WATER KELPIE.
Aft, owre the bent, with heather blent,
And throw the forest brown,
I tread the path to yon green strath,
Quhare brae-born Esk rins down.
Its banks alang, quhilk hazels thrang,
Quhare sweet-sair'd hawthorns blow,
I lufe to stray, and view the play
Of fleckit scales below.
Ae summer e'en, upon the green,
I laid me down to gaze;
The place richt nigh, quhare Carity
His humble tribute pays:
And Prosen proud, with rippet loud,
Cums ravin' frae his glen;
As gin he might auld Esk affricht,
And drive him back agen.
An ancient tour appear't to lour
Athort the neibourin plain,
Quhais chieftain bauld, in times of auld,
The kintre callit his ain.
Its honours cowit, its now forhowit,
And left the houlat's prey;
Its skuggin' wude, aboon the flude,
With gloom owrespreads the day.
A dreary shade the castle spread,
And mirker grew the lift;
The croonin' kie the byre drew nigh,
The darger left his thrift.
The levrock shill on erd was still,
The westlin wind fell loun;
The fisher's houp forgat to loup,
And aw for rest made boun.
I seemit to sloom, quhan throw the gloom
I saw the river shake,
And heard a whush alangis it rush,
Gart aw my members quake;
Syne, in a stound, the pool profound
To cleave in twain appear'd:
And huly throw the frichtsom how
His form a gaist uprear'd.
He rashes bare, and seggs, for hair,
Quhare ramper-eels entwin'd;
Of filthy gar his ee-brees war,
With esks and horse-gells lin'd.
And for his een, with dowie sheen,
Twa huge horse-mussels glar'd:
From his wide mow a torrent flew,
And soupt his reedy beard.
Twa slauky stanes seemit his spule-banes;
His briskit braid, a whin;
Ilk rib sae bare, a skelvy skair;
Ilk arm a monstrous fin.
He frae the wame a fish became,
With shells aw coverit owre:
And for his tail, the grislie whale
Could nevir match its pow'r.
With dreddour I, quhen he drew nigh,
Had maistly swarfit outricht:
Less fleyit at lenth I gatherit strenth,
And speirit quhat was this wicht.
Syne thrice he shook his fearsum bouk,
And thrice he snockerit loud;
From ilka ee the fire-flauchts flee,
And flash alangis the flude.
Quhan words he found, their elritch sound
Was like the norlan blast,
Frae yon deep glack, at Catla's back,
That skeegs the dark-brown waste.
The troublit pool conveyit the gowl
Down to yon echoin rock;
And to his maik, with wilsum skraik,
Ilk bird its terror spoke.
"Vile droich," he said, "art nocht afraid
"Thy mortal life to tyne?
"How dar'st thou seik with me till speik,
"Sae far aboon thy line?
"Yet sen thou hast thai limits past,
"That sinder sprites frae men,
"Thy life I'll spare, and aw declare,
"That worms like thee may ken.
"In kintries nar, and distant far,
"Is my renoun propalit;
"As is the leid, my name ye'll reid,
"But here I'm Kelpie callit.
"The strypes and burns, throw aw their turns,
"As weel's the waters wide,
"My laws obey, thair spring heads frae,
"Doun till the salt sea tide.
"Like some wild staig, I aft stravaig,
"And scamper on the wave:
"Quha with a bit my mow can fit,
"May gar me be his slave.
"To him I'll wirk baith morn and mirk
"Quhile he has wark to do;
"Gin tent he tak I do nae shak
"His bridle frae my mow.
"Quhan Murphy's laird his biggin rear'd,
"I carryit aw the stanes;
"And mony a chiell has heard me squeal
"For sair-brizz'd back and banes.
"Within flude-mark, I aft do wark
"Gudewillit, quhan I please;
"In quarries deep, quhile uthers sleep,
"Greit blocks I win with ease.
"Yon bonny brig quhan folk wald big,
"To gar my stream look braw;
"A sair-toil'd wicht was I be nicht;
"I did mair than thaim aw.
"And weel thai kent quhat help I lent,
"For thai yon image framit,
"Aboon the pend quhilk I defend;
"And it thai Kelpie namit.
"Quhan lads and lasses wauk the clais,
"Narby yon whinny hicht,
"The sound of me their daffin lays;
"Thai dare na mudge for fricht.
"Now in the midst of them I scream,
"Quhan toozlin' on the haugh;
"Than quhihher by thaim doun the stream,
"Loud nickerin in a lauch.
"Sicklike's my fun, of wark quhan run;
"But I do meikle mair:
"In pool or ford can nane be smur'd
"Gin Kelpie be nae there.
"Fow lang, I wat, I ken the spat,
"Quhair ane sall meet his deid:
"Nor wit nor pow'r put aff the hour,
"For his wanweird decreed.
"For oulks befoir, alangis the shoir,
"Or dancin' down the stream,
"My lichts are seen to blaze at een,
"With wull wanerthly gleam.
"The hind cums in, gif haim he win,
"And cries, as he war wode;
'Sum ane sall soon be carryit down
'By that wanchancy flude.'
"The taiken leil thai ken fow weel,
"On water sides quha won;
"And aw but thai, quha's weird I spae,
"Fast frae the danger run.
"But fremmit fouk I thus provoke
"To meit the fate thai flee:
"To wilderit wichts thai're waefow lichts,
"But lichts of joy to me.
"With ruefow cries, that rend the skies,
"Thair fate I seem to mourn,
"Like crocodile, on banks of Nile;
"For I still do the turn.
"Douce, cautious men aft fey are seen;
"Thai rin as thai war heyrt,
"Despise all reid, and court their deid:
"By me are thai inspir't.
"Yestreen the water was in spate,
"The stanners aw war cur'd:
"A man, nae stranger to the gate,
"Raid up to tak the ford.
"The haill town sware it wadna ride;
"And Kelpie had been heard:
"But nae a gliffin wad he bide,
"His shroud I had prepar'd.
"The human schaip I sumtimes aip:
"As Prosenhaugh raid haim,
"Ae starnless nicht, he gat a fricht,
"Maist crack't his bustuous frame.
"I, in a glint, lap on ahint,
"And in my arms him fangit;
"To his dore-cheik I keipt the cleik:
"The carle was sair bemangit.
"My name itsell wirks like a spell,
"And quiet the house can keep;
"Quhan greits the wean, the nurse in vain,
"Thoch tyke-tyrit, tries to sleip.
"But gin scho say, 'Lie still, ye skrae,
"There's Water-Kelpie's chap;'
"It's fleyit to wink, and in a blink
"It sleips as sound's a tap."
He said, and thrice he rais't his voice,
And gaif a horrid gowl:
Thrice with his tail, as with a flail,
He struck the flying pool.
A thunderclap seem't ilka wap,
Resoundin' throw the wude:
The fire thrice flash't; syne in he plash't,
And sunk beneath the flude.
NOTES
ON
WATER KELPIE.
The fisher's houp forgat to loup.—P. [385]. v. 2.
The fishes, the hope of the angler, no more rose to the fly.
And aw for rest made boun.—P. [385]. v. 2.
All commonly occurs in our old writers. But aw is here used, as corresponding with the general pronunciation in Scotland; especially as it has the authority of Dunbar, in his Lament for the Deth of the Makaris.
His form a gaist uprear'd.—P. [385]. v. 8.
It is believed in Angus, that the spirit of the waters appears sometimes as a man, with a very frightful aspect; and, at other times, as a horse. The description, here given, must therefore be viewed as the offspring of fancy. All that can be said for it is, that such attributes are selected as are appropriate to the scenery.
Twa huge horse-mussells glar'd.—P. [386]. v. 1.
South-Esk abounds with the fresh water oyster, vulgarly called the horse-mussel; and, in former times, a pearl fishery was carried on here to considerable extent.
Frae yon deep glack, at Catla's back.—P. [387]. v. 1.
Part of the Grampian mountains. Catla appears as a promontory, jutting out from the principal ridge, towards the plain. The Esk, if I recollect right, issues from behind it.
Thy mortal life to tyne.—P. [387]. v. 2.
The vulgar idea is, that a spirit, however frequently it appear, will not speak, unless previously addressed. It is, however, at the same time believed, that the person, who ventures to speak to a ghost, will soon forfeit his life, in consequence of his presumption.
His bridle frae my mow.—P. [388]. v. 1.
The popular tradition is here faithfully described; and, strange to tell! has not yet lost all credit. In the following verses, the principal articles of the vulgar creed in Angus, with respect to this supposed being, are brought together and illustrated by such facts as are yet appealed to by the credulous. If I mistake not, none of the historical circumstances mentioned are older than half a century. It is only about thirty years since the bridge referred to was built.
For sair-brizz'd back and banes.—P. [388]. v. 2.
It is pretended that Kelpie celebrated this memorable event in rhyme; and that for a long time after he was often heard to cry, with a doleful voice,
"Sair back and sair banes,
Carryin' the laird of Murphy's stanes."
And it thai Kelpie namit.—P. [388]. v. 3.
A head, like that of a gorgon, appears above the arch of the bridge. This was hewn in honour of Kelpie.
His shroud I had prepar'd.—P. [390]. v. 3.
A very common tale in Scotland is here alluded to by the poet. On the banks of a rapid stream the water spirit was heard repeatedly to exclaim, in a dismal tone, "The hour is come, but not the man;" when a person coming up, contrary to all remonstrances, endeavoured to ford the stream, and perished in the attempt. The original story is to be found in Gervase of Tilbury.—In the parish of Castleton, the same story is told, with this variation, that the by-standers prevented, by force, the predestined individual from entering the river, and shut him up in the church, where he was next morning found suffocated, with his face lying immersed in the baptismal font. To a fey person, therefore, Shakespeare's words literally apply:
---- Put but a little water in a spoon,
And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to swallow such a being up.
GLOSSARY
OF
THE WORDS REQUIRING EXPLANATION IN THE FOREGOING POEM.
Aboon. Above.
Ahint. Behind.
Aip. Ape, imitate.
Alangis. Alongst.
Bemangit. Injured, whether in mind or body; a word much used in Angus.
Be. By.
Big. Build.
Biggin. Building, house.
Blink. Moment.
Bonny. Handsome, beautiful.
Boun. Ready.
Bouk. Body.
Braw. Fine.
Briskit. Breast.
Bustuous. Huge.
Byre. Cow-house.
Chap. Rap.
Chiell. Fellow.
Cleik. Hold.
Cowit. Shorn, cut off.
Croonin. Bellowing—most properly with a low and mournful sound.
Cur'd. Covered.
Darger. Labourer, day-worker.
Daffin. Sport.
Deid. Death.
Do the turn. Accomplish the fatal event.
Dore-cheek. Door-post.
Dowie. Melancholy, sad.
Douce. Sober, sedate.
Dreddour. Dread, terror.
Droich. Dwarf, pigmy.
Een. Eyes.
Eebrees. Eyebrows.
Elritch. Wild, hideous, not earthly.
Erd. Earth.
Esks. Newts, or efts.
Fey. Affording presages of approaching death, by acting a part directly the reverse of their proper character.
Fire-flauchts. Lightnings.
Fleckit-scales. Spotted shoals, or troops of trouts and other fishes.
Fleyd. Frighted.
Forhowit. Forsaken.
Fow. Full.
Fangit. Seized.
Fleyit. Affrighted.
Frightsum. Frightful.
Fremmit fouk. Strange folk.
Gaist. Ghost.
Gaif. Gave.
Gart. Caused, made.
Gar. The slimy vegetable substance in the bed of a river.
Gate. Road.
Glack. A hollow between two hills or mountains.
Gliffin. A moment.
Glint. Moment.
Gowl. Yell.
Greits. Cries, implying the idea of tears.
Gudewillit. Without constraint, cheerfully.
Haill. Whole.
Haugh. Low, flat ground on the side of a river.
Heyrt. Furious.
Howlat. Owl.
Horse-gells. Horse-leeches.
Huly. Slowly.
Ilk. Each.
In a stound. Suddenly.
Ken. Know.
Kie. Cows.
Kintrie. Country.
Lavrock. Lark.
Lauch. Laugh.
Leid. Language.
Leil. True, not delusive.
Lift. Sky.
Loun'. Calm.
Loup. Leap.
Maik. Companion, mate.
Mirk. During night.
Mirker. Darker.
Mow. Mouth.
Mudge. Budge, stir.
Nar. Near.
Narby. Near to.
Nickerin. Neighing.
Nocht. Not.
Norlan. Northern.
Oulks. Weeks.
Pend. Arch.
Quhihher. The idea is nearly expressed by whiz.
Quhilk. Which.
Ramper-eels. Lampreys.
Rashes. Rushes.
Rede. Council.
Reid. Read.
Rippet. Noise, uproar.
Sair brizz'd. Sore bruised.
Sall. Shall.
Sen. Since.
Seggs. Sedges.
Sheen. Shine.
Shill. Shrill.
Sicklike. Of this kind.
Sinder. Separate.
Skelvy skair. A rock presenting the appearance of a variety of lamina.
Skeegs. Lashes.
Skrae. Skeleton.
Skuggin. Overshadowing, protecting wood.
Sloom. Slumber.
Slauky. Slimy.
Smur'd. Smothered.
Snockerit. Snorted.
Soupt. Drenched.
Spae. Predict.
Spat. Spot.
Spate. Flood.
Speirit. Asked.
Spule-banes. Shoulder-blades.
Stanners. Gravel on the margin of a river, or any body of water.
Staig. A young horse.
Starnless. Without stars.
Stravaig. Stray, roam.
Strypes. Rills of the smallest kind.
Swarfit. Fainted.
Sweet sair'd. Sweet savoured.
Syne. Then.
Taiken. Token.
Tap. A child's top.
Tent. Take care, be attentive.
Thai. These.
Than. Then.
Toozlin. Toying, properly putting any thing in disorder.
Tyke-tyrit. Tired as a dog after coursing.
Tyne. Lose.
Waefou. Fatal, causing woe.
Wald. Would.
Wanweirid. Unhappy fate.
Wanchancy. Unlucky, causing misfortune.
Wanerthly. Preternatural.
Wap. Stroke, flap.
War. Were.
Wauk the claes. Watch the clothes.
Wean. Child.
Weird. Fate.
Whush. A rustling sound.
Wilsum skraik. Wild shriek.
Wirk. Work.
Wode. Deprived of reason.
Win. Dig from a quarry.
Wull. Wild.
Yestreen. Yesternight.
[ELLANDONAN CASTLE.]
A HIGHLAND TALE.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.—- COLIN MACKENZIE, ESQ.
Ellandonan Castle stands on a small rocky isle, situated in Loch Duich (on the west coast of Ross), near the point where the western sea divides itself into two branches, forming Loch Duich and Loch Loung. The magnificence of the castle itself, now a roofless ruin, covered with ivy, the beauty of the bay, and the variety of hills and valleys that surround it, and particularly the fine range of hills, between which lie the pastures of Glensheal, with the lofty summit of Skooroora, overtopping the rest, and forming a grand back-ground to the picture; all contribute to make this a piece of very romantic Highland scenery.[92]
The castle is the manor-place of the estate of Kintail, which is denominated the barony of Ellandonan. That estate is the property of Francis, Lord Seaforth. It has descended to him, through a long line of gallant ancestors; having been originally conferred on Colin Fitzgerald, son to the Earl of Desmond and Kildare, in the kingdom of Ireland, by a charter, dated 9th January, 1266, granted by King Alexander the third, "Colino Hybernio," and bearing, as its inductive cause, "pro bono et fideli servitio, tam in bello, quam in pace." He had performed a very recent service in war, having greatly distinguished himself in the battle of Largs, in 1263, in which the invading army of Haco, King of Norway, was defeated. Being pursued in his flight, the king was overtaken in the narrow passage which divides the island of Skye from the coasts of Inverness and Ross, and, along with many of his followers, he himself was killed, in attempting his escape through the channel dividing Skye from Lochalsh. These straits, or kyles, bear to this day appellations, commemorating the events by which they were thus distinguished, the former being called Kyle Rhee, or the King's Kyle, and the latter Kyle Haken.
The attack on Ellandonan Castle, which forms the subject of the following poem, lives in the tradition of the country, where it is, at this day, a familiar tale, repeated to every stranger, who, in sailing past, is struck with admiration at the sight of that venerable monument of antiquity. But the authenticity of the fact rests not solely on tradition. It is recorded, by Crawford, in his account of the family of Macdonald, Lord of the Isles, and reference is there made to a genealogy of Slate, in the possession of the family, as a warrant for the assertion. The incident took place in 1537.
The power of the Lord of the Isles was at that time sufficiently great to give alarm to the crown. It covered not only the whole of the Western Isles, from Bute northwards, but also many extensive districts on the main-land, in the shires of Ayr, Argyle, and Inverness. Accordingly, in 1535, on the failure of heirs-male of the body of John, Lord of the Isles, and Earl of Ross, as well as of two of his natural sons, in whose favour a particular substitution had been made, King James the fifth assumed the lordship of the Isles. The right was, however, claimed by Donald, fifth baron of Slate, descended from the immediate younger brother of John, Lord of the Isles. This bold and high-spirited chieftain lost his life in the attack on Ellandonan Castle, and was buried by his followers on the lands of Ardelve, on the opposite side of Loch Loung.
The barony of Ellandonan then belonged to John Mackenzie, ninth baron of Kintail. Kenneth, third baron, who was son to Kenneth, the son of Colin Fitzgerald, received the patronimic appellation of Mac Kenneth, or Mac Kennye, which descended from him to his posterity, as the sirname of the family. John, baron of Kintail, took a very active part in the general affairs of the kingdom. He fought gallantly at the battle of Flodden, under the banners of King James the fourth, was a member of the privy council in the reign of his son, and, at an advanced age, supported the standard of the unfortunate Mary, at the battle of Pinkie.
In the sixth generation from John, baron of Kintail, the clan was, by his lineal descendant, William, fifth earl of Seaforth, summoned, in 1715, to take up arms in the cause of the house of Stuart. On the failure of that spirited, but ill-fated enterprize, the earl made his escape to the continent, where he lived for about eleven years. Meantime his estate and honours were forfeited to the crown, and his castle was burnt. A steward was appointed to levy the rents of Kintail, on the king's behalf; but the vassals spurned at his demands, and, while they carried on a successful defensive war, against a body of troops sent to subdue their obstinacy, in the course of which the unlucky steward had the misfortune to be slain, one of their number made a faithful collection of what was due, and carried the money to the earl himself, who was at that time in Spain. The descendants of the man, to whom it was entrusted to convey to his lord this unequivocal proof of the honour, fidelity, and attachment of his people, are at this day distinguished by the designation of Spaniard; as Duncan, the Spaniard, &c. The estate was, a few years after the forfeiture, purchased from government, for behoof of the family, and re-invested in the person of his son.