seemed there to be.
And sacrifice profane,
“A book! a book!” they loudly howled;
“Our spells are all in vain.
Resounded through the pile;
“Hu! tear him, tear him straight, for he
Has mocked us all this while!”
Then shrieked most bitterlye,
“O spare my son, and take my life,
The book was lodged by me.”
My life or peace must end;
O! take her, soul and body both!
Take her, and spare thy friend!”
Like hounds upon their prey;
And gathered round her in the aisle,
With many a hellish bray.
Their fangs in blood to stain,
But all their efforts to be felt,
Were impotent and vain.
His filial hands imbrued,
Or, if the Ruler of the sky
The scene with pity viewed,—
Ordained to interpose,
To take her life, and save her soul
From these infernal foes,
Inquiry all was vain;
But her blood was shed, for the swaird was red
But an' the kirk-door stane;—
Lay stiff upon the green.
A night so dire in Annandale,
Before had never been!
The fire-flaughts flew amain;
The graves were ploughed, the rocks were riven,
Whole flocks and herds were slain.
And laid beneath the stone;
But the heart, and the tongue, and every palm
From every hand, were gone.
Her body was on the floor;
Her reverend head, with sorrows gray,
Hung on the chapel door.
On Evan banks sae green,
And lived and died like other men,
For aught that could be seen;
And froward was his way;
And malice every action ruled,
Until his dying day.
And many a mettled fay;
And many a wayward spirit learned
His summons to obey.
And many things foretold;
Much was he feared, but little loved,
By either young or old.
The name of this ancient fane is Dumgree. It is beautifully situated on the west side of the Kinnel, one of the rivers which joins the Annan from the west; and is now in ruins. It is still frequented by a few peaceable spirits, at certain seasons. As an instance: Not many years ago, a neighbouring farmer, riding home at night upon a mare, who, besides knowing the road well enough, had her foal closed in at home, thought himself hard at his own house, but was surprised to find that his mare was stopped at the door of the old kirk of Dumgree. He mounted again, and essayed it a second and a third time; but always with the same result, and farther from home than when he first set out. He was now sensible that the beast was led by some invisible hand, so alighting, he went into the chapel and said his prayers; after which he mounted, and rode as straight home as if it had been noon. If the farmer had told his story to my uncle Toby, he would certainly have whistled, Lillabullero.
Auchincastle is situated on the west side of the Evan, another of the tributary streams of the Annan. It seems to have been a place of great strength and antiquity; is surrounded by a moat and a fosse; and is perhaps surpassed by none in Scotland for magnitude.
If he lived and died like other men, it appears that he was not at all buried like other men. When on his deathbed, he charged his sons, as they valued their peace and prosperity, to sing no requiem nor say any burial-service over his body; but to put a strong withie to each end of his coffin, by which they were to carry him away to Dumgree, and see that all the attendants were well mounted. On the top of a certain eminence they were to set down the corpse and rest a few minutes, and if nothing interfered, they might proceed. If they fulfilled these, he promised them the greatest happiness and prosperity for four generations; but if they neglected them in one point, the utmost misery and wretchedness. The lads performed everything according to their father's directions; and they had scarcely well set down the corpse on the place he mentioned when they were alarmed by the most horrible bellowing of bulls; and instantly two dreadful brindered ones appeared, roaring and snuffing, and tossing up the earth with their horns and hoofs; on which the whole company turned and fled. When the bulls reached the coffin, they put each of them one of their horns in their respective withies and ran off with the corpse, stretching their course straight to the westward. The relatives, and such as were well mounted, pursued them, and kept nigh them for several miles; but when they came to the small water of Brann, in Nithsdale, the bulls went straight through the air, from the one hill-head to the other, without descending to the bottom of the glen. This unexpected manœuvre threw the pursuers quite behind, though they needed not to have expected anything else, having before observed that their feet left no traces on the ground, though ever so soft. However, by dint of whip and spur, they again got sight of them; but when they came to Loch Ettrick, on the heights of Closeburn, they had all lost sight of them but two, who were far behind: but the bulls there meeting with another company, plunged into the lake with the corpse, and were never more seen at that time. Ever since his spirit has haunted that loch, and continues to do so to this day.
He was, when alive, very fond of the game of curling on the ice, at which no mortal man could beat him; nor has his passion for it ceased with death; for he and his hellish confederates continue to amuse themselves with this game during the long winter nights, to the great terror and annoyance of the neighbourhood, not much regarding whether the loch be frozen or not. I have heard sundry of the neighbouring inhabitants declare, with the most serious countenances, that they have heard them talking, and the sound of the stones running along the ice and hitting each other, as distinctly as ever they did when present at a real and substantial curling. Some have heard him laughing, others lamenting; and others have seen the two bulls plashing and swimming about in the loch at the close of the evening. In short, every one allows it to be a dangerous place, and a place where very many have been affrighted: though there is little doubt that, making allowances for the magnifying qualities of fear, all the above phenomena might be accounted for in a natural way. Wilkin's descendants are still known; and the poorer sort of them have often their great predecessor mentioned to them as a ground of reproach, whom they themselves allow to have been an awesome body.
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