THE

LAIDLEY WORM

OF

SPINDLESTON HEUGH.

(BAMBURGH.)

BY DUNCAN FRASIER,

THE OLD MOUNTAIN BARD, LIVING ON CHEVIOT, A. D. 1270.

"Virgo jam serpens sinuosa volumina versat,
Mille trahens varios adverso sole colores,

Arrectisque horret squamis, et sibilat ore,

Arduaque insurgens navem de littore pulsat."

THE

LAIDLEY WORM.

THE king is gone from Bamburgh Castle,
Long may the princess mourn;
Long may she stand on the castle wall,
Looking for his return.

She has knotted the keys upon a string,
And with her she has them ta'en:
She has cast them o'er her left shoulder,
And to the gate she is gane.

She tripped out, she tripped in,
She tript into the yard:

But it was more for the king's sake,
Than for the queen's regard.

It fell out on a day, the king

Brought the queen with him home;

And all the lords in our country,
To welcome them did come.

Oh! welcome father, the lady cries,
Unto our halls and bowers;
And so are you, my step-mother,
For all that's here is yours.

A lord said, wondering while she spake,
The princess of the north

Surpasses all of female kind,
In beauty, and in worth.

The envious queen replied, at least,
You might have excepted me;
In a few hours I will her bring
Down to a low degree.

I will her liken to a laidley worm,
That wraps about the stone:

And not, till Childe Wynd * comes back,
Shall she again be won.

The princess stood at the bower door,
Laughing, who could her blame?
But e'er the next day's sun went down,
A long worm she became.

For seven miles east, and seven miles west,
And seven miles north and south,
No blade of grass or corn could grow,

So venomous was her mouth.

The milk of seven stately cows,
(It was costly her to keep),

Was brought her daily, which she drank
Before she went to sleep.

At this day may be seen the cave,

Which held her folded up;

And the stone trough, the very same,

Out of which she did sup.

*There is now a street called Wynd, at Bamburgh.

Word went east, and word went west,
And word is gone over the sea;

That a laidley worm in Spindleston Heugh
Would ruin the north country.

Word went east, and word went west,

And over the sea did go;

The Childe of Wynd got wit of it,
Which filled his heart with woe.

He called straight his merry men all,
They thirty were and three;

I wish I was at Spindleston,

This desperate worm to see.

We have no time now here to waste,
Hence quickly let us sail :
My only sister Margaret,
Something, I fear, doth ail.

They built a ship without delay,

With masts of rown-tree;
With fluttering sails of silk so fine,

And set her on the sea.

They went on board, the wind with speed Blew them along the deep;

At length they spied a huge square tower On a rock high and steep.

The sea was smooth, the weather clear,
When they approached nigher,

King Ida's castle they well knew,

And the banks of Bamburghshire.