English and Scottish Ballads, Volume VI
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Title: English and Scottish Ballads, Volume VI
Editor: Francis James Child
Release date: May 22, 2012 [eBook #39766]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39766
Credits: Produced by Simon Gardner, Dianna Adair, Louise Davies and
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH BALLADS, VOLUME VI ***
Produced by Simon Gardner, Dianna Adair, Louise Davies and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by the Digital & Multimedia
Center, Michigan State University Libraries.)
Transcriber's Notes
Archaic, dialect and inconsistent spellings and hyphenation have been
retained as in the original. Minor corrections to format and punctuation
together with regularisation of poetry line numbering have been made
without comment. Any other changes to the text have been listed at the
end of the book.
In this Plain Text version of the e-book, symbols from the ASCII
character set only are used. Other characters and symbols are
substituted as follows:
[AE], [ae] ae-ligature
['e], ['o] e, o with acute accent (or stress)
[e'] e with grave accent (or syllabic marker)
[:i] i with dieresis
[L] pound sterling
Italic typeface is indicated by _underscores_.
Small caps typeface is represented by UPPER CASE.
A pointing hand symbol is represented as [right pointing hand].
Notes with reference to ballad line numbers are presented at the end of
each ballad and the presence of a note is indicated at the end of line
number ## by "[L##]".
* * * * *
ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH
BALLADS.
EDITED BY
FRANCIS JAMES CHILD.
VOLUME VI.
BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY.
M.DCCC.LX.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by LITTLE, BROWN
AND COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
of Massachusetts.
RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY
H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME SIXTH.
BOOK VI.
Page
1 a. The Lochmaben Harper [Johnson] 3
1 b. The Lochmaben Harper [Scott] 7
2 a. Johnie of Breadislee 11
2 b. Johnie of Cocklesmuir 16
3. The Sang of the Outlaw Murray 20
4 a. Johnie Armstrang 37
4 b. Johnie Armstrang [Ramsay] 45
5 a. Hughie Graham 51
5 b. Hughie the Gr[ae]me 55
6. Kinmont Willie 58
7. Dick o' the Cow 67
8. Jock o' the Side 80
9 a. Archie of Ca'field 88
9 b. Billie Archie 94
10. Hobie Noble 97
11. Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead 105
12. The Fray of Suport 115
13. Rookhope Ryde 121
14. The Raid of the Reidswire 129
15. The Death of Parcy Reed 139
16 a. Captain Car 147
16 b. Edom o' Gordon 154
17. Willie Mackintosh 159
18. Lord Maxwell's Goodnight 162
19. The Lads of Wamphray 168
20. The Fire of Frendraught 173
21 a. The Bonnie House o' Airly [Finlay] 183
21 b. The Bonnie House of Airly [Sharpe] 186
22 a. The Baron of Brackley [Jamieson] 188
22 b. The Baron of Braikley [Buchan] 192
23. Gilderoy 196
24. Bob Roy 202
BOOK VII.
1 a. Queen Eleanor's Confession 209
1 b. Queen Eleanor's Confession [Kinloch] 213
2 Auld Maitland 217
3 a. Willie Wallace 231
3 b. Sir William Wallace 237
APPENDIX.
Johnny Cock 243
The Life and Death of Sir Hugh of the Grime 247
Johnie Armstrang 251
Loudoun Castle 254
Rob Roy 257
Eppie Morrie 260
Macpherson's Rant 263
The Flemish Insurrection 269
The Execution of Sir Simon Fraser 274
GLOSSARY 285
BOOK VI.
THE LOCHMABEN HARPER.
This fine old ballad was first printed in the _Musical Museum_ (_O heard
ye e'er of a silly blind Harper_, p. 598). Scott inserted a different
copy, equally good, in the _Border Minstrelsy_, i. 422, and there is
another, of very ordinary merits, in _Scottish Traditional Versions of
Ancient Ballads_ (_The Jolly Harper_), p. 37. In this the theft is done
on a wager, and the booty duly restored. On account of the excellence of
the ballad, we give two versions, though they differ but slightly.
O heard ye of a silly Harper,
Liv'd long in Lochmaben town,
How he did gang to fair England,
To steal King Henry's Wanton Brown?
But first he gaed to his gude wife
Wi' a' the speed that he coud thole:
"This wark," quo' he, "will never work,
Without a mare that has a foal."
Quo' she, "Thou hast a gude grey mare,
That'll rin o'er hills baith low and hie; 10
Gae tak' the grey mare in thy hand,
And leave the foal at hame wi' me.
"And tak a halter in thy hose,
And o' thy purpose dinna fail;
But wap it o'er the Wanton's nose; 15
And tie her to the grey mare's tail:
"Syne ca' her out at yon back yeate,
O'er moss and muir and ilka dale,
For she'll ne'er let the Wanton bite,
Till she come hame to her ain foal." 20
So he is up to England gane,
Even as fast as he can hie,
Till he came to King Henry's yeate;
And wha' was there but King Henry?
"Come in," quo' he, "thou silly blind Harper, 25
And of thy harping let me hear;"
"O, by my sooth," quo' the silly blind Harper,
"I'd rather hae stabling for my mare."
The King looks o'er his left shoulder,
And says unto his stable groom, 30
"Gae tak the silly poor Harper's mare,
And tie her 'side my wanton brown."
And ay he harpit, and ay he carpit,
Till a' the lords gaed through the floor;
They thought the music was sae sweet, 35
That they forgat the stable door.
And ay he harpit, and ay he carpit,
Till a' the nobles were sound asleep,
Than quietly he took aff his shoon,
And saftly down the stair did creep. 40
Syne to the stable door he hies,
Wi' tread as light as light coud be,
And whan he open'd and gaed in,
There he fand thirty good steeds and three.
He took the halter frae his hose, 45
And of his purpose did na' fail;
He slipt it o'er the Wanton's nose,
And tied it to his grey mare's tail.
He ca'd her out at yon back yeate,
O'er moss and muir and ilka dale, 50
And she loot ne'er the Wanton bite,
But held her still gaun at her tail.
The grey mare was right swift o' fit,
And did na fail to find the way,
For she was at Lochmaben yeate, 55
Fu' lang three hours ere it was day.
When she came to the Harper's door,
There she gae mony a nicher and snear;
"Rise," quo' the wife, "thou lazy lass,
Let in thy master and his mare." 60
Then up she raise, pat on her claes,
And lookit out through the lock hole;
"O, by my sooth," then quoth the lass,
"Our mare has gotten a braw big foal."
"Come haud thy peace, thou foolish lass, 65
The moon's but glancing in thy ee,
I'll wad my haill fee 'gainst a groat,
It's bigger than e'er our foal will be."
The neighbours too that heard the noise
Cried to the wife to put her in; 70
"By my sooth," then quoth the wife,
"She's better than ever he rade on."
But on the morn at fair day light,
When they had ended a' their chear,
King Henry's Wanton Brown was stawn, 75
And eke the poor old Harper's mare.
"Alace! alace!" says the silly blind Harper,
"Alace! alace! that I came here,
In Scotland I've tint a braw cowte foal,
In England they've stawn my guid grey mare." 80
"Come had thy tongue, thou silly blind Harper,
And of thy alacing let me be,
For thou shall get a better mare,
And weel paid shall thy cowte foal be."
LOCHMABEN HARPER.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, i. 422.
O heard ye na o' the silly blind Harper,
How long he lived in Lochmaben town?
And how he wad gang to fair England,
To steal the Lord Warden's Wanton Brown?
But first he gaed to his gude wyfe, 5
Wi' a the haste that he could thole--
"This wark," quo' he, "will ne'er gae weel,
Without a mare that has a foal."
Quo' she--"Thou hast a gude gray mare,
That can baith lance o'er laigh and hie; 10
Sae set thee on the gray mare's back,
And leave the foal at hame wi' me."
So he is up to England gane,
And even as fast as he may drie;
And when he cam to Carlisle gate, 15
O whae was there but the Warden hie?
"Come into my hall, thou silly blind Harper,
And of thy harping let me hear!"
"O, by my sooth," quo' the silly blind Harper,
"I wad rather hae stabling for my mare." 20
The Warden look'd ower his left shoulder,
And said unto his stable groom--
"Gae take the silly blind Harper's mare,
And tie her beside my Wanton Brown."
Then aye he harped, and aye he carped, 25
Till a' the lordlings footed the floor;
But an the music was sae sweet,
The groom had nae mind o' the stable door.
And aye he harped, and aye he carped,
Till a' the nobles were fast asleep; 30
Then quickly he took aff his shoon,
And saftly down the stair did creep.
Syne to the stable door he hied,
Wi' tread as light as light could be;
And when he open'd and gaed in, 35
There he fand thirty steeds and three.
He took a cowt halter frae his hose,
And o' his purpose he didna fail;
He slipt it ower the Wanton's nose,
And tied it to his gray mare's tail. 40
He turn'd them loose at the castle gate,
Ower muir and moss and ilka dale;
And she ne'er let the Wanton bait,
But kept him a-galloping hame to her foal.
The mare she was right swift o' foot, 45
She didna fail to find the way;
For she was at Lochmaben gate
A lang three hours before the day.
When she came to the Harper's door,
There she gave mony a nicker and sneer-- 50
"Rise up," quo' the wife, "thou lazy lass;
Let in thy master and his mare."
Then up she rose, put on her clothes,
And keekit through at the lock-hole--
"O, by my sooth," then cried the lass, 55
"Our mare has gotten a braw brown foal!"
"Come haud thy tongue, thou silly wench!
The morn's but glancing in your ee;
I'll wad my hail fee against a groat,
He's bigger than e'er our foal will be." 60
Now all this while in merry Carlisle
The Harper harped to hie and law,
And the fiend dought they do but listen him to,
Until that the day began to daw.
But on the morn at fair daylight, 65
When they had ended a' their cheer,
Behold the Wanton Brown was gane,
And eke the poor blind Harper's mare!
"Allace! allace!" quo' the cunning auld Harper,
"And ever allace that I cam here; 70
In Scotland I hae lost a braw cowt foal,
In England they've stown my gude gray mare!"
"Come, cease thy allacing, thou silly blind Harper,
And again of thy harping let us hear;
And weel payd sall thy cowt-foal be, 75
And thou sall have a far better mare."
Then aye he harped, and aye he carped,
Sae sweet were the harpings he let them hear!
He was paid for the foal he had never lost,
And three times ower for the gude GRAY MARE. 80
JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE.
AN ANCIENT NITHSDALE BALLAD.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 114.
"The hero of this ballad appears to have been an outlaw and
deer-stealer--probably one of the broken men residing upon the Border.
There are several different copies, in one of which the principal
personage is called _Johnie of Cockielaw_. The stanzas of greatest merit
have been selected from each copy. It is sometimes said, that this
outlaw possessed the old Castle of Morton, in Dumfries-shire, now
ruinous: "Near to this castle there was a park, built by Sir Thomas
Randolph, on the face of a very great and high hill; so artificially,
that, by the advantage of the hill, all wild beasts, such as deers,
harts, and roes, and hares, did easily leap in, but could not get out
again; and if any other cattle, such as cows, sheep, or goats, did
voluntarily leap in, or were forced to do it, _it is doubted_ if their
owners were permitted to get them out again." _Account of Presbytery of
Penpont, apud Macfarlane's MSS._ Such a park would form a convenient
domain to an outlaw's castle, and the mention of Durisdeer, a
neighboring parish, adds weight to this tradition."
Johnie of Breadislee was first printed in the _Border Minstrelsy_.
Fragments of two other versions, in which the hero's name is Johny Cock,
were given in Fry's _Pieces of Ancient Poetry_, Bristol, 1814, p. 55,
and the editor did not fail to notice that he had probably lighted on
the ballad of _Johny Cox_, which Ritson says the Rev. Mr. Boyd faintly
recollected, (_Scottish Song_, I. p. xxxvi.) Motherwell, not aware of
what Fry had done, printed a few stanzas belonging to the first of these
versions, under the title of _Johnie of Braidisbank_ (_Minstrelsy,
Ancient and Modern_, p. 23), and Kinloch recovered a nearly complete
story. Another copy of this last has been published from Buchan's
manuscripts in _Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads_ (Percy
Society, vol. xvii. p. 77). Chambers, in his _Scottish Ballads_, p. 181,
has compounded Scott's, Kinloch's, and Motherwell's copies,
interspersing a few additional stanzas of no value. Scott's and
Kinloch's versions are given in this place, and Fry's fragments (which
contain several beautiful stanzas) in the Appendix.
Johnie rose up in a May morning,
Call'd for water to wash his hands--
"Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs,
That are bound wi' iron bands."
When Johnie's mother gat word o' that, 5
Her hands for dule she wrang--
"O Johnie! for my benison,
To the greenwood dinna gang!
"Eneugh ye hae o' gude wheat bread,
And eneugh o' the blood-red wine; 10
And, therefore, for nae venison, Johnie,
I pray ye, stir frae hame."
But Johnie's busk't up his gude bend bow,
His arrows, ane by ane,
And he has gane to Durrisdeer, 15
To hunt the dun deer down.
As he came down by Merriemass,
And in by the benty line,
There has he espied a deer lying
Aneath a bush of ling. 20
Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap,
And he wounded her on the side;
But atween the water and the brae,
His hounds they laid her pride.
And Johnie has bryttled the deer sae weel, 25
That he's had out her liver and lungs;
And wi' these he has feasted his bluidy hounds,
As if they had been earl's sons.
They eat sae much o' the venison,
And drank sae much o' the blude, 30
That Johnie and a' his bluidy hounds
Fell asleep as they had been dead.
And by there came a silly auld carle,
An ill death mote he die!
For he's awa' to Hislinton, 35
Where the Seven Foresters did lie.
"What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle,
What news bring ye to me?"
"I bring nae news," said the gray-headed carle,
"Save what these eyes did see. 40
"As I came down by Merriemass,
And down among the scroggs,
The bonniest childe that ever I saw
Lay sleeping amang his dogs.
"The shirt that was upon his back 45
Was o' the Holland fine;
The doublet which was over that
Was o' the Lincome twine.
"The buttons that were on his sleeve
Were o' the goud sae gude: 50
The gude graie hounds he lay amang,
Their mouths were dyed wi' blude."
Then out and spak the First Forester,
The heid man ower them a'--
"If this be Johnie o' Breadislee, 55
Nae nearer will we draw."
But up and spak the Sixth Forester,
(His sister's son was he,)
"If this be Johnie o' Breadislee,
We soon shall gar him die!" 60
The first flight of arrows the Foresters shot,
They wounded him on the knee;
And out and spak the Seventh Forester,
"The next will gar him die."
Johnie's set his back against an aik, 65
His fute against a stane;
And he has slain the Seven Foresters,
He has slain them a' but ane.
He has broke three ribs in that ane's side,
But and his collar bane; 70
He's laid him twa-fald ower his steed,
Bade him carry the tidings hame.
"O is there nae a bonnie bird
Can sing as I can say,
Could flee away to my mother's bower, 75
And tell to fetch Johnie away?"
The starling flew to his mother's window stane,
It whistled and it sang;
And aye the ower word o' the tune
Was--"Johnie tarries lang!" 80
They made a rod o' the hazel bush,
Another o' the slae-thorn tree,
And mony mony were the men
At fetching o'er Johnie.
Then out and spake his auld mother, 85
And fast her tears did fa'--
"Ye wad nae be warn'd, my son Johnie,
Frae the hunting to bide awa'.
"Aft hae I brought to Breadislee
The less gear and the mair, 90
But I ne'er brought to Breadislee
What grieved my heart sae sair.
"But wae betyde that silly auld carle!
An ill death shall he die!
For the highest tree in Merriemas 95
Shall be his morning's fee."
Now Johnie's gude bend bow is broke,
And his gude graie dogs are slain;
And his bodie lies dead in Durrisdeer,
And his hunting it is done. 100
JOHNIE OF COCKLESMUIR.
From Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 38. This version was
procured in the North Country. The termination would seem to be wanting,
for the story must have had a tragical conclusion. Buchan's copy ends
very insipidly with the King's granting Johny a free license to hunt!
Johnie rose up in a May morning,
Call'd for water to wash his hands;
And he has call'd for his gude gray hunds,
That lay bund in iron bands, _bands_,
_That lay bund in iron bands_.
"Ye'll busk, ye'll busk my noble dogs, 5
Ye'll busk and mak them boun,
For I'm going to the Broadspear-hill,
To ding the dun deer doun, _doun_, &c.
Whan Johnie's mither heard o' this,
She til her son has gane-- 10
"Ye'll win your mither's benison,
Gin ye wad stay at hame.
"Your meat sall be of the very very best,
And your drink o' the finest wine;
And ye will win your mither's benison, 15
Gin ye wad stay at hame."
His mither's counsel he wad na tak,
Nor wad he stay at hame;
But he's on to the Broadspear-hill,
To ding the dun deer doun. 20
Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west,
And a little below the sun;
And there he spied the dun deer sleeping,
Aneath a buss o' brume.
Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap, 25
And he's woundit him in the side;
And atween the water and the wud
He laid the dun deer's pride.
They ate sae meikle o' the venison,
And drank sae meikle o' the blude, 30
That Johnie and his twa gray hunds,
Fell asleep in yonder wud.
By there cam a silly auld man,
And a silly auld man was he;
And he's aff to the proud foresters, 35
To tell what he did see.
"What news, what news, my silly auld man,
What news? come tell to me;"
"Na news, na news," said the silly auld man,
"But what my een did see. 40
"As I cam in by yon greenwud,
And doun amang the scrogs,
The bonniest youth that e'er I saw,
Lay sleeping atween twa dogs.
"The sark that he had on his back, 45
Was o' the Holland sma';
And the coat that he had on his back,
Was laced wi' gowd fu' braw."
Up bespak the first forester,
The first forester of a'-- 50
"And this be Johnie o' Cocklesmuir,
It's time we were awa."
Up bespak the niest forester,
The niest forester of a'--
"And this be Johnie Cocklesmuir, 55
To him we winna draw."
The first shot that they did shoot,
They woundit him on the thie;
Up bespak the uncle's son,--
"The niest will gar him die." 60
"Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs,
Stand stout and dinna flee;
Stand fast, stand fast, my gude gray hunds,
And we will mak them die."
He has killed six o' the proud foresters, 65
And wounded the seventh sair;
He laid his leg out owre his steed,
Says, "I will kill na mair."
THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, i. 369.
"This ballad appears to have been composed about the reign of James V.
It commemorates a transaction supposed to have taken place betwixt a
Scottish monarch and an ancestor of the ancient family of Murray of
Philiphaugh, in Selkirkshire. The Editor is unable to ascertain the
historical foundation of the tale; nor is it probable that any light can
be thrown upon the subject, without an accurate examination of the
family charter-chest....
"The merit of this beautiful old tale, it is thought, will be fully
acknowledged. It has been, for ages, a popular song in Selkirkshire. The
scene is by the common people supposed to have been the Castle of Newark
upon Yarrow. This is highly improbable, because Newark was always a
royal fortress. Indeed, the late excellent antiquarian, Mr. Plummer,
Sheriff-depute of Selkirkshire, has assured the Editor that he
remembered the _insignia_ of the unicorns, &c., so often mentioned in
the ballad, in existence upon the old Tower of Hangingshaw, the seat of
the Philiphaugh family; although, upon first perusing a copy of the
ballad, he was inclined to subscribe to the popular opinion. The Tower
of Hangingshaw has been demolished for many years. It stood in a
romantic and solitary situation, on the classical banks of the Yarrow.
When the mountains around Hangingshaw were covered with the wild copse
which constituted a Scottish forest, a more secure stronghold for an
outlawed baron can scarcely be imagined.
"The tradition of Ettrick Forest bears, that the outlaw was a man of
prodigious strength, possessing a baton or club, with which he laid
_lee_ (_i. e._ waste) the country for many miles round; and that he was
at length slain by Buccleuch, or some of his clan, at a little mount,
covered with fir-trees, adjoining to Newark Castle, and said to have
been a part of the garden. A varying tradition bears the place of his
death to have been near to the house of the Duke of Buccleuch's
gamekeeper, beneath the castle; and that the fatal arrow was shot by
Scott of Haining, from the ruins of a cottage on the opposite side of
Yarrow. There were extant, within these twenty years, some verses of a
song on his death. The feud betwixt the Outlaw and the Scots, may serve
to explain the asperity with which the chieftain of that clan is handled
in the ballad.
"In publishing the following ballad, the copy principally resorted to is
one apparently of considerable antiquity, which was found among the
papers of the late Mrs. Cockburn of Edinburgh, a lady whose memory will
be long honoured by all who knew her. Another copy, much more imperfect,
is to be found in Glenriddel's MSS. The names are in this last miserably
mangled, as is always the case when ballads are taken down from the
recitation of persons living at a distance from the scenes in which they
are laid. Mr. Plummer also gave the editor a few additional verses, not
contained in either copy, which are thrown into what seemed their proper
place. There is yet another copy in Mr. Herd's MSS., which has been
occasionally made use of. Two verses are restored in the present
edition, from the recitation of Mr. Mungo Park, whose toils during his
patient and intrepid travels in Africa have not eradicated from his
recollection the legendary lore of his native country."--S.
Since the above was printed, Mr. Aytoun has published still another copy
of this piece, (_Ballads of Scotland_, ii. 129,) from a manuscript in
the Philiphaugh charter-chest. I cannot assent to the praise bestowed by
Scott on _The Outlaw Murray_. The story lacks point, and the style is
affected--not that of the unconscious poet of the real _traditional_
ballad.
Ettricke Foreste is a feir foreste,
In it grows manie a semelie trie;
There's hart and hynd, and dae and rae,
And of a' wilde bestis grete plentie.
There's a feir castelle, bigged wi' lyme and stane;
O gin it stands not pleasauntlie! 6
In the fore front o' that castelle feir,
Twa unicorns are bra' to see:
There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright,
And the grene hollin abune their brie: 10
There an Outlaw kepis five hundred men,
He keepis a royalle cumpanie.
His merryemen are a' in ae liverye clad,
O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see;
He and his ladye in purple clad, 15
O gin they lived not royallie!
Word is gane to our nobil King,
In Edinburgh where that he lay,
That there was an Outlaw in Ettricke Foreste,
Counted him nought, nor a' his courtrie gay. 20
"I make a vowe," then the gude King said,
"Unto the man that deir bought me,
I'se either be King of Ettricke Foreste,
Or King of Scotlande that Outlaw sall be!"
Then spake the lord hight Hamilton, 25
And to the nobil King said he,
"My sovereign prince, sum counsell take,
First at your nobilis, syne at me.
"I redd ye, send yon braw Outlaw till,
And see gif your man cum will he: 30
Desyre him cum and be your man,
And hald of you yon Foreste frie.
"Gif he refuses to do that,
We'll conquess baith his landis and he!
Or else, we'll throw his castell down, 35
And make a widowe o' his gaye ladye."
The King then call'd a gentleman,
James Boyd (the Earle of Arran his brother was he);[L38]
When James he cam before the King,
He knelit befor him on his kn['e]. 40
"Wellcum, James Boyd!" said our nobil King,
"A message ye maun gang for me;
Ye maun hye to Ettricke Foreste,
To yon Outlaw, where bydeth he.
"Ask him of whom he haldis his landis, 45
Or man, wha may his master be,
And desyre him cum, and be my man,
And hald of me yon Foreste frie.
"To Edinburgh to cum and gang,
His safe warrant I sall gie; 50
And gif he refuses to do that,
We'll conquess baith his landis and he.
"Thou mayst vow I'll cast his castell down,
And mak a widowe o' his gaye ladye;
I'll hang his merryemen, payr by payr, 55
In ony frith where I may them see."
James Boyd tuik his leave o' the nobil King,
To Ettricke Foreste feir cam he;
Down Birkendale Brae when that he cam,
He saw the feir Foreste wi' his ee.[L60] 60
Baith dae and rae, and harte and hinde,
And of a' wilde bestis great plentie;
He heard the bows that bauldly ring,[L63]
And arrows whidderan' hym near bi.
Of that feir castell he got a sight; 65
The like he neir saw wi' his ee!
On the fore front o' that castell feir,
Twa unicorns were gaye to see;
The picture of a knight, and ladye bright,
And the grene hollin abune their brie. 70
Thereat he spyed five hundred men,
Shuting with bows on Newark Lee;
They were a' in ae livery clad,
O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see.
His men were a' clad in the grene, 75
The knight was armed capapie,
With a bended bow, on a milk-white steed,
And I wot they rank'd right bonnilie:
Thereby Boyd kend he was master man,
And served him in his ain degr['e]. 80
"God mot thee save, brave Outlaw Murray!
Thy ladye, and all thy chyvalrie!"
"Marry, thou's wellcum, gentleman,
Some king's messenger thou seemis to be."
"The King of Scotlonde sent me here, 85
And, gude Outlaw, I am sent to thee;
I wad wot of whom ye hald your landis,
Or man, wha may thy master be?"
"Thir landis are MINE!" the Outlaw said;
"I ken nae king in Christentie; 90
Frae Soudron I this foreste wan,
When the King nor his knightis were not to see."
"He desyres you'l cum to Edinburgh,
And hauld of him this foreste fre;
And, gif ye refuse to do this, 95
He'll conquess baith thy landis and thee.
He hath vow'd to cast thy castell down,
And mak a widowe o' thy gaye ladye;
"He'll hang thy merryemen, payr by payr,
In ony frith where he may them finde." 100
"Ay, by my troth!" the Outlaw said,
"Than wauld I thinke me far behinde.
"Ere the King my feir countrie get,
This land that's nativest to me,
Mony o' his nobilis sall be cauld, 105
Their ladyes sall be right wearie."
Then spak his ladye, feir of face,
She seyd, "Without consent of me,
That an Outlaw suld come befor a King;
I am right rad of treasonrie. 110
Bid him be gude to his lordis at hame,
For Edinburgh my lord sall nevir see."
James Boyd tuik his leave o' the Outlaw kene,
To Edinburgh boun is he;
When James he cam before the King, 115
He knelit lowlie on his kn['e].
"Welcum, James Boyd!" seyd our nobil King;
"What foreste is Ettricke Foreste frie?"
"Ettricke Foreste is the feirest foreste
That evir man saw wi' his ee. 120
"There's the dae, the rae, the hart, the hynde,
And of a' wild bestis grete plentie;
There's a pretty castell of lyme and stane,
O gif it standis not pleasauntlie!
"There's in the fore front o' that castell, 125
Twa unicorns, sae bra' to see;
There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright,
Wi' the grene hollin abune their brie.
"There the Outlaw keepis five hundred men,
He keepis a royalle cumpanie; 130
His merryemen in ae livery clad,
O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see:
He and his ladye in purple clad;
O gin they live not royallie!
"He says, yon foreste is his awin; 135
He wan it frae the Southronie;
Sae as he wan it, sae will he keep it,
Contrair all kingis in Christentie."
"Gar warn me Perthshire, and Angus baith,
Fife, up and downe, and Louthians three, 140
And graith my horse!" said our nobil King,
"For to Ettricke Forest hie will I me."
Then word is gane the Outlaw till,
In Ettricke Forest, where dwelleth he,
That the King was cuming to his cuntrie, 145
To conquess baith his landis and he.
"I mak a vow," the Outlaw said,
"I mak a vow, and that trulie,
Were there but three men to tak my pairt,
Yon King's cuming full deir suld be!" 150
Then messengers he called forth,
And bade them hie them speedilye--
"Ane of ye gae to Halliday,
The Laird of the Corehead is he.[L154]
"He certain is my sister's son; 155
Bid him cum quick and succour me!
The King cums on for Ettricke Foreste,
And landless men we a' will be."
"What news? What news?" said Halliday,
"Man, frae thy master unto me?" 160
"Not as ye wad: seeking your aide;
The King's his mortal enemie."
"Ay, by my troth!" said Halliday,
"Even for that it repenteth me;
For gif he lose feir Ettricke Foreste, 165
He'll tak feir Moffatdale frae me.
"I'll meet him wi' five hundred men,
And surely mair, if mae may be;
And before he gets the foreste feir,
We a' will die on Newark Lee!" 170
The Outlaw call'd a messenger,
And bid him hie him speedilye,
To Andrew Murray of Cockpool,[L173]
"That man's a deir cousin to me;
Desyre him cum, and make me aide, 175
With a' the power that he may be."
"It stands me hard," Andrew Murray said,
"Judge gif it stand na hard wi' me;
To enter against a king wi' crown,
And set my landis in jeopardie! 180
Yet, if I cum not on the day,
Surely at night he sall me see."
To Sir James Murray of Traquair,[L183]
A message came right speedilye--
"What news? What news?" James Murray said, 185
"Man, frae thy master unto me?"
"What neids I tell? for weel ye ken
The King's his mortal enemie;
And now he is cuming to Ettricke Foreste,
And landless men ye a' will be." 190
"And, by my trothe," James Murray said,
"Wi' that Outlaw will I live and die;
The King has gifted my landis lang syne--
It cannot be nae warse wi' me."
The King was cuming thro' Caddon Ford,[L195] 195
And full five thousand men was he;
They saw the derke Foreste them before,
They thought it awsome for to see.
Then spak the lord hight Hamilton,
And to the nobil King said he, 200
"My sovereign liege, sum council tak,
First at your nobilis, syne at me.
"Desyre him mete thee at Permanscore,
And bring four in his cumpanie;
Five Erles sall gang yoursell befor, 205
Gude cause that you suld honour'd be.
"And, gif he refuses to do that,
We'll conquess baith his landis and he;
There sall nevir a Murray, after him,
Hald land in Ettricke Foreste free." 210
Then spak the kene Laird of Buckscleuth,
A stalworthe man, and sterne was he--
"For a King to gang an Outlaw till,
Is beneath his state and his dignitie.
"The man that wons yon foreste intill, 215
He lives by reif and felonie!
Wherefore, brayd on, my sovereign liege,
Wi' fire and sword we'll follow thee;
Or, gif your countrie lords fa' back,
Our Borderers sall the onset gie." 220
Then out and spak the nobil King,
And round him cast a wilie ee--
"Now, had thy tongue, Sir Walter Scott,
Nor speak of reif nor felonie:
For had every honest man his awin kye, 225
A right puir clan thy name wad be!"
The King then call'd a gentleman,
Royal banner-bearer there was he,
James Hoppringle of Torsonse, by name;
He cam and knelit upon his kn['e]. 230
"Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse!
A message ye maun gang for me:
Ye maun gae to yon Outlaw Murray,
Surely where bauldly bideth he.
"Bid him mete me at Permanscore, 235
And bring four in his cumpanie;
Five erles sall cum wi' mysell,
Gude reason I suld honour'd be.
"And gif he refuses to do that,
Bid him luke for nae good o' me! 240
There sall nevir a Murray, after him,
Have land in Ettricke Foreste free."
James cam before the Outlaw kene,
And served him in his ain degr['e]--
"Welcum, James Pringle of Torsonse! 245
What message frae the King to me?"
"He bids ye meet him at Permanscore,[L247]
And bring four in your cumpany;
Five erles sall gang himsell befor,
Nae mair in number will he be. 250
"And gif you refuse to do that,
(I freely here upgive wi' thee,)
He'll cast yon bonny castle down,
And make a widowe o' that gay ladye.
"He'll loose yon bluidhound Borderers, 255
Wi' fire and sword to follow thee;
There will nevir a Murray, after thysell,
Have land in Ettrick Foreste free."
"It stands me hard," the Outlaw said,
"Judge gif it stands na hard wi' me, 260
Wha reck not losing of mysell,
But a' my offspring after me.
"My merryemen's lives, my widowe's teirs--
There lies the pang that pinches me;
"When I am straught in bluidie eard, 265
Yon castell will be right dreirie.
"Auld Halliday, young Halliday,
Ye sall be twa to gang wi' me;
Andrew Murray, and Sir James Murray,
We'll be nae mae in cumpanie." 270
When that they cam before the King,
They fell before him on their kn['e]--
"Grant mercie, mercie, nobil King!
E'en for his sake that dyed on tree."
"Sicken like mercie sall ye have, 275
On gallows ye sall hangit be!"
"Over God's forbode," quoth the Outlaw then,
"I hope your grace will bettir be;
Else, ere you come to Edinburgh port,
I trow thin guarded sall ye be. 280
"Thir landis of Ettricke Foreste fair,
I wan them from the enemie;
Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them,
Contrair a' kingis in Christentie."
All the nobilis the King about, 285
Said pitie it were to see him dee--
"Yet grant me mercie, sovereign prince,
Extend your favour unto me!
"I'll give thee the keys of my castell,
Wi' the blessing o' my gay ladye, 290
Gin thou'lt make me sheriffe of this Foreste,
And a' my offspring after me."
"Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell,
Wi' the blessing of thy gaye ladye?
I'se make thee sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste. 295
Surely while upward grows the tree;
If you be not traitour to the King,
Forfaulted sall thou nevir be."
"But, Prince, what sall cum o' my men?
When I gae back, traitour they'll ca' me. 300
I had rather lose my life and land,
Ere my merryemen rebuked me."
"Will your merryemen amend their lives,
And a' their pardons I grant thee?
Now, name thy landis where'er they lie, 305
And here I RENDER them to thee."--
"Fair Philiphaugh is mine by right,
And Lewinshope still mine shall be;
Newark, Foulshiells, and Tinnies baith,
My bow and arrow purchased me. 310
"And I have native steads to me,
The Newark Lee and Hanginshaw;[L312]
I have mony steads in the forest schaw,
But them by name I dinna knaw."
The keys of the castell he gave the King, 315
Wi' the blessing o' his feir ladye;
He was made sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste,
Surely while upward grows the tree;
And if he was na traitour to the King,
Forfaulted he suld never be. 320
Wha ever heard, in ony times,
Sicken an outlaw in his degr['e],
Sic favour get befor a King,
As did the OUTLAW MURRAY of the Foreste free?
38. Thomas Boyd, Earl of Arran, was forfeited, with his father and
uncle, in 1469, for an attempt on the person of James III. He had a son,
James, who was restored, and in favor with James IV. about 1482. If this
be the person here meant, we should read, "The Earl of Arran his _son_
was he." Glenriddel's copy reads, "a Highland laird I'm sure was he."
Reciters sometimes call the messenger the Laird of Skene.--S.
60. Birkendale Brae, now commonly called _Birkendailly_, is steep
descent on the south side of Minch-moor, which separates Tweeddale from
Ettrick Forest; and from the top of which we have the first view of the
woods of Hangingshaw, the Castle of Newark, and the romantic dale of
Yarrow.--S.
63, Scott, _blows_: Aytoun, _bows_.
154. This is a place at the head of Moffat-water, possessed of old by
the family of Halliday.--S.
173. This family were ancestors of the Murrays, Earls of Annandale; but
the name of the representative, in the time of James IV., was William,
not Andrew. Glenriddel's MS. reads, "the country-keeper."--S.
183. Before the Barony of Traquair became the property of the Stewarts,
it belonged to a family of Murrays, afterwards Murrays of Black-barony,
and ancestors of Lord Elibank. The old castle was situated on the Tweed.
The lands of Traquair were forfeited by Willielmus de Moravia, previous
to 1464; for, in that year, a charter, proceeding upon his forfeiture,
was granted by the crown to "Willielmo Douglas de Cluny." Sir James was,
perhaps, the heir of William Murray. It would farther seem, that the
grant in 1464 was not made effectual by Douglas; for another charter
from the crown, dated the 3d February, 1478, conveys the estate of
Traquair to James Stewart, Earl of Buchan, son of the Black Knight of
Lorne, and maternal uncle to James III., from whom is descended the
present Earl of Traquair. The first royal grant not being followed by
possession, it is very possible that the Murrays may have continued to
occupy Traquair long after the date of that charter. Hence, Sir James
might have reason to say, as in the ballad, "The King has gifted my
lands lang syne."--S.
195, A ford on the Tweed, at the mouth of the Caddon Burn, near
Yair.--S.
247. Permanscore is a very remarkable hollow on the top of a high ridge
of hills, dividing the vales of Tweed and Yarrow, a little to the
eastward of Minch-moor. It is the outermost point of the lands of
Broadmeadows. The Glenriddel MS., which, in this instance, is extremely
inaccurate as to names, calls the place of rendezvous, "_The Poor Man's
House_," and hints that the Outlaw was surprised by the treachery of the
King:--
"Then he was aware of the King's coming,
With hundreds three in company,
'I wot the muckle deel * * * * *
He learned Kingis to lie!
For to fetch me here frae amang my men,
Here, like a dog for to die.'"
I believe the reader will think with me, that the catastrophe is better,
as now printed from Mrs. Cockburn's copy. The deceit, supposed to be
practised on the Outlaw, is unworthy of the military monarch, as he is
painted in the ballad; especially if we admit him to be King James
IV.--S.
312. In this and the following verse, the ceremony of feudal investiture
is supposed to be gone through, by the Outlaw resigning his possessions
into the hands of the king, and receiving them back, to be held of him
as superior. The lands of Philiphaugh are still possessed by the
Outlaw's representative. Hangingshaw and Lewinshope were sold of late
years. Newark, Foulshiels, and Tinnies, have long belonged to the family
of Buccleuch.--S.
JOHNIE ARMSTRANG.
"Johnie Armstrong, of Gilnockie, the hero of the following ballad, is a
noted personage, both in history and tradition. He was, it would seem
from the ballad, a brother of the Laird of Mangertoun, chief of the
name. His place of residence (now a roofless tower) was at the Hollows,
a few miles from Langholm, where its ruins still serve to adorn a scene,
which, in natural beauty, has few equals in Scotland. At the head of a
desperate band of freebooters, this Armstrong is said to have spread the
terror of his name almost as far as Newcastle, and to have levied
black-mail, or protection and forbearance money, for many miles round.
James V., of whom it was long remembered by his grateful people that he
made the "rush-bush keep the cow," about 1529, undertook an expedition
through the Border counties, to suppress the turbulent spirit of the
Marchmen. But before setting out upon his journey, he took the
precaution of imprisoning the different Border chieftains, who were the
chief protectors of the marauders. The Earl of Bothwell was forfeited,
and confined in Edinburgh Castle. The Lords of Home and Maxwell, the
Lairds of Buccleuch, Fairniherst, and Johnston, with many others, were
also committed to ward. Cockburn of Henderland, and Adam Scott of
Tushielaw, called the King of the Border, were publicly
executed.--LESLEY, p. 430. The King then marched rapidly forward, at the
head of a flying army of ten thousand men, through Ettrick Forest and
Ewsdale. The evil genius of our Johnie Armstrong, or, as others say, the
private advice of some courtiers, prompted him to present himself before
James, at the head of thirty-six horse, arrayed in all the pomp of
Border chivalry. Pitscottie uses nearly the words of the ballad, in
describing the splendor of his equipment, and his high expectations of
favor from the King. "But James, looking upon him sternly, said to his
attendants, 'What wants that knave that a king should have?' and ordered
him and his followers to instant execution."--"But John Armstrong,"
continues this minute historian, "made great offers to the King: That he
should sustain himself, with forty gentlemen, ever ready at his service,
on their own cost, without wronging any Scottishman: Secondly, that
there was not a subject in England, duke, earl, or baron, but, within a
certain day, he should bring him to his majesty, either quick or dead.
At length, he seeing no hope of favor, said very proudly, 'It is folly
to seek grace at a graceless face; but,' said he, 'had I known this, I
should have lived upon the Borders in despite of King Harry and you
both; for I know King Harry would _downweigh my best horse with gold_,
to know that I were condemned to die this day."--PITSCOTTIE'S _History_,
p. 145. Johnie and all his retinue were accordingly hanged upon growing
trees, at a place called Carlenrig Chapel, about ten miles above Hawick,
on the high road to Langholm. The country people believe, that, to
manifest the injustice of the execution, the trees withered away.
Armstrong and his followers were buried in a deserted churchyard, where
their graves are still shown.
"As this Border hero was a person of great note in his way, he is
frequently alluded to by the writers of the time. Sir David Lindsay of
the Mount, in the curious play published by Mr. Pinkerton, from the
Bannatyne MS., introduces a pardoner, or knavish dealer in relics, who
produces, among his holy rarities--
----"The cordis, baith grit and lang,
Quhilk hangit Johnnie Armstrang,
Of gud hempt, soft and sound.
Gud haly pepill, I stand ford,
Quhavir beis hangit in this cord,
Neidis nevir to be dround!"
PINKERTON'S _Scottish Poems_, vol. ii. p. 69.
"In _The Complaynt of Scotland_, John Armistrangis' dance, mentioned as
a popular tune, has probably some reference to our hero." [See the
_Musical Museum_, ed. 1853, vol. iv. p. 336.]--SCOTT'S _Minstrelsy_, i.
402.
The ballad as here given is to be found in _A Collection of Old
Ballads_, 1723, vol. i. p. 170. The whole title is: _Johnny Armstrang's
Last Good-night, shewing how John Armstrong, with his eightscore men,
fought a bloody battle with the Scotch King at Edenborough_. It had
previously appeared in _Wit Restor'd_, 1658, p. 123, in very good shape,
except the want of some stanzas towards the end. It is in this form,
says Motherwell, that the story is preserved in the mouths of the
people. Nevertheless, Allan Ramsay has inserted in his _Evergreen_ quite
a different version, taken down from the mouth of a gentleman of the
name of Armstrong, "the sixth generation from this John," which the
reciter maintained to be the genuine ballad, "and the common one false."
Ramsay's copy is subjoined, and the imperfect edition from _Wit
Restor'd_ finds a place in the Appendix.
The following verses, generally styled _Armstrong's Good-night_, are
said to have been composed by one of that tribe who was executed in 1601
for the murder of Sir John Carmichael, Warden of the Middle Marches.
They are from Johnson's _Museum_, p. 620, and are also found in Herd's
_Scottish Songs_, ii. 182. In Buchan's _Ballads of the North of
Scotland_, ii. 127, there is a twaddling piece called _The Last Guid
Night_, which is a sort of imitation of these stanzas.
The night is my departing night,
The morn's the day I maun awa,
There's no a friend or fae of mine,
But wishes that I were awa.
What I hae done for lack o' wit
I never never can reca';
I trust ye're a' my friends as yet,
Gude night, and joy be wi' you a'.
* * * * *
Is there ever a man in all Scotland,
From the highest estate to the lowest degree,
That can shew himself now before our King?
Scotland is so full of treachery.
Yes, there is a man in Westmorland, 5
And Johnny Armstrong they do him call;
He has no lands nor rents coming in,
Yet he keeps eightscore men within his hall.
He has horses and harness for them all,
And goodly steeds that be milk-white, 10
With their goodly belts about their necks,
With hats and feathers all alike.
The King he writes a loving letter,
And with his own hand so tenderly,
And hath sent it unto Johnny Armstrong, 15
To come and speak with him speedily.
When John he look'd this letter upon,
He lok'd as blith as a bird in a tree;
"I was never before a King in my life,
My father, my grandfather, nor none of us three. 20
"But seeing we must go before the King,
Lord, we will go most gallantly;
Ye shall every one have a velvet coat,
Laid down with golden laces three.
"And every one shall have a scarlet cloak, 25
Laid down with silver laces five,
With your golden belts about your necks,
With hats and feathers all alike."
But when Johnny went from Giltnock-Hall,
The wind it blew hard, and full fast it did rain;
"Now fare thee well, thou Giltnock-Hall, 30
I fear I shall never see thee again."
Now Johnny he is to Edenborough gone,
With his eightscore men so gallantly,
And every one of them on a milk-white steed, 35
With their bucklers and swords hanging to their knee.
But when John came the King before,
With his eightscore men so gallant to see,
The King he mov'd his bonnet to him,
He thought he had been a king as well as he. 40
"O pardon, pardon, my sovereign liege,
Pardon for my eightscore men and me;
For my name, it is Johnny Armstrong,
And subject of yours, my liege," said he.
"Away with thee, thou false traytor, 45
No pardon will I grant to thee,
But to-morrow morning by eight of the clock,
I will hang up thy eightscore men and thee."
Then Johnny look'd over his left shoulder,
And to his merry men thus said he, 50
"I have asked grace of a graceless face,
No pardon there is for you and me."
Then John pull'd out his good broad sword,
That was made of the mettle so free;
Had not the King moved his foot as he did, 55
John had taken his head from his fair body.
"Come, follow me, my merry men all,
We will scorn one foot for to fly;
It shall never be said we were hang'd like dogs;
We will fight it out most manfully." 60
Then they fought on like champions bold,
For their hearts were sturdy, stout, and free;
'Till they had kill'd all the King's good guard,--
There were none left alive but one, two, or three.
But then rose up all Edenborough, 65
They rose up by thousands three;
A cowardly Scot came John behind,
And run him through the fair body.
Said John, "Fight on, my merry men all,
I am a little wounded, but am not slain; 70
I will lay me down to bleed a while,
Then I'll rise and fight with you again."
Then they fought on like mad men all,
Till many a man lay dead on the plain,
For they were resolved before they would yield, 75
That every man would there be slain.
So there they fought couragiously,
'Till most of them lay dead there and slain,
But little Musgrave, that was his foot-page,
With his bonny Grissel got away unta'n. 80
But when he came to Giltnock-Hall,
The Lady spy'd him presently;
"What news, what news, thou little foot-page,
What news from thy master, and his company?"
"My news is bad, Lady," he said, 85
"Which I do bring, as you may see,
My master Johnny Armstrong is slain,
And all his gallant company.
"Yet thou are welcome home, my bonny Grissel,
Full oft thou hast been fed with corn and hay, 90
But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine,
And thy sides shall be spurr'd no more, I say."
O then bespake his little son,
As he sat on his nurse's knee,
"If ever I live to be a man, 95
My father's death reveng'd shall be."
JOHNIE ARMSTRANG.
From Ramsay's _Evergreen_, ii. 190.
Sum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds,
And sicklike men of hie degrie;
Of a gentleman I sing a sang,
Sumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie.
The King he wrytes a luving letter, 5
With his ain hand sae tenderly,
And he hath sent it to Johny Armstrang,
To cum and speik with him speidily.
The Elliots and Armstrangs did convene,
They were a gallant company-- 10
"We'il ryde and meit our lawfull King,
And bring him safe to Gilnockie.
"Make kinnen and capon ready, then,
And venison in great plenty;
"We'il welcome hame our royal King; 15
I hope he'il dyne at Gilnockie!"
They ran their horse on the Langholme howm,[L17]
And brake their speirs with mekle main;
The ladys lukit frae their loft windows--
"God bring our men weil back again!" 20
When Johny came before the King,
With all his men so brave to see,
The King he movit his bonnet to him;
He wein'd he was a King as well as he.
"May I find grace, my sovereign liege, 25
Grace for my loyal men and me?
For my name it is Johny Armstrang,
And subject of yours, my liege," said he.
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!
Out of my sicht sune mayst thou be![L30] 30
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I'll not begin with thee."
"Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!
And a bonny gift I will give to thee--
Full four-and-twenty milk-whyt steids, 35
Were a' foald in a yeir to me.
"I'll gie thee all these milk-whyt steids,
That prance and nicher at a speir;
With as mekle gude Inglis gilt,
As four of their braid backs dow beir." 40
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!
Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I'll not begin with thee!"
"Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King! 45
And a bonny gift I'll gie to thee--
Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills,
That gang throw a' the yeir to me.
"These four-and-twenty mills complete
Sall gang for thee throw all the yeir; 50
And as mekle of gude reid wheit,
As all thair happers dow to bear."
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!
Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, 55
And now I'll not begin with thee."
"Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!
And a great gift I'll gie to thee--
Bauld four-and-twenty sisters' sons,
Sall for thee fecht, tho all sould flee!" 60
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!
Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I'll not begin with thee."
"Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King! 65
And a brave gift I'll gie to thee--
All betwene heir and Newcastle town
Sall pay their yeirly rent to thee."
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!
Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be! 70
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I'll not begin with thee."
"Ye lied, ye lied, now, King," he says,
"Althocht a king and prince ye be!
For I luid naithing in all my lyfe, 75
I dare well say it, but honesty--
"But a fat horse, and a fair woman,
Twa bonny dogs to kill a deir;
But Ingland suld haif found me meil and malt,
Gif I had livd this hundred yeir! 80
"Scho suld haif found me meil and malt,
And beif and mutton in all plentie;
But neir a Scots wyfe could haif said,
That eir I skaithd her a pure flie.
"To seik het water beneth cauld yce, 85
Surely it is a great folie;
I haif asked grace at a graceles face,
But there is nane for my men and me!
"But had I kend, or I came frae hame,
How thou unkind wadst bene to me, 90
I wad haif kept the Border syde,
In spyte of all thy force and thee.
"Wist Englands King that I was tane,
O gin a blyth man wald he be!
For anes I slew his sisters son, 95
And on his breist-bane brak a tree."
John wore a girdle about his midle,
Imbroidred owre with burning gold,
Bespangled wi' the same mettle
Maist beautifull was to behold. 100
Ther hang nine targats at Johnys hat,
And ilka an worth three hundred pound--
"What wants that knave that a King suld haif,
But the sword of honour and the crown?
"O whair gat thou these targats, Johnie, 105
That blink sae brawly abune thy brie?"
"I gat them in the field fechting,
Wher, cruel King, thou durst not be.
"Had I my horse, and harness gude,
And ryding as I wont to be, 110
It sould haif bene tald this hundred yeir,
The meiting of my King and me!
"God be withee, Kirsty, my brither,
Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun!
Lang mayst thou live on the Border syde, 115
Or thou se thy brither ryde up and doun.
"And God be withee, Kirsty, my son,
Whair thou sits on thy nursees knee!
But and thou live this hundred yeir,
Thy fathers better thou'lt never be. 120
Farweil, my bonny Gilnock-Hall,
Whair on Esk syde thou standest stout!
Gif I had leived but seven yeirs mair,
I wald haif gilt thee round about."
John murdred was at Carlinrigg, 125
And all his galant companie;
But Scotlands heart was never sae wae,
To see sae mony brave men die.
Because they savd their country deir
Frae Englishmen: nane were sae bauld, 130
Whyle Johnie livd on the Border syde,
Nane of them durst cum neir his hald.
17. Langum hown.
30. thou mayst sune.
HUGHIE GRAHAM.
Of the two editions of this ballad which follow, the first is taken from
_The Scots Musical Museum_ (p. 312), to which it was contributed by
Burns. Burns states that he obtained his copy from oral tradition in
Ayrshire, but he had certainly retouched several stanzas (the ninth and
tenth, says Cromek), and the third and eighth are entirely of his
composition.
The other copy is from the _Border Minstrelsy_, and consists of a
version "long current in Selkirkshire" (procured for Scott by Mr.
William Laidlaw), which also has been slightly improved by the pen of
the editor.
In the Appendix we have placed the story as it occurs in Durfey's _Pills
to purge Melancholy_, and in Ritson's _Ancient Songs_. The seventeenth
volume of the Percy Society Publications furnishes us with a Scottish
version in which Sir Hugh is rescued and sent over the sea: _Scottish
Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads_, p. 73. These, we believe, are
all the published forms of this ballad, unless we mention Mr. Allan
Cunningham's _r['e]chauff['e]_ of Burns, in his _Songs of Scotland_, i.
327.
"According to _tradition_," says Mr. Stenhouse, "Robert Aldridge, Bishop
of Carlisle, about the year 1560, seduced the wife of Hugh Graham, one
of those bold and predatory chiefs who so long inhabited what was called
the Debatable Land, on the English and Scottish border. Graham, being
unable to bring so powerful a prelate to justice, in revenge made an
excursion into Cumberland, and carried off _inter alia_, a fine mare
belonging to the bishop (!) but being closely pursued by Sir John
Scroope, warden of Carlisle, with a party on horseback, was apprehended
near Solway Moss, and carried to Carlisle, where he was tried and
convicted of felony. Great intercessions were made to save his life; but
the bishop, it is said, being determined to remove the chief obstacle to
his guilty passions, remained inexorable, and poor Graham fell a victim
to his own indiscretion and his wife's infidelity. Anthony Wood observes
that there were many changes in this prelate's time, both in church and
state, but that he retained his offices and preferments during them
all."--_Musical Museum_, iv. 297.
Our lords are to the mountains gane,
A hunting o' the fallow deer,
And they hae gripet Hughie Graham,
For stealing o' the Bishop's mare.
And they hae tied him hand and foot, 5
And led him up thro' Stirling town;
The lads and lasses met him there,
Cried, "Hughie Graham, thou art a loun."
"O lowse my right hand free," he says,
"And put my braid sword in the same, 10
He's no in Stirling town this day,
Daur tell the tale to Hughie Graham."
Up then bespake the brave Whitefoord,
As he sat by the bishop's knee,
"Five hundred white stots I'll gie you, 15
If ye'll let Hughie Graham gae free."
"O haud your tongue," the bishop says,
"And wi' your pleading let me be;
For tho' ten Grahams were in his coat,
Hughie Graham this day shall die." 20
Up then bespake the fair Whitefoord,
As she sat by the bishop's knee;
"Five hundred white pence I'll gie you,
If ye'll gie Hughie Graham to me."
"O haud your tongue now, lady fair, 25
And wi' your pleading let it be;
Altho' ten Grahams were in his coat,
It's for my honour he maun die."
They've taen him to the gallows knowe,
He looked to the gallows tree, 30
Yet never colour left his cheek,
Nor ever did he blin' his e'e.
At length he looked round about,
To see whatever he could spy,
And there he saw his auld father, 35
And he was weeping bitterly.
"O haud your tongue, my father dear.
And wi' your weeping let it be;
Thy weeping's sairer on my heart, 40
Than a' that they can do to me.
"And ye may gie my brother John
My sword that's bent in the middle clear,
And let him come at twelve o'clock,
And see me pay the bishop's mare.
"And ye may gie my brother James 45
My sword that's bent in the middle brown,
And bid him come at four o'clock,
And see his brother Hugh cut down.
"Remember me to Maggy, my wife,
The niest time ye gang o'er the moor; 50
Tell her, she staw the bishop's mare,
Tell her, she was the bishop's whore.
"And ye may tell my kith and kin
I never did disgrace their blood,
And when they meet the bishop's cloak, 55
To mak it shorter by the hood."
HUGHIE THE GR[AE]ME.
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 110.
Gude Lord Scroope's to the hunting gane,
He has ridden o'er moss and muir;
And he has grippet Hughie the Gr[ae]me,
For stealing o' the Bishop's mare.
"Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be! 5
Here hangs a broadsword by my side;
And if that thou canst conquer me,
The matter it may soon be tryed."
"I ne'er was afraid of a traitor thief;
Although thy name be Hughie the Gr[ae]me, 10
"I'll make thee repent thee of thy deeds,
If God but grant me life and time."
"Then do your worst now, good Lord Scroope,
And deal your blows as hard as you can;
It shall be tried within an hour, 15
Which of us two is the better man."
But as they were dealing their blows so free,
And both so bloody at the time,
Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall,
All for to take brave Hughie the Gr[ae]me. 20
Then they hae grippit Hughie the Gr[ae]me,
And brought him up through Carlisle town;
The lasses and lads stood on the walls,
Crying, "Hughie the Gr[ae]me, thou'se ne'er gae down!"
Then they hae chosen a jury of men, 25
The best that were in Carlisle town;
And twelve of them cried out at once,
"Hughie the Gr[ae]me, thou must gae down!"
Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume,
As he sat by the judge's knee, 30
"Twenty white owsen, my gude lord,
If you'll grant Hughie the Gr[ae]me to me."
"O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume,
Forsooth and sae it mauna be;
For were there but three Gr[ae]mes of the name, 35
They suld be hanged a' for me."
'Twas up and spake the gude Lady Hume,
As she sat by the judge's knee,
"A peck of white pennies, my good lord judge,
If you'll grant Hughie the Gr[ae]me to me." 40
"O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume,
Forsooth and so it must na be;
Were he but the one Gr[ae]me of the name,
He suld be hanged high for me."
"If I be guilty," said Hughie the Gr[ae]me, 45
"Of me my friends shall have small talk;"
And he has louped fifteen feet and three,
Though his hands they were tied behind his back.
He looked over his left shoulder,
And for to see what he might see; 50
There was he aware of his auld father,
Came tearing his hair most piteouslie.
"O hald your tongue, my father," he says,
"And see that ye dinna weep for me!
For they may ravish me o' my life, 55
But they canna banish me fro' Heaven hie.
"Fair ye weel, fair Maggie, my wife!
The last time we came ower the muir,
'Twas thou bereft me of my life,
And wi' the Bishop thou play'd the whore. 60
"Here, Johnie Armstrang, take thou my sword,
That is made o' the metal sae fine;
And when thou comest to the English side,
Remember the death of Hughie the Gr[ae]me."
KINMONT WILLIE.
In the year 1596, Mr. Salkeld, the deputy of Lord Scroope, the English
warden of the West Marches, and Robert Scott, the representative of the
Laird of Buccleuch, then keeper of Liddesdale, held a meeting on the
border line of the kingdoms, according to the custom of the times, for
the purpose of arranging such differences, and redressing such
grievances, as either party might have to allege. On these occasions a
truce was always proclaimed, inviolable on pain of death, from the day
of the meeting to the next day at sunrise. After the conference in
question, as William Armstrong of Kinmonth, a notorious freebooter,
whose ordinary style was Kinmont Willie, was returning to his home,
accompanied by only three or four persons, he was pursued by a couple of
hundred Englishmen, taken prisoner, and in contravention of the truce,
lodged in the castle of Carlisle. The Laird of Buccleuch sought to
obtain the enfranchisement of his client and retainer, through the
mediation, first of the English warden, and then of the Scottish
ambassador. Receiving no satisfaction, he took the matter into his own
hands, raised a party of two hundred horse, surprised the castle of
Carlisle, and carried off the prisoner by main force. This dashing
achievement was performed on the 13th of April, 1596.
According to a rhymester who celebrated the daring feat of Buccleuch
about a hundred years later, Kinmont Willie was a descendant of Johnie
Armstrong of Gilnockie.
Interesting details of the surprise of the castle, and further notices
of Kinmont Willie are given by Scott in the _Border Minstrelsy_ (ii.
32), where the ballad was first published.
"This ballad is preserved," says Scott, "on the West Borders, but much
mangled by reciters, so that some conjectural emendations have been
absolutely necessary to render it intelligible."
O have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde?
O have ye na heard o' the keen Lord Scroope?
How they hae ta'en bauld Kinmont Willie,
On Haribee to hang him up?[L4]
Had Willie had but twenty men, 5
But twenty men as stout as he,
Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en,
Wi' eight score in his cumpanie.
They band his legs beneath the steed,
They tied his hands behind his back; 10
They guarded him, fivesome on each side,
And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack.
They led him thro' the Liddel-rack,[L13]
And also thro' the Carlisle sands;
They brought him to Carlisle castell, 15
To be at my Lord Scroope's commands.
"My hands are tied, but my tongue is free,
And whae will dare this deed avow?
Or answer by the Border law?
Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?" 20
"Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver!
There's never a Scot shall set thee free:
Before ye cross my castle yate,
I trow ye shall take farewell o' me."
"Fear na ye that, my lord," quo' Willie: 25
"By the faith o' my body, Lord Scroope," he said,
"I never yet lodged in a hostelrie,
But I paid my lawing before I gaed."
Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper,
In Branksome Ha' where that he lay, 30
That Lord Scroope has ta'en the Kinmont Willie,
Between the hours of night and day.
He has ta'en the table wi' his hand,
He garr'd the red wine spring on hie--
"Now Christ's curse on my head," he said, 35
"But avenged of Lord Scroope I'll be!
"O is my basnet a widow's curch?
Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree?
Or my arm a ladye's lilye hand,
That an English lord should lightly me! 40
"And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie,
Against the truce of Border tide,
And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch
Is keeper here on the Scottish side?
"And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, 45
Withouten either dread or fear,
And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch
Can back a steed, or shake a spear?
"O were there war between the lands,
As well I wot that there is none, 50
I would slight Carlisle castell high,
Though it were builded of marble stone.
"I would set that castell in a low,
And sloken it with English blood!
There's never a man in Cumberland, 55
Should ken where Carlisle castell stood.
"But since nae war's between the lands,
And there is peace, and peace should be;
I'll neither harm English lad or lass,
And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!" 60
He has call'd him forty Marchmen bauld,
I trow they were of his ain name,
Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, call'd
The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.
He has call'd him forty Marchmen bauld, 65
Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch;
With spur on heel, and splent on spauld,
And gleuves of green, and feathers blue.
There were five and five before them a',
Wi' hunting-horns and bugles bright: 70
And five and five came wi' Buccleuch,
Like warden's men, array'd for fight.
And five and five, like a mason gang,
That carried the ladders lang and hie;
And five and five, like broken men; 75
And so they reach'd the Woodhouselee.[L76]
And as we cross'd the Bateable Land,
When to the English side we held,
The first o' men that we met wi',
Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde? 80
"Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?"
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell to me!"
"We go to hunt an English stag,
Has trespass'd on the Scots countrie."
"Where be ye gaun, ye marshal men?" 85
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell me true!"
"We go to catch a rank reiver,
Has broken faith wi' the bauld Buccleuch."
"Where are ye gaun, ye mason lads,
Wi' a' your ladders lang and hie?" 90
"We gang to herry a corbie's nest,
That wons not far frae Woodhouselee."
"Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?"
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell to me!"
Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, 95
And the nevir a word of lear had he.
"Why trespass ye on the English side?
Row-footed outlaws, stand!" quo' he;
The nevir a word had Dickie to say,
Sae he thrust the lance through his fause bodie. 100
Then on we held for Carlisle toun,
And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we cross'd;[L102]
The water was great and meikle of spait,
But the nevir a horse nor man we lost.
And when we reach'd the Staneshaw-bank, 105
The wind was rising loud and hie;
And there the Laird garr'd leave our steeds,
For fear that they should stamp and nie.
And when we left the Staneshaw-bank,
The wind began full loud to blaw; 110
But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet,
When we came beneath the castle wa'.
We crept on knees, and held our breath,
Till we placed the ladders against the wa';
And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell 115
To mount the first before us a'.
He has ta'en the watchman by the throat,
He flung him down upon the lead--
"Had there not been peace between our lands,
Upon the other side thou hadst gaed! 120
"Now sound out, trumpets!" quo' Buccleuch;
"Let's waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!"
Then loud the warden's trumpet blew--
_O wha dare meddle wi' me_?[L124]
Then speedilie to wark we gaed, 125
And raised the slogan ane and a',
And cut a hole through a sheet of lead,
And so we wan to the castle ha'.
They thought King James and a' his men
Had won the house wi' bow and spear; 130
It was but twenty Scots and ten,
That put a thousand in sic a stear!
Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers,
We garr'd the bars bang merrilie,
Until we came to the inner prison, 135
Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie.
And when we cam to the lower prison,
Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie--
"O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie,
Upon the morn that thou's to die?" 140
"O I sleep saft, and I wake aft,
It's lang since sleeping was fley'd frae me;
Gie my service back to my wife and bairns,
And a' gude fellows that spier for me."
Then Red Rowan has hente him up, 145
The starkest man in Teviotdale--
"Abide, abide now, Red Rowan,
Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.
"Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope!
My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!" he cried-- 150
"I'll pay you for my lodging maill,
When first we meet on the Border side."
Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,
We bore him down the ladder lang;
At every stride Red Rowan made, 155
I wot the Kinmont's airns play'd clang.
"O mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie,
"I have ridden horse baith wild and wood;
But a rougher beast than Red Rowan
I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode. 160
"And mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie,
"I've prick'd a horse out oure the furs;
But since the day I back'd a steed,
I never wore sic cumbrous spurs."
We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank, 165
When a' the Carlisle bells were rung,
And a thousand men on horse and foot
Cam wi' the keen Lord Scroope along.
Buccleuch has turn'd to Eden Water,
Even where it flow'd frae bank to brim, 170
And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,
And safely swam them through the stream.
He turn'd him on the other side,
And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he--
"If ye like na my visit in merry England, 175
In fair Scotland come visit me!"
All sore astonish'd stood Lord Scroope,
He stood as still as rock of stane;
He scarcely dared to trew his eyes,
When through the water they had gane. 180
"He is either himsell a devil frae hell,
Or else his mother a witch maun be;
I wadna have ridden that wan water
For a' the gowd in Christentie."
4. Haribee is the place of execution at Carlisle.--S.
13. The Liddel-rack is a ford on the Liddel.--S.
76. A house on the Border, belonging to Buccleuch.--S.
102. Eden has been substituted for Eske, the latter
name being inconsistent with geography.--S.
124. The name of a Border tune.--S.
DICK O' THE COW.
From Caw's _Poetical Museum_, p. 22.
The personage from whom this ballad is named was jester to Lord Scroop,
who was warden of the West Marches of England from 1590 to 1603. The
Laird's Jock, that is John, the son of the Laird of Mangerton, "appears
as one of the _men of name_ in Liddesdale, in the list of the Border
Clans, 1597."
_Dick o' the Cow_ is closely connected with _Jock o' the Side_ and
_Hobie Noble_, which follow shortly after. All three were first printed
in Caw's _Museum_, and seem to have been contributed by a Mr. Elliot, a
Liddesdale gentleman, to whom Sir W. Scott acknowledges many
obligations. We are told that both _Dick o' the Cow_ and _Jock o' the
Side_ were until lately so popular in Liddesdale with all classes of
people, that they were invariably sung, from beginning to end, at every
festive meeting.
The ballad of _Dick o' the Cow_ was well known in England as early as
1596.
"An allusion to it likewise occurs in PARROT'S _Laquei Ridiculosi_, or
_Springes for Woodcocks_; London, 1613.
"Owenus wondreth since he came to Wales,
What the description of this isle should be,
That nere had seen but mountains, hills, and dales,
Yet would he boast, and stand on pedigree,
From Rice ap Richard, sprung from _Dick a Cow_,
Be cod, was right gud gentleman, look ye now!"
_Epigr. 76._--SCOTT.
Now Liddisdale has lyan lang in,
There is nae riding there at a';
The horses are grown sae lidder fat,
They downa stur out o' the sta'.
Then Johnie Armstrong to Willie can say-- 5
"Billie, a riding then we'll gae;
England and us has been lang at a feid;
Ablins we'll hit on some bootie."
Then they're com'd on to Hutton Ha',
They rade the proper place about; 10
But the laird he was the wiser man,
For he had left nae gear without.
Then he had left nae gear to steal,
Except sax sheep upon a lee:
Quo' Johnie--"I'd rather in England die, 15
Ere thir sax sheep gae t' Liddisdale wi' me.
"But how ca'd they the man we last met,
Billie, as we cam o'er the know?"
"That same he is an innocent fool,
And some men ca' him Dick o' the Cow." 20
"That fool has three as good ky o' his ain,
As there's in a' Cumberland, billie," quo' he:
"Betide me life, betide me death,
These three ky shall gae t' Liddisdale wi' me."
Then they're com'd on to the poor fool's house, 25
And they hae broken his wa's sae wide;
They have loos'd out Dick o' the Cow's three ky,
And tane three co'erlets aff his wife's bed.
Then on the morn, whan the day was light,
The shouts and cries rose loud and hie: 30
"O had thy tongue, my wife," he says,
"And o' thy crying let me be!
"O had thy tongue, my wife," he says,
"And of thy crying let me be;
And aye that where thou wants a cow, 35
In good sooth I'll bring thee three."
Then Dickie's com'd on for's lord and master,
And I wat a dreirie fool was he;
"Now had thy tongue, my fool," he says,
"For I may not stand to jest wi' thee." 40
"Shame speed a' your jesting, my lord!" quo' Dickie,
"For nae sic jesting grees wi' me;
Liddisdale's been i' my house last night,
And they hae tane my three ky frae me.
"But I may nae langer in Cumberland dwell, 45
To be your poor fool and your leal,
Unless ye gi' me leave, my lord,
T' gae t' Liddisdale and steal."
"I gi' thee leave, my fool," he says;
"Thou speakest against my honour and me, 50
Unless thou gi' me thy trowth and thy hand,
Thou'lt steal frae nane but wha sta' frae thee."
"There is my trowth, and my right hand!
My head shall hang on Hairibee,[L54]
I'll near cross Carlisle sands again, 55
If I steal frae a man but wha sta' frae me."
Dickie's tane leave at lord and master,
And I wat a merry fool was he;
He's bought a bridle and a pair o' new spurs,
And pack'd them up in his breek thigh. 60
Then Dickie's come on for Pudding-burn,[L61]
E'en as fast as he might drie;
Now Dickie's come on for Pudding-burn,
Where there were thirty Armstrongs and three.
"O what's this com'd o' me now?" quo' Dickie; 65
"What meikle wae's this happen'd o' me? quo' he;
Where here is but ae innocent fool,
And there is thirty Armstrongs and three!"
Yet he's com'd up to the ha' amang them a',
Sae weil he's became his curtesie! 70
"Weil may ye be, my good Laird's Jock!
But the de'il bless a' your companie.
"I'm come to 'plain o' your man, fair Johnie Armstrong,
And syne o' his billie Willie," quo' he;
"How they hae been i' my house the last night, 75
And they hae tane my three ky frae me."
Quo' Johnie Armstrong, "We will him hang;"
"Na then," quo' Willie, "we'll him slae;"
But up and bespake anither young man,
"We'll gie 'im his batts, and let him gae." 80
Then up and bespake the good Laird's Jock,
The best falla in a' the companie;
"Sit thy ways down a little while, Dickie,
And a piece o' thy ain cow's hough I'll gi' thee."
But Dickie's heart it grew sae great, 85
That ne'er a bit o't he dought to eat;
Then Dickie was ware o' an auld peat-house,
Where a' the night he thought for to sleep.
Then Dickie was ware o' an auld peat-house,
Where a' the night he thought for to ly; 90
And a' the prayers the poor fool pray'd,
"I wish I had amense for my ain three ky!"
Then it was the use of Pudding-burn,
And the house of Mangerton, all haill,[L94]
These that cam na at the first ca', 95
They got nae mair meat t' the neist meal.
The lads, that hungry and weary were,
Aboon the door-head they hang the key;
Dickie he took good notice to that,
Says--"There's a bootie yonder for me." 100
Then Dickie into the stable is gane,
Where there stood thirty horses and three;
He has tied them a' wi' St. Mary's knot,[L103]
A' these horses but barely three.
He has tied them a' wi' St. Mary's knot, 105
A' these horses but barely three;
He's loupen on ane, tane anither in hand,
And out at the door and gane is Dickie.
Then on the morn, whan the day grew light,
The shouts and cries rose loud and hie-- 110
"O where's that thief?" quo' the good Laird's Jock,
"Tell me the truth and the veritie!"
"O where's that thief?" quo' the good Laird's Jock;
"See unto me ye dinna lie!"--
"Dickie's been i' the stable last night, 115
And has my brother's horse and mine frae me."
"Ye wad ne'er be tall'd," quo' the good Laird's Jock;
"Have ye not found my tales fu' leel?
Ye wad ne'er out o' England bide,
Till crooked, and blind, and a' wad steal." 120
"But lend me thy bay," Johnie Armstrong can say;
"There's nae horse loose in the stable but he;
And I'll either bring Dick o' the Cow again,
Or the day is come that he shall die."
"To lend thee my bay!" the Laird's Jock can say, 125
"He's worth baith goud and good monie:
Dick o' the Cow has away twa horse:
I wish na thou may make him three."
He's tane the laird's jack on his back,
A twa-handed sword that hang by his thigh; 130
He's tane the steel cap on his head,
And on is he gane to follow Dickie.
Then Dickie was na a mile aff the town,
I wat a mile but barely three,
Till he's o'ertane by Johnie Armstrong, 135
Hand for hand, on Cannobie lee.[L136]
"Abide, abide now, Dickie, than,
The day is come that thou maun die;"
Then Dickie look'd o'er his left shoulder,
"Johnie, has thou any moe in companie? 140
"There is a preacher in our chapel,
And a' the lee-lang day teaches he:
Whan day is gane and night is come,
There's ne'er ae word I mark but three.
"The first and second is--Faith and Conscience; 145
The third--Ne'er let a traitour free:
But, Johnie, what faith and conscience hadst thou,
Whan thou took my three ky frae me?
"And when thou had tane away my three ky,
Thou thought in thy heart thou was no well sped, 150
But sent thy billie Willie o'er the know,
And he took three co'erlets aff my wife's bed."
Then Johnie let a spear fa' laigh by his thigh,
Thought weil to hae slain the innocent, I trow;
But the powers above were mair than he, 155
For he ran but the poor fool's jerkin through.
Together they ran, or ever they blan,
This was Dickie the fool and he;
Dickie coud na win to him wi' the blade o' the sword,
But feld 'im wi' the plumet under the eie. 160
Now Dickie has feld fair Johnie Armstrong,
The prettiest man in the south countrie;
"Gramercy!" then can Dickie say,
"I had but twa horse, thou has made me three."
He has tane the laird's jack aff his back, 165
The twa-handed sword that hang by his thigh;
He has tane the steel cap aff his head--
"Johnie, I'll tell my master I met wi' thee."
When Johnie wakened out o' his dream,
I wat a drierie man was he: 170
"And is thou gane, now, Dickie, than?
The shame gae in thy companie!
"And is thou gane, now, Dickie, than?
The shame gae in thy companie!
For if I should live this hundred years, 175
I ne'er shall fight wi' a fool after thee."
Then Dickie's come hame to lord and master,
E'en as fast as he may drie;
"Now, Dickie, I'll neither eat nor drink,
Till hie hanged thou shalt be." 180
"The shame speed the liars, my lord!" quo' Dickie;
"That was no the promise ye made to me!
For I'd ne'er gane t' Liddisdale t' steal,
Till I had got my leave at thee."
"But what gard thou steal the Laird's Jock's horse? 185
And, limmer, what gard thou steal him?" quo' he;
"For lang might thou in Cumberland dwelt,
Ere the Laird's Jock had stawn frae thee."[L188]
"Indeed I wat ye lied, my lord!
And e'en sae loud as I hear ye lie! 190
I wan him frae his man, fair Johnie Armstrong,
Hand for hand, on Cannobie lee.
"There's the jack was on his back,
This twa-handed sword that hang laigh by his thigh,
And there's the steel cap was on his head; 195
I hae a' these takens to let thee see."
"If that be true thou to me tells,
(I trow thou dare na tell a lie,)
I'll gi' thee twenty punds for the good horse,
Weil tel'd in thy cloak lap shall be. 200
"And I'll gi' thee ane o' my best milk-ky,
To maintain thy wife and children three;
And that may be as good, I think,
As ony twa o' thine might be."
"The shame speed the liers, my lord!" quo' Dickie; 205
"Trow ye aye to make a fool o' me?
I'll either hae thirty punds for the good horse,
Or he's gae t' Mortan fair wi' me."
He's gi'en him thirty punds for the good horse,
All in goud and good monie; 210
He has gi'en him ane o' his best milk-ky,
To maintain his wife and children three.
Then Dickie's came down through Carlisle town,
E'en as fast as he might drie:
The first o' men that he met with, 215
Was my Lord's brother, Bayliff Glozenburrie.
"Weil may ye be, my gude Ralph Scroope!"--
"Welcome, my brother's fool!" quo' he:
"Where did thou get fair Johnie Armstrong's horse?"
"Where did I get him, but steal him," quo' he. 220
"But wilt thou sell me fair Johnie Armstrong's horse?
And, billie, wilt thou sell him to me?" quo' he:
"Aye, and tell me the monie on my cloak lap:
For there's no ae fardin I'll trust thee."
"I'll gi' thee fifteen punds for the good horse, 225
Weil tel'd on thy cloak lap shall be;
And I'll gi' thee ane o' my best milk-ky,
To maintain thy wife and children three."
"The shame speed the liers, my lord!" quo' Dickie;
"Trow ye aye to make a fool o' me?" quo' he; 230
"I'll either hae thirty punds for the good horse,
Or he's gae t' Mortan fair wi' me."
He's gi'en him thirty punds for the gude horse,
All in goud and good monie;
He has gi'en him ane o' his best milk-ky, 235
To maintain his wife and children three.
Then Dickie lap a loup fu' hie,
And I wat a loud laugh laughed he--
"I wish the neck o' the third horse were broken,
For I hae a better o' my ain, if better can be." 240
Then Dickie's com'd hame to his wife again,
Judge ye how the poor fool sped;
He has gi'en her three score English punds,
For the three auld co'erlets was tane aff her bed.
"Hae, tak thee these twa as good ky, 245
I trow, as a' thy three might be;
And yet here is [a] white-footed nagie,
I think he'll carry baith thee and me.
"But I may nae langer in Cumberland bide;
The Armstrongs they'll hang me hie:"-- 250
So Dickie's tane leave at lord and master,
And [at] Burgh under Stanmuir there dwells he.
54. The place of execution at Carlisle.--P. M.
61. This was a house of strength held by the Armstrongs. The ruins at
present form a sheep-fold on the farm of Reidsmoss, belonging to the
Duke of Buccleuch.--S.
94. The Laird of Mangerton was chief of the clan Armstrong--S.
103. Hamstringing a horse is termed, in the Border dialect, _tying him
with St. Mary's knot_. Dickie used this cruel expedient to prevent a
pursuit. It appears from the narration, that the horses left unhurt,
belonged to fair Johnie Armstrang, his brother Willie, and the Laird's
Jock--of which Dickie carried off two, and left that of the Laird's
Jock, probably out of gratitude for the protection he had afforded him
on his arrival.--S.
136. A rising-ground on Cannobie, on the borders of Liddesdale.--P. M.
188. The commendation of the Laird's Jock's honesty seems but
indifferently founded; for, in July, 1586, a bill was fouled against
him, Dick of Dryup, and others, by the Deputy of Bewcastle, at a
warden-meeting, for 400 head of cattle taken in open foray from the
Drysike in Bewcastle: and in September, 1587, another complaint appears
at the instance of one Andrew Rutlege of the Nook, against the Laird's
Jock, and his accomplices, for 50 kine and oxen, besides furniture, to
the amount of 100 merks sterling. See Bell's MSS., as quoted in the
_History of Cumberland and Westmoreland_. In Sir Richard Maitland's poem
against the thieves of Liddesdale, he thus commemorates the Laird's
Jock:--
"They spuilye puir men of their pakis,
They leif them nocht on bed nor bakis:
Baith hen and cok,
With reil and rok,
The _Lairdis Jock_
All with him takis."--S.
JOCK O' THE SIDE.
From Caw's _Poetical Museum_, p. 145.
The rescue of a prisoner from the hands of justice was a very favourite
subject with ballad-makers, and, it is to be feared, no uncommon event
in the actual experience of the police of former days. We have in the
fifth volume seen how such an affair was conducted by Robin Hood and
his associates; and in _Kinmont Willie_ have had an authenticated
account of a remarkable exploit of this description at the close of the
reign of Elizabeth. The two ballads which follow have this same theme;
but only the authority of tradition. _Jock o' the Side_ has one
circumstance in common with _Kinmont Willie_--the daring passage of the
river: with _Archie of Ca'field_ it agrees throughout.
Jock o' the Side would seem to have been nephew to the Laird of
Mangertoun (the chief of the clan Armstrong), and consequently cousin to
the Laird's Jock. Scott suggests that he was probably brother to
Christie of the Syde, mentioned in the list of Border clans, 1597. Both
of these worthies receive special notice in Maitland's complaint
_Against the Thieves of Liddisdale_.
"He is weil kend, Johne of the Syde;
A greater thief did never ryde;
He nevir tyris
For to brek byris,
Our muir and myris
Ouir gude ane guide."
Scott has pointed out that Jock o' the Side assisted the Earl of
Westmoreland in his escape after his insurrection with the Earl of
Northumberland, in the twelfth year of Elizabeth.
"Now Liddisdale has ridden a raid,
But I wat they had better staid at hame;
For Mitchel o' Winfield he is dead,
And my son Johnie is prisoner ta'en."
For Mangerton-House Auld Downie is gane, 5
Her coats she has kilted up to her knee;
And down the water wi' speed she rins,
While tears in spaits fa' fast frae her eie.
Then up and bespake the Lord Mangerton,
"What news, what news, sister Downie, to me?" 10
"Bad news, bad news, my Lord Mangerton;
Mitchel is kill'd, and tane they hae my son Johnie."
"Ne'er fear, sister Downie," quo' Mangerton;
"I hae yokes of oxen, four and twentie;
My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a' weel fill'd, 15
And I'll part wi' them a', ere Johnie shall die.
"Three men I'll take to set him free,
Weel harness'd a' wi' best o' steel;
The English rogues may hear, and drie
The weight o' their braid-swords to feel. 20
"The Laird's Jock ane, the Laird's Wat twa,
O Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be;
Thy coat is blue, thou has been true,
Since England banish'd thee, to me."
Now Hobie was an English man, 25
In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born;
But his misdeeds they were sae great,
They banish'd him ne'er to return.
Lord Mangerton them orders gave,
"Your horses the wrang way maun a' be shod; 30
Like gentlemen ye must not seem,
But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road.
"Your armour gude ye maunna shaw,
Nor ance appear like men o' weir;
As country lads be all array'd, 35
Wi' branks and brecham on ilk mare."
Sae now a' their horses are shod the wrang way,
And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine;
Jock his lively bay, Wat's on his white horse behind,
And on they rode for the water o' Tyne. 40
At the Cholerford they a' light down,[L41]
And there, wi' the help o' the light o' the moon,
A tree they cut, wi' fifteen naggs upo' ilk side,
To climb up the wa' o' Newcastle town.
But when they cam to Newcastle town, 45
And were alighted at the wa',
They fand their tree three ells o'er laigh,
They fand their stick baith short and sma'.
Then up and spake the Laird's ain Jock,
"There's naething for't, the gates we maun force;" 50
But when they cam the gates unto,
A proud porter withstood baith men and horse.
His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung,
Wi' hand or foot he ne'er play'd paw;
His life and his keys at anes they hae tane, 55
And cast his body ahind the wa'.
Now soon they reach Newcastle jail,
And to the pris'ner thus they call;
"Sleips thou, wakes thou, Jock o' the Side,
Or is thou wearied o' thy thrall?" 60
Jock answers thus, wi' dolefu' tone--
"Aft, aft I wake--I seldom sleip:
But wha's this kens my name sae weel,
And thus to hear my waes do[es] seek?"
Then up and spake the good Laird's Jock, 65
"Ne'er fear ye now, my billie," quo' he;
"For here's the Laird's Jock, the Laird's Wat,
And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free."
"O had thy tongue, and speak nae mair,
And o' thy tawk now let me be; 70
For if a' Liddisdale were here the night,
The morn's the day that I maun die.
"Full fifteen stane o' Spanish iron,
They hae laid a' right sair on me;
Wi' locks and keys I am fast bound 75
Into this dungeon mirk and drearie."
"Fear ye no that," quo' the Laird's Jock;
"A faint heart ne'er wan a fair ladie;
Work thou within, we'll work without,
And I'll be bound we set thee free." 80
The first strong dore that they came at,
They loosed it without a key;
The next chain'd dore that they cam at,
They gar'd it a' in flinders flee.
The pris'ner now, upo' his back, 85
The Laird's Jock's gotten up fu' hie;
And down the stair, him, irons and a',
Wi' nae sma' speed and joy brings he.
"Now, Jock, I wat," quo' Hobie Noble,
"Part o' the weight ye may lay on me;" 90
"I wat weel no!" quo' the Laird's Jock,
"I count him lighter than a flee."
Sae out at the gates they a' are gane,
The pris'ner's set on horseback hie;
And now wi' speed they've tane the gate, 95
While ilk ane jokes fu' wantonlie.
"O Jock, sae winsomely's ye ride,
Wi' baith your feet upo' ae side!
Sae weel's ye're harness'd, and sae trig,
In troth ye sit like ony bride!" 100
The night, tho' wat, they didna mind,
But hied them on fu' mirrilie,
Until they cam to Cholerford brae,
Where the water ran like mountains hie.
But when they came to Cholerford, 105
There they met with an auld man;
Says--"Honest man, will the water ride?
Tell us in haste, if that ye can."
"I wat weel no," quo' the good auld man;
"Here I hae liv'd this threty yeirs and three, 110
And I ne'er yet saw the Tyne sae big,
Nor rinning ance sae like a sea."
Then up and spake the Laird's saft Wat,
The greatest coward in the company--
"Now halt, now halt, we needna try't; 115
The day is com'd we a' maun die!"
"Poor faint-hearted thief!" quo' the Laird's ain Jock,
"There'll nae man die but he that's fie;
I'll lead ye a' right safely through;
Lift ye the pris'ner on ahint me." 120
Sae now the water they a' hae tane,
By anes and twas they a' swam through;
"Here are we a' safe," says the Laird's Jock,
"And, poor faint Wat, what think ye now?"
They scarce the ither side had won, 125
When twenty men they saw pursue;
Frae Newcastle town they had been sent,
A' English lads, right good and true.
But when the land-sergeant the water saw,[L129]
"It winna ride, my lads," quo' he; 130
Then out he cries--"Ye the pris'ner may take,
But leave the irons, I pray, to me."
"I wat weel no," cry'd the Laird's Jock,
"I'll keep them a'; shoon to my mare they'll be:
My good grey mare--for I am sure, 135
She's bought them a' fu' dear frae thee."
Sae now they're away for Liddisdale,
E'en as fast as they cou'd them hie;
The pris'ner 's brought to his ain fire-side,
And there o's aims they make him free. 140
"Now, Jock, my billie," quo' a' the three,
"The day was com'd thou was to die;
But thou's as weel at thy ain fire-side,
Now sitting, I think, 'tween thee and me."
They hae gard fill up ae punch-bowl, 145
And after it they maun hae anither,
And thus the night they a' hae spent,
Just as they had been brither and brither.
41. Cholerford is a ford on the Tyne, above
Hexham.--S.
129. The land-sergeant (mentioned also in _Hobbie Noble_) was an officer
under the warden, to whom was committed the apprehending of delinquents,
and the care of the public peace.--S.
ARCHIE OF CA'FIELD.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 116.
This is substantially the same story as _Jock o' the Side_. Another
version from Motherwell's collection, is subjoined.
"Ca'field, or Calfield," says Scott, "is a place in Wauchopdale,
belonging of old to the Armstrongs. In the account betwixt the English
and Scottish Marches, Jock and Geordie of Ca'field, then called
Calf-hill, are repeatedly marked as delinquents. _History of
Westmoreland and Cumberland_, vol. i. Introduction, p. 33."
As I was a-walking mine alane,
It was by the dawning of the day,
I heard twa brithers make their mane,
And I listen'd weel to what they did say.
The youngest to the eldest said, 5
"Blythe and merrie how can we be?
There were three brithren of us born,
And ane of us is condemn'd to die."
"And ye wad be merrie, and ye wad be sad,
What the better wad billy Archie be? 10
Unless I had thirty men to mysell,
And a' to ride in my cumpanie.
"Ten to hald the horses' heads,
And other ten the watch to be,
And ten to break up the strong prison, 15
Where billy Archie he does lie."
Then up and spak him mettled John Hall,[L17]
(The luve of Teviotdale aye was he,)
"An I had eleven men to mysell,
It's aye the twalt man I wad be." 20
Then up bespak him coarse Ca'field,
(I wot and little gude worth was he,)
"Thirty men is few anew,
And a' to ride in our companie."
There was horsing, horsing in haste, 25
And there was marching on the lee,
Until they cam to Murraywhate,
And they lighted there right speedilie.
"A smith! a smith!" Dickie he cries,
"A smith, a smith, right speedilie, 30
To turn back the caukers of our horses' shoon;
For it's unkensome we wad be."
"There lives a smith on the water-side,
Will shoe my little black mare for me;
And I've a crown in my pocket, 35
And every groat of it I wad gie."
"The night is mirk, and it's very mirk,
And by candle-light I canna weel see;
The night is mirk, and it's very pit mirk,
And there will never a nail ca' right for me." 40
"Shame fa' you and your trade baith,
Canna beet a good fellow by your mystery;
But leeze me on thee, my little black mare,
Thou's worth thy weight in gold to me."
There was horsing, horsing in haste, 45
And there was marching upon the lee,
Until they cam to Dumfries port,
And they lighted there right speedilie.
"There's five of us will hold the horse,
And other five will watchmen be:" 50
"But wha's the man among ye a',
Will gae to the Tolbooth door wi' me?"
O up then spak him mettled John Hall,
(Frae the Laigh Teviotdale was he,)
"If it should cost my life this very night, 55
I'll gae to the Tolbooth door wi' thee."
"Be of gude cheir, now, Archie, lad,
Be of gude cheir, now, dear billie!
Work thou within, and we without,
And the morn thou'se dine at Ca'field wi' me." 60
O Jockie Hall stepp'd to the door,
And he bended low back his knee,
And he made the bolts, the door hang on,
Loup frae the wa' right wantonlie.
He took the prisoner on his back, 65
And down the Tolbooth stair cam he:
The black mare stood ready at the door,
I wot a foot ne'er stirred she.
They laid the links out owre her neck,
And that was her gold twist to be;[L70] 70
And they cam doun thro' Dumfries toun,
And wow but they cam speedilie!
The live-lang night these twelve men rade,
And aye till they were right wearie,
Until they cam to the Murraywhate, 75
And they lighted there right speedilie.
"A smith! a smith!" then Dickie he cries,
"A smith, a smith, right speedilie,
To file the irons frae my dear brither,
For forward, forward we wad be." 80
They hadna filed a shackle of iron,
A shackle of iron but barely thrie,
When out and spak young Simon brave,
"O dinna you see what I do see?
"Lo! yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon, 85
Wi' a hundred men in his companie;
This night will be our lyke-wake night,
The morn the day we a' maun die."
O there was mounting, mounting in haste,
And there was marching upon the lee; 90
Until they cam to Annan water,
And it was flowing like the sea.
"My mare is young and very skeigh,
And in o' the weil she will drown me;
But ye'll take mine, and I'll take thine, 95
And sune through the water we sall be."
Then up and spak him, coarse Ca'field,
(I wot and little gude worth was he,)
"We had better lose ane than lose a' the lave;
We'll lose the prisoner, we'll gae free." 100
"Shame fa' you and your lands baith!
Wad ye e'en your lands to your born billy?
But hey! bear up, my bonnie black mare,
And yet thro' the water we sall be."
Now they did swim that wan water, 105
And wow but they swam bonnilie!
Until they cam to the other side,
And they wrang their cloathes right drunkily.
"Come thro', come thro', Lieutenant Gordon!
Come thro' and drink some wine wi' me! 110
For there is an ale-house here hard by,
And it shall not cost thee ae penny."
"Throw me my irons," quo' Lieutenant Gordon;
"I wot they cost me dear eneugh;"
"The shame a ma," quo' mettled John Ha', 115
"They'll be gude shackles to my pleugh."
"Come thro', come thro', Lieutenant Gordon!
Come thro', and drink some wine wi' me!
Yestreen I was your prisoner,
But now this morning am I free." 120
17. Mettled John Hall, from the laigh Teviotdale, is perhaps John Hall
of Newbigging, mentioned in the list of Border clans as one of the chief
men of name residing on the Middle Marches in 1597.--S.
70. The _gold twist_ means the small gilded chains drawn across the
chest of a war-horse, as a part of his caparison.--S.
BILLIE ARCHIE.
Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 335.
A North-Country version of the preceding ballad. There is another
copy in Buchan's larger collection, i. 111, _The Three Brothers_.
"Seven years have I loved my love,
And seven years my love's loved me,
But now to-morrow is the day
That Billie Archie, my love, must die."
Out then spoke him Little Dickie, 5
And still the best fellow was he;
"Had I but five men and mysell,
Then we would borrow Billie Archie."
Out it spoke him Caff o' Lin,
And still the worst fellow was he; 10
"Ye shall have five men and yoursell,
And I will bear you companie.
"We will not go like to dragoons,
Nor yet will we like grenadiers;
But we will go like corn-dealers, 15
And lay our brechams on our meares.
"And twa of us will watch the road,
And other twa between will gang,
And I will go to jail-house door,
And hold the prisoner unthought lang." 20
"Wha is this at the jail-house door,
Sa weel as they do ken the gin?"
"It's I mysell," said him Little Dickie,
"And O sae fain's I would be in!"
"Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie, 25
Awa, let all your folly be;
If the Lord Lieutenant come on you,
Like unto dogs he'll cause you die."
"Hold you, hold you, Billy Archie,
And now let all your folly be; 30
Though I die without, you'll not die within,
For borrowed shall your body be."
"Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie,
Awa, let all this folly be;
An hundred pounds of Spanish irons 35
Is all bound on my fair bodie."
Wi' plough coulters and gavelocks
They made the jail-house door to flee;
"And in God's name," said Little Dickie,
"Cast you the prisoner behind me." 40
They had not rade a great way off,
With all the haste that ever could be,
Till they espied the Lord Lieutenant,
With a hundred men in companie.
But when they cam to wan water, 45
It now was rumbling like the sea;
Then were they got into a strait,
As great a strait as well could be.
Then out did speak him Caff o' Lin,
And aye the warst fellow was he: 50
"Now God be with my wife and bairns,
For fatherless my babes will be.
"My horse is young, he cannot swim;
The water's deep, and will not wade;
My children must be fatherless, 55
My wife a widow, whate'er betide."
O then cried out him Little Dickie,
And still the best fellow was he:
"Take you my mare, I'll take your horse,
And Devil drown my mare and thee!" 60
Now they have taken the wan water,
Though it was roaring like the sea;
And when they gat to the other side,
I wat they bragged right crousilie.
"Come thro', come thro', now, Lord Lieutenant, 65
O do come thro', I pray of thee;
There is an alehouse not far off,
We'll dine you and your companie."
"Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie,
O now let all your taunting be; 70
There's not a man in the king's army
That would have tried what's done by thee.
"Cast back, cast back my fetters again,
Cast back my fetters, I say to thee;
And get you gane the way you came, 75
I wish no prisoners like to thee."
"I have a mare, she's called Meg,
The best in all our low countrie;
If she gang barefoot till they're done,
An ill death may your Lordship die." 80
HOBIE NOBLE.
From Caw's _Poetical Museum_, p. 193.
"We have seen the hero of this ballad act a distinguished part in the
deliverance of Jock o' the Side, and are now to learn the ungrateful
return which the Armstrongs made him for his faithful services.
Halbert, or Hobbie, Noble appears to have been one of those numerous
English outlaws, who, being forced to fly their own country, had
established themselves on the Scottish Borders. As Hobbie continued his
depredations upon the English, they bribed some of his hosts, the
Armstrongs, to decoy him into England under pretence of a predatory
expedition. He was there delivered, by his treacherous companions, into
the hands of the officers of justice, by whom he was conducted to
Carlisle, and executed next morning. The Laird of Mangertoun, with whom
Hobbie was in high favour, is said to have taken a severe revenge upon
the traitors who betrayed him. The principal contriver of the scheme,
called here Sim o' the Maynes, fled into England from the resentment of
his chief; but experienced there the common fate of a traitor, being
himself executed at Carlisle, about two months after Hobbie's death.
Such is, at least, the tradition of Liddesdale. Sim o' the Maynes
appears among the Armstrongs of Whitauch, in Liddesdale, in the list of
Clans so often alluded to."--_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii.
90.
Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in!
That Liddisdale may safely say;
For in it there was baith meat and drink,
And corn unto our geldings gay.
We were stout-hearted men and true, 5
As England it did often say;
But now we may turn our backs and fly,
Since brave Noble is seld away.
Now Hobie he was an English man,
And born into Bewcastle dale; 10
But his misdeeds they were sae great,
They banish'd him to Liddisdale.
At Kershope foot the tryst was set,[L13]
Kershope of the lily lee;
And there was traitour Sim o' the Mains,[L15] 15
With him a private companie.
Then Hobie has graith'd his body weel,
I wat it was wi' baith good iron and steel;
And he has pull'd out his fringed grey,
And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel. 20
Then Hobie is down the water gane,
E'en as fast as he may drie;
Tho' they shoud a' brusten and broken their hearts,
Frae that tryst Noble he would not be.
"Weel may ye be, my feiries five! 25
And aye, what is your wills wi' me?"
Then they cry'd a' wi' ae consent,
"Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.
"Wilt thou with us in England ride,
And thy safe warrand we will be? 30
If we get a horse worth a hundred punds,
Upon his back that thou shalt be."
"I dare not with you into England ride,
The Land-sergeant has me at feid;
I know not what evil may betide, 35
For Peter of Whitfield, his brother, is dead.
"And Anton Shiel, he loves not me,
For I gat twa drifts of his sheep;[L38]
The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not,[L39]
For nae gear frae me he e'er could keep. 40
"But will ye stay till the day gae down,
Until the night come o'er the grund,
And I'll be a guide worth ony twa
That may in Liddisdale be fund.
"Tho' dark the night as pick and tar, 45
I'll guide ye o'er yon hills fu' hie,
And bring ye a' in safety back,
If you'll be true and follow me."
He's guided them o'er moss and muir,
O'er hill and houp, and mony a down; 50
Til they came to the Foulbogshiel,
And there, brave Noble, he lighted down.
Then word is gane to the Land-sergeant,
In Askirton where that he lay--[L54]
"The deer that ye hae hunted lang 55
Is seen into the Waste this day."
"Then Hobie Noble is that deer!
I wat he carries the style fu' hie;
Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back,
And set yourselves at little lee. 60
"Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,
See they shaft their arrows on the wa'!
Warn Willeva, and Spear Edom,[L63]
And see the morn they meet me a'.
"Gar meet me on the Rodrie-haugh, 65
And see it be by break o' day;
And we will on to Conscowthart-Green,
For there, I think, we'll get our prey."
Then Hobie Noble has dream'd a dream,
In the Foulbogsheil where that he lay; 70
He thought his horse was 'neath him shot,
And he himself got hard away.
The cocks could crow, and the day could dawn,
And I wat so even down fell the rain;
If Hobie had no waken'd at that time, 75
In the Foulbogshiel he had been tane or slain.
"Get up, get up, my feiries five!
For I wat here makes a fu' ill day;
And the warst cloak of this companie,[L79]
I hope shall cross the Waste this day." 80
Now Hobie thought the gates were clear;
But, ever alas! it was not sae:
They were beset wi' cruel men and keen,
That away brave Noble could not gae.
"Yet follow me, my feiries five, 85
And see of me ye keep good ray;
And the worst cloak of this companie[L87]
I hope shall cross the Waste this day."
There was heaps of men now Hobie before,
And other heaps was him behind, 90
That had he been as wight as Wallace was,
Away brave Noble he could not win.
Then Hobie he had but a laddies sword,
But he did more than a laddies deed;
In the midst of Conscouthart-Green, 95
He brake it o'er Jersawigham's head.
Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble,
Wi' his ain bowstring they band him sae;
And I wat heart was ne'er sae sair,
As when his ain five band him on the brae. 100
They have tane him for West Carlisle;
They ask'd him if he knew the way;
Whate'er he thought, yet little he said;
He knew the way as well as they.
They hae tane him up the Ricker-gate;[L105] 105
The wives they cast their windows wide,
And ilka wife to anither can say,
"That's the man loos'd Jock o' the Side!"
"Fy on ye, women! why ca' ye me man?
For it's nae man that I'm used like; 110
I'm but like a forfoughen hound,
Has been fighting in a dirty syke."
Then they hae tane him up thro' Carlisle town,
And set him by the chimney fire;
They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat, 115
And that was little his desire.
Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eat
And after that a can o' beer;
Then they cried a', wi' ae consent,
"Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer. 120
"Confess my lord's horse, Hobie," they say,
"And the morn in Carlisle thou's no die;"
"How shall I confess them?" Hobie says,
"For I never saw them with mine eye."
Then Hobie has sworn a fu' great aith-- 125
By the day that he was gotten or born,
He never had onything o' my lord's,
That either eat him grass or corn.
"Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton![L129]
For I think again I'll ne'er thee see: 130
I wad betray nae lad alive,
For a' the goud in Christentie.
"And fare thee weel, now Liddisdale,
Baith the hie land and the law!
Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains! 135
For goud and gear he'll sell ye a'.
"I'd rather be ca'd Hobie Noble,
In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut,
Before I were ca'd traitor Mains,
That eats and drinks of meal and maut." 140
13. Kershope-burn, where Hobbie met his treacherous companions, falls
into the Liddel, from the English side, at a place called Turnersholm,
where, according to tradition, tourneys and games of chivalry were often
solemnized.--S.
15. The Mains was anciently a Border-keep, near Castletown, on the north
side of the Liddel, but is now totally demolished.--S.
38. For twa drifts of his sheep I gat.--P. M.
39. Whitfield is explained by Mr. Ellis of Otterbourne to be a large and
rather wild manorial district in the extreme southwest part of
Northumberland; the proprietor of which might be naturally called the
Lord, though not _Earl_ of Whitfield. I suspect, however, that the
reciters may have corrupted the _great_ Ralph Whitfield into Earl of
Whitfield. Sir Matthew Whitfield of Whitfield, was Sheriff of
Northumberland in 1433, and the estate continued in the family from the
reign of Richard II. till about fifty years since.--S.
54. Askerton is an old castle, now ruinous, situated in the wilds of
Cumberland, about seventeen miles north-east of Carlisle, amidst that
mountainous and desolate tract of country bordering upon Liddesdale,
emphatically termed the Waste of Bewcastle.--S.
63-67. Willeva and Speir Edom are small districts in Bewcastledale,
through which also the Hartlie-burn takes its course.
Conscouthart-Green, and Rodrie-haugh, and the Foulbogshiel, are the
names of places in the same wilds, through which the Scottish plunderers
generally made their raids upon England.--S.
79, 87. clock.
105. A street in Carlisle.
129. Of the Castle of Mangertoun, so often mentioned in these ballads,
there are very few vestiges. It was situated on the banks of the
Liddell, below Castletoun.--S.
JAMIE TELFER OF THE FAIR DODHEAD.
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 3.
"There is another ballad, under the same title as the following, in
which nearly the same incidents are narrated, with little difference,
except that the honour of rescuing the cattle is attributed to the
Liddesdale Elliots, headed by a chief, there called Martin Elliot of the
Preakin Tower, whose son, Simon, is said to have fallen in the action.
It is very possible, that both the Teviotdale Scotts, and the Elliots,
were engaged in the affair, and that each claimed the honour of the
victory.
"The Editor presumes, that the Willie Scott, here mentioned, must have
been a natural son of the Laird of Buccleuch."--S.
It fell about the Martinmas tyde,
When our Border steeds get corn and hay,
The Captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde,
And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey.
The first ae guide that they met wi', 5
It was high up in Hardhaughswire;[L6]
The second guide that they met wi',
It was laigh down in Borthwick water.
"What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?"
"Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee; 10
But gin ye'll gae to the fair Dodhead,[L11]
Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see."
And when they cam to the fair Dodhead,
Right hastily they clam the peel;
They loosed the kye out, ane and a', 15
And ranshackled the house right weel.
Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair,
The tear aye rowing in his ee;
He pled wi' the Captain to hae his gear,
Or else revenged he wad be. 20
The Captain turned him round and leugh;
Said--"Man, there's naething in thy house,
But ae auld sword without a sheath,
That hardly now would fell a mouse."
The sun wasna up, but the moon was down, 25
It was the gryming of a new-fa'n snaw,
Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot,
Between the Dodhead and the Stobs's Ha'.[L28]
And when he cam to the fair tower yate,
He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, 30
Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot--
"Whae's this that brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer, o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be;
There's naething left at the fair Dodhead, 35
But a waefu' wife and bairnies three."
"Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha',[L37]
For succour ye'se get nane frae me;
Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail,
For, man, ye ne'er paid money to me." 40
Jamie has turned him round about,
I wat the tear blinded his ee--
"I'll ne'er pay mail to Elliot again,
And the fair Dodhead I'll never see!
"My hounds may a' rin masterless,[L45] 45
My hawks may fly frae tree to tree,
My lord may grip my vassal lands,
For there again maun I never be!"
He has turn'd him to the Tiviot side,
E'en as fast as he could drie, 50
Till he cam to the Coultart Cleugh,[L51]
And there he shouted baith loud and hie.
Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve--
"Whae's this that brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead, 55
A harried man I trow I be.
"There's naething left in the fair Dodhead,
But a greeting wife and bairnies three,
And sax poor ca's stand in the sta', 60
A' routing loud for their minnie."
"Alack a wae!" quo' auld Jock Grieve,
"Alack, my heart is sair for thee!
For I was married on the elder sister,
And you on the youngest of a' the three."
Then he has ta'en out a bonny black, 65
Was right weel fed with corn and hay,
And he's set Jamie Telfer on his back,
To the Catslockhill to tak the fraye.
And whan he cam to the Catslockhill,
He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, 70
Till out and spak him William's Wat--
"O whae's this brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer of the fair Dodhead,
A harried man I think I be;
The Captain of Bewcastle has driven my gear; 75
For God's sake rise, and succour me!"
"Alas for wae!" quoth William's Wat,
"Alack, for thee my heart is sair!
I never cam by the fair Dodhead,
That ever I fand thy basket bare." 80
He's set his twa sons on coal-black steeds,
Himsell upon a freckled gray,
And they are on wi' Jamie Telfer,
To Branksome Ha' to tak the fraye.
And when they cam to Branksome Ha', 85
They shouted a' baith loud and hie,
Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch,
Said--"Whae's this brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be; 90
There's nought left in the fair Dodhead,
But a greeting wife and bairnies three."
"Alack for wae!" quoth the gude auld lord,
"And ever my heart is wae for thee!
But fye, gar cry on Willie, my son, 95
And see that he come to me speedilie.
"Gar warn the water, braid and wide,[L97]
Gar warn it sune and hastilie;
They that winna ride for Telfer's kye,
Let them never look in the face o' me! 100
"Warn Wat o' Harden, and his sons,[L101]
Wi' them will Borthwick Water ride;
Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh,
And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside.
"Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire,[L105] 105
And warn the Currors o' the Lee;
As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack,
Warn doughty Willie o' Gorrinberry."
The Scotts they rade, the Scotts they ran,
Sae starkly and sae steadilie, 110
And aye the ower-word o' the thrang
Was--"Rise for Branksome readilie!"
The gear was driven the Frostylee up,[L113]
Frae the Frostylee unto the plain,
Whan Willie has look'd his men before, 115
And saw the kye right fast drivand.
"Whae drives thir kye?" gan Willie say,
"To make an outspeckle o' me?"
"It's I, the Captain o' Bewcastle, Willie;
I winna layne my name for thee." 120
"O will ye let Telfer's kye gae back?
Or will ye do aught for regard o' me?
Or, by the faith of my body," quo' Willie Scott,
"I'se ware my dame's cauf skin on thee."
"I winna let the kye gae back, 125
Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear;
But I will drive Jamie Telfer's kye,
In spite of every Scott that's here."
"Set on them, lads!" quo' Willie than;
"Fye, lads, set on them cruellie! 130
For ere they win to the Ritterford,
Mony a toom saddle there sall be!"
Then til't they gaed, wi' heart and hand,
The blows fell thick as bickering hail;
And mony a horse ran masterless, 135
And mony a comely cheek was pale.
But Willie was stricken ower the head,
And thro' the knapscap the sword has gane;
And Harden grat for very rage,
Whan Willie on the grund lay slane. 140
But he's ta'en aff his gude steel cap,
And thrice he's waved it in the air;
The Dinlay snaw was ne'er mair white[L143]
Nor the lyart locks of Harden's hair.
"Revenge! revenge!" auld Wat 'gan cry; 145
"Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie!
We'll ne'er see Tiviotside again,
Or Willie's death revenged sall be."
O mony a horse ran masterless,
The splinter'd lances flew on hie; 150
But or they wan ta the Kershope ford,
The Scotts had gotten the victory.
John o' Brigham there was slane,[L153]
And John o' Barlow, as I heard say;
And thirty mae o' the Captain's men 155
Lay bleeding on the grund that day.
The Captain was run through the thick of the thigh,
And broken was his right leg bane;
If he had lived this hundred years,
He had never been loved by woman again. 160
"Hae back the kye!" the Captain said;
"Dear kye, I trow, to some they be;
For gin I suld live a hundred years,
There will ne'er fair lady smile on me."
Then word is gane to the Captain's bride, 165
Even in the bower where that she lay,
That her lord was prisoner in enemy's land,
Since into Tividale he had led the way.
"I wad lourd have had a winding-sheet,
And helped to put it ower his head, 170
Ere he had been disgraced by the Border Scot,
Whan he ower Liddel his men did lead!"
There was a wild gallant amang us a',
His name was Watty wi' the Wudspurs,
Cried--"On for his house in Stanegirthside,[L175] 175
If ony man will ride with us!"
When they cam to the Stanegirthside,
They dang wi' trees, and burst the door;
They loosed out a' the Captain's kye,
And set them forth our lads before. 180
There was an auld wyfe ayont the fire,
A wee bit o' the Captain's kin--
"Whae dar loose out the Captain's kye,
Or answer to him and his men?"
"It's I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye, 185
I winna layne my name frae thee;
And I will loose out the Captain's kye,
In scorn of a' his men and he."
Whan they cam to the fair Dodhead,
They were a wellcum sight to see; 190
For instead of his ain ten milk kye,
Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three.
And he has paid the rescue shot,
Baith wi' goud and white monie;
And at the burial o' Willie Scott, 195
I wat was mony a weeping ee.[L196]
6-8. Hardhaughswire is the pass from Liddesdale to the head of
Teviotdale. Borthwick water is a stream which falls into the Teviot
three miles above Hawick.--S.
11. The Dodhead, in Selkirkshire, near Singlee, where there are still
the vestiges of an old tower.--S.
28. Stobs Hall, upon Slitterick, the seat of Sir William, of that clan.
Jamie Telfer made his first application here, because he _seems_ to have
paid the proprietor of the castle _black-mail_, or protection money.--S.
37. The ancient family-seat of the Lairds of Buccleuch, near Hawick.--S.
45-48. See _Young Beichan_, vol. iv. p. 3.
51. The Coultart Cleugh is nearly opposite to Carlinrig, on the road
between Hawick and Mosspaul.--S.
97. The _water_, in the mountainous districts of Scotland, is often used
to express the banks of the river, which are the only inhabitable parts
of the country. _To raise the water_, therefore, was to alarm those who
lived along its side.--S.
101. The estates, mentioned in this verse, belonged to families of the
name of Scott, residing upon the waters of Borthwick and Teviot, near
the castle of their chief.--S.
105. The pursuers seem to have taken the road through the hills of
Liddesdale, in order to collect forces, and intercept the forayers at
the passage of the Liddel, on their return to Bewcastle. The Ritterford
and Kershope-ford, after-mentioned, are noted fords on the river
Liddel.--S.
113. The Frostylee is a brook, which joins the Teviot, near
Mosspaul.--S.
143. The Dinlay is a mountain in Liddesdale.--S.
153. Perhaps one of the ancient family of Brougham, in Cumberland. The
Editor has used some freedom with the original in the subsequent verse.
The account of the Captain's disaster is rather too _na[:i]ve_ for
literal publication.--S.
175. A house belonging to the Foresters, situated on the English side of
the Liddel.--S.
196. An article in the list of attempts upon England, fouled by the
Commissioners at Berwick, in the year 1587, may relate to the subject of
the foregoing ballad.
October, 1582.
Thomas Musgrave, deputy { Walter Scott, Laird } 200 kine and
of Bewcastle, and { of Buckluth, and his } oxen, 300 gait
the tenants, against { complices; for } and sheep.
_Introduction to the History of Westmoreland and Cumberland_, p. 31.--S.
THE FRAY OF SUPORT.
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 124.
"Of all the Border ditties which have fallen into the Editor's hands,
this is by far the most uncouth and savage. It is usually chanted in a
sort of wild recitative, except the burden, which swells into a long and
varied howl, not unlike to a view hollo'. The words, and the very great
irregularity of the stanza (if it deserves the name) sufficiently point
out its intention and origin. An English woman, residing in Suport, near
the foot of the Kers-hope, having been plundered in the night by a band
of the Scottish moss-troopers, is supposed to convoke her servants and
friends for the pursuit, or _Hot Trod_; upbraiding them, at the same
time, in homely phrase, for their negligence and security. The _Hot
Trod_ was followed by the persons who had lost goods, with blood-hounds
and horns, to raise the country to help. They also used to carry a
burning wisp of straw at a spear head, and to raise a cry, similar to
the Indian war-whoop. It appears, from articles made by the Wardens of
the English Marches, September 12th, in 6th of Edward VI., that all, on
this cry being raised, were obliged to follow the fray, or chase, under
pain of death. With these explanations, the general purport of the
ballad may be easily discovered, though particular passages have become
inexplicable, probably through corruptions introduced by reciters. The
present text is collected from four copies, which differed widely from
each other."--S.
Sleep'ry Sim of the Lamb-hill,
And snoring Jock of Suport-mill,
Ye are baith right het and fou';
But my wae wakens na you.
Last night I saw a sorry sight-- 5
Nought left me o' four-and-twenty gude ousen and ky,
My weel-ridden gelding, and a white quey,
But a toom byre and a wide,
And the twelve nogs on ilka side.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', 10
My gear's a' gane.
Weel may ye ken,
Last night I was right scarce o' men:
But Toppet Hob o' the Mains had guesten'd in my house by chance;
I set him to wear the fore-door wi' the speir, while I kept the
back-door wi' the lance; 15
But they hae run him thro' the thick o' the thie, and broke his
knee-pan,
And the mergh o' his shin-bane has run down on his spur-leather
whang:
He's lame while he lives, and where'er he may gang.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' gane. 20
But Peenye, my gude son, is out at the Hagbut-head,
His een glittering for anger like a fiery gleed;
Crying--"Mak sure the nooks
Of Maky's-muir crooks;
For the wily Scot takes by nooks, hooks, and crooks. 25
Gin we meet a' together in a head the morn,
We'll be merry men."
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' gane.
There's doughty Cuddy in the Heugh-head, 30
Thou was aye gude at a need;
With thy brock-skin bag at thy belt,[L32]
Aye ready to mak a puir man help.
Thou maun awa' out to the Cauf-craigs,
(Where anes ye lost your ain twa naigs,) 35
And there toom thy brock-skin bag.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.
Doughty Dan o' the Houlet Hirst,
Thou was aye gude at a birst; 40
Gude wi' a bow, and better wi' a speir,
The bauldest March-man that e'er follow'd gear:
Come thou here.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' gane. 45
Rise, ye carle coopers, frae making o' kirns and tubs,
In the Nicol forest woods.[L47]
Your craft hasna left the value of an oak rod,
But if you had ony fear o' God,
Last night ye hadna slept sae sound, 50
And let my gear be a' ta'en.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.
Ah! lads, we'll fang them a' in a net,
For I hae a' the fords o' Liddel set; 55
The Dunkin and the Door-loup,
The Willie-ford, and the Water-slack,
The Black-rack and the Trout-dub of Liddel.
There stands John Forster, wi' five men at his back,
Wi bufft coat and cap of steil. 60
Boo! ca' at them e'en, Jock;
That ford's sicker, I wat weil.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.
Hoo! hoo! gar raise the Reid Souter, and Ringan's Wat, 65
Wi' a broad elshin and a wicker;
I wat weil they'll mak a ford sicker.
Sae, whether they be Elliots or Armstrangs,
Or rough-riding Scots, or rude Johnstones,
Or whether they be frae the Tarras or Ewsdale, 70
They maun turn and fight, or try the deeps o' Liddel.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.
"Ah! but they will play ye anither jigg,
For they will out at the big rig, 75
And thro' at Fargy Grame's gap."[L76]
But I hae another wile for that:
For I hae little Will, and Stalwart Wat,
And lang Aicky, in the Souter Moor,
Wi' his sleuth-dog sits in his watch right sure. 80
Shou'd the dog gie a bark,
He'll be out in his sark,
And die or won.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en. 85
Ha! boys!--I see a party appearing--wha's yon?
Methinks it's the Captain of Bewcastle, and Jephtha's John,[L87]
Coming down by the foul steps of Catlowdie's loan:
They'll make a' sicker, come which way they will.
Ha, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', 90
My gear's a' ta'en.
Captain Musgrave, and a' his band,[L92]
Are coming down by the Siller-strand,
And the Muckle toun-bell o' Carlisle is rung:
My gear was a' weel won, 95
And before it's carried o'er the Border, mony a man's gae down.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' gane.
32. The badger-skin pouch was used for carrying ammunition.--S.
47. A wood in Cumberland, in which Suport is situated.--S.
76. Fergus Grame of Sowport, as one of the chief men of that clan,
became security to Lord Scroope for the good behaviour of his friends
and dependents, 8th January, 1662.--_Introduction to History of
Westmoreland and Cumberland_, p. 111.--S.
87-8. According to the late Glenriddel's notes on this ballad, the
office of Captain Bewcastle was held by the chief of the Nixons.
Catlowdie is a small village in Cumberland, near the junction of the Esk
and Liddel.--S.
92. This was probably the famous Captain Jack Musgrave, who had charge
of the watch along the Cryssop, or Kershope, as appears from the order
of the watches appointed by Lord Wharton, when Deputy-Warden-General, in
the 6th Edward VI.--S.
ROOKHOPE RYDE.
"A Bishopric Border song, composed in 1569, taken down from the chanting
of George Collingwood the elder, late of Boltsburn, in the neighbourhood
of Ryhope, who was interred at Stanhope, the 16th December, 1785.
"Rookhope is the name of a valley about five miles in length; at the
termination of which, Rookhope burn empties itself into the river Wear,
and is in the north part of the parish of Stanhope, in Weardale.
Rookhope-head is the top of the vale."--RITSON.
The date of the event, says Sir W. Scott, is precisely ascertained to be
(not 1569 but) the 6th of December, 1572, when the Tynedale robbers were
encouraged to make a foray into Weardale in consequence of the confusion
occasioned by the rebellion of Westmoreland and Northumberland.
From Ritson's _Bishopric Garland_ (p. 54), with one or two slight
verbal improvements from the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii.
101.
Rookhope stands in a pleasant place,
If the false thieves wad let it be,
But away they steal our goods apace,
And ever an ill death may they dee!
And so is the men of Thirlwall and Willie-haver,[L5] 5
And all their companies thereabout,
That is minded to do mischief,
And at their stealing stands not out.
But yet we will not slander them all,
For there is of them good enow; 10
It is a sore consumed tree
That on it bears not one fresh bough.
Lord God! is not this a pitiful case,
That men dare not drive their goods to the fell,
But limmer thieves drives them away, 15
That fears neither heaven nor hell?
Lord, send us peace into the realm,
That every man may live on his own!
I trust to God, if it be his will,
That Weardale men may never be overthrown. 20
For great troubles they've had in hand,
With borderers pricking hither and thither,
But the greatest fray that e'er they had,
Was with the men of Thirlwall and Willie-haver.
They gather'd together so royally, 25
The stoutest men and the best in gear;
And he that rade not on a horse,
I wat he rade on a weel-fed mear.
So in the morning, before they came out,
So weel I wot they broke their fast; 30
In the [forenoon they came] unto a bye fell,[L31]
Where some of them did eat their last.
When they had eaten aye and done,
They say'd some captains here needs must be:
Then they choosed forth Harry Corbyl, 35
And 'Symon Fell,' and Martin Ridley.
Then o'er the moss, where as they came,
With many a brank and whew,
One of them could to another say,
"I think this day we are men enew. 40
"For Weardale-men is a journey ta'en;
They are so far out o'er yon fell,
That some of them's with the two earls,[L43]
And others fast in Bernard castell.
"There we shall get gear enough, 45
For there is nane but women at hame;
The sorrowful fend that they can make,
Is loudly cries as they were slain."[L48]
Then in at Rookhope-head they came,
And there they thought tul a had their prey, 50
But they were spy'd coming over the Dry-rig,
Soon upon Saint Nicolas' day.[L52]
Then in at Rookhope-head they came,
They ran the forest but a mile;
They gather'd together in four hours 55
Six hundred sheep within a while.
And horses I trow they gat,
But either ane or twa,
And they gat them all but ane
That belang'd to great Rowley. 60
That Rowley was the first man that did them spy,
With that he raised a mighty cry;
The cry it came down Rookhope burn,
And spread through Weardale hasteyly.
Then word came to the bailiff's house 65
At the East-gate, where he did dwell;[L66]
He was walk'd out to the Smale-burns,
Which stands above the Hanging-well.[L68]
His wife was wae when she heard tell,
So weel she wist her husband wanted gear; 70
She gar'd saddle him his horse in haste,
And neither forgot sword, jack, nor spear.
The bailiff got wit before his gear came,
That such news was in the land,
He was sore troubled in his heart, 75
That on no earth that he could stand.
His brother was hurt three days before,
With limmer thieves that did him prick;
Nineteen bloody wounds lay him upon,
What ferly was't that he lay sick? 80
But yet the bailiff shrinked nought,
But fast after them he did hye,
And so did all his neighbours near,
That went to bear him company.
But when the bailiff was gathered, 85
And all his company,
They were numbered to never a man
But forty under fifty.
The thieves was numbered a hundred men,
I wat they were not of the worst 90
That could be choosed out of Thirlwall and Willie-haver,
[I trow they were the very first.][L92]
But all that was in Rookhope-head,
And all that was i' Nuketon-cleugh,
Where Weardale-men o'ertook the thieves, 95
And there they gave them fighting eneugh.
So sore they made them fain to flee,
As many was 'a'' out of hand,
And, for tul have been at home again,
They would have been in iron bands. 100
And for the space of long seven years
As sore they mighten a' had their lives,
But there was never one of them
That ever thought to have seen their 'wives.'
About the time the fray began, 105
I trow it lasted but an hour,
Till many a man lay weaponless,
And was sore wounded in that stour.
Also before that hour was done,
Four of the thieves were slain, 110
Besides all those that wounded were,
And eleven prisoners there was ta'en.
George Carrick, and his brother Edie,
Them two, I wot they were both slain;
Harry Corbyl, and Lennie Carrick, 115
Bore them company in their pain.
One of our Weardale-men was slain,
Rowland Emerson his name hight;
I trust to God his soul is well,
Because he 'fought' unto the right. 120
But thus they say'd, "We'll not depart
While we have one:--speed back again!"
And when they came amongst the dead men,
There they found George Carrick slain.
And when they found George Carrick slain, 125
I wot it went well near their 'heart;'
Lord, let them never make a better end,
That comes to play them sicken a 'part.'
I trust to God, no more they shall,
Except it be one for a great chance; 130
For God will punish all those
With a great heavy pestilence.
Thir limmer thieves, they have good hearts,
They nevir think to be o'erthrown;
Three banners against Weardale-men they bare, 135
As if the world had been all their own.
Thir Weardale-men, they have good hearts,
They are as stiff as any tree;
For, if they'd every one been slain,
Never a foot back man would flee. 140
And such a storm amongst them fell
As I think you never heard the like,
For he that bears his head so high,
He oft-times falls into the dyke.
And now I do entreat you all, 145
As many as are present here.
To pray for [the] singer of this song,
For he sings to make blithe your cheer.
5. Thirlwall, or Thirlitwall, is said by Fordun, the Scottish historian,
to be a name given to the Picts' or Roman wall, from its having been
thirled, or perforated, in ancient times, by the Scots and Picts.
Willie-haver, or Willeva, is a small district or township in the parish
of Lanercost, near Bewcastledale, in Cumberland, mentioned in the ballad
of _Hobie Noble_.--RITSON.]
31. This would be about eleven o'clock, the usual dinner-hour in that
period.--RITSON.]
43. The two Earls were Thomas Percy, Earl of Northumberland, and Charles
Nevil, Earl of Westmoreland, who, on the 15th of November, 1569, at the
head of their tenantry and others, took arms for the purpose of
liberating Mary, Queen of Scots, and restoring the old religion. They
besieged Barnard castle, which was, for eleven days, stoutly defended by
Sir George Bowes, who, afterward, being appointed the Queen's marshal,
hanged the poor constables and peasantry by dozens in a day, to the
amount of 800. The Earl of Northumberland, betrayed by the Scots, with
whom he had taken refuge, was beheaded at York, on the 22d of August,
1572; and the Earl of Westmoreland, deprived of the ancient and noble
patrimony of the Nevils, and reduced to beggary, escaped over sea, into
Flanders, and died in misery and disgrace, being the last of his
family.--RITSON. See _The Rising in the North_ and _Northumberland
betrayed by Douglas_.]
48. This is still the phraseology of Westmoreland: a _poorly_ man, a
_softly_ day, and the like.--RITSON.]
52. The 6th of December.]
66. Now a straggling village so called; originally, it would seem, the
gate-house, or ranger's lodge, at the east entrance of Stanhope-park. At
some distance from this place is Westgate, so called for a similar
reason.--RITSON.
The mention of the bailiff's house at the East-gate is (were such a
proof wanting) strongly indicative of the authenticity of the ballad.
The family of Emerson of East-gate, a fief, if I may so call it, held
under the bishop, long exercised the office of bailiff of Wolsingham,
the chief town and borough of Weardale, and of Forster, &c., under
successive prelates.--SURTEES.]
68. A place in the neighbourhood of East-gate, known at present, as well
as the Dry-rig, or Smale-burns.--RITSON.]
92. The reciter, from his advanced age, could not recollect the original
line thus imperfectly supplied.--RITSON.]
THE RAID OF THE REIDSWIRE.
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 15.
This ballad is preserved in the Bannatyne MS., and was first printed in
Ramsay's _Evergreen_, ii. 224. Scott informs us that Ramsay took some
liberties with the original text, and even interpolated the manuscript
to favor his readings. A more accurate copy was given in the _Border
Minstrelsy_. The text in Herd's _Scottish Songs_, i. 91, and Caw's
_Museum_, p. 235, is that of the _Evergreen_.
"The skirmish of the Reidswire happened upon the 7th of June, 1575, at
one of the meetings held by the Wardens of the Marches, for arrangements
necessary upon the Border. Sir John Carmichael was the Scottish Warden,
and Sir John Forster held that office on the English Middle March. In
the course of the day, which was employed as usual in redressing wrongs,
a bill, or indictment, at the instance of a Scottish complainer, was
fouled (_i. e._ found a true bill) against one Farnstein, a notorious
English freebooter. Forster alleged that he had fled from justice.
Carmichael, considering this as a pretext to avoid making compensation
for the felony, bade him "play fair!" to which the haughty English
warden retorted, by some injurious expressions respecting Carmichael's
family, and gave other open signs of resentment. His retinue, chiefly
men of Redesdale and Tynedale, the most ferocious of the English
Borderers, glad of any pretext for a quarrel, discharged a flight of
arrows among the Scots. A warm conflict ensued, in which, Carmichael
being beat down and made prisoner, success seemed at first to incline to
the English side, till the Tynedale men, throwing themselves too
greedily upon the plunder, fell into disorder; and a body of Jedburgh
citizens arriving at that instant, the skirmish terminated in a complete
victory on the part of the Scots, who took prisoners, the English
warden, James Ogle, Cuthbert Collingwood, Francis Russell, son to the
Earl of Bedford, and son-in-law to Forster, some of the Fenwicks, and
several other Border chiefs. They were sent to the Earl of Morton, then
Regent, who detained them at Dalkeith for some days, till the heat of
their resentment was abated; which prudent precaution prevented a war
betwixt the two kingdoms. He then dismissed them with great expressions
of regard; and, to satisfy Queen Elizabeth, sent Carmichael to York,
whence he was soon after honourably dismissed. The field of battle,
called the Reidswire, is a part of the Carter Mountain, about ten miles
from Jedburgh."--SCOTT.
The seventh of July, the suith to say,
At the Reidswire the tryst was set;[L2]
Our wardens they affixed the day,
And, as they promised, so they met.
Alas! that day I'll ne'er forgett! 5
Was sure sae feard, and then sae faine--
They came theare justice for to gett,
Will never green to come again.
Carmichael was our warden then,
He caused the country to conveen; 10
And the Laird's Wat, that worthie man,[L11]
Brought in that sirname weil beseen:
The Armestranges, that aye hae been
A hardy house, but not a hail,[L14]
The Elliots' honours to maintaine, 15
Brought down the lave o' Liddesdale.
Then Tividale came to wi' spied;
The Sheriffe brought the Douglas down,[L18]
Wi' Cranstane, Gladstain, good at need,
Baith Rewle water, and Hawick town. 20
Beanjeddart bauldly made him boun,
Wi' a' the Trumbills, stronge and stout;
The Rutherfoords, with grit renown,
Convoy'd the town of Jedbrugh out.[L24]
Of other clans I cannot tell, 25
Because our warning was not wide--
Be this our folks hae ta'en the fell,
And planted down palliones, there to bide,
We looked down the other side,
And saw come breasting ower the brae, 30
Wi' Sir John Forster for their guyde,[L31]
Full fifteen hundred men and mae.
It grieved him sair that day, I trow,
Wi' Sir George Hearoune of Schipsydehouse;[L34]
Because we were not men enow, 35
They counted us not worth a louse.
Sir George was gentle, meek, and douse,
But _he_ was hail and het as fire;
And yet, for all his cracking crouse,
He rewd the raid o' the Reidswire. 40
To deal with proud men is but pain;
For either must ye fight or flee,
Or else no answer make again,
But play the beast, and let them be.
It was na wonder he was hie, 45
Had Tindaill, Reedsdaill, at his hand,[L46]
Wi' Cukdaill, Gladsdaill on the lee,
And Hebsrime, and Northumberland.[L48]
Yett was our meeting meek eneugh,
Begun wi' merriment and mowes, 50
And at the brae, aboon the heugh,
The clark sat down to call the rowes.
And some for kyne, and some for ewes,
Call'd in of Dandrie, Hob, and Jock--
We saw, come marching ower the knows, 55
Five hundred Fennicks in a flock,--[L56]
With jack and speir, and bows all bent,
And warlike weapons at their will:
Although we were na weel content,
Yet, by my troth, we fear'd no ill. 60
Some gaed to drink, and some stude still,
And some to cards and dice them sped;
Till on ane Farnstein they fyled a bill,
And he was fugitive and fled.
Carmichaell bade them speik out plainlie, 65
And cloke no cause for ill nor good;
The other, answering him as vainlie,
Began to reckon kin and blood:
He raise, and raxed him where he stood,
And bade him match him with his marrows; 70
Then Tindaill heard them reasun rude,
And they loot off a flight of arrows.
Then was there nought but bow and speir,
And every man pull'd out a brand;
"A Schafton and a Fenwick" thare: 75
Gude Symington was slain frae hand.
The Scotsmen cried on other to stand,
Frae time they saw John Robson slain--
What should they cry? the King's command
Could cause no cowards turn again. 80
Up rose the laird to red the cumber,
Which would not be for all his boast;
What could we doe with sic a number--
Fyve thousand men into a host?
Then Henry Purdie proved his cost, 85
And very narrowlie had mischief'd him,
And there we had our warden lost,
Wert not the grit God he relieved him.
Another throw the breiks him bair,
Whill flatlies to the ground he fell: 90
Than thought I weel we had lost him there,
Into my stomack it struck a knell!
Yet up he raise, the treuth to tell ye,
And laid about him dints full dour;
His horsemen they raid sturdily, 95
And stude about him in the stoure.
Then raise the slogan with ane shout--
"Fy, Tindaill, to it! Jedburgh's here!"[L98]
I trow he was not half sae stout,
But anis his stomach was asteir. 100
With gun and genzie, bow and speir,
Men might see mony a cracked crown!
But up amang the merchant geir,
They were as busy as we were down.
The swallow taill frae tackles flew, 105
Five hundredth flain into a flight:
But we had pestelets enew,
And shot among them as we might.
With help of God the game gaed right,
Fra time the foremost of them fell; 110
Then ower the know, without goodnight,
They ran with mony a shout and yell.
But after they had turned backs,
Yet Tindail men they turn'd again,
And had not been the merchant packs,[L115] 115
There had been mae of Scotland slain.
But, Jesu! if the folks were fain
To put the bussing on their thies;
And so they fled, wi' a' their main,
Down ower the brae, like clogged bees. 120
Sir Francis Russell ta'en was there,[L121]
And hurt, as we hear men rehearse;
Proud Wallinton was wounded sair,[L123]
Albeit he be a Fennick fierce.
But if ye wald a souldier search, 125
Among them a' were ta'en that night,
Was nane sae wordie to put in verse,
As Collingwood, that courteous knight.[L128]
Young Henry Schafton, he is hurt;[L129]
A souldier shot him wi' a bow; 130
Scotland has cause to mak great sturt,
For laiming of the Laird of Mow.[L132]
The Laird's Wat did weel indeed;
His friends stood stoutlie by himsell,
With little Gladstain, gude in need, 135
For Gretein kend na gude be ill.[L136]
The Sheriffe wanted not gude will,
Howbeit he might not fight so fast;
Beanjeddart, Hundlie, and Hunthill,[L139]
Three, on they laid weel at the last. 140
Except the horsemen of the guard,
If I could put men to availe,
None stoutlier stood out for their laird,
Nor did the lads of Liddisdail.
But little harness had we there; 145
But auld Badreule had on a jack,[L146]
And did right weel, I you declare,
With all his Trumbills at his back.
Gude Edderstane was not to lack,[L149]
Nor Kirktoun, Newton, noble men![L150] 150
Thir's all the specials I of speake,
By others that I could not ken.
Who did invent that day of play,
We need not fear to find him soon;
For Sir John Forster, I dare well say, 155
Made us this noisome afternoon.
Not that I speak preceislie out,
That he supposed it would be perril;
But pride, and breaking out of feuid,
Garr'd Tindaill lads begin the quarrel. 160
2. _Swire_ signifies the descent of a hill, and the epithet _Red_ is
derived from the color of the heath, or perhaps, from the Reid-water,
which rises at no great distance.--S.
11. The Laird's Wat is perhaps the young Buccleuch, who, about twenty
years after this _raid_, performed the great exploit of rescuing Kinmont
Willie from Carlisle Castle.--S.
14. This clan are here mentioned as not being hail, or whole, because
they were outlawed or broken men. Indeed, many of them had become
Englishmen, as the phrase then went. There was an old alliance betwixt
the Elliots and Armstrongs, here alluded to.--S.
18. Douglas of Cavers, hereditary Sheriff of Teviotdale, descended from
Black Archibald, who carried the standard of his father, the Earl of
Douglas, at the battle of Otterbourne.--See the ballad of that name.--S.
24. These were ancient and powerful clans, residing chiefly upon the
river Jed. Hence, they naturally convoyed the town of Jedburgh out. The
following fragment of an old ballad is quoted in a letter from an aged
gentleman of this name, residing at New York, to a friend in Scotland:--
"Bauld Rutherfurd, he was fou stout,
Wi' a' his nine sons him round about;
He led the town o' Jedburgh out,
All bravely fought that day."--S.
31. Sir John Forster, or, more properly, Forrester, of Balmbrough Abbey,
Warden of the Middle Marches in 1561, was deputy-governor of Berwick,
and governor of Balmborough Castle.--S.
34. George Heron Miles of Chipchase Castle, probably the same who was
slain at the Reidswire, was Sheriff of Northumberland, 13th
Elizabeth.--S.
46. These are districts, or dales, on the English Border.
48. Mr. George Ellis suggests, with great probability, that this is a
mistake, not for Hebburne, as the Editor stated in an earlier edition,
but for Hexham, which, with its territory, formed a county independent
of Northumberland, with which it is here ranked.--S.
56. The Fenwicks; a powerful and numerous Northumberland clan.--S.
98. The gathering word peculiar to a certain name, or set of people, was
termed _slogan_ or _slughorn_, and was always repeated at an onset, as
well as on many other occasions. It was usually the name of the clan, or
place of rendezvous, or leader. In 1335, the English, led by Thomas of
Rosslyne, and William Moubray, assaulted Aberdeen. The former was
mortally wounded in the onset; and, as his followers were pressing
forward, shouting "_Rosslyne! Rosslyne!_" "Cry _Moubray_," said the
expiring chieftain; "_Rosslyne_ is gone!"--S.
115. The ballad-maker here ascribes the victory to the real cause; for
the English Borderers dispersing to plunder the merchandise, gave the
opposite party time to recover from their surprise. It seems to have
been usual for travelling merchants to attend Border meetings, although
one would have thought the kind of company usually assembled there might
have deterred them.--S.
121. This gentleman was son to the Earl of Bedford, and Warden of the
East Marches. He was, at this time, chamberlain of Berwick.--S.
123. Fenwick of Wallington, a powerful Northumbrian chief.--S.
128. Sir Cuthbert Collingwood of Esslington, Sheriff of Northumberland,
the 10th and 20th of Elizabeth.--S.
129. The Shaftoes are an ancient family settled at Bavington, in
Northumberland, since the time of Edward I.--S.
132. An ancient family on the Borders. The Laird of Mowe here mentioned
was the only gentleman of note killed in the skirmish on the Scottish
side.--S.
136. Graden, a family of Kers.--S.
139. Douglas of Beanjeddart, an ancient branch of the house of Cavers,
possessing property near the junction of the Jed and Teviot.
_Hundlie._--Rutherford of Hundlie, or Hundalee, situated on the Jed
above Jedburgh. _Hunthill._--The old tower of Hunthill was situated
about a mile above Jedburgh. It was the patrimony of an ancient family
of Rutherfords. I suppose the person, here meant, to be the same who is
renowned in tradition by the name of the _Cock of Hunthill_.--S.
146. Sir Andrew Turnbull of Bedrule, upon Rule Water.--S.
149. An ancient family of Rutherfords; I believe, indeed, the most
ancient now extant.--S.
150. The parish of Kirktoun belonged, I believe, about this time, to a
branch of the Cavers family; but Kirkton of Stewartfield is mentioned in
the list of Border clans in 1597. _Newton._--This is probably Grinyslaw
of Little Newton, mentioned in the said roll of Border clans.--S.
THE DEATH OF PARCY REED.
Taken down from the recitation of an old woman, and first published
(certainly not without what are called "improvements") in Richardson's
_Borderer's Table Book_, vol. vii. p. 364, with an introduction by Mr.
Robert White, which we here abridge.
Percival or Parcy Reed, was proprietor of Troughend, a tract of land in
Redesdale, Northumberland, a man of courage and devoted to the chase.
Having been appointed warden of the district, he had the misfortune in
the discharge of his duties, to offend a family of the name of Hall, who
were owners of the farm of Girsonsfield, and also to incur the enmity of
a band of moss-troopers, Crosier by name, some of whom had been brought
to justice by his hands. The Halls concealed their resentment until they
were able to contrive an opportunity for taking a safe revenge. In
pursuance of this design, they requested Reed to join them on a hunting
party. Their invitation was unsuspiciously accepted, and after a day of
sport the company retired to a solitary hut in the lonely glen of
Batinghope. Here Reed was attacked in the evening by the Crosiers, and
as the Halls not only refused their assistance, but had treacherously
deprived him of the means of defence by rendering his sword and gun
unserviceable, he fell an easy victim to his savage foes.
It is probable that we cannot assign to the event on which this piece is
founded, a date later than the sixteenth century.
The story of Parcy Reed is alluded to in _Rokeby_, canto first, XX.; Sir
Walter Scott has also taken the death of his dog Keeldar as the subject
of a poem contributed to Hood's annual, _The Gem_, for 1829.
God send the land deliverance
Frae every reaving, riding Scot;
We'll sune hae neither cow nor ewe,
We'll sune hae neither staig nor stot.
The outlaws come frae Liddesdale, 5
They herry Redesdale far and near;
The rich man's gelding it maun gang,
They canna pass the puir man's mear.
Sure it were weel, had ilka thief
Around his neck a halter strang; 10
And curses heavy may they light
On traitors vile oursels amang.
Now Parcy Reed has Crosier ta'en,
He has delivered him to the law;
But Crosier says he'll do waur than that, 15
He'll make the tower o' Troughend fa'.
And Crosier says he will do waur--
He will do waur if waur can be;
He'll make the bairns a' fatherless;
And then, the land it may lie lee. 20
"To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed,
"The morning sun is on the dew;
The cauler breeze frae off the fells
Will lead the dogs to the quarry true.
"To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed, 25
And to the hunting he has gane;
And the three fause Ha's o' Girsonsfield
Alang wi' him he has them ta'en.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
By heathery hill and birken shaw; 30
They raised a buck on Rooken Edge,
And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
They made the echoes ring amain;
With music sweet o' horn and hound, 35
They merry made fair Redesdale glen.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
They hunted up, they hunted down,
Until the day was past the prime,
And it grew late in the afternoon. 40
They hunted high in Batinghope,
When as the sun was sinking low,
Says Parcy then, "Ca' off the dogs,
We'll bait our steeds and homeward go."
They lighted high in Batinghope, 45
Atween the brown and benty ground;
They had but rested a little while,
Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.
There's nane may lean on a rotten staff,
But him that risks to get a fa'; 50
There's nane may in a traitor trust,
And traitors black were every Ha'.
They've stown the bridle off his steed,
And they've put water in his lang gun;
They've fixed his sword within the sheath, 55
That out again it winna come.
"Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,
Or by your enemies be ta'en;
For yonder are the five Crosiers
A-coming owre the Hingin-stane." 60
"If they be five, and we be four,
Sae that ye stand alang wi' me,
Then every man ye will take one,
And only leave but two to me:
We will them meet as brave men ought, 65
And make them either fight or flee."
"We mayna stand, we canna stand,
We daurna stand alang wi' thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and we." 70
"O, turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha',
O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me;
When ye come to Troughend again,
My gude black naig I will gie thee;
He cost full twenty pound o' gowd, 75
Atween my brother John and me."
"I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me." 80
"O, turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha',
O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me;
When ye come to Troughend again,
A yoke o' owsen I'll gie thee."
"I mayna turn, I canna turn, 85
I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me."
"O, turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha',
O, turn now, man, and fight wi' me; 90
If ever we come to Troughend again,
My daughter Jean I'll gie to thee."
"I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, 95
And they wad kill baith thee and me."
"O, shame upon ye, traitors a'!
I wish your hames ye may never see;
Ye've stown the bridle off my naig,
And I can neither fight nor flee. 100
"Ye've stown the bridle off my naig,
And ye've put water i' my lang gun;
Ye've fixed my sword within the sheath,
That out again it winna come."
He had but time to cross himsel', 105
A prayer he hadna time to say,
Till round him came the Crosiers keen,
All riding graithed, and in array.
"Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,
Thou art the very man we sought; 110
Owre lang hae we been in your debt,
Now will we pay you as we ought.
"We'll pay thee at the nearest tree,
Where we shall hang thee like a hound;"
Brave Parcy rais'd his fankit sword, 115
And fell'd the foremost to the ground.
Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed,
Alake, he was an unarmed man;
Four weapons pierced him all at once,
As they assailed him there and than. 120
They fell upon him all at once,
They mangled him most cruellie;
The slightest wound might caused his deid,
And they have gi'en him thirty-three.
They hacket off his hands and feet, 125
And left him lying on the lee.
"Now, Parcy Reed, we've paid our debt,
Ye canna weel dispute the tale,"
The Crosiers said, and off they rade--
They rade the airt o' Liddesdale. 130
It was the hour o' gloamin' gray,
When herds come in frae fauld and pen;
A herd he saw a huntsman lie,
Says he, "Can this be Laird Troughen'?"
"There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed, 135
And some will ca' me Laird Troughen';
It's little matter what they ca' me,
My faes hae made me ill to ken.
"There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,
And speak my praise in tower and town; 140
It's little matter what they do now,
My life-blood rudds the heather brown.
"There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,
And a' my virtues say and sing;
I would much rather have just now 145
A draught o' water frae the spring!"
The herd flung aff his clouted shoon,
And to the nearest fountain ran;
He made his bonnet serve a cup,
And wan the blessing o' the dying man. 150
"Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair,--
Ye maun do mair as I ye tell;
Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend,
And bear likewise my last farewell.
"A farewell to my wedded wife, 155
A farewell to my brother John,
Wha sits into the Troughend tower,
Wi' heart as black as any stone.
"A farewell to my daughter Jean,
A farewell to my young sons five; 160
Had they been at their father's hand,
I had this night been man alive.
"A farewell to my followers a',
And a' my neighbours gude at need;
Bid them think how the treacherous Ha's 165
Betrayed the life o' Parcy Reed.
"The laird o' Clennel bears my bow,
The laird o' Brandon bears my brand;
Whene'er they ride i' the border side,
They'll mind the fate o' the laird Troughend." 170
CAPTAIN CAR, OR, EDOM O' GORDON.
"This ballad is founded upon a real event, which took place in the north
of Scotland in the year 1571, during the struggles between the party
which held out for the imprisoned Queen Mary, and that which endeavoured
to maintain the authority of her infant son, James VI. The person
designated Edom o' Gordon was Adam Gordon of Auchindown, brother of the
Marquis of Huntly, and his deputy as lieutenant of the north of Scotland
for the Queen. This gentleman committed many acts of oppression on the
clan Forbes, under colour of the Queen's authority, and in one collision
with that family, killed Arthur, brother to Lord Forbes. He afterwards
sent a party under one Captain Car, or Ker, to reduce the house of
Towie, one of the chief seats of the name of Forbes. The proprietor of
the mansion being from home, his lady, who was pregnant at the time,
confiding too much in her sex and condition, not only refused to
surrender, but gave Car some very opprobrious language over the walls,
which irritated him so much that he set fire to the house, and burnt the
whole inmates, amounting in all to thirty-seven persons. As Gordon never
cashiered Car for this inhuman action, he was held by the public voice
to be equally guilty, and accordingly [in one of the versions of the
ballad] he is represented as the principal actor himself." (CHAMBERS's
_Scottish Ballads_, p. 67.) It appears that the Forbeses afterwards
attempted to assassinate Adam Gordon in the streets of Paris. See more
of this Captain Ker under _The Battell of Balrinnes_, in the next
volume.
The ballad was first printed by the Foulises at Glasgow, 1755, under the
title of _Edom of Gordon_, as taken down by Sir David Dalrymple from the
recitation of a lady. It was inserted in the _Reliques_, (i. 122,)
"improved and enlarged," (or, as Ritson more correctly expresses the
fact, "interpolated and corrupted,") by several stanzas from a fragment
in Percy's manuscript, called _Captain Adam Carre_. Ritson published the
following genuine and ancient copy, (_Ancient Songs_, ii. 38,) from a
collection in the Cotton Library. He states that his MS. had received
numerous alterations or corrections, all or most of which, as being
evidently for the better, he had adopted into the text. We have added a
copy of _Edom o' Gordon_ given in Ritson's _Scottish Songs_, and in the
Appendix an inferior version of the story, called _Loudoun Castle_.
The names vary considerably in the different versions of this piece. The
castle of Towie, or the house of Rothes, is here called the castle of
Crecrynbroghe, in Percy's manuscript the castle of Brittonsborrow, and
in the copy in the Appendix the locality is changed to Loudoun castle in
Ayrshire. In like manner, Alexander Forbes is here turned into Lord
Hamleton, and Captain Car is now called the lord of Easter-town and
again the lord of Westerton-town.
In the _Gentleman's Magazine_, vol. xci. Part 1, p. 451, will be found a
modern ballad styled _Adam Gordon_, founded on the adventure of the
freebooter of that name with Edward the First. Another on the same
subject is given in Evans's _Old Ballads_, iv. 86.
It befell at Martynmas
When wether waxed colde,
Captaine Care saide to his men,
"We must go take a holde."
"Haille, master, and wether you will, 5
And wether ye like it best."
"To the castle of Crecrynbroghe;
And there we will take our reste.
"I knowe wher is a gay castle,
Is build of lyme and stone, 10
Within 'there' is a gay ladie,
Her lord is ryd from hom."
The ladie lend on her castle-walle,
She loked upp and downe;
There was she ware of an host of men, 15
Come riding to the towne.
"Come yow hether, my meri men all,
And look what I do see;
Yonder is ther an host of men,
I musen who they bee." 20
She thought he had been her own wed lord,
That had comd riding home;
Then was it traitour Captaine Care,
The lord of Ester-towne.
They were no soner at supper sett, 25
Then after said the grace,
Or captaine Care and all his men
Wer lighte aboute the place.
"Gyve over thi howsse, thou lady gay,
And I will make the a bande; 30
To-nighte thoust ly wythin my arm,
To-morrowe thou shall ere my lan[de]."
Then bespacke the eldest sonne,
That was both whitt and redde,
"O mother dere, geve over your howsse, 35
Or elles we shal be deade."
"I will not geve over my hous," she saithe,
"Not for feare of my lyffe;
It shal be talked throughout the land,
The slaughter of a wyffe. 40
"Fetch me my pestilett,
And charge me my gonne,
That I may shott at the bloddy butcher,
The lord of Easter-towne."
She styfly stod on her castle-wall, 45
And lett the pellettes flee,
She myst the blody bucher,
And slew other three.
"I will not geve over my hous," she saithe,
"Netheir for lord nor lowne, 50
Nor yet for traitour Captaine Care,
The lord of Easter-towne.
"I desire of Captaine Care,
And all his bloddye band,
That he would save my eldest sonne, 55
The eare of all my lande."
"Lap him in a shete," he sayth,
"And let him downe to me,
And I shall take him in my armes,
His waran wyll I be." 60
The captayne sayd unto himselfe,
Wyth sped before the rest;
He cut his tonge out of his head,
His hart out of his brest.
He lapt them in a handerchef, 65
And knet it of knotes three,
And cast them over the castell-wall
At that gay ladye.
"Fye upon thee, Captaine Care,
And all thy bloddy band, 70
For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne,
The ayre of all my land."
Then bespake the yongest sonn,
That sat on the nurses knee,
Sayth, "Mother gay, geve ower your house, 75
[The smoke] it smoldereth me."
"I wold geve my gold," she saith,
"And so I wolde my fee,
For a blaste of the wesleyn wind
To dryve the smoke from thee. 80
"Fy upon thee, John Hamleton,
That ever I paid th['e] hyre,
For thou hast broken my castle-wall,
And kyndled in [it] the fyre."[L84]
The lady gate to her close parler, 85
The fire fell aboute her head;
She toke up her children thre,
Seth, "Babes, we are all dead."
Then bespake the hye steward,
That is of hye degree; 90
Saith, "Ladie gay, you are no 'bote,'
Wethere ye fighte or flee."
Lord Hamleton dremd in his dreame,
In Carvall where he laye,
His halle 'was' all of fyre, 95
His ladie slayne or daye.
"Busk and bowne, my merry men all,
Even and go ye with me,
For I 'dremd' that my hall was on fyre
My lady slayne or day." 100
He buskt him and bownd him,
And like a worthi knighte,
And when he saw his hall burning,
His harte was no dele lighte.
He sett a trumpett till his mouth, 105
He blew as it plesd his grace;
Twenty score of Hambletons
Was light aboute the place.
"Had I knowne as much yesternighte
As I do to-daye, 110
Captaine Care and all his men
Should not have gone so quite [awaye.]
"Fye upon thee, Captaine Care,
And all thy blody 'bande;'
Thou hast slayne my lady gaye, 115
More worth then all thy lande.
"Yf thou had ought eny ill will," he saith,
"Thou shoulde have taken my lyffe,
And have saved my children thre,
All and my lovesome wyffe." 120
84, thee.
EDOM O' GORDON.
From Ritson's _Scottish Songs_, ii. 17. We presume this is the ballad
printed by the Foulises.
It fell about the Martinmas,
Quhen the wind blew schrile and cauld,
Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,
"We maun draw to a hauld.
"And what an a hauld sall we draw to, 5
My merry men and me?
We will gae to the house of the Rodes,
To see that fair ladie."
She had nae sooner busket hersell,
Nor putten on her gown, 10
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men
Were round about the town.
They had nae sooner sitten down,
Nor sooner said the grace,
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men 15
Were closed about the place.
The lady ran up to her tower head,
As fast as she could drie,
To see if by her fair speeches,
She could with him agree. 20
As soon as he saw the lady fair,
And hir yates all locked fast,
He fell into a rage of wrath,
And his heart was aghast.[L24]
"Cum down to me, ze lady fair, 25
Cum down to me, let's see;
This night ze's ly by my ain side,
The morn my bride sall be."
"I winnae cum down, ye fals Gordon,
I winnae cum down to thee; 30
I winnae forsake my ane dear lord
That is sae far frae me."
"Gi up your house, ze fair lady,
Gi up your house to me,
Or I will burn zoursel therein, 35
Bot you and zour babies three."
"I winna gie up, zou fals Gordon,
To nae sik traitor as thee,
Tho' zou should burn mysel therein,
Bot and my babies three." 40
"Set fire to the house," quoth fals Gordon,
"Sin better may nae bee;
And I will burn hersel therein,
Bot and her babies three."
"And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man, 45
I paid ze weil zour fee;
Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane,
Lets in the reek to me?
"And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man,
For I paid zou weil zour hire; 50
Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane,
To me lets in the fire?"
"Ye paid me weil my hire, lady,
Ye paid me weil my fee,
But now I'm Edom of Gordon's man, 55
Maun either do or die."
O then bespake her zoungest son,
Sat on the nurses knee,
"Dear mother, gie owre your house," he says,
"For the reek it worries me." 60
"I winnae gie up my house, my dear,
To nae sik traitor as he;
Cum well, cum wae, my jewels fair,
Ye maun tak share wi me."
O then bespake her dochter dear, 65
She was baith jimp and sma,
"O row me in a pair o' shiets,
And tow me owre the wa."
They rowd her in a pair of shiets,
And towd her owre the wa, 70
But, on the point of Edom's speir,
She gat a deadly fa'.
O bonny, bonny, was hir mouth,
And chirry were her cheiks,
And clear, clear was hir zellow hair, 75
Whereon the reid bluid dreips.
Then wi his speir he turn'd hir owr,
O gin hir face was wan!
He said, "Zou are the first that eer
I wisht alive again." 80
He turn'd her owr and owr again;
O gin hir skin was whyte!
He said, "I might ha spard thy life,
To been some mans delyte."
"Busk and boon, my merry men all, 85
For ill dooms I do guess;
I cannae luik in that bonny face,
As it lyes on the grass."
"Them luiks to freits, my master deir,
Their freits will follow them;[L90] 90
Let it neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon
Was daunted with a dame."
O then he spied hir ain deir lord,
As he came owr the lee;
He saw his castle in a fire, 95
As far as he could see.
"Put on, put on, my mighty men,[L97]
As fast as ze can drie,
For he that's hindmost of my men,
Sall neir get guid o' me." 100
And some they raid, and some they ran,
Fu fast out owr the plain,
But lang, lang, eer he coud get up,
They were a' deid and slain.
But mony were the mudie men 105
Lay gasping on the grien;
For o' fifty men that Edom brought out
There were but five ged heme.
And mony were the mudie men
Lay gasping on the grien, 110
And mony were the fair ladys
Lay lemanless at heme.
And round and round the waes he went,
Their ashes for to view;
At last into the flames he flew, 115
And bad the world adieu.
24. heart, _pronounced_ hearrut.
90. Then.
97. _Qy._ wight yemen?
WILLIE MACKINTOSH, OR, THE BURNING OF AUCHINDOWN.
These fragments appear to relate to the burning of Auchindown, a castle
belonging to the Gordons, in vengeance for the death of William
Mackintosh of the clan Chattan, which is said to have occurred at the
castle of the Earl of Huntly. The event is placed in the year 1592.
After the Mackintoshes had executed their revenge, they were pursued by
the Gordons, and overtaken in the Stapler, where "sixty of the clan
Chattan were killed, and Willie Mackintosh, their leader, wounded." So
says the not very trustworthy editor of the _Thistle of Scotland_.
Another fragment of four stanzas (containing nothing additional), is
given by Whitelaw, _Book of Scottish Ballads_, p. 248.
I.
From Finlay's _Scottish Ballads_, ii. 97.
As I came in by Fiddich-side,
In a May morning,
I met Willie Mackintosh
An hour before the dawning.
"Turn again, turn again, 5
Turn again, I bid ye;
If ye burn Auchindown,
Huntly he will head ye."
"Head me, hang me,
That sall never fear me; 10
I'll burn Auchindown
Before the life leaves me."
As I came in by Auchindown,
In a May morning,
Auchindown was in a bleeze, 15
An hour before the dawning.
* * * * *
"Crawing, crawing,
For my crowse crawing,
I lost the best feather i' my wing,
For my crowse crawing." 20
II.
From _The Thistle of Scotland_, p. 106.
"Turn, Willie Mackintosh,
Turn, I bid you,
Gin ye burn Auchindown,
Huntly will head you."
"Head me, or hang me, 5
That canna fley me,
I'll burn Auchindown,
Ere the life lea' me."
Coming down Dee-side
In a clear morning, 10
Auchindown was in a flame,
Ere the cock crawing.
But coming o'er Cairn Croom,
And looking down, man,
I saw Willie Mackintosh 15
Burn Auchindown, man.
"Bonny Willie Mackintosh,
Whare left ye your men?"
"I left them in the Stapler,
But they'll never come hame." 20
"Bonny Willie Mackintosh,
Where now is your men?"
"I left them in the Stapler,
Sleeping in their sheen."
LORD MAXWELL'S GOODNIGHT.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 199.
"A. D. 1585, John Lord Maxwell, or, as he styled himself, Earl of
Morton, having quarrelled with the Earl of Arran, reigning favourite of
James VI., and fallen, of course, under the displeasure of the court,
was denounced rebel. A commission was also given to the Laird of
Johnstone, then Warden of the West Marches, to pursue and apprehend the
ancient rival and enemy of his house. Two bands of mercenaries,
commanded by Captains Cranstoun and Lammie, who were sent from Edinburgh
to support Johnstone, were atta
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