oune and hearest of a hart and
hind that come out of the forest and pace unafraid through the
village, then come thou down to seek for me here, under the
Eildon tree.'

Then loud and clear blew she her horn and rode away. Thus Thomas
parted from the Elfin Queen.

On earth seven slow long years had passed away since Thomas had
been seen in the little village of Ercildoune, and the villagers
rubbed their eyes and stared with open mouth as they saw him once
again in their midst.

Ofttimes now Thomas was to be seen wandering down from his grim
old castle down to the bonny greenwood. Ofttimes was he to be
found lying on the bank of the little brook that babbled to
itself as it ran through the forest, or under the Eildon tree,
where he had met the Elf Queen so long before.

He would be dreaming as he lay there of the songs he would sing
to the country folk. So beautiful were these songs that people
hearing them knew that Thomas the Rhymer had a gift that had
been given to him by no mortal hand.

He would be thinking, too, as he lay by the babbling brook, of
the wars and dangers that in years to come would fall upon his
country. And those who hearkened to the woes he uttered found
that the words of True Thomas never failed to come to pass.

Seven long years passed away since Thomas had parted from the
Elfland Queen, and yet another seven.

War had raged here and there throughout the land, when on a time
it chanced that the Scottish army encamped close to the castle of
Ercildoune where Thomas the Rhymer dwelt.

It was a time of truce, and Thomas wished to give a feast to the
gallant soldiers who had been fighting for their country.

Thus it was that the doors of the old castle were flung wide, and
noise and laughter filled the banquet-hall. Merry were the tales,
loud the jests, bright the minstrel strains that night in the
castle of Ercildoune.

But when the feast was over Thomas himself arose, the harp he had
brought from Elfland in his hand, and a hush fell upon the
throng, upon lords and ladies, and upon rough armed men.

The cheeks of rugged warriors that day were wet ere ever Thomas
ceased to sing. Nor ever in the years to come did those who heard
forget the magic of his song.

Night fell, those who had feasted had gone to rest, when in the
bright moonlight a strange sight was seen by the village folk.

Along the banks of the Leader there paced side by side a hart and
a hind, each white, white as newly f