Volume 3 — MINSTRELSY OF THE SCOTTISH BORDER. PART SECOND—CONTINUED. ROMANTIC BALLADS. (continued 2)
Reading edition
From these extracts, which are accurately copied from the original charters,[24] it may be safely concluded, 1st, that Selkirk was a place of importance before it was ruined by the English; and, 2d, "that the voice of merchants had ceased in her streets," in consequence of the fatal field of Flodden. But further, it seems reasonable to infer, that so many marks of royal favour, granted within so short a time of each other, evince the gratitude, as well as the compassion, of the monarch, and were intended to reward the valour, as well as to relieve the distress, of the men of Selkirk. Thus, every circumstance of the written evidence, as far as it goes, tallies with the oral tradition of the inhabitants; and, therefore, though the latter may be exaggerated, it surely cannot be dismissed as entirely void of foundation. That William Brydone actually enjoyed the honour of knighthood, is ascertained by many of the deeds, in which his name appears as a notary public. John Brydone, lineal descendant of the gallant town-clerk, is still alive, and possessed of the reliques mentioned by Mr Robertson. The old man, though in an inferior station of life, receives considerable attention from his fellow-citizens, and claims no small merit to himself on account of his brave ancestor.
Thus far concerning the tradition of the exploits of the men of Selkirk, at Flodden field. Whether the following verses do, or do not, bear any allusion to that event, is a separate and less interesting question. The opinion of Mr Robertson, referring them to a different origin, has been already mentioned; but his authority, though highly respectable, is not absolutely decisive of the question.
The late Mr Plummer, sheriff-depute of the county of Selkirk, a faithful and accurate antiquary, entertained a very opposite opinion. He has thus expressed himself, upon the subject, in the course of his literary correspondence with Mr Herd:
"Of the Souters of Selkirk, I never heard any words but the following verse:
'Up with the Sutors of Selkirk, 'And down wi' the Earl of Home; 'And up wi' a' the bra' lads 'That sew the single-soled shoon.'
"It is evident, that these words cannot be so ancient as to come near the time when the battle was fought; as Lord Home was not created an earl till near a century after that period.
"Our clergyman, in the "Statistical Account," Vol. II. p. 48, note, says, that these words were composed upon a match at foot-ball, between the Philiphaugh and Home families. I was five years at school at Selkirk, have lived all my days within two miles of that town, and never once heard a tradition of this imaginary contest till I saw it in print.
"Although the words are not very ancient, there is every reason to believe, that they allude to the battle of Flodden, and to the different behaviour of the souters, and Lord Home, upon that occasion. At election dinners, &c. when the Selkirk folks begin to get fou', (merry) they always call for music, and for that tune in particular.[25] At such times I never heard a souter hint at the foot-ball, but many times speak of the battle of "Flodden."—Letter from Mr Plummer to Mr Herd, 13th January, 1793.
The editor has taken every opportunity, which his situation[26] has afforded him, to obtain information on this point, and has been enabled to recover two additional verses of the song.
The yellow and green, mentioned in the second verse, are the liveries of the house of Home. When the Lord Home came to attend the governor, Albany, his attendants were arrayed in Kendal-green.—Godscroft.
THE SOUTERS OF SELKIRK.
Up wi' the Souters of Selkirk, And down wi' the Earl of Home; And up wi' a' the braw lads, That sew the single-soled shoon. Fye upon yellow and yellow, And fye upon yellow and green; But up with the true blue and scarlet, And up wi' the single-soled sheen. Up wi' the Souters of Selkirk, For they are baith trusty and leal; And up wi' the men of the Forest,[27] And down with the Merse[28] to the deil.
NOTE ON THE SOUTERS OF SELKIRK.
It is unnecessary here to enter into a formal refutation of the popular calumny, which taxed Lord Home with being the murderer of his sovereign, and the cause of the defeat at Flodden. So far from exhibiting any marks of cowardice or disaffection, the division, headed by that unfortunate nobleman, was the only part of the Scottish army which was conducted with common prudence on that fatal day. This body formed the vanguard, and entirely routed the division of Sir Edmund Howard, to which they were opposed; but the reserve of the English cavalry rendered it impossible for Home, notwithstanding his success, to come to the aid of the king, who was irretrievably ruined by his own impetuosity of temper.—Pinkerton's History, Vol II. p. 105. The escape of James from the field of battle, has been long deservedly ranked with that of King Sebastian, and similar speciosa miracula with which the vulgar have been amused in all ages. Indeed, the Scottish nation were so very unwilling to admit any advantage on the English part, that they seem actually to have set up pretensions to the victory.[29] The same temper of mind led them eagerly to ascribe the loss of their monarch, and his army, to any cause, rather than to his own misconduct, and the superior military skill of the English. There can be no doubt, that James actually fell on the field of battle, the slaughter-place of his nobles.—Pinkerton, ibid. His dead body was interred in the monastery of Sheen, in Surrey; and Stowe mentions, with regard to it, the following degrading circumstances.
"After the battle, the bodie of the said king, being found, was closed in lead, and conveyed from thence to London, and to the monasterie of Sheyne, in Surry, where it remained for a time, in what order I am not certaine; but, since the dissolution of that house, in the reigne of Edward VI., Henry Gray, Duke of Norfolke, being lodged, and keeping house there, I have been shewed the same bodie, so lapped in lead, close to the head and bodie, throwne into a waste room, amongst the old timber, lead, and other rubble. Since the which time, workmen there, for their foolish pleasure, hewed off his head; and Lancelot Young, master glazier to Queen Elizabeth, feeling a sweet savour to come from thence, and seeing the same dried from all moisture, and yet the form remaining, with haire of the head, and beard red, brought it to London, to his house in Wood-street, where, for a time, he kept it, for its sweetness, but, in the end, caused the sexton of that church (St Michael's, Wood-street) to bury it amongst other bones taken out of their charnell."—Stowe's Survey of London, p. 539.
FOOTNOTES:
THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. PART FIRST.
The following well known, and beautiful stanzas, were composed many years ago, by a lady of family, in Roxburghshire. The manner of the ancient minstrels is so happily imitated, that it required the most positive evidence to convince the editor that the song was of modern date. Such evidence, however, he has been able to procure; having been favoured, through the kind intervention of Dr Somerville (well known to the literary world, as the historian of King William, &c.), with the following authentic copy of the Flowers of the Forest.
From the same respectable authority, the editor is enabled to state, that the tune of the ballad is ancient, as well as the two following lines of the first stanza:
I've heard them lilting at the ewes milking, ········ ········ The flowers of the forest are a' wede away.
Some years after the song was composed, a lady, who is now dead, repeated to the author another imperfect line of the original ballad, which presents a simple and affecting image to the mind:
"I ride single on my saddle, "For the flowers of the forest are a' wede away."
The first of these trifling fragments, joined to the remembrance of the fatal battle of Flodden (in the calamities accompanying which, the inhabitants of Ettrick Forest suffered a distinguished share), and to the present solitary and desolate appearance of the country, excited, in the mind of the author, the ideas, which she has expressed in a strain of elegiac simplicity and tenderness, which has seldom been equalled.
THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. PART FIRST.
I've heard them lilting, at the ewe milking, Lasses a' lilting, before dawn of day; But now they are moaning, on ilka green loaning; The flowers of the forest are a' wede awae. At bughts, in the morning, nae blithe lads are scorning; Lasses are lonely, and dowie, and wae; Nae daffing, nae gabbing, but sighing and sabbing; Ilk ane lifts her leglin, and hies her awae. In har'st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jearing; Bandsters are runkled, and lyart or gray; At fair, or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching; The flowers of the forest are a' wede awae. At e'en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming 'Bout stacks, with the lasses at bogle to play; But ilk maid sits dreary, lamenting her deary— The flowers of the forest are weded awae. Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the border! The English, for ance, by guile wan the day; The flowers of the forest, that fought aye the foremost, The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay. We'll hear nae mair lilting, at the ewe milking; Women and bairns are heartless and wae: Sighing and moaning, on ilka green loaning— The flowers of the forest are a' wede awae.
The following explanation of provincial terms may be found useful.
Lilting—Singing cheerfully. Loaning—A broad lane. Wede awae—Weeded out. Scorning—Rallying. Dowie—Dreary. Daffing and gabbing—Joking and chatting. Leglin—Milk-pail. Har'st—Harvest. Shearing—Reaping. Bandsters—Sheaf-binders. Runkled—Wrinkled. Lyart—Inclining to grey. Fleeching—Coaxing. Gloaming—Twilight.
NOTE ON THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
At fair, or at preaching, &c.—P. 127. v. 3.
These lines have been said to contain an anachronism; the supposed date of the lamentation being about the period of the field of Flodden. The editor can see no ground for this charge. Fairs were held in Scotland from the most remote antiquity; and are, from their very nature, scenes of pleasure and gallantry. The preachings of the friars were, indeed, professedly, meetings for a graver purpose; but we have the authority of the Wife of Bath (surely most unquestionable in such a point), that they were frequently perverted to places of rendezvous:
I had the better leisur for to pleie, And for to see, and eke for to be seie Of lusty folk. What wist I where my grace Was shapen for to be, or in what place? Therefore I made my visitations To vigilies and to processions: To preachings eke, and to thise pilgrimages, To plays of miracles, and marriages, &c.
Canterbury Tales.
THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. PART SECOND.
The following verses, adapted to the ancient air of the Flowers of the Forest, are, like the elegy which precedes them, the production of a lady. The late Mrs Cockburn, daughter of Rutherford of Fairnalie, in Selkirkshire, and relict of Mr Cockburn of Ormiston (whose father was lord justice-clerk of Scotland), was the authoress. Mrs Cockburn has been dead but a few years. Even at an age, advanced beyond the usual bounds of humanity, she retained a play of imagination, and an activity of intellect, which must have been attractive and delightful in youth, but was almost preternatural at her period of life. Her active benevolence, keeping pace with her genius, rendered her equally an object of love and admiration. The editor, who knew her well, takes this opportunity of doing justice to his own feelings; and they are in unison with those of all who knew his regretted friend.
The verses, which follow, were written at an early period of life, and without peculiar relation to any event, unless it were the depopulation of Ettrick Forest.
THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. PART SECOND.
I've seen the smiling of fortune beguiling, I've tasted her favours, and felt her decay; Sweet is her blessing, and kind her caressing, But soon it is fled—it is fled far away. I've seen the forest adorned of the foremost, With flowers of the fairest, both pleasant and gay: Full sweet was their blooming, their scent the air perfuming, But now they are wither'd, and a' wede awae. I've seen the morning, with gold the hills adorning, And the red storm roaring, before the parting day; I've seen Tweed's silver streams, glittering in the sunny beams, Turn drumly[30] and dark, as they rolled on their way. O fickle fortune! why this cruel sporting? Why thus perplex us poor sons of a day? Thy frowns cannot fear me, thy smiles cannot cheer me, Since the flowers of the forest are a' wede awae.
FOOTNOTES:
THE LAIRD OF MUIRHEAD.
This Ballad is a fragment from Mr Herd's MS., communicated to him by J. Grossett Muirhead, at Breadesholm, near Glasgow; who stated, that he extracted it, as relating to his own Family, from the complete Song, in which the names of twenty or thirty gentlemen were mentioned, contained in a large Collection, belonging to Mr Alexander Monro, merchant in Lisbon, supposed now to be lost.
It appears, from the Appendix to Nesbit's Heraldry, p. 264, that Muirhead of Lachop and Bullis, the person here called the Laird of Muirhead, was a man of rank, being rentaller, or perhaps feuar, of many crown lands in Galloway; and was, in truth, slain "in Campo Belli de Northumberland sub vexillo Regis," i.e. in the Field of Flodden.
Afore the king in order stude The stout laird of Muirhead, Wi' that sam twa-hand muckle sword That Bartram felled stark deid. He sware he wadna lose his right To fight in ilka field; Nor budge him from his liege's sight, Till his last gasp should yield. Twa hunder mair, of his ain name, Frae Torwood and the Clyde, Sware they would never gang to hame, But a' die by his syde. And wond'rous weil they kept their troth; This sturdy royal band Rush'd down the brae, wi' sic a pith, That nane cou'd them withstand. Mony a bludey blow they delt, The like was never seen; And hadna that braw leader fallen, They ne'er had slain the king.
ODE ON VISITING FLODDEN.
BY J. LEYDEN.
Green Flodden! on thy blood-stained head Descend no rain nor vernal dew; But still, thou charnel of the dead, May whitening bones thy surface strew! Soon as I tread thy rush-clad vale, Wild fancy feels the clasping mail; The rancour of a thousand years Glows in my breast; again I burn To see the bannered pomp of war return, And mark, beneath the moon, the silver light of spears. Lo! bursting from their common tomb, The spirits of the ancient dead Dimly streak the parted gloom, With awful faces, ghastly red; As once, around their martial king, They closed the death-devoted ring, With dauntless hearts, unknown to yield; In slow procession round the pile Of heaving corses, moves each shadowy file, And chaunts, in solemn strain, the dirge of Flodden field. What youth, of graceful form and mien, Foremost leads the spectred brave, While o'er his mantle's folds of green His amber locks redundant wave? When slow returns the fated day, That viewed their chieftain's long array, Wild to the harp's deep, plaintive string, The virgins raise the funeral strain, From Ord's black mountain to the northern main, And mourn the emerald hue which paints the vest of spring. Alas! that Scottish maid should sing The combat where her lover fell! That Scottish bard should wake the string, The triumph of our foes to tell! Yet Teviot's sons, with high disdain, Have kindled at the thrilling strain That mourned their martial fathers' bier; And, at the sacred font, the priest, Through ages left the master-hand unblest, To urge, with keener aim, the blood-encrusted spear. Red Flodden! when thy plaintive strain, In early youth, rose soft and sweet, My life-blood, through each throbbing vein, With wild tumultuous passion beat. And oft, in fancied might, I trod The spear-strewn path to Fame's abode, Encircled with a sanguine flood; And thought I heard the mingling hum, When, croaking hoarse, the birds of carrion come Afar, on rustling wing, to feast on English blood. Rude border chiefs, of mighty name, And iron soul; who sternly tore The blossoms from the tree of fame, And purpled deep their tints with gore, Rush from brown ruins, scarred with age, That frown o'er haunted Hermitage; Where, long by spells mysterious bound, They pace their round, with lifeless smile, And shake, with restless foot, the guilty pile, Till sink the mouldering towers beneath the burdened ground. Shades of the dead! on Alfer's plain, Who scorned with backward step to move, But, struggling mid the hills of slain, Against the sacred standard strove; Amid the lanes of war I trace Each broad claymore and ponderous mace: Where'er the surge of arms is tost, Your glittering spears, in close array, Sweep, like the spider's filmy web, away The flower of Norman pride, and England's victor host. But distant fleets each warrior ghost, With surly sounds, that murmur far; Such sounds were heard when Syria's host Roll'd from the walls of proud Samàr Around my solitary head Gleam the blue lightnings of the dead, While murmur low the shadowy band— "Lament no more the warrior's doom! Blood, blood alone, should dew the hero's tomb, Who falls, 'mid circling spears, to save his native land."
NOTES ON THE ODE TO FLODDEN.
And mourn the emerald hue which paints the vest of spring.—P. 137. v. 2.
Under the vigorous administration of James IV. the young Earl of Caithness incurred the penalty of outlawry and forfeiture, for revenging an ancient feud. On the evening preceding the battle of Flodden, accompanied by 300 young warriors, arrayed in green, he presented himself before the king, and submitted to his mercy. This mark of attachment was so agreeable to that warlike prince, that he granted an immunity to the Earl and all his followers. The parchment, on which this immunity was inscribed, is said to be still preserved in the archives of the earls of Caithness, and is marked with the drum-strings, having been cut out of a drum-head, as no other parchment could be found in the army. The Earl, and his gallant band, perished to a man in the battle of Flodden; since which period, it has been reckoned unlucky in Caithness to wear green, or cross the Ord on a Monday, the day of the week on which the chieftain advanced into Sutherland.
Through ages left the master-hand unblest, &c.—P. 138. v. 1.
In the border counties of Scotland, it was formerly customary, when any rancorous enmity subsisted between two clans, to leave the right hand of male children unchristened, that it might deal the more deadly, or, according to the popular phrase, "unhallowed" blows, to their enemies. By this superstitious rite, they were devoted to bear the family feud, or enmity. The same practice subsisted in Ireland, as appears from the following passage in Campion's History of Ireland, published in 1633. "In some corners of the land they used a damnable superstition, leaving the right armes of their infants, males, unchristened (as they termed it), to the end it might give a more ungracious and deadly blow." P. 15.
Till sink the mouldering towers beneath the burdened ground.—P. 139. v. 1.
Popular superstition in Scotland still retains so formidable an idea of the guilt of blood, that those ancient edifices, or castles, where enormous crimes have been committed, are supposed to sink gradually into the ground. With regard to the castle of Hermitage, in particular, the common people believe, that thirty feet of the walls sunk, thirty feet fell, and thirty feet remain standing.
Against the sacred standard strove, &c.—P. 139. v. 2.
The fatal battle of the standard was fought on Cowton Moor, near Northallerton (A.S. Ealfertun), in Yorkshire, 1138. David I. commanded the Scottish army. He was opposed by Thurston, archbishop of York, who, to animate his followers, had recourse to the impressions of religious enthusiasm. The mast of a ship was fitted into the perch of a four-wheeled carriage; on its top was placed a little casket, containing a consecrated host. It also contained the banner of St Cuthbert, round which were displayed those of St Peter of York, St John of Beverly, and St Wilfred of Rippon. This was the English standard, and was stationed in the centre of the army. Prince Henry, son of David, at the head of the men of arms, chiefly from Cumberland and Teviotdale, charged, broke, and completely dispersed, the centre; but unfortunately was not supported by the other divisions of the Scottish army. The expression of Aldred (p. 345), describing this encounter, is more spirited than the general tenor of monkish historians;—"Ipsa globi australis parte, instar cassis araneæ dissipata"—that division of the phalanx was dispersed like a cobweb.