"After the battle, the bodie of the said_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Volume 3 (of 3) Consisting of Historical and Romantic Ballads, Collected in the Southern Counties of Scotland; with a Few of Modern Date, Founded Upon Local Tradition

in lead, and conveyed from thence to London, and to the monasterie of

Sheyne, in Surry, where it remained for a time, in what order I am not

certaine; but, since the dissolution of that house, in the reigne of

Edward VI., Henry Gray, Duke of Norfolke, being lodged, and keeping

house there, I have been shewed the same bodie, so lapped in lead,

close to the head and bodie, throwne into a waste room, amongst the old

timber, lead, and other rubble. Since the which time, workmen there,

for their foolish pleasure, hewed off his head; and Lancelot Young,

master glazier to Queen Elizabeth, feeling a sweet savour to come

from thence, and seeing the same dried from all moisture, and yet the

form remaining, with haire of the head, and beard red, brought it to

London, to his house in Wood-street, where, for a time, he kept it, for

its sweetness, but, in the end, caused the sexton of that church (St

Michael's, Wood-street) to bury it amongst other bones taken out of

their charnell."--STOWE'S _Survey of London_, p. 539.

FOOTNOTES:

[23] It is probable that Mr Robertson had not seen this deed, when

he wrote his statistical account of the parish of Selkirk; for it

appears, that, instead of a grant of lands, the privilege granted

to the community was a right of tilling one thousand acres of those

which already belonged to the burgh. Hence it follows, that, previous

to the field of Flodden, the town must have been possessed of a

spacious domain, to which a thousand acres in tillage might bear a due

proportion. This circumstance ascertains the antiquity and power of

the burgh; for, had this large tract of land been granted during the

minority of James V., the donation, to be effectual, must have been

included in the charters of confirmation.

[24] The charters are preserved in the records of the burgh.

[25] A singular custom is observed at conferring the freedom of the

burgh. Four or five bristles, such as are used by shoemakers, are

attached to the seal of the burgess ticket. These the new-made burgess

must dip in his wine, and pass through his mouth, in token of respect

for the souters of Selkirk. This ceremony is on no account dispensed

with.

[26] That the editor succeeded Mr Plummer in his office of

sheriff-depute, and has himself the honour to be a souter of Selkirk,

may perhaps form the best apology for the length of this dissertation.

[27] Selkirkshire, otherwise called Ettrick Forest.

[28] Berwickshire, otherwise called the Merse.

[29]

"Against the proud Scottes' clattering,

That never wyll leave their tratlying;

Wan they the field and lost theyr kinge?

They may well say, fie on that winning!

Lo these fond sottes and tratlying Scottes,

How they are blinde in theyr own minde,

And will not know theyr overthrow.

At Branxton moore they are so stowre,

So frantike mad, they say they had,

And wan the field with speare and shielde:

That is as true as black is blue, &c.

_Skelton Laureate against the Scottes._

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

PART FIRST.

* * * * *

The following well known, and beautiful stanzas, were composed many

years ago, by a lady of family, in Roxburghshire. The manner of the

ancient minstrels is so happily imitated, that it required the most

positive evidence to convince the editor that the song was of modern

date. Such evidence, however, he has been able to procure; having been

favoured, through the kind intervention of Dr Somerville (well known to

the literary world, as the historian of King William, &c.), with the

following authentic copy of the _Flowers of the Forest_.

From the same respectable authority, the editor is enabled to state,

that the tune of the ballad is ancient, as well as the two following

lines of the first stanza:

I've heard them lilting at the ewes milking,

· · · · · · · ·

The flowers of the forest are a' wede away.

Some years after the song was composed, a lady, who is now dead,

repeated to the author another imperfect line of the original ballad,

which presents a simple and affecting image to the mind:

"I ride single on my saddle,

"For the flowers of the forest are a' wede away."

The first of these trifling fragments, joined to the remembrance of

the fatal battle of Flodden (in the calamities accompanying which, the

inhabitants of Ettrick Forest suffered a distinguished share), and to

the present solitary and desolate appearance of the country, excited,

in the mind of the author, the ideas, which she has expressed in a

strain of elegiac simplicity and tenderness, which has seldom been

equalled.

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

PART FIRST.

* * * * *

I've heard them lilting, at the ewe milking,

Lasses a' lilting, before dawn of day;

But now they are moaning, on ilka green loaning;

The flowers of the forest are a' wede awae.

At bughts, in the morning, nae blithe lads are scorning;

Lasses are lonely, and dowie, and wae;

Nae daffing, nae gabbing, but sighing and sabbing;

Ilk ane lifts her leglin, and hies her awae.

In har'st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jearing;

Bandsters are runkled, and lyart or gray;

At fair, or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching;

The flowers of the forest are a' wede awae.

At e'en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming

'Bout stacks, with the lasses at bogle to play;

But ilk maid sits dreary, lamenting her deary--

The flowers of the forest are weded awae.

Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the border!

The English, for ance, by guile wan the day;

The flowers of the forest, that fought aye the foremost,

The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay.

We'll hear nae mair lilting, at the ewe milking;

Women and bairns are heartless and wae:

Sighing and moaning, on ilka green loaning--

The flowers of the forest are a' wede awae.

The following explanation of provincial terms may be found

useful.

_Lilting_--Singing cheerfully. _Loaning_--A broad

lane. _Wede awae_--Weeded out. _Scorning_--Rallying.

_Dowie_--Dreary. _Daffing and gabbing_--Joking and chatting.

_Leglin_--Milk-pail. _Har'st_--Harvest. _Shearing_--Reaping.

_Bandsters_--Sheaf-binders. _Runkled_--Wrinkled.

_Lyart_--Inclining to grey. _Fleeching_--Coaxing.

_Gloaming_--Twilight.

NOTE ON THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

* * * * *

_At fair, or at preaching_, &c.--P. 127. v. 3.

These lines have been said to contain an anachronism; the supposed date

of the lamentation being about the period of the field of Flodden. The

editor can see no ground for this charge. Fairs were held in Scotland

from the most remote antiquity; and are, from their very nature, scenes

of pleasure and gallantry. The preachings of the friars were, indeed,

professedly, meetings for a graver purpose; but we have the authority

of the _Wife of Bath_ (surely most unquestionable in such a point),

that they were frequently perverted to places of rendezvous:

I had the better leisur for to pleie,

And for to see, and eke for to be seie

Of lusty folk. What wist I where my grace

Was shapen for to be, or in what place?

Therefore I made my visitations

To vigilies and to processions:

_To preachings eke_, and to thise pilgrimages,

To plays of miracles, and marriages, &c.

_Canterbury Tales._

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

PART SECOND.

* * * * *

The following verses, adapted to the ancient air of the _Flowers of

the Forest_, are, like the elegy which precedes them, the production

of a lady. The late Mrs Cockburn, daughter of Rutherford of Fairnalie,

in Selkirkshire, and relict of Mr Cockburn of Ormiston (whose father

was lord justice-clerk of Scotland), was the authoress. Mrs Cockburn

has been dead but a few years. Even at an age, advanced beyond the

usual bounds of humanity, she retained a play of imagination, and an

activity of intellect, which must have been attractive and delightful

in youth, but was almost preternatural at her period of life. Her

active benevolence, keeping pace with her genius, rendered her equally

an object of love and admiration. The editor, who knew her well, takes

this opportunity of doing justice to his own feelings; and they are in

unison with those of all who knew his regretted friend.

The verses, which follow, were written at an early period of life, and

without peculiar relation to any event, unless it were the depopulation

of Ettrick Forest.

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

PART SECOND.

* * * * *

I've seen the smiling of fortune beguiling,

I've tasted her favours, and felt her decay;

Sweet is her blessing, and kind her caressing,

But soon it is fled--it is fled far away.

I've seen the forest adorned of the foremost,

With flowers of the fairest, both pleasant and gay:

Full sweet was their blooming, their scent the air perfuming,

But now they are wither'd, and a' wede awae.

I've seen the morning, with gold the hills adorning,

And the red storm roaring, before the parting day;

I've seen Tweed's silver streams, glittering in the sunny beams,

Turn drumly[30] and dark, as they rolled on their way.

O fickle fortune! why this cruel sporting?

Why thus perplex us poor sons of a day?

Thy frowns cannot fear me, thy smiles cannot cheer me,

Since the flowers of the forest are a' wede awae.

FOOTNOTES:

[30] _Drumly_--Discoloured.

THE LAIRD OF MUIRHEAD.

* * * * *

_This Ballad is a fragment from_ MR HERD'S _MS., communicated

to him by_ J. GROSSETT MUIRHEAD, _at Breadesholm, near Glasgow;

who stated, that he extracted it, as relating to his own

Family, from the complete Song, in which the names of twenty

or thirty gentlemen were mentioned, contained in a large

Collection, belonging to_ MR ALEXANDER MONRO, _merchant in

Lisbon, supposed now to be lost._

_It appears, from the Appendix to_ NESBIT'S _Heraldry,_ p. 264,

_that_ MUIRHEAD _of Lachop and Bullis, the person here called

the Laird of_ MUIRHEAD, _was a man of rank, being rentaller,

or perhaps feuar, of many crown lands in Galloway; and was, in

truth, slain_ "in Campo Belli de Northumberland sub vexillo

Regis," _i.e. in the Field of Flodden._

* * * * *

Afore the king in order stude

The stout laird of Muirhead,

Wi' that sam twa-hand muckle sword

That Bartram felled stark deid.

He sware he wadna lose his right

To fight in ilka field;

Nor budge him from his liege's sight,

Till his last gasp should yield.

Twa hunder mair, of his ain name,

Frae Torwood and the Clyde,

Sware they would never gang to hame,

But a' die by his syde.

And wond'rous weil they kept their troth;

This sturdy royal band

Rush'd down the brae, wi' sic a pith,

That nane cou'd them withstand.

Mony a bludey blow they delt,

The like was never seen;

And hadna that braw leader fallen,

They ne'er had slain the king.

ODE ON VISITING FLODDEN.

BY J. LEYDEN.

* * * * *

Green Flodden! on thy blood-stained head

Descend no rain nor vernal dew;

But still, thou charnel of the dead,

May whitening bones thy surface strew!

Soon as I tread thy rush-clad vale,

Wild fancy feels the clasping mail;

The rancour of a thousand years

Glows in my breast; again I burn

To see the bannered pomp of war return,

And mark, beneath the moon, the silver light of spears.

Lo! bursting from their common tomb,

The spirits of the ancient dead

Dimly streak the parted gloom,

With awful faces, ghastly red;

As once, around their martial king,

They closed the death-devoted ring,

With dauntless hearts, unknown to yield;

In slow procession round the pile

Of heaving corses, moves each shadowy file,

And chaunts, in solemn strain, the dirge of Flodden field.

What youth, of graceful form and mien,

Foremost leads the spectred brave,

While o'er his mantle's folds of green

His amber locks redundant wave?

When slow returns the fated day,

That viewed their chieftain's long array,

Wild to the harp's deep, plaintive string,

The virgins raise the funeral strain,

From Ord's black mountain to the northern main,

And mourn the emerald hue which paints the vest of spring.

Alas! that Scottish maid should sing

The combat where her lover fell!

That Scottish bard should wake the string,

The triumph of our foes to tell!

Yet Teviot's sons, with high disdain,

Have kindled at the thrilling strain

That mourned their martial fathers' bier;

And, at the sacred font, the priest,

Through ages left the master-hand unblest,

To urge, with keener aim, the blood-encrusted spear.

Red Flodden! when thy plaintive strain,

In early youth, rose soft and sweet,

My life-blood, through each throbbing vein,

With wild tumultuous passion beat.

And oft, in fancied might, I trod

The spear-strewn path to Fame's abode,

Encircled with a sanguine flood;

And thought I heard the mingling hum,

When, croaking hoarse, the birds of carrion come

Afar, on rustling wing, to feast on English blood.

Rude border chiefs, of mighty name,

And iron soul; who sternly tore

The blossoms from the tree of fame,

And purpled deep their tints with gore,

Rush from brown ruins, scarred with age,

That frown o'er haunted Hermitage;

Where, long by spells mysterious bound,

They pace their round, with lifeless smile,

And shake, with restless foot, the guilty pile,

Till sink the mouldering towers beneath the burdened ground.

Shades of the dead! on Alfer's plain,

Who scorned with backward step to move,

But, struggling mid the hills of slain,

Against the sacred standard strove;

Amid the lanes of war I trace

Each broad claymore and ponderous mace:

Where'er the surge of arms is tost,

Your glittering spears, in close array,

Sweep, like the spider's filmy web, away

The flower of Norman pride, and England's victor host.

But distant fleets each warrior ghost,

With surly sounds, that murmur far;

Such sounds were heard when Syria's host

Roll'd from the walls of proud Samàr

Around my solitary head

Gleam the blue lightnings of the dead,

While murmur low the shadowy band--

"Lament no more the warrior's doom!

Blood, blood alone, should dew the hero's tomb,

Who falls, 'mid circling spears, to save his native land."

NOTES

THE ODE TO FLODDEN.

* * * * *

_And mourn the emerald hue which paints the vest of spring._

P. 137. v. 2.

Under the vigorous administration of James IV. the young Earl of

Caithness incurred the penalty of outlawry and forfeiture, for

revenging an ancient feud. On the evening preceding the battle of

Flodden, accompanied by 300 young warriors, arrayed in green, he

presented himself before the king, and submitted to his mercy. This

mark of attachment was so agreeable to that warlike prince, that he

granted an immunity to the Earl and all his followers. The parchment,

on which this immunity was inscribed, is said to be still preserved

in the archives of the earls of Caithness, and is marked with the

drum-strings, having been cut out of a drum-head, as no other parchment

could be found in the army. The Earl, and his gallant band, perished

to a man in the battle of Flodden; since which period, it has been

reckoned unlucky in Caithness _to wear green_, or _cross the Ord on

a Monday_, the day of the week on which the chieftain advanced into

Sutherland.

_Through ages left the master-hand unblest_, &c.--P. 138. v. 1.

In the border counties of Scotland, it was formerly customary, when any

rancorous enmity subsisted between two clans, to leave the right hand

of male children unchristened, that it might deal the more deadly, or,

according to the popular phrase, "unhallowed" blows, to their enemies.

By this superstitious rite, they were devoted to bear the family feud,

or enmity. The same practice subsisted in Ireland, as appears from the

following passage in _Campion's History of Ireland_, published in 1633.

"In some corners of the land they used a damnable superstition, leaving

the right armes of their infants, males, unchristened (as they termed

it), to the end it might give a more ungracious and deadly blow." P. 15.

_Till sink the mouldering towers beneath the burdened ground._

P. 139. v. 1.

Popular superstition in Scotland still retains so formidable an idea of

the _guilt of blood_, that those ancient edifices, or castles, where

enormous crimes have been committed, are supposed to sink gradually

into the ground. With regard to the castle of Hermitage, in particular,

the common people believe, that thirty feet of the walls sunk, thirty

feet fell, and thirty feet remain standing.

_Against the sacred standard strove_, &c.--P. 139. v. 2.

The fatal battle of the standard was fought on Cowton Moor, near

Northallerton (A.S. Ealfertun), in Yorkshire, 1138. David I. commanded

the Scottish army. He was opposed by Thurston, archbishop of York,

who, to animate his followers, had recourse to the impressions of

religious enthusiasm. The mast of a ship was fitted into the perch

of a four-wheeled carriage; on its top was placed a little casket,

containing a consecrated host. It also contained the banner of St

Cuthbert, round which were displayed those of St Peter of York, St John

of Beverly, and St Wilfred of Rippon. This was the English standard,

and was stationed in the centre of the army. Prince Henry, son of

David, at the head of the men of arms, chiefly from Cumberland and

Teviotdale, charged, broke, and completely dispersed, the centre; but

unfortunately was not supported by the other divisions of the Scottish

army. The expression of Aldred (p. 345), describing this encounter, is

more spirited than the general tenor of monkish historians;--"_Ipsa

globi australis parte, instar cassis araneæ dissipata_"--that division

of the phalanx was dispersed like a cobweb.

MINSTRELSY

OF THE

SCOTTISH BORDER.

PART THIRD.

* * * * *

_IMITATIONS_

THE ANCIENT BALLAD.

CHRISTIE'S WILL.

* * * * *

In the reign of Charles I., when the moss-trooping practices were

not entirely discontinued, the tower of Gilnockie, in the parish of

Cannoby, was occupied by William Armstrong, called, for distinction's

sake, _Christie's Will_, a lineal descendant of the famous John

Armstrong, of Gilnockie, executed by James V.[31] The hereditary love

of plunder had descended to this person with the family mansion;

and, upon some marauding party, he was seized, and imprisoned in the

tolbooth of Jedburgh. The Earl of Traquair, lord high treasurer,

happening to visit Jedburgh, and knowing Christie's Will, enquired the

cause of his confinement. Will replied, he was imprisoned for stealing

two _tethers_ (halters); but, upon being more closely interrogated,

acknowledged, there were two _delicate colts_ at the end of them.

The joke, such as it was, amused the Earl, who exerted his interest,

and succeeded in releasing Christie's Will from bondage. Some time

afterwards, a law-suit, of importance to Lord Traquair, was to be

decided in the Court of Session; and there was every reason to

believe, that the judgment would turn upon the voice of the presiding

judge, who has a casting vote, in case of an equal division among

his brethren. The opinion of the president was unfavourable to Lord

Traquair; and the point was, therefore, to keep him out of the way,

when the question should be tried. In this dilemma, the Earl had

recourse to Christie's Will; who, at once, offered his service, to

kidnap the president. Upon due scrutiny, he found it was the judge's

practice frequently to take the air, on horseback, on the sands of

Leith, without an attendant. In one of these excursions, Christie's

Will, who had long watched his opportunity, ventured to accost the

president, and engage him in conversation. His address and language

were so amusing, that he decoyed the president into an unfrequented

and furzy common, called the Frigate Whins, where, riding suddenly up

to him, he pulled him from his horse, muffled him in a large cloak,

which he had provided, and rode off, with the luckless judge trussed up

behind him. Will crossed the country with great expedition, by paths,

only known to persons of his description, and deposited his weary and

terrified burden in an old castle, in Annandale, called the Tower of

Graham.[32] The judge's horse being found, it was concluded he had

thrown his rider into the sea; his friends went into mourning, and a

successor was appointed to his office. Meanwhile, the poor president

spent a heavy time in the vault of the castle. He was imprisoned,

and solitary; receiving his food through an aperture in the wall,

and never hearing the sound of a human voice, save when a shepherd

called his dog, by the name of _Batty_, and when a female domestic

called upon _Maudge_, the cat. These, he concluded, were invocations

of spirits; for he held himself to be in the dungeon of a sorcerer. At

length, after three months had elapsed, the law-suit was decided in

favour of Lord Traquair; and Will was directed to set the president at

liberty. Accordingly, he entered the vault, at dead of night, seized

the president, muffled him once more in the cloak, without speaking

a single word, and, using the same mode of transportation, conveyed

him to Leith sands, and set down the astonished judge on the very

spot where he had taken him up. The joy of his friends, and the less

agreeable surprise of his successor, may be easily conceived, when he

appeared in court, to reclaim his office and honours. All embraced his

own persuasion, that he had been spirited away by witchcraft; nor could

he himself be convinced of the contrary, until, many years afterwards,

happening to travel in Annandale, his ears were saluted, once more,

with the sounds of _Maudge_ and _Batty_--the only notes which had

solaced his long confinement. This led to a discovery of the whole

story; but, in these disorderly times, it was only laughed at, as a

fair _ruse de guerre_.

Wild and strange as this tradition may seem, there is little doubt of

its foundation in fact. The judge, upon whose person this extraordinary

stratagem was practised, was Sir Alexander Gibson, Lord Durie,

collector of the reports, well known in the Scottish law, under the

title of _Durie's Decisions_. He was advanced to the station of an

ordinary lord of session, 10th July, 1621, and died, at his own house

of Durie, July 1646. Betwixt these periods his whimsical adventure must

have happened; a date which corresponds with that of the tradition.

"We may frame," says Forbes, "a rational conjecture of his great

learning and parts, not only from his collection of the decisions of

the session, from July 1621 till July 1642, but also from the following

circumstances: 1. In a tract of more as twenty years, he was frequently

chosen vice-president, and no other lord in that time. 2. 'Tis commonly

reported, that some party, in a considerable action before the session,

finding, that the Lord Durie could not be persuaded to think his plea

good, fell upon a stratagem to prevent the influence and weight, which

his lordship might have to his prejudice, by causing some strong

masked men kidnap him, in the links of Leith, at his diversion on a

Saturday afternoon, and transport him to some blind and obscure room

in the country, where he was detained captive, without the benefit of

day-light, a matter of three months (though otherways civilly and well

entertained); during which time his lady and children went in mourning

for him, as dead. But, after the cause aforesaid was decided, the Lord

Durie was carried back by incognitos, and dropt in the same place

where he had been taken up."--FORBES'S _Journal of the Session_, Edin.

1714. _Preface_, p. 28.

Tradition ascribes to Christie's Will another memorable feat, which

seems worthy of being recorded. It is well known, that, during the

troubles of Charles I., the Earl of Traquair continued unalterably

fixed in his attachment to his unfortunate master, in whose service

he hazarded his person, and impoverished his estate. It was of

consequence, it is said, to the king's service, that a certain packet,

containing papers of importance, should be transmitted to him from

Scotland. But the task was a difficult one, as the parliamentary

leaders used their utmost endeavours to prevent any communication

betwixt the king and his Scottish friends. Traquair, in this strait,

again had recourse to the services of Christie's Will; who undertook

the commission, conveyed the papers safely to his majesty, and

received an answer, to be delivered to Lord Traquair. But, in the mean

time, his embassy had taken air, and Cromwell had dispatched orders

to intercept him at Carlisle. Christie's Will, unconscious of his

danger, halted in the town to refresh his horse, and then pursued his

journey. But, as soon as he began to pass the long, high, and narrow

bridge, which crosses the Eden at Carlisle, either end of the pass

was occupied by a party of parliamentary soldiers, who were lying in

wait for him. The borderer disdained to resign his enterprise, even

in these desperate circumstances; and at once forming his resolution,

spurred his horse over the parapet. The river was in high flood.

Will sunk--the soldiers shouted--he emerged again, and, guiding his

horse to a steep bank, called the Stanners, or Stanhouse, endeavoured

to land, but ineffectually, owing to his heavy horseman's cloak, now

drenched in water. Will cut the loop, and the horse, feeling himself

disembarrassed, made a desperate exertion, and succeeded in gaining

the bank. Our hero set off, at full speed, pursued by the troopers,

who had for a time stood motionless, in astonishment at his temerity.

Will, however, was well mounted; and, having got the start, he kept

it, menacing, with his pistols, any pursuer, who seemed likely to

gain on him--an artifice which succeeded, although the arms were wet

and useless. He was chaced to the river Eske, which he swam without

hesitation; and, finding himself on Scottish ground, and in the

neighbourhood of friends, he turned on the northern bank, and, in the

true spirit of a border rider, invited his followers to come through,

and drink with him. After this taunt, he proceeded on his journey, and

faithfully accomplished his mission. Such were the exploits of the very

last border freebooter of any note.

The reader is not to regard the ballad as of genuine and unmixed

antiquity, though some stanzas are current upon the border, in a

corrupted state. They have been eked and joined together, in the rude

and ludicrous manner of the original; but as it is to be considered as

a modern ballad, it is transferred to this department of the work.

CHRISTIE'S WILL.

* * * * *

Traquair has ridden up Chapelhope,

And sae has he down by the Gray Mare's Tail;[33]

He never stinted the light gallop,

Untill he speer'd for Christie's Will.

Now Christie's Will peep'd frae the tower,

And out at the shot-hole keeked he;

"And ever unlucky," quo' he, "is the hour,

"That the warden comes to speer for me!"

"Good Christie's Will, now, have na fear!

"Nae harm, good Will, shall hap to thee:

"I saved thy life at the Jeddart air,

"At the Jeddart air frae the justice tree.

"Bethink how ye sware, by the salt and the bread,[34]

"By the lightning, the wind, and the rain,

"That if ever of Christie's Will I had need,

"He would pay me my service again."

"Gramercy, my lord," quo' Christie's Will,

"Gramercy, my lord, for your grace to me!

"When I turn my cheek, and claw my neck,

"I think of Traquair, and the Jeddart tree."

And he has opened the fair tower yate,

To Traquair and a' his companie;

The spule o' the deer on the board he has set,

The fattest that ran on the Hutton Lee.

"Now, wherefore sit ye sad, my lord?

"And wherefore sit ye mournfullie?

"And why eat ye not of the venison I shot,

"At the dead of night, on Hutton Lee?"

"O weel may I stint of feast and sport,

"And in my mind be vexed sair!

"A vote of the canker'd Session Court,

"Of land and living will make me bair.

"But if auld Durie to heaven were flown,

"Or if auld Durie to hell were gane,

"Or ... if he could be but ten days stown....

"My bonny braid lands would still be my ain."

"O mony a time, my lord," he said,

"I've stown the horse frae the sleeping loun;

"But for you I'll steal a beast as braid,

"For I'll steal Lord Durie frae Edinburgh town.

"O mony a time, my lord," he said,

"I've stown a kiss frae a sleeping wench;

"But for you I'll do as kittle a deed,

"For I'll steal an auld lurdane aff the bench."

And Christie's Will is to Edinburgh gane;

At the Borough Muir then entered he;

And as he pass'd the gallow-stane,

He cross'd his brow, and he bent his knee.

He lighted at Lord Durie's door,

And there he knocked most manfullie;

And up and spake Lord Durie, sae stoor,

"What tidings, thou stalward groom, to me?"

"The fairest lady in Teviotdale,

"Has sent, maist reverent Sir, for thee;

"She pleas at the session for her land, a' haill,

"And fain she wad plead her cause to thee."

"But how can I to that lady ride,

"With saving of my dignitie?"

"O a curch and mantle ye may wear,

"And in my cloak ye sall muffled be."

Wi' curch on head, and cloak ower face,

He mounted the judge on a palfrey fyne;

He rode away, a right round pace,

And Christie's Will held the bridle reyn.

The Lothian Edge they were not o'er,

When they heard bugles bauldly ring,

And, hunting over Middleton Moor,

They met, I ween, our noble king.

When Willie look'd upon our king,

I wot a frightened man was he!

But ever auld Durie was startled more,

For tyning of his dignitie.

The king he cross'd himself, I wis,

When as the pair came riding bye--

"An uglier crone, and a sturdier lown,

"I think, were never seen with eye!"

Willie has hied to the tower of Græme,

He took auld Durie on his back,

He shot him down to the dungeon deep,

Which garr'd his auld banes gie mony a crack.

For nineteen days, and nineteen nights,

Of sun, or moon, or midnight stern,

Auld Durie never saw a blink,

The lodging was sae dark and dern.

He thought the warlocks o' the rosy cross

Had fang'd him in their nets sae fast;

Or that the gypsies' glamour'd gang,

Had lair'd[35] his learning at the last.

"Hey! Batty, lad! far yaud! far yaud!"[36]

These were the morning sounds heard he;

And "ever alack!" auld Durie cried,

"The deil is hounding his tykes on me!"

And whiles a voice on _Baudrons_ cried,

With sound uncouth, and sharp, and hie;

"I have tar-barrell'd mony a witch,

"But now, I think, they'll clear scores wi' me!"

The king has caused a bill be wrote,

And he has set it on the Tron,--

"He that will bring Lord Durie back,

"Shall have five hundred merks and one."

Traquair has written a braid letter,

And he has seal'd it wi' his seal,--

"Ye may let the auld brock[37] out o' the poke;

"The land's my ain, and a's gane weel."

O Will has mounted his bonny black,

And to the tower of Græme did trudge,

And once again, on his sturdy back,

Has he hente up the weary judge.

He brought him to the council stairs,

And there full loudly shouted he,

"Gie me my guerdon, my sovereign liege,

"And take ye back your auld Durie!"

NOTES

CHRISTIE'S WILL.

* * * * *

_He thought the warlocks o' the rosy cross._--P. 158. v. 4.

"As for the rencounter betwixt Mr Williamson, schoolmaster at Cowper

(who has wrote a grammar), and the Rosicrucians, I never trusted it,

till I heard it from his own son, who is present minister of Kirkaldy.

He tells, that a stranger came to Cowper, and called for him: after

they had drank a little, and the reckoning came to be paid, he whistled

for spirits; one, in the shape of a boy, came, and gave him gold in

abundance; no servant was seen riding with him to the town, nor enter

with him into the inn. He caused his spirits, against next day, bring

him noble Greek wine, from the Pope's cellar, and tell the freshest

news then at Rome; then trysted Mr Williamson at London, who met the

same man, in a coach, near to London bridge, and who called on him by

his name; he marvelled to see any know him there; at last he found it

was his Rosicrucian. He pointed to a tavern, and desired Mr Williamson

to do him the favour to dine with him at that house; whither he came

at twelve o'clock, and found him, and many others of good fashion

there, and a most splendid and magnificent table, furnished with all

the varieties of delicate meats, where they are all served by spirits.

At dinner, they debated upon the excellency of being attended by

spirits; and, after dinner, they proposed to him to assume him into

their society, and make him participant of their happy life; but, among

the other conditions and qualifications requisite, this was one, that

they demanded his abstracting his spirit from all materiality, and

renouncing his baptismal engagements. Being amazed at this proposal, he

falls a praying; whereat they all disappear, and leave him alone. Then

he began to forethink what would become of him, if he were left to pay

that vast reckoning; not having as much on him as would defray it. He

calls the boy, and asks, what was become of these gentlemen, and what

was to pay? He answered, there was nothing to pay, for they had done

it, and were gone about their affairs in the city."--FOUNTAINHALL's

_Decisions_, Vol. I. p. 15. With great deference to the learned

reporter, this story has all the appearance of a joke upon the poor

schoolmaster, calculated at once to operate upon his credulity, and

upon his fears of being left in pawn for the reckoning.

_Or that the gypsies' glamour'd gang, &c._--P. 158. v. 4.

Besides the prophetic powers, ascribed to the gypsies in most European

countries, the Scottish peasants believe them possessed of the power of

throwing upon by-standers a spell, to fascinate their eyes, and cause

them to see the thing that is not. Thus, in the old ballad of Johnie

Faa, the elopement of the countess of Cassillis, with a gypsey leader,

is imputed to fascination:

As sune as they saw her weel-far'd face,

They cast the _glamour_ ower her.

Saxo Grammaticus mentions a particular sect of _Mathematicians_, as

he is pleased to call them, who "_per summam ludificandorum oculorum

peritiam, proprios alienosque vultus, variis rerum imaginibus,

adumbrare callebant; illicibusque formis veros obscurare conspectus_."

Merlin, the son of Ambrose, was particularly skilled in this art, and

displays it often in the old metrical romance of _Arthour and Merlin_:

Tho' thai com the kinges neighe

Merlin hef his heued on heighe

And kest on hem enchauntement

That he hem alle allmest blent

That non other sen no might

A gret while y you plight &c.

The _jongleurs_ were also great professors of this mystery, which has

in some degree descended, with their name, on the modern jugglers.

But durst Breslaw, the Sieur Boaz, or Katterfelto himself, have

encountered, in magical slight, the _tregetoures_ of father Chaucer, who

---- within a hall large

Have made come in a water and a barge,

And in the halle rowen up and down;

Somtime hath semed come a grim leoun,

And somtime flowres spring as in a mede;

Somtime a vine and grapes white and rede,

Somtime a castel al of lime and ston;

And when hem liketh voideth it anon.

Thus seemeth it to every mannes sight.--

_Frankeleene's Tale._

And, again, the prodigies exhibited by the clerk of Orleans to

Aurelius:--

He shewd him or they went to soupere

Forestes, parkes, ful of wilde dere;

Ther saw he hartes with hir hornes hie,

The gretest that were ever seen with eie:

He saw of hem an hundred slain with houndes,

And some with arwes blede of bitter woundes:

He saw, when voided were the wilde dere,

Thise fauconers upon a fair rivere,

That with hir haukes han the heron slain:

Tho saw he knightes justen on a plain;

And after this he did him swiche plesance,

That he him shewd his lady on a dance,

On which himselven danced, as him thought:

And whan this maister that this magike wrought,

Saw it was time, he clapt his handes two,

And farewell! all the revel is ago.

And yet remued they never out of the house,

While they saw all thise sights merveillous:

But in his studie ther his bookes be,

They saten still and no wight but this three.

_Ibidem._

Our modern professors of the _magic natural_ would likewise have been

sorely put down by the _Jogulours_ and _Enchantours_ of the _Grete

Chan_; "for they maken to come in the air the sone and the mone,

beseminge to every mannes sight; and aftre, they maken the nyght so

dirke, that no man may se no thing; and aftre, they maken the day to

come agen, fair and plesant, with bright sone to every mannes sight;

and than, they bringin in daunces of the fairest damyselles of the

world, and richest arrayed; and after, they maken to comen in other

damyselles, bringing coupes of gold, fulle of mylke of diverse bestes;

and geven drinke to lordes and to ladyes; and than they maken knyghtes

to justen in arms fulle lustyly; and they rennen togidre a gret

randoun, and they frusschen togidere full fiercely, and they broken

her speres so rudely, that the trenchouns flen in sprotis and pieces

alle aboute the halle; and than they make to come in hunting for the

hert and for the boor, with houndes renning with open mouthe: and many

other things they dow of her enchauntements, that it is marveyle for

to se."--_Sir_ JOHN MANDEVILLE's _Travels_, p. 285. I question much,

also, if the most artful _illuminatus_ of Germany could have matched

the prodigies exhibited by Pacolet and Adramain. "_Adonc Adramain

leva une cappe par dessus une pillier, et en telle sort, qu'il sembla

a ceux qui furent presens, que parmi la place couroit, une riviere

fort grande et terrible. Et en icelle riviere sembloit avoir poissons

en grand abondance, grands et petits. Et quand ceux de palaís virent

l'eau si grande, ils commencerent tous a lever leur robes et a

crier fort, comme sils eussent eu peur d'estre noye; et Pacolet, qui

l'enchantement regarda, commenca a chanter, et fit un sort si subtil en

son chant qui sembla a tous ceux de lieu que parmy la riviere couroit

un cerf grand et cornu, qui jettoit et abbatoit a terre tout ce que

devant lui trouvoit, puis leur fut advis que voyoyent chasseurs et

veneurs courir apris le Cerf, avec grande puissance de levriers et des

chiens. Lors y eut plusieurs de la compagnie qui saillirent au devant

pour le Cerf attraper et cuyder prendre; mais Pacolet fist tost le

Cerf sailler. "Bien avez joué," dit Orson, "et bien scavez vostre art

user."_--L'Histoire des Valentin et Orson, a Rouen, 1631. The receipt,

to prevent the operation of these deceptions, was, to use a sprig of

four-leaved clover. I remember to have heard (certainly very long ago,

for, at the time, I believed the legend), that a gypsey exercised his

_glamour_ over a number of people at Haddington, to whom he exhibited

a common dung-hill cock, trailing, what appeared to the spectators, a

massy oaken trunk. An old man passed with a cart of clover; he stopped,

and picked out a four-leaved blade; the eyes of the spectators were

opened, and the oaken trunk appeared to be a bulrush.

_I have tar-barrell'd mony a witch._--P. 159. v. 1.

Human nature shrinks from the brutal scenes, produced by the belief in

witchcraft. Under the idea, that the devil imprinted upon the body of

his miserable vassals a mark, which was insensible to pain, persons

were employed to run needles into the bodies of the old women who were

suspected of witchcraft. In the dawning of common sense upon this

subject, a complaint was made before the Privy Council of Scotland,

11th September, 1678, by Catherine Liddell, a poor woman, against the

baron-bailie of Preston-Grange, and David Cowan (a professed pricker),

for having imprisoned, and most cruelly tortured her. They answered,

1st, She was searched by her own consent, _et volenti non fit injuria_;

2d, The pricker had learned his trade from Kincaid, a famed pricker;

3d, He never acted, but when called upon by magistrates or clergymen,

so what he did was _auctore prætore_; 4th, His trade was lawful; 5th,

Perkins, Delrio, and all divines and lawyers, who treat of witchcraft,

assert the existence of the marks, or _stigmata sagarum_; and, 6thly,

Were it otherwise, _Error communis facit jus_.--Answered, 1st, Denies

consent; 2d, Nobody can validly consent to their own torture; for,

_Nemo est dominus membrorum suorum_; 3d, The pricker was a common

cheat. The last arguments prevailed; and it was found, that inferior

judges "might not use any torture, by pricking, or by with-holding

them from sleep;" the council reserving all that to themselves, the

justices, and those acting by commission from them. But Lord Durie, a

lord of session, could have no share in these inflictions.

FOOTNOTES:

[31] For his pedigree, the reader may consult the Appendix to the

ballad of Johnie Armstrong, Vol. I.

[32] It stands upon the water of Dryfe, not far from Moffat.

[33] _Gray Mare's Tail_--A cataract above Moffat, so called.

[34] "He took bread and salt by this light, that he would never open

his lips." _The Honest Whore_, act 5, scene 12.

[35] _Lair'd_--Bogged.

[36] _Far yaud._ The signal made by a shepherd to his dog, when he is

to drive away some sheep at a distance. From Yoden, to go. _Ang. Sax._

[37] _Brock_--Badger.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

IN THREE PARTS.

* * * * *

PART FIRST.--ANCIENT.

Few personages are so renowned in tradition as Thomas of Erceldoune,

known by the appellation of _The Rhymer_. Uniting, or supposed to

unite, in his person, the powers of poetical composition, and of

vaticination, his memory, even after the lapse of five hundred years,

is regarded with veneration by his countrymen. To give any thing like

a certain history of this remarkable man, would be indeed difficult;

but the curious may derive some satisfaction from the particulars here

brought together.

It is agreed, on all hands, that the residence, and probably the

birth-place, of this ancient bard, was Erceldoune, a village situated

upon the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed. The ruins

of an ancient tower are still pointed out as the Rhymer's castle. The

uniform tradition bears, that his sirname was Lermont, or Learmont;

and that the appellation of _The Rhymer_ was conferred on him in

consequence of his poetical compositions. There remains, nevertheless,

some doubt upon this subject. In a charter, which is subjoined at

length,[38] the son of our poet designs himself "Thomas of Ercildoun,

son and heir of Thomas Rymour of Ercildoun," which seems to imply,

that the father did not bear the hereditary name of Learmont; or, at

least, was better known and distinguished by the epithet, which he had

acquired by his personal accomplishments. I must, however, remark,

that, down to a very late period, the practice of distinguishing the

parties, even in formal writings, by the epithets which had been

bestowed on them from personal circumstances, instead of the proper

sirnames of their families, was common, and indeed necessary, among

the border clans. So early as the end of the thirteenth century, when

sirnames were hardly introduced in Scotland, this custom must have

been universal. There is, therefore, nothing inconsistent in supposing

our poet's name to have been actually Learmont, although, in this

charter, he is distinguished by the popular appellation of _The Rhymer_.

We are better able to ascertain the period at which Thomas of

Ercildoune lived, being the latter end of the thirteenth century. I am

inclined to place his death a little farther back than Mr Pinkerton,

who supposes that he was alive in 1300 (_List of Scottish Poets_);

which is hardly, I think, consistent with the charter already quoted,

by which his son, in 1299, for himself and his heirs, conveys to the

convent of the Trinity of Soltre, the tenement which he possessed by

inheritance (_hereditarie_) in Ercildoun, with all claim which he, or

his predecessors, could pretend thereto. From this we may infer, that

the Rhymer was now dead; since we find his son disposing of the family

property. Still, however, the argument of the learned historian will

remain unimpeached, as to the time of the poet's birth. For if, as we

learn from Barbour, his prophecies were held in reputation[39] as early

as 1306, when Bruce slew the Red Cummin, the sanctity, and (let me

add to Mr Pinkerton's words) the uncertainty of antiquity, must have

already involved his character and writings. In a charter of Peter de

Haga de Bemersyde, which unfortunately wants a date, the Rhymer, a near

neighbour, and, if we may trust tradition, a friend of the family,

appears as a witness.--_Cartulary of Melrose._

It cannot be doubted, that Thomas of Ercildoun was a remarkable and

important person in his own time, since, very shortly after his death,

we find him celebrated as a prophet, and as a poet. Whether he himself

made any pretensions to the first of these characters, or whether it

was gratuitously conferred upon him by the credulity of posterity,

it seems difficult to decide. If we may believe Mackenzie, Learmont

only versified the prophecies delivered by Eliza, an inspired nun, of

a convent at Haddington. But of this there seems not to be the most

distant proof. On the contrary, all ancient authors, who quote the

Rhymer's prophecies, uniformly suppose them to have been emitted by

himself. Thus, in Wintown's _Chronicle_,

Of this fycht quilum spak Thomas

Of Ersyldoune, that sayd in Derne,

Thare suld meit stalwartly, starke and sterne.

He sayd it in his prophecy;

But how he wist it was _ferly_.

_Book_ VIII. _chap._ 32.

There could have been no _ferly_ (marvel) in Wintown's eyes, at least,

how Thomas came by his knowledge of future events, had he ever heard

of the inspired nun of Haddington; which, it cannot be doubted, would

have been a solution of the mystery, much to the taste of the prior of

Lochleven.[40]

Whatever doubts, however, the learned might have, as to the source of

the Rhymer's prophetic skill, the vulgar had no hesitation to ascribe

the whole to the intercourse between the bard and the queen of Faëry.

The popular tale bears, that Thomas was carried off, at an early age,

to the Fairy Land, where he acquired all the knowledge, which made him

afterwards so famous. After seven years residence, he was permitted

to return to the earth, to enlighten and astonish his countrymen

by his prophetic powers; still, however, remaining bound to return

to his royal mistress, when she should intimate her pleasure.[41]

Accordingly, while Thomas was making merry with his friends, in the

tower of Ercildoun, a person came running in, and told, with marks of

fear and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left the neighbouring

forest, and were, composedly and slowly, parading the street of the

village.[42] The prophet instantly arose, left his habitation, and

followed the wonderful animals to the forest, whence he was never

seen to return. According to the popular belief, he still "drees his

weird" in Fairy Land, and is one day expected to revisit earth. In the

meanwhile, his memory is held in the most profound respect. The Eildon

Tree, from beneath the shade of which he delivered his prophecies,

now no longer exists; but the spot is marked by a large stone, called

Eildon Tree Stone. A neighbouring rivulet takes the name of the Bogle

Burn (Goblin Brook) from the Rhymer's supernatural visitants. The

veneration paid to his dwelling place, even attached itself in some

degree to a person, who, within the memory of man, chose to set up his

residence in the ruins of Learmont's tower. The name of this man was

Murray, a kind of herbalist; who, by dint of some knowledge in simples,

the possession of a musical clock, an electrical machine, and a stuffed

aligator, added to a supposed communication with Thomas the Rhymer,

lived for many years in very good credit as a wizard.

It seemed to the editor unpardonable to dismiss a person, so important

in border tradition as the Rhymer, without some farther notice than a

simple commentary upon the following ballad. It is given from a copy,

obtained from a lady, residing not far from Ercildoun, corrected and

enlarged by one in Mrs Brown's MSS. The former copy, however, as might

be expected, is far more minute as to local description. To this old

tale the editor has ventured to add a Second Part, consisting of a kind

of Cento, from the printed prophecies vulgarly ascribed to the Rhymer;

and a Third Part, entirely modern, founded upon the tradition of his

having returned with the hart and hind, to the land of Faërie. To make

his peace with the more severe antiquaries, the editor has prefixed to

the second part some remarks on Learmont's prophecies.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART FIRST.

ANCIENT.

* * * * *

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;

A ferlie he spied wi' his e'e;

And there he saw a ladye bright,

Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk,

Her mantle o' the velvet fyne;

At ilka tett of her horse's mane,

Hang fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas, he pull'd aff his cap,

And louted low down to his knee,

"All hail, thou mighty queen of heav'n!

"For thy peer on earth I never did see."

"O no, O no, Thomas," she said;

"That name does not belang to me;

"I am but the queen of fair Elfland,

"That am hither come to visit thee.

"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said;

"Harp and carp along wi' me;

"And if ye dare to kiss my lips,

"Sure of your bodie I will be."

"Betide me weal, betide me woe,

"That weird[43] shall never danton me."

Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,

All underneath the Eildon Tree.

"Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said;

"True Thomas ye maun go wi' me;

"And ye maun serve me seven years,

"Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be."

She mounted on her milk-white steed;

She's ta'en true Thomas up behind;

And aye, whene'er her bridle rung,

The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on;

The steed gaed swifter than the wind;

Until they reached a desart wide,

And living land was left behind.

"Light down, light down, now, true Thomas,

"And lean your head upon my knee:

"Abide and rest a little space,

"And I will shew you ferlies three.

"O see ye not yon narrow road,

"So thick beset with thorns and briers?

"That is the path of righteousness,

"Though after it but few enquires.

"And see not ye that braid braid road,

"That lies across that lily leven?

"That is the path of wickedness,

"Though some call it the road to heaven.

"And see not ye that bonny road,

"That winds about the fernie brae?

"That is the road to fair Elfland,

"Where thou and I this night maun gae.

"But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,

"Whatever ye may hear or see;

"For, if you speak word in Elflyn land,

"Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie."

O they rade on, and farther on,

And they waded through rivers aboon the knee,

And they saw neither sun nor moon,

But they heard the roaring of the sea.

It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,

And they waded through red blude to the knee;

For a' the blude, that's shed on earth,

Rins through the springs o' that countrie.

Syne they came on to a garden green,

And she pu'd an apple frae a tree--

"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;

"It will give thee the tongue that can never lie."

"My tongue is mine ain," true Thomas said;

"A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!

"I neither dought to buy nor sell,

"At fair or tryst where I may be.

"I dought neither speak to prince or peer,

"Nor ask of grace from fair ladye."

"Now hold thy peace!" the lady said,

"For, as I say, so must it be."

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,

And a pair of shoes of velvet green;

And, till seven years were gane and past,

True Thomas on earth was never seen.

NOTE AND APPENDIX

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART FIRST.

* * * * *

_She pu'd an apple frae a tree_, &c.--P. 176. v. 5.

The traditional commentary upon this ballad informs us, that the apple

was the produce of the fatal Tree of Knowledge, and that the garden was

the terrestrial paradise. The repugnance of Thomas to be debarred the

use of falsehood, when he might find it convenient, has a comic effect.

* * * * *

The reader is here presented, from an old, and unfortunately an

imperfect MS., with the undoubted original of Thomas the Rhymer's

intrigue with the queen of Faëry. It will afford great amusement to

those who would study the nature of traditional poetry, and the changes

effected by oral tradition, to compare this ancient romance with the

foregoing ballad. The same incidents are narrated, even the expression

is often the same; yet the poems are as different in appearance, as if

the older tale had been regularly and systematically modernized by a

poet of the present day.

_Incipit Prophesia Thomæ de Erseldoun._

In a lande as I was lent,

In the gryking of the day,

Ay alone as I went,

In Huntle bankys me for to play:

I saw the throstyl, and the jay,

Ye mawes movyde of her song,

Ye wodwale sange notes gay,

That al the wod about range.

In that longyng as I lay,

Undir nethe a dern tre,

I was war of a lady gay,

Come rydyng ouyr a fair le;

Zogh I suld sitt to domysday,

With my tong to wrabbe and wry,

Certenly all hyr aray,

It beth neuyr discryuyd for me.

Hyr palfra was dappyll gray,

Sycke on say neuer none,

As the son in somers day,

All abowte that lady shone;

Hyr sadyl was of a rewel bone,

A semly syght it was to se,

Bryht with many a precyous stone,

And compasyd all with crapste;

Stones of oryens gret plente,

Her hair about her hede it hang,

She rode ouer the farnyle.

A while she blew a while she sang,

Her girths of nobil silke they were,

Her boculs were of beryl stone,

Sadyll and brydil war----:

With sylk and sendel about bedone,

Hyr patyrel was of a pall fyne,

And hyr croper of the arase,

Hyr brydil was of gold fyne,

On euery syde forsothe hong bells thre,

Hyr brydil reynes---

A semly syzt----

Crop and patyrel---

In every joynt----

She led thre grew houndes in a leash,

And ratches cowpled by her ran;

She bar an horn about her halse,

And undir her gyrdil mene flene.

Thomas lay and sa---

In the bankes of----

He sayd yonder is Mary of Might,

That bar the child that died for me,

Certes bot I may speke with that lady bright,

Myd my hert will breke in three;

I schal me hye with all my might,

Hyr to mete at Eldyn Tree.

Thomas rathly up he rase,

And ran ouer mountayn hye,

If it be sothe the story says,

He met her euyn at Eldyn Tre.

Thomas knelyd down on his kne

Undir nethe the grenewood spray,

And sayd, lovely lady thou rue on me,

Queen of heaven as you well may be;

But I am a lady of another countrie,

If I be pareld most of prise,

I ride after the wild fee,

My ratches rinnen at my devys.

If thou be pareld most of prise,

And rides a lady in strang foly,

Lovely lady as thou art wise,

Giue you me leue to lige ye by.

Do way Thomas, that wert foly,

I pray ye Thomas late me be,

That sin will forde all my bewtie:

Lovely ladye rewe on me,

And euer more I shall with ye dwell,

Here my trowth I plyght to thee,

Where you beleues in heuin or hell.

Thomas, and you myght lyge me by,

Undir nethe this grene wode spray,

Thou would tell full hastely,

That thou had layn by a lady gay.

Lady I mote lyg by the,

Under nethe the grene wode tre,

For all the gold in chrystenty,

Suld you neuer be wryede for me.

Man on molde you will me marre,

And yet bot you may haf you will,

Trow you well Thomas, you cheuyst ye warre;

For all my bewtie wilt you spill.

Down lyghtyd that lady bryzt,

Undir nethe the grene wode spray,

And as ye story sayth full ryzt,

Seuyn tymes by her he lay.

She seyd, man you lyste thi play,

What berde in bouyr may dele with thee,

That maries me all this long day;

I pray ye Thomas lat me be.

Thomas stode up in the stede,

And behelde the lady gay,

Her heyre hang down about hyr hede,

The tone was blak, the other gray.

Her eyn semyt onte before was gray,

Her gay clethyng was all away,

That he before had sene in that stede;

Hyr body as blow as ony bede.

Thomas sighede, and sayd allas,

Me thynke this a dullfull syght,

That thou art fadyd in the face,

Before you shone as son so bryzt.

Tak thy leue Thomas, at son and mone,

At gresse, and at euery tre.

This twelmonth sall you with me gone,

Medyl erth you sall not se.

Alas he seyd, ful wo is me,

I trow my dedes will werke me care,

Jesu my sole tak to ye,

Whedir so euyr my body sal fare.

She rode furth with all her myzt,

Undir nethe the derne lee,

It was as derke as at mydnizt,

And euyr in water unto the kne;

Through the space of days thre,

He herde but swowyng of a flode;

Thomas sayd, ful wo is me,

Nowe I spyll for fawte of fode;

To a garden she lede him tyte,

There was fruyte in grete plente,

Peyres and appless ther were rype,

The date and the damese,

The figge and als fylbert tre;

The nyghtyngale bredyng in her neste,

The papigaye about gan fle,

The throstylcok sang wold hafe no rest.

He pressed to pulle fruyt with his hand

As man for faute that was faynt;

She seyd, Thomas lat al stand,

Or els the deuyl wil the ataynt.

Sche said, Thomas I the hyzt,

To lay thi hede upon my kne,

And thou shalt see fayrer syght,

Than euyr sawe man in their kintre.

Sees thou, Thomas, yon fayr way,

That lyggs ouyr yone fayr playn?

Yonder is the way to heuyn for ay,

Whan synful sawles haf derayed their payne.

Sees thou, Thomas, yon secund way,

That lygges lawe undir the ryse?

Streight is the way sothly to say,

To the joyes of paradyce.

Sees thou, Thomas, yon thyrd way,

That ligges ouyr yone how?

Wide is the way sothly to say,

To the brynyng fyres of hell.

Sees thou, Thomas, yone fayr castell,

That standes ouyr yone fayr hill?

Of town and tower it beereth the belle,

In middell erth is non like theretill.

Whan thou comyst in yone castell gaye,

I pray thu curteis man to be;

What so any man to you say,

Soke thu answer non but me.

My lord is servyd at yche messe,

With xxx kniztes feir and fre;

I sall say syttyng on the dese,

I toke thy speche beyonde the le.

Thomas stode as still as stone,

And behelde that ladye gaye;

Than was sche fayr and ryche anone,

And also ryal on hir palfreye.

The grewhoundes had fylde them on the dere,

The raches coupled, by my fay,

She blewe her horn Thomas to chere,

To the castell she went her way.

The ladye into the hall went,

Thomas folowyd at her hand;

Thar kept hyr mony a lady gent,

With curtasy and lawe.

Harp and fedyl both he fande,

The getern and the sawtry,

Lut and rybid ther gon gan,

Thair was al maner of mynstralsy.

The most fertly that Thomas thoght,

When he com emyddes the flore,

Fourty hertes to quarry were broght,

That had ben befor both long and store.

Lymors lay lappyng blode,

And kokes standyng with dressyng knyfe,

And dressyd dere as thai wer wode,

And rewell was thair wonder

Knyghtes dansyd by two and thre,

All that leue long day.

Ladyes that wer gret of gre,

Sat and sang of rych aray.

Thomas sawe much more in that place,

Than I can descryve,

Til on a day alas, alas,

My lovelye ladye sayd to me,

Busk ye Thomas you must agayn,

Here you may no longer be:

Hy then zerne that you were at hame,

I sal ye bryng to Eldyn Tre.

Thomas answerd with heuy cher,

And sayd, lowely ladye lat me be,

For I say ye certenly here

Haf I be bot the space of dayes three.

Sothely Thomas as I telle ye,

You hath ben here thre yeres,

And here you may no longer be;

And I sal tele ye a skele,

To-morowe of helle ye foule fende

Amang our folke shall chuse his fee;

For you art a larg man and an hende,

Trowe you wele he will chuse thee.

Fore all the golde that may be,

Fro hens unto the worldes ende,

Sall you not be betrayed for me,

And thairfor sall you hens wend.

She broght hym euyn to Eldon Tre,

Undir nethe the grene wode spray,

In Huntle bankes was fayr to be,

Ther breddes syng both nyzt and day.

Ferre ouyr yon montayns gray,

Ther hathe my facon;

Fare wele, Thomas, I wende my way.

* * * * *

[The elfin queen, after restoring Thomas to earth, pours forth a string

of prophecies, in which we distinguish references to the events and

personages of the Scottish wars of Edward III. The battles of Duplin

and Halidon are mentioned, and also Black Agnes, Countess of Dunbar.

There is a copy of this poem in the museum in the cathedral of Lincoln,

another in the collection in Peterborough, but unfortunately they are

all in an imperfect state. Mr Jamieson, in his curious Collection of

Scottish Ballads and Songs, has an entire copy of this ancient poem,

with all the collations, which is now in the press, and will be soon

given to the public. The _lacunæ_ of the former edition have been

supplied from his copy.]

FOOTNOTES:

[38] _From the Chartulary of the Trinity House of Soltra, Advocates'

Library_, W. 4. 14.

ERSYLTON.

Omnibus has literas visuris vel audituris Thomas de Ercildoun filius et

heres Thomæ Rymour de Ercildoun salutem in Domino.--Noveritis me per

fustem et baculum in pleno judicio resignasse ac per presentes quietem

clamasse pro me et heredibus meis Magistro domus Sanctæ Trinitatis

de Soltre et fratribus ejusdem domus totam terram meam cum omnibus

pertinentibus suis quam in tenemento de Ercildoun hereditarie tenui

renunciando de toto pro me et heredibus meis omni jure et clameo que

ego seu antecessores mei in eadem terra alioque tempore de perpetua

habuimus sive de futuro habere possumus. In cujus rei testimonio

presentibus his sigillum meum apposui data apud Ercildoun die Martis

proximo post festum Sanctorum Apostolorum Symonis et Jude Anno Domini

Millessimo cc. Nonagesimo Nono.

[39] The lines alluded to are these:--

I hope that Tomas's prophesie,

Of Erceldoun, shall truly be.

In him, &c.

[40] Henry the Minstrel, who introduces Thomas into the history of

Wallace, expresses the same doubt as to the source of his prophetic

knowledge:

Thomas Rhymer into the faile was than

With the minister, which was a worthy man.

He used oft to that religious place;

The people deemed of wit he meikle can,

And so he told, though that they bless or ban,

Which happened sooth in many divers case;

I cannot say by wrong or righteousness.

In rule of war whether they tint or wan:

It may be deemed by division of grace, &c.

_History of Wallace_, Book II.

[41] See the Dissertation on Fairies, prefixed to _Tamlane_, Vol. II.

p. 109.

[42] There is a singular resemblance betwixt this tradition, and an

incident occurring in the life of Merlin Caledonius, which, the reader

will find a few pages onward.

[43] _That weird_, &c.--That destiny shall never frighten me.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART SECOND.

* * * * *

ALTERED FROM ANCIENT PROPHECIES.

* * * * *

The prophecies, ascribed to Thomas of Ercildoune, have been the

principal means of securing to him remembrance "amongst the sons of

his people." The author of _Sir Tristrem_ would long ago have joined,

in the vale of oblivion, Clerk of Tranent, who wrote the adventure of

"_Schir Gawain_," if, by good hap, the same current of ideas respecting

antiquity, which causes Virgil to be regarded as a magician by the

Lazaroni of Naples, had not exalted the bard of Ercildoune to the

prophetic character. Perhaps, indeed, he himself affected it during his

life. We know at least, for certain, that a belief in his supernatural

knowledge was current soon after his death. His prophecies are alluded

to by Barbour, by Wintoun, and by Henry the Minstrel, or _Blind

Harry_, as he is usually termed. None of these authors, however, give

the words of any of the Rhymer's vaticinations, but merely narrate,

historically, his having predicted the events of which they speak. The

earliest of the prophecies ascribed to him, which is now extant, is

quoted by Mr Pinkerton from a MS. It is supposed to be a response from

Thomas of Ercildoune, to a question from the heroic Countess of March,

renowned for the defence of the castle of Dunbar against the English,

and termed, in the familiar dialect of her time, _Black Agnes_ of

Dunbar. This prophecy is remarkable, in so far as it bears very little

resemblance to any verses published in the printed copy of the Rhymer's

supposed prophecies. The verses are as follows:

"_La Countesse de Donbar demande a Thomas de Essedoune quant la

guerre d'Escoce prendreit fyn. E yl l'a repoundy et dyt,_

"When man is mad a kyng of a capped man;

"When man is lever other mones thyng than is owen;

"When londe thouys forest, ant forest is felde;

"When hares kendles o' the her'ston;

"When Wyt and Wille weres togedere:

"When mon makes stables of kyrkes; and steles castels with styes;

"When Rokesboroughe nys no burgh ant market is at Forwyleye:

"When Bambourne is donged with dede men;

"When men ledes men in ropes to buyen and to sellen;

"When a quarter of whaty whete is chaunged for a colt of ten markes;

"When prude (pride) prikes and pees is leyd in prisoun;

"When a Scot ne me hym hude ase hare in forme that the English ne

shall hym fynde;

"When rycht ant wronge astente the togedere;

"When laddes weddeth lovedies;

"When Scottes flen so faste, that for faute of shep, hy drowneth

hemselve;

"When shall this be?

"Nouther in thine tyme ne in mine;

"Ah comen ant gone

"Withinne twenty winter ant one."

_Pinkerton's Poems, from Maitland's MSS. quoting

from Harl. Lib. 2253. F. 127._

As I have never seen the MS. from which Mr Pinkerton makes this

extract, and as the date of it is fixed by him (certainly one of the

most able antiquaries of our age), to the reign of Edward I. or II., it

is with great diffidence that I hazard a contrary opinion. There can,

however, I believe, be little doubt, that these prophetic verses are

a forgery, and not the production of our Thomas the Rhymer. But I am

inclined to believe them of a later date than the reign of Edward I. or

II.

The gallant defence of the castle of Dunbar, by Black Agnes, took

place in the year 1337. The Rhymer died previous to the year 1299

(see the charter, by his son, in the introduction to the foregoing

ballad). It seems, therefore, very improbable, that the Countess of

Dunbar could ever have an opportunity of consulting Thomas the Rhymer,

since that would infer that she was married, or at least engaged in

state matters, previous to 1299; whereas she is described as a young,

or a middle-aged, woman, at the period of her being besieged in the

fortress, which she so well defended. If the editor might indulge a

conjecture, he would suppose, that the prophecy was contrived for the

encouragement of the English invaders, during the Scottish wars; and

that the names of the Countess of Dunbar, and of Thomas of Ercildoune,

were used for the greater credit of the forgery. According to this

hypothesis, it seems likely to have been composed after the siege

of Dunbar, which had made the name of the Countess well known, and

consequently in the reign of Edward III. The whole tendency of the

prophecy is to aver, "that there shall be no end of the Scottish war

(concerning which the question was proposed), till a final conquest

of the country by England, attended by all the usual severities

of war. When the cultivated country shall become forest--says the

prophecy;--when the wild animals shall inhabit the abode of men;--when

Scots shall not be able to escape the English, should they crouch as

hares in their form--all these denunciations seem to refer to the

time of Edward III., upon whose victories the prediction was probably

founded." The mention of the exchange betwixt a colt worth ten markes,

and a quarter of "whaty (indifferent) wheat," seems to allude to the

dreadful famine, about the year 1388. The independence of Scotland was,

however, as impregnable to the mines of superstition, as to the steel

of our more powerful and more wealthy neighbours. The war of Scotland

is, thank God, at an end; but it is ended without her people having

either crouched, like hares, in their form, or being drowned in their

flight "for faute of ships,"--thank God for that too. The prophecy,

quoted in p. 179., is probably of the same date, and intended for

the same purpose. A minute search of the records of the time would,

probably, throw additional light upon the allusions contained in these

ancient legends. Among various rhymes of prophetic import, which are

at this day current amongst the people of Teviotdale, is one, supposed

to be pronounced by Thomas the Rhymer, presaging the destruction of his

habitation and family:

The hare sall kittle (litter) on my hearth stane,

And there will never be a laird Learmont again.

The first of these lines is obviously borrowed from that in the MS, of

the Harl. Library.--"When hares kendles o' the her'stane"--an emphatic

image of desolation. It is also inaccurately quoted in the prophecy of

Waldhave, published by Andro Hart, 1613:

"This is a true talking that Thomas of tells,

The hare shall hirple on the hard (hearth) stane."

Spottiswoode, an honest, but credulous historian, seems to have been

a firm believer in the authenticity of the prophetic wares, vended

in the name of Thomas of Ercildoun. "The prophecies, yet extant in

Scottish rhymes, whereupon he was commonly called _Thomas the Rhymer_,

may justly be admired; having foretold, so many ages before, the union

of England and Scotland in the ninth degree of the Bruce's blood, with

the succession of Bruce himself to the crown, being yet a child, and

other divers particulars, which the event hath ratified and made good.

Boethius, in his story, relateth his prediction of King Alexander's

death, and that he did foretell the same to the Earl of March, the day

before it fell out; saying, 'That before the next day at noon, such a

tempest should blow, as Scotland had not felt for many years before.'

The next morning, the day being clear, and no change appearing in the

air, the nobleman did challenge Thomas of his saying, calling him an

impostor. He replied, that noon was not yet passed. About which time, a

post came to advertise the earl, of the king his sudden death. 'Then,'

said Thomas, 'this is the tempest I foretold; and so it shall prove

to Scotland.' Whence, or how, he had this knowledge, can hardly be

affirmed; but sure it is, that he did divine and answer truly of many

things to come."--_Spottiswoode_, p. 47. Besides that notable voucher,

master Hector Boece, the good archbishop might, had he been so minded,

have referred to Fordun for the prophecy of King Alexander's death.

That historian calls our bard "_ruralis ille vates_."--_Fordun_, lib.

x. cap. 40.

What Spottiswoode calls "the prophecies extant in "Scottish rhyme," are

the metrical predictions ascribed to the prophet of Ercildoun, which,

with many other compositions of the same nature, bearing the names of

Bede, Merlin, Gildas, and other approved soothsayers, are contained

in one small volume, published by Andro Hart, at Edinburgh, 1615. The

late excellent Lord Hailes made these compositions the subject of a

dissertation, published in his _Remarks on the History of Scotland_.

His attention is chiefly directed to the celebrated prophecy of our

bard, mentioned by Bishop Spottiswoode, bearing, that the crowns of

England and Scotland should be united in the person of a king, son

of a French queen, and related to Bruce in the ninth degree. Lord

Hailes plainly proves, that this prophecy is perverted from its

original purpose, in order to apply it to the succession of James VI.

The ground-work of the forgery is to be found in the prophecies of

Berlington, contained in the same collection, and runs thus:

Of Bruce's left side shall spring out as a leafe,

As neere as the ninth degree;

And shall be fleemed of faire Scotland,

In France farre beyond the sea.

And then shall come againe ryding,

With eyes that many men may see.

At Aberladie he shall light,

With hempen helteres and horse of tre.

· · · · · · · ·

However it happen for to fall,

The lyon shall be lord of all;

The French quen shal bearre the sonne,

Shal rule all Britainne to the sea;

Ane from the Bruce's blood shal come also,

As neere as the ninth degree.

· · · · · · · ·

Yet shal there come a keene knight over the salt sea,

A keene man of courage and bold man of armes;

A duke's son dowbled (_i.e._ dubbed), a borne mon in France,

That shall our mirths augment, and mend all our harmes;

After the date of our Lord 1513, and thrice three thereafter;

Which shall brooke all the broad isle to himself,

Between 13 and thrice three the threip shal be ended,

The Saxons sall never recover after.

There cannot be any doubt, that this prophecy was intended to excite

the confidence of the Scottish nation in the Duke of Albany, regent of

Scotland, who arrived from France in 1515, two years after the death

of James IV. in the fatal field of Flodden. The regent was descended

of Bruce by the left, _i.e._ by the female side, within the ninth

degree. His mother was daughter of the Earl of Boulogne, his father

banished from his country--"fleemit of fair Scotland." His arrival

must necessarily be by sea, and his landing was expected at Aberlady,

in the Frith of Forth. He was a duke's son, dubbed knight; and nine

years, from 1513, are allowed him, by the pretended prophet, for the

accomplishment of the salvation of his country, and the exaltation of

Scotland over her sister and rival. All this was a pious fraud, to

excite the confidence and spirit of the country.

The prophecy, put in the name of our Thomas the Rhymer, as it stands in

Hart's book, refers to a later period. The narrator meets the Rhymer

upon a land beside a lee, who shows him many emblematical visions,

described in no mean strain of poetry. They chiefly relate to the

fields of Flodden and Pinkie, to the national distress which followed

these defeats, and to future halcyon days, which are promised to

Scotland. One quotation or two will be sufficient to establish this

fully:

Our Scottish king sal come ful keene,

The red lyon beareth he;

A feddered arrow sharp, I weene,

Shall make him winke and warre to see.

Out of the field he shall be led,

When he is bludie and woe for blood;

Yet to his men shall he say,

"For God's luve, turn you againe,

"And give yon sutherne folk a frey!

"Why should I lose the right is mine?

"My date is not to die this day."--

Who can doubt, for a moment, that this refers to the battle of Flodden,

and to the popular reports concerning the doubtful fate of James IV.?

Allusion is immediately afterwards made to the death of George Douglas,

heir apparent of Angus, who fought and fell with his sovereign:

The sternes three that day shall die,

That bears the harte in silver sheen.

The well-known arms of the Douglas family are the heart and three

stars. In another place, the battle of Pinkie is expressly mentioned by

name:

At Pinken Cluch there shall be spilt,

Much gentle blood that day;

There shall the bear lose the guilt,

And the eagill bear it away.

To the end of all this allegorical and mystical rhapsody, is

interpolated, in the later edition by Andro Hart, a new edition of

Berlington's verses, before quoted, altered and manufactured so as to

bear reference to the accession of James VI., which had just then taken

place. The insertion is made with a peculiar degree of awkwardness,

betwixt a question, put by the narrator, concerning the name and abode

of the person who shewed him these strange matters, and the answer of

the prophet to that question:

"Then to the Bairne could I say,

"Where dwells thou, or in what countrie?

"[Or who shall rule the isle of Britane,

"From the north to the south sey?

"A French queene shall beare the sonne,

"Shall rule all Britaine to the sea;

"Which of the Bruce's blood shall come,

"As neere as the nint degree:

"I frained fast what was his name,

"Where that he came, from what country.]

"In Erslingtoun I dwell at hame,

"Thomas Rymour men cals me."

There is surely no one, who will not conclude, with Lord Hailes, that

the eight lines, inclosed in brackets, are a clumsy interpolation,

borrowed from Berlington, with such alterations as might render the

supposed prophecy applicable to the union of the crowns.

While we are on this subject, it may be proper briefly to notice the

scope of some of the other predictions, in Hart's Collection. As the

prophecy of Berlington was intended to raise the spirits of the nation,

during the regency of Albany, so those of Sybilla and Eltraine refer to

that of the Earl of Arran, afterwards Duke of Chatelherault, during the

minority of Mary, a period of similar calamity. This is obvious from

the following verses:

Take a thousand in calculation,

And the longest of the lyon,

Four crescents under one crowne,

With Saint Andrew's croce thrise,

Then threescore and thrise three:

Take tent to Merling truely,

Then shall the warres ended be,

And never againe rise.

In that yere there shall a king,

A duke, and no crowned king;

Becaus the prince shall be yong,

And tender of yeares.

The date, above hinted at, seems to be 1549, when the Scottish regent,

by means of some succours derived from France, was endeavouring to

repair the consequences of the fatal battle of Pinkie. Allusion is

made to the supply given to the "Moldwarte" (England) by the fained

"hart" (the Earl of Angus). The regent is described by his bearing

the antelope; large supplies are promised from France, and complete

conquest predicted to Scotland and her allies. Thus was the same

hackneyed stratagem repeated, whenever the interest of the rulers

appeared to stand in need of it. The regent was not, indeed, till after

this period, created Duke of Chatelherault; but that honour was the

object of his hopes and expectations.

The name of our renowned soothsayer is liberally used as an authority,

throughout all the prophecies published by Andro Hart. Besides those

expressly put in his name, Gildas, another assumed personage, is

supposed to derive his knowledge from him; for he concludes thus:

"True Thomas me told in a troublesome time,

"In a harvest morn at Eldoun hills."

_The Prophecy of Gildas._

In the prophecy of Berlington, already quoted, we are told,

"Marvellous Merlin, that many men of tells,

"And Thomas's sayings comes all at once."

While I am upon the subject of these prophecies, may I be permitted

to call the attention of antiquaries to Merdwynn Wyllt, or _Merlin

the Wild_, in whose name, and by no means in that of Ambrose Merlin,

the friend of Arthur, the Scottish prophecies are issued. That

this personage resided at Drummelziar, and roamed, like a second

Nebuchadnezzar, the woods of Tweeddale, in remorse for the death of his

nephew, we learn from Fordun. In the _Scotichronicon_, lib. 3, cap.

31, is an account of an interview betwixt St Kentigern and Merlin,

then in this distracted and miserable state. He is said to have been

called _Lailoken_, from his mode of life. On being commanded by the

saint to give an account of himself, he says, that the penance, which

he performs, was imposed on him by a voice from heaven, during a bloody

contest betwixt Lidel and Carwanolow, of which battle he had been the

cause. According to his own prediction, he perished at once by wood,

earth, and water; for, being pursued with stones by the rustics, he

fell from a rock into the river Tweed, and was transfixed by a sharp

stake, fixed there for the purpose of extending a fishing-net:

_Sude perfossus, lapide percussus et unda_

_Haec tria Merlinum fertur inire necem._

_Sicque ruit, mersusque fuit lignoque perpendi,_

_Et fecit vatem per terna pericula verum._

But, in a metrical history of Merlin of Caledonia, compiled by Geoffrey

of Monmouth, from the traditions of the Welch bards, this mode of death

is attributed to a page, whom Merlin's sister, desirous to convict the

prophet of falsehood, because he had betrayed her intrigues, introduced

to him, under three various disguises, enquiring each time in what

manner the person should die. To the first demand Merlin answered,

the party should perish by a fall from a rock; to the second, that he

should die by a tree; and to the third, that he should be drowned. The

youth perished, while hunting, in the mode imputed by Fordun to Merlin

himself.

Fordun, contrary to the Welch authorities, confounds this person with

the Merlin of Arthur; but concludes by informing us, that many believed

him to be a different person. The grave of Merlin is pointed out at

Drummelziar, in Tweeddale, beneath an aged thorn-tree. On the east side

of the church-yard, the brook, called Pausayl, falls into the Tweed;

and the following prophecy is said to have been current concerning

their union:

When Tweed and Pausayl join at Merlin's grave,

Scotland and England shall one monarch have.

On the day of the coronation of James VI. the Tweed

accordingly overflowed, and joined the Pausayl at the prophet's

grave.--PENNYCUICK's _History of Tweeddale_, p. 26. These circumstances

would seem to infer a communication betwixt the south-west of Scotland

and Wales, of a nature peculiarly intimate; for I presume that Merlin

would retain sense enough to chuse, for the scene of his wanderings, a

country, having a language and manners similar to his own.

Be this as it may, the memory of Merlin Sylvester, or the Wild, was

fresh among the Scots during the reign of James V. Waldhave,[44] under

whose name a set of prophecies was published, describes himself as

lying upon Lomond Law; he hears a voice, which bids him stand to his

defence; he looks around, and beholds a flock of hares and foxes[45]

pursued over the mountain by a savage figure, to whom he can hardly

give the name of man. At the sight of Waldhave, the apparition leaves

the objects of his pursuit, and assaults him with a club. Waldhave

defends himself with his sword, throws the savage to the earth, and

refuses to let him arise till he swear, by the law and lead he lives

upon, "to do him no harm." This done, he permits him to arise, and

marvels at his strange appearance:

"He was formed like a freike (man) all his four quarters;

"And then his chin and his face haired so thick,

"With haire growing so grime, fearful to see."

He answers briefly to Waldhave's enquiry, concerning his name and

nature, that he "drees his weird," _i.e._ does penance, in that wood;

and, having hinted that questions as to his own state are offensive, he

pours forth an obscure rhapsody concerning futurity, and concludes,

"Go musing upon Merlin if thou wilt;

"For I mean no more man at this time."

This is exactly similar to the meeting betwixt Merlin and Kentigern in

Fordun. These prophecies of Merlin seem to have been in request in the

minority of James V.; for, among the amusements, with which Sir David

Lindsay diverted that prince during his infancy, are,

The prophecies of Rymer, Bede, and Merlin.

_Sir David Lindsay's Epistle to the King._

And we find, in Waldhave, at least one allusion to the very ancient

prophecy, addressed to the countess of Dunbar:

This is a true token that Thomas of tells,

When a ladde with a ladye shall go over the fields.

The original stands thus:

When laddes weddeth lovedies.

Another prophecy of Merlin seems to have been current about the time

of the regent Morton's execution.--When that nobleman was committed

to the charge of his accuser, captain James Stewart, newly created

Earl of Arran, to be conducted to his trial at Edinburgh, Spottiswoode

says, that he asked, "Who was earl of Arran?" "and being answered that

Captain James was the man, after a short pause he said, 'And is it

so? I know then what I may look for!' meaning, as was thought, that

the old prophecy of the 'Falling of the heart[46] by the mouth of

Arran,' should then be fulfilled. Whether this was his mind or not,

it is not known; but some spared not, at the time when the Hamiltons

were banished, in which business he was held too earnest, to say, that

he stood in fear of that prediction, and went that course only to

disappoint it. But, if so it was, he did find himself now

deluded; for he fell by the mouth of another Arran than he

imagined."--_Spottiswoode_, 313. The fatal words, alluded to, seem to

be these in the prophecy of Merlin:

"In the mouth of Arrane a selcouth shall fall,

"Two bloodie hearts shall be taken with a false traine,

"And derfly dung down without any dome."

To return from these desultory remarks, into which the editor has

been led by the celebrated name of Merlin, the style of all these

prophecies, published by Hart, is very much the same. The measure

is alliterative, and somewhat similar to that of _Pierce Plowman's

Visions_; a circumstance, which might entitle us to ascribe to some

of them an earlier date than the reign of James V., did we not know

that _Sir Galloran of Galloway_, and _Gawaine and Gologras_, two

romances rendered almost unintelligible by the extremity of affected

alliteration, are perhaps not prior to that period. Indeed, although

we may allow, that, during much earlier times, prophecies, under

the names of those celebrated soothsayers, have been current in

Scotland, yet those published by Hart have obviously been so often

vamped and re-vamped, to serve the political purposes of different

periods, that it may be shrewdly suspected, that, as in the case of

Sir John Cutler's transmigrated stockings, very little of the original

materials now remains. I cannot refrain from indulging my readers with

the publisher's title to the last prophecy; as it contains certain

curious information concerning the queen of Sheba, who is identified

with the Cumæan Sybil: "Here followeth a prophecie, pronounced by a

noble queene and matron, called Sybilla, Regina Austri, that came to

Solomon. Through the which she compiled four bookes, at the instance

and request of the said king Sol. and others divers: and the fourth

book was directed to a noble king, called Baldwine, king of the broad

isle of Britain; in the which she maketh mention of two noble princes

and emperours, the which is called Leones. How these two shall subdue,

and overcome all earthlie princes to their diademe and crowne, and

also be glorified and crowned in the heaven among saints. The first

of these two is Constantinus Magnus; that was Leprosus, the son of

Saint Helene, that found the croce. The second is the sixty king of

the name of Steward of Scotland, the which is our most noble king."

With such editors and commentators, what wonder that the text became

unintelligible, even beyond the usual oracular obscurity of prediction?

If there still remain, therefore, among these predictions, any verses

having a claim to real antiquity, it seems now impossible to discover

them from those which are comparatively modern. Nevertheless, as

there are to be found, in these compositions, some uncommonly wild

and masculine expressions, the editor has been induced to throw a few

passages together, into the sort of ballad to which this disquisition

is prefixed. It would, indeed, have been no difficult matter for him,

by a judicious selection, to have excited, in favour of Thomas of

Erceldoune, a share of the admiration, bestowed by sundry wise persons

upon Mass Robert Fleming. For example:

"But then the lilye shal be loused when they least think;

Then clear king's blood shal quake for fear of death;

For churls shal chop off heads of their chief beirns,

And carfe of the crowns that Christ hath appointed.

· · · · · · · ·

Thereafter, on every side, sorrow shal arise;

The barges of clear barons down shal be sunken;

Seculars shal sit in spiritual seats,

Occupying offices anointed as they were."

Taking the lilye for the emblem of France, can there be a more plain

prophecy of the murder of her monarch, the destruction of her nobility,

and the desolation of her hierarchy?

But, without looking farther into the signs of the times, the editor,

though the least of all the prophets, cannot help thinking, that every

true Briton will approve of his application of the last prophecy quoted

in the ballad.

Hart's collection of prophecies was frequently reprinted during the

last century, probably to favour the pretensions of the unfortunate

family of Stewart. For the prophetic renown of Gildas and Bede, see

_Fordun_, lib. 3.

Before leaving the subject of Thomas's predictions, it may be noticed,

that sundry rhymes, passing for his prophetic effusions, are still

current among the vulgar. Thus, he is said to have prophecied of the

very ancient family of Haig of Bemerside,

Betide, betide, whate'er betide,

Haig shall be Haig of Bemerside.

The grandfather of the present proprietor of Bemerside had twelve

daughters, before his lady brought him a male heir. The common people

trembled for the credit of their favourite soothsayer. The late Mr Haig

was at length born, and their belief in the prophecy confirmed beyond

a shadow of doubt.

Another memorable prophecy bore, that the Old Kirk at Kelso,

constructed out of the ruins of the abbey, should fall when "at the

fullest." At a very crowded sermon, about thirty years ago, a piece of

lime fell from the roof of the church. The alarm, for the fulfilment

of the words of the seer, became universal; and happy were they, who

were nearest the door of the predestined edifice. The church was

in consequence deserted, and has never since had an opportunity of

tumbling upon a full congregation. I hope, for the sake of a beautiful

specimen of Saxo-Gothick architecture, that the accomplishment of this

prophecy is far distant.

Another prediction, ascribed to the Rhymer, seems to have been founded

on that sort of insight into futurity, possessed by most men of a sound

and combining judgement. It runs thus:

At Eildon Tree if you shall be,

A brigg ower Tweed you there may see.

The spot in question commands an extensive prospect of the course of

the river; and it was easy to foresee, that, when the country should

become in the least degree improved, a bridge would be somewhere thrown

over the stream. In fact, you now see no less than three bridges from

that elevated situation.

Corspatrick (Comes Patrick), Earl of March, but more commonly taking

his title from his castle of Dunbar, acted a noted part during the

wars of Edward I. in Scotland. As Thomas of Erceldoune is said to have

delivered to him his famous prophecy of King Alexander's death, the

editor has chosen to introduce him into the following ballad. All the

prophetic verses are selected from Hart's publication.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART SECOND.

* * * * *

When seven years were come and gane,

The sun blinked fair on pool and stream;

And Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,

Like one awakened from a dream.

He heard the trampling of a steed,

He saw the flash of armour flee,

And he beheld a gallant knight,

Come riding down by the Eildon-tree.

He was a stalwart knight, and strong;

Of giant make he 'peared to be:

He stirr'd his horse, as he were wode,

Wi' gilded spurs, of faushion free.

Says--"Well met, well met, true Thomas!

Some uncouth ferlies shew to me."

Says--"Christ thee save, Corspatrick brave!

Thrice welcome, good Dunbar, to me!

"Light down, light down, Corspatrick brave,

"And I will shew thee curses three,

"Shall gar fair Scotland greet and grane,

"And change the green to the black livery.

"A storm shall roar, this very hour,

"From Rosse's Hills to Solway sea.

"Ye lied, ye lied, ye warlock hoar!

"For the sun shines sweet on fauld and lea."

He put his hand on the earlie's head;

He shewed him a rock, beside the sea,

Where a king lay stiff, beneath his steed,[47]

And steel-dight nobles wiped their e'e.

"The neist curse lights on Branxton hills:

"By Flodden's high and heathery side,

"Shall wave a banner, red as blude,

"And chieftains throng wi' meikle pride.

"A Scottish king shall come full keen;

"The ruddy lion beareth he:

"A feather'd arrow sharp, I ween,

"Shall make him wink and warre to see.

"When he is bloody, and all to bledde,

"Thus to his men he still shall say--

'For God's sake, turn ye back again,

'And give yon southern folk a fray!

'Why should I lose the right is mine?

'My doom is not to die this day.'[48]

"Yet turn ye to the eastern hand,

"And woe and wonder ye sall see;

"How forty thousand spearmen stand,

"Where yon rank river meets the sea.

"There shall the lion lose the gylte,

"And the libbards bear it clean away;

"At Pinkyn Cleuch there shall be spilt

"Much gentil blude that day."

"Enough, enough, of curse and ban;

"Some blessing shew thou now to me,

"Or, by the faith o' my bodie," Corspatrick said,

"Ye shall rue the day ye e'er saw me!"

"The first of blessings I shall thee shew,

"Is by a burn, that's call'd of bread;[49]

"Where Saxon men shall tine the bow,

"And find their arrows lack the head.

"Beside that brigg, out ower that burn,

"Where the water bickereth bright and sheen,

"Shall many a falling courser spurn,

"And knights shall die in battle keen.

"Beside a headless cross of stone,

"The libbards there shall lose the gree;

"The raven shall come, the erne shall go,

"And drink the Saxon blude sae free.

"The cross of stone they shall not know,

"So thick the corses there shall be."

"But tell me now," said brave Dunbar,

"True Thomas, tell now unto me,

"What man shall rule the isle Britain,

"Even from the north to the southern sea?"

"A French queen shall bear the son,

"Shall rule all Britain to the sea:

"He of the Bruce's blude shall come,

"As near as in the ninth degree.

"The waters worship shall his race;

"Likewise the waves of the farthest sea;

"For they shall ride ower ocean wide,

"With hempen bridles, and horse of tree."

FOOTNOTES:

[44] I do not know, whether the person here meant be Waldhave, an abbot

of Melrose, who died in the odour of sanctity, about 1160.

[45] The strange occupation, in which Waldhave beholds Merlin engaged,

derives some illustration from a curious passage in Geoffrey of

Monmouth's life of Merlin, above quoted. The poem, after narrating,

that the prophet had fled to the forests in a state of distraction,

proceeds to mention, that, looking upon the stars one clear evening, he

discerned, from his astrological knowledge, that his wife, Guendolen,

had resolved, upon the next morning, to take another husband. As he

had presaged to her that this would happen, and had promised her a

nuptial gift (cautioning her, however, to keep the bridegroom out

of his sight), he now resolved to make good his word. Accordingly,

he collected all the stags and lesser game in his neighbourhood;

and, having seated himself upon a buck, drove the herd before him to

the capital of Cumberland, where Guendolen resided. But her lover's

curiosity leading him to inspect too nearly this extraordinary

cavalcade, Merlin's rage was awakened, and he slew him with the stroke

of an antler of the stag. The original runs thus:

_Dixerat: et silvas et saltus circuit omnes,_

_Cervorumque greges agmen collegit in unum,_

_Et damas, capreasque simul, cervoque resedit;_

_Et veniente die, compellens agmina præ se,_

_Festinans vadit quo nubit Guendolna._

_Postquam venit eo, pacienter coegit_

_Cervos ante fores, proclamans, "Guendolna,_

_"Guendolna, veni, te talia munera spectant."_

_Ocius ergo venit subridens Guendolna_

_Gestarique virum cervo miratur, et illum_

_Sic parere viro, tantum quoque posse ferarum_

_Uniri numerum quas præ se solus agebat,_

_Sicut pastor oves, quas ducere suevit ad herbas._

_Stabat ab excelsa, sponsus spectando fenestra_

_In solio mirans equitem risumque movebat._

_Ast ubi vidit eum vates, animoque quis esset,_

_Calluit, extemplo divulsit cornua cervo_

_Quo gestabatur, vibrataque jecit in illum_

_Et caput illius penitus contrivit, eumque_

_Reddidit exanimem, vitamque fugavit in auras;_

_Ocius inde suum, talorum verbere, cervum_

_Diffugiens egit, silvasque redire paravit._

For a perusal of this curious poem, accurately copied from a MS. in the

Cotton Library, nearly coeval with the author, I was indebted to my

learned friend, the late Mr Ritson. There is an excellent paraphrase

of it in the curious and entertaining _Specimens of Early English

Romances_, lately published by Mr Ellis.

[46] The heart was the cognizance of Morton.

[47] King Alexander; killed by a fall from his horse, near Kinghorn.

[48] The uncertainty which long prevailed in Scotland, concerning the

fate of James IV., is well known.

[49] One of Thomas's rhymes, preserved by tradition, runs thus:

The burn of breid

Shall run fow reid."

Bannockburn is the brook here meant. The Scots give the name of

_bannock_ to a thick round cake of unleavened bread.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART THIRD--MODERN.

BY THE EDITOR.

* * * * *

Thomas the Rhymer was renowned among his contemporaries, as the author

of the celebrated romance of _Sir Tristrem_. Of this once admired

poem only one copy is now known to exist, which is in the Advocates'

Library. The editor, in 1804, published a small edition of this

curious work; which, if it does not revive the reputation of the bard

of Ercildoune, will be at least the earliest specimen of Scottish

poetry, hitherto published. Some account of this romance has already

been given to the world in MR ELLIS's _Specimens of Ancient Poetry_,

Vol. I. p. 165, 3d. p. 410; a work, to which our predecessors and

our posterity are alike obliged; the former, for the preservation of

the best selected examples of their poetical taste; and the latter,

for a history of the English language, which will only cease to be

interesting with the existence of our mother-tongue, and all that

genius and learning have recorded in it. It is sufficient here to

mention, that, so great was the reputation of the romance of _Sir

Tristrem_, that few were thought capable of reciting it after the

manner of the author--a circumstance alluded to by Robert de Brunne,

the annalist:

I see in song, in sedgeyng tale,

Of Erceldoun, and of Kendale.

Now thame says as they thame wroght,

And in thare saying it semes nocht.

That thou may here in Sir Tristrem,

Over gestes it has the steme,

Over all that is or was;

If men it said as made Thomas, &c.

It appears, from a very curious MS. of the thirteenth century,

_penes_ Mr Douce, of London, containing a French metrical romance of

_Sir Tristrem_, that the work of our Thomas the Rhymer was known,

and referred to, by the minstrels of Normandy and Bretagne. Having

arrived at a part of the romance, where reciters were wont to differ

in the mode of telling the story, the French bard expressly cites the

authority of the poet of Erceldoune:

_Plusurs de nos granter ne volent,_

_Co que del naim dire se solent,_

_Ki femme Kaherdin dut aimer,_

_Li naim redut Tristram narrer,_

_E entusché par grant engin,_

_Quant il afole Kaherdin;_

_Pur cest plaie e pur cest mal,_

_Enveiad Tristran Guvernal,_

_En Engleterre pur Ysolt_

THOMAS _ico granter ne volt,_

_Et si volt par raisun mostrer,_

_Qu' ico ne put pas esteer_, &c.

The tale of _Sir Tristrem_, as narrated in the Edinburgh MS., is

totally different from the voluminous romance in prose, originally

compiled on the same subject by Rusticien de Puise, and analysed by M.

de Tressan; but agrees in every essential particular with the metrical

performance, just quoted, which is a work of much higher antiquity.

The following attempt to commemorate the Rhymer's poetical fame,

and the traditional account of his marvellous return to Fairy Land,

being entirely modern, would have been placed with greater propriety

among the class of Modern Ballads, had it not been for its immediate

connection with the first and second parts of the same story.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART THIRD.

* * * * *

When seven years more were come and gone,

Was war through Scotland spread,

And Ruberslaw shew'd high Dunyon,

His beacon blazing red.

Then all by bonny Coldingknow,

Pitched palliouns took their room,

And crested helms, and spears a rowe,

Glanced gaily through the broom.

The Leader, rolling to the Tweed,

Resounds the ensenzie;[50]

They roused the deer from Caddenhead,

To distant Torwoodlee.

The feast was spread in Ercildoune,

In Learmont's high and ancient hall;

And there were knights of great renown,

And ladies, laced in pall.

Nor lacked they, while they sat at dine,

The music, nor the tale,

Nor goblets of the blood-red wine,

Nor mantling quaighs[51] of ale.

True Thomas rose, with harp in hand,

When as the feast was done;

(In minstrel strife, in Fairy Land,

The elfin harp he won.)

Hush'd were the throng, both limb and tongue,

And harpers for envy pale;

And armed lords lean'd on their swords,

And hearken'd to the tale.

In numbers high, the witching tale

The prophet pour'd along;

No after bard might e'er avail[52]

Those numbers to prolong.

Yet fragments of the lofty strain

Float down the tide of years,

As, buoyant on the stormy main,

A parted wreck appears.

He sung King Arthur's table round:

The warrior of the lake;

How courteous Gawaine met the wound,

And bled for ladies' sake.

But chief, in gentle Tristrem's praise,

The notes melodious swell;

Was none excelled, in Arthur's days,

The knight of Lionelle.

For Marke, his cowardly uncle's right,

A venomed wound he bore;

When fierce Morholde he slew in fight,

Upon the Irish shore.

No art the poison might withstand;

No medicine could be found,

Till lovely Isolde's lilye hand

Had probed the rankling wound.

With gentle hand and soothing tongue,

She bore the leech's part;

And, while she o'er his sick-bed hung,

He paid her with his heart.

O fatal was the gift, I ween!

For, doom'd in evil tide,

The maid must be rude Cornwall's queen,

His cowardly uncle's bride.

Their loves, their woes, the gifted bard

In fairy tissue wove;

Where lords, and knights, and ladies bright,

In gay confusion strove.

The Garde Joyeuse, amid the tale,

High rear'd its glittering head;

And Avalon's enchanted vale

In all its wonders spread.

Brangwain was there, and Segramore,

And fiend-born Merlin's gramarye;

Of that fam'd wizard's mighty lore,

O who could sing but he?

Through many a maze the winning song

In changeful passion led,

Till bent at length the listening throng

O'er Tristrem's dying bed.

His ancient wounds their scars expand,

With agony his heart is wrung:

O where is Isolde's lilye hand,

And where her soothing tongue?

She comes! she comes!--like flash of flame

Can lovers' footsteps fly:

She comes! she comes!--she only came

To see her Tristrem die.

She saw him die: her latest sigh

Joined in a kiss his parting breath:

The gentlest pair, that Britain bare,

United are in death.

There paused the harp: its lingering sound

Died slowly on the ear;

The silent guests still bent around,

For still they seem'd to hear.

Then woe broke forth in murmurs weak;

Nor ladies heaved alone the sigh;

But, half ashamed, the rugged cheek

Did many a gauntlet dry.

On Leader's stream, and Learmont's tower,

The mists of evening close;

In camp, in castle, or in bower,

Each warrior sought repose.

Lord Douglas, in his lofty tent,

Dream'd o'er the woeful tale;

When footsteps light, across the bent,

The warrior's ears assail.

He starts, he wakes:--"What, Richard, ho!

"Arise, my page, arise!

"What venturous wight, at dead of night,

"Dare step where Douglas lies!"

Then forth they rushed: by Leader's tide,

A selcouth[53] sight they see--

A hart and hind pace side by side.

As white as snow on Fairnalie.

Beneath the moon, with gesture proud,

They stately move and slow;

Nor scare they at the gathering crowd,

Who marvel as they go.

To Learmont's tower a message sped,

As fast as page might run;

And Thomas started from his bed,

And soon his cloaths did on.

First he woxe pale, and then woxe red;

Never a word he spake but three;--

"My sand is run; my thread is spun;

"This sign regardeth me."

The elfin harp his neck around,

In minstrel guise, he hung;

And on the wind, in doleful sound,

Its dying accents rung.

Then forth he went; yet turned him oft

To view his ancient hall;

On the grey tower, in lustre soft,

The autumn moon-beams fall.

And Leader's waves, like silver sheen,

Danced shimmering in the ray:

In deepening mass, at distance seen,

Broad Soltra's mountains lay.

"Farewell, my father's ancient tower!

"A long farewell," said he:

"The scene of pleasure, pomp, or power,

"Thou never more shalt be.

"To Learmont's name no foot of earth

"Shall here again belong,

"And, on thy hospitable hearth,

"The hare shall leave her young.

"Adieu! Adieu!" again he cried,

All as he turned him roun'--

"Farewell to Leader's silver tide!

"Farewell to Ercildoune!"--

The hart and hind approached the place,

As lingering yet he stood;

And there, before Lord Douglas' face,

With them he cross'd the flood.

Lord Douglas leaped on his berry-brown steed,

And spurr'd him the Leader o'er;

But, though he rode with lightning speed,

He never saw them more.

Some sayd to hill, and some to glen,

Their wondrous course had been;

But ne'er in haunts of living men

Again was Thomas seen.

NOTES

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART THIRD.

* * * * *

_And Ruberslaw shew'd high Dunyon._--P. 216. v. 1.

Ruberslaw and Dunyon are two hills above Jedburgh.

_Then all by bonny Coldingknow._--P. 216. v. 2.

An ancient tower near Ercildoune, belonging to a family of the name of

Home: One of Thomas's prophecies is said to have run thus:

Vengeance! vengeance! when and where?

On the house of Coldingknow, now and ever mair!

The spot is rendered classical by its having given name to the

beautiful melody, called the _Broom o' the Cowdenknows_.

_They roused the deer from Caddenhead,_

_To distant Torwoodlee._--P. 216. v. 3.

Torwoodlee and Caddenhead are places in Selkirkshire.

_How courteous Gawaine met the wound._--P. 218. v. 2.

See, in the _Fabliaux_ of Monsieur le Grand, elegantly translated by

the late Gregory Way, Esq. the tale of the _Knight and the Sword_.

_As white as snow on Fairnalie._--P. 221. v. 5.

An ancient seat upon the Tweed, in Selkirkshire. In a popular edition

of the first part of Thomas the Rhymer, the Fairy Queen thus addresses

him:

"Gin ye wad meet wi' me again,

Gang to the bonny banks of Fairnalie."

FOOTNOTES:

[50] _Ensenzie_--War-cry, or gathering word.

[51] _Quaighs_--Wooden cups, composed of staves hooped together.

[52] See introduction to this ballad.

[53] _Selcouth_--Wondrous.

THE EVE OF SAINT JOHN.

BY THE EDITOR.

* * * * *

Smaylho'me, or Smallholm Tower, the scene of the following ballad, is

situated on the northern boundary of Roxburghshire, among a cluster of

wild rocks, called Sandiknow-Crags, the property of Hugh Scott, Esq.

of Harden. The tower is a high square building, surrounded by an outer

wall, now ruinous. The circuit of the outer court, being defended,

on three sides, by a precipice and morass, is accessible only from

the west, by a steep and rocky path. The apartments, as is usual in a

border-keep, or fortress, are placed one above another, and communicate

by a narrow stair; on the roof are two bartizans, or platforms, for

defence or pleasure. The inner door of the tower is wood, the outer an

iron gate; the distance between them being nine feet, the thickness,

namely, of the wall. From the elevated situation of Smaylho'me Tower,

it is seen many miles in every direction. Among the crags, by which it

is surrounded, one, more eminent, is called the _Watchfold_, and is

said to have been the station of a beacon, in the times of war with

England. Without the tower-court is a ruined chapel. Brotherstone is a

heath, in the neighbourhood of Smaylho'me Tower.

This ballad was first printed in Mr LEWIS's _Tales of Wonder_. It is

here published, with some additional illustrations, particularly an

account of the battle of Ancram Moor; which seemed proper in a work

upon border antiquities. The catastrophe of the tale is founded upon a

well-known Irish tradition.[54] This ancient fortress and its vicinity

formed the scene of the editor's infancy, and seemed to claim from him

this attempt to celebrate them in a Border Tale.

THE EVE OF ST JOHN.

* * * * *

The Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day,

He spurr'd his courser on,

Without stop or stay, down the rocky way,

That leads to Brotherstone.

He went not with the bold Buccleuch,

His banner broad to rear;

He went not 'gainst the English yew,

To lift the Scottish spear.

Yet his plate-jack[55] was braced, and his helmet was laced,

And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore;

At his saddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe,

Full ten pound weight and more.

The Baron return'd in three days space,

And his looks were sad and sour;

And weary was his courser's pace,

As he reached his rocky tower.

He came not from where Ancram Moor[56]

Ran red with English blood;

Where the Douglas true, and the bold Buccleuch,

'Gainst keen Lord Evers stood.

Yet was his helmet hack'd and hew'd,

His acton pierc'd and tore;

His axe and his dagger with blood embrued,

But it was not English gore.

He lighted at the Chapellage,

He held him close and still;

And he whistled thrice for his little foot-page,

His name was English Will.

"Come thou hither, my little foot-page;

"Come hither to my knee;

"Though thou art young, and tender of age,

"I think thou art true to me.

"Come, tell me all that thou hast seen,

"And look thou tell me true!

"Since I from Smaylho'me tower have been,

"What did thy lady do?"

"My lady, each night, sought the lonely light,

"That burns on the wild Watchfold;

"For, from height to height, the beacons bright

"Of the English foemen told.

"The bittern clamour'd from the moss,

"The wind blew loud and shrill;

"Yet the craggy pathway she did cross,

"To the eiry Beacon Hill.

"I watched her steps, and silent came

"Where she sat her on a stone;

"No watchman stood by the dreary flame;

"It burned all alone.

"The second night I kept her in sight,

"Till to the fire she came,

"And, by Mary's might! an armed Knight

"Stood by the lonely flame.

"And many a word that warlike lord

"Did speak to my lady there;

"But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast,

"And I heard not what they were.

"The third night there the sky was fair,

"And the mountain-blast was still,

"As again I watched the secret pair,

"On the lonesome Beacon Hill.

"And I heard her name the midnight hour,

"And name this holy eve;

"And say, 'Come this night to thy lady's bower;

"Ask no bold Baron's leave.

'He lifts his spear with the bold Buccleuch;

'His lady is all alone;

'The door she'll undo, to her knight so true,

'On the eve of good St John.'

'I cannot come; I must not come;

'I dare not come to thee;

'On the eve of St John I must wander alone:

'In thy bower I may not be.'

'Now, out on thee, faint-hearted knight!

'Thou should'st not say me nay;

'For the eve is sweet, and when lovers meet,

'Is worth the whole summer's day.'

'And I'll chain the blood-hound, and the warder shall not sound,

'And rushes shall be strewed on the stair;

"So, by the black rood-stone,[57] and by holy St John,

'I conjure thee, my love, to be there!'

'Though the blood-hound be mute, and the rush beneath my foot,

'And the warder his bugle should not blow,

'Yet there sleepeth a priest in the chamber to the east,

'And my foot-step he would know.'

'O fear not the priest, who sleepeth to the east!

"For to Dryburgh[58] the way he has ta'en;

'And there to say mass, till three days do pass,

"For the soul of a knight that is slayne.'

"He turn'd him around, and grimly he frown'd;

"Then he laughed right scornfully--

'He who says the mass-rite for the soul of that knight,

'May as well say mass for me.

'At the lone midnight-hour, when bad spirits have power,

'In thy chamber will I be.'

"With that he was gone, and my lady left alone,

"And no more did I see."--

Then changed, I trow, was that bold Baron's brow,

From the dark to the blood-red high;

"Now, tell me the mien of the knight thou hast seen,

"For, by Mary, he shall die!"

"His arms shone full bright, in the beacon's red light;

"His plume it was scarlet and blue;

"On his shield was a hound, in a silver leash bound,

"And his crest was a branch of the yew."

"Thou liest, thou liest, thou little foot-page,

"Loud dost thou lie to me!

"For that knight is cold, and low laid in the mould,

"All under the Eildon-tree."[59]

"Yet hear but my word, my noble lord!

"For I heard her name his name;

"And that lady bright, she called the knight,

"Sir Richard of Coldinghame."

The bold Baron's brow then chang'd, I trow,

From high blood-red to pale--

"The grave is deep and dark--and the corpse is stiff and stark--

"So I may not trust thy tale."

"Where fair Tweed flows round holy Melrose,

"And Eildon slopes to the plain,

"Full three nights ago, by some secret foe,

"That gay gallant was slain."

"The varying light deceived thy sight,

"And the wild winds drown'd the name;

"For the Dryburgh bells ring, and the white monks do sing,

"For Sir Richard of Coldinghame!"

He pass'd the court-gate, and he oped the tower grate,

And he mounted the narrow stair,

To the bartizan-seat, where, with maids that on her wait,

He found his lady fair.

That lady sat in mournful mood;

Look'd over hill and vale;

Over Tweed's fair flood, and Mertoun's[60] wood,

And all down Tiviotdale.

"Now hail, now hail, thou lady bright!"

"Now hail, thou Baron true!

"What news, what news, from Ancram fight?

"What news from the bold Buccleuch?"

"The Ancram Moor is red with gore,

"For many a southern fell;

"And Buccleuch has charged us, evermore,

"To watch our beacons well."

The lady blush'd red, but nothing she said;

Nor added the Baron a word:

Then she stepp'd down the stair to her chamber fair,

And so did her moody lord.

In sleep the lady mourn'd, and the Baron toss'd and turn'd,

And oft to himself he said--

"The worms around him creep, and his bloody grave is deep.....

It cannot give up the dead!"

It was near the ringing of matin-bell,

The night was well nigh done,

When a heavy sleep on that Baron fell,

On the eve of good St John.

The lady looked through the chamber fair,

By the light of a dying flame;

And she was aware of a knight stood there--

Sir Richard of Coldinghame!

"Alas! away, away!" she cried,

"For the holy Virgin's sake!"

"Lady, I know who sleeps by thy side;

But, lady, he will not awake.

"By Eildon-tree, for long nights three,

"In bloody grave have I lain;

"The mass and the death-prayer are said for me,

"But, lady, they are said in vain.

"By the Baron's brand, near Tweed's fair strand,

"Most foully slain I fell;

"And my restless sprite on the beacon's height,

"For a space is doom'd to dwell.

"At our trysting-place,[61] for a certain space,

"I must wander to and fro;

"But I had not had power to come to thy bower,

"Had'st thou not conjured me so."

Love master'd fear--her brow she crossed;

"How, Richard, hast thou sped?

"And art thou saved, or art thou lost?"

The Vision shook his head!

"Who spilleth life, shall forfeit life;

"So bid thy lord believe:

"That lawless love is guilt above,

"This awful sign receive."

He laid his left palm on an oaken beam;

His right upon her hand:

The lady shrunk, and fainting sunk,

For it scorch'd like a fiery brand.

The sable score, of fingers four,

Remains on that board impress'd;

And for evermore that lady wore

A covering on her wrist.

There is a nun in Dryburgh bower,

Ne'er looks upon the sun:

There is a monk in Melrose tower,

He speaketh word to none.

That nun, who ne'er beholds the day,

That monk, who speaks to none--

That nun was Smaylho'me's Lady gay,

That monk the bold Baron.

NOTES

THE EVE OF ST JOHN.

* * * * *

_BATTLE OF ANCRUM MOOR._

Lord Evers, and Sir Brian Latoun, during the year 1544, committed the

most dreadful ravages upon the Scottish frontiers, compelling most

of the inhabitants, and especially the men of Liddesdale, to take

assurance under the king of England. Upon the 17th November, in that

year, the sum total of their depredations stood thus, in the bloody

ledger of Lord Evers:

Towns, towers, barnekynes, parish churches, bastille

houses, burned and destroyed 192

Scots slain 403

Prisoners taken 816

Nolt (cattle) 10,386

Sheep 12,492

Nags and geldings 1,296

Gayt 200

Bolls of corn 850

Insight gear, &c. (furniture) an incalculable quantity.

MURDIN's _State Papers_, Vol. I. p. 51.

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Volume 3 (of 3) Consisting of Historical and Romantic Ballads, Collected in the Southern Counties of Scotland; with a Few of Modern Date, Founded Upon Local Tradition · 第 4 / 6 章

"After the battle, the bodie of the said king, being found, was closed