For much she fear'd the grisly ghost
Would leap upon her back.
Still on, pat, pat, the goblin went,
As it had done before;
Her strength and resolution spent,
She fainted at the door.
Out came her husband, much surpris'd,
Out came her daughter dear,
Good-natur'd souls! all unadvis'd
Of what they had to fear.
The candle's gleam pierc'd through the night,
Shone short space o'er the green;
And there the little trotting sprite
Distinctly might be seen.
An ass's foal had lost its dam
Within the spacious park;
And, simple as the playful lamb,
Had follow'd in the dark.
No goblin he-no imp of sin,-
No crimes had ever known;
They took the shaggy stranger in,
And rear'd him as their own.
His little hoofs would rattle round
Upon the cottage floor;
The matron learn'd to love the sound,
That frighten'd her before.
A favourite the ghost became ;
And 'twas his fate to thrive ;
And long he liv'd and spread his fame,
And kept the joke alive.
For many a laugh went through the vale,
And some conviction too. —
Each thought some other goblin tale,
Perhaps, was just as true.
LADY Margaret at her window sat,
And gaz'd on the evening star,
As it burn'd in all its loveliness,
Like a beacon light afar.
There was silence over the earth and heavens, Save the murmur of the stream,
rippled through the birchen glen, And shone in the bright moon-beam.
The lady look'd on that beautiful stream;
And she look'd on the fair moonlight;
But she look'd in vain on wood and glen,
For the steed of her own true knight.
"Alas," she said, "it is now the hour
He promis'd to come to me;
For the evening star is throwing from far
Its beams on the trysting tree.
"And the moon is shining on yonder stream, In her sweetest-fairest light:
* This ballad was never before published.
Why then is he not at the trysting tree?
Why tarries my own true knight?
"But be still, be still, my beating heart,
For his steed I can surely see;
Then, oh, let me haste to meet my love,
Ere he reaches the trysting tree.
"But why does he come through the witches' glen? Ah, me! 'tis a fearful sign;
I can hear the ill omen'd night-bird shriek ;
And the moon has ceas'd to shine.
"But he comes, he comes, my own true love!
I see his waving plume;
It streams like a meteor on the blast,
Amidst the midnight gloom."
Lady Margaret left her father's halls,
And no thought of fear had she;
For she hasted to meet her own true knight,
'Neath the shade of the trysting tree.
And ever and aye she could see his plume,
As breathless she hasten'd on;
And she saw the gleam of his polish'd mail,
As the fitful moonlight shone.
And "Stop, oh stop, sweet love!" she cries, Why ride you thus so fast?
Good sooth, my strength is well nigh gone,
And I faint in this wintry blast."
But faster, and faster the knight he rode,
And onwards he pointed still;
And he bent his course along the way
That led to the elfin hill.
And nearer, and nearer Margaret came
On the steps of her own true knight;
And she saw that his cheek was death-like pale,
And his eyes shone with fearful light.
She follow'd him still o'er the elfin hill,
And on through the witches' glen;
And she saw that he fled with a swifter step
Than the speed of earthly men.
She follow'd him on to the church-yard green,
Till he stopp'd 'neath the trysting tree;
And "Here," he cried, "lady Margaret,
Let me rest, love, a while with thee."
They seated themselves on the grass-green turf,
That grew beneath their feet:
And Margaret felt her blood grow cold,
And her heart refus'd to beat.
They sat beside a grey old stone,
Where a dead man mould'ring lay;
And when Margaret look'd on her lover's face,
It was pale and cold like clay.
The moon shone out from behind a cloud,
And the beams fell upon the knight;
But a hideous corpse beside Margaret sat,
And she shrink'd at the fearful sight.
But while she yet look'd, away in air
Did the knight and his courser flee :
And Margaret lay a lifeless corpse
'Neath the shade of the trysting tree.
WITH gentle murmur flow'd the tide,
While, by the fragrant flowery side,
The lovely maid, with carols gay,
To Mary's church pursued her way.
The water-fiend's malignant eye
Along the banks beheld her hie;
Straight to his mother-witch he sped,
And thus in suppliant accents said:
"O mother! mother! now advise,
How I may yonder maid surprise!
Oh mother! mother! now explain,
How I may yonder maid obtain !"
The witch she gave him armour white,
She form'd him like a gallant knight;
Of water clear next made her hand
A steed, whose housings were of sand.
The water-king then swift he went,
To Mary's church his steps he bent;
He bound his courser to the door,
And pac'd the church-yard three times four.
His courser to the door bound he,
And pac'd the church-yard three times three,
Then hasten'd up the aisle, where all
The people flock'd, both great and small.
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