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  CHAPTER I.

  But lost to me, for ever lost those joys, Which reason scatters, and which time destroys. No more the midnight fairy-train I view, All in the merry moonlight tippling dew. Even the last lingering fiction of the brain, The churchyard ghost, is now at rest again.

  _The Library._

  The moral bard, from whom we borrow the motto of this chapter, hastouched a theme with which most readers have some feelings that vibrateunconsciously. Superstition, when not arrayed in her full horrors, butlaying a gentle hand only on her suppliant's head, had charms which wefail not to regret, even in those stages of society from which herinfluence is wellnigh banished by the light of reason and generaleducation. At least, in more ignorant periods, her system of idealterrors had something in them interesting to minds which had few meansof excitement. This is more especially true of those lightermodifications of superstitious feelings and practices which mingle inthe amusements of the ruder ages, and are, like the auguries ofHallow-e'en in Scotland, considered partly as matter of merriment,partly as sad and prophetic earnest. And, with similar feelings, peopleeven of tolerable education have, in our times, sought the cell of afortune-teller, upon a frolic, as it is termed, and yet not always in adisposition absolutely sceptical towards the responses they receive.

  When the sisters of Burgh-Westra arrived in the apartment destined for abreakfast, as ample as that which we have described on the precedingmorning, and had undergone a jocular rebuke from the Udaller for theirlate attendance, they found the company, most of whom had alreadybreakfasted, engaged in an ancient Norwegian custom, of the characterwhich we have just described.

  It seems to have been borrowed from those poems of the Scalds, in whichchampions and heroines are so often represented as seeking to know theirdestiny from some sorceress or prophetess, who, as in the legend calledby Gray the Descent of Odin, awakens by the force of Runic rhyme theunwilling revealer of the doom of fate, and compels from her answers,often of dubious import, but which were then believed to express someshadow of the events of futurity.

  An old sibyl, Euphane Fea, the housekeeper we have already mentioned,was installed in the recess of a large window, studiously darkened bybear-skins and other miscellaneous drapery, so as to give it somethingthe appearance of a Laplander's hut, and accommodated, like aconfessional chair, with an aperture, which permitted the person withinto hear with ease whatever questions should be put, though not to seethe querist. Here seated, the voluspa, or sibyl, was to listen to therhythmical enquiries which should be made to her, and return anextemporaneous answer. The drapery was supposed to prevent her fromseeing by what individuals she was consulted, and the intended oraccidental reference which the answer given under such circumstancesbore to the situation of the person by whom the question was asked,often furnished food for laughter, and sometimes, as it happened, formore serious reflection. The sibyl was usually chosen from herpossessing the talent of improvisation in the Norse poetry; no unusualaccomplishment, where the minds of many were stored with old verses, andwhere the rules of metrical composition are uncommonly simple. Thequestions were also put in verse; but as this power of extemporaneouscomposition, though common, could not be supposed universal, the mediumof an interpreter might be used by any querist, which interpreter,holding the consulter of the oracle by the hand, and standing by theplace from which the oracles were issued, had the task of rendering intoverse the subject of enquiry.

  On the present occasion, Claud Halcro was summoned, by the universalvoice, to perform the part of interpreter; and, after shaking his head,and muttering some apology for decay of memory and poetical powers,contradicted at once by his own conscious smile of confidence and by thegeneral shout of the company, the lighthearted old man came forward toplay his part in the proposed entertainment.

  But just as it was about to commence, the arrangement of parts wassingularly altered. Norna of the Fitful-head, whom every one exceptingthe two sisters believed to be at the distance of many miles, suddenly,and without greeting, entered the apartment, walked majestically up tothe bearskin tabernacle, and signed to the female who was there seatedto abdicate her sanctuary. The old woman came forth, shaking her head,and looking like one overwhelmed with fear; nor, indeed, were there manyin the company who saw with absolute composure the sudden appearance ofa person, so well known and so generally dreaded as Norna.

  She paused a moment at the entrance of the tent; and, as she raised theskin which formed the entrance, she looked up to the north, as ifimploring from that quarter a strain of inspiration then signing to thesurprised guests that they might approach in succession the shrine inwhich she was about to install herself, she entered the tent, and wasshrouded from their sight.

  But this was a different sport from what the company had meditated, andto most of them seemed to present so much more of earnest than of game,that there was no alacrity shown to consult the oracle. The characterand pretensions of Norna seemed, to almost all present, too serious forthe part which she had assumed; the men whispered to each other, and thewomen, according to Claud Halcro, realized the description of gloriousJohn Dryden,--

  "With horror shuddering, in a heap they ran."

  The pause was interrupted by the loud manly voice of the Udaller. "Whydoes the game stand still, my masters? Are you afraid because mykinswoman is to play our voluspa? It is kindly done in her, to do for uswhat none in the isles can do so well; and we will not baulk our sportfor it, but rather go on the merrier."

  There was still a pause in the company, and Magnus Troil added, "Itshall never be said that my kinswoman sat in her bower unhalsed, as ifshe were some of the old mountain-giantesses, and all from faint heart.I will speak first myself; but the rhyme comes worse from my tongue thanwhen I was a score of years younger.--Claud Halcro, you must stand byme."

  Hand in hand they approached the shrine of the supposed sibyl, and aftera moment's consultation together, Halcro thus expressed the query of hisfriend and patron. Now, the Udaller, like many persons of consequence inZetland, who, as Sir Robert Sibbald has testified for them, had begunthus early to apply both to commerce and navigation, was concerned tosome extent in the whale-fishery of the season, and the bard had beendirected to put into his halting verse an enquiry concerning itssuccess.

  CLAUD HALCRO.

  "Mother darksome, Mother dread-- Dweller on the Fitful-head, Thou canst see what deeds are done Under the never-setting sun. Look through sleet, and look through frost, Look to Greenland's caves and coast,-- By the iceberg is a sail Chasing of the swarthy whale; Mother doubtful, Mother dread, Tell us, has the good ship sped?"

  The jest seemed to turn to earnest, as all, bending their heads around,listened to the voice of Norna, who, without a moment's hesitation,answered from the recesses of the tent in which she was enclosed:--

  NORNA.

  "The thought of the aged is ever on gear,-- On his fishing, his furrow, his flock, and his steer; But thrive may his fishing, flock, furrow, and herd, While the aged for anguish shall tear his grey beard."

  There was a momentary pause, during which Triptolemus had time towhisper, "If ten witches and as many warlocks were to swear it, I willnever believe that a decent man will either fash his beard or himselfabout any thing, so long as stock and crop goes as it should do."

  But the voice from within the tent resumed its low monotonous tone ofrecitation, and, interrupting farther commentary, proceeded asfollows:--

  NORNA.

  "The ship, well-laden as bark need be, Lies deep in the furrow of the Iceland sea;-- The breeze for Zetland blows fair and soft, And gaily the garland[1] is fluttering aloft: Seven good fishes have spouted their last, And their jaw-bones are hanging to yard and mast;[2] Two are for Lerwick, and two for Kirkwall,-- And three for Burgh-Westra, the choicest of all."

  "Now the powers above look down and protect us!" said Bryce Snailsfoot;"for it is mair than woman's wit that has spaed out that ferly. I sawthem
at North Ronaldshaw, that had seen the good bark, the Olave ofLerwick, that our worthy patron has such a great share in that she maybe called his own in a manner, and they had broomed[3] the ship, and, assure as there are stars in heaven, she answered them for seven fish,exact as Norna has telled us in her rhyme!"

  "Umph--seven fish exactly? and you heard it at North Ronaldshaw?" saidCaptain Cleveland, "and I suppose told it as a good piece of news whenyou came hither?"

  "It never crossed my tongue, Captain," answered the pedlar; "I have kendmony chapmen, travelling merchants, and such like, neglect their goodsto carry clashes and clavers up and down, from one countryside toanother; but that is no traffic of mine. I dinna believe I havementioned the Olave's having made up her cargo to three folks since Icrossed to Dunrossness."

  "But if one of those three had spoken the news over again, and it is twoto one that such a thing happened, the old lady prophesies upon velvet."

  Such was the speech of Cleveland, addressed to Magnus Troil, and heardwithout any applause. The Udaller's respect for his country extended toits superstitions, and so did the interest which he took in hisunfortunate kinswoman. If he never rendered a precise assent to her highsupernatural pretensions, he was not at least desirous of hearing themdisputed by others.

  "Norna," he said, "his cousin," (an emphasis on the word,) "held nocommunication with Bryce Snailsfoot, or his acquaintances. He did notpretend to explain how she came by her information but he had alwaysremarked that Scotsmen, and indeed strangers in general, when they cameto Zetland, were ready to find reasons for things which remainedsufficiently obscure to those whose ancestors had dwelt there for ages."

  Captain Cleveland took the hint, and bowed, without attempting to defendhis own scepticism.

  "And now forward, my brave hearts," said the Udaller; "and may all haveas good tidings as I have! Three whales cannot but yield--let me thinkhow many hogsheads"----

  There was an obvious reluctance on the part of the guests to be the nextin consulting the oracle of the tent.

  "Gude news are welcome to some folks, if they came frae the deilhimsell," said Mistress Baby Yellowley, addressing the LadyGlowrowrum,--for a similarity of disposition in some respects had made asort of intimacy betwixt them--"but I think, my leddy, that this hasower mickle of rank witchcraft in it to have the countenance of douceChristian folks like you and me, my leddy."

  "There may be something in what you say, my dame," replied the good LadyGlowrowrum; "but we Hialtlanders are no just like other folks; and thiswoman, if she be a witch, being the Fowd's friend and near kinswoman, itwill be ill taen if we haena our fortunes spaed like a' the rest ofthem; and sae my nieces may e'en step forward in their turn, and naeharm dune. They will hae time to repent, ye ken, in the course ofnature, if there be ony thing wrang in it, Mistress Yellowley."

  While others remained under similar uncertainty and apprehension,Halcro, who saw by the knitting of the old Udaller's brows, and by acertain impatient shuffle of his right foot, like the motion of a manwho with difficulty refrains from stamping, that his patience began towax rather thin, gallantly declared, that he himself would, in his ownperson, and not as a procurator for others, put the next query to thePythoness. He paused a minute--collected his rhymes, and thus addressedher:

  CLAUD HALCRO.

  "Mother doubtful, Mother dread, Dweller of the Fitful-head, Thou hast conn'd full many a rhyme, That lives upon the surge of time: Tell me, shall my lays be sung, Like Hacon's of the golden tongue, Long after Halcro's dead and gone? Or, shall Hialtland's minstrel own One note to rival glorious John?"

  The voice of the sibyl immediately replied, from her sanctuary,

  NORNA.

  "The infant loves the rattle's noise; Age, double childhood, hath its toys; But different far the descant rings, As strikes a different hand the strings. The Eagle mounts the polar sky-- The Imber-goose, unskill'd to fly, Must be content to glide along, Where seal and sea-dog list his song."

  Halcro bit his lip, shrugged his shoulders, and then, instantlyrecovering his good-humour, and the ready, though slovenly power ofextemporaneous composition, with which long habit had invested him, hegallantly rejoined,

  CLAUD HALCRO.

  "Be mine the Imber-goose to play, And haunt lone cave and silent bay:-- The archer's aim so shall I shun-- So shall I 'scape the levell'd gun-- Content my verse's tuneless jingle, With Thule's sounding tides to mingle, While, to the ear of wandering wight, Upon the distant headland's height, Soften'd by murmur of the sea, The rude sounds seem like harmony!"

  As the little bard stepped back, with an alert gait, and satisfied air,general applause followed the spirited manner in which he had acquiescedin the doom which levelled him with an Imber-goose. But his resigned andcourageous submission did not even yet encourage any other person toconsult the redoubted Norna.

  "The coward fools!" said the Udaller. "Are you too afraid, CaptainCleveland, to speak to an old woman?--Ask her any thing--ask her whetherthe twelve-gun sloop at Kirkwall be your consort or no."

  Cleveland looked at Minna, and probably conceiving that she watched withanxiety his answer to her father's question, he collected himself, aftera moment's hesitation.

  "I never was afraid of man or woman.--Master Halcro, you have heard thequestion which our host desires me to ask--put it in my name, and inyour own way--I pretend to as little skill in poetry as I do inwitchcraft."

  Halcro did not wait to be invited twice, but, grasping CaptainCleveland's hand in his, according to the form which the gameprescribed, he put the query which the Udaller had dictated to thestranger, in the following words:--

  CLAUD HALCRO.

  "Mother doubtful, Mother dread, Dweller of the Fitful-head, A gallant bark from far abroad, Saint Magnus hath her in his road, With guns and firelocks not a few-- A silken and a scarlet crew, Deep stored with precious merchandise, Of gold, and goods of rare device-- What interest hath our comrade bold In bark and crew, in goods and gold?"

  There was a pause of unusual duration ere the oracle would return anyanswer; and when she replied, it was in a lower, though an equallydecided tone, with that which she had hitherto employed:--

  NORNA.

  "Gold is ruddy, fair, and free, Blood is crimson, and dark to see;-- I look'd out on Saint Magnus Bay, And I saw a falcon that struck her prey,-- A gobbet of flesh in her beak she bore, And talons and singles are dripping with gore; Let him that asks after them look on his hand, And if there is blood on't, he's one of their band."

  Cleveland smiled scornfully, and held out his hand,--"Few men have beenon the Spanish main as often as I have, without having had to do withthe _Guarda Costas_ once and again; but there never was aught like astain on my hand that a wet towel would not wipe away."

  The Udaller added his voice potential--"There is never peace withSpaniards beyond the Line,--I have heard Captain Tragendeck and honestold Commodore Rummelaer say so an hundred times, and they have both beendown in the Bay of Honduras, and all thereabouts.--I hate all Spaniards,since they came here and reft the Fair Isle men of their vivers in1558.[4] I have heard my grandfather speak of it; and there is an oldDutch history somewhere about the house, that shows what work they madein the Low Countries long since. There is neither mercy nor faith inthem."

  "True--true, my old friend," said Cleveland; "they are as jealous oftheir Indian possessions as an old man of his young bride; and if theycan catch you at disadvantage, the mines for your life is the word,--andso we fight them with our colours nailed to the mast."

  "That is the way," shouted the Udaller; "the old British jack shouldnever down! When I think of the wooden walls, I almost think myself anEnglishman, only it would be becoming too like my Scottishneighbours;--but come, no offence to any here, gentlemen--all arefriends, and all are welcome.--Come, Brenda, go on with the play--do youspeak next, you have Norse rhymes enough, we all know."

  "But none that suit the game we play at, father," said Brenda, drawingback. />
  "Nonsense!" said her father, pushing her onward, while Halcro seized onher reluctant hand; "never let mistimed modesty mar honest mirth--Speakfor Brenda, Halcro--it is your trade to interpret maidens' thoughts."

  The poet bowed to the beautiful young woman, with the devotion of a poetand the gallantry of a traveller, and having, in a whisper, reminded herthat she was in no way responsible for the nonsense he was about tospeak, he paused, looked upward, simpered as if he had caught a suddenidea, and at length set off in the following verses:

  CLAUD HALCRO.

  "Mother doubtful, Mother dread-- Dweller of the Fitful-head, Well thou know'st it is thy task To tell what beauty will not ask;-- Then steep thy words in wine and milk, And weave a doom of gold and silk,-- For we would know, shall Brenda prove In love, and happy in her love?"

  The prophetess replied almost immediately from behind her curtain:--

  NORNA.

  "Untouched by love, the maiden's breast Is like the snow on Rona's crest, High seated in the middle sky, In bright and barren purity; But by the sunbeam gently kiss'd, Scarce by the gazing eye 'tis miss'd, Ere down the lonely valley stealing, Fresh grass and growth its course revealing, It cheers the flock, revives the flower, And decks some happy shepherd's bower."

  "A comfortable doctrine, and most justly spoken," said the Udaller,seizing the blushing Brenda, as she was endeavouring to escape--"Neverthink shame for the matter, my girl. To be the mistress of some honestman's house, and the means of maintaining some old Norse name, makingneighbours happy, the poor easy, and relieving strangers, is the mostcreditable lot a young woman can look to, and I heartily wish it to allhere.--Come, who speaks next?--good husbands are going--MaddieGroatsettar--my pretty Clara, come and have your share."

  The Lady Glowrowrum shook her head, and "could not," she said,"altogether approve"----

  "Enough said--enough said," replied Magnus; "no compulsion but the playshall go on till we are tired of it. Here, Minna--I have got you atcommand. Stand forth, my girl--there are plenty of things to be ashamedof besides old-fashioned and innocent pleasantry.--Come, I will speakfor you myself--though I am not sure I can remember rhyme enough forit."

  There was a slight colour which passed rapidly over Minna's face, butshe instantly regained her composure, and stood erect by her father, asone superior to any little jest to which her situation might give rise.

  Her father, after some rubbing of his brow, and other mechanical effortsto assist his memory, at length recovered verse sufficient to put thefollowing query, though in less gallant strains than those of Halcro:--

  MAGNUS TROIL.

  "Mother, speak, and do not tarry, Here's a maiden fain would marry. Shall she marry, ay or not? If she marry, what's her lot?"

  A deep sigh was uttered within the tabernacle of the soothsayer, as ifshe compassionated the subject of the doom which she was obliged topronounce. She then, as usual, returned her response:--

  NORNA.

  "Untouch'd by love, the maiden's breast Is like the snow on Rona's crest; So pure, so free from earthly dye, It seems, whilst leaning on the sky, Part of the heaven to which 'tis nigh; But passion, like the wild March rain, May soil the wreath with many a stain. We gaze--the lovely vision's gone-- A torrent fills the bed of stone, That, hurrying to destruction's shock, Leaps headlong from the lofty rock."

  The Udaller heard this reply with high resentment. "By the bones of theMartyr," he said, his bold visage becoming suddenly ruddy, "this is anabuse of courtesy! and, were it any but yourself that had classed mydaughter's name and the word destruction together, they had better haveleft the word unspoken. But come forth of the tent, thou oldgaldragon,"[5] he added, with a smile--"I should have known that thoucanst not long joy in any thing that smacks of mirth, God help thee!"His summons received no answer; and, after waiting a moment, he againaddressed her--"Nay, never be sullen with me, kinswoman, though I didspeak a hasty word--thou knowest I bear malice to no one, least of allto thee--so come forth, and let us shake hands.--Thou mightst haveforetold the wreck of my ship and boats, or a bad herring-fishery, and Ishould have said never a word; but Minna or Brenda, you know, are thingswhich touch me nearer. But come out, shake hands, and there let there bean end on't."

  Norna returned no answer whatever to his repeated invocations, and thecompany began to look upon each other with some surprise, when theUdaller, raising the skin which covered the entrance of the tent,discovered that the interior was empty. The wonder was now general, andnot unmixed with fear; for it seemed impossible that Norna could have,in any manner, escaped from the tabernacle in which she was enclosed,without having been discovered by the company. Gone, however, she was,and the Udaller, after a moment's consideration, dropt the skin-curtainagain over the entrance of the tent.

  "My friends," he said, with a cheerful countenance, "we have long knownmy kinswoman, and that her ways are not like those of the ordinary folksof this world. But she means well by Hialtland, and hath the love of asister for me, and for my house; and no guest of mine needs either tofear evil, or to take offence, at her hand. I have little doubt she willbe with us at dinner-time."

  "Now, Heaven forbid!" said Mrs. Baby Yellowley--"for, my gude LeddyGlowrowrum, to tell your leddyship the truth, I likena cummers that cancome and gae like a glance of the sun, or the whisk of a whirlwind."

  "Speak lower, speak lower," said the Lady Glowrowrum, "and be thankfulthat yon carlin hasna ta'en the house-side away wi' her. The like of herhave played warse pranks, and so has she hersell, unless she is thesairer lied on."

  Similar murmurs ran through the rest of the company, until the Udalleruplifted his stentorian and imperative voice to put them to silence, andinvited, or rather commanded, the attendance of his guests to behold theboats set off for the _haaf_ or deep-sea fishing.

  "The wind has been high since sunrise," he said, "and had kept the boatsin the bay; but now it was favourable, and they would sailimmediately."

  This sudden alteration of the weather occasioned sundry nods and winksamongst the guests, who were not indisposed to connect it with Norna'ssudden disappearance; but without giving vent to observations whichcould not but be disagreeable to their host, they followed his statelystep to the shore, as the herd of deer follows the leading stag, withall manner of respectful observance.[6](_a_)[7]

  FOOTNOTES:

  [1] The garland is an artificial coronet, composed of ribbons by thoseyoung women who take an interest in a whaling vessel or her crew: it isalways displayed from the rigging, and preserved with great care duringthe voyage.

  [2] The best oil exudes from the jaw-bones of the whale, which, for thepurpose of collecting it, are suspended to the masts of the vessel.

  [3] There is established among whalers a sort of telegraphic signal, inwhich a certain number of motions, made with a broom, express to anyother vessel the number of fish which they have caught.

  [4] The Admiral of the Spanish Armada was wrecked on the Fair Isle,half-way betwixt the Orkney and Zetland Archipelago. The Duke of MedinaSidonia landed, with some of his people, and pillaged the islanders oftheir winter stores. These strangers are remembered as having remainedon the island by force, and on bad terms with the inhabitants, tillspring returned, when they effected their escape.

  [5] _Galdra-Kinna_--the Norse for a sorceress.

  [6] Note I.--Fortune-telling Rhymes.

  [7] See Editor's Notes at the end of the Volume. Wherever a similarreference occurs, the reader will understand that the same directionapplies.