291. Richard. Here accented on the final syllable. Such license is not
unusual in ballad poetry.
298. Woned. Dwelt. See on i. 408 above. Scott has the following note
here:
"In a long dissertation upon the Fairy Superstitions, published in the
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, the most valuable part of which was
supplied by my learned and indefatigable friend, Dr. John Leyden,
most of the circumstances are collected which can throw light upon the
popular belief which even yet prevails respecting them in Scotland.
Dr. Grahame, author of an entertaining work upon the Scenery of the
Perthshire Highlands, already frequently quoted, has recorded with great
accuracy the peculiar tenets held by the Highlanders on this topic, in
the vicinity of Loch Katrine. The learned author is inclined to deduce
the whole mythology from the Druidical system--an opinion to which there
are many objections.
'The Daoine Shi', or Men of Peace, of the Highlanders, though not
absolutely malevolent, are believed to be a peevish, repining race of
beings, who, possessing themselves but a scanty portion of happiness,
are supposed to envy mankind their more complete and substantial
enjoyments. They are supposed to enjoy, in their subterraneous recesses,
a sort of shadowy happiness,--a tinsel grandeur; which, however, they
would willingly exchange for the more solid joys of mortality.
'They are believed to inhabit certain round grassy eminences, where they
celebrate their nocturnal festivities by the light of the moon. About a
mile beyond the source of the Forth, above Loch Con, there is a placed
called Coirshi'an, or the Cove of the Men of Peace, which is still
supposed to be a favorite place of their residence. In the neighborhood
are to be seen many round conical eminences, particularly one near the
head of the lake, by the skirts of which many are still afraid to pass
after sunset. It is believed that if, on Hallow-eve, any person,
alone, goes round one of these hills nine times, towards the left hand
(sinistrorsum) a door shall open, by which he will be admitted into
their subterraneous abodes. Many, it is said, of mortal race have been
entertained in their secret recesses. There they have been received
into the most splendid apartments, and regaled with the most sumptuous
banquets and delicious wines. Their females surpass the daughters of men
in beauty. The seemingly happy inhabitants pass their time in festivity,
and in dancing to notes of the softest music. But unhappy is the mortal
who joins in their joys or ventures to partake of their dainties. By
this indulgence he forfeits for ever the society of men, and is bound
down irrevocably to the condition of Shi'ich, or Man of Peace.'"
301. Why sounds, etc. "It has been already observed that fairies, if not
positively malevolent, are capricious, and easily offended. They are,
like other proprietors of forests, peculiarly jealous of their rights of
vert and venison.... This jealousy was also an attribute of the northern
Duergar, or dwarfs; to many of whose distinctions the fairies seem so
have succeeded, if, indeed, they are not the same class of beings. In
the huge metrical record of German chivalry entitled the Helden-Buch,
Sir Hildebrand, and the other heroes of whom it treats, are engaged in
one of their most desperate adventures, from a rash violation of the
rose-garden of an Elfin or Dwarf King.
"There are yet traces of a belief in this worst and most malicious order
of fairies among the Border wilds. Dr. Leyden has introduced such a
dwarf into his ballad entitled The Cout of Keeldar, and has not forgot
his characteristic detestation of the chase.
'The third blast that young Keeldar blew,
Still stood the limber fern,
And a wee man, of swarthy hue,
Upstarted by a cairn.
'His russet weeds were brown as heath
That clothes the upland fell,
And the hair of his head was frizzy red
As the purple heather-bell.
'An urchin, clad in prickles red,
Clung cow'ring to his arm;
The hounds they howl'd, and backward fled,
As struck by fairy charm.
'"Why rises high the staghound's cry,
Where staghound ne'er should be?
Why wakes that horn the silent morn,
Without the leave of me?"--
'"Brown Dwarf, that o'er the muirland strays,
Thy name to Keeldar tell!"--
"The Brown Man of the Muirs, who stays
Beneath the heather-bell.
'"'T is sweet beneath the heather-bell
To live in autumn brown;
And sweet to hear the lav'rock's swell,
Far, far from tower and town.
'"But woe betide the shrilling horn,
The chase's surly cheer!
And ever that hunter is forlorn
Whom first at morn I hear."'
"The poetical picture here given of the Duergar corresponds exactly with
the following Northumberland legend, with which I was lately favored by
my learned and kind friend, Mr. Surtees of Mainsforth, who has bestowed
indefatigable labor upon the antiquities of the English Border counties.
The subject is in itself so curious, that the length of the note will, I
hope, be pardoned:
'I have only one record to offer of the appearance of our Northumbrian
Duergar. My narratrix is Elizabeth Cockburn, and old wife of Offerton,
in this country, whose credit, in a case of this kind, will not, I hope,
be much impeached when I add that she is by her dull neighbors supposed
to be occasionally insane, but by herself to be at those times endowed
with a faculty of seeing visions and spectral appearances which shun the
common ken.
'In the year before the great rebellion, two young men from Newcastle
were sporting on the high moors above Eldson, and after pursuing their
game several hours, sat down to dine in a green glen near one of the
mountain streams. After their repast, the younger lad ran to the brook
for water, and after stooping to drink, was surprised, on lifting his
head again, by the appearance of a brown dwarf, who stood on a crag
covered with brackens, across the burn. This extraordinary personage
did not appear to be above half the stature of a common man, but
was uncommonly stout and broad-built, having the appearance of vast
strength. His dress was entirely brown, the color of the brackens, and
his head covered with frizzled red hair. His countenance was expressive
of the most savage ferocity, and his eyes glared like a bull. It seems
he addressed the young man first, threatening him with his vengeance for
having trespassed on his demesnes, and asking him if he knew in whose
presence he stood? The youth replied that he now supposed him to be the
lord of the moors; that he offended through ignorance; and offered to
bring him the game he had killed. The dwarf was a little mollified by
this submission, but remarked that nothing could be more offensive
to him than such an offer, as he considered the wild animals as his
subjects, and never failed to avenge their destruction. He condescended
further to inform him that he was, like himself, mortal, though of years
far exceeding the lot of common humanity, and (what I should not have
had an idea of) that he hoped for salvation. He never, he added, fed on
anything that had life, but lived in the summer on whortleberries, and
in winter on nuts and apples, of which he had great store in the woods.
Finally, he invited his new acquaintance to accompany him home and
partake his hospitality, an offer which the youth was on the point of
accepting, and was just going to spring across the brook (which if he
had done, says Elizabeth, the dwarf would certainly have torn him in
pieces), when his foot was arrested by the voice of his companion, who
thought he had tarried long, and on looking round again, "the wee brown
man was fled." The story adds that he was imprudent enough to slight the
admonition, and to sport over the moors on his way homewards, but soon
after his return he fell into a lingering disorder, and died within the
year'" (Scott).