Volume 6 / Book 6 — BOOK VI. (continued 2)
Reading edition
17. Mettled John Hall, from the laigh Teviotdale, is perhaps John Hall of Newbigging, mentioned in the list of Border clans as one of the chief men of name residing on the Middle Marches in 1597.—S.
70. The gold twist means the small gilded chains drawn across the chest of a war-horse, as a part of his caparison.—S.
BILLIE ARCHIE.
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 335.
A North-Country version of the preceding ballad. There is another copy in Buchan's larger collection, i. 111, The Three Brothers.
"Seven years have I loved my love, And seven years my love's loved me, But now to-morrow is the day That Billie Archie, my love, must die." Out then spoke him Little Dickie,5 And still the best fellow was he; "Had I but five men and mysell, Then we would borrow Billie Archie." Out it spoke him Caff o' Lin, And still the worst fellow was he;10 "Ye shall have five men and yoursell, And I will bear you companie. "We will not go like to dragoons, Nor yet will we like grenadiers; But we will go like corn-dealers,15 And lay our brechams on our meares. "And twa of us will watch the road, And other twa between will gang, And I will go to jail-house door, And hold the prisoner unthought lang."20 "Wha is this at the jail-house door, Sa weel as they do ken the gin?" "It's I mysell," said him Little Dickie, "And O sae fain's I would be in!" "Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie,25 Awa, let all your folly be; If the Lord Lieutenant come on you, Like unto dogs he'll cause you die." "Hold you, hold you, Billy Archie, And now let all your folly be;30 Though I die without, you'll not die within, For borrowed shall your body be." "Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie, Awa, let all this folly be; An hundred pounds of Spanish irons35 Is all bound on my fair bodie." Wi' plough coulters and gavelocks They made the jail-house door to flee; "And in God's name," said Little Dickie, "Cast you the prisoner behind me."40 They had not rade a great way off, With all the haste that ever could be, Till they espied the Lord Lieutenant, With a hundred men in companie. But when they cam to wan water,45 It now was rumbling like the sea; Then were they got into a strait, As great a strait as well could be. Then out did speak him Caff o' Lin, And aye the warst fellow was he:50 "Now God be with my wife and bairns, For fatherless my babes will be. "My horse is young, he cannot swim; The water's deep, and will not wade; My children must be fatherless,55 My wife a widow, whate'er betide." O then cried out him Little Dickie, And still the best fellow was he: "Take you my mare, I'll take your horse, And Devil drown my mare and thee!"60 Now they have taken the wan water, Though it was roaring like the sea; And when they gat to the other side, I wat they bragged right crousilie. "Come thro', come thro', now, Lord Lieutenant, O do come thro', I pray of thee;65 There is an alehouse not far off, We'll dine you and your companie." "Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie, O now let all your taunting be;70 There's not a man in the king's army That would have tried what's done by thee. "Cast back, cast back my fetters again, Cast back my fetters, I say to thee; And get you gane the way you came,75 I wish no prisoners like to thee." "I have a mare, she's called Meg, The best in all our low countrie; If she gang barefoot till they're done, An ill death may your Lordship die."80
HOBIE NOBLE.
From Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 193.
"We have seen the hero of this ballad act a distinguished part in the deliverance of Jock o' the Side, and are now to learn the ungrateful return which the Armstrongs made him for his faithful services. Halbert, or Hobbie, Noble appears to have been one of those numerous English outlaws, who, being forced to fly their own country, had established themselves on the Scottish Borders. As Hobbie continued his depredations upon the English, they bribed some of his hosts, the Armstrongs, to decoy him into England under pretence of a predatory expedition. He was there delivered, by his treacherous companions, into the hands of the officers of justice, by whom he was conducted to Carlisle, and executed next morning. The Laird of Mangertoun, with whom Hobbie was in high favour, is said to have taken a severe revenge upon the traitors who betrayed him. The principal contriver of the scheme, called here Sim o' the Maynes, fled into England from the resentment of his chief; but experienced there the common fate of a traitor, being himself executed at Carlisle, about two months after Hobbie's death. Such is, at least, the tradition of Liddesdale. Sim o' the Maynes appears among the Armstrongs of Whitauch, in Liddesdale, in the list of Clans so often alluded to."—Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 90.
Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in! That Liddisdale 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 away. Now Hobie he was an English man, And born into Bewcastle dale;10 But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banish'd him to Liddisdale. At Kershope foot the tryst was set, Kershope of the lily lee; And there was traitour Sim o' the Mains,15 With him a private companie. Then Hobie has graith'd his body weel, I wat it was wi' baith good iron and steel; And he has pull'd out his fringed grey, And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel.20 Then Hobie is down the water gane, E'en as fast as he may drie; Tho' they shoud a' brusten and broken their hearts, Frae that tryst Noble he would not be. "Weel may ye be, my feiries five!25 And aye, what is your wills wi' me?" Then they cry'd a' wi' ae consent, "Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me. "Wilt thou with us in England ride, And thy safe warrand we will be?30 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; I know not what evil may betide,35 For Peter of Whitfield, his brother, is dead. "And Anton 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.40 "But will ye stay till the day gae down, Until the night come o'er the grund, And I'll be a guide worth ony twa That may in Liddisdale be fund. "Tho' dark the night as pick and tar,45 I'll guide ye o'er yon hills fu' hie, And bring ye a' in safety back, If you'll be true and follow me." He's guided them o'er moss and muir, O'er hill and houp, and mony a down;50 Til they came to the Foulbogshiel, And there, brave Noble, he lighted down. Then word is gane to the Land-sergeant, In Askirton where that he lay— "The deer that ye hae hunted lang55 Is seen into the Waste this day." "Then Hobie Noble is that deer! I wat he carries the style fu' hie; Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back, And set yourselves at little lee.60 "Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn, See they shaft their arrows on the wa'! Warn Willeva, and Spear Edom, And see the morn they meet me a'. "Gar meet me on the Rodrie-haugh,65 And see it be by break o' day; And we will on to Conscowthart-Green, For there, I think, we'll get our prey." Then Hobie Noble has dream'd a dream, In the Foulbogsheil where that he lay;70 He thought his horse was 'neath him shot, And he himself got hard away. The cocks could crow, and the day could dawn, And I wat so even down fell the rain; If Hobie had no waken'd at that time,75 In the Foulbogshiel he had been tane or slain. "Get up, get up, my feiries five! For I wat here makes a fu' ill day; And the warst cloak of this companie, I hope shall cross the Waste this day."80 Now Hobie 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. "Yet follow me, my feiries five,85 And see of me ye keep good ray; And the worst cloak of this companie I hope shall cross the Waste this day." There was heaps of men now Hobie before, And other heaps was him behind,90 That had he been as wight as Wallace was, Away brave Noble he could not win. Then Hobie he had but a laddies sword, But he did more than a laddies deed; In the midst of Conscouthart-Green,95 He brake it o'er Jersawigham's head. Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble, Wi' his ain bowstring they band him sae; And I wat heart was ne'er sae sair, As when his ain five band him on the brae.100 They have tane him for West Carlisle; They ask'd him if he knew the way; Whate'er he thought, yet little he said; He knew the way as well as they. They hae tane him up the Ricker-gate;105 The wives they cast their windows wide, And ilka wife to anither can say, "That's the man loos'd Jock o' the Side!" "Fy on ye, women! why ca' ye me man? For it's nae man that I'm used like;110 I'm but like a forfoughen hound, Has been fighting in a dirty syke." Then they hae tane him up thro' Carlisle town, And set him by the chimney fire; They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat,115 And that was little his desire. Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eat And after that a can o' beer; Then they cried a', wi' ae consent, "Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer.120 "Confess my lord's horse, Hobie," they say, "And the morn in Carlisle thou's no die;" "How shall I confess them?" Hobie says, "For I never saw them with mine eye." Then Hobie has sworn a fu' great aith—125 By the day that he was gotten or born, He never had onything o' my lord's, That either eat him grass or corn. "Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton! For I think again I'll ne'er thee see:130 I wad betray nae lad alive, For a' the goud in Christentie. "And fare thee weel, now Liddisdale, Baith the hie land and the law! Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains!135 For goud and gear he'll sell ye a'. "I'd rather be ca'd Hobie Noble, In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut, Before I were ca'd traitor Mains, That eats and drinks of meal and maut."140
13. Kershope-burn, where Hobbie met his treacherous companions, falls into the Liddel, from the English side, at a place called Turnersholm, where, according to tradition, tourneys and games of chivalry were often solemnized.—S.
15. The Mains was anciently a Border-keep, near Castletown, on the north side of the Liddel, but is now totally demolished.—S.
38. For twa drifts of his sheep I gat.—P. M.
39. Whitfield is explained by Mr. Ellis of Otterbourne to be a large and rather wild manorial district in the extreme southwest part of Northumberland; the proprietor of which might be naturally called the Lord, though not Earl of Whitfield. I suspect, however, that the reciters may have corrupted the great Ralph Whitfield into Earl of Whitfield. Sir Matthew Whitfield of Whitfield, was Sheriff of Northumberland in 1433, and the estate continued in the family from the reign of Richard II. till about fifty years since.—S.
54. Askerton is an old castle, now ruinous, situated in the wilds of Cumberland, about seventeen miles north-east of Carlisle, amidst that mountainous and desolate tract of country bordering upon Liddesdale, emphatically termed the Waste of Bewcastle.—S.
63-67. Willeva and Speir Edom are small districts in Bewcastledale, through which also the Hartlie-burn takes its course. Conscouthart-Green, and Rodrie-haugh, and the Foulbogshiel, are the names of places in the same wilds, through which the Scottish plunderers generally made their raids upon England.—S.
79, 87. clock.
105. A street in Carlisle.
129. Of the Castle of Mangertoun, so often mentioned in these ballads, there are very few vestiges. It was situated on the banks of the Liddell, below Castletoun.—S.
JAMIE TELFER OF THE FAIR DODHEAD.
From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 3.
"There is another ballad, under the same title as the following, in which nearly the same incidents are narrated, with little difference, except that the honour of rescuing the cattle is attributed to the Liddesdale Elliots, headed by a chief, there called Martin Elliot of the Preakin Tower, whose son, Simon, is said to have fallen in the action. It is very possible, that both the Teviotdale Scotts, and the Elliots, were engaged in the affair, and that each claimed the honour of the victory.
"The Editor presumes, that the Willie Scott, here mentioned, must have been a natural son of the Laird of Buccleuch."—S.
It fell about the Martinmas tyde, When our Border steeds get corn and hay, The Captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde, And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey. The first ae guide that they met wi',5 It was high up in Hardhaughswire; The second guide that they met wi', It was laigh down in Borthwick water. "What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?" "Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee;10 But gin ye'll gae to the fair Dodhead, Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see." And when they cam to the fair Dodhead, Right hastily they clam the peel; They loosed the kye out, ane and a',15 And ranshackled the house right weel. Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair, The tear aye rowing in his ee; He pled wi' the Captain to hae his gear, Or else revenged he wad be.20 The Captain turned him round and leugh; Said—"Man, there's naething in thy house, But ae auld sword without a sheath, That hardly now would fell a mouse." The sun wasna up, but the moon was down,25 It was the gryming of a new-fa'n snaw, Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot, Between the Dodhead and the Stobs's Ha'. And when he cam to the fair tower yate, He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,30 Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot— "Whae's this that brings the fraye to me?" "It's I, Jamie Telfer, o' the fair Dodhead, And a harried man I think I be; There's naething left at the fair Dodhead,35 But a waefu' wife and bairnies three." "Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha', For succour ye'se get nane frae me; Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail, For, man, ye ne'er paid money to me."40 Jamie has turned him round about, I wat the tear blinded his ee— "I'll ne'er pay mail to Elliot again, And the fair Dodhead I'll never see! "My hounds may a' rin masterless,45 My hawks may fly frae tree to tree, My lord may grip my vassal lands, For there again maun I never be!" He has turn'd him to the Tiviot side, E'en as fast as he could drie,50 Till he cam to the Coultart Cleugh, And there he shouted baith loud and hie. Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve— "Whae's this that brings the fraye to me?" "It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,55 A harried man I trow I be. "There's naething left in the fair Dodhead, But a greeting wife and bairnies three, And sax poor ca's stand in the sta', A' routing loud for their minnie."60 "Alack a wae!" quo' auld Jock Grieve, "Alack, my heart is sair for thee! For I was married on the elder sister, And you on the youngest of a' the three." Then he has ta'en out a bonny black,65 Was right weel fed with corn and hay, And he's set Jamie Telfer on his back, To the Catslockhill to tak the fraye. And whan he cam to the Catslockhill, He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,70 Till out and spak him William's Wat— "O whae's this brings the fraye to me?" "It's I, Jamie Telfer of the fair Dodhead, A harried man I think I be; The Captain of Bewcastle has driven my gear;75 For God's sake rise, and succour me!" "Alas for wae!" quoth William's Wat, "Alack, for thee my heart is sair! I never cam by the fair Dodhead, That ever I fand thy basket bare."80 He's set his twa sons on coal-black steeds, Himsell upon a freckled gray, And they are on wi' Jamie Telfer, To Branksome Ha' to tak the fraye. And when they cam to Branksome Ha',85 They shouted a' baith loud and hie, Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch, Said—"Whae's this brings the fraye to me?" "It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead, And a harried man I think I be;90 There's nought left in the fair Dodhead, But a greeting wife and bairnies three." "Alack for wae!" quoth the gude auld lord, "And ever my heart is wae for thee! But fye, gar cry on Willie, my son,95 And see that he come to me speedilie. "Gar warn the water, braid and wide, Gar warn it sune and hastilie; They that winna ride for Telfer's kye, Let them never look in the face o' me!100 "Warn Wat o' Harden, and his sons, Wi' them will Borthwick Water ride; Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh, And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside. "Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire,105 And warn the Currors o' the Lee; As ye cum down the Hermitage Slack, Warn doughty Willie o' Gorrinberry." The Scotts they rade, the Scotts they ran, Sae starkly and sae steadilie,110 And aye the ower-word o' the thrang Was—"Rise for Branksome readilie!" The gear was driven the Frostylee up, Frae the Frostylee unto the plain, Whan Willie has look'd his men before,115 And saw the kye right fast drivand. "Whae drives thir kye?" gan Willie say, "To make an outspeckle o' me?" "It's I, the Captain o' Bewcastle, Willie; I winna layne my name for thee."120 "O will ye let Telfer's kye gae back? Or will ye do aught for regard o' me? Or, by the faith of my body," quo' Willie Scott, "I'se ware my dame's cauf skin on thee." "I winna let the kye gae back,125 Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear; But I will drive Jamie Telfer's kye, In spite of every Scott that's here." "Set on them, lads!" quo' Willie than; "Fye, lads, set on them cruellie!130 For ere they win to the Ritterford, Mony a toom saddle there sall be!" Then til't they gaed, wi' heart and hand, The blows fell thick as bickering hail; And mony a horse ran masterless,135 And mony a comely cheek was pale. But Willie was stricken ower the head, And thro' the knapscap the sword has gane; And Harden grat for very rage, Whan Willie on the grund lay slane.140 But he's ta'en aff his gude steel cap, And thrice he's waved it in the air; The Dinlay snaw was ne'er mair white Nor the lyart locks of Harden's hair. "Revenge! revenge!" auld Wat 'gan cry;145 "Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie! We'll ne'er see Tiviotside again, Or Willie's death revenged sall be." O mony a horse ran masterless, The splinter'd lances flew on hie;150 But or they wan ta the Kershope ford, The Scotts had gotten the victory. John o' Brigham there was slane, And John o' Barlow, as I heard say; And thirty mae o' the Captain's men155 Lay bleeding on the grund that day. The Captain was run through the thick of the thigh, And broken was his right leg bane; If he had lived this hundred years, He had never been loved by woman again.160 "Hae back the kye!" the Captain said; "Dear kye, I trow, to some they be; For gin I suld live a hundred years, There will ne'er fair lady smile on me." Then word is gane to the Captain's bride,165 Even in the bower where that she lay, That her lord was prisoner in enemy's land, Since into Tividale he had led the way. "I wad lourd have had a winding-sheet, And helped to put it ower his head,170 Ere he had been disgraced by the Border Scot, Whan he ower Liddel his men did lead!" There was a wild gallant amang us a', His name was Watty wi' the Wudspurs, Cried—"On for his house in Stanegirthside,175 If ony man will ride with us!" When they cam to the Stanegirthside, They dang wi' trees, and burst the door; They loosed out a' the Captain's kye, And set them forth our lads before.180 There was an auld wyfe ayont the fire, A wee bit o' the Captain's kin— "Whae dar loose out the Captain's kye, Or answer to him and his men?" "It's I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye,185 I winna layne my name frae thee; And I will loose out the Captain's kye, In scorn of a' his men and he." Whan they cam to the fair Dodhead, They were a wellcum sight to see;190 For instead of his ain ten milk kye, Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three. And he has paid the rescue shot, Baith wi' goud and white monie; And at the burial o' Willie Scott,195 I wat was mony a weeping ee.
6-8. Hardhaughswire is the pass from Liddesdale to the head of Teviotdale. Borthwick water is a stream which falls into the Teviot three miles above Hawick.—S.
11. The Dodhead, in Selkirkshire, near Singlee, where there are still the vestiges of an old tower.—S.
28. Stobs Hall, upon Slitterick, the seat of Sir William, of that clan. Jamie Telfer made his first application here, because he seems to have paid the proprietor of the castle black-mail, or protection money.—S.
37. The ancient family-seat of the Lairds of Buccleuch, near Hawick.—S.
45-48. See Young Beichan, vol. iv. p. 3.
51. The Coultart Cleugh is nearly opposite to Carlinrig, on the road between Hawick and Mosspaul.—S.
97. The water, in the mountainous districts of Scotland, is often used to express the banks of the river, which are the only inhabitable parts of the country. To raise the water, therefore, was to alarm those who lived along its side.—S.
101. The estates, mentioned in this verse, belonged to families of the name of Scott, residing upon the waters of Borthwick and Teviot, near the castle of their chief.—S.
105. The pursuers seem to have taken the road through the hills of Liddesdale, in order to collect forces, and intercept the forayers at the passage of the Liddel, on their return to Bewcastle. The Ritterford and Kershope-ford, after-mentioned, are noted fords on the river Liddel.—S.
113. The Frostylee is a brook, which joins the Teviot, near Mosspaul.—S.
143. The Dinlay is a mountain in Liddesdale.—S.
153. Perhaps one of the ancient family of Brougham, in Cumberland. The Editor has used some freedom with the original in the subsequent verse. The account of the Captain's disaster is rather too naïve for literal publication.—S.
175. A house belonging to the Foresters, situated on the English side of the Liddel.—S.
196. An article in the list of attempts upon England, fouled by the Commissioners at Berwick, in the year 1587, may relate to the subject of the foregoing ballad.
October, 1582.
Thomas Musgrave, deputy of Bewcastle, and the tenants, against { Walter Scott, Laird of Buckluth, and his complices; for } 200 kine and oxen, 300 gait and sheep.
Introduction to the History of Westmoreland and Cumberland, p. 31.—S.
THE FRAY OF SUPORT.
From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 124.
"Of all the Border ditties which have fallen into the Editor's hands, this is by far the most uncouth and savage. It is usually chanted in a sort of wild recitative, except the burden, which swells into a long and varied howl, not unlike to a view hollo'. The words, and the very great irregularity of the stanza (if it deserves the name) sufficiently point out its intention and origin. An English woman, residing in Suport, near the foot of the Kers-hope, having been plundered in the night by a band of the Scottish moss-troopers, is supposed to convoke her servants and friends for the pursuit, or Hot Trod; upbraiding them, at the same time, in homely phrase, for their negligence and security. The Hot Trod was followed by the persons who had lost goods, with blood-hounds and horns, to raise the country to help. They also used to carry a burning wisp of straw at a spear head, and to raise a cry, similar to the Indian war-whoop. It appears, from articles made by the Wardens of the English Marches, September 12th, in 6th of Edward VI., that all, on this cry being raised, were obliged to follow the fray, or chase, under pain of death. With these explanations, the general purport of the ballad may be easily discovered, though particular passages have become inexplicable, probably through corruptions introduced by reciters. The present text is collected from four copies, which differed widely from each other."—S.
Sleep'ry Sim of the Lamb-hill, And snoring Jock of Suport-mill, Ye are baith right het and fou'; But my wae wakens na you. Last night I saw a sorry sight—5 Nought left me o' four-and-twenty gude ousen and ky, My weel-ridden gelding, and a white quey, But a toom byre and a wide, And the twelve nogs on ilka side. Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',10 My gear's a' gane. Weel may ye ken, Last night I was right scarce o' men: But Toppet Hob o' the Mains had guesten'd in my house by chance; I set him to wear the fore-door wi' the speir, while I kept the back-door wi' the lance;15 But they hae run him thro' the thick o' the thie, and broke his knee-pan, And the mergh o' his shin-bane has run down on his spur-leather whang: He's lame while he lives, and where'er he may gang. Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' gane.20 But Peenye, my gude son, is out at the Hagbut-head, His een glittering for anger like a fiery gleed; Crying—"Mak sure the nooks Of Maky's-muir crooks; For the wily Scot takes by nooks, hooks, and crooks.25 Gin we meet a' together in a head the morn, We'll be merry men." Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' gane. There's doughty Cuddy in the Heugh-head,30 Thou was aye gude at a need; With thy brock-skin bag at thy belt, Aye ready to mak a puir man help. Thou maun awa' out to the Cauf-craigs, (Where anes ye lost your ain twa naigs,)35 And there toom thy brock-skin bag. Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en. Doughty Dan o' the Houlet Hirst, Thou was aye gude at a birst;40 Gude wi' a bow, and better wi' a speir, The bauldest March-man that e'er follow'd gear: Come thou here. Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' gane.45 Rise, ye carle coopers, frae making o' kirns and tubs, In the Nicol forest woods. Your craft hasna left the value of an oak rod, But if you had ony fear o' God, Last night ye hadna slept sae sound,50 And let my gear be a' ta'en. Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en. Ah! lads, we'll fang them a' in a net, For I hae a' the fords o' Liddel set;55 The Dunkin and the Door-loup, The Willie-ford, and the Water-slack, The Black-rack and the Trout-dub of Liddel. There stands John Forster, wi' five men at his back, Wi bufft coat and cap of steil.60 Boo! ca' at them e'en, Jock; That ford's sicker, I wat weil. Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en. Hoo! hoo! gar raise the Reid Souter, and Ringan's Wat,65 Wi' a broad elshin and a wicker; I wat weil they'll mak a ford sicker. Sae, whether they be Elliots or Armstrangs, Or rough-riding Scots, or rude Johnstones, Or whether they be frae the Tarras or Ewsdale,70 They maun turn and fight, or try the deeps o' Liddel. Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en. "Ah! but they will play ye anither jigg, For they will out at the big rig,75 And thro' at Fargy Grame's gap." But I hae another wile for that: For I hae little Will, and Stalwart Wat, And lang Aicky, in the Souter Moor, Wi' his sleuth-dog sits in his watch right sure.80 Shou'd the dog gie a bark, He'll be out in his sark, And die or won. Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en.85 Ha! boys!—I see a party appearing—wha's yon? Methinks it's the Captain of Bewcastle, and Jephtha's John, Coming down by the foul steps of Catlowdie's loan: They'll make a' sicker, come which way they will. Ha, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',90 My gear's a' ta'en. Captain Musgrave, and a' his band, Are coming down by the Siller-strand, And the Muckle toun-bell o' Carlisle is rung: My gear was a' weel won,95 And before it's carried o'er the Border, mony a man's gae down. Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' gane.
32. The badger-skin pouch was used for carrying ammunition.—S.
47. A wood in Cumberland, in which Suport is situated.—S.
76. Fergus Grame of Sowport, as one of the chief men of that clan, became security to Lord Scroope for the good behaviour of his friends and dependents, 8th January, 1662.—Introduction to History of Westmoreland and Cumberland, p. 111.—S.
87-8. According to the late Glenriddel's notes on this ballad, the office of Captain Bewcastle was held by the chief of the Nixons. Catlowdie is a small village in Cumberland, near the junction of the Esk and Liddel.—S.
92. This was probably the famous Captain Jack Musgrave, who had charge of the watch along the Cryssop, or Kershope, as appears from the order of the watches appointed by Lord Wharton, when Deputy-Warden-General, in the 6th Edward VI.—S.
ROOKHOPE RYDE.
"A Bishopric Border song, composed in 1569, taken down from the chanting of George Collingwood the elder, late of Boltsburn, in the neighbourhood of Ryhope, who was interred at Stanhope, the 16th December, 1785.
"Rookhope is the name of a valley about five miles in length; at the termination of which, Rookhope burn empties itself into the river Wear, and is in the north part of the parish of Stanhope, in Weardale. Rookhope-head is the top of the vale."—Ritson.
The date of the event, says Sir W. Scott, is precisely ascertained to be (not 1569 but) the 6th of December, 1572, when the Tynedale robbers were encouraged to make a foray into Weardale in consequence of the confusion occasioned by the rebellion of Westmoreland and Northumberland.
From Ritson's Bishopric Garland (p. 54), with one or two slight verbal improvements from the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 101.
Rookhope stands in a pleasant place, If the false thieves wad let it be, But away they steal our goods apace, And ever an ill death may they dee! And so is the men of Thirlwall and Willie-haver,5 And all their companies thereabout, That is minded to do mischief, And at their stealing stands not out. But yet we will not slander them all, For there is of them good enow;10 It is a sore consumed tree That on it bears not one fresh bough. Lord God! is not this a pitiful case, That men dare not drive their goods to the fell, But limmer thieves drives them away,15 That fears neither heaven nor hell? Lord, send us peace into the realm, That every man may live on his own! I trust to God, if it be his will, That Weardale men may never be overthrown.20 For great troubles they've had in hand, With borderers pricking hither and thither, But the greatest fray that e'er they had, Was with the men of Thirlwall and Willie-haver. They gather'd together so royally,25 The stoutest men and the best in gear; And he that rade not on a horse, I wat he rade on a weel-fed mear. So in the morning, before they came out, So weel I wot they broke their fast;30 In the [forenoon they came] unto a bye fell, Where some of them did eat their last. When they had eaten aye and done, They say'd some captains here needs must be: Then they choosed forth Harry Corbyl,35 And 'Symon Fell,' and Martin Ridley. Then o'er the moss, where as they came, With many a brank and whew, One of them could to another say, "I think this day we are men enew.40 "For Weardale-men is a journey ta'en; They are so far out o'er yon fell, That some of them's with the two earls, And others fast in Bernard castell. "There we shall get gear enough,45 For there is nane but women at hame; The sorrowful fend that they can make, Is loudly cries as they were slain." Then in at Rookhope-head they came, And there they thought tul a had their prey,50 But they were spy'd coming over the Dry-rig, Soon upon Saint Nicolas' day. Then in at Rookhope-head they came, They ran the forest but a mile; They gather'd together in four hours55 Six hundred sheep within a while. And horses I trow they gat, But either ane or twa, And they gat them all but ane That belang'd to great Rowley.60 That Rowley was the first man that did them spy, With that he raised a mighty cry; The cry it came down Rookhope burn, And spread through Weardale hasteyly. Then word came to the bailiff's house65 At the East-gate, where he did dwell; He was walk'd out to the Smale-burns, Which stands above the Hanging-well. His wife was wae when she heard tell, So weel she wist her husband wanted gear;70 She gar'd saddle him his horse in haste, And neither forgot sword, jack, nor spear. The bailiff got wit before his gear came, That such news was in the land, He was sore troubled in his heart,75 That on no earth that he could stand. His brother was hurt three days before, With limmer thieves that did him prick; Nineteen bloody wounds lay him upon, What ferly was't that he lay sick?80 But yet the bailiff shrinked nought, But fast after them he did hye, And so did all his neighbours near, That went to bear him company. But when the bailiff was gathered,85 And all his company, They were numbered to never a man But forty under fifty. The thieves was numbered a hundred men, I wat they were not of the worst90 That could be choosed out of Thirlwall and Willie-haver, [I trow they were the very first.] But all that was in Rookhope-head, And all that was i' Nuketon-cleugh, Where Weardale-men o'ertook the thieves,95 And there they gave them fighting eneugh. So sore they made them fain to flee, As many was 'a'' out of hand, And, for tul have been at home again, They would have been in iron bands.100 And for the space of long seven years As sore they mighten a' had their lives, But there was never one of them That ever thought to have seen their 'wives.' About the time the fray began,105 I trow it lasted but an hour, Till many a man lay weaponless, And was sore wounded in that stour. Also before that hour was done, Four of the thieves were slain,110 Besides all those that wounded were, And eleven prisoners there was ta'en. George Carrick, and his brother Edie, Them two, I wot they were both slain; Harry Corbyl, and Lennie Carrick,115 Bore them company in their pain. One of our Weardale-men was slain, Rowland Emerson his name hight; I trust to God his soul is well, Because he 'fought' unto the right.120 But thus they say'd, "We'll not depart While we have one:—speed back again!" And when they came amongst the dead men, There they found George Carrick slain. And when they found George Carrick slain,125 I wot it went well near their 'heart;' Lord, let them never make a better end, That comes to play them sicken a 'part.' I trust to God, no more they shall, Except it be one for a great chance;130 For God will punish all those With a great heavy pestilence. Thir limmer thieves, they have good hearts, They nevir think to be o'erthrown; Three banners against Weardale-men they bare,135 As if the world had been all their own. Thir Weardale-men, they have good hearts, They are as stiff as any tree; For, if they'd every one been slain, Never a foot back man would flee.140 And such a storm amongst them fell As I think you never heard the like, For he that bears his head so high, He oft-times falls into the dyke. And now I do entreat you all,145 As many as are present here. To pray for [the] singer of this song, For he sings to make blithe your cheer.
5. Thirlwall, or Thirlitwall, is said by Fordun, the Scottish historian, to be a name given to the Picts' or Roman wall, from its having been thirled, or perforated, in ancient times, by the Scots and Picts.
Willie-haver, or Willeva, is a small district or township in the parish of Lanercost, near Bewcastledale, in Cumberland, mentioned in the ballad of Hobie Noble.—Ritson.
31. This would be about eleven o'clock, the usual dinner-hour in that period.—Ritson.
43. The two Earls were Thomas Percy, Earl of Northumberland, and Charles Nevil, Earl of Westmoreland, who, on the 15th of November, 1569, at the head of their tenantry and others, took arms for the purpose of liberating Mary, Queen of Scots, and restoring the old religion. They besieged Barnard castle, which was, for eleven days, stoutly defended by Sir George Bowes, who, afterward, being appointed the Queen's marshal, hanged the poor constables and peasantry by dozens in a day, to the amount of 800. The Earl of Northumberland, betrayed by the Scots, with whom he had taken refuge, was beheaded at York, on the 22d of August, 1572; and the Earl of Westmoreland, deprived of the ancient and noble patrimony of the Nevils, and reduced to beggary, escaped over sea, into Flanders, and died in misery and disgrace, being the last of his family.—Ritson. See The Rising in the North and Northumberland betrayed by Douglas.
48. This is still the phraseology of Westmoreland: a poorly man, a softly day, and the like.—Ritson.
52. The 6th of December.
66. Now a straggling village so called; originally, it would seem, the gate-house, or ranger's lodge, at the east entrance of Stanhope-park. At some distance from this place is Westgate, so called for a similar reason.—Ritson.
The mention of the bailiff's house at the East-gate is (were such a proof wanting) strongly indicative of the authenticity of the ballad. The family of Emerson of East-gate, a fief, if I may so call it, held under the bishop, long exercised the office of bailiff of Wolsingham, the chief town and borough of Weardale, and of Forster, &c., under successive prelates.—Surtees.
68. A place in the neighbourhood of East-gate, known at present, as well as the Dry-rig, or Smale-burns.—Ritson.
92. The reciter, from his advanced age, could not recollect the original line thus imperfectly supplied.—Ritson.
THE RAID OF THE REIDSWIRE.
From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 15.
This ballad is preserved in the Bannatyne MS., and was first printed in Ramsay's Evergreen, ii. 224. Scott informs us that Ramsay took some liberties with the original text, and even interpolated the manuscript to favor his readings. A more accurate copy was given in the Border Minstrelsy. The text in Herd's Scottish Songs, i. 91, and Caw's Museum, p. 235, is that of the Evergreen.
"The skirmish of the Reidswire happened upon the 7th of June, 1575, at one of the meetings held by the Wardens of the Marches, for arrangements necessary upon the Border. Sir John Carmichael was the Scottish Warden, and Sir John Forster held that office on the English Middle March. In the course of the day, which was employed as usual in redressing wrongs, a bill, or indictment, at the instance of a Scottish complainer, was fouled (i. e. found a true bill) against one Farnstein, a notorious English freebooter. Forster alleged that he had fled from justice. Carmichael, considering this as a pretext to avoid making compensation for the felony, bade him "play fair!" to which the haughty English warden retorted, by some injurious expressions respecting Carmichael's family, and gave other open signs of resentment. His retinue, chiefly men of Redesdale and Tynedale, the most ferocious of the English Borderers, glad of any pretext for a quarrel, discharged a flight of arrows among the Scots. A warm conflict ensued, in which, Carmichael being beat down and made prisoner, success seemed at first to incline to the English side, till the Tynedale men, throwing themselves too greedily upon the plunder, fell into disorder; and a body of Jedburgh citizens arriving at that instant, the skirmish terminated in a complete victory on the part of the Scots, who took prisoners, the English warden, James Ogle, Cuthbert Collingwood, Francis Russell, son to the Earl of Bedford, and son-in-law to Forster, some of the Fenwicks, and several other Border chiefs. They were sent to the Earl of Morton, then Regent, who detained them at Dalkeith for some days, till the heat of their resentment was abated; which prudent precaution prevented a war betwixt the two kingdoms. He then dismissed them with great expressions of regard; and, to satisfy Queen Elizabeth, sent Carmichael to York, whence he was soon after honourably dismissed. The field of battle, called the Reidswire, is a part of the Carter Mountain, about ten miles from Jedburgh."—Scott.
The seventh of July, the suith to say, At the Reidswire the tryst was set; Our wardens they affixed the day, And, as they promised, so they met. Alas! that day I'll ne'er forgett!5 Was sure sae feard, and then sae faine— They came theare justice for to gett, Will never green to come again. Carmichael was our warden then, He caused the country to conveen;10 And the Laird's Wat, that worthie man, Brought in that sirname weil beseen: The Armestranges, that aye hae been A hardy house, but not a hail, The Elliots' honours to maintaine,15 Brought down the lave o' Liddesdale. Then Tividale came to wi' spied; The Sheriffe brought the Douglas down, Wi' Cranstane, Gladstain, good at need, Baith Rewle water, and Hawick town.20 Beanjeddart bauldly made him boun, Wi' a' the Trumbills, stronge and stout; The Rutherfoords, with grit renown, Convoy'd the town of Jedbrugh out. Of other clans I cannot tell,25 Because our warning was not wide— Be this our folks hae ta'en the fell, And planted down palliones, there to bide, We looked down the other side, And saw come breasting ower the brae,30 Wi' Sir John Forster for their guyde, Full fifteen hundred men and mae. It grieved him sair that day, I trow, Wi' Sir George Hearoune of Schipsydehouse; Because we were not men enow,35 They counted us not worth a louse. Sir George was gentle, meek, and douse, But he was hail and het as fire; And yet, for all his cracking crouse, He rewd the raid o' the Reidswire.40 To deal with proud men is but pain; For either must ye fight or flee, Or else no answer make again, But play the beast, and let them be. It was na wonder he was hie,45 Had Tindaill, Reedsdaill, at his hand, Wi' Cukdaill, Gladsdaill on the lee, And Hebsrime, and Northumberland. Yett was our meeting meek eneugh, Begun wi' merriment and mowes,50 And at the brae, aboon the heugh, The clark sat down to call the rowes. And some for kyne, and some for ewes, Call'd in of Dandrie, Hob, and Jock— We saw, come marching ower the knows,55 Five hundred Fennicks in a flock,— With jack and speir, and bows all bent, And warlike weapons at their will: Although we were na weel content, Yet, by my troth, we fear'd no ill.60 Some gaed to drink, and some stude still, And some to cards and dice them sped; Till on ane Farnstein they fyled a bill, And he was fugitive and fled. Carmichaell bade them speik out plainlie,65 And cloke no cause for ill nor good; The other, answering him as vainlie, Began to reckon kin and blood: He raise, and raxed him where he stood, And bade him match him with his marrows;70 Then Tindaill heard them reasun rude, And they loot off a flight of arrows. Then was there nought but bow and speir, And every man pull'd out a brand; "A Schafton and a Fenwick" thare:75 Gude Symington was slain frae hand. The Scotsmen cried on other to stand, Frae time they saw John Robson slain— What should they cry? the King's command Could cause no cowards turn again.80 Up rose the laird to red the cumber, Which would not be for all his boast; What could we doe with sic a number— Fyve thousand men into a host? Then Henry Purdie proved his cost,85 And very narrowlie had mischief'd him, And there we had our warden lost, Wert not the grit God he relieved him. Another throw the breiks him bair, Whill flatlies to the ground he fell:90 Than thought I weel we had lost him there, Into my stomack it struck a knell! Yet up he raise, the treuth to tell ye, And laid about him dints full dour; His horsemen they raid sturdily,95 And stude about him in the stoure. Then raise the slogan with ane shout— "Fy, Tindaill, to it! Jedburgh's here!" I trow he was not half sae stout, But anis his stomach was asteir.100 With gun and genzie, bow and speir, Men might see mony a cracked crown! But up amang the merchant geir, They were as busy as we were down. The swallow taill frae tackles flew,105 Five hundredth flain into a flight: But we had pestelets enew, And shot among them as we might. With help of God the game gaed right, Fra time the foremost of them fell;110 Then ower the know, without goodnight, They ran with mony a shout and yell. But after they had turned backs, Yet Tindail men they turn'd again, And had not been the merchant packs,115 There had been mae of Scotland slain. But, Jesu! if the folks were fain To put the bussing on their thies; And so they fled, wi' a' their main, Down ower the brae, like clogged bees.120 Sir Francis Russell ta'en was there, And hurt, as we hear men rehearse; Proud Wallinton was wounded sair, Albeit he be a Fennick fierce. But if ye wald a souldier search,125 Among them a' were ta'en that night, Was nane sae wordie to put in verse, As Collingwood, that courteous knight. Young Henry Schafton, he is hurt; A souldier shot him wi' a bow;130 Scotland has cause to mak great sturt, For laiming of the Laird of Mow. The Laird's Wat did weel indeed; His friends stood stoutlie by himsell, With little Gladstain, gude in need,135 For Gretein kend na gude be ill. The Sheriffe wanted not gude will, Howbeit he might not fight so fast; Beanjeddart, Hundlie, and Hunthill, Three, on they laid weel at the last.140 Except the horsemen of the guard, If I could put men to availe, None stoutlier stood out for their laird, Nor did the lads of Liddisdail. But little harness had we there;145 But auld Badreule had on a jack, And did right weel, I you declare, With all his Trumbills at his back. Gude Edderstane was not to lack, Nor Kirktoun, Newton, noble men!150 Thir's all the specials I of speake, By others that I could not ken. Who did invent that day of play, We need not fear to find him soon; For Sir John Forster, I dare well say,155 Made us this noisome afternoon. Not that I speak preceislie out, That he supposed it would be perril; But pride, and breaking out of feuid, Garr'd Tindaill lads begin the quarrel.160
2. Swire signifies the descent of a hill, and the epithet Red is derived from the color of the heath, or perhaps, from the Reid-water, which rises at no great distance.—S.
11. The Laird's Wat is perhaps the young Buccleuch, who, about twenty years after this raid, performed the great exploit of rescuing Kinmont Willie from Carlisle Castle.—S.
14. This clan are here mentioned as not being hail, or whole, because they were outlawed or broken men. Indeed, many of them had become Englishmen, as the phrase then went. There was an old alliance betwixt the Elliots and Armstrongs, here alluded to.—S.
18. Douglas of Cavers, hereditary Sheriff of Teviotdale, descended from Black Archibald, who carried the standard of his father, the Earl of Douglas, at the battle of Otterbourne.—See the ballad of that name.—S.
24. These were ancient and powerful clans, residing chiefly upon the river Jed. Hence, they naturally convoyed the town of Jedburgh out. The following fragment of an old ballad is quoted in a letter from an aged gentleman of this name, residing at New York, to a friend in Scotland:—
"Bauld Rutherfurd, he was fou stout, Wi' a' his nine sons him round about; He led the town o' Jedburgh out, All bravely fought that day."—S.
31. Sir John Forster, or, more properly, Forrester, of Balmbrough Abbey, Warden of the Middle Marches in 1561, was deputy-governor of Berwick, and governor of Balmborough Castle.—S.
34. George Heron Miles of Chipchase Castle, probably the same who was slain at the Reidswire, was Sheriff of Northumberland, 13th Elizabeth.—S.
46. These are districts, or dales, on the English Border.
48. Mr. George Ellis suggests, with great probability, that this is a mistake, not for Hebburne, as the Editor stated in an earlier edition, but for Hexham, which, with its territory, formed a county independent of Northumberland, with which it is here ranked.—S.
56. The Fenwicks; a powerful and numerous Northumberland clan.—S.
98. The gathering word peculiar to a certain name, or set of people, was termed slogan or slughorn, and was always repeated at an onset, as well as on many other occasions. It was usually the name of the clan, or place of rendezvous, or leader. In 1335, the English, led by Thomas of Rosslyne, and William Moubray, assaulted Aberdeen. The former was mortally wounded in the onset; and, as his followers were pressing forward, shouting "Rosslyne! Rosslyne!" "Cry Moubray," said the expiring chieftain; "Rosslyne is gone!"—S.
115. The ballad-maker here ascribes the victory to the real cause; for the English Borderers dispersing to plunder the merchandise, gave the opposite party time to recover from their surprise. It seems to have been usual for travelling merchants to attend Border meetings, although one would have thought the kind of company usually assembled there might have deterred them.—S.
121. This gentleman was son to the Earl of Bedford, and Warden of the East Marches. He was, at this time, chamberlain of Berwick.—S.
123. Fenwick of Wallington, a powerful Northumbrian chief.—S.
128. Sir Cuthbert Collingwood of Esslington, Sheriff of Northumberland, the 10th and 20th of Elizabeth.—S.
129. The Shaftoes are an ancient family settled at Bavington, in Northumberland, since the time of Edward I.—S.
132. An ancient family on the Borders. The Laird of Mowe here mentioned was the only gentleman of note killed in the skirmish on the Scottish side.—S.
136. Graden, a family of Kers.—S.
139. Douglas of Beanjeddart, an ancient branch of the house of Cavers, possessing property near the junction of the Jed and Teviot. Hundlie.—Rutherford of Hundlie, or Hundalee, situated on the Jed above Jedburgh. Hunthill.—The old tower of Hunthill was situated about a mile above Jedburgh. It was the patrimony of an ancient family of Rutherfords. I suppose the person, here meant, to be the same who is renowned in tradition by the name of the Cock of Hunthill.—S.
146. Sir Andrew Turnbull of Bedrule, upon Rule Water.—S.
149. An ancient family of Rutherfords; I believe, indeed, the most ancient now extant.—S.
150. The parish of Kirktoun belonged, I believe, about this time, to a branch of the Cavers family; but Kirkton of Stewartfield is mentioned in the list of Border clans in 1597. Newton.—This is probably Grinyslaw of Little Newton, mentioned in the said roll of Border clans.—S.
THE DEATH OF PARCY REED.
Taken down from the recitation of an old woman, and first published (certainly not without what are called "improvements") in Richardson's Borderer's Table Book, vol. vii. p. 364, with an introduction by Mr. Robert White, which we here abridge.
Percival or Parcy Reed, was proprietor of Troughend, a tract of land in Redesdale, Northumberland, a man of courage and devoted to the chase. Having been appointed warden of the district, he had the misfortune in the discharge of his duties, to offend a family of the name of Hall, who were owners of the farm of Girsonsfield, and also to incur the enmity of a band of moss-troopers, Crosier by name, some of whom had been brought to justice by his hands. The Halls concealed their resentment until they were able to contrive an opportunity for taking a safe revenge. In pursuance of this design, they requested Reed to join them on a hunting party. Their invitation was unsuspiciously accepted, and after a day of sport the company retired to a solitary hut in the lonely glen of Batinghope. Here Reed was attacked in the evening by the Crosiers, and as the Halls not only refused their assistance, but had treacherously deprived him of the means of defence by rendering his sword and gun unserviceable, he fell an easy victim to his savage foes.
It is probable that we cannot assign to the event on which this piece is founded, a date later than the sixteenth century.
The story of Parcy Reed is alluded to in Rokeby, canto first, xx.; Sir Walter Scott has also taken the death of his dog Keeldar as the subject of a poem contributed to Hood's annual, The Gem, for 1829.
God send the land deliverance Frae every reaving, riding Scot; We'll sune hae neither cow nor ewe, We'll sune hae neither staig nor stot. The outlaws come frae Liddesdale,5 They herry Redesdale far and near; The rich man's gelding it maun gang, They canna pass the puir man's mear. Sure it were weel, had ilka thief Around his neck a halter strang;10 And curses heavy may they light On traitors vile oursels amang. Now Parcy Reed has Crosier ta'en, He has delivered him to the law; But Crosier says he'll do waur than that,15 He'll make the tower o' Troughend fa'. And Crosier says he will do waur— He will do waur if waur can be; He'll make the bairns a' fatherless; And then, the land it may lie lee.20 "To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed, "The morning sun is on the dew; The cauler breeze frae off the fells Will lead the dogs to the quarry true. "To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed,25 And to the hunting he has gane; And the three fause Ha's o' Girsonsfield Alang wi' him he has them ta'en. They hunted high, they hunted low, By heathery hill and birken shaw;30 They raised a buck on Rooken Edge, And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe. They hunted high, they hunted low, They made the echoes ring amain; With music sweet o' horn and hound,35 They merry made fair Redesdale glen. They hunted high, they hunted low, They hunted up, they hunted down, Until the day was past the prime, And it grew late in the afternoon.40 They hunted high in Batinghope, When as the sun was sinking low, Says Parcy then, "Ca' off the dogs, We'll bait our steeds and homeward go." They lighted high in Batinghope,45 Atween the brown and benty ground; They had but rested a little while, Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound. There's nane may lean on a rotten staff, But him that risks to get a fa';50 There's nane may in a traitor trust, And traitors black were every Ha'. They've stown the bridle off his steed, And they've put water in his lang gun; They've fixed his sword within the sheath,55 That out again it winna come. "Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed, Or by your enemies be ta'en; For yonder are the five Crosiers A-coming owre the Hingin-stane."60 "If they be five, and we be four, Sae that ye stand alang wi' me, Then every man ye will take one, And only leave but two to me: We will them meet as brave men ought,65 And make them either fight or flee." "We mayna stand, we canna stand, We daurna stand alang wi' thee; The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, And they wad kill baith thee and we."70 "O, turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha', O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me; When ye come to Troughend again, My gude black naig I will gie thee; He cost full twenty pound o' gowd,75 Atween my brother John and me." "I mayna turn, I canna turn, I daurna turn and fight wi' thee; The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, And they wad kill baith thee and me."80 "O, turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha', O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me; When ye come to Troughend again, A yoke o' owsen I'll gie thee." "I mayna turn, I canna turn,85 I daurna turn and fight wi' thee; The Crosiers haud thee at a feud, And they wad kill baith thee and me." "O, turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha', O, turn now, man, and fight wi' me;90 If ever we come to Troughend again, My daughter Jean I'll gie to thee." "I mayna turn, I canna turn, I daurna turn and fight wi' thee; The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,95 And they wad kill baith thee and me." "O, shame upon ye, traitors a'! I wish your hames ye may never see; Ye've stown the bridle off my naig, And I can neither fight nor flee.100 "Ye've stown the bridle off my naig, And ye've put water i' my lang gun; Ye've fixed my sword within the sheath, That out again it winna come." He had but time to cross himsel',105 A prayer he hadna time to say, Till round him came the Crosiers keen, All riding graithed, and in array. "Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed, Thou art the very man we sought;110 Owre lang hae we been in your debt, Now will we pay you as we ought. "We'll pay thee at the nearest tree, Where we shall hang thee like a hound;" Brave Parcy rais'd his fankit sword,115 And fell'd the foremost to the ground. Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed, Alake, he was an unarmed man; Four weapons pierced him all at once, As they assailed him there and than.120 They fell upon him all at once, They mangled him most cruellie; The slightest wound might caused his deid, And they have gi'en him thirty-three. They hacket off his hands and feet,125 And left him lying on the lee. "Now, Parcy Reed, we've paid our debt, Ye canna weel dispute the tale," The Crosiers said, and off they rade— They rade the airt o' Liddesdale.130 It was the hour o' gloamin' gray, When herds come in frae fauld and pen; A herd he saw a huntsman lie, Says he, "Can this be Laird Troughen'?" "There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,135 And some will ca' me Laird Troughen'; It's little matter what they ca' me, My faes hae made me ill to ken. "There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed, And speak my praise in tower and town;140 It's little matter what they do now, My life-blood rudds the heather brown. "There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed, And a' my virtues say and sing; I would much rather have just now145 A draught o' water frae the spring!" The herd flung aff his clouted shoon, And to the nearest fountain ran; He made his bonnet serve a cup, And wan the blessing o' the dying man.150 "Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair,— Ye maun do mair as I ye tell; Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend, And bear likewise my last farewell. "A farewell to my wedded wife,155 A farewell to my brother John, Wha sits into the Troughend tower, Wi' heart as black as any stone. "A farewell to my daughter Jean, A farewell to my young sons five;160 Had they been at their father's hand, I had this night been man alive. "A farewell to my followers a', And a' my neighbours gude at need; Bid them think how the treacherous Ha's165 Betrayed the life o' Parcy Reed. "The laird o' Clennel bears my bow, The laird o' Brandon bears my brand; Whene'er they ride i' the border side, They'll mind the fate o' the laird Troughend."170
CAPTAIN CAR, OR, EDOM O' GORDON.
"This ballad is founded upon a real event, which took place in the north of Scotland in the year 1571, during the struggles between the party which held out for the imprisoned Queen Mary, and that which endeavoured to maintain the authority of her infant son, James VI. The person designated Edom o' Gordon was Adam Gordon of Auchindown, brother of the Marquis of Huntly, and his deputy as lieutenant of the north of Scotland for the Queen. This gentleman committed many acts of oppression on the clan Forbes, under colour of the Queen's authority, and in one collision with that family, killed Arthur, brother to Lord Forbes. He afterwards sent a party under one Captain Car, or Ker, to reduce the house of Towie, one of the chief seats of the name of Forbes. The proprietor of the mansion being from home, his lady, who was pregnant at the time, confiding too much in her sex and condition, not only refused to surrender, but gave Car some very opprobrious language over the walls, which irritated him so much that he set fire to the house, and burnt the whole inmates, amounting in all to thirty-seven persons. As Gordon never cashiered Car for this inhuman action, he was held by the public voice to be equally guilty, and accordingly [in one of the versions of the ballad] he is represented as the principal actor himself." (Chambers's Scottish Ballads, p. 67.) It appears that the Forbeses afterwards attempted to assassinate Adam Gordon in the streets of Paris. See more of this Captain Ker under The Battell of Balrinnes, in the next volume.
The ballad was first printed by the Foulises at Glasgow, 1755, under the title of Edom of Gordon, as taken down by Sir David Dalrymple from the recitation of a lady. It was inserted in the Reliques, (i. 122,) "improved and enlarged," (or, as Ritson more correctly expresses the fact, "interpolated and corrupted,") by several stanzas from a fragment in Percy's manuscript, called Captain Adam Carre. Ritson published the following genuine and ancient copy, (Ancient Songs, ii. 38,) from a collection in the Cotton Library. He states that his MS. had received numerous alterations or corrections, all or most of which, as being evidently for the better, he had adopted into the text. We have added a copy of Edom o' Gordon given in Ritson's Scottish Songs, and in the Appendix an inferior version of the story, called Loudoun Castle.
The names vary considerably in the different versions of this piece. The castle of Towie, or the house of Rothes, is here called the castle of Crecrynbroghe, in Percy's manuscript the castle of Brittonsborrow, and in the copy in the Appendix the locality is changed to Loudoun castle in Ayrshire. In like manner, Alexander Forbes is here turned into Lord Hamleton, and Captain Car is now called the lord of Easter-town and again the lord of Westerton-town.
In the Gentleman's Magazine, vol. xci. Part 1, p. 451, will be found a modern ballad styled Adam Gordon, founded on the adventure of the freebooter of that name with Edward the First. Another on the same subject is given in Evans's Old Ballads, iv. 86.
It befell at Martynmas When wether waxed colde, Captaine Care saide to his men, "We must go take a holde." "Haille, master, and wether you will,5 And wether ye like it best." "To the castle of Crecrynbroghe; And there we will take our reste. "I knowe wher is a gay castle, Is build of lyme and stone,10 Within 'there' is a gay ladie, Her lord is ryd from hom." The ladie lend on her castle-walle, She loked upp and downe; There was she ware of an host of men,15 Come riding to the towne. "Come yow hether, my meri men all, And look what I do see; Yonder is ther an host of men, I musen who they bee."20 She thought he had been her own wed lord, That had comd riding home; Then was it traitour Captaine Care, The lord of Ester-towne. They were no soner at supper sett,25 Then after said the grace, Or captaine Care and all his men Wer lighte aboute the place. "Gyve over thi howsse, thou lady gay, And I will make the a bande;30 To-nighte thoust ly wythin my arm, To-morrowe thou shall ere my lan[de]." Then bespacke the eldest sonne, That was both whitt and redde, "O mother dere, geve over your howsse,35 Or elles we shal be deade." "I will not geve over my hous," she saithe, "Not for feare of my lyffe; It shal be talked throughout the land, The slaughter of a wyffe.40 "Fetch me my pestilett, And charge me my gonne, That I may shott at the bloddy butcher, The lord of Easter-towne." She styfly stod on her castle-wall,45 And lett the pellettes flee, She myst the blody bucher, And slew other three. "I will not geve over my hous," she saithe, "Netheir for lord nor lowne,50 Nor yet for traitour Captaine Care, The lord of Easter-towne. "I desire of Captaine Care, And all his bloddye band, That he would save my eldest sonne,55 The eare of all my lande." "Lap him in a shete," he sayth, "And let him downe to me, And I shall take him in my armes, His waran wyll I be."60 The captayne sayd unto himselfe, Wyth sped before the rest; He cut his tonge out of his head, His hart out of his brest. He lapt them in a handerchef,65 And knet it of knotes three, And cast them over the castell-wall At that gay ladye. "Fye upon thee, Captaine Care, And all thy bloddy band,70 For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne, The ayre of all my land." Then bespake the yongest sonn, That sat on the nurses knee, Sayth, "Mother gay, geve ower your house,75 [The smoke] it smoldereth me." "I wold geve my gold," she saith, "And so I wolde my fee, For a blaste of the wesleyn wind To dryve the smoke from thee.80 "Fy upon thee, John Hamleton, That ever I paid thé hyre, For thou hast broken my castle-wall, And kyndled in [it] the fyre." The lady gate to her close parler,85 The fire fell aboute her head; She toke up her children thre, Seth, "Babes, we are all dead." Then bespake the hye steward, That is of hye degree;90 Saith, "Ladie gay, you are no 'bote,' Wethere ye fighte or flee." Lord Hamleton dremd in his dreame, In Carvall where he laye, His halle 'was' all of fyre,95 His ladie slayne or daye. "Busk and bowne, my merry men all, Even and go ye with me, For I 'dremd' that my hall was on fyre My lady slayne or day."100 He buskt him and bownd him, And like a worthi knighte, And when he saw his hall burning, His harte was no dele lighte. He sett a trumpett till his mouth,105 He blew as it plesd his grace; Twenty score of Hambletons Was light aboute the place. "Had I knowne as much yesternighte As I do to-daye,110 Captaine Care and all his men Should not have gone so quite [awaye.] "Fye upon thee, Captaine Care, And all thy blody 'bande;' Thou hast slayne my lady gaye,115 More worth then all thy lande. "Yf thou had ought eny ill will," he saith, "Thou shoulde have taken my lyffe, And have saved my children thre, All and my lovesome wyffe."120
84, thee.
EDOM O' GORDON.
From Ritson's Scottish Songs, ii. 17. We presume this is the ballad printed by the Foulises.
It fell about the Martinmas, Quhen the wind blew schrile and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, "We maun draw to a hauld. "And what an a hauld sall we draw to,5 My merry men and me? We will gae to the house of the Rodes, To see that fair ladie." She had nae sooner busket hersell, Nor putten on her gown,10 Till Edom o' Gordon and his men Were round about the town. They had nae sooner sitten down, Nor sooner said the grace, Till Edom o' Gordon and his men15 Were closed about the place. The lady ran up to her tower head, As fast as she could drie, To see if by her fair speeches, She could with him agree.20 As soon as he saw the lady fair, And hir yates all locked fast, He fell into a rage of wrath, And his heart was aghast. "Cum down to me, ze lady fair,25 Cum down to me, let's see; This night ze's ly by my ain side, The morn my bride sall be." "I winnae cum down, ye fals Gordon, I winnae cum down to thee;30 I winnae forsake my ane dear lord That is sae far frae me." "Gi up your house, ze fair lady, Gi up your house to me, Or I will burn zoursel therein,35 Bot you and zour babies three." "I winna gie up, zou fals Gordon, To nae sik traitor as thee, Tho' zou should burn mysel therein, Bot and my babies three."40 "Set fire to the house," quoth fals Gordon, "Sin better may nae bee; And I will burn hersel therein, Bot and her babies three." "And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man,45 I paid ze weil zour fee; Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane, Lets in the reek to me? "And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man, For I paid zou weil zour hire;50 Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane, To me lets in the fire?" "Ye paid me weil my hire, lady, Ye paid me weil my fee, But now I'm Edom of Gordon's man,55 Maun either do or die." O then bespake her zoungest son, Sat on the nurses knee, "Dear mother, gie owre your house," he says, "For the reek it worries me."60 "I winnae gie up my house, my dear, To nae sik traitor as he; Cum well, cum wae, my jewels fair, Ye maun tak share wi me." O then bespake her dochter dear,65 She was baith jimp and sma, "O row me in a pair o' shiets, And tow me owre the wa." They rowd her in a pair of shiets, And towd her owre the wa,70 But, on the point of Edom's speir, She gat a deadly fa'. O bonny, bonny, was hir mouth, And chirry were her cheiks, And clear, clear was hir zellow hair,75 Whereon the reid bluid dreips. Then wi his speir he turn'd hir owr, O gin hir face was wan! He said, "Zou are the first that eer I wisht alive again."80 He turn'd her owr and owr again; O gin hir skin was whyte! He said, "I might ha spard thy life, To been some mans delyte." "Busk and boon, my merry men all,85 For ill dooms I do guess; I cannae luik in that bonny face, As it lyes on the grass." "Them luiks to freits, my master deir, Their freits will follow them;90 Let it neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon Was daunted with a dame." O then he spied hir ain deir lord, As he came owr the lee; He saw his castle in a fire,95 As far as he could see. "Put on, put on, my mighty men, As fast as ze can drie, For he that's hindmost of my men, Sall neir get guid o' me."100 And some they raid, and some they ran, Fu fast out owr the plain, But lang, lang, eer he coud get up, They were a' deid and slain. But mony were the mudie men105 Lay gasping on the grien; For o' fifty men that Edom brought out There were but five ged heme. And mony were the mudie men Lay gasping on the grien,110 And mony were the fair ladys Lay lemanless at heme. And round and round the waes he went, Their ashes for to view; At last into the flames he flew,115 And bad the world adieu.
24. heart, pronounced hearrut.
90. Then.
97. Qy. wight yemen?
WILLIE MACKINTOSH, OR, THE BURNING OF AUCHINDOWN.
These fragments appear to relate to the burning of Auchindown, a castle belonging to the Gordons, in vengeance for the death of William Mackintosh of the clan Chattan, which is said to have occurred at the castle of the Earl of Huntly. The event is placed in the year 1592. After the Mackintoshes had executed their revenge, they were pursued by the Gordons, and overtaken in the Stapler, where "sixty of the clan Chattan were killed, and Willie Mackintosh, their leader, wounded." So says the not very trustworthy editor of the Thistle of Scotland.
Another fragment of four stanzas (containing nothing additional), is given by Whitelaw, Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 248.
I. From Finlay's Scottish Ballads, ii. 97.
As I came in by Fiddich-side, In a May morning, I met Willie Mackintosh An hour before the dawning. "Turn again, turn again,5 Turn again, I bid ye; If ye burn Auchindown, Huntly he will head ye." "Head me, hang me, That sall never fear me;10 I'll burn Auchindown Before the life leaves me." As I came in by Auchindown, In a May morning, Auchindown was in a bleeze,15 An hour before the dawning. * * * * * "Crawing, crawing, For my crowse crawing, I lost the best feather i' my wing, For my crowse crawing."20
II. From The Thistle of Scotland, p. 106.
"Turn, Willie Mackintosh, Turn, I bid you, Gin ye burn Auchindown, Huntly will head you." "Head me, or hang me,5 That canna fley me, I'll burn Auchindown, Ere the life lea' me." Coming down Dee-side In a clear morning,10 Auchindown was in a flame, Ere the cock crawing. But coming o'er Cairn Croom, And looking down, man, I saw Willie Mackintosh15 Burn Auchindown, man. "Bonny Willie Mackintosh, Whare left ye your men?" "I left them in the Stapler, But they'll never come hame."20 "Bonny Willie Mackintosh, Where now is your men?" "I left them in the Stapler, Sleeping in their sheen."
LORD MAXWELL'S GOODNIGHT.
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 199.
"A. D. 1585, John Lord Maxwell, or, as he styled himself, Earl of Morton, having quarrelled with the Earl of Arran, reigning favourite of James VI., and fallen, of course, under the displeasure of the court, was denounced rebel. A commission was also given to the Laird of Johnstone, then Warden of the West Marches, to pursue and apprehend the ancient rival and enemy of his house. Two bands of mercenaries, commanded by Captains Cranstoun and Lammie, who were sent from Edinburgh to support Johnstone, were attacked and cut to pieces at Crawford-muir, by Robert Maxwell, natural brother to the chieftain; who, following up his advantage, burned Johnstone's Castle of Lochwood, observing, with savage glee, that he would give Lady Johnstone light enough by which 'to set her hood.' In a subsequent conflict, Johnstone himself was defeated, and made prisoner, and is said to have died of grief at the disgrace which he sustained.
"By one of the revolutions, common in those days, Maxwell was soon after restored to the King's favour in his turn, and obtained the wardenry of the West Marches. A bond of alliance was subscribed by him, and by Sir James Johnstone, and for some time the two clans lived in harmony. In the year 1593, however, the hereditary feud was revived on the following occasion. A band of marauders, of the clan Johnstone, drove a prey of cattle from the lands belonging to the Lairds of Crichton, Sanquhar, and Drumlanrig; and defeated, with slaughter, the pursuers, who attempted to rescue their property.—[See The Lads of Wamphray, post, p. 168.] The injured parties, being apprehensive that Maxwell would not cordially embrace their cause, on account of his late reconciliation with the Johnstones, endeavoured to overcome his reluctance, by offering to enter into bonds of manrent, and so to become his followers and liegemen; he, on the other hand, granting to them a bond of maintenance, or protection, by which he bound himself, in usual form, to maintain their quarrel against all mortals, saving his loyalty. Thus, the most powerful and respectable families in Dumfriesshire, became, for a time, the vassals of Lord Maxwell. This secret alliance was discovered to Sir James Johnstone by the Laird of Cummertrees, one of his own clan, though a retainer to Maxwell. Cummertrees even contrived to possess himself of the bonds of manrent, which he delivered to his chief. The petty warfare betwixt the rival barons was instantly renewed. Buccleuch, a near relation of Johnstone, came to his assistance with his clan, 'the most renowned freebooters, [says a historian,] the fiercest and bravest warriors among the Border tribes.' With Buccleuch also came the Elliots, Armstrongs, and Græmes. Thus reinforced, Johnstone surprised and cut to pieces a party of the Maxwells, stationed at Lochmaben. On the other hand, Lord Maxwell, armed with the royal authority, and numbering among his followers all the barons of Nithsdale, displayed his banner as the King's lieutenant, and invaded Annandale at the head of two thousand men. In those days, however, the royal auspices seem to have carried as little good fortune as effective strength with them. A desperate conflict, still renowned in tradition, took place at the Dryffe Sands, not far from Lockerby, in which Johnstone, although inferior in numbers, partly by his own conduct, partly by the valour of his allies, gained a decisive victory. Lord Maxwell, a tall man, and heavily armed, was struck from his horse in the flight, and cruelly slain, after the hand, which he stretched out for quarter, had been severed from his body. Many of his followers were slain in the battle, and many cruelly wounded, especially by slashes in the face, which wound was thence termed a 'Lockerby lick.' The Barons of Lag, Closeburn, and Drumlanrig, escaped by the fleetness of their horses; a circumstance alluded to in the following ballad.
"John, Lord Maxwell, with whose 'Goodnight' the reader is here presented, was son to him who fell at the battle of Dryffe Sands, and is said to have early avowed the deepest revenge for his father's death. Such, indeed, was the fiery and untameable spirit of the man, that neither the threats nor entreaties of the King himself could make him lay aside his vindictive purpose; although Johnstone, the object of his resentment, had not only reconciled himself to the court, but even obtained the wardenry of the Middle Marches, in room of Sir John Carmichael, murdered by the Armstrongs. Lord Maxwell was therefore prohibited to approach the Border counties; and having, in contempt of that mandate, excited new disturbances, he was confined in the castle of Edinburgh. From this fortress, however, he contrived to make his escape; and, having repaired to Dumfriesshire, he sought an amicable interview with Johnstone, under a pretence of a wish to accommodate their differences. Sir Robert Maxwell, of Orchardstane, (mentioned in the ballad, verse 1,) who was married to a sister of Sir James Johnstone, persuaded his brother-in-law to accede to Maxwell's proposal."
So far Sir Walter Scott. The meeting took place on the 6th of April, 1608, in the presence of Sir Robert Maxwell, each party being accompanied by a single follower. While the chieftains were conferring together, Charles Maxwell, the attendant of Lord John, maliciously began an altercation with the servant of Johnstone, and shot him with a pistol, and Sir James, looking round at the report, was himself shot by Lord Maxwell in the back with two poisoned bullets.
The murderer escaped to France, but afterwards venturing to return to Scotland, was apprehended, brought to trial at Edinburgh, and beheaded on the 21st of May, 1613. We may naturally suppose that the Goodnight was composed shortly after Lord Maxwell fled across the seas, certainly before 1613.
This ballad was first printed in the Border Minstrelsy "from a copy in Glenriddel's MSS., with some slight variations from tradition."
"Adieu, madame, my mother dear, But and my sisters three! Adieu, fair Robert of Orchardstane! My heart is wae for thee. Adieu, the lily and the rose,5 The primrose fair to see! Adieu, my ladye, and only joy! For I may not stay with thee. "Though I hae slain the Lord Johnstone, What care I for their feid?10 My noble mind their wrath disdains,— He was my father's deid. Both night and day I labour'd oft Of him avenged to be; But now I've got what lang I sought,15 And I may not stay with thee. "Adieu, Drumlanrig! false wert aye— And Closeburn in a band! The Laird of Lag, frae my father that fled, When the Johnston struck aff his hand!20 They were three brethren in a band— Joy may they never see! Their treacherous art, and cowardly heart, Has twined my love and me. "Adieu, Dumfries, my proper place,25 But and Carlaverock fair! Adieu, my castle of the Thrieve, Wi' a' my buildings there! Adieu, Lochmaben's gate sae fair, The Langholm-holm, where birks there be!30 Adieu, my ladye, and only joy! For, trust me, I may not stay wi' thee. "Adieu, fair Eskdale, up and down, Where my puir friends do dwell! The bangisters will ding them down,35 And will them sair compell. But I'll avenge their feid mysell, When I come o'er the sea; Adieu, my ladye, and only joy! For I may not stay wi' thee."40 "Lord of the land,"—that ladye said, "O wad ye go wi' me, Unto my brother's stately tower, Where safest ye may be! There Hamiltons, and Douglas baith,45 Shall rise to succour thee." "Thanks for thy kindness, fair my dame, But I may not stay wi' thee." Then he tuik aff a gay gold ring, Thereat hang signets three;50 "Hae, tak thee that, mine ain dear thing, And still hae mind o' me: But if thou take another lord, Ere I come ower the sea— His life is but a three days' lease,55 Though I may not stay wi' thee." The wind was fair, the ship was clear, That good lord went away; And most part of his friends were there, To give him a fair convey.60 They drank the wine, they didna spair, Even in that gude lord's sight— Sae now he's o'er the floods sae gray, And Lord Maxwell has ta'en his Goodnight.
THE LADS OF WAMPHRAY
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 148.
"The reader will find, prefixed to the foregoing ballad, an account of the noted feud betwixt the families of Maxwell and Johnstone. The following song celebrates the skirmish, in 1593, betwixt the Johnstones and Crichtons, which led to the revival of the ancient quarrel betwixt Johnstone and Maxwell, and finally to the battle of Dryffe Sands, in which the latter lost his life. Wamphray is the name of a parish in Annandale. Lethenhall was the abode of Johnstone of Wamphray, and continued to be so till of late years. William Johnstone of Wamphray, called the Galliard, was a noted freebooter. A place, near the head of Teviotdale, retains the name of the Galliard's Faulds, (folds,) being a valley, where he used to secrete and divide his spoil, with his Liddesdale and Eskdale associates. His nom de guerre seems to have been derived from the dance called the Galliard. The word is still used in Scotland, to express an active, gay, dissipated character. Willie of the Kirkhill, nephew to the Galliard, and his avenger, was also a noted Border robber. Previous to the battle of Dryffe Sands, so often mentioned, tradition reports, that Maxwell had offered a ten-pound-land to any of his party, who should bring him the head or hand of the Laird of Johnstone. This being reported to his antagonist, he answered, he had not a ten-pound-land to offer, but would give a five-merk-land to the man who should that day cut off the head or hand of Lord Maxwell. Willie of the Kirkhill, mounted upon a young grey horse, rushed upon the enemy, and earned the reward, by striking down their unfortunate chieftain, and cutting off his right hand."—Scott.
'Twixt Girth-head and the Langwood end, Lived the Galliard, and the Galliard's men, But and the lads of Leverhay, That drove the Crichton's gear away. It is the lads of Lethenha',5 The greatest rogues amang them a'; But and the lads of Stefenbiggin, They broke the house in at the rigging. The lads of Fingland, and Helbeck-hill, They were never for good, but aye for ill;10 'Twixt the Staywood-bush and Langside-hill, They steal'd the broked cow and the branded bull. It is the lads of the Girth-head, The deil's in them for pride and greed; For the Galliard, and the gay Galliard's men,15 They ne'er saw a horse but they made it their ain. The Galliard to Nithsdale is gane, To steal Sim Crichton's winsome dun; The Galliard is unto the stable gane, But instead of the dun, the blind he has ta'en.20 "Now Simmy, Simmy of the Side, Come out and see a Johnstone ride! Here's the bonniest horse in a' Nithside, And a gentle Johnstone aboon his hide." Simmy Crichton's mounted then,25 And Crichtons has raised mony a ane; The Galliard trow'd his horse had been wight, But the Crichtons beat him out o' sight. As soon as the Galliard the Crichton saw, Behind the saugh-bush he did draw;30 And there the Crichtons the Galliard hae ta'en, And nane wi' him but Willie alane. "O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang, And I'll never mair do a Crichton wrang! O Simmy, Simmy, now let me be,35 And a peck o' gowd I'll give to thee! "O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang, And my wife shall heap it with her hand!" But the Crichtons wadna let the Galliard be, But they hang'd him hie upon a tree.40 O think then Willie he was right wae, When he saw his uncle guided sae; "But if ever I live Wamphray to see, My uncle's death avenged shall be!" Back to Wamphray he is gane,45 And riders has raised mony a ane; Saying—"My lads, if ye'll be true, Ye shall a' be clad in the noble blue." Back to Nithsdale they have gane, And awa' the Crichtons' nowt hae ta'en;50 But when they cam to the Wellpath-head, The Crichtons bade them light and lead. And when they cam to the Biddes-burn, The Crichtons bade them stand and turn; And when they cam to the Biddes-strand,55 The Crichtons they were hard at hand. But when they cam to the Biddes-law, The Johnstones bade them stand and draw; "We've done nae ill, we'll thole nae wrang, But back to Wamphray we will gang."60 And out spoke Willie of the Kirkhill, "Of fighting, lads, ye'se hae your fill;" And from his horse Willie he lap, And a burnish'd brand in his hand he gat. Out through the Crichtons Willie he ran,65 And dang them down baith horse and man; O but the Johnstones were wondrous rude, When the Biddes-burn ran three days blood! "Now, sirs, we have done a noble deed,— We have revenged the Galliard's bleid;70 For every finger of the Galliard's hand, I vow this day I've kill'd a man." As they cam in at Evan-head, At Ricklaw-holm they spread abread; "Drive on, my lads! it will be late;75 We'll hae a pint at Wamphray gate. "For where'er I gang, or e'er I ride, The lads of Wamphray are on my side; And of a' the lads that I do ken, A Wamphray lad's the king of men."80
1-7. Leverhay, Stefenbiggin, Girth-head, &c., are all situated in the parish of Wamphray.—S.
51-53. The Wellpath is a pass by which the Johnstones were retreating to their fastnesses in Annandale. The Biddes-burn, where the skirmish took place betwixt the Johnstones and their pursuers, is a rivulet which takes its course among the mountains on the confines of Nithesdale and Annandale.—S.
74-76. Ricklaw-holm is a place upon the Evan-water, which falls into the Annan, below Moffat. Wamphray-gate was in those days an alehouse.—S.
THE FIRE OF FRENDRAUGHT.
From Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.
"A mortal feud having arisen between the Laird of Frendraught [Sir James Chrichton] and the Laird of Rothiemay [William Gordon], both gentlemen of Banffshire, a rencontre took place, at which the retainers of both were present, on the 1st of January, 1630; when Rothiemay was killed, and several persons hurt on both sides. To stanch this bloody quarrel, the Marquis of Huntly, who was chief to both parties, and who had therefore a right to act as arbiter between them, ordered Frendraught to pay fifty thousand merks to Rothiemay's widow. In the ensuing September, Frendraught fell into another quarrel, in the course of which James Lesly, son to Lesly of Pitcaple, was shot through the arm. Soon after the last incident, Frendraught, having paid a visit to the Marquis of Huntly at the Bog of Gight, the Laird of Pitcaple came up with thirty armed men, to demand atonement for the wound of his son. Huntly acted in this case with great discretion. Without permitting the two lairds to come to a conference, he endeavored to persuade the complaining party that Frendraught was in reality innocent of his son's wound; and, as Pitcaple went away vowing vengeance, he sent Frendraught home under a strong escort, which was commanded by his son, the Viscount Aboyne, and by the young Laird of Rothiemay, son to him whom Frendraught had killed some months before. The party reached Frendraught Castle without being attacked by Pitcaple; when, Aboyne and Rothiemay offering to take leave of Frendraught and his lady, in order to return home, they were earnestly entreated by these individuals to remain a night, and postpone their return till to-morrow. Being with difficulty prevailed upon, the young Viscount and Rothiemay were well entertained, and after supper went cheerfully to bed. To continue the narrative in the words of Spalding—"The Viscount was laid in an bed in the Old Tower going off the hall, and standing upon a vault, wherein there was ane round hole, devised of old, just under Aboyne's bed. Robert Gordon, his servitor, and English Will, his page, were both laid in the same chamber. The Laird of Rothiemay, with some servants beside him, was laid in another chamber just above Aboyne's chamber; and in another room above that chamber, were laid George Chalmers of Noth, and George Gordon, another of the Viscount's servants; with them also was laid Captain Rolloch, then in Frendraught's own company. All being thus at rest, about midnight that dolorous tower took fire in so sudden and furious a manner, yea, and in ane clap, that the noble Viscount, the Laird of Rothiemay, English Will, Colonel Wat, another of Aboyne's servants, and other two, being six in number, were cruelly burnt and tormented to the death, without help or relief; the Laird of Frendraught, his lady, and haill household looking on, without moving or stirring to deliver them from the fury of this fearful fire, as was reported. Robert Gordon, called Sutherland Gordon, being in the Viscount's chamber, escaped this fire with the life. George Chalmers and Captain Rolloch, being in the third room, escaped this fire also, and, as was said, Aboyne might have saved himself also if he would have gone out of doors, which he would not do, but suddenly ran up stairs to Rothiemay's chamber, and wakened him to rise; and as he is awakening him, the timber passage and lofting of the chamber hastily takes fire, so that none of them could win down stairs again; so they turned to a window looking to the close, where they piteously cried many times, "Help! help! for God's cause!" The Laird and Lady, with their servants, all seeing and hearing the woeful crying, made no help or manner of helping; which they perceiving, cried oftentimes mercy at God's hands for their sins; syne clasped in each other's arms, and cheerfully suffered their martyrdom. Thus died this noble Viscount, of singular expectation, Rothiemay, a brave youth, and the rest, by this doleful fire, never enough to be deplored, to the great grief and sorrow of their kin, parents, and hail common people, especially to the noble Marquis, who for his good will got this reward. No man can express the dolour of him and his lady, nor yet the grief of the Viscount's own dear lady, when it came to her ears, which she kept to her dying day, disdaining after the company of men all her life-time, following the love of the turtle dove.
'It is reported that upon the morn after this woeful fire, the Lady Frendraught, daughter to the Earl of Sutherland, and near cousin to the Marquis, backed in a white plaid, and riding on a small nag, having a boy leading her horse, without any more in her company, in this pitiful manner she came weeping and mourning to the Bog, desiring entry to speak with my lord; but this was refused; so she returned back to her own house, the same gate she came, comfortless.'—Spalding's History of the Troubles in Scotland.
"Suspicion formed two theories regarding the cause of the fire of Frendraught. The first was, that the Laird had wilfully set fire to the tower, for the purpose of destroying the young Laird of Rothiemay. The other was, that it originated in the revengeful feelings of the Laird of Pitcaple. In the first theory there is extremely little probability. First, it could not have been premeditated; because the circumstance of Frendraught being accompanied home that day by Aboyne and Rothiemay, was entirely accidental. In the second place, there was no reason for Frendraught being inclined to murder Rothiemay, except that he grudged the payment of the fifty thousand merks to his mother; while there was every reason for his being inclined rather to befriend a youth whom he had already injured by occasioning the death of his father. In the third place, all Frendraught's family papers, with much gold and silver, both in money and plate, were consumed in the fire. And, in the fourth place, it is extremely improbable that any man of his rank should commit so deliberate and so atrocious an act of villainy. On the other hand, it seems by no means improbable that Pitcaple should have caused fire to be set to his enemy's house; a mode of reprisal which had been practised in the same district of country, as we have already seen, by a gentleman of only the preceding age. Pitcaple's men, moreover, had been heard to declare an intention of attempting some such enterprise against Frendraught; as was proved on the trial of a gentleman of the name of Meldrum, who was apprehended, condemned, and executed, for his alleged accession to their conspiracy."—Chambers's Scottish Ballads, p. 85.