XI.

THE LEGEND OF CRAIGULLAN.[A]

[Footnote A: This legend has been referred to several Scotch
families--one in Fife in particular, the name of which it would
be imprudent to mention.]


Yonder the halls of old Craigullan!
To weird doom for ever true;
The moaning winds are sad and sullen,
The screech-owl hoots too-hoo! too-hoo!
The lazy burn-clock drones around,
The wing-mouse flaps the choking air,
The croaking frog hops on the ground,
For weird fate is working there.

Each wing had once a goodly tower
Of stately beild, both broad and high;
In every tower a lady's bower,
Bedecked with silken tapestry;
In every bower a lovely maid,
Her youth and beauty all in vain;
And with each maid a keeper staid
To watch the wanderings of her brain.

'Twas said that those who went that way
Would hear some shrill and piercing wail
Come from these towers, and die away