His russet weeds were brown as heath,
That clothes the upland fell;
And the hair of his head was frizzly red,
As the purple heather bell.
An urchin,[79] clad in prickles red,
Clung cowring to his arm;
The hounds they howl'd, and backward fled,
As struck by Fairy charm.
"Why rises high the stag-hound's cry,
"Where stag-hound ne'er should be?
"Why wakes that horn the silent morn,
"Without the leave of me?"
"Brown dwarf, that o'er the muir-land strays,
"Thy name to Keeldar tell!"—
"The Brown Man of the Muirs, who stays
"Beneath the heather bell.
"'Tis sweet, beneath the heather-bell,
"To live in autumn brown;
"And sweet to hear the lav'rocks swell
"Far far from tower and town.
"But woe betide the shrilling horn,
"The chace's surly cheer!
"And ever that hunter is forlorn,
"Whom first at morn I hear."
Says, "Weal nor woe, nor friend nor foe,
"In thee we hope nor dread."
But, ere the bugles green could blow,
The Wee Brown Man had fled.
And onward, onward, hound and horse,
Young Keeldar's band have gone;
And soon they wheel, in rapid course,
Around the Keeldar Stone.
Green vervain round its base did creep,
A powerful seed that bore;
And oft, of yore, its channels deep
Were stained with human gore.
And still, when blood-drops, clotted thin,
Hang the grey moss upon,
The spirit murmurs from within,
And shakes the rocking stone.