Cumberland, about seventeen miles north-east of Carlisle, amidst that
mountainous and desolate tract of country bordering upon Liddesdale,
emphatically termed the Waste of Bewcastle.--S.
63-67. Willeva and Speir Edom are small districts in Bewcastledale,
through which also the Hartlie-burn takes its course.
Conscouthart-Green, and Rodrie-haugh, and the Foulbogshiel, are the
names of places in the same wilds, through which the Scottish plunderers
generally made their raids upon England.--S.
79, 87. clock.
105. A street in Carlisle.
129. Of the Castle of Mangertoun, so often mentioned in these ballads,
there are very few vestiges. It was situated on the banks of the
Liddell, below Castletoun.--S.
JAMIE TELFER OF THE FAIR DODHEAD.
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 3.
"There is another ballad, under the same title as the following, in
which nearly the same incidents are narrated, with little difference,
except that the honour of rescuing the cattle is attributed to the
Liddesdale Elliots, headed by a chief, there called Martin Elliot of the
Preakin Tower, whose son, Simon, is said to have fallen in the action.
It is very possible, that both the Teviotdale Scotts, and the Elliots,
were engaged in the affair, and that each claimed the honour of the
victory.
"The Editor presumes, that the Willie Scott, here mentioned, must have
been a natural son of the Laird of Buccleuch."--S.
It fell about the Martinmas tyde,
When our Border steeds get corn and hay,
The Captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde,
And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey.
The first ae guide that they met wi', 5
It was high up in Hardhaughswire;[L6]
The second guide that they met wi',
It was laigh down in Borthwick water.
"What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?"
"Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee; 10
But gin ye'll gae to the fair Dodhead,[L11]
Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see."
And when they cam to the fair Dodhead,
Right hastily they clam the peel;
They loosed the kye out, ane and a', 15
And ranshackled the house right weel.
Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair,
The tear aye rowing in his ee;
He pled wi' the Captain to hae his gear,
Or else revenged he wad be. 20
The Captain turned him round and leugh;
Said--"Man, there's naething in thy house,
But ae auld sword without a sheath,
That hardly now would fell a mouse."
The sun wasna up, but the moon was down, 25
It was the gryming of a new-fa'n snaw,
Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot,
Between the Dodhead and the Stobs's Ha'.[L28]
And when he cam to the fair tower yate,
He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, 30
Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot--
"Whae's this that brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer, o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be;
There's naething left at the fair Dodhead, 35
But a waefu' wife and bairnies three."
"Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha',[L37]
For succour ye'se get nane frae me;
Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail,
For, man, ye ne'er paid money to me." 40
Jamie has turned him round about,
I wat the tear blinded his ee--
"I'll ne'er pay mail to Elliot again,
And the fair Dodhead I'll never see!
"My hounds may a' rin masterless,[L45] 45
My hawks may fly frae tree to tree,
My lord may grip my vassal lands,
For there again maun I never be!"
He has turn'd him to the Tiviot side,
E'en as fast as he could drie, 50
Till he cam to the Coultart Cleugh,[L51]
And there he shouted baith loud and hie.
Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve--
"Whae's this that brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead, 55
A harried man I trow I be.
"There's naething left in the fair Dodhead,
But a greeting wife and bairnies three,
And sax poor ca's stand in the sta', 60
A' routing loud for their minnie."
"Alack a wae!" quo' auld Jock Grieve,
"Alack, my heart is sair for thee!
For I was married on the elder sister,
And you on the youngest of a' the three."
Then he has ta'en out a bonny black, 65
Was right weel fed with corn and hay,
And he's set Jamie Telfer on his back,
To the Catslockhill to tak the fraye.
And whan he cam to the Catslockhill,
He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, 70
Till out and spak him William's Wat--
"O whae's this brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer of the fair Dodhead,
A harried man I think I be;
The Captain of Bewcastle has driven my gear; 75
For God's sake rise, and succour me!"
"Alas for wae!" quoth William's Wat,
"Alack, for thee my heart is sair!
I never cam by the fair Dodhead,
That ever I fand thy basket bare." 80
He's set his twa sons on coal-black steeds,
Himsell upon a freckled gray,
And they are on wi' Jamie Telfer,
To Branksome Ha' to tak the fraye.
And when they cam to Branksome Ha', 85
They shouted a' baith loud and hie,
Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch,
Said--"Whae's this brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be; 90
There's nought left in the fair Dodhead,
But a greeting wife and bairnies three."
"Alack for wae!" quoth the gude auld lord,
"And ever my heart is wae for thee!
But fye, gar cry on Willie, my son, 95
And see that he come to me speedilie.
"Gar warn the water, braid and wide,[L97]
Gar warn it sune and hastilie;
They that winna ride for Telfer's kye,
Let them never look in the face o' me! 100
"Warn Wat o' Harden, and his sons,[L101]
Wi' them will Borthwick Water ride;
Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh,
And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside.
"Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire,[L105] 105
And warn the Currors o' the Lee;
As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack,
Warn doughty Willie o' Gorrinberry."
The Scotts they rade, the Scotts they ran,
Sae starkly and sae steadilie, 110
And aye the ower-word o' the thrang
Was--"Rise for Branksome readilie!"
The gear was driven the Frostylee up,[L113]
Frae the Frostylee unto the plain,
Whan Willie has look'd his men before, 115
And saw the kye right fast drivand.
"Whae drives thir kye?" gan Willie say,
"To make an outspeckle o' me?"
"It's I, the Captain o' Bewcastle, Willie;
I winna layne my name for thee." 120
"O will ye let Telfer's kye gae back?
Or will ye do aught for regard o' me?
Or, by the faith of my body," quo' Willie Scott,
"I'se ware my dame's cauf skin on thee."
"I winna let the kye gae back, 125
Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear;
But I will drive Jamie Telfer's kye,
In spite of every Scott that's here."
"Set on them, lads!" quo' Willie than;
"Fye, lads, set on them cruellie! 130
For ere they win to the Ritterford,
Mony a toom saddle there sall be!"
Then til't they gaed, wi' heart and hand,
The blows fell thick as bickering hail;
And mony a horse ran masterless, 135
And mony a comely cheek was pale.
But Willie was stricken ower the head,
And thro' the knapscap the sword has gane;
And Harden grat for very rage,
Whan Willie on the grund lay slane. 140
But he's ta'en aff his gude steel cap,
And thrice he's waved it in the air;
The Dinlay snaw was ne'er mair white[L143]
Nor the lyart locks of Harden's hair.
"Revenge! revenge!" auld Wat 'gan cry; 145
"Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie!
We'll ne'er see Tiviotside again,
Or Willie's death revenged sall be."
O mony a horse ran masterless,
The splinter'd lances flew on hie; 150
But or they wan ta the Kershope ford,
The Scotts had gotten the victory.
John o' Brigham there was slane,[L153]
And John o' Barlow, as I heard say;
And thirty mae o' the Captain's men 155
Lay bleeding on the grund that day.
The Captain was run through the thick of the thigh,
And broken was his right leg bane;
If he had lived this hundred years,
He had never been loved by woman again. 160
"Hae back the kye!" the Captain said;
"Dear kye, I trow, to some they be;
For gin I suld live a hundred years,
There will ne'er fair lady smile on me."
Then word is gane to the Captain's bride, 165
Even in the bower where that she lay,
That her lord was prisoner in enemy's land,
Since into Tividale he had led the way.
"I wad lourd have had a winding-sheet,
And helped to put it ower his head, 170
Ere he had been disgraced by the Border Scot,
Whan he ower Liddel his men did lead!"
There was a wild gallant amang us a',
His name was Watty wi' the Wudspurs,
Cried--"On for his house in Stanegirthside,[L175] 175
If ony man will ride with us!"
When they cam to the Stanegirthside,
They dang wi' trees, and burst the door;
They loosed out a' the Captain's kye,
And set them forth our lads before. 180
There was an auld wyfe ayont the fire,
A wee bit o' the Captain's kin--
"Whae dar loose out the Captain's kye,
Or answer to him and his men?"
"It's I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye, 185
I winna layne my name frae thee;
And I will loose out the Captain's kye,
In scorn of a' his men and he."
Whan they cam to the fair Dodhead,
They were a wellcum sight to see; 190
For instead of his ain ten milk kye,
Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three.
And he has paid the rescue shot,
Baith wi' goud and white monie;
And at the burial o' Willie Scott, 195
I wat was mony a weeping ee.[L196]
6-8. Hardhaughswire is the pass from Liddesdale to the head of
Teviotdale. Borthwick water is a stream which falls into the Teviot
three miles above Hawick.--S.
11. The Dodhead, in Selkirkshire, near Singlee, where there are still
the vestiges of an old tower.--S.
28. Stobs Hall, upon Slitterick, the seat of Sir William, of that clan.
Jamie Telfer made his first application here, because he _seems_ to have
paid the proprietor of the castle _black-mail_, or protection money.--S.
37. The ancient family-seat of the Lairds of Buccleuch, near Hawick.--S.
45-48. See _Young Beichan_, vol. iv. p. 3.
51. The Coultart Cleugh is nearly opposite to Carlinrig, on the road
between Hawick and Mosspaul.--S.
97. The _water_, in the mountainous districts of Scotland, is often used
to express the banks of the river, which are the only inhabitable parts
of the country. _To raise the water_, therefore, was to alarm those who
lived along its side.--S.
101. The estates, mentioned in this verse, belonged to families of the
name of Scott, residing upon the waters of Borthwick and Teviot, near
the castle of their chief.--S.
105. The pursuers seem to have taken the road through the hills of
Liddesdale, in order to collect forces, and intercept the forayers at
the passage of the Liddel, on their return to Bewcastle. The Ritterford
and Kershope-ford, after-mentioned, are noted fords on the river
Liddel.--S.
113. The Frostylee is a brook, which joins the Teviot, near
Mosspaul.--S.
143. The Dinlay is a mountain in Liddesdale.--S.
153. Perhaps one of the ancient family of Brougham, in Cumberland. The
Editor has used some freedom with the original in the subsequent verse.
The account of the Captain's disaster is rather too _na[:i]ve_ for
literal publication.--S.
175. A house belonging to the Foresters, situated on the English side of
the Liddel.--S.
196. An article in the list of attempts upon England, fouled by the
Commissioners at Berwick, in the year 1587, may relate to the subject of
the foregoing ballad.
October, 1582.
Thomas Musgrave, deputy { Walter Scott, Laird } 200 kine and
of Bewcastle, and { of Buckluth, and his } oxen, 300 gait
the tenants, against { complices; for } and sheep.
_Introduction to the History of Westmoreland and Cumberland_, p. 31.--S.
THE FRAY OF SUPORT.
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 124.
"Of all the Border ditties which have fallen into the Editor's hands,
this is by far the most uncouth and savage. It is usually chanted in a
sort of wild recitative, except the burden, which swells into a long and
varied howl, not unlike to a view hollo'. The words, and the very great
irregularity of the stanza (if it deserves the name) sufficiently point
out its intention and origin. An English woman, residing in Suport, near
the foot of the Kers-hope, having been plundered in the night by a band
of the Scottish moss-troopers, is supposed to convoke her servants and
friends for the pursuit, or _Hot Trod_; upbraiding them, at the same
time, in homely phrase, for their negligence and security. The _Hot
Trod_ was followed by the persons who had lost goods, with blood-hounds
and horns, to raise the country to help. They also used to carry a
burning wisp of straw at a spear head, and to raise a cry, similar to
the Indian war-whoop. It appears, from articles made by the Wardens of
the English Marches, September 12th, in 6th of Edward VI., that all, on
this cry being raised, were obliged to follow the fray, or chase, under
pain of death. With these explanations, the general purport of the
ballad may be easily discovered, though particular passages have become
inexplicable, probably through corruptions introduced by reciters. The
present text is collected from four copies, which differed widely from
each other."--S.
Sleep'ry Sim of the Lamb-hill,
And snoring Jock of Suport-mill,
Ye are baith right het and fou';
But my wae wakens na you.
Last night I saw a sorry sight-- 5
Nought left me o' four-and-twenty gude ousen and ky,
My weel-ridden gelding, and a white quey,
But a toom byre and a wide,
And the twelve nogs on ilka side.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', 10
My gear's a' gane.
Weel may ye ken,
Last night I was right scarce o' men:
But Toppet Hob o' the Mains had guesten'd in my house by chance;
I set him to wear the fore-door wi' the speir, while I kept the
back-door wi' the lance; 15
But they hae run him thro' the thick o' the thie, and broke his
knee-pan,
And the mergh o' his shin-bane has run down on his spur-leather
whang:
He's lame while he lives, and where'er he may gang.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' gane. 20
But Peenye, my gude son, is out at the Hagbut-head,
His een glittering for anger like a fiery gleed;
Crying--"Mak sure the nooks
Of Maky's-muir crooks;
For the wily Scot takes by nooks, hooks, and crooks. 25
Gin we meet a' together in a head the morn,
We'll be merry men."
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' gane.
There's doughty Cuddy in the Heugh-head, 30
Thou was aye gude at a need;
With thy brock-skin bag at thy belt,[L32]
Aye ready to mak a puir man help.
Thou maun awa' out to the Cauf-craigs,
(Where anes ye lost your ain twa naigs,) 35
And there toom thy brock-skin bag.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.
Doughty Dan o' the Houlet Hirst,
Thou was aye gude at a birst; 40
Gude wi' a bow, and better wi' a speir,
The bauldest March-man that e'er follow'd gear:
Come thou here.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' gane. 45
Rise, ye carle coopers, frae making o' kirns and tubs,
In the Nicol forest woods.[L47]
Your craft hasna left the value of an oak rod,
But if you had ony fear o' God,
Last night ye hadna slept sae sound, 50
And let my gear be a' ta'en.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.
Ah! lads, we'll fang them a' in a net,
For I hae a' the fords o' Liddel set; 55
The Dunkin and the Door-loup,
The Willie-ford, and the Water-slack,
The Black-rack and the Trout-dub of Liddel.
There stands John Forster, wi' five men at his back,
Wi bufft coat and cap of steil. 60
Boo! ca' at them e'en, Jock;
That ford's sicker, I wat weil.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.
Hoo! hoo! gar raise the Reid Souter, and Ringan's Wat, 65
Wi' a broad elshin and a wicker;
I wat weil they'll mak a ford sicker.
Sae, whether they be Elliots or Armstrangs,
Or rough-riding Scots, or rude Johnstones,
Or whether they be frae the Tarras or Ewsdale, 70
They maun turn and fight, or try the deeps o' Liddel.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.
"Ah! but they will play ye anither jigg,
For they will out at the big rig, 75
And thro' at Fargy Grame's gap."[L76]
But I hae another wile for that:
For I hae little Will, and Stalwart Wat,
And lang Aicky, in the Souter Moor,
Wi' his sleuth-dog sits in his watch right sure. 80
Shou'd the dog gie a bark,
He'll be out in his sark,
And die or won.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en. 85
Ha! boys!--I see a party appearing--wha's yon?
Methinks it's the Captain of Bewcastle, and Jephtha's John,[L87]
Coming down by the foul steps of Catlowdie's loan:
They'll make a' sicker, come which way they will.
Ha, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', 90
My gear's a' ta'en.
Captain Musgrave, and a' his band,[L92]
Are coming down by the Siller-strand,
And the Muckle toun-bell o' Carlisle is rung:
My gear was a' weel won, 95
And before it's carried o'er the Border, mony a man's gae down.
Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' gane.
32. The badger-skin pouch was used for carrying ammunition.--S.
47. A wood in Cumberland, in which Suport is situated.--S.
76. Fergus Grame of Sowport, as one of the chief men of that clan,
became security to Lord Scroope for the good behaviour of his friends
and dependents, 8th January, 1662.--_Introduction to History of
Westmoreland and Cumberland_, p. 111.--S.
87-8. According to the late Glenriddel's notes on this ballad, the
office of Captain Bewcastle was held by the chief of the Nixons.
Catlowdie is a small village in Cumberland, near the junction of the Esk
and Liddel.--S.
92. This was probably the famous Captain Jack Musgrave, who had charge
of the watch along the Cryssop, or Kershope, as appears from the order
of the watches appointed by Lord Wharton, when Deputy-Warden-General, in
the 6th Edward VI.--S.
ROOKHOPE RYDE.
"A Bishopric Border song, composed in 1569, taken down from the chanting
of George Collingwood the elder, late of Boltsburn, in the neighbourhood
of Ryhope, who was interred at Stanhope, the 16th December, 1785.
"Rookhope is the name of a valley about five miles in length; at the
termination of which, Rookhope burn empties itself into the river Wear,
and is in the north part of the parish of Stanhope, in Weardale.
Rookhope-head is the top of the vale."--RITSON.
The date of the event, says Sir W. Scott, is precisely ascertained to be
(not 1569 but) the 6th of December, 1572, when the Tynedale robbers were
encouraged to make a foray into Weardale in consequence of the confusion
occasioned by the rebellion of Westmoreland and Northumberland.
From Ritson's _Bishopric Garland_ (p. 54), with one or two slight
verbal improvements from the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii.
101.
Rookhope stands in a pleasant place,
If the false thieves wad let it be,
But away they steal our goods apace,
And ever an ill death may they dee!
And so is the men of Thirlwall and Willie-haver,[L5] 5
And all their companies thereabout,
That is minded to do mischief,
And at their stealing stands not out.
But yet we will not slander them all,
For there is of them good enow; 10
It is a sore consumed tree
That on it bears not one fresh bough.
Lord God! is not this a pitiful case,
That men dare not drive their goods to the fell,
But limmer thieves drives them away, 15
That fears neither heaven nor hell?
Lord, send us peace into the realm,
That every man may live on his own!
I trust to God, if it be his will,
That Weardale men may never be overthrown. 20
For great troubles they've had in hand,
With borderers pricking hither and thither,
But the greatest fray that e'er they had,
Was with the men of Thirlwall and Willie-haver.
They gather'd together so royally, 25
The stoutest men and the best in gear;
And he that rade not on a horse,
I wat he rade on a weel-fed mear.
So in the morning, before they came out,
So weel I wot they broke their fast; 30
In the [forenoon they came] unto a bye fell,[L31]
Where some of them did eat their last.
When they had eaten aye and done,
They say'd some captains here needs must be:
Then they choosed forth Harry Corbyl, 35
And 'Symon Fell,' and Martin Ridley.
Then o'er the moss, where as they came,
With many a brank and whew,
One of them could to another say,
"I think this day we are men enew. 40
"For Weardale-men is a journey ta'en;
They are so far out o'er yon fell,
That some of them's with the two earls,[L43]
And others fast in Bernard castell.
"There we shall get gear enough, 45
For there is nane but women at hame;
The sorrowful fend that they can make,
Is loudly cries as they were slain."[L48]
Then in at Rookhope-head they came,
And there they thought tul a had their prey, 50
But they were spy'd coming over the Dry-rig,
Soon upon Saint Nicolas' day.[L52]
Then in at Rookhope-head they came,
They ran the forest but a mile;
They gather'd together in four hours 55
Six hundred sheep within a while.
And horses I trow they gat,
But either ane or twa,
And they gat them all but ane
That belang'd to great Rowley. 60
That Rowley was the first man that did them spy,
With that he raised a mighty cry;
The cry it came down Rookhope burn,
And spread through Weardale hasteyly.
Then word came to the bailiff's house 65
At the East-gate, where he did dwell;[L66]
He was walk'd out to the Smale-burns,
Which stands above the Hanging-well.[L68]
His wife was wae when she heard tell,
So weel she wist her husband wanted gear; 70
She gar'd saddle him his horse in haste,
And neither forgot sword, jack, nor spear.
The bailiff got wit before his gear came,
That such news was in the land,
He was sore troubled in his heart, 75
That on no earth that he could stand.
His brother was hurt three days before,
With limmer thieves that did him prick;
Nineteen bloody wounds lay him upon,
What ferly was't that he lay sick? 80
But yet the bailiff shrinked nought,
But fast after them he did hye,
And so did all his neighbours near,
That went to bear him company.
But when the bailiff was gathered, 85
And all his company,
They were numbered to never a man
But forty under fifty.
The thieves was numbered a hundred men,
I wat they were not of the worst 90
That could be choosed out of Thirlwall and Willie-haver,
[I trow they were the very first.][L92]
But all that was in Rookhope-head,
And all that was i' Nuketon-cleugh,
Where Weardale-men o'ertook the thieves, 95
And there they gave them fighting eneugh.
So sore they made them fain to flee,
As many was 'a'' out of hand,
And, for tul have been at home again,
They would have been in iron bands. 100
And for the space of long seven years
As sore they mighten a' had their lives,
But there was never one of them
That ever thought to have seen their 'wives.'
About the time the fray began, 105
I trow it lasted but an hour,
Till many a man lay weaponless,
And was sore wounded in that stour.
Also before that hour was done,
Four of the thieves were slain, 110
Besides all those that wounded were,
And eleven prisoners there was ta'en.
George Carrick, and his brother Edie,
Them two, I wot they were both slain;
Harry Corbyl, and Lennie Carrick, 115
Bore them company in their pain.
One of our Weardale-men was slain,
Rowland Emerson his name hight;
I trust to God his soul is well,
Because he 'fought' unto the right. 120
But thus they say'd, "We'll not depart
While we have one:--speed back again!"
And when they came amongst the dead men,
There they found George Carrick slain.
And when they found George Carrick slain, 125
I wot it went well near their 'heart;'
Lord, let them never make a better end,
That comes to play them sicken a 'part.'
I trust to God, no more they shall,
Except it be one for a great chance; 130
For God will punish all those
With a great heavy pestilence.
Thir limmer thieves, they have good hearts,
They nevir think to be o'erthrown;
Three banners against Weardale-men they bare, 135
As if the world had been all their own.
Thir Weardale-men, they have good hearts,
They are as stiff as any tree;
For, if they'd every one been slain,
Never a foot back man would flee. 140
And such a storm amongst them fell
As I think you never heard the like,
For he that bears his head so high,
He oft-times falls into the dyke.
And now I do entreat you all, 145
As many as are present here.
To pray for [the] singer of this song,
For he sings to make blithe your cheer.
5. Thirlwall, or Thirlitwall, is said by Fordun, the Scottish historian,
to be a name given to the Picts' or Roman wall, from its having been
thirled, or perforated, in ancient times, by the Scots and Picts.
Willie-haver, or Willeva, is a small district or township in the parish
of Lanercost, near Bewcastledale, in Cumberland, mentioned in the ballad
of _Hobie Noble_.--RITSON.]
31. This would be about eleven o'clock, the usual dinner-hour in that
period.--RITSON.]
43. The two Earls were Thomas Percy, Earl of Northumberland, and Charles
Nevil, Earl of Westmoreland, who, on the 15th of November, 1569, at the
head of their tenantry and others, took arms for the purpose of
liberating Mary, Queen of Scots, and restoring the old religion. They
besieged Barnard castle, which was, for eleven days, stoutly defended by
Sir George Bowes, who, afterward, being appointed the Queen's marshal,
hanged the poor constables and peasantry by dozens in a day, to the
amount of 800. The Earl of Northumberland, betrayed by the Scots, with
whom he had taken refuge, was beheaded at York, on the 22d of August,
1572; and the Earl of Westmoreland, deprived of the ancient and noble
patrimony of the Nevils, and reduced to beggary, escaped over sea, into
Flanders, and died in misery and disgrace, being the last of his
family.--RITSON. See _The Rising in the North_ and _Northumberland
betrayed by Douglas_.]
48. This is still the phraseology of Westmoreland: a _poorly_ man, a
_softly_ day, and the like.--RITSON.]
52. The 6th of December.]
66. Now a straggling village so called; originally, it would seem, the
gate-house, or ranger's lodge, at the east entrance of Stanhope-park. At
some distance from this place is Westgate, so called for a similar
reason.--RITSON.
The mention of the bailiff's house at the East-gate is (were such a
proof wanting) strongly indicative of the authenticity of the ballad.
The family of Emerson of East-gate, a fief, if I may so call it, held
under the bishop, long exercised the office of bailiff of Wolsingham,
the chief town and borough of Weardale, and of Forster, &c., under
successive prelates.--SURTEES.]
68. A place in the neighbourhood of East-gate, known at present, as well
as the Dry-rig, or Smale-burns.--RITSON.]
92. The reciter, from his advanced age, could not recollect the original
line thus imperfectly supplied.--RITSON.]
THE RAID OF THE REIDSWIRE.
From _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 15.
This ballad is preserved in the Bannatyne MS., and was first printed in
Ramsay's _Evergreen_, ii. 224. Scott informs us that Ramsay took some
liberties with the original text, and even interpolated the manuscript
to favor his readings. A more accurate copy was given in the _Border
Minstrelsy_. The text in Herd's _Scottish Songs_, i. 91, and Caw's
_Museum_, p. 235, is that of the _Evergreen_.
"The skirmish of the Reidswire happened upon the 7th of June, 1575, at
one of the meetings held by the Wardens of the Marches, for arrangements
necessary upon the Border. Sir John Carmichael was the Scottish Warden,
and Sir John Forster held that office on the English Middle March. In
the course of the day, which was employed as usual in redressing wrongs,
a bill, or indictment, at the instance of a Scottish complainer, was
fouled (_i. e._ found a true bill) against one Farnstein, a notorious
English freebooter. Forster alleged that he had fled from justice.
Carmichael, considering this as a pretext to avoid making compensation
for the felony, bade him "play fair!" to which the haughty English
warden retorted, by some injurious expressions respecting Carmichael's
family, and gave other open signs of resentment. His retinue, chiefly
men of Redesdale and Tynedale, the most ferocious of the English
Borderers, glad of any pretext for a quarrel, discharged a flight of
arrows among the Scots. A warm conflict ensued, in which, Carmichael
being beat down and made prisoner, success seemed at first to incline to
the English side, till the Tynedale men, throwing themselves too
greedily upon the plunder, fell into disorder; and a body of Jedburgh
citizens arriving at that instant, the skirmish terminated in a complete
victory on the part of the Scots, who took prisoners, the English
warden, James Ogle, Cuthbert Collingwood, Francis Russell, son to the
Earl of Bedford, and son-in-law to Forster, some of the Fenwicks, and
several other Border chiefs. They were sent to the Earl of Morton, then
Regent, who detained them at Dalkeith for some days, till the heat of
their resentment was abated; which prudent precaution prevented a war
betwixt the two kingdoms. He then dismissed them with great expressions
of regard; and, to satisfy Queen Elizabeth, sent Carmichael to York,
whence he was soon after honourably dismissed. The field of battle,
called the Reidswire, is a part of the Carter Mountain, about ten miles
from Jedburgh."--SCOTT.
The seventh of July, the suith to say,
At the Reidswire the tryst was set;[L2]
Our wardens they affixed the day,
And, as they promised, so they met.
Alas! that day I'll ne'er forgett! 5
Was sure sae feard, and then sae faine--
They came theare justice for to gett,
Will never green to come again.
Carmichael was our warden then,
He caused the country to conveen; 10
And the Laird's Wat, that worthie man,[L11]
Brought in that sirname weil beseen:
The Armestranges, that aye hae been
A hardy house, but not a hail,[L14]
The Elliots' honours to maintaine, 15
Brought down the lave o' Liddesdale.
Then Tividale came to wi' spied;
The Sheriffe brought the Douglas down,[L18]
Wi' Cranstane, Gladstain, good at need,
Baith Rewle water, and Hawick town. 20
Beanjeddart bauldly made him boun,
Wi' a' the Trumbills, stronge and stout;
The Rutherfoords, with grit renown,
Convoy'd the town of Jedbrugh out.[L24]
Of other clans I cannot tell, 25
Because our warning was not wide--
Be this our folks hae ta'en the fell,
And planted down palliones, there to bide,
We looked down the other side,
And saw come breasting ower the brae, 30
Wi' Sir John Forster for their guyde,[L31]
Full fifteen hundred men and mae.
It grieved him sair that day, I trow,
Wi' Sir George Hearoune of Schipsydehouse;[L34]
Because we were not men enow, 35
They counted us not worth a louse.
Sir George was gentle, meek, and douse,
But _he_ was hail and het as fire;
And yet, for all his cracking crouse,
He rewd the raid o' the Reidswire. 40
To deal with proud men is but pain;
For either must ye fight or flee,
Or else no answer make again,
But play the beast, and let them be.
It was na wonder he was hie, 45
Had Tindaill, Reedsdaill, at his hand,[L46]
Wi' Cukdaill, Gladsdaill on the lee,
And Hebsrime, and Northumberland.[L48]
Yett was our meeting meek eneugh,
Begun wi' merriment and mowes, 50
And at the brae, aboon the heugh,
The clark sat down to call the rowes.
And some for kyne, and some for ewes,
Call'd in of Dandrie, Hob, and Jock--
We saw, come marching ower the knows, 55
Five hundred Fennicks in a flock,--[L56]
With jack and speir, and bows all bent,
And warlike weapons at their will:
Although we were na weel content,
Yet, by my troth, we fear'd no ill. 60
Some gaed to drink, and some stude still,
And some to cards and dice them sped;
Till on ane Farnstein they fyled a bill,
And he was fugitive and fled.
Carmichaell bade them speik out plainlie, 65
And cloke no cause for ill nor good;
The other, answering him as vainlie,
Began to reckon kin and blood:
He raise, and raxed him where he stood,
And bade him match him with his marrows; 70
Then Tindaill heard them reasun rude,
And they loot off a flight of arrows.
Then was there nought but bow and speir,
And every man pull'd out a brand;
"A Schafton and a Fenwick" thare: 75
Gude Symington was slain frae hand.
The Scotsmen cried on other to stand,
Frae time they saw John Robson slain--
What should they cry? the King's command
Could cause no cowards turn again. 80
Up rose the laird to red the cumber,
Which would not be for all his boast;
What could we doe with sic a number--
Fyve thousand men into a host?
Then Henry Purdie proved his cost, 85
And very narrowlie had mischief'd him,
And there we had our warden lost,
Wert not the grit God he relieved him.
Another throw the breiks him bair,
Whill flatlies to the ground he fell: 90
Than thought I weel we had lost him there,
Into my stomack it struck a knell!
Yet up he raise, the treuth to tell ye,
And laid about him dints full dour;
His horsemen they raid sturdily, 95
And stude about him in the stoure.
Then raise the slogan with ane shout--
"Fy, Tindaill, to it! Jedburgh's here!"[L98]
I trow he was not half sae stout,
But anis his stomach was asteir. 100
With gun and genzie, bow and speir,
Men might see mony a cracked crown!
But up amang the merchant geir,
They were as busy as we were down.
The swallow taill frae tackles flew, 105
Five hundredth flain into a flight:
But we had pestelets enew,
And shot among them as we might.
With help of God the game gaed right,
Fra time the foremost of them fell; 110
Then ower the know, without goodnight,
They ran with mony a shout and yell.
But after they had turned backs,
Yet Tindail men they turn'd again,
And had not been the merchant packs,[L115] 115
There had been mae of Scotland slain.
But, Jesu! if the folks were fain
To put the bussing on their thies;
And so they fled, wi' a' their main,
Down ower the brae, like clogged bees. 120
Sir Francis Russell ta'en was there,[L121]
And hurt, as we hear men rehearse;
Proud Wallinton was wounded sair,[L123]
Albeit he be a Fennick fierce.
But if ye wald a souldier search, 125
Among them a' were ta'en that night,
Was nane sae wordie to put in verse,
As Collingwood, that courteous knight.[L128]
Young Henry Schafton, he is hurt;[L129]
A souldier shot him wi' a bow; 130
Scotland has cause to mak great sturt,
For laiming of the Laird of Mow.[L132]
The Laird's Wat did weel indeed;
His friends stood stoutlie by himsell,
With little Gladstain, gude in need, 135
For Gretein kend na gude be ill.[L136]
The Sheriffe wanted not gude will,
Howbeit he might not fight so fast;
Beanjeddart, Hundlie, and Hunthill,[L139]
Three, on they laid weel at the last. 140
Except the horsemen of the guard,
If I could put men to availe,
None stoutlier stood out for their laird,
Nor did the lads of Liddisdail.
But little harness had we there; 145
But auld Badreule had on a jack,[L146]
And did right weel, I you declare,
With all his Trumbills at his back.
Gude Edderstane was not to lack,[L149]
Nor Kirktoun, Newton, noble men![L150] 150
Thir's all the specials I of speake,
By others that I could not ken.
Who did invent that day of play,
We need not fear to find him soon;
For Sir John Forster, I dare well say, 155
Made us this noisome afternoon.
Not that I speak preceislie out,
That he supposed it would be perril;
But pride, and breaking out of feuid,
Garr'd Tindaill lads begin the quarrel. 160
2. _Swire_ signifies the descent of a hill, and the epithet _Red_ is
derived from the color of the heath, or perhaps, from the Reid-water,
which rises at no great distance.--S.
11. The Laird's Wat is perhaps the young Buccleuch, who, about twenty
years after this _raid_, performed the great exploit of rescuing Kinmont
Willie from Carlisle Castle.--S.
14. This clan are here mentioned as not being hail, or whole, because
they were outlawed or broken men. Indeed, many of them had become
Englishmen, as the phrase then went. There was an old alliance betwixt
the Elliots and Armstrongs, here alluded to.--S.
18. Douglas of Cavers, hereditary Sheriff of Teviotdale, descended from
Black Archibald, who carried the standard of his father, the Earl of
Douglas, at the battle of Otterbourne.--See the ballad of that name.--S.
24. These were ancient and powerful clans, residing chiefly upon the
river Jed. Hence, they naturally convoyed the town of Jedburgh out. The
following fragment of an old ballad is quoted in a letter from an aged
gentleman of this name, residing at New York, to a friend in Scotland:--
"Bauld Rutherfurd, he was fou stout,
Wi' a' his nine sons him round about;
He led the town o' Jedburgh out,
All bravely fought that day."--S.
31. Sir John Forster, or, more properly, Forrester, of Balmbrough Abbey,
Warden of the Middle Marches in 1561, was deputy-governor of Berwick,
and governor of Balmborough Castle.--S.
34. George Heron Miles of Chipchase Castle, probably the same who was
slain at the Reidswire, was Sheriff of Northumberland, 13th
Elizabeth.--S.
46. These are districts, or dales, on the English Border.
48. Mr. George Ellis suggests, with great probability, that this is a
mistake, not for Hebburne, as the Editor stated in an earlier edition,
but for Hexham, which, with its territory, formed a county independent
of Northumberland, with which it is here ranked.--S.
56. The Fenwicks; a powerful and numerous Northumberland clan.--S.
98. The gathering word peculiar to a certain name, or set of people, was
termed _slogan_ or _slughorn_, and was always repeated at an onset, as
well as on many other occasions. It was usually the name of the clan, or
place of rendezvous, or leader. In 1335, the English, led by Thomas of
Rosslyne, and William Moubray, assaulted Aberdeen. The former was
mortally wounded in the onset; and, as his followers were pressing
forward, shouting "_Rosslyne! Rosslyne!_" "Cry _Moubray_," said the
expiring chieftain; "_Rosslyne_ is gone!"--S.
115. The ballad-maker here ascribes the victory to the real cause; for
the English Borderers dispersing to plunder the merchandise, gave the
opposite party time to recover from their surprise. It seems to have
been usual for travelling merchants to attend Border meetings, although
one would have thought the kind of company usually assembled there might
have deterred them.--S.
121. This gentleman was son to the Earl of Bedford, and Warden of the
East Marches. He was, at this time, chamberlain of Berwick.--S.
123. Fenwick of Wallington, a powerful Northumbrian chief.--S.
128. Sir Cuthbert Collingwood of Esslington, Sheriff of Northumberland,
the 10th and 20th of Elizabeth.--S.
129. The Shaftoes are an ancient family settled at Bavington, in
Northumberland, since the time of Edward I.--S.
132. An ancient family on the Borders. The Laird of Mowe here mentioned
was the only gentleman of note killed in the skirmish on the Scottish
side.--S.
136. Graden, a family of Kers.--S.
139. Douglas of Beanjeddart, an ancient branch of the house of Cavers,
possessing property near the junction of the Jed and Teviot.
_Hundlie._--Rutherford of Hundlie, or Hundalee, situated on the Jed
above Jedburgh. _Hunthill._--The old tower of Hunthill was situated
about a mile above Jedburgh. It was the patrimony of an ancient family
of Rutherfords. I suppose the person, here meant, to be the same who is
renowned in tradition by the name of the _Cock of Hunthill_.--S.
146. Sir Andrew Turnbull of Bedrule, upon Rule Water.--S.
149. An ancient family of Rutherfords; I believe, indeed, the most
ancient now extant.--S.
150. The parish of Kirktoun belonged, I believe, about this time, to a
branch of the Cavers family; but Kirkton of Stewartfield is mentioned in
the list of Border clans in 1597. _Newton._--This is probably Grinyslaw
of Little Newton, mentioned in the said roll of Border clans.--S.
THE DEATH OF PARCY REED.
Taken down from the recitation of an old woman, and first published
(certainly not without what are called "improvements") in Richardson's
_Borderer's Table Book_, vol. vii. p. 364, with an introduction by Mr.
Robert White, which we here abridge.
Percival or Parcy Reed, was proprietor of Troughend, a tract of land in
Redesdale, Northumberland, a man of courage and devoted to the chase.
Having been appointed warden of the district, he had the misfortune in
the discharge of his duties, to offend a family of the name of Hall, who
were owners of the farm of Girsonsfield, and also to incur the enmity of
a band of moss-troopers, Crosier by name, some of whom had been brought
to justice by his hands. The Halls concealed their resentment until they
were able to contrive an opportunity for taking a safe revenge. In
pursuance of this design, they requested Reed to join them on a hunting
party. Their invitation was unsuspiciously accepted, and after a day of
sport the company retired to a solitary hut in the lonely glen of
Batinghope. Here Reed was attacked in the evening by the Crosiers, and
as the Halls not only refused their assistance, but had treacherously
deprived him of the means of defence by rendering his sword and gun
unserviceable, he fell an easy victim to his savage foes.
It is probable that we cannot assign to the event on which this piece is
founded, a date later than the sixteenth century.
The story of Parcy Reed is alluded to in _Rokeby_, canto first, XX.; Sir
Walter Scott has also taken the death of his dog Keeldar as the subject
of a poem contributed to Hood's annual, _The Gem_, for 1829.
God send the land deliverance
Frae every reaving, riding Scot;
We'll sune hae neither cow nor ewe,
We'll sune hae neither staig nor stot.
The outlaws come frae Liddesdale, 5
They herry Redesdale far and near;
The rich man's gelding it maun gang,
They canna pass the puir man's mear.
Sure it were weel, had ilka thief
Around his neck a halter strang; 10
And curses heavy may they light
On traitors vile oursels amang.
Now Parcy Reed has Crosier ta'en,
He has delivered him to the law;
But Crosier says he'll do waur than that, 15
He'll make the tower o' Troughend fa'.
And Crosier says he will do waur--
He will do waur if waur can be;
He'll make the bairns a' fatherless;
And then, the land it may lie lee. 20
"To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed,
"The morning sun is on the dew;
The cauler breeze frae off the fells
Will lead the dogs to the quarry true.
"To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed, 25
And to the hunting he has gane;
And the three fause Ha's o' Girsonsfield
Alang wi' him he has them ta'en.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
By heathery hill and birken shaw; 30
They raised a buck on Rooken Edge,
And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
They made the echoes ring amain;
With music sweet o' horn and hound, 35
They merry made fair Redesdale glen.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
They hunted up, they hunted down,
Until the day was past the prime,
And it grew late in the afternoon. 40
They hunted high in Batinghope,
When as the sun was sinking low,
Says Parcy then, "Ca' off the dogs,
We'll bait our steeds and homeward go."
They lighted high in Batinghope, 45
Atween the brown and benty ground;
They had but rested a little while,
Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.
There's nane may lean on a rotten staff,
But him that risks to get a fa'; 50
There's nane may in a traitor trust,
And traitors black were every Ha'.
They've stown the bridle off his steed,
And they've put water in his lang gun;
They've fixed his sword within the sheath, 55
That out again it winna come.
"Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,
Or by your enemies be ta'en;
For yonder are the five Crosiers
A-coming owre the Hingin-stane." 60
"If they be five, and we be four,
Sae that ye stand alang wi' me,
Then every man ye will take one,
And only leave but two to me:
We will them meet as brave men ought, 65
And make them either fight or flee."
"We mayna stand, we canna stand,
We daurna stand alang wi' thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and we." 70
"O, turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha',
O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me;
When ye come to Troughend again,
My gude black naig I will gie thee;
He cost full twenty pound o' gowd, 75
Atween my brother John and me."
"I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me." 80
"O, turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha',
O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me;
When ye come to Troughend again,
A yoke o' owsen I'll gie thee."
"I mayna turn, I canna turn, 85
I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me."
"O, turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha',
O, turn now, man, and fight wi' me; 90
If ever we come to Troughend again,
My daughter Jean I'll gie to thee."
"I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, 95
And they wad kill baith thee and me."
"O, shame upon ye, traitors a'!
I wish your hames ye may never see;
Ye've stown the bridle off my naig,
And I can neither fight nor flee. 100
"Ye've stown the bridle off my naig,
And ye've put water i' my lang gun;
Ye've fixed my sword within the sheath,
That out again it winna come."
He had but time to cross himsel', 105
A prayer he hadna time to say,
Till round him came the Crosiers keen,
All riding graithed, and in array.
"Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,
Thou art the very man we sought; 110
Owre lang hae we been in your debt,
Now will we pay you as we ought.
"We'll pay thee at the nearest tree,
Where we shall hang thee like a hound;"
Brave Parcy rais'd his fankit sword, 115
And fell'd the foremost to the ground.
Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed,
Alake, he was an unarmed man;
Four weapons pierced him all at once,
As they assailed him there and than. 120
They fell upon him all at once,
They mangled him most cruellie;
The slightest wound might caused his deid,
And they have gi'en him thirty-three.
They hacket off his hands and feet, 125
And left him lying on the lee.
"Now, Parcy Reed, we've paid our debt,
Ye canna weel dispute the tale,"
The Crosiers said, and off they rade--
They rade the airt o' Liddesdale. 130
It was the hour o' gloamin' gray,
When herds come in frae fauld and pen;
A herd he saw a huntsman lie,
Says he, "Can this be Laird Troughen'?"
"There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed, 135
And some will ca' me Laird Troughen';
It's little matter what they ca' me,
My faes hae made me ill to ken.
"There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,
And speak my praise in tower and town; 140
It's little matter what they do now,
My life-blood rudds the heather brown.
"There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,
And a' my virtues say and sing;
I would much rather have just now 145
A draught o' water frae the spring!"
The herd flung aff his clouted shoon,
And to the nearest fountain ran;
He made his bonnet serve a cup,
And wan the blessing o' the dying man. 150
"Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair,--
Ye maun do mair as I ye tell;
Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend,
And bear likewise my last farewell.
"A farewell to my wedded wife, 155
A farewell to my brother John,
Wha sits into the Troughend tower,
Wi' heart as black as any stone.
"A farewell to my daughter Jean,
A farewell to my young sons five; 160
Had they been at their father's hand,
I had this night been man alive.
"A farewell to my followers a',
And a' my neighbours gude at need;
Bid them think how the treacherous Ha's 165
Betrayed the life o' Parcy Reed.
"The laird o' Clennel bears my bow,
The laird o' Brandon bears my brand;
Whene'er they ride i' the border side,
They'll mind the fate o' the laird Troughend." 170
CAPTAIN CAR, OR, EDOM O' GORDON.
"This ballad is founded upon a real event, which took place in the north
of Scotland in the year 1571, during the struggles between the party
which held out for the imprisoned Queen Mary, and that which endeavoured
to maintain the authority of her infant son, James VI. The person
designated Edom o' Gordon was Adam Gordon of Auchindown, brother of the
Marquis of Huntly, and his deputy as lieutenant of the north of Scotland
for the Queen. This gentleman committed many acts of oppression on the
clan Forbes, under colour of the Queen's authority, and in one collision
with that family, killed Arthur, brother to Lord Forbes. He afterwards
sent a party under one Captain Car, or Ker, to reduce the house of
Towie, one of the chief seats of the name of Forbes. The proprietor of
the mansion being from home, his lady, who was pregnant at the time,
confiding too much in her sex and condition, not only refused to
surrender, but gave Car some very opprobrious language over the walls,
which irritated him so much that he set fire to the house, and burnt the
whole inmates, amounting in all to thirty-seven persons. As Gordon never
cashiered Car for this inhuman action, he was held by the public voice
to be equally guilty, and accordingly [in one of the versions of the
ballad] he is represented as the principal actor himself." (CHAMBERS's
_Scottish Ballads_, p. 67.) It appears that the Forbeses afterwards
attempted to assassinate Adam Gordon in the streets of Paris. See more
of this Captain Ker under _The Battell of Balrinnes_, in the next
volume.
The ballad was first printed by the Foulises at Glasgow, 1755, under the
title of _Edom of Gordon_, as taken down by Sir David Dalrymple from the
recitation of a lady. It was inserted in the _Reliques_, (i. 122,)
"improved and enlarged," (or, as Ritson more correctly expresses the
fact, "interpolated and corrupted,") by several stanzas from a fragment
in Percy's manuscript, called _Captain Adam Carre_. Ritson published the
following genuine and ancient copy, (_Ancient Songs_, ii. 38,) from a
collection in the Cotton Library. He states that his MS. had received
numerous alterations or corrections, all or most of which, as being
evidently for the better, he had adopted into the text. We have added a
copy of _Edom o' Gordon_ given in Ritson's _Scottish Songs_, and in the
Appendix an inferior version of the story, called _Loudoun Castle_.
The names vary considerably in the different versions of this piece. The
castle of Towie, or the house of Rothes, is here called the castle of
Crecrynbroghe, in Percy's manuscript the castle of Brittonsborrow, and
in the copy in the Appendix the locality is changed to Loudoun castle in
Ayrshire. In like manner, Alexander Forbes is here turned into Lord
Hamleton, and Captain Car is now called the lord of Easter-town and
again the lord of Westerton-town.
In the _Gentleman's Magazine_, vol. xci. Part 1, p. 451, will be found a
modern ballad styled _Adam Gordon_, founded on the adventure of the
freebooter of that name with Edward the First. Another on the same
subject is given in Evans's _Old Ballads_, iv. 86.
It befell at Martynmas
When wether waxed colde,
Captaine Care saide to his men,
"We must go take a holde."
"Haille, master, and wether you will, 5
And wether ye like it best."
"To the castle of Crecrynbroghe;
And there we will take our reste.
"I knowe wher is a gay castle,
Is build of lyme and stone, 10
Within 'there' is a gay ladie,
Her lord is ryd from hom."
The ladie lend on her castle-walle,
She loked upp and downe;
There was she ware of an host of men, 15
Come riding to the towne.
"Come yow hether, my meri men all,
And look what I do see;
Yonder is ther an host of men,
I musen who they bee." 20
She thought he had been her own wed lord,
That had comd riding home;
Then was it traitour Captaine Care,
The lord of Ester-towne.
They were no soner at supper sett, 25
Then after said the grace,
Or captaine Care and all his men
Wer lighte aboute the place.
"Gyve over thi howsse, thou lady gay,
And I will make the a bande; 30
To-nighte thoust ly wythin my arm,
To-morrowe thou shall ere my lan[de]."
Then bespacke the eldest sonne,
That was both whitt and redde,
"O mother dere, geve over your howsse, 35
Or elles we shal be deade."
"I will not geve over my hous," she saithe,
"Not for feare of my lyffe;
It shal be talked throughout the land,
The slaughter of a wyffe. 40
"Fetch me my pestilett,
And charge me my gonne,
That I may shott at the bloddy butcher,
The lord of Easter-towne."
She styfly stod on her castle-wall, 45
And lett the pellettes flee,
She myst the blody bucher,
And slew other three.
"I will not geve over my hous," she saithe,
"Netheir for lord nor lowne, 50
Nor yet for traitour Captaine Care,
The lord of Easter-towne.
"I desire of Captaine Care,
And all his bloddye band,
That he would save my eldest sonne, 55
The eare of all my lande."
"Lap him in a shete," he sayth,
"And let him downe to me,
And I shall take him in my armes,
His waran wyll I be." 60
The captayne sayd unto himselfe,
Wyth sped before the rest;
He cut his tonge out of his head,
His hart out of his brest.
He lapt them in a handerchef, 65
And knet it of knotes three,
And cast them over the castell-wall
At that gay ladye.
"Fye upon thee, Captaine Care,
And all thy bloddy band, 70
For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne,
The ayre of all my land."
Then bespake the yongest sonn,
That sat on the nurses knee,
Sayth, "Mother gay, geve ower your house, 75
[The smoke] it smoldereth me."
"I wold geve my gold," she saith,
"And so I wolde my fee,
For a blaste of the wesleyn wind
To dryve the smoke from thee. 80
"Fy upon thee, John Hamleton,
That ever I paid th['e] hyre,
For thou hast broken my castle-wall,
And kyndled in [it] the fyre."[L84]
The lady gate to her close parler, 85
The fire fell aboute her head;
She toke up her children thre,
Seth, "Babes, we are all dead."
Then bespake the hye steward,
That is of hye degree; 90
Saith, "Ladie gay, you are no 'bote,'
Wethere ye fighte or flee."
Lord Hamleton dremd in his dreame,
In Carvall where he laye,
His halle 'was' all of fyre, 95
His ladie slayne or daye.
"Busk and bowne, my merry men all,
Even and go ye with me,
For I 'dremd' that my hall was on fyre
My lady slayne or day." 100
He buskt him and bownd him,
And like a worthi knighte,
And when he saw his hall burning,
His harte was no dele lighte.
He sett a trumpett till his mouth, 105
He blew as it plesd his grace;
Twenty score of Hambletons
Was light aboute the place.
"Had I knowne as much yesternighte
As I do to-daye, 110
Captaine Care and all his men
Should not have gone so quite [awaye.]
"Fye upon thee, Captaine Care,
And all thy blody 'bande;'
Thou hast slayne my lady gaye, 115
More worth then all thy lande.
"Yf thou had ought eny ill will," he saith,
"Thou shoulde have taken my lyffe,
And have saved my children thre,
All and my lovesome wyffe." 120
84, thee.
EDOM O' GORDON.
From Ritson's _Scottish Songs_, ii. 17. We presume this is the ballad
printed by the Foulises.
It fell about the Martinmas,
Quhen the wind blew schrile and cauld,
Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,
"We maun draw to a hauld.
"And what an a hauld sall we draw to, 5
My merry men and me?
We will gae to the house of the Rodes,
To see that fair ladie."
She had nae sooner busket hersell,
Nor putten on her gown, 10
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men
Were round about the town.
They had nae sooner sitten down,
Nor sooner said the grace,
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men 15
Were closed about the place.
The lady ran up to her tower head,
As fast as she could drie,
To see if by her fair speeches,
She could with him agree. 20
As soon as he saw the lady fair,
And hir yates all locked fast,
He fell into a rage of wrath,
And his heart was aghast.[L24]
"Cum down to me, ze lady fair, 25
Cum down to me, let's see;
This night ze's ly by my ain side,
The morn my bride sall be."
"I winnae cum down, ye fals Gordon,
I winnae cum down to thee; 30
I winnae forsake my ane dear lord
That is sae far frae me."
"Gi up your house, ze fair lady,
Gi up your house to me,
Or I will burn zoursel therein, 35
Bot you and zour babies three."
"I winna gie up, zou fals Gordon,
To nae sik traitor as thee,
Tho' zou should burn mysel therein,
Bot and my babies three." 40
"Set fire to the house," quoth fals Gordon,
"Sin better may nae bee;
And I will burn hersel therein,
Bot and her babies three."
"And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man, 45
I paid ze weil zour fee;
Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane,
Lets in the reek to me?
"And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man,
For I paid zou weil zour hire; 50
Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane,
To me lets in the fire?"
"Ye paid me weil my hire, lady,
Ye paid me weil my fee,
But now I'm Edom of Gordon's man, 55
Maun either do or die."
O then bespake her zoungest son,
Sat on the nurses knee,
"Dear mother, gie owre your house," he says,
"For the reek it worries me." 60
"I winnae gie up my house, my dear,
To nae sik traitor as he;
Cum well, cum wae, my jewels fair,
Ye maun tak share wi me."
O then bespake her dochter dear, 65
She was baith jimp and sma,
"O row me in a pair o' shiets,
And tow me owre the wa."
They rowd her in a pair of shiets,
And towd her owre the wa, 70
But, on the point of Edom's speir,
She gat a deadly fa'.
O bonny, bonny, was hir mouth,
And chirry were her cheiks,
And clear, clear was hir zellow hair, 75
Whereon the reid bluid dreips.
Then wi his speir he turn'd hir owr,
O gin hir face was wan!
He said, "Zou are the first that eer
I wisht alive again." 80
He turn'd her owr and owr again;
O gin hir skin was whyte!
He said, "I might ha spard thy life,
To been some mans delyte."
"Busk and boon, my merry men all, 85
For ill dooms I do guess;
I cannae luik in that bonny face,
As it lyes on the grass."
"Them luiks to freits, my master deir,
Their freits will follow them;[L90] 90
Let it neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon
Was daunted with a dame."
O then he spied hir ain deir lord,
As he came owr the lee;
He saw his castle in a fire, 95
As far as he could see.
"Put on, put on, my mighty men,[L97]
As fast as ze can drie,
For he that's hindmost of my men,
Sall neir get guid o' me." 100
And some they raid, and some they ran,
Fu fast out owr the plain,
But lang, lang, eer he coud get up,
They were a' deid and slain.
But mony were the mudie men 105
Lay gasping on the grien;
For o' fifty men that Edom brought out
There were but five ged heme.
And mony were the mudie men
Lay gasping on the grien, 110
And mony were the fair ladys
Lay lemanless at heme.
And round and round the waes he went,
Their ashes for to view;
At last into the flames he flew, 115
And bad the world adieu.
24. heart, _pronounced_ hearrut.
90. Then.
97. _Qy._ wight yemen?
WILLIE MACKINTOSH, OR, THE BURNING OF AUCHINDOWN.
These fragments appear to relate to the burning of Auchindown, a castle
belonging to the Gordons, in vengeance for the death of William
Mackintosh of the clan Chattan, which is said to have occurred at the
castle of the Earl of Huntly. The event is placed in the year 1592.
After the Mackintoshes had executed their revenge, they were pursued by
the Gordons, and overtaken in the Stapler, where "sixty of the clan
Chattan were killed, and Willie Mackintosh, their leader, wounded." So
says the not very trustworthy editor of the _Thistle of Scotland_.
Another fragment of four stanzas (containing nothing additional), is
given by Whitelaw, _Book of Scottish Ballads_, p. 248.
I.
From Finlay's _Scottish Ballads_, ii. 97.
As I came in by Fiddich-side,
In a May morning,
I met Willie Mackintosh
An hour before the dawning.
"Turn again, turn again, 5
Turn again, I bid ye;
If ye burn Auchindown,
Huntly he will head ye."
"Head me, hang me,
That sall never fear me; 10
I'll burn Auchindown
Before the life leaves me."
As I came in by Auchindown,
In a May morning,
Auchindown was in a bleeze, 15
An hour before the dawning.
* * * * *
"Crawing, crawing,
For my crowse crawing,
I lost the best feather i' my wing,
For my crowse crawing." 20
II.
From _The Thistle of Scotland_, p. 106.
"Turn, Willie Mackintosh,
Turn, I bid you,
Gin ye burn Auchindown,
Huntly will head you."
"Head me, or hang me, 5
That canna fley me,
I'll burn Auchindown,
Ere the life lea' me."
Coming down Dee-side
In a clear morning, 10
Auchindown was in a flame,
Ere the cock crawing.
But coming o'er Cairn Croom,
And looking down, man,
I saw Willie Mackintosh 15
Burn Auchindown, man.
"Bonny Willie Mackintosh,
Whare left ye your men?"
"I left them in the Stapler,
But they'll never come hame." 20
"Bonny Willie Mackintosh,
Where now is your men?"
"I left them in the Stapler,
Sleeping in their sheen."
LORD MAXWELL'S GOODNIGHT.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 199.
"A. D. 1585, John Lord Maxwell, or, as he styled himself, Earl of
Morton, having quarrelled with the Earl of Arran, reigning favourite of
James VI., and fallen, of course, under the displeasure of the court,
was denounced rebel. A commission was also given to the Laird of
Johnstone, then Warden of the West Marches, to pursue and apprehend the
ancient rival and enemy of his house. Two bands of mercenaries,
commanded by Captains Cranstoun and Lammie, who were sent from Edinburgh
to support Johnstone, were attacked and cut to pieces at Crawford-muir,
by Robert Maxwell, natural brother to the chieftain; who, following up
his advantage, burned Johnstone's Castle of Lochwood, observing, with
savage glee, that he would give Lady Johnstone light enough by which 'to
set her hood.' In a subsequent conflict, Johnstone himself was defeated,
and made prisoner, and is said to have died of grief at the disgrace
which he sustained.
"By one of the revolutions, common in those days, Maxwell was soon after
restored to the King's favour in his turn, and obtained the wardenry of
the West Marches. A bond of alliance was subscribed by him, and by Sir
James Johnstone, and for some time the two clans lived in harmony. In
the year 1593, however, the hereditary feud was revived on the following
occasion. A band of marauders, of the clan Johnstone, drove a prey of
cattle from the lands belonging to the Lairds of Crichton, Sanquhar, and
Drumlanrig; and defeated, with slaughter, the pursuers, who attempted to
rescue their property.--[See _The Lads of Wamphray_, post, p. 168.] The
injured parties, being apprehensive that Maxwell would not cordially
embrace their cause, on account of his late reconciliation with the
Johnstones, endeavoured to overcome his reluctance, by offering to enter
into bonds of manrent, and so to become his followers and liegemen; he,
on the other hand, granting to them a bond of maintenance, or
protection, by which he bound himself, in usual form, to maintain their
quarrel against all mortals, saving his loyalty. Thus, the most powerful
and respectable families in Dumfriesshire, became, for a time, the
vassals of Lord Maxwell. This secret alliance was discovered to Sir
James Johnstone by the Laird of Cummertrees, one of his own clan, though
a retainer to Maxwell. Cummertrees even contrived to possess himself of
the bonds of manrent, which he delivered to his chief. The petty warfare
betwixt the rival barons was instantly renewed. Buccleuch, a near
relation of Johnstone, came to his assistance with his clan, 'the most
renowned freebooters, [says a historian,] the fiercest and bravest
warriors among the Border tribes.' With Buccleuch also came the Elliots,
Armstrongs, and Gr[ae]mes. Thus reinforced, Johnstone surprised and cut
to pieces a party of the Maxwells, stationed at Lochmaben. On the other
hand, Lord Maxwell, armed with the royal authority, and numbering among
his followers all the barons of Nithsdale, displayed his banner as the
King's lieutenant, and invaded Annandale at the head of two thousand
men. In those days, however, the royal auspices seem to have carried as
little good fortune as effective strength with them. A desperate
conflict, still renowned in tradition, took place at the Dryffe Sands,
not far from Lockerby, in which Johnstone, although inferior in numbers,
partly by his own conduct, partly by the valour of his allies, gained a
decisive victory. Lord Maxwell, a tall man, and heavily armed, was
struck from his horse in the flight, and cruelly slain, after the hand,
which he stretched out for quarter, had been severed from his body. Many
of his followers were slain in the battle, and many cruelly wounded,
especially by slashes in the face, which wound was thence termed a
'Lockerby lick.' The Barons of Lag, Closeburn, and Drumlanrig, escaped
by the fleetness of their horses; a circumstance alluded to in the
following ballad.
"John, Lord Maxwell, with whose 'Goodnight' the reader is here
presented, was son to him who fell at the battle of Dryffe Sands, and
is said to have early avowed the deepest revenge for his father's death.
Such, indeed, was the fiery and untameable spirit of the man, that
neither the threats nor entreaties of the King himself could make him
lay aside his vindictive purpose; although Johnstone, the object of his
resentment, had not only reconciled himself to the court, but even
obtained the wardenry of the Middle Marches, in room of Sir John
Carmichael, murdered by the Armstrongs. Lord Maxwell was therefore
prohibited to approach the Border counties; and having, in contempt of
that mandate, excited new disturbances, he was confined in the castle of
Edinburgh. From this fortress, however, he contrived to make his escape;
and, having repaired to Dumfriesshire, he sought an amicable interview
with Johnstone, under a pretence of a wish to accommodate their
differences. Sir Robert Maxwell, of Orchardstane, (mentioned in the
ballad, verse 1,) who was married to a sister of Sir James Johnstone,
persuaded his brother-in-law to accede to Maxwell's proposal."
So far Sir Walter Scott. The meeting took place on the 6th of April,
1608, in the presence of Sir Robert Maxwell, each party being
accompanied by a single follower. While the chieftains were conferring
together, Charles Maxwell, the attendant of Lord John, maliciously began
an altercation with the servant of Johnstone, and shot him with a
pistol, and Sir James, looking round at the report, was himself shot by
Lord Maxwell in the back with two poisoned bullets.
The murderer escaped to France, but afterwards venturing to return to
Scotland, was apprehended, brought to trial at Edinburgh, and beheaded
on the 21st of May, 1613. We may naturally suppose that the _Goodnight_
was composed shortly after Lord Maxwell fled across the seas, certainly
before 1613.
This ballad was first printed in the _Border Minstrelsy_ "from a copy in
Glenriddel's MSS., with some slight variations from tradition."
"Adieu, madame, my mother dear,
But and my sisters three!
Adieu, fair Robert of Orchardstane!
My heart is wae for thee.
Adieu, the lily and the rose, 5
The primrose fair to see!
Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!
For I may not stay with thee.
"Though I hae slain the Lord Johnstone,
What care I for their feid? 10
My noble mind their wrath disdains,--
He was my father's deid.
Both night and day I labour'd oft
Of him avenged to be;
But now I've got what lang I sought, 15
And I may not stay with thee.
"Adieu, Drumlanrig! false wert aye--
And Closeburn in a band!
The Laird of Lag, frae my father that fled,
When the Johnston struck aff his hand! 20
They were three brethren in a band--
Joy may they never see!
Their treacherous art, and cowardly heart,
Has twined my love and me.
"Adieu, Dumfries, my proper place, 25
But and Carlaverock fair!
Adieu, my castle of the Thrieve,
Wi' a' my buildings there!
Adieu, Lochmaben's gate sae fair,
The Langholm-holm, where birks there be! 30
Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!
For, trust me, I may not stay wi' thee.
"Adieu, fair Eskdale, up and down,
Where my puir friends do dwell!
The bangisters will ding them down, 35
And will them sair compell.
But I'll avenge their feid mysell,
When I come o'er the sea;
Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!
For I may not stay wi' thee." 40
"Lord of the land,"--that ladye said,
"O wad ye go wi' me,
Unto my brother's stately tower,
Where safest ye may be!
There Hamiltons, and Douglas baith, 45
Shall rise to succour thee."
"Thanks for thy kindness, fair my dame,
But I may not stay wi' thee."
Then he tuik aff a gay gold ring,
Thereat hang signets three; 50
"Hae, tak thee that, mine ain dear thing,
And still hae mind o' me:
But if thou take another lord,
Ere I come ower the sea--
His life is but a three days' lease, 55
Though I may not stay wi' thee."
The wind was fair, the ship was clear,
That good lord went away;
And most part of his friends were there,
To give him a fair convey. 60
They drank the wine, they didna spair,
Even in that gude lord's sight--
Sae now he's o'er the floods sae gray,
And Lord Maxwell has ta'en his Goodnight.
THE LADS OF WAMPHRAY
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, ii. 148.
"The reader will find, prefixed to the foregoing ballad, an account of
the noted feud betwixt the families of Maxwell and Johnstone. The
following song celebrates the skirmish, in 1593, betwixt the Johnstones
and Crichtons, which led to the revival of the ancient quarrel betwixt
Johnstone and Maxwell, and finally to the battle of Dryffe Sands, in
which the latter lost his life. Wamphray is the name of a parish in
Annandale. Lethenhall was the abode of Johnstone of Wamphray, and
continued to be so till of late years. William Johnstone of Wamphray,
called the Galliard, was a noted freebooter. A place, near the head of
Teviotdale, retains the name of the Galliard's Faulds, (folds,) being a
valley, where he used to secrete and divide his spoil, with his
Liddesdale and Eskdale associates. His _nom de guerre_ seems to have
been derived from the dance called the Galliard. The word is still used
in Scotland, to express an active, gay, dissipated character. Willie of
the Kirkhill, nephew to the Galliard, and his avenger, was also a noted
Border robber. Previous to the battle of Dryffe Sands, so often
mentioned, tradition reports, that Maxwell had offered a ten-pound-land
to any of his party, who should bring him the head or hand of the Laird
of Johnstone. This being reported to his antagonist, he answered, he had
not a ten-pound-land to offer, but would give a five-merk-land to the
man who should that day cut off the head or hand of Lord Maxwell. Willie
of the Kirkhill, mounted upon a young grey horse, rushed upon the enemy,
and earned the reward, by striking down their unfortunate chieftain, and
cutting off his right hand."--SCOTT.
'Twixt Girth-head and the Langwood end,[L1]
Lived the Galliard, and the Galliard's men,
But and the lads of Leverhay,
That drove the Crichton's gear away.
It is the lads of Lethenha', 5
The greatest rogues amang them a';
But and the lads of Stefenbiggin,
They broke the house in at the rigging.
The lads of Fingland, and Helbeck-hill,
They were never for good, but aye for ill; 10
'Twixt the Staywood-bush and Langside-hill,
They steal'd the broked cow and the branded bull.
It is the lads of the Girth-head,
The deil's in them for pride and greed;
For the Galliard, and the gay Galliard's men, 15
They ne'er saw a horse but they made it their ain.
The Galliard to Nithsdale is gane,
To steal Sim Crichton's winsome dun;
The Galliard is unto the stable gane,
But instead of the dun, the blind he has ta'en. 20
"Now Simmy, Simmy of the Side,
Come out and see a Johnstone ride!
Here's the bonniest horse in a' Nithside,
And a gentle Johnstone aboon his hide."
Simmy Crichton's mounted then, 25
And Crichtons has raised mony a ane;
The Galliard trow'd his horse had been wight,
But the Crichtons beat him out o' sight.
As soon as the Galliard the Crichton saw,
Behind the saugh-bush he did draw; 30
And there the Crichtons the Galliard hae ta'en,
And nane wi' him but Willie alane.
"O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang,
And I'll never mair do a Crichton wrang!
O Simmy, Simmy, now let me be, 35
And a peck o' gowd I'll give to thee!
"O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang,
And my wife shall heap it with her hand!"
But the Crichtons wadna let the Galliard be,
But they hang'd him hie upon a tree. 40
O think then Willie he was right wae,
When he saw his uncle guided sae;
"But if ever I live Wamphray to see,
My uncle's death avenged shall be!"
Back to Wamphray he is gane, 45
And riders has raised mony a ane;
Saying--"My lads, if ye'll be true,
Ye shall a' be clad in the noble blue."
Back to Nithsdale they have gane,
And awa' the Crichtons' nowt hae ta'en; 50
But when they cam to the Wellpath-head,[L51]
The Crichtons bade them light and lead.
And when they cam to the Biddes-burn,
The Crichtons bade them stand and turn;
And when they cam to the Biddes-strand, 55
The Crichtons they were hard at hand.
But when they cam to the Biddes-law,
The Johnstones bade them stand and draw;
"We've done nae ill, we'll thole nae wrang,
But back to Wamphray we will gang." 60
And out spoke Willie of the Kirkhill,
"Of fighting, lads, ye'se hae your fill;"
And from his horse Willie he lap,
And a burnish'd brand in his hand he gat.
Out through the Crichtons Willie he ran, 65
And dang them down baith horse and man;
O but the Johnstones were wondrous rude,
When the Biddes-burn ran three days blood!
"Now, sirs, we have done a noble deed,--
We have revenged the Galliard's bleid; 70
For every finger of the Galliard's hand,
I vow this day I've kill'd a man."
As they cam in at Evan-head,
At Ricklaw-holm they spread abread;[L74]
"Drive on, my lads! it will be late; 75
We'll hae a pint at Wamphray gate.
"For where'er I gang, or e'er I ride,
The lads of Wamphray are on my side;
And of a' the lads that I do ken,
A Wamphray lad's the king of men." 80
1-7. Leverhay, Stefenbiggin, Girth-head, &c., are all situated in the
parish of Wamphray.--S.
51-53. The Wellpath is a pass by which the Johnstones were retreating to
their fastnesses in Annandale. The Biddes-burn, where the skirmish took
place betwixt the Johnstones and their pursuers, is a rivulet which
takes its course among the mountains on the confines of Nithesdale and
Annandale.--S.
74-76. Ricklaw-holm is a place upon the Evan-water, which falls into the
Annan, below Moffat. Wamphray-gate was in those days an alehouse.--S.
THE FIRE OF FRENDRAUGHT.
From Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 161.
"A mortal feud having arisen between the Laird of Frendraught [Sir James
Chrichton] and the Laird of Rothiemay [William Gordon], both gentlemen
of Banffshire, a rencontre took place, at which the retainers of both
were present, on the 1st of January, 1630; when Rothiemay was killed,
and several persons hurt on both sides. To stanch this bloody quarrel,
the Marquis of Huntly, who was chief to both parties, and who had
therefore a right to act as arbiter between them, ordered Frendraught to
pay fifty thousand merks to Rothiemay's widow. In the ensuing September,
Frendraught fell into another quarrel, in the course of which James
Lesly, son to Lesly of Pitcaple, was shot through the arm. Soon after
the last incident, Frendraught, having paid a visit to the Marquis of
Huntly at the Bog of Gight, the Laird of Pitcaple came up with thirty
armed men, to demand atonement for the wound of his son. Huntly acted in
this case with great discretion. Without permitting the two lairds to
come to a conference, he endeavored to persuade the complaining party
that Frendraught was in reality innocent of his son's wound; and, as
Pitcaple went away vowing vengeance, he sent Frendraught home under a
strong escort, which was commanded by his son, the Viscount Aboyne, and
by the young Laird of Rothiemay, son to him whom Frendraught had killed
some months before. The party reached Frendraught Castle without being
attacked by Pitcaple; when, Aboyne and Rothiemay offering to take leave
of Frendraught and his lady, in order to return home, they were
earnestly entreated by these individuals to remain a night, and postpone
their return till to-morrow. Being with difficulty prevailed upon, the
young Viscount and Rothiemay were well entertained, and after supper
went cheerfully to bed. To continue the narrative in the words of
Spalding--"The Viscount was laid in an bed in the Old Tower going off
the hall, and standing upon a vault, wherein there was ane round hole,
devised of old, just under Aboyne's bed. Robert Gordon, his servitor,
and English Will, his page, were both laid in the same chamber. The
Laird of Rothiemay, with some servants beside him, was laid in another
chamber just above Aboyne's chamber; and in another room above that
chamber, were laid George Chalmers of Noth, and George Gordon, another
of the Viscount's servants; with them also was laid Captain Rolloch,
then in Frendraught's own company. All being thus at rest, about
midnight that dolorous tower took fire in so sudden and furious a
manner, yea, and in ane clap, that the noble Viscount, the Laird of
Rothiemay, English Will, Colonel Wat, another of Aboyne's servants, and
other two, being six in number, were cruelly burnt and tormented to the
death, without help or relief; the Laird of Frendraught, his lady, and
haill household looking on, without moving or stirring to deliver them
from the fury of this fearful fire, as was reported. Robert Gordon,
called Sutherland Gordon, being in the Viscount's chamber, escaped this
fire with the life. George Chalmers and Captain Rolloch, being in the
third room, escaped this fire also, and, as was said, Aboyne might have
saved himself also if he would have gone out of doors, which he would
not do, but suddenly ran up stairs to Rothiemay's chamber, and wakened
him to rise; and as he is awakening him, the timber passage and lofting
of the chamber hastily takes fire, so that none of them could win down
stairs again; so they turned to a window looking to the close, where
they piteously cried many times, "Help! help! for God's cause!" The
Laird and Lady, with their servants, all seeing and hearing the woeful
crying, made no help or manner of helping; which they perceiving, cried
oftentimes mercy at God's hands for their sins; syne clasped in each
other's arms, and cheerfully suffered their martyrdom. Thus died this
noble Viscount, of singular expectation, Rothiemay, a brave youth, and
the rest, by this doleful fire, never enough to be deplored, to the
great grief and sorrow of their kin, parents, and hail common people,
especially to the noble Marquis, who for his good will got this reward.
No man can express the dolour of him and his lady, nor yet the grief of
the Viscount's own dear lady, when it came to her ears, which she kept
to her dying day, disdaining after the company of men all her life-time,
following the love of the turtle dove.
'It is reported that upon the morn after this woeful fire, the Lady
Frendraught, daughter to the Earl of Sutherland, and near cousin to the
Marquis, backed in a white plaid, and riding on a small nag, having a
boy leading her horse, without any more in her company, in this pitiful
manner she came weeping and mourning to the Bog, desiring entry to speak
with my lord; but this was refused; so she returned back to her own
house, the same gate she came, comfortless.'--SPALDING'S _History of the
Troubles in Scotland_.
"Suspicion formed two theories regarding the cause of the fire of
Frendraught. The first was, that the Laird had wilfully set fire to the
tower, for the purpose of destroying the young Laird of Rothiemay. The
other was, that it originated in the revengeful feelings of the Laird of
Pitcaple. In the first theory there is extremely little probability.
First, it could not have been premeditated; because the circumstance of
Frendraught being accompanied home that day by Aboyne and Rothiemay, was
entirely accidental. In the second place, there was no reason for
Frendraught being inclined to murder Rothiemay, except that he grudged
the payment of the fifty thousand merks to his mother; while there was
every reason for his being inclined rather to befriend a youth whom he
had already injured by occasioning the death of his father. In the third
place, all Frendraught's family papers, with much gold and silver, both
in money and plate, were consumed in the fire. And, in the fourth
place, it is extremely improbable that any man of his rank should commit
so deliberate and so atrocious an act of villainy. On the other hand, it
seems by no means improbable that Pitcaple should have caused fire to be
set to his enemy's house; a mode of reprisal which had been practised in
the same district of country, as we have already seen, by a gentleman of
only the preceding age. Pitcaple's men, moreover, had been heard to
declare an intention of attempting some such enterprise against
Frendraught; as was proved on the trial of a gentleman of the name of
Meldrum, who was apprehended, condemned, and executed, for his alleged
accession to their conspiracy."--CHAMBERS'S _Scottish Ballads_, p. 85.
This ballad was first printed in the _North Countrie Garland_, p. 4, and
afterwards with a few slight corrections in Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_,
having in both cases been furnished by Mr. C. K. Sharpe. The tragic
story was celebrated by one Arthur Johnston, a contemporary scholar, in
two Latin poems, the one entitled, _Querela Sophi[ae] Hay, domin[ae] de
Melgeine, de morte mariti_, and the other, _De Johanne Gordonio,
Vicecomite de Melgeine, el Johanne Gordonio de Rothemay, in arce
Frendriaca combustis_ (Finlay, i. 67). In Herd's Collection (i. 199) is
a modern piece on the subject called _Frennet Hall_, in the detestable
style of the last century. This very feeble production is also to be
found in Ritson's _Scottish Songs_ (ii. 31), Johnson's _Museum_, and
elsewhere. But Ritson gives these few stanzas of an excellent old
ballad, as remembered by the Rev. Mr. Boyd, the translator of Dante:
The reek it rose, and the flame it flew,
And oh the fire augmented high,
Until it came to Lord John's chamber-window,
And to the bed where Lord John lay.
"O help me, help me, Lady Frennet!
I never ettled harm to thee;
And if my father slew my lord,
Forget the deed and rescue me."
He looked east, he looked west,
To see if any help was nigh;
At length his little page he saw,
Who to his lord aloud did cry.
"Loup doun, loup doun, my master dear!
What though the window's dreigh and hie?
I'll catch you in my arms twa,
And never a foot from you I'll flee."
"How can I loup, you little page,
How can I leave this window hie?
Do you not see the blazing low,
And my twa legs burnt to my knee?"
* * * * *
The eighteenth of October,
A dismal tale to hear,
How good Lord John and Rothiemay
Was both burnt in the fire.
When steeds was saddled and well bridled, 5
And ready for to ride,
Then out it came her, false Frendraught,
Inviting them to bide.
Said,--"Stay this night untill we sup,
The morn untill we dine; 10
'Twill be a token of good 'greement
'Twixt your good Lord and mine."
"We'll turn again," said good Lord John;--
"But no," said Rothiemay,--
"My steed's trapan'd, my bridle's broken, 15
I fear the day I'm fey."
When mass was sung, and bells was rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Then good Lord John and Rothiemay
In one chamber was laid. 20
They had not long cast off their cloaths,
And were but now asleep,
When the weary smoke began to rise,
Likewise the scorching heat.
"O waken, waken, Rothiemay! 25
O waken, brother dear!
And turn you to our Saviour;
There is strong treason here."
When they were dressed in their cloaths,
And ready for to boun, 30
The doors and windows was all secur'd,
The roof-tree burning down.
He did him to the wire-window,
As fast as he could gang;
Says,--"Wae to the hands put in the stancheons, 35
For out we'll never win."
When he stood at the wire-window,
Most doleful to be seen,
He did espy her, Lady Frendraught,
Who stood upon the green. 40
Cried,--"Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught!
Will ye not sink with sin?
For first your husband killed my father,
And now you burn his son."
O then out spoke her, Lady Frendraught, 45
And loudly did she cry,--
"It were great pity for good Lord John,
But none for Rothiemay.
But the keys are casten in the deep draw well,
Ye cannot get away." 50
While he stood in this dreadful plight,
Most piteous to be seen,
There called out his servant Gordon,
As he had frantic been.
"O loup, O loup, my dear master, 55
O loup and come to me!
I'll catch you in my arms two;
One foot I will not flee.
"O loup, O loup, my dear master,
O loup and come away! 60
I'll catch you in my arms two,
But Rothiemay may lie."
"The fish shall never swim in the flood,
Nor corn grow through the clay,
Nor the fiercest fire that ever was kindled 65
Twin me and Rothiemay.
"But I cannot loup, I cannot come,
I cannot win to thee;
My head's fast in the wire-window,
My feet burning from me. 70
"My eyes are seething in my head,
My flesh roasting also,
My bowels are boiling with my blood;
Is not that a woeful woe?
"Take here the rings from my white fingers 75
That are so long and small,
And give them to my lady fair,
Where she sits in her hall.
"So I cannot loup, I cannot come,
I cannot loup to thee; 80
My earthly part is all consumed,
My spirit but speaks to thee."
Wringing her hands, tearing her hair,
His lady she was seen,
And thus addressed his servant Gordon, 85
Where he stood on the green.
"O wae be to you, George Gordon,
An ill death may you die!
So safe and sound as you stand there,
And my lord bereaved from me." 90
"I bad him loup, I bad him come,
I bad him loup to me;
I'd catch him in my arms two,
A foot I should not flee. &c.
"He threw me the rings from his white fingers, 95
Which were so long and small,
To give to you, his lady fair,
Where you sat in your hall." &c.
Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay,
O bonny Sophia was her name,-- 100
Her waiting maid put on her cloaths,
But I wot she tore them off again.
And aft she cried, "Ohon! alas, alas!
A sair heart's ill to win;
I wan a sair heart when I married him, 105
And the day it's well return'd again."
THE BONNIE HOUSE O' AIRLY.
Finlay's _Scottish Ballads_, ii. 31.
The Earl of Airly, a nobleman zealously attached to the cause of King
Charles, withdrew from Scotland in order to avoid subscribing the
Covenant, leaving his eldest son Lord Ogilvie at home. The Committee of
Estates, hearing that Airly had fled the country, directed the Earls of
Montrose and Kinghorn to take possession of his castle, but in this,
owing to the exceeding strength of the place, they did not succeed.
Subsequently the Earl of Argyle, a personal enemy of the Earl of Airly,
was charged with the same commission, and raised an army of five
thousand men to carry out his trust. Lord Ogilvie was unable to hold out
against such a force, and abandoned his father's stronghold, which, as
well as his own residence of Forthar, was plundered and utterly
destroyed by Argyle. Lady Ogilvie is said to have been pregnant at the
time of the burning of Forthar, and to have undergone considerable
danger before she could find proper refuge. She never had, however, more
than one son, though she is endowed with no fewer than ten by the
ballads. According to one account, the event here celebrated took place
in 1639; another assigns it to 1640. (Napier's _Montrose and the
Covenanters_, i. 533.)
The _Bonnie House of Airly_ was first printed in Finlay's _Scottish
Ballads_. Other copies are given in Cromek's _Remains of Nithsdale and
Galloway Song_, p. 225; Smith's _Scottish Minstrel_, ii. 2; Hogg's
_Jacobite Relics_, ii. 152; Sharpe's _Ballad Book_, p. 59; and
Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 104.
A modern attempt on the same theme may be seen in Hogg's _Jacobite
Relics_, ii. 411. Allan Cunningham, misled by the Ogilvies' continuing
to the Pretender the devotion they exhibited to the Royal Martyr and his
son, has transferred the burning of Airly to the 18th century. See his
_Young Airly_, in Cromek's _Remains_, p. 196, and, rewritten, in _The
Songs of Scotland_, iii. 218.
It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day,
When the corn grew green and yellow,
That there fell out a great dispute
Between Argyle and Airly.
The Duke o' Montrose has written to Argyle 5
To come in the morning early,
An' lead in his men, by the back o' Dunkeld,
To plunder the bonnie house o' Airly.
The lady look'd o'er her window sae hie,
And O but she looked weary! 10
And there she espied the great Argyle
Come to plunder the bonnie house o' Airly.
"Come down, come down, Lady Margaret," he says,
"Come down and kiss me fairly,
Or before the morning clear daylight, 15
I'll no leave a standing stane in Airly."
"I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,
I wadna kiss thee fairly,
I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,
Gin you shoudna leave a standing stane in Airly." 20
He has ta'en her by the middle sae sma',
Says, "Lady, where is your drury?"
"It's up and down by the bonnie burn side,
Amang the planting of Airly."
They sought it up, they sought it down, 25
They sought it late and early,
And found it in the bonnie balm-tree,
That shines on the bowling-green o' Airly.
He has ta'en her by the left shoulder,
And O but she grat sairly, 30
And led her down to yon green bank,
Till he plundered the bonnie house o' Airly.
"O it's I hae seven braw sons," she says,
"And the youngest ne'er saw his daddie,
And altho' I had as mony mae, 35
I wad gie them a' to Charlie.
"But gin my good lord had been at hame,
As this night he is wi' Charlie,
There durst na a Campbell in a' the west
Hae plundered the bonnie house o' Airly." 40
THE BONNIE HOUSE OF AIRLY.
From Sharpe's _Ballad Book_, p. 59.
It fell on a day, and a bonny simmer day,
When green grew aits and barley,
That there fell out a greet dispute
Between Argyll and Airlie.
Argyll has raised an hunder men, 5
An hunder harness'd rarely,
And he's awa' by the back of Dunkell,
To plunder the castle of Airlie.
Lady Ogilvie looks o'er her bower window,
And O but she looks weary! 10
And there she spy'd the great Argyll,
Come to plunder the bonny house of Airlie.
"Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie,
Come down, and kiss me fairly:"
"O I winna kiss the fause Argyll, 15
If he shouldna leave a standing stane in Airlie."
He hath taken her by the left shoulder,
Says, "Dame where lies thy dowry?"
"O it's east and west yon water side,
And it's down by the banks of the Airlie." 20
They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down,
They have sought it maist severely,
Till they fand it in the fair plum-tree,
That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie.
He hath taken her by the middle sae small, 25
And O but she grat sairly!
And laid her down by the bonny burn-side,
Till they plundered the castle of Airlie.
"Gif my gude lord war here this night,
As he is with King Charlie, 30
Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish Lord,
Durst awow to the plundering of Airlie.
"Gif my gude Lord war now at hame,
As he is with his king,
Then durst nae a Campbell in a' Argyll 35
Set fit on Airlie green.
"Ten bonny sons I have born unto him,
The eleventh ne'er saw his daddy;
But though I had an hundred mair,
I'd gie them a' to King Charlie. 40
THE BARON OF BRACKLEY.
First published as follows in Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, i. 102. The
copy used was derived from Mrs. Brown, and collated with a fragment
taken down by Scott from the recitation of two of the descendants of
Inverey. Buchan has given a different version in his _Gleanings_, which
is annexed to the present. "This ballad," says Chambers, "records an
unfortunate rencontre, which took place on the 16th of September, 1666,
between John Gordon of Brackley, commonly called the Baron of Brackley,
(in Aberdeenshire,) and Farquharson of Inverey, a noted freebooter, who
dwelt on Dee-side. The former gentleman, who is yet remembered by
tradition as a person of the most amiable and respectable character, had
contrived to offend Farquharson, by pounding some horses belonging to
his (Farquharson's) followers, which had either strayed into the
Brackley grounds, or become forfeited on account of some petty
delinquencies committed by their proprietors. Farquharson was a man of
violent habits and passions; he is yet remembered by the epithet
_Fuddie_, descriptive of his hurried, impatient gait; and it is said
that, having been in league with the powers of darkness, he was buried
on the north side of a hill, where the sun never shone. On account of
the miraculous expedition with which he could sweep the cattle away from
a fertile district, _Deil scoup wi'_ _Fuddie!_ is still a popular
proverb, implying that the devil could alone keep his own part with him.
This singular marauder, it appears, from authentic information, wished
at first to argue the point at issue with the Baron of Brackley; but in
the course of the altercation some expression from one of the parties
occasioned a mutual discharge of fire-arms, by which Brackley and three
of his followers fell. An attempt was made by the baron's friends to
bring Fuddie to justice; but the case seems to have been justly
considered one of chance medley, and the accused party was soon restored
to society."--_The Scottish Ballads_, p. 147.
Down Dee side came Inverey whistling and playing;
He's lighted at Brackley yates at the day dawing.
Says, "Baron o' Brackley, O are ye within?
There's sharp swords at the yate will gar your blood spin."
The lady raise up, to the window she went; 5
She heard her kye lowing o'er hill and o'er bent.
"O rise up, ye baron, and turn back your kye;
For the lads o' Drumwharran are driving them bye."
"How can I rise, lady, or turn them again!
Whare'er I have ae man, I wat they hae ten." 10
"Then rise up, my lasses, tak rocks in your hand,
And turn back the kye;--I ha'e you at command.
"Gin I had a husband, as I hae nane,
He wadna lye in his bower, see his kye ta'en."
Then up got the baron, and cried for his graith; 15
Says, "Lady, I'll gang, tho' to leave you I'm laith.
"Come, kiss me, then, Peggy, and gie me my speir;
I ay was for peace, tho' I never fear'd weir.
"Come, kiss me, then, Peggy, nor think I'm to blame;
I weel may gae out, but I'll never win in!" 20
When Brackley was busked, and rade o'er the closs,
A gallanter baron ne'er lap to a horse.
When Brackley was mounted, and rade o'er the green,
He was as bald a baron as ever was seen.
Tho' there cam' wi' Inverey thirty and three, 25
There was nane wi' bonny Brackley but his brother and he.
Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw;
But against four and thirty, wae's me, what is twa?
Wi' swords and wi' daggers they did him surround;
And they've pierced bonny Brackley wi' many a wound. 30
Frae the head o' the Dee to the banks o' the Spey,
The Gordons may mourn him, and bann Inverey.
"O came ye by Brackley yates, was ye in there?
Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving her hair?"
"O I came by Brackley yates, I was in there, 35
And I saw his Peggy a-making good cheer."
That lady she feasted them, carried them ben;
She laugh'd wi' the men that her baron had slain.
"O fye on you, lady! how could you do sae?
You open'd your yates to the fause Inverey." 40
She ate wi' him, drank wi' him, welcom'd him in;
She welcom'd the villain that slew her baron!
She kept him till morning, syne bade him be gane,
And shaw'd him the road that he shou'dna be taen.
"Thro' Birss and Aboyne," she says, "lyin in a tour, 45
O'er the hills o' Glentanar you'll skip in an hour."
--There's grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha';
But the Baron o' Brackley is dead and awa.
THE BARON OF BRAIKLEY.
Buchan's _Gleanings_, p. 68, taken from _Scarce Ancient Ballads_,
p. 9.
Inverey came down Deeside whistlin an playin,
He was at brave Braikley's yett ere it was dawin;
He rappit fou loudly, an wi a great roar,
Cried, "Cum down, cum down, Braikley, an open the door.
"Are ye sleepin, Baronne, or are ye wakin? 5
Ther's sharp swords at your yett will gar your bluid spin:
Open the yett, Braikley, an lat us within,
Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin."
Out spak the brave Baronne owre the castell wa,
"Are ye come to spulzie an plunder my ha? 10
But gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum in,
Gin ye drink o' my wine ye'll nae gar my bluid spin.
"Gin ye be hir'd widdifus, ye may gang by,
Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky;
Ther spulzie like revers o' wyld kettrin clan, 15
Wha plunder unsparing baith houses and lan'.
"Gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum in,
Ther's meat an drink i' my ha' for every man:
Gin ye be hir'd widdifus, ye may gang by,
Gang down to the lawlans, an steal horse an ky." 20
Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she laid,
"Get up, get up, Braikley, an be not afraid;
They're but hir'd widdifus wi belted plaids.
* * * * *
"Cum kis me, my Peggy, I'le nae langer stay,
For I will go out an meet Inverey; 25
But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din,
For yon same hir'd widdifus will prove to be men."
She called on her maries, they came to her han;
Cries, "Bring your rocks, lassies, we will them coman;
Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky, 30
For me an my women will them defy.
"Come forth than, my maidens, an show them some play;
We'll ficht them, an shortly the cowards will fly.
Gin I had a husband, wheras I hae nane,
He wadna ly in his bed and see his ky taen. 35
"Ther's four-an-twenty milk whit calves, twal o' them ky,
In the woods o' Glentanner it's ther they a' ly;
Ther are goats in the Etnach, an sheep o' the brae,
An a' will be plunderd by young Inverey."
"Now haud your tongue, Peggy, an gie me a gun, 40
Ye'll see me gae furth, but Ile never return.
Call my bruther William, my unkl also;
My cusin James Gordon, we'll mount an' we'll go."
Whan Braikley was ready an stood i the closs,
He was the bravest baronne that e'er munted horse; 45
Whan a' war assembld on the castell green,
Nae man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen.
"Turn back, bruther William, ye are a bridegroom,
* * * * *
We bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o the mill,
O sichin and sobbin she'll seen get her fill." 50
"I'me nae coward, brither, it's kent I'me a man;
Ile ficht i' your quarral as lang's I can stan.
Ile ficht, my dear brither, wi heart an guid will,
An so will yung Harry that lives at the mill.
"But turn, my dear brither, and nae langer stay. 55
What'll cum o' your ladie, gin Braikley they slay?
What'll cum o' your ladie an' bonny yung son,
O what'll cum o' them when Braikley is gone?"
"I never will turn: do ye think I will fly?
No, here I will ficht, and here I will die." 60
"Strik dogs," cries Inverey, "an ficht till ye're slayn,
For we are four hunder, ye are but four men:
Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honor is gone,
Your lans we will plunder, your castell we'll burn."
At the head o' the Etnach the battel began, 65
At little Auchoilzie they killd the first man:
First they killd ane, an syne they killd twa,
They killd gallant Braikley, the flowr o' them a'.
They killd William Gordon and James o' the Knox,
An brave Alexander, the flowr o' Glenmuick: 70
What sichin an moaning war heard i the glen,
For the Baronne o' Braikley, wha basely was slayn!
"Came ye by the castell, an was ye in there?
Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair?"
"Yes, I cam by Braikley, an I gaed in ther, 75
An ther saw his ladie braiding her hair.
"She was rantin, an' dancin, an' singin for joy,
An vowin that nicht she woud feest Inverey:
She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in,
Was kind to the man that had slayn her baronne." 80
Up spak the son on the nourices knee,[L81]
"Gin I live to be a man revenged Ile be."
Ther's dool i the kitchin, an mirth i the ha,
The Baronne o Braikley is dead an awa.
81. See _Johnie Armstrang_, p. 45.
GILDEROY.
Gilderoy (properly Gilleroy) signifies in Gaelic "the red-haired lad."
The person thus denoted was, according to tradition, one Patrick of the
proscribed clan Gregor. The following account of him is taken from the
_Scot's Musical Museum_, p. 71, vol. iv. ed. of 1853.
"Gilderoy was a notorious freebooter in the highlands of Perthshire,
who, with his gang, for a considerable time infested the country,
committing the most barbarous outrages on the inhabitants. Some of
these ruffians, however, were at length apprehended through the
vigilance and activity of the Stewarts of Athol, and conducted to
Edinburgh, where they were tried, condemned, and executed, in February,
1638. Gilderoy, seeing his accomplices taken and hanged, went up, and in
revenge burned several houses belonging to the Stewarts in Athol. This
new act of atrocity was the prelude to his ruin. A proclamation was
issued offering [L]1,000 for his apprehension. The inhabitants rose _en
masse_, and pursued him from place to place, till at length he, with
five more of his associates, was overtaken and secured. They were next
carried to Edinburgh, where after trial and conviction, they expiated
their offences on the gallows, in the month of July, 1638."
In the vulgar story-books, Gilderoy, besides committing various
monstrous and unnatural crimes, enjoys the credit of having picked
Cardinal Richelieu's pocket in the King's presence, robbed Oliver
Cromwell, and hanged a judge.
The ballad _is said_ to have been composed not long after the death of
Gilderoy, "by a young woman of no mean talent, who unfortunately became
attached to this daring robber, and had cohabited with him for some time
before his being apprehended." A blackletter copy printed in England as
early as 1650 has been preserved. Another, with "some slight
variations," is contained "in Playford's _Wit and Mirth_, first edition
of vol. iii., printed in 1703." The piece is next found in _Pills to
purge Melancholy_, v. 39, and, with one different stanza, in _Old
Ballads_, i. 271. In the second volume (p. 106) of Thomson's _Orpheus
Caledonius_ (1733), it appears with considerable alterations. Lady
Elizabeth Wardlaw (_n['e]e_ Halket) undertook a revision of the ballad,
and by expunging two worthless stanzas and adding three (those enclosed
in brackets), produced the version here given, which is taken from
Ritson's _Scotish Songs_, ii. 24. Percy's copy (_Reliques_, i. 335) is
the same, with the omission of the ninth stanza, and Herd and Pinkerton
have followed Percy.
Gilderoy was a bonny boy,
Had roses tull his shoone;
His stockings were of silken soy,
Wi' garters hanging doune.
It was, I weene, a comelie sight, 5
To see sae trim a boy;
He was my jo and hearts delight,
My handsome Gilderoy.
O sik twa charming een he had,
A breath as sweet as rose; 10
He never ware a Highland plaid,
But costly silken clothes.
He gain'd the luve of ladies gay,
Nane eir tul him was coy:
Ah, wae is me! I mourn the day, 15
For my dear Gilderoy.
My Gilderoy and I were born
Baith in one toun together;
We scant were seven years, beforn
We gan to luve each other; 20
Our dadies and our mammies, thay
Were fill'd wi' mickle joy,
To think upon the bridal day
'Twixt me and Gilderoy.
For Gilderoy, that luve of mine, 25
Gude faith, I freely bought
A wedding sark of holland fine,
Wi' silken flowers wrought;
And he gied me a wedding ring,
Which I receiv'd wi' joy; 30
Nae lad nor lassie eir could sing,
Like me and Gilderoy.
Wi' mickle joy we spent our prime,
Till we were baith sixteen,
And aft we passed the langsome time, 35
Amang the leaves sae green;
Aft on the banks we'd sit us thair,
And sweetly kiss and toy;
Wi' garlands gay wad deck my hair
My handsome Gilderoy. 40
[O that he still had been content
Wi' me to lead his life;
But ah, his manfu' heart was bent
To stir in feates of strife:
And he in many a venturous deed 45
His courage bauld wad try,
And now this gars mine heart to bleed
For my dear Gilderoy.
And whan of me his leave he tuik,
The tears they wat mine ee; 50
I gave tull him a parting luik,
"My benison gang wi' thee!
God speid thee weil, mine ain dear heart,
For gane is all my joy;
My heart is rent sith we maun part, 55
My handsome Gilderoy."]
My Gilderoy, baith far and near,
Was fear'd in every toun,
And bauldly bare away the gear
Of many a lawland loun. 60
Nane eir durst meet him man to man,
He was sae brave a boy;
At length wi' numbers he was tane,
My winsome Gilderoy.
[The Queen of Scots possessed nought 65
That my love let me want,
For cow and ew he 'to me brought,'
And een whan they were skant.
All these did honestly possess
He never did annoy, 70
Who never fail'd to pay their cess
To my love Gilderoy.]
Wae worth the loun that made the laws,
To hang a man for gear;
To reave of live for ox or ass, 75
For sheep, or horse, or mare!
Had not their laws been made sae strick,
I neir had lost my joy,
Wi' sorrow neir had wat my cheek
For my dear Gilderoy. 80
Giff Gilderoy had done amisse,
He mought hae banisht been;
Ah! what sair cruelty is this,
To hang sike handsome men!
To hang the flower o' Scottish land, 85
Sae sweet and fair a boy!
Nae lady had sae white a hand
As thee, my Gilderoy.
Of Gilderoy sae fraid they were,
They bound him mickle strong; 90
Tull Edenburrow they led him thair,
And on a gallows hung:
They hung him high aboon the rest,
He was sae trim a boy;
Thair dyed the youth whom I lued best, 95
My handsome Gilderoy.
Thus having yielded up his breath,
I bare his corpse away;
Wi' tears that trickled for his death
I washt his comelye clay; 100
And siker in a grave sae deep,
I laid the dear-loed boy,
And now for evir maun I weep
My winsome Gilderoy.
ROB ROY.
The subject of this piece is the abduction of a young Scottish lady by a
son of the celebrated Rob Roy Macgregor. Sentence of outlawry had been
pronounced against this person for not appearing to stand his trial for
murder. While under this sentence, he conceived the desperate project of
carrying off Jane Kay, heiress of Edinbelly, in Sterlingshire, and
obtaining possession of her estate by a forced marriage. Engaging a
party of the proscribed Macgregors to assist him in this enterprise, Rob
Roy entered the young woman's house with his brother James, tied her,
hand and foot, with ropes, and carried her thus on horseback to the
abode of one of his clan in Argyleshire, where, after some mock
ceremony, she was compelled to submit to his embraces. The place in
which the unfortunate woman was detained, was discovered, and she was
rescued by her family. Rob Roy and James Macgregor were tried for their
lives. The latter escaped from prison, but the principal in this outrage
suffered condign punishment in February, 1753.
Fragments of the story were printed in _Select Scotish Songs_, by Robert
Burns, edited by R. H. Cromek, ii. 199, and in Maidment's _North
Countrie Garland_, p. 44; a complete copy in the _Thistle of Scotland_,
p. 93. Chambers has combined the fragments of Burns and Maidment with a
third version furnished by Mr. Kinloch, and has produced a ballad which
is on the whole the most eligible for this place. (_Scottish Ballads_,
p. 175.) In the Appendix may be seen the editions above referred to, and
also _Eppie Morrie_, a ballad founded on a similar incident.
This sort of kidnapping seems to have been the commonest occurrence in
the world in Scotland. Sharpe has collected not a few cases in his
_Ballad Book_, p. 99, and he gives us two stanzas of another ballad.
The Highlandmen hae a' cum down,
They've a' come down almost,
They've stowen away the bonny lass,
The Lady of Arngosk.
Behind her back they've tied her hands,
An' then they set her on;
"I winna gang wi' you," she said,
"Nor ony Highland loon."
* * * * *
Rob Roy frae the Hielands cam
Unto the Lawland Border,
To steal awa a gay ladye,
To haud his house in order.
He cam ower the loch o' Lynn, 5
Twenty men his arms did carry;
Himsell gaed in and fand her out,
Protesting he would marry.
When he cam he surrounded the house,
No tidings there cam before him, 10
Or else the lady would have gone,
For still she did abhor him.
"O will ye gae wi' me?" he says,
"O will ye be my honey?
O will ye be my wedded wife? 15
For I loe ye best of ony."
"I winna gae wi' you," she says,
"I winna be your honey;
I winna be your wedded wife,
Ye loe me for my money." 20
* * * * *
Wi' mournful cries and watery eyes,
Fast hauding by her mother,
Wi' mournful cries and watery eyes,
They were parted frae each other.
He gied her nae time to be dress'd, 25
As ladies do when they're brides,
But he hastened and hurried her awa,
And rowed her in his plaids.
He mounted her upon a horse,
Himsell lap on behind her, 30
And they're awa to the Hieland hills,
Where her friends may never find her.
As they gaed ower the Hieland hills,
The lady aften fainted,
Saying, "Wae be to my cursed gowd, 35
This road to me invented!"
They rade till they came to Ballyshine,
At Ballyshine they tarried;
He brought to her a cotton gown,
Yet ne'er wad she be married. 40
Two held her up before the priest,
Four carried her to bed O;
Maist mournfully she wept and cried,
When she by him was laid O!
[_The tune changes_.]
"O be content, O be content, 45
O be content to stay, lady,
For now ye are my wedded wife
Until my dying day, lady.
"Rob Roy was my father call'd,
Macgregor was his name, lady; 50
He led a band o' heroes bauld,
And I am here the same, lady.
"He was a hedge unto his friends,
A heckle to his foes, lady,
And every one that did him wrang, 55
He took him by the nose, lady.
"I am as bold, I am as bold
As my father was afore, lady;
He that daurs dispute my word
Shall feel my gude claymore, lady. 60
"My father left me cows and yowes,
And sheep, and goats, and a', lady,
And you and twenty thousand merks
Will mak me a man fu' braw, lady."