taken
and poured on a certain rock beside the spring, immediately the water
changes into vapour, forms itself into great clouds filled with hail;
the air becomes thick with shadows, and resonant with the muttering of
thunder. Those who have come through curiosity to behold the prodigy
wish that they had never done so, so filled are their hearts with
terror, and so does fear paralyse their limbs. Incredible as the
marvel may seem, yet the proofs of its reality are too abundant to be
doubted."

Huon de Mery was more fortunate than Wace. He sprinkled the magic
stone which lay behind the fountain with water from the golden basin
that hung from the oak that shaded it, and beheld many marvels. And so
may he who has the seeing eye to-day.

BROCELIANDE

Ah, how remote, forlorn
Sounded the sad, sweet horn
In forest gloom enchanted!
I saw the shadows of kings go riding by,
But cerements mingled and paled with their panoply,
And the moss-ways deadened the steps of steeds that never panted.

Ah, what had phantasy
In that sad sound to say,
Sad as a spirit's wailing?
A call from over the seas of shadowland,
A call the soul of the soul might understand,
But never, ah, never the mind, the steeps of soul assailing.

_Bruno of La Montagne_

The old fragmentary romance of Bruno of La Montagne is eloquent of the
faery spirit which informs all Breton lore. Butor, Baron of La
Montagne, had married a young lady when he was himself of mature
years, and had a son, whom he resolved to take to a fountain where the
fairies came to repose themselves. The Baron, describing this magic
well to the child's mother, says (we roughly translate):

"Some believe 'tis in Champagne,
And others by the Rock Grifaigne;
Perchance it is in Alemaigne,
Or Bersillant de la Montagne;
Some even think that 'tis in Spain,
Or where sleeps Artus of Bretaigne."

The Seigneur gave his infant son into the keeping of Bruyant, a trusty
friend of his, and they set out for the fairy fountain with a troop of
vassals. They left the infant in the forest of Broceliande. Here the
fairies soon found him.

"Ha, sisters," said one whose skin was as white as the robe of
gossamer she wore, and whose golden crown betokened her the queen of
the others, "come hither and see a new-born infant. How, I wonder,
does he come to be here? I am sure I did not behold him in this spot
yesterday. Well, at all events, he must be baptized and sui