There, in the bright August moonlight, a snow-white hart and hind were pacing along side by side. They moved in slow and stately measure, paying little heed to the ever-increasing crowd who gathered round their path.
"Let us send for Thomas of Ercildoune," said someone at last; "mayhap he can tell us what this strange sight bodes."
"Yea, verily, let us send for True Thomas," cried everyone at once, and a little page was hastily despatched to the old tower.
Its master started from his bed when he heard the message, and dressed himself in haste. His face was pale, and his hands shook.
"This sign concerns me," he said to the wondering lad. "It shows me that I have spun my thread of life, and finished my race here."
So saying, he slung his magic harp on his shoulder, and went forth in the moonlight. The men who were waiting for him saw him at a distance, and 'twas noted how often he turned and looked back at his old tower, whose gray stones were touched by the soft autumn moonbeams, as though he were bidding it a long farewell.
He walked along the moor until he met the snow-white hart and hind; then, to everyone's terror and amazement, he turned with them, and all three went down the steep bank, which at that place borders the Leader, and plunged into the river, which was running at high flood.
"He is bewitched! To the rescue! To the rescue, ere it be too late!" cried the crowd with one voice.
But although a knight leaped on his horse in haste, and spurred him at once through the raging torrent, he could see nothing of the Rhymer or his strange companions. They had vanished, leaving neither sign nor trace behind them; and to this day it is believed that the hart and the hind were messengers from the Queen of the Fairies, and that True Thomas went back with them to dwell in her country for ever.