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Updated: May 20, 2025
Any one whom Friend Comstock recommends will be all right, I know." As Mrs. Healey's style of designation indicated, Friend Comstock was a Quakeress, well known, greatly esteemed, an old friend of Miss Ercildoune, and of Miss Ercildoune's father.
So the heated term wore away, before it ended, telling heavily on Sallie. Her anxiety about Jim, her close confinement and constant work, the fever everywhere in the spiritual air through that first terrible summer of the war, bore her down. "You need rest," said Miss Ercildoune to her one day, looking at her with kindly solicitude, "rest, and change, and fresh air, and freedom from care.
The sojourner had not half grown tired of his resting-place; the bloom has not faded on the wondrous fruits and flowers: the strangely sweet wine has not lost its savor, when it is time for him to be gone, for a dreadful whisper runs through the company that to-morrow the teind to hell must be paid. Well, the black tax-gatherer is balked by a day, and the wanderer is back at Ercildoune again.
Melrose, the Eildon Hills, the haunt of Thomas of Ercildoune, Jedburgh, Yetholm, the Cowdenknowes, the Yarrow, and Ettrick, all lie on different sides within a circle of twenty miles, and most of them much nearer. Smailholme Tower, the scene of some of Scott's youthful days, and of his ballad of "The Eve of St. John," is also one of these.
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.
It was time; all the heat, and passion, and color, had died out, and she stood there shivering, a look of suffering in her face. "Miss Ercildoune! you are ill, you need the air, allow me!" drawing her hand through his arm, and taking her out with infinite deference and care. "Thank you! a moment's faintness, it is over now," as they reached the sidewalk.
As with Thomas of Ercildoune, whom the Queen of Faëry carried away into Eildon Hill, the short period of his absence seemed seven years long. An old English song came into his head: Winter wakeneth all my care, Now these leaves waxeth bare: Oft in cometh into my thought, Of this worldes joy how it goeth all to naught.
Jeffrey, the elder. His chief work was now on "Sir Tristram," a romance ascribed to Thomas of Ercildoune; but "The Lay of the Last Minstrel" was making progress in 1803, when Scott made the acquaintance of Wordsworth and his sister, under circumstances described by Dorothy Wordsworth in her Journal.
"Bird of Paradise" Francesca had called her more than once, she was so dashing and handsome; but the title would scarcely fit now, for she looked poor, and sad, and woefully dispirited. "Ah, Miss Sallie, is it you? Good morning." "Good morning, Miss Ercildoune." She stood, and looked as though she had something important to say.
Thus in the later guise of Venus she entered the Hörselberg in Thuringia, in which she imprisoned the enchanted Tannhäuser, and there is good reason to believe that she also presided over the Ercildoune, or Hill of Ursula, in the south of Scotland, the modern Earlston, after which Thomas the Rhymer took his territorial designation, and whose story later became fused with her myth in the old Scottish ballad of Thomas the Rhymer.
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