Sweet Robin, perch'd on yonder spray,So sweetly sings his matin lay,To welcome forth this brilliant day,And greet the Bruce and Adelaide!Behold the sun with genial gleam,O'er the lofty mountain beam,Dispelling mist like nightly dream,To cheer the Bruce and Adelaide!Arise fair lady!—Love, perchance,Hath pow'r to wake thee from this trance,And hail the matin hour's advance,So dear to Bruce and Adelaide!O'er him, the fond, the gen'rous youth,O'er her who gave her plighted truth—On both may bliss each treasure shed,While children crown the bridal bedOf noble Bruce and Adelaide!And oh! until their final hour,May friendship cheer, and love have pow'rTo spread each charm amid their bow'r,And bless the Bruce and Adelaide!
Sweet Robin, perch'd on yonder spray,So sweetly sings his matin lay,To welcome forth this brilliant day,And greet the Bruce and Adelaide!Behold the sun with genial gleam,O'er the lofty mountain beam,Dispelling mist like nightly dream,To cheer the Bruce and Adelaide!Arise fair lady!—Love, perchance,Hath pow'r to wake thee from this trance,And hail the matin hour's advance,So dear to Bruce and Adelaide!O'er him, the fond, the gen'rous youth,O'er her who gave her plighted truth—On both may bliss each treasure shed,While children crown the bridal bedOf noble Bruce and Adelaide!And oh! until their final hour,May friendship cheer, and love have pow'rTo spread each charm amid their bow'r,And bless the Bruce and Adelaide!
Sweet Robin, perch'd on yonder spray,So sweetly sings his matin lay,To welcome forth this brilliant day,And greet the Bruce and Adelaide!
Sweet Robin, perch'd on yonder spray,
So sweetly sings his matin lay,
To welcome forth this brilliant day,
And greet the Bruce and Adelaide!
Behold the sun with genial gleam,O'er the lofty mountain beam,Dispelling mist like nightly dream,To cheer the Bruce and Adelaide!
Behold the sun with genial gleam,
O'er the lofty mountain beam,
Dispelling mist like nightly dream,
To cheer the Bruce and Adelaide!
Arise fair lady!—Love, perchance,Hath pow'r to wake thee from this trance,And hail the matin hour's advance,So dear to Bruce and Adelaide!
Arise fair lady!—Love, perchance,
Hath pow'r to wake thee from this trance,
And hail the matin hour's advance,
So dear to Bruce and Adelaide!
O'er him, the fond, the gen'rous youth,O'er her who gave her plighted truth—On both may bliss each treasure shed,While children crown the bridal bedOf noble Bruce and Adelaide!
O'er him, the fond, the gen'rous youth,
O'er her who gave her plighted truth—
On both may bliss each treasure shed,
While children crown the bridal bed
Of noble Bruce and Adelaide!
And oh! until their final hour,May friendship cheer, and love have pow'rTo spread each charm amid their bow'r,And bless the Bruce and Adelaide!
And oh! until their final hour,
May friendship cheer, and love have pow'r
To spread each charm amid their bow'r,
And bless the Bruce and Adelaide!
Here ceased the old sightless Cormac, while tears of deep and intense feeling andaffection trickled down his venerable, time-furrowed cheeks.
Adelaide descended from her chamber, and entering the garden, with great sweetness and condescension approached the old minstrel: "Thanks, many thanks, my kind and ancient bard, for this thy matin lay; and here too is a boon withal for the minstrel."—At the same time placing a gold doubloon in his hand.
"Oh, receive my warm, grateful thanks, my dear, kind—my noble young mistress—Cead millia failtha! May the benison of the sightless bard bless you and yours for ever and ever! Indeed I dare not refuse the bridal present, for it carries luck and happiness, and every thing that is kind, and noble, and good, along with it. God bless you, young lady, and may you be as happy as you deserve; this, young lady, is the warm and fervent prayer of poor blind old Cormac!"
The Lady Adelaide felt much affected with the respect and affection manifested by the ancient minstrel, and once more thanking himfor his verses, adjourned to the breakfast-room. While on her way she was met by Sir David Bruce at the garden door, and according to the fashion and reserve of that day, he ceremoniously led by the hand his lovely mistress. They now entered the breakfast parlour, where they found the duke with the family assembled, to whom they kindly bade good morrow.
The worthy and venerable Bishop Bonhomme and his lady had arrived, as also the bride's-maids, and the whole of the company who had been invited to the wedding. And the bridal breakfast having begun and ended, the splendid equipages of the noble party were ordered to approach the grand porch of the castle. And here that our fair readers may not "burst in ignorance" of the mode and manner in which a marriage in high life was conducted in those times by thegens de condition, we shall endeavour to give a report, albeit not copiedverbatimfrom the court gazette of the day.
Bishop Bonhomme and his lady first departed from the castle, ascending their statechariot, if indeed it could be called ascending a vehicle, the body of which was barely raised some inches above the carriage part, and which was all richly carved and gilt, and also attached by low massive crane-necks. The single step by which the ascent into the chariot was accomplished, was fastened perpendicularly at the outside: it was finely carved and gilt, and of the shape and form of the escalop shell, and two golden keys, interlaced and embossed, adorned its centre. In lieu of leather pannels at the sides and back, the body was ornamented all around with windows of rich plate glass, from the royal factory of Saint Idelphonso, by means of which a full view was clearly presented to the spectator of those within.
The bishop wore a full-dress orthodox peruke; he was arrayed in his robes and lawn sleeves; his white bridal gloves were trimmed with gold. He looked very episcopal and dignified. The pannels of the chariot were emblazoned with their due quantity of mitres; a richbordureof the crozier, interlaced with foliations of the shamrock, adorned the sides and angles. The state chariot was drawn by six sleek, stately, coalblack steeds, whose long and bushy tails nearly swept the ground. It was driven by an old, fat, jolly-looking coachman, who displayed fully to every beholder that he was not stinted in his meals at the palace, to which his portentous paunch bore full attestation. He was assisted by two postillions, arrayed in rich purple jackets and purple velvet caps. Six footmen, in their episcopal state liveries, stood behind. Next in the procession came on the state coach and six of the duke, in which were seated his Grace and two of his Reverend chaplains. Then followed the state coach and six which contained the duchess and her lovely daughter, and Lady Adelaide's two bride's-maids. Next came on the chariot and four of Sir David Bruce, which contained the Baronet and Sir Patricius Placebo. These were followed by numerous carriages of the surrounding nobility and gentry; the servants all decorated with silver favours; while numerous parties of the tenants and peasants, "dressed in all their best," someon horseback and others on foot, closed the extended cavalcade.
The joyful pealing of the sacred chimes now cheerily rang forth from the cathedral tower, to salute the natal morn of Lady Adelaide.
Meanwhile a number of female peasants were seen advancing, arrayed in white, their heads garlanded with living flowers. They danced before the bride's carriage; and so soon as the cavalcade had reached the cathedral porch, as the bride entered, they strewed the way before with rosemary, gilliflowers, and marygolds; the mystery and signification of which was this—the first stood for remembrance, the second for gentleness, and the last for marriage, being an alliteration between the name of the flower and that of the thing signified.
Old Bellrope, the sexton and verger, who, "man and boy," had witnessed many nuptials celebrated in the venerable cathedral, solemnly asseverated that he had never before set eye upon so beautiful a couple! To do due honours to the ceremony, he hadnewly purchased a verger's gown, and wore a purple cloth coat, waistcoat, and indispensables, which had appertained in the olden time to some pious bishop of defunct celebrity. His wig was very commendably frizzed, thanks to the skill and indefatigability of Madam Bellrope, and looked unusually gay, from a judicious distribution of a successful foray made upon the drudging-box by the said thrifty dame, so that it provoked a remark from Sandy Rakeweel, the gardener at the castle, an honest old Caledonian devoid of guile:—"That indeed auld Bellrope's peruke for a' the warld remeended him o' aine of his awn kale plants in fu' flower in the middle o' August."
The noble procession entered the cathedral porch, where being duly marshalled in meet heraldic pomp, rank, and file, the distinguished persons proceeded along the venerable nave. Lady Adelaide was arrayed in a silver tissue, a splendid tiara of pearls, in form of a shamrock-wreath, encircled her noble brow, with ear-rings of the same, andon her lovely neck she wore "a rich and orient carcanet."[2]
Sir David Bruce, with firm and dignified step and gesture, advanced, leading onward by the hand to the bridal altar the lovely Lady Adelaide, her eye beaming with all the radiance of intelligence and of genius, while the deep glow of health and the blush of modesty mantled her beauteous cheek as she approached the sacred altar, the gaze, delight, and admiration of all, high and low, who beheld her. Her graceful, but bashful step, and her modest mien, reminded the spectator of Milton's fine description of Eve, when
"Onward she came, led by her heav'nly Maker," &c.
As pure and spotless Adelaide stepped to the holy altar. But it was impossible to withhold the veneration and admiration called forth by the appearance, voice, manner, and noble countenance of the good bishop, who, indeed, more than seemed "the beauty ofholiness," while with a clear, distinct, and dignified intonation of voice, he read the sacred service.
The ceremony concluded, the bridal party went forth in the same order in which it had commenced, save that Sir David Bruce and his fair bride rode in the same carriage from the cathedral. Sir Patricius Placebo returned in the duke's carriage. The remainder of the morning was occupied until dinner time in various rides and drives to view the beauties of the surrounding country; some went out on a boating excursion on the beautiful lake of Loch-Neagh, others drove out in low phaetons, or cabriolets; and some went on a walking excursion to view the lawns and woods of Tyrconnel, thus to occupy the time until dinner. The elder folks sat down to the green field of the card-table, playing at primero, cribbage, ombre, &c.,jusque à diner.
The dinner was splendidly superb. The services of richly chased and embossed plate which this day decorated the nuptial table, were truly magnificent. One service was of gold, two others were of silver.
In the evening there was a grand ball, which was opened by Sir David Bruce and his beauteous bride; they were followed by the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel, who, (ah, good old-fashioned times!) upon this occasion, tripped it on the light fantastic toe; they were soon followed by a large group, who danced down thecontrè-dansewith great spirit; a smile of joy was evidently seen in the benevolent face of Bishop Bonhomme, and he was even seen to beat time with his head and foot.
Brilliant illuminations were observable throughout the domain, various coloured lamps were garlanded from tree to tree, and likewise across different avenues in the lawn.
A banquet was spread for the duke's tenantry, where most excellent and substantial fare was presented in abundance to all; and there was no lack of strong beer, which flowed forth in streams. Fire-works of various kinds were played off. And the duke's band of French horns, stationed in different parts of the park, played various tunes, which were sweetly echoed by the adjoining woods, and the responding waters of the Eske.
The tenants and peasantry did not omit the Irish dance, theRinceadh-Fada, which was danced with great spirit and grace in front of the windows of the baronial hall. Old Cormac was now summoned to assist at the ceremonies and the gaiety of the hall. Upon command to attend, his remark was—"Weel, weel, 'twas anely as I expected!" He immediately hastened to the festive scene, and brought with him a Scotch harper, old Donald, who had been a retainer in the family of Bruce, and whom the intelligence of the nuptials that were that day to be solemnized had brought into the neighbourhood. Here a polite and courteous contest arose between the minstrels, each standing upon etiquette, and quite ready to award to the other the right of precedence; however, this posing point,d'embarras, was at length finally settled by Donald's declaring, that "he wad na pla' at a' afore maister Cormac." So,volens, nolens, old Cormac seized his harp, and thus began, accompanying his instrument with the following verses:—
May plenty, peace, long bless the isleWhere pity's tear can woe beguile!Erin! the nations envy thee,From scorpion, snake, and viper free;Thy sacred saint's high potency!Where beauty with Hygeia dwells,Fell Discord flies these happy dells;Where plaintive thrills thy island lyre,Where kindling glows the social fire;And jocund Hymen crowns the scene,While pipes the shepherd's tuneful reed,From his straw cottage on the mead,And smiles each valley green!
May plenty, peace, long bless the isleWhere pity's tear can woe beguile!Erin! the nations envy thee,From scorpion, snake, and viper free;Thy sacred saint's high potency!Where beauty with Hygeia dwells,Fell Discord flies these happy dells;Where plaintive thrills thy island lyre,Where kindling glows the social fire;And jocund Hymen crowns the scene,While pipes the shepherd's tuneful reed,From his straw cottage on the mead,And smiles each valley green!
May plenty, peace, long bless the isleWhere pity's tear can woe beguile!Erin! the nations envy thee,From scorpion, snake, and viper free;Thy sacred saint's high potency!
May plenty, peace, long bless the isle
Where pity's tear can woe beguile!
Erin! the nations envy thee,
From scorpion, snake, and viper free;
Thy sacred saint's high potency!
Where beauty with Hygeia dwells,Fell Discord flies these happy dells;Where plaintive thrills thy island lyre,Where kindling glows the social fire;And jocund Hymen crowns the scene,While pipes the shepherd's tuneful reed,From his straw cottage on the mead,And smiles each valley green!
Where beauty with Hygeia dwells,
Fell Discord flies these happy dells;
Where plaintive thrills thy island lyre,
Where kindling glows the social fire;
And jocund Hymen crowns the scene,
While pipes the shepherd's tuneful reed,
From his straw cottage on the mead,
And smiles each valley green!
Cormac sung the foregoing simple lines in order that he might be entitled to call upon old Donald; who now being left without an apology, and endeavouring to recollect a song, after a short pause the Scottish minstrel struck his harp, and thus began:—
i thought on distant hame!
Ah! while I saftly tuned my sang,The hawthorn's hoary bloom amang,I thought on friends I lov'd sae lang;I thought on distant hame!I thought on those I lov'd when young,Of those wha died the wars amang,Of those for whom the knell had rang,Far frae their happy home!I thought of those on foreign shore,Beneath the tempest's dreadful roar,Wha sank frae waves to rise nae mo',To hail their distant hame!I thought on the auld parent's smart,Sorrowing his anely bairn to part,Whase face nae mair shall cheer his heart,Nor joy the parent's hame!I thought on the hapless maiden's woe,Her true-love doom'd to see nae mo',Her reason tint beneath the blow,And desolate her hame!Then through this warld where e'er I stray,In winter's gloam, or simmer's ray;I'll sigh for a' wha far awa'Like me regret their hame!
Ah! while I saftly tuned my sang,The hawthorn's hoary bloom amang,I thought on friends I lov'd sae lang;I thought on distant hame!I thought on those I lov'd when young,Of those wha died the wars amang,Of those for whom the knell had rang,Far frae their happy home!I thought of those on foreign shore,Beneath the tempest's dreadful roar,Wha sank frae waves to rise nae mo',To hail their distant hame!I thought on the auld parent's smart,Sorrowing his anely bairn to part,Whase face nae mair shall cheer his heart,Nor joy the parent's hame!I thought on the hapless maiden's woe,Her true-love doom'd to see nae mo',Her reason tint beneath the blow,And desolate her hame!Then through this warld where e'er I stray,In winter's gloam, or simmer's ray;I'll sigh for a' wha far awa'Like me regret their hame!
Ah! while I saftly tuned my sang,The hawthorn's hoary bloom amang,I thought on friends I lov'd sae lang;I thought on distant hame!
Ah! while I saftly tuned my sang,
The hawthorn's hoary bloom amang,
I thought on friends I lov'd sae lang;
I thought on distant hame!
I thought on those I lov'd when young,Of those wha died the wars amang,Of those for whom the knell had rang,Far frae their happy home!
I thought on those I lov'd when young,
Of those wha died the wars amang,
Of those for whom the knell had rang,
Far frae their happy home!
I thought of those on foreign shore,Beneath the tempest's dreadful roar,Wha sank frae waves to rise nae mo',To hail their distant hame!
I thought of those on foreign shore,
Beneath the tempest's dreadful roar,
Wha sank frae waves to rise nae mo',
To hail their distant hame!
I thought on the auld parent's smart,Sorrowing his anely bairn to part,Whase face nae mair shall cheer his heart,Nor joy the parent's hame!
I thought on the auld parent's smart,
Sorrowing his anely bairn to part,
Whase face nae mair shall cheer his heart,
Nor joy the parent's hame!
I thought on the hapless maiden's woe,Her true-love doom'd to see nae mo',Her reason tint beneath the blow,And desolate her hame!
I thought on the hapless maiden's woe,
Her true-love doom'd to see nae mo',
Her reason tint beneath the blow,
And desolate her hame!
Then through this warld where e'er I stray,In winter's gloam, or simmer's ray;I'll sigh for a' wha far awa'Like me regret their hame!
Then through this warld where e'er I stray,
In winter's gloam, or simmer's ray;
I'll sigh for a' wha far awa'
Like me regret their hame!
Donald received applause upon the conclusion of his pathetic song; who, in return, bowed low and respectfully to the company.Here the minstrels tuned their pipes with a refreshing draught of Innishowen and water, of which commixture the first ingredient was, doubtless, the most predominant.
It now came to Cormac's turn to strike his harp. When about to proceed the duke observed: "I fear, old friend Cormac, that it now waxes late, and we shall not have much time for any lengthened production, for you are aware that when the great hall-clock shall strike the ninth hour we proceed to supper. This rule at our castle is as peremptory and inviolable as the ancient laws of the Medes and Persians; so remember, good Cormac!"
"Never fear, your Grace's honour, I shall not fail to obey you."
Then turning to Lady Adelaide Bruce, he said: "I will sing the loves of Sir Trystan and the beautiful Isoud! they were young and noble; they were likewise comely too, lovely lady: but they were unfortunate in their loves. Grant, O heaven, that such a fate may never betide the Lady Adelaide or Sir David!" He then commenced—
the romaunt
OF SIR TRYSTAN AND LA BELLE ISOUD.
Arouse thee, old Cormac! recite the fond taleOf Isoud La Belle of renowned Innisfail,[3]Beauty's bright paragon; of chivalry tellSir Trystan the valiant, and Isoud La Belle.A daughter of Erin, of Aöngus proud kingNo story more noble a minstrel might sing!Let the pioba[4]and harp triumphantly tellOf Trystan the valiant and Isoud La Belle!Aloud to fair Christendom, in numbers proclaim,With voice of the trumpet, the chosen of fame!Nor ever beArthurthe noble forgot!The prince and his friend, whowere, andare not!For long since, with valour and chivalry crown'd,A tomb piled by heroes these heroes have found;Not envy, malice, nor time, shall be ableTo shadow a chief of Arthur's round table!O long shall the lily,[5]the ivy, and bay,Frame a wreath round the hero, the pride of his day;And now bursting forth from cearment and gloom,Once more shall the victor arise from his tomb.He comes, the proud chieftain, to Cornwall's steep coast,Sir Trystan the valiant, high chivalry's boast;The friend of Prince Arthur descended in lineFrom heroes whose glory 'tis his to enshrine:Still nobly look up to their banner so proud,The forfeit, dishonour, disgrace, and the shroud!'Aye, ever his honour Sir Trystan shall cherish,When it shall be lost his wish is to perish!And shrink mid the ignoble, worthless, and dead,When the halo of glory shall wane on his head!'
Arouse thee, old Cormac! recite the fond taleOf Isoud La Belle of renowned Innisfail,[3]Beauty's bright paragon; of chivalry tellSir Trystan the valiant, and Isoud La Belle.A daughter of Erin, of Aöngus proud kingNo story more noble a minstrel might sing!Let the pioba[4]and harp triumphantly tellOf Trystan the valiant and Isoud La Belle!Aloud to fair Christendom, in numbers proclaim,With voice of the trumpet, the chosen of fame!Nor ever beArthurthe noble forgot!The prince and his friend, whowere, andare not!For long since, with valour and chivalry crown'd,A tomb piled by heroes these heroes have found;Not envy, malice, nor time, shall be ableTo shadow a chief of Arthur's round table!O long shall the lily,[5]the ivy, and bay,Frame a wreath round the hero, the pride of his day;And now bursting forth from cearment and gloom,Once more shall the victor arise from his tomb.He comes, the proud chieftain, to Cornwall's steep coast,Sir Trystan the valiant, high chivalry's boast;The friend of Prince Arthur descended in lineFrom heroes whose glory 'tis his to enshrine:Still nobly look up to their banner so proud,The forfeit, dishonour, disgrace, and the shroud!'Aye, ever his honour Sir Trystan shall cherish,When it shall be lost his wish is to perish!And shrink mid the ignoble, worthless, and dead,When the halo of glory shall wane on his head!'
Arouse thee, old Cormac! recite the fond taleOf Isoud La Belle of renowned Innisfail,[3]Beauty's bright paragon; of chivalry tellSir Trystan the valiant, and Isoud La Belle.A daughter of Erin, of Aöngus proud kingNo story more noble a minstrel might sing!Let the pioba[4]and harp triumphantly tellOf Trystan the valiant and Isoud La Belle!Aloud to fair Christendom, in numbers proclaim,With voice of the trumpet, the chosen of fame!
Arouse thee, old Cormac! recite the fond tale
Of Isoud La Belle of renowned Innisfail,[3]
Beauty's bright paragon; of chivalry tell
Sir Trystan the valiant, and Isoud La Belle.
A daughter of Erin, of Aöngus proud king
No story more noble a minstrel might sing!
Let the pioba[4]and harp triumphantly tell
Of Trystan the valiant and Isoud La Belle!
Aloud to fair Christendom, in numbers proclaim,
With voice of the trumpet, the chosen of fame!
Nor ever beArthurthe noble forgot!The prince and his friend, whowere, andare not!For long since, with valour and chivalry crown'd,A tomb piled by heroes these heroes have found;Not envy, malice, nor time, shall be ableTo shadow a chief of Arthur's round table!
Nor ever beArthurthe noble forgot!
The prince and his friend, whowere, andare not!
For long since, with valour and chivalry crown'd,
A tomb piled by heroes these heroes have found;
Not envy, malice, nor time, shall be able
To shadow a chief of Arthur's round table!
O long shall the lily,[5]the ivy, and bay,Frame a wreath round the hero, the pride of his day;And now bursting forth from cearment and gloom,Once more shall the victor arise from his tomb.
O long shall the lily,[5]the ivy, and bay,
Frame a wreath round the hero, the pride of his day;
And now bursting forth from cearment and gloom,
Once more shall the victor arise from his tomb.
He comes, the proud chieftain, to Cornwall's steep coast,Sir Trystan the valiant, high chivalry's boast;The friend of Prince Arthur descended in lineFrom heroes whose glory 'tis his to enshrine:
He comes, the proud chieftain, to Cornwall's steep coast,
Sir Trystan the valiant, high chivalry's boast;
The friend of Prince Arthur descended in line
From heroes whose glory 'tis his to enshrine:
Still nobly look up to their banner so proud,The forfeit, dishonour, disgrace, and the shroud!'Aye, ever his honour Sir Trystan shall cherish,When it shall be lost his wish is to perish!And shrink mid the ignoble, worthless, and dead,When the halo of glory shall wane on his head!'
Still nobly look up to their banner so proud,
The forfeit, dishonour, disgrace, and the shroud!
'Aye, ever his honour Sir Trystan shall cherish,
When it shall be lost his wish is to perish!
And shrink mid the ignoble, worthless, and dead,
When the halo of glory shall wane on his head!'
Just at the conclusion of the above, to the horror, confusion, and surprise of old Cormac, the German clock in the baronial hall chimed musically forth the ninth hour. But it was no music to the ear of Cormac, who in dumb despair somewhat sullenly laid down his harp, knowing that remonstrance would not be heard, and that solicitation was all in vain. But the duke was loud in his commendations, in which he was duly echoed by his guests, and Cormac was assured that the company should certainly be gratified upon the succeeding night, and at an earlier hour, with the remainder of the Romaunt of Trystan and Isoud.
The company now descended to the great supper-room, where a most superb banquet was spread for the noble guests. The wassail-bowl was duly and meetly placed in thecentre of the table upon a magnificent gold plateau. The bowl was decorated with artificial flowers, festoons of "true-lover's knots," "rose-buds," "heart's-ease," "forget me not," and the bow and arrow of Cupid were not omitted.
"The spiced wassail-bowl,"[6]duly impregnated with love philtres, was composed of Muscadel,[7]principally, in which,interalia, the following ingredients were mixed in this mystic beverage: namely, angelica, adianthum, eggs, eringo, orchis, &c. The concoction was made with great caution, measure, and propriety, according to theavoirdupoisweight, as duly laid down in the family receipt book. The bride and bridegroom, of course, were the first to quaff from this charmed potion, and then those who chose to follow their example.
The song, the jest, and the cup, detained the company until the eleventh hour, a time in that primitive period which was considered late; when mutually pleasing and pleased, thenoble guests arose to separate; and all retired to their respective chambers to repose, pleased and delighted with the hospitalities of this happy and most memorable day.
The bridegroom may forget the brideWas made his wedded wife yestreen.Burns.
The bridegroom may forget the brideWas made his wedded wife yestreen.Burns.
The bridegroom may forget the brideWas made his wedded wife yestreen.
The bridegroom may forget the bride
Was made his wedded wife yestreen.
Burns.
Burns.
It was on a serene autumnal morning succeeding the day of Lady Adelaide's nuptials, the sun had brilliantly arisen, dispelling the misty gloom and dews of night, and shed around his broad refracted rays; unruffled by a passing cloud, a clear and lofty sky spread forth its mighty canopy of mild aërial blue; the twittering swallows hovered around, and circled in mid-air, while clustering, they chattered their parting lullaby. The solitary redbreast too joined in nature's chorus, and thrilled forth his matin song. Every mountain lake shone forth a glassy mirror, and thewaves of the mighty Atlantic hushed to repose, slumbered amid their coral caves; what time the minister of the gospel of peace, the Reverend Doctor M'Kenzie, returned to the castle of his noble and generous patron, after a long protracted absence of many years.
His return had been provokingly delayed by long continued ill health, and besides by various vexatious detainers, such as bad roads, bad drivers, the cumbersome, ill-constructed vehicles of those days, and having encountered various disastrous chances of many "moving accidents" by sea and land, which had all concurred with direful combination to retard his journey, and prevent his being present upon the auspicious day when the lovely heiress of the noble duke was to bestow her hand in marriage.
His Reverence received a kind and hearty welcome from the duke and duchess, and all the inmates of the castle were rejoiced to behold his return, and to find that his health was quite re-established, so as to have permitted him to undertake such a long andfatiguing journey. His health and spirits were indeed much recruited through the beneficial effects of the waters of Pyrmont, which, like those of fabled Lethe, seemed to cause a total oblivion of all the perils inflicted amid the deep, and the dangers and difficulties sustained upon land.
Matters went on at the castle this day pretty much alike to what they had upon the preceding ever memorable yesterday, which witnessed the happy union of Sir David Bruce and the Lady Adelaide. A large company assembled at the castle, and sat down to a splendid dinner in the great hall of state. The desert could boast fruits collected from every quarter of the globe, and every rich, rare, and generous wine, sparkled on the board, and were poured forth in hospitable libations—
"The mellow-tinted Burgundy; and quickAs is the wit it gives, the brisk Champaign."
"The mellow-tinted Burgundy; and quickAs is the wit it gives, the brisk Champaign."
"The mellow-tinted Burgundy; and quickAs is the wit it gives, the brisk Champaign."
"The mellow-tinted Burgundy; and quick
As is the wit it gives, the brisk Champaign."
In the evening there was a concert of instrumental music, which was performed on the terrace; cards and supper succeeded; everything was conducted and served up in a style at once splendid and superb.
The company had all departed to their homes, and the guests had retired to their chambers; but the duke and duchess, and the bride and bridegroom, still tarried, engaged in pleasant discourse; when at length the noble host and hostess also took leave, and embracing their beloved daughter, and cordially shaking Sir David by the hand, they bade good night, and ascended to their chamber. The bridal pair now also remained some few moments engaged in sweet converse, when he said:—"My love, retire to your chamber, and soon I shall follow thee; I have a letter or two to write, and despatch by the messenger, who at dawn of day departs to deposit them in the general post. I have too a few letters to read; these being despatched, quickly I shall retire anon to our chamber. The night is a cold autumnal one, but I know that I shall find a blazing fire—a heart still warmer than that fire, and sweet smiles withal, to welcome me when I shallrejoin thee.—Go, go, my love!" he said, and affectionately embraced her.
He sat for some time reading and writing, for the papers were of importance. He now arose from his chair, and was about to retire to his happy chamber, when a loud and hollow knock was heard at the portal gates; the watch dogs were aroused, and loudly and deeply barked. The old porter cautiously and slowly opened the lattice peep-hole of the gate to ask, who at this unseasonable hour of the night it was that would fain demand admittance? The answer given was, that he was a king's messenger bearing despatches of importance for Sir David Bruce, and as the glimmering lamp was held forth, he showed the silver badge, the insignia of his office. The wicket-gate was instantly unbarred, and he was accordingly admitted. The messenger was shown into the servants' hall, where supper and refreshments were immediately brought him; and while he was regaling upon the hospitable cheer of the castle, a bed was put in readiness for him.Sir David Bruce having seen that all was as it should be, retired to his chamber.
It was midnight, the fire in the bridal chamber brightly blazed, and the wax-lights shot forth their brilliant beams. Sir David seated himself on a chair beside the bed, and having gently drawn aside the curtain, he affectionately embraced his bride, while he kindly said, "My dear Adelaide, I always have been of opinion that no secret nor mystery should ever exist between man and wife. I know, my love, that your understanding ranks too high, your love for me is too great, and your opinion of my character is too elevated ever to induce you, in any shape or form, to pry into what I may not think necessary to disclose. For indeedyoudo not aspire to thatsuperior wisdomwhich some of your sex rather somewhat too confidently and arrogantly assume; the true term and appellation of which properly should be callednotwisdom, butsuperior curiosity! But, my dear love, in strictest verity I may say of thee, before our happy union, in foreign realms, and in perilous tracts over land and ocean,that I have ever witnessed thy equanimity of temper, and always have found thee one and the same;—ever unchanged and unchangeable! and indeed I know no one (not even your noble and highly gifted mother) who could, with more propriety than yourself, assume the motto of the virgin queen—
'Semper eadem!'"
"Oh, my dear husband!" rejoined Adelaide, "although delighted ever to hearyourpraise, yet when you would overstep the due and meet boundaries of discretion, and, forsooth, make of me an ideal goddess, it is meet and due time, that stepping down from the lofty pedestal whereon thou hast been graciously pleased to rear thy fond idol, for me to intrude a word or two, if it were but to dispel the charm which fascinates thee, recall thy wandering thoughts from paradise to earth, and convince thee, at least, that I am but a mere mortal; and, moreover, a woman to boot, with all a woman's faults—yea, too, my love, with all a woman's fondness, and the love that no tongue can utter; andthus I swear it upon thy beloved lips, my first, my only love!"
"Oh, my adorable Adelaide," he said, while he met the fond embrace, "let this blessed moment be ever sacred in our recollection! dawning with hope and promised joy on all our future days. Oh, my Adelaide, imperishable let this happy, too happy hour remain, and ever marked and stamped by a holy communion of heart and mind! Your taste shall be mine, your liking shall be my liking, your joy be my joy, and your sorrows (if ever they come) shall be all mine own!—thy disgrace would become my disgrace, and mine would be attended with yours! But now I only look upon the happy obverse of the medal, when I pause on your beauty, your accomplishments, your virtue, and your religion! for without the latter a woman is a monster, and man little less than a demon. You must now permit me to say, that you are the theme of every tongue, the charm of every eye, the idol of every heart, and the bright ornament of every circle, that might fairly, at thy throne,
'Bid kings come bow to it!'"
"Oh, my dear Bruce, you will turn my brain—no more of hyperbole!"
"Nay, Adelaide, nay! can I think on all these, and yet not feel the thrill of transport throbbing at my heart?—quite impossible!—it could not be so, my love! Between us then let there ever exist a holy communion of soul that shall support and bear us onward throughout the trials of this stormy world, gilding the days of health and happiness, and not deserting us when years increase, and health declines; for even then the Hymenial torch shall brightly burn, although it may be with a mild, yet steady light, and only expire upon the tomb! Believe me the true and indissoluble bond of conjugal affection is no other than an unreserved and reciprocal interchange of every thought, plan, purpose, and design. Enduring, meanwhile, a contented participation of fortune, whether it be prosperous or adverse; possessing onlyone will,one mind, andone heart, thus harmoniously resembling a finely performed air ofmusic, where three voices melodiously melt into one, and close in full and perfect diapason. Oh, my dear love, if this conjugal—this perfect harmony, were, as it ought to be, always preserved, what follies might not be avoided!—what heart-burnings would ever exist!—what horrible vice might not be shunned!—and what dread and horrid disgrace might not be prevented! When oft, my love, at evening time retired in our tranquil solitude, I shall there retrace the events and transactions of the day that has gone by, then, then, shall I tell thee of aught perchance which I may have observed in thy conduct or deportment to censure or to praise. Oh, with what delight I shall dwell upon all that I approve, while with gentleness I pass over what I may discommend. And the same sincerity, sweet love, I shall expect from thee; thou shalt, as in a tablet, set down all my faults and misdemeanors. It is thus that we shall best fulfil the holy compact which we entered into yesterday—of abiding by each other in sickness, sorrow, or in health, in adversity, or in prosperity! And now let me seal this sacred bond by this warm pressure on thy lips. Thus, my Adelaide, we ratify this deed of co-partnership!"
He then added playfully, "Certes I ever have been of opinion that, although corporeally speaking, man and wife are two bodies, yet am I at the same time of opinion that they should have between them but one mind. However, I am altogether not unreasonable withal, and therefore feel not disinclined to allow themthe firmofTWOhearts; but I ever must protest against dissolution of partnership!"
Then sweetly smiling, he said, "Here, my love, I bear in my hand despatches of high importance, and brought by a king's messenger; I needs must cut their silken tressure ere I can peruse the contents thereof; pray you therefore direct me, my dearest love, where I may find youretui, or work-box, as I now stand in need of a penknife, or your ladyship's shears, to cut the silky-gordian knot of this important packet?"
Adelaide replied, "Truly, my dearest love, I do not know where to direct you, theevents of yesterday have quite caused me to forget; but open yonder cabinet of ebon, inlaid with ivory, which stands in yonder recess, search it, perhaps there a penknife or shears may be found."
"Mayfind! Adelaide, nay now, thou art what truly I did not suspect that thou wert, a most unthrifty housewife!"
Sir David Bruce approached the cabinet; it contained many curious and secret drawers; at length sprung forth one opened by a spring, which unconsciously he had touched, when the drawer fell from the cabinet, and lo! forth was flung from it, and, to his infinite horror and surprise, he saw, and scarce could believe his eyes, a whinger! [i. e.a Scottish knife or poniard, answering for both purposes,] which trundled on the floor with a foreboding sound. The handle was of silver, richly wrought; it bore the crest of Bruce, namely, a dexter hand and arm cased in armour, wielding a royal sceptre, and supported on a cap of maintenance; and beneath was engraved the motto of The Bruce,Fuimus! While, oh! horrible to tell, deeply were imprinted "on the blade and dudgeon gouts of blood," and which seemed to have been there "long before," rusted and corroded as they were by time. Oh, when this was done it was
"In human guilt a portent and an era!'Tis of those crimes whose eminent fame hell joys at;And the celestial angels that look on itWish their keen airy vision dim and narrow!"
"In human guilt a portent and an era!'Tis of those crimes whose eminent fame hell joys at;And the celestial angels that look on itWish their keen airy vision dim and narrow!"
"In human guilt a portent and an era!'Tis of those crimes whose eminent fame hell joys at;And the celestial angels that look on itWish their keen airy vision dim and narrow!"
"In human guilt a portent and an era!
'Tis of those crimes whose eminent fame hell joys at;
And the celestial angels that look on it
Wish their keen airy vision dim and narrow!"
Maddened with furious rage, he frantic raised the gory poniard from the ground, and rushing with dreadful impetuosity to the bed-side, he presented the fatal dagger at Adelaide's heart.
"Oh strike—strike Sir David, and bythyhand let me die! But indeed, indeed, I am innocent!"
"Thou, innocent!—hah, hah, hah!" with a violent hysteric expression he repeated—"Innocent!—thou witch, fiend, sorceress, devil!——Thouinnocent!—no, no!—thou hast held unholy converse and communion with the arch-fiend, and with all the demons of darkness and of hell! But tell!—come,this instant tell! or on this spot—aye, thy bridal bed, thou surely shalt die—this moment thou shalt die! Tell at once then, how, where, and when, from whom didst thou receive?—No, no deceit, no prevarication will be allowed nor tolerated. Tell, oh tell, thou devil, although moulded in an angel's form! Tell, I conjure thee tell!"
"Oh, spare—spare me, and I shall tell thee all!—each particular shalt thou know. It——It was upon theEve of All-Hallows, some ten years ago—I forget the year—when foolishly, with some young friends, upon my birth-day, of which it was the fatal anniversary, I impiously dared to tempt my fate, or try my fortune, by one of those mystic accursed tricks that are too oft resorted to—"
"Come, come, less words, lady, and more facts! I demand expedition, for my impatience cannot brook delay; so come, continue thy accursed tale——quickly proceed!"
"Oh, terrible to recollect, and still more terrible to tell. It was midnight! and, true to his compact, the phantom, whom I had charmed, appeared in my chamber at thesame time of night as now. I had caused a collation to be served, consisting of viands, fruits, confections, and wine; which were placed upon a table in the centre of the room; a chair was placed near it, between the table and the fire; upon another table was displayed the toilette, where were placed a silver basin, napkin, and a golden ewer, which was filled with rose-water, and bestrewed with flowers. The fire blazed brilliantly bright, and wax-lights shed their lustre on the collation. Meanwhile, trembling fearfully, I lay in my bed, with my back to the light; upon the counterpane I had stationed a large mirror, (with a trembling hand and a palpitating heart,) in order that I might behold distinctly reflected on its polished surface the image of whatever object might place itself at either of the tables, which, from the position in which I was placed, I could not fail to see. Thus stationed, was heard a fearful rumbling sound, as if issuing down the chamber chimney; then followed a noise, loud and like to the electric shock of a thunderbolt, which sounded as if it had burst through the chimney-flue, and from whence was forcibly flung, with an astounding crash, upon the hearth-stone of this very chamber, that same dread and fearful instrument which you now uphold! Sad, sorrowful, and dreadful is the recollection. Yet still I had the courage to look upon the mirror which I held, when I instantly and fearfully saw reflected in it a cloud of blue flame, which illuminated within its cloud of fire, exposed suddenly a tall and manly chieftain, whose figure boldly emanating from the mist which surrounded it, seemed clad in a Tartan plaid; his head was covered, or crowned, with a Scottish bonnet, adorned with plumes, and surmounted by the Scottish thistle, which sparkled in gold embroidery. The figure, or spectre, or whatever that unsightly vision might be, held forth to me his hands, which were bloody; he then sat down to the banquet; he tasted, but eat not; sipped, but he did not drink: and then on the sudden arose from his seat, slightly dipped his hands in rose-water, and applied the napkin. This at the time did virtually all appear a vision, dreadfully reflected withinthe glass which I held on my couch. Yea, you look amazed! but I did see it all, and am too well convinced it wasno vision!—for still horribly, even now through the lapse of years, I see it still! fresh in my memory, and never, never to be forgotten! While thus, all terrified and petrified, I looked upon the awful form, or spectre; frightfully and passionately it grinned upon me a demon's smile, and said in deep sepulchral voice:
With this red hand, thou Adelaide shalt wed,And keep this trophy for our bridal bed!
With this red hand, thou Adelaide shalt wed,And keep this trophy for our bridal bed!
With this red hand, thou Adelaide shalt wed,And keep this trophy for our bridal bed!
With this red hand, thou Adelaide shalt wed,
And keep this trophy for our bridal bed!
The phantom then, or whatever it was, fiercely took up the dagger, and dashed it horribly against the mirror I held, which it shivered into pieces. Then the bloody instrument fell upon the floor, and the spectre vanished: while I fell into a dreadful trance, which lasted for hours, and from which I grieve that ever I did waken to witness this most wretched night! While the phantom vanished, the heavens loudly thundered, and the vivid lightning illumed this fatal chamber. Oh, the crash of the mirror I nevercan forget, nor the ominous fall of the blood-stained dagger as it fearfully trundled upon the oaken floor!—these two ominous circumstances too surely manifested that this wasno dream! Oh no, they pierced my heart to conviction! That dread and awful moment of my life I never can forget!—only to be equalled, and only to be outdone, by the agonies which now I so severely undergo in this unhappy hour! Oh, Sir David, in pity at once kill me, and end my sorrow and my suffering together!—you hold the bloody instrument, oh then strike!—strike, there's my bosom!—I fear not to die—oh kill me, I beseech thee!—in mercy, at once destroy me! But, oh, do not—do not look thus again!—It was thus the awful spectre looked, while thus the fire flashed from his visage!—Thus! it wasthushe frowned! and like thee he spoke! Oh—oh, I never saw thee look thus before!—never, never!Ah!THOU!—thou!thyselfwertthatspectre!!"
"No, no, Adelaide, no! I looked not thus; it was the infernal fiend, from the lowest depth of hell, that looked thus, andthen assumed my shape and form! At that moment I was on ship-board, Dr. M'Kenzie was my fellow-voyager, who can vouch for the same; we had then left the Scottish shore, and the destination of the vessel was for Ireland. This weapon, which now I hold, I then flung into the hissing waves, when unearthly voices and unearthly music met mine ear, and smote my heart!—Oh, it was then that I suffered the deep-thrilling agonizing horrors of the damned. The arch-fiend, I felt, was working in my bosom; and strongly, desperately, was I tempted to fling myself into the same remorseless element into which I had flung this blood-besprent instrument—the damned testimony of my crime; and by so doing end at once my earthly misery! But even then I lifted up my humble supplication to heaven, although with crimsoned hands! I fell into a trance, and lay to all appearance lifeless upon the deck.——You seem to doubt!"
"Oh, yes, yes; I see it all!—that frown—that look! Oh, thou, thou, wert that horrible spectre!"
Having thus replied, poor Adelaide, with a piteous, heart-rending scream, and to all appearance as if life had fled, sunk down, pale and ghastly as a corse, upon her pillow. It was indeed some time before Sir David could bring her to herself. When the hapless Adelaide recovered from her faint, he said: "My reproaches now are at an end. For you now are the object of my compassion and of my pity, not of my wrath. It is however true, that although infernal agents have given you a husband, yet know they have not the power to cause me to remain with you one hour more!—There I am a free agent. No, no!—not Lucifer himself shall detain me here!—no, nor all thy witchery! Within a short hour, or less, I depart from hence, and never, never more to return; and I shall be no more seen!"
With a desperate grasp, then stooping, he seized and held up the fatal dagger, the deadly record of his grief—thesævi monumentum doloris—the bloody pledge of his crime—the avengeful instrument of his rage, stamped with the crimsoned tears of unabatedand unabatable grief!... "Yet before I go, look, lady, upon that dagger!—whose blood, think you, it is with which it is imbued?—You shall hear!... That once was noble blood—it was valiant blood—the proudest blood of Caledon—the blood of her royal race of kings! And, oh, wretch that I am!—it was the blood of my brother—my only brother!—yea, and my elder born! rashly, madly, wickedly shed by me!—yes!... Oh, still gaze upon it—turn not thine eyes away. It was blood nearly, deeply, none nearer, allied to me, and beloved. But, but this—all this was forgot in the moment of delirium—of madness! It was the blood of my elder brother—yea, an only brother!... Oh, Adelaide, look not thus again!—my weary, sickening heart, condemns me enough——enough. Well, well, we lived in the same home, we partook of the same board, we slept in the same bed.... Oh, oh my brain, how it maddens! and my heart would fain burst!... Yet, yet, yet I slew him—in rage, madness, I did!—I did, I did—monster that I am!... Lady, behold I weep!—Ah, I did not weep when my poor brother died!—and when this I plunged into his beloved breast!—No, no, no! But it is just, it is truly just, that heaven's vengeance should make this base instrument of my crime, this fratricidal dagger, the fatal cause which now separates me from all happiness upon earth; and divorces me, body and soul, from thee—oh, whom I loved better—yea, beyond life itself! But time advances, and I must depart from hence—oh, and for ever! One parting look, and then I am gone. Oh, thou precious mischief!—so young, so fascinating, so beautiful! Oh, my very heart shall burst!... Yet, yet—oh, must it be!—and must we part?... Lady, from hence I go, and shall be no more seen; peradventure too no more be remembered. Well, well, let justice have its vengeance and its victim too! Yes, yes, let it be so."
Here, pallid as death, and woe-stricken, he gave one sad, one last, agonizing look upon that face that he had so well beloved—the face of one with whom to part wereworse than death itself. Then sad and sorrowful, in a dejected tone, he said:—"Oh, Adelaide, we have loved as others yet have never loved; now heart-broken and sorrow-stricken I here must bid a sad and solemn farewell. Yet, oh, must we part?—Yes, wemustpart—oh, and forever! Never, never again in this wide world to meet!—again, never! Oh, farewell—one sad, one sorrowful farewell, and hence I go.... Farewell! forgive and forget, if thou canst forget (to forgive were impossible) that such a wretched outcast exists as David Bruce!"
Here he sobbed like a child, while he slowly and silently withdrew, gently closing after him the chamber door. But suddenly he returned, and approaching the bed-side, he thus addressed Adelaide: "It were best that the mournful tale which now I have disclosed to thee, as well too as thine own, should be kept inviolably secret, and remain for ever unknown. Divulge not then thine own criminal weakness; neither expose the enormity of my guilt. Oh, how often and often have I wished, have I longed for, aye,and have courted death;—yea often too have I keenly sought him in flood and field. But in vain. It almost seemed as if I had borne a charmed life. Often I