We crept on knees, and held our breath,_The Oxford Book of Ballads

Till we placed the ladders against the wa’;

And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell

To mount the first before us a’.

XXX

He has ta’en the watchman by the throat,

He flung him down upon the lead--

‘Had there not been peace between our lands,

Upon the other side thou hadst gaed!--

XXXI

‘Now sound out, trumpets!’ quo’ Buccleuch;

‘Let’s waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!’

Then loud the Warden’s trumpet blew--

_O wha dare meddle wi’ me?_

XXXII

Then speedilie to wark we gaed,

And raised the slogan ane and a’,

And cut a hole through a sheet of lead,

And so we wan to the castle ha’.

XXXIII

They thought King James and a’ his men

Had won the house wi’ bow and spear;

It was but twenty Scots and ten,

That put a thousand in sic a stear[1177]!

XXXIV

Wi’ coulters, and wi’ forehammers[1178],

We gar’d the bars bang merrilie,

Until we came to the inner prison,

Where Willie o’ Kinmont he did lie.

XXXV

And when we cam to the lower prison,

Where Willie o’ Kinmont he did lie--

‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie,

Upon the morn that thou’s to die?’--

XXXVI

‘O I sleep saft, and I wake aft;

It’s lang since sleeping was fley’d[1179] frae me!

Gie my service back to my wife and bairns,

And a’ gude fellows that spier[1180] for me.’

XXXVII

The Red Rowan has hente him up,

The starkest man in Teviotdale--

‘Abide, abide now, Red Rowan,

Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.

XXXVIII

‘Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope!

My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!’ he cried;

‘I’ll pay you for my lodging mail[1181],

When first we meet on the Border side.’--

XXXIX

Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,

We bore him down the ladder lang;

At every stride Red Rowan made,

I wot the Kinmont’s airns play’d clang!

‘O mony a time,’ quo’ Kinmont Willie,

‘I have ridden horse baith wild and wood[1182];

But a rougher beast than Red Rowan

I ween my legs have ne’er bestrode.

XLI

‘And mony a time,’ quo’ Kinmont Willie,

‘I’ve prick’d a horse out oure the furs[1183];

But since the day I back’d a steed,

I never wore sic cumbrous spurs!’

XLII

We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank

When a’ the Carlisle bells were rung,

And a thousand men on horse and foot

Cam wi’ the keen Lord Scroope along.

XLIII

Buccleuch has turn’d to Eden Water,

Even where it flow’d frae bank to brim,

And he has plunged in wi’ a’ his band,

And safely swam them through the stream.

XLIV

He turn’d him on the other side,

And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he;

‘If ye like na my visit in merry England,

In fair Scotland come visit me!’

XLV

All sore astonish’d stood Lord Scroope,

He stood as still as rock of stane;

He scarcely dared to trew[1184] his eyes,

When through the water they had gane.

XLVI

‘He is either himsell a devil frae hell,

Or else his mother a witch maun be;

I wadna have ridden that wan water

For a’ the gowd in Christentie.’

FOOTNOTES:

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

[1168] lawing = reckoning.

[1169] curch = kerchief, coif.

[1170] lightly = treat disrespectfully.

[1171] low = flame.

[1172] splent = split, or overlapping armour.

[1173] spauld = shoulder, épaule.

[1174] Bateable Land = debateable land; a stretch of frontier between

the Solway Firth and Scots Dyke, claimed by both nations.

[1175] lear = lore.

[1176] row-footed = rough-footed.

[1177] stear = stir, commotion.

[1178] forehammers = sledge-hammers.

[1179] fley’d = scared.

[1180] spier = inquire.

[1181] mail = rent.

[1182] wood = mad.

[1183] furs = furrows.

[1184] trew = trust.

_138. Jock o’ the Side_

Now Liddesdale has ridden a raid,

But I wat they had better hae staid at hame;

For Michael o’ Winfield he is dead,

And Jock o’ the Side is prisoner ta’en.

To Sybill o’ the Side the tidings came;

By the waterside there as she ran

She took her kirtle by the hem

And fast to Mangerton she’s gane.

III

Then up and spoke her Lord Mangerton--

‘What news, what news, my sister to me?’--

‘Bad news, bad news! My Michael is slain;

And they ha’e taken my son Johnie.’

The lords they wrang their fingers white,

Ladyes did pull themsells by the hair,

Crying ‘Alas and well-a day!

For Jock o’ the Side we’ll never see mair!’

--‘Ne’er fear, sister Sybill,’ quo’ Mangerton;

‘I have yokes of ousen, eighty and three;

My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a’ weil fill’d.

I’ll part wi’ them a’ ere Johnie shall dee.

‘Three men I’ll send to set him free,

Well harness’d a’ wi’ the best o’ steel;

The English louns may hear, and drie

The weight o’ their braid-swords to feel.

VII

‘The Laird’s Jock ane, the Laird’s Wat twa,

O Hobbie Noble, thou ane maun be!

Thy coat is blue, thou hast been true,

Since England banish’d thee, to me.’

VIII

Now Hobbie was an English man,

In Bewcastle dale was bred and born;

But his misdeeds they were sae great,

They banish’d him ne’er to return.

Lord Mangerton them orders gave,

‘Your horses the wrang way maun be shod,

Like gentlemen ye mauna seem,

But look like corn-caugers[1185] ga’en the road.

‘Your armour gude ye mauna shaw,

Nor yet appear like men o’ war;

As country lads be a’ array’d,

Wi’ branks[1186] and brecham[1187] on each mare.’

Their horses are the wrang way shod,

And Hobbie has mounted his grey sae fine;

Wat on his auld horse, Jock on his bey,

And on they rode for the water of Tyne.

XII

But when they came to Cholerton ford

They lighted down by the light o’ the moon,

And a tree they cut, wi’ nogs on each side,

To climb up the wa’ of Newcastle toun.

XIII

But when they cam to Newcastle toun,

And down were alighted at the wa’,

They fand thair tree three ells ower laigh[1188],

They fand their stick baith short and sma’.

XIV

Then up spake the Laird’s ain Jock:

‘There’s naething for’t; the gates we maun force.’--

But when they cam the gate until,

The porter withstood baith men and horse.

His neck in twa the Armstrangs wrang;

Wi’ fute or hand he ne’er play’d pa[1189]!

His life and his keys at anes they hae ta’en,

And cast the body ahint the wa’.

XVI

Now sune they reach Newcastle jail,

And to the prisoner thus they call:

‘Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o’ the Side,

Or art thou weary of thy thrall?’

XVII

Jock answers thus, wi’ dolefu’ tone:

‘Aft, aft I wake--I seldom sleep:

But whae’s this kens my name sae weel,

And thus to mese[1190] my waes does seek?’--

XVIII

Then out and spak the gude Laird’s Jock,

‘Now fear ye na, my billie[1191],’ quo’ he;

‘For here are the Laird’s Jock, the Laird’s Wat,

And Hobbie Noble to set thee free.’--

XIX

‘Now haud thy tongue, my gude Laird’s Jock,

For ever, alas! this canna be;

For if a’ Liddesdale were here the night,

The morn’s the day that I maun dee.

‘Full fifteen stane o’ Spanish iron,

They hae laid a’ right sair on me;

Wi’ locks and keys I am fast bound

In this dungeon dark and dreirie.’

XXI

‘Fear ye na that,’ quo’ the Laird’s Jock;

‘A faint heart ne’er wan a fair ladie;

Work thou within, we’ll work without,

And I’ll be sworn we’ll set thee free.’

XXII

The first strong door that they cam at,

They loosèd it without a key;

The next chain’d door that they cam at,

They garr’d it a’ to flinders flee.

XXIII

The prisoner now upon his back

The Laird’s Jock has gotten up fu’ hie;

And, airns and a’, down the tolbooth[1192] stair,

Wi’ nae sma’ speed and joy brings he.

XXIV

‘Now, Jock, my man,’ quo’ Hobbie Noble,

‘Some o’ his weight ye may lay on me.’--

‘I wat weel no!’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock,

‘I count him lighter than a flee.’

XXV

Sae out at the gates they a’ are gane,

The prisoner’s set on horseback hie;

And now wi’ speed they’ve ta’en the gate,

While ilk ane jokes fu’ wantonlie:

XXVI

‘O Jock! sae winsomely ye sit,

Wi’ baith your feet upon ae side;

Sae weel ye’re harneist, and sae trig,

In troth ye sit like ony bride!’

XXVII

The night, tho’ wat, they did na mind,

But hied them on fu’ merrilie,

Until they cam to Cholerton brae,

Where the water ran like mountains hie.

XXVIII

But when they cam to Cholerton ford,

There they met with an auld man;

Says--‘Honest man, will the water ride?

Tell us in haste, if that ye can.’--

XXIX

‘I wat weel no,’ quo’ the gude auld man;

‘I hae lived here thretty years and three;

Nor man nor horse can go ower Tyne,

Except it were a horse of tree.’--

XXX

Then out and spoke the Laird’s saft Wat,

The greatest coward in the companie:

‘Now halt, now halt! we need na try’t;

The day is come we a’ maun die!’--

XXXI

‘Puir faint-hearted thief!’ cried the Laird’s ain Jock,

‘There’ll nae man die but him that’s fie[1193];

I’ll guide ye a’ right safely thro’;

Lift ye the pris’ner on ahint me.’

XXXII

Wi’ that the water they hae ta’en,

By ane’s and twa’s they a’ swam thro’;

‘Here are we a’ safe,’ quo’ the Laird’s Jock,

‘And, puir faint Wat, what think ye now?’

XXXIII

They scarce the other brae had won,

When twenty men they saw pursue;

Frae Newcastle toun they had been sent,

A’ English lads baith stout and true.

XXXIV

But when the Land-sergeant the water saw,

‘It winna ride, my lads,’ says he;

Then cried aloud--‘The prisoner take,

But leave the fetters, I pray, to me!’

XXXV

‘I wat weel no,’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock,

‘I’ll keep them, shoon to my mare to be:

My gude bay mare--for I am sure,

She has bought them a’ right dear frae thee.’--

XXXVI

Sae now they are on to Liddesdale,

E’en as fast as they could them hie;

The prisoner is brought to his ain fireside,

And there o’ his airns they mak him free.

XXXVII

‘Now, Jock, my billie,’ quo’ a’ the three,

‘The day is comed thou was to die;

But thou’s as weel at thy ain ingle-side,

Now sitting, I think, ’twixt thee and me.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1185] corn-caugers = corn hucksters.

[1186] branks = wooden halter.

[1187] brecham = straw collar.

[1188] laigh = low.

[1189] pa = paw.

[1190] mese = soothe.

[1191] billie = comrade.

[1192] tolbooth = gaol.

[1193] fie = fey, doomed.

_139. Hobbie Noble_

Foul fa’ the breast first treason bred in!

That Liddesdale may safely say,

For in it there was baith meat and drink,

And corn unto our geldings gay.

We were stout-hearted men and true,

As England it did often say;

But now we may turn our backs and fly,

Since brave Noble is seld[1194] away.

III

Now Hobbie he was an English man,

And born into Bewcastle dale,

But his misdeeds they were sae great,

They banish’d him to Liddesdale.

At Kershope-foot the tryst was set,

Kershope of the lily lee;

And there was traitour Sim o’ the Mains,

With him a private companie.

Then Hobbie has graith’d[1195] his body weel,

I wat wi’ baith good iron and steel;

And he has pull’d out his fringed[1196] grey,

And there, brave Hobbie, he rade him weel.

Then Hobbie is down the water gane,

Even as fast as he may drie;

Tho’ they shou’d a’ brusten and broken their hearts,

Frae that riding-tryst he would not be.

VII

‘Weel may ye be, my feiries[1197] five!

And aye, what is your wills wi’ me?’

Then they cryd a’ wi’ ae consent:

‘Thou’rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.

VIII

‘Wilt thou with us into England ride?

And thy safe-warrand we will be,

If we get a horse worth a hundred punds,

Upon his back that thou shalt be.’--

‘I dare not with you into England ride,

The Land-sergeant has me at feid[1198];

I know not what evil may betide

For Peter of Whitfield his brother is dead.

‘And Antony Shiel he loves not me,

For I gat twa drifts of his sheep;

The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not,

For nae gear frae me he e’er could keep.

‘But will ye stay till the day gae down,

Until the night come owre the grund,

And I’ll be a guide worth ony twa

That may in Liddesdale be found.

XII

‘Tho’ dark the night as pick[1199] and tar,

I’ll guide ye owre yon hills sae hie,

And bring ye a’ in safety back,

If you will be true and follow me.’

XIII

He has guided them owre moss and muir,

O’er hill and houp[1200], and mony a down,

Til they came to the Foulbogshiel,

And there brave Noble he lighted down.

XIV

Then word is gane to the Land-sergeant,

In Askerton where that he lay:

‘The deer that ye hae hunted sae lang

Is seen into the Waste this day.’--

‘Then Hobbie Noble is that deer;

I wat he carries the style fu’ hie!

Aft has he beat your slough-hounds[1201] back,

And set yourselves at little eie[1202].

XVI

‘Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,

See they sharp their arrows on the wa’!

Warn Willeva and Spear Edom,

And see the morn they meet me a’.

XVII

‘Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh,

And see it be by break o’ day;

And we will on to Conscouthart Green,

For there, I think, we’ll get our prey.’

XVIII

Then Hobbie Noble has dreamit a dream,

In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay;

He thought his horse was aneath him shot,

And he himself got hard away.

XIX

The cocks could craw, and the day could daw’,

And I wat sae even down fell the rain;

Had Hobbie na waken’d at that time,

In the Foulbogshiel he’d been ta’en or slain.

‘Get up, get up, my feiries five,

For I wat here makes a fu’ ill day;

And the warst clock[1203] of this companie

I hope shall cross the Waste this day.

XXI

Now Hobbie thought the gates were clear,

But, ever alas! it was not sae;

They were beset wi’ cruel men and keen,

That away brave Noble could not gae.

XXII

‘Yet follow me, my feiries five,

And see of me ye keep good array;

And the worst clock of this companie

I hope shall cross the Waste this day.’

XXIII

There was heaps of men now Hobbie before,

And other heaps was him behin’,

That had he been wight as Wallace was

Away brave Noble he could not win.

XXIV

Then Hobbie he had but a laddie’s sword,

But he did more than a laddie’s deed;

Till in the midst of Conscouthart Green,

He brake it o’er Jers-a-Wigham’s head.

XXV

Now they have ta’en brave Hobbie Noble,

Wi’ his ain bowstring they band him sae;

And I wat his heart was neer sae sair

As when his ain five band him on the brae.

XXVI

They have ta’en him on for West Carlisle;

They ask’d him if he kenn’d the way;

Whate’er he thought, yet little he said;

He knew that gate as well as they.

XXVII

They hae ta’en him up the Ricker-gate;

The wives they cast their windows wide,

And ilka wife to anither can say,

‘That’s the man loos’d Jock o’ the Side!’--

XXVIII

‘Fy on ye, women! why ca’ ye me man?

For it’s nae man that I’m used like;

I’m but like a forfoughen[1204] hound,

Has been fighting in a dirty syke[1205].’

XXIX

Then they hae ta’en him up thro’ Carlisle town,

And set him by the chimney-fire;

They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat,

And that was little his desire.

XXX

They gave him a wheaten loaf to eat

And after that a can of beer;

Then they cried a’, wi’ ae consent,

‘Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer!

XXXI

‘Confess my lord’s horse, Hobbie,’ they say,

‘And the morn in Carlisle thou’se no dee.’--

‘How shall I confess them?’ Hobbie says,

‘For I never saw them with mine e’e.’

XXXII

Then Hobbie has sworn a fu’ great aith,

By the day that he was gotten or born,

He never had onything o’ my lord’s

That either ate him grass or corn.

XXXIII

‘Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton!

For I think again I’ll ne’er thee see;

I wad betray nae lad alive,

For a’ the gowd in Christentie.

XXXIV

‘And fare thee well now, Liddesdale,

Baith the hie land and the law!

Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains!

For gowd and gear he’ll sell ye a’.

XXXV

‘I’d rather be ca’d Hobbie Noble,

In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut,

Before I were ca’d the traitor Mains,

That eats and drinks o’ the meal and maut.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1194] seld = sold.

[1195] graith’d = clad in armour.

[1196] fringed = long-haired at fetlocks.

[1197] feiries = feres, comrades.

[1198] feid = feud.

[1199] pick = pitch.

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

[1201] slough-hounds = sleuth-hounds.

[1202] eie = awe.

[1203] clock = lame one, hobbler.

[1204] forfoughen = out-wearied.

[1205] syke = ditch.

_140. Archie of Cawfield_

As I was a-walking mine alane,

It was by the dawning of the day,

I heard twa brithers make their mane,

And I listen’d weel what they did say.

The youngest to the eldest said:

‘Blythe and merrie how can we be?

There were three brithren of us born,

And ane of us is condemn’d to die.’--

III

‘An ye wad be merrie, an ye wad be sad,

What the better wad billy[1206] Archie be?

Unless I had thirty men to mysell,

And a’ to ride in my companie.

‘Ten to hald the horses’ heads,

And other ten the watch to be,

And ten to break up the strong prison

Where billy Archie he does lie.

‘Had I but thirty well-wight[1207] men,

Thirty o’ the best in Christiantie,

I wad go on to fair Dumfries,

I wad loose my brother and set him free.’

Then up and spak him mettled John Ha’

(For leugh o’ Liddesdale[1208] crackit he):

‘An I had eleven men to mysell,

It’s aye the twalt man I wad be.’--

VII

Then up bespak him coarse Ca’field,

(I wot and little gude worth was he):

‘Thirty men is few anew,

And a’ to ride in our companie.’

VIII

There was horsing, horsing in haste,

And cracking of whips out owre the lee;

Until they cam to the Murraywhat,

And they lighted there right speedilie.

‘A smith! a smith!’ Dickie he cries,

‘A smith, a smith, right speedilie,

To turn back the caukers[1209] of our horses’ shoon!

For it’s unkensome[1210] we wad be.

‘There lives a smith on the water-side,

Will shoe my little black mare for me;

And I’ve a crown in my pockét,

And every groat of it I wad gie.’--

‘The night is mirk, and it’s very mirk,

And by candle-light I canna weel see;

The night is mirk, and it’s very pit mirk,

And there will never a nail ca’ right for me.’--

XII

‘Shame fa’ you and your trade baith,

Canna beet[1211] a good fellow by your mystery[1212];

But leeze me on[1213] thee, my little black mare,

Thou’s worth thy weight in gold to me.’

XIII

There was horsing, horsing in haste,

And cracking of whips out owre the lee,

Until they came to the Bonshaw wood,

Where they held their council privately.

XIV

Some says, ‘We’ll gang the Annan road;

It is the better road,’ said they;

But up bespake then Dicky Ha’,

The wisest of that company:

Says, ‘Annan road’s a public road,

It’s no the road that makes for me;

But we will through at the Hoddam ford,

It is the better road,’ quo’ he.

XVI

There was horsing, horsing in haste,

And crackin’ of whips out owre the lee;

Until they cam to Dumfries port[1214],

And they lighted there right speedilie.

XVII

‘There’s five of us will hold the horse,

And other five will watchmen be:

But wha’s the man among ye a’,

Will gae to the tolbooth[1215] door wi’ me?’--

XVIII

O up then spak him mettled John Ha’,

(For leugh o’ Liddesdale crackit he):

‘If it should cost my life this very night,

I’ll gae to the tolbooth door wi’ thee.’--

XIX

‘Be of gude cheir, now, Archie, lad!

Be of gude cheir, now, dear billie!

Work thou within, and we without,

And the morn thou’se dine at Ca’field wi’ me!’

O Jockie Ha’ stepp’d to the door,

And he bended low back on his knee,

And he made the bolts that the door hang on,

Loup frae the wa’ right wantonlie.

XXI

He took the prisoner on his back,

And down the tolbooth stair cam he;

The black mare stood ready at the door,

I wot a foot ne’er stirrèd she.

XXII

They laid the links out owre her neck,

And that was her gold twist to be;

And they cam doun thro’ Dumfries toun,

And wow but they cam speedilie.

XXIII

The live-lang night these twelve men rade,

And aye till they were right wearie,

Until they cam to the Murraywhat,

And they lighted there right speedilie.

XXIV

‘A smith! a smith!’ then Dickie he cries,

‘A smith, a smith, right speedilie,

To file the irons frae my dear brither!

For forward, forward we wad be.’--

XXV

They hadna filed a shackle of iron,

A shackle of iron but barely three,

When out and spak young Simon brave:

‘O dinna you see what I do see?

XXVI

‘Lo! yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon,

Wi’ a hundred men in his companie;

This night will be our lyke-wake night,

The morn the day we a’ maun die.’--

XXVII

O there was mounting, mounting in haste,

And cracking of whips out owre the lee;

Until they cam to Annan water,

And it was flowing like the sea.

XXVIII

‘My mare is young and very skeigh[1216],

And in o’ the weil[1217] she will drown me!’--

‘But ye’ll take mine, and I’ll take thine,

And sune through the water we sall be.’

XXIX

Then up and spak him coarse Ca’field

(I wot and little gude worth was he),

‘We had better lose ane than lose a’ the lave[1218];

We’ll lose the prisoner, we’ll gae free.’--

XXX

‘Shame fa’ you and your lands baith!

Wad ye e’en[1219] your lands to your born billy?

But hey! bear up, my bonnie black mare,

And yet thro’ the water we sall be.’--

XXXI

Now they did swim that wan water,

And wow but they swam bonnilie!

Until they cam to the other side,

And they wrang their cloathes right drunkily.

XXXII

‘Come thro’, come thro’, Lieutenant Gordon!

Come thro’ and drink some wine wi’ me!

For there is an ale-house here hard by,

And it shall not cost thee ae penny.’--

XXXIII

‘Throw me my irons,’ quo’ Lieutenant Gordon;

‘I wot they cost me dear eneugh.’--

‘The shame a ma[1220],’ quo’ mettled John Ha’,

‘They’ll be gude shackles to my pleugh.’--

XXXIV

‘Come thro’, come thro’, Lieutenant Gordon!

Come thro’ and drink some wine wi’ me!

Yestreen I was your prisoner,

But now this morning am I free.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1206] billy = brother, comrade.

[1207] well-wight = stout, sturdy.

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

εἶναι.

[1209] caukers = calkins.

[1210] unkensome = unknown.

[1211] beet = abet, aid.

[1212] mystery = craft.

[1213] leeze me on = commend me to.

[1214] port = gate.

[1215] tolbooth = gaol.

[1216] skeigh = shy.

[1217] weil = eddy.

[1218] lave = rest.

[1219] e’en = even, count as equal.

[1220] shame a ma = devil a bit.

_141. Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead_

It fell about the Martinmas tyde,

When our Border steeds get corn and hay,

The Captain of Bewcastle bound him to ryde,

And he’s ower to Tividale to drive a prey.

The first ae guide that they met wi’,

It was high up in Hardhaughswire;

The second guide that they met wi’,

It was laigh[1221] down in Borthwick water.

III

‘What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?’--

‘Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee;

But gin ye’ll gae to the fair Dodhead,

Mony a cow’s cauf I’ll let thee see.’

And when they cam to the fair Dodhead,

Right hastily they clam the peel[1222];

They loosed the kye out, ane and a’,

And ranshackled the house right weel.

Now Jamie Telfer’s heart was sair,

The tear aye rowing[1223] in his ee;

He pled wi’ the Captain to hae his gear,

Or else revengèd he wad be.

The Captain turned him round and leugh;

Said--‘Man, there’s naething in thy house,

But ae auld sword without a sheath,

That hardly now would fell a mouse.’

VII

The sun wasna up, but the moon was down,

It was the gryming[1224] of a new-fa’n snaw,

Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot,

Between the Dodhead and the Stobs’s Ha’.

VIII

And when he cam to the fair tower-yate,

He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,

Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot--

‘Whae’s this that brings the fraye[1225] to me?’--

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer in the fair Dodhead,

And a harried man I think I be!

There’s naething left at the fair Dodhead,

But a waefu’ wife and bairnies three.’

‘Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha’,

For succour ye’se get nane frae me!

Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail,

For, man, ye ne’er paid money to me.’--

Jamie has turned him round about,

I wat the tear blinded his ee--

‘I’ll ne’er pay mail to Elliot again,

And the fair Dodhead I’ll never see.

XII

‘My hounds may a’ rin masterless,

My hawks may fly frae tree to tree,

My lord may grip my vassal lands,

For there again maun I never be!’--

XIII

He has turn’d him to the Tiviot-side,

E’en as fast as he could drie,

Till he cam to the Coultart Cleugh,

And there he shouted baith loud and hie.

XIV

Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve,

‘Whae’s this that brings the fraye to me?’--

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer in the fair Dodhead,

A harried man I trow I be.

‘There’s naething left in the fair Dodhead,

But a greeting wife and bairnies three,

And sax poor ca’s[1226] stand in the sta’,

A’ routing loud for their minnie[1227].’--

XVI

‘Alack a wae!’ quo’ auld Jock Grieve,

‘Alack! my heart is sair for thee!

For I was married on the elder sister,

And you on the youngest of a’ the three.’

XVII

Then he has ta’en out a bonny black,

Was right weel fed with corn and hay,

And he’s set Jamie Telfer on his back,

To the Catslockhill to tak the fraye.

XVIII

And whan he cam to the Catslockhill,

He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,

Till out and spak him William’s Wat,

‘O whae’s this brings the fraye to me?’--

XIX

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer in the fair Dodhead,

A harried man I think I be!

The Captain of Bewcastle has driven my gear;

For God’s sake rise, and succour me!’--

‘Alas for wae!’ quoth William’s Wat,

‘Alack, for thee my heart is sair!

I never cam by the fair Dodhead,

That ever I fand thy basket bare.’

XXI

He’s set his twa sons on coal-black steeds,

Himsell upon a freckled gray,

And they are on wi’ Jamie Telfer,

To Branksome Ha’ to tak the fraye.

XXII

And when they cam to Branksome Ha’,

They shouted a’ baith loud and hie,

Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch,

Said, ‘Whae’s this brings the fraye to me?’--

XXIII

‘It’s I, Jamie Telfer in the fair Dodhead,

And a harried man I think I be!

There’s nought left in the fair Dodhead,

But a greeting wife and bairnies three.’--

XXIV

‘Alack for wae!’ quoth the gude auld lord,

‘And ever my heart is wae for thee!

But fye gar cry on Willie, my son,

And see that he come to me speedilie!

XXV

‘Gar warn the water[1228], braid and wide,

Gar warn it sune and hastilie!

They that winna ride for Telfer’s kye,

Let them never look in the face o’ me!

XXVI

‘Warn Wat o’ Harden, and his sons,

Wi’ them will Borthwick Water ride;

Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh,

And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside.

XXVII

‘Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire,

And warn the Currors o’ the Lee;

As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack,

Warn doughty Willie o’ Gorrinberry.’

XXVIII

The Scotts they rade, the Scotts they ran,

Sae starkly and sae steadilie!

And aye the ower-word o’ the thrang

Was--‘Rise for Branksome readilie!’

XXIX

The gear was driven the Frostylee up,

Frae the Frostylee unto the plain,

Whan Willie has look’d his men before,

And saw the kye right fast drivand.

XXX

‘Whae drives thir kye?’ ’gan Willie say,

‘To make an outspeckle[1229] o’ me?’--

‘It’s I, the Captain o’ Bewcastle, Willie;

I winna layne[1230] my name for thee.’--

XXXI

‘O will ye let Telfer’s kye gae back?

Or will ye do aught for regard o’ me?

Or, by the faith of my body,’ quo’ Willie Scott,

‘I’se ware my dame’s cauf skin[1231] on thee!--

XXXII

‘I winna let the kye gae back,

Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear;

But I will drive Jamie Telfer’s kye,

In spite of every Scott that’s here.’--

XXXIII

‘Set on them, lads!’ quo’ Willie than;

‘Fye, lads, set on them cruellie!

For ere they win to the Ritterford,

Mony a toom[1232] saddle there sall be!’

XXXIV

Then till ’t[1233] they gaed wi’ heart and hand,

The blows fell thick as bickering hail;

And mony a horse ran masterless,

And mony a comely cheek was pale.

XXXV

But Willie was stricken ower the head,

And thro’ the knapscap[1234] the sword has gane;

And Harden grat[1235] for very rage,

Whan Willie on the grund lay slane.

XXXVI

But he’s ta’en aff his gude steel cap,

And thrice he’s waved it in the air--

The Dinlay snaw was ne’er mair white

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

XXXVII

‘Revenge! revenge!’ auld Wat ’gan cry;

‘Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie!

We’ll ne’er see Tiviot-side again,

Or Willie’s death revenged sall be.’

XXXVIII

O mony a horse ran masterless,

The splinter’d lances flew on hie;

But or they wan to the Kershope ford,

The Scotts had gotten the victory.

XXXIX

John o’ Brigham there was slane,

And John o’ Barlow, as I heard say;

And thirty mae o’ the Captain’s men

Lay bleeding on the grund that day.

The Captain was run through the thick of the thigh,

And broken was his right leg-bane;

If he had lived this hundred years,

He had never been loved by woman again.

XLI

‘Hae back the kye!’ the Captain said;

‘Dear kye, I trow, to some they be!

For gin I suld live a hundred years,

There will ne’er fair lady smile on me.’

XLII

Then word is gane to the Captain’s bride,

Even in the bower where that she lay,

That her lord was prisoner in enemy’s land,

Since into Tividale he had led the way.

XLIII

‘I wad lourd[1237] have had a winding-sheet,

And helped to put it ower his head,

Ere he had been disgraced by the Border Scot,

Whan he ower Liddel his men did lead!’

XLIV

There was a wild gallant amang us a’,

His name was Watty wi’ the Wudspurs[1238],

Cried--‘On for his house in Stanegirthside,

If ony man will ride with us!’

XLV

When they cam to the Stanegirthside,

They dang wi’ trees, and burst the door;

They loosed out a’ the Captain’s kye,

And set them forth our lads before.

XLVI

There was an auld wyfe ayont the fire,

A wee bit o’ the Captain’s kin--

‘Whae dar loose out the Captain’s kye,

Or answer to him and his men?’--

XLVII

‘It’s I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye,

I winna layne my name frae thee!

And I will loose out the Captain’s kye,

In scorn of a’ his men and he.’

XLVIII

Whan they cam to the fair Dodhead,

They were a wellcum sight to see!

For instead of his ain ten milk kye,

Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three.

XLIX

And he has paid the rescue shot,

Baith wi’ gowd and white monie;

And at the burial o’ Willie Scott,

I wat was mony a weeping e’e.

FOOTNOTES:

[1221] laigh = low.

[1222] peel = stronghold, keep.

[1223] rowing = rolling.

[1224] gryming = sprinkling.

[1225] fraye = fright, alarm.

[1226] ca’s = calves.

[1227] minnie = mother.

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

[1229] outspeckle = laughing-stock.

[1230] layne = lie, falsen.

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

[1232] toom = empty.

[1233] till ’t = to it.

[1234] knapscap = headpiece.

[1235] grat = wept.

[1236] lyart = grizzled.

[1237] lourd = liefer, rather.

[1238] wudspurs = hotspur, or madspur.

_142. Dick o’ the Cow_

Now Liddesdale has lain lang in,

There is na ryding[1239] there at a’;

The horses are a’ grown sae lither[1240] fat,

They downa stir out o’ the sta’.

Fair Johnie Armstrong to Willie did say--

‘Billie, a-ryding then will we;

England and us have been lang at feid;

Aiblins[1241] we’ll light on some bootie.’--

III

Then they’re come on to Hutton Ha’;

They rade that proper place about.

But the Laird he was the wiser man,

For he had left nae gear without:

For he had left nae gear to steal,

Except sax sheep upon a lea:

Quo’ Johnie--‘I’d rather in England die,

Ere thir sax sheep gae to Liddesdale wi’ me.

‘But how ca’ they the man we last met,

Billie, as we cam owre the know[1242]?’--

‘That same he is an innocent fule,

And men they call him Dick o’ the Cow.’

‘That fule has three as good kye o’ his ain,

As there are in a’ Cumberland, billie,’ quo’ he.

‘Betide me life, betide me death,

These kye shall go to Liddesdale wi’ me.’

VII

Then they’re come on to the pure fule’s house,

And they hae broken his wa’s sae wide;

They have loosed out Dick o’ the Cow’s three kye,

And ta’en three co’erlets off his wife’s bed.

VIII

Then on the morn when the day grew light,

The shouts and cries raise loud and hie:

‘O haud thy tongue, my wife,’ he says,

‘And o’ thy crying let me be!

‘O haud thy tongue, my wife,’ he says,

‘And o’ thy crying let me be;

And aye where thou hast lost ae cow,

In gude sooth I shall bring thee three.’

Now Dickie’s gane to the gude Lord Scroope,

And I wat a dreirie fule was he;

‘Now haud thy tongue, my fule,’ he says,

‘For I may not stand to jest wi’ thee.’

‘Shame fa’ your jesting, my lord!’ quo’ Dickie,

‘For nae sic jesting grees wi’ me;

Liddesdale’s been in my house last night,

And they hae awa’ my three kye frae me.

XII

‘But I may nae langer in Cumberland dwell,

To be your puir fule and your leal,

Unless you gie me leave, my lord,

To gae to Liddesdale and steal’--

XIII

‘I gie thee leave, my fule!’ he says;

‘Thou speakest against my honour and me,

Unless thou gie me thy troth and thy hand,

Thou’lt steal frae nane but wha sta’ frae thee.’--

XIV

‘There is my troth, and my right hand!

My head shall hang on Hairibee[1243];

I’ll never cross Carlisle sands again,

If I steal frae a man but wha sta’ frae me.’

Dickie’s ta’en leave o’ lord and master;

I wat a merry fule was he!

He’s bought a bridle and a pair o’ new spurs,

And packed them up in his breek thie[1244].

XVI

Then Dickie’s come on to Puddingburn house,

Even as fast as he might dree[1245]:

Then Dickie’s come on to Puddingburn,

Where there were thirty Armstrangs and three.

XVII

‘O what’s this come o’ me now?’ quo’ Dickie;

‘What mickle wae is this?’ quo’ he,

‘For here is but ae innocent fule,

And there are thirty Armstrangs and three!’

XVIII

Yet he has come up to the fair ha’ board,

Sae well he became his courtesie!

‘Well may ye be, my gude Laird’s Jock!

But the dèil bless a’ your companie.

XIX

‘I’m come to plain[1246] o’ your man, Johnie Armstrang,

And syne o’ his billie Willie,’ quo’ he;

‘How they hae been in my house last night,

And they hae ta’en my three kye frae me.’--

‘Ha!’ quo’ Johnie Armstrang, ‘we will him hang.’

--‘Na,’ quo’ Willie, ‘we’ll him slae.’--

Then up and spak another young Armstrang,

‘We’ll gie him his batts[1247], and let him gae.’

XXI

But up and spak the gude Laird’s Jock,

The best in a’ the companie,

‘Sit down thy ways a little while, Dickie,

And a piece o’ thy ain cow’s hough I’ll gie ye.’

XXII

But Dickie’s heart it grew sae grit[1248],

That the ne’er a bit o’t he dought to[1249] eat--

Then he was aware of in auld peat-house,

Where a’ the night he thought for to sleep

XXIII

Then Dickie was ware of an auld peat-house,

Where a’ the night he thought for to lye--

And a’ the prayers the puir fule pray’d,

Were, ‘I wish I had mends[1250] for my gude three kye!’

XXIV

It was then the use of Puddingburn house,

And the house of Mangerton, all hail,

Them that cam na it the first ca’,

Gat nae mair meat till the neist meal.

XXV

The lads, that hungry and weary were,

Abune the door-head they threw the key;

Dickie he took gude notice o’ that,

Says--‘There will be a bootie for me.’

XXVI

Then Dickie has into the stable gane,

Where there stood thirty horses and three;

He has tied them a’ wi’ St. Mary’s knot[1251],

A’ these horses but barely three.

XXVII

He has tied them a’ wi’ St. Mary’s knot,

A’ these horses but barely three;

He’s loupen on ane, ta’en another in hand,

And out at the door is gane Dickie.

XXVIII

But on the morn, when the day grew light,

The shouts and cries raise loud and hie

‘Ah! wha has done this?’ quo’ the gude Laird’s Jock,

‘Tell me the truth and the verity!

XXIX

‘Wha has done this deed?’ quo’ the gude Laird’s Jock;

‘See that to me ye dinna lee!’--

‘Dickie has been in the stable last night,

And my brother’s horse and mine’s frae me.’--

XXX

‘Ye wad ne’er be tauld,’ quo’ the gude Laird’s Jock;

‘Have ye not found my tales fu’ leil?

Ye never wad out o’ England bide,

Till crooked and blind and a’ would steal.’--

XXXI

‘But lend me thy bay,’ fair Johnie can say;

‘There’s nae horse loose in the stable save he;

And I’ll either fetch Dick o’ the Cow again,

Or the day is come that he shall dee.’--

XXXII

‘To lend thee my bay!’ the Laird’s Jock ’gan say;

‘He’s baith worth gowd and gude monie.

Dick o’ the Cow has awa’ twa horse:

I wish na thou may make him three.’

XXXIII

He his ta’en the laird’s jack[1252] on his back,

A twa-handed sword to hang by his thie;

He has ta’en a steel cap on his head,

And on he is to follow Dickie.

XXXIV

Dickie was na a mile aff the town,

I wat a mile but barely three,

When he was o’erta’en by Johnie Armstrong,

Hand for hand, on Cannobie lee.

XXXV

‘Abide, abide, thou traitour thiefe!

The day is come that thou maun dee!’

Then Dickie look’t ower his left shoulder,

--‘Johnie, hast thou nae mae in thy companie?

XXXVI

‘There is a preacher in our chapell,

And a’ the lee-lang day teaches he:

When day is gane and night is come,

There’s ne’er a word I mark but three.

XXXVII

‘The first and second is--_Faith_ and _Conscience_;

The third--_Johnie, take heed o’ thee!_

But, Johnie, what faith and conscience was thine,

When thou took awa’ my three kye frae me?

XXXVIII

‘And when thou had ta’en awa’ my three kye,

Thou thought in thy heart thou wast no well sped,

Till thou sent thy billie owre the know,

To tak three co’erlets off my wife’s bed!’--

XXXIX

Then Johnie let a spear fa’ laigh[1253] by his thie,

Thought weel to hae run the innocent through,

But the powers above were mair than he,

For he ran but the pure fule’s jerkin through.

Together they ran, or ever they blan[1254];

This was Dickie the fule and he!

Dickie couldna win at him wi’ the blade o’ the sword,

But fell’d him wi’ the plummet[1255] under the ee.

XLI

Thus Dickie has fell’d fair Johnie Armstrong,

The prettiest man in the south country:

‘Gramercy!’ then ’gan Dickie say,

‘I had but twa horse, thou hast made me three!’

XLII

He’s ta’en the laird’s jack aff Johnie’s back,

The twa-handed sword that hung low by his thie;

He’s ta’en the steel cap aff his head--

‘Johnie, I’ll tell that I met wi’ thee.’

XLIII

When Johnie waken’d out o’ his dream,

I wat a dreirie man was he:

‘And is thou gane? Now, Dickie, than

The shame and dule is left wi’ me.

XLIV

‘And is thou gane? Now, Dickie, than

The deil gae in thy companie!

For if I should live these hundred years,

I ne’er shall fight wi’ a fule after thee.’

XLV

Then Dickie’s come hame to the gude Lord Scroope,

E’en as fast as he might hie;

‘Now, Dickie, I’ll neither eat nor drink,

Till hie hangèd that thou shall be.’--

XLVI

‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo’ Dickie;

‘This was na the promise ye made to me!

For I’d ne’er gang to Liddesdale to steal,

Had I not got my leave frae thee.’--

XLVII

‘But what gar’d thee steal the Laird’s Jock’s horse?

And, limmer, what gar’d ye steal him?’ quo’ he;

‘For lang thou mightst in Cumberland dwelt

Or the Laird’s Jock had stown aught frae thee.’--

XLVIII

‘Indeed I wat ye lied, my lord!

And e’en sae loud as I hear ye lie!

I wan the horse frae fair Johnie Armstrang,

Hand to hand, on Cannobie lee.

XLIX

‘There is the jack was on his back;

This twa-handed sword hung laigh by his thie;

And there’s the steel cap was on his head;

I brought a’ these tokens to let thee see.’--

‘If that be true thou to me tells

(And I think thou dares na tell me a lee),

I’ll gie thee fifteen punds for the horse,

Well tauld on thy cloak lap they shall be.

‘I’ll gie thee ane o’ my best milk kye,

To maintain thy wife and children three;

And that may be as gude, I think,

As ony twa o’ thine wad be.’--

LII

‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo’ Dickie;

‘Trow ye aye to make a fule o’ me?

I’ll either hae twenty punds for the gude horse,

Or he’s gae to Mortan Fair wi’ me.’

LIII

He’s gi’en him twenty punds for the gude horse,

A’ in the goud and gude monie;

He’s gi’en him ane o’ his best milk kye,

To maintain his wife and children three.

LIV

Then Dickie’s come down thro’ Carlisle toun,

E’en as fast as he could drie:

The first o’ men that he met wi’

Was my Lord’s brother, Bailiff Glozenburrie.

‘Weil be ye met, my gude Ralph Scroope!’--

‘Welcome, my brother’s fule!’ quo’ he;

‘Where didst thou get Johnie Armstrang’s horse?’--

‘Where did I get him, but steal him,’ quo’ he.

LVI

‘But wilt thou sell me the bonny horse?

And, billie, wilt thou sell him to me?’ quo’ he.--

‘Ay; if thou’lt tell me the monie on my cloak lap:

For there’s never ae penny I’ll trust thee.’--

LVII

‘I’ll gie thee ten punds for the gude horse,

Weil tauld on thy cloak lap they shall be;

And I’ll gie thee ane o’ the best milk kye,

To maintain thy wife and children three.’--

LVIII

‘The shame speed the liars, my lord!’ quo’ Dickie;

‘Trow ye aye to make a fule o’ me!

I’ll either hae twenty punds for the gude horse,

Or he’s gae to Mortan Fair wi’ me.’--

LIX

He’s gi’en him twenty punds for the gude horse,

Baith in goud and gude monie;

He’s gi’en him ane o’ his milk kye,

To maintain his wife and children three.

Then Dickie lap a loup[1256] fu’ hie,

And I wat a loud laugh laughèd he:

‘I wish the neck o’ the third horse was broken,

If ony of the twa were better than he!’

LXI

Then Dickie’s come hame to his wife again;

Judge ye how the puir fule had sped!

He has gi’en her twa score English punds,

For the three auld co’erlets ta’en aff her bed.

LXII

‘And tak thee these twa as gude kye,

I trow, as a’ thy three might be;

And yet here is a white-footed nag,

I trow he’ll carry baith thee and me.

LXIII

‘But I may nae langer in Cumberland bide;

The Armstrangs they would hang me hie.’--

So Dickie’s ta’en leave at lord and master,

And at Burgh under Stanmuir dwells Dickie.

FOOTNOTES:

[1239] ryding = raiding.

[1240] lither = _here an adverb_, vilely.

[1241] aiblins = perchance.

[1242] know = knop of the hill.

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

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

[1245] dree = last, endure.

[1246] plain = complain.

[1247] batts = beating.

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

[1249] dought to = could.

[1250] mends = amends.

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

[1252] jack = short coat of mail.

[1253] laigh = low.

[1254] blan = checked, stopped.

[1255] plummet = pommel.

[1256] lap a loup = leapt a leap.

_143. Hughie the Graeme_

Gude Lord Scroope’s to the hunting gane,

He has ridden o’er moss and muir;

And he has grippit Hughie the Graeme,

For stealing o’ the Bishop’s mare.

‘Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be!

Here hangs a broadsword by my side;

And if that thou canst conquer me,

The matter it may soon be tryed.’--

III

‘I ne’er was afraid of a traitor thief;

Although thy name be Hughie the Graeme,

I’ll make thee repent thee of thy deeds,

If God but grant me life and time.’--

‘Then do your worst now, good Lord Scroope,

And deal your blows as hard as you can!

It shall be tried within an hour,

Which of us two is the better man.’--

But as they were dealing their blows so free,

And both so bloody at the time,

Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall,

All for to take brave Hughie the Graeme.

Then they hae grippit Hughie the Graeme,

And brought him up through Carlisle town:

The lasses and lads stood on the walls,

Crying, ‘Hughie the Graeme, thou’se ne’er gae down!’

VII

Then they hae chosen a jury of men,

The best that were in Carlisle town;

And twelve of them cried out at once,

‘Hughie the Graeme, thou must gae down!’

VIII

Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume,

As he sat by the judge’s knee;

‘Twenty white owsen, my gude lord,

If you’ll grant Hughie the Graeme to me.’--

‘O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume!

For sooth and sae it mauna be;

For, were there but three Graemes of the name,

They suld be hangèd a’ for me.’--

’Twas up and spake the gude Lady Hume,

As she sat by the judge’s knee;

‘A peck of white pennies, my gude lord judge,

If you’ll grant Hughie the Graeme to me!’--

‘O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume,

Forsooth and so it must na be;

Were he but the one Graeme of the name,

He suld be hangèd high for me.’--

XII

‘If I be guilty,’ said Hughie the Graeme,

‘Of me my friends shall have small talk’;

And he’s loupèd fifteen feet and three,

Though his hands they were tied behind his back.

XIII

He lookèd over his left shoulder,

And for to see what he might see;

There was he aware of his auld father,

Came tearing his hair most piteouslie.

XIV

‘O hald your tongue, my father,’ he says,

‘And see that ye dinna weep for me!

For they may ravish me o’ my life,

But they canna banish me fro’ Heaven hie.

‘Here, Johnie Armstrang, take thou my sword,

That is made o’ the metal sae fine;

And when thou comest to the English side,

Remember the death of Hughie the Graeme.’

_144. The Lochmaben Harper_

O heard ye na o’ the silly blind Harper,

How long he lived in Lochmaben town?

And how he wad gang to fair England,

To steal King Henry’s Wanton Brown?

But first he gaed to his gude wyfe,

Wi’ a’ the haste that he could thole[1257]--

‘This wark,’ quo’ he, ‘will ne’er gae weel,

Without a mare that has a foal.’--

III

Quo’ she, ‘Thou hast a gude gray mare,

That’ll rin o’er hills baith laigh[1258] and hie;

Sae set thee on the gray mare’s back,

And leave the foal at hame wi’ me.’

So he is up to England gane,

And even as fast as he can hie;

And when he cam to Carlisle gate,

O whae was there but the King Henrye?

‘Come into my hall, thou silly blind Harper,

And of thy harping let me hear!’--

‘O, by my sooth,’ quo’ the silly blind Harper,

‘I’d rather hae stabling for my mare.’

The King look’d ower his left shoulder,

And said unto his stable groom;

‘Gae take the silly blind Harper’s mare,

And tie her beside my Wanton Brown.’

VII

Then aye he harpit, and aye he carpit[1259],

Till a’ the lordlings footed the floor;

They thought the music was sae sweet,

They had nae mind o’ the stable door.

VIII

And aye he harpit, and aye he carpit,

Till a’ the nobles were fast asleep;

Then quietly he took aff his shoon,

And saftly down the stair did creep.

Syne to the stable door he hied,

Wi’ tread as light as light could be;

And when he open’d and gaed in,

There he fand thirty steeds and three.

He took a colt halter frae his hose,

And o’ his purpose he didna fail;

He slipt it owre the Wanton’s nose,

And tied it to his gray mare’s tail.

He turn’d them loose at the castle gate,

Owre muir and moss and ilka dale;

And she ne’er let the Wanton bait,

But kept him still gaun to her tail.

XII

The mare she was right swift o’ foot,

She didna fail to find the way;

For she was at Lochmaben gate

Fu’ lang three hours before the day.

XIII

When she came to the Harper’s door,

There she gave mony a nicker and sneer[1260]--

‘Rise up,’ quo’ the wife, ‘thou lazy lass;

Let in thy master and his mare!’

XIV

Then up she rose, put on her clothes,

And keekit out through the lock-hole--

‘O! by my sooth,’ then cried the lass,

‘Our mare has gotten a braw brown foal!’--

‘Come haud thy tongue, thou foolish lass!

The moon’s but glancing in your ee.

I’ll wad my hail fee[1261] against a groat,

He’s bigger than e’er our foal will be.’

XVI

Now all this while in merry Carlisle

The Harper harpit to hie and law;

And the fiend dought they do[1262] but listen him to,

Until that the day began to daw.

XVII

But on the morn at fair daylight,

When they had ended a’ their cheer,

Behold the Wanton Brown was gane,

And eke the poor blind Harper’s mare!

XVIII

‘Allace! allace!’ quo’ the silly blind Harper,

‘And ever allace that I cam here!

In Scotland I’ve tint a braw colt foal,

In England they’ve stown my gude gray mare!’--

XIX

‘Come! cease thy allacing, thou silly blind Harper,

And again of thy harping let us hear;

And weel paid sall thy colt-foal be,

And thou sall have a far better mare.’

Then aye he harpit, and aye he carpit,

Sae sweet were the harpings he let them hear!

He was paid for the foal he had never lost,

And three times ower for the gude gray mare.

FOOTNOTES:

[1257] thole = suffer, be capable of.

[1258] laigh = low.

[1259] carpit = sang, recited.

[1260] nicker and sneer = whinny and snort.

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

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

_145. The Fire of Frendraught_

The eighteenth of October,

A dismal tale to hear

How good Lord John and Rothiemay

Was both burnt in the fire.

When steeds was saddled and well bridled,

And ready for to ride,

Then out it came her false Frendraught,

Inviting them to bide.

III

Said, ‘Stay this night untill we sup,

The morn untill we dine;

’Twill be a token of good greement

’Twixt your good lord and mine.’

‘We’ll turn again,’ said good Lord John;

‘But no,’ said Rothiemay,

‘My steed’s trapan’d[1263], my bridle’s broken,

I fear the day I’m fey[1264].’

When mass was sung and bells was rung,

And all men bound for bed,

Then good Lord John and Rothiemay

In one chamber was laid.

They had not long cast off their cloaths,

And were but now asleep,

When the weary smoke began to rise,

Likewise the scorching heat.

VII

‘O waken, waken, Rothiemay!

O waken, brother dear!

And turn you to our Saviour;

There is strong treason here.’

VIII

When they were dressèd in their cloaths,

And ready for to boun,

The doors and windows was all secur’d,

The roof-tree burning down.

He did him to the wire-window[1265],

As fast as he could gang;

Says, Wae to the hands put in the stancheons!

For out we’ll never win.

When he stood at the wire-window,

Most doleful to be seen,

He did espy her Lady Frendraught,

Who stood upon the green.

Cried, ‘Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught!

Will ye not sink with sin?

For first your husband killed my father,

And now you burn his son.’

XII

O then out spoke her Lady Frendraught,

And loudly did she cry;

‘It were great pity for good Lord John,

But none for Rothiemay;

But the keys are casten in the deep draw-well,

Ye cannot get away.’

XIII

While he stood in this dreadful plight,

Most piteous to be seen,

There callèd out his servant Gordon,

As he had frantic been:

XIV

‘O loup, O loup, my dear master!

O loup and come to me!

I’ll catch you in my arms twa,

One foot I will not flee.

‘O loup, O loup, my dear master!

O loup and come away!

I’ll catch you in my arms twa,

But Rothiemay may lie.’--

XVI

‘The fish shall never swim in the flood,

Nor corn grow through the clay,

Nor the fiercest fire that ever was kindled

Twin[1266] me and Rothiemay.

XVII

‘But I cannot loup, I cannot come,

I cannot win to thee;

My head’s fast in the wire-window,

My feet burning from me.

XVIII

‘My eyes are seething in my head,

My flesh roasting also,

My bowels are boiling with my blood;

Is not that a woeful woe?

XIX

‘Take here the rings from my white fingers,

That are so long and small,

And give them to my lady fair,

Where she sits in her hall.

‘So I cannot loup, I cannot come,

I cannot loup to thee;

My earthly part is all consumed,

My spirit but speaks to thee.’

XXI

Wringing her hands, tearing her hair,

His lady she was seen,

And thus address’d his servant Gordon,

Where he stood on the green.

XXII

‘O wae be to you, George Gordon!

An ill death may you die!

So safe and sound as you stand there,

And my lord bereaved for me!’--

XXIII

‘I bad him loup, I bad him come,

I bad him loup to me;

I’d catch him in my arms twa,

A foot I should not flee.

XXIV

‘He threw me the rings from his white fingers,

Which were so long and small,

To give to you, his lady fair,

Where you sat in your hall.’

XXV

Sophia Hay[1267], Sophia Hay,

O bonny Sophia was her name,

Her waiting maid put on her cloaths,

But I wot she tore them off again!

XXVI

And aft she cried, ‘Ohon! alas!

A sair heart’s ill to win;

I wan a sair heart when I married him,

And to-day it’s return’d again.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1263] trapan’d = tampered with.

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

[1265] wire-window = grated window.

[1266] twin = part.

[1267] Sophia Hay = wife of Lord John [Gordon], burned in this fire.

She had jilted the young lord of Tolquhon to marry him, which explains

the allusion in the last stanza.

_146. The Death of Parcy Reed_

God send the land deliverance

Frae every reaving, riding Scot;

We’ll sune hae neither cow nor ewe,

We’ll sune hae neither staig nor stot[1268].

The outlaws come frae Liddesdale,

They herry Redesdale far and near;

The rich man’s gelding it maun gang,

They canna pass the puir man’s mare.

III

Sure it were weel, had ilka thief

Around his neck a halter strang;

And curses heavy may they light

On traitors vile oursels amang!

Now Parcy Reed has Crosier taen,

He has delivered him to the law;

But Crosier says he’ll do waur than that,

He’ll make the tower o’ Troughend fa’.

And Crosier says he will do waur,

He will do waur if waur can be;

He’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless,

And then, the land it may lie lee.

‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed,

‘The morning sun is on the dew;

The cauler breeze frae off the fells

Will lead the dogs to the quarry true.

VII

‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed,

And to the hunting he has gane;

And the three fause Ha’s o’ Girsonsfield

Alang wi’ him he has them taen.

VIII

They hunted high, they hunted low,

By heathery hill and birken shaw;

They raised a buck on Rooken Edge,

And blew the mort[1269] at fair Ealylawe

They hunted high, they hunted low,

They made the echoes ring amain;

With music sweet o’ horn and hound,

They merry made fair Redesdale glen.

They hunted high, they hunted low,

They hunted up, they hunted down,

Until the day was past the prime,

And it grew late in the afternoon.

They hunted high in Batinghope,

When as the sun was sinking low;

Says Parcy then, ‘Ca’ off the dogs,

We’ll bait our steeds and homeward go.’

XII

They lighted high in Batinghope,

Atween the brown and benty ground;

They had but rested a little while

Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.

XIII

There’s nane may lean on a rotten staff,

But him that risks to get a fa’;

There’s nane may in a traitor trust,

And traitors black were every Ha’.

XIV

They’ve stown the bridle off his steed,

And they’ve put water in his lang gun;

They’ve fixed his sword within the sheath

That out again it winna come.

‘Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,

Or by your enemies be ta’en!

For yonder are the five Crosiers

A-coming owre the Hingin-stane!’--

XVI

‘If they be five, and we be four,

Sae that ye stand alang wi’ me,

Then every man ye will take one,

And only leave but two to me:

We will them meet as brave men ought,

And make them either fight or flee.’--

XVII

‘We mayna stand, we canna stand,

We daurna stand alang wi’ thee;

The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,

And they wad kill baith thee and we.’--

XVIII

‘O turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha’,

O turn thee, man, and fight wi’ me;

When ye come to Troughend again,

My gude black naig I will gie thee;

He cost full twenty pound o’ gowd,

Atween my brother John and me.’--

XIX

‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,

I daurna turn and fight wi’ thee;

The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,

And they wad kill baith thee and me.--

‘O turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha’,

O turn thee, man, and fight wi’ me;

When ye come to Troughend again,

A yoke o’ owsen I’ll gie thee.’--

XXI

‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,

I daurna turn and fight wi’ thee;

The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,

And they wad kill baith thee and me.’--

XXII

‘O turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha’,

O turn now, man, and fight wi’ me;

If ever we come to Troughend again,

My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.’--

XXIII

‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,

I daurna turn and fight wi’ thee;

The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,

And they wad kill baith thee and me.’--

XXIV

‘O shame upon ye, traitors a’!

I wish your hames ye may never see;

Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig,

And I can neither fight nor flee.

XXV

‘Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig,

And ye’ve put water i’ my lang gun;

Ye’ve fixed my sword within the sheath

That out again it winna come.’

XXVI

He had but time to cross himsel’.

A prayer he hadna time to say,

Till round him came the Crosiers keen,

All riding graith’d[1270] and in array.

XXVII

‘Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,

Thou art the very man we sought;

Owre lang hae we been in your debt,

Now will we pay you as we ought.

XXVIII

‘We’ll pay thee at the nearest tree,

Where we shall hang thee like a hound.’--

Brave Parcy rais’d his fankit[1271] sword,

And fell’d the foremost to the ground.

XXIX

Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed!

Alake, he was an unarmed man!

Four weapons pierced him all at once,

As they assail’d him there and than.

XXX

They fell upon him all at once,

They mangled him most cruellie;

The slightest wound might caused his deid,

And they hae gi’en him thirty-three;

They hackit off his hands and feet,

And left him lying on the lee.

XXXI

‘Now, Parcy Reed, we’ve paid our debt,

Ye canna weel dispute the tale,’

The Crosiers said, and off they rade;

They rade the airt[1272] o’ Liddesdale.

XXXII

It was the hour o’ gloaming gray,

When herds come in frae fauld and pen;

A herd he saw a huntsman lie,

Says he, ‘Can this be Laird Troughen’?’--

XXXIII

‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed,

And some will ca’ me Laird Troughen’;

It’s little matter what they ca’ me,

My faes hae made me ill to ken.

XXXIV

‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed,

And speak my praise in tower and town;

It’s little matter what they do now,

My life-blood rudds the heather brown.

XXXV

‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed,

And a’ my virtues say and sing;

I would much rather have just now

A draught o’ water frae the spring.’

XXXVI

The herd flung aff his clouted shoon

And to the nearest fountain ran;

He made his bonnet serve a cup,

And wan the blessing o’ the dying man.

XXXVII

‘Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair,

Ye maun do mair, as I you tell;

Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend,

And bear likewise my last farewell.

XXXVIII

‘A farewell to my wedded wife,

A farewell to my brother John,

Wha sits into the Troughend tower

Wi’ heart as black as any stone.

XXXIX

‘A farewell to my daughter Jean,

A farewell to my young sons five;

Had they been at their father’s hand,

I had this night been man alive.

‘A farewell to my followers a’,

And a’ my neighbours gude at need;

Bid them think how the treacherous Ha’s

Betrayed the life o’ Parcy Reed.

XLI

‘The laird o’ Clennel bears my bow,

The laird o’ Brandon bears my brand;

Whene’er they ride i’ the Border-side,

They’ll mind the fate o’ the laird Troughend.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1268] stot = steer.

[1269] mort = death of the deer.

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

[1271] fankit = entangled.

[1272] airt = direction.

_147. Baby Livingston_

O bonny Baby Livingston

Went forth to view the hay,

And by it came him Glenlyon,

Sta’ bonny Baby away.

O first he’s ta’en her silken coat,

And neist her satten gown,

Syne row’d[1273] her in a tartan plaid,

And hap’d her roun’ and roun’.

III

He has set her upon his steed

And roundly rode away,

And ne’er loot her look back again

The live-long summer’s day.

He’s carried her o’er hills and muirs

Till they came to a Highland glen,

And there he’s met his brother John,

With twenty armèd men.

O there were cows, and there were ewes,

And lasses milking there!

But Baby ne’er ance look’d about,

Her heart was fill’d wi’ care.

Glenlyon took her in his arms,

And kiss’d her, cheek and chin;

Says, ‘I’d gie a’ these cows and ewes

But ae kind look to win.’--

VII

‘O ae kind look ye ne’er shall get,

Nor win a smile frae me,

Unless to me you’ll favour shew,

And take me to Dundee.’--

VIII

‘Dundee, Baby? Dundee, Baby?

Dundee you ne’er shall see

Till I’ve carried you to Glenlyon

And have my bride made thee.

‘We’ll stay a while at Auchingour,

And get sweet milk and cheese,

And syne we’ll gang to Glenlyon,

And there live at our ease.’--

‘I winna stay at Auchingour,

Nor eat sweet milk and cheese,

Nor go with thee to Glenlyon,

For there I’ll ne’er find ease.’

Then out it spake his brother John,

‘O were I in your place,

I’d take that lady hame again,

For a’ her bonny face.

XII

‘Commend me to the lass that’s kind,

Tho’ na so gently born;

And, gin her heart I coudna gain,

To take her hand I’d scorn.’--

XIII

‘O haud your tongue now, John,’ he says,

‘You wis na what you say;

For I have lo’ed that bonny face

This twelve month and a day.

XIV

‘And tho’ I’ve lo’ed her lang and sair,

A smile I ne’er cou’d win;

Yet what I’ve got ance in my power

To keep I think nae sin.’

When they came to Glenlyon Castle,

They lighted at the yate,

And out it came his sisters three,

Wha did them kindly greet.

XVI

O they’ve ta’en Baby by the hands

And led her o’er the green,

And ilka lady spake a word,

But bonny Baby spake nane.

XVII

Then out it spake her bonny Jean,

The youngest o’ the three;

‘O lady, dinna look sae sad,

But tell your grief to me.’--

XVIII

‘O wherefore should I tell my grief,

Since lax[1274] I canna find?

I’m stown frae a’ my kin and friends,

And my love I left behind.

XIX

‘But had I paper, pen, and ink,

Before that it were day,

I yet might get a letter sent

In time to Johny Hay.’

O she’s got paper, pen, and ink,

And candle that she might see,

And she has written a broad letter

To Johny at Dundee.

XXI

And she has gotten a bonny boy,

That was baith swift and strang,

Wi’ philabeg and bonnet blue,

Her errand for to gang.

XXII

‘O boy, gin ye’d my blessing win

And help me in my need,

Run wi’ this letter to my love,

And bid him come wi’ speed.

XXIII

‘And here’s a chain of good red gowd,

And gowden guineas three,

And when you’ve well your errand done,

You’ll get them for your fee.’

XXIV

The boy he ran o’er hill and dale,

Fast as a bird cou’d flee,

And ere the sun was twa hours height

The boy was at Dundee.

XXV

And when he came to Johny’s door

He knockèd loud and sair;

Then Johny to the window came,

And loudly cry’d, ‘Wha’s there?’--

XXVI

‘O here’s a letter I have brought,

Which ye maun quickly read,

And, gin ye wou’d your lady save,

Gang back wi’ me wi’ speed.’

XXVII

O when he had the letter read,

An angry man was he;

He says, ‘Glenlyon, thou shalt rue

This deed of villany!

XXVIII

‘Woe be to thee, Glenlyon!’ he says,

‘An ill death may thou dee!

Thou micht hae ta’en anither woman,

And let my lady be.

XXIX

‘O saddle to me the black, the black,

O saddle to me the brown,

O saddle to me the swiftest steed

That e’er rade frae the town.

XXX

‘And arm ye well, my merry men a’,

And follow me to the glen,

For I vow I’ll neither eat nor sleep

Till I get my love again.’

XXXI

He’s mounted on a milk-white steed,

The boy upon a gray,

And they got to Glenlyon’s castle

About the close of day.

XXXII

As Baby at her window stood,

The west wind saft did bla’;

She heard her Johny’s well-kent voice

Beneath the castle wa’.

XXXIII

‘O Baby, haste, the window jump!

I’ll kep you in my arm;

My merry men a’ are at the yate,

To rescue you frae harm.’

XXXIV

She’s to the window fixt her sheets

And slippèd safely down,

And Johny catch’d her in his arms,

Ne’er loot her touch the ground.

XXXV

She’s mounted on her Johny’s horse,

Fu’ blithely can she say,--

‘Glenlyon, you hae lost your bride!

She’s aff wi’ Johny Hay!’

XXXVI

Glenlyon and his brother John

Were birling in the ha’,

When they heard Johny’s bridle ring,

As fast he rade awa’.

XXXVII

‘Rise, Jock! gang out and meet the priest,

I hear his bridle ring!

My Baby now shall be my wife

Before the laverocks sing.’--

XXXVIII

‘O brother, this is not the priest;

I fear he’ll come owre late;

For armèd men with shining brands

Stand at the castle-yate.’--

XXXIX

‘Haste Donald, Duncan, Dugald, Hugh!

Haste, take your sword and spier!

We’ll gar these traytors rue the hour

That e’er they ventured here.’

The Highland men drew their claymores,

And gae a warlike shout,

But Johny’s merry men kept the yate,

Nae ane durst venture out.

XLI

The lovers rade the live-lang night,

And safe gat on their way,

And bonny Baby Livingston

Has gotten Johny Hay.

XLII

‘Awa’, Glenlyon! fy for shame!

Gae hide ye in some den!

You’ve latten your bride be stown frae you,

For a’ your armed men.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1273] row’d = wrapped.

[1274] lax = relief.

_148. The Gypsy Countess_

There cam’ seven Egyptians on a day,

And wow, but they sang bonny!

And they sang sae sweet, and sae very complete,

Down cam’ Earl Cassilis’ lady.

She cam’ tripping down the stair,

And a’ her maids before her;

As soon as they saw her weel-faur’d face

They cast the glamourie owre her.

III

They gave to her the nutmeg,

And they gave to her the ginger;

But she gave to them a far better thing,

The seven gold rings off her fingers.

And when the Earl he did come home,

Enquiring for his ladie,

One of the servants made this reply,

‘She’s awa’ with the gypsie laddie.’

‘Come saddle for me the brown,’ he said,

‘For the black was ne’er so speedy,

And I will travel night and day

Till I find out my wanton ladie.’

‘Will you come home, my dear?’ he said,

‘Oh will you come home, my honey?

And by the point of my broad sword,

A hand I’ll ne’er lay on you.’...

VII

‘Yestreen I rade this water deep,

And my own gude lord beside me;

But this night I maun wet my little pretty feet

With a wheen blackguards to wade me.

VIII

‘Yestreen I lay on a good feather-bed,

And my own wedded lord beyond me,

And to-night I’ll lie in the ash-corner,

With the gypsies all around me.

‘They took off my high-heeled shoes,

That were made of Spanish leather,

And I have put on coarse Lowland brogues,

To trip it o’er the heather.

‘The Earl of Cassilis is lying sick;

Not one hair I’m sorry;

I’d rather have a kiss from Johnny Faa’s lips

Than all his gold and his money.’

_149. The Baron of Brackley_

Inverey cam’ doun Deeside, whistlin’ and playin’;

He was at brave Brackley’s yates ere it was dawin’[1275].

Says, ‘Baron of Brackley, are ye within?

There’s sharp swords at your yate will gar your blood spin.

III

‘Open the yate, Brackley, let us within,

Till on the green turf we gar your blood spin.’

The lady rase up, to the window she went;

She heard the kye lowin’ o’er hill and o’er bent.

‘O rise up, John,’ she says, ‘turn back your kye;

They’re o’er the hills rinnin’, they’re skippin awye!’--

‘Come to bed, Peggie, and let the kye rin:

For were I to gang out, I’d never get in.

VII

‘For there is na gentlemen, nor yet pretty lads,

But a curn[1276] o’ hired widdifu’s[1277], wears belted plaids.’

VIII

Then she cry’d on her women, they quickly came ben:

‘Tak’ up your rocks, lasses, and fight a’ like men!

‘Tho’ I’m but a woman, to head you I’ll try,

Nor let these vile Hielandmen steal a’ our kye.’

Then up gat the Baron and cry’d for his graith[1278];

Says, ‘Lady, I’ll gang, tho’ to leave you I’m laith.

‘Come kiss me, my Peggie, and get me my gun;

For I well may gang out, but I’ll never win in.’

XII

When the Baron of Brackley he rade thro’ the close,

A gallanter gentleman ne’er mounted horse.

XIII

Tho’ there cam’ in with Inverey thirty and three,

There was nane wi’ bold Brackley but his brither and he.

XIV

Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw:

But against four and thirty, wae’s me, what was twa?

Wi’ swords and wi’ daggers they did him surround,

And they’ve pierced the bold Brackley wi’ mony a wound.

XVI

Frae the head o’ the Dee to the banks o’ the Spey

The Gordons may mourn him and ban Inverey.

XVII

‘O cam’ ye in by Brackley, and was ye in there?

Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving[1279] her hair?’--

XVIII

‘O I cam’ by Brackley, and I was in there,

But I saw-na his Peggy dear riving her hair.’--

XIX

‘O fye on ye, ladye! how could ye do sae?

You open’d your yate[1280] to the fause Inverey.’

She ate wi’ him, drank wi’ him, welcomed him in;

She’s welcomed the villain that slew her Baròn.

XXI

She kept him till morning, syne bade him be gane,

And show’d him the road that he wouldna be ta’en.

XXII

‘Thro’ Bires and Aboyne,’ she says, ‘lyin’ in a tour

O’er the hills o’ Glentanor ye’ll skip in an hour.’

XXIII

There is dule in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha’,

For the Baron of Brackley is dead and awa’.

XXIV

But and up spak’ the babe on his nourice’s knee--

‘Gin I live to be man, it’s revenged I will be.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1275] dawin’ = dawn.

[1276] curn = pack.

[1277] widdifu’s = gallows-birds, fit to fill a ‘widdie’ or halter.

[1278] graith = harness, arms.

[1279] riving = tearing.

[1280] yate = gate.

_150. The Dowie Houms of Yarrow_

Late at een, drinkin’ the wine,

And ere they paid the lawin’[1281],

They set a combat them between,

To fight it in the dawin’.

‘O stay at hame, my noble lord!

O stay at hame, my marrow[1282]!

My cruel brother will you betray,

On the dowie[1283] houms[1284] o’ Yarrow.’--

III

‘O fare ye weel, my lady gay!

O fare ye weel, my Sarah!

For I maun gae, tho’ I ne’er return

Frae the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’

She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,

As she had done before, O;

She belted on his noble brand,

An’ he’s awa to Yarrow.

O he’s gane up yon high, high hill--

I wat he gaed wi’ sorrow--

An’ in a den spied nine arm’d men,

I’ the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.

‘O are ye come to drink the wine,

As ye hae doon before, O?

Or are ye come to wield the brand,

On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow?’--

VII

‘I am no come to drink the wine,

As I hae done before, O,

But I am come to wield the brand,

On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’

VIII

Four he hurt an’ five he slew,

On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow,

Till that stubborn knight came him behind,

An’ ran his body thorrow.

‘Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John,

An’ tell your sister Sarah

To come an’ lift her noble lord,

Who’s sleepin’ sound on Yarrow.’

‘Yestreen I dream’d a dolefu’ dream;

I ken’d there wad be sorrow;

I dream’d I pu’d the heather green,

On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’

She gaed up yon high, high hill--

I wat she gaed wi’ sorrow--

An’ in a den spied nine dead men,

On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.

XII

She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,

As oft she did before, O;

She drank the red blood frae him ran,

On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.

XIII

‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,

For what needs a’ this sorrow?

I’ll wed you on a better lord

Than him you lost on Yarrow.’--

XIV

‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,

An’ dinna grieve your Sarah;

A better lord was never born

Than him I lost on Yarrow.

‘Tak hame your ousen[1285], tak hame your kye,

For they hae bred our sorrow;

I wiss that they had a’ gane mad

Whan they cam’ first to Yarrow.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1281] lawin’ = reckoning.

[1282] marrow = married mate.

[1283] dowie = doleful.

[1284] houms = water-meads.

[1285] ousen = oxen.

_151. Lord Maxwell’s Last Goodnight_

‘Adieu, madame, my mother dear,

But and my sisters three!

Adieu, fair Robert of Orchardstane!

My heart is wae for thee.

‘Adieu, the lily and the rose,

The primrose fair to see;

Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!

For I may not stay with thee.

III

‘Though I hae slain the Lord Johnstone,

What care I for their feid?

My noble mind does still incline--

He was my father’s deid[1286].

‘Both night and day I labour’d oft

Of him avenged to be;

But now I’ve got what lang I sought

And I may not stay with thee.

‘Adieu! Drumlanrig, false wert aye,

And Closeburn in a band!

The Laird of Lag, frae my father that fled,

When the Johnstone struck aff his hand.

‘They were three brethren in a band--

Joy may they never see!

Their treacherous art, and cowardly heart,

Has twined[1287] my love and me.

VII

‘Adieu! Dumfries, my proper place,

But and Carlaverock fair!

Adieu! my castle of the Thrieve,

Wi’ a’ my buildings there!

VIII

‘Adieu! Lochmaben’s gate sae fair,

And Langholm, where birks there be;

Adieu! my ladye, and only joy,

For I may not stay wi’ thee.

‘Adieu! Fair Eskdale up and down,

Where my puir friends do dwell;

The bangisters[1288] will ding them down,

And will them sair compell.

‘But I’ll avenge their feid mysell,

When I come o’er the sea;

Adieu! my ladye, and only joy

For I may not stay wi’ thee.’--

‘Lord of the land, will you go then

Unto my father’s place,

And walk into their gardens green,

And I will you embrace.

XII

‘There Hamiltons, and Douglas baith,

Shall rise to succour thee.’--

‘Thanks for thy kindness, fair my dame,

But I may not stay wi’ thee.’--

XIII

Then he tuik aff a gay gold ring,

Thereat hang signets three;

‘Hae, tak thee that, mine ain kind thing,

And still hae mind o’ me!

XIV

‘But if thou take another lord,

Ere I come ower the sea,

His life is but a three days’ lease,

Though I may not stay wi’ thee.’

The wind was fair, the ship was clear,

That good lord went away;

And most part of his friends were there,

To give him a fair convey.

XVI

They drank the wine, they didna spare

Even in that gude lord’s sight--

Sae now he’s o’er the floods sae gray,

And Lord Maxwell has ta’en his Goodnight.

FOOTNOTES:

[1286] my father’s deid = the death of my father.

[1287] twined = parted.

[1288] bangisters = lawless folk.

_152. Helen of Kirconnell_

I wish I were where Helen lies,

Night and day on me she cries;

O that I were where Helen lies,

On fair Kirconnell lea!

Curst be the heart that thought the thought,

And curst the hand that fired the shot,

When in my arms burd Helen dropt,

And died to succour me!

III

O think na ye my heart was sair,

When my Love dropp’d and spak nae mair!

There did she swoon wi’ meikle care,

On fair Kirconnell lea.

As I went down the water side,

None but my foe to be my guide,

On fair Kirconnell lea;

I lighted down my sword to draw,

I hackèd him in pieces sma’,

For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, beyond compare!

I’ll mak a garland o’ thy hair,

Shall bind my heart for evermair,

Until the day I dee!

VII

O that I were where Helen lies!

Night and day on me she cries;

Out of my bed she bids me rise,

Says, ‘Haste, and come to me!’

VIII

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!

If I were with thee, I’d be blest,

Where thou lies low and taks thy rest,

On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish my grave were growing green,

A winding-sheet drawn owre my een,

And I in Helen’s arms lying,

On fair Kirconnell lea.

I wish I were where Helen lies!

Night and day on me she cries;

And I am weary of the skies,

For her sake that died for me.

_153. The Lament of the Border Widow_

My love he built me a bonny bower,

And clad it a’ wi’ lilye flour;

A brawer bower ye ne’er did see,

Than my true love he built for me.

There came a man, by middle day,

He spied his sport, and went away;

And brought the King that very night,

Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.

III

He slew my knight, to me sae dear;

He slew my knight, and poin’d[1289] his gear;

My servants all for life did flee,

And left me in extremitie.

I sew’d his sheet, making my mane;

I watch’d the corpse, myself alane;

I watch’d his body, night and day;

No living creature came that way.

I took his body on my back,

And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;

I digg’d a grave, and laid him in,

And happ’d him with the sod sae green.

But think na ye my heart was sair,

When I laid the moul’ on his yellow hair;

O think na ye my heart was wae,

When I turn’d about, away to gae?

VII

Nae living man I’ll love again,

Since that my lovely knight is slain;

Wi’ ae lock of his yellow hair

I’ll chain my heart for evermair.

FOOTNOTES:

[1289] poin’d = made forfeit.