BOOK VI

Chapter 1627,420 wordsPublic domain

_126. Durham Field_

Lordings, listen, and hold you still; Hearken to me a spell; I shall you tell of the fairest battell That ever in England befell.

It befell in Edward the Third’s dayes, When in England he ware the crowne, That all the chief chivalry of England They buskèd[1023] and made them bowne[1024].

III

They have chosen all the best archers That in England might be found, And all was to fight with the King of France, Within a litle stounde[1025].

And when our King was over the water, And on the salt sea gone, Then tydings into Scotland came That all England was gone.

Bowes and arrowes they all were forth; At home was not left a man But shepards and millers both, And preists with shaven crownes.

Then the King of Scotts in a study stood, As he was a man of great might; He sware he would hold his parlament in leeve[1026] London, If he cold ryde there right.

VII

Then bespake a Squire, of Scottland borne, And sayd, ‘My leege, ha’ peace, Before you come to leeve London, Full sore you’le rue that race.

VIII

‘Ther beene bold yeomen in merry England, Husbandmen stiffe and strong; Sharpè swords they done weare, Bearen bowes and arrowes longe.’

The King was angrye at that word; A long sword out he drew, And there before his royall companye His ownè Squire hee slew.

Hard hansell[1027] had the Scottes that day, That wrought them woe enoughe, For a Scott then durst not speake a word Ffor hanging att a boughe.

‘The Earle of Anguish[1028], where art thou? In my coate-armour thou shalt bee, And thou shalt lead the forward Thorow the English countrye.

XII

‘Take thee Yorke,’ then sayd the King, ‘In stead wheras it doth stand; I’le make thy eldest sonne after thee Heyre of all Northumberland.

XIII

‘The Earle of Buchan, where be yee? In my coate-armour thou shalt bee; The high Peak and all Darbyshire I give it thee to thy fee.’

XIV

The famous Douglas then came in, Saies, ‘What shall my meede bee? And I will lead the vanward, lord, Thorow the English countrye.’

‘Take thee Worster,’ sayd the King, ‘Tuxburye, Killingworth, Burton on Trent; Doe thou not say another day But I gave thee lands and rent.

XVI

‘Sir Richard of Edenborrow, where are yee? A wise man in this warr! I’le give thee Bristow and the shire The time that wee come there.

XVII

‘Thou, my lord Nevill, where art thou? Thou must in this warres bee; I’le give thee Shrewsburye,’ saies the King, ‘And Coventrye faire and free.

XVIII

‘My lord of Hambleton[1029], where art thou? Thou art of my kin full nye; I’le give thee Lincolne and Lincolneshire, And that’s enoughe for thee.’

XIX

By then came in William Douglas, As breeme[1030] as any bore; He kneelèd him downe upon his knees, In his heart he sighèd sore.

‘I have servèd you, my lovelye liege, This thirty winters and four, And in the Scottish Marches Have beene wounded and beaten sore.

XXI

‘For all the good service that I have done, What now shall my meed bee? And I will lead the vanward Thorow the English countrye.’

XXII

‘Now aske on, Douglas,’ said the King, ‘And granted it shall bee.’-- ‘Why then, I aske litle London,’ saies Douglas, ‘Gotten gif that it bee.’

XXIII

The King was wroth, and rose away, Saies, ‘Nay, that cannot bee! For that I will keepe for my cheefe chamber, Gotten gif that it bee.

XXIV

‘But take thee North Wales and Weschester, The countrye all round about, And rewarded thou shalt bee, Of that take thou noe doubt.’

XXV

Five score knights he made on a day, And dubb’d them with his hands; Rewarded them right worthilye With the townes in merry England.

XXVI

And when the fresh knights they were made, To battell they buske[1031] them bowne[1032]; Jamès Douglas he went before, And he thought to have wonnen him shoone.

XXVII

But they were mett in a morning of May With the comminaltye of litle England; But there scapèd never a man away, Through the might of Christès hand.

XXVIII

But all onely Jamès Douglas; In Durham in the ffeild An arrow stroke him in the thye; Fast flinges he towards the King.

XXIX

The King looked toward litle Durham, Saies, ‘All things is not weel! For James Douglas beares an arrow in his thye, The head of it is of steele.

XXX

‘How now, James?’ then said the King, ‘How now, how may this bee? And where beene all thy merrymen That thou tooke hence with thee?’

XXXI

‘But cease, my King,’ saies James Douglas, ‘Alive is not left a man!’ ‘Now by my faith,’ saies the King of Scotts, ‘That gate was evil gone.

XXXII

‘But I’le revenge thy quarrell well, And of that thou may be fain; For one Scott will beate five Englishmen, If they meeten them on the plaine.’

XXXIII

‘Now hold your tongue,’ saies James Douglas, ‘For in faith that is not soe; For one English man is worth five Scotts, When they meeten together thoe[1033].

XXXIV

‘For they are as eager men to fight As a faulcon upon a prey; Alas! if ever they winne the vanward, There scapes noe man away.’

XXXV

‘O peace thy talking,’ said the King, ‘They bee but English knaves, But shepards and millers both, And priestès with their staves.’

XXXVI

The King sent forth one of his heralds of armes To vew the Englishmen: ‘Be of good cheere,’ the herald said, ‘For against one we be ten.’

XXXVII

‘Who leads those lads?’ said the King of Scotts, ‘Thou herald, tell thou mee’: The herald said, ‘The Bishop of Durham Is captaine of that companye.

XXXVIII

‘For the Bishop hath spred the King’s banner, And to battell he buskes him bowne’; ‘I sweare by St Andrewes bones,’ saies the King, ‘I’le rapp that priest on the crowne!’

XXXIX

The King look’d towards litle Durham, And that hee well beheld, That the Earle Percy was well arm’d, With his battell-axe entred the feild.

The King look’d again towards litle Durham, Four ancyents[1034] there saw he; There were two standards, six in a valley, He cold not see them with his eye.

XLI

My Lord of Yorke was one of them, My Lord of Carlile was the other, And my Lord Fitzwilliams, The Bishop came with the other.

XLII

The Bishop of Durham commanded his men, And shortlye he them bade, That never a man shold goe to fight Till he had served his God.

XLIII

Five hundred priests said mass that day In Durham in the field, And afterwards, as I hard say, They bare both spear and shield.

XLIV

The Bishop orders himselfe to fight, With his battell-axe in his hand; He said, ‘This day now I will fight As long as I can stand!’

XLV

‘And soe will I,’ sayd my Lord of Carlile, ‘In this faire morning gay’; ‘And soe will I,’ said my Lord Fitzwilliams, ‘For Mary, that mild may[1035].’

XLVI

Our English archers bent their bowes Shortly and anon; They shot over the Scottish oast And scantly toucht a man.

XLVII

‘Hold downe your hands,’ sayd the Bishop of Durham, ‘My archers good and true’! The second shootè that they shott, Full sore the Scots it rue.

XLVIII

The Bishop of Durham spoke on hie, That both partyes might heare: ‘Be of good cheere, my merrymen all, They flyen and changen their cheere!’

XLIX

But as they saidden, see they didden, They fell on heapès hie; Our Englishmen laid on with their bowes, As fast as they might drie.

The King of Scotts in a study stood Amongst his companye; An arrow stoke him thoro’ the nose, And thoro’ his armorye.

The King went to a marsh-side And light beside his steede; He leanèd him downe on his swordhilts, To let his nosè bleede.

LII

There follow’d him a yeaman of merry England, His name was John of Coplande: ‘Yeeld thee, traytor!’ saies Coplande then, ‘Thy life lies in my hand.’

LIII

‘How shold I yeeld me,’ sayes the King, ‘And thou art noe gentleman?’-- ‘Noe, by my troth,’ sayes Copland there, ‘I am but a poore yeaman.

LIV

‘What art thou better then I, Sir King? Tell me if that thou can! What art thou better then I, Sir King, Now we be but man to man?’

The King smote angerly at Copland, Angerly in that stonde; Then Copland was a bold yeaman, And bore the King to the ground.

LVI

He sett the King on a palfrey, Himselfe upon a steede; He tooke him by the bridle-rayne, Towards London he can him lead.

LVII

And when to London that he came, The King from Ffrance was come home, And there unto the King of Scotts He sayd these words anon.--

LVIII

‘How like you my shepards and my millers? My priests with shaven crownes?’-- ‘By my fayth, they are the sorest fighters That ever I mett on the ground.

LIX

‘There was never a yeaman in merry England But was worth a Scottish knight.’-- ‘Ay, by my troth,’ said King Edward, and laughe, ‘For you fought all against the right.’

But now the prince of merry England, Worthilye under his sheelde, Hath taken captive the King of France, At Poytiers in the field.

LXI

The prince did present his father With the lovely King of France, And forward of his journey he is gone: God send us all good chance!

LXII

Sayd the King of Scots to the King of France, ‘Well met, brother, too soone! Christ leeve that I had taken my way Unto the court of Roome!’

LXIII

‘And soe wold I,’ said the King of France, ‘When I came over the streame, That I had taken my journey Unto Jerusalem!’

LXIV

Thus ends the battell of fair Durham, In one morning of May; The battells of Cressey and of Poytiers, All within one monthes day.

LXV

Then was wealthe and welfare in merry England, Solaces, game, and glee, And every man loved other well, And the King loved good yeomanrye.

LXVI

But God that made the grasse to growe, And leaves on greenwoode tree, Now save and keepe our noble King, And maintaine good yeomanrye!

FOOTNOTES:

[1023] buskèd = dressed.

[1024] bowne = ready.

[1025] stounde = time.

[1026] leeve = dear, pleasant.

[1027] hansell = foretaste.

[1028] Anguish = Angus.

[1029] Hambleton = Hamilton.

[1030] breeme = fierce.

[1031] buske = addressed.

[1032] bowne = ready.

[1033] thoe = those.

[1034] ancyents = ensigns.

[1035] may = maiden.

_127. The Battle of Otterburn_

It fell about the Lammas tide When husbands[1036] win their hay, The doughty Douglas bound him to ride In England to take a prey.

He has chosen the Graemes, and the Lindsays light, And the gallant Gordons gay; And the Earl of Fyfe withouten strife, He’s bound him over Solwày.

III

They come in over Ottercap Hill, So down by Rodeley Cragge; Upon Green Leyton they lighted down Styrande[1037] many a stagge.

And they have brent[1038] the dales of Tyne, And harryed Bamborowe shire, And the Otter Dale they have brent it hale[1039] And left it a’ on fire.

Then spake a berne[1040] upon the bent[1041], Of comfort that was not cold, And said, ‘We have brent Northumberland, We have all wealth in hold.

‘Now we have harryed all Bamborowe shire, All the wealth in the world have we: I rede[1042] we ryde to Newcastell So still and stalworthlye.’

VII

Upon the morrow, when it was day, The standards shone full bright; To Newcastell they took the way, And thither they came full right.

VIII

To Newcastell when that they came, The Douglas cry’d on hyght: ‘Harry Percy, an thou bidest within, Come to the field, and fight!--

‘For we have brent Northumberland, Thy herytage good and right; And syne my lodging I have ta’en, With my brand dubb’d many a knight.’

Sir Harry Percy came to the walls The Scottish host for to see, Sayd, ‘An thou hast brent Northumberland, Full sore it rueth me.

‘If thou hast haryed all Bamborowe shire, Thou hast done me great envye; For this trespasse thou hast me done The tone[1043] of us shall die.’

XII

‘Where shall I bide thee?’ sayd the Douglas, ‘Or where wilt thou come to me?’-- ‘But gae ye up to Otterbourne, And wait there dayès three.

XIII

‘The roe full rekeles[1044] there she rins, To make the game and glee; The falcon and the phesant both, To fend[1045] thy men and thee.

XIV

‘There may’st thou have thy wealth at will, Well lodg’d thou there may’st be: It shall not be long ere I come thee till[1046],’ Sayd Sir Harry Percy.

‘There shall I bide thee,’ sayd the Douglas, ‘By the faith of my bodye.’-- ‘There shall I come,’ said Sir Harry Percy, ‘My troth I plight to thee.’

XVI

A pipe of wine over the wall, He gave them [to their pay[1047]], There he made the Douglas drinke, And all his host that day.

XVII

The Douglas turn’d him homeward again, [And rode withouten stay]; He pyght[1048] his standard at Otterbourne Upon a Wedensday.

XVIII

And syne he warned his men to go To choose their geldings grass; [And he that had no man to send] His own servant he was.

XIX

A Scottish knight hoved[1049] on the bent[1050] At watch, I dare well say, So was he ware of the noble Percy In the dawning of the day.

He pryck’d to his pavilion[1051] door As fast as he might run: ‘Awaken, Douglas!’ cried the knight, ‘For his sake that sits in throne!

XXI

‘Awaken, Douglas!’ cried the knight, ‘For thou mayst wake with wynne[1052]! Yonder have I spied the proud Percy, And seven standards with him.’

XXII

‘Now by my troth,’ the Douglas sayd, ‘It is but a faynèd[1053] tale! He durst not look on my broad banner [Were all England in] hail!

XXIII

‘Was I not yesterday at Newcastell That stands so fair on Tyne? For all the men the Percy had He could not gar me to dine[1054].’

XXIV

He stepp’d out at his pavilion-door To look an it were lease[1055]: ‘Array you, lordings, one and all! For here begins no peace.

XXV

‘The Earl of Menteith, thou art my eme[1056], The vaward[1057] I give to thee: The Earl of Huntley, cante[1058] and keen, Take him to go with thee.

XXVI

‘The Lord of Buchan, in armure bright, On the other side he shall be; Lord Johnstone and Lord Maxwell They two shall go with me.

XXVII

‘Swynton, fair fall upon your pride! To battle make you bowne[1059].-- Sir Davy Scott, Sir Walter Steward, Sir John of Agerstone!’

XXVIII

The Percy came before his host, He was ever a gentil knight: Upon the Douglas loud can he cry ‘I will hold that I have hyght[1060].’

XXIX

‘For thou hast brent Northumberland, And done me great envye, For this trespasse thou hast me done The tone of us shall die.’

XXX

The Douglas answer’d him again With great words upon hie, And sayd, ‘I have twenty against thy one: Behold, and thou mayst see!’

XXXI

With that the Percy was grievèd sore, Forsooth as I you say: He lighted down upon his foot And schoote[1061] his horse away.

XXXII

Every man saw that he did so, That ryal was ever in rowghte[1062]: Every man schoote his horse him fro And lighted him round about.

XXXIII

Sir Harry Percy took the field Even thus, as I you say; Jesus Christe in hevyn on height Did help him well that day.

XXXIV

But nine thousand, there was no more-- The chronicle will not layne[1063]-- Forty thousand of Scots and four That day fought them again[1064].

XXXV

But when the battel began to join, In haste there came a knight; And letters fair forth hath he ta’en, And thus he sayd full right:

XXXVI

‘My lord your father greets you well, With many a noble knight; He doth desire you now to bide, That he may see this fight.

XXXVII

‘The Baron of Graystoke is out of the west With a noble companye: All they lodge at your father’s this night, And the battel fayn would they see.’

XXXVIII

‘For Jesus’ love,’ sayd Sir Harry Percy, ‘That died for you and me, Wend to my lord my father agayn, Say thou saw me not with thee.

XXXIX

‘My troth is plight to yon Scottish knight, --It nede’s me not to layne-- That I should bide him upon this bent, And I have his troth agayn.

‘And if that I wend off this growende[1065], Forsooth, unfoughten away, He would call me but a coward knight In his land another day.

XLI

‘Yet had I liefer be rynde[1066] and rent, --By Mary, that mickle may[1067]!-- Than ever my manhood be reproved With a Scot another day.

XLII

‘Wherefore shoot, archers, for my sake! And let sharp arrows flee. Minstrels, play up for your waryson[1068]! And well quit it shall be.

XLIII

‘Every man thynke on his true-love, And mark him to the Trinitye: For unto God I make mine avowe This day will I not flee.’

XLIV

The blodye herte in the Douglas arms His standard stood on hie, That every man might full wel knowe; Bysyde stood starrès three.

XLV

The white lion on the English part, Forsooth as I you sayn, The lucettes[1069] and the cressants both The Scot fought them again.

XLVI

Upon Seynt Andrewe loud can they crye, And thrice they showt on hyght, Syne mark’d them on our English men, As I have told you right.

XLVII

Seynt George the bryght, Our Ladye’s knyght, To name they were full fayne; Our English men they cry’d on hyght, And thrice they shot agayne.

XLVIII

With that sharp arrows began to flee, I tell you in certayne: Men of arms began to joyne, Many a doughty man was slayne.

XLIX

The Percy and the Douglas met That either of other was fayne; They swapp’d[1070] together while they swet[1071] With swords of fyne Collayne[1072]:

Until the blood from their bassonets[1073] ran As the roke[1074] doth in the rayne; ‘Yield thou to me,’ sayd the Douglas, ‘Or elles thou shall be slayne.

‘For I see by thy bryght bassonet Thou art some man of myght: And so I do by thy burnysh’d brand, Thou’rt an earl or elles a knyght.’

LII

‘By my good faith,’ said the noble Percye, ‘Now hast thou rede full ryght; Yet will I never yield me to thee, While I may stand and fyght.’

LIII

They swapp’d together, while that they swet, With swordès sharp and long; Each on other so fast they bette[1075], Their helms came in pieces down.

LIV

The Percy was a man of strength, I tell you in this stounde[1076]: He smote the Douglas at the sword’s length That he fell to the grounde.

The Douglas call’d to his little foot-page, And sayd, ‘Run speedilye, And fetch my ain dear sister’s son, Sir Hugh Montgomery.

LVI

‘My nephew good,’ the Douglas sayd, ‘What recks the death of ane? Last night I dream’d a dreary dream, And I ken the day’s thy ain.

LVII

‘My wound is deep: I am fayn to sleep, Take thou the vaward of me, And hide me by the bracken bush Grows on yon lilye-lee.’

LVIII

He has lifted up that noble lord With the saut tears in his e’e; He has hidden him in the bracken bush That his merry men might not see.

LIX

The standards stood still on eke side; With many a grievous groan They fought that day, and all the night; Many a doughtye man was slone.

The morn was clear, the day drew nie, --Yet stiffly in stowre[1077] they stood; Echone hewing another while they might drie, Till aye ran down the blood.

LXI

The Percy and Montgomery met That either of other was fayn: They swappèd swords, and they two met Till the blood ran down between.

LXII

‘Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy,’ he said, ‘Or I vow I’le lay thee low!’ ‘To whom shall I yield?’ said Earl Percy, ‘Now I see it maun be so.’--

LXIII

‘Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun, Nor yet shalt thou to me; But yield thee to the bracken bush Grows on yon lilye-lee.’--

LXIV

‘I winna yield to a bracken bush, Nor yet I will to a brere[1078]; But I would yield to Earl Douglas, Or Montgomery if he was here.’

LXV

As soon as he knew Montgomery, He stuck his sword’s point in ground; The Montgomery was a courteous knight, And quickly took him by the hand.

LXVI

There was slayne upon the Scottès’ side, For sooth and certaynlye, Sir James a Douglas there was slayne, That day that he cou’d dye.

LXVII

The Earl of Menteith he was slayne, And gryselye[1079] groan’d on the groun’; Sir Davy Scott, Sir Walter Steward, Sir John of Agerstone.

LXVIII

Sir Charlès Murray in that place That never a foot would flee; Sir Hew Maxwell, a lord he was, With the Douglas did he dee.

LXIX

There was slayne upon the Scottès’ side For sooth as I you say, Of four and fifty thousand Scottes Went but eighteen away.

LXX

There was slayne upon the English side For sooth and certaynlye, A gentle Knight, Sir John Fitzhughe, It was the more pitye.

LXXI

Sir James Hardbotell there was slayne, For him their heartes were sore; The gentle Lovell there was slayne, That the Percy’s standard bore.

LXXII

There was slayne upon the English part For sooth as I you say, Of ninè thousand English men Five hundred came away.

LXXIII

The others slayne were in the field; Christ keep their souls from woe! Seeing there was so fewè friends Against so many a foe.

LXXIV

Then on the morn they made them bieres Of birch and hazell gray: Many a widow with weeping teares Their makes[1080] they fette[1081] away.

LXXV

This fray was fought at Otterbourne, Between the night and the day; Earl Douglas was buried at the bracken bush, And the Percy led captive away.

LXXVI

Now let us all for the Percy pray To Jesu most of might, To bring his soul to the bliss of heaven, For he was a gentle knight.

FOOTNOTES:

[1036] husbands = husbandmen.

[1037] Styrande = stirring, rousing.

[1038] brent = burned.

[1039] hale = whole.

[1040] berne = fighting-man.

[1041] bent = coarse grass.

[1042] rede = counsel.

[1043] tone = one of two.

[1044] rekeles = reckless, wild.

[1045] fend = provide for.

[1046] till = to.

[1047] pay = satisfaction.

[1048] pyght = pitched.

[1049] hoved = abode.

[1050] bent = grass.

[1051] pavilion = tent.

[1052] wynne = joy.

[1053] faynèd = feigned.

[1054] gar me to dine = give me my fill, entertain me (at fighting).

[1055] lease = leasing, falsehood.

[1056] eme = uncle.

[1057] vaward = vanguard.

[1058] cante = spirited.

[1059] bowne = ready.

[1060] that I have hyght = what I have promised.

[1061] schoote = thrust, sent quickly.

[1062] ryal in rowghte = royal in rout, a king amongst men.

[1063] layne = conceal.

[1064] them again = against them.

[1065] growende = ground.

[1066] rynde = riven, or flayed.

[1067] mickle may = mighty maid.

[1068] waryson = reward.

[1069] lucettes = luces, pikes (heraldic).

[1070] swapp’d = smote.

[1071] swet = sweated.

[1072] Collayne = Cologne steel.

[1073] bassonets = steel skull-caps.

[1074] roke = reek, mist.

[1075] bette = beat.

[1076] stounde = time.

[1077] stowre = press of battle.

[1078] brere = briar.

[1079] gryselye = in a grisly manner, terribly.

[1080] makes = mates.

[1081] fette = fetched.

_128. Chevy Chase_

_Fytte I_

The Percy out of Northumberland, An avow to God made he That he would hunt in the mountains Of Cheviot within days three, In the maugre[1082] of doughty Douglas, And all that e’er with him be.

The fattest harts in all Cheviot He would kill and carry away.-- ‘By my faith,’ said the doughty Douglas again, ‘I will let[1083] that hunting if I may!’

III

Then the Percy out of Banborowe came, With him a mighty meinye[1084], With fifteen hundred archers bold Chosen out of shirès three.

This began on a Monday at morn, In Cheviot the hills so hye; The child may rue that is unborn, It was the more pitye.

The drivers through the woodès went [All] for to raise the deer, Bowmen bicker’d[1085] upon the bent[1086] With their broad arrows clear.

Then the wild[1087] thoro’ the woodès went On every sidè shear[1088]; Greyhounds thoro’ the grevès[1089] glent[1090] For to kill their deer.

VII

This began on Cheviot the hills abune Early on a Monenday; By that it drew to the hour of noon A hundred fat harts dead there lay.

VIII

They blew a mort[1091] upon the bent, They ’sembled on sidès shear; To the quarry[1092] then the Percy went To the brittling[1093] of the deer.

He said, ‘It was the Douglas’ promise This day to meet me here; But I wist he would fail, verament!’ --A great oath the Percy sware.

At the last a squire of Northumberland Lookèd at his hand full nigh; He was ware o’ the doughty Douglas coming, With him a great meinye.

Both with speär, bill and brand,-- ’Twas a mighty sight to see; Hardier men both of heart nor hand Were not in Christiantè.

XII

They were twenty hundred spearmen good, Withouten any fail: They were born along by the water o’ Tweed I’ the boun’s[1094] o’ Teviotdale.

XIII

‘Leave off the brittling of deer,’ he said; ‘To your bows look ye take good heed, For sith ye were on your mothers born Had ye never so mickle need.’

XIV

The doughty Douglas on a steed Rode all his men beforn, His armour glitter’d as did a gleed[1095], Bolder bairn[1096] was never born.

‘Tell me whose men ye are,’ he says, ‘Or whose men that ye be; Who gave you leave in this Cheviot chase In the spite of mine and of me?’

XVI

The first man that him answer made It was the good Lord Percye: ‘We will not tell thee whose men we are, Nor whose men that we be; But we will hunt here in this chase In the spite of thine and of thee.

XVII

‘The fattest harts in all Cheviot We have kill’d, to carry away.’-- ‘By my troth,’ said the doughty Douglas again, ‘The one of us dies this day.

XVIII

‘[Yet] to kill allè these guiltless men Alas, it were great pitye! But, Percy, thou art a lord of land, I an earl in my countrye-- Let all our men on a party[1097] stand, And do battle of thee and me!’

XIX

‘Christ’s curse on his crown,’ said the lord Percye, ‘Whosoever thereto says nay! By my troth, thou doughty Douglas,’ he says, ‘Thou shalt never see that day--

--‘Neither in England, Scotland nor France, Nor for no man of woman born, But, that (and fortune be my chance) I dare meet him, one man for one.’

XXI

Then bespake a squire of Northumberland, Richard Witherington was his name; ‘It shall never be told in South England To King Harry the Fourth for shame.

XXII

‘I wot you bin great lordès two, I am a poor squire of land; [Yet] I’ll ne’er see my captain fight on a field And stand myself and look on. But while that I may my weapon wield I’ll not fail, both heart and hand.’

XXIII

That day, that day, that dreadful day!-- The first fytte[1098] here I find: An you’ll hear any more o’ the hunting of Cheviot, Yet there is more behind.

_Fytte II_

XXIV

The Englishmen had their bows y-bent, Their hearts were good enow; The first of arrows that they shot off Seven score spearmen they slew.

XXV

Yet bides the Earl Douglas upon the bent, A captain good enoghe; And that was seenè verament, For he wrought them both woe and wouche[1099].

XXVI

The Douglas parted his host in three, Like a chief chieftain of pride; With surè spears of mighty tree[1100] They came in on every side;

XXVII

--Throughè our English archery Gave many a woond full wide; Many a doughty[1101] they gar’d to dye, Which gainèd them no pride.

XXVIII

The Englishmen let their bowès be, And pull’d out brands that were bright; It was a heavy sight to see Bright swords on basnets[1102] light.

XXIX

Thoro’ rich mail and manoplie[1103] Many stern[1104] they struck down straight; Many a freyke[1105] that was full free There under foot did light.

XXX

At last the Douglas and the Percy met, Like to captains of might and of main; They swapt[1106] together till they both swat[1107] With swordès of fine Milan.

XXXI

These worthy freykès for to fight Thereto they were full fain, Till the blood out of their basnets sprent[1108] As ever did hail or rain.

XXXII

‘Yield thee, Percy,’ said the Douglas, ‘And i’ faith I shall thee bring Where thou shalt have an Earl’s wages Of Jamie our Scottish king.

XXXIII

‘Thou shaltè have thy ransom free, --I hight[1109] thee here this thing; For the manfullest man thou art that e’er I conquer’d in field fighting.’

XXXIV

But ‘Nay’, then said the lord Percye, ‘I told it thee beforn That I would never yielded be To man of a woman born.’

XXXV

With that an arrow came hastily Forth of a mighty wane[1110]; And it hath stricken the Earl Douglas In at the breastè-bane.

XXXVI

Thoro’ liver and lungès both The sharp arròw is gone, That never after in his life-days He spake mo words but one: ’Twas, ‘Fight ye, my merry men, whiles ye may, For my life-days bin gone!’

XXXVII

The Percy leanèd on his brand And saw the Douglas dee; He took the dead man by the hand, And said, ‘Woe is me for thee!

XXXVIII

‘To have sav’d thy life I’d have parted with My lands for yearès three, For a better man of heart nor of hand Was not in the north countrye.’

XXXIX

[All this there saw] a Scottish knight, Sir Hugh the Montgomerye: When he saw Douglas to the death was dight[1111], Through a hundred archerye He never stint[1112] nor he never blint[1113] Till he came to the lord Percye.

He set upon the lord Percỳ A dint[1114] that was full sore; With a surè spear of a mighty tree Thro’ the body him he bore, O’ the t’other side that a man might see A large cloth-yard and more.

XLI

An archer of Northumberland Saw slain was the lord Percye: He bare a bent bow in his hand, Was made of a trusty tree.

XLII

An arrow that was a cloth-yard long To the hard steel halèd[1115] he, A dint that was both sad and sair He set on Montgomerye.

XLIII

The dint it was both sad and sair That he on Montgomerye set; The swan-feathers that his arrow bare With his heart-blood they were wet.

XLIV

There was never a freykè one foot would flee, But still in stoure[1116] did stand; Hewing on each other, while they might dree[1117], With many a baleful brand.

XLV

This battle began in Cheviot An hour before the noon, And when the even-song bell was rung The battle was not half done.

XLVI

They took [their stand] on either hand By the [lee][1118] light of the moon; Many had no strength for to stand In Cheviot the hills abune.

XLVII

Of fifteen hundred archers of England Went away but seventy-and-three; Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland But even five-and-fiftỳ.

XLVIII

There was slain with the bold Percye Sir John of Agerstoune, Sir Roger, the hendè[1119] Hartley, Sir William, the bold Herone.

XLIX

Sir George, the worthy Loumlye, A knight of great renown, Sir Ralph, the richè Rabye, With dints were beaten down.

For Witherington my heart was woe That ever he slain should be: For when both his legs were hewn in two Yet he kneel’d and fought on his knee.

There was slayn with the doughty Douglas Sir Hugh the Montgomerye, Sir Davy Lambwell, that worthy was, His sister’s son was he.

LII

Sir Charles a Murray in that place, That never a foot would flee: Sir Hew Maxwell, a lord he was, With the Douglas did he dee.

LIII

So on the morrow they made them biers Of birch and hazel so gray; Many widows with weeping tears Came to fetch their makes[1120] away.

LIV

Teviotdale may carp[1121] of care, Northumberland may make moan, For two such captains as slain were there On the March-parts shall never be none.

Word is come to Edinboro’, To Jamie the Scottish King, Earl Douglas, lieutenant of the Marches, Lay slain Cheviot within.

LVI

His hands the King did weal[1122] and wring, Said, ‘Alas! and woe is me! Such another captain Scotland within I’ faith shall never be!’

LVII

Word is come to lovely London, To the fourth Harry, our King, Lord Percy, lieutenant of the Marches, Lay slain Cheviot within.

LVIII

‘God have mercy on his soul,’ said King Harry, ‘Good Lord, if thy will it be! I’ve a hundred captains in England,’ he said, ‘As good as ever was he: But Percy, an I brook[1123] my life, Thy death well quit shall be.’

LIX

And as our King made his avow Like a noble prince of renown, For Percy he did it well perform After, on Homble-down;

Where six-and-thirty Scottish knights On a day were beaten down; Glendale[1124] glitter’d on their armour bright Over castle, tower and town.

LXI

This was the Hunting of the Cheviot; That e’er began this spurn[1125]! Old men, that knowen the ground well, Call it of Otterburn.

LXII

There was never a time on the Marche-partès Since the Douglas and Percy met, But ’tis marvel an the red blood run not As the reane[1126] does in the street.

LXIII

Jesu Christ! our balès[1127] bete[1128], And to the bliss us bring! This was the Hunting of the Cheviot: God send us all good endìng!

FOOTNOTES:

[1082] maugre = despite.

[1083] let = hinder.

[1084] meinye = company.

[1085] bicker’d = attacked, skirmished.

[1086] bent = rough grass.

[1087] wild = game, deer.

[1088] shear = several.

[1089] grevès = groves.

[1090] glent = glanced, darted.

[1091] mort = death of the deer.

[1092] quarry = dead game.

[1093] brittling = cutting up.

[1094] boun’s = boundaries.

[1095] gleed = live coal.

[1096] bairn = fighting man.

[1097] on a party = apart.

[1098] fytte = division of a ballad.

[1099] wouche = evil.

[1100] tree = timber.

[1101] doughty = doughty man.

[1102] basnets = steel caps.

[1103] manoplie = long gauntlet.

[1104] stern = stern men, warriors.

[1105] freyke = bold fellow.

[1106] swapt = smote.

[1107] swat = sweated.

[1108] sprent = spurted.

[1109] hight = promise.

[1110] wane = host, multitude.

[1111] dight = done, doomed.

[1112] stint = stayed.

[1113] blint = stopped.

[1114] dint = stroke, lunge.

[1115] halèd = pulled.

[1116] stoure = press of battle.

[1117] dree = endure.

[1118] lee = fair, bright.

[1119] hendè = courteous, gentle.

[1120] makes = mates.

[1121] carp = talk.

[1122] weal = clench.

[1123] brook = retain.

[1124] Glendale = one of the six ‘wards’ of Northumberland. Homildon was here.

[1125] spurn = fray(?).

[1126] reane = gutter.

[1127] balès = woes.

[1128] bete = better, relieve.

_129. Northumberland Betrayed by Douglas_

Now list and lithe, you gentlemen, And I’st tell you the veretye, How they have dealt with a banish’d man, Driven out of his owne countrye.

When as he came on Scottish ground, As woe and wonder be them amonge! Full much was there traitorye They wrought the Erle of Northumberland.

III

When they were at the supper set, Before many goodly gentlemen, They fell a flouting and mocking both, And said to the Erle of Northumberland:

‘What makes you be soe sad, my lord, And in your mind soe sorrowfullye? In the north to-morrow there is a shooting, And thither thou’st goe, my Lord Percye.

‘The buttes are sett, and the shooting is made, And there is like to be great royaltye, And I am sworne into my bill[1129] Thither to bring my Lord Percye.’

‘I’le give thee my hand, Douglas,’ he says, ‘And by the faith in my bodye, If that thou wilt ryde to the worldis end, Then I’le ryde in thy companye.’

VII

And then bespake the good ladye, Mary a Douglas was her name: ‘You shall byde here, good English lord; My brother is a traitorous man.

VIII

‘He is a traitor stout and stronge, As I’st tell you the veretye; For he hath ta’en ’liverance of the Erle, And into England he will ‘liver thee.’--

‘Now hold thy tongue, thou goodly ladye, Now all this talking let a-bee; For all the gold that’s in Lough Leven, William wo’ld not ’liver mee.

‘It wo’ld breake truce betweene England and Scottland, And freinds againe they wo’ld never bee, If he sho’ld ‘liver a banisht erle, Was driven out of his owne countrye.’--

‘Hold your tounge, my lord,’ she sayes, ‘There is much falsehood them amonge; Soone they will part them freinds againe, When you are dead, then they are done.

XII

‘If you will give me any trust, my lord, I’le tell you how you best may bee; You’st let my brother ryde his wayes, And tell those English lords, trulye,

XIII

‘How that you cannot with them ryde, Because you are in an isle of the sea; Then, ere my brother come againe, To Edenborrow castle I’le carry thee.

XIV

‘I’le ’liver you unto the Lord Hume, And you know a trew Scothe lord is hee, For he hath lost both land and goods In ayding of your good bodye.’--

‘Marry, I am woe, woman,’ he sayes, ‘That any friend fares worse for me; For where one saith it is a true tale, Then two will say it is a lee.

XVI

‘When that I was at home in my realme, Amonge my tennants all trulye, In my time of losse, wherin my need stoode, They came to ayd me honestlye.

XVII

‘Therefore I left a many a child fatherlese, And many a widdow to looke wanne; Therefore do thou blame nothing, ladye, But the woeffull warres which I began.’--

XVIII

‘If you will give me noe trust, my lord, Nor noe credence you will give mee, An you’le come hither to my right hand, Indeed, my lord, I’le let you see,’--

XIX

Says, ‘I never loved noe witchcraft, Nor never dealt with treacherye, But evermore held the hye way; Alas, that may be seene by mee!’--

‘If you will not come your selfe, my lord, You’le lett your chamberlaine goe with me, Three words that I may to him speake, And soone he shall come againe to thee.’

XXI

When James Swynard came that lady before, She let him see thro’ the weme[1130] of her ring How many there was of English lords To wayte[1131] there for his master and him.

XXII

‘But who beene yonder, my good ladye, That walkes soe royallye on yond greene?’-- ‘Yond is Lord Hunsden, Jamye,’ she sayd, ‘Alas, he’le doe you both tree and teene[1132]!’--

XXIII

‘And who beene yonder, thou gay ladye, That walkes soe royallye him beside?’-- ‘Yond’s Sir William Drurye, Jamye,’ she sayd, ‘And a keene captain he is, and tryde.’--

XXIV

‘How many miles is’t, thou good ladye, Betwixt yond English lord and mee?’-- ‘Marry, thrice fifty mile, Jamye,’ she sayd, ‘And even to sayle and by the sea.

XXV

‘I never was on English ground, Nor never see it with mine eye, But as my wit and wisedome serves, And as the booke it telleth mee.

XXVI

‘My mother, she was a witch woman, And part of it she learnèd mee; She wo’ld let me see out of Lough Leven What they dyd in London citye.’--

XXVII

‘But who is yond, thou good ladye, Comes yonder with an osterne[1133] face?’ ‘Yond’s Sir John Forster, Jamye,’ she sayd; ‘Alas! he’ll do ye sore disgrace.’

XXVIII

He pulled his hat downe over his eyes, And, Lord, he wept soe tenderlye! He is gone unto his master againe, And even to tell him the veretye.

XXIX

‘Now hast thou beene with Mary,’ he sayd, ‘Even as thy tounge will tell to mee; But if thou trust any woman’s words, Thou must refraine good companye.’

XXX

‘It is noe words, my lord,’ he sayes; ‘Yonder the men she lets me see, How many English lords there is Is wayting there for you and mee.

XXXI

‘Yonder I see the Lord Hunsden, And he and you is of third degree[1134]; A greater enemye, indeed, my Lord, In England never a one have yee.’--

XXXII

‘And I have beene in Lough Leven The most part of these yeerès three: Yet had I never noe out-rake[1135], Nor good gamès that I co’ld see.

XXXIII

‘And I am thus bidden to yonder shooting By William Douglas all trulye; Therfore speake never a word of thy mouth That thou thinkès will hinder me.’

XXXIV

Then he writhe the gold ring of his fingar And gave it to that gay ladye; Sayes, ‘That was a legacye left unto mee In Harley woods where I co’ld bee.’--

XXXV

‘Then ffarewell hart, and farewell hand, And ffarwell all good companye! That woman shall never beare a sonne Shall know soe much of your privitye.’--

XXXVI

‘Now hold thy tongue, ladye,’ he sayde, ‘And make not all this dole for me, For I may well drinke, but I’st never eate, Till ance againe in Lough Leven I bee.’

XXXVII

He tooke his boate at the Lough Leven, For to sayle now over the sea, And he hath cast up a silver wand, Says, ‘Fare thou well, my good ladye!’ The ladye looked owre her left sholder; In a dead swoone there down fell she.

XXXVIII

‘Goe backe againe, Douglas!’ he sayd, ‘And I will goe in thy companye; For sudden sicknesse yonder lady has tane, And ever, alas, she will but dye!

XXXIX

‘If ought come to yonder ladye but good, Then blamèd sore that I shall bee, Because a banish’d man I am, And driven out of my owne countrye.’--

‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes, ‘And all such talking let a-bee; There’s ladyes enow left in Lough Leven For to cheere yonder gay ladye.’

XLI

‘An you will not goe your selfe, my lord, You will lett my chamberlaine go with mee; We shall now take our boate againe, And soone wee shall overtake thee.’--

XLII

‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes, ‘And all this talking now let a-bee; For my sister is craftye enoughe For to beguile thousands such as you and mee.’

XLIII

When they had saylèd fifty myle, Now fifty myle upon the sea, Hee asked, ‘How ffarr is it to that shooting That William Douglas promised me?’--

XLIV

‘Now faire words makès foolès faine, And that may be seene by thy master and thee; For happen you’ll think it soone enoughe Whenever you that shooting see.’

XLV

Jamye pulled his hat now over his browe, I wot the teares fell in his e’e; And he is to his master againe, And for to tell him the veretye.

XLVI

‘He says fayre words makes foolès faine, And that may be seene by you and mee, For happen we’ll thinke it soone enoughe Whenever we that shooting see.’

XLVII

‘Hold upp thy head, Jamye,’ the Erle sayd, ‘And never let thy hart fayle thee; He did it but to prove thee with, And see how thow wo’ld take with death trulye.’

XLVIII

When they had sayl’d other fifty mile, Other fifty mile upon the sea, Lord Percye called to him, himselfe, Sayd, ‘Douglas, what wilt thou doe with mee?’

XLIX

‘Looke that your brydle be wight[1136], my lord, That you may goe as a shipp at sea; Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe, That you may pricke her while she’le awaye.’

‘What needeth this, Douglas,’ he sayth, ‘That thou needest to ffloutè mee? For I was counted a horsseman good Before that ever I met with thee.

‘A ffalsè Hector hath my horsse, And ever an evill death may hee dye! And Willye Armestronge hath my spurres And all the geere belongs to mee.’

LII

When they had sayled other fifty mile, Other fifty mile upon the sea, They landed low by Berwicke-side; [Soe Douglas betray’d the] Lord Percye.

FOOTNOTES:

[1129] into my bill = on paper, in writing.

[1130] weme = inward.

[1131] wayte = wait in ambush.

[1132] tree and teene = injury and grief.

[1133] osterne = austere.

[1134] of third degree = third cousins.

[1135] out-rake = holiday.

[1136] wight = strong.

_130. Sir Andrew Barton_

As it befel in midsummer-time, When birds singe sweetlye on every tree, Our noble king, King Henry the Eighth, Over the river of Thames pass’d he.

He was no sooner over the river, Downe in a forrest to take the ayre, But eighty merchants of London citye Came kneeling before King Henry there.

III

‘O ye are welcome, rich merchànts, Good saylers, welcome unto me!’ They swore by the rood they were saylers good, But rich merchànts they co’ld not be.

‘To France nor Flanders dare we not passe, Nor Bourdeaux voyage we dare not fare, All for a false robber that lyes on the seas, And robbs us of our merchants-ware.’

King Henry was stout, and he turned him about, And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might ‘I thought he’d not been in the world throughout That durst have wrought England such unright.’

But ever they sighèd, and said, alas! Unto King Harry this answer againe: ‘He is a proud Scott that will robb us all Were we twenty shipps and he but one.’

VII

The King looket over his left shouldèr, Amongst his lords and barrons so free: ‘Have I never a lord in all my realme Will fetch yond traitor unto me?’

VIII

‘Yes, that dare I!’ says my lord Charles Howard, Neere to the King wheras he did stand, ‘If that Your Grace will give me leave, My self will perform what you command.’

‘Thou shalt have six hundred men,’ saith our King, ‘And chuse them out of my realme so free; [Moreover] mariners and ship boyes, To guide the great ship on the sea.’

‘I’le goe speake with Sir Andrew,’ says my Lord Howard; ‘Upon the sea, if he be there; I will bring him and his ship to shore, Or before my prince I will ne’er come neere.’

The first of all my Lord did call, A noble gunner he was one; This man was three score yeares and ten, And Peter Simon was his name.

XII

‘Peter,’ says he, ‘I must sayle to the sea, To seek out an enemy; God be my speed! Before all others I have chosen thee; Of a hundred gunners thou’st be my head.’

XIII

‘My lord,’ says he, ‘if you’ve chosen me Of a hundred gunners to be the head, You may hang me at your maine-mast tree If I miss my mark past three pence bread[1137].’

XIV

The next of all my lord he did call, A noble bowman he was one; In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, And William Horsley was his name.

‘Horsley,’ says he, ‘I must sayle to the sea, To seek out an enemy; God be my speede! Before all others I have chosen thee; Of a hundred bowemen thou’st be my head.’

XVI

‘My lord,’ says he, ‘if you’ve chosen me Of a hundred bowemen to be the head, Hang me at your main-mast tree If I miss my mark past twelve pence bread.’

XVII

With pikes, and gunnes, and bowmen bold, This noble Howard is gone to the sea On the day before Midsummer-even, And out at Thames’ mouth saylèd they.

XVIII

They had not saylèd dayès three Upon their journey they took in hand, But there they met with a noble ship, And stoutely made it both stay and stand.

XIX

‘Thou must tell me thy name,’ says Charles my lord Howard, ‘Or who thou art, or from whence thou came, Yea, and where thy dwelling is, To whom and where thy ship does belong.’

‘My name,’ says he, ‘is Henery Hunt, With a pure hart and a penitent mind; I and my ship they doe belong Unto the New-castle that stands upon Tyne.’--

XXI

‘Now thou must tell me, Henery Hunt, As thou hast saylèd by day and by night, Hast thou not heard of a stout robbèr? Men calls him Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.’

XXII

But ever he sighèd, and said, ‘Alas! Full well, my lord, I know that wight; He has robb’d me of my merchants-ware, And I was his pris’ner but yesternight.

XXIII

‘As I was sayling upon the sea, And a Bourdeaux voyage as I did fare, He claspèd me to his archèborde[1138], And robb’d me of all my merchants-ware.

XXIV

‘And I am a man both poor and bare, Every man will have his own of me; And I am bound towards London to fare, To complain unto my prince Henrye.

XXV

‘That shall not need,’ says my Lord Howard; ‘If thou canst let me this robber see, For every penny he hath taken thee fro’ Thou shall be rewarded a shilling,’ quoth he.

XXVI

‘Now God forfend,’ says Henery Hunt, ‘My lord, you sho’ld work so far amisse! God keep you out of that traitor’s hands! For you wot full little what man he is.

XXVII

‘He is brasse within, and steele without, And beams he bears in his topcastle stronge; His ship hath ordinance clean round about; Besides, my lord, he is very well mann’d.

XXVIII

‘He hath a pinnace is dearlye dight[1139], Saint Andrew’s cross, that is his guide[1140]; His pinnace bears nine-score men and more, With fifteen cannons on every side.

XXIX

‘Were you twenty ships, and he but one, Either in archbord or in hall[1141], He wo’ld overcome you everye one, An if his beams they doe down fall.’

XXX

‘This is cold comfort,’ says my Lord Howard, ‘To welcome a stranger thus to the sea; I’le bring him and his ship to shore, Or else into Scotland he shall carry me.’

XXXI

‘Then, my lord, you must get a noble gunner; One that can set well with his e’e, And sink his pinnace into the sea, And soon then overcome will he be.

XXXII

‘And when that you have done all this, If you chance Sir Andrew for to board, Let no man to his topcastle go; And I will give you a glass[1142], my lord,

XXXIII

‘And then you need to fear no Scot, Whether you sayle by day or by night; And to-morrow, by seven of the clocke, You shall meete with Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.’

XXXIV

The merchant set Lord Howard a glass So well apparent in his sight That on the morrow by seven of the clock He spy’d Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.

XXXV

Lord Howard he swore a mighty oath When he saw his hache-bords dearly dight; ‘Now by my faith and by my troth, Yonder proud Scott is a worthy wight.

XXXVI

‘Take in your ancients[1143] and your standards, Yea, that no man shall them see, And put me forth a white willow wand, As merchants use to sayle the sea.’

XXXVII

But they stirr’d[1144] neither top nor mast, But Sir Andrew they passèd by.-- ‘What English are yonder,’ said Sir Andrew, ‘That can[1145] so little curtesye?

XXXVIII

‘I have been admiral over the sea [Methinketh] more then these yeeres three; There is never an English nor Portingall dog, Can pass this way without leave of me.

XXXIX

‘But now yonder pedlars, they are pass’d, Which is no little grief to me: Fetch them backe,’ sayes Sir Andrew Barton, ‘They shall all hang at my maine-mast tree.’

With that the pinnace it shot off, That my Lord Howard might it well ken; It strokè down my lord’s fore-màst, And kill’d fourteen of my lord his men.

XLI

‘Come hither, Simon!’ says my Lord Howard, ‘Look that thy words be true thou said; I’le hang thee at my maine-mast tree If thou miss thy mark past three pence bread.’

XLII

Simon was old, but his hart it was bold; He tooke downe a piece, and laid it full low; Chaine yeards nine he put therein, Besides other great shot less and moe.

XLIII

With that he let his gun-shot go; So well he settled it with his e’e, The first sight that Sir Andrew saw, He saw his pinnace sunk in the sea.

XLIV

When Sir Andrew saw his pinnace sunk, Lord! in his heart he was not well! ‘Cut my ropes! it is time to be gone! I’le goe fetch yond pedlars back mysell!’

XLV

When my Lord Howard saw Sir Andrew loose, Lord! in his heart that he was faine! ‘Strike on your drums! spread out your ancients! Sound out your trumpets! sound out amain!’

XLVI

‘Fight on, my men!’ says Sir Andrew Barton; ‘Weate[1146], howsoever this geare[1147] will sway[1148], It is my Lord Admiral of England Is come to seek me on the sea.’

XLVII

Simon had a sone; with shot of a gun-- Well Sir Andrew might it ken-- He shot it in at the middle deck, And killed sixty more of Sir Andrew’s men.

XLVIII

[Bold] Hunt came in at the other side, And at Sir Andrew he shot then; He drove down his fore-mast tree, And kill’d eighty more of Sir Andrew’s men.

XLIX

‘I have done a good turne,’ sayes Henery Hunt; ‘Sir Andrew is not our King’s friend; He hoped t’ have undone me yesternight, But I hope I have quit him well in the end.’

‘Ever alas!’ sayd Sir Andrew Barton, ‘What sho’ld a man either thinke or say? Yonder false thief is my strongest enemy, Who was my prisoner but yesterday.

‘Come hither to me, thou Gourden good, And be thou ready at my call, And I will give thee three hundred pound If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.’

LII

With that hee swarm’d[1149] the main-mast tree, Soe did he it with might and maine; But Horsley, with a bearing arrow[1150], Stroke the Gourden through the braine.

LIII

And he fell into the hatches againe, And sore of his wound that he did bleed; Then word went through Sir Andrew’s men, How that the Gourden he was dead.

LIV

‘Come hither to me, James Hamilton, Thou’rt my sister’s son, I have no more; I will give thee six hundred pound If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.’

With that he swarm’d the main-mast tree, Soe did he it with might and main: Horsley, with another broad arrow, Strake the yeaman thoro’ the brain.

LVI

That he fell downe to the hatches againe; Sore of his wound that hee did bleed, _Covetousness gets no gaine, It is very true_, as the Welshman said.

LVII

But when he saw his nephew slaine, Lord! in his heart he was not well! ‘Go fetch me downe my armour of proof, For I will to the topcastle mysell.

LVIII

‘Go fetch me downe my armour of proof, For it is gilded with gold so cleere; God be with my brother, John of Barton! Amongst the Portingalls he did it weare.’

LIX

But when he had his armour of proof, And on his body he had it on, Every man that lookèd at him Said, Gun nor arrow he need fear none.

‘Come hither, Horsley!’ says my Lord Howard, ‘And look your shaft that it goe right; Shoot a good shoote in the time of need, And for thy shooting thou’st be made knight.’

LXI

‘I’le do my best,’ sayes Horsley then, ‘Your Honour shall see before I goe; If I sho’ld be hang’d at your maine-mast tree, I have in my ship but arrows two.’

LXII

But at Sir Andrew he shot then; He made so sure to hit his mark; Under the spole[1151] of his right arme He smote Sir Andrew quite thro’ the heart.

LXIII

Yet from the tree he wo’ld not start, But he cling’d to it with might and main; Under the collar then of his jacke[1152], He stroke Sir Andrew thoro’ the brain.

LXIV

‘Fight on, my men!’ says Sir Andrew Barton, ‘I am hurt, but I am not slain; I’le lay me downe and bleed a-while, And then I’le rise and fight again.

LXV

‘Fight on, my men!’ says Sir Andrew Barton, ‘These English dogs they bite so lowe; Fight on for Scotland and Saint Andrew While that you hear my whistle blowe!’

LXVI

But when they co’ld not hear his whistle, Says Henery Hunt, ‘I’le lay my head You may board yonder noble ship, my lord, For I know Sir Andrew he is dead.’

LXVII

With that they boarded this noble ship, So did they it with might and main; They found eighteen score Scots alive, Besides the rest were maim’d and slaine.

LXVIII

Lord Howard took a sword in his hand, And so smote off Sir Andrew’s head; The Scots stood by did weepe and mourne, But never a word they spoke or sayd.

LXIX

He caused his body to be taken downe, And over the hatch-bord cast into the sea, And about his middle three hundred crownes: ‘Wheresoever thou lands, it will bury thee!’

LXX

With his head they sayl’d into England againe, With right good will and force and main, And on the day before New-Year’s Even Into Thames’ mouth they came againe.

LXXI

Lord Howard wrote to King Henry’s grace, With all the newes hee co’ld him bring: ‘Such a New Year’s gift I have brought to your Grace As never did subject to any King.

LXXII

‘For merchandise, yea and manhood, The like is nowhere to be found; The sight of these wo’ld do you good, For you have not the like in your English ground.’

LXXIII

When the King heard tell that they were come, Full royally he welcomed them home; Sir Andrew’s ship was his New-Year’s gift; A braver ship you never saw none.

LXXIV

Now hath our King Sir Andrew’s ship, Beset with pearles and precyous stones; And now hath England two ships of war, Two ships of war, before but one.

LXXV

‘Who holpe to this?’ says King Henrye, ‘That I may reward him for his paine.’-- ‘Henery Hunt, and Peter Simon, William Horsley, and I the same.’--

LXXVI

‘Harry Hunt shall have his whistle and chaine, And all his jewels whatsoe’er they be, And other rich gifts that I will not name, For his good service he hath done me.

LXXVII

‘Horsley, right thou’st be a knight, Lands and livings thou shalt have store; Howard shall be Earl of Nottingham, And so was never Howard before.

LXXVIII

‘Now, Peter Simon, thou art old; I will maintaine thee and thy son; Thou shalt have five hundred pound all in gold For the good service that thou hast done.’

LXXIX

With that King Henrye shifted his room[1153]; In came the Queene and ladyes bright; Other arrands they had none But to see Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.

LXXX

But when they saw his deadly face, His eyes were hollow in his head; ‘I wo’ld give a hundred pound,’ says his Grace, ‘The man were alive as he is dead!

LXXXI

‘Yet for the manful part he hath play’d, Both here at home and beyond the sea, His men shall have half-a-crowne a day Till they come to my brother, King Jamie.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1137] three pence bread = the breadth of a threepenny piece.

[1138] archèborde = hatch-board.

[1139] dearlye dight = expensively fitted or ornamented.

[1140] guide = guidon, signal flag.

[1141] hall = hull.

[1142] glass = a lantern to guide the man-of-war’s course by the merchantman’s.

[1143] ancients = ensigns.

[1144] stirr’d = moved, lowered.

[1145] can = ken, know.

[1146] Weate = wit ye, know.

[1147] geare = business, fighting.

[1148] sway = go, turn out.

[1149] swarm’d = climbed.

[1150] bearing arrow = a long arrow for distant shooting.

[1151] spole = shoulder, _épaule_.

[1152] jacke = jacket, short coat of mail.

[1153] shifted his room = made place.

_131. The ‘George-Aloe’_

The _George-Aloe_, and the _Sweepstake_, too, _With hey, with hoe, for and a nony no,_ O, there were two Merchant-men, a sailing for Safee _And alongst the Coast of Barbarye_.

The _George-Aloe_ came to anchor in the bay, _With hey, &c._ But the jolly _Sweepstake_ kept on her way, _And alongst, &c._

III

They had not sayl’d but leagues two or three, _With hey, &c._ But they met with a French Man-of-War upon the Sea, _And alongst, &c._

‘All haile, all haile, you lusty Gallants all! _With hey, &c._ Of whence is your fair Ship, and whither do ye call?’ _And alongst, &c._

‘We are Englishmen, and bound for Safee,’-- _With hey, &c._ ‘Ay, and we are Frenchmen, and war upon the sea, _And alongst, &c._

‘Amaine, Amaine, you English dogs, hail!’-- _With, hey, &c._ ‘Come aboard you French swads[1154], and strike down your sayle,’ _And alongst, &c._

VII

They laid us aboard on the Starboard side, _With hey, &c._ And they threw us into the Sea so wide, _And alongst, &c._

VIII

When tidings to the _George-Aloe_ came, _With hey, &c._ That the jolly _Sweepstake_ by a Frenchman was ta’en, _And alongst, &c._

‘To top, to top, thou little Cabin-boy, _With hey, &c._ And see if this French Man-of-War thou canst descry,’-- _And alongst, &c._

‘A Sayle, a Sayle, under our lee! _With hey, &c._ Yea, and another that is under her obey!’ _And alongst, &c._

‘Weigh anchor, weigh anchor, O jolly Boat-swain! _With hey, &c._ We will take this Frenchman, if we can,’ _And alongst, &c._

XII

We had not sayl’d leagues two or three, _With hey, &c._ But we met the French Man-of-War upon the Sea, _And alongst, &c._

XIII

‘All haile, All haile, you lusty Gallants hail! _With hey, &c._ Of whence is your faire Ship, and whither do ye sayl?’ _And alongst, &c._

XIV

‘O, we are Merchant-men and bound for Safee,’-- _With hey, &c._ ‘Ay, and we are Frenchmen, and war upon the sea, _And alongst, &c._

‘Amaine, Amaine, you English Dogges, hail!’-- _With hey, &c._ ‘Come aboard, you French rogues, and strike down your sayl!’ _And alongst, &c._

XVI

The first good shot that the _George-Aloe_ shot, _With hey, &c._ He made the Frenchman’s heart sore afraid, _And alongst, &c._

XVII

The second shot the _George-Aloe_ did afford, _With hey, &c._ He struck their main-mast over the board, _And alongst, &c._

XVIII

‘Have mercy, have mercy, you brave English Men!’-- _With hey, &c._ ‘O, what have you done with our merry Brethren?’-- _As they sayl’d in Barbarye?_

XIX

‘We laid them aboard the starboard side, _With hey, &c._ And we threw them into the Sea so wide,’-- _And alongst, &c._

‘Such mercy as you have shewed unto them, _With hey, &c._ Then the like mercy shall you have again,’-- _And alongst, &c._

XXI

We laid them aboard the larboard side, _With hey, &c._ And we threw them into the Sea so wide, _And alongst, &c._

XXII

Lord, how it grieved our hearts full Sore, _With hey, &c._ To see the drowned Frenchmen to swim along the shore! _And alongst, &c._

XXIII

Now gallant Seamen I bid you all adieu, _With hey, &c._ This is the last Newes I can write to you, _To England’s Coast from Barbarye._

FOOTNOTES:

[1154] swads = peascods, a cant term for soldiers.

_132. The ‘Golden Vanity’_

A ship I have got in the North Country And she goes by the name of the _Golden Vanity_, O I fear she’ll be taken by a Spanish Ga-la-lee, As she sails by the Low-lands low.

To the Captain then upspake the little Cabin-boy, He said, ‘What is my fee, if the galley I destroy? The Spanish Ga-la-lee, if no more it shall anoy, As you sail by the Low-lands low.’

III

‘Of silver and of gold I will give to you a store; And my pretty little daughter that dwelleth on the shore, Of treasure and of fee as well, I’ll give to thee galore, As we sail by the Low-lands low.’

Then they row’d him up tight in a black bull’s skin, And he held all in his hand an augur sharp and thin, And he swam until he came to the Spanish Gal-a-lin, As she lay by the Low-lands low.

He bored with his augur, he bored once and twice, And some were playing cards, and some were playing dice, When the water flowèd in it dazzled their eyes, And she sank by the Low-lands low.

So the Cabin-boy did swim all to the larboard side, Saying ‘Captain! take me in, I am drifting with the tide!’ ‘I will shoot you! I will kill you!’ the cruel Captain cried, ‘You may sink by the Low-lands low.’

VII

Then the Cabin-boy did swim all to the starboard side, Saying,‘Messmates, take me in, I am drifting with the tide!’ Then they laid him on the deck, and he closed his eyes and died, As they sailed by the Low-lands low.

VIII

They sew’d his body tight in an old cow’s hide, And they cast the gallant cabin-boy out over the ship side, And left him without more ado to drift with the tide, And to sink by the Low-lands low.

_133. John Dory_

As it fell on a holy-day, And upon a holy-tide-a, John Dory bought him an ambling nag, To Paris for to ride-a.

And when John Dory to Paris was come, A little before the gate-a, John Dory was fitted, the porter was witted To let him in thereat-a.

III

The first man that John Dory did meet Was good King John of France-a; John Dory could well of his courtesie, But fell downe in a trance-a.

‘A pardon, a pardon, my liege and my king, For my merry men and for me-a, And all the churls in merry England, I’le bring them all bound to thee-a.’

And Nichol was then a Cornish man, A little beside Bohyde-a, He mann’d him forth a good black barke, With fifty good oars of a side-a.

‘Run up, my boy, unto the maine top, And look what thou canst spy-a:’ ‘Who ho! who ho! a good ship I do see, I trow it be John Dory-a.’

VII

They hoist their sailes, both top and top, The mizzen and all was tride-a, And every man stood to his lot, Whatever should betide-a.

VIII

The roring cannons then were plied, And dub-a-dub went the drum-a; The braying trumpets loud they cried To courage both all and some-a.

The grappling-hooks were brought at length, The brown bill and the sword-a, John Dory at length, for all his strength, Was clapt fast under board-a.

_134. Willie Macintosh_

‘Turn, Willie Macintosh, Turn, I bid you; Gin ye burn Auchindown, Huntly will head you.’--

‘Head me or hang me, That canna fley me; I’ll burn Auchindown Ere the life lea’ me.’

III

Coming down Deeside, In a clear morning, Auchindown was in flame, Ere the cock-crawing.

But coming o’er Cairn Croom, And looking down, man, I saw Willie Macintosh Burn Auchindown, man.

‘Bonnie Willie Macintosh, Whare left ye your men?’-- ‘I left them in the Stapler, But they’ll never come hame.’

‘Bonny Willie Macintosh, Whare now is your men?’-- ‘I left them in the Stapler, Sleeping in their sheen[1155].’

FOOTNOTES:

[1155] sheen = shoes.

_135. The Bonnie House o’ Airlie_

It fell on a day, and a bonnie simmer day, When green grew aits[1156] and barley, That there fell out a great dispute Between Argyll and Airlie.

Argyll has raised an hunder men, An hunder harness’d rarely, And he’s awa’ by the back of Dunkell, To plunder the castle of Airlie.

III

Lady Ogilvie looks o’er her bower-window, And O but she looks warely! And there she spied the great Argyll, Come to plunder the bonnie house of Airlie.

‘Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie, Come down and kiss me fairly.’-- ‘O I winna kiss the fause Argyll, If he shouldna leave a standing stane in Airlie.’

He hath taken her by the left shoulder, Says, ‘Dame, where lies thy dowry?’-- ‘O it’s east and west yon wan water side, And it’s down by the banks of the Airlie.’

They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down, They hae sought it maist severely, Till they fand it in the fair plum-tree That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie.

VII

He hath taken her by the middle sae small, And O but she grat[1157] sairly! And laid her down by the bonnie burn-side, Till they plunder’d the castle of Airlie.

VIII

‘Gif my gude lord war here this night, As he is with King Charlie, Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish lord, Durst avow to the plundering of Airlie.

‘Gif my gude lord war now at hame, And he is with his king, There durst nae a Campbell in a’ Argyll Set fit[1158] on Airlie green.

‘Ten bonnie sons I have borne unto him, The eleventh ne’er saw his daddy; But though I had an hunder mair, I’d gie them a’ to King Charlie!’

FOOTNOTES:

[1156] aits = oats.

[1157] grat = cried.

[1158] fit = foot.

_136. Johnnie of Cockerslee_

Johnnie rose up in a May morning, Call’d for water to wash his hands; ‘Gar loose to me the gude gray dogs, That are bound wi’ iron bands.’

When Johnnie’s mother gat word o’ that, Her hands for dule she wrang; ‘O Johnnie, for my benison, To the greenwood dinna gang!

III

‘Eneugh ye hae o’ gude wheat bread, And eneugh o’ the blude-red wine; And therefore for nae venison, Johnnie, I pray ye, stir frae hame.

‘There are Seven For’sters at Hislinton side, At Hislinton where they dwell, And for ae drap o’ thy heart’s blude They wad ride the fords o’ hell.’

But Johnnie has buskit his gude bend-bow, His arrows, ane by ane, And he has gane to Durrisdeer To ding the dun deer down.

He’s lookit east, and he’s lookit west, And a little below the sun; And there he spied the dun deer lying Aneath a buss[1159] o’ broom.

VII

Johnnie he shot and the dun deer lap[1160], And he wounded her on the side; But atween the wood and the wan water His hounds they laid her pride.

VIII

And Johnnie has brittled[1161] the deer sae well, Had out her liver and lungs; And wi’ these he has feasted his bluidy hounds As if they had been Earl’s sons.

They ate sae much o’ the venison, And drank sae much o’ the blude, That Johnnie and his gude gray hounds Fell asleep by yonder wood.

By there came a silly auld carle, An ill death mote he die! And he’s awa’ to Hislinton, Where the Seven Foresters did lie.

‘What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle? What news? come tell to me.’-- ‘I bring nae news,’ said the gray-headed carle, ‘But what these eyes did see.

XII

‘High up in Braidislee, low down in Braidislee, And under a buss o’ scroggs[1162], The bonniest childe that ever I saw Lay sleeping atween his dogs.

XIII

‘The sark he had upon his back It was o’ the holland fine, The doublet he had over that It was o’ the Lincoln twine[1163].

XIV

‘The buttons that were on his sleeve Were o’ the gowd sae gude; The twa gray dogs he lay atween, Their mouths were dyed wi’ blude.’

Then out and spak’ the First Forester, The head man owre them a’; ‘If this be Johnnie o’ Cockerslee Nae nearer will we draw.’

XVI

But up and spak’ the Sixth Forester, (His sister’s son was he,) ‘If this be Johnnie o’ Cockerslee, We soon shall gar him dee!’

XVII

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 dee.’

XVIII

‘O some they count ye well-wight[1164] men, But I do count ye nane; For you might well ha’ waken’d me, And ask’d gin I wad be ta’en.

XIX

‘The wildest wolf in a’ this wood Wad no ha’ done sae by me; She ha’ wet her foot i’ the wan water, And sprinkled it owre my bree[1165], And if that wad not ha’ waken’d me, Wad ha’ gone an’ let me be.

‘O bows of yew, if ye be true, In London where ye were bought; And, silver strings, value me sma’ things Till I get this vengeance wrought! And, fingers five, get up belive[1166]: And Manhood fail me nought!

XXI

‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs, Stand stout and dinna flee! Stand fast, stand fast, my good gray hounds, And we will gar them dee!’

XXII

Johnnie has set his back to an aik, His foot against a stane, And he has slain the Seven Foresters, He has slain them a’ but ane.

XXIII

He has broke three ribs in that ane’s side, But and his collar bane; He’s flung him twa-fald owre his steed, Bade him carry the tidings hame....

XXIV

‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest Will do as mickle for me As dip its wing in the wan water And straik it on my e’e-bree?

XXV

‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest Can sing as I can say,-- Can flee away to my mother’s bower And tell to fetch Johnnie away?’

XXVI

The starling flew to her window-stane, It whistled and it sang; And aye the owre-word o’ the tune Was, _Johnnie tarries lang!_

XXVII

They made a rod o’ the hazel-bush, Another o’ the slae-thorn tree, And mony, mony were the men At the fetching our Johnnie.

XXVIII

Then out and spak’ his auld mother, And fast her tears did fa’: ‘Ye wadna be warn’d, my son Johnnie, Frae the hunting to bide awa’!’

XXIX

Now Johnnie’s gude bend-bow is broke, And his gude gray dogs are slain; And his body lies dead in Durrisdeer, And his hunting it is done.

FOOTNOTES:

[1159] buss = bush, clump.

[1160] lap = leapt.

[1161] brittled = ‘broken’, cut up venison.

[1162] scroggs = stunted, or scraggy, trees.

[1163] twine = thread, texture.

[1164] well-wight = sturdy, here brave.

[1165] bree = brow.

[1166] belive = nimbly, at once.

_137. Kinmont Willie_

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?

Had Willie had but twenty men, But twenty men as stout as he, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta’en, Wi’ eight score in his companie.

III

They band his legs beneath the steed, They tied his hands behind his back; They guarded him, fivesome on each side, And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack[1167].

They led him thro’ the Liddel-rack, And also thro’ the Carlisle sands; They brought him in to Carlisle castell, 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?’--

‘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.’

VII

‘Fear na ye that, my lord,’ quo’ Willie: ‘By the faith o’ my body, Lord Scroope,’ he said, ‘I never yet lodged in a hostelrie But I paid my lawing[1168] before I gaed.’

VIII

Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, In Branksome Ha’, where that he lay, 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, ‘But avengèd of Lord Scroope I’ll be!

‘O is my basnet a widow’s curch[1169]? Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree? Or my arm a ladye’s lilye hand, That an English lord should lightly[1170] me!

‘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?

XII

‘And have they e’en ta’en him, Kinmont Willie, Withouten either dread or fear? And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch Can back a steed, or shake a spear?

XIII

‘O were there war between the lands, As well I wot that there is nane, I would slight Carlisle castell high, Though it were builded of marble stane.

XIV

‘I would set that castell in a low[1171], And sloken it with English blood! There’s never a man in Cumberland 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!’

XVI

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.

XVII

He has call’d him forty Marchmen bauld, Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch; With spur on heel, and splent[1172] on spauld[1173], And gleuves of green, and feathers blue.

XVIII

There were five and five before them a’, Wi’ hunting-horns and bugles bright: And five and five came wi’ Buccleuch, Like Warden’s men, array’d for fight.

XIX

And five and five, like a mason-gang, That carried the ladders lang and hie; And five and five, like broken men; And so they reach’d the Woodhouselee.

And as we cross’d the Bateable Land[1174], When to the English side we held, The first o’ men that we met wi’, Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde?

XXI

‘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.’

XXII

‘Where be ye gaun, ye marshal men?’ Quo’ fause Sakelde; ‘come tell me true!’-- ‘We go to catch a rank reiver, Has broken faith wi’ the bauld Buccleuch.’

XXIII

‘Where be ye gaun, ye mason lads, Wi’ a’ your ladders, lang and hie?’-- ‘We gang to herry a corbie’s nest, That wons not far frae Woodhouselee.’--

XXIV

‘Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?’ Quo’ fause Sakelde; ‘come tell to me!’-- Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, And the never a word of lear[1175] had he.

XXV

‘Why trespass ye on the English side? Row-footed[1176] outlaws, stand!’ quo’ he; The never a word had Dickie to say, Sae he thrust the lance through his fause bodie.

XXVI

Then on we held for Carlisle toun, And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we cross’d; The water was great and meikle of spate, But the never a horse nor man we lost.

XXVII

And when we reach’d the Staneshaw-bank, The wind was rising loud and hie; And there the Laird gar’d leave our steeds, For fear that they should stamp and neigh.

XXVIII

And when we left the Staneshaw-bank, The wind began fu’ loud to blaw; But ’twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet, When we came beneath the castle wa’.

XXIX

We crept on knees, and held our breath, Till we placed the ladders against the wa’; And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell To mount the first before us a’.

XXX

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!--

XXXI

‘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?_

XXXII

Then speedilie to wark we gaed, And raised the slogan ane and a’, And cut a hole through a sheet of lead, And so we wan to the castle ha’.

XXXIII

They thought King James and a’ his men Had won the house wi’ bow and spear; It was but twenty Scots and ten, That put a thousand in sic a stear[1177]!

XXXIV

Wi’ coulters, and wi’ forehammers[1178], We gar’d the bars bang merrilie, Until we came to the inner prison, Where Willie o’ Kinmont he did lie.

XXXV

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?’--

XXXVI

‘O I sleep saft, and I wake aft; It’s lang since sleeping was fley’d[1179] frae me! Gie my service back to my wife and bairns, And a’ gude fellows that spier[1180] for me.’

XXXVII

The Red Rowan has hente him up, The starkest man in Teviotdale-- ‘Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.

XXXVIII

‘Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope! My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!’ he cried; ‘I’ll pay you for my lodging mail[1181], When first we meet on the Border side.’--

XXXIX

Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, We bore him down the ladder lang; At every stride Red Rowan made, I wot the Kinmont’s airns play’d clang!

‘O mony a time,’ quo’ Kinmont Willie, ‘I have ridden horse baith wild and wood[1182]; But a rougher beast than Red Rowan I ween my legs have ne’er bestrode.

XLI

‘And mony a time,’ quo’ Kinmont Willie, ‘I’ve prick’d a horse out oure the furs[1183]; But since the day I back’d a steed, I never wore sic cumbrous spurs!’

XLII

We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank When a’ the Carlisle bells were rung, And a thousand men on horse and foot Cam wi’ the keen Lord Scroope along.

XLIII

Buccleuch has turn’d to Eden Water, Even where it flow’d frae bank to brim, And he has plunged in wi’ a’ his band, And safely swam them through the stream.

XLIV

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, In fair Scotland come visit me!’

XLV

All sore astonish’d stood Lord Scroope, He stood as still as rock of stane; He scarcely dared to trew[1184] his eyes, When through the water they had gane.

XLVI

‘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.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1167] Liddel-rack = a ford on the Liddel.

[1168] lawing = reckoning.

[1169] curch = kerchief, coif.

[1170] lightly = treat disrespectfully.

[1171] low = flame.

[1172] splent = split, or overlapping armour.

[1173] spauld = shoulder, épaule.

[1174] Bateable Land = debateable land; a stretch of frontier between the Solway Firth and Scots Dyke, claimed by both nations.

[1175] lear = lore.

[1176] row-footed = rough-footed.

[1177] stear = stir, commotion.

[1178] forehammers = sledge-hammers.

[1179] fley’d = scared.

[1180] spier = inquire.

[1181] mail = rent.

[1182] wood = mad.

[1183] furs = furrows.

[1184] trew = trust.

_138. Jock o’ the Side_

Now Liddesdale has ridden a raid, But I wat they had better hae staid at hame; For Michael o’ Winfield he is dead, And Jock o’ the Side is prisoner ta’en.

To Sybill o’ the Side the tidings came; By the waterside there as she ran She took her kirtle by the hem And fast to Mangerton she’s gane.

III

Then up and spoke her Lord Mangerton-- ‘What news, what news, my sister to me?’-- ‘Bad news, bad news! My Michael is slain; And they ha’e taken my son Johnie.’

The lords they wrang their fingers white, Ladyes did pull themsells by the hair, Crying ‘Alas and well-a day! For Jock o’ the Side we’ll never see mair!’

--‘Ne’er fear, sister Sybill,’ quo’ Mangerton; ‘I have yokes of ousen, eighty and three; My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a’ weil fill’d. I’ll part wi’ them a’ ere Johnie shall dee.

‘Three men I’ll send to set him free, Well harness’d a’ wi’ the best o’ steel; The English louns may hear, and drie The weight o’ their braid-swords to feel.

VII

‘The Laird’s Jock ane, the Laird’s Wat twa, O Hobbie Noble, thou ane maun be! Thy coat is blue, thou hast been true, Since England banish’d thee, to me.’

VIII

Now Hobbie was an English man, 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 be shod, Like gentlemen ye mauna seem, But look like corn-caugers[1185] ga’en the road.

‘Your armour gude ye mauna shaw, Nor yet appear like men o’ war; As country lads be a’ array’d, Wi’ branks[1186] and brecham[1187] on each mare.’

Their horses are the wrang way shod, And Hobbie has mounted his grey sae fine; Wat on his auld horse, Jock on his bey, And on they rode for the water of Tyne.

XII

But when they came to Cholerton ford They lighted down by the light o’ the moon, And a tree they cut, wi’ nogs on each side, To climb up the wa’ of Newcastle toun.

XIII

But when they cam to Newcastle toun, And down were alighted at the wa’, They fand thair tree three ells ower laigh[1188], They fand their stick baith short and sma’.

XIV

Then up spake the Laird’s ain Jock: ‘There’s naething for’t; the gates we maun force.’-- But when they cam the gate until, The porter withstood baith men and horse.

His neck in twa the Armstrangs wrang; Wi’ fute or hand he ne’er play’d pa[1189]! His life and his keys at anes they hae ta’en, And cast the body ahint the wa’.

XVI

Now sune they reach Newcastle jail, And to the prisoner thus they call: ‘Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o’ the Side, Or art thou weary of thy thrall?’

XVII

Jock answers thus, wi’ dolefu’ tone: ‘Aft, aft I wake--I seldom sleep: But whae’s this kens my name sae weel, And thus to mese[1190] my waes does seek?’--

XVIII

Then out and spak the gude Laird’s Jock, ‘Now fear ye na, my billie[1191],’ quo’ he; ‘For here are the Laird’s Jock, the Laird’s Wat, And Hobbie Noble to set thee free.’--

XIX

‘Now haud thy tongue, my gude Laird’s Jock, For ever, alas! this canna be; For if a’ Liddesdale were here the night, The morn’s the day that I maun dee.

‘Full fifteen stane o’ Spanish iron, They hae laid a’ right sair on me; Wi’ locks and keys I am fast bound In this dungeon dark and dreirie.’

XXI

‘Fear ye na 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 sworn we’ll set thee free.’

XXII

The first strong door that they cam at, They loosèd it without a key; The next chain’d door that they cam at, They garr’d it a’ to flinders flee.

XXIII

The prisoner now upon his back The Laird’s Jock has gotten up fu’ hie; And, airns and a’, down the tolbooth[1192] stair, Wi’ nae sma’ speed and joy brings he.

XXIV

‘Now, Jock, my man,’ quo’ Hobbie Noble, ‘Some o’ his weight ye may lay on me.’-- ‘I wat weel no!’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock, ‘I count him lighter than a flee.’

XXV

Sae out at the gates they a’ are gane, The prisoner’s set on horseback hie; And now wi’ speed they’ve ta’en the gate, While ilk ane jokes fu’ wantonlie:

XXVI

‘O Jock! sae winsomely ye sit, Wi’ baith your feet upon ae side; Sae weel ye’re harneist, and sae trig, In troth ye sit like ony bride!’

XXVII

The night, tho’ wat, they did na mind, But hied them on fu’ merrilie, Until they cam to Cholerton brae, Where the water ran like mountains hie.

XXVIII

But when they cam to Cholerton ford, There they met with an auld man; Says--‘Honest man, will the water ride? Tell us in haste, if that ye can.’--

XXIX

‘I wat weel no,’ quo’ the gude auld man; ‘I hae lived here thretty years and three; Nor man nor horse can go ower Tyne, Except it were a horse of tree.’--

XXX

Then out and spoke the Laird’s saft Wat, The greatest coward in the companie: ‘Now halt, now halt! we need na try’t; The day is come we a’ maun die!’--

XXXI

‘Puir faint-hearted thief!’ cried the Laird’s ain Jock, ‘There’ll nae man die but him that’s fie[1193]; I’ll guide ye a’ right safely thro’; Lift ye the pris’ner on ahint me.’

XXXII

Wi’ that the water they hae ta’en, By ane’s and twa’s they a’ swam thro’; ‘Here are we a’ safe,’ quo’ the Laird’s Jock, ‘And, puir faint Wat, what think ye now?’

XXXIII

They scarce the other brae had won, When twenty men they saw pursue; Frae Newcastle toun they had been sent, A’ English lads baith stout and true.

XXXIV

But when the Land-sergeant the water saw, ‘It winna ride, my lads,’ says he; Then cried aloud--‘The prisoner take, But leave the fetters, I pray, to me!’

XXXV

‘I wat weel no,’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock, ‘I’ll keep them, shoon to my mare to be: My gude bay mare--for I am sure, She has bought them a’ right dear frae thee.’--

XXXVI

Sae now they are on to Liddesdale, E’en as fast as they could them hie; The prisoner is brought to his ain fireside, And there o’ his airns they mak him free.

XXXVII

‘Now, Jock, my billie,’ quo’ a’ the three, ‘The day is comed thou was to die; But thou’s as weel at thy ain ingle-side, Now sitting, I think, ’twixt thee and me.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1185] corn-caugers = corn hucksters.

[1186] branks = wooden halter.

[1187] brecham = straw collar.

[1188] laigh = low.

[1189] pa = paw.

[1190] mese = soothe.

[1191] billie = comrade.

[1192] tolbooth = gaol.

[1193] fie = fey, doomed.

_139. Hobbie Noble_

Foul fa’ the breast first treason bred in! That Liddesdale 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, As England it did often say; But now we may turn our backs and fly, Since brave Noble is seld[1194] away.

III

Now Hobbie he was an English man, And born into Bewcastle dale, But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banish’d him to Liddesdale.

At Kershope-foot the tryst was set, Kershope of the lily lee; And there was traitour Sim o’ the Mains, With him a private companie.

Then Hobbie has graith’d[1195] his body weel, I wat wi’ baith good iron and steel; And he has pull’d out his fringed[1196] grey, And there, brave Hobbie, he rade him weel.

Then Hobbie is down the water gane, Even as fast as he may drie; Tho’ they shou’d a’ brusten and broken their hearts, Frae that riding-tryst he would not be.

VII

‘Weel may ye be, my feiries[1197] five! And aye, what is your wills wi’ me?’ Then they cryd a’ wi’ ae consent: ‘Thou’rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.

VIII

‘Wilt thou with us into England ride? And thy safe-warrand we will be, 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[1198]; I know not what evil may betide For Peter of Whitfield his brother is dead.

‘And Antony Shiel he loves not me, For I gat twa drifts of his sheep; The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not, For nae gear frae me he e’er could keep.

‘But will ye stay till the day gae down, Until the night come owre the grund, And I’ll be a guide worth ony twa That may in Liddesdale be found.

XII

‘Tho’ dark the night as pick[1199] and tar, I’ll guide ye owre yon hills sae hie, And bring ye a’ in safety back, If you will be true and follow me.’

XIII

He has guided them owre moss and muir, O’er hill and houp[1200], and mony a down, Til they came to the Foulbogshiel, And there brave Noble he lighted down.

XIV

Then word is gane to the Land-sergeant, In Askerton where that he lay: ‘The deer that ye hae hunted sae lang Is seen into the Waste this day.’--

‘Then Hobbie Noble is that deer; I wat he carries the style fu’ hie! Aft has he beat your slough-hounds[1201] back, And set yourselves at little eie[1202].

XVI

‘Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn, See they sharp their arrows on the wa’! Warn Willeva and Spear Edom, And see the morn they meet me a’.

XVII

‘Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh, And see it be by break o’ day; And we will on to Conscouthart Green, For there, I think, we’ll get our prey.’

XVIII

Then Hobbie Noble has dreamit a dream, In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay; He thought his horse was aneath him shot, And he himself got hard away.

XIX

The cocks could craw, and the day could daw’, And I wat sae even down fell the rain; Had Hobbie na waken’d at that time, In the Foulbogshiel he’d been ta’en or slain.

‘Get up, get up, my feiries five, For I wat here makes a fu’ ill day; And the warst clock[1203] of this companie I hope shall cross the Waste this day.

XXI

Now Hobbie 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.

XXII

‘Yet follow me, my feiries five, And see of me ye keep good array; And the worst clock of this companie I hope shall cross the Waste this day.’

XXIII

There was heaps of men now Hobbie before, And other heaps was him behin’, That had he been wight as Wallace was Away brave Noble he could not win.

XXIV

Then Hobbie he had but a laddie’s sword, But he did more than a laddie’s deed; Till in the midst of Conscouthart Green, He brake it o’er Jers-a-Wigham’s head.

XXV

Now they have ta’en brave Hobbie Noble, Wi’ his ain bowstring they band him sae; And I wat his heart was neer sae sair As when his ain five band him on the brae.

XXVI

They have ta’en him on for West Carlisle; They ask’d him if he kenn’d the way; Whate’er he thought, yet little he said; He knew that gate as well as they.

XXVII

They hae ta’en him up the Ricker-gate; The wives they cast their windows wide, And ilka wife to anither can say, ‘That’s the man loos’d Jock o’ the Side!’--

XXVIII

‘Fy on ye, women! why ca’ ye me man? For it’s nae man that I’m used like; I’m but like a forfoughen[1204] hound, Has been fighting in a dirty syke[1205].’

XXIX

Then they hae ta’en him up thro’ Carlisle town, And set him by the chimney-fire; They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat, And that was little his desire.

XXX

They gave him a wheaten loaf to eat And after that a can of beer; Then they cried a’, wi’ ae consent, ‘Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer!

XXXI

‘Confess my lord’s horse, Hobbie,’ they say, ‘And the morn in Carlisle thou’se no dee.’-- ‘How shall I confess them?’ Hobbie says, ‘For I never saw them with mine e’e.’

XXXII

Then Hobbie has sworn a fu’ great aith, By the day that he was gotten or born, He never had onything o’ my lord’s That either ate him grass or corn.

XXXIII

‘Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton! For I think again I’ll ne’er thee see; I wad betray nae lad alive, For a’ the gowd in Christentie.

XXXIV

‘And fare thee well now, Liddesdale, Baith the hie land and the law! Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains! For gowd and gear he’ll sell ye a’.

XXXV

‘I’d rather be ca’d Hobbie Noble, In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut, Before I were ca’d the traitor Mains, That eats and drinks o’ the meal and maut.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1194] seld = sold.

[1195] graith’d = clad in armour.

[1196] fringed = long-haired at fetlocks.

[1197] feiries = feres, comrades.

[1198] feid = feud.

[1199] pick = pitch.

[1200] houp = ‘hope,’ a hollow between two hills.

[1201] slough-hounds = sleuth-hounds.

[1202] eie = awe.

[1203] clock = lame one, hobbler.

[1204] forfoughen = out-wearied.

[1205] syke = ditch.

_140. Archie of Cawfield_

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 what they did say.

The youngest to the eldest said: ‘Blythe and merrie how can we be? There were three brithren of us born, And ane of us is condemn’d to die.’--

III

‘An ye wad be merrie, an ye wad be sad, What the better wad billy[1206] Archie be? Unless I had thirty men to mysell, And a’ to ride in my companie.

‘Ten to hald the horses’ heads, And other ten the watch to be, And ten to break up the strong prison Where billy Archie he does lie.

‘Had I but thirty well-wight[1207] men, Thirty o’ the best in Christiantie, I wad go on to fair Dumfries, I wad loose my brother and set him free.’

Then up and spak him mettled John Ha’ (For leugh o’ Liddesdale[1208] crackit he): ‘An I had eleven men to mysell, It’s aye the twalt man I wad be.’--

VII

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.’

VIII

There was horsing, horsing in haste, And cracking of whips out owre the lee; Until they cam to the Murraywhat, And they lighted there right speedilie.

‘A smith! a smith!’ Dickie he cries, ‘A smith, a smith, right speedilie, To turn back the caukers[1209] of our horses’ shoon! For it’s unkensome[1210] 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 pockét, 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.’--

XII

‘Shame fa’ you and your trade baith, Canna beet[1211] a good fellow by your mystery[1212]; But leeze me on[1213] thee, my little black mare, Thou’s worth thy weight in gold to me.’

XIII

There was horsing, horsing in haste, And cracking of whips out owre the lee, Until they came to the Bonshaw wood, Where they held their council privately.

XIV

Some says, ‘We’ll gang the Annan road; It is the better road,’ said they; But up bespake then Dicky Ha’, The wisest of that company:

Says, ‘Annan road’s a public road, It’s no the road that makes for me; But we will through at the Hoddam ford, It is the better road,’ quo’ he.

XVI

There was horsing, horsing in haste, And crackin’ of whips out owre the lee; Until they cam to Dumfries port[1214], And they lighted there right speedilie.

XVII

‘There’s five of us will hold the horse, And other five will watchmen be: But wha’s the man among ye a’, Will gae to the tolbooth[1215] door wi’ me?’--

XVIII

O up then spak him mettled John Ha’, (For leugh o’ Liddesdale crackit he): ‘If it should cost my life this very night, I’ll gae to the tolbooth door wi’ thee.’--

XIX

‘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!’

O Jockie Ha’ stepp’d to the door, And he bended low back on his knee, And he made the bolts that the door hang on, Loup frae the wa’ right wantonlie.

XXI

He took the prisoner on his back, And down the tolbooth stair cam he; The black mare stood ready at the door, I wot a foot ne’er stirrèd she.

XXII

They laid the links out owre her neck, And that was her gold twist to be; And they cam doun thro’ Dumfries toun, And wow but they cam speedilie.

XXIII

The live-lang night these twelve men rade, And aye till they were right wearie, Until they cam to the Murraywhat, And they lighted there right speedilie.

XXIV

‘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.’--

XXV

They hadna filed a shackle of iron, A shackle of iron but barely three, When out and spak young Simon brave: ‘O dinna you see what I do see?

XXVI

‘Lo! yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon, Wi’ a hundred men in his companie; This night will be our lyke-wake night, The morn the day we a’ maun die.’--

XXVII

O there was mounting, mounting in haste, And cracking of whips out owre the lee; Until they cam to Annan water, And it was flowing like the sea.

XXVIII

‘My mare is young and very skeigh[1216], And in o’ the weil[1217] she will drown me!’-- ‘But ye’ll take mine, and I’ll take thine, And sune through the water we sall be.’

XXIX

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[1218]; We’ll lose the prisoner, we’ll gae free.’--

XXX

‘Shame fa’ you and your lands baith! Wad ye e’en[1219] your lands to your born billy? But hey! bear up, my bonnie black mare, And yet thro’ the water we sall be.’--

XXXI

Now they did swim that wan water, And wow but they swam bonnilie! Until they cam to the other side, And they wrang their cloathes right drunkily.

XXXII

‘Come thro’, come thro’, Lieutenant Gordon! Come thro’ and drink some wine wi’ me! For there is an ale-house here hard by, And it shall not cost thee ae penny.’--

XXXIII

‘Throw me my irons,’ quo’ Lieutenant Gordon; ‘I wot they cost me dear eneugh.’-- ‘The shame a ma[1220],’ quo’ mettled John Ha’, ‘They’ll be gude shackles to my pleugh.’--

XXXIV

‘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.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1206] billy = brother, comrade.

[1207] well-wight = stout, sturdy.

[1208] For leugh, etc. = He boasted to be of lower Liddesdale. εὔχετο εἶναι.

[1209] caukers = calkins.

[1210] unkensome = unknown.

[1211] beet = abet, aid.

[1212] mystery = craft.

[1213] leeze me on = commend me to.

[1214] port = gate.

[1215] tolbooth = gaol.

[1216] skeigh = shy.

[1217] weil = eddy.

[1218] lave = rest.

[1219] e’en = even, count as equal.

[1220] shame a ma = devil a bit.

_141. Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead_

It fell about the Martinmas tyde, When our Border steeds get corn and hay, The Captain of Bewcastle bound him to ryde, And he’s ower to Tividale to drive a prey.

The first ae guide that they met wi’, It was high up in Hardhaughswire; The second guide that they met wi’, It was laigh[1221] down in Borthwick water.

III

‘What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?’-- ‘Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee; But gin ye’ll gae to the fair Dodhead, Mony a cow’s cauf I’ll let thee see.’

And when they cam to the fair Dodhead, Right hastily they clam the peel[1222]; They loosed the kye out, ane and a’, And ranshackled the house right weel.

Now Jamie Telfer’s heart was sair, The tear aye rowing[1223] in his ee; He pled wi’ the Captain to hae his gear, Or else revengèd he wad be.

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.’

VII

The sun wasna up, but the moon was down, It was the gryming[1224] of a new-fa’n snaw, Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot, Between the Dodhead and the Stobs’s Ha’.

VIII

And when he cam to the fair tower-yate, He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot-- ‘Whae’s this that brings the fraye[1225] to me?’--

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer in the fair Dodhead, And a harried man I think I be! There’s naething left at the fair Dodhead, But a waefu’ wife and bairnies three.’

‘Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha’, 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.’--

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.

XII

‘My hounds may a’ rin masterless, My hawks may fly frae tree to tree, My lord may grip my vassal lands, For there again maun I never be!’--

XIII

He has turn’d him to the Tiviot-side, E’en as fast as he could drie, Till he cam to the Coultart Cleugh, And there he shouted baith loud and hie.

XIV

Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve, ‘Whae’s this that brings the fraye to me?’-- ‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer in the fair Dodhead, 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[1226] stand in the sta’, A’ routing loud for their minnie[1227].’--

XVI

‘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.’

XVII

Then he has ta’en out a bonny black, Was right weel fed with corn and hay, And he’s set Jamie Telfer on his back, To the Catslockhill to tak the fraye.

XVIII

And whan he cam to the Catslockhill, He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, Till out and spak him William’s Wat, ‘O whae’s this brings the fraye to me?’--

XIX

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer in the fair Dodhead, A harried man I think I be! The Captain of Bewcastle has driven my gear; 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.’

XXI

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.

XXII

And when they cam to Branksome Ha’, They shouted a’ baith loud and hie, Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch, Said, ‘Whae’s this brings the fraye to me?’--

XXIII

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer in the fair Dodhead, And a harried man I think I be! There’s nought left in the fair Dodhead, But a greeting wife and bairnies three.’--

XXIV

‘Alack for wae!’ quoth the gude auld lord, ‘And ever my heart is wae for thee! But fye gar cry on Willie, my son, And see that he come to me speedilie!

XXV

‘Gar warn the water[1228], braid and wide, Gar warn it sune and hastilie! They that winna ride for Telfer’s kye, Let them never look in the face o’ me!

XXVI

‘Warn Wat o’ Harden, and his sons, Wi’ them will Borthwick Water ride; Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh, And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside.

XXVII

‘Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire, And warn the Currors o’ the Lee; As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack, Warn doughty Willie o’ Gorrinberry.’

XXVIII

The Scotts they rade, the Scotts they ran, Sae starkly and sae steadilie! And aye the ower-word o’ the thrang Was--‘Rise for Branksome readilie!’

XXIX

The gear was driven the Frostylee up, Frae the Frostylee unto the plain, Whan Willie has look’d his men before, And saw the kye right fast drivand.

XXX

‘Whae drives thir kye?’ ’gan Willie say, ‘To make an outspeckle[1229] o’ me?’-- ‘It’s I, the Captain o’ Bewcastle, Willie; I winna layne[1230] my name for thee.’--

XXXI

‘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[1231] on thee!--

XXXII

‘I winna let the kye gae back, Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear; But I will drive Jamie Telfer’s kye, In spite of every Scott that’s here.’--

XXXIII

‘Set on them, lads!’ quo’ Willie than; ‘Fye, lads, set on them cruellie! For ere they win to the Ritterford, Mony a toom[1232] saddle there sall be!’

XXXIV

Then till ’t[1233] they gaed wi’ heart and hand, The blows fell thick as bickering hail; And mony a horse ran masterless, And mony a comely cheek was pale.

XXXV

But Willie was stricken ower the head, And thro’ the knapscap[1234] the sword has gane; And Harden grat[1235] for very rage, Whan Willie on the grund lay slane.

XXXVI

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 Nor the lyart[1236] locks of Harden’s hair.

XXXVII

‘Revenge! revenge!’ auld Wat ’gan cry; ‘Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie! We’ll ne’er see Tiviot-side again, Or Willie’s death revenged sall be.’

XXXVIII

O mony a horse ran masterless, The splinter’d lances flew on hie; But or they wan to the Kershope ford, The Scotts had gotten the victory.

XXXIX

John o’ Brigham there was slane, And John o’ Barlow, as I heard say; And thirty mae o’ the Captain’s men 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.

XLI

‘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.’

XLII

Then word is gane to the Captain’s bride, 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.

XLIII

‘I wad lourd[1237] have had a winding-sheet, And helped to put it ower his head, Ere he had been disgraced by the Border Scot, Whan he ower Liddel his men did lead!’

XLIV

There was a wild gallant amang us a’, His name was Watty wi’ the Wudspurs[1238], Cried--‘On for his house in Stanegirthside, If ony man will ride with us!’

XLV

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.

XLVI

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?’--

XLVII

‘It’s I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye, I winna layne my name frae thee! And I will loose out the Captain’s kye, In scorn of a’ his men and he.’

XLVIII

Whan they cam to the fair Dodhead, They were a wellcum sight to see! For instead of his ain ten milk kye, Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three.

XLIX

And he has paid the rescue shot, Baith wi’ gowd and white monie; And at the burial o’ Willie Scott, I wat was mony a weeping e’e.

FOOTNOTES:

[1221] laigh = low.

[1222] peel = stronghold, keep.

[1223] rowing = rolling.

[1224] gryming = sprinkling.

[1225] fraye = fright, alarm.

[1226] ca’s = calves.

[1227] minnie = mother.

[1228] warn the water = raise the cry along the waterside.

[1229] outspeckle = laughing-stock.

[1230] layne = lie, falsen.

[1231] ware, &c. = spend, use my mother’s calf-skin whip.

[1232] toom = empty.

[1233] till ’t = to it.

[1234] knapscap = headpiece.

[1235] grat = wept.

[1236] lyart = grizzled.

[1237] lourd = liefer, rather.

[1238] wudspurs = hotspur, or madspur.

_142. Dick o’ the Cow_

Now Liddesdale has lain lang in, There is na ryding[1239] there at a’; The horses are a’ grown sae lither[1240] fat, They downa stir out o’ the sta’.

Fair Johnie Armstrong to Willie did say-- ‘Billie, a-ryding then will we; England and us have been lang at feid; Aiblins[1241] we’ll light on some bootie.’--

III

Then they’re come on to Hutton Ha’; They rade that proper place about. But the Laird he was the wiser man, For he had left nae gear without:

For he had left nae gear to steal, Except sax sheep upon a lea: Quo’ Johnie--‘I’d rather in England die, Ere thir sax sheep gae to Liddesdale wi’ me.

‘But how ca’ they the man we last met, Billie, as we cam owre the know[1242]?’-- ‘That same he is an innocent fule, And men they call him Dick o’ the Cow.’

‘That fule has three as good kye o’ his ain, As there are in a’ Cumberland, billie,’ quo’ he. ‘Betide me life, betide me death, These kye shall go to Liddesdale wi’ me.’

VII

Then they’re come on to the pure fule’s house, And they hae broken his wa’s sae wide; They have loosed out Dick o’ the Cow’s three kye, And ta’en three co’erlets off his wife’s bed.

VIII

Then on the morn when the day grew light, The shouts and cries raise loud and hie: ‘O haud thy tongue, my wife,’ he says, ‘And o’ thy crying let me be!

‘O haud thy tongue, my wife,’ he says, ‘And o’ thy crying let me be; And aye where thou hast lost ae cow, In gude sooth I shall bring thee three.’

Now Dickie’s gane to the gude Lord Scroope, And I wat a dreirie fule was he; ‘Now haud thy tongue, my fule,’ he says, ‘For I may not stand to jest wi’ thee.’

‘Shame fa’ your jesting, my lord!’ quo’ Dickie, ‘For nae sic jesting grees wi’ me; Liddesdale’s been in my house last night, And they hae awa’ my three kye frae me.

XII

‘But I may nae langer in Cumberland dwell, To be your puir fule and your leal, Unless you gie me leave, my lord, To gae to Liddesdale and steal’--

XIII

‘I gie thee leave, my fule!’ he says; ‘Thou speakest against my honour and me, Unless thou gie me thy troth and thy hand, Thou’lt steal frae nane but wha sta’ frae thee.’--

XIV

‘There is my troth, and my right hand! My head shall hang on Hairibee[1243]; I’ll never cross Carlisle sands again, If I steal frae a man but wha sta’ frae me.’

Dickie’s ta’en leave o’ lord and master; I wat a merry fule was he! He’s bought a bridle and a pair o’ new spurs, And packed them up in his breek thie[1244].

XVI

Then Dickie’s come on to Puddingburn house, Even as fast as he might dree[1245]: Then Dickie’s come on to Puddingburn, Where there were thirty Armstrangs and three.

XVII

‘O what’s this come o’ me now?’ quo’ Dickie; ‘What mickle wae is this?’ quo’ he, ‘For here is but ae innocent fule, And there are thirty Armstrangs and three!’

XVIII

Yet he has come up to the fair ha’ board, Sae well he became his courtesie! ‘Well may ye be, my gude Laird’s Jock! But the dèil bless a’ your companie.

XIX

‘I’m come to plain[1246] o’ your man, Johnie Armstrang, And syne o’ his billie Willie,’ quo’ he; ‘How they hae been in my house last night, And they hae ta’en my three kye frae me.’--

‘Ha!’ quo’ Johnie Armstrang, ‘we will him hang.’ --‘Na,’ quo’ Willie, ‘we’ll him slae.’-- Then up and spak another young Armstrang, ‘We’ll gie him his batts[1247], and let him gae.’

XXI

But up and spak the gude Laird’s Jock, The best in a’ the companie, ‘Sit down thy ways a little while, Dickie, And a piece o’ thy ain cow’s hough I’ll gie ye.’

XXII

But Dickie’s heart it grew sae grit[1248], That the ne’er a bit o’t he dought to[1249] eat-- Then he was aware of in auld peat-house, Where a’ the night he thought for to sleep

XXIII

Then Dickie was ware of an auld peat-house, Where a’ the night he thought for to lye-- And a’ the prayers the puir fule pray’d, Were, ‘I wish I had mends[1250] for my gude three kye!’

XXIV

It was then the use of Puddingburn house, And the house of Mangerton, all hail, Them that cam na it the first ca’, Gat nae mair meat till the neist meal.

XXV

The lads, that hungry and weary were, Abune the door-head they threw the key; Dickie he took gude notice o’ that, Says--‘There will be a bootie for me.’

XXVI

Then Dickie has into the stable gane, Where there stood thirty horses and three; He has tied them a’ wi’ St. Mary’s knot[1251], A’ these horses but barely three.

XXVII

He has tied them a’ wi’ St. Mary’s knot, A’ these horses but barely three; He’s loupen on ane, ta’en another in hand, And out at the door is gane Dickie.

XXVIII

But on the morn, when the day grew light, The shouts and cries raise loud and hie ‘Ah! wha has done this?’ quo’ the gude Laird’s Jock, ‘Tell me the truth and the verity!

XXIX

‘Wha has done this deed?’ quo’ the gude Laird’s Jock; ‘See that to me ye dinna lee!’-- ‘Dickie has been in the stable last night, And my brother’s horse and mine’s frae me.’--

XXX

‘Ye wad ne’er be tauld,’ quo’ the gude Laird’s Jock; ‘Have ye not found my tales fu’ leil? Ye never wad out o’ England bide, Till crooked and blind and a’ would steal.’--

XXXI

‘But lend me thy bay,’ fair Johnie can say; ‘There’s nae horse loose in the stable save he; And I’ll either fetch Dick o’ the Cow again, Or the day is come that he shall dee.’--

XXXII

‘To lend thee my bay!’ the Laird’s Jock ’gan say; ‘He’s baith worth gowd and gude monie. Dick o’ the Cow has awa’ twa horse: I wish na thou may make him three.’

XXXIII

He his ta’en the laird’s jack[1252] on his back, A twa-handed sword to hang by his thie; He has ta’en a steel cap on his head, And on he is to follow Dickie.

XXXIV

Dickie was na a mile aff the town, I wat a mile but barely three, When he was o’erta’en by Johnie Armstrong, Hand for hand, on Cannobie lee.

XXXV

‘Abide, abide, thou traitour thiefe! The day is come that thou maun dee!’ Then Dickie look’t ower his left shoulder, --‘Johnie, hast thou nae mae in thy companie?

XXXVI

‘There is a preacher in our chapell, And a’ the lee-lang day teaches he: When day is gane and night is come, There’s ne’er a word I mark but three.

XXXVII

‘The first and second is--_Faith_ and _Conscience_; The third--_Johnie, take heed o’ thee!_ But, Johnie, what faith and conscience was thine, When thou took awa’ my three kye frae me?

XXXVIII

‘And when thou had ta’en awa’ my three kye, Thou thought in thy heart thou wast no well sped, Till thou sent thy billie owre the know, To tak three co’erlets off my wife’s bed!’--

XXXIX

Then Johnie let a spear fa’ laigh[1253] by his thie, Thought weel to hae run the innocent through, But the powers above were mair than he, For he ran but the pure fule’s jerkin through.

Together they ran, or ever they blan[1254]; This was Dickie the fule and he! Dickie couldna win at him wi’ the blade o’ the sword, But fell’d him wi’ the plummet[1255] under the ee.

XLI

Thus Dickie has fell’d fair Johnie Armstrong, The prettiest man in the south country: ‘Gramercy!’ then ’gan Dickie say, ‘I had but twa horse, thou hast made me three!’

XLII

He’s ta’en the laird’s jack aff Johnie’s back, The twa-handed sword that hung low by his thie; He’s ta’en the steel cap aff his head-- ‘Johnie, I’ll tell that I met wi’ thee.’

XLIII

When Johnie waken’d out o’ his dream, I wat a dreirie man was he: ‘And is thou gane? Now, Dickie, than The shame and dule is left wi’ me.

XLIV

‘And is thou gane? Now, Dickie, than The deil gae in thy companie! For if I should live these hundred years, I ne’er shall fight wi’ a fule after thee.’

XLV

Then Dickie’s come hame to the gude Lord Scroope, E’en as fast as he might hie; ‘Now, Dickie, I’ll neither eat nor drink, Till hie hangèd that thou shall be.’--

XLVI

‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo’ Dickie; ‘This was na the promise ye made to me! For I’d ne’er gang to Liddesdale to steal, Had I not got my leave frae thee.’--

XLVII

‘But what gar’d thee steal the Laird’s Jock’s horse? And, limmer, what gar’d ye steal him?’ quo’ he; ‘For lang thou mightst in Cumberland dwelt Or the Laird’s Jock had stown aught frae thee.’--

XLVIII

‘Indeed I wat ye lied, my lord! And e’en sae loud as I hear ye lie! I wan the horse frae fair Johnie Armstrang, Hand to hand, on Cannobie lee.

XLIX

‘There is the jack was on his back; This twa-handed sword hung laigh by his thie; And there’s the steel cap was on his head; I brought a’ these tokens to let thee see.’--

‘If that be true thou to me tells (And I think thou dares na tell me a lee), I’ll gie thee fifteen punds for the horse, Well tauld on thy cloak lap they shall be.

‘I’ll gie thee ane o’ my best milk kye, To maintain thy wife and children three; And that may be as gude, I think, As ony twa o’ thine wad be.’--

LII

‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo’ Dickie; ‘Trow ye aye to make a fule o’ me? I’ll either hae twenty punds for the gude horse, Or he’s gae to Mortan Fair wi’ me.’

LIII

He’s gi’en him twenty punds for the gude horse, A’ in the goud and gude monie; He’s gi’en him ane o’ his best milk kye, To maintain his wife and children three.

LIV

Then Dickie’s come down thro’ Carlisle toun, E’en as fast as he could drie: The first o’ men that he met wi’ Was my Lord’s brother, Bailiff Glozenburrie.

‘Weil be ye met, my gude Ralph Scroope!’-- ‘Welcome, my brother’s fule!’ quo’ he; ‘Where didst thou get Johnie Armstrang’s horse?’-- ‘Where did I get him, but steal him,’ quo’ he.

LVI

‘But wilt thou sell me the bonny horse? And, billie, wilt thou sell him to me?’ quo’ he.-- ‘Ay; if thou’lt tell me the monie on my cloak lap: For there’s never ae penny I’ll trust thee.’--

LVII

‘I’ll gie thee ten punds for the gude horse, Weil tauld on thy cloak lap they shall be; And I’ll gie thee ane o’ the best milk kye, To maintain thy wife and children three.’--

LVIII

‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo’ Dickie; ‘Trow ye aye to make a fule o’ me! I’ll either hae twenty punds for the gude horse, Or he’s gae to Mortan Fair wi’ me.’--

LIX

He’s gi’en him twenty punds for the gude horse, Baith in goud and gude monie; He’s gi’en him ane o’ his milk kye, To maintain his wife and children three.

Then Dickie lap a loup[1256] fu’ hie, And I wat a loud laugh laughèd he: ‘I wish the neck o’ the third horse was broken, If ony of the twa were better than he!’

LXI

Then Dickie’s come hame to his wife again; Judge ye how the puir fule had sped! He has gi’en her twa score English punds, For the three auld co’erlets ta’en aff her bed.

LXII

‘And tak thee these twa as gude kye, I trow, as a’ thy three might be; And yet here is a white-footed nag, I trow he’ll carry baith thee and me.

LXIII

‘But I may nae langer in Cumberland bide; The Armstrangs they would hang me hie.’-- So Dickie’s ta’en leave at lord and master, And at Burgh under Stanmuir dwells Dickie.

FOOTNOTES:

[1239] ryding = raiding.

[1240] lither = _here an adverb_, vilely.

[1241] aiblins = perchance.

[1242] know = knop of the hill.

[1243] Hairibee = the place of execution at Carlisle.

[1244] breek thie = thigh-pocket of his breeches.

[1245] dree = last, endure.

[1246] plain = complain.

[1247] batts = beating.

[1248] grit = great i. e. his heart swelled so.

[1249] dought to = could.

[1250] mends = amends.

[1251] tied wi’ St Mary’s knot = hamstrung.

[1252] jack = short coat of mail.

[1253] laigh = low.

[1254] blan = checked, stopped.

[1255] plummet = pommel.

[1256] lap a loup = leapt a leap.

_143. Hughie the Graeme_

Gude Lord Scroope’s to the hunting gane, He has ridden o’er moss and muir; And he has grippit Hughie the Graeme, For stealing o’ the Bishop’s mare.

‘Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be! Here hangs a broadsword by my side; And if that thou canst conquer me, The matter it may soon be tryed.’--

III

‘I ne’er was afraid of a traitor thief; Although thy name be Hughie the Graeme, 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, 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 Graeme.

Then they hae grippit Hughie the Graeme, And brought him up through Carlisle town: The lasses and lads stood on the walls, Crying, ‘Hughie the Graeme, thou’se ne’er gae down!’

VII

Then they hae chosen a jury of men, The best that were in Carlisle town; And twelve of them cried out at once, ‘Hughie the Graeme, thou must gae down!’

VIII

Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume, As he sat by the judge’s knee; ‘Twenty white owsen, my gude lord, If you’ll grant Hughie the Graeme to me.’--

‘O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume! For sooth and sae it mauna be; For, were there but three Graemes of the name, They suld be hangèd 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 gude lord judge, If you’ll grant Hughie the Graeme to me!’--

‘O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume, Forsooth and so it must na be; Were he but the one Graeme of the name, He suld be hangèd high for me.’--

XII

‘If I be guilty,’ said Hughie the Graeme, ‘Of me my friends shall have small talk’; And he’s loupèd fifteen feet and three, Though his hands they were tied behind his back.

XIII

He lookèd over his left shoulder, And for to see what he might see; There was he aware of his auld father, Came tearing his hair most piteouslie.

XIV

‘O hald your tongue, my father,’ he says, ‘And see that ye dinna weep for me! For they may ravish me o’ my life, But they canna banish me fro’ Heaven hie.

‘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 Graeme.’

_144. The Lochmaben Harper_

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 King Henry’s Wanton Brown?

But first he gaed to his gude wyfe, Wi’ a’ the haste that he could thole[1257]-- ‘This wark,’ quo’ he, ‘will ne’er gae weel, Without a mare that has a foal.’--

III

Quo’ she, ‘Thou hast a gude gray mare, That’ll rin o’er hills baith laigh[1258] and hie; 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 can hie; And when he cam to Carlisle gate, O whae was there but the King Henrye?

‘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’d rather hae stabling for my mare.’

The King 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.’

VII

Then aye he harpit, and aye he carpit[1259], Till a’ the lordlings footed the floor; They thought the music was sae sweet, They had nae mind o’ the stable door.

VIII

And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit, Till a’ the nobles were fast asleep; Then quietly 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, There he fand thirty steeds and three.

He took a colt halter frae his hose, And o’ his purpose he didna fail; He slipt it owre the Wanton’s nose, And tied it to his gray mare’s tail.

He turn’d them loose at the castle gate, Owre muir and moss and ilka dale; And she ne’er let the Wanton bait, But kept him still gaun to her tail.

XII

The mare she was right swift o’ foot, She didna fail to find the way; For she was at Lochmaben gate Fu’ lang three hours before the day.

XIII

When she came to the Harper’s door, There she gave mony a nicker and sneer[1260]-- ‘Rise up,’ quo’ the wife, ‘thou lazy lass; Let in thy master and his mare!’

XIV

Then up she rose, put on her clothes, And keekit out through the lock-hole-- ‘O! by my sooth,’ then cried the lass, ‘Our mare has gotten a braw brown foal!’--

‘Come haud thy tongue, thou foolish lass! The moon’s but glancing in your ee. I’ll wad my hail fee[1261] against a groat, He’s bigger than e’er our foal will be.’

XVI

Now all this while in merry Carlisle The Harper harpit to hie and law; And the fiend dought they do[1262] but listen him to, Until that the day began to daw.

XVII

But on the morn at fair daylight, When they had ended a’ their cheer, Behold the Wanton Brown was gane, And eke the poor blind Harper’s mare!

XVIII

‘Allace! allace!’ quo’ the silly blind Harper, ‘And ever allace that I cam here! In Scotland I’ve tint a braw colt foal, In England they’ve stown my gude gray mare!’--

XIX

‘Come! cease thy allacing, thou silly blind Harper, And again of thy harping let us hear; And weel paid sall thy colt-foal be, And thou sall have a far better mare.’

Then aye he harpit, and aye he carpit, 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.

FOOTNOTES:

[1257] thole = suffer, be capable of.

[1258] laigh = low.

[1259] carpit = sang, recited.

[1260] nicker and sneer = whinny and snort.

[1261] wad my hail fee = bet my whole wages.

[1262] fiend dought they do = the deuce could they do.

_145. The Fire of Frendraught_

The eighteenth of October, A dismal tale to hear How good Lord John and Rothiemay Was both burnt in the fire.

When steeds was saddled and well bridled, And ready for to ride, Then out it came her false Frendraught, Inviting them to bide.

III

Said, ‘Stay this night untill we sup, The morn untill we dine; ’Twill be a token of good greement ’Twixt your good lord and mine.’

‘We’ll turn again,’ said good Lord John; ‘But no,’ said Rothiemay, ‘My steed’s trapan’d[1263], my bridle’s broken, I fear the day I’m fey[1264].’

When mass was sung and bells was rung, And all men bound for bed, Then good Lord John and Rothiemay In one chamber was laid.

They had not long cast off their cloaths, And were but now asleep, When the weary smoke began to rise, Likewise the scorching heat.

VII

‘O waken, waken, Rothiemay! O waken, brother dear! And turn you to our Saviour; There is strong treason here.’

VIII

When they were dressèd in their cloaths, And ready for to boun, The doors and windows was all secur’d, The roof-tree burning down.

He did him to the wire-window[1265], As fast as he could gang; Says, Wae to the hands put in the stancheons! For out we’ll never win.

When he stood at the wire-window, Most doleful to be seen, He did espy her Lady Frendraught, Who stood upon the green.

Cried, ‘Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught! Will ye not sink with sin? For first your husband killed my father, And now you burn his son.’

XII

O then out spoke her Lady Frendraught, And loudly did she cry; ‘It were great pity for good Lord John, But none for Rothiemay; But the keys are casten in the deep draw-well, Ye cannot get away.’

XIII

While he stood in this dreadful plight, Most piteous to be seen, There callèd out his servant Gordon, As he had frantic been:

XIV

‘O loup, O loup, my dear master! O loup and come to me! I’ll catch you in my arms twa, One foot I will not flee.

‘O loup, O loup, my dear master! O loup and come away! I’ll catch you in my arms twa, But Rothiemay may lie.’--

XVI

‘The fish shall never swim in the flood, Nor corn grow through the clay, Nor the fiercest fire that ever was kindled Twin[1266] me and Rothiemay.

XVII

‘But I cannot loup, I cannot come, I cannot win to thee; My head’s fast in the wire-window, My feet burning from me.

XVIII

‘My eyes are seething in my head, My flesh roasting also, My bowels are boiling with my blood; Is not that a woeful woe?

XIX

‘Take here the rings from my white fingers, That are so long and small, And give them to my lady fair, Where she sits in her hall.

‘So I cannot loup, I cannot come, I cannot loup to thee; My earthly part is all consumed, My spirit but speaks to thee.’

XXI

Wringing her hands, tearing her hair, His lady she was seen, And thus address’d his servant Gordon, Where he stood on the green.

XXII

‘O wae be to you, George Gordon! An ill death may you die! So safe and sound as you stand there, And my lord bereaved for me!’--

XXIII

‘I bad him loup, I bad him come, I bad him loup to me; I’d catch him in my arms twa, A foot I should not flee.

XXIV

‘He threw me the rings from his white fingers, Which were so long and small, To give to you, his lady fair, Where you sat in your hall.’

XXV

Sophia Hay[1267], Sophia Hay, O bonny Sophia was her name, Her waiting maid put on her cloaths, But I wot she tore them off again!

XXVI

And aft she cried, ‘Ohon! alas! A sair heart’s ill to win; I wan a sair heart when I married him, And to-day it’s return’d again.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1263] trapan’d = tampered with.

[1264] fey = doomed, having my fate on me.

[1265] wire-window = grated window.

[1266] twin = part.

[1267] Sophia Hay = wife of Lord John [Gordon], burned in this fire. She had jilted the young lord of Tolquhon to marry him, which explains the allusion in the last stanza.

_146. The Death of Parcy Reed_

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[1268].

The outlaws come frae Liddesdale, They herry Redesdale far and near; The rich man’s gelding it maun gang, They canna pass the puir man’s mare.

III

Sure it were weel, had ilka thief Around his neck a halter strang; And curses heavy may they light On traitors vile oursels amang!

Now Parcy Reed has Crosier taen, He has delivered him to the law; But Crosier says he’ll do waur than that, 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.

‘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.

VII

‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed, And to the hunting he has gane; And the three fause Ha’s o’ Girsonsfield Alang wi’ him he has them taen.

VIII

They hunted high, they hunted low, By heathery hill and birken shaw; They raised a buck on Rooken Edge, And blew the mort[1269] at fair Ealylawe

They hunted high, they hunted low, They made the echoes ring amain; With music sweet o’ horn and hound, 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.

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.’

XII

They lighted high in Batinghope, Atween the brown and benty ground; They had but rested a little while Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.

XIII

There’s nane may lean on a rotten staff, But him that risks to get a fa’; There’s nane may in a traitor trust, And traitors black were every Ha’.

XIV

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 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!’--

XVI

‘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, And make them either fight or flee.’--

XVII

‘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.’--

XVIII

‘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, Atween my brother John and me.’--

XIX

‘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.--

‘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.’--

XXI

‘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.’--

XXII

‘O turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha’, O turn now, man, and fight wi’ me; If ever we come to Troughend again, My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.’--

XXIII

‘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.’--

XXIV

‘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.

XXV

‘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.’

XXVI

He had but time to cross himsel’. A prayer he hadna time to say, Till round him came the Crosiers keen, All riding graith’d[1270] and in array.

XXVII

‘Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed, Thou art the very man we sought; Owre lang hae we been in your debt, Now will we pay you as we ought.

XXVIII

‘We’ll pay thee at the nearest tree, Where we shall hang thee like a hound.’-- Brave Parcy rais’d his fankit[1271] sword, And fell’d the foremost to the ground.

XXIX

Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed! Alake, he was an unarmed man! Four weapons pierced him all at once, As they assail’d him there and than.

XXX

They fell upon him all at once, They mangled him most cruellie; The slightest wound might caused his deid, And they hae gi’en him thirty-three; They hackit off his hands and feet, And left him lying on the lee.

XXXI

‘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[1272] o’ Liddesdale.

XXXII

It was the hour o’ gloaming gray, When herds come in frae fauld and pen; A herd he saw a huntsman lie, Says he, ‘Can this be Laird Troughen’?’--

XXXIII

‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed, And some will ca’ me Laird Troughen’; It’s little matter what they ca’ me, My faes hae made me ill to ken.

XXXIV

‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed, And speak my praise in tower and town; It’s little matter what they do now, My life-blood rudds the heather brown.

XXXV

‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed, And a’ my virtues say and sing; I would much rather have just now A draught o’ water frae the spring.’

XXXVI

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.

XXXVII

‘Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair, Ye maun do mair, as I you tell; Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend, And bear likewise my last farewell.

XXXVIII

‘A farewell to my wedded wife, A farewell to my brother John, Wha sits into the Troughend tower Wi’ heart as black as any stone.

XXXIX

‘A farewell to my daughter Jean, A farewell to my young sons five; 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 Betrayed the life o’ Parcy Reed.

XLI

‘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.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1268] stot = steer.

[1269] mort = death of the deer.

[1270] graith’d = harnessed, in armour.

[1271] fankit = entangled.

[1272] airt = direction.

_147. Baby Livingston_

O bonny Baby Livingston Went forth to view the hay, And by it came him Glenlyon, Sta’ bonny Baby away.

O first he’s ta’en her silken coat, And neist her satten gown, Syne row’d[1273] her in a tartan plaid, And hap’d her roun’ and roun’.

III

He has set her upon his steed And roundly rode away, And ne’er loot her look back again The live-long summer’s day.

He’s carried her o’er hills and muirs Till they came to a Highland glen, And there he’s met his brother John, With twenty armèd men.

O there were cows, and there were ewes, And lasses milking there! But Baby ne’er ance look’d about, Her heart was fill’d wi’ care.

Glenlyon took her in his arms, And kiss’d her, cheek and chin; Says, ‘I’d gie a’ these cows and ewes But ae kind look to win.’--

VII

‘O ae kind look ye ne’er shall get, Nor win a smile frae me, Unless to me you’ll favour shew, And take me to Dundee.’--

VIII

‘Dundee, Baby? Dundee, Baby? Dundee you ne’er shall see Till I’ve carried you to Glenlyon And have my bride made thee.

‘We’ll stay a while at Auchingour, And get sweet milk and cheese, And syne we’ll gang to Glenlyon, And there live at our ease.’--

‘I winna stay at Auchingour, Nor eat sweet milk and cheese, Nor go with thee to Glenlyon, For there I’ll ne’er find ease.’

Then out it spake his brother John, ‘O were I in your place, I’d take that lady hame again, For a’ her bonny face.

XII

‘Commend me to the lass that’s kind, Tho’ na so gently born; And, gin her heart I coudna gain, To take her hand I’d scorn.’--

XIII

‘O haud your tongue now, John,’ he says, ‘You wis na what you say; For I have lo’ed that bonny face This twelve month and a day.

XIV

‘And tho’ I’ve lo’ed her lang and sair, A smile I ne’er cou’d win; Yet what I’ve got ance in my power To keep I think nae sin.’

When they came to Glenlyon Castle, They lighted at the yate, And out it came his sisters three, Wha did them kindly greet.

XVI

O they’ve ta’en Baby by the hands And led her o’er the green, And ilka lady spake a word, But bonny Baby spake nane.

XVII

Then out it spake her bonny Jean, The youngest o’ the three; ‘O lady, dinna look sae sad, But tell your grief to me.’--

XVIII

‘O wherefore should I tell my grief, Since lax[1274] I canna find? I’m stown frae a’ my kin and friends, And my love I left behind.

XIX

‘But had I paper, pen, and ink, Before that it were day, I yet might get a letter sent In time to Johny Hay.’

O she’s got paper, pen, and ink, And candle that she might see, And she has written a broad letter To Johny at Dundee.

XXI

And she has gotten a bonny boy, That was baith swift and strang, Wi’ philabeg and bonnet blue, Her errand for to gang.

XXII

‘O boy, gin ye’d my blessing win And help me in my need, Run wi’ this letter to my love, And bid him come wi’ speed.

XXIII

‘And here’s a chain of good red gowd, And gowden guineas three, And when you’ve well your errand done, You’ll get them for your fee.’

XXIV

The boy he ran o’er hill and dale, Fast as a bird cou’d flee, And ere the sun was twa hours height The boy was at Dundee.

XXV

And when he came to Johny’s door He knockèd loud and sair; Then Johny to the window came, And loudly cry’d, ‘Wha’s there?’--

XXVI

‘O here’s a letter I have brought, Which ye maun quickly read, And, gin ye wou’d your lady save, Gang back wi’ me wi’ speed.’

XXVII

O when he had the letter read, An angry man was he; He says, ‘Glenlyon, thou shalt rue This deed of villany!

XXVIII

‘Woe be to thee, Glenlyon!’ he says, ‘An ill death may thou dee! Thou micht hae ta’en anither woman, And let my lady be.

XXIX

‘O saddle to me the black, the black, O saddle to me the brown, O saddle to me the swiftest steed That e’er rade frae the town.

XXX

‘And arm ye well, my merry men a’, And follow me to the glen, For I vow I’ll neither eat nor sleep Till I get my love again.’

XXXI

He’s mounted on a milk-white steed, The boy upon a gray, And they got to Glenlyon’s castle About the close of day.

XXXII

As Baby at her window stood, The west wind saft did bla’; She heard her Johny’s well-kent voice Beneath the castle wa’.

XXXIII

‘O Baby, haste, the window jump! I’ll kep you in my arm; My merry men a’ are at the yate, To rescue you frae harm.’

XXXIV

She’s to the window fixt her sheets And slippèd safely down, And Johny catch’d her in his arms, Ne’er loot her touch the ground.

XXXV

She’s mounted on her Johny’s horse, Fu’ blithely can she say,-- ‘Glenlyon, you hae lost your bride! She’s aff wi’ Johny Hay!’

XXXVI

Glenlyon and his brother John Were birling in the ha’, When they heard Johny’s bridle ring, As fast he rade awa’.

XXXVII

‘Rise, Jock! gang out and meet the priest, I hear his bridle ring! My Baby now shall be my wife Before the laverocks sing.’--

XXXVIII

‘O brother, this is not the priest; I fear he’ll come owre late; For armèd men with shining brands Stand at the castle-yate.’--

XXXIX

‘Haste Donald, Duncan, Dugald, Hugh! Haste, take your sword and spier! We’ll gar these traytors rue the hour That e’er they ventured here.’

The Highland men drew their claymores, And gae a warlike shout, But Johny’s merry men kept the yate, Nae ane durst venture out.

XLI

The lovers rade the live-lang night, And safe gat on their way, And bonny Baby Livingston Has gotten Johny Hay.

XLII

‘Awa’, Glenlyon! fy for shame! Gae hide ye in some den! You’ve latten your bride be stown frae you, For a’ your armed men.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1273] row’d = wrapped.

[1274] lax = relief.

_148. The Gypsy Countess_

There cam’ seven Egyptians on a day, And wow, but they sang bonny! And they sang sae sweet, and sae very complete, Down cam’ Earl Cassilis’ lady.

She cam’ tripping down the stair, And a’ her maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-faur’d face They cast the glamourie owre her.

III

They gave to her the nutmeg, And they gave to her the ginger; But she gave to them a far better thing, The seven gold rings off her fingers.

And when the Earl he did come home, Enquiring for his ladie, One of the servants made this reply, ‘She’s awa’ with the gypsie laddie.’

‘Come saddle for me the brown,’ he said, ‘For the black was ne’er so speedy, And I will travel night and day Till I find out my wanton ladie.’

‘Will you come home, my dear?’ he said, ‘Oh will you come home, my honey? And by the point of my broad sword, A hand I’ll ne’er lay on you.’...

VII

‘Yestreen I rade this water deep, And my own gude lord beside me; But this night I maun wet my little pretty feet With a wheen blackguards to wade me.

VIII

‘Yestreen I lay on a good feather-bed, And my own wedded lord beyond me, And to-night I’ll lie in the ash-corner, With the gypsies all around me.

‘They took off my high-heeled shoes, That were made of Spanish leather, And I have put on coarse Lowland brogues, To trip it o’er the heather.

‘The Earl of Cassilis is lying sick; Not one hair I’m sorry; I’d rather have a kiss from Johnny Faa’s lips Than all his gold and his money.’

_149. The Baron of Brackley_

Inverey cam’ doun Deeside, whistlin’ and playin’; He was at brave Brackley’s yates ere it was dawin’[1275].

Says, ‘Baron of Brackley, are ye within? There’s sharp swords at your yate will gar your blood spin.

III

‘Open the yate, Brackley, let us within, Till on the green turf we gar your blood spin.’

The lady rase up, to the window she went; She heard the kye lowin’ o’er hill and o’er bent.

‘O rise up, John,’ she says, ‘turn back your kye; They’re o’er the hills rinnin’, they’re skippin awye!’--

‘Come to bed, Peggie, and let the kye rin: For were I to gang out, I’d never get in.

VII

‘For there is na gentlemen, nor yet pretty lads, But a curn[1276] o’ hired widdifu’s[1277], wears belted plaids.’

VIII

Then she cry’d on her women, they quickly came ben: ‘Tak’ up your rocks, lasses, and fight a’ like men!

‘Tho’ I’m but a woman, to head you I’ll try, Nor let these vile Hielandmen steal a’ our kye.’

Then up gat the Baron and cry’d for his graith[1278]; Says, ‘Lady, I’ll gang, tho’ to leave you I’m laith.

‘Come kiss me, my Peggie, and get me my gun; For I well may gang out, but I’ll never win in.’

XII

When the Baron of Brackley he rade thro’ the close, A gallanter gentleman ne’er mounted horse.

XIII

Tho’ there cam’ in with Inverey thirty and three, There was nane wi’ bold Brackley but his brither and he.

XIV

Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw: But against four and thirty, wae’s me, what was twa?

Wi’ swords and wi’ daggers they did him surround, And they’ve pierced the bold Brackley wi’ mony a wound.

XVI

Frae the head o’ the Dee to the banks o’ the Spey The Gordons may mourn him and ban Inverey.

XVII

‘O cam’ ye in by Brackley, and was ye in there? Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving[1279] her hair?’--

XVIII

‘O I cam’ by Brackley, and I was in there, But I saw-na his Peggy dear riving her hair.’--

XIX

‘O fye on ye, ladye! how could ye do sae? You open’d your yate[1280] to the fause Inverey.’

She ate wi’ him, drank wi’ him, welcomed him in; She’s welcomed the villain that slew her Baròn.

XXI

She kept him till morning, syne bade him be gane, And show’d him the road that he wouldna be ta’en.

XXII

‘Thro’ Bires and Aboyne,’ she says, ‘lyin’ in a tour O’er the hills o’ Glentanor ye’ll skip in an hour.’

XXIII

There is dule in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha’, For the Baron of Brackley is dead and awa’.

XXIV

But and up spak’ the babe on his nourice’s knee-- ‘Gin I live to be man, it’s revenged I will be.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1275] dawin’ = dawn.

[1276] curn = pack.

[1277] widdifu’s = gallows-birds, fit to fill a ‘widdie’ or halter.

[1278] graith = harness, arms.

[1279] riving = tearing.

[1280] yate = gate.

_150. The Dowie Houms of Yarrow_

Late at een, drinkin’ the wine, And ere they paid the lawin’[1281], They set a combat them between, To fight it in the dawin’.

‘O stay at hame, my noble lord! O stay at hame, my marrow[1282]! My cruel brother will you betray, On the dowie[1283] houms[1284] o’ Yarrow.’--

III

‘O fare ye weel, my lady gay! O fare ye weel, my Sarah! For I maun gae, tho’ I ne’er return Frae the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’

She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair, As she had done before, O; She belted on his noble brand, An’ he’s awa to Yarrow.

O he’s gane up yon high, high hill-- I wat he gaed wi’ sorrow-- An’ in a den spied nine arm’d men, I’ the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.

‘O are ye come to drink the wine, As ye hae doon before, O? Or are ye come to wield the brand, On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow?’--

VII

‘I am no come to drink the wine, As I hae done before, O, But I am come to wield the brand, On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’

VIII

Four he hurt an’ five he slew, On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow, Till that stubborn knight came him behind, An’ ran his body thorrow.

‘Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John, An’ tell your sister Sarah To come an’ lift her noble lord, Who’s sleepin’ sound on Yarrow.’

‘Yestreen I dream’d a dolefu’ dream; I ken’d there wad be sorrow; I dream’d I pu’d the heather green, On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’

She gaed up yon high, high hill-- I wat she gaed wi’ sorrow-- An’ in a den spied nine dead men, On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.

XII

She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair, As oft she did before, O; She drank the red blood frae him ran, On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.

XIII

‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear, For what needs a’ this sorrow? I’ll wed you on a better lord Than him you lost on Yarrow.’--

XIV

‘O haud your tongue, my father dear, An’ dinna grieve your Sarah; A better lord was never born Than him I lost on Yarrow.

‘Tak hame your ousen[1285], tak hame your kye, For they hae bred our sorrow; I wiss that they had a’ gane mad Whan they cam’ first to Yarrow.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1281] lawin’ = reckoning.

[1282] marrow = married mate.

[1283] dowie = doleful.

[1284] houms = water-meads.

[1285] ousen = oxen.

_151. Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight_

‘Adieu, madame, my mother dear, But and my sisters three! Adieu, fair Robert of Orchardstane! My heart is wae for thee.

‘Adieu, the lily and the rose, The primrose fair to see; Adieu, my ladye, and only joy! For I may not stay with thee.

III

‘Though I hae slain the Lord Johnstone, What care I for their feid? My noble mind does still incline-- He was my father’s deid[1286].

‘Both night and day I labour’d oft Of him avenged to be; But now I’ve got what lang I sought And I may not stay with thee.

‘Adieu! Drumlanrig, false wert aye, And Closeburn in a band! The Laird of Lag, frae my father that fled, When the Johnstone struck aff his hand.

‘They were three brethren in a band-- Joy may they never see! Their treacherous art, and cowardly heart, Has twined[1287] my love and me.

VII

‘Adieu! Dumfries, my proper place, But and Carlaverock fair! Adieu! my castle of the Thrieve, Wi’ a’ my buildings there!

VIII

‘Adieu! Lochmaben’s gate sae fair, And Langholm, where birks there be; Adieu! my ladye, and only joy, For I may not stay wi’ thee.

‘Adieu! Fair Eskdale up and down, Where my puir friends do dwell; The bangisters[1288] will ding them down, And will them sair compell.

‘But I’ll avenge their feid mysell, When I come o’er the sea; Adieu! my ladye, and only joy For I may not stay wi’ thee.’--

‘Lord of the land, will you go then Unto my father’s place, And walk into their gardens green, And I will you embrace.

XII

‘There Hamiltons, and Douglas baith, Shall rise to succour thee.’-- ‘Thanks for thy kindness, fair my dame, But I may not stay wi’ thee.’--

XIII

Then he tuik aff a gay gold ring, Thereat hang signets three; ‘Hae, tak thee that, mine ain kind thing, And still hae mind o’ me!

XIV

‘But if thou take another lord, Ere I come ower the sea, His life is but a three days’ lease, Though I may not stay wi’ thee.’

The wind was fair, the ship was clear, That good lord went away; And most part of his friends were there, To give him a fair convey.

XVI

They drank the wine, they didna spare Even in that gude lord’s sight-- Sae now he’s o’er the floods sae gray, And Lord Maxwell has ta’en his Goodnight.

FOOTNOTES:

[1286] my father’s deid = the death of my father.

[1287] twined = parted.

[1288] bangisters = lawless folk.

_152. Helen of Kirconnell_

I wish I were where Helen lies, Night and day on me she cries; O that I were where Helen lies, On fair Kirconnell lea!

Curst be the heart that thought the thought, And curst the hand that fired the shot, When in my arms burd Helen dropt, And died to succour me!

III

O think na ye my heart was sair, When my Love dropp’d and spak nae mair! There did she swoon wi’ meikle care, On fair Kirconnell lea.

As I went down the water side, None but my foe to be my guide, None but my foe to be my guide, On fair Kirconnell lea;

I lighted down my sword to draw, I hackèd him in pieces sma’, I hackèd him in pieces sma’, For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, beyond compare! I’ll mak a garland o’ thy hair, Shall bind my heart for evermair, Until the day I dee!

VII

O that I were where Helen lies! Night and day on me she cries; Out of my bed she bids me rise, Says, ‘Haste, and come to me!’

VIII

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! If I were with thee, I’d be blest, Where thou lies low and taks thy rest, On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish my grave were growing green, A winding-sheet drawn owre my een, And I in Helen’s arms lying, On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish I were where Helen lies! Night and day on me she cries; And I am weary of the skies, For her sake that died for me.

_153. The Lament of the Border Widow_

My love he built me a bonny bower, And clad it a’ wi’ lilye flour; A brawer bower ye ne’er did see, Than my true love he built for me.

There came a man, by middle day, He spied his sport, and went away; And brought the King that very night, Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.

III

He slew my knight, to me sae dear; He slew my knight, and poin’d[1289] his gear; My servants all for life did flee, And left me in extremitie.

I sew’d his sheet, making my mane; I watch’d the corpse, myself alane; I watch’d his body, night and day; No living creature came that way.

I took his body on my back, And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat; I digg’d a grave, and laid him in, And happ’d him with the sod sae green.

But think na ye my heart was sair, When I laid the moul’ on his yellow hair; O think na ye my heart was wae, When I turn’d about, away to gae?

VII

Nae living man I’ll love again, Since that my lovely knight is slain; Wi’ ae lock of his yellow hair I’ll chain my heart for evermair.

FOOTNOTES:

[1289] poin’d = made forfeit.