THE LOVES OF OG AND LILIAS.
It will probably be recollected under what singular circumstances the acquaintance began between Og the gigantic and Lilias the fair. From the very moment when the damsel, seated behind the giant on the broad back of Arundel, passed her arm round his waist, a flame was kindled in his breast never afterwards to be extinguished.
A magnetic influence was exercised over him by Lilias, and he speedily became so much enthralled by her fascinations as was Sir Bevis of Southampton, whom he then represented, by the charms of the peerless Princess Josyan. When he and his gigantic brothers, with Sir Narcissus and Lady le Grand, proceeded to Winchester to take part in the pageants displayed there during the royal nuptials, Lilias accompanied them, and, before many days had elapsed, her conquest of Og was complete. 362She had him, as Gog confidentially remarked to Magog, “entirely under her thumb.”
“Will he be fool enough to marry her, think you, brother?” observed Magog, shrugging his shoulders, and thinking of Dame Placida.
“Hum! I cannot say, but I shall do my best to dissuade him from the step,” rejoined Gog.
So the brothers laid their huge heads together, and the result was that they devised a plan by which they hoped to get rid altogether of the fair syren, and cure Og of his ridiculous passion, as they deemed it. Their plan was to send back Lilias to Southampton, and persuade Og that she had left him of her own accord to return to her former admirer, and they managed the matter so adroitly, that Og was completely duped, and, after a tremendous burst of indignation against the fickleness of the sex, vowed he would never think of the false jillflirt again. His brothers commended his resolution, and told him he had had a narrow escape.
“If you are wise, you will take warning by me, and never marry,” said Magog.
“If he must needs marry, let him choose a buxom widow, and not a tricksome girl like Lilias.”
“I don’t mean to marry at all,” cried Og, resolutely.
But the fangs of disappointment gnawed his heart. He grew moody and dull, and avoided the society of his brothers.
After a month’s absence from the Tower, the three gigantic warders returned there, and resumed their ordinary duties. But Og’s melancholy increased, and his brothers at last began to feel uneasy about him, and to regret the part they had played.
“It would be a grievous thing were he to break his heart for this silly girl,” remarked Gog. “He seems pining away for her.”
“He may be pining away,” observed Magog; “but he is in good case still, and his appetite is not amiss, judging by the havoc he made with the cold chine of beef and lumbar-pie at breakfast this morning, to say nothing of the stoup of ale which he managed to empty. Nevertheless, I agree with you, brother Gog, that he is not himself, and hath quite lost his old pleasant humour. He never jests, as was his wont, 363and I have not heard a hearty laugh from him since we sent Lilias away.”
“I begin to think we did wrong in meddling in the matter,” observed Gog. “I shall never cease to reproach myself if anything should happen to him.”
“Well, we acted for the best,” said Magog. “I only wish my marriage had been prevented,” he added, with a groan. “Let us see how he goes on. Perchance, he may recover.”
But Og did not recover, and, although he did not exhibit any of the usual symptoms of despairing love, as loss of appetite, or flesh, a lacklustre eye, and disordered manner, still he became more gloomy and sullen than ever, and rarely exchanged a word with his brothers.
Nearly eight months had now flown since he had beheld Lilias, and still her image was constantly before him, and the witchery she had practised upon him by her fascinations and allurements had not lost a jot of its power. He was still as much under her sway as if she had been with him all the time.
One evening, while he was taking a solitary walk upon the ramparts, and thinking of Lilias, he saw Xit hastening towards him, and would have avoided him, but the dwarf stopped him, saying,—
“Give thee good e’en, Og. I was looking for thee. I bring thee good news.”
“Out of my way,” rejoined the giant, gruffly. “I am in no humour for jesting.”
“I know thou art become as surly as a bear with a sore head,” replied Xit; “but thou hadst best not provoke a quarrel with me, or thou wilt rue it.”
“Pass on,” roared Og, “and exercise thy wit at the expense of those who are amused by it—my brothers for example. But meddle not with me. I am dangerous.”
“Big words do not terrify me,” rejoined Xit, with a mocking laugh. “Furious as thou art, I can tame thee with a word. I have but to pronounce the name of ‘Lilias Ringwood,’ and thou wilt straight become as gentle as a lamb. Ha ha! ha! Was I not right?”
“Hast thou aught to tell me concerning Lilias?” cried 364Og, suddenly becoming as meek as the animal to which he had been likened. “If so, speak quickly!”
“Soh! thou art in the mood for converse now, and my jests do not appear tiresome to thee,” rejoined Xit; “but I will not gratify thee. Thou art dull company. I will go to thy brothers.”
“Nay, but Xit, sweet Xit, if thou hast any love for me, tell me what thou knowest of Lilias.”
“Thou dost not deserve that I should tell thee aught, uncourteous giant,” said Xit. “Nevertheless, out of compassion for thy miserable state, I will speak. Know, then, most amorous Titan, that I have seen the lady of thy love——”
“Thou hast seen Lilias!” interrupted Og. “Oh! thou art my best friend. How doth she look? Is she comely as ever? Or is she changed and married to another? Tell me the worst. I............