"Is it the language of the convent and the priory alone?" said the maid.
"No, thou rose of the desart," said the friar;—"it is not the language indeed, but the stile of language over one half of the habitable world. It is the language of all the kingdoms and countries of the east, from India even unto Ethiopia; and all the way as thou goest down towards the rising of the sun, yea from the river to the ends of the earth it prevaileth. But, O thou fairest among the daughters of women! that language did I not learn in the lands that are watered by the great river, even the river Euphrates. In Ur of the Chaldees have I not sojourned; nor on the mountains of Palestine have I lifted up my eyes. But I learned it from one little book; a book that is of more value to the children of men than all the gold of Ophir. O maiden, could I but make known unto thee the treasures of that book, the majesty of its stile, and the excellency of its precepts, it would make thine heart to sing for joy. If all the writings of this world, yea, if the world itself were to be laid in the balance with that book, they would be found wanting. The mountains may depart, and the seas may pass away, the stars, and the heavens in which they shine, may be removed, but the words of that book shall remain for ever and ever! And this language that I now speak to thee resembleth the words written therein; and I speak them unto thee that thou mayest hear and love them."
"Dear friar, teach me to read and understand that book, for my breast yearneth to know more about it. I am, it is true, not my own at present to give, but I have some forebodings here that tell me I soon shall; and, father, I will serve thee, and be thy handmaid, if thou wilt teach me the words and the mysteries of that little book."
"Alas! and wo is me, for the ignorance of my people!" said he, with the tears streaming over his grim cheek; "they are troubled about that which availeth them nothing, while the way of life is hid from their eyes. Their leaders have caused them to err; and I, even I, have been a dweller in the tabernacles of sin! But the day-star hath shone upon my soul and my spirit: For that have I been persecuted, and hunted as a partridge upon the mountains, chased from the habitations of my brethren, and forced to dwell among a strange and savage people. Yet there are among them whom I love; and could I be the mean of opening thine eyes, and turning thee from darkness unto light, then would I know for what purpose the finger of heaven had pointed out my way to this barren wilderness. Thou can'st not be a servant or a handmaiden unto one who is little better than an outcast and a vagabond on the earth. But better days may come to us both: I am not what I seem; but, maiden, thou mayest trust me. My love for thee surpasseth the love of women, for it is with more than an earthly love that I behold and delight in thee. Come unto me this night, and I will tell thee things that shall make thine ears tingle. The book of wonders is here with me, and thou mayest look thereon and be glad."
The poet and his associates listened to this rhapsody apart.
"What book does he mean?" said the poet: "If it is not True Thomas's book, or the book of Sir Gawin, he must be speaking absolute nonsense. I could recite these to lovely Delany, word for word; and must this clumsy old friar wile her from me by any better book than these?"
"You are clean mista'en, maister poeter," said Tam; "I ken mair about auld Roger than you do, or than ony that's here. It is a book o' black art that he carries about wi' him, and studies on it night and day. He gat it at a place they ca' Oxford, where they study nought else but sic cantrips. They hae tried to hang him, and they hae tried to cut off his head, and they hae tried to burn him at the stake; but tow wadna hang, water wadna drown, steel wadna nick, and a' the fire o' the land wadna singe ae hair o' the auld loun's head."
"Gude forgie me!" said Charlie: "An that be true, Corby, you and I had maybe mair pith than our ain yon time. I wondered that he rade sae furiously on the drawn swords of men and armour, the auld warlock. He-he-he! we'll aiblins try auld Michael at his ain weapons, an that be the gate."
"Ye maunna lippen ower muckle to a' this," said he of the Peatstacknowe; "else ye may play like Marion's Jock, when he gaed away to douk in Commonside loch. 'It is a hard matter,' says Jock to himself, 'that a' the lave o' Commonside's men can swatter and swim in the loch like sae mony drakes but me. I am fain either to poutter about the side, or down I gang. I can neither sink nor swim; for when I try to get to the bottom to creep, there I stick like a woundit paddock, wagging my arms and my legs, and can neither get to the top nor the bottom. Just half way, there stick I. But I's be even hands wi' them an' mair, an' then I'll laugh at the leishest o' them; for I'll stand, and wade, and gang ower the waves afore them a', aye, and that wi' my head boonmost.' Jock, after this grand contrivance, coudna rest, but off he sets to Hawick, and gets four big blawn bladders; and the next day, when a' the lave went to bathe, Jock he went to bathe amang the rest; and he gangs slyly into a bush by himsel', and ties twa o' the bladders to every foot. 'Now,' thinks Jock, 'I'll let them see a trick.' Sae he slips into the loch, and wades into the deep; but the bladders they aye gart him hobble and bob up and down, till, faith, he loses the balance, and ower he coups. Nane o' them kend o' Jock's great plan, and they were a' like to burst their sides wi' laughing when they saw Jock diving. But when they saw he wasna like to come up again, they swattered away to the place, and there was Jock swimming wi' his head straight to the bottom, and his feet and the four bladders walking a minuay aboon. Now, let me tell ye, an ye lippen to the friar's warlockry, and his enchantments, and divinations, ye trust to as mony bladders fu' o' wind, and down gae a' your heads, and your heels uppermost. Na, na; nane maun try to cope wi' auld Michael."