They slew my knight, to me sae dear;
They slew my knight, and drave his gear;
The moon may set, the sun may rise,
But a deadly sleep has closed his eyes.
[Footnote: The first three couplets are from an old ballad, called the
Border Widow's Lament.]
'Alas,' thought Edward, 'is it thou? Poor helpless being, art thou alone
left, to gibber and moan, and fill with thy wild and unconnected scraps
of minstrelsy the halls that protected thee?' He then called, first low,
and then louder, 'Davie--Davie Gellatley!'
The poor simpleton showed himself from among the ruins of a sort of
greenhouse, that once terminated what was called the terrace-walk, but at
first sight of a stranger retreated, as if in terror. Waverley,
remembering his habits, began to whistle a tune to which he was partial,
which Davie had expressed great pleasure in listening to, and had picked
up from him by the ear. Our hero's minstrelsy no more equalled that of
Blondel than poor Davie resembled Coeur de Lion; but the melody had the
same effect of producing recognition. Davie again stole from his
lurking-place, but timidly, while Waverley, afraid of frightening him,
stood making the most encouraging signals he could devise.
Pages:
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810