Poems (David)/Legend of the Border Knight
LEGEND OF THE BORDER KNIGHT.
The Legend thus named is merely a creation of the fancy. The "oak tree," and "dell," are of course as imaginary. The Legend runs thus: "Sir Jasper Leslie, the only heir to the castle of that name, is implored by his mother to maintain a feud, in which his father has been killed, and to seek out and revenge his death. This, Jasper promises, and wishing to know the turn of his fortune, seeks the guardian spirit of the family. From her he learns that the 'battle cry' must arise three times before his rival, Sir Lionel Gray, will fall by his hand. She then shows him the fate of the castle in a vision; and gives him a black steed, named Hilderbrand. The horse is spirit born, and bound by a spell, which is broken if the reins are severed; and which will place him in the hands of his rival. While returning, his attention is attracted to a gleam of light, which on his gaining the river's ford, proves to be the burning of Leslie Castle. An aeriel voice tells him that the 'battle cry' has arisen once. Sir Jasper then wanders about as a knight errant for some time, and after a meeting with his rival, in which he spares his life, having disarmed him, he marries by the directions of the sprite, a young girl, named Eveline. A year and a day after, a border raid having been made on the lands of Sir Jasper, (the castle having been rebuilt by the means of the sprite,) he, according to the manner of the times, went forth to give the marauders battle. While on his way, they encounter by a woodland burn, a blind minstrel and his son; their assistance having been asked, Sir Jasper advances to the old man, but he is unfortunately dead. His son, Wilfrid, follows Sir Jasper, who soon after intercepts the objects of his pursuit. Sir Lionel is taken by surprise, and attacked by Jasper; a blow from Sir Lionel Gray, in answer to Jasper's charge, cuts the golden bridle; the spell is broken, and Jasper is thrown to the earth, and at the mercy of his rival, when his life is saved by the minstrel's son! None except Sir Jasper escape from the field; and on his return, suddenly hears the cry of a white doe, which the sprite has fortold as the cause of the fall of him and his horse. Impelled by fate, he follows her, and finding a golden bow and silver arrow, under the branches of the haunted oak tree (which she has gained) takes aim, and the doe falls dead at the foot of the fatal tree. In an instant the noble tree is shattered, and the aeriel voice is heard, calling the guardian spirit of the house of Leslie. Sir Jasper is doomed to wander, until at the river's ford, he shall see drinking a white stag. Still some say the shade of Sir Jasper Leslie is seen, and when the fallen leaves of Autumn are lying on the ground, the phantom voice is heard calling in the groves near by, and the glitter of his mail is seen in the bright moonlight."
PROLOGUE.
HOW fast the lovely twilight gently fellO'er the beauteous shades of Kenna's dell;And shadows worthy of the haunted place,Its deep and dim mysterious groves doth grace.And gaunt and lonely, 'mid the haunted gladeA bleached dead oak tree stands within its shade.Embowered there in ivy, wild and free,Stands that mysterious old shattered tree, Where nodding 'mid her dreary day repose,To rest, the dreamy owl, at noontide goes.From the lost Leslies' sprite, its airy fame,And of the maiden oak, it bears the name.
TALE.
ALAS! there's woe in the old castle halls—A wild cry of grief rings around its walls;The fair lady of Leslie lonely stands,With her rosery clasp'd in her icy hands,Her fingers around them are closely pressed,And dishevelled sweeps her lone widow's dress.Full sudden there bursts on her listening earThe sharp sound of footsteps hurrying near.Through the half closed door Sir Jasper brokeAnd thus with half-formed sigh to him she spoke;"Jasper, thou bear'st sad tidings of the fray,Our foe hath conquered, I saw thee give wayAs I stood on the keep watching field and fell,Ah! speak and tell me how thy father died.""My father hath fallen," Sir Jasper cried,"And 'twas by the hand of Sir Lionel Gray!That he fell, alas! in our border fray.""Avenge" said his mother, "thy father's death, Avenge him, Jasper, with thy latest breath."It shall be mother," the brave Jasper cried."Now leave me," the lady, weeping replied,"Leave me in grief, to spend this day and night,And to commune with a far Higher Might."The sad Sir Jasper sought the vaulted hall,And on his youthful page did loudly call,"Oh! Edgar, bring forth my own gallant bay,To the maiden oak I must speed away;For they say that Kenna's guardian spriteTo the proud Leslies doth always speak right.Only a word from her;—and then to meThe cold dark future would revealed be.And though so great the risk at foemen's hand,Bravely I'll trust to my good helm and brand."Sir Jasper mounts his proud and ardent bay,And quickly speeds on his dangerous way—Alike, unmatched, they were both indeed,The young gallant knight and the noble steed.His azure mantle streamed far behind,Borne gracefully on the sweet summer wind,And around his bright helmet's snow white crest,A wreath of golden oak leaves find a rest.On his left arm, the ever friendly shieldAn oak tree vert upon argent field.As thus onward they sped o'er vale and fell To the lone silent depths of Kenna's dell.He there paused, and then springing to the groundHis charger to a low young hawthorn bound.And then bending thrice to the setting sun,This wild mystic strain he there thus began.
"Mysterious spirit, thou must tell What e'en a Leslie seeks to know; And thou art bound by mystic spell To do their bidding, friend or foe!— Hail! ethereal mystic one, Oh! leave awhile thy magic home, Appear in robe of dazzling white, Thou bright and mystic spirit, quickly come!"
Scarce had he spoke, ere to his eager sight,Appeared the Leslies' guardian sprite;With a green wreath of oak her brow was bound,And her slender waist was twined aroundWith a silken girdle of pure emerald greenAll bright with the diamonds' fitful sheen."What would'st thou ask?" the guardian spirit cried,"To learn my fortune," Sir Jasper replied,—"Thy fortune proud Sir Jasper," said the sprite"Is dark, and black as wild December's night,— Trouble and danger thou art bound to see,Ere again Sir Jasper shall gaze on me.Twice shall ye mingle on border fray,Ere by thy hand shall fall Sir Lionel Gray.Quailest thou frail mortal?—if to thee I showMy wild weird dwelling in the earth below.""Aye," quoth Sir Jasper stepping to her side,"I fear not whether weal or woe betide!"Swift thro' the yawning earth the two descend,And sky and river into darkness blend.It was but a moment when to his sightThere burst a wild pale flickering light.Clearly through the cavern's high vaulted halls,This song was borne along its mystic walls,—
"'Tis given unto thee frail mortal, On our deep spirits' home to gaze;— Mark, sir knight, what ye shall behold, Within the mystic altar's blaze. Oh! fear not our gift of Hilderbrand, He ne'er can do a harm to thee; If the golden reins are sever'd, Woeful alas! that hour will be."
Ceased this wild song in trembling accents drear,A cloud of dusky vapour roll'd aside, And to Jasper's eager eyes discloseAn altar whose fires to the roof arose;While in the writhing flames so clear and brightStrange mystic scenes burst on Sir Jasper's sight.Alas! he saw his proud ancestral towersWreath'd by ebon cloud that o'er it lowers;When it burst, towers, barbican and keep,Seemed to crumble at his very feet,And in 1ts place, a mass of ruined walls,—A shattered window marked its ancient halls,O'er grown with many a tall and graceful treeAnd ivy growing in massive clusters free."Behold thy castle's fate," the sybil cries,And a strange weird light, there dances in her eyes.She paused, and at her muttered spellUnclosed a portal, and around did'st swellThe sound of wild sweet music that ne'er earthTo such sweet perfect harmony did e'er give birth.And ere the mystic portal shut againThere issued forth a long weird elfin train,—As they slowly advanced, sweetly they sangTheir sweet chorus till all the chamber rang.—
"Oh! hail sir knight, for thou shalt find, The fairest maid on English shore;— Oh! thou must search, but ye shall win A beauty unsurpass'd before. Beware, sir knight, a snow white hind Shall be the means of Leslie's fall;— When by thy guardian spirit's tree The white doe shall be heard to call!"
The train divides, and in their mid'st beholdA coal black steed, in trappings wrought with gold."Follow sir knight, and from my magic handReceive the good steed Hilderbrand,He shall ever bear thee both true and well,On mountain bleak, o'er valley, hill or dell."As the spirit spoke, the scene began to fade,And all resum'd its dark and dusky shade,And wild and mocking laughter rang around.It slowly ceased: and then not a single soundWas heard by Jasper 'mid the Kenna's dellSave the music of the distant convent bell.No sound of living footsteps thro' the wood,As at his side the proud Hilderbrand stood.But now stretched low beneath yon tree, there lay,Cold alas! in death his proud ardent bay!On rode Sir Jasper o'er the mountain crest,When a fiery glow in the darken'd west,Lit up the wild forest, and all around.— "On," cried Sir Jasper, "for shall I be foundEver to shrink in fear from fight or fray!On, on, brave steed, I still will lead the way."A moment, and his swift and gallant steedSwept o'er the verdent fell, at fullest speed.He reached the ford where the skrunken waveThe reflecting fire seemed, alas! to lave,—And fiercely mounting to the midnight skyBright flames arose to leap and quickly dieRound the proud castle's stately time worn walls.Spell bound he sat until those noble hallsAt his feet in smouldering ruins sunk away,In the first dawning of the summer day.As thus he stood, at his startled sideA rude aeriel voice, thus wildly cried—"Lo! thy warning vision 'tis unsealed,Oh! who but I hath thy fate revealed?Once the battle cry thro' the castle dellWild hath rang afar over flood and fell,It ceased, while many a curse on Lionel GraySir Jasper breath'd as he pursued his way.Over the mountain dale and rippling brookJasper his errant way now lonely took,And thus onward rolled the summer day.The weeks and months had quickly sped away,And as Sir Jasper rode o'er brae and fell, On the mystic future he oft would dwell.The rambling thoughts which in his eager brainPassing thro' his mind so oft, and againThe tales of glory, and of wondrous fame,Which old Time had linked to the Leslies' name,Oft raised the wild hope that he might findSuch bright golden wreathes his young brow to bind.One beauteous eve of an Autumn dayFast fading, alas! in dusky night away,A horse's tramp was heard amid the brake fernThat luxuriant cluster'd by the burn,—Sir Jasper started as slowly thro' the gladeEmerged beneath the old elm tree's shade,Only attended by a single squire and page,The scorned object of his mother's rage,For too well he knew his proud rival's shieldWith a cheveron blanche on a ruby field."Sir Lionel Gray," Sir Jasper wildly cried,"The time for my vengeance hath now arrived?Craven art thou!—thou base and recreant knightTake up my gauntlet and prepare to fight."As Jasper spoke he dash'd his gauntlet down.And there amid'st the heather, dead and brown,As with a dark and clouded brow he gaz'dOn the steel challenge, as it brightly blaz'd,The silent witness of the coming strife The end of which alas! was life for life.And then at length they reach'd an open glade,Surrounded by the forests' deepest shade.They halted then, with long lances in rest,Charged, and flew the white plume from Jasper's crest,In splintered fragments before them layEach shatter'd lance, as an emblem of the day.With stout curtal axe, and good steel blade,They long fought amid the' deep forest shade.At length in crossing o'er the lonely dellSir Lionel's horse suddenly trip'd and fell.As a well aim'd blow at Jasper's feet did layThe wearied and exhausted Lionel Gray,Sir Jasper paus'd, for now their bitter strifeMight close for ever with a rival's life.He lay unarmed, his trusted brandWas now strcken from his proud foeman's hand."Rise" said Sir Jasper, "rise Sir Lionel Gray,For none I ween, shall ever dare to say,That Jasper Leslie's arm, a single blowHath ever dealt to prone and fallen foe!"But an hour passed, and once more aloneJasper did thro' the ancient forest roam,When in the centre of a lonely gladeRose to his sight the guardian spirit's shade, "Mortal," she cries, "go seek Saint Hilda's Well,Claim for thy bride the maid that by it dwells.Return with speed to Leslies' ancient halls,Though burnt and batter'd are its noble walls."The spirit paused, and then the mystic shadeCommenced in viewless air to gently fade.A burst of music wild, and then once moreThe lonely dell was silent as before.Oh! I need not linger now, not e'en to tellHow brave Sir Jasper sought Saint Hilda's Well.The gentle Eveline, now a beauteous bride,Rides by Sir Jasper Leslie's errant side,—Errant now no more, for spirits' handsAnew his noble castle halls did plan.Thus time flew on, and now a border raidBurst o'er the neighbouring hamlet in the glade,When 'mid his fire scath'd home, the vassals slain,The cry is rais'd to up and arm again!—The draw-bridge crashing slowly falls,And from the ancient castle's noble wallsIssue the brave Sir Jasper and his train,—With noble steed and richly broider'd reinHe rides the foremost to the distant fray.—For there hath now passed a year and a daySince with Sir Lionel, in Saint Hilda's glade,He long had fought within the forest shade. And onward they rode o'er burn, brae, and fellTill they reached a small lonely woodland well;And there seated by the fountain's green sideWas a blind minstrel and his youthful guide,—As thus they halted on their weary wayThe old man's head on the youth's shoulder lay."Help!—in our Lady's name," the younger cries,"Help, for I fear my father dying lies!"A glance, and the tale was told once more,And all the old bard's trials and griefs were o'er.On still they rode, and by the young knight's side,The minstrel's son, the youthful Lyderick, rides.And gently from the boy Sir Jasper drewThe tale of his wanderings wild and true.Swiftly, as on they sped beneath the shadeOf the fair autumn woodland's tranquil glade;And brightly shone the monarch of the dayOn lance, and fluttering pennon fair and gay.—Back from Sir Jasper's helmet it gleamedWith many a bright and radiant beam.And the snowy plume in his golden crest,Rich contrast to the azure scarf on his breast.The minstrel's son, in garb of sylvan greenIn striking contrast now to him was seen.—His calm saddened brow and his saint like face,His quiet mien and gentle youthful grace, Showed how he might have filled a higher stateThan that accorded by an adverse fate.Thus on they sped, o'er hill and valley green,Till 'neath the forest waving trees is seenThe distant form of proud Lionel Gray,All heedless of the now impending fray;And like some mountain torrent from the steep,Thro' the long glade doth, Jasper wildly sweep;And quickly springing o'er the woodland burn,Towards his rival swift he fiercely turns.Jasper's lance shiver'd on Lionel's shieldAnd almost dashed his rival to the field!An answering blow from his rival's handSever'd the golden reins of Hilderbrand,And the weird spell, which bound this sprite-born steed,By the now broken bridle thus was freed.In empty air, with wild and frantic bound,Dissolved the steed, while long rang aroundWeird mocking laughter, as Lionel GrayBade Jasper yield and end the deadly fray!—Yet e'er he could reply, the minstrel's sonHis benefactor's life had surely won;Full on Lionel's helm there sudden fellThe battle-axe he'd seized, aim'd true and well!His scarlet plume shorn from his helmet's crest, He sinks to earth, a blood stained form to rest.Jasper arose, and leaning on his swordFix'd his dark eyes upon the crimson sward.Afar from his side there raged the fray,Low were the tones in which he turn'd to say—"Powerless now I feel for evermore;My rival falls, and vengeance thou art o'er!"Alas! soon feeble rose the battle cry,As Leslie's remnant now fast turned to fly:—All weary, wounded, and alas! cast down,Sad band, on whom doth fortune sadly frown.Jasper the sole survivor of that day,Home thro' Kenna's dell doth take his way;When amidst the woodland groves did he hearAfar a wild hind's cry, so soft and clear,—A white doe bounded o'er the forest brake,Impelled by some unknown mysterious fate.He followed on o'er burn, and brae, and fell,Until they reached the shade of Kenna's dell.A golden bow and silver arrow layBright flashing in the autumn sunset ray.Quick to the mystic bow the dart he strung,Swift through the balmy air it wildly sung,And in the white doe's snowy side it lies,—One bound,—and by the fatal tree she dies!A moment—and the oak in fragments fell And loud an aerial voice rang thro' the dell!
"Thy task is done, alas! Sir Knight, Fallen, fallen, and thus by thee, Is the Leslies' guardian sprite,— Oh! now the warning voice is free.
"Oh! fare thee well! thy noble name Shall fade alas! from Leslies' hall; And thy long banished deeds of fame, Hov'ring rest p'er thy castle wall.
"Thou must wander, lone and sorrowing, For ever thro' this forest dell, Till a snow white hart thou findest Drinking at yon bright woodland dell."
Still 'tis said amid the forest gladeOften is seen Sir Jasper Leslie's shade;And when the rich autumn leaves are falling,The weird phantom's voice is oft heard calling.And of his glittering mail is seen the distant gleam,By the pale and silvery moon's gentle beam.