They turn’d the hare within her arms
A cockatrice and adder sterne;
They turn’d the hare within her arms
A flittering reide het gaud o’ ern.
But still within her kirtle row’d,
She sung her hymn and held it fast;
And ere the seventh time round was won,
Her child clung to his parent’s breast.
“Ycho! ycho! The Keylan Rowe;”
Away the fairy music sped,
“The day is lost, a maid has wonne,
The babe maun lie amang the dead.
“The babe maun grow as grass has grown,
And live, and die, and live anew,
Ycho! ycho! The Keylan Rowe
Must vanish like the morning dew.”
CHAPTER VI.
As the beautiful fairy-dame, or guardian spirit, or whatever she was, had predicted, so it came to pass. The Borderers, alarmed at the danger of the king, came down a thousand strong, thinking to surprise Douglas, and take their monarch out of his hands by force; and they would have effected it with ease, had not the Earl received some secret intelligence of their design. No one ever knew whence he had this intelligence, nor could he comprehend or explain it himself, but it had the effect of defeating the bold and heroic attempt. They found him fully prepared—a desperate battle ensued—120 men were left dead on the field—and then things remained precisely in the same state as they had been before.
The court left Melrose shortly after—the king felt as if he stood on uncertain ground—a sort of mystery always hung around him, which he never could develope; but ere he went, he presided at the trial of the maiden Pery, who stood indicted, as the Choronikkle of Mailros bears, for being “Ane ranke wytche and enchaunteresse, and leigged hand and kneife with the devil.”
A secret examination of the parties first took place, and the proof was so strong against the hapless Pery, that all hopes of escape vanished. There was Croudy ready to make oath to the truth of all that he had advanced with regard to his transmutation, and there were others who had seen her coming down from the Moss-Thorn at the very time that Croudy appeared to have been changed, just before he made his dashing entry into the loan among the cows; and even old Father Rubely had, after minute investigation, discovered the witch-mark, both on her neck and thumb-nail. The king would gladly have saved her, when he beheld her youth and beauty, but he had sworn to rid the country of witches, and no excuse could be found. All the people of the country were sorry on account of Pery, but all believed her guilty, and avoided her, except Gale, who, having had the courage to visit her, tried her with the repetition of prayers and creeds, and found that she not only said them without hesitation, but with great devotional warmth; therefore he became convinced that she was not a witch. She told him her tale with that simplicity, that he could not disbelieve it, and withal confessed, that her inquisitors had very nearly convinced her that she was a witch; and that she was on the point of making a confession that had not the slightest foundation in truth. The shepherd was more enlightened than the worthy clergyman, as shepherds generally are, and accounted for this phenomenon in a truly philosophical way. Pery assented; for whatever Gale said sounded to her heart as the sweetest and most sensible thing that ever was said. She loved him to distraction, and adversity had subtilized, not abated the flame. Gale found his heart interested—he pitied her, and pity is allied to love. How to account for the transformation of Croudy, both were completely at a loss; but they agreed that it was the age of witchery, and no one could say what might happen! Gale was never from the poor culprit’s side: He condoled with her—wept over her—and even took her in his arms, and impressed a tender kiss on her pale lips. It was the happiest moment of Pery’s existence! She declared, that since she was pure in his eyes, she would not only suffer without repining, but with delight.
As a last resource, Gale sought out Croudy, and tried to work upon him to give a different evidence at the last and final trial; but all that he could say, Croudy remained obstinately bent on her destruction.