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The story is that King Ida had a daughter, Margaret and
a son, Childe Wynde. When Ida’s wife died he became enchanted by
a witch named Behoc whom he married. His son left to seek adventure abroad,
but the new Queen was jealous of Margaret, and cast a spell turning her
into a dragon known as the Laidley Worm. The worm curled itself around
a nearby hill known as Spindlestone Haugh and terrorised the villagers
to bring food to her cave. Childe Wynde heard of his sister’s disappearance,
and of the dragon. He returned home to slay the creature but as he raised
his sword, it spoke in his sister's voice asking for a kiss. When he did
so, the kiss returned her to a lady. He then confronted the Queen who
somehow changed into a repulsive toad. The toad is said to crawl out of
the castle's well every seven years, seeking revenge on innocent maidens.
The following is a 13th century poem written about the
worm.
The Laidley Worm written by Duncan Frasier, of Cheviot c1270 (original
in Latin)
The king is gone from Bamborough Castle,
Long may the princess mourn,
Long may she stand on the castle wall,
Looking for his return.
She has knotted the keys upon a string,
And with her she has them ta'en,
She has cast them o'er her left shoulder,
And to the gate she is gane.
She tripped out, she tripped in,
She tript into the yard;
But it was more for the king's sake,
Than for the queen's regard.
It fell out on a day, the king
Brought the queen with him home;
And all the lords, in our country,
To welcome them did come.
Oh! welcome father, the lady cries,
Unto your halls and bowers;
And so are you, my step-mother,
For all that's here is yours.
A lord said, wondering while she spake,
This princess of the North
Surpasses all the female kind
In beauty, and in worth.
The envious queen replied, At least,
You might have excepted me;
In a few hours, I will her bring
Down to a low degree.
I will her liken to a Laidley worm,
That warps about the stone,
And not, till Childy Wynde comes back,
Shall she again be won.
The princess stood at the bower door
Laughing, who could her blame?
But e'er the next day's sun went down,
A long worm she became.
For seven miles east, and seven miles west,
And seven miles north, and south,
No blade of grass or corn could grow,
So venomous was here mouth.
The milk of seven stately cows,
It was costly her to keep,
Was brought her daily, which she drank
Before she went to sleep.
At this day may be seen the cave,
Which held her folded up,
And the stone trough, the very same
Out of which she did sup.
Word went east and word went west,
And word is gone over the sea,
That a Laidley worm in Spindleston-Heughs
Would ruin the North Country.
Word went east, and word went west,
And over the sea did go;
The Child of Wynde got wit of it,
Which filled his heart with woe.
He called straight his merry men all,
They thirty were and three:
I wish I were at Spindleston,
This desperate worm to see.
We have no time now here to waste,
Hence quickly let us sail:
My only sister Margaret,
Something, I fear, doth ail.
They built a ship without delay,
With masts of the rown tree,
With fluttering sails of silk so fine,
And set her on the sea.
They went on board. The wind with speed
Blew them along the deep,
At length they spied an huge square tower
On a rock high and steep.
The sea was smooth, the weather clear,
When they approached nigher,
King Ida's castle they well knew,
And the banks of Bamboroughshire.
The queen looked out at her bower window,
To see what she could see;
There she espied a gallant ship
Sailing upon the sea.
When she beheld the silken sails,
Full glancing in the sun,
To sink the ship she went away,
Her witch wives every one.
The spells were vain; the hags returned
To the queen in sorrowful mood,
Crying that witches have no power,
Where there is rowan-tree wood.
Her last effort, she sent a boat,
Which in the haven lay,
With armed men to board the ship,
But they were driven away.
The worm leapt out, the worm leapt down,
She plaited round the stone;
And ay as the ship came to the land
She banged it off again.
The child then ran out of her reach
The ship on Budley-sand;
And jumping into the shallow sea,
Securely got to land.
And now he drew his berry-broad sword,
And laid it on her head;
And swore if she did harm to him
That he would strike her dead.
Oh! quit thy sword and bend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;
For though I am a poisonous worm,
No hurt I'll do to thee.
Oh! quit thy sword, and bend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;
If I'm not won, e'eer the sun go down,
Won I shall never be.
He quitted his sword and bent his bow,
He gave her kisses three;
She crept into a hole a worm,
But out stept a lady.
No clothing had this lady fine,
To keep her from the cold
He took his mantle from him about,
And round her did it fold.
He has taken his mantle from him about,
And in it he wrapt her in,
And they are up to Bamborough castle,
As fast as they can win.
His absence and her serpent shape,
The king had long deplored,
He now rejoiced to see them both
Again to him restored.
The queen they wanted, whom they found
All pale, and sore afraid;
Because she knew her power must yield
To Childy Wynde's, who said,
Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch,
An ill death mayst thou dee;
As thou my sister has lik'ned,
So lik'ned shalt thou be.
I will turn you into a toad,
That on the ground doth wend;
And won, won, shat thou never be,
Till this world hath an end.
Now on the sand near Ida's tower,
She crawls a loathsome toad,
And venom spits on every maid
She meets upon her road.
The virgins all of Bamborough town
Will swear that they have seen
This spiteful toad, of monstrous size,
Whilst walking they have been.
All folks believe within the shire
This story to be true,
And they all run to Spindleston,
The cave and trough to view.
This fact now Duncan Frasier
Of Cheviot, sings in rhime;
Lest Bamborough-shire-men should forget
Some part of it in time.
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