says Maidment, the editor of the publication cited above, a very
imperfect manuscript copy. The following version was taken from the
original broad-side, supposed to be unique. There are very
considerable variations in the language of the two copies, and the
order of the stanzas is quite different. This says Hogg, "is
exclusively a party song, made by some of the Grants, or their
adherents, in obloquy of their more potent neighbours, the Gordons. It
is in a great measure untrue; for, though the Marquis of Huntley was
on the left wing at the head of a body of horse, and among the
gentlemen that fled, yet two battalions of Gordons, or at least of
Gordon's vassals, perhaps mostly of the Clan Chattan, behaved
themselves as well as any on the field, and were particularly
instrumental in breaking the Whig cavalry, or the left wing of their
army, and driving them back among their foot. On this account, as well
as that of the bitter personalities that it contains, the "song is
only curious as an inveterate party song, and not as a genuine
humorous description of the fight that the Marquis and his friends
were in. The latter part of the [third] stanza seems to allude to an
engagement that took place at Dollar, on the 24th October, a fortnight
previous to the battle of Sheriffmuir. Mar had despatched a small body
of cavalry to force an assessment from the town of Dunfermline, of
which Argyle getting notice, sent out a stronger party, who surprised
them early in the morning before daylight, and arrested them, killing
some and taking seventeen prisoners, several of whom were Gordons. The
last stanza [but one] evidently alludes to the final submission of the
Marquis and the rest of the Gordons to King George's government, which
they did to the Grants and the Earl of Sutherland. The former had
previously taken possession of Castle Gordon; of course, the malicious
bard of the Grants, with his ill-scraped pen, was not to let that
instance of the humiliation of his illustrious neighbours pass
unnoticed.--JACOBITE RELICS, vol. ii. p. 255.
From Bogie side to Bogie Gight,
The Gordons all conveen'd, man,
With all their might, to battle wight,[L3]
Together close they join'd, man,[L4]
To set their king upon the throne, 5
And to protect the church, man;
But fy for shame! they soon ran hame,
And left him in the lurch, man.
_Vow as the Marquis ran,
Coming from Dumblane, man!
Strabogie did b--t itself,
And Enzie was not clean, man._
Their chieftain was a man of fame,
And doughty deeds had wrought, man, 10
Which future ages still shall name,
And tell how well he fought, man.
For when the battle did begin,
Immediately his Grace, man,
Put spurs to Florance, and so ran[L15] 15
By all, and wan the race, man.
_Vow, &c._
The Marquis' horse was first sent forth,
Glenbucket's foot to back them,
To give a proof what they were worth,
If rebels durst attack them. 20
With loud huzzas to Huntly's praise,
They near'd Dumfermling Green, man,
But fifty horse, and de'il ane mair,
Turn'd many a Highland clan, man.
_Vow, &c._
The second chieftain of that clan, 25
For fear that he should die, man,
To gain the honour of his name,
Rais'd first the mutinie, man.
And then he wrote unto his Grace,
The great Duke of Argyle, man, 30
And swore, if he would grant him peace,
The Tories he'd beguile, man.
_Vow, &c._
The Master with the bullie's face,[L33]
And with the coward's heart, man,
Who never fails, to his disgrace, 35
To act a traitor's part, man,
He join'd Drumboig, the greatest knave
In all the shire of Fife, man.
He was the first the cause did leave,
By council of his wife, man. 40
_Vow, &c._
A member of the tricking trade,
An Ogilvie by name, man,
Consulter of the grumbling club,
To his eternal shame, man,
Who would have thought, when he came out, 45
That ever he would fail, man?
And like a fool, did eat the cow,
And worried on the tail, man.
_Vow, &c._
Meffan Smith, at Sheriff Muir,[L49]
Gart folk believe he fought, man; 50
But well it's known, that all he did,
That day it serv'd for nought, man.
For towards night, when Mar march'd off,
Smith was put in the rere, man;
He curs'd, he swore, he baul[lè]d out, 55
He would not stay for fear, man.
_Vow, &c._
But at the first he seem'd to be
A man of good renown, man;
But when the grumbling work began,
He prov'd an arrant lown, man. 60
Against Mar, and a royal war,
A letter he did forge, man;
Against his Prince, he wrote nonsense,
And swore by Royal George, man.[L64]
_Vow, &c._
At Poineth boat, Mr. Francis Stewart,[L65] 65
A valiant hero stood, man,
In acting of a royal part,
Cause of the royal blood, man.
But when at Sheriff Moor he found
That bolting would not do it, 70
He, brother like, did quite his ground,
And ne're came back unto it.
_Vow, &c._
Brunstane said it was not fear
That made him stay behind, man;
But that he had resolv'd that day 75
To sleep in a whole skin, man.
The gout, he said, made him take [bed],
When battle first began, man;
But when he heard his Marquis fled,
He took his heels and ran, man. 80
_Vow, &c._
Sir James of Park, he left his horse
In the middle of a wall, man;
And durst not stay to take him out,
For fear a knight should fall, man;
And Maien he let such a crack, 85
And shewed a pantick fear, man;
And Craigieheads swore he was shot,
And curs'd the chance of wear, man.
_Vow, &c._
When they march'd on the Sheriff Moor,
With courage stout and keen, man; 90
Who would have thought the Gordons gay
That day should quite the green, man?
Auchleacher and Auchanachie,
And all the Gordon tribe, man,
Like their great Marquis, they could not 95
The smell of powder bide, man.
_Vow, &c._
Glenbuicket cryed, "Plague on you all,
For Gordons do no good, man;
For all that fled this day, it is
Them of the Seaton blood, man." 100
Clashtirim said it was not so,
And that he'd make appear, man;
For he, a Seaton, stood that day,
When Gordons ran for fear, man.
_Vow, &c._
The Gordons they are kittle flaws, 105
They'll fight with heart and hand, man;
When they met in Strathbogie raws
On Thursday afternoon, man;
But when the Grants came doun the brae,
Their Enzie shook for fear, man; 110
And all the lairds rode up themselves,
With horse and riding gear, man.
_Vow, &c._
Cluny plays his game of chess,[L113]
As sure as any thing, man;
And like the royal Gordons race, 115
Gave check unto the king, man.
Without a queen, its clearly seen,
This game cannot recover;
I'd do my best, then in great haste
Play up the rook Hanover. 120
_Vow, &c._
3. weight.
4. closs.
15. His horse, so called from having been a present from the Grand Duke
of Tuscany.--M.
33. Master of Sinclair, whose Court-Martial has been printed with an
exceedingly interesting preface by Sir Walter Scott, as his contribution
to the Roxburgh Club.
49. David Smith was then proprietor of Methven, an estate in Perthshire.
He died in 1735. Douglas, in his Baronage, terms him, "a man of good
parts, great sagacity, and economy."--M.
64. Altered in MS. to "German George."--M.
65. Brother to Charles, 5th Earl of Moray. Upon his brother's death, 7th
October, 1735, he became the 6th Earl. He died in the 66th year of his
age, on the 11th December, 1739.--M.
113. This seems rather Gordon of Cluny than Cluny Macpherson. The
estate of Cluny has passed from the ancient race, though still possessed
by a Gordon.--M.
JOHNIE COPE. See p. 168.
Johnson's _Museum_ (1853), vol. iv. p. 220, Ritson's _Scottish Songs_,
ii. 84.
Cope sent a challenge frae Dunbar,
"Charlie meet me, an ye daur,
And I'll learn you the airt of war,
If you'll meet wi' me in the morning."
_Hey, Johnie Cope! are ye waking yet?
Or are your drums a-beating yet?
If ye were waking, I would wait
To gang to the coals i' the morning._
When Charlie looked the letter upon, 5
He drew his sword the scabbard from,
"Come, follow me, my merry men,
And we'll meet Johnie Cope i' the morning."
_Hey, Johnie Cope! &c._
"Now, Johnie, be as good as your word,
Come let us try baith fire and sword, 10
And dinna flee like a frighted bird,
That's chased frae its nest i' the morning."
_Hey, Johnie Cope! &c._
When Johnie Cope he heard of this,
He thought it wadna be amiss
To hae a horse in readiness, 15
To flee awa i' the morning.
_Hey, Johnie Cope! &c._
"Fye now, Johnie, get up and rin,
The Highland bagpipes mak a din;
It's best to sleep in a hale skin,
For 'twill be a bluddie morning." 20
_Hey, Johnie Cope! &c._
When Johnie Cope to Dunbar came
They spear'd at him, "Where's a' your men?"
"The deil confound me gin I ken,
For I left them a' i' the morning."
_Hey, Johnie Cope! &c._
"Now Johnie, troth, ye were na blate 25
To come wi' the news o' your ain defeat,
And leave your men in sic a strait,
So early in the morning."
_Hey, Johnie Cope! &c._
"In faith," quo Johnie, "I got sic flegs
Wi' their claymores and filabegs, 30
If I face them [again], deil break my legs,
So I wish you a' good morning."
_Hey, Johnie Cope! &c._
KING LEIR AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
From _A Collection of Old Ballads_, ii. 8. The same, with one or two
trifling verbal differences, in Percy's _Reliques_, i. 246.
This story was originally told by Geoffrey of Monmouth, _Historia
Britonum_, lib. ii. c. 2. It occurs in two forms in the _Gesta
Romanorum_: see Madden's _Old English Versions_, p. 44, p. 450.
Shakespeare's _King Lear_ was first printed in 1608, and is supposed
to have been written between 1603 and 1605. Another drama on the
subject was printed in 1605, called _The true Chronicle History of
King Leir and his Three Daughters, Gonorill, Ragan, and Cordella_.
This was probably only a new impression of a piece entered in the
Stationers' Registers as early as 1594. The ballad which follows
agrees with Shakespeare's play in several particulars in which
Shakespeare varies from the older drama and from Holinshed, the
authority of both dramas. The name Cordelia is also found in place of
the Cordella of the _Chronicle History_; but, on the other hand, we
have Ragan instead of Shakespeare's Regan. In the absence of a date,
we are unable to determine whether the ballad was written prior to the
play of _King Lear_, or was founded upon it.
King Leir once ruléd in this land
With princely power and peace,
And had all things, with hearts content,
That might his joys increase.
Amongst those things that nature gave, 5
Three daughters fair had he,
So princely seeming beautiful,
As fairer could not be.
So on a time it pleas'd the king
A question thus to move, 10
Which of his daughters to his grace
Could shew the dearest love:
"For to my age you bring content,"
Quoth he, "then let me hear,
Which of you three in plighted troth 15
The kindest will appear."
To whom the eldest thus began:
"Dear father, mind," quoth she,
"Before your face, to do you good,
My blood shall rendred be. 20
And for your sake my bleeding heart
Shall here be cut in twain,
Ere that I see your reverend age
The smallest grief sustain."
"And so will I," the second said; 25
"Dear father, for your sake,
The worst of all extremities
I'll gently undertake:
And serve your highness night and day
With diligence and love; 30
That sweet content and quietness
Discomforts may remove."
"In doing so, you glad my soul,"
The aged king reply'd;
"But what say'st thou, my youngest girl? 35
How is thy love ally'd?"
"My love," quoth young Cordelia then,
"Which to your grace I owe,
Shall be the duty of a child,
And that is all I'll show." 40
"And wilt thou shew no more," quoth he,
"Than doth thy duty bind?
I well perceive thy love is small,
When as no more I find.
Henceforth I banish thee my court; 45
Thou art no child of mine;
Nor any part of this my realm
By favour shall be thine.
"Thy elder sisters' loves are more
Than well I can demand; 50
To whom I equally bestow
My kingdom and my land,
My pompous state and all my goods,
That lovingly I may
With those thy sisters be maintain'd 55
Until my dying day."
Thus flattering speeches won renown,
By these two sisters here;
The third had causeless banishment,
Yet was her love more dear. 60
For poor Cordelia patiently
Went wandring up and down,
Unhelp'd, unpitied, gentle maid,
Through many an English town.
Until at last in famous France 65
She gentler fortunes found;
Though poor and bare, yet she was deem'd
The fairest on the ground:
Where when the king her virtues heard,
And this fair lady seen, 70
With full consent of all his court
He made his wife and queen.
Her father, old King Leir, this while
With his two daughters staid;
Forgetful of their promis'd loves, 75
Full soon the same decay'd;[L76]
And living in Queen Ragan's court,
The eldest of the twain,
She took from him his chiefest means,
And most of all his train. 80
For whereas twenty men were wont
To wait with bended knee,
She gave allowance but to ten,
And after scarce to three,
Nay, one she thought too much for him; 85
So took she all away,
In hope that in her court, good king,
He would no longer stay.
"Am I rewarded thus," quoth he,
"In giving all I have 90
Unto my children, and to beg
For what I lately gave?
I'll go unto my Gonorel:
My second child, I know,
Will be more kind and pitiful, 95
And will relieve my woe."
Full fast he hies then to her court;
Where, when she hears his moan,
Return'd him answer, that she griev'd
That all his means were gone; 100
But no way could relieve his wants;
Yet if that he would stay
Within her kitchen, he should have
What scullions gave away.
When he had heard, with bitter tears, 105
He made his answer then;
"In what I did, let me be made
Example to all men.
I will return again," quoth he,
"Unto my Ragan's court; 110
She will not use me thus, I hope,
But in a kinder sort."
Where when he came, she gave command
To drive him thence away:
When he was well within her court, 115
She said, he would not stay.
Then back again to Gonorell
The woeful king did hie,
That in her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by. 120
But there of that he was deny'd
Which she had promis'd late:
For once refusing, he should not
Come after to her gate.
Thus twixt his daughters for relief 125
He wandred up and down,
Being glad to feed on beggars food,
That lately wore a crown.
And calling to remembrance then
His youngest daughter's words, 130
That said, the duty of a child
Was all that love affords--
But doubting to repair to her,
Whom he had banish'd so,
Grew frantick mad; for in his mind 135
He bore the wounds of woe.
Which made him rend his milk-white locks
And tresses from his head,
And all with blood bestain his cheeks,
With age and honour spread. 140
To hills and woods and watry founts
He made his hourly moan,
Till hills and woods and senseless things
Did seem to sigh and groan.
Ev'n thus posses'd with discontents, 145
He passed o'er to France,
In hopes from fair Cordelia there
To find some gentler chance.
Most virtuous dame! which, when she heard
Of this her father's grief, 150
As duty bound, she quickly sent
Him comfort and relief.
And by a train of noble peers,
In brave and gallant sort,
She gave in charge he should be brought 155
To Aganippus' court;
Whose royal king, with noble mind,[L157]
So freely gave consent
To muster up his knights at arms,
To fame and courage bent. 160
And so to England came with speed,
To repossess King Leir,
And drive his daughters from their thrones
By his Cordelia dear.
Where she, true-hearted, noble queen, 165
Was in the battel slain;
Yet he, good king, in his old days,
Possess'd his crown again.
But when he heard Cordelia's death,
Who died indeed for love 170
Of her dear father, in whose cause
She did this battel move,
He swooning fell upon her breast,
From whence he never parted;
But on her bosom left his life 175
That was so truly hearted.
The lords and nobles, when they saw
The end of these events,
The other sisters unto death
They doomed by consents; 180
And being dead, their crowns they left
Unto the next of kin:
Thus have you seen the fall of pride,
And disobedient sin.
76 deny'd.
157. whose noble.
FAIR ROSAMOND.
The celebrated mistress of Henry the Second was daughter to Walter
Clifford, a baron of Herefordshire. She bore the king two sons, one of
them while he was still Duke of Normandy. Before her death she retired
to the convent of Godstow, and there she was buried; but Hugh, Bishop
of Lincoln, not courtly enough to distinguish between royal and vulgar
immoralities, caused her body to be removed, and interred in the
common cemetery, "lest Christian religion should grow in contempt."
The story of Queen Eleanor's poisoning her rival is not confirmed by
the old writers, though they mention the labyrinth. All the romance in
Rosamond's history appears to be the offspring of popular fancy. Percy
has collected the principal passages from the chronicles in his
preface to the ballad.
_Fair Rosamond_ is the work of Thomas Deloney, a well-known
ballad-maker who died about 1600. Our copy is the earliest that is
known, and is taken from Deloney's _Strange Histories_, ed. of 1607,
as reprinted by the Percy Society, vol. iii. p. 54. The same is found
in the _Crown Garland of Golden Roses_, ed. 1659 (Per. Soc. vol. vi.
p. 12), and in the _Garland of Good Will_, ed. 1678 (Per. Soc. vol.
xxx. p. 1.): and besides, with trifling variations, in _A Collection
of Old Ballads_, i. 11, Percy's _Reliques_, ii. 151, and Ritson's
_Ancient Songs_, ii. 120, from black-letter copies.
Another ballad with the title of the _Unfortunate Concubine, or,
Rosamond's Overthrow_, is given in the collection of 1723, vol. i. p.
1. The story is also treated in the forty-first chapter of Warner's
_Albion's England_. Warner has at least one good stanza,[3] which is
more than can be said of this wretched, but very popular, production.
Some corrections have been adopted from the _Crown Garland of Golden
Roses_.
[3] With that she dasht her on the lips,
So dyèd double red;
Hard was the heart that gave the blow,
Soft were those lips that bled.
* * * * *
When as King Henrie rul'd this land,[L1]
The second of that name,
Beside the Queene, he dearly loved
A faire and princely dame.
Most peerelesse was her beautie found, 5
Her favour, and her face;
A sweeter creature in this world
Did never prince imbrace.
Her crisped locks like threades of gold
Appeared to each mans sight; 10
Her comely eyes, like orient pearles,
Did cast a heavenly light.
The blood within her cristall cheekes
Did such a cullour drive,
As though the lilly and the rose 15
For maistership did strive.
Yea Rosamond, fair Rosamond,
Her name was called so,
To whome dame Elinor, our queene,
Was knowne a cruell foe. 20
The king therefore, for her defence
Against the furious queene,
At Woodstocke buylded such a bower,
The like was never seene.
Most curiously that bower was buylt, 25
Of stone and timber strong;
A hundred and fiftie doores
Did to that bower belong:
And they so cunningly contriv'd,
With turning round about, 30
That none but by a clew of thread
Could enter in or out.
And for his love and ladyes sake,
That was so fair and bright,
The keeping of this bower he gave 35
Unto a valiant knight.
But fortune, that doth often frowne
Where she before did smile,
The kinges delight, the ladyes joy
Full soone she did beguile. 40
For why, the kings ungracious sonne,
Whom he did high advance,
Against his father raised warres
Within the realme of France.
But yet before our comely king 45
The English land forsooke,
Of Rosamond, his ladye faire,
His farewell thus he tooke:
"My Rosamond, my onely Rose,
That pleaseth best mine eye, 50
The fairest Rose in all the world
To feed my fantasie,--
"The flower of my affected heart,
Whose sweetness doth excell,
My royall Rose, a hundred times 55
I bid thee now farewell!
"For I must leave my fairest flower,
My sweetest Rose, a space,
And crosse the seas to famous France,
Proude rebels to abace. 60
"But yet, my Rose, be sure thou shalt
My comming shortly see,
And in my heart, while hence I am,
Ile beare my Rose with mee."
When Rosamond, that lady bright, 65
Did heare the king say so,
The sorrow of her greeved heart
Her outward lookes did show.
And from her cleare and cristall eyes
The teares gusht out apace, 70
Which, like the silver-pearled deaw,
Ran downe her comely face.
Her lippes, like to a corrall red,
Did waxe both wan and pale,
And for the sorrow she conceived 75
Her vitall spirits did fayle.
And falling downe all in a swound[L77]
Before King Henries face,
Full oft betweene his princely armes
Her corpes he did imbrace. 80
And twenty times, with waterie eyes,
He kist her tender cheeke,
Untill she had received againe[L83]
Her senses milde and meeke.
"Why grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose?" 85
The king did ever say:
"Because," quoth she, "to bloody warres
My lord must part away.
"But sithe your Grace in forraine coastes,
Among your foes unkind, 90
Must go to hazard life and limme,
Why should I stay behind?
"Nay, rather let me, like a page,
Your sword and target beare;[L94]
That on my breast the blow may light, 95
Which should annoy you there.
"O let me, in your royall tent,
Prepare your bed at night,
And with sweet baths refresh your grace,
At your returne from fight. 100
"So I your presence may enjoy,
No toyle I will refuse;[L102]
But wanting you, my life is death:
Which doth true love abuse."
"Content thy selfe, my dearest friend, 105
Thy rest at home shall bee,
In England's sweete and pleasant soyle;[L107]
For travaile fits not thee.
"Faire ladyes brooke not bloody warres;
Sweete peace their pleasures breede, 110
The nourisher of hearts content,
Which fancie first doth feede.
"My Rose shall rest in Woodstocke bower,
With musickes sweete delight,
While I among the pierceing pikes 115
Against my foes do fight.
"My Rose in robes of pearl and gold,[L117]
With diamonds richly dight,
Shall daunce the galliards of my love,
While I my foes do smite. 120
"And you, Sir Thomas, whom I trust
To be my loves defence,[L122]
Be carefull of my gallant Rose
When I am parted hence."
And therewithall he fetcht a sigh, 125
As though his heart would breake:
And Rosamond, for inward griefe,
Not one plaine word could speake.
And at their parting well they might
In heart be grieved sore: 130
After that day, faire Rosamond
The King did see no more.
For when his Grace had past the seas,
And into France was gone,
Queene Elinor, with envious heart, 135
To Woodstocke came anone.
And foorth she cald this trusty knight
Which kept the curious bower,
Who, with his clew of twined threed,
Came from that famous flower. 140
And when that they had wounded him,
The queene his threed did get,
And went where lady Rosamond
Was like an angell set.
And when the queene with stedfast eye 145
Beheld her heavenly face,
She was amazed in her minde
At her exceeding grace.
"Cast off from thee thy robes," she sayd,
"That rich and costly be; 150
And drinke thou up this deadly draught,
Which I have brought for thee."
But presently upon her knees
Sweet Rosamond did fall;
And pardon of the queene she crav'd 155
For her offences all.
"Take pittie on my youthfull yeares,"
Faire Rosamond did cry;
"And let me not with poyson strong
Inforcèd be to die. 160
"I will renounce this sinfull life,
And in a cloyster bide;
Or else be banisht, if you please,
To range the world so wide.
"And for the fault which I have done, 165
Though I was forst thereto,
Preserve my life, and punish me
As you thinke good to do."
And with these words, her lilly hands
She wrang full often there; 170
And downe along her lovely cheekes
Proceeded many a teare.
But nothing could this furious queene
Therewith appeased bee;
The cup of deadly poyson filld, 175
As she sat on her knee,
She gave the comely dame to drinke;
Who tooke it in her hand,
And from her bended knee arose,
And on her feet did stand. 180
And casting up her eyes to heaven,
She did for mercy call;
And drinking up the poyson then,
Her life she lost withall.
And when that death through every lim 185
Had done his greatest spite,
Her chiefest foes did plaine confesse
She was a glorious wight.
Her body then they did intombe,
When life was fled away, 190
At Godstow, neere [to] Oxford towne,
As may be seene this day.
77. sound.
83. he had reviv'd.--_C. G._
94. shield: sword, _Garl. G. W._
102. must refuse.
107. England.
117. robes and pearls of gold.
122. beare.
QUEEN ELEANOR'S FALL.
_A Collection of Old Ballads_, i. 97.