Traditions of Lancashire, Volume 2

by John Roby

"Oh haste, Sir William of Liddislee
My kinsman good at need,
Ere the Esk's dark ford thou hast passed by,
In Muncaster rest thy steed;
"And say to my love and my lady bright,
In Carlisle I must stay,
For the foe is come forth from the misty north,
And I cannot hence away;
"But I must keep watch on Carlisle's towers
With the banner of Cumberland;
Then bid her beware of the rebel host,
Lest they come with sword and brand.
"But bid her, rather than house or land,
Take heed of that cup of grace,
Which King Henry gave to our ancestor,
The 'Luck' of our noble race.

"Bid her bury it deep at dead of night,
That no eye its hiding see.
Now do mine errand, Sir William,
As thou wouldst prosperous be!"
Sir William stayed nor for cloud nor shrine,
He stayed not for rest nor bait,
Till he saw the far gleam on Esk's broad stream,
And Muncaster's Castle gate.
"From whence art thou in such fearful haste?"
The warder wondering said;
"Hast thou 'scaped alone from the bloody fight,
And the field of the gory dead?"
"I am not from the bloody fight,
Nor a craven flight I flee;
But I am come to my lady's bower,
Sir William of Liddislee."
The knight to the lady's bower is gone:
"A boon I crave from thee,
Deny me not, thou lady bright,"
And he bent him on his knee.
"I grant thee a boon," the lady said,
"If it from my husband be;"
"There's a cup of grace," cried the suppliant knight,
"Which thou must give to me."
"Now foul befa' thee, fause traitor,
That with guile would our treasure win;
For ne'er from Sir John of Pennington
Had such traitrous message been."
"I crave your guerdon, fair lady,
'Twas but your faith to try,
That we might know if the 'Luck' of this house
Were safe in such custody.
"The message was thus, thy husband sent;
He hath looked out from Carlisle wa',
And he is aware of John Highlandman
Come trooping down the snaw;

"And should this kilted papistry
Spread hither upon their way,
They'll carry hence that cup of grace,
Though thou shouldst say them nay.
"And thy lord must wait for the traitor foe
By the walls of merry Carlisle;
Else he would hie to his lady's help,
And his lady's fears beguile.
"Thy lord would rather his house were brent,
His goods and his cattle harried,
Than the cup should be broken,—that cup of grace,
Or from Muncaster's house be carried."
The kinsman smiled on that fond lady,
And his traitor suit he plied:
"Give me the cup," the false knight said,
"From these foemen fierce to hide."
The lady of Muncaster oped the box
Where lay this wondrous thing;
Sir William saw its beauteous form,
All bright and glistering.
The kinsman smiled on that fond lady,
And he viewed it o'er and o'er.
"'Tis a jewel of price," said that traitor then,
"And worthy a prince's dower.
"We'll bury the treasure where ne'er from the sun
One ray of gladness shone,
Where darkness and light, and day and night,
And summer and spring are one:
"Beneath the moat we'll bury it straight,
In its box of the good oak-tree;
And the cankered carle, John Highlandman,
Shall never that jewel see."
The kinsman took the casket up,
And the lady looked over the wall:
"If thou break that cup of grace, beware,
The pride of our house shall fall!"

The kinsman smiled as he looked above,
And to the lady cried,
"I'll show thee where thy luck shall be,
And the lord of Muncaster's pride."
The lady watched this kinsman false,
And he lifted the casket high:
"Oh! look not so, Sir William,"
And bitterly she did cry.
But the traitor knight dashed the casket down
To the ground, that blessèd token;
"Lie there," then said that false one now,
"Proud Muncaster's charm is broken!"
The lady shrieked, the lady wailed,
While the false knight fled amain:
But never durst Muncaster's lord, I trow,
Ope that blessèd shrine again!

---

PART THIRD.

The knight of Muncaster went to woo,
And he rode with the whirlwind's speed,
For the lady was coy, and the lover was proud,
And he hotly spurred his steed.
He stayed not for bog, he stayed not for briar,
Nor stayed he for flood or fell;
Nor ever he slackened his courser's rein,
Till he stood by the Lowthers' well.
Beside that well was a castle fair,
In that castle a fair lady;
In that lady's breast was a heart of stone,
Nor might it softened be.
"Now smooth that brow of scorn, fair maid,
And to my suit give ear;
There's never a dame in Cumberland,
Such a look of scorn doth wear."

"Haste, haste thee back," the lady cried,
"For a doomed man art thou;
I wed not the heir of Muncaster,
Thy 'Luck' is broken now!"
"Oh say not so, for on my sire
Th' unerring doom was spent;
I heir not his ill-luck, I trow,
Nor with his dool am shent."
"The doom is thine, as thou art his,
And to his curse, the heir;
But never a luckless babe of mine
That fearful curse shall bear!"
A moody man was the lover then;
But homeward as he hied,
Beside the well at Lord Lowther's gate,
An ugly dwarf he spied.
"Out of my sight, thou fearsome thing;
Out of my sight, I say:
Or I will fling thine ugly bones
To the crows this blessèd day."
But the elfin dwarf he skipped and ran
Beside the lover's steed,
And ever as Muncaster's lord spurred on,
The dwarf held equal speed.
The lover he slackened his pace again,
And to the goblin cried:
"What ho, Sir Page, what luckless chance
Hath buckled thee to my side?"
Up spake then first that shrivelled thing,
And he shook his locks of grey:
"Why lowers the cloud on Muncaster's brow,
And the foam tracks his troubled way?"
"There's a lady, the fairest in all this land,"
The haughty chief replied;
"But that lady's love in vain I've sought,
And I'll woo none other bride."

"And is there not beauty in other lands,
And locks of raven hue,
That thou must pine for a maiden cold,
Whose bosom love ne'er knew?"
"Oh, there is beauty in every land,"
The sorrowing knight replied;
"But I'd rather Margaret of Lonsdale wed,
Than the fairest dame beside."
"And thou shalt the Lady Margaret wed,"
Said that loathly dwarf again;
"There's a key in Muncaster Castle can break
That maiden's heart in twain!"
"Oh never, oh never, thou lying elf,
That maiden's word is spoken:
The cup of grace left a traitor's hand,
Proud Muncaster's 'Luck' is broken."
Then scornfully grinned that elfin dwarf,
And aloud he laughed again:
"There's a key in thy castle, Sir Knight, can break
That maiden's heart in twain!"
The knight he turned him on his steed,
And he looked over hill and stream;
But he saw not that elfin dwarf again,
He had vanished as a dream!
The knight came back to his castle hall,
And stabled his good grey steed;
And he is to his chamber gone,
With wild and angry speed.
And he saw the oaken casket, where
Lay hid that cup of grace,
Since that fearful day, when the traitor foe
Wrought ruin on his race.
"Thou cursed thing," he cried in scorn,
"That ever such 'Luck' should be;
From Muncaster's house, ill-boding fiend,
Thou shalt vanish eternally."

He kicked the casket o'er and o'er
With rage and contumely;
When, lo! a tinkling sound was heard—
Down dropped a glittering key!
He remembered well the wondrous speech
Of the spectre dwarf again,
"There's a key in Muncaster Castle can break
A maiden's heart in twain!"
He took the key, and he turned the lock,
And he opened the casket wide;
When the cause of all his agony
The lover now espied.
The holy cup lay glistering there,
And he kissed that blessèd token,
For its matchless form unharmèd lay,
The "Luck" had ne'er been broken!
The loud halls rung, and the minstrels sung,
And glad rolled the Esk's bonny tide,
When Lonsdale's Lady Margaret
Was Muncaster's winsome bride!
Now prosper long that baron bold,
And that bright and blessèd token:
For Muncaster's Luck is constant yet,
And the crystal charm unbroken!