Willie Wilkin

The glow-worm goggled on the moss,
When Wilkin rode away,
And much his aged mother feared,
But wist not what to say :
For near the change of every moon ,
At deepest midnight tide,
He hied him to yon ancient fane,
That stands on Kinnel side.

His thoughts were absent, wild his looks,
His speeches fierce and few j
But who he met, or what was done,
No mortal ever knew.

" O stay at home, my only son,
O stay at home with me !
I fear I'm secretly forewarned
Of ills awaiting thee.

" Last night I heard the dead-bell sound,
When all were fast asleep ;
And aye it rung, and aye it sung,
Till all my flesh did creep.

" And when on slumber's silken couch,
My senses dormant lay,
I saw a pack of hungry hounds,
Would make of thee their prey.

" With feeble step, I ran to help,
Or death with thee to share ;
When straight you bound my hands and feet,
And left me lying there.

" I saw them tear thy vitals forth ;
Thy life blood dyed the way ;
I saw thy eyes all glaring red,
And closed mine for aye.

" Then stay at home, my only son,
O stay at home with me !
Or take with thee this little book,
Thy guardian it shall be."

" Hence, old fanatic, from my sight !

What means this senseless whine ?
I pray thee, mind thine own affairs,
Let me attend to mine."

" Alas ! my son, the generous spark,
That warmed thy tender mind,
Is now extinct, and malice keen
Is only left behind.

" How canst thou rend that aged heart,
That yearns thy woes to share ?

Thou still has been my only grief,
My only hope and care.

" Ere I had been one month a bride,
Of joy I took farewell;
With Craigie on the banks of Sark,
Thy valiant father fell.

" I nursed thee on my tender breast,
With meikle care and pain ;
And saw with pride thy mind expand,
Without one sordid stain.

" With joy each night I saw thee kneel,
Before the throne of grace ;
And on thy Saviour's blessed day,
Frequent his holy place.

" But all is gone ! the vespers sweet,
Which from our castle rose,
Are silent now ; and sullen pride
In hand with envy goes !

" Thy wedded wife has swayed thy heart
To pride and passion fell ;
O, for thy little children's sake,
Renounce that path of hell.

" Then stay at home, my only son,
O with thy mother stay !
Or tell me what thou goest about,
That for thee I may pray."

He turned about, and hasted out,
And for his horse did call ;
" An hundred fiends my patience rend,
But thou excell'st them all !"

She slipt beneath his saddle lap
A book of psalms and prayer,
And hastened to yon ancient fane,
To listen what was there.

And when she came to yon kirk-yard,
Where graves are green and low,
She saw full thirty coal-black steeds,
All standing in a row.

Her Willie's was the tallest steed,
'Twixt Dee and Annan whole ;
But placed beside that mighty rank,
He kythed but like a foal.

She laid her hand upon his side ;
Her heart grew cold as stone !
The cold sweat ran from every hair,
He trembled every bone !

She laid her hand upon the next,
His bulky side to strode.
And aye she reached, and aye she stretched, —
'Twas nothing all but smoke.

It was a mere delusive form,
Of films and sulph'ry wind ;
And every wave she gave her hand,
A gap was left behind.

She passed through all those stately steeds,
Yet nothing marred her way,
And left her shape in every shade,
For all their proud array.

But whiles she felt a glowing heat,
Though mutt'ring holy prayer ;
And filmy veils assail'd her face,
And stifling brimstone air.

Then for her darling desperate grown,
Straight to the aisle she flew ;
But what she saw, and what she heard,
No mortal ever knew.

But yells and moans, and heavy groans,
And blackest blasphemye,
Did fast abound ; for every hound
Of hell seemed there to be.

And after many a horrid rite,
And sacrifice profane,
" A book ! a book !" they loudly howled ;
"Our spells are all in vain.

" Hu ! tear him, tear him limb from limb !"
Resounded through the pile ;
" Hu ! tear him, tear him straight, for he
Has mocked us all this while !"

The tender matron, desperate grown,
Then shrieked most bitterlye ;
" O spare my son, and take my life,
The book was lodged by me."

" Ha ! that's ray frantic mother's voice !

My life or peace must end ;
O ! take her, body and soul bothe !

Take her, and spare thy friend !"

The riot rout then sallied out,
Like hounds upon their prey ;
And gathered round her in the aisle,
With many a hellish bray.

Each angry shade endeavours made,
Their fangs in blood to stain,
But all their efforts to be felt,
Were impotent and vain.

Whether the wretched mortal there
His filial hands embrued,
Or if the Ruler of the sky
The scene with pity viewed,—
And sent the streaming bolt of heaven,
Ordained to interpose,
To take her life, and save her soul
From these infernal foes,
No man can tell how it befel ;
Inquiry all was vain ;
But her blood was shed, for the swaird was red
But an' the kirk-door stane. —
And Willie Wilkin's noble steed
Lay stiff upon the green.
A night so dire in Annandale,
Before had never been !

Loud thunders shook the vault of heaven ,
The fire-flaughts flew amain ;
The graves were ploughed, the rocks were riven,
Whole flocks and herds were slain.

They gathered up the mangled limbs,
And laid beneath the stone ;
But the heart, and the tongue, and every palm
From every hand, were gone.

. Her blood was sprinkled on the wall,
Her body was on the floor ;
Her reverend head, with sorrows grey,
Hung on the chapel door.

To Auchincastle Wilkin hied,
On Evan banks sae green ;
And lived and died like other men,
For aught that could be seen.

But gloomy, gloomy was his look,
And froward was his way ;
And malice every action ruled,
Until his dying day.

And many a mermaid staid his call
And many a mettled fay ;
And many a wayward spirit learned
His summons to obey.

And many a wondrous work he wrought,
And many things foretold ;
Much was he feared, but little loved,
By either young or old.