The Worm Of Lambton

The young heir of Lambton led a dissolute and evil course of life,
equally regardless of the obligations of his high estate, and the
sacred duties of religion. According to his profane custom, he was
fishing on a Sunday, and threw his line into the river to catch fish,
at a time when all good men should have been engaged in the solemn
observance of the day. After having toiled in vain for some time, he
vented his disappointment at his ill success, in curses loud and deep,
to the great scandal of all who heard him, on their way to Holy Mass,
and to the manifest peril of his own soul.

At length he felt something extraordinary tugging at his line, and, in
the hope of catching a large fish, he drew it up with the utmost skill
and care, yet it required all his strength to bring the expected fish
to land.

What was his surprise and mortification, when, instead of a fish, he
found that he had only caught a worm of most unseemly and disgusting
appearance. He hastily tore it from his hook and threw it into a well
hard by.

He again threw in his line, and continued to fish, when a stranger of
venerable appearance, passing by, asked him—

“What sport?”

To which he replied—

“I think I’ve caught the devil;” and directed the inquirer to look into
the well.

The stranger saw the worm, and remarked that he had never seen the like
of it before—that it was like an eft, but that it had nine holes on
each side of its mouth, and tokened no good.

The worm remained neglected in the well, but soon grew so large that it
became necessary to seek another abode. It usually lay in the day–time
coiled round a rock in the middle of the river, and at night frequented
a neighbouring hill, twining itself around the base; and it continued
to increase in length until it could lap itself three times around the
hill.

It now became the terror of the neighbourhood, devouring lambs, sucking
the cow’s milk, and committing every species of injury on the cattle of
the affrighted peasantry.

The immediate neighbourhood was soon laid waste, and the worm, finding
no further support on the north side of the river, crossed the stream
towards Lambton Hall, where the old lord was then living in grief and
sorrow, the young heir of Lambton having repented him of his former
sins, and gone to the wars in a far distant land.

The terrified household assembled in council, and it was proposed by
the stewart, a man far advanced in years and of great experience, that
the large trough which stood in the courtyard should be filled with
milk. The monster approached and, eagerly drinking the milk, returned
without inflicting further injury, to repose around its favourite hill.

The worm returned the next morning, crossing the stream at the same
hour, and directing its way to the hall. The quantity of milk to be
provided was soon found to be the product of nine cows, and if any
portion short of this quantity was neglected or forgotten the worm
showed the most violent signs of rage, by lashing its tail around the
trees in the park, and tearing them up by the roots.

Many a gallant knight of undoubted fame and prowess sought to slay
this monster which was the terror of the whole country side, and it
is related that in these mortal combats, although the worm had been
frequently cut asunder, yet the several parts had immediately reunited,
and the valiant assailant never escaped without the loss of life or
limb, so that, after many fruitless and fatal attempts to destroy the
worm, it remained, at length, in tranquil possession of its favourite
hill—all men fearing to encounter so deadly an enemy.

At length, after seven long years, the gallant heir of Lambton
returned from the wars of Christendom, and found the broad lands of
his ancestors laid waste and desolate. He heard the wailings of the
people, for their hearts were filled with terror and alarm. He hastened
to the hall of his ancestors, and received the embraces of his aged
father, worn out with sorrow and grief, both for the absence of his
son, whom he had considered dead, and for the dreadful waste inflicted
on his fair domain by the devastations of the worm.

He took no rest until he crossed the river to examine the worm, as it
lay coiled around the base of the hill, and being a knight of tried
valour and sound discretion, and hearing the fate of all those who had
fallen in the strife, he consulted a Sibyl on the best means to be
pursued to slay the monster.

He was told that he himself had been the cause of all the misery which
had been brought upon the country, which increased his grief and
strengthened his resolution. He was also told that he must have his
best suit of mail studded with spear–blades, and, taking his stand on
the rock in the middle of the river, commend himself to Providence
and the might of his sword, first making a solemn vow, if successful,
to slay the first living thing he met, or, if he failed to do so, the
Lords of Lambton for nine generations would never die in their beds.

He made the solemn vow in the chapel of his forefathers, and had his
coat studded with the blades of the sharpest spears. He took his stand
on the rock in the middle of the river, and unsheathing his trusty
sword, which had never failed him in time of need, he commended himself
to the will of Providence.

At the accustomed hour the worm uncoiled its lengthened folds, and,
leaving the hill, took its usual course towards Lambton Hall, and
approached the rock where it sometimes reposed. The knight, nothing
dismayed, struck the monster on the head with all his might and main,
but without producing any other visible effect than irritating and
vexing the worm, which, closing on the knight, clasped its frightful
coils around him, and endeavoured to strangle him in its poisonous
embrace.

The knight was, however, provided against this dangerous extremity,
for, the more closely he was pressed by the worm, the more deadly were
the wounds inflicted by his coat of spear–blades, until the river ran
with gore.

The strength of the worm diminished as its efforts increased to destroy
the knight, who, seizing a favourable opportunity, made such a good
use of his sword that he cut the monster in two. The severed part was
immediately carried away by the current, and the worm, being thus
unable to reunite itself, was, after a long and desperate conflict,
destroyed by the gallantry and courage of the knight of Lambton.

The afflicted household were devoutly engaged in prayer during the
combat, but on the fortunate issue, the knight, according to promise,
blew a blast on his bugle to assure his father of his safety, and
that he might let loose his favourite hound which was destined to be
the sacrifice. The aged father, forgetting everything but his parental
feelings, rushed forward to embrace his son.

When the knight beheld his father he was overwhelmed with grief. He
could not raise his arm against his parent, but, hoping that his vow
might be accomplished, and the curse averted by destroying the next
living thing he met, he blew another blast on his bugle.

His favourite hound broke loose and bounded to receive his caresses,
when the gallant knight, with grief and reluctance, once more drew
his sword, still reeking with the gore of the monster, and plunged it
into the heart of his faithful companion. But in vain—the prediction
was fulfilled, and the Sibyl’s curse pressed heavily on the house of
Lambton for nine generations.