Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads Jacobite Ballads, &c. &c. By George W. Thornbury ... with illustrations by H. S. Marks |
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THE DEIL AMANG THE LESLIES. |
 | Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads |  |
THE DEIL AMANG THE LESLIES.
[I have read somewhere an old Scotch tradition of a young Highland Romeo, who came in disguise to a banquet given by the chieftain of a hostile house, with the intention of carrying off, like a second Lochinvar, the lady of his love, the daughter of his father's enemy, He was discovered by his mask falling off as he led up the first dance, but instantly drawing his dagger and, continuing the measure, he passed up the ranks of the bystanders, stabbing them right and left, and eventually making his escape unscathed from the terror-stricken serving-men. I have ventured to heighten the story, and to complete the abduction. I believe there is a piper's tune still existing, called, “The devil among the Leslies,” which commemorates this dance of death. I have laid the scene, as to manners and dress, about the reign of James VI. The reader must imagine the young ‘brave’ now grown old, relating the daring adventure of his youth to a friend. I thought the personal relation would give the poem a more lively and dramatic air.]
Never bright since when I thrust it
(See such scenes thou never wilt),
Long ago in banquet hall,
When I gaily led the Brawl,
Into one the Leslie trusted!
Stout I then was, gay and tall;
There were fiddlers, there were harpers,
There were drinkers, there were sharpers,
There were dicers, all intent
On the way the black spots went,
Little thinking how within
They were spotted thick with sin;
And behind them sneered the carpers.
Opened the gay ball that night,
Danced the Pavin's solemn measure,
With the sweet one, my heart's treasure,
'Till the music 'gan to vary,
Then we tripped in a Canary,
And I pressed her hand so white.
Followed up the swift Canary.
Whispered I, but soft and low,
“I am one that ye should know.”
As I led her to her seat,
Fell my mask off at her feet.
How he stared, young Inverary!
Hurled at him a gilded seat,
Then drew sword, and placed my back
'Gainst the wall, as frowning black,
Flocked around me the retainers.
Fools! by death they'd be no gainers.
Then swooned at my side my sweet.
I, forsooth, it seemed to madden,
Fast as murmurs spread around,
I leapt onward with a bound,
Clove a gallant to the middle,
Ere they could read right the riddle—
Sight of blood my eyes did gladden.
Ere the fiddler hushed his fiddle,
This good knife of mine did rest.
Broadsword bare, and Highland dirk,
On that night did bloody work,—
Helped them to unfold the riddle.
All the jesters, and the carpers,
Crowded round to see the blow
That should slay the daring foe;
How the singers, pale with fright,
Dropped their wine-cups on that night,
And their cards—flung down the sharpers.
Flaring torches flung red shades,
Jewels on each brawny chest
Splintered east and splintered west,
And the guests fled all away
When they saw the growing fray,
Little 'customed to such raids.
Like the new-fledged doves in May;
How their silken dresses fluttered,
How the greybeards frowned and muttered,
But I slew ere they could strike,
For they loved not that grim play.
To leap on me; shaft of pike
Pinned him howling to the floor.
Then arose a wild uproar,
And I hewed a bloody path,
Through wild wardens, black with wrath,
As they shouted, “Bar the door.”
As he strove to bar the door,
Leapt I as a wounded stag
Does from thicket on to crag;
Bleeding, fainting, but at bay,
So turned I on their array,
As a lion on the Moor.
Scowling at the knaves' array,
I put bugle-horn to mouth;
Quick from east, and north, and south,
Poured my clansmen, slogan shouting,
And began, swords drawn, their flouting,
As they cleared for me a way.
At the terror of that shouting,
Target cloven, bullets singing,
Steel blade on steel skull-cap ringing,
Axes splintering, oak-plank crashing,
Red rain on the portal splashing,
Howling, yelling, screaming, flouting.
Where so late I led the Brawl,
And I bore the maiden trembling,
Eyes bent down, in sweet dissembling.
How her little heart was beating,
As I clasped her round—the sweeting,
And far distant from the fray,
Kissed each tear of pearl away.
Kissed her brow, and mouth, and all.
| Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads | |