surrender of Northumberland which are not known to any of the
historians. One night, when many gentlemen are supping at Lochleven
Castle, William Douglas, the laird of the castle, rallies the earl on
account of his sadness; there is to be a shooting in the north of
Scotland the next day, and to this Douglas has engaged his word that
Percy shall go. Percy is ready to ride to the world’s end in Douglas’s
company. Mary Douglas, William’s sister, interposes: her brother is a
traitor, and has taken money from the Earl [Morton?] to deliver Percy to
England. Northumberland will not believe this; the surrender of a
banisht man would break friendship forever between England and Scotland.
Mary Douglas persists; he had best let her brother ride his own way, and
he can tell the English lords that he cannot be of the party because he
is in an isle of the sea (an obstacle which must appear to us not
greater for one than for the other); and while her brother is away she
will carry Percy to Edinburgh Castle, and deliver him to Lord Hume, who
has already suffered loss in his behalf. But if he will not give
credence to her, let him come on her right hand, and she will shew him
something. Percy never loved witchcraft, but permits his chamberlain to
go with the lady. Mary Douglas’s mother was a witch-woman, and had
taught her daughter something of her art. She shows the chamberlain
through the belly of a ring many Englishmen who are on the await for his
master, among them Lord Hunsdon, Sir William Drury, and Sir John
Forster, though at that moment they are thrice fifty mile distant. The
chamberlain goes back to his lord weeping, but the relation of what he
has seen produces no effect. Percy says he has been in Lochleven almost
three years and has never had an ‘outrake’ (outing); he will not hear a
word to hinder him from going to the shooting. He twists from his finger
a gold ring—left him when he was in Harlaw wood—and gives it to Mary
Douglas, with an assurance that, though he may drink, he will never eat,
till he is in Lochleven again. Mary faints when she sees him in the
boat, and Percy once and again proposes to go back to see how she fares;
but William Douglas treats the fainting very lightly; his sister is
crafty enough to beguile thousands like them. When they have sailed the
first fifty mile (it will be borne in mind that the Douglas castle is
described as being on an isle of the sea), James Swynard, the
chamberlain,[265] asks how far it is to the shooting, and gets an
alarming answer: fair words make fools fain; whenever they come to the
shooting, they will think they have come soon enough! Jamie carries this
answer to his master, who finds nothing discouraging in it; it was meant
only to try his mettle. But after sailing fifty miles more, Percy
himself calls to Douglas and asks what his purpose is. “Look that your
bridle be strong and your spurs be sharp,” says Douglas (but 49^1 is
probably corrupted). “This is mere flouting,” replies Percy; “one
Armstrong has my horse, another my spurs and all my gear.” Fifty miles
more of the sea, and they land Lord Percy at Berwick, a deported,
“extradited” man!
14. The Countess of Northumberland was sheltered for some time at Hume
Castle (Sir C. Sharp’s Memorials, pp. 143, 146, 150, 344, ff). The
castle was invested, and by direction of Lord Hume, then absent in
Edinburgh, was surrendered without resistance, in the course of Sussex’s
destructive raid in April, 1570. Cabala, ed. 1663, p. 175. See also
Diurnal of Occurrents, p. 170.
19. Witchcraft was rife at the epoch of this ballad, nor was the
imputation of it confined to hags of humble life. The Lady Buccleuch,
the Countess of Athole, and the Lady Foullis were all accused of
practising the black art. Nothing in that way was charged upon Lady
Douglas of Lochleven, the mother of William Douglas and of the Regent
Murray; but Lady Janet Douglas, sister of the Earl of Angus, had been
burnt in 1537 for meditating the death of James V by poison or
witchcraft, and it is possible, as Percy has suggested, that this
occurrence may have led to the attribution of sorcery to Lady Douglas of
Lochleven.[266]
Mary Douglas shows Northumberland’s chamberlain, through the hollow of
her ring, the English lords who are waiting for his master “thrice fifty
mile” distant, at Berwick. In a Swiss popular song the infidelity of a
lover is revealed by a look through a finger-ring. People on the
Odenberg hear a drum-beat, but see nothing. A wizard makes one after
another look through a ring made by bowing the arm against the side;
they see armed men going into and coming out of the hill. So Biarco is
enabled to see Odin on his white horse by looking through Ruta’s bent
arm.[267]
32, 33. The day after Northumberland was put into his hands, Hunsdon
writes to Burghley: “For the earl, I have had no great talk with him;
but truly he seems to follow his old humours, readier to talk of hawks
and hounds than anything else.” (Sharp, p. 330.)
51. It was their old manner, as Robin Hood says, to leave but little
behind; but what is recorded is that, when “the earls were driven to
leave Liddesdale and to fly to one of the Armstrongs upon the
Bateable, ... the Liddesdale men stole my lady of Northumberland’s
horse, and her two women’s horses, and ten other horses.” Sussex to
Cecil, Sharp, p. 114 f.
52. Percy “left Lochleven with joy, under the assurance that he should
be conveyed in a Scottish vessel to Antwerp. To his surprise and dismay
he found himself, after a short voyage, at Coldingham.” Lingard’s
History, VI, 137, London, 1854.
The copy in the Reliques is translated by Doenniges, p. 111.
1
Now list and lithe, you gentlemen,
And I’st tell you the veretye,
How they haue dealt w_i_th a banished man,
Driuen out of his countrye.
2
When as hee came on Scottish ground,
As woe and wonder be them amonge!
Ffull much was there traitorye
The wrought the Erle of Northumberland.
3
When they were att the supp_er_ sett,
Beffore many goodly gentlemen,
The ffell a fflouting and mocking both,
And said to the Erle of Northumberland:
4
‘What makes you be soe sad, my lord,
And in yo_u_r mind soe sorrowffullye?
In the north of Scottland to-morrow there’s a shooting,
And thither thou’st goe, my Lo_rd_ Percye.
5
‘The buttes are sett, and the shooting is made,
And there is like to be great royaltye,
And I am sworne into my bill
Thither to bring my Lord Pearcy.’
6
‘I’le giue thee my hand, Douglas,’ he sayes,
‘And be the faith in my bodye,
If _tha_t thou wilt ryde to the worlds end,
I’le ryde in thy companye.’
7
And then bespake the good ladye,
Marry a Douglas was her name:
‘You shall byde here, good English lo_rd_;
My brother is a traiterous man.
8
‘He is a traitor stout and stronge,
As I’st tell you the veretye;
For he hath tane liuerance of the Erle,
And into England he will liuor thee.’
9
‘Now hold thy tounge, thou goodlye ladye,
And let all this talking bee;
Ffor all the gold _tha_t’s in Loug Leuen,
William wold not liuor mee.
10
‘It wold breake truce betweene England and Scottland,
And freinds againe they wold neu_er_ bee,
If he shold liuor a bani[s]ht erle,
Was driuen out of his owne countrye.’
11
‘Hold yo_u_r tounge, my lo_rd_,’ shee sayes,
‘There is much ffalsehood them amonge;
When you are dead, then they are done,
Soone they will part them freinds againe.
12
‘If you will giue me any trust, my lord,
I’le tell you how you best may bee;
You’st lett my brother ryde his wayes,
And tell those English lords, trulye,
13
‘How _tha_t you cannot w_i_th them ryde,
Because you are in an ile of the sea;
Then, ere my brother come againe,
To Edenborrow castle I’le carry thee.
14
‘I’le liuor you vnto the Lo_rd_ Hume,
And you know a trew Scothe lo_rd_ is hee,
For he hath lost both land and goods
In ayding of yo_u_r good bodye,’
15
‘Marry, I am woe, woman,’ he sayes,
‘_Tha_t any freind fares worse for mee;
For where one saith it is a true tale,
Then two will say it is a lye.
16
‘When I was att home in my [realme],
Amonge my tennants all trulye,
In my time of losse, wherin my need stoode,
They came to ayd me honestlye.
17
‘Therfore I left a many a child ffatherlese,
And many a widdow to looke wanne;
And therfore blame nothing, ladye,
But the woeffull warres w_hi_ch I began.’
18
‘If you will giue me noe trust, my lo_rd_,
Nor noe credence you will give mee,
And you’le come hither to my right hand,
Indeed, my lorid, I’le lett you see.’
19
Saies, I neuer loued noe witchcraft,
Nor neu_er_ dealt w_i_th treacherye,
But euermore held the hye way;
Alas, _tha_t may be seene by mee!
20
‘If you will not come yo_u_r selfe, my lo_rd_,
You’le lett yo_u_r chamberlaine goe w_i_th mee,
Three words _tha_t I may to him speake,
And soone he shall come againe to thee.’
21
When Iames Swynard came _tha_t lady before,
Shee let him see thorrow the weme of her ring
How many there was of English lords
To wayte there for his m_aster_ and him.
22
‘But who beene yonder, my good ladye,
_Tha_t walkes soe royallye on yonder greene?’
‘Yonder is Lo_rd_ Hunsden, Iamye,’ she saye[d],
‘Alas, hee’le doe you both tree and teene!’
23
‘And who beene yonder, thou gay ladye,
_Tha_t walkes soe royallye him beside?’
‘Yond is S_i_r W_illia_m Drurye, Iamy,’ shee sayd,
‘And a keene capt_ain_ hee is, and tryde.’
24
‘How many miles is itt, thou good ladye,
Betwixt yond English lord and mee?’
‘Marry, thrise fifty mile, Iamy,’ shee sayd,
‘And euen to seale and by the sea.
25
‘I neu_er_ was on English ground,
Nor neu_er_ see itt w_i_th mine eye,
But as my witt and wisedome serues,
And as [the] booke it telleth mee.
26
‘My mother, shee was a witch woman,
And p_ar_t of itt shee learned mee;
Shee wold let me see out of Lough Leuen
What they dyd in London cytye.’
27
‘But who is yonde, thou good laydye,
_Tha_t comes yonder w_i_th an osterne fface?’
‘Yond’s S_i_r Iohn Forster, Ia_m_ye,’ shee sayd;
‘Methinkes thou sholdest better know him then I.’
‘Euen soe I doe, my goodlye ladye,
And eu_er_ alas, soe woe am I!’
28
He pulled his hatt ouer his eyes,
And, Lord, he wept soe tenderlye!
He is gone to his m_aster_ againe,
And euen to tell him the veretye.
29
‘Now hast thou beene w_i_th Marry, Iamy,’ he sayd,
‘Euen as thy tounge will tell to mee;
But if thou trust in any womans words,
Thou must refraine good companye.’
30
‘It is noe words, my lord,’ he sayes;
‘Yonder the men shee letts me see,
How many English lords there is
Is wayting there for you and mee.
31
‘Yonder I see the Lo_rd_ Hunsden,
And hee and you is of the third degree;
A greater enemye, indeed, my Lord,
In England none haue yee.’
32
‘And I haue beene in Lough Leven
The most p_ar_t of these yeeres three:
Yett had I neuer noe out-rake,
Nor good games _tha_t I cold see.
33
‘And I am thus bidden to yonder shooting
By William Douglas all trulye;
Therfore speake neu_er_ a word out of thy mouth
That thou thinkes will hinder mee.’
34
Then he writhe the gold ring of his ffingar
And gaue itt to _tha_t ladye gay;
Sayes, _Tha_t was a legacye left vnto mee
In Harley woods where I cold bee.
35
‘Then ffarewell hart, and farewell hand,
And ffarwell all good companye!
_Tha_t woman shall neuer beare a sonne
Shall know soe much of yo_u_r priuitye.’
36
‘Now hold thy tounge, ladye,’ hee sayde,
‘And make not all this dole for mee,
For I may well drinke, but I’st neu_er_ eate,
Till againe in Lough Leuen I bee.’
37
He tooke his boate att the Lough Leuen,
For to sayle now ou_er_ the sea,
And he hath cast vpp a siluer wand,
Saies, Fare thou well, my good ladye!
The ladye looked ouer her left sholder;
In a dead swoone there fell shee.
38
‘Goe backe againe, Douglas!’ he sayd,
‘And I will goe in thy companye,
For sudden sicknesse yonder lady has tane,
And euer, alas, shee will but dye!
39
‘If ought come to yonder ladye but good,
Then blamed sore _tha_t I shall bee,
Because a banished man I am,
And driuen out of my owne countrye.’
40
‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes,
‘And lett all such talking bee;
There’s ladyes enow in Lough Leuen
And for to cheere yonder gay ladye.’
41
‘And you will not goe yo_u_r selfe, my lord,
You will lett my chamberlaine go w_i_th mee;
Wee shall now take our boate againe,
And soone wee shall ou_er_take thee.’
42
‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes,
‘And lett now all this talking bee;
Ffor my sister is craftye enoughe
For to beguile thousands such as you and mee.’
43
When they had sayled fifty myle,
Now fifty mile vpon the sea,
Hee had fforgotten a message _tha_t hee
Shold doe in Lough Leuen trulye:
Hee asked, how ffarr it was to _tha_t shooting
_Tha_t W_illia_m Douglas p_ro_mised mee.
44
‘Now faire words makes fooles faine,
And _tha_t may be seene by thy m_aster_ and thee;
Ffor you may happen think itt soone enoughe
When-eu_er_ you _tha_t shooting see.’
45
Iamye pulled his hatt now ou_er_ his browe,
I wott the teares fell in his eye;
And he is to his m_aster_ againe,
And ffor to tell him the veretye.
46
‘He sayes fayre words makes fooles faine,
And _tha_t may be seene by you and mee,
Ffor wee may happen thinke itt soone enoughe
When-eu_er_ wee _tha_t shooting see.
47
‘Hold vpp thy head, Iamye,’ the erle sayd,
‘And neu_er_ lett thy hart fayle thee;
He did itt but to proue thee w_i_t_h_,
And see how thow wold take w_i_th death trulye.’
48
When they had sayled other fifty mile,
Other fifty mile vpon the sea,
Lo_rd_ Peercy called to him, himselfe,
And sayd, Douglas, what wilt thou doe w_i_th mee?
49
‘Looke _tha_t yo_u_r brydle be wight, my lord,
_Tha_t you may goe as a shipp att sea;
Looke _tha_t yo_u_r spurres be bright and sharpe,
_Tha_t you may pricke her while shee’le awaye.’
50
‘What needeth this, Douglas,’ he sayth,
‘_Tha_t thou needest to ffloute mee?
For I was counted a horsseman good
Before _tha_t eu_er_ I mett w_i_th thee.
51
‘A ffalse Hector hath my horsse,
And eu_er_ an euill death may hee dye!
And Willye Armestronge hath my spurres
And all the geere belongs to mee.’
52
When the had sayled other fifty mile,
Other fifty mile vpon the sea,
The landed low by Barwicke-side;
A deputed lord landed Lo_rd_ Percye.
* * * * *
6^1. my Land.
15^4. 2.
16^1. _This line is partly pared away. Furnivall._
18^4. Lorid, _or_ Lou_e_rd; _or_ Lord, _with one stroke too many_.
_Furnivall._
20^3. 3.
22^1. ny _for_ my.
24^3. 3^{se} 50.
31^2. 3^d.
32^2. 3.
33^4. _Partly cut away by the binder. Furnivall._
43^{1,2}, 48^{1,2}, 52^{1,2}. 50.
52^4. land _for_ lord.
And _for_ & _throughout_.
* * * * *
_Variations of_ Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 258.
1–3. _Cf. the next ballad_, 1–3.
How long shall fortune faile me nowe,
And harrowe me with fear and dread?
How long shall I in bale abide,
In misery my life to lead?
To fall from my bliss, alas the while!
It was my sore and heavye lott;
And I must leave my native land,
And I must live a man forgot.
One gentle Armstrong I doe ken,
A Scot he is much bound to mee;
He dwelleth on the border-side,
To him I’ll goe right privilie.
Thus did the noble Percy ‘plaine,
With a heavy heart and wel-away,
When he with all his gallant men
On Bramham moor had lost the day.
But when he to the Armstrongs came,
They dealt with him all treacherouslye;
For they did strip that noble earle,
And ever an ill death may they dye!
False Hector to Earl Murray sent,
To shew him where his guest did hide,
Who sent him to the Lough-levèn,
With William Douglas to abide.
And when he to the Douglas came,
He halched him right courteouslie;
Sayd, Welcome, welcome, noble earle,
Here thou shalt safelye bide with mee.
When he had in Lough-leven been
Many a month and many a day,
To the regent the lord-warden sent,
That bannisht earle for to betray.
He offered him great store of gold,
And wrote a letter fair to see,
Saying, Good my lord, grant me my boon,
And yield that banisht man to mee.
Earle Percy at the supper sate,
With many a goodly gentleman;
The wylie Douglas then bespake,
And thus to flyte with him began.
4^{3 4}.
To-morrow a shootinge will bee held
Among the lords of the North countrye.
5^1. sett, the shooting’s.
5^2. there will be.
6^1. hand, thou gentle Douglas: he sayes _wanting_.
6^2. And here by my true faith, quoth hee.
6^3. If thou: worldes.
6^4. I will.
7^1. bespake a lady faire.
8^2. As I tell you in privitie.
8^3. he has. hath, 1794.
8^4. Into England nowe to ‘liver.
9.
Now nay, now nay, thou goodly lady,
The regent is a noble lord;
Ne for the gold in all Englànd
The Douglas wold not break his word.
When the regent was a banisht man,
With me he did faire welcome find;
And whether weal or woe betide,
I still shall find him true and kind.
10^1. Tween England and Scotland ‘twold break truce. Betweene: it,
1794.
10^3. If they.
11, 12.
Alas! alas! my lord, she sayes,
Nowe mickle is their traitorìe;
Then let my brother ride his ways,
And tell those English lords from thee.
13^1. with him.
14–17.
‘To the Lord Hume I will thee bring;
He is well knowne a true Scots lord,
And he will lose both land and life
Ere he with thee will break his word.’
‘Much is my woe,’ Lord Percy sayd,
‘When I thinke on my own countrìe;
When I thinke on the heavye happe
My friends have suffered there for mee.
‘Much is my woe,’ Lord Percy sayd,
‘And sore those wars my minde distresse;
Where many a widow lost her mate,
And many a child was fatherlesse.
‘And now that I, a banisht man,
Shold bring such evil happe with mee,
To cause my faire and noble friends
To be suspect of treacherie,
‘This rives my heart with double woe;
And lever had I dye this day
Then thinke a Douglas can be false,
Or ever will his guest betray.’ he will, 1794.
18.
‘If you’ll give me no trust, my lord,
Nor unto mee no credence yield,
Yet step one moment here aside,
Ile showe you all your foes in field.’
19^{1,2}.
Lady, I never loved witchcraft,
Never dealt in privy wyle.
19^4. Of truth and honoure, free from guile.
20^1. If you’ll.
20^2. Yet send your chamberlaine with.
20^3. Let me but speak three words with him.
20^4. And he.
21^1. James Swynard with that lady went.
21^3. She showed him through.
21^3. many English lords there were.
21^4. Waiting for.
22^1. And who walkes yonder.
22^2. That walkes _wanting_.
22^3. O yonder is the lord Hunsdèn.
22^4. you drie and teene.
23^1. who beth.
23^2. so proudly.
23^3. That is: Iamy _wanting_.
23^4. And _wanting_.
24^1. itt, madàme.
24^2. lords.
24^{3,4}.
Marry, it is thrice fifty miles,
To sayl to them upon the sea.
25^2. Ne never sawe.
25^{3,4}.
But as my book it sheweth mee,
And through my ring I may descrye.
26^1. witch ladye.
26^2. And of her skille she.
27^1. thou lady faire.
27^2. That looketh with sic an.
27^{3,4}.
Yonder is Sir John Foster, quoth shee,
Alas! he’ll do ye sore disgrace.
27^{5,6} _wanting_.
28^1. downe over his browe.
28^2. And in his heart he was full woe. He wept; his heart he was
full of woe, 1794.
28^{3,4}.
And he is gone to his noble lord,
Those sorrowfull tidings him to show.
29.
Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd,
I may not believe that witch ladìe;
The Douglasses were ever true,
And they can neer prove false to mee.
30, 31 _wanting._
32^1. I have now in Lough-leven been.
32^3. And I have never had. Yett have I never had, 1794.
32^4. Ne no good.
33.
Therefore I’ll to yond shooting wend,
As to the Douglas I have hight;
Betide me weale, betide me woe,
He neer shall find my promise light.
34^1. He writhe a gold ring from.
34^2. that faire ladìe. that gay ladìe, 1794.
34^3. Sayes, It was all that I cold save.
35.
And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord?
Then farewell truth and honestìe!
And farewell heart, and farewell hand!
For never more I shall thee see.
36 _wanting._
37^{1,2}.
The wind was faire, the boatmen calld,
And all the saylors were on borde;
Then William Douglas took to his boat,
And with him went that noble lord.
37^{3–6}.
Then he cast up a silver wand,
Says, Gentle lady, fare thee well!
The lady fett a sigh soe deepe,
And in a dead swoone down shee fell.
38, 39.
Now let us goe back, Douglas, he sayd,
A sickness hath taken yond faire ladìe;
If ought befall yond lady but good,
Then blamed for ever I shall bee.
40^2. Come on, come on, and let her bee.
40^4. For to: that gay.
41.
‘If you’ll not turne yourself, my lord,
Let me goe with my chamberlaine;
We will but comfort that faire lady,
And wee will return to you againe.
42^{2–4}.
‘Come on, come on, and let her bee;
My sister is crafty, and wold beguile
A thousand such as you and mee.
43^2. Now _wanting_: _restored_, 1794.
43^{3,4} _wanting._
43^{5–6}.
Hee sent his man to ask the Douglas
When they shold that shooting see.
44^1. Faire words, quoth he, they make.
44^2. And that by thee and thy lord is seen.
44^3. You may hap to.
44^4. Ere you that shooting reach, I ween.
45^1. his hatt pulled over.
45^{2–4}.
He thought his lord then was betrayd;
And he is to Earle Percy againe,
To tell him what the Douglas sayd.
46 _wanting._
47^1. head, man, quoth his lord,
47^{2–4}.
Nor therfore let thy courage fail;
He did it but to prove thy heart,
To see if he cold make it quail.
48^1. had other fifty sayld.
48^3. calld to the Douglas himselfe. to D., 1794.
48^4. Sayd, What wilt thou nowe doe.
49^2. And your horse goe swift as ship.
50^1. sayd. sayth, 1794.
50^2. What needest thou to flyte with mee.
51^1. he hath. hath, 1794.
51^2. Who dealt with mee so treacherouslìe.
51^3. A false Armstrong he hath. hath, 1794.
51^4. geere that. geere, 1794.
52^3. landed him at Berwick towne. _MS. reading restored_, 1794.
52^4. The Douglas landed Lord Percie.
_MS. reading restored with_ ‘laird’ _for_ land.
Then he at Yorke was doomde to dye,
It was, alas! a sorrowful sight;
Thus they betrayed that noble earle,
Who ever was a gallant wight.
177
THE EARL OF WESTMORELAND
‘Earle of Westmorlande,’ Percy MS., p. 112; Hales and Furnivall, I,
292.
“These lines,” says Percy in a note in his MS. to 1^1, “are given in one
of my old copies to Lord Northumberland; they seem here corrupted.” The
first three stanzas, with extensive variations, begin ‘Northumberland
betrayed by Douglas,’ as printed in the Reliques, I, 258, 1765. It will
be remarked that Percy does not allege that he has an old copy of this
ballad, though he implies he has one of the other, ‘Northumberland
betrayed by Douglas.’
The earls of Westmoreland and Northumberland, as has been seen, upon
being forced to leave Liddesdale, took refuge for a short time with one
of the Armstrongs, John of the Side (cf. st. 3). They parted company,
and Westmoreland, Lady Northumberland, Francis Norton, and others, were
received by Sir Thomas Ker at Fernihurst, near Jedburgh; Old Norton,
Markenfield, and others, by Buccleuch at Branxholm. Lady Northumberland
shortly after removed to Hume Castle. The Regent Murray sent a secret
messenger to persuade Fernihurst and Buccleuch to render into his hands
the “Earl of Westmoreland and the other her Majesty’s principal rebels
being in their bounds,” Jan. 14, 1570 (cf. st. 9). Westmoreland escaped
to Flanders in the autumn of 1570, “with very slight means.” He was very
desirous to make his peace with Elizabeth, but the efforts he made were
unsuccessful, and he wore out thirty-one years in the Low Countries, a
pensioner of Spain, dying at Newport in November, 1601. The countess,
his wife, daughter of the poet Surrey, a highly educated and in every
way admirable woman, was treated by Elizabeth as innocent of treason
(she was a zealous Protestant), and was granted a decent annuity for the
support of herself and her three daughters. The Countess of
Northumberland fled to Flanders in 1570, and lived on the King of
Spain’s bounty, separated from her children, and with no consolation but
such as she derived from her intense religious and theological
convictions, until 1596.[268]
The ballad-story is that after the flight (as it is described) from
Bramham (‘Bramaball’) Moor, Westmoreland sought refuge with Jock
Armstrong on the west border, who also “took”[269] or sheltered Old
Norton and other of the rebels. Neville does not think the Debateable
Land safe, and goes to Scotland, to Hume Castle, where all the banished
men find welcome. The Regent is minded to write to Lord Hume to see
whether he can be brought to surrender the fugitives, but on second
thoughts, being at deadly feud with Hume, he concludes that writing will
serve no purpose. (10^4 is not very intelligible.) He will rather send
for troops from Berwick, and take the men by force. Lord Hume gets
knowledge of the Regent’s intention, and removes his guests to the
castle of ‘Camelye.’ But still Neville sees that there is no biding even
in Scotland, and he and his comrades take a noble ship, to be mariners
on the sea.
So far the ballad, it will be perceived, has an historical substratum,
though details are incorrect; what follows is pure fancy work, or rather
an imitation of stale old romance.