Volume II Part 13 (1/2)
”For ere was quaffed each sparkling draught, Or the foam from the ruby wine, He dashed the cup from that baron's lip, As now I do from thine!”
And the palmer pa.s.sed by, as each goblet on high Was waved at their chief's command, But ere the cup had touched his lip, It was dashed from his lifted hand!
”A boon from thee, on my bended knee,”
The palmer boldly cried; ”Seize first with speed yon traitor page Who bore the cup to thy side.”
And the page they have bound on the cold, cold ground, And his treason he hath confessed; He had poisoned the cup with one subtle drop, Which he drew from his crimson vest.
And the palmer grey his treachery Had watched, when all beside In the feast were gaily revelling, Nor danger there espied.
”Say where didst thou the treason know?”
The troubled chieftain cried; ”I had blessed thy bread, I had blessed thy bowl,”
The h.o.a.ry man replied.
”And the blessing was given--the boon from heaven; Or this night from thy lordly bed Thy spirit had pa.s.sed with the shuddering blast, With the loud, shrill shriek of the dead!
”Oh! never taste the meat unblessed; Remember the palmer grey; Though he wander afar from thy castle gate, Yet forget not thy feast to-day.”
And the pilgrim is gone from that gate alone, When prayer and vow were said; And the blessing thenceforth from that house was heard Ere they broke their daily bread.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DULE UPO' DUN]
THE DULE UPO' DUN.
”Wae, wae is me, on soul an' body, Old Hornie has lifted his paw, man; An' the carle will come, an' gallop me hame, An' I maun gae pipe in his ha', man!”
--_Old Ballad._
For the tradition upon which the following tale is founded, the author is indebted to _The Kaleidoscope_, an interesting weekly miscellany, published by Messrs Smith and Son at Liverpool.
Barely three miles from c.l.i.theroe, as you enter a small village on the right of the high road to Gisburne, stands a public-house, having for its sign the t.i.tle of our story. On it is depicted his Satanic majesty, curiously mounted upon a scraggy dun horse, without saddle, bridle, of any sort of equipments whatsoever--the terrified steed being off and away at full gallop from the door, where a small hilarious tailor, with shears and measures, appears to view the departure of him of the cloven foot with anything but grief or disapprobation.
The house itself is one of those ancient, gabled, black and white edifices, now fast disappearing under the giant march of improvement, which tramples down alike the palace and the cottage, the peasant's hut and the patrician's dwelling. Many windows, of little lozenge-shaped panes set in lead, might be seen here in all the various stages of renovation and decay: some stuffed with clouts, parti-coloured and various; others, where the work of devastation had been more complete, were wholly darkened by brick-bats, coble-stones, and many other ingenious subst.i.tutes and expedients to keep out the weather.
But our tale hath a particular bearing to other and more terrific days--”the olden time,” so fruitful in marvels and extravagances--the very poetry of the black art; when Satan communed visibly and audibly with the children of men--thanks to the invokers of relics and the tellers of beads--and was so familiar and reasonable withal, as to argue and persuade men touching the propriety of submitting themselves to him, as rational and intelligent creatures; and even was silly enough, at times, to suffer himself to be outwitted by the greater sagacity and address of his intended victims. For proof, we cite the following veracious narrative, which bears within it every internal mark of truth, and matter for grave and serious reflection.
”Little Mike,” or more properly Michael Waddington, was a merry tailor of some note in his day, who formerly, that is to say, some eight or nine score years ago--dwelt in this very tenement, where he followed his profession, except when enticed by the smell of good liquor to the village alehouse--the detriment, and even ruin, of many a goodly piece of raiment, which at times he clipped and shaped in such wise as redounded but little to the credit of either wearer or artificer. Mike was more alive to a merry troll and graceless story, in the kitchen of mine host ”at the inn,” than to the detail of his own s...o...b..ard, with the implements of his craft about him, making and mending the oddly a.s.sorted adjuncts of the village churls. Such was his liking for pastime and good company that the greater part of his earnings went through the tapster's melting pot; and grieved are we, as veritable chroniclers, to state that it was not until even credit failed him, that he settled to work for another supply of the elixir vitae--the pabulum of his being. It may be supposed that matters went on but indifferently at home, where want and poverty had left indelible traces of their presence. Matty Waddington, his spouse, would have had hard work to make both ends meet had she not been able to sc.r.a.pe together a few pence and broken victuals by selling firewood, and helping her neighbours with any extra work that was going forward.
Yet, in general, she bore all her troubles and privations with great patience and good humour--at any rate in the presence of her husband, who, though an idler and a spendthrift, was, to say the truth, not viciously disposed towards her, like many beastly sots, but, on the contrary, he usually behaved with great deference and kindness to his unfortunate helpmate in all things but that of yielding to his besetting sin; having an unquenchable thirst for good liquor, which all his resolutions and vows of amendment could not withstand.
One evening the little hero of our story was at his usual pastime in the public-house, but his ”cup was run low,” and his credit still lower. In fact, both cash and credit were finished; his liquor was within a short pull from the bottom; and he sat ruminating on the doleful emergencies to which he was subject, and the horrible spectres that would a.s.sail him on the morrow, in the shape of sundry riven doublets and hose, beside rents and repairs innumerable, which had been acc.u.mulating for some weeks, to the no small inconvenience and exposure of their owners and former occupiers.
”I wish I were the squire's footman, or e'en his errand-boy, and could get a sup of good liquor without riving and tuggin' for't,” thought he aloud. Scarce were the words uttered, when there came a mighty civil stranger into the company, consisting of village professors of the arts, such as the barber, the blacksmith, and the bell-ringer, together with our knight of the iron thimble. The new-comer was dressed in a respectable suit of black; a wig of the same colour adorned his wide and ample head, which was again surmounted by a peaked hat, having a band and buckle above its brim, and a black rose in front. He looked an elderly and well-ordered gentleman, mighty spruce, and full of courtesy; and his cane was black as ebony, with a yellow k.n.o.b that glittered like gold. He had a huge beaked nose, and a little black ferrety eye, which almost pierced what it gazed upon.
Every one made way for the stranger, who sat down, not in the full glare of the fire to be sure, but rather on one side, so that he might have a distinct view of the company, without being himself subject to any scrutinising observances.
”Pleasant night abroad,” said the new-comer.