e swain.

The joyful king turned home again,
Headed his host and quelled the Dane;
But yearly, when returned the night
Of his strange combat with the sprite,
His wound must bleed and smart;
Lord Gifford then would gibing say,
'Bold as ye were, my liege, ye pay
The penance of your start.'
Long since, beneath Dunfermline's nave,
King Alexander fills his grave,
Our Lady give him rest!
Yet still the nightly spear and shield
The elfin warrior doth wield,
Upon the brown hill's breast;
And many a knight hath proved his chance
In the charmed ring to break a lance,
But have all foully sped;
Save two, as legends tell, and they
Were Wallace wight, and Gilbert Hay.--
Gentles, my tale is said."

One of Sir Walter Scott's poetic effusions has reference to a popular
story concerning a fairy knight:--

"Osbert, a bold and powerful baron, visited a noble family in the
vicinity of Wandlebury, in the bishopric of Ely. Among other stories
related in the social circle of his friends (who, according to custom,
amused each other by repeating ancient tales and traditions), he was
informed, that if any knight, unattended, entered an adjacent plain by
moonlight, and challenged an adversary to appear, he would be
immediately encountered by a spirit in the form of a knight. Osbert
resolved to make the experiment, and set out, attended by a single
squire, whom he ordered to remain without the limits of the plain,
which was surrounded by an ancient entrenchment. On repeating the
challenge, he was instantly assailed by an adversary, whom he quickly
unhorsed, and seized the reins of his steed. During this operation,
his ghostly opponent sprang up, and darting his spear like a javelin
at Osbert, wounded him in the thigh. Osbert returned in triumph with
the horse, which he committed to the care of his servants. The horse
was of a sable colour, as well as his whole accoutrements, and
apparently of great beauty and vigour. He remained with his keepers
till cock-crowing, when, with eyes flashing fire, he reared, spurned
the ground, and vanished. On disarming himself, Osbert perceived that
he was wounded, and that one of his steel boots was full of blood.
Gervase adds, that as long as he lived, the scar of his wound opened
afresh on the anniversary of the eve on which he encountered the
spirit."

CHAPTER XX.

Lord Byron taught Superstition