will attract his eye.  For all the world would I not suffer you to be betrayed to such a fate; therefore up, and let us be going.”  These terrible news reconciled Thomas to his departure from Elfin land, and the queen was not long in placing him upon Huntly bank, where the birds were singing.  She took a tender leave of him, and to ensure his reputation, bestowed on him the tongue which could not lie.  Thomas in vain objected to this inconvenient and involuntary adhesion to veracity, which would make him, as he thought, unfit for church or for market, for king’s court or for lady’s bower.  But all his remonstrances were disregarded by the lady, and Thomas the Rhymer, whenever the discourse turned on the future, gained the credit of a prophet whether he would or not; for he could say nothing but what was sure to come to pass.  It is plain that had Thomas been a legislator instead of a poet, we have here the story of Numa and Egeria.  Thomas remained several years in his own tower near Erceldoune, and enjoyed the fame of his predictions, several of which are current among the country people to this day.  At length, as the prophet was entertaining the Earl of March in his dwelling, a cry of astonishment arose in the village, on the appearance of a hart and hind,[28] which left the forest and, contrary to their shy nature, came quietly onward, traversing the village towards the dwelling of Thomas.  The prophet instantly rose from the board; and, acknowledging the prodigy as the summons of his fate, he accompanied the hart and hind into the forest, and though occasionally seen by individuals to whom he has chosen to show himself, has never again mixed familiarly with mankind.

[Footnote 28:  This last circumstance seems imitated from a passage in the “Life of Merlin,” by Jeffrey of Monmouth.  See Ellis’s “Ancient Romances,” vol. i. p. 73.]

Thomas of Erceldoune, during his retirement, has been supposed, from time to time, to be levying forces to take the field in some crisis of his country’s fate.  The story has often been told of a daring horse-jockey having sold a black horse to a man of venerable and antique appearance, who appointed the remarkable hillock upon Eildon hills, called the Lucken-hare, as the place where, at twelve o’clock at night, he should receive the price.  He came, his money was paid in ancient coin, and he was invited by his customer to view his residence.  The trader in horses followed his guide in the deepest astonishment through several long ranges of stalls, in each of which a horse stood motionless, while an armed warrior lay equally still at the charger’s feet.  “All these men,” said the wizard in a whisper, “will awaken at the battle of Sheriffmoor.”  At the extremity of this extraordinary depot hung a sword and a horn, which the prophet pointed out to the horse-dealer as containing the means of dissolving the spell.  The man in confusion took the horn, and attempted to wind it.  The horses instantly started in their stalls, stamped, and shook their bridles, the men arose and clashed their armour, and the mortal, terrified at the tumult he had excited, dropped the horn from his hand.  A voice like that of a giant, louder even than the tumult around, pronounced these words:—­