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\l. D 

(J>ART VI ) 




O)r UtDfrsioc l^rros, CambriDge 


One (<CboujMiit> oim- PrmhO. 


Copyright, 1889, by F. J. CHH.U. 

The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by U. 0. Uoughton & Company. 


MR MACMATH has helped me in many ways in the preparation of this Sixth Part, and, 
as before, has been prodigal of time and pains. I am under particular obligations to Mr 
ROBERT BRUCE ARMSTRONG, of Edinburgh, for his communications concerning the ballad- 
folk of the Scottish border, and to Dr WILHELM WOLLNER, of the University of Leipsic, 
and Mr GEORGE LYMAN KITTREDGE, my colleague in Harvard College, for contributions (in 
dicated by the initials of their names) which will be found in the Additions and Corrections. 
Dr WOLLNER will continue his services. Mr JOHN KAR&OWICZ, of Warsaw, purposes to 
review in ' Wisla ' all the English ballads which have Polish affinities, and Professor ALEX 
ANDER VESSELOFSKY has allowed me to hope for his assistance ; so that there is a gratifying 
prospect that the points of contact between the English and the Slavic popular ballads will in 
the end be amply brought out. Thanks are due and are proffered, for favors of various kinds, 
to Lieutenant- Colonel LUMSDEN, of London, Lieutenant - Colonel PRIDEAUX, of Calcutta, 
Professor SKEAT, Miss ISABEL FLORENCE HAPGOOD, Professor VINOGRADOF, of Moscow, 
Professor GEORGE STEPHENS, Mr AXEL OLRIK, of Copenhagen (to whom the completion 
of SVEND GRTJNDTVIG'S great work has been entrusted), Mr JAMES BARCLAY MURDOCH, of 
Glasgow, Dr F. J. FURNIVALL, Professor C. R. LANMAN, Mr P. Z. ROUND, and Mr W. W. 

F. J. C. 

JULT, 1889. 




157. GUDE WALLACE 265 


159. DURHAM FIELD 282 























182. THE LAIRD o LOGIE 449 



185. DICK o THE Cow 461 

186. KrsMONT WILLIE 469 

187. JOCK o THE SIDE 475 





A. a. ' Queen Eleanor's Confession,' a broadside, 
London, Printed for C. Bates, at the Sun and Bible 
in Gilt-spur-street, near Pye-corner, Bagford Bal 
lads, II, No 26, British Museum (1685 ?). b. An 
other broadside, Printed for C. Bates in Pye-cor 
ner, Bagford Ballads, I, No 33 (1685 ?). c. Another 
copy, Printed for C. Bates, in Pye-corner, reprinted 
in Utterson's Little Book of Ballads, p. 22. d. A 
Collection of Old Ballads, 1723, 1, 18. 

B. Skene MS., p. 39. 

C. ' Queen Eleanor's Confession,' Buchan's Gleanings, 
p. 77. 

D. ' The Queen of England,' Aytoun, Ballads of Scot 
land, 1859, I, 196. 

E. ' Queen Eleanor's Confession,' Kinloch's Ancient 
Scottish Ballads, p. 247. 

P. 'Earl Marshall,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 1. 

GIVEN in Percy's Reliques, 1765, II, 145, 
" from an old printed copy," with some 
changes by the editor, of which the more im 
portant are in stanzas 2-4. F, " recovered 
from recitation " by Motherwell, repeats Per 
cy's changes in 2, 3, 10 4 , and there is rea 
son to question whether this and the other 
recited versions are anything more than tra 
ditional variations of printed copies. The 
ballad seems first to have got into print in 
the latter part of the seventeenth century, 
but was no doubt circulating orally some 
time before that, for it is in the truly popu 
lar tone. The fact that two friars hear the 
confession would militate against a much ear 
lier date. In E there might appear to be 
some consciousness of this irregularity ; for 
the Queen sends for a single friar, and the 
King says he will be " a prelate old " and sit 
in a dark corner ; but none the less does the 
King take an active part in the shrift.* 

There is a Newcastle copy, " Printed and 
sold by Robert Marchbank, in the Custom 
house-Entry," among the Douce ballads in the 
Bodleian Library, 3, fol. 80, and in the Rox- 

burghe collection, British Museum, III, 634. 
This is dated in the Museum catalogue 1720? 

Eleanor of Aquitaine was married to Henry 
II of England in 1152, a few weeks after her 
divorce from Louis VII of France, she being 
then about thirty and Henry nineteen years of 
age. " It is needless to observe," says Percy, 
" that the following ballad is altogether fabu 
lous ; whatever gallantries Eleanor encouraged 
in the time of her first husband, none are im 
puted to her in that of her second." 

In Peele's play of Edward I, 1593, the 
story of this ballad is transferred from Henry 
II and Eleanor of Aquitaine to Edward 
Longshanks and that model of women and 
wives, Eleanor of Castile, together with other 
slanders which might less ridiculously have 
been invented of Henry II's Eleanor.f Ed 
ward's brother Edmund plays the part of the 
Earl Marshall. The Queen dies ; the King 
bewails his loss in terms of imbecile affection, 
and orders crosses to be reared at all the stages 
of the funeral convoy. Peele's Works, ed. 
Dyce, I, 184 ff. 

There are several sets of tales in which a 

* The threat implied in E 3* has no motive ; and the Eleanor, Wife to Edward the First, King of England, who, 

phrase " haly spark " in 5 4 is an unadvised anticipation. 

for her Pride, by God's Judgments, sunk into the Ground 

t Found also in the ballad, A Warning-Piece to England at Charing-Cross and rose at Queen-Hithe. A Collection of 

against Pride and Wickedness : Being the Fall of Queen 
VOL. ni. 33 

Old Ballads, I, 97. 



husband takes a shrift-father's place and hears 
his wife's confession. 1. A fabliau " Du che 
valier qui fist sa fame confesse," Barbazan 
et Me"on, III, 229 ; Montaiglon, Kecueil Ge- 
ndral, 1, 178, No 16 ; Legrand, Fabliaux, etc., 
1829, IV, 132, with circumstances added by 
Legrand. 2. Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles, 
1432, No 78 ; Scala Celi, 1480, fol. 49;* Mensa 
Philosophica, cited by Manni, Istoria del De- 
camerone, p. 476 ; Doni, Novelle, Lucca, 1852, 
Nov. xiii ; Malespini, Ducento Novelle, No 
92, Venice, 1609, I, 248 ; Kirchhof, Wendun- 
muth, No 245, Oesterley, II, 535; La Fon 
taine, " Le Mari Confesseur," Contes, i, No 
4. 3. Boccaccio, vn, 5. 

In 1, 2, the husband discovers himself after 
the confession ; in 3 he is recognized by the 
wife before she begins her shrift, which she 
frames to suit her purposes. In all these, the 
wife, on being reproached with the infidelity 
which she had revealed, tells the husband 
that she knew all the while that he was the 
confessor, and gives an ingenious turn to her 

apparently compromising disclosures which 
satisfies him of her innocence. All these tales 
have the cynical Oriental character, and, to a 
healthy taste, are far surpassed by the innoc 
uous humor of the English ballad. 

Oesterley, in his notes to Kirchhof, V, 103, 
cites a number of German story-books in 
which the tale may, in some form, be found ; 
also Hans Sachs, 4, 3, 7b.f In Bandello, Parte 
Prima, No 9, a husband, not disguising him 
self, prevails upon a priest to let him over 
hear his wife's confession, and afterwards 
kills her. 

Svend Grundtvig informed me that he had 
six copies of an evidently recent (and very 
bad) translation of Percy's ballad, taken down 
from recitation in different parts of Denmark. 
In one of these Queen Eleanor is exchanged 
for a Queen of Norway. Percy's ballad is 
also translated by Bodmer, II, 40 ; Ursinus, 
p. 59 ; Talvj, Charakteristik, p. 513 ; Doring, 
p. 373; Knortz, L. u. K. Alt-Englands, No 

a. A broadside, London, Printed for C. Bates, at the 
Sun & Bible in Gilt-spur-street, near Pye-corner, Bagford 
Ballads, II, No 26, 1685? b. A broadside, Printed for C. 
Bates, in Pye-corner, Bagford Ballads, I, No 33, 1685 ? 
C. Another copy of b, reprinted in Utterson's Little Book 
of Ballads, p. 22. d- A Collection of Old Ballads, 1723, 
I, 18. 

1 QUEEN ELENOR was a sick woman, 

And afraid that she should dye ; 
Then she sent for two fryars of France, 
For to speak with them speedily. 

2 The King calld down his nobles all, 

By one, by two, and by three, 
And sent away for Earl Martial, 
For to speak with him speedily. 

3 When that he came before the King, 

He fell on his bended knee ; 

There attributed to Jacques de Vitry, bnt not found 
in his Kxempla. Professor Crane informs mo that, though 
the Scala Celi cites Jacques de Vitry sixty-two times, only 
fourteen of such exempla occur among J. de V.'B. 

' A boon, a boon ! our gracious king, 
That you sent so hastily.' 

4 ' I '11 pawn my living and my lands, 

My septer and my crown. 
That whatever Queen Elenor says, 
I will not write it down. 

5 ' Do you put on one fryar's coat, 

And I '11 put on another, 
And we will to Queen Elenor go, 
One fryar like another.' 

6 Thus both attired then they go ; 

When they came to Whitehall, 
The bells they did ring, and the quiristers sing, 
And the torches did light them all. 

7 When that they came before the Queen, 

They fell on their bended knee : 

t The story does not occur in Doni's Marmi, iii, 27, as 
has been said. What is there found is somewhat after the 
fashion of ' The Baffled Knight,' No 112. 



' A boon, a boon ! our gracious queen, 
That you sent so hastily.' 

8 ' Are you two fryars of France ? ' she said, 

' Which I suppose you be ; 
But if you are two English fryars, 
Then hanged shall you be.' 

9 ' We are two fryars of France,' they said, 

' As you suppose we be ; 
We have not been at any mass 
Since we came from the sea.' 

10 ' The first vile thing that ere I did 

I will to you unfold ; 
Earl Martial had my maidenhead, 
Underneath this cloath of gold.' 

11 ' That is a vile sin,' then said the king, 

' God may forgive it thee ! ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' quoth Earl Martial, 
With a heavy heart then spoke he. 

12 ' The next vile thing that ere I did 

To you I '11 not deny ; 
I made a box of poyson strong, 
To poyson Bang Henry.' 

13 ' That is a vile sin,' then said the King, 

' God may forgive it thee ! ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' quoth Earl Martial, 
' And I wish it so may be.' 

14 ' The next vile thing that ere I did 

To you I will discover ; 

I poysoned Fair Rosamond, 
All in fair Woodstock bower.' 

15 ' That is a vile sin,' then said the King, 

' God may forgive it thee ! ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' quoth Earl Martial, 
' And I wish it so may be.' 

16 ' Do you see yonders little boy, 

A tossing of that ball? 
That is Earl Martial['s] eldest son, 
And I love him the best of all. 

17 ' Do you see yonders little boy, 

A catching of the ball ? 
That is King Henry's son,' she said, 
' And I love him the worst of all. 

18 ' His head is like unto a bull, 

His nose is like a boar ; ' 
' No matter for that,' King Henry said, 
' I love him the better therefore.' 

19 The King pulld of his fryar's coat, 

And appeard all in red ; 
She shriekd and she cry'd, she wrong her 

And said she was betrayd. 

20 The King lookd over his left shoulder, 

And a grim look looked he, 
And said, Earl Martial, but for my oath, 
Then hanged shouldst thou be. 


Skene MS., p. 39. 

1 OUR queen 's sick, an very sick, 

She 's sick an like to die ; 
She has sent for the friars of France, 
To speak wi her speedilie. 

2 ' I '11 put on a friar's robe, 

An ye '11 put on anither, 
An we '11 go to Madam the Queen, 
Like friars bath thegither.' 

3 ' God forbid,' said Earl MarishaU, 

' That ever the like shud be, 

That I beguile Madam the Queen ! 
I wad be hangit hie.' 

4 The King pat on a friar's robe, 

Earl MarishaU on anither ; 
They 're on to the Queen, 
Like friars baith thegither. 

5 ' Gin ye be the friars of France, 

As I trust well ye be 

But an ye be ony ither men, 

Ye sail be hangit hie.' 

6 The King he turnd him roun, 

An by his troth sware he, 



We hae na sung messe 
Sin we came frae the sea. 

7 ' The first sin ever I did, 

An a very great sin 't was tee, 
I gae my maidenhead to Earl Marishall, 
Under the greenwood tree.' 

8 ' That was a sin, an a very great sin, 

But pardond it may be ; ' 
' Wi mendiment,' said Earl Marishall, 
But a heavy heart had he. 

9 ' The next sin ever I did, 

An a very great sin 't was tee, 
I poisened Lady Rosamond, 
An the King's darling was she." 

10 ' That was a sin, an a very great sin, 

But pardond it may be ; ' 
' Wi mendiment,' said King Henry, 
But a heavy heart had he. 

11 ' The next sin ever I did, 

An a very great sin 't was tee, 
I keepit poison in my bosom seven years, 
To poison him King Henrie.' 

12 ' That was a sin, an a very great sin, 

But pardond it may be ; ' 
' Wi mendiment,' said King Henry, 
But a heavy heart had he. 

13 ' O see na ye yon bonny boys, 

As they play at the ba ? 
An see na ye Lord Marishal's son ? 
I lee him best of a'. 

14 ' But see na ye King Henry's son ? 

He 's headit like a bull, and backit like a boar, 
I like him warst awa : ' 
' And by my sooth,' says him King Henry, 
' I like him best o the twa.' 

15 The King lie turned him roun, 

Pat on the coat o goud, 

The Queen turnd the King to behold. 

16 . 

' Gin I hadna sworn by the crown and sceptre 

Earl Marishal sud been gart die.' 

Buchan'a Gleanings, p. 77. 

1 THE Queen 's faen sick, and very, very sick, 

Sick, and going to die, 
And she 's sent for twa friars of France, 
To speak with her speedilie. 

2 The King he said to the Earl Marischal, 

To the Earl Marischal said he, 
The Queen she wants twa friars frae France, 
To speak with her presentlie. 

3 Will ye put on a friar's coat, 

And I '11 put on another, 
And we '11 go in before the Queen, 
Like friars both together. 

4 ' But O forbid,' said the Earl Marischal, 

' That I this deed should dee ! 
For if I beguile Eleanor our queen, 
She will gar hang me hie.' 

5 The King he turned him round about, 

An angry man was he ; 
He 's sworn by his sceptre and his sword 
Earl Marischal should not die. 

6 The King has put on a friar's coat, 

Earl Marischal on another, 
And they went in before the Queen, 
Like friars both together. 

7 ' O, if ye be twa friars of France, 

Ye 're dearly welcome to me ; 
But if ye be twa London friars, 
I will gar hang you hie.' 

8 ' Twa friars of France, twa friars of France, 

Twa friars of France are we, 
And we vow we never spoke to a man 
Till we spake to Your Majesty.' 

9 ' The first great sin that eer I did, 

And I '11 tell you it presentlie, 



Earl Marischal got my maidenhead, 
When coming oer the sea.' 

10 ' That was a sin, and a very great sin, 

But pardoned it may be ; ' 
'All that with amendment,' said Earl Mari 
But a quacking heart had he. 

11 ' The next great sin that eer I did, 

I '11 tell you it presentlie ; 
I carried a box seven years in my breast, 
To poison King Henrie.' 

12 ' that was a sin, and a very great sin, 

But pardoned it may be ; ' 
' All that with amendment,' said Earl Mari 
But a quacking heart had he. 

13 ' The next great sin that eer I did, 

I '11 tell you it presentlie ; 
I poisoned the Lady Kosamond, 
And a very good woman was she. 

14 ' See ye not yon twa bonny boys, 

As they play at the ba ? 
The eldest of them is Marischal's son, 

And I love him best of a' ; 
The youngest of them is Henrie's son, 

And I love him none at a' 

15 ' For he is headed like a bull, a bull, 

He is backed like a boar ; ' 
' Then by my sooth,' King Henrie said, 
' I love him the better therefor.' 

16 The King has cast off his friar's coat, 

Put on a coat of gold ; 
The Queen she 's turned her face about, 
She could not "s face behold. 

17 The King then said to Earl Marischal, 

To the Earl Marischal said he, 
Were it not for my sceptre and sword, 
Earl Marischall, ye should die. 

Aytoun's Ballads of Scotland, 2d edition, I, 196, from the 
recitation of a lady residing in Kirkcaldy ; learned of her 

1 THE queen of England she has fallen sick, 

Sore sick, and like to die ; 
And she has sent for twa French priests, 
To bear her companie. 

2 The King he has got word o this, 

And an angry man was he ; 
And he is on to the Earl-a-Marshall, 
As fast as he can gae. 

3 ' Now you '11 put on a priest's robe, 

And I '11 put on anither, 
And we will on unto the Queen, 
Like twa French priests thegither.' 

4 ' No indeed ! ' said the Earl-a-Marshall, 

' That winna I do for thee, 
Except ye swear by your sceptre and crown 
Ye '11 do me nae injurie.' 

5 The King has sworn by his sceptre and crown 

He '11 do him nae injurie, 
And they are on unto the Queen, 
As fast as they can gae. 

6 ' O, if that ye be twa French priests, 

Ye 're welcome unto me ; 

But if ye be twa Scottish lords, 

High hanged ye shall be. 

7 ' The first sin that I did sin, 

And that to you I '11 tell, 
I sleeped wi the Earl-a-Marshall, 
Beneath a silken bell. 

8 ' And wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 

And I pray ye pardon me ; ' 
' Amen, and amen ! ' said the Earl-a-Marshall, 
And a wearied man was he. 

9 ' The neist sin that I did sin, 

And that to you I '11 tell, 
I keeped the poison seven years in my bosom, 
To poison the King himsel. 



10 ' And wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 

And I pray ye pardon me ; ' 
' Amen, and amen ! ' said the Earl-a-Marshall, 
And a wearied man was he. 

11 '0 see ye there my seven sons, 

A' playing at the ba ? 
There 's but ane o them the King's himsel, 
And I like him warst of a'. 

12 ' He's high-backed, and low-breasted, 

And he is bald withal ; ' 
' And by my deed,' and says the King, 
' I like him best mysel ! 

13 ' wae betide ye, Earl-a-Marshall, 

And an ill death may ye die ! 
For if I hadna sworn by my sceptre and crown, 
High hanged ye should be.' 


KMoch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 247. 

1 THE Queen fell sick, and very, very sick, 

She was sick, and like to dee, 
And she sent for a friar cure frae France, 
Her confessour to be. 

2 King Henry, when he heard o that, 

An angry man was he, 
And he sent to the Earl Marshall, 
Attendance for to gie. 

3 ' The Queen is sick,' King Henry cried, 

' And wants to be beshriven ; 
She has sent for a friar cure frae France ; 
By the rude, he were better in heaven ! 

4 ' But tak you now a friar's guise, 

The voice and gesture feign, 
And when she has the pardon crav'd, 
Respond to her, Amen ! 

5 ' And I will be a prelate old, 

And sit in a corner dark, 
To hear the adventures of my spouse, 
My spouse, and her haly spark.' 

6 ' My liege, my liege, how can I betray 

My mistress and my queen ? 
O swear by the rude that no damage 
From this shall be gotten or gien ! ' 

7 ' I swear by the rude,' quoth King Henry, 

' No damage shall be gotten or gien ; 
Come, let us spare no cure nor care 
For the conscience o the Queen.' 

8 ' O fathers, fathers, I 'm very, very sick, 

I 'm sick, and like to dee ; 
Some ghostly comfort to my poor soul 
O tell if ye can gie ! ' 

9 ' Confess, confess,' Earl Marshall cried, 

' And you shall pardoned be ; ' 
' Confess, confess,' the King replied, . 
' And we shall comfort gie.' 

10 ' Oh, how shall I tell the sorry, sorry tale ! 

How can the tale be told ! 
I playd the harlot wi the Earl Marshall, 
Beneath yon cloth of gold. 

11 ' Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 

But I hope it will pardoned be ; ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' quoth the Earl Marshall, 
And a very feart heart had he. 

12 ' down i the forest, in a bower, 

Beyond yon dark oak-tree, 
I drew a penknife. frae my pocket 
To kill King Henerie. 

13 ' Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 

But I hope it will pardoned be ; ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' quoth the Earl Marshall, 
And a very feart heart had he. 

14 ' O do you see yon pretty little boy, 

That 's playing at the ba ? 
He is the Earl Marshall's only son, 
And I loved him best of a'. 

15 ' Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 

But I hope it will pardoned be ; ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' quoth the Earl Marshall, 
And a very feart heart had lie. 



16 ' And do you see yon pretty little girl, 

That 'a a' beclad in green ? 
She 's a friar's daughter, oure in France, 
And I hoped to see her a queen. 

17 ' Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin ? 

But I hope it will pardoned be ; ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' quoth the Earl Marshall, 
And a feart heart still had he. 

18 ' do you see yon other little boy, 

That 's playing at the ba ? 

He is King Henry's only son, 
And I like him warst of a'. 

19 ' He 's headed like a buck,' she said, 

' And backed like a bear ; ' 
' Amen ! ' quoth the King, in the King's ain 

' He shall be my only heir." 

20 The King lookd over his left shoulder, 

An angry man was he : 
' An it werna for the oath I sware, 
Earl Marshall, thou shouldst dee.' 

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 1 ; from recitation. 

1 QuEEins ELEAJSTOR was a sick woman, 

And sick just like to die, 
And she has sent for two fryars of France, 
To come to her speedilie. 
And she has sent, etc. 

2 The King called downe his nobles all, 

By one, by two, by three : 
' Earl Marshall, I '11 go shrive the Queene, 
And thou shalt wend with mee.' 

3 ' A boone, a boone ! ' quoth Earl Marshall, 

And fell on his bended knee, 
' That whatsoever the Queene may say, 
No harm thereof may bee.' 

4 ' O you '11 put on a gray-friar's gowne, 

And I '11 put on another, 
And we will away to fair London town, 
Like friars both together.' 

5 ' O no, O no, my liege, my king, 

Such tilings can never bee ; 
For if the Queene hears word of this, 
Hanged she '11 cause me to bee.' 

6 ' I swear by the sun, I swear by the moon, 

And by the stars so hie, 
And by my sceptre and my crowne, 
The Earl Marshall shall not die.' 

7 The King 's put on a gray-friar's gowne, 

The Earl Marshall 's put on another, 

And they are away to fair London towne, 
Like fryars both together. 

8 When that they came to fair London towne, 

And came into Whitehall, 
The bells did ring, and the quiristers sing, 
And the torches did light them all. 

9 And when they came before the Queene, 

They kneeled down on their knee : 
' What matter, what matter, our gracious 

You 've sent so speedilie ? ' 

10 ' 0, if you are two fryars of France, 

It 's you that I wished to see ; 
But if you are two English lords, 
You shall hang on the gallowes-tree.' 

11 ' O we are not two English lords, 

But two fryars of France we bee, 
And we sang the Song of Solomon, 
As we came over the sea.' 

12 ' Oh, the first vile sin I did commit 

Tell it I will to thee ; 
I fell in love with the Earl Mai-shall, 
As he brought me over the sea.' 

13 ' Oh, that was a great sin,' quoth the King, 

' But pardond it must bee ; ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' said the Earl Marshall, 
.With a heavie heart spake hee. 

14 ' Oh, the next sin that I did commit 

I will to you unf olde ; 



Earl Marshall had my virgin dower, 
Beneath this cloth of golde.' 

15 ' Oh, that was a vile sin,' said the King, 

' May God forgive it thee ! ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' groaned the Earl Marshall, 
And a very frightened man was hee. 

16 ' Oh, the next sin that I did commit 

Tell it I will to thee ; 
I poisoned a lady of noble blood, 
For the sake of King Henrie.' 

17 ' Oh, that was a great sin,' said the King, 

' But pardoned it shall bee ; ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' said the Earl Marshall, 
And still a frightened man was he. 

18 ' Oh, the next sin that ever I did 

Tell it I will to thee ; 

I have kept strong poison this seven long years, 
To poison King Henrie.' 

19 ' Oh, that was a great sin,' said the King, 

' But pardoned it must bee ; ' 
' Amen ! Amen ! ' said the Earl Marshall, 
And still a frightened man was hee. 

20 ' don't you see two little boys, 

Playing at the football ? 
O yonder is the Earl Marshall's son, 
And I like him best of all. 

21 ' O don't you see yon other little boy, 

Playing at the football ? 
O that one is King Henrie's son, 
And I like him worst of all. 

22 ' His head is like a black bull's head, 

His feet are like a bear ; ' 
' What matter ! what matter ! ' cried the King, 
' He 's my son, and my only heir.' 

23 The King plucked off his fryar's gowne, 

And stood in his scarlet so red ; 

The Queen she turned herself in bed, 

And cryed that she was betrayde. 

24 The King lookt oer his left shoulder, 

And a grim look looked he ; 
' Earl Marshall,' he said, ' but for my oath, 
Thou hadst swung on the gallowes-tree.' 

A. a. Queen Eleanor's Confession : Shewing how 
King Henry, with the Earl Martial, in 
Fryars Habits, came to her, instead of 
two Fryars from France, which she sent 
for. To a pleasant New Tune. Both a 
and b are dated in the Museum Catalogue 
1670 ? " C. Bates, at Sun & Bible, near 
St. Sepulchre's Church, in Pye Corner, 
1685." Chappdl. 

10 1 . thta ere. 14 2 . disdover. 17 1 . younders. 
b. Title the same, except came to see her. 

16 8 . Martial's. 17 1 . see then yonders. 

20 1 . his let. 
C. Title as in a. 4 s . whatsoever. 8 4 . you shall. 

16 2 . catching of the. 16*. Marshal's. 

17 1 . see then yonders. 

d. Queen Eleanor's Confession to the Two sup 
posed Fryars of France. 
I 4 . To speak with her. 2 s . and wanting. 
2 4 . For wanting. 

4 1 . I '11 pawn my lands the King then cry'd. 
4 s . whatsoere. 5 1 . on a. 
5 4 . Like fryar and his brother. 
6 8 . they wanting. 7 4 . you. 8 2 . As I. 
10 4 . Beneath this. II 1 , 13 1 , 15 1 . That's. 
II 4 . then wanting. 
16 2 . of the. 16 3 . Marshal's. 
16 4 , 17*. And wanting. 18*. Henry cry'd. 
19*. shriekd, she cry'd, and wrung. 
20 4 . Or hanged. 

B. 14 4 . loved ; love in Kinloch's annotated copy. 
F. 10 1 , II 1 , 20 1 , 8 , 21 V. Oh. 



A. ' On an honourable Achievement of Sir William 
Wallace, near Falkirk,' a chap-book of Four New 
Songs and a Prophecy, 1745? Johnson's Museum, 
ed. 1853, D. Laing's additions, IV, 458*; Maid- 
ment's Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 83. 

B. ' Sir William Wallace,' communicated to Percy by 
Robert Lambe, of Norham, probably in 1 768. 

C. ' Gude Wallace,' Johnson's Museum, p. 498, No 
484, communicated by Robert Burns. 

D. ' Gude Wallace,' communicated to Robert Cham 
bers by Elliot Anderson, 1827. 

E. ' Willie Wallace,' communicated to James Telfer by 
A. Fisher. 

P. 'Willie Wallace,' Buchan's Gleanings, p. 114. 

G. 'Sir William Wallace,' Alexander Laing's Thistle 
of Scotland, p. 100 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 487. 

H. ' Wallace and his Leman,' Buchan's Ballads of the 
North of Scotland, II, 226. 

C is reprinted by Finlay, I, 103. It is 
made the basis of a long ballad by Jamieson, 
II, 166, and serves as a thread for Cunning 
ham's ' Gude Wallace,' Scottish Songs, I, 262.* 
P is repeated by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. 
364, and by Aytoun, I, 54. A copy in the 
Laing MSS, University of Edinburgh, Div. 
II, 358, is C. 

Blind Harry's Wallace (of about 1460, 
earlier than 1488) is clearly the source of this 
ballad. A-F are derived from vv 1080-1119 
of the Fifth Book. Here Wallace, on his 
way to a hostelry with a comrade, met a 
woman, who counselled them to pass by, if 
Scots, for southrons were there, drinking and 
talking of Wallace ; twenty are there, making 
great din, but no man of fence. " Wallace 
went in and bad Benedicite." The captain 
said, Thou art a Scot, the devil thy nation 
quell. Wallace drew, and ran the captain 
through ; " fifteen he straik and fifteen has he 
slayn ; " his comrade killed the other five. 

The story of A-E is sufficiently represented 

* Cunningham, in his loose way, talks of several frag 
ments which he had endeavored to combine, but can spare 
room for only one couplet : 

Though lame of & leg and blind of an ee, 
You're as like William Wallace as ever I did see. 

But this is the William of ' The Knight and the Shepherd's 
Daughter,' No 110. 
VOL. HI. 34 

by that of A. Wallace comes upon a woman 
washing, and asks her for tidings. There are 
fifteen Englishmen at the hostelry seeking 
Wallace. Had he money he would go thither. 
She tells him out twenty shillings (for which 
he takes off loth hat and hood, and thanks 
her reverently). He bows himself over a staff 
and enters the hostelry, saying, Good ben be 
here (in C, he bad Benedicite, in the words of 
Blind Harry). The captain asks the crooked 
carl where he was born, and the carl answers 
that he is a Scot. The captain offers the carl 
twenty shillings for a sight of Wallace. The 
carl wants no better bode, or offer.f He 
strikes the captain such a blow over the jaws 
that he will never eat more, and sticks the 
rest. Then he bids the goodwife get him 
food, for he has eaten nothing for two days. 
Ere the meal is ready, fifteen other English 
men light at the door. These he soon dis 
poses of, sticking five, trampling five in the 
gutter, and hanging five in the wood. 

P makes Wallace change clothes with a 

t A 15, B 12, D 12, are somewhat corrupted. In P 14 
Wallace says he never had a better bode. In E 10 Wal 
lace's reply is, Pay down, for if your answer be not good 
you shall have the downfall of Robin Hood ; and in G 30, 
Tell down, and ye shall see William Wallace with the down- 
come of Robin Hood ; that is, I suppose, you shall be knocked 
down as if by Robin Hood. 



beggar, and ask charity at the inn. He kills 
his thirty men between eight and four, and 
then returning to the North-Inch (a common 
lying along the Tay, near Perth) finds the 
maid who was washing her lilie hands in st. 3 
still " washing tenderlie." He pulls out twenty 
of the fifty pounds which he got from the 
captain, and hands them over to the maid for 
the good luck of her half-crown. 

G has the change of clothes with the beg 
gar, found in F, and prefixes to the story of 
the other versions another adventure of Wal 
lace, taken from the Fourth Book of Blind 
Harry, vv 704-87. Wallace's enemies have 
seen him leaving his mistress's house. They 
seize her, threaten to burn her unless she 
' tells,' and promise to marry her to a knight 
if she will help to bring the rebel down. 
Wallace returns, and she seeks to detain 
him, but he says he must go back to his 
men. Hereupon she falls to weeping, and 
ends with confessing her treason. He asks 
her if she repents ; she says that to mend 
the miss she would burn on a hill, and is for 
given. Wallace puts on her gown and curches, 
hiding his sword under his weed, tells the 
armed men who are watching for him that 
Wallace is locked in, and makes good speed 
out of the gate. Two men follow him, for 
he seems to be a stalwart quean ; Wallace 
turns on them and kills them. This is Blind 

Harry's story, and it will be observed to be 
followed closely in the ballad, with the addi 
tion of a pitcher in each hand to complete 
the female disguise, and two more southrons 
to follow and be killed. The first half of 
this version is plainly a late piece of work, 
very possibly of this century, much later than 
the other, which itself need not be very old. 
But the portions of Blind Harry's poem out 
of which these ballads were made were per 
haps themselves composed from older ballads, 
and the restitution of the lyrical form may 
have given us something not altogether un 
like what was sung in the fifteenth, or even 
the fourteenth, century. The fragment H is, 
as far as it goes, a repetition of G. 

Bower (1444-49) says that after the battle 
of Roslyn, 1298, Wallace took ship and went 
to France, distinguishing himself by his valor 
against pirates on the sea and against the 
English on the continent, as ballads both in 
France and Scotland testify.* A fragment 
of a ballad relating to Wallace is preserved 
in Constable's MS. Cantus: Leyden's Com- 
playnt of Scotland, p. 226. 

Wallace parted his men in three 
And sundrie gaits are gone. 

C is translated by Arndt, Bliitenlese, p. 
198 ; F by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 
69, No 22. 

A chap-book of Four New Songs and a Prophecy, 1 745 ? 
The Scots Musical Museum, 1853, D. Laing's additions, IV, 
458*; Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 83. 

1 ' HAD we a king,' said Wallace then, 

'That our kind Scots might live by their 

own ! 

But betwixt me and the English blood 
I think there is an ill seed sown.' 

2 Wallace him over a river lap, 

He lookd low down to a linn ; 

* Post enim conflictum de Uoslyn, Wallace, ascensa navi, 
Frauciam petit, ubi quanta probitatc refulsit, tarn super 
mare a piratis quam in Francia ab Anglis perpessus est dis- 

He was war of a gay lady 

Was even at the well washing. 

3 'Well mot ye fare, fair madam,' he said, 

' And ay well mot ye fare and see ! 
Have ye any tidings me to tell, 

I pray you '11 show them unto me.' 

4 ' I have no tidings you to tell, 

Nor yet no tidings you to ken ; 
But into that hostler's house 

There 's fifteen of your Englishmen. 

crimina, et viriliter se habuit, nonnulla carmina, tain iu ipsa 
Franda quam Scotia, attestantur. Scotichrouicou, Goodall, 
II, 176, note. 



5 ' And they are seeking Wallace there, 

For they 've ordained him to be slain : ' 
' O God forbid ! ' said Wallace then, 
' For he 's oer good a kind Scotsman. 

6 ' But had I money me upon, 

And evn this day, as I have none, 
Then would I to that hostler's house, 
And evn as fast as I could gang.' 

7 She put her hand in her pocket, 

She told him twenty shillings oer her knee ; 
Then he took off both hat and hood, 
And thankd the lady most reverently. 

8 ' If eer I come this way again, 

Well paid [your] money it shall be ; ' 
Then he took off both hat and hood, 

And he thankd the lady most reverently. 

9 He leand him twofold oer a staff, 

So did he threefold oer a tree, 
And he 's away to the hostler's house, 
Even as fast as he might dree. 

10 When he came to the hostler's house, 

He said, Good-ben be here ! quoth he : 
An English captain, being deep load, 
He asked him right cankerdly, 

11 Where was you born, thou crooked carle, 

And in what place, and what country ? 
' T is I was born in fair Scotland, 
A crooked carle although I be.' 

12 The English captain swore by th' rood, 

' We are Scotsmen as well as thee, 
And we are seeking Wallace ; then 
To have him merry we should be.' 

13 'The man,' said Wallace, 'ye 're looking for, 

I seed him within these days three ; 

And he has slain an English captain, 
And ay the fearder the rest may be.' 

14 ' I 'd give twenty shillings,' said the captain, 

' To such a crooked carle as thee, 
If you would take me to the place 

Where that I might proud Wallace see.' 

15 ' Hold out your hand,' said Wallace then, 

' And show your money and be free, 
For tho you 'd bid an hundred pound, 
I never bade a better bode ' [, said he]. 

16 He struck the captain oer the chafts, 

Till that he never chewed more ; 
He stickd the rest about the board, 
And left them all a sprawling there. 

17 ' Rise up, goodwife,' said Wallace then, 

' And give me something for to eat ; 
For it 's near two days to an end 
Since I tasted one bit of meat.' 

18 His board was scarce well covered, 

Nor yet his dine well scantly dight, 
Till fifteen other Englishmen 

Down all about the door did light. 

19 ' Come out, come out,' said they, ' Wallace ! 


' For the day is come that ye must die ; ' 
And they thought so little of his might, 
But ay the fearder they might be. 

20 The wife ran but, the gudeman ran ben, 

It put them all into a fever ; 
Then five he sticked where they stood, 
And five he trampled in the gutter. 

21 And five he chased to yon green wood, 

He hanged them all out-oer a grain ; 

And gainst the morn at twelve o'clock, 

He dined with his kind Scottish men. 


Communicated to Percy by K. Lambe, of Norham, appar 
ently in 1768. 

1 ' I WISH we had a king,' says Wallace, 
' That Scotland might not want a head ; 

In England and in Scotland baith, 

I 'm sure that some have sowed ill seed.' 

2 Wallace he oer the water did luke, 
And he luked law down by a glen, 



And he was aware of a gay lady, 
As she was at the well washing. 

3 ' Weel may ye save, fair lady ! ' he says, 

' Far better may ye save and see ! 
If ye have ony tidings to tell, 
I pray cum tell them a' to me.' 

4 ' I have no tidings you to tell, 

And as few tidings do I ken ; 
But up and to yon ostler-house 
Are just gane fifteen gentlemen. 

5 ' They now are seeking Gude Wallace, 

And ay they 're damning him to hang ; ' 
' Oh God forbid,' says Wallace then. 
' I 'm sure he is a true Scotsman. 

6 ' Had I but ae penny in my pocket, 

Or in my company ae baubee, 
I woud up to yon ostler-house, 
A' these big gentlemen to see.' 

7 She pat her hand into her pocket, 

She powd out twenty shillings and three : 
' If eer I live to come this way, 
Weel payed shall your money be.' 

8 He leaned him twafold oer a staff, 

Sae did he twafold oer a tree, 
And he 's gane up to the ostler-house, 
A' these fine gentlemen to see. 

9 When he cam up among them a', 

He bad his benison be there ; 
The captain, being weel buke-learnd, 
Did answer him in domineer. 

10 ' Where was ye born, ye cruked carl, 

Or in what town, or what countree ? ' 
' O I was born in fair Scotland, 
A cruked carl although I be/ 

11 The captain sware by the root of his sword, 

Saying, I 'm a Scotsman as weel as thee ; 
Here 's twenty shillings of English money 

To such a cruked carl as thee, 
If thou '11 tell me of that Wallace ; 

He 's ay the creature I want to see. 

12 ' O hawd your hand,' says Wallace then, 

' I 'm feard your money be not gude ; 
If 't were as muckle and ten times niair, 
It shoud not bide anither bode.' 

13 He 's taen the captain alang the chaps, 

A wat he never chawed mair ; 
The rest he sticked about the table, 
And left them a' a sprawling there. 

14 ' Gude wife,' he said, ' for my benison, 

Get up and get my dinner dight ; 
For it is twa days till an end 

Syne I did taste ane bit of meat.' 

15 Dinner was not weel made ready, 

Nor yet upon the table set, 

When fifteen other Englishmen 

Alighted all about the yate. 

16 ' Come out, come out now, Wallace,' they say, 

' For this is the day ye are to dee ; 
Ye trust sae mickle in God's might, 
And ay the less we do fear thee.' 

17 The gude wife ran but, the gude man ran ben, 

They pat the house all in a swither ; 
Five sune he sticked where he stude, 
And five he smitherd in a gutter. 

18 Five he chac'd to the gude green-wood, 

And hanged them a' out-oer a pin ; 
And at the morn at eight o'clock 

He din'd with his men at Lough-mabin. 

Johnson's Museum, p. 498, No 484, communicated by 
Robert Burns. 

1 ' O FOR my ain king,' quo Gude Wallace, 

' The rightfu king of fair Scotland ! 
Between me and my soverign blude 
I think I see some ill seed sawn.' 

2 Wallace out over yon river he lap, 

And he has lighted low down on yon plain, 
And he was aware of a gay ladie, 
As she was at the well washing. 

3 ' What tydins, what tydins, fair lady ? ' he says, 

' What tydins hast thou to tell unto me ? 



What tydins, what tydins, fair lady ? ' he says, 
' What tydins hae ye in the south countrie ? ' 

4 ' Low down in yon wee ostler-house 

There is fyfteen Englishmen, 
And they are seekin for Gude Wallace, 
It 'a him to take and him to hang.' 

5 ' There 's nocht in my purse,' quo Gude Wal 


' There 's nocht, not even a bare pennie ; 
But I will down to yon wee ostler-house, 
Thir fyfteen Englishmen to see.' 

6 And when he cam to yon wee ostler-house 

He bad bendicite be there ; 

7 ' Where was ye born, auld crookit carl ? 

Where was ye born, in what countrie ? ' 
' I am a true Scot born and bred, 

And an auld crookit carl just sic as ye see.' 

8 ' I wad gie fifteen shillings to onie crookit carl, 

To onie crookit carl just sic as ye, 
If ye will get me Gude Wallace ; 

For he is the man I wad very fain see.' 

9 He hit the proud captain alang the chafft- 

That never a bit o meal he ate niair ; 

And he sticket the rest at the table where they 

And he left them a' lyin sprawlin there. 

10 ' Get up, get up, gudewife,' he says, 

' And get to me some dinner in haste ; 
For it will soon be three lang days 
Sin I a bit o meat did taste.' 

11 The dinner was na weel readie, 

Nor was it on the table set, 
Till other fifteen Englishmen 
Were a' lighted about the yett. 

12 ' Come out, come out now, Gude Wallace ! 

This is the day that thou maun die : ' 
' I lippen nae sae little to God,' he says, 
' Altho I be but ill wordie.' 

13 The gudewife had an auld gudeman ; 

By Gude Wallace he stiffiy stood, 
Till ten o the fyfteen Englishmen 
Before the door lay in their blude. 

14 The other five to the greenwood ran, 

And he hangd these five upon a grain, 
And on the morn, wi his merry men a', 
He sat at dine in Lochmaben town. 

Communicated to Robert Chambers by Elliot Anderson, 
Galashiels, 21 April, 1827, in a letter preserved among Kin- 
loch's papers. Copied, with changes, in Kinloch MSS, I, 
177. Furnished me by Mr. Macmath. 

1 ' I WISH we had our king,' quo Gude Wallace, 

' An ilka true Scotsman had his nawn ; 
For between us an the southron louns 
I doubt some ill seed has been sawn.' 

2 Wallace he owre the water gaed, 

An looked low down by a glen, 
An there he saw a pretty, pretty maid, 
As she was at the well washin. 

3 ' weel may ye wash, my bonny, bonny maid ! 

An weel may ye saep, an me to see ! 

If ye have ony tidins to tell, 
I pray you tell them unto me.' 

4 ' I have no tidins for to tell, 

Nor ony uncos do I ken ; 
But up into yon little alehouse 
An there sits fyfteen Englishmen. 

5 ' An ay they are speakin o Gude Wallace, 

An ay they are doomin him to hang : ' 
' O forbid ! ' quo Gude Wallace, 

' He 's owre truehearted a Scotsman. 

6 ' Had I but a penny in my pouch, 

As I have not a single bawbee, 
I would up into yon little alehouse, 
An ay thae southron blades to see.' 



7 S.he 's put her hand into her pouch, 

An counted him out pennies three ; 
' If ever I live to come back this way, 
Weel paid the money it shall be.' 

8 He 'a taen a staff into his hand, 

An leand himsel outowre a tree, 

An he 's awa to yon little alehouse, 

An ay the southron louns to see. 

9 When he gaed in to that little alehouse, 

He bad liis bennison be there ; 
The captain answered him [in] wrath, 
He answerd him with domineer. 

10 ' whare was ye born, ye crooked auld carle ? 

An how may this your dwellin be ? ' 
' Q I was born in fair Scotland, 
A crooked carle altlio I be.' 

11 ' I would een gie twenty shillins 

To ony sic crooked carle as thee 

That wad find me out Gude Wallace ; 

For ay that traitor I lang to see.' 

12 ' Hand out your hand,' quo Gude Wallace, 

' I doubt your money be not gude ; 

If ye '11 gie ither twenty shillins, 
It neer shall bide ye anither bode.' 

13 He 's taen the captain outowre the jaws, 

Anither word spak he neer mair ; 
An five he sticket whare they sat, 
The rest lay scramblin here an there. 

14 ' Get up, get up, gudewife,' he says, 

' An get some meat ready for me, 
For I hae fasted this three lang days ; 
A wat right hungry I may be.' 

15 The meat it wasna weel made ready, 

Nor as weel on the table set, 

Till there cam fyfteen Englishmen 

An lighted a' about the yett. 

16 The gudewife ran but, the gudeman ran ben ; 

It put them a' in sic a stoure 
That five he sticket whare they sat, 
An five lay sprawlin at the door. 

17 An five are to the greenwood gane, 

An he 's hangd them a' outowre a tree, 
An before the mornin twal o clock 
He dined wi his men at Loch Marie. 

Communicated to James Telfcr by A. Fisher, as written 
down from the mouth of a serving-man, who had learued it 
in the neighborhood of Lochmahcn. Mr Robert White's 

1 WILLIE WALLACE the water lap, 

And lighted low down in a glen ; 

There he came to a woman washing, 

And she had washers nine or ten. 

2 ' O weel may ye wash ! ' said Willie Wallace, 

' O weel may ye wash ! ' said fair Willie, 
' And gin ye have any tidings to tell, 
I pray ye tell them unto me.' 

3 ' I have nae tidings for to tell, 

And as few will I let ye ken ; 
But down into yon hosteler-ha 
Lies fifteen English gentlemen.' 

4 ' O had I ae penny in my pocket, 

Or had I yet ane bare bawbee, 

I would go to yon hosteler-ha, 
All for these Englishmen to see. 

5 'O wil ye len me ane pennie, 

Or will ye len me a bare bawbee, 
I would go to yon hosteler-ha, 
All for these Englishmen to see.' 

G She 's put her hand into her pocket, 

And she 's gaen him out guineas three, 
And he 's away to yon ostler-ha, 
All for these Englishmen to see. 

7 Before he came to the hosteler-ha, 

He linkit his armour oer a tree ; 
These Englishmen, being weel book-learned, 
They said to him, Great Dominie ! 

8 Where was ye born, ye crookit carle ? 

Where was ye born, or in what countrie ? 
' In merry Scotland I was born, 
A crookit carle altho I be.' 



9 ' Here 's fifteen shillings,' one of them said, 

' Here 's other fifteen I '11 gie to thee, 
If you will tell me where the traitor Willie 

Wallace is, 
Or where away thou thinks he '11 be.' 

10 ' Pay down, pay down your money,' he said, 

' Pay down, pay down richt speedilie, 
For if your answer be not good, 

You shall have the downfall of Robin Hood,' 
[said he]. 

11 He struck the captain on the jaw, 

He swore that he would chow nae mair 

cheese ; 

He 's killed all the rest with his good broad 
And left them wallowing on their knees. 

12 ' Go cover the table,' said Willie Wallace, 

' Go cover the table, get me some meat, 

For it is three days and rather mair 
Since I did either drink or eat.' 

13 They had not the table weel covered, 

Nor yet the candle weel gaen licht, 
Till fifteen other Englishmen 

They a' down at the door did light. 

14 ' Come out, come out, Willie Wallace,' they 


' Come out, come out, and do not flee, 
For we have sworn by our good broadswords 
That this is the nicht that you sail dee.' 

15 He 's killed five with his good broadsword, 

He 's drowned other five in the raging sea, 
And he 's taen other five to the merry green 
And hanged them oer the highest tree. 

Buchan's Gleanings, p. 114; from a jrypsy tinker, p. 199. 

1 WALLACE in the high highlans, 

Neither meat nor drink got he ; 
Said, Fa me life, or fa me death, 
Now to some town I maun be. 

2 He 's put on his short claiding, 

And on his short claiding put he ; 
Says, Fa me life, or fa me death, 
Now "to Perth-town I maun be. 

3 He steped oer the river Tay, 

I wat he steped on dry land ; 
He was aware of a well-fared maid, 
Was washing there her lilie hands. 

4 ' What news, what news, ye well-fared maid ? 

What news hae^re this day to me ? ' 
' No news, no news, ye gentle knight, 

No news hae I this day to thee, 
But fifteen lords in the hostage-house 

Waiting Wallace for to see.' 

5 ' If I had but in my pocket 

The worth of one single pennie, 
I would go to the hostage-house, 
And there the gentlemen to see.' 

6 She put her hand in her pocket, 

And she has pulld out half-a-crown ; 
Says, Take ye that, ye belted knight, 
'T will pay your way till ye come down. 

7 As he went from the well-fared maid, 

A beggar bold I wat met he, 
Was coverd wi a clouted cloak, 
And in his hand a trusty tree. 

8 ' What news, what news, ye silly auld man ? 

What news hae ye this day to gie ? ' 
' No news, no news, ye belted knight, 

No news hae I this day to thee, 
But fifteen lords in the hostage-house 

Waiting Wallace for to see.' 

9 ' Ye '11 lend me your clouted cloak, 

That covers you frae head to shie, 
And I '11 go to the hostage-house, 
Asking there for some supplie.' 

10 Now he 's gone to the West-muir wood, 

And there he 's pulld a trusty tree ; 
And then he 's on to the hostage gone, 
Asking there for charitie. 

11 Down the stair the captain comes, 

Aye the poor man for to see : 



' If ye be a captain as good as ye look, 
Ye 'II give a poor man some supplie ; 

If ye be a captain as good as ye look, 
A guinea this day ye '11 gie to me.' 

12 ' Where were ye born, ye crooked carle ? 

Where were ye born, in what countrie ? ' 
'In fair Scotland I was born, 
Crooked carle that I be.' 

13 ' I would give you fifty pounds, 

Of gold and white monie, 
I would give you fifty pounds, 

If the trakor Wallace ye 'd let me see.' 

14 ' Tell down your money,' said Willie Wallace, 

' Tell down your money, if it be good ; 
I 'm sure I have it in my power, 
And never had a better bode. 

15 ' Tell down your money,' said Willie Wallace, 

' And let me see if it be fine ; 
I 'm sure I have it in my power 
To bring the traitor Wallace in.' 

16 The money was told on the table, 

Silver bright of pounds fiftie ; 
' Now here I stand,' said Willie Wallace, 
' And what hae ye to say to me ? ' 

17 He slew the captain where he stood, 

The rest they did quack an roar ; 

He slew the rest around the room, 
And askd if there were any more. 

18 ' Come, cover the table,' said Willie Wallace, 

' Come, cover the table now, make haste ; 
For it will soon be three lang days 
Sin I a bit o meat did taste.' 

19 The table was not well covered, 

Nor yet was he set down to dine, 
Till fifteen more of the English lords 
Surrounded the house where he was in. 

20 The guidwife she ran but the floor, 

And aye the guidman he ran ben ; 
From eight o clock till four at noon 
He has killd full thirty men. 

21 He put the house in sick a swither 

That five o them he sticket dead, 
Five o them he drownd in the river, 
And five hung in the West-muir wood. 

22 Now he is on to the North-Inch gone, 

Where the maid was washing tenderlie ; 
' Now by my sooth,' said Willie Wallace, 
' It 'a been a sair day's wark to me.' 

23 He 's put his hand in his pocket, 

And he has pulld out twenty pounds ; 

Says, Take ye that, ye weel-fared maid, 

For the gude luck of your half-crown. 

The Thistle of Scotland, Alexander Laing, p. 100, from 
the repetition of an old gentlewoman in Aberdeenshire. Also 
Motherwell's MS., p. 487, communicated by Peter Buclmn 
of Peterhead, "who had it from an old woman in that 

1 WOUD ye hear of William Wallace, 

An sek him as he goes, 
Into the Ian of Lanark, 
Amang his mortel faes ? 

2 There was fyften English sogers 

Unto his ladie cam, 
Said, Gie us William Wallace, 
That we may have him slain. 

3 Woud ye gie William Wallace, 

That we may have him slain, 

And ye 's be wedded to a lord, 
The best in Christendeem. 

4 ' This verra nicht at seven, 

Brave Wallace will come in, 
And he '11 come to my chamber-door, 
Without or dread or din.' 

5 The fyften English sogers 

Around the house did wait, 
And four brave southron foragers 
Stood hie upon the gait. 

6 That verra nicht at seven 

Brave Wallace he came in, 
And he came to his ladie's bouir, 
Withouten dread or din. 



7 When she beheld him Wallace, 

She star'd him in the face ; 
' Ohon, alas ! ' said that ladie, 
' This is a wof ul case. 

8 ' For I this nicht have sold you, 

This nicht you must be taen, 

And I 'm to be wedded to a lord, 

The best in Christendeem.' 

9 ' Do you repent,' said Wallace, 

' The ill you 've dane to me ? ' 
' Ay, that I do,' said that ladie, 
' And will do till I die. 

10 ' Ay, that I do,' said that ladie, 

' And will do ever still, 
And for the ill I 've dane to you, 
Let me burn upon a hill.' 

11 ' Now God forfend,' says brave Wallace, 

' I shoud be so unkind ; 
Whatever I am to Scotland's faes, 
I 'm aye a woman's friend. 

12 ' Will ye gie me your gown, your gown, 

Your gown but and your kirtle, 
Your petticoat of bonny brown, 
And belt about my middle ? 

13 ' I '11 take a pitcher in ilka hand, 

And do me to the well ; 
They '11 think I 'm one of your maidens, 
Or think it is yoursell.' 

14 She has gien him her gown, her gown, 

Her petticoat and kirtle, 
Her broadest belt, wi silver clasp, 
To bind about his middle. 

15 He 's taen a pitcher in ilka hand, 

And dane him to the well ; 
They thought him one of her maidens, 
They kend it was nae hersell. 

16 Said one of the southron foragers, 

See ye yon lusty dame ? 
I woud nae gie muckle to thee, neebor, 
To bring her back agen. 

17 Then all the southrons followd him, 

And sure they were but four ; 

VOL. HI. 35 

But he has drawn his trusty brand, 
And slew them pair by pair. 

18 He threw the pitchers frae his hands, 

And to the hills fled he, 

Until he cam to a fair may, 

Was washin on yon lea. 

19 ' What news, what news, ye weel-far'd may ? 

What news hae ye to gie ? ' 
' 111 news, ill news,' the fair may said, 
' 111 news I hae to thee. 

20 ' There is f yften English sogers 

Into that thatched inn, 
Seeking Sir William Wallace ; 
I fear that he is slain.' 

21 ' Have ye any money in your pocket ? 

Pray lend it unto me, 
And when I come this way again, 
Repaid ye weel shall be.' 

22 She['s] put her hand in her pocket, 

And taen out shillings three ; 
He turnd him right and round about, 
And thankd the weel-far'd may. 

23 He had not gone a long rig length, 

A rig length and a span, 

Until he met a bold beggar, 

As sturdy as coud gang. 

24 ' What news, what news, ye bold beggar ? 

What news hae ye to gie ? ' 
' O heavy news,' the beggar said, 
' I hae to tell to thee. 

25 ' There is fyften English sogers, 

I heard them in yon inn, 

Vowing to kill him Wallace ; 

I fear the chief is slain.' 

26 ' Will ye change apparell wi me, auld man ? 

Change your apparell for mine ? 
And when I come this way again, 
Ye '11 be my ain poor man.' 

27 When he got on the beggar's coat, 

The pike-staff in his hand, 
He 'a dane him down to yon tavern, 
Where they were drinking wine. 



28 ' What news, what news, ye staff-beggar ? 

What news hae ye to gie ? ' 
' I hae nae news, I heard nae news, 
As few I '11 hae frae thee.' 

29 ' I think your coat is ragged, auld man ; 

But woud you wages win, 
And tell where William Wallace is, 
We '11 lay gold in your hand.' 

30 ' Tell down, tell down your good red gold, 

Upon the table-head, 
And ye sail William Wallace see, 
Wi the down-come of Robin Hood.' 

31 They had nae tauld the money down, 

And laid it on his knee, 
When candles, lamps, and candlesticks, 
He on the floor gard flee. 

32 And he has drawn his trusty brand, 

And slew them one by one, 

Then sat down at the table-head, 

And called for some wine. 

33 The goodwife she ran but, ran but, 

The goodman he ran ben, 

The verra bairns about the fire 

Were a' like to gang brain. 

34 ' Now if there be a Scotsman here, 

He '11 come and drink wi me ; 
But if there be an English loun, 
It is his time to flee.' 

35 The goodman was an Englishman, 

And to the hills he ran ; 
The goodwife was a Scots woman, 
And she came to his hand. 

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 226. 

1 WALLACE wight, upon a night, 

Came riding oer the linn, 
And he is to his Ionian's bower, 
And tirld at the pin. 

2 ' O sleep ye, wake ye, lady ? ' he said, 

' Ye '11 rise, lat me come in.' 
' wha 's this at my bower-door, 

That knocks, and knows my name ? ' 
' My name is William Wallace, 

Ye may my errand ken.' 

3 ' The truth to you I will rehearse, 

The secret I '11 unfold ; 
Into your enmies' hands this night 
I fairly hae you sold.' 

4 ' If that be true ye tell to me, 

Do ye repent it sair ? ' 
' O that I do,' she said, ' dear Wallace, 
And will do evermair ! 

5 ' The English did surround my house, 

And forced me theretill ; 
But for your sake, my dear Wallace, 
I coud burn on a hill.' 

6 Then he gae her a loving kiss, 

The tear droppd frae his ee ; 

Says, Fare ye well for evermair, 

Your face nae mair I '11 see. 

7 She dressd him in her ain claithing, 

And frae her house he came ; 
Which made the Englishmen admire, 
To see this stalwart dame. 

8 He is to Saint Johnston gane, 

And there he playd him well ; 
For there he saw a well-far'd may, 
Was washing at a well. 

9 ' What news, what news, ye well-far'd may ? 

What news hae ye to me ? 
What news, what news, ye well-far'd may, 
All from your north countrie ? ' 

10 ' See ye not yon tavern-house, 

That stands on yonder plain ? 
Tliis very day have landet in it 
Full fifteen Englishmen ; 

11 ' In search of Wallace, our dear champion, 

Ordaining that he shoud dee.' 
' Then on my troth,' said Wallace wight, 
' These Englishmen I 'se see.' 



A. 2*. was not war. P 3 has wasna aware. O. 

B, C, have the obviously right reading. D. 

5 1 . Wallace then. Maidment, there. 
5*. Maidment, ouer good. 

10 1 . Maidment, When come. E. 

10 2 . quoth he be here. 

12*. Maidment, should we. 

B. 8'-. oer a stree. Stree is glossed by Lambe as 

stick, but this is impossible : the s was in 
duced by the s in staff above. 

10", 12 1 . Oh. 

II 1 . root of his sword simply from ignorance P. 
of the meaning of the rood, by which the G. 
captain swears in A 12 ; rood of his sword 
is hardly to be thought of. 

12 2 . A word for A wat See D 14*. 

16 M . Corrupted: the words should be Wal 
lace's. Cf. G 12. 

9 2 . meal : perhaps meat. 

I 2 . Var. (or gloss), his ain. 

2 1 . went changed to gaed (for rhyme?). 

9*. Var. with angry jeer. 

2'. gin he. A. Fisher says that lines are 
wanting, and has supplied two after T 2 
(making a stanza of 7 SA , 8 1 ' 3 , and leaving 
8 M as a half stanza) and two after ID' 2 
(leaving 10 M as the second half of another 
stanza). The arrangement here adopted is 
in conformity with that oftlie other copies. 

3". wasna. 22 1 . Insch. 

Buchan's variations. 2 s . And for Said. 

3 4 . Christendeen. 

9 2 , 10", lo 2 , 27'. done. 10*. on a. 

12*. me wanting. 

20 2 . I heard them in yon inn. 21 1 . you. 

32 2 . ane by aiie. 



A. 'Hugh Spencer,' Percy MS., p. 281; Hales and B. 'Hugh Spencer," Percy Papers, communicated by 
Furnivall, II, 290. the Duchess Dowager of Portland. 

C. Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, No 4. 

THE king of England, A, B, sends Hugh 
Spencer as ambassador to France, to know 
whether there is to be peace or war between 
the two lands. Spencer takes with him a 
hundred men-at-arms, A ; twenty ships, B. 
The French king, Charles, A 30, declares for 
war, A, C ; says that the last time peace was 
broken it was not along of him, B. The queen, 
Maude, B 9, is indignant that the king should 
parley with traitors, A, with English shep 
herds, B. She proposes to Spencer a joust 
with one of her knights. The Englishman 
has no jousting -horse. Three horses are 
brought out for him, all of which he rejects, 
A, B ; in C, two. In A he calls for his old 
hack which he had brought over sea ; in B, C, 
he accepts a fourth [third], a fiery-eyed black. 

Spencer breaks his spear, a French shaft, upon 
his antagonist ; three spears [two] are tied to 
gether to make something strong enough for 
him to wield. He unhorses the Frenchman, 
then rides through the French camp and kills 
some thirteen or fourteen score of King 
Charles's men, A. The king says he will 
have his head, A, with some provocation cer 
tainly ; the queen says as much in B, though 
Spencer has only killed her champion in fair 
fight. Spencer has but four true brethren 
left, A 33 ; we are not told what had become 
of the rest of his hundred. With these, or, in 
B, with two, he makes a stand against the 
royal guard, and kills scores of them. The 
French king begs him to hold his hand, A 34, 
B 35. There shall never be war with England 



while peace may be kept, A ; he shall take 
back with him all the ships he brought, B.* 

Hugh is naturally turned into a Scotsman 
in the Scottish version, C. The shepherd's 
son that he is matched with, 7, 15, is ex 
plained by traditional comment to be the 
queen's cousin. 

These feats of Hugh Spencer do not out 
strip those of the Breton knight Les Aubrays, 
when dealing with the French, Luzel, I, 286- 
305, II, 564-581 ; nor is his fanfaronnerie 
much beyond that of Harry Fifth. The Bre 
ton knight was explicitly helped by St Anne, 
but then Spencer and Harry have God and St 
George to borrow. 

Liebrecht well remarks, Gottinger Gelehrte 
Anzeigen, 1868, p. 1900, that Spencer's re 
jecting the three French horses and preferring 
his old hack is a characteristically traditional 
trait, and like what we read of Walter of 
Aquitania in the continuation of his story in 
the chronicle of the cloister of Novalesa. After 
Walter, in his old age, had entered this mon 
astery, he was deputed to obtain redress for a 
serious depredation on the property of the 
brethren. Asking the people of the cloister 
whether they have a horse serviceable for fight 
in case of necessity, he is told that there are 
good strong cart-horses at his disposal. He 
has these brought out, mounts one and an 
other, and condemns all. He then inquires 
whether the old steed which he had brought 
with him is still alive. It is, but very old, 
and only used to carry corn to the mill. " Let 

me see him," says Walter, and, mounting, 
cries, " Oh, this horse has not forgotten what 
I taught him in my younger days." Grimm 
u. Schmeller, Lateinische Gedichte des X. u. 
XI. Jahrhunderts, p. 109. See ' Tom Potts,' 
II, 441.f 

Of the many Hugh Spensers if we select 
the younger of the favorites of Edward II, 
his exploits, had they any foundation in real 
ity, would necessarily fall between 1322, when 
Charles IV came to the French throne, and 
1326, when the Spensers, father and son, 
ended their career. The French king says in 
B 8 that Spenser had sunk his ships and slain 
his men. Hugh Spenser the younger (both, 
according to Knyghton, col. 2539, but the 
father was a very old man) was engaged in 
piracy in 1321. The quarrel between Ed 
ward II and Charles IV, touching the Eng 
lish possessions in France, was temporarily ar 
ranged in 1325, but not through the mediation 
of the younger Spenser, who never was sent 
on an embassy to France. Another Sir Hugh 
Spenser was a commander in the Earl of 
Arundel's fleet in the operations against the 
French in Charles VI's time, 1387, and was 
taken prisoner in consequence of his ship 
grounding : Knyghton, col. 2693 ; Nicolas, His- 
tory of the Royal Navy, II, 322f. No one of 
the three queens of Charles IV bore the name 
of Maude, which is assigned to the French 
queen in B, neither did the queen of Charles 

Percy MS., p. 281 ; Hales and Furnivall, II, 290. 

1 THE court is kept att leeue London, 

And euermore shall be itt ; 
The Kiny sent for a bold ambassador, 
And Sir Hugh Spencer that he bight. 

* " Thou hadst twenty ships hither, thou'st have twenty 
away," B 37. It would be more in the ballad-way were 
the second twenty doubled. 

t In the London Athenaeum, about twenty-five years ago, 
there was (I think) a story of an Englishman in Russia 

2 ' Come hither, Spencer," saith our kinge, 

' And come thou hither vnto mee ; 
I must make thee an embassadour 

Betweene the \dng of Ffrance and mee. 

3 ' Thou must comend me to the \.ing of 

And tell him thus and now ffrom mee, 

resembling Hugh Spencer's. I have wrongly noted the 
number as 1871, and have not recovered the story after 
much rummaging. This ballad is not very unlike Russian 



I wold know whether there shold be peace in 

his land, 
Or open warr kept still must bee. 

4 ' Thou 'st haue thy shipp at thy comande, 

Thou 'st neither want for gold nor ffee ; 
Thou 'st haue a hundred armed men, 
All att thy bidding ffor to bee.' 

5 The wind itt serued, and they sayled, 

And towards Ffrance thus they be gone ; 
The wind did bring them safe to shore, 
And safelye landed euerye one. 

6 The Ffrenchmen lay on the castle-wall, 

The English souldiers to behold : 
' You are welcome, traitors, out of England ; 
The heads of you are bought and sold.' 

7 With that spake proud Spencer : 

My leege, soe itt may not bee ; 
I am sent an embassador 

Ff rom our English king to yee. 

8 The Vdng of England greetes you well, 

And hath sent this word by mee; 
He wold know whether there shold be peace in 

yowr land, 
Or open warres kept still must bee. 

9 ' Comend me to the English kinge, 

And tell this now ffrom mee ; 
There shall neuer peace be kept in my land 
While open warres kept there may bee.' 

10 With that came downe the queene of Ffrance, 

And an angry woman then was ehee ; 
Sales, Itt had beene as ffitt now for a king 

To be in his chamber with his ladye, 
Then to be pleading with traitors out of Eng 

Kneeling low vppon their knee. 

11 But then bespake him proud Spencer, 

For noe man else durst speake but hee : 
You haue not wiped your mouth, madam, 
Since I heard you tell a lye. 

12 ' O hold thy tounge, Spencer ! ' shee said, 

' I doe not come to plead with thee ; 
Darest thou ryde a course of warr 

With a knight that I shall put to thee ? ' 

13 ' But euer alacke ! ' then Spencer sayd, 

' I thinke I haue deserued Gods cursse ; 
Ffor I haue not any armour heere, 
Nor yett I haue noe iusting-horsse.' 

14 ' Thy shankes,' qwoth shee, ' beneath the knee 

Are verry small aboue the shinne 
Ffor to doe any such honowrablle deeds 
As the Englishmen say thou has done. 

15 ' Thy shankes beene small aboue thy shoone, 

And soe the beene aboue thy knee ; 
Thou art to slender euery way 
Any good iuster ffor to bee.' 

16 ' But euer alacke,' said Spencer then, 

' For one steed of the English countrye ! ' 
With that bespake and one Ffrench knight, 
This day thou 'st haue the choyce of three. 

17 The first steed he ffeiched out, 

I-wis he was milke-white ; 
The ffirst ffoot Spencer in stirropp sett, 
His backe did from his belly tyte. 

18 The second steed that he ffeitcht out, 

I-wis that hee was verry browne ; 
The second ffoot Spencer in stirropp settt, 
That horsse and man and all ffell downe. 

19 The third steed that hee ffeitched out, 

I-wis that he was verry blacke ; 
The third ffoote Spencer into the stirropp 

He leaped on to the geldings backe. 

20 ' But euer alacke,' said Spencer then, 

' For one good steed of the English coun 
trye ! 
Goe ffeitch me hither my old hacneye, 

That I brought with me hither beyond the 

21 But when his hackney there was brought, 

Spencer a merry man there was hee ; 
Saies, With the grace of God and St George of 

The ffeild this day shall goe with mee. 

22 ' I haue not fforgotten,' Spencer sayd, 

' Since there was ffeild foughten att Wal- 



When the horsse did heare the truinpetts 

He did beare ore both horsse and man.' 

23 The day was sett, and togetther they mett, 

With great mirth and melodye, 
With minstrells playing, and trumpetts sound- 

With drumes striking loud and hye. 

24 The ffirst race that Spencer run, 

I-wis hee run itt wonderous sore ; 
He f hitt] the knight vpon his brest, 

But his speare itt burst, and wold touch noe 

25 ' But euer alacke,' said Spencer then, 

' For one staffe of the English countrye ! 
Without you 'le bind me three together,' 
Qwoth hee, ' they 'le be to weake ffor mee.' 

26 With thai bespake him the Ffrench knight, 

Sayes, Bind him together the whole thirtye, 
For I haue more strenght in my to hands 
Then is in all Spencers bodye. 

27 ' But proue att parting,' Spencer sayes, 

' Ffrench knight, here I tell itt thee ; 
For I will lay thee five to four 
The bigger man I proue to bee.' 

28 But the day was sett, and together they mett, 

With great mirth and melodye, 
With minstrells playing, and trumpetts sound- 

With drummes strikeing loud and hye. 

29 The second race that Spencer run, 

I-wis hee ridd itt in much pride, 

And he hitt the knight vpon the brest, 
And draue him ore his horsse beside. 

30 But he run thorrow the Ffrench campe ; 

Such a race was neuer run beffore ; 
He killed of ~Kiny Charles his men 

Att hand of thirteen or fourteen score. 

31 But he came backe againe to the K[ing], 

And kneeled him downe vpon his knee ; 
Saies, A knight I haue slaine, and a steed I 

haue woone, 
The best that is in this countrye. 

32 ' But nay, by my faith,' then said the T&ng, 

' Spencer, soe itt shall not bee ; 
I 'le haue that traitors head of thine, 
To enter plea att my iollye.' 

33 But Spencer looket him once about, 

He had true bretheren left but four ; 
He killed ther of the Kinys gard 
About twelve or thirteen score. 

34 ' But hold thy hands,' the King doth say, 

' Spencer, now I doe pray thee ; 
And I will goe into litle England, 
Vnto t/Mt, cruell kinge with thee.' 

35 ' Nay, by my ffaith,' Spencer sayd, 

' My leege, for soe itt shall not bee ; 
For an you sett ffoot on English ground, 
You shall be hanged vpon a tree.' 

36 'Why then, comend [me] to that Englishe 


And tell him thus now ffrom mee, 
That there shall neuer be open warres kept in 

my land 
Whilest peace kept that there may bee.' 


Percy Papers : communicated by the Duchess Dowager of 

1 OUR king lay at Westminster, 

as oft times he had done, 
And he sent for Hugh Spencer, 
to come to him anon. 

2 Then in came Hugh Spencer, 

low kneeling on his knee : 
' What 's the matter, my liege, 
you sent so speedily for me ? ' 

3 ' Why you must go ambassadour 

to France now, to see 
Whether peace shall be taken, 
aye, or open wars must be." 



4 ' Who shall go with me ? ' 

says Hugh Spencer, he : 
' That shall Hugh Willoughby 

and John of Atherly.' 
' O then,' says Hugh Spencer, 

'we '11 be a merry company.' 

5 When they came before the French king, 

they kneeled low on the knee : 
' O rise up, and stand up, 
whose men soer you be.' 

6 The first that made answer 

was Hugh Spencer, he : 
' We are English ambassadowrs, 

come hither to see 
Whether peace shall be taken, 

aye, or open wars must be.' 

7 Then spoke the French king, 

and he spoke courteously : 
The last time peace was broken, 
it was neer along of me. 

8 For you sunk my ships, slew my men, 

and thus did ye ; 

And the last time peace was broken, 
it was neer along of me. 

9 Then in came Queen Maude, 

and full as ill was she : 
' A chamber of presence 

is better for thee, 
Then amongst English shepherds, 

low bending on the knee.' 

10 The first that made answer 

was Hugh Spencer, he : 
' We are no English shepherds, 

Queen Maude, I tell thee, 
But we 're knights, and knights fellows, 

the worst man in our company.' 

11 then spoke Queen Maude, 

and full as ill was she : 
Thou shouldst be Hugh Spencer, 
thou talkst so boldly. 

12 And if thou beest Hugh Spencer, 

as well thou seemst to be, 
I 've oft heard of thy justling, 
and some of it would fain see. 

13 I have a steed in my stable 

that thou canst not ride ; 
I have a spear in my keeping 

that thou canst not guide ; 
And I have a knight in my realm 

that thou darest not abide. 

14 Then Spencer askd Willoughby 

and John of Atherly 
Whether he should take this justling in 

aye, or let it be. 

15 O then spoke Hugh Willoughby 

and John of Atherly : 
If you won't take it [in] hand, 
why turn it unto we. 

16 ' It shall neer be said in England," 

says Hugh Spencer, he, 
' That I refused a good justling 
and turned it to ye. 

17 ' Alas,' says Hugh Spencer, 

' full sore may I moan, 
I have nought here but an ambler, 
my good steed 's at home.' 

18 Then spoke a French knight, 

and he spoke courteously : 
I have thirty steeds in my stables, 
the best of them take to thee. 

19 ' Gramercy,' says Spencer, 

' aye, and gramercy ; 
If eer thou comest to England, 
well rewarded shalt thou be.' 

20 The first steed they brought him, 

he was a milk-white : 
' Take that away,' says Spencer, 
' for I do not him like.' 

21 The next steed they brought him, 

he was a good dun : 
' Take that away,' says Spencer, 
' for he 'a not for my turn.' 

22 The next steed they brought him, 

he was a dapple-grey : 
' Take that away,' says Spencer, 
' for he is not used to the way.' 



23 The next steed they brought him, 

he was a coal-black ; 
His eyes burnt in his head, 

as if fire were in flax ; 
' Come saddle me that horse,' says Spencer, 

' for I '11 have none but that.' 

24 When that horse was saddled, 

and Spencer got on, 
With his spear at his foot, 
he was portly man ! 

25 ' Now I am on that steede-back 

that I could not ride, 
That spear in my keeping 

that I could not guide, 
Come shew me that French knight 

that I dare not abide.' 

26 ' It is a sign by thy sharp shin, 

ay, and thy cropped knee, 
That you are no fit match 

to justle with me : ' 
' Why it makes no matter,' says Spencer, 

' you hear no brags of me.' 

27 The first time they rode together, 

now Sir Hugh and he, 

He turnd him in his saddle 

like an apple on a tree. 

28 The next time they rode together, 

now Sir Hugh and he, 
He lit upon his breast-plate, 

and he broke his spear in three. 

29 ' A spear now,' says Spencer, 

' a spear now get me : ' 
' Thou shalt have one,' says Willoughby, 
' if in France one there be." 

30 ' O tye two together, 

and the stronger they '1 be, 
For the French is the better, 
and the better shall be : ' 

' Why it makes no matter,' says Spencer, 
' you hear no brags of me.' 

31 The next time they rode together, 

now Sir Hugh and he, 
He threw him fifteen foot from his saddle, 

and he broke his back in three : 
' Now I have slain thy justler, 

Queen Maude, I tell thee." 

32 O then spoke Queen Maude, 

and full as ill was she : 
If thou 'st slain my justler, 

by the Kings laws thou 'st dye. 

33 ' It shall neer be said in England,' 

says Hugh Spencer, he ; 
' It shall neer be said in England,' 
says Hugh Willoughby ; 

34 ' It shall neer be said in England," 

says John of Atherly, 
' That a queen of another nation 
eer had her will of we.' 

35 They laid their heads together, 

and their backs to the wall ; 
There were four score of the Queen's guards, 
and they slew them all. 

36 Then spoke the French king, 

and he spoke courteously : 
hold thy hand, Spencer, 
I dearly pray thee. 

37 Thou art sharp as thy, 

and as fierce as thy steed, 
And the stour of thy lilly-white hand 
makes my heart bleed. 

38 Thou hadst twenty ships hither, 

thou 'st have twenty away ; 
Then hold thy hand, Spencer, 
I dearly thee pray. 



Dr Joseph Robertson's Journal of Excursions, No 4 ; taken 
down from a man in the parish of Leochel, Aberdeenshire, 
12 February, 1829. 

1 IT fell about the Martinmas time 

The wind blew loud and cauld, 

And all the kuichts of fair Scotland 

They drew them to sum hald. 

2 Unless it was him young Sir Hugh, 

And he beet to sail the sea, 
Wi a letter between twa kings, to see an they 

wald lat down the wars, 
And live and lat them be. 

3 On Friday shipped he, and lang 

Ere Wodensday at noon 
In fair France landed he, 

4 He fell down before the King, 

On his bare knees : 
' Gude mak ye safe and soun ; ' 

' Fat news o your contrie ? ' he says. 

5 ' The news o our countrie,' he says, 

' Is but news brought over the sea, 
To see an ye '11 lat down the wars, 
And live and lat them be.' 

6 ' Deed no,' he says ; 

' I 'm but an auld man indeed, 
But I '11 no lat down the wars, 
And live and lat them be.' 

7 It 's out it spak the Queen hersel : I have a 

shepherd's sin 

Would fight an hour wi you ; 
' And by my seeth,' says young Sir Hugh, 
' That sight fain would I see.' 

8 The firsten steed that he drew out, 

He was the penny-gray ; 
He wad hae ridden oer meel or mor 
A leve-lang summer's day. 

9 O girths they brak, and great horse lap, 

But still sat he on he : 
' A girth, a girth,' says young Sir Hugh, 

' A girth for charity ! ' 
' O every girth that you shall have, 

Its gude lord shall hae three.' 

10 The nexten steed that he drew out, 

He was the penny-brown ; 
He wad hae ridden oer meel or mor 
As ever the dew drap down. 

11 O bridles brak, and great horse lap, 

But still sat he on he : 
' A bridle, a bridle,' says young Sir Hugh, 

' A bridle for charitie ! ' 
' O every bridle that you shall have, 

And its gude lord shall have three.' 

12 The nexten steed that he drew out 

He was the raven-black ; 
His een was glancin in his head 

Like wild-fire in a slack ; 
' Get here a boy,' says young Sir Hugh, 

' Cast on the saddle on that.' 

13 O brands there brak, and great horse lap, 

But still sat he on he : 
' A brand, a brand,' says young Sir Hugh, 

' A brand for charitie ! ' 
' O every brand that you sail have, 
. And its gude lord sail have three.' 

14 He gave him a dep unto the heart, 

And over the steed fell he : 
' I rather had gane you money,' she says, 

' And free lands too, 
That ye had foughten an hour wi him, 

And than had latten him be.' 

15 ' If ye hae ony mair shepherd's sins,' he says, 

' Or cooks i your kitchie, 
Or ony mair dogs to fell, 

Ye '11 bring them here to me ; 
And gin they be a true-hearted Scotsman, 

They '11 no be scorned by thee.' 

A. 4". 100. 5 1 - 8 . They. 

6 1 . walls ? There is a tag at the end of this 
word in tJie MS. FurnivaU. 

16*. of 3. 17*. MS., tylpe, with the 1 crossed 

at top. FurnivaU. 
18 1 - 1 . 2?. 18 2 . / should read berry-browne 

were it not for verry blacke in 19 2 . 



19H 3?. 25". 3. 

26*. 30 tye . 27 s . 5 to 4. 29 1 . 2?. 

30'. 13 or 14. 

32*. No emendation of this unintelligible, line 

occurs to me. 
33*. 4. 33'. therof. 
33 4 . 2 or 3 : cf. 30 4 , and observe the metre. 

35*. for on : seitt or settt. 

And for & always. 
O. 14 4 . too : pronounced tee. 

15. The shepherd's son was the Queen's own 
son : comment of the reciter. I do not 
understand the last two lines; indeed they 
are obviously corrupt. 


'Durham ffeilde,' Percy MS., p. 245; Hales and Furnivall, II, 190. 

WHILE Edward Third was absent in France, 
and for the time engaged with the siege of 
Calais, David Bruce, the young king of Scot 
land, at the instance of Philip of Valois, but 
also because he "yearned to see fighting," 
invaded England with a large army. Having 
taken by storm the Border castle of Liddel, 
he was advised by William of Douglas to 
turn back, which, it was represented by 
Douglas, he could do with credit after this suc 
cess. Other lords said that Douglas had 
filled his bags, but theirs were toom, and that 
the way lay open to London, for there were 
no men left in England but souters, skinners, 
and traders.* The Scots moved on to Dur 
ham, and encamped in a park not far from the 
town, in a bad position. In the mean while 
A powerful force had been collected by the 
northern nobility and the English churchmen, 
without the knowledge of the Scots. William 
of Douglas, going out to forage, rode straight 
to the ground where his foes lay, and in the 
attempt to retreat lost five hundred of his 
men. King David drew up his army in three 
divisions : one under his own command, an 
other under the Earl of Murray and William 
Douglas, the third under the Steward of Scot- 

* Prcsbyteri, fratrcs ct clerici, sutores ct mechanic!, 
Bower ; agricolo; ac pastorcs, et capellani iinbeeilles ct de- 
crepiti, Knyghton; misuri monachi, improbi presbyteri, por- 

land and the Earl of March. The opera 
tions of the Scots were impeded by the ditches 
and fences that traversed the ground on 
which they stood, and their situation made 
them an almost helpless mark for the ten 
thousand archers of the English army. Mur 
ray's men were completely routed by a charge 
of cavalry, and their leader killed. The 
English then fell upon the King's division, 
which, after a desperate fight, was " van 
quished utterly." David, who had received 
two wounds from arrows, was taken prisoner 
by John Copland, " by force, not yolden," 
after knocking out two of the Englishman's 
teeth with a knife. Wyntoun's Chronykil, ed. 
Laing, II, 470 ff ; Scotichronicon, ed. Goodall, 
II, 339 ff. The battle was fought on the 
17th of October, 1346. 

According to the English chronicle of 
Lanercost, John of Douglas, 'germanus do- 
mini Willelmi,' fought with the Earl of Mur 
ray in the first Scottish division, and the Earl 
of Buchan was associated with King David in 
the command of the second. The English 
were also in three bodies. The leaders of the 
first were the Earl of Angus, ' inter omnes 
Angliaj nobilis persona,' Henry Percy, Ralph 

corum paatores, sutores ct pelliparii, Chronicon de Laner 
cost ; clericos et pastores, Walsingham, Hist. Angl. 



Neville, and Henry Scrope; the Archbishop 
of York led the second ; Mowbray, Rokeby, 
and John of Copland were in the third. Ed. 
Stevenson, pp. 349-51. 

David, in the ballad, proposes to himself 
nothing less than the conquest of England 
and the distribution of the territory among 
his chief men. He is not a youth of twenty- 
two ; William Douglas has served him four 
and thirty years. Still he will brook no 
advice, and kills his own squire for warning 
him of the danger of his enterprise. The 
Earl of Angus is to lead the van ; but Angus, 
as we have seen, was engaged on the other 
side. The title of Angus might have de 
ceived the minstrel, but it was hardly to be 
expected that Neville should be turned into 
a Scot as he is in st. 17. Angus, and also 
' Vaughan,' that is Baughan, or Buchan,* are 
to be in the king's coat-armor, sts 11, 13, im 
itating Blunt and the rest at Shrewsbury, and 
the five false Richmonds at Bosworth. Jamesf 
Douglas offers to lead the van, 14 ; so does 
William Douglas in 21. An Englishman 
who does not know a Neville would surely not 
be very precise about a Douglas, and it must 
be conceded that the Douglases have not 
always been kept perfectly distinct by his 
torians. James Douglas, whoever he may be 
supposed to be, " went before ; " that is, he 
plays the part which belongs historically to the 
Knight of Liddesdale, loses all his men, and 
returns, with an arrow in his thigh, to report 
that one Englishman is worth five Scots : 
26-33.$ But the Scots, even at that rate, 
have the advantage, for a herald, sent out to 
reconnoitre, tells their king that they are ten 
to one. 

* It is very doubtful whether there was an Earl of Buchan 
in 1346. Henry de Beaumont, according to the peerages, 
died in 1341. He was an Englishman, had fonght against 
the Scots at Duplin, 1332, and was after that in the service 
of Edward HI. 

t 'Famous,' the MS. reading in 14 1 , may probably be an 
error for James, which occurs so often in 28-33. William 
Douglas, the Knight of Liddesdale, had a brother James, 
but this James had been killed in 1335. He had also a 
brother John, Scotichronicon and Chronicon de Lanercoste, 
and the latter, as has been mentioned, puts John in Murray's 
division. Knyghton, col. 2590, gives as among the prisoners 
dominus Willielmus Duglas et frater ejusdem Willielmi. 

The commanders on the English side are 
the Bishop of Durham, Earl Percy, the Arch 
bishop of York, the Bishop of Carlisle, and 
" Lord Fluwilliams." The Bishop of Dur 
ham orders that no man shall fight before 
he has 'served his God,' and five hundred 
priests say mass in the field who afterwards 
take part in the fray. (The monks of Dur 
ham, Knyghton tells us, had made terms with 
the Scots, and were to pay a thousand pounds 
for ransom-money the next day ; and so, when 
they saw the Scots yielding, they raised their 
voices in a Te Deum, which sounded to the 
clouds and quickened the courage of the 
English.) The king of Scots is wounded by 
an arrow through his nose, and, stepping aside 
to bleed, is taken prisoner by John of Cop 
land, whom he first smites angrily. Copland 
sets the king on a palfrey and leads him 
to London. King Edward, newly arrived 
from France, asks him how he likes the shep 
herds, millers, and priests. There 's not a 
yeoman in England, says David, but he is 
worth a Scottish knight. Aye, says King 
Edward, laughing, that is because you were 
fighting against the right. Shortly after this 
the Black Prince brings the king of France 
captive from the field of Poitiers. Says 
David to John, Welcome, brother, but I would 
I had gone to Rome ! And I, would I had 
gone to Jerusalem ! replies John. Thus ends 
the battle of Durham, fought, says the min 
strel, on a morning of May, sts 27, 64, and 
within the same month as the battles of Crecy 
and Poitiers. || Though Poitiers was fought 
ten years after Durham, the king of Scots 
and the king of France no doubt met in 
London, for John was taken thither in April, 

{ When William Douglas, in the Chronicle of Lanercost, 
tells the king that the English are at hand, and David re 
plies, there is nothing in England but monks, priests, swine 
herds, etc., Douglas says, ' alitcr invenietis ; sunt varii valid! 

Froissart says that the English force was in four battal 
ions : the first commanded by the Bishop of Durham and 
Lord Percy ; the second by the Archbishop of York and 
Lord Neville ; the third by the Bishop of Lincoln and Lord 
Mowbray; the fourth by Edward Balliol and the Arch 
bishop of Canterbury. 

|| Cre'cy, 26 August, 1346; Durham, 17 October, 1346; 
Poitiers, 19 September, 1356. 



1357, and David was not released from his 
captivity until the following November. 

Stanza 18 affords us an upper limit for a 
date. Lord Hambleton is said to be of the 
king's kin full nigh. James Hamilton, the 

first lord, married the princess Mary, sister 
of James III, in 1474, and his descendants 
were the next heirs to the throne after the 
Stewarts, whose line was for a time but 
barely kept up. 

1 LORDIVGES, listen, and hold you still ; 

Hearken to me a litle ; 
I shall you tell of the fairest battell 
Thai euer in England beffell. 

2 For as it befell in Edward the Thirds dayes, 

In England, where he ware the crowne, 
Then all the cheefe chiuahy of England 
They busked and made them bowne. 

3 They chosen all the best archers 

That in England might be found, 
And all was to fight with the king of Ffrance, 
Within a litle stounde. 

4 And when our king was ouer the water, 

And on the salt sea gone, 
Then tydings into Scotland came 
That all England was gone. 

5 Bowes and arrowes they were all forth, 

At home was not left a man 
But shepards and millers both, 
And preists wt'th shauen crownes. 

6 Then the king of Scotts in a study stood, 

As he was a man of great might ; 
He sware he wold hold his parlament in leeue 

If he cold ryde there right. 

7 Then bespake a squier, of Scottland borne, 

And sayd, My leege, apace. 
Before you come to leeue London, 
Full sore you 'le rue that race. 

8 Ther beene bold yeomen in merry England, 

Husbandmen stiffe and strong ; 
Sharpe swords they done weare, 
Bearen bowes and arrowes longe. 

9 The King was angrye at that word ; 

A long sword out hee drew, 

And there befor his royall companye 
His owne squier hee slew. 

10 Hard hansell had the Scottes that day, 

T/iat wrought them woe enoughe, 
For then durst not a Scott speake a word 
Ffor hanging att a boughe. 

11 ' The Earle of Anguish, where art thou ? 

In my coate-armor thou shall bee, 
And thou shalt lead the forward 
Thorrow the English countrye. 

12 ' Take thee Yorke,' then sayd the King, 

' In stead wheras it doth stand ; 

I 'le make thy eldest sonne after thee 

Heyre of all Northumberland. 

13 ' The Earle of Vaughan, where be yee ? 

In my coate-armor thou shalt bee ; 
The high Peak and Darbyshire 
I giue it thee to thy fee.' 

14 Then came in famous Douglas, 

Saies, What shall my meede bee ? 
And I 'le lead the vawward, lord, 
Thorow the English countrye. 

15 ' Take thee Worster,' sayd the King, 

' Tuxburye, Killingworth, Burton vpon 

Trent ; 
Doe thou not say another day 

But I haue giuen thee lands and rent. 

16 ' Sir Richard of Edenborrow, where are yee ? 

A wise man in this warr ! 
I 'le giue thee Bristow and the shire 
The time that wee come there. 

17 ' My lord Nevill, where beene yee ? 

You must in this warres bee ; 
I 'le giue thee Shrewsburye,' saies the King, 
' And Couentrye faire and free. 



18 ' My lord of Hambleton, where art thou ? 

Thou art of my kin full nye ; 
I 'le giue thee Lincolne and Lincolneshire, 
And that '& enouge for thee.' 

19 By then came in William Douglas, 

As breeme as any bore ; 
He kneeled him downe vpon his knees, 
In his hart he sighed sore. 

20 Saies, I haue serued you, my louelye leege, 

This thirty winters and four, 
And in the Marches betweene. England and 

I haue beene wounded and beaten sore. 

21 For all the good service that I haue done, 

What shall my meed bee ? 
And I will lead the vanward 
Thorrow the English countrye. 

22 ' Aske on, Douglas,' said the king, 

' And granted it shall bee : ' 
' Why then, I aske litle London,' saies William 

' Gotten giff that it bee.' 

23 The King was wrath, and rose away, 

Saies, Nay, that cannot bee ! 
For that I will keepe for my cheefe chamber, 
Gotten if it bee. 

24 But take thee North Wales and Weschaster, 

The cuntrye all round about, 
And rewarded thou shalt bee, 
Of that take thou noe doubt. 

25 Fiue score knights he made on a day, 

And dubbd them with his hands ; 
Rewarded them right worthilye 

Wt'th the townes in merry England. 

26 And when the fresh knights they were made, 

To battell the buske them bowne ; 
lames Douglas went before, 

And he thought to haue wonnen him shoone. 

27 But the were mett in a morning of May 

With the comwiinaltye of litle England ; 
But there scaped neuer a man away, 
Through the might of ChristBs hand. 

28 But all onely lames Douglas; 

In Durham in the ffeild 

An arrow stroke him in the thye ; 

Fast flinge[s he] towards the ~Ki?ig. 

29 The King looked toward litle Durham, 

Saies, All things is not well ! 
For lames Dowglas beares an arrow in his 

The head of it is of steele. 

30 ' How now lames ? ' then said the King, 

' How now, how may this bee ? 
And where beene all thy merrymen 
That thou tooke hence with thee ? ' 

31 ' But cease, my king,' saies lames Douglas, 

' Aliue is not left a man ! ' 
'Now by my faith,' saies the king of Scottes, 
' That gate was euill gone. 

32 ' But I 'le reuenge thy quarrell well, 

And of that thou may be faine ; 
For one Scott will beate fiue Englishmen, 
If the meeten them on the plaine.' 

33 ' Now hold yowr tounge,' saies lames Douglas, 

' For in faith that is not soe ; 
For one English man is worth fine Scotts, 
When they meeten together thoe. 

34 ' For they are as egar men to fight 

As a faulcon vpon a pray ; 
Alas ! if euer the winne the vanward, 
There scapes noe man away.' 

35 ' O peace thy talking,' said the King, 

' They bee but English knaues, 
But shepards and millers both. 
And preists with their staues.' 

36 The King sent forth one of his heralds of 


To vew the Englishmen : 
' Be of good cheere,' the herald said, 
' For against one wee bee ten.' 

37 ' Who leades those ladds ? ' said the king of 


' Thou herald, tell thou mee : ' 
The herald said, The Bishopp of Durham 
Is captaine of that companye. 

38 ' For the Bishopp hath spred the King's banner, 

And to battell he buskes him bowne : ' 



' I sweare by St Andrewes bones,' sales the 

' I 'le rapp that preist on the crowne.' 

39 The King looked towards litle Durham, 

And that hee well beheld, 
That the Earle Percy was well armed, 
With his battell-axe entred the feild. 

40 The "King looket againe towards litle Durham, 

Four ancyents there see hee ; 
There were to standards, six in a valley, 
He cold not see them with his eye. 

41 My Lord of Yorke was one of them, 

My Lord of Carlile was the other, 
And my Lord Ffluwilliams, 
The one came with the other. 

42 The Bishopp of Durham com?anded his men, 

And shortlye he them bade, 
Thai neuer a man shold goe to the feild to fight 
Till he had serued his God. 

43 Fiue hundred preists said masse that day 

In Durham in the feild, 
And afterwards, as I hard say, 
They bare both speare and sheeld. 

44 The Bishopp of Durham orders himselfe to 


With his battell-axe in his hand ; 
He said, This clay now I will fight 
As long as I can stand ! 

45 ' And soe will I,' sayd my ~Lord of Carlile, 

' In this faire morning gay ; ' 
' And soe will I,' said my LonZ Ffluwilliams, 
' For Maiy, that myld may.' 

46 Our English archers bent their bowes 

Shortlye and anon ; 
They shott ouer the Scottish oast 
And scantlye toucht a man. 

47 ' Hold downe yowr hands,' sayd the Bishopp 

of Durham, 

' My archers good and true : ' 

The second shoote that the shott, 

Full sore the Scottes itt rue. 

48 The Bishopp of Durham spoke on hye, 

That both partyes might heare : 

' Be of good cheere, my merrymen all, 

The Scotts flyen, and changen there cheere.' 

49 But as the saidden, soe the didden, 

They fell on heapes hye ; 
Our Englishmen laid on with their bowes, 
As fast as they might dree. 

50 The king of Scotts in a studye stood 

Amongst his companye ; 
An arrow stoke him thorrow the nose, 
And thorrow his armorye. 

51 The King went to a marsh-side 

And light beside his steede ; 
He leaned him downe on his sword-hilts, 
To let his nose bleede. 

52 There followed him a yeaman of merry Eng 


His name was lohn of Coplande : 
' Yeeld thee, traytor ! ' saies Coplande then, 
' Thy liffe lyes in my hand.' 

53 ' How shold I yeeld me,' sayes the King, 

' And thou art noe gentleman ? ' 
' Noe, by my troth,' sayes Copland there, 
' I am but a poore yeaman. 

54 ' What art thou better then I, Sir King ? 

Tell me if that thou can ! 
What art thou better then I, Sir King, 
Now we be but man to man ? ' 

55 The King smote angerly at Copland then, 

Angerly in that stonde ; 
And then Copland was a bold yeaman, 
And bore the King to the ground. 

56 He sett the King upon a palfrey, 

Himselfe upon a steede ; 
He tooke him by the bridle-rayne, 
Towards London he can him lead. 

57 And when to London that he came, 

The Kiny from Ffrance was new come 


And there unto the king of Scottes 
He sayd these words anon. 

58 ' How like you my shepards and my millers ? 

My priests with shaven crownes ? ' 



'By my fayth, they are the sorest fighting 

That ever I mett on the ground. 

59 ' There was never a yeaman in merry England 

But he was worth a Scottish knight : ' 
'I, by my troth,' said JLing Edward, and 

' For you fought all against the right.' 

60 But now the prince of merry England, 

Worthilye under his sheelde, 
Hath taken the \dng of Ffrance, 
At Poytiers in the ffeelde. 

61 The prince did present his father with that 


The louely king off Ffrance, 
And fforward of his iourney he is gone : 
God send us all good chance ! 

62 ' You are welcome, brother ! ' sayd the king of 

Scotts, to the king of Ffrance, 
' For I am come hither to soone ; 

Christ leeve that I had taken my way 
Unto the court of Roonie ! ' 

63 ' And soe wold I,' said the king of Ffrance, 

' When I came over the streame, 
That I had taken my iourney 
Unto Jerusalem ! ' 

64 Thus ends the battell of ffaire Durham, 

In one morning of May, 
The battell of Cressey, and the battle of 

All within one monthes day. 

65 Then was welthe and welfare in mery Eng 


Solaces, game, and glee, 
And every man loved other well, 

And the Kmy loved good yeomanrye. 

66 But God that made the grasse to growe, 

And leaves on greenwoode tree, 

Now save and keepe our noble king, 

And maintaine good yeomanry ! 

And for & throughout. 

I 1 . Perhaps lesten : yo. I 2 , a litle spell ? 

2 1 . 3 d8 . 8". sharpes. 

II 3 . forward has a tag to the d. Fnrnivall. 
12 1 . thy/orthee. 

13 1 . in Earle the 1 is made over an e. Furniaatt. 
lo 2 . Tuxburye doubtful in the MS. 
20 2 . 30 : 4. 25. 5 score. 31 1 . Janes. 
32 3 , 33 s . 5. After 39. 2d part. 40". 4. 

40 s . 6. 43 1 . 500. 44 1 . Durban. 47 3 . 2d. 

62 1 . brothers. 

66. Pencil note in Percy's late hand. 

This and 2 following leaves being unfortunately 
torn out, in sending the subsequent piece 
[' King Estmere '] to the press, the conclusion 
of the preceding ballad has been carefully tran 
scribed ; and indeed the fragments of the other 
leaves ought to have been so. 





Hume of GoUscroft, History of the Houses of Douglas and Angus, 1644, p. 77. 

WILLIAM DOUGLAS, the Knight of Liddes- 
dale, who figures in the foregoing ballad, was 
assassinated in 1353, while hunting in Ettrick 
forest, by his kinsman and godson, Lord Wil 
liam Douglas. 

According to the Scotichronicon, the motive 
was said to be revenge for Alexander Ramsay, 
one of the first men among the Scots, whom 
Liddesdale had assaulted while he was holding 
a court, wounded, carried off, and suffered to 
die by starving; and for Sir David Berkeley, 
whom Liddesdale was charged with procuring 
to be murdered in 1350, in return for the 
death of his brother, Sir John Douglas, 
brought to pass by Berkeley. (Scotichroni 
con, ed. Goodall, II, 348, 335, xiv, 8, XHi, 
50, xiv, 7.) 

Hume of Godscroft considers the motive 
assigned to be quite unnatural, and at best a 
pretence. A ballad known to him gave a 
different account. " The Lord of Liddesdale, 
being at his pastime, hunting in Attrick 
forest, is beset by William Earle of Douglas, 
and such as hee had ordained for that purpose, 
and there assailed, wounded, and slain, beside 
Galsewood, in the yeare 1353 ; upon a jeal- 
ousie that the Earle had conceived of him 
with his lady, as the report goeth, for so sayes 
the old song." After citing the stanza which 
follows, Hume goes on to say : " The song 
also declareth how shee did write her love- 
letters to Liddisdale, to disswade him from 
that hunting. It tells likewise the manner 
of the taking of his men, and his owne killing 
at Galsewood, and how hee was carried the 
first night to Lindin Kirk, a mile from Sel 
kirk, and was buried within the Abbacie of 

" The sole basis for this statement of 

Hume's," says Sir William Fraser, The Doug 
las Book, I, 223 f, 1885, "seems to be the 
anonymous Border ballad, part of which he 
quotes, to which he adds the tradition that 
the lady wrote to her lover to dissuade him 
from that hunting. Apart from the fact that 
this tradition is opposed to contemporary his 
tory, which states that Sir William was wholly 
unsuspicious of danger, the story told by 
Godscroft is otherwise erroneous. He as 
sumes that Douglas was made earl in 1346, 
and that he was married to a daughter of the 
Earl of March, neither of which assumptions 
is true. Douglas was not created earl until 
26th January, 1357-8, and there was there 
fore no ' Countess of Douglas ' to wait for the 
Knight of Liddesdale. Douglas's only wife 
was Lady Margaret of Mar, who survived 
him. The exact date of their marriage has 
not been ascertained, but it is certain that 
Douglas had no countess of the family of 
March in 1353, while it is doubtful if at that 
date he was married at all. Popular tradi 
tion is therefore at fault in assigning matri 
monial jealousy as a motive for killing the 
Knight of Liddesdale." 

"Some fragments of this ballad are still 
current, and will be found in the ensuing 
work," says Scott, Minstrelsy, I, 221, note, 
ed. 1833. It may be that Sir Walter became 
convinced that these fragments were not gen 
uine ; at any rate, they do not appear in his 

The Countesse of Douglas out of her boure 
she came, 

And loudly there that she did call : 
' It is for the Lord of Liddesdale 

That I let all these teares downe fall.' 





A. a. Cotton MS. Cleopatra, C. iv, leaf 24, of about C. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1833, I, 354. 
1550. b. Harleiaa MS. 293, leaf 52. Both in the 

British Museum. D. Finlay's Scottish Ballads, I, xviii f., two stanzas. 

B. a. Herd's MSS, I, 149, II, 30 ; Herd's Scottish E. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. Ixxi, note 30, one 
Songs, 1776, I, 153. b. Minstrelsy of the Scottish stanza. 

Border, 1802, I, 31. 

A a was first printed in the fourth edition 
of Percy's Reliques, 1794, I, 18, and A b in 
the first edition, 1765, I, 18. 

By far the most circumstantial account of 
the battle of Otterburn is given by Froissart 
(Chromques, Buchon, XI, 362 ff, chap. 115 ff), 
and his highly felicitous narrative may be 
briefly summarized as follows. 

The quarrels of Richard II with his uncles 
and a consequent feud between the great 
northern families of Neville and Percy fur 
nished the Scots au inviting opportunity for 
an invasion of England on a large scale. 
Under the pretext of a festive meeting, a 
preliminary conference of barons and knights 
was held at Aberdeen, and it was there agreed 
that they should muster, the middle of Au 
gust, 1388, at a place on the border near 
Jedburgh, with such forces as they could 
command. In all this they took no counsel 
with the king, who was then past seventy, 
and was regarded as of no account for their 
purposes. The result was a larger gathering 
than had been seen for sixty years, quite 
twelve hundred lances and forty thousand 
ordinary fighting-men. 

The Earl of Northumberland and his sons, 
the Seneschal of York, and the Captain of 
Berwick had heard of the intended meeting 
at Aberdeen, and had sent heralds and min 
strels thither, to get further information. 

These agents reported that all Scotland was 
astir, and that there was to be another parley 
in the forest of Jedburgh. The barons and 
knights of Northumberland made due prepa 
rations, and, the better to keep these secret, 
remained quiet in their houses, ready to sally 
as soon as they learned that the Scots were 
in motion. Feeling themselves incapable of 
coping with so large a body as had been col 
lected, they decided upon a simultaneous 
counter-raid, and that from the east or from 
the west, according as the enemy should take 
the road from the west or the east. Of this 
plan of the English the Scots obtained knowl 
edge from a spy whom they had captured, and 
to foil it they divided their army, directing the 
main body towards Carlisle, under command 
of Archibald Douglas, of the Earl of Fife, 
son of the king, and many other nobles, while 
a detachment of three or four hundred picked 
men-at-arms, supported by two thousand stout 
fellows, partly archers, all well mounted,* and 
commanded by James, Earl of Douglas, the 
Earl of March and Dunbar, and the Earl of 
Murray, were to strike for Newcastle, cross 
the river, and burn and ravage the bishopric 
of Durham. 

The eastern division (with which alone we 
are concerned) carried out their program to 
the letter. They advanced at speed, stopping 
for nothing, and meeting with no resistance, 

* " Froissart describes a Scottish host of the same period lytle hackeneys, the whiche were never tyed nor kept at 

as consisting of ' .iiii. M. of armes, knightis and squiers, hard meate, but letto go to pasture in the feldis and bussh- 

raounted on good horses, and other .x. M. men of warre, es.'" Happily cited by Scott, in illustration of C 16: Lord 

armed after their gyse, right hardy and firse, mounted on Berners' translation, cap. xvii, Pynson, 1523, fol. viii. 
VOL. in. 37 



and the burning and pillaging Lad begun in 
Durham before the Earl of Northumberland 
knew of their arrival. Fire and smoke soon 
showed what was going on. The earl dis 
patched his sons Henry and Ralph Percy to 
Newcastle, where the whole country rallied, 
gentle and simple; he himself remaining at 
Alnwick, in the hope of being able to enclose 
the Scots, when they should take the way 
north, between two bodies of English. The 
Scots attained to the very gates of Durham ; 
then, having burned every unfortified town 
between there and Newcastle, they turned 
northward, with a large booty, repassed the 
Tyne, ahd halted at Newcastle. There was 
skirmishing for two days before the city, and 
in the course of a long combat between Doug 
las and Henry Percy the Scot got possession 
of the Englishman's pennon. This he told 
Percy he would raise on the highest point of 
his castle at Dulkeith ; Percy answered that 
he should never accomplish that vaunt, nor 
should he carry the pennon out of Northum 
berland. ' Come then to-night and win it 
back,' said Douglas ; ' I will plant it before 
my tent.' It was then late, and the fighting 
ceased ; but the Scots kept good guard, look 
ing for Percy to come that very night for his 
pennon. Percy, however, was constrained to 
let that night pass. 

The Scots broke up their camp early the 
next morning and withdrew homewards. Tak 
ing and burning the tower and town of Ponte- 
land on their way, they moved on to Otterburn, 
thirty miles northwest from Newcastle, where 
there was a strong castle or tower, in marshy 
ground, which they assailed for a day without 
success. At the end of the day they held a 
council, and the greater part were in favor of 
making for Carlisle in the morning, to rejoin 
their countrymen. But the Earl of Douglas 
would not hear of this ; Henry Percy had 
said that he would challenge his pennon ; 
they would stay two or three days more and 
assault the castle, and see if Percy would be 
as good as his word. So the Scots encamped 
at their ease, making themselves huts of trees, 
and availing themselves of the marshes to 
fortify their position. At the entrance of the 

marshes, which was on the Newcastle road, 
they put their servants and foragers, and they 
drove their cattle into the bogs. 

Henry Percy was greatly vexed and mor 
tified at the loss of his pennon, and in the 
evening he represented to the knights and 
squires of Northumberland how much it con 
cerned his honor to make good what he had 
said to Douglas, that the pennon should never 
be carried out of England. But these gentle 
men were all convinced that Douglas was 
backed by the whole power of Scotland, of 
which they had seen only the van, by forty 
thousand men who could handle them at their 
will ; at any rate, it was better to lose a pen 
non than two or three hundred knights and 
squires, and expose the country to risk. As 
for the loss of the pennon, it was one of the 
chances of arms ; Douglas had won it hand 
somely ; another time Percy would get as 
much from him, or more.* To this the 
Percys were fain to yield. Later there came 
scouts with information that Douglas was 
encamped at Otterburn, that the main army 
was not acting in conjunction with him, and 
that his forces, all told, did not exceed three 
thousand. Henry Percy was overjoyed at 
the news, and cried, To horse ! by the faitli I 
owe to God and my father, I will go seek my 
pennon, and the Scots shall be ousted before 
this night is over. The evening of that same 
day the Bishop of Durham was expected to ar 
rive with a great many men, but Henry Percy 
would not wait. Six hundred lances and 
eight thousand foot were enough, he said, to 
serve the Scots, who had but three hundred 
lances and two thousand other folk. The 
English set forth as soon as they could get 
together, by the road which the Scots had 
taken, but were not able to move very fast 
by reason of their infantry. 

Some of the Scots knights were supping, 
and more were asleep (for they had had hard 
work at the assault on the tower, and were 
meaning to be up betimes to renew the at 
tack), when the English were upon the camp, 
crying, Percy ! Percy I There was naturally 

* A consolation as old as wise. So Paris, for himself : 
vtxri $' e-ita/ulpeTai livSpas, Iliad, vi, 339. 



great alarm. The English made their attack 
at that part of the camp where, as before said, 
the servants and foragers were lodged. This 
was, however, strong, and the knights sent 
some of their men to hold it while they them 
selves were arming. Then the Scots formed, 
each under his own earl and captain. It was 
night, but the weather was fair and the moon 
shining. The Scots did not go straight for 
the English, but took their way along by the 
marshes and by a hill, according to a plan 
which they had previously arranged against 
the case that their camp should be attacked. 
The English made short work with the under 
lings, but, as they advanced, always found 
fresh people to keep up a skirmish. And 
now the Scots, having executed a flank move 
ment, fell upon their assailants in a mass, 
from a quarter where nothing was looked for, 
shouting their battle-cries with one voice. 
The English were astounded, but closed up, 
and gave them Percy ! for Douglas ! Then 
began a fell battle. The English, being in 
excess and eager to win, beat back the Scots, 
who were at the point of being worsted. James 
Douglas, who was young, strong, and keen 
for glory, sent his banner to the front, with 
the cry, Douglas ! Douglas ! Henry and 
Ralph Percy, indignant against the earl for 
the loss of the pennon, turned in the direction 
of the cry, responding, Percy ! Knights and 
squires had no thought but to fight as long as 
spears and axes would hold out. It was a 
hand-to-hand fight ; the parties were so close 
together that the archers of neither could 
operate ; neither side budged, but both stood 
firm. The Scots showed extraordinary valor, 
for the English were three to one ; but be this 
said without disparagement of the English, 
who have always done their duty. 

As has been said, the English were so 
strong that they were forcing their foes back, 
and this James Douglas saw. To regain the 
ground, he took a two-handed axe, plunged 
into the thickest, and opened a path before 
him ; for there was none so well armed in 
helmet or plate as not to fear his strokes. So 
he made his way till he was hit by three 
spears, all at once, one in the shoulder, an 

other in the chest, another in the thigh, and 
borne to the ground. The English did not 
know that it was Earl Douglas that had fallen ; 
they would have been so much elated that the 
day would have been theirs. Neither did the 
Scots ; if they had, they would have given 
up in despair. Douglas could not raise him 
self from the ground, for he was wounded to 
the death. The crush about him was great, 
but his people had kept as close to him as 
they could. His cousin, Sir James Lindsay, 
reached the spot where he was lying, and with 
Lindsay Sir John and Sir Walter Sinclair, and 
other knights and squires. Near him, and 
severely wounded, they found his chaplain, 
William of North Berwick, who had kept up 
with his master the whole night, axe in hand ; 
also Sir Robert Hart, with five wounds from 
lances and other weapons. Sir John Sinclair 
asked the earl, Cousin, how fares it with you ? 
' Indifferently,' said the earl ; ' praised be 
God, few of my ancestors have died in their 
beds. Avenge me, for I count myself dead. 
Walter and John Sinclair, up with my banner, 
and cry, Douglas ! and let neither friend nor 
foe know of my state.' The two Sinclairs 
and Sir John Lindsay did as they were bid 
den, raised the banner, and shouted, Douglas ! 
They were far to the front, but others, who 
were behind, hearing the shout loudly re 
peated, charged the English with such valor 
as to drive them beyond the place where 
Douglas now lay dead, and came up with the 
banner which Sir John Lindsay was bearing, 
begirt and supported by good Scots knights 
and squires. The Earl of Murray came up 
too, and the Earl of March and Dunbar as 
well, and they all, as it were, took new life 
when they saw that they were together and 
that the English were giving ground. Once 
more was the combat renewed. The English 
had the disadvantage of the fatigue of a rapid 
march from Newcastle, by reason whereof 
their will was better than their wind, whereas 
the Scots were fresh ; and the effects appeared 
in this last charge, in which the Scots drove 
the English so far back that they could not 
recover their lost ground. Sir Ralph Percy 
had already been taken prisoner. Like Doug- 



las, he had advanced so far as to be sur 
rounded, and being so badly wounded that 
his hose and boots were full of blood, he sur 
rendered to Sir John Maxwell. Henry Percy, 
after a valorous fight with the Lord Mont 
gomery, became prisoner to the Scottish 

It was a hard battle and well fought, but 
such are the turns of fortune that, although 
the English were the greater number, and 
all bold men and practised in arms, and 
although they attacked the enemy valiantly, 
and at first drove them back a good distance, 
the Scots in the end won the day. The losses 
of the English were put by their antagonists 
at 1040 prisoners, 18GO killed in the fight and 
the pursuit, and more than 1000 wounded ; 
those of the Scots were about 100 killed and 
200 captured.* The Scots retired without mol 
estation, taking the way to Melrose Abbey, 
where they caused the Earl of Douglas to be 
interred, and his obsequies to be reverently 
performed. Over his body a tomb of stone 
was built, and above this was raised the earl's 

Such is the story of the battle of Otter- 
burn, fought on Wednesday, the 19th day of 
August,'!' in the year of grace 1388, as related 
by Froissart (with animated tributes to the 
hardihood and generosity of both parties) 
upon the authority of knights and squires 

* Buchanan has these numbers, with the exception of 
1840, for 1860, killed : eil. 15S2, fol. 101. " That there was 
a memorable slaughter in this affair, n slaughter far be 
yond the usual proportion to the numbers engaged, cannot 
be doubted ; nor wag there ever bloodshed more useless for 
the practical ends of war. It all came of the capture of the 
Percy's pennon. The Scots might have got clear off with 
all their Ixmty ; the Knglish forgot all the precautions of 
war when they made a midnight rush on a fortified camp 
without knowledge of the ground or the arrangements of 
their enemy. It was for these specialties that Froissart ad 
mired it so. lie saw in it a light for fighting's sake, a great 
passage at arms in which no bow was drawn, but each man 
fought hand to hand ; in fact, about the greatest and blood 
iest tournament he had to record. Hence his narrative is 
ever interrupted with bursts of admiration as his fancy 
contemplates the delightful scene raised before it." Burton, 
History of Scotland, II, 364, ed. 1873 (who, perhaps by an 
error of the press, makes the losses of the English in killed 
eight hundred and forty, in place of Buchanan's eighteen 
hundred and forty). 

t Bower and Barry say St Oswald's day, Wednesday, the 
5th, Scotichronicon, II, 405, 407 ; Knyghton also ; the con- 

actually present, both English and Scots, and 
also French. 

Wyntoun,ix, 840-54, 900f (Laing, III, 36f) 
says that the alarm was given the Scots by a 
young man that came right fast riding (cf. A 
20, 21, B 4, C 17), and that many of the Scots 
were able to arm but imperfectly ; among 
these Earl James, who was occupied with get 
ting his men into order and was " reckless of 
his arming," and the Earl of Murray, who 
forgot his basnet (cf. C 20). Earl James was 
slain no man knew in what way. Bower, 
Scotichronicon, II, 405, agrees with Wyn- 
toun. English chroniclers, Knyghton, col. 
2728, Walsingham (Riley, II, 176 J), Mal- 
verne, the continuator of Higden (Polychron- 
icon, Luuiby, IX, 185), assert that Percy 
killed Douglas with his own hand, Knyghton 
adding that Percy also wounded the Earl of 
Murray to the point of death. 

That a Scots ballad of Otterburn was popu 
lar in the sixteenth century appears from The 
Complaynte of Scotlande, 1549, where a line 
is cited, The Perssee and the Mongumrye met, 
p. 65, ed. Murray : cf. B 9 1 , C 30'. In the 
following century Hume of Godscroft writes: || 
The Scots song made of Otterburn telleth 
the time, about Lammasse, and the occasion, 
to take preyes out of England ; also the divid 
ing of the armies betwixt the Earles of Fife 
and Douglas, and their severall journeys, 

tinuator of Higden's Polychronicon, August 12, Wednes 
day. The ballad, A 1 8 4 , gives the day as Wednesday. There 
was a full moon August 20, which makes the 19th of itself 
far more probable, and Froissart says the moon was shining. 
See White, Battle of Otterburu, p. 133. 

} Walsingham writes in the vein of Froissart : " Erat ibi 
dem cernere pulchrnni spectaculum, duos tarn praclaros 
juveues manus conscrcre et pro gloria decertare." Walsiug- 
liam says that the English were few. Malverne puts the 
Scots at 30,000, and here, as in the ballad A 35, the crony- 
kle does not layne (indeed, the ballad is all but accurate), if 
the main body of the Scots be included, which was at first 
supposed to be supporting Douglas. 

' The perssce and the mongumrye met, that day, that 
day, that gcntilday,' which I suppose to be either a different 
reading from any that has come down, or a blending of a 
line from Otterburn with one from The Hunting of the 
Cheviot, A 24 1 ; indicating in either case the present ballad 
only, for The Hunttis of Cheuet had been cited before. 
Furnivall holds that the second line means another ballad: 
Captain Cox, p. clix. 

|| The History of the Houses of Douglas and Angus, 1644, 
p. 104. 



almost as in the authentick history. It be- 
ginneth thus : 

It fell about the Lammas tide, 
When yeomen woune their hay, 

The doughtie Douglas gan to ride, 
In England to take a prey. 

Motherwell maintains that the ballad which 
passes as English is the Scots song altered, to 
please the other party. His argument, how 
ever, is far from conclusive. " That The 
Battle of Otterbourne was thus dealt with by 
an English transcriber appears obvious, for 
it studiously omits dilating on Percy's cap 
ture, while it accurately details his combat 
with Douglas ; " that is to say, the ballad as 
we have it is just what a real English ballad 
would have been, both as to what it enlarges 
on and what it slights. " Whereas it would 
appear that in the genuine Scottish version 
the capture of Percy formed a prominent 
incident, seeing it is the one by which the 
author of The Complaynt refers to the ballad 
[The Perssee and the Mongumrye met] : " 
from which Motherwell was at liberty to 
deduce that B and C represent the genuine 
Scottish version, several stanzas being given 
to the capture of Percy in these ; but this he 
would not care to do, on account of the great 
inferiority of these forms. A Scotsman could 
alter an English ballad " to suit political feel 
ing and flatter national vanity," as Mother- 
well says -the Scots did with Chevy Chace. 
(See further on, p. 303.) There is no reason 
to doubt that a Scots ballad of Otterburn 
once existed, much better than the two in 
ferior, and partly suspicious, things which 
were printed by Herd and Scott, and none 
to doubt that an English minstrel would deal 
freely with any Scots ballad which he could 
turn to his purpose ; but then there is no evi 
dence, positive or probable, that this partic 
ular ballad was " adapted " from the Scots 
song made of Otterburn ; rather are we to 
infer that the few verses of B and C which 
repeat or resemble the text of A were bor- 

* For Motherwell's views, see his Minstrelsy, li, lii, and 
Ixxi, note 30. 

rowed from A, and, as likely as not, Hume's 
first stanza too.* 

A, in the shape in which it has come down 
to us, must have a date long subsequent to 
the battle, as the grammatical forms show ; 
still, what interested the borderers a hundred 
years or more after the event must have in 
terested people of the time still more, and it 
would be against the nature of things that 
there should not have been a ballad as early 
as 1400. The ballad we have is likely to have 
been modernized from such a predecessor, but 
I am not aware that there is anything in the 
text to confirm such a supposition, unless one 
be pleased to make much of the Wednesday 
of the eighteenth stanza. The concluding 
stanza implies that Percy is dead, and he was 
killed at Shrewsbury, in 1403. 

A. 3. Hoppertope hyll, says Percy, is a 
corruption for Ottercap Hill (now Ottercaps 
Hill) in the parish of Kirk Whelpington, 
Tynedale Ward, Northumberland. Rodclyffe 
Cragge (now Rothley Crags) is a cliff near 
Rodeley, a small village in the parish of 
Hartburn, in Morpeth Ward, south-east of 
Ottercap; and Green Leyton, corruptly Green 
Lynton, is another small village, south-east of 
Rodeley, in the same parish. Reliques, 1794, 
I 22. 

8. Henry Percy seems to have been in his 
twenty-third year. As for his having been a 
march-man " all his days," he is said to have 
begun fighting ten years before, in 1378, and 
to have been appointed Governor of Berwick 
and Warden of the Marches in 1385 : White, 
History of the Battle of Otterburn, p. 67 f. 
Walsingham calls both Percy and Douglas 
young men, and Froissart speaks at least twice 
of Douglas as young. Fraser, The Douglas 
Book, 1885, I, 292, says that Douglas was 
probably born in 1358. White, as above, 
p. 91, would make him somewhat older. 

17. The chivalrous trait in this stanza, and 
that in the characteristic passage 36-44, are 
peculiar to this transcendently heroic ballad. 

26, 27. The earldom of Menteith at the 
time of this battle, says Percy, following 
Douglas's Peerage, was possessed by Robert 



Stewart, Earl of Fife, third son of King 
Robert II ; but the Earl of Fife was in com 
mand of the main body and not present. (As 
Douglas married a daughter of King Robert 
II, the Earl of Fife was not his uncle, but his 
brother-in-law.) The mention of Huntley, 
says Percy, shows that the ballad was not 
composed before 1449 ; for in that year Alex 
ander, Lord of Gordon and Huntley, was 
created Earl of Huntley by King James II. 
The Earl of Buchan at that time was Alex 
ander Stewart, fourth son of the king. Re- 
liques, 1794, I, 36. 

35 2 . ' The cronykle will not layne.' So in 
' The Rose of England,' No 1G6, st. 22 4 , ' The 
cronickles of this will not lye,' and also 17 2 ; 
and in ' Flodden Field,' appendix, p. 360, st. 

43, 49. It will be remembered that the 
archers had no part in this fight. 

45, 46. " The ancient arms of Douglas are 
pretty accurately emblazoned in the former 
stanza, and if the readings were, The crowned 
harte, and, Above stode starres thre, it would 
be minutely exact at this day. As for the 
Percy family, one of their ancient badges 
or cognizances was a white lyon statant, and 
the silver crescent continues to be used by 
them to this day. They also give three luces 
argent for one of their quarters." Percy, as 
above, p. 30. 

48. So far as I know, St George does not 
appear as Our Lady's knight in any legend 
ary, though lie is so denominated or described 
elsewhere in popular tradition. So in the spell 
for night-marc, which would naturally be of 
considerable antiquity, 

S. George, S. George, Our Ladies knight, 
He walkt by day, so did lie by night, etc. : 

Reginald Scot, The Discoverie of Witchcraft, 
1584, as reprinted by Nicholson, p. 68, ed. 
1665, p. 48 ; and Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, 
iv. G, Dyce, VII, 388. In Nicholas Udall's 

* B 20. Infjen iomfru maa icg lofftie, 

huerchcn tynlig ellcr aahcn-bahre ; 

Jet hafluer ie iomfru Maria loffuet 

hindia tiimere ?kall icg verre. 

t The Imrdeu is ' O kiennicheinn Maria ' in the first, ' Iliif 
Maria ' in the second ; in both George declines the king's 

' Roister Doister,' known to be as old as 
1551, Matthew Merrygreek exclaims, " What 
then? sainct George to borow, Our Ladie's 
knight!" Ed. W. D. Cooper, p. 77, Shake 
speare Society, 1847. The Danish ballad of 
St George, 'St J0rgen og Dragen,' Grundtvig, 
No 103, II, 559 ff, the oldest version of which 
is from a 16th century MS., begins, " Knight 
St George, thou art my man " (svend) ; and 
in the second version, George, declining the 
princess whom he has rescued, says he has 
vowed to Mary to be her servant.* In the 
corresponding Swedish ballad, of the same 
age as the Danish, George is called Mary's 
knight (Maria honom riddare gjorde, st. 2) : 
Geijer and Afzelius, ed. Bergstrom, II, 402. 
This is also his relation in German ballads: 
Meinert, p. 254 ; Ditfurth, I, 55, No 68.f 

B. 1, 9, 14 nearly resemble A 1, 50, 68, 
and must have the same origin. In B 9 
Douglas is changed to Montgomery ; in 14 
Douglas is wrongly said to have been buried 
on the field, instead of at Melrose Abbe}', 
where his tomb is still to be seen. 

7 is founded upon a tradition reported by 
Hume of Godscroft : " There are that say 
that he was not slain by the enemy, but by 
one of his owne men, a groome of his cham 
ber, whom he had struck the day before with 
a truncheon in the ordering of the battell, 
because hee saw him make somewhat slowly 
to ; and they name this man John Bickerton 
of Luffenesse, who left a part of his armour 
behinde unfastned, and when hee was in the 
greatest conflict, this servant of his came 
behinde his back and slew him thereat." 
Ed. 1644, p. 105. 

11. The summons to surrender to a braken- 
bush is not in the style of fighting-men or 
fighting-days, and would justify Hotspur's 
contempt of metre-ballad-mongers. 

12, 13. B agrees with Froissart in making 
a Montgomery to be the captor of Henry 
Percy, whereas A represents that Montgom- 

Legencl, where the king "in honorem beatre Maria; et beati 
Georgii ecclesiam mirae magnitudinis construxit" : Griisse, 
p. 261. 



ery was taken prisoner and exchanged for 
Percy. In The Hunting of the Cheviot Sir 
Hugh Montgomery kills Percy, and in return 
is shot by a Northumberland archer. 

C. Scott does not give a distinct account of 
this version. He says that he had obtained 
two copies, since the publication of the earlier 
edition, " from the recitation of old persons re 
siding at the head of Ettrick Forest, by which 
the story is brought out and completed in a 
manner much more correspondent to the true 
history." C is, in fact, a combination of four 
copies ; the two from Ettrick Forest, B a, and 
the MS. copy used in B b to " correct" Herd. 

8, it scarcely requires to be said, is spurious, 
modern in diction and in conception. 

19. Perhaps derived from Hume of Gods- 
croft rather than from tradition. When 
Douglas was dying, according to this histo 
rian,* he made these last requests of certain of 
his kinsmen : " First, that yee keep my death 
close both from our owne folke and from the 
enemy ; then, that ye suffer not my standard 
to be lost or cast downe ; and last, that ye 
avenge my death, and bury me at Melrosse 

with my father. If I could hope for these 
things," he added, " I should die with the 
greater contentment ; for long since I heard a 
prophesie that a dead man should winne a 
field, and I hope in God it shall be I." Ed. 
1644, p. 100. 

22 must be derived from the English ver 
sion. As the excellent editor of The Bal 
lad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, 
remarks, " no Scottish minstrel would ever 
have dreamt of inventing such a termination 
to the combat between these two redoubted 
heroes ... as much at variance with history 
as it is repulsive to national feeling : " p. 431. 

Genealogical matters, in this and the follow 
ing ballad, are treated, not always to complete 
satisfaction, in Bishop Percy's notes, Reliques, 
1794, I, 34ff; Scott's Minstrelsy, 1833, I, 
351, 363 ff : White's History of the Battle of 
Otterburn, p. 67 ff ; The Ballads and Songs 
of Ayrshire, I, 66 f. 

A is translated by Doenniges, p. 87 ; C by 
Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, 
No 12, p. 74, and by Talvj, Charakteristik, 
p. 537. 

a. Cotton MS. Cleopatra, C. iv, leaf 64, of about 1550. 
b. Harleian MS. 293, leaf 52. 

1 YT fell abowght the Lamasse tyde, 

Whan liusbondes Wynnes ther haye, 
The dowghtye Dowglasse bowynd hym to ryde, 
In Ynglond to take a praye. 

2 The yerlle of Fyffe, wytAowghten stryffe, 

He bowynd hym over Sulway ; 
The grete wolde ever to-gether ryde ; 
That raysse they may rewe for aye. 

3 Over Hoppertope hyll they cam in, 

And so down by Rodclyffe erage ; 
Vpon Grene Lynton they lyghted dowyn, 
Styrande many a stage. 

4 And boldely brente Northomberlond, 

And haryed many a towyn ; 
They dyd owr Ynglyssh men grete wrange, 
To batell that were not bowyn. 

5 Than spake a berne vpon the bent, 

Of comforte that was not colde, 
And sayd, We haue brente Northomber 
We haue all welth in holde. 

6 Now we haue haryed all Bamborowe schyre, 

All the welth in the worlde haue wee, 
I rede we ryde to Newe Castell, 
So styll and stalworthlye. 

7 Vpon the morowe, when it was day, 

The standerds schone full bryght ; 

* Following in part Buchanan, who, however, says nothing jectum sinatis; demum, vt meam csedem vlciscamini. Haec 

of Melrose, or of the prophecy, which is the point here. si sperem ita fore, csetera sequo animo feram. Fol. 101, ed. 

Ilia vero a vobis postrema peto : primum, vt mortem meam 1582. 
et nostros et hostes eeeletis; delude, ne vexillum meum de- 



To the Newe Castell the toke the waye, 
And thether they cam full ryght 

8 Syr Henry Perssy laye at the New Castell, 

I tell yow wyt/towtten drede ; 
He had hyn a march-man all hys dayes, 
And kepte Barwyke vpon Twede. 

9 To the Newe Castell when they cam, 

The Skottes they cryde on hyght, 
' Syr Hary Perssy, and thou byste wit/tin, 
Com to the fylde, and fyght. 

10 ' For we haue brente Northomberlonde, 

Thy erytage good and ryght, 
And syne my logeyng I haue take 

Wyt/t my brande dubbyd many a knyght.' 

11 Syr Harry Perssy cam to the walks, 

The Skottyssch oste for to se, 
And sayd, And thou hast brente Northomber- 

Full sore it rewyth me. 

12 Yf thou hast haryed all Bamborowe schyre, 

Thow hast done me grete envye ; 
For the trespasse thow hast me done, 
The tone of vs schall dye. 

13 ' Where schall I byde the ? ' sayd the Dowglas, 

' Or where wylte thow com to me ? ' 
' At Otterborne, in the hygh way, 
[Tjher mast thow well logeed be. 

14 ' [T]he roo full rekeles ther sche rinnes, 

[T]o make the game a[nd] glee ; 
[T]he fawken and the fesaunt both, 
Among the holies on hye. 

15 ' Ther mast thow haue thy welth at wyll, 

Well looged ther mast be ; 
Yt schall not be long or I com the tyll,' 
Sayd Syr Harry Perssye. 

16 ' Ther schall I byde the,' sayd the Dowglas, 

' By the fayth of my bodye : ' 
' Thether schall I com,' sayd Syr Harry Perssy, 
' My trowth I plyght to the.' 

17 A pype of wyne he gaue them over the walles, 

For soth as I yow saye ; 
Ther he mayd the Dowglasse drynke, 
And all hys ost that daye. 

18 The Dowglas turnyd hym homewarde agayne, 

For soth wtt/iowghten naye ; 
He toke hys logeyng at Oterborne, 
Vpon a Wedynsday. 

19 And ther he pyght hys standerd dowyn, 

Hys gettyng more and lesse, 
And syne he warned hys men to goo 
To chose ther geldynges gresse. 

20 A Skottysshe knyght hoved vpon the bent, 

A wache I dare well saye ; 
So was he ware on the noble Perssy, 
In the dawnyng of the daye. 

21 He prycked to hys pavyleon-dore, 

As faste as he myght ronne ; 
' Awaken, Dowglas,' cryed the knyght, 
' For hys love that syttes in trone. 

22 ' Awaken, Dowglas,' cryed the knyght, 

' For thow maste waken wyth wynne ; 
Yender haue I spyed the prowde Perssye, 
And seven stondardes wyth hym.' 

23 ' Nay by my trowth,' the Dowglas sayed, 

' It ys but a fayned taylle ; 
He durst not loke on my brede banner 
For all Ynglonde so haylle. 

24 ' Was I not yesterdaye at the Newe Castell, 

That stondes so fayre on Tyne ? 
For all the men the Perssy had, 

He coude not garre me ones to dyne.' 

25 He stepped owt at his pavelyon-dore, 

To loke and it were lesse : 
' Araye yow, lordynges, one and all, 
For here bygynnes no peysse. 

26 ' The yerle of Mentaye, thow arte my erne, 

The fowarde I gyve to the : 
The yerlle of Huntlay, cawte and kene, 
He schall be wytA the. 

27 ' The lorde of Bowghan, in armure bryght, 

On the other hand he schall be ; 
Lord JhonstoMiie and Lorde Maxwell, 
They to schall be wyt/t me. 

28 ' Swynton, fayre fylde vpon yowr pryde ! 

To batell make yow bowen 



Syr Davy Skotte, Syr Water Stewarde, 
Syr Jhon of Agurstone ! ' 

29 The Perssy cam byfore hys oste, 

Wych was ever a gentyll knyght ; 

Vpon the Dowglas lowde can he crye, 

' I wyll holde that I haue hyght. 

30 ' For thou haste brente Northomberlonde, 

And done me grete envye ; 
For thys trespasse thou hast me done, 
The tone of vs schall dye.' 

31 The Dowglas answerde hym agayne, 

Wyth grett wurdes vpon hye, 
And sayd, I haue twenty agaynst thy one, 
Byholde, and thou maste see. 

32 Wyth that the Perssy was grevyd sore, 

For soth as I yow saye ; 
He lyghted dowyn vpon his foote, 
And schoote hys horsse clene awaye. 

33 Euery man sawe that he dyd soo, 

That ryall was euer in rowght ; 
Euery man schoote hys horsse hym froo, 
And lyght hym rowynde abowght. 

34 Thus Syr Hary Perssye toke the fylde, 

For soth as I yow saye ; Cryste in hevyn on hyght 
Dyd helpe hym well that daye. 

35 But nyne thowzand, ther was no moo, 

The cronykle wyll not layne ; 
Forty thowsande of Skottes and fowre 
That day fowght them agayne. 

36 But when the batell byganne to ioyne, 

In hast ther cam a knyght ; 
The letters fayre furth hath he tayne, 
And thus he sayd full ryght : 

37 ' My lorde your father he gretes yow well, 

Wyth many a noble knyght ; 
He desyres yow to byde 
That he may see thys fyght. 

38 ' The Baron of Grastoke ys com out of the 


Wyth hym a noble companye ; 
All they loge at yo?r fathers thys nyght, 
And the batell fayne wolde they see.' 

VOL. HI. 38 

39 ' For Jhesus love,' sayd Syr Harye Perssy, 

' That dyed for yow and me, 
Wende to my lorde my father agayne, 
And saye thow.sawe me not wyth yee. 

40 ' My trowth ys plyght to yonne Skottysh 


It nedes me not to layne, 
That I schulde byde hym vpon thys bent, 
And I haue hys trowth agayne. 

41 ' And if that I w[e]ynde of thys growende, 

For soth, onfowghten awaye, 
He wolde me call but a kowarde kuyght 
In hys londe another daye. 

42 ' Yet had I lever to be rynde and rente, 

By Mary, that mykkel maye, 
Then ever my manhood schulde be reprovyd 
Wyth a Skotte another day. 

43 ' Wherfore schote, archars, for my sake, 

And let scharpe arowes flee ; 
Mynstrells, playe vp for yowr waryson, 
And well quyt it schall bee. 

44 ' Euery man thynke on hys trewe-love, 

And marke hym to the Trenite ; 
For to God I make myne avowe 
Thys day wyll I not flee.' 

45 The blodye harte in the Dowglas armes, 

Hys standerde stode on hye, 
That euery man myght full well knowe ; 
By syde stode starres thre. 

46 The whyte lyon on the Ynglyssh perte, 

For soth as I yow sayne, 
The lucettes and the cressawntes both ; 
The Skottes favght them agayne. 

47 Vpon Sent Androwe lowde can they crye, 

And thrysse they schowte on hyght, 
And syne merked them one owr Ynglysshe men, 
As I haue tolde yow ryght. 

48 Sent George the bryght, owr ladyes knyght, 

To name they were full fayne ; 
OWT Ynglyssh men they cryde on hyght, 
And thrysse the schowtte agayne. 

49 Wyth that scharpe arowes bygan to flee, 

I tell yow in sertayne ; 



Men of armes byganne to joyne, 
Many a dowghty man was ther slayne. 

50 The Perssy and the Dowglas mette, 

That etlier of other was fayne ; 
They swapped together whyll that the swette, 
Wytk swordes of fyne collayne : 

51 Tyll the bloode from ther bassonnettes ranne, 

As the roke doth in the rayne ; 

' Yelde the to me,' sayd the Dowglas, 

' Or elles thow schalt be slayne. 

52 ' For I see by thy bryght bassonet, 

Thow arte sum man of myght ; 
And so 1 do by thy burnysshed brande ; 
Thow arte an yerle, or elle* a knyght.' 

53 ' By my good faythe,' sayd the noble Perssye, 

' Now haste thow rede full ryght ; 
Yet wyll I never yelde me to the, 
Whyll I may stonde and fyght.' 

54 They swapped together whyll that they swette, 

Wyth swordes scharpe and long ; 
Ych on other so faste thee beette, 

Tyll ther helmes cam in peyses dowyn. 

55 The Perssy was a man of strenghth, 

I tell yow in thys stounde ; 
He smote the Dowglas at the swordes length 
That he felle to the growynde. 

56 The sworde was scharpe, and sore can byte, 

I tell yow in sertayne ; 
To the harte he cowde hym smyte, 
Thus was the Dowglas slayne. 

57 The stonderdes stode styll on eke a syde, 

Wyth many a grevous grone ; 
Ther the fowght the day, and all the nyght, 
And many a dowghty man was slayne. 

58 Ther was no freke that ther wolde flye, 

But styffely in stowre can stond, 
Ychone hewyng on other whyll they myght 

Wyth many a bayllefull broncle. 

59 Ther was slayne vpon the Skottes syde, 

For soth and sertenly, 
Syr James a Dowglas ther was slayne, 
That day that he cowde dye. 

60 The yerlle of Mentaye he was slayne, 

Grysely groned vpon the growynd ; 
Syr Davy Skotte, Syr Water Stewarde, 
Syr Jhon of Agurstoune. 

61 Syr Charlies Morrey in that place, 

That never a fote wold flee ; 
Syr Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was, 
Wyth the Dowglas dyd he dye. 

62 Ther was slayne vpon the Skottes syde, 

For soth as I yow saye, 
Of fowre and forty thowsande Scottes 
Went but eyghtene awaye. 

63 Ther was slayne vpon the Ynglysshe syde, 

For soth and sertenlye, 
A gentell knyght, Syr Jhon Fechewe, 
Yt was the more pety. 

64 Syr James Hardbotell ther was slayne, 

For hym ther hartes were sore ; 

The gentyll Lovell ther was slayne, 

That the Perssys standerd bore. 

65 Ther was slayne vpon the Ynglyssh perte, 

For soth as I yow saye, 
Of nyne thowsand Ynglyssh men 
Fyve hondert cam awaye. 

66 The other were slayne in the fylde ; 

Cryste kepe ther sowlles from wo ! 
Seyng ther was so fewe fryndes 
Agaynst so many a foo. 

67 Then on the morne they mayde them beerys 

Of byrch and haysell graye ; 
Many a wydowe, wyt/t wepyng teyres, 
Ther makes they fette awaye. 

68 Thys f raye bygan at Otterborne, 

Bytwene the nyght and the day ; 
Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyffe, 
And the Perssy was lede awaye. 

69 Then was ther a Scottysh pr/soner tayne, 

Syr Hewe Mongomery was hys name ; 
For soth as I yow saye, 

He borowed the Perssy home agayne. 

70 Now let vs all for the Perssy praye 

To most of myght, 
To bryng hys sowlle to the blysse of heven, 
For he was a gentyll knyght. 



a. Herd's MS., I, 149, II, 30 ; Herd's Scottish Songs, 
1776,1,153. b. Scott's Minstrelsy, 1,31,1802, "corrected" 
from Herd, 1776, " by a MS. copy." 

1 IT fell and about the Lammas time, 

When husbandmen do win their hay, 
Earl Douglass is to the English woods, 
And a' with him to fetch a prey. 

2 He has chosen the Lindsays light, 

With them the gallant Gordons gay, 
And the Earl of Fyfe, withouten strife, 
And Sir Hugh Montgomery upon a grey. 

3 They have taken Northumberland, 

And sae hae they the north shire, 
And the Otter Dale, they hae burnt it hale, 
And set it a' into fire. 

4 Out then spake a bonny boy, 

That servd ane o Earl Douglass kin ; 
Methinks I see an English host, 
A-coming branken us upon. 

5 ' If this be true, my little boy, 

And it be troth that thou tells me, 
The brawest bower in Otterburn 
This day shall be thy morning-fee. 

G ' But if it be fase, my little boy, 

But and a lie that thou tells me, 
On the highest tree that 's in Otterburn 
With my ain hands I '11 hing thee high." 

7 The boy 's taen out his little penknife, 
That hanget low down by his gare, 

And he gaed Earl Douglass a deadly wound, 
Alack ! a deep wound and a sare. 

8 Earl Douglas said to Sir Hugh Montgomery, 

Take thou the vanguard o the three, 
And bury me at yon braken-bush, 
That stands upon yon lilly lee. 

9 Then Percy and Montgomery met, 

And weel a wot they warna fain ; 
They swaped swords, and they twa swat, 
And ay the blood ran down between. 

10 ' O yield thee, yield thee, Percy,' he said, 

' Or else I vow I '11 lay thee low ; ' 
' Whom to shall I yield,' said Earl Percy, 
' Now that I see it maun be so ? ' 

11 ' yield thee to yon braken-bush, 

That grows upon yon lilly lee ; 

12 ' I winna yield to a braken-bush, 

Nor yet will I unto a brier ; 
But I would yield to Earl Douglass, 

Or Sir Hugh Montgomery, if he was here.' 

13 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, 

He stuck his sword's point in the ground, 
And Sir Hugh Montgomery was a courteous 

And he quickly broght him by the hand. 

14 This deed was done at Otterburn, 

About the breaking of the day ; 
Earl Douglass was buried at the braken-bush, 
And Percy led captive away. 


Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1833, I, 345. B com 
pleted by two copies " obtained from the recitation of old 
persons residing at the head of Ettrick Forest." 

1 IT fell about the Lammas tide, 

When the muir-men win their hay, 
The doughty Douglas bound him to ride 
Into England, to drive a prey. 

2 He chose the Gordons and the Grjemes, 

With them the Lindesays, light and gay ; 

But the Jardines wald not with him ride, 
And they rue it to this day. 

3 And he has burnd the dales of Tyne, 

And part of Bambrough shire, 
And three good towers on Reidswire fells, 
He left them all on fire. 

4 And he marchd up to Newcastle, 

And rode it round about : 
' O wha 's the lord of this castle ? 
Or wha 's the lady o 't ? ' 



5 But up spake proud Lord Percy then, 

And O but lie spake hie ! 

I am the lord of this castle, 

My wife 's the lady gay. 

6 ' If thou 'rt the lord of this castle, 

Sae weel it pleases me, 
For, ere I cross the Border fells, 
The tane of us shall die.' 

7 He took a lang spear in his hand, 

Shod with the metal free, 
And for to meet the Douglas there 
He rode right furiouslie. 

8 But O how pale his lady lookd, 

Frae aff the castle-wa, 
When down before the Scottish spear 
She saw proud Percy fa. 

9 ' Had we twa been upon the green, 

And never an eye to see, 
I wad hae had you, flesh and fell ; 
But your sword sail gae wi me.' 

10 ' But gae ye up to Otterbourne, 

And, wait there dayis three, 
And, if I come not ere three dayis end, 
A fause knight ca ye me.' 

11 ' The Otterbourne 's a bonnie burn ; 

'T is pleasant there to be ; 
But there is nought at Otterbourne 
To feed my men and me. 

12 ' The deer rins wild on hill and dale, 

The birds fly wild from tree to tree ; 
But there is neither bread nor kale 
To fend my men and me. 

13 ' Yet I will stay at Otterbourne. 

Where you shall welcome be ; 
And, if ye come not at three dayis end, 
A fause lord I '11 ca thee.' 

14 ' Thither will I come,' proud Percy said, 

' By the might of Our Ladye ; ' 
' There will I bide thee,' said the Douglas, 
' My troth I plight to thee.' 

15 They lighted high on Otterbourne, 

Upon the bent sae brown ; 
They lighted high on Otterbourne, 
And threw their pallions down. 

16 And he that had a bonnie boy, 

Sent out his horse to grass ; 
And he that had not a bonuie boy, 
His ain servant he was. 

17 But up then spake a little page, 

Before the peep of dawn : 
' O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, 
For Percy 's hard at hand.' 

18 ' Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud ! 

Sae loud I hear ye lie : 
For Percy had not men yestreen 
To dight my men and me. 

19 ' But I have dreamd a dreary dream, 

Beyond the Isle of Sky ; 
I saw a dead man win a fight, 
And I think that man was I.' 

20 He belted on his guid braid sword, 

And to the field he ran, 
But lie forgot the helmet good, 
That should have kept his brain. 

21 When Percy wi the Douglas met, 

I wat he was f u fain ; 

They swakked their swords, till sair they swat, 
And the blood ran down like rain. 

22 But Percy with his good broad sword, 

That could so sharply wound, 
Has wounded Douglas on the brow, 
Till he fell to the ground. 

23 Then he calld on his little foot-page, 

And said. Run speedilie, 
And fetch my ain dear sister's son, 
Sir Hugh Montgomery. 

24 ' My nephew good,' the Douglas said, 

' What recks the death of ane ! 
Last night I dreamd a dreary dream. 
And I ken the day 's thy ain. 

25 ' My wound is deep ; I fain would sleep ; 

Take thou the vanguard of the three, 
And hide me by the braken-bush, 
That grows on yonder lilye lee. 

26 ' bury me by the braken-bush, 

Beneath the blooming brier ; 
Let never living mortal ken 

That ere a kindly Scot lies here.' 



27 He lifted up that noble lord, 

Wi the saut tear in his ee ; 
He hid him in the braken-bush. 
That his merrie men might not see. 

28 The moon was clear, the day drew near, 

The spears in flinders flew, 

But mony a gallant Englishman 

Ere day the Scotsmen slew. 

29 The Gordons good, in English blood 

They steepd their hose and shoon ; 
The Lindsays flew like fire about, 
Till all the fray was done. 

30 The Percy and Montgomery met, 

That either of other were fain ; 
They swapped swords, and they twa swat, 
And aye the blood ran down between. 

31 ' Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy," he said, 

' Or else I vow I '11 lay thee low ! ' 

' To whom must I yield,' quoth Earl Percy, 
' Now that I see it must be so ? ' 

32 ' Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun, 

Nor yet shalt thou yield to me ; 

But yield thee to the braken-bush, 

That grows upon yon lilye lee.' 

33 ' I will not yield to a braken-bush, 

Nor yet will I yield to a brier ; 
But I would yield to Earl Douglas, 

Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were 

34 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, 

He struck his sword's point in the gronde ; 
The Montgomery was a courteous knight, 
And quickly took him by the honde. 

35 This deed was done at the Otterbourne, 

About the breaking of the day ; 
Earl Douglas was buried at the braken-bush, 
And the Percy led captive away. 

Finlay's Scottish Ballads, I, xviii f ; from recitation. 

1 THEN out an spak a little wee boy, 
And he was near o Percy's kin : 
Methinks I see the English host 
A coming branking us upon. 

2 Wi nine waggons scaling wide, 

And seven banners bearing high ; 
It wad do any living gude 

To see their bonny colours fly. 


Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. Ixxi, note 30 ; from a recited 

' O YIELD thee to yon braken-bush, 
That grows upon yon lilly lie ; 

For there lies aneth yon braken-bush 
What aft has conquerd mae than thee. 

A. a. 3 4 . many a styrande. 

" The reading of the MS. is, I suspect, 
right; for stage, or staig, in Scotland 
means a young horse unshorn of its mas 
culine attributes, and the obvious inten 
tion of the poet is merely to describe that 
the Scottish alighted from many a pranc 
ing steed, in order to prepare for action." 
Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. Ixxi, note 30, 

who would read accordingly, [Off] many 
a styrande stage. The fourth line, as 
amended by Mothenvell, would be a 
superfluity, whereas Percy's reading, 
here adopted, adds a pleasing incident, 
the rousing of the deer as the troopers 
passed their haunts. 

20 1 . beste, corrected to bent, 

22 l . repeated at the top offol. 65 back. 



31'. the one ; b, thy one. 34 2 . soth soth. 

41 1 . b, weynde. 46 s . cressawttes. 

50'. schapped: cf. 54 l . 

60 4 . Syr James : cf. 28 4 . 64. Covell. 

Crossed final 11, in all, styll, Castell, schall, 

well, etc., has not been rendered lie. 
b. A Songe made in R. 2. his tyme of the Bat- 
telle at Otterburne betweene the Lord Henry 
Percye, Earle of Northomberland, and the 
Earle Douglas of Scotland, An 1388. 
Either b is a transcript of a, or both are 
from the same source. 
3". Kedclyffe. 3*. Many a stirande. 
4 4 . bound. 7*. they ranne. 
ll l . S r Henry came. 13 2 . wille. 
14 2 . game and. 15 s . maiste thou. 
15 4 . Henrye. 

20 1 . houered vppon the beste bent. 
24 4 . gare me oute to. 28 4 . Aguiston. 
31*. thy one. 35 1 . no more. 35 2 . cronicles. 
37. abyde. 39 4 . w" 1 thie eye. 
40 1 . yonde Skotes. 41 1 . Ffor yf I weynde. 
44 s . my avowe. 46' 2 . I wanting. 
49 1 . arrowes gan vpe to. 
50'. schapped : swatte. 51 1 . from the. 
54*. swotto. 57 1 . stonderes ; elke syde. 
59*. a wanting. 60*. S r James. 
63 s . Ffitzhughe. 64 1 . Harbotle. 
('4 s . Covelle. 66 4 . a wanting. 
G7 1 . the morowe. 70 1 . Percyes. 
A pencil note on the first leaf of b (signed 
F. M., Sir F. Madden) states that it is in 
Ralph Starkey's hand. 

B. a. 2 s . Fuife in my transcript of Herd, I ; Fyfe 
in II. 

3'. hae is omitted in II and the printed copy. 

3 4 . printed into a fire. 

5 s . bravest in my transcript of Herd, I ; 

brawest, II ; printed brawest. 
7'. The second MS. has gae ; printed gae. 
8 s . bring me in my transcript of Herd, I ; 

bury in the second MS., and so printed. 
12*. II, into. 
b. I 1 , and wanting. 2 4 . Hugh the. 

3 1 . have harried. 3 2 . they Bambroshire. 
3 8 . And wanting. 3 4 . a' in a blaze o fire. 

5 1 . true, thou little foot-page. 

5 2 . If this be true thou tells to me. 
5 4 . This day wanting; morning's. 
G 1 . thou little. G 2 . lie thou tells to. 

G 3 . that 's wanting. G 4 . hang. 7 1 . boy has. 

7 2 . hung right low. 7 s . gave Lord. 

7 4 . I wot a. 

8 1 . Douglas to the Montgomery said. 

8 8 . me by the. 8 4 . that grows. 

9 1 . The Percy. 

9 2 . That either of other were fain. 
10 1 . Yield thee, yield. 10 4 . it must. 

11 Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun, 

Nor yet shalt thou yield to me ; 
But yield thee to the braken-bush, 
That grows upon yon lilye lee. 

12 1 . I will not. 12 Z . I to. 
12 4 . Hugh the : he were. 
13 1 ' 3 . And the Montgomery. 
13 4 . And quickly took him. 14 4 . the Percy. 
O. 34*. In one copy : As soon as he knew it was 
Sir Hugh. 





A. MS. Ashmole, 48, 1550 or later, Bodleian Library, 
in Skeat's Specimens of English Literature, etc., 
third edition, 1880, p. 67.* 

B. a. 'Chevy Chase,' Percy MS., p. 188, Hales and 
Furnivall, II, 7. b. Pepys Ballads, I, 92, No 45, 
Magdalene College, Cambridge, broadside, London, 
printed for M. G. c. Douce Ballads, fol. 27", Bod 

leian Library, and Roxburghe Ballads, III, 66, Brit 
ish Museum, broadside, printed for F. Coles, T. 
Vere, and J. Wright, d. Wood Ballads, 401, 48, 
Bodleian Library, broadside, printed for F. Coles, 
T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson. e. Bagford Ballads, 
I, No 32, British Museum, broadside, printed by and 
for W. Onley. f. A Scottish copy, without printer, 
Harvard College Library. 

A was first printed by Hearne in Guili- 
elmi Neubrigensis Historia, I, Ixxxii ff, 1719 ; 
then by Percy, Reliques, I, 1, 1765, with a 
judicious preface. The whole manuscript, in 
which this piece is No 8, was edited by 
Thomas Wright for the Roxburghe Club in 
1860 : Songs and Ballads, with other short 
Poems, chiefly of the Reign of Philip and 

B may probably be found in any of the 
larger sets of broadsides. It is included in 
such collections as Dry den's Miscellanies, 
II, 238, 1702 ; Pills to purge Melancholy, IV, 
289, 1719; Old Ballads, I, 111, 1723; Percy's 
Reliques, I, 235, 1765. b has many readings 
of a, the copy in the Percy MS. There is 
a second Bagford copy, II, No 37, printed like 
e, for W. Onley. f, the Scottish copy, is prob 
ably of a date near 1700. Like the edition 
printed at Glasgow, 1747, it is, in the lan 
guage of Percy, "remarkable for the wilful 
corruptions made in all the passages which 
concern the two nations " : Folio Manuscript, 
Hales and Furnivall, II, 1, note, and Reliques, 
1765, I, 234. The Scots are made fifteen 
hundred, the English twenty, in 6, 13, 53, 54 ; 
the speeches of King James and King Henry 
are interchanged in 58, 60 ; 62, 63, are 

* I have not resorted to the MS. in this case, for the rea 
son that I could not expect to get a transcript which would 
merit the confidence which must attach to one made by the 
hand of Professor Skeat. 

The ' Hunttis of Chevet ' is among the 
" sangis of natural music of the antiquite " 
mentioned as sung by the "shepherds" in 
The Complaynt of Scotland, a book assigned to 
1549. It was an old and a popular song at the 
middle of the sixteenth century. The copy 
in the Ashmolean manuscript is subscribed 
Expliceth, quod Rychard Sheale, upon which 
ground Sheale has been held to be the au 
thor,! and not, as Percy and Ritson assumed, 
simply the transcriber, of the ballad. Sheale 
describes himself as a minstrel living at Tarn- 
worth, whose business was to sing and talk, 
or to chant ballads and tell stories. He was 
the author of four pieces of verse in the same 
manuscript, one of which is of the date 1559 
(No 56). This and another piece (No 46), 
in which he tells how he was robbed of above 
three score pound, give a sufficient idea of his 
dialect and style and a measure of his ability. 
This ballad was of course part of his stock 
as minstrel ; the supposition that he was the 
author is preposterous in the extreme. 

The song " which is commonly sung of the 
Hun ting of Chiviot," says Hume of Godscroft, 
" seemeth indeed poeticall and a meer fic 
tion, perhaps to stirre up vertue ; yet a fiction 
whereof there is no mention, neither in the 
Scottish nor English chronicle " : p. 104. To 

t British Bibliographer, IV, 99 f; Wright, Songs and 
Ballads, p. viii ; etc. 



this the general replication may be made that 
the ballad can scarcely be a deliberate fiction. 
The singer is not a critical historian, but he 
supposes himself to be dealing with facts ; he 
may be partial to his countrymen, but he has 
no doubt that he is treating of a real event ; 
and the singer in this particular case thought 
he was describing the battle of Otterburn, 
the Hunting of the Cheviot being indifferently 
so called : st. 65. The agreement to meet, in 
A, st. 9, corresponds with the plight in Otter- 
burn, st. 16 ; 17* corresponds to Otterburn 
12 4 , 30 4 ; 47, 56, 57, are the same as Otter- 
burn 58, 61, 67 ; 31, 32, 66, are variants of 
Otterburn 51, 52, 68 ; Douglas's summons to 
Percy to yield, Percy's refusal, and Douglas's 
death, 33 1 , 3S-37 2 , may be a variation of Ot 
terburn, 51 3 , 55-56; Sir John of Agarstone 
is slain with Percy in 52, and with Douglas 
in Otterburn 60 ; Sir Hugh Montgomery ap 
pears in both. 

The differences in the story of the two bal 
lads, though not trivial, are still not so mate 
rial as to forbid us to hold that both may be 
founded upon the same occurrence, the Hunt 
ing of the Cheviot being of course the later 
version,* and following in part its own tradi 
tion, though repeating some portions of the 
older ballad. According to this older ballad, 
Douglas invades Northumberland in an act 
of public war ; according to the later, Percy 
takes the initiative, by hunting in the Scot 
tish hills without the leave and in open defi 
ance of Douglas, lieutenant of the Marches. 
Such trespasses,! whether by the English or 
the Scots, were not less common, we may 
believe, than hostile incursions, and the one 
would as naturally as the other account for a 
bloody collision between the rival families of 
Percy and Douglas, to those who consulted 
" old men " instead of histories : cf. stanza 67. 
The older and the later ballad concur (and 
herein are in harmony with some chroniclers, 

* The grammatical forms of the Hunting of the Cheviot 
are, however, older than those of the particular copy of Ot- 
terburn which has been preserved. The plural of the noun 
is very often in -vs or -ys, as lordt's, 23 1 ; longes, 37 J ; 
handdes, 60 1 ; sydis, 8 2 ; bowys, 13-, 25 1 , 291, e tc., at least 
sixteen cases. We find, also, syde at 6 2 , and possibly should 
read faylle at 9 3 . The plural in -eg is rare in The Battle of 

though not with the best) as to Percy's slay 
ing Douglas. In the older ballad Percy is 
taken prisoner, an incident which history 
must record, but which is somewhat insipid, 
for which reason we might expect tradition to 
improve the tale by assigning a like fate to 
both of the heroic antagonists. 

The singer all but startles us with his his 
torical lore when he informs us in 63 that 
King Harry the Fourth "did the battle of 
Hombylldown " to requite the death of Percy ; 
for though the occasion of Homildon was 
really another incursion on the part of the 
Scots, and the same Percy was in command 
of the English who in the ballad meets his 
death at Otterburn, nevertheless the battle of 
Homildon was actually done fourteen years 
subsequent to that of Otterburn and falls in 
the reign of Henry Fourth. The free play 
of fancy in assigning the cause of Homildon 
must be allowed to offset the servility to an 
accurate chronology ; and such an extenua 
tion is required only in this instance. J Not 
only is the fourth Harry on the throne of Eng 
land at the epoch of Otterburn, but Jamy is 
the Scottish king, although King James I was 
not crowned until 1424, the second year of 
Henry VI. 

But here we may remember what is well 
said by Bishop Percy: "A succession of two 
or three Jameses, and the long detention of one 
of them in England, would render the name 
familiar to the English, and dispose a poet in 
those rude times to give it to any Scottish 
king he happened to mention." The only 
important inference from the mention of a 
King James is that the minstrel's date is not 
earlier than 1424. 

The first, second, and fourth James were 
contemporary with a Henry during the whole 
of their reign, and the third during a part of 
his ; with the others we need not concern 
ourselves. It has given satisfaction to some 

Otterburn: starres, 45 4 ; swordes, 54 2 ; Skottes, 59 1 , 62'. 
Probably we are to read swordes length in 55*. 

t See the passage in the Memoirs of Carey, Earl of Mon- 
mouth, referred to in Percy's Reliques, 1765, I, 235, and 
given at length in Hales and Furnivall, II, 3 f. 

} The minstrel was not too nice as to topography either : 
Otterburn is not in Cheviot. 



who wish to reconcile the data of the ballad 
with history to find in a Scottish historiog 
rapher a record of a fight between a Percy 
and a Douglas in 1435 or 1436, at the very 
end of the reign of James I. Henry Percy 
of Northumberland, says Hector Boece, made 
a raid into Scotland with four thousand men 
(it is not known whether of his own motion 
or by royal authority), and was encountered 
by nearly an equal force under William Doug 
las, Earl of Angus, and others, at Piperden, 
the victory falling to the Scots, with about 
the same slaughter on both sides : Scotorum 
Historia, 1526, fol. ccclxvi, back. This affair 
is mentioned by Bower, Scotichronicon, 1759, 
II, 500 f, but the leader of the English is not 
named,* wherefore we may doubt whether it 
was a Percy. Very differently from Otter- 
burn, this battle made but a slight impression 
on the chroniclers. 

Sidney's words, though perhaps a hundred 
times requoted since they were cited by Addi- 
son, cannot be omitted here : " Certainly I 
must confesse my own barbarousnes. I never 
heard the olde song of Percy and Duglas that 
I found not my heart mooved more then with 
a trumpet ; and yet is it sung but by some 
blinde crouder, with no rougher voyce then 
rude stile : which, being so evill apparrelled 
in the dust and cobwebbes of that uncivill 
age, what would it worke trymmed in the 
gorgeous eloquence of Pindar ! " f Sidney's 

* Tytler, History of Scotland, III, 293, though citing 
only the Scotichronicon, says Sir Robert Ogle, and also 
Scott, I, 270 ; for reasons which do not appear. 

t An Apologie for Poetrie, p. 46 of Arber's reprint of the 
first edition, 1595. For the date of the writing, 1581-85, 
see Arber, p. 7 f. 

t The courtly poet deserves much of ballad-lovers for 
avowing his barbarousness (one doubts whether he seriously 
believed that the gorgeous Pindar could have improved 
upon the ballad), but what would he not have deserved if 
he had written the blind crowder's song down ! 

Popular Music, I, 198. Chevy Chase is entered in the 
Stationers' Registers, among a large parcel of ballads, in 
1624, and clearly was no novelty : Arber, IV, 131. " Had it 
been printed even so early as Queen Elizabeth's reign," says 
Percy, " I think I should have met with some copy wherein 
the first line would have been, God prosper long our noble 
queen." " That it could not be much later than that time 
appears from the phrase doleful dumps, which in that age 
carried no ill sound with it, but to the next generation be 
came ridiculous. We have seen it pass uncensured in a 
sonnet that was at that time in request, and where it could 
VOL. HI. 39 

commendation is fully justified by the quality 
of The Battle of Otterburn, but is merited in 
even a higher degree by The Hunting of the 
Cheviot, and for that reason (I know of no 
other) The Hunting of the Cheviot may be 
supposed to be the ballad he had in mind. 
The song of Percy and Douglas, then, was 
sung about the country by blind fiddlers about 
1580 in a rude and ancient form, much older 
than the one that has come down to us ; for 
that, if heard by Sidney, could not have 
seemed to him a song of an uncivil age, 
meaning the age of Percy and Douglas, two 
hundred years before his day. It would give 
no such impression even now, if chanted to 
an audience three hundred years later than 

B is a striking but by no means a soli 
tary example of the impairment which an old 
ballad would suffer when written over for the 
broadside press. This very seriously enfee 
bled edition was in circulation throughout 
the seventeenth century, and much sung (says 
Chappell) despite its length. It is declared 
by Addison, in his appreciative and tasteful 
critique, Spectator, Nos 70, 74, 1711, to be the 
favorite ballad of the common people of Eng 
land. || Addison, who knew no other version, 
informs us that Ben Jonson used to say that 
he had rather have been the author of Chevy 
Chase than of all his works. The broadside 
copy may possibly have been the only one 

not fail to have been taken notice of had it been in the least 
exceptionable ; see above, Book ii, song v, ver. 2 [by Richard 
Edwards, 1596 ?]. Yet, in about half a century after, it was 
become burlesque. Vide Hudibras, Pt. I, c. 3, v. 95." Re- 
liques, 1794, I, 268, note, 269. 

The copy in the Percy MS., B a, though carelessly 
made, retains, where the broadsides do not, two of the read 
ings of A : bade on the bent, 28 2 ; to the hard head haled 
he, 45*. 

|| Addison was not behind any of us in his regard for tra 
ditional songs and tales. No 70 begins : " When I travelled, 
I took a particular delight in hearing the songs and fables 
that are come from father to son and are most in vogue 
among the common people of the countries through which 
I passed ; for it is impossible that anything should be uni 
versally tasted and approved by a multitude, tho they are 
only the rabble of a nation, which hath not in it some 
peculiar aptness to please and gratify the mind of man. 
Human nature is the same in all reasonable creatures, and 
whatever falls in with it will meet with admirers amongst 
readers of all qualities and conditions." 



known to Jonson also, but in all probability 
the traditional ballad was still sung in the 
streets in Jonson's youth, if not later. 

A 3. By these " shyars thre " is probably 
meant three districts in Northumberland which 
still go by the name of shires and are all in 
the neighborhood of Cheviot. These are Is- 
landshire, being the district so named from 
Holy Island ; Norehamshire, so called from 
the town and castle of Noreham or Norham ; 
and Bamboroughshire, the ward or hundred 
belonging to Bamborough castle and town. 
Percy's Reliques, 1794, I, 5, note. 

15. Chyviat Chays, well remarks Mr 
Wheatley in his edition of the Reliques, I, 22, 
becomes Chevy Chace by the same process as 
that by which Teviotdale becomes Tividale, 
and there is no sufficient occasion for the sug 
gestion that Chevy Chase is a corruption of 
chevauchee, raid, made by Dr. E. B. Nichol 
son, Notes and Queries, Third Series, XII, 
124, and adopted by Burton, History of Scot 
land, II, 366. 

38 f. " That beautiful line taking the dead 
man by the hand will put the reader in mind 
of .ZEneas's behavior towards Lausus, whom 
he himself had slain as he came to the rescue 
of his aged father " (Ingemuit miserans gra- 
viter, dextramque tetendit, etc., jEn. X, 823, 
etc.) : Addison, in Spectator, No 70. 

54 3 ' 4 , and B 50 3 ' 4 . Witherington's prowess 
was not without precedent, and, better still, 
was emulated in later days. Witness the 
battle of Ancrum Muir, 1545, or " Lilliard's 
Edge," as it is commonly called, from a wo 
man that fought with great bravery there, to 
whose memory there was a monument erected 
on the field of battle with this inscription, as 
the traditional report goes : 

* A Description of the Parish of Melrose [by the Revd. 
Adam Milne], Edinburgh, 1743, p. 21. Scott cites the 
epitaph, with some slight variations (as " English louns "), 
Appendix to The Eve of St. John, Minstrelsy, IV, 199, ed. 
18.33. The monument was "all broken in pieces" in 
Milne's time ; seems to have been renewed and again broken 
up (The Scotsman, November 12, 1873) ; but, judging from 
Murray's Handbook of Scotland, has again been restored. 

Squire Meldrum's valor was inferior to nobody's, but as 
his fortune was happier than Witherington's and Lilliard's, 
a note may suffice for him. " Quhen his schankis wer 
schorne in sunder, vpon his knees he wrocht greit woun- 
der:" Lindsay, ed. 1594, Cv. recto, v. 30 f, Hall, p. 358, v. 

" Fair maiden Lilliard lies under this stane ; 
Little was her stature, but great her fame ; 
On the English lads she laid many thumps, 
And when her legs were off, she fought upon her 
stumps." * 

The giant Burlong also fought wonderfully 
on his stumps after Sir Triamour had smitten 
his legs off by the knee : Utterson's Popular 
Poetry, I, 67, 1492-94, cited by Motherwell ; 
Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, II, 131. Sir 
Graysteel fights on one leg : Eger and Grine, 
Percy MS., I, 386 f, 1032, 1049. Nygosar, 
in Kyng Alisaunder, after both his artnes have 
been cut off, bears two knights from their 
steeds " with his heved and with his cors " : 
2291-2312, Weber, I, 98 f. Still better, King 
StarkaSr, in the older Edda, fights after his 
head is off : HelgakviSa Hundingsbana, ii, 
27, Bugge, p. 196.f 

" Sed, etiam si ceciderit, de genu pugnat," 
Seneca, De Providentia 2, 4 (cited in The 
Gentleman's Magazine, 1794, I, 306), is ex 
plained by Seneca himself, Epis. Ixvi, 47: 
" qui, succisis poplitibus, in genua se excepit 
nee arma dimisit." " In certaminibus gladia- 
torum hoc saepe accidisse et statute existen- 
tes decent, imprimis gladiator Borghesinus." 
Senecse Op. Phil., Bouillet, II, 12. 

61 1 . "Lovely London," as Maginn remarks, 
Blackwood's Magazine, VII, 327, is like the 

Homeric AvyeiAs eparavas, 'Aprj^r/v fpaTfivTJv, II., 

ii, 532, 591, etc. Leeve, or lovely, London, is 
of frequent occurrence: see No 158, I 1 , No 
168, appendix, 7 B , No 174, 35 1 , etc. So 
" men of pleasant Tivydale," B 14 1 , wrongly 
in B a, f, " pleasant men of Tiuydale." 

64 3 . Glendale is one of the six wards of 
Northumberland, and Homildon is in this 
ward, a mile northwest of Wooler. 

1349 f. But really he was only "hackit on his hochis and 
theis," or as Pittscottie says, Dalyell, p. 306, " his hochis war 
cutted and the knoppis of his elbowis war strikiu aff," 
and by and by he is " haill and sound " again, according to 
the poet, and according to the chronicler he "leived fyftie 
yeires thairefter." 

t As stanch as some of these was a Highlander at the 
battle of Gasklune, 1392, who, though nailed to the ground 
by a horseman's spear, held fast to his sword, writhed him 
self up, and with a last stroke cut his foeman above the foot 
to the bone, " through sterap-lethire and the hnte, thre 
ply or foure" : Wyntoun's Chronicle, B. ix, ch. 14, Laing, 
III, 59. 



65 2 . That tear begane this spurn "is said 
to be a proverb, meaning that tear, or pull, 
brought about this kick " : Skeat. Such a 
proverb is unlikely and should be vouched. 
There may be corruption, and perhaps we 
should read, as a lamentation, That ear (ever) 
begane this spurn ! Or possibly, That tear 
is for That there, meaning simply there. 

For genealogical illustrations may be con 
sulted, with caution, Percy's Reliques, 1794, 
I, 34 ff, 282 ff. With respect to 53 1 , Pro 
fessor Skeat notes : " Loumle, Lumley ; always 
hitherto printed louele (and explained Lovel), 
though the MS. cannot be so read, the word 
being written loule. ' My Lord Lumley ' is 
mentioned in the ballad of Scotish Feilde, 

Percy Fol. MS., I, 226, 1. 270 ; and again in 
the ballad of Bosworth Feilde, id., Ill, 245, 
1. 250." 

A is translated by Herder, II, 213 ; by R. 
v. Bismarck, Deutsches Museum, 1858, 1, 897; 
by Von Mare'es, p. 63 ; by Grundtvig, Engelske 
og skotske Folkeviser, p. 84, No 13. Into 
Latin by Dr. William Maginn, in Blackwood's 
Magazine, 1819-20, VI, 199, VII, 323. 

B is translated by Bothe, p. 6 ; by Knortz, 
L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 24, No 7; by 
Loeve-Veimars, p. 55 ; (in part) by Cantu, 
p. 802. Into Latin by Henry Bold, Dryden's 
Miscellanies, ed. 1702, II, 239 ; by Rev. John 
Anketell, Poems, etc., Dublin, 1793, p. 264. 

MS. Ashmole, 48, Bodleian Library, in Skeat's Specimens 
of English Literature, 1394-1579, ed. 1880, p. 67. 

1 THE Perse owt off Northombarlonde, 

and avowe to God mayd he 
That he wold hunte in the mowntayns 

off Chyviat within days thre, 
In the mugger of doughte Dogles, 

and all that euer with him be. 

2 The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat 

he sayd he wold kyll, and cary them away : 
' Be my feth,' sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn, 
' I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.' 

3 The[n] the Perse owt off Banborowe cam, 

with him a myghtee meany, 
With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood 

and bone ; 
the wear chosen owt of shyars thre. 

4 This begane on a Monday at morn, 

in Cheviat the hillys so he ; 
The chylde may rue that ys vn-born, 
it wos the mor pitte. 

5 The dryvars thorowe the woodes went, 

for to reas the dear ; 
Bomen byckarte vppone the bent 
with ther browd aros cleare. 

6 Then the wyld thorowe the woodes went, 

on euery syde shear ; 
Greahondes thorowe the grevis glent, 
for to kyll thear dear. 

7 This begane in Chyviat the hyls abone, 

yerly on a Monnyn-day ; 
Be that it drewe to the oware off none, 
a hondvith fat hartes ded ther lay. 

8 The blewe a mort vppone the bent, 

the semblyde on sydis shear ; 
To the quyrry then the Perse went, 
to se the bryttlynge off the deare. 

9 He sayd, It was the Duglas promys 

this day to met me hear ; 
But I wyste he wolde fay lie, verament ; 
a great oth the Perse swear. 

10 At the laste a sqnyar off Northowiberlonde 

lokyde at his hand full ny ; 
He was war a the doughetie Doglas cowi- 

with him a myghtte meany. 

11 Both with spear, bylle, and brande. 

yt was a myghtti sight to se ; 
Hardyar men, both off hart nor hancle, 
wear not in Cristiante. 



12 The wear twenti hondrith spear-men good, 

withoute any f eale ; 

The wear borne along be the watter a Twyde, 
yth bowndes of Tividale. 

13 ' Leave of the brytlyng of the dear,' he sayd, 

' and to your boys lock ye tayk good hede ; 
For never sithe ye wear on your mothars borne 
had ye neuer so mickle nede.' 

14 The dougheti Dogglas on a stede, 

he rode alle his men beforne ; 
His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede ; 
a boldar barne was never born. 

15 ' Tell me whos men ye ar,' he says, 

' or whos men that ye be : 
Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Chyviat 

in the spyt of myn and of me.' 

16 The first mane that ever him an answear mayd, 

yt was the good lord Perse : 
' We wyll not tell the whoys men we ar,' he 

' nor whos men thai we be ; 
But we wyll hounte hear in this chays, 

in the spyt of thyne and of the. 

17 ' The fattiste hartes in all Chyviat 

we haue kyld, and cast to carry them away : ' 
'Be my troth,' sayd the doughete' Dogglaa 

' tfAerfor the ton of vs shall de this day.' 

18 Then sayd the doughte Doglas 

unto the lord Perse : 
'To kyll alle thes giltles men, 
alas, it wear great pitte ! 

19 ' But, Perse, thowe art a lord of lande, 

I am a yerle callyd within my contre ; 
Let all our men vppone a parti stande, 
and do the battell off the and of me.' 

20 ' Nowe Cristes cors on his crowne,' sayd the 

lorde Perse, 

' who-so-euer thei-to says nay ! 
Be my troth, doughtte Doglas,' he says, 
' thow shalt neuer se that day. 

21 'Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France, 

nor for no man of a woman born, 

But, and fortune be my chance, 
I dar met him, on man for on.' 

22 Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde, 

Richard Wytharyngton was him nam ; 
' It shall neuer be told in Sothe-Ynglonde,' he 

' to Kyng Herry the Fourth for sham. 

23 ' I wat youe byn great lordes twaw, 

I am a poor squyar of lande ; 
I wylle neuer se my captayne fyght on a fylde, 

and stande my selffe and loocke on, 
But whylle I may my weppone welde, 

I wylle not [fayle] both hart and hande.' 

24 That day, that day, that dredfull day ! 

the first fit here I fynde ; 
And youe wyll here any mor a the hountynge 

a the Chyviat, 
yet ys ther mor behynde. 

25 The Yngglyshe men hade ther bowys yebent, 

ther hartes wer good yenoughe ; 
The first off arros that the shote off, 
seven skore spear-men the sloughe. 

26 Yet byddys the yerle Doglas vppoii the bent, 

a captayne good yenoughe, 
And that was sene verament, 

for he wrought horn both woo and wouche. 

27 The Dogglas partyd his ost in thre, 

lyk a cheffe cheften off pryde ; 
With suar spears off myghtte tre, 
the cum in on euery syde ; 

28 Thrughe our Yngglyshe archery 

gave many a wounde fulle wyde ; 
Many a doughete the garde to dy, 
which ganyde them no pryde. 

29 The Ynglyshe men let ther boys be, 

and pulde owt brandes that wer brighte ; 
It was a hevy syght to se 

bryght swordes on basnites lyght. 

30 Thorowe ryche male and myneyeple, 

many sterne the strocke done streght ; 
Many a freyke that was fulle fre, 
ther vndar foot dyd lyght. 



31 At last the Duglas and the Perse met, 

lyk to captayns of myght and of mayne ; 
The swapte togethar tylle the both swat, 
with swordes that wear of fyn myllan. 

32 Thes worthe freckys for to fyght, 

ther-to the wear fulle fayne, 
Tylle the hloode owte off thear basnetes sprente, 
as euer dyd heal or ra[y]n. 

\ 33 ' Yelde the, Perse,' sayde the Doglas, 

' and i feth I shalle the brynge 
Wher thowe shalte haue a yerls wagis 
of Jamy our Skottish kynge. 

34 ' Thoue shalte haue tliy ransom fre, 

I hight the hear this thinge ; 
For the manfullyste man yet art thowe 
that euer I conqueryd in filde fighttynge.' 

35 ' Nay,' sayd the lord Perse, 

' I tolde it the beforne, 
That I wolde neuer yeldyde be 
to no man of a woman born.' 

36 With that ther cam an arrowe hastely, 

forthe off a myghtte wane ; 
Hit hathe strekene the yerle Duglas 
in at the brest-bane. 

37 Thorowe lyvar and longes bathe 

the sharpe arrowe ys gane, 
That neuer after in all his lyffe-days 

he spayke mo worcles but ane : 
That was, Fyghte ye, my myrry men, whyllys 
ye may, 

for my lyff-days ben gan. 

38 The Perse leanyde on his brande, 

and sawe the Duglas de ; 
He tooke the dede mane by the hande, 
and sayd, "Wo ys me for the ! 

39 'To haue savyde thy lyffe, I wolde haue par 

ty de wit A 

my landes for years thre, 
For a better man, of hart nare of hande, 
was nat in all the north centre.' 

40 Off all that se a Skottishe knyght, 

was callyd Ser Hewe the Monggombyrry ; 
He sawe the Duglas to the deth was dyght, 
he spendyd a spear, a trusti tre. 

41 He rod vppone a corsiare 

throughe a hondrith archery : 
He neuer stynttyde, nar neuer blane, 
tylle he cam to the good lord Perse. 

42 He set vppone the lorde Perse 

a dynte that was full soare ; 
With a suar spear of a myghtte tre 

clean thorow the body he the Perse ber, 

43 A the tothar syde that a man myght se 

a large cloth-yard and mare : 
Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Cristiante 
then that day slan wear ^er. 

44 An archar off Northomberlonde 

say slean was the lord Perse ; 
He bar a bende bowe in his hand, 
was made off trusti tre. 

45 An arow that a cloth-yarde was lang 

to the harde stele halyde he ; 
A dynt that was both sad and soar 

he sat on Ser Hewe the Monggombyrry. 

46 The dynt yt was both sad and sar 

that he of Monggowiberry sete ; 
The swane-fethars that his arrowe bar 
with his hart-blood the wear wete. 

47 Ther was neuer a freake wone foot wolde fle, 

but still in stour dyd stand, 
Heawyng on yche othar, whylle the myghte 

with many a balfull brande. 

48 This battell begane in Chyviat 

an owar befor the none, 
And when even-songe bell was rang, 
the battell was nat half done. 

49 The tocke . . on ethar hande 

be the lyght off the mone ; 
Many hade no strenght for to stande, 
in Chyviat the hillys abon. 

50 Of fifteen hondrith archars of Ynglonde 

went away but seuenti and thre ; 
Of twenti hondrith spear-men of Skotlonde, 
but even five and fifti. 

51 But all wear slayne Cheviat within ; 

the hade no streng[thje to stand on hy ; 



The chylde may rue that ys unborne, 
it was the mor pitte. 

52 Thear was slayne, withe the lord Perse, 

Ser Johan of Agerstone, 
Ser Rogar, the hinde Hartly, 

Ser Wyllyam, the bolde Hearone. 

53 Ser Jorg, the worthe Louwile, 

a knyghte of great renowen, 
Ser Raff, the ryche Rugbe, 

with dyntes wear beaten dowene. 

54 For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, 

that euer he slayne shulde be ; 
For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to, 
yet he knyled and fought on hys kny. 

55 Ther was slayne, with the dougheti Duglas, 

Ser Hewe the Monggombyrry, 
Ser Dauy Lwdale, that worthe was, 
his sistars son was he. 

56 Ser Charls a Murre in that place, 

that neuer a foot wolde fle ; 
Ser Hewe Maxwelle, a lorde he was, 
with the Doglas dyd he dey. 

57 So on the morrowe the mayde them byears 

off birch and hasell so g[r]ay ; 

Many wedous, with wepyng tears, 

cam to fache ther makys away. 

58 Tivydale may carpe off care, 

Northowibarlond may mayk great mon, 

For towe such captayns as slayne wear thear 

on the March-parti shall neuer be non. 

59 Word ys commen to Eddenburrowe, 

to Jamy the Skottishe kynge, 
That dougheti Duglas, lyff-tenant of the 

he lay slean Chyviot within. 

GO His handdes dyd he weal and wryng, 

he sayd, Alas, and woe ys me ! 
Such an othar captayn Skotland within, 
he sayd, ye-feth shuld neuer be. 

61 Worde ys commyn to lovly Londone, 

till the fourth Harry our kynge, 
77tt lord Perse, leyff-tenante of the Marchis, 
he lay slayne Chyviat within. 

62 ' God haue merci on his solle,' sayde Kyng 


' good lord, yf thy will it be ! 
I haue a hondrith captayns in Ynglonde,' he 


' as good as euer was he : 
But, Perse, and I brook my lyffe, 
thy deth well quyte shall be.' 

63 As our noble kynge mayd his avowe, 

lyke a noble prince of renowen, 
For the deth of the lord Perse 

he dyde the battell of Ho?byll-down ; 

64 Wher syx and thritte Skottishe knyghtes 

on a day wear beaten down ; 
Glendale glytteryde on ther armor bryght, 
over castille, towar, and town. 

65 This was the hontynge off the Cheviat, 

that tear begane this spurn ; 
Old men that knowen the grownde well 

call it the battell of Otterburn. 

66 At Otterburn begane this spurne, 

vppone a Monnynday ; 
Ther was the doughte Doglas slean, 
the Perse neuer went away. 

67 Ther was neuer a tym on the Marche-partes 

sen the Doglas and the Perse met, 
But yt ys mervele and the rede blude rowne 

as the reane doys in the stret. 

68 Ihesue Crist our balys bete, 

and to the blys vs brynge ! 
Thus was the hountynge of the Chivyat : 
God send vs alle good endyng ! 




a. Percy MS., p. 1 88, Hales and Furnivall, II, 7. b. Pepys 
Ballads, I, 92, No 45, broadside printed for M. G. C. Douce 
Ballads, fol. 27", and Roxburghe Ballads, III, 66, broad 
side printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright, d- 
Wood's Ballads, 401, 48, broadside printed for F. Coles, 
T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson. e. Bagford Ballads, I, No 
32, broadside printed by and for W. Onley. f. A Scottish 
copy, without printer. 

1 GOD prosper long our noble Vdng, 

our liffes and saftyes all ! 
A woefull hunting once there did 
in Cheuy Chase befall. 

2 To driue the deere with hound and home 

Erie Pearcy took the way : 
The child may rue thai is vnborne 
the hunting of thai day ! 

3 The stout Erie of Northumberland 

a vow to God did make 
His pleasure in the Scottish woods 
three sommers days to take, 

4 The cheefest harts in Cheuy C[h]ase 

to kill and beare away : 
These tydings to Erie Douglas came 
in Scottland, where he lay. 

5 Who sent Erie Pearcy present word 

he wold prevent his sport ; 
The English erle, not fearing that, 
did to the woods resort, 

6 With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, 

all chosen men of might, 
Who knew ffull well in time of neede 
to ayme their shafts arright. 

7 The gallant greyhound[s] swiftly ran 

to chase the fallow deere ; 
On Munday they began to hunt, 
ere daylight did appeare. 

8 And long before high noone the had 

a hundred fat buckes slaine ; 
Then hauing dined, the drouyers went 
to rouze the deare againe. 

9 The bowmen mustered on the hills, 

well able to endure ; 
Theire backsids all with speciall care 
thai day were guarded sure. 

10 The hounds ran swiftly through the woods 

the nimble deere to take, 
Thai with their cryes the hills and dales 
an eccho shrill did make. 

11 Lord Pearcy to the querry went 

to veiw the tender deere ; 
Quoth he, Erie Douglas promised once 
this day to meete me heere ; 

12 But if I thought he wold not come, 

noe longer wold I stay. 
With that a braue younge gentlman 
thus to the erle did say : 

13 ' Loe, yonder doth Erie Douglas come, 

hys men in armour bright ; 
Full twenty hundred Scottish speres 
all marching in our sight. 

14 ' All men of pleasant Tiuydale, 

fast by the riuer Tweede : ' 
' O ceaze your sportts ! ' Erie Pearcy said, 
' and take yowr bowes with speede. 

15 ' And now with me, my countrymen, 

yowr courage forth advance ! 
For there was neuer champion yett, 
in Scottland nor in Ffrance, 

16 ' That ener did on horsbacke come, 

[but], and if my hap it were, 
I durst encounter man for man, 
with him to breake a spere.' 

17 Erie Douglas on his milke-white stcede, 

most like a baron bold, 
Rode formost of his company, 
whose armor shone like gold. 

18 ' Shew me,' sayd hee, ' whose men you bee 

that hunt soe boldly heere, 
That without my consent doe chase 
and kill my fallow deere.' 

19 The first man that did answer make 

was noble Pearcy hee, 
Who sayd, Wee list not to declare 
nor shew whose men wee bee ; 

20 ' Yett wee will spend our deerest blood 

thy cheefest harts to slay.' 



Then Douglas swore a solempne oathe, 
and thus in rage did say : 

21 ' Ere thus I will outbraued bee, 

one of vs tow shall dye ; 
I know thee well, an erle thou art ; 
Lord Pearcy, soe am I. 

22 ' But trust me, Pearcye, pittye it were, 

and great offence, to kill 
Then any of these our guiltlesse men, 
for they haue done none ill. 

23 ' Let thou and I the battell trye, 

and set our men aside : ' 
' Accurst bee [he !] ' Erie Pearcye sayd, 
' by whome it is denyed.' 

24 Then stept a gallant squire forth 

Witherington was his name 

Who said, ' I wold not haue it told 

to Henery our king, for shame, 

25 ' That ere my captaine fought on foote, 

and I stand looking on. 
You bee two Erles,' quoth Witheringhton, 
and I a squier alone ; 

26 ' I 'le doe the best that doe I may, 

while I haue power to stand ; 
While I haue power to weeld my sword, 
I 'le fight with hart and hand.' 

27 Our English archers bent their bowes ; 

their harts were good and trew ; 
Att the first flight of arrowes sent, 
full foure score Scotts the slew. 

28 To driue the deere with hound and home, 

Dauglas bade on the bent; 
Two captaines moued with mickle might, 
their speres to shiuers went. 

29 They closed full fast on eue?ye side, 

noe slacknes there was found, 
But many a gallant gentleman 
lay gasping on the ground. 

30 O Christ ! it was great greeue to see 

how eche man chose his spere, 
And how the blood out of their brests 
did gush like water cleare. 

31 At last these two stout erles did meet, 

like captaines of great might ; 
Like lyons woode they layd on lode ; 
the made a cruell fight. 

32 The fought vntill they both did sweat, 

with swords of tempered steele, 
Till blood downe their cheekes like raine 
the trickling downe did feele. 

33 ' O yeeld thee, Peareye ! ' Douglas sayd, 

' and in faith I will thee bringe 
Where thou shall high advanced bee 
by lames our Scottish king. 

34 ' Thy ransome I will freely giue, 

and this report of thee, 
Thou art the most couragious knight 
[that ever I did see.] ' 

35 ' Noe, Douglas ! ' qiwth Erie Percy then, 

' thy prefer I doe scorne ; 

I will not yeelde to any Scott 

that euer yett was borne ! ' 

36 W/th that there came an arrow keene, 

out of an English bow, 
Which stroke Erie Douglas on the brest 
a deepe and deadlye blow. 

37 Who neuer sayd more words then these : 

Fight on, my merry men all ! 
For why, my life is att [an] end, 
lord Pearcy sees my fall. 

38 Then leaning liffe, Erie Pearcy tooke 

the dead man by the hand ; 
Who said, ' Erie Dowglas, for thy life, 
wold I had lost my land ! 

39 ' O Christ ! my verry hart doth bleed 

for sorrow for thy sake, 
For sure, a more redoubted knight 
mischance cold neuer take.' 

40 A knight amongst the Scotts there was 

which saw Erie Douglas dye, 
Who streight in hart did vow revenge 
vpon the Lord Pearcye. 

41 Sir Hugh Mountgomerye was he called, 

who, with a spere full bright, 



Well mounted on a gallant steed, 
ran f eircly through the fight, 

42 And past the English archers all, 

without all dread or feare, 
And through Erie Percyes body then 
he thrust his hatfull spere. 

43 With such a vehement force and might 

his body he did gore, 
The staff ran through the other side 
a large cloth-yard and more. 

44 Thus did both those nobles dye, 

whose courage none cold staine; 
An English archer then perceiued 
the noble erle was slaine. 

45 He had [a] good bow in his hand, 

made of a trusty tree ; 
An arrow of a cloth-yard long 
to the hard head haled hee. 

46 Against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye 

his shaft full right he sett ; 
The grey-goose-winge that was there-on 
in his harts bloode was wett. 

47 This fight from breake of day did last 

till setting of the sun, 
For when the rung the euening-bell 
the battele scarse was done. 

48 With stout Erie Percy there was slaine 

Sir lohn of Egerton, 
Sir Robert Harcliffe and Sir William, 
Sir lames, that bold barren. 

49 And with Sir George and Sir lames, 

both knights of good account, 
Good Sir Raphe Rebbye there was slaine, 
whose prowesse did surmount. 

50 For Witherington needs must I wayle 

as one hi dolefull dumpes, 
For when his leggs were smitten of, 
he fought vpon his stumpes. 

51 And with Erie Dowglas there was slaine 

Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, 
And Sir Charles Morrell, that from feelde 

one foote wold neuer flee ; 
VOL. in. 40 

52 Sir Roger Heuer of Harcliffe tow, 

his sisters sonne was hee ; 
Sir David Lambwell, well esteemed, 
but saved he cold not bee. 

53 And the Lord Maxwell, in like case, 

with Douglas he did dye ; 
Of twenty hundred Scottish speeres, 
scarce fifty-flue did flye. 

54 Of fifteen hundred Englishmen 

went home but fifty-three ; 
The rest in Cheuy Chase were slaine, 
vnder the greenwoode tree. 

55 Next day did many widdowes come 

their husbands to bewayle ; 
They washt their wounds in brinish teares, 
but all wold not prevayle. 

56 Theyr bodyes, bathed in purple blood, 

the bore with them away ; 
They kist them dead a thousand times 
ere the were cladd in clay. 

57 The newes was brought to Eddenborrow, 

where Scottlands ki?ty did rayne, 
That braue Erie Douglas soddainlye 
was with an arrow slaine. 

58 ' O Jieauy newes ! ' King lames can say ; 

' Scottland may wittenesse bee 
I haue not any captai?te more 
of such account as hee.' 

59 Like tydings to Kiny Henery came, 

within as short a space, 
That Pearcy of Northumberland 
was slaine in Cheuy Chase. 

60 ' Now God be with him ! ' said our king, 

' sith it will noe better bee ; 

I trust I haue within my realme 

flue hundred as good as hee. 

61 ' Yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say 

but I will vengeance take, 
And be revenged on them all 
for braue Erie Percyes sake.' 

62 This vow the kiwgr did well performe 

after on Humble-downe ; 



In one day fifty knights were slayne, 
with lords of great renowne. 

63 And of the rest, of small account, 

did many hundreds dye : 
Thus endeth the hunting in Cheuy Chase, 
made hy the Erie Pearcye. 

64 God saue our king, and blesse this land 

with plentye, ioy, and peace, 
And grant hencforth that foule debate 
twixt noble men may ceaze ! 

A. Without division of stanzas, and in long lines, 

in the MS., and so printed by Hearne, 
Wright, and Skeat. 

" The MS. is a mere scribble, and the spelling 
very unsatisfactory : " Skeat. 

I 2 , and A vowe : for avowe, see 63*. 

I 4 , days iij. 3 2 . xv. C archardes. 3 4 . iij. 

5 1 , 30 1 , 37 1 . throrowe. 7 1 . Ther : cf. 4 1 . 

8 1 . mot. 10 3 . war ath the. II 1 . brylly and. 
12 1 . xx. C. 22 4 . Kerry the iiij. . 
24 s . mor athe : athe chyviat. 
27 1 . in iii. . 36 1 . A narrowe. 39 2 . years iij. . 
43 1 . athe. 44 1 . A narchar. 45 2 . haylde. 
48 2 . Anowar. 50 1 . xvC. 50 2 . vij*. 
50 s . xxC. 60 3 . A-nothar. 61 2 . the iiij. . 
61". cheyff tenante. 62 3 . a C. . 68 1 . ballys. 
And for & always. 
Expliceth quoth Rychard Sheale. 

B. a. I 3 , there was. 3 4 . 3. 6 1 . 1500. 

8 1 . a 100. 9 4 . that they. 13 3 . 20. 

14 1 . pleasant men of. 25". 2. 

27 1 . bend. 28 3 , 31 1 . 2. 31 3 . Lyons moods. 

36 s . who scorke Erie. 

38 3 . thy sake ; but compare A 41 1 . b, c, Jiave 
life ; sake was caught from 39 2 . 

41. 2 d parte. 43 3 . that his body. 

48 l . slaine. There is a dot for the i, but 
nothing more in the MS. : Furniuall. 

49 3 . &good. 

50 2 . in too full ; perhaps wofull. 53 3 . 20. 

53 4 . 55. 54 1 . 1500. 54 2 . 53. 

55 s . They washt they. 56 3 . a 1000. 

59 1 . in Cheuy chase was slaine. 60 4 . 500. 

62 8 . 50. And always for &. 
b, c, d, e. b, c, d (and I suppose e), in stanzas 

of eight lines. 

b. A memorable song vpon the vnhappy hunt 
ing in Cheuy Chase betweene the Earle 
Pearcy of England and Earle Dowglas of 
Scotland. To the tune of Flying Fame. 

London, Printed for M. G. Error for H. G.? 
Henry Gosson (1607-41). 

C. A Memorable song on the unhappy Hunting 
in Chevy-Chase between Earl Piercy of Eng 
land and Earl Dowglas of Scotland. Tune 
of Flying Fame. 

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere and J. Wright. 
(1655-80 ?) 

d. Title as in c. To the tune, etc. 

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere and W. Gilbert- 
son. (1648-61 ?) 

e. An Unhappy Memorable Song of the Hunting ; 

the rest as in d. 

Licensd and Enterd according to Order. 
London, Priented by and for W. Onley, and 
are to be sold by C. Bates, at the Sun and 
Bible in Pye-corner, (1650-1702?) 

1 s . d. The woful. I 4 , there did. 

2 2 . his way. 4 3 . e. The tidings. 

5 s . fearing this. 7 1 . gray-hounds. 

7 4 . when day light. 8 2 . b, c, d. an. 

8 4 . c, d, e. rouze them up. 9 3 . d. The. 

9 4 . that day. 10 8 . C, d, e. And with. 
II 3 . c, d, e. once wanting. 
12 1 . e. If that I. 
14*. b. pleasant men of. c, d, e. men of 


14 3 . Then cease your sport. 
15 8 . c, d, e. For never was their (there). 
15 4 . or in. 16 2 . b, C. but if. d. but since. 
16 3 . d. I wanting. 17 1 . c, d, e. on a. 
17 s . c, d, e. of the. 18 1 . c, d, e. he said. 
19 1 . The man that first. 19 4 . c, d. now shew. 
20 1 . b, c, d. Yet will we. 

22 3 . b, c, d. Then wanting, e. And for any. 
c, e. harmless. 

22 4 . c, d, e. no ill. 

23 3 . be he. c, d, e. Lord P. 

23 4 . c, d, e. this is. 24 s . c, d. said he would. 
25 1 . d. ever. 25 2 . c, d, e. I stood. 

25 8 . d. two be. b. quod W. c, d, e. said W. 
27 1 . bent. 27*. c, e. threescore. 
28". c, d, e. Earl D. c. had the bent. d. 
bad the bent. 



28 3 . A captain : mickle pride. 

28*. The spears, e. sent far went. 

29 3 . And many. 30 1 . b. a, for great. 

30 2 . b. each one chose, c, d, e. and likewise 

for to hear. 
30 M . c, d, e. The cries of men lying in their 

gore, and scattered here and there. 
31 s . lions mov'd. 31 4 . and made. 
32 3 . Vntill the blood like drops of raine. 
S3 1 . Yeeld thee Lord Piercy. 
33". and wanting. 33 3 . shalt. 
33*. b. with lames, d. the for our. 
34 1 . c, d. will I. 34 2 . and thus. 
34 4 . that ever I did see. 35 1 . e. To for Noe. 
3G 3 . b. And stroke E. D. to the heart, c, d, e. 

AVhich struck E. D. to the heart. 
3G 4 . e. and a. 

37 1 . c, d, e. never spake (spoke). 
37 3 . at an end, 
38 s . c, d, e. And said, b, c, d, e. thy life. 

39 2 . with sorrow. 

39 3 . c, d, e. more renowned. 

39*. c, d. did. e. did ever. 40 1 . b. among. 
40 3 . in wrath. 40 4 . the Earl. 
41 2 . c, e. most bright. 

43 2 . b. his body he did. C, d, e. he did his 

43 3 . c, d, e. The spear went. 

44 1 . c, d, e. So thus. b. both these two. 

c, e. these. 

45 1 . b. a good bow in. c, d, e. a bow bent in. 
45 4 . c, d, e. unto the head drew he. 
40 1 . d. Montgomery then. 
46 2 . so right his shaft. 4G*. heart. 
47 1 . fight did last from break of day. 
48 1 . c, d, e. With the Earl. 48 2 . Ogerton. 
48 3 . c, d, e. Rateliff and Sir lohn. 
49 1 . and good. 49 3 . And (of a.) wanting. 
50 2 . b. wofull. c, d, e. doleful. 
50*. b. still vpon. 
51". And wanting : the field. C, e. Charles 

Currel. 51*. flye. 
52 1 . b. Sir Robert, c, d, e. Sir Charles Mur- 

rel of Rateliff too. 52 2 . d. sisters sisters. 
52*. c, d, e. Lamb so well. 
52*. yet saved could. 

53 1 . Markwell : c, d, e. in likewise. 

53 2 . did with E. Dowglas dye. 

53 3 . b, d. peers for speeres. 

54 s . c, d, e. rest were slain in C. C. 

56*. c, d, e. when /or ere. 

57 1 . c, d, e. This news. 58 l . did say. 

58 2 . can /or may. 

59*. was slain in Chevy Chase. 

60 2 . twill. Gl 1 . c, e. Scot. 

61*. e. Lord for Erie. 

62 1 . c, d, e. vow full well the king performd. 

62*. b. of high. 

63 s . ended, d. oifor in. 

63*. b. Lord for Erie. 

G4 1 . c, d, e. the king : the land. 

64 2 . c, d, e. in plenty. 

f. The co])// reprinted by Maidment, Seotish 
Ballads and Sonrjs Historical and Tradi 
tionary, 1868, /, 80. This copy was given 
Maidment by Mr Gibb, " for many years 
one of the sub-librarians in the library of 
the Faculty of Advocates. It had belonged 
to his grandmother, and was probably printed 
in Edinburgh about the beginning of the 
last or end of the preceding century." 
5 3 . fearing him. G 1 . twenty hundred. 

13 3 . fifteen hundred. 

14 1 . All pleasant men, as in a, b. 

27 1 . Our Seotish archers bent. 

27*. they four score English slew. 

28 2 . Douglas bade on the bent. 

30*. O but it was a grief to see ; and again, 
39 1 . O but for O Christ. 

46 s . wings that were. 4G*. were. 

50 4 . fought still on the stumps. 

53 3 . Of fifteen hundred. 

53*. went hame but fifty three. 

54 1 . twenty hundred. 

54 2 . scarce fifty five did flee. 

55*. could. 5G 4 . when they were cold as clay. 

58 1 . GO is substituted here. 

GO. 58 is substituted, with change of James 

to Henry, and, in the next line, of Scotland 

to England. 
Gl, 62 are omitted. 63 1 . Now of. 

64 3 . debates. 





A. a. Communicated by Charles Elphinstone Dalrym- Queries, Third Series, VII, 393, communicated by 
pie, Esq., of Kinaldie, Aberdeenshire. b. Notes and A. Ferguson. 

B. The Thistle of Scotland, 1823, p. 92. 

THE copy of this ballad which was printed 
by Aytoun, 1858, I, 75, was derived by Lady 
John Scott from a friend of Mr Dalrymple's, 
and when it left Mr Dalrymple's hands was 
in the precise form of A a. Some changes 
were made in the text published by Aytoun, 
and four stanzas, 14-16, 18, were dropped, the 
first three to the advantage of the ballad, 
and quite in accordance with the editor's 
plan. Mr Dalrymple informs me that in his 
younger days he had essayed to improve the 
last two lines of stanza 7 by the change, 

We 'd best cry in our merry men 
And turn our horses' head, 

and had rearranged stanzas 18, 19, " which 
were absolutely chaotic," adhering, however, 
closely to the sense. A b, given in Notes and 
Queries, from a manuscript, as " the original 
version of this ballad," exhibits the changes 
made by Mr Dalrymple, and was therefore, 
one would suppose, founded upon his copy. 
Half a century ago the ballad was familiar 
to the people, and the variations of b, which 
are not few, may be traditional, and not 
arbitrary ; for this reason it has been thought 
best not to pass them over. The Great 
North of Scotland Railway, A Guide, by W. 
Ferguson, Edinburgh, 1881, contains, p. 8 f, 
a copy which is evidently compounded from 
A b and Aytoun. It adds this variation of 
the last stanza : 

Gin ony body spier at ye 

For the men ye took awa, 
They 're sleepin soun and in their sheen 

I the howe aneath Harlaw. 

The editor of The Thistle of Scotland 
treats the ballad as a burlesque, and "not 
worth the attention of the public," on which 
ground he refrains from printing more than 
three stanzas, one of these being 15 ; and cer 
tainly both this and that which follows it 
have a dash of the unheroic and even of the 
absurd. Possibly there were others in the 
same strain in the version known to Laing, 
but all such may fairly be regarded as wanton 
depravations, of a sort which other and highly 
esteemed ballads have not escaped. 

The battle of Harlaw was fought on the 
24th July, 1411. Donald of the Isles, to 
maintain his claim to the Earldom of Ross,* 
invaded the country south of the mountains 
with ten thousand islanders and men of Ross 
(ravaging everywhere as he advanced) in the 
hope of sacking Aberdeen, and reducing to 
his power the country as far as the Tay. 
There was universal alarm in those parts. 
He was met at Harlaw, eighteen miles north 
west of Aberdeen, by Alexander Stewart, 
Earl of Mar, and Alexander Ogilby, sheriff 
of Angus, with the forces of Mar, Garioch, 
Angus, and The Mearns, and his further prog 
ress was stayed. The Celts lost more than 
nine hundred, the Lowlanders five hundred, 
including nearly all the gentry of Buchan. 
(Scotichronicon, II, 444 f.) This defeat was 
in the interest of civilization against savagery, 
and was felt, says Burton, " as a more memo 
rable deliverance even than that of Bannock- 
burn." (History of Scotland, 1883, II, 394.) 

* Legally just : JJaidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, 
Historical and Traditionary, I, 349 ft". 



As might be expected, the Lowlanders made 
a ballad about this hard fight. ' The battel 
of the Hayrlau ' is noted among other popu 
lar songs, in immediate connection with ' The 
Hunttis of Chevet," by the author of The 
Complaint of Scotland, 1549 (Murray's edi 
tion, p. 65), but most unfortunately this an 
cient song, unlike Chevy Chase, has been lost. 
There is a well-known poem upon the battle, 
in thirty-one eight-line stanzas, printed by 
Ramsay, in his Ever Green, 1724, I, 78.* 
David Laing believed that it had been printed 
long before. " An edition," lie says, " printed 
in the year 1668, was in the curious library 
of old Robert Myln " (Early Metrical Tales, p. 
xlv.) In the catalogue of Myln's books there 
is entered, apparently as one of a bundle of 
pamphlets, " Harlaw, The Battle yrof, An. 
1411 .... 1668," f and the entry may reason 
ably be taken to refer to the poem printed by 
Ramsay. This piece is not in the least of a 
popular character. It has the same artificial 
rhyme as The Raid of the Reid Swyre and 
The Battle of Balrinnes, but in every other 
respect is prose. Mr Norval Clyne, Ballads 
from Scottish History, p. 244 ff, has satisfac 
torily shown that the author used Boece's 
History, and even, in a way, translated some 
of Boece's phrases. 

The story of the traditional ballad is, at the 
start, put into the mouth of a Highlander, 
who meets Sir James the Rose and Sir John 
the Gryme, and is asked for information 
about Macdonell ; but after stanza 8, these 
gentlemen having gone to the field, the nar 
rator describes what he saw as he went on 
and further on. It is somewhat surprising 

* And afterwards, 1748, by Kobert Foulis, Glasgow: 
" Two old Historical Scots Poems, giving an account of the 
Battles of Harlaw and the Reid-Squair." 

t Ane Catalogue of the Books, Manuscripts and Pam 
phlets Belonging to Robert Mylne, Wryter in EdT, 1709 : 
Advocates Library. Mr Macmath, who has come to my 
aid here, writes : " So far as I can make out, this catalogue 
contains no MSS. It is in two divisions : 1st, Printed Books ; 
2d, Pamphlets. The following 19 in the second division, 
and I understand the reference to be, year of publication, 
volume, or bundle of pamphlets, number of piece in bundle 
or volume : 

" Harlaw The Battle yrof An : 1411 1668, 79, 5." 

Mylne died in 1747, at the age, it is said, of 103 or 105 : 
[Maidment], A Book of Scotish Pasquils, p. 423. 

that John Highlandman should be strolling 
about in this idle way when he should have 
been with Macdonell. The narrator J in the 
Ever Green poem reports at second hand : as 
he is walking, he meets a man who, upon 
request, tells him the beginning and the end. 
Both pieces have nearly the same first line. 
The borrowing was more probably on the 
part of the ballad, for a popular ballad would 
be likely to tell its tale without prelimi 

A ballad taken down some four hundred 
years after the event will be apt to retain 
very little of sober history. It is almost a 
matter of course that Macdonell should fall, 
though in fact he was not even routed, but 
only forced to retire. It was vulgarly said 
in Major's time that the Highlanders were 
beaten : they turned and ran awa, says the 
ballad. Donaldum non fugarunt, says Major, 
and even the ballad, inconsistently, ' Ye 'd 
scarce known who had won.' We are not 
disconcerted at the Highland force being 
quintupled, or the battle's lasting from Mon 
day morning till Saturday gloaming: diuturna 
erat pugna, says Major. But the ignoring of 
so marked a personage as Mar, and of other 
men of high local distinction that fell in the 
battle, || in favor of the Forbeses, who, though 
already of consequence in Aberdeenshire, are 
not recorded to have taken any part in the 
fight, is perhaps more than might have been 
looked for, and must dispose us to believe 
that this particular ballad had its rise in com 
paratively recent times. 

Dunidier is a conspicuous hill on the old 
road to' Aberdeen, and Netherha is within 

t He talks like a canny packman : 

I wist nocht qnha was fae or freind; 
Yet quietly I did me Carrie, 

And thair I had nae tyme to tairie, 
For bissiness in Aberdene. 

So with The Battle of Balrinnes and The Haughs of 
Cromdale. The first line of The Battle of Balrinnes is, 
' Betuixt Dunother and Abcrdein.' 

|| Not only were these long and affectionately remem 
bered, but their heirs were exempted from certain feudal 
taxes, because the defeat of the Celts was regarded as a 
national deliverauce : Burton's History, II, 394. 



two miles of it. (Overha and Netherha are 
only a mile apart, and the one reading is as 
good as the other.) Harlaw is a mile north 
from Balquhain (pronounced Bawhyne), and 
precisely at a right angle to John Highland- 
man's route from the West. Drumminor (to 
which Brave Forbes sends for his mail-coat 
in stanza 15) was above twenty miles away, 
and the messenger would have to pass right 
through the Highland army. The fact that 
Drumminor ceased to be the head-castle of 
that powerful name in the middle of the 
last century tells in some degree in favor of 
the age of the ballad. (Notes of Mr Dal- 

" The tune to which the ballad is sung, a 
particularly wild and simple one, I venture to 
believe," says Mr Dalrymple, " is of the high 
est antiquity." A tune of The Battle of Har 

law, as Motherwell pointed out, Minstrelsy 
Ixii, is referred to in Polemo Middiana ; * and 
a " march, or rather pibroch," held to be this 
same air, is given in the Lute Book of Sir 
William Mure of Rowallan, p. 30, and is re 
produced in Dauney's Ancient Scotish Melo 
dies, p. 349 (see the same work, p. 138 f, 
note b.) Sir William Mure is said to have 
died in 1657. The Ever Green Harlaw is 
adapted to an air in Johnson's Museum, No 
512, and " The Battle of Hardlaw, a pi 
broch," is given in Stenhouse's Illustrations, 
IV, 447, 1853, "from a folio MS. of Scots 
tunes, of considerable antiquity." This last 
air occurs, says Maidment, in the rare Col 
lection of Ancient Scots Music (c. 1776) by 
Daniel Dow, " The Battle of Hara Law," p. 
28 : Scotish Ballads, etc., I, 200. 

a. Communicated by Charles Elphiustone Dalrymple, 
Esq., of Kinaldie, Aberdeenshire, in 1888, as obtained from 
the country people by himsdf and his brother fifty years 
before, b. Notes and Queries, Third Series, VII, 393, com 
municated by A. Ferguson. 

1 As I cam in by Dunidier, 

An doun by Netherha, 
There was fifty thousand Hielanmen 

A-marching to Harlaw. 
Wi a dree dree dradie drumtie dree. 

2 As I earn on, an farther on, 

An doun an by Balquhain, 
Oil there I met Sir James the Rose, 
Wi him Sir John the Gryme. 

3 ' O cam ye frae the Hielans, man ? 

An cam ye a' the wey ? 
Saw ye Macdonell an his men, 
As they cam frae the Skee ? ' 

4 ' Yes, me cam frae ta Hielans, man, 

An me cam a' ta wey, 
An she saw Maedonell an his men, 
As they cam frae ta Skee.' 

5 ' Oh was ye near Macdonell's men ? 

Did ye their numbers see ? 
Come, tell to me, John Hielanman, 
What micht their numbers be ? ' 

G ' Yes, me was near, an near eneuch, 

An me their numbers saw ; 
There was fifty thousan Hielanmen 
A-marchin to Harlaw.' 

7 ' Gin that be true,' says James the Rose, 

' We '11 no come meikle speed ; 
We '11 cry upo our merry men, 
And lichtly mount our steed.' 

8 ' Oh no, oh no,' says John the Gryme, 

' That thing maun never be ; 
The gallant Grymes were never bate, 
We '11 try phat we can dee.' 

9 As I cam on, an farther on, 

An doun an by Harlaw, 

* A macaronic ascribed to Prummond of Ilawthoruden. 
Interea ante alios dux piperlarius heros 
Pracedens, mngnamqtie gestaus cum biirdine pipnm, 
Incipit Harlai cunctis sonare Ratellum. 

(Poems, Maitland Club, p. 413, after th first 
dated edition of I(i84.) 



They fell f u close on ilka side ; 
Sic fun ye never saw. 

10 They fell fu close on ilka side, 

Sic fun ye never saw ; 
For Hielan swords gied clash for clash, 
At the battle o Harlaw. 

11 The Hielanmen, wi their lang swords, 

They laid on us fu sair, 
An they drave back our merry men 
Three acres breadth an mair. 

12 Brave Forbes to his brither did say, 

Noo brither, dinna ye see ? 

They beat us back on ilka side, 

An we 'se be forced to flee. 

13 ' Oh no, oh no, my brither dear, 

That thing maun never be ; 
Tak ye your good sword in your hand, 
An come your wa's wi mo.' 

14 ' Oh no, oh no, my brither dear, 

The clans they are ower strang, 

An they drive back our merry men, 

Wi swords baith sharp an lang.' 

15 Brave Forbes drew his men aside, 

Said, Tak your rest a while, 
Until I to Drumminnor send, 
To fess my coat o mail. 

16 The servan he did ride, 

An his horse it did na fail, 

For in twa hours an a quarter 

He brocht the coat o mail. 

17 Then back to back the brithers twa 

Gaed in amo the thrang, 
An they hewed doun the Hielanmen, 
Wi swords baith sharp an lang. 

18 Macdonell, he was young an stout, 

Had on his coat o mail, 
An he has gane oot throw them a', 
To try his han himsell. 

19 The first ae straik that Forbes strack, 

He garrt Macdonell reel, 
An the neist ae straik that Forbes strack, 
The great Macdonell fell. 

20 An siccan a lierachie 

I 'm sure ye never saw 
As wis amo the Hielanmen, 
When they saw Macdonell fa. 

21 An whan they saw that he was deid, 

They turnd an ran awa, 
An they buried him in Leggett's Den, 
A large mile frae Harlaw. 

22 They rade, they ran, an some did gang, 

They were o sma record ; 
But Forbes an his merry men, 
They slew them a' the road. 

23 On Monanday, at mornin, 

The battle it began, 
On Saturday, at gloamin, 

Ye 'd scarce kent wha had wan. 

24 An sic a weary buryin 

I 'm sure ye never saw 
As wis the Sunday after that, 
On the muirs aneath Harlaw. 

25 Gin ony body speer at you 

For them ye took awa, 
Ye may tell their wives and bairnies 
They 're sleepin at Harlaw. 


The Thistle of Scotland, 1823, p. 92. 

1 As I cam thro the Garrioch land, 

And in by Over Ha, 
There was sixty thousan Highland men 
Marching to Harlaw. 

11 The Highland men, with their broad sword, 

Pushd on wi might and power, 

Till they bore back the red-coat lads 

Three furlongs long, and more. 

15 Lord Forbes calld his men aside, 
Says, Take your breath awhile, 
Until I send my servant now 
To bring my coat o mail. 



A. a. I 1 . Var. Garioch land. 

4 s . she : so delivered, notivitlistandiny the 

inconsistency with me in lines 1, 2. 
11*. Var. back the red-coats. 
20 1 . Sometimes pitleurachie. 
25. " There are different versions of this 

stanza : " C. E. D. 
A. b. Printed in two long lines. 
Burden : In a dree, etc. 
l a . Wetherha. I 4 , a' marchin. 
3 4 , 4 4 . Come marchin frae. 4 1 ' 2 . she cam. 
5 1 . Oh were ye near an near eneuch. 
6 1 . she was. G 2 . An she. 
6 1 . a' marcliin for Harlaw. 7 1 . quo James. 

7 M . So we 'd best cry in our merry men, 
And turn our horses' heeds. 

8 1 . quo John. 10 8 . gaed for gied. 
II 4 . or mair. 12 1 . did to his brither say. 
12 4 . And we '11 be. 

15 1 . Forbes to his men did say. 

15 2 . Noo, tak. 

1G 1 . Brave Forbes' hinchrnan, var. servant, 

then did. 

19 2 . Made the great M'Donell. 
19 8 . The second stroke that. 
20 1 . a ' pilleurichie.' 20 2 . The like ye. 
20 s . As there was amang. 
21 s . in ' Leggatt's Ian : ' " the manuscript is 

indistinct, and it would read equally well, 

Leggalt's Ian." 

21 4 . Some twa three miles awa. 
22 2 . But they were. 22 3 . For Forbes. 
22 4 . Slew maist a' by the. 
23 4 . Ye 'd scarce tell wha. 
24 2 . The like ye never. 24 8 . As there was. 
24 4 . muirs down by. 

25 1 . An gin Hielan lasses speer. 

25 2 . them that gaed awa. 

25 8 . tell them plain an plain eneuch. 
15 1 . man. 


a-d, broadsides, a. Among Percy's papers, b. Ilox- 
burghe Ballads, III, 358. c. Jewitt's Ballads and 
Songs of Derbyshire, p. 1. d. Chetham's Library, 
Manchester, in Ilalus and Furnivall, Percy's Folio 
MS., II, 597. e. Percy papers, "taken down from 
memory." f. Nicolas, History of the Battle of Agin- 
court, 1832, Appendix, p. 78, from the recitation of 

a very aged person, g. The same, p. 80, source not 
mentioned, h. Tyler, Henry of Monmouth, II, 197, 
apparently from memory, i. Percy Society, XVII, 
Dixon, Ancient Poems, etc., p. 52, from singing. 
j. Skene MS., p. 42. k. Macmath MS., p. 27, from 
tradition. 1, m. Buclian's MSS, I, 176, II, 124, 
probably broadside or stall copies. 

ALL the known copies of this ballad are 
recent. It is not in Thackeray's list of 
broadsides, which dates perhaps as late as 
1689 (Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, I, 
xxiv-xxvii) ; and it is not included in the col 
lection of 1723-25, which showed particular 
favor to historical pieces. In a manuscript 
index of first lines to a large collection of 
songs and ballads " formed in 1748," I find, 
" As our king lay on his bed," and the ballad 
may probably have first been published in the 
second quarter of the last century. In a 

woodcut below the title of a, b, there are two 
soldiers with G R on the flap of the coat and 
G on the cap (no doubt in c as well) ; the 
date of these broadsides cannot therefore be 
earlier than the accession of George I, 1714. 
The broadside is in a popular manner, but has 
no mark of antiquity. It may, however, rep 
resent an older ballad, disfigured by some 
purveyor for the Aldermary press. 

It is probable that the recited versions had 
their ultimate source in print, and that 
printed copies were in circulation which, be- 



sides the usual slight variations,* contained 
two more stanzas, one after 2 and another 
after 8, such as are found in h and elsewhere ; 
which stanzas are likely to have formed part 
of the original matter. 

After 2, h (see also g, i, j) : 

Tell him to send me my tribute home, 
Ten ton of gold that is due to me ; 

Unless he send me my tribute home, 
Soon in French land I will him see. 

After 8, h (see also g, i, k, m) : 

then bespoke our noble king, 
A solemn vow then vowed he : 

1 '11 promise him such English balls f 

As in French lands he neer did see ! 

g has several stanzas which are due to the 
hand of some improver. 

Another, and much more circumstantial, 
ballad on Agincourt, written from the chron 
icles, was current in the seventeenth century. 
It begins, ' A councell braue [grave] our king 
did hold,' and may be seen in the Percy Manu 
script, p. 241, Hales and Furnivall, II, 166, in 
The Crown Garland of Golden Roses (with 
seven stanzas fewer), ed. 1659, p. 65 of the 
reprint by the Percy Society, vol. xv ; Pepys' 
Ballads, I, 90, No 44 ; Old Ballads, II, 79 ; 
Pills to purge Melancholy, V, 49 ; etc. 

The story of the Tennis-Balls is not men 
tioned by the French' historians, by Walsing- 
ham, Titus Livius, or the anonymous biog 
rapher of Henry in Cotton MS., Julius E. IV. \ 
It. occurs, however, in several contemporary 
writings, as in Elmham's Liber Metricus de 
Henrico Quinto, cap. xii (Quod films regis 
Francorum, in derisum, misit domino regi 
pilas, quibus valeret cum pueris ludere potius 
quam pugnare, etc.), Cole, Memorials of Henry 
the Fifth, 1858, p. 101 ; but not in Elmham's 
prose history. So in Capgrave, De illustri- 

* 3 2 . Away and away and away, e, f, i, k. 12 1 . The 
first that fired it was the French, f, g, h. 12 4 . were forced 
to flee, f, i, m (first to flee, e). 14 s . in all French land, e, 
f, g, (in our) h, m. Etc. 

t English balls again in m, tennis-balls in i, k. 

J Whose work was printed in 1850, ed. Benjamin Wil 
liams. I am for the most part using Sir Harris Nicolas's 
excellent History of the Battle of Agincourt, 2d ed., 1832, 
here; see pp. 8-13, 301 f. 
VOL. m. 41 

bus Henricis, with a fertur, ed. Hingeston, 
1858, p. 114 ; but not in Capgrave's chronicle. 
We might infer, in these two cases, that the 
tale was thought good enough for verses and 
good enough for eulogies, though not good 
enough for history. 

Again, in verses of Harleian MS. 565, " in 
a hand of the fifteenth century," the Dolphin 
says to the English ambassadors: 

Me thinke youre kyng he is nought [so] old 

No werrys for to maynteyn. 
Grete well youre kyng, he seyde, so yonge, 

That is both gentill and small ; 
A tonne of tenys-ballys I shall hym sende, 

For hym to pleye with all. 

Henry sends back this message : 

Oure Cherlys of Fraunce gret well or ye wende, 
The Dolfyn prowed withinne his wall ; 

Swyche tenys-ballys I schal hym sende 
As schall tere the roof all of his [h]all. 

But there is a chronicler who has the tale 
still. Otterbourne writes : Eodem anno 
[1414], in quadragesima, rege existente apud 
Kenilworth, Karolus, regis Francorum films, 
Delphinus vocatus, misit pilas Parisianas ad 
ludendum cum pueris. Cui rex Anglorum 
rescripsit, dicens se in brevi pilas missurum 
Londoniarum, quibus terreret et confunderet 
sua tecta. 

And once more, the author of an inedited 
" Chronicle of King Henry the Fifth that was 
Kyng Henries son," Cotton MS., Claudius A. 
viii, of the middle of the fifteenth century, 
fol. 1, back : || 

And thare the Dolphine of Fraunce aunswered to 
our embassatours, and said in this maner, ' that the 
kyng was ouer yong and to tender of age to make 
any warre ay ens hym, and was not lyke yet to be 
noo good werrioure to doo and to make suche a 
conquest there vpon hym. And somwhat in scorne 

Nicolas, p. 302 f, slightly corrected ; much the same in 
another copy of the poem, ib., Appendix, p. 69 f. The jest 
in Henry's reply is carried out in detail when he comes to 
Harfleur, 16., pp. 308-310. 

|| Nicolas, p. 10, as corrected by Hales and Furnivall, II, 
161, and in one word emended by me. By several of the 
above writers the Dauphin Louis is called Charles, through 
confusion with his father or his younger brother. 



and dispite he sente to hym a tonne fulle of tenys- 
ballis, be-cause he wolde haue some-what for to 
play wit/ialle for hym and for his lordis, and that 
be-carae hym better than to mayntayn any werre. 
And than anone oure lordes that was embassatours 
token hir leue and comen in to England ayenne, 
and tolde the kyng and his counceille of the vn- 
goodly aunswer that they had of the Dolphyw, and 
of the present the whiche he had sent vnto the 
kyng. And whan the kyng had hard her wordis, 
and the answere of the Dolp[h]ynne, he was 
wondre sore agreued, and rights euelle apayd to- 
warde the Frensshemen, and toward the kyng, and 
the Dolphynne, and thoughts to auenge hym vpon 
hem as sone as God wold send hym grace and 
myghte ; and anon lette make tenys-ballis for the 
Dolp[h]ynne in all the hast that the myghte be 
made, and they were grete gonne-stones for the 
Dolp[h]ynne to play wythe-alle.' 

The Dolphin, whom two of these writers 
make talk of Henry as if he were a boy, was 
himself in his nineteenth year, and the Eng 
lish king more than eight years his senior. 
" Hume has justly observed," says Sir Harris 
Nicolas, " that the great offers made by the 
French monarch, however inferior to Henry's 
demands, prove that it was his wish rather to 
appease than exasperate him ; and it is almost 
incredible that, whilst the advisers of Charles 
evinced so much forbearance, his son should 
have offered Henry a personal insult. . . . 
It should be observed, as additional grounds 
for doubting that the message or gift was sent 
by the Dauphin, that such an act must have 
convinced both parties of the hopelessness of 
a pacific arrangement afterwards, and would, 
it may be imagined, have equally prevented 
the French court and Henry from seeking 
any other means of ending the dispute than 
by the sword. This, however, was not the 
case ; for even supposing that the offensive 

* The gifts are a whip (trxDroj), a ball, .and a casket of 
gold. In Julius Valerius's version, Miiller, as above, 
GKVTOS is rendered habena, whip or reins ; in Leo's Historia 
de Prcliis, ed. Landgraf, p. 54, we have virga for habena ; 
in Lamprecht's Alexander, Weismann, I, 74, 1296-1301, 
the habena is a pair of shoe-strings. The French romance, 
Michelant, p. 52, 25 ff, to make sure, gives us both rod 
(verge) and reins ; the English Alexander, Weber, I, 75, 
1726-28, has a top, a scourge, and a small purse of gold. 
Weber has noticed the similarity of the stories, Romances, 

communication was made on the occasion of 
the last, instead .... of that of the first em 
bassy, it is certain that overtures were again 
sent to Henry whilst he was on his journey 
to the place of embarkation, and that even 
when there, he wrote to the French monarch 
with the object of adjusting his claims with 
out a recourse to arms : " pp. 9, 12 f. 

History repeats itself. Darius writes to 
Alexander as if he were a boy, and sends 
him, with other things, a ball to play with ; 
and Alexander, in his reply to Darius, turns 
the tables upon the Persian king by his in 
terpretation of the insolent gifts : Pseudo- 
Callisthenes, I, 36, ed. Miiller, p. 40 f.* The 
parallel is close. It is not inconceivable that 
the English story is borrowed, but I am not 
prepared to maintain this. 

It does not appear from any testimony ex 
ternal to the ballad that married men or 
widows' sons had the benefit of an exemption 
in the levy for France, or that Cheshire, 
Lancashire, and Derby f were particularly 
called upon to furnish men : st. 9. The Rev. 
i. Endell Tyler believes the ballad to be 
unquestionably of ancient origin, "probably 
written and sung within a very few years of 
the expedition," " before Henry's death, and 
just after his marriage ; " which granted, this 
stanza would have a certain interest. But, 
says Mr Tyler, " whether there is any founda 
tion at all in fact for the tradition of Henry's 
resolution to take with him no married man 
or widow's son, the tradition itself bears such 
strong testimony to the general estimate of 
Henry's character for bravery at once and 
kindness of heart that it would be unpardon 
able to omit every reference to it," and he has 
both printed the ballad in the body of his 
work and placed " that golden stanza " on his 
title-page. J The question of Henry's kind- 
Ill, 299, and he remarks that in ' The Famous Victories of 
Henry Fifth ' a carpet is sent with the tun of tennis-balls, 
to intimate that the prince is fitter for carpet than camp. 

t Cheshire, Lancashire, and the Earl of Derby are made 
to carry off the honors in ballad-histories of Bosworth and 
Flodden : see the appendix to No 168. Perhaps the hand of 
some minstrel of the same clan as the author or authors of 
those eulogies may be seen in this passage. 

} Henry of Monmonth, or Memoirs of the Life and Char 
acter of Henry the Fifth, II, 121, 197. Jewitt, Derbyshire 



ness of heart does not require to be discussed 
here, but it may be said in passing that there 
is not quite enough in this ballad to remove 
the impression which is ordinarily made by 
his conduct of the siege of Rouen. 

The Battle of Agincourt was fought Oc 

tober 25, 1415. It is hardly necessary to say, 
with reference to the marching to Paris gates, 
that Henry had the wisdom to evacuate 
French ground as soon after the battle as 
convoy to England could be procured. 

1 As our king lay musing on his bed, 

He bethought himself upon a time 
Of a tribute that was due from France, 
Had not been paid for so long a time. 
Fal, lal, etc. 

2 He called for his lovely page, 

His lovely page then called he, 
Saying, You must go to the king of France, 
To the king of France, sir, ride speedily. 

3 then went away this lovely page, 

This lovely page then away went he ; 

And when he came to the king of France, 

Low he fell down on his bended knee. 

4 ' My master greets you, worthy sir ; 

Ten ton of gold that is due to he, 
That you will send him his tribute home, 
Or in French land you soon will him see.' 

5 ' Your master 's young and of tender years, 

Not fit to come into my degree, 
And I will send him three tennis-balls, 
That with them he may learn to play.' 

6 O then returned this lovely page, 

This lovely page then returned he, 
And when he came to our gracious king. 
Low he fell down on his bended knee. 

7 ' What news, what news, my trusty page ? 

What is the news you have brought to me ? ' 
' I have brought such news from the king of 

That you and he will never agree. 

8 ' He says you 're young and of tender years, 

Not fit to come into his degree, 
And he will send you three tennis*-balls, 
That with them you may learn to play.' 

9 ' Recruit me Cheshire and Lancashire, 

And Derby Hills that are so free ; 
No marryd man nor no widow's son ; 
For no widow's curse shall go with me.' 

10 They recruited Cheshire and Lancashire, 

And Derby Hills that are so free ; 
No marryd man, nor no widow's son ; 
Yet there was a jovial bold company. 

11 O then we marchd into the French land, 

With drums and trumpets so merrily ; 
And then bespoke the king of France, 
' Lo, yonder comes proud King Henry.' 

12 The first shot that the Frenchmen gave, 

They killd our Englishmen so free ; 
We killd ten thousand of the French, 
And the rest of them they ran away. 

13 And then we marched to Paris gates, 

With drums and trumpets so merrily : 
O then bespoke the king of France, 

' The Lord have mercy on my men and 

14 ' O I will send him his tribute home, 

Ten ton of gold that is due to he. 
And the finest flower that is in all France 
To the Rose of England I will give free.' 

Ballads, p. 2, says that there is a tradition in the Peak of that the ballad is not unfrequently sung by the hardy sons 
Derby that Henry V would take no married man or widow's of the Peak, which adequately accounts for the tradition, 
son, when recruiting for Agincourt ; but he goes on to say 


a. King Henry V. his Conquest of France, in 

revenge for the affront offered him by the 
French king in sending him, instead of the 
Tribute due, a Ton of Tennis- Balls. 
Printed and sold at the Printing Office in Bow 

Church- Yard, London. 
1*. due to. 

b. Title the same, with omission of the first 

him and due. 
Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard, 

Bow Lane, London, st. 
I 8 , due from. 3 8 . Low he came. 
3 4 . And, when fell. 7 1 wanting. 
7 4 . he and you will ne'er. 
10 s . man or widow's. 12 4 . run. 

c. Title as in b. Printed as in b. 

1 s . due from. 3 1 . away went. 3 s . Lo he. 
3 4 . And then he. 7 4 . he and you will ne'er. 

9 3 . man or widow's. 12 4 . run. 

d. Title as in b. Imprint not given. 
I 8 , due from. 3 s . Low he came. 

3 4 . And when fell. 7 4 . he and you will ne'er. 
9 s . man or. 12 4 . run. 
6. 2 1 . Then he called on. 

2 4 . With a message from King Henry. 

3 1 . Away then went. 

3 2 . Away and away and away. 

3 4 . He fell low down. 4 2 . of gold wanting. 

4 8 . And you must send him this. 

4 4 . you '11 soon. 5 1 , 8 1 . tender age. 

5 2 , 8 2 . not meet to come in. 

5 8 . So I '11 send him home some. 

C 1 ' 2 ' 4 as in 3 1 ' 2 ' 4 . 7 1 . my lovely. 

7 2 . what news bring you to me ? 

7 4 . That I 'm sure with him you '11 neer agree. 

8 a . So he 's sent you here some. 

9 s . that be. 9 s , 10 s . man nor widow's. 

9 4 . For wanting. 

10 1 ' 2 . Then they recruited Lankashire, Che 
shire and Derby Hills so free. 

10 4 . brave for bold. II 2 , 13 2 . so wanting. 

II 3 , 13 1 . then. 12 8 . But we. 

12 4 . them were forsd to free. 

13 4 . Lord have mercy on [my] men and me. 

14 1 . send this. 

14 s . fairest flower in all French land. 

14 4 . make free. 

f. " Communicated by Bertram Mitford, of Mit- 
ford Castle, in Northumberland, who wrote 
it from the dictation of a very aged rela 
I 1 . As a. 

I 8 . Those tributes due from the French king. 
2 4 . Those tributes that are due to me. 
3 1 ' 2 , 6 1 ' 2 . Away, away went this lovely page, 
Away and away and away went he, nearly 
as in e. 
4 1 ' 2 . My master he does greet you well, He 

doth greet you most heartily. 
4 8 . If you don't. 5 2 , 8 2 . come within. 
5 4 . And in French land he ne'er dare me see. 
7 1 . my lovely, as in e. 
7 8 . from the French king. 
7 4 . That with him I 'm sure you can ne'er 

8 4 . And in French land you ne'er dare him 


9 1 . Go, 'cruit me. 10 4 . jovial brave, as in e. 
12 1 . The first that fired it was the French. 
12 4 . them were forced to flee. 
13 s . The first that spoke was the French king. 
13 4 . Lord a mercy on my poor men and me. 
14 1 ' 2 . O go and take your tributes home, Five 

tons of gold I will give thee. 
14 4 . in all French land, ax in e. 
f was clearly derived from tf/e same source 

as e. 
g. The fourth line repeated as burden. 

2. O then calld he his lovely page, 
His lovely page then called he, 
Who, when he came before the king, 
Lo, he fell down on his bended knee. 

' Welcome, welcome, thou lovely page, 
Welcome, welcome art thou here ; 

Go sped thee now to the king of France, 
And greet us well to him so dear. 

' And when thou comst to the king of 

And hast greeted us to him so dear, 
Thou then shall ask for the tribute due, 

That has not been paid for many a year.' 

3 1 ' 2 . Away then went this lovely page, Away, 

away, O then went he. 
3 4 . Lo, he. Between 3 and 4 : 

' What news, what news, thou royal page ? 

What news, what news dost thou bring 

to me ? ' 
' I bring such news from our good king 

That him and you may long agree. 



4. ' My master then does greet you well, 
Does greet you well and happy here, 
And asks from you the tribute due, 

That has not been paid this many a year.' 

6 1 ' 2 . Away, away went this lovely page, 
Away, away, then away went he.* 

7*. That he and you can ne'er agree. 
After 8: 

then in wroth rose our noble king, 
In anger great then up rose he : 

' I '11 send such balls to the king in France 
As Frenchmen ne'er before did see.' 

9 1 . Go 'cruit me. 

10 M . Tho no married man. nor no widow's son, 
They recruited three thousand men and 

Between 10 and 11 : 

And when the king he did them see, 
He greeted them most heartily : 

' Welcome, welcome, thou trusty band, 
For thou art a jolly brave company. 

' Go now make ready our royal fleet, 
Make ready soon, and get to sea ; 

1 then will shew the king of France 

When on French ground he does me see.' 

And when our king to Southampton came, 
There the ships for him did wait a while ; 

Sure such a sight was ne'er seen before, 
By any one in this our isle. 

Their course they then made strait for 

With streamers gay and sails well filld ; 
But the grandest ship of all that went 

Was that in which our good king saild. 

II*' 4 . The Frenchmen they were so dismayd, 

Snch a sight they ne'er did wish to see. 
12 1 . The first that fired it was the French, as 

in f. 
13*. The first that spoke was the French king, 

as in f . 
13 4 . Lo yonder comes proud King Henry. 

* Cf. g 6 and ' Lord Bateman,' 14, II, 508. 

After 13 : 

' Our loving cousin, we greet you well, 
From us thou now hast naught to fear ; 

We seek from you our tribute due, 

That has not been paid for this many a 

14 1 ' 2 . ' O go and take your tributes home, 

Five tons of gold I will give to thee,' 
as in f . 

14*. And the fairest flower in all French land, 

as in e, f . 

h. " The author, to whom the following Song of 
Agincourt has been familiar from his child 
hood, cannot refrain from inserting it here." 

1 1 . musing wanting. 

1 2 . All musing at the hour of prime : " con 

1 3 . He bethought him of the king of France. 

1 4 . And tribute due for so long a time. 
2 8 - 4 , 3 s . king in. 

After 2 : 

Tell him to send me my tribute home, 
Ten ton of gold that is due to me ; 

Unless he send me my tribute home, 
Soon in French land I will him see. 

3 1>a , 6 1 ' 2 . Away then goes this lovely page, 
As fast, as fast as he could hie. 

4 2 . gold is due to me. 

5*. send him home some. 

7 4 . That you and he can. 8 2 . come up to. 

8 8 . He has sent you home some. After 8 : 

Oh ! then bespoke our noble king, 
A solemn vow then vowed he : 

I '11 promise him such English balls 
As in French lauds he ne'er did see. 

9 1 . Go ! call up. 9 s , 10 s . But neither . . . nor. 
9 4 . For wanting. 10 1 . They called up. 
After 10 : 

He called unto him his merry men all, 
And numbered them by three and three, 

Until their number it did amount 

To thirty thousand stout men and three. 

Cf. g 10*- 4 . 



11 1 . Away then marched they. 

11 2 , 13 2 . and fifes. 

12 1 . The first that fired it was the French, as 
in f, g. 

13 1 . Then marched they on to. 

14". due from me. 14 s . the very best flower. 
i. From the singing of a Yorkshire minstrel, 

with " one or two verbal corrections " from 

a modern broadside. 
2 1 - 2 , 3 1 , 6 1 . trusty for lovely. After 2 : 

And tell him of my tribute due, 
Ten ton of gold that 's due to me ; 

That he must send me my tribute home, 
Or in French land he soon will me see. 

3 s , 6 2 . Away and away and away, as in e, f. 

After 8 : Oh ! then, etc., as in h, but tennis- 
balls in line three. 

9 1 . Go call up, as in h. 

10 1 . They called up, as in h. 

12 4 . And the rest of them they were forced to 
flee, nearly as in f. 

13*. Lord have mercy on my poor men and 
me, as in f. 

14 s . And the fairest flower that is in our 
French land : c.f. e, f, g. 

14 4 . shall go free, as in g. 

j. A Scottish version of the broadside from reci 
tation of the beginning of this century : of 
slight value. 

I 2 . On his bed lay musing he : for the ee 

After 2 (of. g, h, i) : 

Ye gae on to the king of France, 
Ye greet him well and speedily, 

And ye bid him send the tributes due, 
Or in French lands he '11 soon see me. 

5 s , 8*. some tennis. 

5 4 . may play him merrilie. 

G 1 . Away, away went. 7 4 . him an you. 

8 4 . may play fu merrilie. 

9 1 , 10 1 . Chester and Lincolnshire. 

II 2 . wi drum an pipe. 12 wanting. 

13 2 . wi pipe an drum. 

13 4 . God hae mercie on my poor men and me : 

of- f, i- 
14 wanting. 

k. Received, 1886, from Mr Alexander Kirk, 
Inspector of Poor, Dairy, Kirkcudbright 
shire, who learned it many years ago from 
David Eae, Barlay, Balmaclellan. 

3 1 ' 2 , 6 1 ' 2 . Away, away . . . Away, away, and 
away : cf. e, f, g, i. 

7* 14 . No news, no news, . . . But just what my 
two eyes did see : cf. No 114, A 11, E 10, 

After 8 (cf. g, h, i) : 

Go call to me my merry men all, 

All by thirties and by three, 
And I will send him such tennis-balls 

As on French ground he did never see. 

12 wanting. 

13 1 . But when they came to the palace-gates. 
1. ' Henry V and King of France.' 

2 8 ' 4 , 3 8 . king in. 5 2 . come unto. 

7 4 . him and you. 8 2 . come to. 

II 1 . Then they. 13 4 . Have mercy, Lord, 
m. ' The Two Kings.' 

3, 4. When he came to the king of France, 

He fell down on his bended knee : 
' My master greets you, noble sir, 
For a tribute that is due to he.' 

5 2 , 8 a . come to. 5 s . send him home ten. 

6, 7. When he came to our noble king, 

He fell low on his bended knee : 
' What news, what news, my lovely page ? 
What news have ye brought unto me ? ' 

8 s . He 's sent you hame ten. 
After 8 : 

Out then spake our noble king, 
A solemn vow then vowed he : 

' I shall prepare such English balls 
That in French land he ne'er did see.' 

9 1 . You do recruit. 10 1 . They did recruit. 
11 wanting. 

12 4 . The rest of them were forced to flee. 
13 1 . As we came in at the palace-gates. 
13 4 . Have mercy on my men and me. 
14*. The fairest flower in a' French land. 





'Sir lolm Butler,' Percy MS., p. 427 ; Hales and Furnivall, III, 205. 

THE subject of this ballad is the murder of 
a Sir John Butler at Bewsey Hall, near War- 
rington, Lancashire. 

The story, which may be imperfect at the 
beginning, is that a party of men cross the 
moat in a leathern boat, and among them 
William Savage is one of the first. Sir John 
Butler's daughter Ellen wakens her father 
and tells him that his uncle Stanley is within 
his hall. If that be true, says Sir John, a 
hundred pound will not save me. Ellen goes 
down into the hall, and is asked where her 
father is ; she avers that he is ridden to Lon 
don, but the men know better, and search for 
him. Little Holcroft loses his head in trying 
to keep the door of the room where Sir John 
is ; they enter, and call on him to yield. He 
will yield to his uncle Stanley, but never to 
false Peter Legh. Ellen Butler calls for a 
priest ; William Savage says, He shall have 
no priest but my sword and me. Lady But 
ler was at this time in London ; had she 
been at home she might have begged her 
husband's life of her good brother John. She 
dreams that her lord is swimming in blood, 
and long before day sets out for Bewsey 
Hall. On her way she learns that her hus 
band is slain, and the news impels her to go 
back to London, where she begs of the king 
the death of false Peter Legh, her brother 
Stanley, William Savage, and all. Would 
ye have three men to die for one ? says the 
king; if thou wilt come to London, thou shalt 
go home Lady Gray. 

* Vol. cxiii, fol. 14, Bodleian Library: cited (p. 303 f.) 
in Beamont's Annals of the Lords of Warrington, Chetham 
Society, 1872, where may be found the fullest investigation 
yet attempted of this obscure matter. I have freely and 

The papers of Roger Dodswortb,* the anti 
quarian (f 16 . .), give the following account 
of the transaction, according to the tradition 
of his time. " Sir John Boteler, Knight, was 
slaine in his bed by the Lord Standley's pro 
curement, Sir Piers Leigh and Mister William 
Savage joininge with him in that action, cur- 
ruptinge his servants, his porter settinge a 
light in a windowe to give knowledge upon 
the water that was about his house at Bew 
saye, when the watch that watched about his 
howse at Bewsaye, where your way to ... 
[i. e. Bold] comes, were gone awaye to their 
owne homes ; and then they came over the 
moate in lether boates, and soe to his cliam- 
bre, where one of his servants, called Hon- 
trost [Holcroft], was slaine, being his cham- 
berlaine ; the other brother betrayed his 
master. They promised him a great reward, 
and he going with them a way, they hanged 
him at a tree in Bewsaye Park. After this 
Sir John Boteler's lady pursued those that 
slewe her husband, and indyted xx. men for 
that ' saute,' but being marryed to Lorde 
Gray, he made her suites voyd, for which 
cause she parted from her husband, the Lorde 
Graye, and came into Lancastershyre, and 
sayd, If my lord wyll not helpe me that I 
may have my wyll of mine enemies, yet my 
bodye shall be berryed by him ; and she 
caused a tombe of alabaster to be made, 
where she lyeth upon the right hand of her 
husband, Sir John Butler." f 

Another paper in the same collection as- 

thankfully used chapters 17-19 of that highly interesting 

t For Lord Grey's making the suit void, and his lady's 
resolution to be buried near Sir John, see Beamont, p. 319 f, 
pp. 297-99. 



sumes to give the cause of the murder. " The 
occasion of the murther was this. The king 
being to come to Lathom, the Erie of Derby, 
his brother-in-law, sent unto hym [Sir John 
Butler] a messenger to desire him to wear his 
cloath [appear as his retainer] at that tyrne ; 
but in his absence his lady said she scorned 
that her husband should wayte on her brother, 
being as well able to entertayne the kynge as 
he was ; which answer the erle tooke in great 
disdayne, and persecuted the said Sir John 
Butler with all the mallice that cowd be." 
After mutual ill-services, they took arms one 
against the other, Sir Piers Legh and Wil 
liam Savage siding with the earl, and in the 
end these three corrupted Sir John Butler's 
servants and murdered him in his bed. " Hys 
lady, at that instant being in London, did 
dreame the same night that he was slayne, 
that Bewsaye Hall did swym with blood ; 
whereupon she presently came homewards, 
and heard by the way the report of his 
death." * 

Sir John Boteler, son of Sir John, born in 
1429, married for his third wife Margaret 
Stanley, widow of Sir Thomas Troutbeck, 
daughter of Thomas first Lord Stanley, and 
sister of Thomas the second lord, whom Dods- 
worth calls by anticipation Earl of Derby, 
which he was not until 1485. Sir John 
Boteler had by his first wife four daughters, 
but no Ellen ; by Margaret Stanley he had 
a son Thomas, born in 1461. He died in 
1463, and his wife afterwards married for her 
third husband Henry Lord Grey of Codnor. 

According to st. 23 of the ballad, Dame Mar 
garet's brother Stanley, that is Lord Thomas, 
is directly concerned in the murder which in 
the Dodsworth story he is said only to have 
procured. But an uncle Stanley appears to 
be a prominent member of the hostile party 
in sts 5, 12 ; how, we cannot explain. A 'good ' 
brother John is mentioned in st. 15, of whom 
Lady Butler might have begged her husband's 

life, and who must, therefore, have been pres 
ent. Lady Butler had a brother John. But 
the alleged participation of Sir Peter Legh 
and William Savage in this murder, perpe 
trated in 1463, is an impossibility. Sir Peter 
Legh was born in 1455, and was only eight 
years old at that time, and William Savage, 
nephew of Lord Thomas Stanley, was also a 
mere child. As to the part ascribed to Lord 
Thomas Stanley, Sir Thomas Butler, the. son 
of Sir John, is said to have lived on the most 
friendly terms with him in after days, and to 
have limited " an estate in remainder, after 
the limitation to himself and his heirs, to the 
Earl of Derby in fee," which we can hardly 
suppose he would have done if the earl had 
been his father's murderer. 

The occasion of the murder is represented 
in the tradition reported by Dodsworth to 
have been Sir John Butler's refusal (through 
his wife) to wear the Earl of Derby's liv 
ery at the time of the king's coming to La 
thom. The king (Henry VII) did indeed 
come to Lathom, but not until the year 1495, 
thirty-two years after Sir John's death, and 
three years after that of his wife. It is true 
that other accounts make Sir Thomas, the 
son of Sir John, to have been the victim of 
the murder ; but Sir Thomas died in 1522, 
and the Earl of Derby in 1504.f There is 
not, as Dr. Robson says, a tittle of evidence 
to show that there was any murder at all, 
whether of Sir John or any other of the But 
ler family. But it was an unquiet time, and 
the conjecture has been offered " that, being 
a consistent Lancastrian," Sir John " may 
have incurred some Yorkist resentments, and 
have been sacrificed by a confederacy of some 
of those who, though his private friends, were 
his political enemies." J 

Sir John Butler, son of Sir John, is of 
course the only person that the ballad and 
the parallel tradition can intend, for Margaret 
Stanley was the only Stanley that ever mar- 

* Beamont, p. 304. have slain Sir Thomas Butler. Sir Thomas died quietly in 

t I'ennant, in the second half of the last century, heard his bed, and Sir Peter, who had turned priest, administered 

that both Sir Thomas and his lady were murdered in his ghostly consolations to him not long before his decease. 

house by assassins, who, in the night, crossed the moat in t See Beamont, p. 308 ; and also p. 296 for another hy- 

Icathern boats. Again, Sir Peter Legh, simply, was said to potheais. 



ried a Butler, and Margaret Stanley's third 
husband was Lord Grey of Codnor. But Sir 
John the elder, who died in 1430, had a 
daughter Ellen, " old enough to raise an alarm 
when her father was attacked, while he was 
actually nephew by marriage to the second 
Sir John Stanley of Lathom, who survived 
him." (If we might proceed according to 
established mythological rules, and transfer 
to the son what is told of the father, we 
might account for the " uncle Stanley " and 
the Ellen of the ballad.) Sir John the sen 
ior's widow, Lady Isabella, was in 1437 vio 
lently carried off and forced into marriage by 
one William Poole, and her petition to Par 
liament for redress calls this Poole an out 
law " for felony for man's death by him mur 

dered and slain." It has been thought a not 
overstrained presumption that this language 
may refer to the death of Lady Isabella's hus 
band, the earlier Sir John, though it would 
be strange, if such were the reference, that 
no name should be given.* 

The Bewsey murder has been narrated, 
with the variations of later tradition, by John 
Fitchett in ' Bewsey, a Poem,' Warrington, 
1796 ; in a ballad by John Roby, Traditions 
of Lancashire, 1879, II, 72 ; and in another 
ballad in Ballads and Songs of Lancashire, 
Harland and Wilkinson, 1882, p. 13 (at p. 15 
Fitchett's verses are cited). See also Dr. 
Robson, in the preface to the Percy ballad, 
p. 208, and Beamont, Annals of the Lords of 
Warrington, p. 318. 

1 BUT word is come to Warrington, 

And Busye Hall is laid about ; 
Sir lohn Butler and his merry men 
Stand in ffull great doubt. 

2 When they came to Busye Hall 

Itt was the merke midnight, 
And all the bridges were vp drawen, 
And neuer a candle-light. 

3 There they made them one good boate, 

All of one good bull skinn ; 
Willia?n Sauage was one of the ffirst 
That euer came itt within. 

4 Hee sayled ore his merrymen, 

By two and two together. 

And said itt was as good a bote 

As ere was made of lether. 

5 ' Waken you, waken you, deare ffather ! 

God waken you within ! 
For heere is your vnckle Standlye 
Come yor hall within.' 

6 ' If that be true, Ellen Butler, 

These tydings you tell mee, 
A hundred pound in good redd gold 
This night will not borrow mee.' 

7 Then came downe Ellen Butler 

And into her ffathers hall, 
And then came downe Ellen Butler, 
And shee was laced in pall. 

8 ' Where is thy ffather, Ellen Butler ? 

Haue done, and tell itt mee : ' 
' My ffather is now to London ridden, 
As Clirist shall haue part of mee.' 

9 ' Now nay, now nay, Ellen Butler, 

Ffor soe itt must not bee ; 
Ffor ere I goe fforth of this hall, 
Your ffather I must see.' 

10 The sought that hall then vp and downe 

Theras lohn Butler lay ; 
The sought that hall then vp and downe 
Theras lohn Butler lay. 

11 Ffaire him ffall, litle Holcrofft ! 

Soe merrilye he kept the dore, 
Till that his head ffrom his shoulders 
Came tumbling downe the ffloore. 

12 ' Yeeld thee, yeelde thee, lohn Butler ! 

Yeelde thee now to mee ! ' 
' I will yeelde me to my vnckle Stanlye, 
And neere to ffalse Peeler Lee.' 

* Beamont, pp. 259, 321. 
VOL. HI. 42 



13 ' A preist, a preist,' saies Ellen Butler, 

' To housle and to shrine ! 
A preist, a preist,' sais Ellen Butler, 

' While that my father is a man aliue ! ' 

14 Then bespake him William Sauage, 

A shames death may hee dye ! 

Sayes, He shall haue no other preist 

But my bright sword and mee. 

15 The Ladye Butler is to London rydden, 

Shoe had better haue beene att home ; 
Shee might haue beggd her owne marryed lord 
Att her good brother lohn. 

16 And as shee lay in leeue London, 

And as shee lay in her bedd, 
Shee dreamed her owne marryed lord 
Was swiminnge in blood soe red. 

17 Shee called vp her merry men all, 

Long ere itt was day ; 
Saies, Wee must ryde to Busye Hall, 
With all speed that wee may. 

18 Shee mett with three Kendall men, 

Were ryding by the way : 
' Tydings, tydings, Kendall men, 
I pray you tell itt mee ! ' 

19 ' Heauy tydings, deare madam ; 

Ffrom you wee will not leane ; 

The worthyest kniyht in merry England, 
lohn Butler, Lord ! hee is slaine ! ' 

20 ' Ffarewell, ffarwell, lohn Butler ! 

Ffor thee I must neuer see : 
Ffarewell, ffarwell, Busiye Hall! 
For thee I will neuer come nye.' 

21 Now Ladye Butler is to London againe, 

In all the speed might bee, 
And when shee came before her prince, 
Shee kneeled low downe on her knee. 

22 ' A boone, a boone, my leege ! ' shee sayes, 

' Ffor Gods loue grant itt mee ! ' 

' What is thy boone, Lady Butler ? 

Or what wold thou haue of mee ? 

23 ' What is thy boone, Lady Butler ? 

Or what wold thou haue of mee ? ' 
' That ffalse Peeres of Lee, and my brother 

And William Sauage, and all, may dye.' 

24 ' Come you hither, Lady Butler, 

Come you ower this stone ; 
Wold you haue three men ffor to dye, 
All ffor the losse off one ? 

25 ' Come you hither, Lady Butler, 

With all the speed you may ; 
If thou wilt come to London, La(/// Butler, 
Thou shalt goe home Lady Gray.' 

2". merke may be merle in the MS. : Furni- 


4 2 . 2 and 2. 6". a 1001 s . 
7 1 . them for Then. 
10 1 ' 2 . These two lines only are in the MS., 

but they are marked with a bracket and 

bin: Furnivall. 
18 1 , 24". 3. 
22 s ' 4 . These two lines are bracketed, and, 

marked bis in the MS. : Furnivall. 




'The Rose of Englande,' Percy MS., p. 423; Hales and Furnivall, III, 187. 

THE title of this ballad, as Percy notes in 
his manuscript, is quoted in Fletcher's Mon 
sieur Thomas (printed in 1639), act third, 
scene third, Dyce, VII, 364. The subject is 
the winning of the crown of England from 
Richard III by Henry VII, and the parties 
on both sides, though some of them are some 
times called by their proper names, are mostly 
indicated by their badges or cognizances,* 
which were perfectly familiar, so that though 
there is a " perpetual allegory," it is not a 
" dark conceit." 

The red rose of Lancaster was rooted up 
by a boar, Richard, who was generally be 
lieved to have murdered Henry VI and his 
son Edward, the Prince of Wales ; but the 
seed of the rose, the Earl of Richmond, after 
wards wore the crown. The sixth stanza 
gives us to understand that the young Earl of 
Richmond was under the protection of Lord 
Stanley at Lathom before his uncle, the Earl 
of Pembroke, fled with him to Brittany, in 
1471 ; but this does not appear in the histo 
ries. The Earl of Richmond came back to 
claim his right (in 1485), and brought with 
him the blue boar, the Earl of Oxford, to en 
counter, with Richard, the white boar. Rich 
mond sends a messenger to the old eagle, 
Lord Stanley, his stepfather, to announce his 
arrival ; Stanley thanks God, and hopes that 
the rose shall flourish again. The Welshmen 
rise in a mass under Rice ap Thomas and 
shog on to Shrewsbury. Master Mitton, bai 
liff of Shrewsbury, refuses at first to let Rich 
mond enter, but, upon receiving letters from 
Sir William Stanley of Holt Castle, opens the 

gates. The Earl of Oxford is about to smite 
off the bailiff's head ; Richmond interferes, 
and asks Mitton why he was kept out. The 
bailiff knows no king but him that wears the 
crown ; if Richmond shall put down Richard, 
he will, when sworn, be as true to Richmond 
as to Richard now. Richmond recognizes 
this as genuine loyalty, and will not have the 
bailiff harmed. The earl moves on to New 
port, and then has a private meeting at Ath- 
erstone with Lord Stanley, who makes great 
moan because the young eagle, Lord Strange, 
his eldest son, is a hostage in the hands of 
the white boar. At the battle Oxford has the 
van ; Lord Stanley follows ' fast ' ! The Tal- 
bot-dog (Sir Gilbert Talbot) bites sore ; the 
unicorn (Sir John Savage) quits himself well ; 
then comes in the hart's head (Sir William 
Stanley), the field is fought, the white boar 
slain, and the young eagle saved as by fire.f 

How the Earl of Richmond compassed the 
crown of England is told at more length in 
two histories in the ballad-stanza, ' Bosworth 
Field ' and ' Lady Bessy.' The first of these 
(656 verses) occurs only in the Percy MS., 
Hales and Furnivall, III, 235. It is on the 
whole a tame performance. Richmond is kept 
quite subordinate to the Stanleys, kneeling to 
Sir William, v. 371, and "desiring" the van 
of Lord Stanley, who grants his request, 449- 
51. The second exists in two versions : (1) 
Harleian MS. 367, printed by Mr Halliwell- 
Phillipps, Percy Society, vol. xx, 1847, p. 43, 
and Palatine Anthology, 1850, p. 60 ; Percy 
MS., Hales and Furnivall, III, 321 (each of 
about 1100 verses) ; (2) Percy Society and 

* These are duly interpreted in Hales and Furnivall. apocryphal : see Croston, County Families of Lancashire 

t Lord Strange's hair-breadth escape is, however, perhaps and Cheshire, 1887, p. 25 f. 



Palatine Anthology again, p. 1, p. 6, and pre 
viously by Thomas Hey wood, 1829 ("about 
1250 vv). In this second poem the love, am 
bition, and energy of Elizabeth of York sets 
all the instruments at work, and the Stanleys 
are not so extravagantly prominent. It is a 
remarkably lively narrative, with many cu 
rious details, and in its original form (which 

we cannot suppose we have) must have been 
nearly contemporary. ' Bosworth Field ' bor 
rows some verses from it. 

17 2 , 22 4 . This affirmation of the trustwor 
thiness of the chronicle occurs in ' The Battle 
of Otterburn,' No 161, 35 2 , and again in 
' Flodden Field,' No 178, appendix, 121 4 . 

1 THROUGHOUT a garden greene and gay, 

A seemlye sight itt was to see 
How mowers did flourish fresh and gay, 
And birds doe sing melodiouslye. 

2 In the midst of a garden there sprange a tree, 

Which tree was of a mickle price, 
And there vppon sprang the rose soe redd, 
The goodlyest that euer sprange on rise. 

3 This rose was ffaire, ffresh to behold, 

Springing with many a royall lance ; 
A crowned king, with a crowne of gold, 
Ouer England, Ireland, and of Ffrance. 

4 Then came in a beast men call a bore, 

And he rooted this garden vpp and downe ; 
By the seede of the rose he sett noe store, 
But afterwards itt wore the crowne. 

5 Hee tooke the branches of this rose away, 

And all in sunder did them teare, 
And he buryed them vnder a clodd of clay, 
Swore they shold neuer bloome nor beare. 

6 Then came in an egle gleaming gay, 

Of all ffaire birds well worth the best ; 
He took the branche of the rose away, 
And bore itt to Latham to his nest. 

7 But now is this rose out of England exiled, 

This certaine truth I will not laine ; 
But if itt please you to sitt a while, 

I 'le tell you how the rose came in againe. 

8 Att Milford Hauen he entered in ; 

To claime his right, was his delight ; 
He brought the blew bore in with him. 
To encounter with the bore soe white. 

9 The[n] a messenger the rose did send 

To the egles nest, and bidd him hye : 

' To my ffather, the old egle, I doe [me] corn- 
His aide and helpe I craue speedylye.' 

10 Sales, I desire my father att my cominge 

Of men and mony att my need, 
And alsoe my mother of her deer blessing ; 
The better then I hope to speede. 

11 And when the messenger came before thold 


He kneeled him downe vpon his knee ; 

Saith, Well greeteth you my lord the rose, 

He hath sent you greetings here by me. 

12 Safe ffrom the seas Christ hath him sent, 

Now he is entered England within : 
' Let vs thanke God,' the old egle did say, 
' He shall be the fflower of all his kine. 

13 ' Wend away, messenger, with might and 

maine ; 

Itt 's hard to know who a man may trust ; 
I hope the rose shall flourish againe, 
And haue all things att his owne lust.' 

14 Then Sir Rice ap Thomas drawes Wales with 

him ; 

A worthy sight itt was to see, 
How the Welchmen rose wholy with him, 
And shogged them to Shrewsburye. 

15 Att that time was baylye in Shrewsburye 

One blaster Mitton, in the towne ; 
The gates were strong, and lie mad them 

And the portcullis he lett downe. 

16 And throug a garrett of the walls, 

Ouer Severne these words said hee ; 
' Att these gates no man enter shall ; ' 
But he kept him out a night and a day. 



17 These words Mitton did Erie Richmond tell 

(I am sure the chronicles of this will not lye); 
But when lettres came from Sir William Stan 
ley of the Holt castle, 
Then the gates were opened presentlye. 

18 Then entred this towne the noble lord, 

The Erie Richmond, the rose soe redd ; 
The Erie of Oxford, with a sword, 
Wold haue smitt of the bailiffes head. 

19 ' But hold your hand,' saies Erie Richmond, 

' Ffor his loue that dyed vpon a tree ! 
Ffor if wee begin to head so soone, 

In England wee shall beare no degree.' 

20 ' What offence haue I made thee,' sayd Erie 


' 77iat thou kept me out of my towne ? ' 
' I know no king,' sayd Mitton then, 

' But Richard now, that weares the crowne.' 

21 ' Why, what wilt thow say,' said Erie Rich 


' When I haue put King Richard downe ? ' 
' Why, then' He be as true to you, my lore?, 
After the time that I am sworne.' 

22 ' Were itt not great pitty,' sayd Erie Rich 


' That such a man as this shold dye, 
Such loyall service by him done ? 
(The cronickles of this will not lye.) 

23 ' Thou shalt not be harmed in any case ; ' 

He pardone[d] him presentlye; 
They stayd not past a night and a day, 
But towards Newport did they hye. 

24 But [at] Attherston these lords did meete ; 

A worthy sight itt was to see, 
How Erie Richmond tooke his hatt in his hand, 
And said, Cheshire and Lancashire, welcome 
to me! 

25 But now is a bird of the egle taken ; 

Ff rom the white bore he cannot fflee ; 
Therfore the old egle makes great moane, 
And prayes to God most certainly. 

26 ' O stedfast God, verament,' he did say, 

' Thre persons in one god in Trinytye, 

Saue my sonne, the young egle, this day 

Ffrom all ffalse craft and trecherye ! ' 

27 Then the blew bore the vanward had ; 

He was both warry and wise of witt ; 
The right hand of them he tooke, 
The sunn and wind of them to gett. 

28 Then the egle ffollowed fast vpon his pray, 

With sore dints he did them smyte; 
The talbott he bitt wonderous sore, 
Soe well the vnicorne did him quite. 

29 And then came in the harts head ; 

A worthy sight itt was to see, 
The iacketts that were of white and redd, 
How they laid about them lustilye. 

30 But now is the ffeirce ffeeld foughten and 


And the white bore there lyeth slaine, 
And the young egle is preserued, 
And come to his nest againe. 

31 But now this garden flourishes ffreshly and 

g a y> 

With ffragrant fflowers comely of hew, 
And gardners itt doth maintaine ; 
I hope they will proue iust and true. 

32 Our Viing, he is the rose soe redd, 

That now does flourish ffresli and gay : 
Confound his ffoes, Lo;rZ, wee beseeche, 
And loue His Grace both night and day ! 

10 4 . Then better. 

12 1 . him is apparently altered from mim in 
the MS. : Furnivall. 

14*. shogged him. 17*. cane for came. 
26". 3. 29'. They. 





A. 'Sir Andrew Bartton,' Percy MS. p. 490; Hales 
and Furnivall, III, 399. 

B. 'The Life and Death of Sir Andrew Barton,' etc. 
a. Douce Ballads, I, 18 b. b. Pepys Ballads, I, 484, 
No 249. c. Wood Ballads, 401, 55. d. Rox- 

burghe Ballads, I, 2 ; reprinted by the Ballad So 
ciety, I, 10. e. Bagford Ballads, 643, m. 9. (61). 
f. Bagford Ballads, 643, m. 10 (77). g. Wood Bal 
lads, 402, 37. h. 'Sir Andrew Barton,' Glenrid- 
dell MSS, XI, 20. 

GIVEN in Old Ballads, 1723, I, 159; in 
Percy's Reliques, 1765, II, 177, a copy made 
up from the Folio MS. and B b, with edito 
rial emendations ; Ritson's Select Collection 
of English Songs, 1783, I, 313. B f is re 
printed by Halliwell, Early Naval Ballads, 
Percy Society, vol. ii, p. 4, 1841 ; by Moore, 
Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry, p. 
256, 1853. There is a Bow - Churchyard 
copy, of no value, in the Roxburghe collec 
tion, III, 726, 727, dated in the Museum cat 
alogue 1710. 

A collation of A and B will show how 
ballads were retrenched and marred in the 
process of preparing them for the vulgar 
press.* B a-g clearly lack two stanzas after 
11 (12, 13, of A). This omission is perhaps 
to be attributed to careless printing rather 
than to reckless cutting down, for the stanzas 
wanted are found in h. h is a transcript, 
apparently from recitation or dictation, of a 
Scottish broadside. It has but fifty-six stan 
zas, against the sixty-four of B a and the 

* B begins vilely, but does not go on so ill. The forty 
merchants coming ' with fifty sail ' to King Henry on a 
mountain top, 3 1 , 2 , requires to be taken indulgently. 

t ' God's curse on his hartt,' saidc William, 

' Thys day thy cote dyd on ; 

If it had ben no better then myne, 

It had gone nere thy bone.' 

(Vol. iii, 23, st. 27.) 

} An approach to sense maybe had by reading 'either in 
hach-bord or in hull,' that is, by striking with his beam 
either the side or the body of the vessel ; but I do not think 
so well of this change as to venture it. 

The letters granted to the Bartons authorized them to 

eighty-two of A, and is extremely corrupted. 
Besides the two stanzas not found in the 
English broadside, it has one more, after 50, 
which is perhaps borrowed from ' Adam Bell ' : 

' Foul fa the hands,' says Horsley then, 
' This day that did that coat put on ; 
For had it been as thin as mine, 

Thy last days had been at an end.' f 

A has a regrettable gap after 35, and is 
corrupted at 29 2 J, 47 2 . 

In the year 1476 a Portuguese squadron 
seized a richly loaded ship commanded by 
John Barton, in consequence of which letters 
of reprisal were granted to Andrew, Robert, 
and John Barton, sons of John, and these 
letters were renewed in 1506, " as no oppor 
tunity had occurred of effectuating a retalia 
tion ; " that is to say, as the Scots, up to the 
later date, had not been supplied with the 
proper vessels. The king of Portugal remon 
strated against reprisals for so old an of 
fence, but he had put himself in the wrong four 

seize all Portuguese ships till repaid 12,000 ducats of Por 
tugal. Pinkerton, whose excellent accouut, everywhere 
justified by documents, I have been indebted to above, re 
marks: "The justice of letters of reprisal after an interval 
of thirty years may be much doubted. At any rate, one 
prize was sufficient for the injury, and the continuance of 
their captures, and the repeated demands of our kings, 
even so late as 1540, cannot be vindicated. Nay, these re 
prisals on Portugal were found so lucrative that, in 1543, 
Arran, the regent, gave similar letters to John Barton, 
grandson of the first John. In 1563 Mary formally revoked 
the letters of marque to the Bartons, because they had been 
abused into piracy." Pinkerton's History of Scotland, II, 
60 f, 70. 



years before by refusing to deal with a herald 
sent by the Scottish king for the arrangement 
of the matter in dispute. It is probable that 
there was justice on the Scottish side, " yet 
there is some reason to believe that the Bar 
tons abused the royal favor, and the distance 
and impunity of the sea, to convert this re 
taliation into a kind of piracy against the 
Portuguese trade, at that time, by the discov 
eries and acquisitions in India, rendered the 
richest in the world." All three of the bro 
thers were men of note in the naval history 
of Scotland. Andrew is called Sir Andrew, 
perhaps, in imitation of Sir Andrew Wood ; 
but his brother attained to be called Sir 

We may now hear what the writers who 
are nearest to the time have to say of the 
subject-matter of our ballad. 

Hall's Chronicle, 1548. In June [1511], 
the king being at Leicester, tidings were 
brought to him that Andrew Barton, a Scot 
tish man and a pirate of the sea, saying that 
the king of Scots had war with the Portin- 
gales, did rob every nation, and so stopped 
the king's streams that no merchants almost 
could pass, and when he took the English 
men's goods, he said they were Portingales' 
goods, and thus he haunted and robbed at 
every haven's mouth. The king, moved 
greatly with this crafty pirate, sent Sir Ed 
mund Howard, Lord Admiral of England,! 
and Lord Thomas Howard, son and heir to 
the Ear] of Surrey, in all the haste to the 
sea, which hastily made ready two ships, and 
without any more abode took the sea, and by 
chance of weather were severed. The Lord 
Howard, lying in the Downs, perceived where 
Andrew was making toward Scotland, and so 
fast the said lord chased him that he over 
took him, and there was a sore battle. The 
Englishmen were fierce, and the Scots de 
fended them manfully, and ever Andrew blew 
his whistle to encourage his men, yet for all 

* Robert was skipper of the Great Michael, a ship two 
hundred and forty feet long, with sides ten feet thick, aiid 
said to be larger and stronger than any vessel in the navy 
of England or of France. 

t A mistake of Edmund for Edward and an anticipation. 
Sir Edward Howard was not made admiral till the next 

that, the Lord Howard and his men, by clean 
strength, entered the main deck ; then the 
Englishmen entered on all sides, and the 
Scots fought sore on the hatches, but in con 
clusion Andrew was taken, which was so sore 
wounded that he died there ; then all the rem 
nant of the Scots were taken, with their ship, 
called The Lion. All this while was the 
Lord Admiral in chase of the bark of Scot 
land called Jenny Pirwyn, which was wont 
to sail with The Lion in company, and so 
much did he with other that he laid him on 
board and fiercely assailed him, and the Scots, 
as hardy and well stomached men, them de 
fended ; but the Lord Admiral so encouraged 
his men that they entered the bark and slew 
many, and took all the other. Then were 
these two ships taken, and brought to Black- 
wall the second day of August, and all the 
Scots were sent to the Bishop's place of York, 
and there remained, at the king's charge, till 
other direction was taken for them. [They 
were released upon their owning that they 
deserved death for piracy, and appealing to 
the king's mercy, says Hall.] The king of 
Scots, hearing of the death of Andrew of Bar 
ton and taking of his two ships, was wonder 
ful wroth, and sent letters to the king requir 
ing restitution according to the league and 
amity. The king wrote with brotherly salu 
tations to the king of Scots of the robberies 
and evil doings of Andrew Barton, and that 
it became not one prince to lay a breach of a 
league to another prince in doing justice upon 
a pirate or thief, and that all the other Scots 
that were taken had deserved to die by jus 
tice if he had not extended his mercy. (Ed. 
of 1809, p. 525.) 

Buchanan, about twenty years later, writes 
to this effect. Andrew Breton J was a Scots 
trader whose father had been cruelly put to 
death by the Portuguese, after they had plun 
dered his ship. This outrage was committed 
within the dominion of Flanders, and the 

year. Edmund was his younger brother. Lesley has Ed 
mund again ; Stowe has Edward. 

} Britauus. " Breton, whom our chroniclers call Bar 
ton," says Lord Herbert of Chcrbury, Life of Henry VIII, 
1649, p. 15. 



Flemish admiralty, upon suit of the son, gave 
judgment against the Portuguese ; but the of 
fending parties would not pay the indemnity, 
nor would their king compel them, though 
the king of Scots sent a herald to make the 
demand. The Scot procured from his master 
a letter of marque, to warrant him against 
charges of piracy and freebooting while pros 
ecuting open war against the Portuguese for 
their violation of the law of nations, and in 
the course of a few months inflicted great 
loss on them. Portuguese envoys went to the 
English king and told him that this Andrew 
was a man of such courage and enterprise as 
would make him a dangerous enemy in the 
war then impending with the French, and 
that he could now be conveniently cut off, 
under cover of piracy, to the advantage of 
English subjects and the gratification of a 
friendly sovereign. Henry was easily per 
suaded, and dispatched his admiral, Thomas 
Howard,* with two of the strongest ships of 
the royal navy, to lie in wait at the Downs 
for Andrew, then on his way home from 
Flanders. They soon had sight of the Scot, 
in a small vessel, with a still smaller in com 
pany. Howard attacked Andrew's ship, but, 
though the superior in all respects, was barely 
able to take it after the master and most of 
his men had been killed. The Scots captain, 
though several times wounded and with one 
leg broken by a cannon-ball, seized a drum 
and beat a charge to inspirit his men to fight 
until breath and life failed. The smaller 
ship was surrendered with less resistance, and 
the survivors of both vessels, by begging their 
lives of the king (as they were instructed to 
do by the English), obtained a discharge with 
out punishment. The Scottish king made 
formal complaint of this breach of peace, but 
the answer was ready : the killing of pirates 
broke no leagues and furnished no decent 

* Another anticipation. Sir Thomas Howard became 
admiral only after his brother Edward's death, in 1513. 
The expedition of the Howards against Barton appears to 
have been a private one, though with the consent of the 

t The commissioners met, and "the wrongs done unto 
Scotland many ways, specially of the slaughter of Andrew 
Barton and taking of his ships, were conferred," but the 

ground for war. (Rer. Scot. Historia, 1582, 
fol. 149 b, 150.) 

Bishop Lesley, writing at about the same 
time as Buchanan, openly accuses the English 
of fraud. " In the month of June," he says, 
" Andrew Barton, being on the sea in warfare 
coutrar the Portingals, against whom he had 
a letter of mark, Sir Edmund Howard, Lord 
Admiral of England, and Lord Thomas How 
ard, son and heir to the Earl of Surrey, past 
forth at the king of England's command, with 
certain of his best ships ; and the said Andrew, 
being in his voyage sailing toward Scotland, 
having only but one ship and a bark, they set 
upon at the Downs, and at the first entry did 
make sign unto them that there was friendship 
standing betwix the two realms, and there 
fore thought them to be friends ; wherewith 
they, nothing moved, did cruelly invade, and 
he manfully and courageously defended, where 
there was many slain, and Andrew himself 
sore wounded, that he died shortly; and his 
ship, called The Lion, and the bark, called 
Jenny Pirrvyne, which, with the Scots men 
that was living, were had to London, and 
kept there as prisoners in the Bishop of Yorks 
house, and after was sent home in Scotland. 
When that the knowledge hereof came to the 
king, he sent incontinent a herald to the king 
of England, with letters requiring dress for 
the slaughter of Andrew Barton, with the 
ships to be rendered again ; otherwise it 
might be an occasion to break the league 
and peace contracted between them. To the 
which it was answered by the king of Eng 
land that the slaughter being a pirate, as he 
alleged, should be no break to the peace; yet 
not the less he should cause commissioners 
meet upon the borders, where they should 
treat upon that and all other enormities be 
twix the two realms."! (History of Scot 
land, Edinburgh, 1830, p. 82 f.) 

commissioners of England would not consent to make any 
redress or restitution till after a certain date when they ex 
pected to know the issue of their king's invasion of France. 
Hereupon a herald was sent to King Henry in France, with 
a letter from King James, rehearsing the great wrongs and 
unkindnesses done to himself and his lieges, and among 
these the slaughter of Andrew Barton by Henry's own com 
mand, though he had done no offence to him or his lieges ; 



The ballad displaces Sir Thomas and Sir 
Edward Howard, and puts in their place 
Lord Charles Howard, who was not born till 
twenty-five years after the fight. Lord 
Charles Howard, son of William, a younger 
half-brother of Thomas and Edward, was, in 
his time, like them, Lord High Admiral, and 
had the honor of commanding the fleet which 
served against the Armada. He was created 
Earl of Nottingham in 1596, and this circum 
stance, adopted into A 78,* puts this excellent 
ballad later than one would have said, unless, 
as is quite possible, the name of the English 
commander has been changed. There is but 
one ship in the ballad, as there is but a single 
captain, but Henry Hunt makes up for the 
other when we come to the engagement. The 
dates are much deranged in A. The mer 
chants make their complaint at midsummer, 
the summer solstice (in May, B 1), and here 
there is agreement with Hall and Lesley. 
The English ship sails the day before mid 
summer-even, A 17 ; the fight occurs not 
more than four days after (A 18, 33, 34 ; B 
16, 31) ; four days is a large allowance for 
returning, but the ship sails into Thames 
mouth on the day before New Year's even, 
A 71, 72, 74. f In B the English do not sail 
till winter, and although the interval from 
May is long for fitting out a ship, inconsist 
ency is avoided. According to Hall, the Eng 
lish ships brought in their prizes August 2d. 

A. King Henry Eighth, having been in 
formed by eighty London merchants that 
navigation is stopped by a Scot who would 
rob them were they twenty ships to his one, 

and no satisfaction being obtained, the herald, according to 
his instructions, " denounced war to the king of England," 
August, 1513. (Lesley, pp. 87-91.) 

B 63 3 , " Lord Howard shall Earl Bury bight." Admi 
ral Thomas Howard, for his good service at Flodden and 
elsewhere, was created Earl of Surrey in 1514. Bury is, 
one would suppose, a corruption of Surrey, and if so, Surrey 
may have been the reading of earlier copies, and perhaps 
Thomas again, instead of Charles. 

t By reading midwinter in A 17 3 this difficulty would be 

} These beams, Henry Hunt intimates in 32, would be 
dangerous to boarders, which is conceivable should they 
chance to hit the right heads ; but they are evidently meant 
to be dropped on the adversary's vessel, and this by a pro 
cess which is not distinctly described, and was, I fear, not 
VOL. iu. 43 

asks if there is never a lord who will fetch 
him that traitor, and Lord Charles Howard 
volunteers for the service, he to be the only 
man. The king offers him six hundred fight 
ing men, his choice of all the realm. How 
ard engages two noble marksmen, Peter Si 
mon to be the head of a hundred gunners, 
and William Horsley to be the head of a 
hundred bowmen, and sails, resolved to bring 
in Sir Andrew and his ship, or never again 
come near his prince. On the third day he 
falls in with a fine ship commanded by Henry 
Hunt, and asks whether they have heard of 
Barton. Henry Hunt had been Barton's pris 
oner the day before, and can give the best in 
telligence and advice. Barton is a terrible 
fellow ; his ship is brass within and steel 
without ; and although there is a deficiency at 
A 36, there is enough to show that it was not 
less magnificent than strong, 36 2 , 75 2 . He 
has a pinnace of thirty guns, and the voluble 
and not too coherent Hunt makes it a main 
point to sink this pinnace first. But above 
all, Barton carries beams in his topcastle, and 
with these, if he can drop them, his own ship 
is a match for twenty ; $ therefore, let no 
man go to his topcastle. Hunt borrows some 
guns from Lord Howard, trusting to be for 
given for breaking the oath upon which he 
had been released by his captor the day be 
fore, and sets a ' glass ' (lantern ?) to guide 
Howard's ship to Barton's, which they see 
the next day. Barton is lying at anchor, 45 3 , 
46 1 ; the English ship, feigning to be a mer 
chantman, passes him without striking top 
sails or topmast, ' stirring neither top nor 

perfectly grasped by the minstrel. The veriest landsman 
must think that a magazine of heavy timbers stowed in 
either castle (there is an upper and a lower in the pictures 
of Henry VII's Great Harry and of Henry VIII's Grace 
de Dieu, and the lower is well up the mast) would not be 
favorable to sailing ; but this is a minor difficulty. Stones 
and fire-balls were sometimes thrown from the topcastle, 
which, properly, should be a stage at the very tip of the 
mast, as we find it in old prints : see Nicolas's History of 
the Royal Navy, II, 170. Stones and iron bars thrown 
from the high decks of Spanish ships did much harm to 
the English in a fight in 1372 : Froissart, Buchon, V, 
276. An intelligible way of operating the ancient " dol 
phins," heavy masses of metal dropped from the end of a 
yard, is suggested in Graser, De veterum re navali, 1864, 
p. 82 f. 



mast.' Sir Andrew has been admiral on the 
sea for more than three years, and no Eng 
lishman or Portingal passes without his leave : 
he orders his pinnace to bring the pedlars 
back ; they shall hang at his main-mast tree. 
The pinnace fires on Lord Howard and brings 
down his foremast and fifteen of his men, 
but Simon sinks the pinnace with one dis 
charge, which, to be sure, includes nine yards 
of chain besides other great shot, less and 
more. Sir Andrew cuts his ropes to go for 
the pedlar himself. Lord Howard throws off 
disguise, sounds drums and trumpets, and 
spreads his ensign. Simon's son shoots and 
kills sixty; the perjured Henry Hunt comes 
in on the other side, brings down the fore 
mast, and kills eighty. One wonders that 
Barton's guns do not reply ; in fact he never 
fires a shot ; but then he has that wonder 
ful apparatus of the beams, which, whether 
mechanically perfect or not, is worked well 
by the poet, for not many better passages are 
met with in ballad poetry than that which 
tells of the three gallant attempts on the 
main-mast tree, 52-66. Sir Andrew had not 
taken the English archery into his reckoning. 
Gordon, the first man to mount, is struck 
through the brain ; so is James Hamilton, 
Barton's sister's son. Sir Andrew dons his 
armor of proof and goes up himself. Hors- 
ley hits him under his arm ; Barton will not 
loose his hold, but a second mortal wound 
forces him to come down. He calls on his 
men to fight on ; he will lie and bleed awhile, 
and then rise and fight again ; " fight on for 
Scotland and St Andrew, while you hear my 
whistle blow ! " Soon the whistle is mute, 
and they know that Barton is dead ; the Eng 
lish board ; Howard strikes off Sir Andrew's 
head, while the Scots stand by weeping, and 

throws the body over the side, with three 
hundred crowns about the middle to secure it 
a burial. So Jon Rimaardss0n binds three 
bags about his body when he jumps into the 
sea, saying, He shall not die poor that will 
bury my body : Danske Viser, II, 225, st. 30. 
Lord Howard sails back to England, and is 
royally welcomed. England before had but 
one ship of war, and Sir Andrew's made the 
second, says the ballad, but therein seems to 
be less than historically accurate : see South- 
ey's Lives of the British Admirals, 1833, II, 
171, note. Hunt, Horsley, and Simon are 
generously rewarded, and Howard is made 
Earl of Nottingham. When King Henry 
sees Barton's ghastly head, he exclaims that 
he would give a hundred pounds if the man 
were alive as he is dead: ambiguous words, 
which one would prefer not to interpret by 
the later version of the ballad, in which 
Henry is eager himself to give the doom, B 
58 ; nor need we, for in the concluding stanza 
the king, in recognition of the manful part 
that he hath played, both here and beyond the 
sea, says that each of Barton's men shall have 
half a crown a day to take them home. 

The variations of B, as to the story, are of 
slight importance. There is no pinnace in 
B. Horsley's shots are somewhat better ar 
ranged : Gordon is shot under the collar-bone, 
the nephew through the heart ; the first ar 
row rebounds from Barton's armor, the second 
smites him to the heart. ' Until you hear 
my whistle blow,' in 53 4 , is a misconception, 
coming from not understanding that till (as 
in A 66 4 ) may mean while. 

The copy in Percy's Reliques is translated 
by Von Marges, p. 88. 

Percy MS., p. 490; Hales and Furnivall, III, 399. 

1 As itt beffell in m[i]dsumer-time, 

When burds singe sweetlye on euery tree, 
Our noble king, King Henery the Eighth, 
Ouer the riuer of Thames past hee. 

2 Hee was no sponer ouer the riuer, 

Downe in a fforrest to take the ayre, 
But eighty merchants of London cittye 
Came kneeling before THing Henery there. 

3 ' yee are welcome, rich merchants, 

[Good saylers, welcome unto me ! '] 



They swore by the rood the were saylers good, 
But rich merchants they cold not bee. 

4 ' To Ffrance nor Fflanders dare we nott passe, 

Nor Burdeaux voyage wee dare not ft'are. 
And all ffor a ffalse robber thai lyes on the 

And robb[sj vs of our merchants- ware.' 

5 King Henery was stout, and he turned him 

And swore by the Lord tliat was mickle of 

'I thought he had not beene in the world 


Thai durst liaue wrought England such vn- 

6 But euer they sighed, and said, alas ! 

Vnto King Harry this answere againe : 
' He is a proud Scott that will robb vs all 
If wee were twenty shipps and hee but 

7 The king looket ouer his left shoulder, 

Amongst his lords and barrens soe ffree : 
' Haue I neuer \ord in all my realme 
Will ffeitch yond traitor vnto mee ? ' 

8 ' Yes, that dare I ! ' sayes my lord Chareles 


Neere to the king wheras hee did stand ; 
' If t hai Yowr Grace will giue me leaue, 
My selfe wilbe the only man.' 

9 ' Thou shalt haue six hundred men,' saith our 


' And chuse them out of my realme soe ffree ; 
Besids marriners and boyes, 

To guide the great shipp on the sea.' 

10 ' I 'le goe speake with Sir Andrew,' sais Charles, 

my lord Haward ; 
' Vpon the sea, if hee be there ; 
I will bring him and his shipp to shore, 
Or before my prince I will neuer come 

11 The ffirst of all my lord did call, 

A noble gunner hee was one ; 
This man was three score yeeres and ten, 
And Peeter Simon was his name. 

12 ' Peeter,' sais hee, ' I must sayle to the sea, 

To seeke out an enemye ; God be my speed ! ' 
Before all others I haue chosen thee ; 

Of a hundred guners thoust be my head.' 

13 ' My lord,' sais hee, ' if you haue chosen mee 

Of a hundred gunners to be the head, 
Hange me att yo?<r maine-mast tree 

If I misse my marke past three pence bread.' 

14 The next of all my lord he did call, 

A noble bowman hee was one ; 
In Yorekeshire was this gentleman borne, 
And William Horsley was his name. 

15 ' Horsley,' sayes hee, ' I must sayle to the 


To seeke out an enemye ; God be my speede ! 
Before all others I haue chosen thee ; 

Of a hundred bowemen thoust be my head.' 

16 ' My lord,' sais hee, ' if you haue chosen mee 

Of a hundred bowemen to be the head, 
Hang me att yowr mainemast-tree 

If I misse my marke past twelue pence 

17 With pikes, and gunnes, and bowemen bold, 

This noble Howard is gone to the sea 
On the day before midsummer-euen, 
And out att Thames mouth sayled they. 

18 They had not sayled dayes three 

Vpon their iourney they tooke in hand, 
But there they mett with a noble shipp, 
And stoutely made itt both stay and stand. 

19 ' Thou must tell me thy name,' sais Charles, 

my lord Haward, 
' Or who thou art, or ffrom whence thou 

Yea. and where thy dwelling is, 

To whom and where thy shipp does belong.' 

20 ' My name,' sayes hee, ' is Henery Hunt, 

With a pure hart and a penitent mind ; 
I and my shipp they doe belong 

Vnto the New-castle tJiai stands vpon Tine.' 

21 ' Now thou must tell me, Harry Hunt, 

As thou hast sayled by day and by night, 
Hast thou not heard of a stout robber ? 

Men calls him Sir Andrew Bartton, knight.' 



22 But euer he sighed, and sayd, Alas ! 

Ff ull well, my lord, I know thai wight ; 
He robd me of my merchants ware, 
And I was his prisoner but yesternight. 

23 As I was sayling vppon the sea, 

And [a] Burdeaux voyage as I did ffare, 
He clasped me to his archborde, 

And robd me of all my merchants-ware. 

24 And I am a man both poore and bare, 

And euery man will haue his owne of me, 
And I am bound towards London to ffare, 
To complaine to my prince Henerye. 

25 ' Thai shall not need,' sais my lord Haward ; 

' If thou canst lett me this robber see, 
Ffor euery peny he hath taken thee ft'roe, 
Thou shalt be rewarded a shilling,' qwoth 

26 ' Now God fforefend,' saies Henery Hunt, 

' My lord, you shold worke soe ffarr amisse ! 
God keepe you out of that traitors hands ! 
For you wott ffull litle what a man hee is. 

27 ' Hee is brasse within, and steele without, 

And beames hee beares in his topcastle 

stronge ; 

His shipp hath ordinance cleane round about ; 
Besids, my lord, hee is verry well mand. 

28 ' He hath a pinnace, is deerlye dight, 

Saint Andrews crosse, that is his guide ; 
His pinnace beares nine score men and more, 
Besids fifteen cannons on euery side. 

29 ' If you were twenty shippes, and he but one, 

Either in archbord or in hall, 
He wold ouercome you euerye one, 

And if his beames they doe downe ffall.' 

30 ' This is cold comfort,' sais my Lord Haward, 

' To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea ; 
I 'le bring him and his shipp to shore, 

Or else into Scottland hee shall carrye mee.' 

31 ' Then you must gett a noble gunner, my lord, 

That can sett well with his eye, 
And sinke his pinnace into the sea, 
And soone then ouercome will hee bee. 

32 ' And when that you haue done this, 

If you chance Sir Andrew for to bord, 

Lett no man to his topcastle goe ; 

And I will giue you a glasse, my lord, 

33 ' And then you need to ffeare no Scott, 

Whether you sayle by day or by night ; 
And to-morrow, by seuen of the clocke, 

You shall meete with Sir Andrew Bartton, 

34 ' I was his prisoner but yester night, 

And he hath taken mee sworne,' qitoth 


' I trust my L[ord] God will me ft'orgiue 
And if that oath then broken bee. 

35 'You must lend me sixe peeces, my lord,' 

qwoth hee, 

' Into my shipp, to sayle the sea, 
And to-morrow, by nine of the clocke, 
Yowr Honowr againe then will I see.' 

36 And the hache-bord where Sir Andrew lay 

Is hached with gold deerlye dight : 
' Now by my ffaith,' sais Charles, my lo)'<7 

' Then yonder Scott is a worthye wight ! 

37 ' Take in yowr ancyents and yo?- standards, 

Yea that no man shall them see, 
And put me fforth a white willow wand, 
As merchants vse to sayle the sea.' 

38 But they stirred neither top nor mast, 

But Sir Andrew they passed by : 
' Whatt English are yonder,' said Sir Andrew, 
' That can so litle curtesye ? 

39 ' I haue beene admirall ouer the sea 

More then these yeeres three ; 
There is neuer an English dog, nor Portingall, 
Can passe this way without leaue of mee. 

40 ' But now yonder pedlers, they are past, 

Which is no litle greffe to me : 
Ffeich them backe,' sayes Sir Andrew Bartton, 
' They shall all hang attmy maine-mast tree.' 

41 With that the pinnace itt shott of, 

That my Lord Haward might itt well ken ; 
Itt stroke downe my lords fforemast, 

And killed fourteen of my lord his men. 



42 ' Come hither, Simon ! ' sayes my lord Haward, 

' Looke that thy words be true thou sayd ; 
I 'le hang thee att my maine-mast tree 

If thou misse thy marke past twelue pence 

43 Simon was old, but bis hart itt was bold ; 

Hee tooke downe a peece, and layd itt ffull 

lowe ; 
He put in chaine yeards nine, 

Besids other great shott lesse and more. 

44 With that bee lett his gun-shott goe ; 

Soe well hee settled itt with his eye, 
The ffirst sight that Sir Andrew sawe, 
Hee see his pinnace sunke in the sea. 

45 When hee saw his pinace sunke, 

Lord ! in bis hart hee was not well : 
' Cutt my ropes ! itt is time to be gon ! 

I 'le goe ffeitch yond pedlers backe my self e ! ' 

46 When my lord Haward saw Sir Andrew loose, 

Lord ! in his hart that hee was ffaine : 
' Strike on yor drummes ! spread out yowr 

ancyents ! 

Sound out yor trumpetts ! sound out 
amaine ! ' 

47 ' Ffight on, my men ! ' sais Sir Andrew Bartton ; 

' Weate, howsoeuer this geere will sway, 
Itt is my lord Adm[ijrall of England 
Is come to seeke mee on the sea.' 

48 Simon had a sonne ; with shott of a gunn 

Well Sz'r Andrew might itt ken 
He shott itt in att a priuye place, 

And killed sixty more of Sir Andrews men. 

49 Harry Hunt came in att the other syde, 

And att Sir Andrew hee shott then ; 
He droue downe his fformast-tree, 

And killed eighty more of Sir Andriwes 

50 ' I haue done a good turne,' sayes Harry Hunt ; 

' Sir Andrew is not our kinys ffreind ; 
He hoped to haue vndone me yesternight, 
But I hope I haue quitt him well in the end.' 

51 ' Euer alas ! ' sayd Sir Andrew Barton, 

' What shold a man either thinke or say ? 
Yonder ffalse theeffe is my strongest enemye, 
Who was my prisoner but yesterday. 

52 ' Come hither to me, thou Gourden good, 

And be thon readye att my call, 
And I will giue thee three hundred pound 
If thou wilt lett my beames downe ffall.' 

53 With that hee swarued the maine-mast tree, 

Soe did he itt with might and maine ; 
Horseley, with a bearing arrow, 

Stroke the Gourden through the braine. 

54 And he ffell into the baches againe, 

And sore of this wound that he did bleed ; 
Then word went throug Sir Andrews men, 
That the Gourden hee was dead. 

55 ' Come hither to me, lames Hambliton, 

Thou art my sisters sonne, I haue no more ; 
I will giue [thee] six hundred pound 

If thou will lett my beames downe ffall.' 

56 With that hee swarued the maine-mast tree, 

Soe did hee itt with might and maine : 
Horseley, with another broad arrow, 
Strake the yeamau through the braine. 

57 That hee ffell downe to the baches againe ; 

Sore of his wound that hee did bleed ; 
Couetousness getts no gaine, 

Itt is verry true, as the Welchman sayd. 

58 But when hee saw his sisters sonne slaine, 

lard ] in his heart hee was not well : 
' Goe ffeitch me downe my armour of proue, 
Ffor I will to the topcastle my-selfe. 

59 ' Goe ffeitch me downe my armour of prooffe, 

For itt is guilded with gold soe cleere ; 
God be with my brother, lolin of Bartton ! 
Amongst the Portingalls hee did itt weare.' 

60 But when hee had his armour of prooffe, 

And on his body hee had itt on, 
Euery man that looked att him 

Sayd, Gunn nor arrow hee neede f eare none. 

61 ' Come hither, Horsley ! ' sayes my lord Ha 


' And looke yowr shaft that itt goe right ; 
Shoot a good shoote in the time of need, 

And ffor thy shooting thoust be made a 


62 ' I 'le doe my best,' sayes Horslay then, 

' Yowr Honor shall see beffore I goe ; 



If I shold be hanged att your mainemast, 
I haue iu my shipp but arrowes tow.' 

63 But att Sir Andrew hee shott then ; 

Hee made sure to hitt his marke ; 
Vnder the spole of his right arme 

Hee smote Sir Andrew quite throw the hart. 

64 Yett ffrom the tree hee wold not start, 

But hee clinged to itt with might and maine ; 
Vnder the coller then of his iacke, 

He stroke Sir Andrew thorrow the braine. 

65 ' Ffight on my men,' sayes Sir Andrew Bartton, 

' I am hurt, but I am not slaine ; 
I 'le lay mee downe and bleed a-while, 
And then I 'le rise and fright againe. 

66 ' Ffight on my men,' sayes Sir Andrew Bartton, 

' These English doggs they bite soe lowe ; 
Fright on ffor Scottland and Saint, Andrew 
Till you heare my whistle blowe ! ' 

67 But when the cold not heare his whistle blow, 

Sayes Harry Hunt, I 'le lay my head 
You may bord yonder noble shipp, my lord, 
For I know Sir Andrew hee is dead. 

68 With t/uit they borded this noble shipp, 

Soe did they itt with might and maine ; 
The ffound eighteen score Scotts aliue, 
Besids the rest were maimed and slaine. 

69 My lord Haward tooke a sword in his hand, 

And smote of Sir Andrews head ; 
The Scotts stood by did weepe and mourne, 
But neuer a word durst speake or say. 

70 He caused his body to be taken downe, 

And oner the hatch-bord cast into the sea, 
And about his middle three hundred crownes : 
' Whersoeuer thou lands, itt will bury thee.' 

71 With his head they sayled into England againe, 

With right good will, and fforce and main, 
And the day beffore Newyeeres euen 
Into Thames mouth they came againe. 

72 My lord Haward wrote to King Heneryes 


With all the newes hee cold him bring : 
' Such a Newyeeres gifft I haue brought to 

yo?r Gr[ace] 
As neuer did subiect to any king. 

73 ' Ffor merchandyes and manhood, 

The like is nott to be ffound ; 
The sight of these wold doe you good, 

Ffor you haue not the like in your English 

74 But when hee heard tell that they were come, 

Full royally hee welcomed them home ; 
Sir Andrews shipp was the kings Newyeeres 

A brauer shipp you neuer saw none. 

75 Now hath our king Sir Andrews shipp, 

Besett with pearles and precyous stones ; 
Now hath England two shipps of warr, 
Two shipps of warr, before but one. 

76 'Who holpe to this?' sayes King Henerye, 

' That I may reward him ffor his paine : ' 
' Harry Hunt, and Peeter Simon, 
William Horseleay, and I the same.' 

77 ' Harry Hunt shall haue his whistle and chaine, 

And all his iewells, whatsoeuer they bee, 
And other rich gifBts tluit I will not name, 
For his good service he hath done mee. 

78 ' Horslay, right thoust be a knight, 

Lands and liuings thou shalt haue store ; 
Howard shalbe erle of Nottingham, 
And soe was neuer Haward before. 

79 ' Now, Peeter Simon, thou art old ; 

I will maintaine thee and thy sonne ; 
Thou shalt haue fiue hundred pound all in gold 
Ffor the good service that thou hast done.' 

80 Then King Henerye shiffted his roome ; 

In came the Queene and ladyes bright ; 
Other arrands they had none 

But to see Sir Andrew Bartton, knight. 

81 But when they see his deadly fface, 

His eyes were hollow in his head ; 
' I wold giue a hundred pound,' sais King 

' The man were aliue as hee is dead ! 

82 'Yett ffor the manfull pcwt that hee hath 


Both heere and beyond the sea, 
His men shall haue halfe a crowne a day 
To bring them to my brother, King lamye.' 




a. Douce Ballads, I, 18 b. b. Pepys Ballads, I, 484, No 
249. O. Wood Ballads, 401, 55. d. Hoxburghe Ballads, 
I, 2. e. Bagford Ballads, 643, m. 9 (61). f. Bagford Bal 
lads, 643, m. 10 (77). g. Wood Ballads, 402, 37. h. Glen- 
riddell MSS, XI, 20. 

1 WHEN Flora, with her fragrant flowers, 

Bedeckt the earth so trim and gay, 

And Neptune, with his dainty showers, 

Came to present the month of May, 

2 King Henry would a progress ride ; 

Over the river of Thames past he, 
Unto a mountain-top also 

Did walk, some pleasure for to see. 

3 Where forty merchants he espy'd, 

With fifty sail, come towards him, 
Who then no sooner were arriv'd, 

But on their knees did thus complain. 

4 ' An 't please Your Grace, we cannot sail 

To France no voyage, to be sure, 
But Sir Andrew Barton makes us quail, 
And robs us of our merchantrware.' 

5 Vext was the king, and turned him, 

Said to the lords of high degree, 

Have I ner a lord within my realm 

Dare fetch that traytor unto me ? 

6 To him repli'd Lord Charles Howard : 

I will, my liege, with heart and hand ; 
If it please you grant me leave, he said, 
I will perform what you command. 

7 To him then spake King Henry : 

I fear, my lord, you are too young. 
' No whit at all, my liege,' quoth he ; 
' I hope to prove in valour strong. 

8 ' The Scottish knight I vow to seek, 

In what place soever he be, 
And bring a shore, with all his might, 
Or into Scotland he shall carry me.' 

9 ' A hundred men,' the king then said, 

' Out of my realm shall chosen be, 
Besides saylors and ship-boys 
To guide a great ship on the sea. 

10 ' Bow-men and gunners of good skill 
Shall for this service chosen be, 

And they at thy command and will 
In' all affairs shall wait on thee.' 

11 Lord Howard calld a gunner then 

Who was the best in all the realm ; 
His age was threescore years and ten, 
And Peter Simon was his name. 

12 My lord calld then a bow-man rare, 

Whose active hands had gained fame, 
A gentleman born in Yorkshire, 
And William Horsly was his name. 

13 ' Horsly,' quoth he, ' I must to sea, 

To seek a traytor, with great speed ; 

Of a hundred bow-men brave,' quoth he, 

' I have chosen thee to be the head.' 

14 ' If you, my lord, have chosen me 

Of a hundred men to be the head, 
Upon the main-mast I 'le hanged be, 

If twelve-score I miss one shillings breadth/ 

15 Lord Howard then, of courage bold, 

Went to the sea with pleasant chear, 
Not curbd with winters piercing cold, 

Though it was the stormy time of the year. 

16 Not long he had been on the sea, 

No more in days then number three, 
Till one Henry Hunt he there espied, 
A merchant of Newcastle was he. 

17 To him Lord Howard cald out amain, 

And strictly charged him to stand ; 
Demanding then from whence he came, 
Or where he did intend to land. 

18 The merchant then made him answer soon, 

With heavy heart and careful mind, 
' My lord, my ship it doth belong 
Unto Newcastle upon Tine.' 

19 ' Canst thou shew me,' the lord did say, 

' As thou didst sail by day and night, 
A Scottish rover on the sea, 

His name is Andrew Barton, knight ? ' 

20 Then to him the merchant sighd and said, 

With grieved mind and well a way, 
' But over well I know that wight, 
I was his prisoner but yesterday. 



21 ' As I, my lord, did pass from France, 

A Burdeaux voyage to take so far, ' 
I met with Sir Andrew Barton thence, 
Who robd me of my merchantrware. 

22 ' And mickle debts, God knows, I owe, 

And every man did crave his own ; 
And I am bound to London now, 
Of our gracious king to beg a boon.' 

23 ' Shew me him,' said [Lord] Howard then, 

' Let me but once the villain see, 
And one penny he hath from the tane, 
I 'le double the same with shillings three.' 

24 ' Now, God forbid,' the merchant said ; 

' I fear your aim that you will miss ; 
God bless you from his tyranny, 
For little you know what man he is. 

25 ' tie is brass within and steel without, 

His ship most huge and mighty strong, 
With eighteen pieces strong and stout, 
He carrieth on each side along. 

26 ' With beams for his top-castle, 

As also being huge and high, 
That neither English nor Portugal 
Can pass Sir Andrew Barton by.' 

27 ' Hard news thou shewst,' then said the lord, 

' To welcome strangers to the sea ; 
But, as I said, I 'le bring him aboard, 
Or into Scotland he shall carry me.' 

28 The merchant said, If you will do so, 

Take counsel, then, I pray withal : 
Let no man to his top-castle go, 

Nor strive to let his beam[s] down fall. 

29 ' Lend me seven pieces of ordnance then, 

Of each side of my ship,' quoth he, 
' And to-morrow, my lord, twixt six and seven, 
Again I will Your Honour see. 

30 ' A glass I 'le set that may be seen 

Whether you sail by day or night ; 
And to-morrow, be sure, before seven, 

You shall see Sir Andrew Barton, knight.' 

31 The merchant set my lord a glass, 

So well apparent in his sight 
That on the morrow, as his promise was, 
He saw Sir Andrew Barton, knight. 

32 The lord then swore a mighty oath, 

' Now by the heavens that be of might, 
By faith, believe me, and by troth, 
I think he is a worthy knight. 

33 ' Fetch me my lyon out of hand,' 

Saith the lord, ' with rose and streamer high ; 
Set up withal a willow-wand, 
That merchant-like I [may] pass by." 

34 Thus bravely did Lord Howard pass, 

And did on anchor rise so high ; 
No top-sail at all he cast, 

But as his foe he did him defie. 

35 Sir Andrew Barton seeing him 

Thus scornfully to pass by, 
As though he cared not a pin 
For him and all his company, 

36 Then called he his men amain, 

' Fetch back yon pedler now,' quoth he, 
' And against this way he comes again 
I 'le teach him well his courtesie.' 

37 A piece of ordnance soon was shot 

By this proud pirate fiercely then 
Into Lord Howards middle deck, 

Which cruel shot killd fourteen men. 

38 He calld then Peter Simon, he : 

' Look now thy word do stand in stead, 
For thou shalt be hanged on main-mast 

If thou miss twelve score one penny breadth.' 

39 Then Peter Simon gave a shot 

Which did Sir Andrew mickle scare, 
In at his deck it came so hot, 
Killd fifteen of his men of war. 

40 ' Alas ! ' then said the pyrate stout, 

' I am in danger now, I see ; 

This is some lord, I greatly doubt, 

That is set on to conquer me.' 

41 Then Henry Hunt, with rigor hot, 

Came bravely on the other side, 
Who likewise shot in at his deck, 
And kild fifty of his men beside. 

42 Then ' Out, alas ! ' Sir Andrew cri'd, 

' What may a man now think or say ! 
Yon merchant thief that pierceth me, 
He was my prisoner yesterday.' 



43 Then did he on Gordion call, 

Unto top-castle for to go, 
And bid his beams he should let fall, 
' For I greatly fear an overthrow.' 

44 The lord cald Horsly now in hast : 

' Look that thy word stand now in stead, 
For thou shalt be hanged on main-mast 

If thou miss twelve score one shilling: 

45 Then up [the] mast-tree swarved he, 

This stout and mighty Gordion ; 
But Horsly, he most happily 
Shot him under the collar-bone. 

46 Then calld he on his nephew then, 

Said, Sisters sons I have no mo ; 
Three hundred pound I will give thee, 
If thou wilt to top-castle go. 

47 Then stoutly he began to climb, 

From off the mast scornd to depart ; 
But Horsly soon prevented him, 

And deadly piercd him to the heart. 

48 His men being slain, then up amain 

Did this proud pyrate climb with speed, 
For armour of proof he had put on, 
And did not dint of arrow dread. 

49 ' Come hither, Horsly,' said the lord, 

' See thine arrow aim aright ; 
Great means to thee I will afford, 

And if you speed, I 'le make you a knight.' 

50 Sir Andrew did climb up the tree, 

With right good will and all his main ; 
Then upon the breast hit Horsly he, 
Till the arrow did return again. 

51 Then Horsly spied a private place, 

With a perfect eye, in a secret part ; 
His arrow swiftly flew apace, 

And smote Sir Andrew to the heart. 

52 ' Fight on, fight on, my merry men all, 

A little I am hurt, yet not slain ; 
I 'le but lie down and bleed a while, 
And come and fight with you again. 

53 ' And do not,' he said, * fear English rogues, 

And of your foes stand not in awe, 
VOL. ni. 44 

But stand fast by St Andrews cross, 
Until you hear my whistle blow.' 

54 They never heard his whistle blow, 

Which made them [all] sore afraid : 
Then Horsly said, My lord, aboard, 
For now Sir Andrew Barton 's dead. 

55 Thus boarded they this gallant ship, 

With right good will and all their main, 
Eighteen score Scots alive in it, 
Besides as many more were slain. 

56 The lord went where Sir Andrew lay, 

And quickly thence cut off his head : 

' I should forsake England many a day, 

If thou wert alive as thou art dead.' 

57 Thus from the wars Lord Howard came, 

With mickle joy and triumphing ; 
The pyrates head he brought along 
For to present unto our king : 

58 Who briefly then to him did say, 

Before he knew well what was done, 

' Where is the knight and pyrate gay ? 

That I my self may give the doom.' 

59 'You may thank God,' then said the lord, 

' And four men in the ship,' quoth he, 
' That we are safely come ashore, 
Sith you had never such an enemy : 

60 ' That is Henry Hunt, and Peter Simon, 

William Horsly, and Peters son ; 

Therefore reward them for their pains, 

For they did service at their turn." 

61 To the merchant then the king did say, 

' In lue of what he hath from the tane, 
I give to the a noble a day, 

Sir Andrews whistle and his chain : 

62 ' To Peter Simon a crown a day, 

And half-a-crown a day to Peters son, 
And that was for a shot so gay, 

Which bravely brought Sir Andrew down. 

63 ' Horsly, I will make thee a knight, 

And in Yorkshire thou shalt dwell : 
Lord Howard shall Earl Bury hight, 
For this title he deserveth well. 



64 ' Seven shillings to our English men, 
Who in this fight did stoutly stand, 

And twelve pence a-day to the Scots, till they 
Come to my brother kings high land.' 

All the copies in stanzas of eight lines. 
A. I 3 . 8 th . 2 3 . 80. 

3 2 . MS. pa/red away. From the Reliques. 
Percy's marginal reading is For sailors 
good are welcome to me. The tops of letters 
left do not suit either of Percy's lines, says 

3 3 . swore : MS. pared away. Percy's read 

6 4 . 20. 9 1 . 600. 11 s . 60 : B, three score. 
12 4 , 13 2 , 15 4 , 16". 100?, 100. 13 4 , 18 1 . 3. 
16 2 . they for the. 16 4 , 42*. 12* . 
15 1 . sayes, a letter blotted out before a : Fur 
20 2 . poor ivould read better than pure (cf. B, 

18 2 , heavy heart), but is not satisfactory. 
23". archborde/orhachborde?: cf. 36 1 , 70 2 . 
27 2 , 29*, 52 4 , 55 4 . beanes, or beaues. 28 s . 9. 
28 4 . 15. 29 1 . 20. 
29 2 . charke-bord : should perhaps be hach- 


33 1 . fferae. 33 s . 7. 35", 43 s . 9. 
36 is perhaps out of place. 36 1 . lies for lay ? 
37. Part II. 41 1 . they for the. 
41*. strokes. 44 4 . sumke. 
47 2 . Weate / cannot emend. 48 4 . 60. 
49 8 . fformost. 49 4 . 80 : Andirwes. 52 s . 300'; . 
53 1 , 56 1 . perhaps swarned : Furnivatt. 
55 s . 600". 
57 8 ' 4 . three follows four : transposed for 


64 4 . they for the. 
65*. Only half the n of againe in the MS. : 


68 s . 18. 70". 300. 71*. meanye /or main. 
71*. againe they came. 75 3 ' 4 . 2. 
76 s . paime. 79 s . oOO'J. 81 s . 100 1 !. 
B. a. The Relation of the life and death of Sir 

Andrew Barton, a Pyrate and Rover on the 


The tune is, Come follow my love. 
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright 

13 1 . ly in Horsly is worn or torn aivay, and 

so is to in the next line. 
20 s . But ever. 
24 1 . the Lord he : c, g, my Lord he : the 

others, the merchant. 

26 4 . Can S. A. B. pass by. So all but h. 
28 4 . beam. 33, 34 follow 36. 
38 2 . to for do. 45 2 . Thus. 
47 s . Cut off: supplied from b, c. 
53 8 . Sir Andrews, and so b, c, d. 
54 2 . all supplied from c. 
63". bright for hight. 

64 3 . ey of they cut off, and land in the follow 
ing line. 

b. A True Relation, etc. Tune is, etc. 
Printed for J. Wright, J. Clarke, W. Thack 
eray, and T. Passinger [1670-52 ?]. 

From a transcript made for Bisho/i Percy, 
ivlio has in a, few places made corrections 
which are not always easily distinguished 
from those of the copyist. 
5 2 . to his. 10 1 . great changed to good. 

13 2 . To seek : good speed. 

14 4 . Of : I wanting. 15 4 . was stormy. 

16 3 . But one : there he 'spy'd. 

17 4 . did inserted by Percy, but perhaps in the 

18 1 . him wanting. 20 s . over well. 

20 4 . but wanting. 21 1 . did sail. 

22 1 . deps. 23 1 . [Lord] wanting. 

24 l . the merchant. 25 8 . pieces of ordnance. 

28 4 . beams. 29 3 . twix. 33, 34 follow 36. 

33 4 . [may] wanting. 36 1 . is men. 

36 3 . And again. 38 2 . to for do. 

38 4 , 44 4 . breath. 44 4 . a shilling. 

47 3 . But Horsly soon prevented him. 

49 4 . if thou. 53 1 . said he. 

f>3 8 . Sir : corrected by Percy to St. 54 1 . hear. 

54 2 . [all] ivanting. 57 4 . unto the. 

59 4 . never wanting. 61 2 . lieu. 63'"'. shall. 

63 3 . hight. 64 8 . they. 64 4 . land. 

c. A true Relation, etc. The tune is, etc. 
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gil- 

bertson. [1648-50. Coles, Vere, Wright, 
and Gilbertson are found together as early 
as 1655.] 

4 1 . An 't like. 5*. lord in all. 
8 2 . In place wheresoever. 8 3 . on shore. 
II 8 . year. 13 2 . To see. 14 s . the wanting. 
18 1 . him wanting. 20 8 . ever : knew. 
21 s . with ivanting. 21 4 . wares. 
23 2 . that villain. 24 1 . my Lord he. 
24 4 . you little know. 26 1 . for her. 



31". to his. 33, SifoUow 36. 
33". streamers. 34 2 . ride for rise. 
35 s . Although. 36 1 . he on. 36*. come. 
38 2 . do stand. 39 2 . care for scare. 
39*. fifty. 41 s . shot it. 41 4 . five for fifty. 
42*. but yesterday. 44 4 . shilling bred. 
45 1 . then swarded he. 46 2 . son : no more. 
47 s . As in b. 49 2 . that thine. 
49*. a wanting. 53 3 . Sir Andrews. 
54 2 . them all sore. 57*. he wanting. 
59*. are come safely to the shore. 
62 2 . half crown. 63 2 . there shalt thou. 
63 s . hight. 63*. he hath deserved. 
64 2 . to this. 

d, e, f. Title as in b. Tune, Come follow my 
love, etc. 

d. Printed by and for "W. 0[nley], and sold by 

the Booksellers of Pye-corner and London- 
Bridge. [1650-1702.] 

e. Printed by and for W. O., and sold by C. 

Bates at the Sun and Bible in Pye-corner. 

f. Printed by and for W. O., and sold by the 


d and e are dated in the Museum Catalogue 
1670; f. 1672. 

2 1 . a hunting. 5 l . turning. 5 2 . d, e. to his. 

6 1 . Charles Lord Howard. 

7 1 . d, e. speak, f. spoke. 8 1 . Scotch. 
13 2 . with good. 15 4 . the wanting. 
16 1 . f. the wanting. 16 2 . f. no wanting. 
16*. But one : there he. 18 J . him wanting. 
20 1 . to him wanting. 20 3 . over well. 
20 4 . but wanting. 21 1 . did sail. 
22 2 . doth : but And means if. 
23 1 . Lord Howard'. 23 e . but wanting. 
23*. And e'ry. 24 1 . the merchant. 
24 4 . you think. 25*. pieces of ordnance. 
27 2 . stranger. 28 4 . beams. 
29*. twixt six and seven wanting. 
30 1 . d, e. set as. f. I set as. 
33, 34:follmo36. 33*. I may. 
34 2 . did wanting. 34*. at last. 
34 4 . as a foe did. 36 3 . And ere. 37 2 . e. By his. 
38 2 . how thy word do. 38'. shall. 
38*. f. breath. 40 s . greatly fear. 
43 2 . Unto the. 43 4 . For he : feard. 
44 2 . d, e. now stand, f. now wanting. 
44 4 . d, e. a shilling, f. shilling's breath. 
45 1 . swerved. 45 4 . f. under his. 
47'. As in b, C. 48 4 . arrows. 
49". See thou thy arrows. 
49*. if thou speedst : make the[e] knight 
52 4 . f. with wanting. 53 1 . he said. 

53 2 . e. inwe. 53*. Sir Andrews. 

54 2 . all full sore. 56 4 . were. 

58 1 . unto for then to. 59 4 . never had. 

61 l . f. merchant therefore the king he said. 

63*. hight 63 4 . e. this girle. f. this act. 

64 1 . f. Ninety pound. 

g. A true Relation, etc. To the tune of Come 
follow me, love. 

London, Printed for E. W. 

This copy has been considerably corrected, 
and only a part of the variations is given. 
2 2 . of wanting. 2*. mountaines. 
3 s . with swiftest. 4 1 . An 't like. 5 s . to his. 
5 s . in all my. II 4 . One for And. 

14 4 . shilling. 

16 2 . No more then dayes in number three. 

18 1 . him wanting. 20 1 . said and sighd. 

20 2 . a g. m. and a w. 20*. over. 

20 4 . For I. 21*. with wanting. 

23 1 . Lord Howard. 23 2 . that for the. 

23 s . for one. 24 l . my Lord, quoth he. 

26 1 . beams from her. 28 4 . beanies. 

32 4 . weight (that is, wight) for knight. 

33 2 . streamers. 33 4 . I may. 34 2 . ride. 

34 4 . he wanting. 35, 36 ivanting. 

38 2 . do stand. 38 4 . bred. 39 4 . fifty. 

41 4 . five. 42 4 . but yesterday. 

43 1 . on one Gordion. 45 1 . then swarmed. 

48 2 . this stout. 49 2 . See that thy arrow. 

49 4 . if thou : thee knight 

53 2 . stand in no awe. 53*. S. Andrew's. 

54 2 . them all full sore. 55 4 . moe. 

56 s . I would forsweare. 57 4 . the king. 

59 s . in this ship with me. 59*. to shore. 

59 4 . never had. 60 s . paine. 

63 2 . there shalt thou. 

63 4 . his title he hath deserved. 64 2 . to this. 

64 4 . king his land. 

Old Ballads, 1723, and Roxburghe, III, 726, 
have Iris for the Neptune of B, in 1* ; 
Charles Lord Howard in 6 1 ; Ninety pounds 
in 64 1 . 

h. This being a Scottish copy, and the varia 
tions also numerous, it seems advisable to 
give the whole text rather than only the di 
vergent readings. The transcript may be 
inferred, from passages plioneticatty mis- 
rendered, to have been made from recitation 
or reading, more probably from recitation, 
since many of the differences from the 
printed copies are of the sort which are 
made by reciters ; that is, immaterial ex 
pressions are imperfectly remembered ; and 



again, 16" is adopted from popular ballad 
phraseology, and, as already observed, the 
stanza following 50 is borrowed from ' Adam 
Bell.' Cases of writing sound for sense are 
4 s , makes us squalls for makes us quail ; 
7 s , I quitted all for No whit at all ; 48 2 , The 
spirit for This pirate; 61 s , A nobler day for 
A noble a day. Verses of 25, 26 have been 
interchanged. 8, 9 s - 4 , 10 1 ' 2 , 21, 28, 29, 30, 

32, 36, 44, 49, 52 2 - 8 - 4 , 53 1 are wanting. 

33, 34 are in the right order. It is a lit 
tle surprising that a Scottish copy should 
have Sir Andrew Cross for St Andrew's 
cross, 53 s . a-d have Sir Andrews Cross. 

1 WHEN Febus, with her fragrant flours, 

bedect the earth so trim and gay, 
And Neptan, with his denty shours, 
came to present the month o May, 

2 King Hendry would a hunting ride, 

and over the river Thames past he, 
Unto a mountain-top also 

he walkd, some pleasures to espy. 

3 There fortie merchants he espy'd, 

with fiftie sail, come towards him ; 
No sooner there they were arrived 
but on their knees they did complain. 

4 ' My lodge,' said they, ' we cannot sail 

to France nor Spain, for to be sure ; 
Sir Andrew Barton makes us squails, 
and berubs (?) us of our merchant-wair.' 

5 The king was grievd and turnd him, 

said to his lords of high degree, 
Is there not a lord in my realm 
can fetch yon traitor unto me ? 

6 Then out bespoke Lord Charles Howard, 

and says, My ludge, with heart and 


If that you '1 give me leave, said he, 
I will perform what you command. 

7 But out bespoke King Hendrie : 

' I fear, my lord, you are too young ; ' 
' I quitted all, my lodge,' said he, 

' for I think to prove one valient 

9 1 ' 2 ' A hundred men out of my realm 
shall for this service chosen be, 

10 8 

1 And they, at thy command and will, 
in all affairs, shall wait on thee.' 

11 The king calld on a gunner then, 

whose age was 'bove three score and ten ; 
He was the best in that realm, 

and Fetter Simon height his name. 

[A 12] ' Now Peter,' said he, ' wee'r bound to sea, 

to fetch a traitor with good speed, 
And over a hundred gunners good 
I 've chosen thee to be the head.' 

[A 13] ' My lodge,' says he, ' if he have chosen me 

oer a hundred men to be the head, 
Upon mine mast I hangd shall be, 

if I mess twelve score on a shilling 

12 My lord calld on a bow-man then, 

whose hands and acts had gained fame ; 
He was the best in that realm, 

and William Horsley height his name. 

13 ' Now Horsley,' says he, ' wee'r bound to 


to fetch a traitor wi good speed, 
And over a hundred archers good 
I 've chosen thee to be the head.' 

14 ' My lord,' sais he, ' if ye hae chosen me 

oer a hundred men to be the head, 
Upon my mast I hangd shall be, 

if I mess twelve score a shilling 

15 Lord Howard he 's gone to the wars, 

wi muckle mirth and merrie cheer ; 
He was not curbd with winters cold, 
tho it was the stormy time a year. 

16 He had not been upon the seas, 

no not a day but only three, 

Till he espy'd Sir Hendry Hunt, 

a merchant of Newcastle he. 

17 A peice of ordinance was shot, 

which straitly charged him to stand ; 
Demanding of him from whence he came, 
and where he was intend to land. 

18 The merchant he made answer then, 

with a heavy heart and carefull mind, 



' If it please Your Grace, my ship belongs 
unto Newcastle upon Tine.' 

19 ' Canst thou but show me,' said the lord, 

' as those did sail by day or night, 
A Scotish rubber on the seas, 

whose name 's Sir Andrew Burton, 
knight ? ' 

20 The merchant sighd, and said, Alas ! 

full over well I do him know ; 
Good keep you frae his, tiranie ! 
for I was his prisoner yesterday. 

22 And muckle debt, God knows, I owe, 

if every man would crave his oun ; 
But I am bound for London nou, 
of our gracious king to beg a bon. 

23 ' Wilt you go with me,' said the lord, 

' and once that villain let me see, 
For every pennie he 's from thee taen 
I double the same wi shillings three.' 

24 But the merchant sighd, and said, Alas ! 

I fear, my lord, your aims you miss ; 
Good keep you frae his tiranie ! 

for little you ken what a man he is. 

25 1 For he 's brass within and steel without, 
26 2 and his great ship 's mighty hugie high, 

So that neither English nor Portugees 
can pass Sir Andrew Burton by. 

26 l And he has beams for his top-castle 

25 2 which is both mighty huge and strong ; 
He has eighteen peice of ordinance 

he carries on each side along. 

27 ' Bad news thou tells,' then said the lord, 

' to welcome strangers to the sea ; 
But as I have said, I '11 bring him abord, 
or into Scotland he 's carry me.' 

31 So the merchant set my lord a glass, 

that well appeared in his eye, 
And the morning, as his promise was, 
he did Sir Andrew Burton see. 

33 ' Fetch me my lyon out of hand, 

set up our rose on streamers high ; 
Set up likewise a willie wand, 

that merchant like we may pass by.' 

34 Thus bravely did Lord Howard pass, 

upon an anchor rose so high ; 
No topsail at last he did upcast, 
but like a foe did him defie. 

35 Sir Andrew Barton, seeing him 

thus scornfull-like for to pass by, 
As tho he cared not a pin 
for him and all his company, 

37 Sir Andrew Barton gave a shott 

which did Lord Howard muckle dear ; 
For it came so hotly in at his deck 
killd fifteen of his men a ware. 

38 My lord calld on o' Petter Seymore, 

says, See thy words does stand in steed ; 
For upon main-mast thou hangd shall be, 
if thou miss twelve score a shilling 

39 Then Petter Symore gave a shot 

which did Sir Andrew muckle scarr ; 
It came so hotly in his deck 
killd fifty of his men a ware. 

40 Then ' Out, alas ! ' Sir Andrew cryes, 

' and aye alas, and woe 's me ! 

This is some lord, I greatly fear, 

that is set out to conquer me.' 

41 Then Hendry Hunt, with rigor hot, 

came bravely on the other side ; 
He shot so hotly in at his deck 
killd fiftie of his men beside. 

42 Then ' Out, alas ! ' Sir Andrew cryes, 

' what can a man now do or say ? 
This merchant thief it percies me, 
he was my prisoner yesterday.' 

43 Sir Andrew calld on Gordon then, 

and bad him to top-castle go 
And strive to let his beems doun fall, 
for he greatly feard an overthrow. 

45 Then up mass'-tree then climed he, 

that stout and mighty Gordon ; 

But Horsley soon prevented him, 

and shot him in at collar-bone. 

46 Sir Andrew calld his nephew then ; 

says, Sisters son I hi ne mae ; 



A hundred pounds I '11 to thee give 
if thou '1 up to top-castle gae. 

47 Then up mast-tree then climed he, 

from of the deck for to depart ; 
But Horsley soon prevented him, 
and deadly peirced him to the heart. 

48 His men being slain, then up amain 

the spirit proud did climb wi speed ; 
Armour of proof he did put on, 

and of arrows dint he had ne dread. 

50 Then up mast-tree then climbed he, 

the spirit proud did climb amain ; 
But Horsley hat him upon the breast, 
till his arrow did return again. 

' Foul fa the hands,' says Horsley then, 
' this day that did that coat put on ! 

For had it been as thin as mine, 
thy last days had been at an end.' 

51 But Horsley spy'd a private part, 

with a canie hand and secret art, 
And his arrows swiftly flew amain, 
and pierced Sir Andrew to the heart. 

52 1 ' Fight on, fight on, my mirrie men all, 

53 2 and of English rogues stand ye ne aw ; 

But stand fast by Sir Andrew cross 

till that ye hear my whistle bla.' 

54 But they never heard his whistle bla, 

which made them mightyly to dread ; 
Say Horsley, My lord, we '11 go abord, 
for now I know Sir Andrew 's dead. 

55 Then boarded they this great ship then, 

with muckle might and a' their main, 
And in her was eighteen score o Scots 

besides there mony mag were slain. 

56 My lord went where Sir Andrew lay, 

and hastely cut of his head : 
' I 'd forsake England this mony a day, 
if thou were alive as thou art dead.' 

57 So Lord Howard he 's come from the wars, 

with muckle mirth and triumphing, 
And the pirot's head he brought along, 
for to present unto their king. 

58 But out bespoke King Hendry, 

before he knew well what was done : 
' Bring here to me that villain strong, 
that I mysell may give the doom.' 

59 ' Ye may be thankfu,' said the lord, 

' at what is done, my ludge,' said he, 
' That we 'r returned alive again ; 
for ye 'd never such an enemy. 

60 ' There 's Hendry Hunt, and Fetter Sy- 


and William Horsley, and Fetter's son ; 
Therefore reward them for their pain, 
for they did service at their turn.' 

61 The king he said to Hendry Hunt, 

' For every pennie he 's from the tane, 
A nobler day I '1 to thee give, 

and Sir Andrew's whistle and his chain. 

62 ' A croun a day to Fetter Symore, 

and half a croun to Fetter's son ; 
And that was for the shots they gave, 
which bravely brought Sir Andrew 

63 ' Horsley, I '1 make of thee a knight, 

and in Yorkshire thou shall dwell ; 

Lord Howard shall Earl Bewry height, 

for the tittle he deserves full well. 

64 ' Seven rosenobles to our English men, 

which in the feight did stoutly stand, 
And twelve pence a day unto the Scots, 
till they come to my brother king's 

38 1 . on 0'. o' may mean old. 
62 follows 63. 





From Deloney's Pleasant History of John Winchcomb, 
in his younger yeares called Jacke of Newberie, etc., 

London, 1633; reprinted by J. O. Halliwell, London, 
1859, p. 48. 

PRINTED in Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, 
p. 115 ; Evans's Old Ballads, 1810, III, 55. 

A booke called Jack of Newbery was en 
tered to Thomas Millington, March 7, 1597 : 
Arber, Stationers' Registers, III, 81. The 
edition of 1633, the earliest which Mr Halli- 
well-Phillipps had met with, was the ninth, 
published by Cuthbert Wright. The author 
has introduced several pieces of verse into his 
tale, two of them popular ballads, ' The Fair 
Flower of Northumberland ' and this of Flod- 
den, of which Deloney says, " in disgrace of 
the Scots, and in remembrance of the famous 
atchieved historie, the commons of England 
made this song, which to this day is not for 
gotten of many:" p. 47. 

King James has made a vow to be in Lon 
don on St James's day. Queen Margaret 
begs him to keep faith with her brother 
Henry, and reminds him that England is 
hard to win ; for which James says she shall 
die. Lord Thomas Howard, the queen's 
chamberlain, comes to the defence of his mis 
tress, but the king in his rage declares that he 
shall be hanged and she burned as soon as 
he comes back. But James never came back ; 
he was slain at Bramstone Green with twelve 
thousand of his men. 

1, 2. St James's day is selected, as being 
the king's. King James's letter to King 
Henry is dated the 2Gth of July, the day fol 
lowing St James's day, and the Scottish herald 
delivered it in France, and announced war to 
the king of England, in consequence of the 
unsatisfactory answer, on the 12th of August, 
or shortly before. 

3-5. Queen Margaret's remonstrance is 
historical. James, says Lindsay, would "give 

no credence to no counsel, sign nor token that 
made against his purpose, but refused all 
godly counsel which was for the weal of his 
crown and country ; neither would he use any 
counsel of his wise and prudent wife, Mar 
garet, queen of Scotland, for no prayer nor 
supplication that she could make him. . . . 
She assured him, if he past in England at 
that time, that he would get battle. Yet this 
wise and loving counsel could not be taken in 
good part by him, because she was the king 
of England's sister." Cronicles, 1814, p. 267 f. 

6. The Earl of Surrey, uncle by marriage 
to Margaret Tudor, had the charge of escort 
ing her to Scotland in 1503, and this is 
ground enough for the ballad's making him 
her chamberlain ten years later. 

8. " This battle was called the Field of 
Flodden by the Scotsmen and Brankston 
[Bramstone] by the Englishmen, because it 
was stricken on the hills of Flodden beside a 
town called Brankston ; and was stricken the 
ninth day of September, 1513." Lesley, His 
tory, 1830, p. 96. 

10. Hall says that the English slew 
" twelve thousand, at the least, of the best 
gentlemen and flower of Scotland." The ga 
zette of the battle (Pinkerton's History, II, 
457), Polydore Vergil, and modern Scottish 
historians, say ten thousand. Among these 
were twelve earls, thirteen lords, and many 
other persons of high rank. 

12. ' lack with a feather ' is said in con 
tempt of the Scottish king's levity or fool- 
hardiness. " Then was the body bowelled, 
embawmed and cered: " Hall, p. 564, ed. 1809. 
" His body was bowelled, rebowelled, and 
enclosed in lead," " lapped in lead : " Stowe, 



Chronicle, p. 494 b, ed. 1631 ; Survey, Book 
III, p. 81 a, ed. 1710. Fair Rosamond's bones, 
when they were exhumed at Godstow, says 
Leland, were closed in lead and within that 
closed in leather : Dugdale's Monasticon, ed. 
1823, IV, 365, No vin. 

In the letter sent to Henry VIII in France 
James included the slaughter of Andrew 
Barton among the unredressed grievances of 
which he had to complain. A few days be 
fore the battle of Flodden, Lord Thomas 
Howard, then admiral, used the occasion of 
his father's dispatching a herald to the King 
of Scots to say that " inasmuch as the said 
king had divers and many times caused the 
said lord to be called at days of true to make 
redress for Andrew Barton, a pirate of the 
sea long before that vanquished by the same 
Lord Admiral, he was now come, in his own 
proper person, to be in the vanguard of the 
field, to justify the death of the said Andrew 
against him and all his people, and would see 
what could be laid to his charge the said 
day : " Hall's Chronicle, ed. 1809, p. 558. 

There is a slight resemblance in one or two 
particulars, such as might be expected from 

similarity of circumstances, between this bal 
lad and ' Durham Field.' In the latter the 
King of Scots swears that he will hold his 
parliament in leeve London, st. 6. A squire 
warns him that there are bold yeomen in 
England ; the king is angry, draws his sword, 
and kills the squire, 7-9. In ' Scotish Ffeilde,' 
Percy Folio, Hales and Furnivall, I, 217,* the 
French king says there is nothing left in 
England save millers and mass-priests, v. 109 ; 
and in the poem on Flodden, reprinted by 
Weber, and recently by Federer,f Lord 
Home makes this same assertion, Weber, p. 
10, 187-92 ; Federer, p. 8, sts 46, 47. Cf. 
' Durham Field,' p. 282. 

The forged manuscript formerly in the pos 
session of J. Payne Collier, containing thirty 
ballads alleged to be of the early part of the 
seventeenth century, has for the second piece 
in the volume a transcript of this ballad, with 

The battle of Flodden called out a great 
deal of verse. The most notable pieces are 
two already referred to, and a third which 
will be given here in an appendix ; the less 
important will be found in Weber's volume. 

1 KING JAMIE hath made a vow, 

Keepe it well if he may ! 
That he will be at lovely London 
Upon Saint James his day. 

2 ' Upon Saint James his day at noone, 

At faire London will I be, 
And all the lords in merrie Scotland, 
They shall dine there with me.' 

3 Then bespake good Queene Margaret, 

The teares fell from her eye : 
' Leave off these warres, most noble king, 
Keepe your fidelitie. 

4 ' The water runnes swift and wondrous deepe, 

From bottome unto the brimme ; 
My brother Henry hath men good enough ; 
England is hard to winne.' 

* A better, but defective, copy is in the second volume of 
Clictliam Miscellanies, edited by Dr J. Robson, 1855. 

t Harleian MS. No 3526, date of about 1636; a printed 
copy of 1664, from which the poem was edited by Weber, 

5 ' Away,' quoth he, ' with this silly foole ! 

In prison fast let her lie : 
For she is come of the English bloud, 
And for these words she shall dye.' 

6 With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard, 

The queenes chamberlaine that day : 
' If that you put Queene Margaret to death, 
Scotland shall rue it alway.' 

7 Then in a rage King Jamie did say, 

' Away with this foolish mome ! 
He shall be hanged, and the other be burned, 
So soone as I come home.' 

8 At Flodden Field the Scots came in, 

Which made our English men faine ; 
At Bramstone Greene this battaile was seene, 
There was King Jamie slaine. 

Edinburgh, 1808 ; a printed copy of 1755-62, from a differ 
ent source, excellently edited by Charles A. Federer, Man 
chester, 1884. See further this last, pp. 134-37. 



9 Then presently the Scots did flie, 

Their cannons they left behind ; 
Their ensignes gay were won all away, 
Our souldiers did beate them blinde. 

11 That day made many [a] fatherlesse child, 

And many a widow poore, 

And many a Scottish gay lady 

Sate weeping in her bower. 

10 To tell you plaine, twelve thousand were slaine 12 Jack with a feather was lapt all in leather, 

That to the fight did stand, 
And many prisoners tooke that day, 
The best in all Scotland. 

His boastings were all in vaine ; 
He had such a chance, with a new morrice- 

He never went home againe. 

3 1 . he spake. 

The copy followed by Ritsonputs st. 11 after 
5. The principal variations of the Collier 
copy may be given, though they are without 
authority or merit. 

After 2 : 

March out, march out, my merry men, 

Of hie or low degree ; 
I 'le weare the crowne in London towne, 
And that yon soone shall see. 

4 4 . To venture life and limme. 

Then doe not goe from faire Scotland, 

But stay thy realm within ; 
Your power, I weene, is all to weake, 

And England hard to winne. 

5 1 . this sillie mome. 
7*. this other mome. 

After 8 : 

His bodie never could be found, 

When he was over throwne, 
And he that wore faire Scotlands crowne 

That day could not be knowne. 

For 12, to adapt the piece to the seventeenth 
century : 

Now heaven we laude that never more 
Such tiding shall come to hand ; 

Our king, by othe, is king of both 
England and faire Scotland. 



a. 'Flodden FfeUde,' Percy MS., p. 117; Hales and Furni- 
vall, I, 313. b. Harleian MS. 293, fol. 55. c. Harleian 
MS. 367, fol. 120. 

A TEXT made from b and c is printed by Weber, 
Flodden Field, p. 366, and by R. H. Evans, Old 
Ballads, 1810, HI, 58. b, c lack all that follows 
102 except 103, with which all three copies alike 
end. This stanza makes a natural conclusion to 
the vindication of Lancashire, Cheshire and the 
Earl of Derby, and what intervenes in a, after 102, 
seems to be an interpolation. Nevertheless I have 
preferred to give the Percy text (though the others 
are not inferior to it, and possess the unity which 

has to be brought about in this case by transferring 
the last stanza), on account of the pleasing story 
How Rowland Egerton came to the lordship of 
Ridley, 107-119, which would make no bad ballad 
by itself. 

At the battle of Flodden, the right wing of the 
van, commanded by Sir Edmund Howard, the third 
son of the Earl of Surrey, was routed by the Scots 
under Lord Home, Chamberlain of Scotland, and 
the Earl of Huntly. " Edmund Howard had with 
him a thousand Cheshire men, and five hundred 
Lancashire men, and many gentlemen of Yorkshire, 
on the right wing of the lord Howard; and the 
Lord Chamberlain of Scotland, with many lords, 
did set on him, and the Cheshire and Lancashire 
men never abode stroke, and few of the gentlemen 
of Yorkshire abode, but fled. . . . And the said 
Edmund Howard was thrice felled, and to his relief 



the lord Dacre came, with fifteen hundred men." * 
On the other hand, the Cheshire and Lancashire 
men of the extreme left, under command of Sir 
Edward Stanley, discomfited the Scottish division 
of Lennox and Argyle. King Henry received the 
news of the victory while he was lying before Tour- 
nay, "and highly praised the Earl, and the Lord 
Admiral and his son, and all the gentlemen and 
commons that were at that valiant enterprise ; how- 
beit, the king had a secret letter that the Cheshire 
men fled from Sir Edmund Howard, which letter 
caused great heart-burning and many words ; but 
the king thankfully accepted all thing, and would 
no man to be dispraised." f 

This poem, a history in the ballad style, was com 
posed to vindicate the behavior of Lancashire and 
Cheshire at Flodden, and to glorify the Stanleys ; $ 
in the accomplishment of which objects it becomes 
incumbent upon the minstrel to expose the malice of 
tlie Earl of Surrey, to whom he imputes the " wrong 
writing " which caused such heart-burning. 

The Earl of Surrey sends a letter by a herald to 
King Henry, then at Tournay. The king asks the 
news before he breaks the seal, and who fought and 
who fled. The herald answers that King James is 
slain, and that Lancashire and Cheshire fled ; no 
man of the Earl of Derby's durst face the foe. 
The king opens the letter, which confirms the her 
ald's report, and calls for the Earl of Derby. Sir 
Ralph Egerton suggests that if Lancashire and Che- 
sliire fled, it must have been because they had a 
Howard, and not a Stanley, for their captain. The 
Earl of Derby comes before the king, and says the 
same ; let him have Lancashire and Cheshire, and 
he will burn up all Scotland and conquer to Paris 
gate. The king says cowards will fight to retrieve 
what they have lost. We were never cowards, re 
joins Derby ; who brought in your father at Mil- 
ford Haven ? (It was not precisely the Stanleys.) 
The king turns away ; the Duke of Buckingham is 
ready to lay his life that all this comes from a false 
writing of the Earl of Surrey. Derby is not to be 
comforted, and breaks out in farewells to all his 
kith and kin, Edward Stanley, John Stanley, and 
many more ; they must be slain, for they never 
would flee. The Earl of Shrewsbury bids him 
take heart ; Derby goes on with farewells to Lan- 

* Articles of the bataill betwix the Kinge of Scottes and 
the Erie of Surrey in Brankstone Feld, the 9 day of Sep 
tember : State Papers, vol. iv, King Henry the Eighth, 
Partiv, p. 2, 1836. 

t Hall's Chronicle, p. 564. 

} Who are celebrated also in three other pieces, ' Scottish 

caster, Latham, and all familiar places. In the 
midst of his exclamations, James Garsed, " Long 
Jamie," a yeoman of the guard, comes flying to the 
Earl of Derby for protection : he had killed two 
men, and wounded three. Derby's intercession can 
do only harm now, but he will ask friends to speak 
for Jamie. A messenger arrives from the king 
ordering Long Jamie to be delivered up ; he is to 
be hanged. Buckingham takes Jamie by one arm 
and Shrewsbury takes him by the other, and with 
Derby in front and many gentlemen following, they 
go to the king. Welcome, dukes and earls, says 
the king, but most welcome of all our traitor, Long 
Jamie ! Jamie, how durst thou show thyself in our 
presence after slaying thy brethren ? Jamie explains 
that his fellows had called him coward, and bidden 
him flee to that coward the Earl of Derby. The 
Earl of Derby had befriended him when he was little 
and maintained him till he was able to shoot. Then 
one day a Scottish minstrel brought King Henry a 
bow which none of his guard could bend. Jamie 
shot seven times with it, and the eighth time broke 
it; then told the Scot to pick up the pieces and 
take them to his king ; upon which Henry had 
made him yeoman of the guard, thanks to His 
Grace and to the Earl of Derby who had brought 
him up. And now, to have the earl taunted, to be 
false to the man who had been true to him he 
had rather die. Stand up, Jamie, says the King ; 
have here my charter ; but let there be no more 
fighting while you are in France. Then you must 
grant me one thing, says Jamie that he that 
abuses Lancashire or Cheshire shall die ; and the 
king commands proclamation to be made that any 
man abusing Lancashire or Cheshire shall have his 
judgment on the next tree. The next morning 
comes a messenger from the queen wishing the 
king joy, for his brother-in-law, King Jamie, is slain. 
Henry asks again, Who fought and who fled ? 
" Lancashire and Cheshire have done the deed," is 
the reply ; " had not the Earl of Derby been true 
to thee, England had been in great hazard." The 
king on the moment promotes Edward and John 
Stanley and ' Rowland ' Egerton, who had fought 
with Edward. Buckingham runs for Derby, and 
the king welcomes the earl, and returns to him 
all that he had taken from him. But one thing 

Field,' ' Bosworth Field,' and ' Lady Bessie:' Percy MS., 
Hales and Furnivall, I, 212, III, 235, 321. 

" He never loved thee, for thy uncle [that is, Sir Wil 
liam Stanley] slew his father " [the Duke of Norfolk] ; 
which, however, is not true. 



grieveth me still, says Derby to have been called 
coward yesterday. " It was a wrong writing that 
came from the Earl of Surrey," says the king, " but 
I shall teach Mm to know his prince." Derby asks 
no more than to be judge over Surrey, and the 
king makes him so ; as he says, so it shall be. 
" Then his life is saved," says the earl ; " if my 
uncle slew his father " (but, as before said, there 
was no occasion for uneasiness on that score), " he 
would have taken vengeance on me." And so the 
glory is all shifted to Derby, and nothing remains 
for Surrey. 

The minstrel goes on to speak of the surrender 
of Tournay, and then of an essay of the king's to 
reward an Egerton for good service done.* Eger- 
ton would be glad to have his reward in Cheshire. 
The king has nothing there to give but five mills 
at Chester ; Egerton does not wish to be called a 
miller. The king offers the forest of Snowdon ; 
Egerton, always kneeling on his knee, does not 
wish to be called a ranger. Nothing will please 
thee, Egerton, says the king ; but Egerton asks for 
Ridley in Cheshire, and gets it. 

The last twelve verses profess to enumerate 
Henry Eighth's victories in France : ' Hans and 
Gynye ' (neither of which I recognize, unless Gy- 
nye stands for Guinegatte, the Battle of the Spurs), 
Tournay and Th<srouanne, these in the campaign of 
1513, and Boulogne and Montreuil f during the 
invasion of 1544. 

1 Now let vss talke of [the] Mount of Flodden, 

Fforsooth such is our chance, 
And let vs tell what tydings the Ear[l]e of Surrey 
Sent to our king into France. 

2 The earle he hath a writting made, 

And sealed it with his owne hand ; 
From the Newcastle vpon Tine 
The herald passed from the land. 

3 And after to Callice hee arriued, 

Like a noble leed of high degree, 
And then to Turwin soone he hyed, 

There he thought to haue found King Henery. 

4 But there the walls were beaten downe, 

And our English soldiers therin laine ; 
Sith to Turnay the way hee nume, 
Wheras lay the emperour of Almaine, 

* Sir Ralph Egerton is made marshal in st. 91 ; but this 
Rowland is really Ralph over again. Ralph was knighted 
at Tournay, and was granted the manor of Ridley in Feb 
ruary of the next year. 

And there he found the king of England, 
Blessed lesus, preserve that name ! 

5 When the herald came before our king, 

Lowlye he fell downe on his knee, 
And said, Christ, christen king, that on the crosse 


Noble King Henery, this day thy speed may 
bee ! 

6 The first word thai the prince did minge, 

Said, Welcome, herald, out of England, to me ! 
How fares my leeds V how fares my lords ? 
My knights, my esquiers, in their degree ? 

7 ' Heere greeteth you well your owne leae/enant, 

The Honorable Erie of Surrey ; 
Pie bidds you in Ffrance to venter your chance, 

For slaine is your brother, King lamye, 
And att louelie London you shall him finde, 

My comelye prince, in the presence of thee.' 

8 Then bespake our comlye king, 

Said, Who did fight and who did flee ? 
And who bore him best of the Mount of Ffloclden? 
And who was false, and who was true to me ? 

9 ' Lancashire and Cheshire,' sayd the messenger, 

' Cleane they be fled and gone ; 
There was nere a man that longd to the Erie of 

That durst looke his enemyes vpon.' 

10 S[t]ill in a study stood our noble king, 

And tooke the writting in his hand ; 
Shortlye the seale he did vnclose, 
And readilye he read as he found. 

11 Then bespake our comlye king, 

And called vpon his chiualree, 
And said, Who will feitch me the King of Man, 
The Honnornble Thomas Erie of Darbye V 

12 He may take Lancashire and Cheshire, 

That he hath called the cheefe of chiualree ; 
Now falsely are they fled and gone, 
Neuer a one of them is true to mee I 

13 Then bespake Sir Raphe Egerton, the knight, 

And lowlye kneeled vpon his knee, 
And said, My soueraigne lord, King Henery, 
If it like your Grace to pardon mee, 

14 If Lancashire and Cheshire be fled and gone, 

Of those tydings wee may be vnfaine ; 

t " Where they lay a long time, and left the town as they 
found it : " Hall, p. 861. 



But I dare lay my life and lande 
It was for want of their captatne. 

15 For if the Erie of Derby our captaine had beene, 

And vs to lead in our arraye, 
Then noe Lancashire man nor Cheshire 
That euer wold haue fled awaye. 

16 ' Soe it prooued well,' said our noble king, 

' By him Mat deerlye dyed vpon a tree ! 
Now when wee had the most neede, 
Falslye they serued then to mee.' 

17 Then spake William Brewerton, knight, 

And lowlye kneeled his prince before, 
And sayd, My soueraigne king, Henery the Eighth, 
If your Grace sett by vs soe little store, 

18 Wheresoeuer you come in any feild to fight, 

Set the Earle of Darby and vs before ; 
Then shall you see wether wee fight or flee, 
Trew or false whether we be borne. 

19 Compton rowned with our king, 

And said, Goe wee and leaue the cowards right; 
'Heere is my gloue to thee,' quoth Egerton, 
' Compton, if thou be a knight. 

20 ' Take my gloue, and with me fight, 

Man to man, if thou wilt turne againe ; 
For if our prince were not present right, 
The one of vs two shold be slaine, 

21 And neuer foote beside the ground gone 

Vntill the one dead shold bee.' 
Our prince was moued theratt anon, 
And returned him right teenouslye. 

22 And to him came on the other hand 

The Honnorable Erie of Darbye ; 

And when he before our prince came, 

He lowlye kneeled vpon his knee, 

23 And said, lesu Christ, that on the crosse dyed, 

This day, noble Henery, thy speed may bee ! 
The first word that the king did speake, 

Sayd, Welcome, King of Man and Erie of 
Darbye ! 

24 How likest thou Cheshire and Lancashire both, 

Which were counted cheefe of chiualree ? 
Falslye are they fled and gone, 
And neuer a one is trew to mee. 

25 ' If that be soe,' said the erle free, 

'My leege, therof I am not faine; 
My comlye prince, rebuke not mee, 
I was not there to be there captazne. 

26 ' If I had beene their captazne," the erle said then, 

' I durst haue layd both liffe and land 
He neuer came out of Lancashire nor Cheshire 
That wold haue fledd beside the ground. 

27 But if it like your noble Grace 

A litle boone to grant itt mee, 
Lett me haue Lancashire and Cheshire both, 
I desire noe more helpe trulye ; 

28 ' If I ffayle to burne vp all Scottland, 

Take me and hang me vpon a tree! 
I, I shall conquer to Paris gate, 

Both comlye castles and towers hye. 

29 ' Wheras the walls beene soe stronge, 

Lancashire and Cheshire shall beate them 


'By my fathers soule,' sayd our king, 
' And by him that dyed on the roode, 

30 ' Thou shalt neuer haue Lancashire nor Cheshire 


Att thy owne obedyence for to bee ! 
Cowards in a feild felly will fight 
Againe to win the victorye.' 

31 ' Wee were neuer cowards,' said the erle, 

1 By him that deerlye dyed on tree ! 
Who brought in your father att Milford Hauen ? 
King Henery the Seuenth forsooth was hee. 

32 ' Thorow the towne of Fortune wee did him 


And soe convayd him to Shrewsburye, 
And soe crowned him a noble king ; 

And Richard that day wee deemed to dye.' 

33 Our prince was greatlye moued at that worde, 

And returned him hastily e againe; 
To comfort the erle came on the other hande 
The doughtye Edward, Duk of Buckingam. 

34 ' Plucke vp thy hart, brother Stanlye, 

And lett nothing greeiue thee ! 
For I dare lay my liffe to wedd 

It is a false writing of the Erie of Surrey. 

.35 ' Sith King Richard felle, he neuer loued thee, 

For thy vnckle slue his father deere, 
And deerlye deemed him to dye ; 

Sir Christopher Savage his standard away did 

36 ' Alas, brother,' sayd the Erie of Darbye, 

' Woe be the time that I was made knight, 
Or were ruler of any lande,- 

Or euer had manhood in feild to fight ! 



37 ' Soe bold men in battle as were they, 

Forsooth had neither lord nor swaine ; 
Ffarwell my vnckle, Sir Edward Stanley! 
For well I wott thai thou art slaine. 

38 ' Surelye whiles thy liffe wold last 

Thou woldest neuer shrinke beside the plaine ; 
Nor John Stanley, that child soe younge ; 
Well I wott that thou art slaine. 

39 ' Ffarwell Kighlye ! coward was thou neuer ; 

Old Sir Henery, the good knight, 
I left the[e] ruler of Latham, 

To be [my] deputye both day and night. 

40 ' Ffarwell Townlye, that was soe true ! 

And that noble Ashton of Middelton ! 
And the sad Southwarke, Mat euer was sure ! 
For well I wott Mat thou art gone. 

41 ' Farwell Ashton vnde[r] Line I 

And manlye Mullenax ! for thou art slaine ; 
For doubtlesse while your Hues wold last 
You wold never shun beside the plaine. 

42 ' Ffarwell Adderton with the leaden mall ! 

Well I know thow art deemed to dye ; 
I may take my leaue att you all ; 

The flower of manhoode is gone from mee. 

43 ' Ffarwell Sir John Booth of Barton, knight I 

Well I know that thou art slaine; 
While thy lifie wold last to fight, 
Thou wold neuer be-sids the plaine. 

44 ' Ffarwell Butler, and Sir Bode ! 

Sure you haue beene euer to mee ; 
And soe I know Mat [still] you wold, 
If tAat vnslaine you bee. 

45 ' Ffarwell Christopher Savage, the wighte ! 

Well I know Mat thou art slaine ; 
For whiles thy life wold last to fight, 
Thou wold neuer besids the plaine. 

46 ' Ffarwell Button, and Sir Dane ! 

You haue beene euer trew to mee ; 
Ffarwell the Baron of Kinderton ! 
Beside the feild thou wold not flee. 

47 ' Ffarwell Ffitton of Gawsworth ! 

Either thou art taken or slaine ; 
Doubtelesse while thy life wold last, 
Thou wold neuer beside the plaine.' 

48 As they stood talkinge together there, 

The duke and the erle trulye, 
Came ffor to comfort him th[e] trew Talbott, 
And the noble Erie of Shrewsburye. 

49 ' Plucke vp thy hart, sonne Thomas, and be merry, 

And let noe ty dings greeve thee ! 
Am not I godfather to our kin^ ? 
My owne god-sonne forsooth is hee.' 

50 He tooke the Duke of Buckingam by the arme, 

And the Erie of Sh[r]ewsburye by the other : 
' To part with you it is my harme ; 
Farwell, my father and my brother ! 

51 ' Farwell Lancaster, Mat litle towne ! 

Farwell now for euer and aye ! 
Many pore men may pray for my soule 
When they lye weeping in the lane. 

52 ' Ffarwell Latham, Mat bright bower ! 

Nine towers thou beares on hye, 
And other nine thou beares on the outer walls ; 
Within thee may be lodged kings three. 

53 ' Ffarwell Knowsley, Mat litle tower 

Vnderneth the holies soe hore ! 
Euer when I thinke on Mat bright bower, 
Wite me not though my hart be sore. 

54 ' Ffarwell Tocstaffe, Mat trustye parke, 

And the fayre riuer Mat runes there beside, 
There I was wont to chase the hinde and hart! 
Now therin will I neuer abide. 

55 ' Ffarwell bold Birkhead ! there was I boorne, 

Within the abbey and that monesterye; 
The sweet covent for mee may mourne; 
I gaue to you the tythe of Beeston, trulye. 

56 ' Ffarwell Westchester for euermore ! 

And the Walter Gate ! it is my owne; 
I gaue a mace_/br the serieant to weare, 
To waite on the maior, as it is knowne. 

57 ' Will I neuer come Mot citye within ; 

But, sonne Edward", thou may clayme it of 


Ffarwell Westhardin ! I may thee [call] myn, 
Knight and lord I was of great might. 

58 ' Sweete sonne Edward, white bookes thou make, 

And euer haue pittye on the pore cominaltye ! 
Ffarwell Hope and Hopedale ! 

Mould and Moulesdale, God be with thee ! 
I may take leaue with a sorry cheere, 

For within thee will I neuer bee.' 

59 As they stoode talking together there, 

The duke and the lords trulye, 
Came lamie Garsed, a yeman of the guard, 

That had beene brought vp with the Erie of 

Derbye ; 
Like the devill with his fellowes he had fared, 

He s[t]ickt'd two, and wounded three. 



60 After, with his sword drawen in his hand, 

He fled to the noble Earle of Derbye : 
' Stand vp, lamye ! ' the erle said, 
' These tydings nothing liketh mee. 

61 'I haue seene the day I cold haue saued thee, 

Such thirty men if thou hads slaine, 
And now if I shold speake for thee, 
Sure thow weret to be slaine. 

62 ' I will once desire my bretheren eche one 

That they will speake for thee.' 
He prayd the Duke of Buckingam, 
And alsoe the Erie of Shrewsburye, 

63 Alsoe my lord Fitzwater soe wise, 

And the good ~Lord Willowbye, 
Sir Rice Ap Thomas, a knight of price ; 
They all spoke for Long lamye. 

64 They had not stayd but a litle while there, 

The duke and the erles in their talkinge, 
But straight to the erle came a messenger, 
That came latelye from the king, 

65 And bad that Long lamie shold be sent ; 

There shold neither be grith nor grace, 
But on a boughe he shold be hanged, 

In middest the feild, before the erles face. 

66 'If that be soe,' said the Erie of Derbye, 

' I trust our prince will better bee ; 
Such tydings maketh my hart full heavye 
Afore his Grace when that wee bee.' 

6 7 The Duke of Buckingam tooke lamie by the one 


And the Erie of Shrewsburye by the other ; 
Afore them they put the King of Man, 
It was the Erie of Darbye and noe other. 

68 The lorrf Fitzwater followed fast, 

And soe did the lord Willowbyghe ; 
The comfortable Cobham mad great hast ; 
All went with the noble Erie of Derbye. 

69 The hind Hassall hoved on fast, 

With the lusty Lealand trulye ; 
Soe did Sir Alexander Osbaston, 
Came in with the Erie of Derbye. 

70 The royall Ratcliffe, that rude was neuer, 

And the trustye Trafford, keene to trye, 
And wight Warburton, out of Cheshire, 
All came with the Erie of Darbye. 

71 Sir Rice ap Thomas, a knight of Wales, 

Came with a feirce menye ; 
He bent his bowes on the bent to abyde, 
And cleane vnsett the gallow-tree. 

72 When they came afore our king, 

Lowlye they kneeled vpon their knees ; 
The first word that our prince did myn, 
' Welcome, dukes and erles, to mee ! 

73 ' The most welcome hither of all 

Is our owne traitor, Long lamie : 
lamie, how durst thou be soe bold 
As in our presence for to bee ? 

74 ' To slay thy bretheren within their hold ! 

Thou was sworne to them, and they to thee.' 
Then began Long lamie to speake bold : 

' My leege, if it please your Grace to pardon mee, 

75 ' When I was to my supper sett, 

They called me coward to my face, 
And of their talking they wold not lett, 
And thus with them I vpbrayded was. 

76 ' The bade me flee from them apace 

To that coward the Erie of Derbye ! 

When I was litle, and had small grace, 

He was my helpe and succour trulye. 

77 ' He tooke [me] from my father deere, 

And keeped me within his woone 
Till I was able of my selfe 

Both to shoote and picke the stone. 

78 ' Then after, vnder Grenwich, vpon a day 

A Scottish minstrell came to thee, 
And brought a bow of yew to drawe, 

And all the guard might not stirr that tree. 

79 ' Then the bow was giuen to the Erie of Derbye, 

And the erle deliuered it to mee ; 
Seven shoots before your face I shott, 
And att the eighth in sunder it did flee. 

80 ' Then I bad the Scott bow downe his face, 

And gather vp the bow, and bring it to his 

king ; 

Then it liked your noble Grace 
Into your guard for me to bring. 

81 Sithen I haue liued a merry liffe, 

I thanke your Grace and the Erie of Darbye ; 
But to haue the erle rebuked thus, 
That my bringer-vp forsooth was hee, 

82 'I had rather suffer death,' he said, 

1 Then be false to the erle that was true to me.' 
' Stand vp lamie ! ' said our king, 
' Haue heere my charter, I giue it thee. 

83 ' Let me haue noe more fighting of thee 

Whilest thou art within Ffrance lande. ' 
' Then one thing you must grant,' said lamie, 
' That your word theron may stand : 



84 ' Whosoe rebuketh Lancashire or Chesshire 

Shortlye shall be deemed to dye.' 
Our king comanded a cry i-wis 
To be proclaimed hastilye. 

85 ' If the dukes and erles kneele on their knees, 

Itt getteth on sturr the comonaltye ; 
If wee be vpbrayded thus, 

Manye a man is like to dye.' 
The king said, He that rebuket Lancashire or 

Shall haue his iudgment on the next tree. 

86 Then soe they were in rest 

For the space of a night, as I weene, 
And on the other day, without leasinge, 
There came a messenger from the queene. 

87 And when he came before our king, 

Lowlye he kneeled vpon his knee, 
And said, Chr[i]st thee saue, our noble king, 

And thy speed this day may bee ! 
Heere greeteth thee well thy loue and liking, 

And our honorable queene and ladye, 

88 And biddeth you in Ffrance to be glad, 

For slaine is your brother-in-law King lamie, 
And att louelye London he shalbe found, 
My comlye prince, in the presence of thee. 

89 Then bespake our comlye prince, 

Saiinge, Who did fight and who did flee ? 
And who bare them best of the Mount of Fflod- 

And who is false, and who is true to mee? 

90 ' Lancashire and Cheshire,' said the messenger, 

' They haue done the deed with their hand ; 

Had not the Erie of Derbye beene to thee true, 

In great aduenture had beene all England.' 

.91 Then bespake our prince on hye, 

' Sir Raphe Egertton, my marshal! I make thee ; 
Sir Edward Stanley, thou shall be a lord, 
Lord Mounteagle thou shalt bee. 

92 ' Yonge lohn Stanley shalbe a knt^t, 

And he is well worthy for to bee.' 
The Duke of Buckingham the tydings hard, 
And shortlye ran to the Erie of Darbye : 

93 ' Brother, plucke vp thy hart and be merrye, 

And let noe tydings greeve thee ! 
Yesterday, thy men called cowerds were, 
And this day they haue woone the victorye.' 

94 The duke tooke the erle by the arme, 

And thus they ledden to the prince [trulye]. 

Seven roods of ground the king he came, 

And sayd, ' Welcome, King of Man and Erie of 
Derbye ! 

The thing that I haue taken from thee, 
I geeve it to thee againe wholly e. 

95 ' The manrydden of Lancashire and Cheshire 


Att thy bidding euer to bee ; 
Ffor those men beene true, Thomas, indeed ; 
They beene trew both to thee and mee.' 

96 ' Yett one thing greeveth me,' said the erle, 

'And in my hart maketh me heavye, 
This day to heare the wan the feild, 
And yesterday cowards to bee.' 

97 ' It was a wronge wryting,' sayd our king, 

' That came ffrom the Erie of Surrey ; 
But I shall him teach his prince to know, 
If euer wee come in our countrye.' 

98 ' I aske noe more,' sayd the noble erle, 

' Ffor all that my men haue done trulye, 
But that I may be iudge my selfe 
Of that noble Erie of Surreye.' 

99 ' Stand vp, Thomas ! ' sayd our prince, 

' Lord Marshall I make thee, 
And thou shalt be iudge thy selfe, 
And as thou saiest, soe shall it bee.' 

100 'Then is his liffe saued,' sayd the erle, 

' I thanke lesu and your Grace trulye ; 
If my vnckle slew his father deere, 
He wold haue venged him on mee.' 

101 'Thou art verry patient,' sayd our king ; 

' The Holy Ghost remaines, I thinke, in thee; 
On the south side of Turnay thou shalt stande, 
With my godfather the Erie of Shrewsburye.' 

102 And soe to that seege forth the went, 

The noble Shrewsburye and the Erie of Derbye, 
And the laid seege vnto the walls, 
And wan the towne in dayes three. 

103 Thus was Lancashire and Cheshire rebuked 

Thorow the pollicye of the Erie of Surrey. 
Now God, Mat was in Bethlem borne, 

And forVs dyed vpon a tree, 
Saue our noble prince that wereth the crowne, 

And haue mercy on the Erles soule of Derbye ! 

104 And then bespake our noble king, 
These were the words said hee ; 
Sayes, Come, Alexander Ratcliffe, knight, 
Come hither now vnto mee, 



Ffor thou shalt goe on the south side of Tournay, 
And with thee thou shalt haue thousands three. 

105 Then forth is gone Alexander Ratcliffe, knight ; 

With him he leads men thousand three ; 
But or ere three dayes were come to an end, 
The Ffrenchmen away did flee. 

106 Then King Henery planted three hundred English 


That in the citye shold abyde and bee : 
Alexander Ratcliffe, he wold haue mad him gouer- 

nour there, 

But he forsooke it certainelye, 
And made great intreatye to our king 

That he might come into England in his com- 

107 And then bespake noble King Henery, 

And these were the words said hee : 
Sayes, Come hither, Rowland Egerton, knight, 
And come thou hither vnto mee ; 

108 For the good service that thou hast done, 

Well rewarded shalt thou bee. 
Then forth came Rowland Egerton, 
And kneeled downe vpon his knee. 

109 Saies, If it like your Grace, my gracious king, 

The reward that you will bestow on mee, 
I wold verry gladlye haue it in Cheshire, 
Ffor that 's att home in my owne country. 

110 And then bespake him noble King Henery, 

And these were the words said hee; 
' I haue nothing, Egerton, in all Cheshire 

That wilbe any pleasure for thee 
But fiue mills stands att Chester townes end ; 

The gone all ouer the water of Dee.' 

111 Still kneeled Rowland Egerton, 

And did not rise beside his knee ; 
Sayes, If it like your Highnesse, my gracious king, 
A milner called I wold neuer bee. 

112 And then bespake him noble King Harrye, 

These were the words said hee ; 
Saith, I "le make mine avow to God, 

And alsoe to the Trinitye, 
There shall neuer be king of England 

But the shalbe miller of the mills of Dee ! 

113 I haue noe other thing, Egerton, 

That wilbe for thy delight ; 
I will giue thee the forrest of Snoden in Wales, 
Wherby thou may giue the home and lease ; 

In siluer it wilbe verry white, 

And meethinkes shold thee well please. 

Still kneeled Rowland Egerton on his knee ; 
He sayes, If itt like your Highnes, my gracious 

A ranger called wold I neuer bee. 

115 Then our king was wrathe, and rose away, 

Sayes, I thinke, Egerton, nothing will please 


And then bespake him, Rowland Egerton, 
Kneeling yet still on his knee : 

116 Sayes, If itt like your Highnesse, my gracious 

That your Highnes pleasure will now heer 


In Cheshire there lyes a Htle grange-house, 
In the lordsh[i]ppe of Rydeley it doth lyee. 

117 A tanner there in it did dwell; 

My leege, it is but a cote with one eye, 
And if your Grace wold bestow this on mee, 
Ffull well it wold pleasure me. 

118 Then bespake our noble King Harrye, 

And these were the words saith hee ; 
Saies, Take thee Mat grange-house, Egerton, 
And the lordshippe of Rydley, faire and free. 

119 For the good service thou hast to me done, 

I will giue it vnto thy heyres and thee : 
And thus came Row[land] Egertton 

To the lordshippe of Rydley, faire and free. 

120 This noble King Harry wan great victoryes in 


Thorrow the might that Christ Jesus did him 

First our king wan Hans and Gynye, 

And [two] walled townes, the truth to say; 

And afterwards wan other two townes, 

The names of them were called Turwin and 

121 High Bullen and Base Bullen he wan alsoe, 

And other village-townes many a one, 
And Muttrell he wan alsoe 

The cronicles of this will not lye 
And kept to Calleis, plainsht with Englishmen, 

Vnto the death Mat he did dye. 



a. 4". soliders. 16 4 . them. 17. 8 th . 20 s . wright. 
20 4 . vs 2. 31*. 7 th . 35 1 . feele. 

35 4 . xopher Savage, and again 45 1 : always for 


41 1 . vndeline. 45 1 . Knight for wighte. 
52 2 ' 8 . 9. 52 4 . 3. 53 2 . whore. 53*. white. 
56*. giue : pro for for. 57 2 . wright. 
58 1 . Lookes/or bookes. 2d Parte at 59 3 . 
59. 2: 3. 61 2 . 30. 65 1 . lanie. 793. 7. 
79*. 8 th : breake/or flee, cf. b, c. 
83 4 . ward : cf. b. 84 3 . I cry for a cry: a in b, c. 
89 4 . who his for the first who is. 94 s . 7. 95 1 . Mau- 


102 4 , 104 4 . 3. 103. 121 in the MS. 
104 6 . 1000! 3. 105 2 . 1000? 3. 106 1 . 300? . 
HO 6 . 5. 112 6 . he/or the? 117 4 . me pleasure. 
120 5 . 2. And /or & always. 

b, C. In stanzas of eight lines, b. A ballate of the 

Battalle of Ffloden Ffeeld betweene the Barle 
of Surrey and the King of Scots, c. Flowden 
Trivial variations of spelling are not regarded. 

I I , of the. I 2 , our fortune and chaunce. 
1'. tell of. b. tythandes. C. tythance. 

2 2 . surly after And : his wanting. 3 1 . at/or to. 
3". b. lorde/or leed. b, c. great for high. 
3 4 . b. found Henry our kynge. 
4 6 -7". Two stanzas, the first ending at 6 2 . 
4 6 . the prince. 4 5 . c. lesu. 
5 2 . he kneeled vppon. 5 4 . King wanting. 
6 4 . and for the second my. 7 s . biddethe. 7 6 . ye. 
8". Prefix And. 

8 8 . bare : uppon, upon, for of. b. them for him. 
9 2 . they bene both. 9 3 . non for nere. b. belonged. 
10 1 . b. a stand. 10 2 . And he. 
10 4 . First he wanting, b. tould (corrected from 
coulde ?) for found. 

II I . b. noble for comlye. II 3 . And he. 
12. b. C. and L. b, c add bothe. 

12 2 . the wanting. 12 4 . Not a. 13 8 . King wanting. 
IS*, b, And it, c, Yf it, like you my souereigne 


14 1 . c. bene. 14 2 . c. tythandes. 
15 8 . b. L. nor C. mene. 15 4 . b. wold euer. 
16 2 . on for vpon a. 
16 8 . For now : greatest for most. 
16 4 . then served theyybr they serued then. 
17 4 . And_/br If. 18 1 . ye: any wanting. 
18. c. ye. 
18 4 . b. whether (altered from wher) that wee are. 

19 1 . b. rounded, b, c. anon added to king. 

19 2 . And wanting, b. Sayenge. 

19 s . to thee wanting. 21 1 . b. neuer a : besydes. 

21 4 . b. right angerly. 22 1 . other syde. 

22 4 . lowly he. 23 8 . b. our king sayde. c. speake. 

23 4 . b. Was for Sayd. 24. c. L. and C. 

24 2 . wasybr were. 24 3 . nowe inserted before are. 

24 4 . b. Neuer a one of them. c. Neuer one of 

them ys (but are, in a later hand). 
VOL. in. 46 

25 1 . c. then for free. 26 4 . b. fled a foote. 

27 2 . b. to for itt. 28 1 . to brene, bren. 

28 2 . First me wanting. 

28 s . First I wanting : all to. b. gates. 

28 4 . b. Bothe the. 29 l . walles they. 

29'. then sayd. 30 1 . and for nor. 30 2 . c. thyne. 

30 8 . b. freely for felly. 3 1 2 , for me for on tree. 

32 2 . b. To the towne of. 32 s . we after soe. 

33 2 . b. vppon the same for againe. c. in same, but 

on the for in, in a later hand. 
33 s . side, syde, for hande. 34 4 . b. dukeybrerle. 

35 1 . Synce : feelde, feylde. 

35 2 . c. thyne : theare, there for deere. 
35 4 . awaye_/r always. 

36 a . o. therby added by a later hand. 

37 s . c. myne. 37 4 . c. art altered to weart. 

38 1 . whileste that, whiles that. 

38 2 . schunte besides. 38 4 . nowe before that. 
39 1 . b. for before coward, b, c. none for neuer. 
39 4 . be my. 40 2 . the for that. 

40'. b. Sotheworthe. c. Sothewarke altered to 


41 3 . c. whilest. 41 4 . schunte. 42 1 . b. Anderton. 
42 s . leaue nowe. b. at altered to of. 
43 s . For whileste, For whiles. 
43 4 . wouldeste (c woulde) neuer beside the playne. 
44 1 . b. Bolde. 44 2 . ye. 44 3 . stylle, still. 
44 4 . Vnslayne nowe yf, (b) that you bee, (c) you 

had bee. 

45 l . weighte, wighte. 45 3 . b. whileste. 
45 4 . woldeste, wouldest : beside. 
46 1 . Done, Downe. 4G 2 . Ye. 46 4 . b. woldeste. 
47 1 . b. Seton altered to Fitton. 47 2 . Other. 
47 3 . Prefix For: whiles. 47 4 . woldeste, wouldest. 
48 3 . ffor wanting. 49 2 . c. tythands. 49 4 . myne. 
51 4 . c. lawne. 52 2 . beareste, bearest. 
52 s . in the vtter. 53 2 . whore. 53 4 . Wyte. 
54 2 . ronnethe, renneth. b. besydes. 
54 s . b. was I. 54 4 . b. I will. 
55 l . Berkenhede, Byrkhead altered to Byrkenhead. 
55 4 . c. the wanting. 56 2 . myn, myne. 
56 s . gaue : pro (or for) wanting. 
57 2 . mayeste, maiest. c. yt clayme. 
57 8 . c. call after may, in a later hand. 
58 1 . bookes, bokes. 58*. comentye, comyntie. 
58 s . Hopesdalle. 
58 4 . Mouldesdalle, Mouldesdale. 
58'. take my : hevie, heavie, for sorry. 
59 8 . lames : Garsye, Garsyde. 
59 6 . stycked, sticked. 60 1 . b. And after. 
60 s . b. lames. 60 4 , 66 8 . c. tythandes. 
61 2 . hadeste, had. 61 4 . wearte for, were for. 
62". will nowe. 
63 1 . b. Fitzwaters. c. Feighwater altered to Fitz- 

water. 63 3 , 71 1 . c. vpybrap. 
63 4 . And all they spake. 64 1 . standen. 
64 8 . But wanting. 

65 1 , 73, 74 s , 82 8 . b. lames. 6.5 1 . c. send. 
65 4 . Amydeste. 66 1 . c. soe wanting. 



66 s . b. makes. 67 4 . non. 

68 1 . c. Feighwater. b. he followed. 

69 1 . b. hied for hoved. 69 s . b. Osboldstone. 

69 4 . b. come. 70 s . b. wighty. 

71 3 . came forthe even with. 71 3 . c. bend. 

71*. gallowes. 72 1 . When as. b. the king. 

72". b. minge. 72 4 . Prefix Said : vnto. 

73 1 . Prefix But. 

73 2 . c. our owne altered to yondere. 

74 3 . c. waste. 74 4 . lyke, like, for please. 

75*. vpbrayded that I for I vpbrayded. 

77 1 . tooke me. 77 2 . b. kepte. 78 s . of vewe. 

79 4 . b. did flee. c. be altered to flie. 

80 1 ' 2 . b. Then I layd the bowe one his face, and 

bade him gather vpe the bowe, etc. c. geder. 
80 4 . for wanting. 82 1 . had lyuer, leaver. 
83 2 . c. whiles, b. Frenche. 83 s . ye. 
83 4 . b. word. 84 s . Our prince : a cry. 
85 2 . b. settethe one and. 85 8 . Yf that. 
85 6 . rebuketh. b. and for or. 86 1 . stylle at rest. 
86 s . b. as wanting. 87 1 . b. prince for king. 
87 2 . b. kneene, rhyming with 86 2 ' 4 . 
87 s . prince for king. 
87 4 . This owere (c our) noble kynge this (c thy) 

speede may be. 
87 6 . greetes (c gretteth) yow well your lyffe and 

spouse (c liking). 

87 6 . Your honorable : fair ladye. 88 1 . for to. 
88 2 . b. in-law wanting. 89 2 . And sayd. 
89*. vppon, vpon, the for of the. 
89 4 . And who weare, were, bis. 
91 1 . b. on highe, originally; altered in the same 

hand to with ane highe word. 

91 4 . Ye, yea, prefixed : shall thou. 

92 2 . As for And. 

92'. b. thes/or the. c. tythands. b. adds righte 

at the end. 

93 l . Brother after hart. 93 2 . c. tythandes. 
93". b. this (loritten upon thy) men cowards were 

they. c. cowardes called for called cowerds. 
93 4 . they wanting. 94 1 . b. him for the erle. 
94 2 adds trulye at the end. b. and lede him for 

thus they ledden. 
94 6 . haue from the taken. 94 6 . agayne to thee. 

95 1 . b. marshallynge. c. manratten. b. menybr 

95 2 . for to. b omits euer. 95 s . these, b. be. 
95 4 . b. be. 96 1 . b. the earle saide. 96 4 . for to. 
97 1 . b. our kinge sayd. 

97 4 . And for If. 

98 1 . b. the earle nowe. 

98 s . b. That I my selfe his iudgmente maye pro 
nounce, c. But that I gyve iudgment my selfe. 

99 2 . b. will I. c. that I shall. 

99 s . shalt gcue (gyue) the iudgment. 

100 1 . b. Then sayd the earle, saved is his lyfe. 

100 s . If wanting. 101 1 . b. our kyng sware. 

101 2 . remayneth: I thinke wanting. 

101 4 . c. the wanting. 102 1 . b. they ganged. 

102. b adds bailed at the end. 

102 4 . b. toweres. o. townes. b, c. within. 

103 s . b. weres. 

103 6 . b. And shewe thie mersye one the Earle of 

104-121 wanting. 


A. a. 'A Northern Ballet,' Wit Restord in seTerall 
Select Poems not formerly publisht, London, 1658, 
p. 30, in Facetiae, London, 1817, I, 132. b. 'A 
Northern Ballad,' Wit and Drollery, London, 1682, 
p. 57. 

B. a. 'John Arm-strongs last Good - Night,' etc., 
Wood, 401, fol. 93 b, Bodleian Library, b. Pepys 
Ballads, II, 133, No 117. c. 'Johnny Armstrongs 
last Good-Night,' Old Ballads, 1723, I, 170. 

C. ' Johnie Armstrang,' The Ever Green, 1724, II, 190. 

A b is not found in Wit and Drollery, 
1661 ; it is literally repeated in Dryden's 
Miscellanies, 1716, III, 307. B is in the 
Roxburghe collection, III, 513, the Bagford, 
I, 64, II, 94, and no doubt in others. It was 
printed by Evans, 1777, II, 64, and by Kit- 

son, English Songs, 1783, II, 322. C was 
printed by Herd, 1769, p. 260, 1776 (with 
spelling changed), I, 13 ; by Ritson, Scotish 
Songs, 1794, II, 7 ; by Scott, 1802, I, 49, 
1833, I, 407 (with a slight change or two). 
'Ihonne Ermistrangis dance' is mentioned 



in The Complaynt of Scotland, 1549, ed. Mur 
ray, p. 66. The tune of C ia No 356 of John 
son's Museum ; see further Stenhouse, in the 
edition of 1853, IV, 335 f. 

Of his copy C, Ramsay says : " This is the 
true old ballad, never printed before. . . . 
This I copied from a gentleman's mouth of 
the name of Armstrang, who is the sixth gen 
eration from this John. He tells me this was 
ever esteemd the genuine ballad, the com 
mon one false." Motherwell remarks, Min 
strelsy, p. Ixii, note 3 : " The common ballad 
alluded to by Ramsay [A, B] is the one, 
however, which is in the mouths of the peo 
ple. His set I never heard sung or recited ; 
but the other frequently." A manuscript 
copy of B, entitled Gillnokie, communicated 
to Percy by G. Paton, Edinburgh, December 
4, 1778, which has some of the peculiar read 
ings of B a, introduces the 27th stanza of C * 
in place of 12, and has ' Away, away, thou 
traitor strong ' for 12 1 . A copy in Buchan's 
MSS, I, 61, ' The Death of John Armstrong,' 
has the first half of C 18 and also of C 19 
(with very slight variations). Another Scot 
tish copy, which was evidently taken from 
recitation, introduces C 23 after 14.f 

Both forms of the ballad had been too 
long printed to allow validity to any known 
recited copy. Besides the three already men- 

* ' Where got thou these targits, Jony, 

JThat hings so low down by thy knee ? ' 
'I got them, cukel king, in the field, 
Where thow and thy men durst not come see.' 

t This copy I have in MS. and have not noted, neither 
can I remember, how I came by it, but it is probably a 
transcript from recent print. It diverges from the ordinary 
text more than any that I have seen. After 17 comes this 
stanza (cf. ' Robin Hood rescuing Three Squires,' No 140, 

They took the gallows frae the slack, 

An there they set it on a plain, 
An there they hanged Johnnie Armstrong, 

Wi fifty of his warlike men. 

18-20, 23 are wanting. A "pretty little boy," in what cor 
responds to 21, 22, says, 'Johnnie Armstrong you '11 never 
see,' and the lady ends the ballad with : 

If that be true, my pretty little boy, 

Aye the news you tell to me, 
You '11 be the heir to a' my lands, 

You an your young son after thee. 

t A tract on the extreme western border, beginning be- 

tioned, there is one in Kinloch's MSS, V, 263, 
which intermixes two stanzas from Johnie 
Scot. The Scottish copies naturally do not 
allow ' Scot ' to stand in 17 3 . Paton's substi 
tutes ' chiell ' ; the others ' man,' and so a 
broadside reprinted by Maidment, Scotish 
Ballads and Songs, Historical and Tradition 
ary, I, 130. 

The Armstrongs were people of considera 
tion in Liddesdale from the end, or perhaps 
from the middle, of the fourteenth century, 
and by the sixteenth had become the most im 
portant sept, as to numbers, in that region, not 
only extending themselves over a large part 
of the Debateable Land,| but spreading also 
into Eskdale, Ewesdale, Wauchopedale, and 
Annandale. The Earl of Northumberland, 
in 1528, puts the power of the Armstrongs, 
with their adherents, above three thousand 
horsemen. Mangerton, in Liddesdale, on the 
east bank of the Liddel, a little north of its 
junction with the Kersope, was the seat of 
the chief. John Armstrong, known later as 
Gilnockie, a brother of Thomas, laird of Man 
gerton, is first heard of in 1525. Removing 
from Liddesdale early in the century, as it is 
thought, he settled on the church lands of 
Canonby, and at a place called The Hollows, 
on the west side of the Esk, built a tower, 
which still remains. 

tween the mouths of the Sark and Esk and stretching north 
and east eight miles, with a greatest breadth of four miles. 
The particulars of the boundaries are given from an old 
roll in Nicolson and Burn's Westmorland and Cumberland, 
I, xvi, and as follows by Mr T. J. Carlyle, The Debateable 
Land, Dumfries, 1868, p. 1 : "bounded on the west by the 
Sark and Pingleburn, on the north by the Irvine burn, 
Tarras, and Reygill, on the east by the Merehurn, Lid- 
dal, and Esk, and on the south by the Solway Frith." The 
land was parted between England and Scotland in 1552, 
with no great gain to good order for the half century suc 

It has been maintained that there was a Gilnockie 
tower on the eastern side of the Esk, a very little lower 
than the Hollows tower. " We can also inform our readers 
that Giltknock Hall was situate on a small rocky island on 
the river Esk below the Langholm, the remains of which 
are to be seen : " Crito in the Edinburgh Evening Courant, 
March 8, 1773. "Many vestiges of strongholds can be 
traced within the parish, although there is only one, near 
the new bridge already described, that makes an appearance 
at this point, its walls being yet entire : " Statistical Ac 
count of Canoby, Sinclair, XIV, 420. 

Sir John Sinclair, 1795, says, in a note to this last pas- 



Others of the Armstrongs erected strong 
houses in the neighborhood. Lord Dacre, the 
English warden of the West Marches, essayed 
to surprise these strengths in the early part 
of 1528, but was foiled by John and Sym 
Armstrong, though he had a force of two 
thousand men. The Armstrongs, if nomi 
nally Scots, were so far from being " in due 
obeysaunce " that, at a conference of commis 
sioners of both realms in November of the 
year last named, the representatives of the 
Scottish king could not undertake to oblige 
them to make redress for injuries done the 
English, though a peace depended upon this 
condition. Perhaps the English border suf 
fered more than the Scottish from their forays 
(and the English border, we are informed, 
was not nearly so strong as the Scottish, 
neither in " capetayns nor the cornmynnal- 
tie"), but how little Scotland was spared 
appears from what Sym Armstrong, the laird 
of Whitlaugh, in the same year again, told 
the Earl of Northumberland : that himself 
and his adherents had laid waste in the said 
realm sixty miles, and laid down thirty parish 
churches, and that there was not one in the 
realm of Scotland dare remedy the same. In 
deed, our John, Thomas of Mangerton, Sym 
of Whitlaugh, and the rest, seem to be fairly 
enough described in an English indictment 
as " enemies of the king of England, and trai 
tors, fugitives, and felons of the king of 
Scots." * 

Other measures having failed, King James 
the Fifth, in the summer of 1530, took the 
pacifying of his borders into his own hand, 
and for this purpose levied an army of from 
eight to twelve thousand men. The particu 
lars of this noted expedition are thus given 
by Lindsay of Pitscottie.f 

" The king . . . made a convention at Edin 
burgh with all the lords and barons, to con- 
sage, that the spot of ground at the east end of " the new 
bridge " is, " indeed, called to this day, Gill-knoeky, hut it 
does not exhibit the smallest vestige of mason-work." Mr. 
T. ,T. Carlyle, The Debateable Land, p. 17, gives us to 
understand that the foundations of the tower were exca 
vated and removed when the bridge was built; but this 
does not appear to be convincingly made out. 
* The History of Liddesdale, Eskdale, Ewesdale, Wau- 

sult how he might best stanch theiff and river 
within his realm, and to cause the commons 
to live in peace and rest, which long time had 
been perturbed before. To this effect he 
gave charge to all earls, lords, barons, free 
holders and gentlemen, to compeir at Edin 
burgh with a month's victual, to pass with 
the king to daunton the thieves of Teviotdale 
and Annandale, with all other parts of the 
realm ; also the king desired all gentlemen 
that had dogs that were good to bring them 
with them to hunt in the said bounds, which 
the most part of the noblemen of the High 
lands did, such as the earls of Huntly, Argyle, 
and Athol, who brought their deer-hounds 
with them and hunted with his majesty. 
These lords, with many other lords and gen 
tlemen, to the number of twelve thousand 
men, assembled at Edinburgh, and therefrom 
went with the king's grace to Meggat-land, 
in the which bounds were slain at that time 
eighteen score of deer. After this hunting the 
king hanged John Armstrong, laird of Kilno- 
kie ; which many a Scotsman heavily lamented, 
for he was a doubtit man, and as good a chief 
tain as ever was upon the borders, either of 
Scotland or of England. And albeit he was 
a loose-living man, and sustained the num 
ber of twenty-four well-horsed able gentlemen 
with him, yet he never molested no Scotsman. J 
But it is said, from the Scots border to New 
castle of England, there was not one, of what 
soever estate, but paid to this John Armstrong 
a tribute, to be free of his cumber, he was so 
doubtit in England. So when he entered in 
before the king, he came very reverently, 
with his foresaid number very richly appar 
eled, trusting that in respect he had come to 
the king's grace willingly and voluntarily, 
not being taken nor apprehended by the king, 
he should obtain the more favor. But when 
the king saw him and his men so gorgeous 

chopedale, and The Debateable Land, by Robert Bruce 
Armstrong, 1883, pp 177 f, 227 f, 245, 259 f; Appendix, 
pp. xxvi, xxxi. 

t The Cronicles of Scotland, etc., edited by J. G. Dai- 
yell, 1814, II, 341 ff. (partially modernized, for more com 
fortable reading). 

} Wherein, if this be true, John differed much from Sym. 



in their apparel, and so many braw men un 
der a tyrant's commandment, throwardlie he 
turned about his face, and bade take that ty 
rant out of his sight, saying, What wants 
yon knave that a king should have ? But 
when John Armstrong perceived that the 
king kindled in a fury against him, and had 
no hope of his life, notwithstanding of many 
great and fair offers which he offered to the 
king that is, that he should sustain him 
self, with forty gentlemen, ever ready to 
await upon his majesty's service, and never 
to take a penny of Scotland nor Scotsmen ; 
secondly, that there was not a subject in Eng 
land, duke, earl, lord, or baron, but within a 
certain day he should bring any of them to 
his majesty, quick or dead he, seeing no 
hope of the king's favor towards him, said 
very proudly, I am but a fool to seek grace 
at a graceless face. But had I known, sir, 
that ye would have taken my life this day, I 
should have lived upon the borders in despite 
of King Harry and you both ; for I know 
King Harry would down weigh my best horse 
with gold to know that I were condemned to 
die this day. So he was led to the scaffold, 
and he and all his men hanged." 

Buchanan's account is, that the king un 
dertook an expedition for the suppressing of 
freebooters in July, 1530, with an army of 
about eight thousand men, and encamped at 
Ewes water, near which was the hold of John 
Armstrong, a chief of a band of thieves, who 
had struck such terror into the parts adjacent 
that even the English for many miles about 
paid him tribute. Under enticement of the 
king's officers, John set out to pay a visit to 
the king with about fifty horsemen, both un 
armed and without a safe-conduct, and on his 
way fell in with a body of scouts, who took 
him to their master as a pretended prisoner, 
and he and most of his men were banged. 
The authors of his death averred that Arm 
strong had promised the English to put the 
neighboring Scots territory under their sway, 

* Rerum Scotiearum Historia, 1582, fol. 163 b, 164. 
t History of Scotland, Bannatyne Club, 1830, p. 143. 
} Anderson's History, MS., Advocates Library, I, fol. 
153 f. Anderson flourished about 1618-35. He gives the 

if they would make it for his interest ; whereas 
the English were extremely pleased at his 
death, because they were rid of a redoubtable 

Bishop Lesley says simply that in the 
month of June (apparently 1529) the king 
passed to the borders with a great army, 
where he caused forty-eight of the most noble 
thieves, with John Armstrong, their captain, 
to be taken, who being convict of theft, reiff, 
slaughter, and treason, were all hanged upon 
growing trees. f 

Another account gives us positively and 
definitely to understand that the Armstrongs 
were not secured without artifice. " On the 
eighth of June the principals of all the sur 
names of the clans on the borders came to 
the king, upon hope of a proclamation pro 
claimed in the king's name that they should 
all get their lives if they would come in and 
submit themselves in the king's will. And 
so, upon this hope, John Armstrong, who 
kept the castle of Langholm (a brother of the 
laii-d of Mangerton's, a great thief and op 
pressor, and one that kept still with him four 
and twenty well-horsed men), came in to the 
king ; and another called 111 Will Armstrong, 
another stark thief, with sundry of the Scotts 
and Elliotts, came all forward to the camp 
where the king was, in hope to get their par 
dons. But no sooner did the king perceive 
them, and that they were come afar off, when 
direction was given presently to enclose them 
round about ; the which was done, accord 
ingly, and were all apprehended, to the num 
ber of thirty-five persons, and at a place 
called Carlaverock Chapel were all commit 
ted to the gallows. . . . The English people 
was exceeding glad when they understood 
that John Armstrong was executed, for he 
did great robberies and stealing in England, 
maintaining twenty-four men in household 
every day upon reiff and oppression." J 

The place of execution is mentioned by no 
other historian than Anderson, just quoted, 

year both as 1527 and 1528. Cited by Armstrong, History 
of Liddesdale, etc., p. 274 f . For what immediately follows, 
Armstrong, pp. 273, 279. 



and he gives it as Carlaverock Chapel. But 
this must be a mistake for Carlenrig Chapel, 
Carlaverock not being in the line of the king's 
progress. James is known to have been at Car 
lenrig * on the 5th of July, and Johnie Arm 
strong not to have been alive on the eighth. 
It has been popularly believed that Johnie and 
his band were buried in Carlenrig churchyard 
(where the graves used to be shown), and 
their execution made so deep an impression 
on the people f that it is not unplausible that 
the fact should be remembered, and that the 
ballad C, in saying that John was murdered 
at Carlenrig, has followed tradition rather 
than given rise to it. 

It appears from Lindsay's narrative that 
Johnie Armstrong came to the king volun 
tarily, and that he was not " taken or appre 
hended." Buchanan says that he was enticed 
by the king's officers, and Anderson that the 
heads of the border-clans were induced to 
come in by a proclamation that their lives 
should be safe. It is but too likely, there 
fore, that the capture was not effected by 
honorable means, and this is the representa 
tion of the ballads. There is no record of a 
trial, J and the execution was probably as 
summary as the arrest was perfidious. 

The ballads treat facts with the customary 
freedom and improve upon them greatly. In 
A, B, English ballads, Johnie is oddly enough 
a Westmorland man, though in B 11 he 
admits himself to be a subject of the Scots 
king. The king writes John a long letter 
promising to do him no wrong, A 4 ; a loving 
letter, to come and speak with him speedily, 
B 4, C 2. Johnie goes to Edinburgh with the 
eight-score men that he keeps in his hall, all 
in a splendid uniform, asks grace, and is told 
that he and his eight-score shall be hanged the 
next morning. They are not unarmed, and 
resolve to fight it out rather than be hanged. 
They kill all the king's guard but three, B 

* A place two miles north of Mosspaul, on the rond from 
Langholm to Hawiclc. 

t Scott remarks that the " common people of the high 
parts of Teriotdale, Liddesdale, and the country adjacent, 
hold the memory of Johnie Armstrong in very high re 
spect." " They affirm, also," he adds, " that one of his at- 

16, but all Edinburgh rises; four-score and 
ten of Johnie's men lie gasping on the ground, 
A 14. A cowardly Scot conies behind Johnie 
and runs him through ; like Sir Andrew Bar 
ton, he bids his men fight on ; he will bleed 
awhile, then rise and fight again. Most of 
his company are killed, but his foot-page es 
capes and carries the bad news to Giltnock 
Hall. His little son, by or on the nurse's 
knee, vows to revenge his father's death. 

C differs extensively from A, B, indeed re 
sembles or repeats the English ballad only 
in a few places: C 2 = A 4, B 4; C 6 = B 10 ; 
C7 = A g, B 11; C 22 3 , 4 = A II 3 - 4 , B 13 3 - 4 . 
The Eliots go with the Armstrongs accord 
ing to C 3, and it is the intention to bring the 
king to dine at Gilnockie. In C 9-17 Johnie 
offers twenty-four steeds, four of them laden 
with as much gold as they can carry, twenty- 
four mills, and as much wheat as their hop 
pers can hold, twenty-four sisters-sons, who 
will fight to the utterance, tribute from all 
the land between ' here ' and Newcastle, 
all this for his life. The king replies to each 
successive offer that he never has granted a 
traitor's life, and will not begin with him. 
Johnie gives the king the lie as to his being 
a traitor ; he could make England find him in 
meal and malt for a hundred years, and no 
Scot's wife could say that he had ever hurt 
her the value of a fly. Had he known how 
the king would treat him, he would have kept 
the border in spite of all his army. Eng 
land's king would be a blithe man to hear of 
his capture. At this point the king is at 
tracted by Johnie's splendid girdle and hat, 
and exclaims, What wants that knave that a 
king should have ! Johnie bids farewell to 
his brother, Laird of Mangerton (Thoraas, 
here called Kirsty), and to his son Kirsty, and 
to Gilnock-Hall, and is murdered at Carlen 
rig with all his band. 

It will be observed that the substance, or 

tendants broke through the king's guard, and carried to 
Gilnockie Tower the news of the bloody catastrophe : " but 
that is in the English ballad, B 20. 

{ Dr Hill Burton has made a slight slip here, III, 146, ed. 
1863 ; compare Pitcairn'a Criminal Trials, I, 154. 

He lived in the West March, if that helps to an expla 



at least the hint, of C 21 3 - 4 , 17" 26, 15, 223-*, 
23, 24 1 - 2 , is to be found in Lindsay's narra 

In the last stanza of A and of B, Jolinie 
Armstrong's son (afterwards known as John- 
ie's Christy) sitting on his nurse's knee, B 
(cf. C 30), or standing by his nurse's knee, 
A, vows, if he lives to be a man, to have 
revenge for his father's death.* Not infre 
quently, in popular ballads, a very young (even 
unborn) child speaks, by miracle, to save a 
life, vindicate innocence, or for some other 
kindly occasion ; f sometimes again to threaten 
revenge, as here. So a child in the cradle in 
' Fraendehasvn,' Grundtvig, I, 28, No 4, B 34 
( = C 63), and in ' Hsevnersvaerdet,' I, 351, 
No 25, sts 29, 30 ; and Kullervo in his third 
month, Kalevala, Rune 31, Schiefner, p. 194, 
w. 109-1124 

Johnie's plain speech to the king in C 19, 
' Ye lied, ye lied, now, king ! ' is such as we 
have often heard before in these ballads : see 
I, 427, No 47, A 14 ; I, 446, No 50, A 8, 9 ; I, 

452 f, No 52, C 10, D 7 ; II, 25 f, No 58, G 
7, H 10 ; II, 269 ff, No 83, D 13, B 16, P 22 ; 
II, 282, No 86, A 6 ; III, 62, 67, No 117, sts 
114, 222. It is not unexampled elsewhere. So 
Sthenelus to Agamemnon, II. iv, 204 ; 'ArptiSi;, 
fir) if/tv&e, eTriora/Lttvos (rd<j>a flirtlv ; and Bernardo 
del Carpio, on much the same occasion as 

Mentides, buen rev, mentides, 

que no decides verdad, 

que nunca yo fuf traidor, 

Wolf & Hofmann, Primavera, I, 38 and 41 ; see 
also 1, 186, II, 100, 376. 

This ballad was an early favorite of Gold 
smith's : " The music of the finest singer is 
dissonance to what I felt when our old dairy 
maid sung me into tears with Johnny Arm 
strong's Last Good Night, or the Cruelty of 
Barbara Allen." Essays, 1765, p. 14. 

C is translated by Talvi, Versuch, u. s. w., 
p. 543 ; by Schubart, p. 179 ; by Lo6ve-Vei- 
mars, p. 270. 

a. Wit Restord in severall Select Poems not formerly 
publisht, London, 1658, p. 30, in Facetiae, London, 1871, 1, 

b. Wit and Drollery, London, 1682, p. 57. 

1 THERE dwelt a man in faire Westmorland, 

lonne Armestrong men did him call, 
He had nither lands nor rents coming in, 
Yet he kept eight score men in his hall. 

2 He had horse and harness for them all, 

Goodly steeds were all milke-white ; 

* Found also in one copy of Hugh the Graeme, Buchan's 
MSS, I, 63, st. 15. Borrowed by Sir Walter Scott in The 
Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto I, ix. 

t See many cases inLiebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 210 f, 
to which may be added : Mila, Romancerillo, No 243, pp. 
219-21 ; Briz, II, 222 ; Amador de los Rios, Ilistoria de la 
Lit. Esp., VII, 449; El Folk-Lore Andaluz, 1882, pp. 41, 
77 ; Almeida- Garrett, II, 56, note ; Nigra, C. P. del Pie- 
monte, No 1, E-I, N, O ; 'Le serpent vert,' Poe'sies p. de la 
France, MS., Ill, fol. 126, SOS, now printed by Rolland, III, 
10; Kolberg, Pies'ni ludu polskiego, No 18, p. 208; Luzel, 

O the golden bands an about their necks, 
And their weapons, they were all alike. 

3 Newes then was brought unto the king 

That there was sicke a won as hee, 
That lived lyke a bold out-law, 
And robbed all the north country. 

4 The king he writt an a letter then, 

A letter which was large and long ; 
He signed it with his owne hand, 

And he promised to doe him no wrong. 

I, 81, II, 357, 515 ; Brewer, Dictionary of Miracles, pp. 205, 
355 f. ; Gaidoz, and others, Me'lusine, IV, 228 ft., 272 ff., 
298, 323 f., 405. 

} Grundtvig, No 84, ' Hustru og Mands Moder,' is not so 
good a case, though a. boy just born announces that he will 
revenge his mother, because the boy is born nine years old ; 

II, 412, D 30, E 18. This again in Kristensen, I, 202 f, No 
74, B 12, C 11, and II, 113 ff, No 35, A 18, B 14, C 11. 
The stanza cited by Dr Prior, I, 37, from ' Hammen Ton 
Rcystett,' Wunderhorn, 1808, II, 179, is hardly to the pur 



5 When this letter came lonne untill, 

His heart it was as blythe as birds on the 

tree : 
' Never was I sent for before any king, 

My father, my grandfather, nor none but 


6 ' And if wee goe the king before, 

I would we went most orderly ; 
Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak, 
Laced with silver laces three. 

7 ' Every won of you shall have his velvett 


Laced with sillver lace so white ; 
O the golden bands an about your necks, 
Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke.' 

8 By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock, 

Towards Edenburough gon was hee, 
And with him all his eight score men ; 

Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to 

9 When lonne came befower the king, 

He fell downe on his knee ; 
' O pardon, my soveraine leige,' he said, 
' pardon my eight score men and mee ! ' 

10 ' Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor 


For thy eight score men nor thee ; 
For to-morrow morning by ten of the clock, 
Both thou and them shall hang on the gal- 

11 But lonne looke'd over his left shoulder, 

Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee ! 
Saying, Asking grace of a graceles face 
Why there is none for you nor me. 

12 But lonne had a bright sword by his side, 

And it was made of the mettle so free, 
That had not the king stept his foot aside, 
He had smitten his head from his faire bodde. 

13 Saying, Fight on, my merry men all, 

And see that none of you be taine ; 
For rather then men shall say we were hange'd, 
Let them report how we were slaine. 

14 Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose, 

And so besett poore lonne rounde, 
That fowerscore and tenn of lonnes best men 
Lay gasping all upon the ground. 

15 Then like a mad man lonne laide about, 

And like a mad man then fought hee, 
Untill a falce Scot came lonne behinde, 
And runn him through the faire boddee. 

16 Saying, Fight on, my merry men all, 

And see that none of you be taine ; 
For I will stand by and bleed but awhile, 
And then will I come and fight againe. 

17 Newes then was brought to young lonne Arme- 


As he stood by his nurses knee, 
Who vowed if ere he live'd for to be a man, 
O the treacherous Scots revengd hee'd be. 


a. Wood, 401, fol. 93 b, London, printed for Francis 
Grove (1620-55?). 

b. Pepys, II, 133, No 117, London, printed for W. Thack 
eray and T. Passenger (1660-82 ?). 

c. A Collection of Old Ballads, 1723, 1, 170. 

1 Is there never a man in all Scotland, 

From the highest state to the lowest degree, 
That can shew himself now before the king ? 
Scotland is so full of their traitery. 

2 Yes, there is a man in Westmerland, 

And John Armstrong some do him call ; 
He has no lands nor rents coming in, 

Yet he keeps eightscore men within his hall. 

3 He has horse and harness for them all, 

And goodly steeds that be milk-white, 
With their goodly belts about their necks, 
With hats and feathers all alike. 

4 The king he writ a lovely letter, 

With his own hand so tenderly, 
And has sent it unto John Armstrong, 
To come and speak with him speedily. 

5 When John he looked the letter upon. 

Then, Lord ! he was as blithe as a bird in 

a tree : 
' I was never before no king in my life, 

My father, my grandfather, nor none of us 




6 ' But seeing we must [go] before the king, 

Lord ! we will go most valiantly ; 

You shall every one have a velvet coat, 

Laid down with golden laces three. 

7 ' And you shall every one have a scarlet cloak, 

Laid down with silver laces five, 
With your golden belts about your necks, 
With hats [and] brave feathers all alike.' 

8 But when John he went from Guiltknock Hall ! 

The wind it blew hard, and full sore it did 


' Now fare you well, brave Guiltknock Hall ! 
I fear I shall never see thee again.' 

9 Now John he is to Edenborough gone, 

And his eightscore men so gallantly, 
And every one of them on a milk-white steed, 
With their bucklers and swords hanging 
down to the knee. 

10 But when John he came the king before, 

With his eightscore men so gallant to see, 
The king he moved his bonnet to him ; 

He thought he had been a king as well as 

11 ' pardon, pardon, my soveraign leige, 

Pardon for my eightscore men and me ! 
For my name it is John Armstrong, 

And a subject of yours, my leige,' said he. 

12 ' Away with thee, thou false traitor ! 

No pardon I will grant to thee, 
But, to-morrov before eight of the clock, 
I will hang thy eightscore men and thee.' 

13 O how John looked over his left shoulder ! 

And to his merry men thus said he : 
I have asked grace of a graceless face, 
No pardon here is for you nor me. 

14 Then John pulld out a nut-brown sword, 

And it was made of mettle so free ; 
Had not the king moved his foot as he did, 
John had taken his head from his body. 

15 ' Come, follow me, my merry men all, 

We will scorn one foot away to fly ; 

It never shall be said we were hung like doggs ; 
No, wee "1 fight it out most manfully.' 

16 Then they fought on like champions bold 

For their hearts was sturdy, stout, and free 
Till they had killed all the kings good guard; 
There was none left alive but onely three. 

17 But then rise up all Edenborough, 

They rise up by thousands three ; 
Then a cowardly Scot came John behind, 
And run him thorow the fair body. 

18 Said John, Fight on, my merry men all, 

I am a little hurt, but I am not slain ; 
I will lay me down for to bleed a while, 
Then I 'le rise and fight with you again. 

19 Then they fought on like mad men all, 

Till many a man lay dead on the plain ; 
For they were resolved, before they would 

That every man would there be slain. 

20 So there they fought couragiously, 

'Till most of them lay dead there and slain, 
But little Musgrave, that was his foot-page, 
With his bonny grissell got away untain. 

21 But when he came up to Guiltknock Hall, 

The lady spyed him presently : 
' What news, what news, thou little foot-page ? 
What news from thy master and his com 
pany ? ' 

22 ' My news is bad, lady,' he said, 

' Which I do bring, as you may see ; 
My master, John Armstrong, he is slain, 
And all his gallant company. 

23 ' Yet thou are welcome home, my bonny grisel ! 

Full oft thou hast fed at the corn and hay, 
But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine, 
And thy sides shall be spurred no more, I 

24 O then bespoke his little son, 

As he was set on his nurses knee : 
' If ever I live for to be a man, 

My fathers blood revenged shall be.' 




Allan Ramsay, The Ever Green, II, 190, "copied from a 
gentleman's mouth of the name of Armstrang, who is the 
6th generation from this John." 

1 SUM speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds, 

And siclyke men of hie degrie ; 
Of a gentleman I sing a sang, 

Sumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie. 

2 The king he wrytes a hiving letter, 

With his ain hand sae tenderly : 
And he hath sent it to Johny Annstrang, 
To cum and speik with him speidily. 

3 The Eliots and Armstrangs did convene, 

They were a gallant company : 
' We 'ill ryde and meit our lawful king, 
And bring him safe to Gilnockie. 

4 ' Make kinnen and capon ready, then, 

And venison in great plenty ; 
We 'ill welcome hame our royal king ; 
I hope he 'ill dyne at Gilnockie ! ' 

5 They ran their horse on the Laugum howm, 

And brake their speirs with mekle main ; 
The ladys lukit frae their loft-windows, 
' God bring our men weil back again ! ' 

6 When Johny came before the king, 

With all his men sae brave to see, 
The king he movit his bonnet to him ; 
He weind he was a king as well as he. 

7 ' May I find grace, my sovereign liege, 

Grace for my loyal men and me ? 
For my name it is Johny Armstrang, 
And subject of yours, my liege,' said he. 

8 ' Away, away, thou traytor, strang ! 

Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be ! 
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, 

And now I '11 not begin with thee.' 

9 ' Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king, 

And a bony gift I will give to thee ; 
Full four-and-twenty milk-whyt steids, 
Were a' foald in a yeir to me. 

10 ' I '11 gie thee all these milk-whyt steids, 
That prance and nicher at a speir, 

With as mekle gude Inglis gilt 

As four of their braid backs dow beir.' 

11 'Away, away, thou traytor strang! 

Out o' my sicht thou mayst sune be ! 
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, 

And now I '11 not begin with thee.' 

12 ' Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king, 

And a bony gift I '11 gie to thee ; 
Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills, 
That gang throw a' the yeir to me. 

13 ' These four-and-twenty mills complete 

Sail gang for thee throw all the yeir, 
And as mekle of gude reid wheit 
As all their happers dow to bear.' 

14 ' Away, away, thou traytor, strang ! 

Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be ! 
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, 

And now I '11 not begin with thee.' 

15 ' Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king, 

And a great gift I '11 gie to thee ; 
Bauld four-and-twenty sisters sons, 
Sail for the feeht, tho all sould flee.' 

16 ' Away, away, thou traytor, strang ! 

Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be ! 
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, 

And now I '11 not begin with thee.' 

17 ' Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my king, 

And a brave gift I '11 gie to thee ; 

All betwene heir and Newcastle town 

Sail pay thair yeirly rent to thee.' 

18 ' Away, away, thou traytor, strang ! 

Out of my sicht thou mayst sune be ! 
I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, 

And now I '11 not begin with thee.' 

19 ' Ye lied, ye lied, now, king,' he says, 

' Althocht a king and prince ye be, 
For I luid naithing in all my lyfe, 
I dare well say it, but honesty ; 

20 ' But a fat horse, and a fair woman, 

Twa bony dogs to kill a deir : 
But Ingland suld haif found me meil and malt, 
Gif I had livd this hundred yeir ! 



21 ' Scho suld half found me meil and malt, 

And beif and mutton in all plentie ; 
But neir a Scots wyfe could haif said 
That eir I skaithd her a pure flie. 

22 ' To seik het water beneth cauld yce, 

Surely it is a great folie ; 
I haif asked grace at a graceless face, 
But there is nane for my men and me. 

23 ' But had I kend, or I came frae liame, 

How thou unkynd wadst bene to me, 
I wad haif kept the border-syde, 
In spyte of ail thy force and thee. 

24 ' Wist Englands king that I was tanc, 

O gin a blyth man wald he be ! 
For anes I slew his sisters son, 

And on his breist-bane brak a tree.' 

25 John wore a girdle about his midle, 

Imbroiderd owre with burning gold, 
Bespangled with the same mettle, 
Maist beautifull was to behold. 

26 Ther hang nine targats at Johnys hat, 

And ilk an worth three hundred pound : 

'What wants that knave that a king suld haif, 

But the sword of honour and the crown ! 

27 ' whair gat thou these targats, Johnie, 

That blink sae brawly abune thy brie ? ' 

' I gat them in the field f editing, 
Wher, cruel king, thou durst not be. 

28 ' Had I my horse, and my harness gude, 

And ryding as I wont to be, 
It sould haif bene laid this hundred yeir 
The melting of my king and me. 

29 ' God be withee, Kirsty, my brither, 

Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun ! 
Lang mayst thou live on the border-syde 
Or thou se thy brither ryde up and doun. 

30 'And God be withee, Kirsty, my son, 

Whair thou sits on thy nurses knee ! 
But and thou live this hundred yeir, 
Thy fathers better thoult never be. 

31 ' Farweil, my bonny Gilnock-Hall. 

Whair on Esk-syde thou standest stout ! 
Gif I had lived but seven yeirs mair, 
I wald haif gilt thee round about.' 

32 John murdred was at Carlinrigg, 

And all his galant companie : 
But Scotlands heart was never sae wae, 
To see sae mony brave men die. 

33 Because they savd their country deir 

Frae Englishmen ; nane were sae bauld, 
Whyle Johnie livd on the border-syde, 
Nane of them durst cum neir his hald. 

A. a. 3". syke a. 17*. th' the. 

b. 3 a . sick a man. 5 3 . it wanting. 

6 1 . And therefore if. 7 4 . and white. 

8 4 . an it : for wanting. 9 1 . Johnnee. 
10". Ne for. 11. There Johnne. 
11 s . Said he. II 4 . yee. 12 2 . the wanting. 
13 4 . that we. 14'. Johnnee's. 
15 4 . thorough. 

B. a. lohn Arm-strongs last good night. Declar 

ing How John Arm-strong and his eightscore 
men fought a bloody bout with a Scottish 
king at Edenborough. To a pretty north 
ern tune called, Fare you well, guilt Knock- 

6 1 . we must before ; perhaps rightly. 

8 1 - 8 , 21 1 . guilt Knock-hall. 

Signed T. R. 

London, Printed for Francis Grove on S[n]ow- 


Entered according to order, 
b. Title: with the Scottish. To a pretty new 

northern tune : called, &c., omitted. 
I 1 , estate. I 4 , of treachery. 
2 2 . Jonny : they do. 4 1 . writes a loving. 
4 2 . And with. 4". hath. 5 1 . this letter. 
5 1 . Good Lord. 5 2 . he lookt. 5*. a king. 

6 1 . must go. 

6 2 . most gallantly. 7 1 . And ye. 

7 4 . hats and. 8 1 ' 3 , 21 1 . guilt Knock-hall. 

8 2 . full fast. 8*. fare thee well thou guilt. 

9 1 . Johnny. 9 4 . to their. 10 1 . he wanting. 
12*. to morrow morning by eight. 
12 4 . hang up. 13 1 . Johnny. 14 1 . out his. 
15". It shall ne'r. 15 4 . We will. 



16". were. 16 4 . but two or. 17 1 '". rose. 

17 3 . Then wanting. 

18 2 . little wounded but am. 19 2 . up on. 

20*. Musgrove. 21 1 . up wanting. 

22 s . Johnny Armstrong is. 

23 2 . been fed with. 24 1 . bespake. 

24 s . for wanting. 24*. father's death. 

Signed T. R. 

London, Printed for W. Thackeray and T. 


C. Johnny Armstrongs, last Good-night, shewing 
how John Armstrong, with his Eightscore 
Men, fought a bloody Battle with the Scotch 
King at Edenborough. To a Northern Tune. 

I 1 , ever. I 2 , estate. 1 s . our king. 

I 4 , full of treachery. 2 2 . Johnny : they do. 

3 1 . horses. 4 1 . writes a loving. 

4 2 . And with. 4 s . hath : Johnny. 

5 1 . this letter. 5 2 . He lokd as blith. 

5 s . a king. 6 1 . must go. 6 2 . most gallantly. 

6 s . Ye. 7 1 . And every one shall. 

6*. hats and feathers. 

8 1 . Johnny went : Giltnock. 8". full fast. 

8 s . fare thee well thou Giltnock. 

9 1 . Johnny. 9 2 . With his. 


9 4 . hanging to their. 
10 1 . he wanting. 11 s . Johnny. 
II 4 . a wanting. 12 3 . will I. 
12*. to-morrow morning by eight. 
12 4 . hang up. 13 1 . Then Johnny. 
13 4 . there is : you and. 

14 1 . his good broad sword. 

14 2 . That was made of the. 14 4 . his fair. 
15 2 . foot for to. 15*. shall never be : hangd. 
15 4 . We will. 16 2 . were. 

1G 4 . were : but one, two or three. 

17 1 ' 2 . rose. 17*. Then wanting. 

17 4 . through. 18 2 . little wounded but am. 

18 3 . for wanting. 21 1 . up wanting. 

21 1 . Giltnock. 22*. lolumy Armstrong is. 

23 2 . hast been fed with corn. 24 1 . bespake. 

24 2 . he sat on. 24*. for wanting. 

24 4 . fathers death. 

Printed in stanzas of eight lines. 

Zours, zeir, etc., are here printed yours, yeir, 

etc.; quhair, quheit, here, whair, wheit. 
5 1 . hown. 
11, 14, 16, 18, only Away, away thou traytor, 

etc., is printed. 
19 4 . sayit. 



A. Percy papers, 1776. B. ' Queen Jeanie,' Kinloch's 
Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 116. C. a. Jamieson's 
Popular Ballads, I, 182.* b. Herd's MSS, I, 103. 
D. 'The Death of Queen Jane,' Bell's Ancient 

Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of Eng 
land, p. 113. E. 'Queen Jeanie,' Macmath MS., p. 
68. F. Notes and Queries, Second Series, XI, 131. 
G. A fragment from William MotherwelFs papers. 

THIS threnody is said to have been cur 
rent throughout Scotland. There is another, 
not in the popular style, in the Crowne Gar 
land of Golden Roses, 1612, Percy Society, 
vol. vi, p. 29 : The Wofull Death of Queene 
Jane, wife to King Henry the Eight, and 
how King Edward was cut out of his mother's 
belly. This is reprinted in Old Ballads, 1723, 
II, 115, and Evans's Collection, 1777, 1784, 

Jamieson cites the first two verses in The Scots Maga 
zine, October, 1803, and says : Of this affecting composition 

II, 54, and is among Pepys's Penny Merri 
ments, vol. iii. ' A ballett called The Lady 
Jane ' and another piece entitled The Lamen 
tation of Quene Jane were licensed in 1560; 
Stationers' Registers, Arber, I, 151 f. 

Jane Seymour gave birth to Prince Edward 
October 12, 1537, and by a natural process, 
but, in consequence of imprudent manage 
ment, died twelve days after. There was a 

I have two copies, both imperfect, but they will make a 
pretty good and consistent whole between them. 



belief that severe surgery had been required, 
under which the queen sank. The editor of 
Old Ballads, II, 116 f, cites Sir John Hay- 
ward as saying : " All reports do constantly 
run that he [Prince Edward] was not by 
natural passage delivered into the world, but 
that his mother's belly was opened for his 
birth, and that she died of the incision the 
fourth day following." And Du Chesne: 
" Quand ce vint au terme de 1'accoucheraent, 

elle eut tant de tourment et de peine qu'il 
lui fallut fendre le coste", par lequel on tira 
son fruit, le douzieme jour d'Octobre. Elle 
mourut douze jours apres." But Echard 
again : " Contrary to the opinion of many 
writers," the queen " died twelve days after 
the birth of this prince, having been well de 
livered, and without any incision, as others 
have maliciously reported." 

Communicated to Percy by the Dean of Derry, as written 
from memory by his mother, Mrs. Bernard, February, 1776. 

1 QUEEN JANE was in labour full six weeks and 

And the women were weary, and fain would 

give oer : 
' O women, O women, as women ye be, 

Rip open my two sides, and save my baby ! ' 

2 ' O royal Queen Jane, that thing may not be ; 

We '11 send for King Henry to come unto 


King Hemy came to her, and sate on her bed : 
' What ails my dear lady, her eyes look so 


3 ' O royal King Henry, do one thing for me : 

Rip open my two sides, and save my baby ! ' 
' O royal Queen Jane, that thing will not do ; 
If I lose your fair body, I '11 lose your baby 

4 She wept and she waild, and she wrung her 

hands sore ; 

O the flour of England must flurish no more ! 

She wept and she waild till she fell in a swoond, 

They opend her two sides, and the baby was 


5 The baby was christened with joy and much 

Whilst poor Queen Jane's body lay cold 

under earth : 
There was ringing and singing and mourning 

all day, 
The princess Eliz[abeth] went weeping away. 

6 The trumpets in mourning so sadly did sound, 

And the pikes and the muskets did trail on 
the ground. 


Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 116. 

1 QUEEN JEANIE, Queen Jeanie, traveld six 

weeks and more, 
Till women and midwives had quite gien her 


.' O if ye were women as women should be, 
Ye would send for a doctor, a doctor to me.' 

2 The doctor was called for and set by her bed 

side : 

' What aileth thee, my ladie, thine eyes seem 
so red ? ' 

' O doctor, O doctor, will ye do this for me, 
To rip up my two sides, and save my babie ? ' 

3 ' Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that '"s the thing 

I '11 neer do, 

To rip up your two sides to save your babie : ' 
Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, traveld six weeks 

and more, 
Till midwives and doctors had quite gien 

her oer. 

4 ' O if ye were doctors as doctors should be, 

Ye would send for King Henry, King Henry 
to me : ' 



King Henry was called for, and sat by her 


' What aileth thee, Jeanie ? what aileth my 
bride ? ' 

6 ' King Henry, King Henry, will ye do this for 


To rip up my two sides, and save my babie ? ' 
' Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that 's what I '11 

never do, 

To rip up your two sides to save your 

6 But with sighing and sobbing she 's fallen in a 

Her side it was ript up, and her babie was 

found ; 
At this bonie babie's christning there was 

meikle joy and mirth. 
But bonnie Queen Jeanie lies cold in the 

7 Six and six coaches, and six and six more, 

And royal King Henry went mourning be 
fore ; 

O two and two gentlemen carried her away, 
But royal King Henry went weeping away. 

8 black were their stockings, and black were 

their bands, 
And black were the weapons they held in 

their hands ; 
black were their mufflers, and black were 

their shoes, 
And black were the cheverons they drew on 

their luves. 

9 They mourned in the kitchen, and they mournd 

in the ha, 

But royal King Henry mournd langest of a' : 
Farewell to fair England, farewell for ever 
more ! 

For the fair flower of England will never 
shine more. 


a. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 182; "from two frag 
ments, one transmitted from Arbroath and another from 
Edinburgh." b. Herd's MSS, I, 103. 

1 QUEEN JEANY has traveld for three days and 

Till the ladies were weary, and quite gave 

her oer : 

' ladies, O ladies, do this thing for me, 
To send for King Henry, to come and see 


2 King Henry was sent for, and sat by her bed 

' Why weep you, Queen Jeany ? your eyes 

are so red.' 

' O Henry, O Henry, do this one thing for me, 
Let my side straight be opend, and save my 
babie ! ' 

3 ' O Jeany, Jeany, this never will do, 

It will leese thy sweet life, and thy young 

babie too.' 
She wept and she wailed, till she fell in a 

swoon : 
Her side it was opened, the babie was found. 

4 Prince Edward was christened with joy and 

with mirth, 
But the flower of fair England lies cold in 

the earth. 
black was King Henry, and black were his 

And black was the steed that King Henry 

rode on. 

5 And black were the ladies, and black were 

their fans, 
And black were the gloves that they wore 

-on their hands, 
And black were the ribbands they wore on their 


And black were the pages, and black were 
the maids. 


6 The trumpets they sounded, the cannons did 


But the flower of fair England shall flourish 
no more. 



Robert Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the 
Peasantry of England, p. 113; " taken down from the sing 
ing of a young gipsy girl, to whom it had descended orally 
through two generations." 

1 QUEEN JANE was in travail for six weeks or 

Till the women grew tired and fain would 

give oer : 

' O women, O women, good wives if ye be, 
Go send for King Henrie, and bring him to 

me! ' 

2 King Henrie was sent for, he came with all 

In a gownd of green velvet from heel to the 

' King Henrie, King Henrie, if kind Henrie 

you be, 
Send for a surgeon, and bring him to me ! ' 

3 The surgeon was sent for, he came with all 

In a gownd of black velvet from heel to the 

head ; 

He gave her rich caudle, but the death-sleep 
slept she, 

Then her right side was opened, and the 
babe was set free. 

4 The babe it was christened, and put out and 


While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in 
the dust. 

5 So black was the mourning, and white were 

the wands, 
Yellow, yellow the torches they bore in their 

hands ; 
The bells they were muffled, and mournful did 

While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in 

the clay. 

6 Six knights and six lords bore her corpse 

through the grounds, 
Six dukes followed after, in black mourning 

gownds ; 
The flower of Old England was laid in cold 


Whilst the royal King Henrie came weeping 


Macmath MS., p. 68. " From my aunt, Miss Jane Web 
ster, 1886-1887. She learned it at Airds of Kells, Kirkcud 
brightshire, over fifty years ago, from the singing of James 

1 ' YE midwives and women-kind, do one thing 

for me ; 
Send for my mother, to come and see me.' 

2 Her mother was sent for, who came speedilie : 
' O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee ? ' 

3 ' O mother, dear mother, do one thing for me ; 
O send for King Henry, to come and see me.' 

4 King Henry was sent for, who came speedilie : 
' O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee ? ' 

5 ' King Henry, King Henry, do one thing for 

send for a doctor, to come and see me.' 

6 The doctor was sent for, who came speedilie : 

' O Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, are ye gaun to dee ? ' 

7 ' O doctor, oh doctor, do one thing for me ; 
Open my left side, and let my babe free.' 

8 He opened her left side, and then all was oer, 
And the best flower in England will flourish 

no more. 



Notes and Queries, Second Series, XI, 131 ; sung by an 
illiterate nursemaid " some forty years since " (1881). 

1 QUEEN JANE lies in labour six weeks or 

Till the women were tired, go see her no 

more : 

' Oh women, oh women, if women you be, 
You '11 send for King Henry, to come and 
see me. 

2 ' Oh King Henry, King Henry, if King Henry 

you be, 
You '11 send for the doctor, to come and see 

me : 

Oh doctor, oh doctor, if a doctor you be, 
You '11 open my right side, and save my 


3 They churchd her, they chimed her, they dug 

her her grave, 

They buried her body, and christend her 

In pencil, in Motherwell's handwriting, inside of the 
cover of what appears to be a sketch of his Introduction to 
his Minstrelsy ; communicated by Mr Macmath. 

1 QUEEN JEANIE was in labour full three days 

and more, 
Till a' the good women was forced to gie 

her oer : 
' O guide women, gude women, gude women,' 

quo she, 

' Will ye send for King Henry, to come and 
see me ? ' 

Wi weeping and wailing, lamenting full sore, 
That the flower of all England should flourish 
no more. 

2 King Henri/ was sent for, who came in great 

Standing weeping and wailing at Queen 

Jeanie's bedside ; 
Standing weeping and wailing, etc. 

3 ' O King Henry, King Henry, King Henry,' 

quo she, 
' Will ye send for my mother .... 

B. 3 1 , 5 s . do is to be pronounced dee. 

C. b. Only six lines : 2 M , 4 1 - 2 , 5 W . 

2". This thing. 

2 4 . Straight open my two sides : save your. 
4 1 . The babie was. 
4 s . But royal Queen Jeany lay low. 
5 1 . Then black were their mournings. 
B. The first seven stanzas taken down October 

15, 1886, and the last sent on February 3, 


2ith March, 1887. " I can never remember 
them, sitting thinking about them. Yester 
day I was humming away, not knowing 
what I was singing, until I sung this : 

8 He opened her left side, Queen Jeanie's life 's 


And the last rose of England will flourish no 



Percy MS., p. 55; Hales and Furnivall, I, 129. 

JUNE 10, 1540, Thomas Lord Cromwell, 
" when he least expected it," was arrested at 
the council-table by the Duke of Norfolk for 
high-treason, and on the 28th of July follow 
ing he was executed. Cromwell, says Lord 
Herbert of Cherbury, judged "his perdition 
more certain that the duke was uncle to the 
Lady Katherine Howard, whom the king be 
gan now to affect." Later writers* have as 
serted that Katherine Howard exerted her 
self to procure Cromwell's death, and we can 
understand nobody else but her to be doing 
this in the third stanza of this fragment ; 
nevertheless there is no authority for such a 
representation. The king had no personal 
interview with the minister whom he so sud 

denly struck down, but he did send the Duke 
of Norfolk and two others to visit Cromwell 
in prison, for the purpose of extracting confes 
sions pertaining to Anne of Cleves. Crom 
well wrote a letter to the king, imploring the 
mercy which, as well as confession, he refuses 
in stanza five. 

Percy inserted in the Reliques, 1765, II, 
58, a song against Cromwell, printed in 1540, 
and apparently before his death, and he ob 
serves, 1767, II, 86, that there was a succes 
sion of seven or eight more, for and against, 
which were then preserved, and of course are 
still existing, in the archives of the Antiqua 
rian Society. 


'Ffor if your boone be askeable, 
Soone granted it shalbe : 

2 ' If it be not touching my crowne,' he said, 

' Nor hurting poore comminaltye.' 
'Nay, it is not touching yowr crowne,' shei 

' Nor hurting poore cominaltye, 

3 ' But I begg the death of Thomas Cromwell, 

For a false traitor to you is hee.' 
' Then feitch me hither the Eaiie of Darby 
And the Earle of Shrewsbury, 

4 ' And bidde them bring Thomas Cromawell ; 

Let 's see what he can say to mee ; ' 
For Thomas had woont to haue carryed his 

head vp, 
But now he hanges it vppon his knee. 

5 ' How now ? How now ? ' the king did say, 

' Thomas, how is it with thee ? ' 
' Hanging and drawing, O king ! ' he saide ; 
' You shall neuer gett more from mee.' 

Half of the page is gone before the beginning. 
2 8 . it it is. 

* Burnet; Rapin-Thoyras, 1724, V, 401. 





' Musleboorrowe ffeild,' Percy MS,, p. 54; Hales and Furnirall, I, 123. 

THE Protector Somerset, to overcome or to 
punish the opposition of the Scots to the mar 
riage of Mary Stuart with Edward VI, invaded 
Scotland at the end of the summer of 1547 
with eighteen thousand men, supported by a 
fleet. The Scots mustered at Musselburgh, 
a town on the water five or six miles east 
of Edinburgh, under the Earls of Arran, An 
gus, and Huntly, each of whom, according to 
Buchanan, had ten thousand men, and there 
the issue was tried on the 10th of Septem 
ber. The northern army abandoned an im 
pregnable position, and their superior, but ill- 
managed, and partly ill-composed, force, after 
successfully resisting a cavalry charge, was 
put to flight by the English, who had an ad 
vantage in cannon and cavalry as well as gen 
eralship. A hideous slaughter followed ; Les 
lie admits that, in the chase and battle, there 
were slain above ten thousand of his country 
men. Patten, a Londoner who saw and de 
scribed the fight, says that the one anxiety of 
the Scots was lest the English should get 
away, and that they were so sure of victory 
that, the night before the battle, they fell 
" to playing at dice for certain of our noble 
men and captains of fame " (cf. stanza 3), as 
the French diced for prisoners on the eve of 
Agincourt. The dates are wrong in I 1 ' 2 , 5 1 ; 

Huntly is rightly said to have been made 
prisoner, 7 1 . 

6, 8. When the Scots were once turned, says 
Patten, " it was a wonder to see how soon 
and in how sundry sorts they were scattered ; 
the place they stood on like a wood of staves, 
strewed on the ground as rushes in a cham 
ber, unpassable, they lay so thick, for either 
horse or man." Some made their course 
along the sands by the Frith, towards Leith ; 
some straight toward Edinburgh ; " and the 
residue, and (as we noted then) the most, of 
them toward Dalkeith, which way, by means 
of the marsh, our horsemen were worst able 
to follow." * 

The battle is known also by the name of 
Pinkie or Pinkie Cleuch, appellations of an 
estate, a burn and a hill (" a hill called 
Pinkincleuche," Leslie), near or within the 
field of operations. 

Percy remarks upon 3 3 : " It should seem 
from hence that there was somewhat of a 
uniform among our soldiers even then." 
There are jackets white and red in No 166, 
29 s . Sir William Stanley has ten thousand 
red coats at his order in ' Lady Bessy,' vv 
593, 809-11, 937 f, Percy MS., Ill, 344, 352, 
358; Sir John Savage has fifteen hundred 
white hoods in the same piece, v. 815. 

1 ON the tenth day of December, 

And the fourth yeere of King Edwards 

Att Musleboorrowe, as I remember, 

Two goodly hosts there mett on a plaine. 

2 All that night they camped there, 

Soe did the Scotts, both stout and stubborne ; 

* W. Patten, The Expedition into Scotlande, etc., re 
printed in Dalyell's Fragments of Scottish History, pp. 51, 



But " wellaway," it was their song, 

For wee haue taken them in their owne 

3 Over night they carded for our English mens 

coates ; 

They fished before their netts were spuim ; 
A white for sixpence, a red for two groates ; 
Now wisdome wold haue stayed till they had 

been woone. 

4 Wee feared not but that they wold fight, 

Yett itt was turned vnto their owne paine ; 
Thoe against one of vs t/iat they were eight, 
Yett with their owne weapons wee did them 

5 On the twelfth day in the morne 

The made a face as the wold fight, 

But many a proud Scott there was downe 

And many a ranke coward was put to flight. 

6 But when they heard our great gunnes cracke, 

Then was their harts turned into their hose ; 
They cast down their weapons, and turned 

their backes, 
They ran soe fast that the fell on their nose. 

7 The Lord Huntley, wee had him there ; 

With him hee brought ten thousand men, 
Yett, God bee thanked, wee made them such a 

That none of them returned againe. 

8 Wee chased them to D[alkeith] 

I 1 . 10 th . I 2 . 4*. I 4 . 2. 2 1 . all night that. 
2*. home may be the reading, instead of turne. 

3 3 . 61 : pro 2. 4 s . 8|. 5 1 . 12^. 
r. 10000. 8 1 . Half a page gone. 



A. a. 'Marie Hamilton,' Sharp's Ballad Book, 1824, 
p. 18. b. Communicated by the late John Francis 
Campbell, c. Aungervyle Society's publications, No 
V, p. 18. 

B. 'Mary Hamilton,' MotherwelPs MS., p. 337; 
printed in part in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 313 ff. 

C. ' Mary Myles,' Motherwell's MS., p. 265. 

D. ' Mary Hamilton,' Motherwell's MS., p. 267; Moth 
erwell's Minstrelsy, p. 316. 

E. ' Lady Maisry,' Buchan's MSS, II, 186 ; Buchan's 
Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 1 90. 

P. Skene MS., p. 61. 

O. 'Mary Hamilton,' MS. of Scottish Songs and Bal 
lads copied by a granddaughter of Lord Woodhouse- 
lee, p. 51. 

H. ' Mary Hamilton,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Bal 
lads, p. 252. 

I. a. 'The Queen's Marie,' Scott's Minstrelsy, 1833, 
III, 294. b. Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802, II, 154, three 

J. 'Marie Hamilton,' Harris MS., fol. 10 b. 

K. ' The Queen's Mary,' Motherwell's MS., p. 96. 

Ii. ' Mary Hamilton,' Motherwell's MS., p. 280. 

M. 'Mary Hamilton,' Maidment's North Countrie 
Garland, p. 19. Repeated in Buchan's Gleanings, 
p. 164. 

N. ' The Queen's Maries,' Murison MS., p. 33. 

O. ' The Queen's Marie,' Finlay's Scottish Ballads, I, 



P. Kinloch MSS, VII, 95, 97 ; Kinloch's Ancient 
Scottish Ballads, p. 252. 

Kirkpatrick Sharpe, ed. Allardyce, II, 272, two 

Q. ' Queen's Marie,' Letters from and to Charles R. Burns, Letter to Mrs Dunlop, 25 January, 1790, 

Currie, II, 290, 1800, one stanza. 

THE scene is at the court of Mary Stuart, 
A-N, Q. The unhappy heroine is one of the 
queen's Four Maries, A a 18, b 14, c 1, 18, 
23, B 19, D 21, P 3, 12, G 16, H 18, I 19, 
J 8, 10, K 8, M 7, N 1 ; Mary Hamilton, A 
a 1, b 2, c '2, B 3, D 8, G 1, H 4, I 1, J 6 ; 
Lady Mary, P 5, 6 ; Mary Mild, Myle, C 5, 
M 1, N 1, also A c 6, Moil, O, but Lady Maisry, 
E 6. She gangs wi bairn ; it is to the highest 
Stewart of a', A a 1, A c 2, B 3, C 5 ; cf . D 3, 
G 1-3, 1 1-6. L 9, P 1. She goes to the gar 
den to pull the leaf off the tree, in a vain hope 
to be free of the babe, C 3 ; it is the savin- 
tree,'D 4, the deceivin-tree, N 3, the Abbey- 
tree (and pulled by the king), I 6.* She rolls 
the bairn in her apron, handkerchief, and 
throws it in the sea, A a 3, A b 3, A c 4, 
C 4, D 5, 9, I 7, K 2, 4, L 5 (inconsistently), 
O 3 ; cf. B 7. The queen asks where the babe 
is that she has heard greet, A a 4, b 4, c 6, 
B 4, 6, C 6, D 6, 8, B 6, 7, F 6, G 5, H 5, I 9, 
J 3, L 1, M 1 ; there is no babe, it was a stitch 
in the side, colic, A a 5, b 5, c 7, B 5, C 7, D 7, 
E 8, P 7, G 6, H 6, I 10, J 4, L 2, M 2 ; 
search is made and the child found in the 
bed, dead, B 9, P 9, H 7, J 5, L 4, M 4 (and 
A c 8 inconsistently). The queen bids Mary 
make ready to go to Edinburgh (i. e., from 
Holyrood), A a 6, A b 6, A c 10, C 8, D 11, 
E 10, F 12, H 8, I 11. The purpose is con 
cealed in A, a, b, c, and for the best effect 
should be concealed, or at least simulated, as 
in B, D, G, I, where a wedding is the pretence, 
Mary Hamilton's own wedding in D. The 
queen directs Mary to put on black or brown, 
A a 6, A b 6, A c 10 ; she will not put on 
black or brown, but white, gold, red, to shine 
through Edinburgh town, A a 7, A b 7, A c 
11, B 9, C 9, D 13, E 11, H 10, K 6, N 5, 

* Deceivin, Abbey, are of course savin misunderstood. 
One of the reciters of D (4 2 ) gave ' saving.' 

5. When she went up the Canongate, 
A a 8, b 8, c 13, L 6, up the Parliament 
stair, A a 9, b 9, c 14, D 16, up the Tolbooth 
stair, C 12, E 14, H 15, I 17, came to the 
Netherbow Port, G 10, I 18, M 6, she laughed 
loudly or lightly, A a 8, b 8, c 13, D 16, E 14, 
G 10, H 15, I 18, L 6, M 6 ; the heel, lap, 
came off her shoe, A a 9, b 9, c 14, C 12, the 
corks from her heels did flee, I 17 ; but ere 
she came down again she was condemned to 
die, A a 9, b 9, c 14, C 12, D 16, B 14, H 15, 

1 17 ; but when she reached the gallows-foot, 
G 10, I 18, M 6, ere she came to the Cow- 
gate Head, L 6, when she came down the 
Canongate, A a 8, b 8, c 13, the tears blinded 
her eyes. She calls for a bottle of wine, 
that she may drink to her well-wishers and 
they may drink to her, A a 12, b 10, c 17, B 
14 ; cf. D 19, 20, G 13. She adjures sailors, 
travellers, not to let her father and mother 
get wit what death she is to die, A a 14, 
b 12, c 19, B 15, C 13, D 20, P 15, G 13, 
H 21, I 23, L 7, M 8, or know but that she 
is coming home, A a 13, b 11, B 16, C 14, 
D 19, E 15, F 16, G 14, H 20, I 22, L 8. 
Little did her mother think when she cradled 
her (brought her from home, P 18) what 
lands she would travel and what end she 
would come to, A a 15, c 21, B 17, 18, C 15, 
D 17, G 15, I 25, J 9, N 9, R ; as little her 
father, when he held her up, A a 16, c 22, 
C 16, brought her over the sea, P 17. Yes 
treen the queen had four Maries, to-night 
she '11 have but three (see above) ; ye'streen 
she washed Queen Mary's feet, etc., and the 
gallows is her reward to-day, A a 17, b 13, 
B 20, C 17, G 11, 12, H 19, I 20, 21, N 8. 

It is impossible to weave all the versions 
into an intelligible and harmonious story. In 
E 10, F 12, H 8 the intention to bring Mary 
to trial is avowed, and in A c 9, B 8 5 - 6 , F 10, 
K 5, M 5 she is threatened with death. In 



D 12, H 9, J 7, N 4, the queen is made to 
favor, and not inhibit, gay colors. Mary may 
laugh when she goes up the Parliament stair, 
but not when she goes up the Tolbooth stair. 
She goes up the Canongate to the Parliament 
House to be tried, but she would not go down 
the Canongate again, the Tolbooth being in 
the High Street, an extension of the Canon- 
gate, and the Parliament House in the rear. 
The tears and alaces and ohones as Mary 
goes by, A a 10, c 15, B 10, C 10, D 14, B 12, 
F 13, H 11, I 1C, are a sufficiently effective 
incident as long as Mary is represented to be 
unsuspicious of her doom, as she is in D 15, 
Q 9, I 15, 16 ; but in A a 11, c 16, B 11, 
C 11, H 12, 22, she forbids condolement, be 
cause she deserves to die for killing her babe, 
which reduces this passage to commonplace. 
Much better, if properly introduced, would be 
the desperate ejaculation, Seek never grace at 
a graceless face ! which we find in B 13, F 14, 
H 13, N 7. 

At the end of B the king tells Mary Ham 
ilton to come down from the scaffold, but she 
scorns life after having been put to public 
shame. So in D, with queen for king. 

In A a 4, b 4, 13, G 5 the queen is " the 
auld queen," and yet Mary Stuart. 

B, from 16, F, from 19, are borrowed from 
No 95, ' The Maid freed from the Gallows : ' 
see II, 346. G 8 (and I 13, taken from G) 
is derived from ' Lord Thomas and Fair 
Annet,' D a 11, e 10, g 11 : see II, 187, 196, 
197. The rejection of black and brown, A 7, 
C 9, D 13, etc., or of green, K 6, is found in 
the same ballad, C 10, E 16, F 12, 15, etc., 
B 20. B 21 is perhaps from ' The Laird of 
Waristoun : ' see further on, A 9, B 10, C 4. 
I 12, 14 look like a souvenir of ' Fair Janet,' 
No 64. 

There are not a few spurious passages. 
Among these are the extravagance of the 
queen's bursting in the door, F 8 ; the plati 
tude, of menial stamp, that the child, if saved, 
might have been an honor to the mother, 
D 10, L 3, O 4 ; the sentimentality of H 3, 

Allan Cunningham has put the essential 
incidents of the story into a rational order, 

that of A, for example, with less than usual 
of his glistering and saccharine phraseology : 
Songs of Scotland, I, 348. Aytoun's lan 
guage is not quite definite with regard to the 
copy which he gives at II, 45, ed. 1859 : it is, 
however, made up from versions previously 

When Mary Stuart was sent to France in 
1548, she being then between five and six, she 
had for comp;mions " sundry gentlewomen 
and noblemen's sons and daughters, almost of 
her own age, of the which there were four in 
special of whom every one of them bore the 
same name of Mary, being of four sundry 
honorable houses, to wit, Fleming, Living 
ston, Seton, and Beaton of Creich ; who re 
mained all four with the queen in France 
during her residence there, and returned 
again in Scotland with her Majesty in the 
year of our Lord 1561 : " Lesley, History of 
Scotland, 1830, p. 209. We still hear of the 
Four Maries in 1564, Calendar of State 
Papers (Foreign), VII, 213, 230; cited by 
Burton, IV, 107. The ballad substitutes 
Mary Hamilton and Mary Carmichacl for 
Mary Livingston and Mary Fleming; but F 3, 
12 has Livingston. N, of late recitation, has 
Heaton for Setou and Michel for Carmichael. 

D 4, etc. In 'Tarn Lin,' No 39, Janet 
pulls the rose to kill or scathe away her babe ; 
A 19, 20, F 8, I 24, 25 (probably repeated 
from A). In G 18, 19, the herb of 15 and the 
rose of 17 becomes the pile of the gravil green, 
or of the gravil gray ; in H 5, 6 Janet pulls 
an unspecified flower or herb (I, 341 ff). 

We have had in 'The Twa Brothers,' No 
49, a passage like that in which Mary begs 
sailors and travellers not to let her parents 
know that she is not coming home ; and other 
ballads, Norse, Breton, Romaic, and Slavic, 
which present a similar trait, are noted at 
I, 436 f, II, 14. To these may be added 
Passow, p. 400, No 523 ; Jeannaraki, p. 116, 
No 118 ; Sakellarios, p. 98, No 31 ; Puymaigre, 
1865, p. 62, Bujeaud, II, 210 (Liebrecht) ; also 
Guillon, p. 107, Nigra, No 27, A, B, pp. 164, 
166, and many copies of ' Le D<3serteur,' and 
some of ' Le Plongeur,' ' La ronde du Battoir.' 

Scott thought that the ballad took its rise 



from an incident related by Knox as occur 
ring in " the beginning of the regiment of 
Mary, Queen of Scots." " In the very time 
of the General Assembly," says Knox, " there 
comes to public knowledge a heinous murder 
committed in the court, yea, not far from the 
queen's own lap ; for a French woman that 
served in the queen's chamber had played the 
whore with the queen's own apothecary. The 
woman conceived and bare a child, whom, with 
common consent, the father and the mother 
murdered. Yet were the cries of a new-born 
bairn heard ; search was made, the child and 
mother was both deprehended, and so were 
both the man and the woman damned to be 
hanged upon the public street of Edinburgh." * 
" It will readily strike the reader," says Scott, 
" that the tale has suffered great alterations, 
as handed down by tradition ; the French 
waiting - woman being changed into Mary 
Hamilton, and the queen's apothecary f into 
Henry Darnley. Yet this is less surprising 
when we recollect that one of the heaviest of 
the queen's complaints against her ill-fated 
husband was his infidelity, and that even with 
her personal attendants." This General As 
sembly, however, met December 25, 1563, 
and since Darnley did not come to Scotland 
until 1565, a tale of 1563, or of 1563-4, leaves 
him unscathed. 

Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, in his preface 
to A, Ballad Book, 1824, p. 18, observes : " It 
is singular that during the reign of the Czar 
Peter, one of his empress's attendants, a Miss 
Hamilton, was executed for the murder of a 
natural child. ... I cannot help thinking 
that the two stories have been confused in 
the ballad, for if Marie Hamilton was exe- 

* History of the Reformation, Knox's Works, ed. Laing, 
II, 415 f. Knox continues: "But yet was not the court 
purged of whores and whoredom, which was the fountain of 
such enormities; for it was well known that shame hasted 
marriage betwix John Semple, called the Dancer, mid Mary 
Livingston, suriiamed the Lusty. What bruit the Maries 
and the rest of the dancers of the court had, the ballads of 
that age did witness, which we for modesty's sake omit." 
This Mary Livingston is one of the Four Marys, but, as al 
ready said, is mentioned in version F only of our ballad. 

t " In this set of the ballad " [D], says Motherwell, " from 
its direct allusion to the use of the savin tree, a clue is per 
haps afforded for tracing how the poor mediciner men 
tioned by Knox should be implicated in the crime of Mary 

cuted in Scotland, it is not likely that her 
relations resided beyond seas ; and we have 
no proof that Hamilton was really the name 
of the woman who made a slip with the 
queen's apothecary." Sharpe afterwards com 
municated details of the story J to Scott, 
who found in them " a very odd coincidence 
in name, crime and catastrophe : " Minstrelsy, 
1833, III, 296, note. But Sharpe became 
convinced " that the Russian tragedy must 
l>e the original " (note in Laing's edition of 
the Ballad Book, 1880, p. 129) ; and this 
opinion is the only tenable one, however sur 
prising it may be or seem that, as late as 
the eighteenth century, the popular genius, 
helped by nothing but a name, should have 
been able so to fashion and color an episode 
in the history of a distant country as to make 
it fit very plausibly into the times of Mary 

The published accounts of the iffair of the 
Russian Mary Hamilton differ to much the 
same degree as some versions of^haScottish 
ballad. The subject has forra^pHy been 
reviewed in a recent article founded on orig 
inal and authentic documents. 

When the Hamiltons first came to Russia 
does not appear. Artemon Sergheievitch 
Matveief, a distinguished personage, minister 
and friend of the father of Peter the Great, 
married a Hamilton, of a Scottish family 
settled at Moscow, after which the Hamil 
ton family ranked with the aristocracy. The 
name of Mary's father, whether William 
or Daniel, is uncertain, but it is considered 
safe to say that she was niece to Andrei 
Artemonovitch Matveief, son' of the Tsar 
Alexei's friend. Mary Hamilton was cre- 

Hamilton." Maidment goes further : " The reference to 
the use of the savin tree in Motherwell induces a strong 
suspicion that the lover was a mediciner." Maidmeut 
should have remembered that there is a popular pharma 
copoeia quite independent of the professional. No apothe 
cary prescribes in ' Tarn Lin.' 

} In an extract from Gordon's History of Peter the Great, 
Aberdeen, 1755, II, 308 f. 

'Maid -of -Honor Hamilton," by M. I. Semefsky, in 
Slovo i Dyelo (Word and Deed), 1885, St Petersburg, .-id 
edition, p. 187. I am indebted to Professor Vinogradof, of 
the University of Moscow, for pointing out this paper, and 
to Miss Isabel Florence Hapgood for a summary of its con 



ated maid-of-honor to the Empress Catharine 
chiefly on account of her beauty. Many of 
Catharine's attendants were foreigners ; not 
all were of conspicuous families, but Peter 
required that they should all be remarkably 
handsome. Mary had enjoyed the special 
favor of th^Tsar, but incurred his anger by 
setting afyat a report that Catharine had a 
habit of eating wax, which produced pimples 
on her face. The empress spoke to her about 
this slander; Mary denied that she was the 
author of it ; Catharine boxed her ears, and 
she acknowledged the offence. Mary Hamil 
ton had been having an amour with Ivan 
Orlof, a handsome aide-de-camp of Tsar 
Peter, and while she was under the displea 
sure of her master and mistress, the body of a 
child was tound in a well, wrapped in a court- 
napkin. Orlof, being sent for by Peter on 
account of a missing paper, thought that his 
connection with Mary had been discovered, 
and in his confusion let words escape him 
which Peter put to use in tracing;the origin 
of the child. The guilt was laid 'at Mary's 
door; she at first denied the accviseitien, but* 
afterwards made a confession, exonerating 
Orlof, however, from all "participation in the 
death of the babe ; and indeed it was proved 
that he had not even known of its birth till 
the information came to him in the way of 
court-gossip. Both were sent to the Petro- 
paulovsk fortress, Orlof on April 4, Mary on 
April 10, .1718. Orlof was afterwards dis 
charged without punishment. Mary, after 
being twice subjected to torture, under which 
she confessed to having previously destroyed 
two children,* was condemned to death No 
vember 27, 1718, and executed on March 14, 
1719, the Tsar attending. She had attired 
herself in white silk, with black ribbons, hop 
ing thereby to touch Peter's heart. She fell 
on her knees and implored a pardon. But a 
law against the murder of illegitimate chil 
dren had recently been promulgated afresh 

* The parentage of these was not ascertained. Some ac 
counts make Mary Hamilton to have been Peter's mistress : 
for example [J. B. Sche'rer's], Anecdotes inte'ressantes et 
secretes de la cour de Rnssie, London, 1792, II, 272 ff. See 
also Melanges de Litte'rature, etc., par Francois - Louis, 

and in terms of extreme severity. Peter 
turned aside and whispered something to the 
executioner ; those present thought he meant 
to show grace, but it was an order to the 
headsman to do his office. The Tsar picked 
up Mary's head and kissed it, made a little 
discourse on the anatomy of it to the spec 
tators, kissed it again, and threw it down. 
That beautiful head is said to have been kept 
in spirits for some sixty years at the Academy 
of Sciences in St Petersburg. 

It will be observed that this adventure at 
the Russian court presents every material 
feature in the Scottish ballad, and even some 
subordinate ones which may or may not have 
been derived from report, may or may not 
have been the fancy-work of singers or re 
citers. We have the very name, Mary Ham 
ilton ; she is a maid-of-honor ; she has, as 
some versions run, an intrigue with the king, 
and has a child, wfiich she destroys; she rolls 
the child in a napkin and throws it into a 
well (rolls the child in her handkerchief, 
apron, and , throws it in the sea) ; she is 
charged with the fact and denies ; according 
to some versions, search is made and over 
whelming proof discovered ; f she is tried and 
condemned to die ; she finds no grace. The 
appeal to sailors and travellers in the ballad 
shows that Mary Hamilton dies in a foreign 
land not that of her ancestors. The king's 
coming by in B 22 (cf . D 22, 23) may possibly 
be a reminiscence of the Tsar's presence at 
the execution, and Mary's dressing herself in 
white, etc., to shine through Edinburgh town 
a transformation of Mary's dressing herself in 
white to move the Tsar's pity at the last mo 
ment ; but neither of these points need be 
insisted on. 

There is no trace of an admixture of the 
Russian story with that of the French woman 
and the queen's apothecary, and no ballad 
about the French woman is known to have 

comte d'Escherny, Paris, 1811, I, 7 f . (The white gown 
with black ribbons is here.) 

t "Hamilton, imperturbable, niait. Menzikoff cngapea 
1'empereur a faire une perquisition dans les coffres d'Ham- 
ilton, ou Ton trouva le corps du dclit, 1'arriere-faix et du 
linge ensanglante'." Sche'rer, Anecdotes, p. 274. 



We first hear of the Scottish ballad in 1790, 
when a stanza is quoted in a letter of Robert 
Burns (see B). So far as I know, but one 
date can be deduced from the subject-matter 
of the ballad ; the Netherbow Port is stand 
ing in G, I, M, and this gate was demolished 
in 176-4. The ballad must therefore have 
arisen between 1719 and 1764. It is remark 

able that one of the very latest of the Scot 
tish popular ballads should be one of the very 

I a is translated by Gerhard, p. 149 ; Ay- 
toun's ballad by Knortz, Schottische Balla- 
den, p. 76, No 24. 

a. Sharpe's Ballad Book, 1824, p. 18. b. Communicated 
by the late John Francis Campbell, as learned from his father 
about 1840. c. Aungervyle Society's publications, No V, 
p. 5 (First Series, p. 85) ; " taken down early in the present 
century from the lips of an old lady in Anuandale." 

1 WORD 's gane to the kitchen, 

And word 's gane to the ha, 
That Marie Hamilton gangs wi bairn 
To the hichest Stewart of a'. 

2 He 's courted her in the kitchen, 

He 's courted her in the ha, 
He 's courted her in the laigh cellar, 
And that was warst of a'. 

3 She 's tyed it in her apron 

And she 's thrown it in the sea ; 
Says, Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe ! 
You '1 neer get mair o me. 

4 Down then cam the auld queen, 

Goud tassels tying her hair : 
' O Marie, where 's the bonny wee babe 
That I heard greet sae sair ? ' 

5 ' There never was a babe intill my room, 

As little designs to be ; 
It was but a touch o my sair side, 
Come oer my fair bodie.' 

6 ' O Marie, put on your robes o black, 

Or else your robes o brown, 
For ye maun gang wi me the night, 
To see fair Edinbro town.' 

7 ' I winna put on my robes o black, 

Nor yet my robes o brown ; 
But I '11 put on my robes o white, 
To shine through Edinbro town.' 

8 When she gaed up the Cannogate, 

She laughd loud laughters three ; 
But whan she cam down the Cannogate 
The tear blinded her ee. 

9 When she gaed up the Parliament stair, 

The heel cam aff her shee ; 

And lang or she cam down again 

She was condemnd to dee. 

10 When she cam down the Cannogate, 

The Cannogate sae free, 
Many a ladie lookd oer her window, 
Weeping for this ladie. 

11 ' Ye need nae weep for me,' she says, 

' Ye need nae weep for me ; 
For had I not slain mine own sweet babe, 
This death I wadna dee. 

12 ' Bring me a bottle of wine,' she says, 

'The best that eer ye hae, 
That I may drink to my weil-wishers, 
And they may drink to me. 

13 ' Here 's a health to the jolly sailors, 

That sail upon the main ; 
Let them never let on to my father and mother 
But what I 'm coming hame. 

14 ' Here 's a health to the jolly sailors, 

That sail upon the sea ; 

Let them never let on to my father and mother 
That I cam here to dee. 

15 ' Oh little did my mother think, 

The day she cradled me, 
What lands I was to travel through, 
What death I was to dee. 



16 ' Oh little did my father think, 

The day he held up me, 
What lands I was to travel through, 
What death I was to dee. 


; Last night I washd the queen's feet, 
And gently laid her down ; 

And a' the thanks I 've gotten the nicht 
To be hangd in Edinbro town ! 

18 ' Last nicht there was four Maries, 
The nicht there '1 be but three ; 
There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton, 
And Marie Carmichael, and me.' 


Motherwell's MS., p. 337. 

1 THERE were ladies, they lived in a bower, 

And oh but they were fair ! 
The youngest o them is to the king's court, 
To learn some unco lair. 

2 She hadna been in the king's court 

A twelve month and a day, 
Till of her they could get na wark, 
For wantonness and play. 

3 Word is to the kitchen gane, 

And word is to the ha, 
And word is up to Madame the Queen, 

And that is warst of a', 
That Mary Hamilton has born a bairn, 

To the hichest Stewart of a'. 

4 ' rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton, 

rise, and tell to me 
What thou did with thy sweet babe 
We sair heard weep by thee.' 

5 ' Hold your tongue, madame,' she said, 

' And let your folly be ; 
It was a shouir o sad sickness 
Made me weep sae bitterlie.' 

6 ' O rise, O rise, Mary Hamilton, 

O rise, and tell to me 
What thou did with thy sweet babe 
We sair heard weep by thee.' 

7 ' I put it in a piner-pig, 

And set it on the sea ; 
I bade it sink, or it might swim, 
It should neer come hame to me.' 

8 ' O rise, rise, Mary Hamilton, 

Arise, and go with me ; 
VOL. m. 49 

There is a wedding in Glasgow town 
This day we '11 go and see.' 

9 She put not on her black clothing, 

She put not on her brown, 
But she put on the glistering gold, 
To shine thro Edinburgh town. 

10 As they came into Edinburgh town, 

The city for to see, 

The bailie's wife and the provost's wife 
Said, Och an alace for thee ! 

11 ' Gie never alace for me,' she said, 

' Gie never alace for me ; 
It 's all for the sake of my poor babe, 
This death that I maun die.' 

12 As they gaed up the Tolbuith stair, 

The stair it was sae hie, 
The bailie's son and the provost's son 
Said, Och an alace for thee ! 

13 'Gie never alace for me,' she said, 

' Gie never alace for me ! 
It 's all for the sake of my puir babe, 
This death that I maun die. 

14 ' But bring to me a cup,' she says, 

' A cup bot and a can, 
And I will drink to all my friends, 
And they '11 drink to me again. 

15 ' Here 's to you all, travellers, 

Who travels by land or sea ; 
Let na wit to my father nor mother 
The death that I must die. 

16 ' Here 's to you all, travellers, 

That travels on dry land ; 
Let na wit to my father nor mother 
But I am coming hame. 



17 ' Little did my mother think, 

First tune she cradled me, 
What land I was to travel on, 
Or what death I would die. 

18 ' Little did my mother think, 

First tune she tied my head, 
What land I was to tread upon, 
Or whare I would win my bread. 

19 ' Yestreen Queen Mary had four Maries, 

This night she '11 hae but three ; 
She had Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton, 
And Mary Carmichael, and me. 

20 ' Yestreen I wush Queen Mary's feet, 

And bore her till her bed ; 

This day she 's given me my reward, 
This gallows-tree to tread. 

21 ' Cast off, cast off my goun,' she said. 

' But let my petticoat be, 
And tye a napkin on my face, 
For that gallows I downa see.' 

22 By and cum the king himsell, 

Lookd up with a pitiful ee : 
' Come down, come down, Mary Hamilton, 
This day thou wilt dine with me.' 

23 ' Hold your tongue, my sovereign leige, 

And let your folly be ; 
An ye had a mind to save my life, 
Ye should na shamed me here.' 

Motherwell's MS. p. 265 ; from Mrs Crum, Dumbarton, 
7 April, 1825. 

1 THERE lived a lord into the west, 

And he had dochters three, 
And the youngest o them is to the lung's court, 
To learn some courtesie. 

2 She was not in the king's court 

A twelvemonth and a day, 
Till she was neither able to sit nor gang, 
Wi the gaining o some play. 

3 She went to the garden, 

To pull the leaf aff the tree, 
To tak this bonnie babe frae her breast, 
But alas it would na do ! 

4 She rowed it in her handkerchief, 

And threw it in the sea : 
' sink ye, swim ye, wee wee babe ! 
Ye '11 get nae mair o me.' 

5 Word is to the kitchen gane, 

And word is to the ha, 
That Mary Myle she goes wi child 
To the highest Steward of a'. 

6 Down and came the queen hersell, 

The queen hersell so free : 

' O Mary Myle, whare is the child 
That I heard weep for thee ? ' 

7 ' hold your tongue now, Queen,' she says, 

' O hold your tongue so free ! 
For it was but a shower o the sharp sickness, 
I was almost like to die.' 

8 ' O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Myle, 

O busk, and go wi me ; 
O busk ye, busk ye, Mary Mile, 
It's Edinburgh town to see.' 

9 ' I '11 no put on my robes o black, 

No nor yet my robes [o] brown ; 
But I '11 put on my golden weed, 
To shine thro Edinburgh town.' 

10 When she went up the Cannongate-side, 

The Cannongate-side so free, 
Oh there she spied some ministers' lads, 
Crying Och and alace for me ! 

11 ' Dinna cry och and alace for me ! 

Dinna cry o[c]h and alace for me ! 
For it 's all for the sake of my innocent babe 
That I come here to die.' 

12 When she went up the Tolbooth-stair, 

The lap cam aff her shoe ; 
Before that she came down again, 
She was condemned to die. 



13 ' O all you gallant sailors, 

That sail upon the sea, 
Let neither my father nor mother know 
The death I am to die ! 

14 ' all you gallant sailors, 

That sail upon the faem, 
Let neither my father nor mother know 
But I am coming hame ! 

15 ' Little did my mother know, 

The hour that she bore me, 

What lands I was to travel in, 
What death I was to die. 

16 ' Little did my father know, 

When he held up my head, 
What lands I was to travel in, 
What was to be my deid. 

17 ' Yestreen I made Queen Mary's bed, 

Kembed doun her yellow hair ; 
Is this the reward I am to get, 
To tread this gallows-stair ! ' 

Motberwell's MS., p. 267 ; from the recitation of Miss 
Nancy Hamilton and Mrs Gentles, January, 1825. 

1 THERE lives a knight into the north, 

And he had daughters three ; 
The ane of them was a barber's wife, 
The other a gay ladie. 

2 And the youngest of them is to Scotland gane, 

The queen's Mary to be, 
And a' that they could say or do, 
Forbidden she woudna be. 

3 The prince's bed it was sae saft, 

The spices they were sae fine, 
That out of it she couldna lye 
While she was scarse fifteen. 

4 She 's gane to the garden gay 

To pu of the savin tf*ee ; 
But for a' that she could say or do, 
The babie it would not die. 

5 She 's rowed it in her handkerchief, 

She threw it in the sea ; 
Says, Sink ye, swim ye, my bonnie babe ! 
For ye '11 get nae mair of me. 

6 Queen Mary came tripping down the stair, 

Wi the gold strings in her hair : 
' O whare 's the little babie,' she says, 
' That I heard greet sae sair ? ' 

7 '0 hold your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame, 

Let all those words go free ! 

It was mysell wi a fit o the sair colic, 
I was sick just like to die.' 

8 ' O hold your tongue, Mary Hamilton, 

Let all those words go free ! 

where is the little babie 
That I heard weep by thee ? ' 

9 ' I rowed it in my handkerchief, 

And threw it in the sea ; 

1 bade it sink, I bade it swim, 
It would get nae mair o me.' 

10 ' O wae be to thee, Marie Hamilton, 

And an ill deid may you die ! 
For if ye had saved the babie's life 
It might liae been an honour to thee. 

11 ' Busk ye, busk ye, Marie Hamilton, 

O busk ye to be a bride ! 
For I am going to Edinburgh toun, 
Your gay wedding to bide. 

12 ' You must not put on your robes of black, 

Nor yet your robes of brown ; 
But you must put on your yellow gold stuffs, 
To shine thro Edinburgh town.' 

13 ' I will not put on my robes of black, 

Nor yet my robes of brown ; 
But I will put on my yellow gold stuffs, 
To shine thro Edinburgh town.' 

14 As she went up the Parliament Close, 

A riding on her horse, 
There she saw many a cobler's lady, 
Sat greeting at the cross. 



15 ' O what means a' this greeting ? 

I 'm sure its nae for me ; 
For I 'm come this day to Edinburgh town 
Weel wedded for to be.' 

16 When she gade up the Parliament stair, 

She gied loud lauchters three ; 
But ere that she came down again, 
She was condemned to die. 

17 ' O little did my mother think, 

The day that she prinned my gown, 
That I was to come sae far frae hame 
To be hangid in Edinburgh town. 

18 ' what '11 my poor father think, 

As he comes thro the town, 

To see the face of his Molly fair 

Hanging on the gallows-pin ! 

19 ' Here 's a health to the marineres, 

That plough the raging main ! 
Let neither my mother nor father know 
But I 'm coming hame again ! 

20 ' Here 's a health to the sailors, 

That sail upon the sea ! 
Let neither my mother nor father ken 
That I came here to die ! 

21 ' Yestreen the queen had four Maries, 

This night she '11 hae but three ; 
There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, 
And Mary Carmichael, and me.' 

22 ' hald your tongue, Mary Hamilton, 

Let all those words go free ! 
This night eer ye be hanged 
Ye shall gang hame wi me.' 

23 ' hald your tongue, Queen Mary, my dame, 

Let all those words go free ! 
For since I have come to Edinburgh toun, 

It 's hanged I shall be, 
And it shall neer be said that in your court 

I was condemned to die.' 


Buchan's MSS, II, 186. 

1 ' MY father was the Duke of York, 

My mother a lady free, 
Mysell a dainty damsell, 
Queen Mary sent for me. 

2 ' Yestreen I washd Queen Mary's feet, 

Kam'd down her yellow hair, 
And lay a' night in the young man's bed, 
And I '11 rue t for evermair. 

3 ' The queen's kale was aye sae het, 

Her spice was aye sae fell, 
Till they gart me gang to the young man's bed, 
And I 'd a' the wyte mysell. 

4 'I was not in the queen's service 

A twelvemonth but barely ane, 
Ere I grew as big wi bairn 
As ae woman could gang. 

5 ' But it fell ance upon a day, 

Was aye to be it lane, 

I did take strong travilling 
As ever yet was seen.' 

6 Ben it came the queen hersell, 

Was a' gowd to the hair ; 
' O where 's the bairn, Lady Maisry, 
That I heard greeting sair ? ' 

7 Ben it came the queen hersell, 

Was a' gowd to the chin : 
' O where 's the bairn, Lady Maisry, 
That I heard late yestreen.' 

8 ' There is no bairn here,' she says, 

' Nor never thinks to be ; 
'T was but a stoun o sair sickness 
That ye heard seizing me.' 

9 They sought it out, they sought it in, 

They sought it but and ben, 
But between the bolster and the bed 
They got the baby slain. 

10 ' Come busk ye, busk ye, Lady Maisdry, 
Come busk, an go with me ; 



For I will on to Edinburgh, 
And try the verity.' 

11 She woud not put on the black, the black, 

Nor yet wad she the brown, 
But the white silk and the red scarlet, 
That shin'd frae town to town. 

12 As she gaed down thro Edinburgh town 

The burghers' wives made meen, 
That sic a dainty damsel 
Sud ever hae died for sin. 

13 ' Make never meen for me,' she says, 

' Make never meen for me ; 
Seek never grace frae a graceless face, 
For that ye '11 never see." 

14 As she gaed up the Tolbooth stair, 

A light laugh she did gie ; 
But lang ere she came down again 
She was condemned to die. 

15 ' A' you that are in merchants-ships, 

And cross the roaring faem, 
Hae nae word to my father and mother, 
But that I 'm coming hame. 

16 ' Hold your hands, ye justice o peace, 

Hold them a little while ! 
For yonder comes my father and mother, 
That 's travelld mony a mile. 

17 ' Gie me some o your gowd, parents, 

Some o your white monie, 
To save me frae the head o yon hill, 
Yon greenwood gallows-tree.' 

18 ' Ye '11 get nane o our gowd, daughter, 

Nor nane o our white monie ; 
For we hae travelld mony a mile, 
This day to see you die.' 

19 ' Hold your hands, ye justice o peace, 

Hold them a little while ! 
For yonder comes him Warenston, 
The father of my chile. 

20 ' Give me some o your gowd, Warenston, 

Some o your white monie, 
To save me frae the head o yon hill, 
Yon greenwood gallows-tree.' 

21 ' I bade you nurse my bairn well, 

And nurse it carefullie, 
And gowd shoud been your hire, Maisry, 
And my body your fee.' 

22 He 's taen out a purse o gowd, 

Another o white monie, 
And he 's tauld down ten thousand crowns, 
Says, True love, gang wi me. 


Skene MS., p. 61. 

1 MY father was the Duke of York, 

My mother a lady free, 
Mysel a dainty demosell. 
Queen Mary sent for me. 

2 The queen's meat, it was sae sweet, 

Her clothing was sae rare, 
It made me lang for Sweet Willie's bed. 
An I "11 rue it ever maer. 

3 Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, 

And Lady Livinston, three, 
We '11 never meet in Queen Mary's bower, 
Now Maries tho ye be. 

4 Queen Mary sat in her bower, 

Sewing her silver seam ; 
She thought she heard a baby greet, 
But an a lady meen. 

5 She threw her needle frae her, 

Her seam out of her hand, 
An she is on to Lady Mary's bower, 
As fast as she could gang. 

' Open yer door, Lady Mary,' 
' And lat me come in ; 

For I hear a baby greet, 
But an a lady meen.' 

7 ' There is na bab in my bower, madam, 
Nor never thinks to be, 



But the strong pains of gravel 
This night has seized me.' 

8 She pat her fit to the door, 

But an her knee, 
Baith of brass and iron bands 
In flinders she gard flee. 

9 She pat a hand to her bed-head, 

An ither to her bed-feet, 
An bonny was the bab 

Was blabbering in its bleed. 

10 ' Wae worth ye, Lady Mary, 

An ill dead sail ye die ! 
For an ye widna kept the bonny bab, 
Ye might ha sen 't to me.' 

11 ' Lay na the wate on me, madam, 

Lay na the wate on me ! 
For my fas love bare the brand at his side 
That gared my barrine die.' 

12 ' Get up, Lady Beaton, get up, Lady Seton, 

And Lady Livinstone three, 
An we will on to Edinburgh, 
An try this gay lady.' 

13 As she came to the Cannongate, 

The burgers' wives they cryed 
Hon ohon, ochree ! 

14 ' had you still, ye burgers' wives, 

An make na meen for me ; 
Seek never grace of a graceless face, 
For they hae nane to gie. 

15 ' Ye merchants and ye mariners, 

That trade upon the sea, 
O dinna tell in my country 
The dead I 'm gaen to die ! 

16 ' Ye merchants and ye mariners, 

That sail upo the faeme, 
O dinna tell in my country 
But that I 'm cumin liame ! 

17 ' Little did my father think, 

Whan he brought me our the sea, 
That he wad see me yellow locks 
Hang on a gallow's tree. 

18 ' Little did my mither think 

Whan she brought me fra hame, 
That she maught see my yellow loks 
Han[g] on a gallow-pin. 

19 ' had your hand a while ! 

For yonder comes my father, 
I 'm sure he '1 borrow me. 

20 ' O some of your goud, father, 

An of your well won fee, 
To save me [frae the high hill] 
[And j frae the gallow-tree ! ' 

21 ' Ye 's get nane of my goud, 

Nor of my well won fee, 
For I would gie five hundred pown 
To see ye hangit hie.' 

22 ' had yer hand a while ! 

Yonder is my love Willie, 
Sure he will borrow me. 

23 ' O some o your goud, my love Willie, 

An some o yer well won fee, 
To save me frae the high hill, 
And fra the gallow-tree ! ' 

24 ' Ye 's get a' my goud, 

And a' my well won fee, 

To save ye fra the headin-hill, 

And frae the gallow-tree.' 


Manuscript of Scottish Songs and Ballads, copied by a 
granddaughter of Lord Woodhouselee, 1840-50, p. 51. 

1 MART HAMILTON to the kirk is gane, 
Wi ribbons in her hair ; 

An the king thoct mair o Marie 
Then onie that were there. 

2 Mary Hamilton 's to the preaching gane, 

Wi ribbons on her breast ; 
An the king thocht mair o Marie 
Than he thocht o the priest. 



3 Syne word is thro the palace gone, 

I heard it tauld yestreen, 
The king loes Mary Hamilton 
Hair than he loes his queen. 

4 A sad tale thro the town is gaen, 

A sad tale on the morrow ; 
Oh Mary Hamilton has born a babe, 
An slain it in her sorrow ! 

5 And down then cam the auld queen, 

Goud tassels tied her hair : 
' What did ye wi the wee wee bairn 
That I heard greet sae sair ? ' 

6 ' There neer was a bairn into my room, 

An as little designs to be; 
T was but a stitch o my sair side, 
Cam owre my fair bodie.' 

7 ' Kise up now, Marie,' quo the queen, 

' Rise up, an come wi me, 
For we maun ride to Holyrood, 
A gay wedding to see.' 

8 The queen was drest in scarlet fine, 

Her maidens all in green ; 
An every town that they cam thro 
Took Marie for the queen. 

9 But little wist Marie Hamilton, 

As she rode oure the lea, 
That she was gaun to Edinbro town 
Her doom to hear and dree. 

10 When she cam to the Netherbow Port, 

She laughed loud laughters three ; 
But when she reached the gallows-tree, 
The tears blinded her ee. 

11 ' Oh aften have I dressed my queen, 

An put gowd in her hair ; 
The gallows-tree is my reward, 
An shame maun be my share ! 

12 ' Oh aften hae I dressed my queen, 

An saft saf t made her bed ; 

An now I 've got for my reward 

The gallows-tree to tread ! 

13 ' There 's a health to all gallant sailors, 

That sail upon the sea ! 
Oh never let on to my father and mither 
The death that I maun dee ! 

14 ' An I charge ye, all ye mariners, 

When ye sail owre the main, 
Let neither my father nor mither know 
But that I 'm comin hame. 

15 ' Oh little did my mither ken, 

That day she cradled me, 
What lands I was to tread in, 
Or what death I should dee. 

16 ' Yestreen the queen had four Maries, 

The nicht she '11 hae but three ; 
There 's Marie Seaton, an Marie Beaton, 
An Marie Carmichael, an me.' 

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 252 ; a North 
Country version. 

1 ' WHAN I was a babe, and a very little babe, 

And stood at my mither's knee, 
Nae witch nor warlock did unfauld 
The death I was to dree. 

2 ' But my mither was a proud woman, 

A proud woman and a bauld ; 
And she hired me to Queen Mary's bouer, 
When scarce eleven years auld. 

3 ' O happy, happy is the maid, 

That 's born of beauty free ! 

It was my dimpling rosy cheeks 

That 's been the dule o me ; 
And wae be to that weirdless wicht, 

And a' his witcherie ! ' 

4 Word 's gane up and word 's gane doun, 

An word 's gane to the ha, 
That Mary Hamilton was wi bairn, 
An na body kend to wha. 

5 But in and cam the queen hersel, 

Wi gowd plait on her hair : 
Says, Mary Hamilton, whare is the babe 
That I heard greet sae sair ? 



6 ' There is na babe within my bouer, 

And I hope there neer will be ; 
But it 's me wi a sair and sick colic, 
And I 'm just like to dee.' 

7 But they looked up, they looked down, 

Atween the bowsters and the wa, 
It 's there they got a bonnie lad-bairn, 
But its life it was awa. 

8 ' Rise up, rise up, Mary Hamilton, 

Rise up, and dress ye fine, 
For you maun gang to Edinbruch, 
And stand afore the nine. 

9 ' Ye '11 no put on the dowie black, 

Nor yet the dowie brown ; 
But ye '11 put on the robes o red, 
To sheen thro Edinbruch town.' 

10 ' I '11 no put on the dowie black, 

Nor yet the dowie brown ; 
But I '11 put on the robes o red, 
To sheen thro Edinbruch town.' 

11 As they gaed thro Edinbruch town, 

And down by the Nether-bow, 
There war monie a lady fair 
Siching and crying, Och how ! 

12 ' weep na mair for me, ladies, 

Weep na mair for me ! 
Yestreen I killed my ain bairn, 
The day I deserve to dee. 

13 ' What need ye hech and how, ladies ? 

What need ye how for me ? 
Ye never saw grace at a graceless face, 
Queen Mary has nane to gie.' 

14 ' Gae forward, gae forward,' the queen she said, 

' Gae forward, that ye may see ; 

For the very same words that ye hae said 
Sail hang ye on the gallows-tree.' 

15 As she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs, 

She gied loud lauchters three ; 
But or ever she cam down again, 
She was condemnd to dee. 

16 ' O tak example frae me, Maries, 

O tak example frae me, 
Nor gie your luve to courtly lords, 
Nor heed their witchin" ee. 

17 'But wae be to the Queen hersel, 

She mil-lit hae pardond me ; 
But sair she 's striven for me to hang 
Upon the gallows-tree. 

18 ' Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, 

The nicht she '11 hae but three ; 
There was Mary Beatoun, Mary Seaton, 
And Mary Carmichael, and me. 

19 ' Aft hae I set pearls in her hair, 

Aft hae I lac'd her gown, 
And this is the reward I now get, 
To be hangd in Edinbruch town ! 

20 ' O a' ye mariners, far and near, 

That sail ayont the faem, 
O dinna let my father and mither ken 
But what I am coming hame ! 

21 ' O a' ye mariners, far and near, 

That sail ayont the sea, 
Let na my father and mither ken 
The death I am to dee ! 

22 ' Sac, weep na mair for me, ladies, 

Weep na mair for me ; 
The mither that kills her ain bairn 
Deserves weel for to dee.' 

a. Scott's Minstrelsy, 1833, III, 294, made up from 
various copies, b. Three stanzas (23, 18, 19) in the first 
edition of the Minstrelsy, 1802, II, 154, from recitation. 

1 MARIE HAMILTON 's to the kirk gane, 
Wi ribbons in her hair ; 

The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton 
Than ony that were there. 

2 Marie Hamilton 's to the kirk gane, 

Wi ribbons on her breast ; 
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton 
Then he listend to the priest. 



3 Marie Hamilton 's to the kirk gane, 

Wi gloves upon her hands ; 
The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton, 
Than the queen and a' her lands. 

4 She hadna been about the king's court 

A month, but barely one, 
Till she was beloved by a' the king's court. 
And the king the only man. 

5 She hadna been about the king's court 

A month, but barely three, 
Till frae the king's court Marie Hamilton, 
Marie Hamilton durstna be. 

6 The king is to the Abbey gane, 

To pu the Abbey-tree, 
To scale the babe frae Marie's heart, 
But the tiling it wadna be. 

7 O she has rowd it in her apron, 

And set it on the sea : 
' Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe ! 
Ye 's get nae mair o me.' 

8 Word is to the kitchen gane, 

And word is to the ha, 
And word is to the noble room, 

Amang the ladyes a', 
That Marie Hamilton 's brought to bed, 

And the bonny babe 's mist and awa. 

9 Scarcely had she lain down again, 

And scarcely fa'en asleep, 
When up then started our gude queen, 

Just at her bed-feet, 
Saying, Marie Hamilton, where 's your babe ? 

For I am sure I heard it greet. 

10 ' O no, O no, my noble queen, 

Think no such thing to be ! 
'T was but a stitch into my side, 
And sair it troubles me.' 

11 ' Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton, 

Get up and follow me ; 
For I am going to Edinburgh town, 
A rich wedding for to see.' 

12 slowly, slowly raise she up, 

And slowly put she on, 
And slowly rode she out the way, 
Wi mony a weary groan. 

VOL. III. 50 

13 The queen was clad in scarlet, 

Her merry maids all in green, 
And every town that they cam to, 
They took Marie for the queen. 

14 ' Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen, 

Ride hooly now wi me ! 
For never, I am sure, a wearier burd 
Bade in your cumpanie.' 

15 But little wist Marie Hamilton, 

When she rade on the brown, 
That she was gaen to Edinburgh town, 
And a' to be put down. 

16 ' Why weep ye so, ye burgess-wives, 

Why look ye so on me ? 
O I am going to Edinburgh town 
A rich wedding for to see ! ' 

17 When she gaed up the Tolbooth stairs, 

The corks frae her heels did flee ; 
And lang or eer she cam down again 
She was condemnd to die. 

18 When she cam to the Netherbow Port, 

She laughed loud laughters three ; 
But when she cam to the gallows-foot, 
The tears blinded her ee. 

19 ' Yestreen the queen had four Maries, 

The night she '11 hae but three ; 
There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton, 
And Marie Cannichael, and me. 

20 ' often have I dressd my queen, 

And put gold upon her hair ; 
But now I Ve gotten for my reward 
The gallows to be my share. 

21 ' Often have I dressd my queen, 

And often made her bed ; 
But now I 've gotten for my reward 
The gallows-tree to tread. 

22 I charge ye all, ye mariners, 

When ye sail ower the faem, 
Let neither my father nor mother get wit 
But that I 'm coming hame ! 

23 ' I charge ye all, ye mariners, 

That sail upon the sea, 
Let neither my father nor mother get wit 
This dog's death I 'm to die ! 



24 ' For if my father and mother got wit, 

And my bold brethren three, 
O miekle wad be the gude red blude 
This day wad be spilt for me ! 

25 ' O little did my mother ken, 
That day she cradled me, 
The lands I was to travel in, 
Or the death I was to die ! ' 

Harris MS., fol. 10 b ; " Mrs Harris and others." 

1 My mother was a proud, proud woman, 

A proud, proud woman and a bold ; 
She sent me to Queen Marie's bour, 
When scarcely eleven years old. 

2 Queen Marie's bread it was sae sweet, 

An her wine it was sae fine, 
That I hae lien in a young man's arms, 
An I rued it aye synsyne. 

3 Queen Marie she cam doon the stair, 

Wi the goud kamis in her hair : 
' Oh whare, oh whare is the wee wee babe 
I heard greetin sae sair ? ' 

4 ' It 's no a babe, a babie fair, 

Nor ever intends to be ; 

But I mysel, wi a sair colic, 

Was seek an like to dee.' 

5 They socht the bed baith up an doon, 

Frae the pillow to the straw, 
An there they got the wee wee babe, 
But its life was far awa. 

6 ' Come doon, come doon, Marie Hamilton, 
Come doon an speak to me ; 

7 ' You '11 no put on your dowie black, 

Nor yet your dowie broun ; 
But you '11 put on your ried, ried silk, 
To shine through Edinborough toun.' 

8 ' Yestreen the queen had four Maries, 

The nicht she '11 hae but three ; 
There was Marie Bethune, an Marie Seaton, 
An Marie Carmichael, an me. 

9 ' Ah, little did my mother ken, 

The day she cradled me, 
The lands that I sud travel in, 
An the death that I suld dee.' 

10 Yestreen the queen had four Maries, 

The nicht she has but three ; 
For the bonniest Marie amang them a" 
Was hanged upon a tree. 

Mother-well's MS., p. 96 ; from Jean Macqueen, Largs. 

1 QUEEN MART had four serving-maids, 

As braw as braw could be, 
But ane o them has fa'n wi bairn, 
And for it she maun die. 

2 But whan the babie it was born, 

A troubled woman was she ; 
She rowed it up in a handkerchief, 
And Sang it in the sea. 

3 Out then spoke a bonnie wee burd, 

And it spak sharp and keen : 
' O what did ye do wi your wee babie, 
Ye had in your arms yestreen ? ' 

4 ' I tyed it up in a napkin, 

And flang it in the sea ; 
I bade it sink, I bade it soom, 
'T wad get nae mair o me.' 

5 Out and spak King Henrie, 

And an angry man was he : 
' A' for the drowning o that wee babe 
High hanged ye shall be.' 

6 ' I '11 no put on a goun o black, 

Nor yet a goun o green, 
But I '11 put on a goun o gowd, 
To glance in young men's een. 



7 ' gin ye meet my father or mother, 

Ye may tell them frae me, 
'Twas for the sake o a wee wee bairn 
That I came here to die. 

8 'Yestreen four Maries made Queen Mary's 

This nicht there '11 be but three, 

A Mary Beaton, a Mary Seaton, 
A Mary Carmichael, and me. 

9 ' O what will my three brithers say, 
When they come hame frae see, 
When they see three locks o my yellow hair 
Hinging under a gallows-tree ! ' 

Motherwell's MS., p. 280 ; from the recitation of Mrs 
Trail of Paisley. 

1 DOUN and cam the queen hersell, 

Wi the goud links in her hair : 
' O what did you do wi the braw lad bairn 
That I heard greet sae sair ? ' 

2 ' There was never a babe into my room, 

Nor ever intends to be ; 
It was but a fit o the sair colic, 
That was like to gar me die.' 

3 Doun and cam the king himsell, 

And an angry man was he : 
' If ye had saved that braw child's life, 
It might hae been an honour to thee.' 

4 They socht the chamer up and doun, 

And in below the bed, 
And there they fand a braw lad-bairn 
Lying lapperin in his blood. 

5 She rowed it up in her apron green, 

And threw it in the sea : 

' Een sink or swim, you braw lad bairn ! 
Ye '11 neer get mair o me.' 

6 When she gaed up the Cannogate, 

She gied loud lauchters three : 
But or she cam to the Cowgate Head 
The tears did blind her ee. 

7 ' Come a' ye jovial sailors, 

That sail upon the sea, 
Tell neither my father nor mother 
The death that I 'm to die ! 

8 ' Come a' ye jovial sailors, 

That sail upon the main, 
See that ye tell baith my father and mother 
That I 'm coming sailing hame ! 

9 ' My father he 's the Duke of York, 

And my mother 's a gay ladie, 
And I mysell a pretty fair lady, 
And the king fell in love with me.' 


Maidment's North Countrie Garland, p. 19. 

1 THEN down cam Queen Marie, 

Wi gold links in her hair, 
Saying, Marie Mild, where is the child, 
That I heard greet sae sair ? 

2 ' There was nae child wi me, madam, 

There was nae child wi me ; 
It was but me in a sair cholic, 
When I was like to die.' 

3 ' I 'm not deceived,' Queen Marie said, 

' No, no, indeed not I ! 
So Marie Mild, where is the child ? 
For sure I heard it cry.' 

4 She turned down the blankets fine, 

Likewise the Holland sheet, 
And underneath, there strangled lay 
A lovely baby sweet. 

5 ' O cruel mother,' said the queen, 

' Some fiend possessed thee ; 



But I will hang thee for this deed, 
My Marie tho them be ' ' 

G When she cam to the Netherbow Port 

She laught loud laughters three ; 
But when she cam to the gallows-foot, 
The saut tear blinded her ee. 

7 ' Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, 
The night she '11 hae but three ; 

There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beaton, 
And Marie Carmichael, and me. 

8 ' Ye mariners, ye mariners, 

That sail upon the sea, 
Let not my father or mother wit 
The death that I maun die ! 

9 ' I was my parents' only hope, 

They neer had ane but me ; 
They little thought when I left hame, 
They should nae mair me see ! ' 


Murison MS., p. 33 ; from recitation at Old Deer, 1876. 

1 THE streen the queen had four Maries, 

This nicht she '11 hae but three ; 
There 's Mary Heaton, an Mary Beaton, 

An Mary Michel, an me, 
An I mysel was Mary Mild, 

An flower oer a' the three. 

2 Mary's middle was aye sae neat, 

An her clothing aye sae fine, 
It caused her lie in a young man's airms, 
An she "s ruet it aye sin syne. 

3 She done her doon yon garden green, 

To pull the deceivin tree, 
For to keep back that young man's bairn, 
But forward it would be. 

4 ' Ye winna put on the dowie black, 

Nor yet will ye the broon, 
But ye '11 put on the robes o red, 
To shine through Edinburgh toon.' 

5 She hasna pitten on the dowie black, 

Nor yet has she the broon, 
But she 's pitten on the robes o red, 
To shine thro Edinburgh toon. 

6 When she came to the mariners' toon, 

The mariners they were playin, 

7 ' Ye needna play for me, mariners, 

Ye needna play for me ; 
Ye never saw grace in a graceless face, 
For there 's nane therein to be. 

8 ' Seven years an I made Queen Mary's bed, 

Seven years an I combed her hair, 
An a hansome reward noo she 's gien to me, 
Gien me the gallows-tows to wear ! 

9 ' Oh little did my mither think, 

The day she cradled me, 
What road I 'd hae to travel in, 
Or what death I 'd hae to dee ! ' 

Finlay's Scottish Ballads, I, xix, from recitation. 

1 THERE lived a lord into the south, 

And he had dochters three, 
And the youngest o them went to the king' 

To learn some courtesie. 

2 She rowd it in a wee wee clout 

3 She rowd it in a wee wee clout 

And flang 't into the faem. 
Saying, Sink ye soon, my bonny babe ! 
I '11 go a maiden hame. 

4 ' woe be to you, ye ill woman, 

An ill death may ye die ! 
Gin ye had spared the sweet baby's life, 
It might hae been an honour to thee.' 



5 She wadna put on her gowns o black, 

Nor yet wad she o brown, 
But she wad put on her gowna o gowd, 
To glance through Embro town. 

6 ' Come saddle not to me the black,' she says, 

' Nor yet to me the brown, 
But come saddle to me the milk-white steed, 
That I may ride in renown.' 

Kinloch's MSS, VU, 95, 97. 

MY father 's the Duke of Argyll, 
My mither 's a lady gay, 

And I mysel am a dainty dame, 
And the king desired me. 

He schawd [me] up, he shawed me doun, 

He schawd me to the ha ; 
He schawd me to the low cellars, 

And that was waurst of a'. 


Letters from and to Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, ed. 
Allardyce, 1888, II, 272, in a letter from Sharpe to W. 
Scott [1823]. 

1 THE Duke of York was my father, 
My mother a lady free, 

Myself a dainty damosell, 
Queen Marie sent for me. 

2 The queen's meat it was sae sweet, 

Her cleiding was sae rare, 
It gart me grieu for sweet Willie, 
And I '11 rue it evermair. 


Burns, in a letter to Mrs Dunlop, January 25, 1790; 
Currie, II, 290, 1800. 

LITTLE did my mother think, 
That day she cradled me, 

What land I was to travel in, 
Or what death I should die ! 

A. b. 1. There 's news is gaen in the kitchen, 

There 's news is gaen in the ha, 
There 's news is gaen in the laigh cellar, 
And that was warst of a'. 

2. There 's news is gaen in the kitchen, 

There 's news is gaen in the ha', 
That Mary Hamilton 's gotten a wean, 
And that was warst of a'. 

3 1 . She 's rowed. 3 2 . She 's cuist it. 
3 8 . My bonnie bairn ga sink or swim. 
3*. Ye 's no hear mair. 4 1 . Then doon. 
4 2 . Witasslets. 

4 s . Cri'n, M. H., whaur 's the bairn. 
4 4 . That wanting. 

5 1 . There 's no a bairn in a' the toon. 

5 2 . Nor yet. 5*. 'T was but a steek in. 
6 1 . And ye maun. 

6 4 . And ye maun awa wi me the morn. 

7 1 . I 'se no. 7 4 . To see fair. 8 1 . And when. 

8*. And when. 8 4 . tear stood in. 

9 1 . And when. 9 2 . heel slipped off. 

9 8 . And when she cam doon the Parliament 

10, 11 wanting. 12 1 . But bring : she cried. 

13 1 , 14 1 . And here 's to the jolly sailor lad. 

13 2 , 14". sails : faem. 

13 s . And let not my father nor mother get wit. 

13 4 . that I shall come again. 

14 s . But let, as in 13 s . 

14 4 . O the death that I maun dee. 

15, 16 wanting. 17 1 . auld queen's. 

17 2 . And I laid her gently. 

17'. I hae gotten the day. 17 4 . Is to. 

18 1 . night the queen had. 

18 a . This night she '11 hae. 

18 4 . M. Beton and M. Seton. 



C. Begins : This nieht the queen has four Maries, 

Each fair as she can be ; 
There 'a Marie Seton, etc. 


3 1 . The bairn 's tyed. 
4. Osink. 

3 a . And thrown intill. 

17 wanting. 18 1 . there were. 

Largely taken from a, 1, 2, 6-12, 15, 16 being 

literally repeated. 
3 s . us up. 8*'. wrongly : 

And we '11 ride into Edinburgh town, 
High hanged thou shalt be. 

After 3: 

Oh I have born this bonnie wee babe 

Wi mickle toil and pain ; 
Gae hame, gae hame, you bonnie wee babe ! 
For nurse I dare be nane. 

4 1 . Then down cam Queen Marie. 

4 s . Saying, Marie mild, where is the babe. 

5 1 . There was nae babe. 

5 2 . There was na babe wi me. 
5*. o a sair cholic. 

After 5 (mostly spurious) : 

The queen turned down the blankets fine, 

Likewise the snae-white sheet, 
And what she saw caused her many a tear, 

And made her sair to greet. 

cruel mither, said the queen, 
A fiend possessed thee : 

But I will hang thee for this deed, 
My Marie though thou be. 

After 7 : 

And some they mounted the black steed, 

And some mounted the brown, 
But Marie mounted her milk-white steed, 
And rode foremost thro the town. 

8 3 . But when. After 12 : 

Yestreen the queen had four Maries, 
The nicht she '11 hae but three ; 

There was M. S., and M. B. 
And M. C., and me. 

13 wanting. 14 1 . Ye mariners, ye mariners. 
14 s . L[et] not my father and mother wit. 
14*. The death that I maun dee. 

After li: 

1 was my parents' only hope, 
They neer had ane but me ; 

They little thought, when I left hame, 
They should nae mair me see. 

C. 9*. Altered from I '11 put on my brown. 

Var. between 9 2 and 9* : 
Nor I '11 no put on my suddling silks, 

That I wear up and down. 
up and down altered from ilka day. 

-10 1 . went altered from gaed. 
13 1 , 14 1 . Oh. 

D. From two reciters, which accounts for the 

alterations and insertions. 
I 1 . Altered from There was a lord lived in 

the north. 

2 1 . Altered from And the third. 
2 s . Altered from that he. 

4 1 . gay added later. 

4 2 . Altered from And pued the saving tree. 
4". for inserted later. 4 4 . it inserted later. 
7 s . a fit o inserted later. 

7 4 . Altered from I am just. 
9. After 9, Motheru-ell wrote A stanza want 
ing, and subsequently added 10, 11. 
12'. Originally, gold stars. 

13. Originally, 

She did not put on her robes of black, 

Nor yet her robes of brown, 
But she put on her yellow gold stars (stays ?). 

14. Originally, 

And when she came into Edinborugh, (bad 

And standing at the cross, 
There she saw all the coblers' wifes, 

Sat greeting at the cross. 

15 8 - 4 . Originally, For I am come to, etc.. 

Weeded for to be. 
A marginal note by Mothenvell, opposite the 

last line, but erased, has A rich wedding to 


16 1 . stair altered from, close. 
19, 20. Written in the margin, after those 

which follow. 
23 s - 4 and And, 23', are of later insertion. 

E. For tJie seven stanzas after 15, see No 95, II, 




P. 3. Mary Beaton & Mary Seaton & Lady Livin- 

s ton 

Three we '11 [or will] never meet 
In queen Mary's bower 
Now Maries tho ye be. 

13 s . then cryed. 14 1 . had your. 18*. pine. 
For the six stanzas after 18, see No 95, II, 


G. I 1 . Oh. 
H. 3, 16, 17, 22 are put into smaller type as 

being evidently spurious. 
I. a. 24 is certainly spurious, and reduces tlie 

pathos exceedingly. 
b. 18 4 . tear. 

23. O ye mariners, mariners, mariners, 

That sail upon the sea. 
Let not my father nor mother to wit 
The death that I maun die ! 

K. From Jean Macqueen, Largo, in the MS. 

" More likely to be Largs, which is on the 
Clyde, than Largo, on the east coast " : note 
of Mr J. B. Murdoch. 
4 1 . Oh. 

6 is the last stanza but one in the MS. 
L. 9 might better be 1. 
N. Variations. 

1 M . There 's Mary Beaton, an Mary Seaton, 

An Mary Carmichael, an me ; 

An I mysel, Queen Mary's maid, 

Was flower oer a' the three. 

2 1 . sae jimp. 2 s . She loved to lie. 
3 3 . the savin tree. 

3*~ 4 . But the little wee babe came to her back, 
An forward it would be. 

8 is 4 in the MS. 

O. " The unfortunate heroine's name is Mary 
Moil " : Finlay, p. xix. 



Earle Bodwell,' Percy MS., p. 272; Hales and Furnivall, II, 260. 

PRINTED in Percy's Reliques, with changes, 
1765, II, 197, ' The Murder of the King of 
Scots ; ' with some restorations of the original 
readings, 1794, II, 200. 

This ballad represents, 8, 13, that the 
murder of Darnley was done in revenge for 
his complicity in the murder of Riccio : in 
which there may be as much truth as this, 
that the queen's resentment of Darnley's par 
ticipation in that horrible transaction may 
have been operative in inducing her assent 
such assent as she gave to the conspiracy 
against the life of her husband. 

2. Darnley came to Scotland in February, 
1565 (being then but just turned of nine 
teen), not sent for, but very possibly with 

some hope of pleasing his cousin, ' the queen 
[dowager] of France,' to whom he was mar 
ried in the following July. His inglorious 
career was closed in February, 1567. 

5. On the fatal evening of the ninth of 
March, 1566, Riccio was sitting in the queen's 
cabinet with his cap on ; " and this sight was 
perhaps the more offensive that a few Scots 
men of good rank seem to have been in at 
tendance as domestics." * 

6. The ballad should not be greatly in 
excess as to the number of the daggers, since 
Riccio had fifty-six [fifty-two] wounds. 

* Bedford and Randolph to the Council, Wright's Queen 
Elizabeth, etc., p. 227 ; Burton, History of Scotland, IV, 



7. After Riccio had been dragged out of the 
queen's cabinet, Darnley fell to charging the 
queen with change in her ways with him 
since " yon fellow Davie fell in credit and 
familiarity " with her. In answer to his re 
proaches and interpellations her Majesty said 
to him that he was to blame for all the shame 
that was done to her ; " for the which I shall 
never be your wife nor lie with you, nor shall 
never like well till I gar you have as sore a 
heart as I have presently." * 

914. A large quantity of powder was fired 
in the room below that in which " the worthy 
king " slept, but the body of Darnley and 
that of his servant were found lying at a con 
siderable distance from the house, without any 
marks of having been subject to the explo 
sion. One theory of the circumstances was 
that the two had been strangled in their beds, 
and removed before the train was lighted; 
another account is that Darnley, who would 
naturally hear some stir in the house, made his 
escape with his page, but " was intercepted 
and strangled after a desperate resistance, 
his cries for mercy being heard by some 
women in the nearest house." f Bothwell, 
though the author of all these proceedings 

and personally superintending the execution 

of them, did not openly appear. 

It will be observed that King James says 

that his father [MS. mother] was hanged on 

a tree, in ' King James and Brown,' No 180, 

8 a . 

Bothwell and Huntly, who by virtue of 
their offices had apartments in the palace, 
not being in sympathy with the conspirators, 
are said in the Diurnal of Occurrents, p. 90, 
to have broken through a window, in fear of 
their lives, and to have let themselves down 
by a cord. Bothwell, as the champion of the 
queen against the confederate lords, might 
naturally be supposed by the minstrel to take 
a personal interest in revenging Riccio. 

15, 16. The Regent Murray is here de 
scribed as ' bitterly banishing ' Mary, where 
fore she durst not remain in Scotland, but fled 
to England. The queen escaped from Loch- 
leven Castle on the second of May, 1568, and 
took refuge in England on the sixteenth. 
We must suppose the ballad to have been 
made not long after. 

Translated by Bodmer, II, 51, from Percy's 

1 WOE worth thee, woe worth thee, false Scott- 

lande ! 

Ffor thou hast euer wrought by a sleight ; 
For the worthyest prince that euer was borne, 
You hanged vnder a cloud by night. 

2 The Queene of France a letter wrote, 

And sealed itt with hart and ringe, 
And bade him come Scottland within, 

And shee wold marry him and crowne him 

3 To be a king, itt is a pleasant thing, 

To bee a prince vnto a peere ; 
But you haue heard, and so haue I too, 
A man may well by gold to deere. 

4 There was an Italyan in that place, 

Was as wel beloued as euer was hee ; 
lard David was his name, 

Chamberlaine vnto the queene was hee. 

5 Ffor if the king had risen forth of his place, 

He wold haue sitt him downe in the cheare, 
And tho itt beseemed him not soe well, 
Altho the king had beene present there. 

6 Some lords hi Scottland waxed wonderous 


And quarrelld with him for the nonce ; 
I shall you tell how itt beffell , 

Twelue daggers were in him all att once. 

* Ruthvcn's Relation, p. 30 f, London, 1699. 

t The Historic of King James the Sext, p. 6 ; Diurnal of 
Occurrents, p. 105 f ; Tytler's History, VII, 83. 



7 When this queene see the chamberlaine was 


For him her cheeks shee did weete, 
And made a vow for a twelue month and a 

The king and shee wold not come in one 


8 Then some of the lords of Scottland waxed 


And made their vow vehementlye, 
' For death of the queenes chamberlaine 
The king himselfe he shall dye.' 

9 They strowed his chamber ouer with gunpow 


And layd greene rushes in his way ; 
Ffor the traitors thought that night 
The worthy king for to betray. 

10 To bedd the worthy king made him bowne, 

To take his rest, that was his desire ; 
He was noe sooner cast on sleepe, 

But his chamber was on a biasing fyer. 

11 Vp he lope, and a glasse window broke, 

He had thirty foote for to ffall ; 
Ijord Bodwell kept a priuy wach 
Vnderneath his castle-wall : 

' Who haue wee heere ? ' sayd "Lord Bodwell ; 
' Answer me, now I doe call.' 

12 ' K.iny Henery the Eighth my vnckle was ; 

Some pitty show for his sweet sake ! 
Ah, Lord Bodwell, I know thee well ; 
Some pitty on me I pray thee take ! ' 

13 ' I 'le pitty thee as much,' he sayd, 

' And as much favor I 'le show to thee 

As thou had on the queene's chamberlaine 

That day thou deemedst him to dye.' 

14 Through halls and towers this king they ledd, 

Through castles and towers that were hye, 
Through an arbor into an orchard, 

And there hanged him in a peare tree. 

15 When the gouernor of Scottland he heard tell 

Tfiat the worthye king he was slaine, 
He hath banished the queene soe bitterlye 
T/iat in Scottland shee dare not remaine. 

16 But shee is filed into merry England, 

And Scottland to a side hath laine, 
And through the Queene of Englands good 

Now in England shee doth remaine. 

6*. noncett, with tt blotted out. (?) Furnivall. 
6', 7 s . 12. 10". sleepee. 11 s . 30. 

12 1 . 8'. h . 13 1 . Partly pared away. Furnivall. 
16'. to aside. 



'Risinge in the Northe,' Percy MS., p. 256 ; Hales and Furnivall, II, 210. 

PRINTED in Percy's Reliques, 1765, I, 250, 
"from two MS. copies, one of them in the edi 
tor's folio collection. They contained con 
siderable variations, out of which such read 
ings were chosen as seemed most poetical and 

consonant to history." Bearing in mind Per 
cy's express avowal that he " must plead 
guilty to the charge of concealing his own 
share in amendments under some such gen 
eral title as a modern copy, or the like," one 



would conclude without hesitation that there 
was but a single authentic text in this case, 
as in others. Percy notes on the margin of 
his manuscript : " N. B. To correct this by my 
other copy, which seems more modern. The 
other copy in many parts preferable to this." 
But this note would seem to be a private 
memorandum. Or are we to suppose that 
Percy might employ, from habit perhaps, the 
same formula, not to say artifice, with himself 
as with the public ? In notes in the Folio to 
' Northumberland betrayed by Douglas ' (No 
176), Percy speaks of a second copy of that 
ballad also as being in his possession, and de 
scribes it as containing much which is omitted 
in the other, and as beginning like ' The Earl 
of Westmoreland,' (No 177). Of the begin 
ning of this last he says, in a note in the Folio, 
" these lines are given in one of my old copies 
to Lord Northumberland." " Old copies " 
is staggering ; for any one who examines the 
variations of the texts in the Reliques from 
the texts in the Folio will find them of the 
same character and style as Percy's acknowl 
edged improvements of other ballads, and 
will be compelled to impute them to the 
editor or his double.* 

The earls of Northumberland and Westmore 
land, having for a time succeeded, by exuber 
ant professions, in allaying very sufficiently 
grounded suspicions of their loyal dealing, at 
last, upon receiving the Queen's summons to 
London, found compliance unsafe, and went 
into rebellion. They took this step with but 
half a heart and against their judgment, 
overcome by the clamor and urgency of a 
portion of their fellow-conspirators. The in 
tent of the insurgents was, in Northumber 
land's own words, " the reformation of reli 
gion, and the preservation of the Queen of 
Scots, whom they accounted by God's law 
and man's law to be right heir, if want 

should be of issue of the Queen's Majesty's 
body." These two causes, they were con 
fident, were favored by the larger number of 
noblemen within the realm. f Protestantism 
had no hold in the north, and the Queen's 
officers in those parts were, for the moment, 
not strong enough to make opposition. With 
leaders of energy and military skill, and a 
good chest to draw upon,$ the rising would 
have been highly dangerous. As things were, 
it collapsed in five weeks without the shed 
ding of a drop of blood ; but hundreds of 
simple people were subsequently hanged. 

The earls, with others, among whom Rich 
ard Norton, then sheriff of York, was the 
most conspicuous, entered Durham in arms on 
Sunday, the fourteenth of November (1569). 
They went to the minster, overthrew the 
communion-table, tore the Bible and service- 
books, replaced the old altar (which had been 
thrown into a rubbish-heap), and had mass 
said. The next day they turned southwards, 
with nobody to molest or stop them in their 
rear or in front. The Earl of Sussex was col 
lecting a force at York, but it came in slowly, 
and it could not be trusted. " To get the more 
credit among the favorers of the old Romish 
religion, they had a cross, with a banner of 
the five wounds, borne after them, sometime 
by old Norton, sometime by others " (Holin- 
shed). They proceeded to Ripon, Wetherby, 
and Clifford Moor (Bramham Moor) near 
Tadcaster. " Their main body was at Weth 
erby and Tadcaster, their advanced horse 
were far down across the Ouse." Their num 
bers, according to Holinshed, never exceeded 
about two thousand horse and five thousand 
foot. Tutbury, where Mary Stuart was con 
fined, was but a little more than fifty miles 
from their advance ; they proposed to release 
the Queen of Scots, and then to move on 
London, or wait for a rising in the south. 

* To save appearances, we may understand " old copies " 
to mean copies restored or brought nearer to what is im 
agined to have been the original form. The variations will 
be given in notes as pieces justificatives. 

t Sir Cuthhert Sharp, Memorials of the Rebellion of 
1569, p. 202; a collection of many original papers pertain 
ing to this rising, with much subsidiary information. But 
the story should be read in the eighteenth chapter of Mr 

Froude's Reign of Elizabeth. Both works have been used 
here passim ; Froude in the edition of New York, 1870. 

} Northumberland, on being asked how much money he 
spent in the quarrel, says, " about one hundred ami twenty 
pound." The Queen's proclamation, Nov. 24, declares that 
the earls were two persons as ill chosen for the reformation 
of any great matters as any could he in the realm, for they 
were both in poverty, etc. Sharp, pp. 208, 66 ; also 290. 



Mary Stuart, at the nick of time, was re 
moved to Coventry. On the twenty-fourth 
we hear that the rebels were drawn back to 
Knaresborough and Boroughbridge ; on the 
thirtieth, that they are returned into the 
Bishopric. There they laid siege to Bar 
nard Castle, which Sir George Bowes was 
obliged to surrender on December twelfth ; 
on the fifteenth the earls were still at Dur 
ham. On the thirteenth the earls of War 
wick and Clinton, commanders of the Army 
of the South, met at Wetherby with a com 
bined force of eleven thousand foot and above 
twelve hundred horse, " eager to encounter 
the rebels, if they would abide." But on 
the sixteenth the " lords rebels " warned 
their footmen to shift for themselves, and 
fled with such horse as they had left into 
Northumberland. The twenty-second of De 
cember, the Earl of Sussex, qui cunctando 
restituit rem, Lord Hunsdon, who had been 
joined with him in command, and Sir Ralph 
Sadler, who had been deputed to watch him, 
write to the Queen : " The earls rebels, with 
their principal confederates and the Countess 
of Northumberland, did the twentieth of this 
present in the night, flee into Liddesdale with 
about a hundred horse ; and there remain 
under the conduction of Black Ormiston, one 
of the murtherers of the Lord Darnley, and 
John of the Side and the Lord's Jock, two 
notable thieves of Liddesdale, and the rest of 
the rebels be utterly scaled." * 

The ballad, which is the work of a loyal 
but not unsympathetic minstrel, gives but a 
cursory and imperfect account of " this geere." 
Earl Percy has come to the conclusion that 
he must fight or flee ; his lady urges him 
thrice over to go to the court, and right him 
self, but he tells her that his treason is known 
well enough ; if he follows her advice she 
will never see him again. He sends a letter 
to Master Norton, urging that gentleman to 
ride with him. Norton asks counsel of his 
son Christopher, who advises him not to go 
back from the word he has spoken, and much 

pleases his father thereby. He asks his nine 
sons how many of them will take part with 
him. All but the eldest at once answer that 
they will stand by him till death : Francis 
Norton, the eldest, will not advise acting 
against the crown. Coward Francis, thou 
never tookest that of me ! says the father. 
Francis will go with his father, but unarmed, 
and he wishes an ill death to them that strike 
the first stroke against the crown. There 
is a muster at Wetherby, and Westmoreland 
and Northumberland are there with their 
proper banners,! and with another setting 
forth the Lord on the cross. Sir George 
Bowes " rising to make a spoil," they besiege 
him in a castle to which he retires, easily win 
the outer walls, but cannot win the inner. 
Word comes to the Queen of the rebels in 
the north ; she sends thirty thousand men 
against them, under the "false " Earl of War 
wick, and they never stop till they reach 
York. (A gap occurs here, which need not be 
a large one, considering the leaps taken al 
ready.) Northumberland is gone, Westmore 
land vanished, and Norton and his eight sons 

5-10. The Countess of Northumberland 
would have been the last person to give such 
advice as is attributed to her. " His wife, 
being the stouter of the two, doth encourage 
him to persevere, and rideth up and down 
with the army, so as the grey mare is the 
better horse." Hunsdon to Cecil, November 
twenty-sixth, MS. cited by Froude. 

11-27. Richard Norton, miscalled Francis 
in 40, was a man of seventy-one when he 
engaged in the rising, and the father of 
eleven sons and eight daughters. Seven of 
the sons were involved in the rebellion. 
Francis, the eldest son, so far from standing 
out, took a prominent part with his father. 
But what is said of Francis is true of Wil 
liam, the fourth son. Sir George Bowes says 
of him : " I neither heard or could perceive 
William Norton to deal with any office or 
charge amongst the rebels, but, as I have heard 

* Sharp, p. 113. collar, at p. 316; the three dogs are not warranted. Percy's 

t The dun-bull of the Nevilles is given in Sharp, p. 87, half-moon is improperly mixed np with the banner of the 
and one greyhound's head, with what may pass for a golden five wounds in 31. 



it affirmed, he both refused the taking charge 
of horsemen when it was offered unto him, 
and also would wear no armor. Farther, 
upon my departure from the castle [Barnard 
Castle], he came to me, and in the way as he 
rode with me, he entered to declare that he 
greatly misliked of all their doings and prac 
tices, saying that he was there amongst them 
for his father's sake, and to accompany him, 
and otherways he never had been with them," 
etc. MS. cited by Sharp, p. 284. 

Christopher Norton deserves the distinction 
accorded him in the ballad. " Christopher 
had been among the first to enroll himself a 
knight of Mary Stuart. His religion had 
taught him to combine subtlety with courage, 
and through carelessness or treachery, or his 
own address, he had been admitted into Lord 
Scrope's guard at Bolton Castle. There he 
was allowed to assist his lady's escape, should 
escape prove possible ; there he was able to 
receive messages and carry them ; there, to 
throw the castellan off his guard, he pre 
tended to flirt with her attendants, and twice 
at least, by his own confession, closely as the 
prisoner was watched, he contrived to hold 
private communications with her." (Froude, 
Reign of Elizabeth, III, 505, where follow 
lively particulars of these two encounters.) 
Christopher was the only one of the Nortons 
who is known to have suffered the death-pen 

alty of treason ; it was " after he had beheld 
the death of his uncle, as well his quartering 
as otherwise, knowing and being well assured 
that he himself must follow the same way." 
(Sharp, p. 286.) Richard Norton, the fa 
ther, fled to Flanders with his sons Francis 
and Sampson, and all three seem to have died 

33 f. Sussex to Cecil : Dec. 6. " The rebels 
have shot three days together at the wall of 
the outer ward, but they have done no hurt." 
Dec. 8. " The rebels have won the first 
ward." Sir George Bowes' men leaped the 
walls, one day some eighty at a time, and the 
next day seven or eight score of the best dis 
posed, who had been appointed to guard the 
gates, suddenly set them open, and went to 
the rebels ; whereupon Sir George was driven 
to composition, and there was no need to take 
the inner walls.* 

A considerable number of "balletts" were 
called forth by the northern rebellion, and 
a few of these have been preserved. See 
Arber, Stationers' Registers, I, 404-6, 407- 
9, 413-15 ; A Collection of Seventy-Nine 
Blackletter Ballads, etc., 1870, pp. xxv, 1, 
56, 231, 239. 

The copy in the Reliques is translated by 
Seckendorf, Musenalmanach, 1807, p. 103 ; 
by Doenniges, p. 102. 

1 LISTEN, liuely lordings all, 

And all that beene this place within : 
If you 'le giue eare vnto my songe, 

I will tell you how this geere did begin. 

2 It was the good Erie of Westmorlande, 

A noble erle was called hee, 
And he wrought treason against the crowne ; 
Alas, itt was the more pittye ! 

3 And soe itt was the Erie of Northumberland, 

Another good noble erle was hee ; 
They tooken both vpon one part, 
Against the crowne they wolden bee. 

4 Earle Pearcy is into his garden gone, 

And after walkes his awne ladye : 
' I heare a bird sing in my eare 
That I must either fight or fflee.' 

5 ' God fforbidd,' shee sayd, ' good my lord, 

That euer soe that it shalbee ! 
But goe to London to the court, 

And faire ffall truth and honestye ! ' 

6 ' But nay, now nay, my ladye gay, 

That euer it shold soe bee ; 
My treason is knowen well enoughe ; 
Alt the court I must not bee.' 

Sharp, pp. 92, 95, 97 f. 



7 ' But goe to the court yet, good my lord, 

Take men enowe with thee ; 

If any man will doe you wronge, 

YoMr warrant they may bee.' 

8 ' But nay, now nay, my lady gay, 

For soe itt must not bee ; 
If I goe to the court, ladye, 

Death will strike me, and I must dye.' 

9 ' But goe to the court yett, [good] my lord, 

I my-selfe will ryde with thee ; 
If any man will doe you wronge, 
Yowr borrow I shalbee.' 

10 ' But nay, now nay, my lady gay, 

For soe it must not bee ; 
For if I goe to the court, ladye, 
Thou must me neuer see. 

11 ' But come hither, thou litle foot-page, 

Come thou hither vnto mee, 
For thou shalt goe a message to Master Norton, 
In all the hast that euer may bee. 

12 ' Comend me to that gentleman ; 

Bring him here this letter from mee, 
And say, I pray him earnestlye 

That hee will ryde in my companye.' 

13 But one while the foote-page went, 

Another while he rann ; 
Vntill he came to blaster Norton, 
The ffoot-page neuer blanne. 

14 And when he came to Master Nortton, 

He kneeled on his knee, 
And tooke the letter betwixt his hands, 
And lett the gentleman it see. 

15 And when the letter itt was reade, 

Affore all his companye, 
I-wis, if you wold know the truth, 
There was many a weeping eye. 

16 He said, Come hither, Kester Nortton, 

A ffine ffellow thou seemes to bee ; 
Some good councell, Kester Nortton, 
This day doe thou giue to mee. 

17 ' Marry, I 'le giue you councell, ffather, 

If you 'le take councell att me, 

That if you haue spoken the word, father, 
T/iat backe againe you doe not flee.' 

18 ' God a mercy ! Christopher Nortton, 

I say, God a mercye ! 
If I doe liue and scape with liffe, 
Well advanced shalt thou bee. 

19 ' But come you hither, my nine good sonnes, 

In mens estate I thinke you bee ; 
How many of you, my children deare, 
On my part that wilbe ? ' 

20 But eight of them did answer soone, 

And spake ffull hastilye ; 
Sayes, We wilbe on yowr part, ffather, 
Till the day that we doe dye. 

21 ' But God a mercy ! my children deare, 

And euer I say God a mercy ! 
And yett my blessing you shall haue, 
Whether-soeuer I liue or dye. 

22 ' But what sayst thou, thou Ffrancis Nortton, 

Mine eldest sonne and mine heyre trulye ? 
Some good councell, Ffrancis Nortton, 
This day thou giue to me.' 

23 ' But I will giue you councell, ffather, 

If you will take councell att mee ; 
For if you wold take my councell, father, 
Against the crowne you shold not bee.' 

24 ' But ffye vpon thee, Ffrancis Nortton ! 

I say ffye vpon thee ! 

When thou was younge and tender of age 
I made ffull much of thee.' 

25 ' But yowr head is white, ffather,' he sayes, 

' And yo?tr beard is wonderous gray ; 
Itt were shame ffor your countrye 
If you shold rise and fflee away.' 

26 ' But ffye vpon thee, thou coward Ffrancis ! 

Thou neue?' tookest that of mee ! 
When thou was younge and tender of age 
I made too much of thee.' 

27 ' But I will goe with you, father,' quoth hee ; 

' Like a naked man will I bee ; 
He that strikes the first stroake against the 

An ill death may hee dye ! ' 



28 But then rose vpp Master Nortton, that, 


With him a ffull great company e ; 
And then the erles they comen downe 
To ryde in Ids companye. 

29 Att Whethersbye the mustered their men, 

Vpon a ffull fayre day ; 
Thirteen thousand there were seene 
To stand in battel ray. 

30 The Erie of Westmoreland, he had in his 


The dunn bull in sight most hye, 
And three doggs wtth golden collers 
Were sett out royallye. 

31 The Erie of Northumberland, he had in his 


The halfe moone in sight soe hye, 
As the Lord was crucifyed on the crosse, 
And set forthe pleasantlye. 

32 And after them did rise good Sir George 


After them a spoyle to make ; 
The erles returned backe againe, 
Thought euer thai knight to take. 

33 This barron did take a castle then, 

Was made of lime and stone ; 
The vttermost walls were ese to be woon ; 
The erles haue woon them anon. 

34 But tho they woone the vttermost walls, 

Quickly and anon, 

The innermust walles the cold not winn ; 
The were made of a rocke of stone. 

35 But newes itt came to leeue London, 

In all the speede that euer might bee ; 
And word it came to our royall queene 
Of all the rebells in the north countrye. 

36 Shee turned her grace then once about, 

And like a royall queene shee sware ; 
Sayes, I will ordaine them such a breake-fast 
As was not in the north this thousand yeere ! 

37 Shee caused thirty thousand men to be made, 

With horsse and harneis all quicklye ; 
And shee caused thirty thousand men to be 

- made, 
To take the rebells in the north countrye. 

38 They tooke with them the false Erie of War- 


Soe did they many another man ; 
Vntill they came to Yorke castle, 
I-wis they neuer stinted nor blan. 

39 . 

' Spread thy ancyent, Erie of Westmoreland ! 
The halfe-moone ffaine wold wee see ! ' 

40 But the halfe-moone is fled and gone, 

And the dun bull vanished awaye ; 
And Ffrancis Nortton and his eight sonnes 
Are ffled away most cowardlye. 

41 Ladds with mony are counted men, 

Men without mony are counted none ; 
But hold yowr tounge ! why say you soe ? 
Men wilbe men when mony is gone. 

3 4 . their for the. 

7 4 . they altered in MS. from them. 
18 1 . amercy : and afterwards. 19 1 . 9. 
20 1 . 8 th . 21 2 . godamercy. 29". 13000. 
30 2 . Dum : m for nn. Furnivall. 
30'. 3. 

34 s . imermust. 35 a . all they. 36 4 . 1000. 
37 W . 30000. 

38 2 . Only half the n in many. Furnivall. 
And for & throughout. 

Variations of the copy in Percy's Reliques, 
1765, I, 250. 

I 2 " 4 . Lithe and listen unto mee, 
And I will sing of a noble earle, 

The noblest earle in the north countrie. 

2, 3 wanting. 

4 2 . after him walkes his faire. 

4 8 . mine. 



5 1 ' 2 . Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord, 
That eer such harm should hap to 

6 1 , 8 1 , 10 1 , 24 l . Now for But. 
6 2 ' 3 . Alas thy counsell suits not mee ; 
Mine enemies prevail so fast. 

6 4 . That at : I may. 7 1 . O goe. 

7 3 . And take thy gallant men. 
7*. any dare to doe. 

7 4 . Then your warrant. 

8 1 . thou lady faire. 

8 2 . The court is full of subtiltie. 8 s . And if. 
8 4 . Never more I may thee see. 

9 1 . Yet goe to the court, my lord, she sayes. 

9". And I : will goe wi. ryde in ed. 1794. 

9*. At court then for my dearest lord. 

9 4 . His faithfull borrowe I will. 

10 1 . lady deare. 

10 t4 . Far lever had I lose my life, 
Than leave among my cruell foes 
My love in jeopardy and strife. 

II 1 . come thou : my little. 

11 s . To maister Norton thou must goe. 

12 2 . And beare this letter here fro nice. 

12 3 . And say that earnestly I praye. 

12 4 . That wanting. 

13 1 . But loanting : little footpage. 

13*. And another. 

13*. to his journeys end. 

13 4 . little footpage. 

14 1 . When to that gentleman he came. 

14 2 . Down he knelt upon. 

14 8 ' 4 . Quoth he, My lord commendeth him, 

And sends this letter unto thee. 
The reading of the Folio is restored in ed. 


15 2 . Affore that goodlye. 
15*. you the truthe wold know. 

16 1 . thither, Christopher. 

16 2 . A gallant youth thou seemst. 

16 3 ' 4 . What doest thou counsell me, my sonne, 
Now that good earle 's in jeopardy. 

17. Father, my counselle 's fair and free ; 

That earle he is a noble lord, 
And whatsoever to him you hight, 

I wold not have you breake your word. 

18 1 " 3 . Gratnercy, Christopher, my sonne, 
Thy counsell well it liketh mee, 
And if we speed, and 

18 4 . thou shalt. 19 1 . But wanting. 

19 2 . Gallant men I trowe. 

19*. Will stand by that good earle and mee. 

20 1 . But wanting : answer make. 

20". Eight of them spake hastilie. 

20 3 ' 4 . O father, till the daye we dye, 

We '11 stand by that good earle and 

21 1 . Gramercy now, my children deare, 

You showe yourselves right bold and 

brave ; 

And whethersoeer I live or dye, 
A fathers blessing you shal have. 

22 1 . O Francis. 

22 s " 4 . Thou art mine eldest sonn and heire ; 
Somewhat lyes brooding in thy breast, 
Whatever it bee, to mee declare. 

23 wanting, and instead, this stanza, like 25 : 
Father, you are an aged man, 

Your head is white, your bearde is gray ; 
It were a shame, at these your yeares, 

For you to ryse in such a fray. 

24, 26. For these : 

Now fye upon thee, coward Francis, 
Thou never learnedst this of mee ; 
When thou wert yong and tender of age, 
Why did I make soe much of thee ? 

27 1 ' 2 . But, father, I will wend with you, 
Unarmd and naked will I bee. 

27 s . And he : the first stroake wanting. 
27 4 . Ever an. 

28. Then rose that reverend gentleman, 

And with him came a goodlye band, 
To join with the brave Earl Percy, 
And all the flower o Northumberland. 

29. With them the noble Nevill came, 

The earle of Westmorland was hee ; 
At Wetherbye they mustred their host, 
Thirteen thousand faire to see. 



30 1 ' 3 . Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde, 
The dun bull he raysd on hye. 

30*. And wanting : collars brave. 
30*. Were there sett out most. 

31. Earl Percy there his ancyent spred, 

The half moone shining all soe faire ; 
The Nortons ancyent had the crosse, 

And the five wounds our Lord did 

32 1 . Then Sir George Bowes he straitwaye 

32 2 . some spoyle. 

32*. Those noble earles turnd. 
32 4 . And aye they vowed that. 

33. That baron he to his castle fled, 

To Barnard castle then fled hee ; 
The uttermost walles were eathe to win, 
The earles have wonne them presentlie. 

34. The uttermost walles were lime and bricke ; 

But thoughe they won them soon anone, 
Long eer they wan the innermost walles, 
For they were cut in rocke of stone. 

35 1 . Then newes unto leeve London came. 
35 3 . ever may. 35*. word is brought. 
35*. Of the rysing in. 
36 1 . Her grace she turned her round about. 

36 2 . swore. 36 3 . Sayes wanting. 
36 4 . As never was in the North before. 
37 1 . be raysd. 37 2 . harners faire to see. 
37*. And wanting : be raised. 
37*. the earles i th'. 

38 1 ' 2 . Wi them the false Earle Warwick went, 
Th' earle Sussex and the lord Hunsden. 

38 s . to Yorke castle came. 38*. stint ne. 

39. Now spread thy ancyent, Westmorland, 

Thy dun bull faine would we spye ; 
And thou, the Earl o Northumberland, 
Now rayso thy half moone up on hye. 

40 1 . the dun bulle is. 

40 2 . the half moone vanished. 

40 3>4 . The Earles, though they were brave and 

Against soe many could not stay. 

41. Thee, Norton, wi thine eight good sonnes, 

They doonul to dye, alas ! for ruth ! 
Thy reverend lockes thee could not save, 
Nor them their faire and blooming 

Wi them full many a gallant wight 
They cruellye bereavd of life, 

And many a childe made fatherlesse, 
And widowed many a tender wife. 



'Northumberland betrayd by Dowglas,' Percy MS., p. 259 ; Hales and Furnivall, II, 217. 

PRINTED in Percy's Reliques, 1765, I, 257, 
" from two copies [which contained great va 
riations, 1794, I, 297], one of them in the 
Editor's folio MS." In this manuscript Percy 
makes these notes. " N. B. My other copy 
is more correct than this, and contains much 
which is omitted here. N. B. The other 

copy begins with lines the same as that in 
page 112 [that is, the 'Earl of Westmore 
land ']. The minstrels often made such 

See the preface to the foregoing ballad as 
to the probable character of the copy, which 
" contains much that is omitted here." 



The Earl of Sussex writes on December 
22d that, the next morning after Northum 
berland and Westmorland took refuge in 
Liddesdale, Martin Eliot and others of the 
principal men of the dale raised a force 
aerainst the earls, Black Ormiston, and the 

- o 

rest of their company, and offered fight ; but 
in the end, Eliot, wishing to avoid a feud, 
said to Ormiston that " he would charge him 
and the rest before the Regent for keeping of 
the rebels of England, if he did not put them 
out of the country, and that if they [the earls] 
were in the country after the next day, he 
would do his worst against them and all that 
maintained them." Whereupon the earls were 
driven to quit Liddesdale and to fly to one of 
the Armstrongs in the Debateable Land, leav 
ing the Countess of Northumberland " at John 
of the Sydes house, a cottage not to be com 
pared to any dog-kennel in England." Three 
days later Sussex and Sadler write that " the 
Earl of Northumberland was yesterday [the 
24th], at one in the afternoon, delivered by 
one Hector, of Harlaw wood, of the surname 
of the Armstrongs, to Alexander Hume, to be 
carried to the Regent." * The Regent took 
Northumberland to Edinburgh, and on the 
second of January, 1570, committed him to 
the castle, of Lochleven, attended by two 

The sentiment of Scotsmen, and especially 
of borderers, was outraged by this proceed 
ing : " for generally, all sorts, both men and 
women, cry out for the liberty of their coun 
try ; which is, to succor banisht men, as them 
selves have been received in England not long 

* Sharp, pp. 114 f, 118. "My lord Regent convened 
with Martin Eliot that he should betray Thomas, Earl of 
Northumberland, who was fled in Liddesdale out of Eng 
land for refuge, in this manner : that is to say, the said 
Martin caused Heckie Armstrong desire my lord of North 
umberland to come and speak with him under trust, and 
caused the said earl believe that, after speaking, if my lord 
Regent would pursue him, that he and his friends should 
take plain part with the Earl of Northumberland. And 
when the said earl came with the same Heckie Armstrong 
to speak the said Martin, he caused certain light-horsemen 
of my lord Regent's, with others his friends, to lie at await, 
and when they should see the said earl and the said Martin 
speaking together, that they should come and take the said 
earl ; and so as was devised, so came to pass." Diurnal of 
Occurrents, p. 154. 


since, and is the freedom of all countries, as 
they allege." J 

Northumberland remained in confinement 
at Lochleven until June, 1572. Meanwhile 
the Countess of Northumberland, who had es 
caped to Flanders, had been begging money 
to buy her husband of the Scots, and had 
been negotiating with Douglas of Lochleven 
to that effect. She was ready to give the 
sum demanded, which seems to have been 
two thousand pounds, as soon as sufficient as 
surance could be had that her husband would 
be liberated upon payment of the money. 
Lord Hunsdon discussed the surrender of 
Northumberland with the Earl of Morton and 
the Commendator of Dunfermling, on the 
occasion of their coming to Berwick to treat 
about the pacification of the troubles in Scot 
land. " They made recital of the charges 
that the lord of Lochleven hath been at with 
the said earl, and how the earl hath offered 
the lord of Lochleven four thousand marks 
sterling, to be paid presently to him in hand, to 
let him go. Notwithstanding, both he and the 
rest shall be delivered to her Majesty upon 
reasonable consideration of their charges." 
(November 22, 1571.) Political considera 
tions turned the scale, and on the seventh of 
June Lord Hunsdon paid the two thousand 
pounds which the countess had offered, and 
Northumberland was put into his hands. 
Hunsdon had the earl in custody at Berwick 
until the following August. He was then 
made over to Sir John Forster, Warden of 
the Middle Marches, taken to York and there 
beheaded (August 27th, 1572) . 

t From a letter of January 6, we learn that the Earl of 
Northumberland was then in Edinburgh, attended by James 
Swrno, William Burton, and others. James Swyno is appar 
ently the chamberlain of the ballad. Sharp, p. 139. 

} Lord Hunsdon, Sharp, p. 125. 

Sharp, pp. 324-29. To whom the money went, if to 
anybody besides William Douglas, we are not distinctly 
told. Tytler intimates that Morton had a share : " this 
base and avaricious man sold his unhappy prisoner to Eliza 
beth," VII, 395. There was baseness enough without the 
addition of avarice : " The Earl of Northumberland was ren 
dered to the Queen of England, forth of the castle of Loch 
leven, by a certain condition made betwix her and the Earl 
of Morton for gold. . . . And indeed this was unthankfully 
remembered, for when Morton was banisht from Scotland 
he found no such kind man to him in England as this earl 



The ballad - minstrel acquaints us with 
circumstances concerning the surrender of 
Northumberland which are not known to any 
of the historians. One night, when many 
gentlemen are supping at Lochleven Castle, 
William Douglas, the laird of the castle, ral 
lies the earl on account of his sadness ; there 
is to be a shooting in the north of Scotland 
the next day, and to this Douglas has engaged 
his word that Percy shall go. Percy is 
ready to ride to the world's end in Douglas's 
company. Mary Douglas, William's sister, 
interposes : her brother is a traitor, and has 
taken money from the Earl [Morton ?] to de 
liver Percy to England. Northumberland 
will not believe this ; the surrender of a ban- 
isht man would break friendship forever be 
tween England and Scotland. Mary Douglas 
persists ; he had best let her brother ride 
his own way, and he can tell the English 
lords that he cannot be of the party because 
he is in an isle of the sea (an obstacle which 
must appear to us not greater for one than for 
the other) ; and while her brother is away she 
will carry Percy to Edinburgh Castle, and 
deliver him to Lord Hume, who has already 
suffered loss in his behalf. But if he will not 
give credence to her, let him come on her 
right hand, and she will shew him something. 
Percy never loved witchcraft, but permits his 
chamberlain to go with the lady. Mary 
Douglas's mother was a witch-woman, and 
had taught her daughter something of her 
art. She shows the chamberlain through the 
belly of a ring many Englishmen who are on 
the await for his master, among them Lord 
Hunsdon, Sir William Drury, and Sir John 
Forster, though at that moment they are 
thrice fifty mile distant. The chamberlain 
goes back to his lord weeping, but the rela 
tion of what he has seen produces no effect. 
Percy says he has been in Lochleven almost 
three years and has never had an ' outrake ' 
(outing) ; he will not hear a word to hinder 
him from going to the shooting. He twists 

from his finger a gold ring left him when he 
was in Harlaw wood and gives it to Mary 
Douglas, with an assurance that, though he 
may drink, he will never eat, till he is in Loch 
leven again. Mary faints when she sees him 
in the boat, and Percy once and again pro 
poses to go back to see how she fares ; but 
William Douglas treats the fainting very 
lightly ; his sister is crafty enough to beguile 
thousands like them. When they have sailed 
the first fifty mile (it will be borne in mind 
that the Douglas castle is described as being 
on an- isle of the sea), James Swynard, the 
chamberlain,* asks how far it is to the shoot 
ing, and gets an alarming answer : fair words 
make fools fain ; whenever they come to the 
shooting, they will think they have come soon 
enough ! Jamie carries this answer to his 
master, who finds nothing discouraging in it ; 
it was meant only to try his mettle. But 
after sailing fifty miles more, Percy himself 
calls to Douglas and asks what his purpose is. 
" Look that your bridle be strong and your 
spurs be sharp," says Douglas (but 49 1 is 
probably corrupted). " This is mere flout 
ing," replies Percy ; " one Armstrong has my 
horse, another my spurs and all my gear." 
Fifty miles more of the sea, and they land 
Lord Percy at Berwick, a deported, " extra 
dited " man ! 

14. The Countess of Northumberland was 
sheltered for some time at Hume Castle (Sir 
C. Sharp's Memorials, pp. 143, 146, 150, 344, 
ff). The castle was invested, and by direction 
of Lord Hume, then absent in Edinburgh, 
was surrendered without resistance, in the 
course of Sussex's destructive raid in April, 
1570. Cabala, ed. 1663, p. 175. See also 
Diurnal of Occurrents, p. 170. 

19. Witchcraft was rife at the epoch of this 
ballad, nor was the imputation of it confined 
to hags of humble life. The Lady Buccleuch, 
the Countess of Athole, and the Lady Foullis 
were all accused of practising the black art. 
Nothing in that way was charged upon Lady 

was." Historic of King James the Sext, p. 106 f. Sir resavit the pygrall pryce," but does not charge Morton with 

Richard Maitland, who spares Morton and Lochleven no an act of ingratitude, 

epithets in his spirited invective against those who delivered * Stanza 43 is corrupted, 
the Earl of Northumberland, says that they " of his bluide 



Douglas of Locbleven, the mother of William 
Douglas and of the Regent Murray ; but Lady 
Janet Douglas, sister of the Earl of Angus, 
had been burnt in 1537 for meditating the 
death of James V by poison or witchcraft, 
and it is possible, as Percy has suggested, that 
this occurrence may have led to the attri 
bution of sorcery to Lady Douglas of Loch 

Mary Douglas shows Northumberland's 
chamberlain, through the hollow of her ring, 
the English lords who are waiting for his 
master " thrice fifty mile " distant, at Ber 
wick. In a Swiss popular song the infidel 
ity of a lover is revealed by a look through 
a finger-ring. People on the Odenberg hear 
a drum-beat, but see nothing. A wizard 
makes one after another look through a ring 
made by bowing the arm against the side ; 
they see armed men going into and coming 
out of the hill. So Biarco is enabled to see 
Odin on his white horse by looking through 
Ruta's bent arm.f 

32, 33. The day after Northumberland was 
put into his hands, Hunsdon writes to Burgh- 
ley : " For the earl, I have had no great talk 
with him ; but truly he seems to follow his 
old humours, readier to talk of hawks and 
hounds than anything else." (Sharp, p. 330.) 

51. It was their old manner, as Robin 
Hood says, to leave but little behind ; but 
what is recorded is that, when " the earls 
were driven to leave Liddesdale and to fly to 
one of the Armstrongs upon the Bateable, , . . 
the Liddesdale men stole my lady of North 
umberland's horse, and her two women's 
horses, and ten other horses." Sussex to 
Cecil, Sharp, p. 114 f. 

52. Percy "left Lochleven with joy, under 
the assurance that he should be conveyed in 
a Scottish vessel to Antwerp. To his sur 
prise and dismay he found himself, after a 
short voyage, at Coldingham." Lingard's 
History, VI, 137, London, 1854. 

The copy in the Reliques is translated by 
Doenniges, p. 111. 

1 Now list and lithe, you gentlemen, 

And I 'at tell you the veretye, 
How they haue dealt with a banished man, 
Driuen out of his countrye. 

2 When as hee came on Scottish ground, 

As woe and wonder be them ainonge ! 
Ffull much was there traitorye 

The wrought the Erie of Northumberland. 

3 When they were att the supper sett, 

Beffore many goodly gentlemen, 
The ffell a fflouting and mocking both, 

And said to the Erie of Northumberland : 

4 ' What makes you be soe sad, nay lord, 

And in yo?r mind soe sorrowff ullye ? 
In the north of Scottland to-morrow there 's a 

And thither thou 'st goe, my ~Lord Percye. 

* Kirkpatrick Sharpe's Historical Account of Witchcraft 
in Scotland, pp. 38-54, ed. 1884. 

t Rochholz, Schweizersagen aus dem Aargau, II, 162; 
Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, p. 783 f, ed. 1876, and Saxo 
Grammaticus (p. 34, ed 1576, Holder, p. 66), quoted by 
Grimm. These citations are furnished by Liebrecht, Giittin- 

5 ' The buttes are sett, and the shooting is 


And there is like to be great royaltye, 
And I am sworne into my bill 

Thither to bring my Lord Pearcy.' 

6 ' I 'le giue thee my hand, Douglas,' he sayes, 

' And be the faith in my bodye, 
If that thou wilt ryde to the worlds end, 
I 'le ryde in thy companye.' 

7 And then bespake the good ladye, 

Marry a Douglas was her name : 
' You shall byde here, good English lord ; 
My brother is a traitorous man. 

8 ' He is a traitor stout and stronge, 

As I 'st tell you the veretye ; 
For he hath tane liuerance of the Erie, 
And into England he will liuor thee.' 

gen Gelehrte Anzeigen, 1868, p. 1899, who finds hydromancy 
in st. 26, where, however, all that seems to be meant is that 
the mother would let her daughter see from Lochleven what 
was doing in London. Of dactyliomancy proper there is 
something in Delrio, IV, ii. C, 4, 5, p. 547, ed. 1624. 



9 ' Now hold thy tounge, thou goodlye ladye, 

And let all this talking bee ; 
Ffor all the gold thai 's in Loug Leuen, 
William wold not liuor mee. 

10 ' It wold breake truce betweene England and 


And freinds againe they wold neuer bee, 
If he shold liuor a bani[s]ht erle, 

Was driuen out of his owne countrye.' 

11 ,'Hold yowr tounge, my lord,' shee sayes, 

' There is much ffalsehood them amonge ; 
When you are dead, then they are done, 
Soone they will part them freinds againe. 

12 ' If you will giue me any trust, my lord, 

I 'le tell you how you best may bee ; 

You 'st lett my brother ryde his wayes, 

And tell those English lords, trulye, 

13 ' How that you cannot with them ryde, 

Because you are in an ile of the sea ; 
Then, ere my brother come againe, 
To Edenborrow castle I 'le carry thee. 

14 ' I 'le liuor you vnto the I^ord Hume, 

And you know a trew Scothe lord is hee, 
For he hath lost both land and goods 
In ayding of yowr good bodye.' 

15 ' Marry, I am woe, woman,' he sayes, 

' That any freind fares worse for mee; 
For where one saith it is a true tale, 
Then two will say it is a lye. 

16 ' When I was att home in my [realme], 

Amonge my tennants all trulye, 
In my time of losse, wherin my need stoode, 
They came to ayd me honestlye. 

17 ' Therfore I left a many a child ffatherlese, 

And many a widdow to looke wanne ; 
And therfore blame nothing, ladye, 

But the woeffull warres which I began.' 

18 ' If you will giue me noe trust, my lord, 

Nor noe credence you will give mee, 

And you 'le come hither to my right hand, 

Indeed, my lorid, I 'le lett you see.' 

19 Sales, I neuer loued noe witchcraft, 

Nor neuer dealt with treacherye, 

But euermore held the hye way ; 
Alas, that may be seene by mee ! 

20 ' If you will not come your selfe, my lord, 

You 'le lett yowr chamberlaine goe wtth mee, 
Three words that I may to him speake, 
And soone he shall come againe to thee.' 

21 When lames Swynard came that lady before, 

Shee let him see thorrow the weme of her 


How many there was of English lords 
To wayte there for his master and him. 

22 ' But who beene yonder, my good ladye, 

That walkes soe royallye on yonder greene ? ' 
' Yonder is Lord Hunsden, lamye,' she 

' Alas, hee 'le doe you both tree and teene ! ' 

23 ' And who beene yonder, thou gay ladye, 

TJiat walkes soe royallye him beside ? ' 
' Yond is Str William Drurye, lamy,' shee 

' And a keene captom hee is, and tryde.' 

24 ' How many miles is itt, thou good ladye, 

Betwixt yond English lord and mee ? ' 
' Marry, thrise fifty mile, lamy,' shee sayd, 
' And euen to seale and by the sea. 

25 ' I neuer was on English ground, 

Nor neuer see itt with mine eye, 

But as my witt and wisedome serues, 

And as [the] booke it telleth mee. 

26 ' My mother, shee was a witch woman, 

And part of itt shee learned mee ; 
Shee wold let me see out of Lough Leuen 
What they dyd in London cytye.' 

27 ' But who is yonde, thou good laydye, 

That comes yonder with an osterne fface ? ' 
' Yond 's Sir lohn Forster, lawye,' shee sayd ; 

' Methinkes thou sholdest better know him 

then I.' 
' Euen soe I doe, my goodlye ladye, 

And euer alas, soe woe am I ! ' 

28 He pulled his hatt ouer his eyes, 

And, Lord, he wept soe tenderlye ! 
He is gone to his -master againe, 
And euen to tell him the veretye. 



29 ' Now hast thou beene with Marry, lamy,' he 


' Euen as thy tounge will tell to mee ; 

But if thou trust in any womans words, 

Thou must refraine good companye.' 

30 'It is noe words, my lord,' he sayes ; 

' Yonder the men shee letts me see, 
How many English lords there is 
Is wayting there for you and mee. 

31 ' Yonder I see the ~Lord Hunsden, 

And hee and you is of the third degree; 
A greater enemye, indeed, my Lord, 
In England none haue yee.' 

32 ' And I haue beene in Lough Leven 

The most part of these yeeres three : 
Yett had I neuer noe out-rake, 
Nor good games that I cold see. 

33 ' And I am thus bidden to yonder shooting 

By William Douglas all trulye ; 
Therfore speake neuer a word out of thy 

That thou thinkes will hinder mee.' 

34 Then he writhe the gold ring of his ffingar 

And gaue itt to that ladye gay ; 
Sayes, That was a legacye left vnto mee 
.In Harley woods where I cold bee. 

35 ' Then ffarewell hart, and farewell hand, 

And ffarwell all good companye ! 
That woman shall neuer beare a sonne 
Shall know soe much of yo;<r priuitye.' 

36 ' Now hold thy tounge, ladye,' hee sayde, 

' And make not all this dole for mee, 
For I may well drinke, but I 'st neuer eate, 
Till againe in Lough Leuen I bee.' 

37 He tooke his boate att the Lough Leuen, 

For to sayle now oner the sea, 
And he hath cast vpp a siluer wand, 

Sales, Fare thou well, my good ladye ! 
The ladye looked ouer her left sholder ; 

In a dead swoone there fell shee. 

38 ' Goe backe againe, Douglas ! ' he sayd, 

' And I will goe in thy companye, 
For sudden sicknesse yonder lady has tane, 
And euer, alas, shee will but dye ! 

39 ' If ought come to yonder ladye but good, 

Then blamed sore that I shall bee, 
Because a banished man I am, 

And driuen out of my owne countrye." 

40 ' Come on, come on, my lord,' he sayes, 

' And lett all such talking bee ; 
There 's ladyes enow in Lough Leuen 
And for to cheere yonder gay ladye.' 

41 ' And you will not goe yowr self e, my lord, 

You will lett my chamberlaine go with 

mee ; 

Wee shall now take our boate againe, 
And soone wee shall ouertake thee.' 

42 ' Come on, come on, my lord,' he sayes, 

' And lett now all this talking bee ; 
Ffor my sister is craftye enoughe 

For to beguile thousands such as you and 

43 When they had sayled fifty myle, 

Now fifty mile vpon the sea, 
Hee had fforgotten a message that hee 

Shold doe in Lough Leuen trulye : 
Hee asked, how ffarr it was to that shooting 

That William Douglas promised mee. 

44 ' Now faire words makes fooles faine, 

And that may be seene by thy master and 

thee ; 

Ffor you may happen think itt soone enoughe 
When-euer you that shooting see.' 

45 lamye pulled his hatt now ouer his browe, 

I wott the teares fell in his eye ; 
And he is to his master againe, 
And ffor to tell him the veretye. 

46 ' He sayes fayre words makes fooles faine, 

And that may be seene by you and mee, 
Ffor wee may happen thinke itt soone enoughe 
When-euer wee that shooting see. 

47 ' Hold vpp thy head, lamye,' the erle sayd, 

' And neuer lett thy hart fayle thee ; 
He did itt but to proue thee with, 

And see how thow wold take with death 

48 When they had sayled other fifty mile, 

Other fifty mile vpon the sea, 



'Lord Peercy called to him, himselfe, 

And sayd, Douglas, what wilt thou doe with 

49 ' Looke thai your brydle be wight, my lord, 

That you may goe as a shipp att sea ; 
Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe, 
T/Mt you may pricke her while shee 'le 

50 'What needeth this, Douglas,' he sayth, 

' T/Mt thou needest to ffloute mee ? 

For I was counted a horsseman good 
Before thai euer I mett with thee. 

51 'A ffalse Hector hath my horsse, 

And euer an euill death may hee dye ! 
And Willye Armestronge hath my spurres 
And all the geere belongs to mee.' 

52 When the had sayled other fifty mile, 

Other fifty mile vpon the sea, 
The landed low by Barwicke-side ; 
A deputed lord landed 'Lord Pereye, 

6 1 . my Land. 15 4 . 2. 
16 l . This line is partly pared away. Fur- 

18 4 . Lorid, or Louerd ; or Lord, with one 

stroke too many. Furnivall. 
20 s . 3. 22 1 . ny/o-my. 24 s . 3" e 50. 
31 2 . 3 d . 32 2 . 3. 
33 4 . Partly cut away by the binder. Furni- 


43 1 ' 2 , 48 1 - 2 , 52 1 - 2 . 50. 
52 4 . land /or lord. And for & tJiroughoitt. 

Variations of Percy's Reliques, 17C5, I, 258. 
1-3. Cf. the next ballad, 1-3. 

How long shall fortune faile me nowe, 

And harrowe me with fear and dread ? 
How long shall I in bale abide, 
In misery my life to lead ? 

To fall from my bliss, alas the while ! 

It was my sore and heavye lott ; 
And I must leave my native land, 

And I must live a man forgot. 

One gentle Armstrong I doe ken, 
A Scot he is much bound to mee ; 

He dwelleth on the border-side, 
To him I '11 goe right privilie. 

Thus did the noble Percy 'plaine, 
With a heavy heart and wel-away, 

When he with all his gallant men 
On Bramham moor had lost the day. 

But when he to the Armstrongs came. 

They dealt with him all treacherouslye ; 
For they did strip that noble earle, 

And ever an ill death may they dye ! 

False Hector to Earl Murray sent, 

To shew him where his guest did hide, 

Who sent him to the Lough-leven, 
With William Douglas to abide. 

And when he to the Douglas came, 
He hatched him right courteouslie ; 

Sayd, Welcome, welcome, noble earle, 
Here thou shalt safelye bide witli mee. 

When he had in Lough-leven been 
Many a month and many a day, 

To the regent the lord-warden sent, 
That bannisht earle for to betray. 

He offered him great store of gold, 

And wrote a letter fair to see, 
Saying, Good my lord, grant me my boon, 

And yield that banisht man to mee. 

Earle Percy at the supper sate, 
With many a goodly gentleman ; 

The wylie Douglas then bespake, 
And thus to flyte with him began. 

4 8 4 . To-morrow a shootinge will bee held 

Among the lords of the North countrye. 

sett, the shooting's. 

there will be. 

hand, thou gentle Douglas : he sayes want 


And here by my true faith, quoth hee. 
If thou: worldes. 6 4 . I will. 
bespake a lady faire. 
As I tell you in privitie. 
he has. hath, 1794. 
Into England nowe to 'liver. 



9. Now nay, now nay, thou goodly lady, 

The regent is a noble lord ; 
Ne for the gold in all England 

The Douglas wold not break his word. 

When the regent was a banisht man, 
With me he did faire welcome find ; 

And whether weal or woe betide, 
I still shall find him true and kind. 

10*. Tween England and Scotland 't wold break 

truce. Betweene : it, 1794. 
10". If they. 

11, 12. Alas ! alas ! my lord, she sayes, 
Nowe mickle is their traitorle ; 
Then let my brother ride his ways, 
And tell those English lords from thee. 

13 1 . with him. 

14-17. ' To the Lord Hume I will thee bring ; 
He is well knowiie a true Scots lord, 
And he will lose both land and life 
Ere he with thee will break his word.' 

' Mucli is my woe,' Lord Percy sayd, 
' When I thinke on my own countrle ; 

When I thinke on the heavye happe 
My friends have suffered there for mee. 

' Much is my woe,' Lord Percy sayd, 
' And sore those wars my minde distresse ; 

Where many a widow lost her mate, 
And many a child was fatherlesse. 

' And now that I, a banisht man, 

Shold bring such evil happe with mee, 

To cause my faire and noble friends 
To be suspect of treacherie, 

' This rives my heart with double woe ; 

And lever had I dye this day 
Then thinke a Douglas can be false, 

Or ever will his guest betray.' he will, 

18. ' If you '11 give me no trust, my lord, 
Nor unto mee no credence yield, 
Yet step one moment here aside, 
lie showe you all your foes in field.' 

19 1 ' 2 . Lady, I never loved witchcraft, 
Never dealt in privy wyle. 

19*. Of truth and honoure, free from guile. 

20 1 . If you '11. 

20 2 . Yet send your chamberlaine with. 

20 3 . Let me but speak three words with him. 
20*. And he. 

21 1 . James Swynard with that lady went. 

21 3 . She showed him through. 

21*. many English lords there were. 

21 4 . Waiting for. 

22 1 . And who walkes yonder. 

22 2 . That walkes wanting. 

22 3 . O yonder is the lord Hunsdbn. 

22 4 . you drie and teene. 23*. who beth. 

23 2 . so proudly. 

23 3 . That is : lamy wanting. 

23*. And wanting. 24 l . itt, madame. 

24 2 . lords. 

24*'*. Marry, it is thrice fifty miles, 

To sayl to them upon the sea. 
25 2 . Ne never sawe. 
25 3 ' 4 . But as my book it sheweth mee, 

And through my ring I may descrye. 
26 1 . witch ladye. 2C 2 . And of her skille she. 
27 *. thou lady faire. 
27 2 . That looketh with sic an. 
27 3 -*. Yonder is Sir John Foster, quoth shee, 

Alas ! he '11 do ye sore disgrace. 
27 5 ' 6 wanting. 

28 1 . downe over his browe. 

28 2 . And in his heart he was full woe. He 

wept ; his heart he was full of woe, 1794. 

28 3 ' 4 . And he is gone to his noble lord, 

Those sorrowfull tidings him to show. 

29. Now nay, now nay, good James Swynard, 

I may not believe that witch ladle ; 
The Douglasses were ever true, 

And they can neer prove false to mee. 

30, 31 wanting. 

32 1 . I have now in Lough-leven been. 

32 3 . And I have never had. Yett have I never 

had, 1794. 
32*. Ne no good. 

33. Therefore I '11 to yond shooting wend, 

As to the Douglas I have hight ; 
Betide me weale, betide me woe, 

He neer shall find my promise light. 

34 1 . He writhe a gold ring from. 

34 2 . that faire ladle, that gay ladle, 1794. 

34 3 . Sayes, It was all that I cold save. 



35. And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord ? 
Then farewell truth and honestle ! 
And farewell heart, and farewell hand ! 
For never more I shall thee see. 

36 wanting. 

37 1 '". The wind was faire, the boatmen calld, 

And all the saylors were on borde ; 

Then William Douglas took to his boat, 

And with him went that noble lord. 

37 M . Then he cast up a silver wand, 

Says, Gentle lady, fare thee well ! 
The lady fett a sigh soe deepe, 

And in a dead swoone down shee fell. 

38, 39. Now let us goe back, Douglas, he sayd, 

A sickness hath taken yond faire ladle ; 
If ought befall yond lady but good, 
Then blamed for ever I shall bee. 

40 3 . Come on, come on, and let her bee. 

40 4 . For to : that gay. 

41. ' If you '11 not turne yourself, my lord, 
Let me goe with my chamberlaine ; 
We will but comfort that faire lady, 
And wee will return to you againe. 

42 M . ' Come on, come on, and let her bee ; 
My sister is crafty, and wold beguile 
A thousand such as you and mee. 

43". Now wanting : restored, 1794. 
43 M wanting. 

4S 6 " 6 . Hee sent his man to ask the Douglas 
When they shold that shooting see. 

44 1 . Faire words, quoth he, they make. 

44 J . And that by thee and thy lord is seen. 

44 s . You may hap to. 

44 4 . Ere you that shooting reach, I ween. 

45 1 . his hatt pulled over. 

45 2 " 4 . He thought his lord then was betrayd ; 
And he is to Earle Percy againe, 
To tell him what the Douglas sayd. 

46 wanting. 

47 1 . head, man, quoth his lord, 
47 s ' 4 . Nor therfore let thy courage fail ; 
He did it but to prove thy heart, 
To see if he cold make it quail. 

48 '. had other fifty sayld. 

48 s . calld to the Douglas himself e. to D., 1794. 

48 4 . Sayd, What wilt thou nowe doe. 

49 2 . And your horse goe swift as ship. 

50 1 . sayd. sayth, 1794. 

50 2 . What needest thou to flyte with mee. 
51 1 . he hath, hath, 1794. 

51 s . Who dealt with mee so treacheroushe. 

51 s . A false Armstrong he hath. hath. 1794. 

51 4 . geere that, geere, 1794. 

52 3 . landed him at Berwick towne. MS. read 

ing restored, 1794. 

52 4 . The Douglas landed Lord Percie. 

MS. reading restored ivith ' laird ' for land. 

Then he at Yorke was doomde to dye, 
It was, alas ! a sorrowful sight ; 

Thus they betrayed that noble earle, 
Who ever was a gallant wight. 



Earle of Westmorlande,' Percy MS., p. 112; Hales and Furnivall, I, 292. 

" THESE lines," says Percy in a note in his rupted." The first three stanzas, -with exten- 
MS. to I 1 , " are given in one of my old copies sive variations, begin ' Northumberland be- 
to Lord Northumberland ; they seem here cor- trayed by Douglas,' as printed in the Reliques, 



I, 258, 1765. It will be remarked that Percy 
does not allege that he has an old copy of 
this ballad, though he implies he has one of 
the other, ' Northumberland betrayed by 

The earls of Westmoreland and Northum 
berland, as has been seen, upon being forced 
to leave Liddesdale, took refuge for a short 
time with one of the Armstrongs, John of 
the Side (cf. st. 3). They parted company, 
and Westmoreland, Lady Northumberland, 
Francis Norton, and others, were received by 
Sir Thomas Ker at Fernihurst, near Jed- 
burgh ; Old Norton, Markenfield, and others, 
by Buccleuch at Branxholm. Lady North 
umberland shortly after removed to Hume 
Castle. The Regent Murray sent a secret 
messenger to persuade Fernihurst and Buc 
cleuch to render into his hands the " Earl of 
Westmoreland and the other her Majesty's 
principal rebels being in their bounds," Jan. 
14, 1570 (cf. st. 9). Westmoreland escaped 
to Flanders in the autumn of 1570, " with 
very slight means." He was very desirous to 
make his peace with Elizabeth, but the efforts 
he made were unsuccessful, and he wore out 
thirty-one years in the Low Countries, a pen 
sioner of Spain, dying at Newport in Novem 
ber, 1601. The countess, his wife, daughter 
of the poet Surrey, a highly educated and in 
every way admirable woman, was treated by 
Elizabeth as innocent of treason (she was a 
zealous Protestant), and was granted a decent 
annuity for the support of herself and her 
three daughters. The Countess of Northum 
berland fled to Flanders in 1570, and lived on 
the King of Spain's bounty, separated from 
her children, and with no consolation but 
such as she derived from her intense religious 
and theological convictions, until 1596.* 

The ballad-story is that after the flight (as 
it is described) from Bramham (' Bramaball ') 
Moor, Westmoreland sought refuge with Jock 
Armstrong on the west border, who also 
"took"| or sheltered Old Norton and other 
of the rebels. Neville does not think the 

Debateable Land safe, and goes to Scotland, 
to Hume Castle, where all the banished men 
find welcome. The Regent is minded to 
write to Lord Hume to see whether he can 
be brought to surrender the fugitives, but on 
second thoughts, being at deadly feud with 
Hume, he concludes that writing will serve 
no purpose. (10 4 is not very intelligible.) 
He will rather send for troops from Berwick, 
and take the men by force. Lord Hume gets 
knowledge of the Regent's intention, and re 
moves his guests to the castle of ' Camelye.' 
But still Neville sees that there is no biding 
even in Scotland, and he and his comrades 
take a noble ship, to be mariners on the sea. 

So far the ballad, it will be perceived, has 
an historical substratum, though details are 
incorrect ; what follows is pure fancy work, 
or rather an imitation of stale old romance. 

After cruising three months, a large ship is 
sighted. Neville calls Markenfield to council. 
The latter, who knows every banner that is 
borne, knows whether any man that he has 
once laid eyes on is friend or foe, knows 
every language that is spoken, and who has 
besides (st. 39) a gift of prophecy. By the 
serpent and the serpent's head and the mole 
in the midst, Markenfield is able to say that 
the ship is Don John of Austria's, and he 
advises flight. This counsel (which would 
have lost Neville much glory and a hundred 
pounds a day) does not please the earl ; he 
orders his own standard of the Dun Bull to 
be displayed. Don John sends a pinnace, 
with a herald, to fetch the name of the mas 
ter of the ship he has met. Neville refuses 
to give up his name until he knows the master 
of the other vessel ; the herald informs him 
that it is Duke John of Austria, who lives in 
Seville ; then says the Briton, Charles Neville 
is my name, and in England I was Earl of 
Westmoreland. The herald makes his report, 
and is sent back to invite the nobleman to Don 
John's ship ; for Don John had read in the 
' Book of Mable ' that a Briton, Charles Nev 
ille, 'with a child's voice,' should come over 

* Sharp's Memorials, pp. 138, 142, 298 ff, 346 ff. haps, that Armstrong has detained Neville and his fol- 

t The most favorable interpretation has been given to lowers. 
'Now hath Armstrong taken. The meaning is rather, per- 
VOL. ni. 53 



the sea. Neville is courteously received ; Don 
John desires to see his men ; it is but a small 
company, says the earl, and calls in Marken- 
field the prophet, Dacres, Master Norton and 
four sons, and John of Carnabye. These are 
all my company, says Neville ; when we were 
in England, our prince and we could not agree. 
The duke says Norton and his sons shall go 
to France, and also Dacres, who shall be a 
captain ; Neville and Markenfield shall go to 
Seville, and the two others (there is but one 
other, John of Carnabye) are to go with 
Dacres. Neville will not part with men who 
have known him in weal and woe, and the 
duke says that, seeing he has so much man 
hood, he shall part with none of them. Both 
ships land at Seville, where the duke re 
commends Neville to the queen as one who 
wished to serve her as captain. The queen, 
first acquainting herself with his name, makes 
Neville captain over forty thousand men, to 
keep watch and ward in Seville, and to war 
against the heathen soldan. The soldan, 
learning in Barbary that a venturesome man 
is in Seville, sends him, through the queen, a 
challenge to single combat, both lands to be 
joined in one according to the issue of the 
fight. The queen declines this particular 
challenge, but promises the soldan a fight 
every day for three weeks, if he wishes it. 
Neville overhears all this and offers the 
queen to fight the soldan ; she thinks it great 
pity that Neville should die, though he is a 
banished man. Don John informs the queen 
that he has read in the Book of Mable that 
a Briton was to come over the sea, Charles 
Neville by name, with a child's voice, and 
that this man there present hath heart and 
hand. (62 is corrupted.) The queen's coun 
cil put their heads together, and it is deter 
mined that Neville shall fight with the sol 
dan. The battle is to come off at the Head 
less Cross. Neville wishes to see the queen's 
ensign. In the ensign is a broken sword, 
with bloody hands and a headless cross. The 
all - knowing Markenfield pronounces that 
these are a token that the prince has suffered 
a sore overthrow. Neville orders his Dun 
Bull to be set up and trumpets to blow, makes 

Markenfield captain over his host during his 
absence, and rides to the headless cross, where 
he finds the soldan, a foul man to see. The 
soldan cries out, Is it some kitchen-boy that 
comes to fight with me ? Neville replies with 
a commonplace : thou makest * so little of 
God's might, the less I care for thee. After 
a fierce but indecisive fight of .an hour, the 
soldan, with a glance at his antagonist, says, 
No man shall overcome me except it be 
Charles Neville. Neville, without avowing 
his name, waxes bold, and presently strikes 
off the soldan's head. The queen comes out 
of the city with a procession, takes the crown 
from her head, and wishes to make him king 
on the spot, but Neville informs her that he 
has a wife in England. So the queen calls 
for a penman and writes Neville down for a 
hundred pound a day, for which he returns 
thanks, and proffers his services as champion 
if ever her Grace shall stand in need. 

4. Martinfield is Thomas Markenfield of 
York, one of the most active promoters of the 
rising. He had been long a voluntary exile 
on account of religion, but returned to Eng 
land the year before the rebellion. He fled 
to the continent with Westmoreland and the 
Nortons, and had a pension of thirty-six 
florins a month from Spain. 

By Lord Dakers should be meant Edward, 
son of William, Lord Dacre, for he is in the 
list of fugitive rebels demanded of the Regent 
Murray by Lord Sussex. He fled to Flan 
ders. But Leonard Dacre may be intended, 
who, though lie did not take part with the 
earls, engaged in a rebellion of his own in 
February, 1570, fought and lost a battle, and 
like the rest fled to Flanders. 

5. Only two of Richard Norton's sons went 
to the Low Countries with their father, Fran 
cis and Sampson. John Carnaby of Langley 
is in a list of persons indicted for rebellion. 
(Sharp, p. 230.) No reason appears why he 
should be distinguished. 

11. Captain Reed, one of the captains of 
Berwick, was suspected of having to do with 
the rebels, and on one occasion was observed 

* 71 3 . ' spekest soe litle.' 



to be in company with some of the Nortons, 
in arms. He was committed to ward, but 
Lord Hunsdon stood his friend and brought 
him through safely. Sharp, p. 15 f. 

21 ff. Don John's sole connection with the 

rebels seems to have been the paying of their 
pensions for the short time during which he 
was governor of the Netherlands, 1576-78. 
Westmoreland's pension was two hundred 
florins a month. (Sharp, p. 223, note.) 

1 ' How long shall fortune faile me now, 

And keepe me heare in deadlye dreade ? 
How long shall I in bale abide, 
In misery my life to leade ? 

2 ' To ff all from my rose, it was my chance ; 

Such was the Queene of England free ; 
I tooke a lake, and turned my backe, 
On Bramaball More shee caused me flye. 

3 ' One gentle Armstrong thai I doe ken, 

Alas, with thee I dare not mocke ! 
Thou dwellest soe far on the west border, 
Thy name is called the Lo/vZ locke.' 

4 Now hath Armstrong taken noble Nevill, 

And as one Martinfield did profecye ; 
He hath taken the Lorrf Dakers, 
A lords sonne of great degree. 

.5 He hath taken old faster Nortton, 

And sonnes four in his companye ; 
Hee hath taken another gentleman, 
Called lohn of Carnabie. 

6 Then bespake him Charles Nevill ; 

To all his men, I wott, sayd hee, 
Sayes, I must into Scottland fare ; 

Soe nie the borders is noe biding for me. 

7 When he came to Humes Castle, 

And all liis noble companye ; 
The Liord Hume halched them right soone, 
Saying, Banished men, welcome to mee ! 

8 They had not beene in Humes Castle 

Not a month and dayes three, 
But the regent of Scottland and he got witt 
That banished men there shold be. 

9 ' I 'le write a letter,' sayd the regent then, 

' And send to Humes Castle hastilye, 

To see whether Lord Hume wilbe soe good 

To bring the banished men vnto mee. 

10 ' That lord and I haue beene att deadlye 

fuyde, , 

And hee and I cold neuer agree ; 
Writting a letter, that will not serue ; 

The banished men must not speake with 


11 ' But I will send for the garrison of Barwicke, 

That they will come all with speede, 
And with them will come a noble captaine, 
Which is called Captain Reade.' 

12 Then the Lord Hume he got witt 

They wold seeke vnto Nevill, where he did 

lye ; 
He tooke them out of the castle of Hume, 

And brought them into the castle of Game- 

13 Then bespake him Charles Nevill, ~---^_^ 

To all his men, I wott, spoke hee, 
Sayes, I must goe take a noble shippe, 
And wee 'le be marriners vpon the sea. 

14 I 'le seeke out fortune where it doth lye ; 

In Scottland there is noe byding for mee ; 
Then the tooke leaue with fayre Scottland, 
For they are sealing vpon the sea. 

15 They had not sayled vpon the sea 

Not one day and monthes three, 

But they were ware of a Noble shippe, 

That flue topps bare all soe hye. 

16 Then Nevill called to Martinfeeld, 

Sayd, Martinffeeld, come hither to mee ; 
Some good councell, Martinfeeld, 
I pray thee giue it vnto mee. 

17 Thou told me when I was in England fayre, 

Before that I did take the sea, 
Thou neuer sawst noe banner borne 
But thou wold ken it with thine eye. 



18 Thou neuer saw noe man in the face, 

Iff thou had seene before with thine eye, 
[But] thou coldest haue kend thy freind by 

thy foe, 
And then haue told it vnto mee. 

19 Thou neuer heard noe speeche spoken, 

Neither in Greeke nor Hebrewe, 
[But] thou coldest haue answered them in any 

And then haue told it vnto mee. 

20 'Master, master, see you yonder faire an- 

cyent ? 

Yonder is the serpent and the serpents head, 
The mould-warpe in the middest of itt, 
And itt all shines with gold soe redde. 

21 ' Yonder is Duke lohn of Austria, 

A noble warryour on the sea, 
Whose dwelling is in Ciuill land, 

And many men, God wot, hath hee.' 

22 Then bespake him Martinfeelde, 

To all his fellowes, I wot, said hee, 
Turne our noble shipp about, 

And that 's a token that wee will flee. 

23 ' Thy councell is not good, Martinfeeld ; 

Itt falleth not out fitting for mee ; 
I rue the last time I turnd my backe ; 

I did displease my prince and the countrye.' 

24 Then bespake him noble Nevill, 

To all his men, I wott, sayd hee, 
Sett me vp my faire Dun Bull, 

With gilden homes hee beares all soe hye. 

25 And I will passe yonder noble Duke, 

By the leaue of mild Marye ; 
For yonder is the Duke of Austria, 
That trauells now vpon the sea. 

26 And then bespake this noble Duke, 

Vnto his men then sayd hee, 
Yonder is sure some nobleman, 

Or else some youth tltat will not flee. 

27 I will put out a pinace fayre, 

A harold of armes vpon the sea, 
And goe thy way to yonder noble shippe, 
And bring the masters name to mee. 

28 When the herald of annes came before noble 


He fell downe low vpon his knee : 
' You must tell me true what is yowr name, 
And in what countrye yowr dwelling may 

29 ' That will I not doe,' sayd noble Nevill, 

' By Mary mild, that mayden ffree, 
Except I first know thy masters name, 

And in what country his dwelling may bee.' 

30 Then bespake the herald of armes, 

that he spoke soe curteouslye ! 

Duke lohn of Austria is my masters name, 
He will neuer lene it vpon the sea. 

31 He hath beene in the citye of Rome, 

His dwelling is in Ciuillee : 
' Then wee are poore Brittons,' the Nevill can 

' Where wee trauell vpon the sea. 

32 ' And Charles Nevill itt is my name, 

1 will neue?' lene it vpon the sea; 
When I was att home in England faire, 

I was the Erie of Westmoreland,' sayd hee. 

33 Then backe is gone this herald of armes 

Whereas this noble duke did lye ; 
'Loe, yonder are poore Brittons,' can he say, 
' Where the trauell vpon the sea. 

34 ' And Charles Nevill is their masters name, 

He will neuer lene it vpon the sea ; 
When he was at home in England fayre, 
He was the Erie of Westmoreland, said hee.' 

35 Then bespake this noble duke, 

And euer he spake soe hastilye, 
And said, Goe backe to yonder noble-man, 
And bid him come and speake with me. 

36 For I haue read in the Booke of Mable, 

There shold a Brittaine come oner the sea, 
Charles Nevill with a childs voice : 
I pray God that it may be hee. 

37 When these two nobles they didden meete, 

They halched eche other right curteouslye ; 
Yett Nevill halched lohn the sooner 
Because a banished man, alas ! was hee. 



38 ' Call in your men,' sayd this noble duke, 

' Faine your men that I wold see ; ' 
' Euer alas ! ' said noble Nevill, 

' They are but a litle small companye.' 

39 First he called in Martinfield, 

That Martinffeeld that cold prophecye ; 
He call[ed] in then Lord" Bakers, 
A lords sonne of high degree. 

40 Then called he in old Master Nortton, 

And sonnes four in his companye ; 
He called in one other gentleman, 
Called lohn of Carnabye. 

41 ' Loe ! these be all my men,' said noble Nevill, 

' And all that 's in my companye ; 
When we were att home in England fayre, 
Our prince and wee cold not agree." 

42 Then bespake this noble duke : 

To try yowr manhood on the sea, 
Old Master Nortton shall goe ouer into France, 
And his sonnes four in his companye. 

43 And my lord Dakers shall goe over into 


There a captaine ffor to bee ; 
And those two other gentlemen wold goe with 

And for to fare in his companye. 

44 And you yowr-selfe shall goe into Ciuill land, 

And Marttinffeild that can prophecye ; 
' That will I not doe,' sayd noble Nevill, 
' By Mary mild, that mayden free. 

45 ' For the haue knowen me in wele and woe, 

In neede, scar[s]nesse and pouertye ; 
Before I 'le part with the worst of them, 
I 'le rather part with my liffe,' sayd hee. 

46 And then bespake this noble duke, 

And euer he spake soe curteouslye ; 
Sayes, You shall part with none of them, 
There is soe much manhood in your bodye. 

47 Then these two noblemen labored together, 

Pleasantlye vpon the sea ; 
Their landing was in Ciuill land, 
In Ciuilee that ffaire citye. 

48 Three nights att this dukes Nevill did lye, 

And serued like a nobleman was hee ; 

Then the duke made a supplication, 
And sent it to the queene of Ciuilee. 

49 Saying, Such a man is yowr citye within, 

I mett him pleasantlye vpon the sea ; 
He seemes to be a noble man, 

And captaine to yowr Grace he faine wold 

50 Then the queene sent for [these] noble men 

For to come into her companye ; 
When Nevill came before the queene, 
Hee kneeled downe vpon his knee. 

51 Shee tooke him vp by the lilly-white hand, 

Said, Welcome, my lord, hither to me ; 
You must first tell me yowr name, 

And in what countrye thy dwelling may bee. 

52 He said, Charles Nevill is my name ; 

I will neuer lene it in noe countrye ; 
When I was att home in England fayre, 
I was the Erie of Westmorland trulye. 

53 The queene made him captaine ouer forty 


Watch and ward within Ciuill land to keepe, 
And for to warr against the heathen soldan, 
And for to helpe her in her neede. 

54 When the heathen soldan he gott witt, 

In Barbarye where he did lye, 
Sainge, Such a man is in yonder citye within, 
And a bold venturer by sea is hee, 

55 Then the heathen soldan made a letter, 

And sent it to the queene instantlye, 
And all that heard this letter reade 
Where it was rehersed in Ciuillee. 

56 Saying, Haue you any man yowr land within 

Man to man dare fight with mee ? 
And both our lands shalbe ioyned in one, 
And cristened lands they both shalbe. 

57 Shee said, I haue noe man my land within 

Man to man dare fight with thee ; 
But euery day thou shalt haue a battell, 
If it be for these weekes three. 

58 All beheard him Charles Nevill, 

In his bedd where he did lye, 
And when he came the queene before, 
He fell downe low vpon his knee. 



59 ' Grant me a boone, my noble dame, 

For Chrissts loue that dyed on tree ; 
Ffor I will goe fight with yond heathen soldan, 
If you will bestowe the manhood on mee.' 

60 Then bespake this curteous queene, 

And euer shee spoke soe curteouslye : 
Though you be a banished man out of yowr 

It is great pitye that thou shold dye. 

61 Then bespake this noble duke, 

As hee stood hard by the queenes knee : 
As I haue read in the Booke of Mable, 
There shall a Brittone come ouer the sea, 

62 And Charles Nevill shold be his name ; 

But a childs voyce, I wott, hath hee, 
And if he be in Christendome ; 

For hart and hand this man hath hee. 

63 Then the queenes councell cast their heads to 


That Nevill shold fight with the heathen sol 
That dwelt in the citye of Barbarye. 

64 The battell and place appointed was 

In a fayre greene, hard by the sea, 
And they shood meete att the Headless Crosse, 
And there to fight right manfullye. 

65 Then Nevill cald for the queenes ancient, 

And faine that ancient he wold see ; 

The brought him forth the broken sword, 

With bloodye hands therein trulye. 

66 The brought him forth the headless crosse, 

In that ancyent it was seene ; 
' O this is a token,' sayd Martinfeeld, 

' Tlmt sore ouerthrowen this prince hath 

67 ' sett me vp my fayre Dun Bull, 

And trumpetts blow me farr and nee, 
Vntill I come within a mile of the Headlesse 

That the Headlesse Crosse I may see.' 

68 Then lighted downe noble Nevill, 

And sayd, Marttinffeeld, come hither to me ; 
Heere I make thee choice captain over my host 
Vntill againe I may thee see. 

69 Then Nevill rode to the Headless Crosse, 

Which stands soe fayre vpon the sea ; 
There was he ware of the heathen soldan, 
Both fowle and vglye for to see. 

70 Then the soldan began for to call ; 

Twise he called lowd and hye, 
And sayd, What is this ? Some kitchin boy 
That comes hither to fight with mee ? 

71 Then bespake him Charles Nevill, 

But a childs voice, I wott, had hee : 
' Thou spekest soe litle of Gods might, 
Much more lesse I doe care for thee.' 

72 Att the first meeting that these two mett, 

The heathen soldan and the christen man, 
The broke their speares quite in sunder, 
And after that on foote did stand. 

73 The next meeting that these two mett, 

The swapt together with swords soe fine ; 
The fought together till they both swett, 
Of blowes t/utt were both derf and dire. 

74 They fought an houre in battell strong ; 

The soldan marke[d] Nevill with his eye ; 
' There shall neuer man me ouercome 
Except it be Charles Nevill,' sayd hee. 

75 Then Nevill he waxed bold, 

And cunning in fight, I wott, was hee ; 
Euen att the gorgett of the soldan s iacke 
He stroke his head of presentlye. 

76 Then kneeled downe noble Nevill, 

And thanked God for his great grace, 
That he shold come soe farr into a strang[e] 

To ouercome the soldan in place. 

77 Hee tooke the head vpon his sword-poynt, 

And carryed it amongst his host soe fayre ; 
When the saw the soldans head, 

They thanked God on their knees there. 

78 Seuen miles from the citye the queene him 


With procession that was soe fayre ; 
Shee tooke the crowne beside her heade, 
And wold haue crowned him kiwy there. 

79 ' Now nay ! Now nay ! my noble dame, 

For soe, I wott, itt cannott bee ; 



I haue a ladye in England fayre, 
And wedded agaiiie I wold not bee.' 

80 The queene shee called for her penman, 

I wot shee called him lowd and hye, 
Saying, Write him downe a hundred pound a 

To keepe his men more merrylye. 

81 ' I thanke yowr Grace,' sayd noble Nevill, 

' For this worthy gift you haue giuen to me ; 
If euer yowr Grace doe stand in neede, 

Champion to yowr Highnesse again I'le 

I 1 , feare/or dreade. 2 2 . fayre for free. 

2 4 . my for me. 5 2 , 40 2 , 42 4 . 4. 

5 4 . Carnakie : cf. 40*. 8-, 15', 48 1 , 57 4 . 3. 

8 3 . he & god. 14 1 . fortume. 15 4 . 5. 
20 3 . middest ffitt 35. The Second Part. 
37 1 , 43 3 , 47 1 , 72 1 , 73 1 . 2. 48 4 . Ciuilee. In 
this and t/ie like names following, the u 

has only one stroke in the MS., (is often 
happens. The letter is not meant for c, 
dearly, as it has not the accent or beak of 
a c. Furnivall. 

53 1 . 40000. 55 s . all they ? all these ? 

G2 3 . ben. 70 2 . 2*. 78 1 . 7. 80 2 . 100'j. 

And for & always. 



A. Cotton MS. Vespasian, A. xxv, No 67, fol. 187, of 
the last quarter of the 16th century,* British Museum ; 
Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 137 ; Boddeker, in 
Jahrbuch fur romanische und englisehe Sprache und 
Literatur, XV, 126, 1876 (very incorrectly) ; Trans 
actions of the New Shakspere Society, 1880-86, Ap 
pendix, p. 52 f, edited by F. J. Furnivall. 

B. Percy MS., p. 34 ; Hales and Furnivall, I, 79. 

C. Percy Papers, from a servant of Rev. Robert 
Lambe's, 1766. 

D. ' Edom of Gordon,' an ancient Scottish Poem. Never 

before printed. Glasgow, printed and sold by 
Robert and Andrew Foulis, 1755, small 4, 12 pages. 
Ritson, Scotish Songs, II, 1 7. 

B. ' Edom o Gordon,' Kinloch MSS, V, 384. 

F. The New Statistical Account of Scotland, V, 846, 
1845; 'Loudoun Castle,' The Ballads and Songs of 
Ayrshire, J. Paterson and C. Gray, 1st Series, p. 74, 
Ayr, 1846. 

G. ' The Burning o Loudon Castle,' MotherweH's MS., 
p. 543. 

FIRST printed by the Foulises, Glasgow, 
1755, after a copy furnished by Sir David 
Dalrymple, " who gave it as it was preserved 
in the memory of a lady." This information 
we derive from Percy, who inserted the Dal 
rymple ballad in his Reliques, 1765, I, 99, 

* This is the date given me. It is very near to that of 
the event. 

" improved, and enlarged with several fine 
stanzas recovered from a fragment ... in the 
Editor's folio MS." Seven stanzas of the en 
larged copy were adopted from this MS., with 
changes ; 16 2 ' 4 , 30, 35, 36, are Percy's own ; 
the last three of the Glasgow edition are 
dropped. Herd's copy, The Ancient and 
Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 234, is from 



Percy's Reliques ; so is Pinkerton's, Scottish 
Tragic Ballads, 1781, p. 43, with the omission 
of the seventh stanza and many alterations. 
Ritson, Scotish Songs, 1794, II, 17, repeats 
the Glasgow copy ; so the Campbell MSS, I, 
155, and Finlay, I, 85. The copy in Buchan's 
Gleanings, p. 180, is Percy's, with one stanza 
from Ritson. Of twelve stanzas given in 
Burton's History of Scotland, V, 70 f ., 3-6 are 
from Percy's Reliques (modified by E, a frag 
ment obtained by Burton), the rest from D. 

During the three wretched and bloody years 
which followed the assassination of the regent 
Murray, the Catholic Earl of Huntly, George 
Gordon, was one of the most eminent and 
active of the partisans of the queen. Mary 
created him her lieutenant-governor, and his 
brother, Adam Gordon, a remarkably gallant 
and able soldier, whether so created or not, is 
sometimes called the queen's deputy-lieuten 
ant in the north. Our ballad is concerned 
with a minor incident of the hostilities in 
Aberdeenshire between the Gordons and the 
Forbeses, a rival but much less powerful clan, 
who supported the Reformed faith and the 
regency or king's party.* 

"The queen's lieutenant - deputy in the 
north, called Sir Adam Gordon of Auchin- 
down, knight, was very vigilant in his func 
tion ; for suppressing of whom the Master of 
Forbes was directed, with the regent's com 
mission. But the first encounter, which was 
upon the ninth day of October [1571], Auch- 
indown obtained such victory that he slew of 
the Forbeses a hundred and twenty persons, 
and lost very few of his own." This was the 
battle of Tulliangus, on the northern slope of 
the hills of Coreen, some thirty miles north 
west of Aberdeen. Both parties having been 
reinforced, an issue was tried again on the 
twentieth of November at Crabstane, in the 
vicinity of Aberdeen, where Adam Gordon 
inflicted a severe defeat on the Forbeses. f 

" But what glory and renown," says the 
contemporary History of King James the 
Sixth, " he [Gordon] obtained of these two 
victories was all cast down by the infamy of 
his next attempt ; for immediately after this 
last conflict he directed his soldiers to the 
castle of Towie, desiring the house to be ren 
dered to him in the queen's name ; which was 
obstinately refused by the lady, and she burst 
forth with certain injurious words. And the 
soldiers being impatient, by command of their 
leader, Captain Ker, fire was put to the house, 
wherein she and the number of twenty-seven 
persons were cruelly burnt to the death." 

Another account, reported by a contempo 
rary who lived in Edinburgh, is that " Adam 
Gordon sent Captain Ker to the place of 
Toway, requiring the lady thereof to render 
the place of Carrigill to him in the queen's 
name, which she would noways do ; whereof 
the said Adam having knowledge, moved in 
ire towards her, caused raise fire thereintill, 
wherein she, her daughters, and other per 
sons were destroyed, to the number of twenty- 
seven or thereby." J This was in November, 

We have a third report of this outrage 
from Richard Bannatyne, also a contempo 
rary, a man, it may be observed, bitterly 
hostile to the queen's party. " Adam of 
Gordon . . . went to the house of Towie, 
which he burnt and twenty four persons in 
the same, never one escaping but one woman 
that came through the corns and hather 
which was cast to the house-sides, whereby 
they were smothered. This was done under 
assurance ; for the laird of Towie's wife, being 
sister to the lady Crawfurd (and also died 
within the house), sent a boy to the laird in 
time of the truce (which was for the space of 
twelve hours) to see on what conditions they 
should render the house. In the mean time, 
Adam Gordon's men laid the corns and tim- 

* Lieut.-Col. II. W. Lumsden has very kindly allowed p. 51 ff, in Miscellanea Scotica, vol. I. Diurnal of Occur- 
me a discretional use of an unpublished paper of his upon rents, pp. 251, 253, 255. 

J Diurnal of Occurrents, p. 255. What place is meant by 
Carrigill here is of no present consequence, since it was 
Towie that was burnt. Many writers, as Tytler, VII, 367, 
following Crawfurd's spurious Memoirs, p. 240, 1706, make 

the historical basis of this ballad, and I freely avail 
self of his aid, all responsibility remaining, of course, with 

t The Historic of King James the Sext, p. 95 ff. The 
History of the Feuds and Conflicts among the Clans, etc., 

the number that perished in the house thirty-seven. 



bers and bather about the house, and set all 
on fire." * 

Buchanan puts the incident which mainly 
concerns us between the fights of Tulliangus 
and Crabstone ; so does Archbishop Spottis- 
wood. "Not long after" the former, says the 
archbishop, who was a child of six when the 
affair occurred, Adam Gordon " sent to sum 
mon the house of Tavoy, pertaining to Alex 
ander Forbes. The lady refusing to yield 
without direction from her husband, he put 
fire unto it and burnt her therein with chil 
dren and servants, being twenty-seven per 
sons in all. This inhuman and barbarous 
cruelty made his name odious, and stained all 
his former doings ; otherwise he was held 
both active and fortunate in his enterprises." f 

Buchanan dispatches the burning of the 
house in a line : Domus Alexandri Forbosii, 
cum uxore pregnante, liberis et ministris, cre- 
mata. Ed. 1582, fol. 248 b. 

Towie was a place of no particular impor 
tance ; judging both by the square keep that 
remains, which is described as insignificant, 
and by the number of people that the house 
contained, it must have been a small place. 
It is therefore more probable that Captain 
Ker burnt Towie while executing a general 
commission to harry the Forbeses than that 
this house should have been made a special 
object. But whether this were so or not, it 
is evident from the terms in which the trans 
action is spoken of by contemporaries, who 
were familiarized to a ferocious kind of war- 
fare,J that there must have been something 
quite beyond the common in Captain Ker's 
proceedings on this occasion, for they are de 
nounced even in those days as infamous, in 
human, and barbarously cruel, and the name 
of Adam Gordon is said to have been made 
odious by them. 

It is not to be disguised that the language 

* Journal of the Transactions in Scotland during the 
contest between the adherents of Queen Mary and those of 
her son, 1570, 1571, 1572, 1573, p. 302 f., Edinburgh, 1806. 

t History of the Church of Scotland, ed. 1666, p. 259. 

} "For many miserable months Scotland presented a 

sight which might have drawn pity from the hardest heart : 

her sons engaged in a furious and constant butchery of each 

other ; . . . nothing seen but villages in flames, towns be- 

TOL. III. 54 

employed by Spottiswood might be so inter 
preted as to signify that Ker did not act in 
this dreadful business entirely upon his own 
responsibility ; and the second of the four 
writers who speak circumstantially of the 
affair even intimates that Ker applied to 
his superior for instructions. On the other 
hand, the author of the History of James 
the Sixth says distinctly that the house was 
fired by the command of Ker, whose soldiers 
were rendered impatient by an obstinate re 
fusal to surrender, accompanied with oppro 
brious words. The oldest of the ballads, also, 
which is nearly coeval with the occurrence, 
speaks only of Captain Car, knows nothing of 
Adam Gordon. On the other hand, Banna- 
tyne knows nothing, or chooses to say noth 
ing, of Captain Car : Adam Gordon burns 
the house, and even does this during a truce. 
It may be said that, even if the act were 
done without the orders or knowledge of 
Adam Gordon, he deserves all the ill fame 
which has fallen to him, for not punishing, or 
at least discharging, the perpetrator of such 
an outrage. But this would be applying the 
standards of the nineteenth century (and its 
very best standards) to the conduct of the 
sixteenth. It may be doubted whether there 
was at that time a man in Scotland, nay, even 
a man in Europe, who would have turned 
away a valuable servant because he had 
cruelly exceeded his instructions. 

A favorable construction, where the direct 
evidence is conflicting, is due to Adam Gordon 
because of his behavior on two other occa 
sions, one immediately preceding, and the 
other soon following, the burning of the 
house of Towie. We are told that he used 
his victory at Crabstone "very moderately, 
and suffered no man to be killed after the 
fury of the fight was past. Alexander Forbes 
of Strath-gar-neck, author of all these troubles 

leagured by armed men, women and children flying from the 
cottages where their fathers or husbands had been mas 
sacred ; . . . prisoners tortured, or massacred in cold blood, 
or hung by forties and fifties at a time." Tytler, VII, 370. 
These are nearly the words of Lieut.-Col. Lumsden, 
upon whom I am very glad to lean. That Ker was a valu 
able officer is well known. 



betwixt these two families, was taken at this 
battle, and as they were going to behead him 
Auchindown caused stay his execution. He 
entertained the Master of Forbes and the rest 
of the prisoners with great kindness and 
courtesy, he carried the Master of Forbes 
along with him to Strathbogie, and in end 
gave him and all the rest leave to depart." * 
And again, after another success in a fight 
called The Bourd of Brechin, in the ensuing 
July, he caused all the prisoners to be brought 
before him, they expecting nothing but death, 
and said to them : " My friends and brethren, 
have in remembrance how God has granted 
to me victory and the upper hand of you, 
granting me the same vantage ['vand and 
sching'] to punish you wherewith my late 
father and brother were punished at the Bank 
of Fair ; and since, of the great slaughter 
made on the Queen's Grace's true subjects, 
and most filthily of the hanging of my soldiers 
here by the Earl of Lennox ; and since, by the 
hanging of ten men in Leith, with other un 
lawful acts done contrary to the laws of arms ; 
and I doubt not, if I were under their domin 
ion, as you are under mine, that I should die 
the death most cruelly. Yet notwithstand 
ing, my good brethren and countrymen, be 
not afraid nor fear not, for at this present ye 
shall incur no danger of your bodies, but shall 
be treated as brethren, and I shall do to you 
after the commandment of God, in doing good 
for evil, forgetting the cruelty done to the 
queen and her faithful subjects, and receiving 
you as her faithful subjects in time coming. 
Who promised to do the same, and for assur 
ance hereof each found surety. After which 
the Regent past hastily out of Sterling to 
Dundee, charging all manner of man to follow 
him, with twenty days victuals, against the 

* The History of the Feuds and Conflicts among the 
Clans, p. 54 f. 

t Diurnal of Occurrents, p. 304 f. Also The Historic of 
King James the Sext, p. 111. 

As to the ' Bank of Fair,' otherwise called Corrichie, the 
Earl of Huntly anil two of his sons, John and Adam, were 
made prisoners at the battle there in 1562. The father, a 
corpulent man, "by reason of the throng that pressed him, 
expired in the hands of his takers." John was executed, 
but Adam was spared because of his tender age. (Spottis- 
wood, p. 187.) 

said Adam Gordon. But there would never a 
man in those parts obey the charge, by reason 
of the bond made before and of the great 
gentleness of the said Adam." f 

After the Pacification of February, 1573, 
Adam Gordon obtained license to eo to 


France and other parts beyond sea, for cer 
tain years, on condition of doing or pro 
curing nothing to the hurt of the realm of 
Scotland ; but for private practices of his, 
contrary to his promise, in conjunction with 
Captain Ker and others, he was ordered to 
return home, 12th May, 1574. His brother, 
the Earl of Huntly, upon information of these 
unlawful practices in France, was committed 
to ward, and when released from ward had 
to give security to the amount of ,20,000. 
Adam Gordon returned in July, 1575, " at 
the command of the regent," with twenty gen 
tlemen who had gone to France with him, and 
was in ward in 1576. He died at St. John 
ston in October, 1580, " of a bleeding." As 
he was of tender age in 1562, he must still 
have been a young man.J 

Thomas Ker was a captain "of men of 
war " ; that is, a professional soldier. As such 
he is mentioned in one of the articles of the 
Pacification, where it is declared that Captain 
Thomas Ker, Captain James Bruce, and Cap 
tain Gilbert Wauchop, with their respective 
lieutenants and ensigns, and two other per 
sons, " shall be comprehended in this present 
pacification, as also all the soldiers who served' 
under their charges, for deeds of hostility and 
crimes committed during the present trou 
bles." He was accused of being engaged in 
practices against the regency, as we have al 
ready seen, in 1574. He was released from 
ward upon caution in February, 1575. 1578, 
26th July, he was summoned to appear be- 

Tytler observes of Adam Gordon : " In his character we 
find a singular mixture of knightly chivalry with the feroc 
ity of the highland freebooter. . . . Such a combination as 
that exhibited by Gordon was no infrequent production in 
these dark and sanguinary times." VII, 367. But it would 
have been a good thing to cite other instances. 

} Register of the Privy Council of Scotland, II, 355 f., 
420, 480, 720. Diurnal of Occurrents, p. 350. Chronicle 
of Aberdeen, in The Miscellany of the Spalding Club, II, 



fore the king and council to answer to such 
things as should be inquired of him. He is 
mentioned as a burgher of Aberdeen 1588, 
1591. 1593, 3d March, he is required to 
give caution to the amount of 1000 merks 
that he will not assist the earls of Huntly 
and Errol. His " counsail and convoy was 
chiefly usit " in an important matter at Bal- 
rinnes in 1594, at which battle he "behavit 
himself so valiantly" that he was knighted on 
the field. November 4, 1594, Captain Thomas 
Ker and James Ker, his brother, are ordered 
to be denounced as rebels, having failed to 
appear to answer touching their treasonable 
assistance to George, sometime Earl of Huntly ; 
and this seems to be the latest notice of him 
that has been recovered.* 

In the Genealogy of the family of Forbes 
drawn up by Matthew Lumsden in 1580, and 
continued to 1667 by William Forbes, p. 43 f., 
ed. 1819, we read : " John Forbes of Towie 

married Grant, daughter to John Grant 

of Bandallach, who did bear to him a son 
who was unmercifullie murdered in the castle 
of Corgaffe ; and after the decease of Bandal- 
lach's daughter, the said John Forbes mar 
ried Margaret Campbell, daughter to Sir John 
Campbell of Calder, knight, who did bear 
him three sons, Alex. Forbes of Towie, John 
Forbes, thereafter of Towie, and William 

Register of the Privy Council, II, 199, 725; III, 10; 
V, 46, 187. Register of the Great Seal, No 1554, vol. V. 
Miscellany of the Spalding Club, III, 163. Historie of 
King James the Sext, pp 339 f ., 342. The so-called ballad 
in Dalzell's Scotish Poems of the Sixteenth Century, II, 347, 
which was in circulation as a broadside. 

t That a Margaret Campbell was the wife of John Forbes 
of Towie in 1556-63 appears from the Register of the Great 
Seal of Scotland, Nos 1124, 1404, 1469. But Lieut.-Col. 
Lumsden remarks that Sir John Campbell of Calder had no 
daughter of the name of Margaret, and that there is no 
record of such a marriage in the Cawdor papers. It may 
be observed in passing that Buchanan's and Spottiswood's 
error (as it seems to be) of substituting Alexander Fortes 
for John might easily arise, since, according to the Geneal 
ogy, John's father, one of his brothers, a sou, and a grand 
son, all bore the name Alexander. 

t " After making considerable researches upon the sub 
ject, I am come to the conclusion that it was Towie House 
that was burnt. Cargarf never was in possession of a 
Forbes." (Joseph Robertson, Kinloch MSS, VI, 28.) What 
is said of Corgarf in the View of the Diocese of Aberdeen, 
1732, Robertson, Collections for a History of the Shires of 
Aberdeen and Banff, pp. 611, 616, is derived from Lumsden. 

Forbes. . . . The said John Forbes of Towie, 
after the murder of Margaret Campbell, mar 
ried Forbes, a daughter to the Reires," by 
whom he had a son, who, as also a son of his 
own, died in Germany. Alexander and Wil 
liam, sons of Margaret Campbell, died with 
out succession, and by the death of an only 
son of John, junior, the house of Towie be 
came extinct. " The rest of the said Margaret 
Campbell's bairns, with herself, were unmer 
cifullie murdered in the castle of Corgaffe." f 
According to the Lumsden genealogy, then, 
Margaret Campbell, with her younger chil 
dren, and also a son of her husband, John 
Forbes of Towie, by a former marriage, were 
murdered at the castle of Corgaffe. Corgarf 
is a place " exigui nominis," some fifteen 
miles west of Towie, and, so far as is known, 
there is nothing to connect this place with the 
Forbes family. J Three sixteenth-century ac 
counts, and a fourth by an historian who was 
born before the event, make Towie to be the 
scene of the " murder," and Towie we know 
to have been in the possession of a member 
of the house of Forbes for several generations. 
Since Lumsden wrote only nine years after 
the event, and was more particularly con 
cerned with the Forbes family than any of 
the other writers referred to, his statement 
cannot be peremptorily set aside. But we 

Robert Gordon, writing about 1654, says, "Non procul a 
fontibus [Donee] jacet Corgarf, exigui nominis." A de 
scription of the parish of Strathdon, written about 1725, in 
Macfarlaue's Geographical Collections, MS., says of Cur- 
garf, " This is an old castle belonging to the earls of Mar, 
but nothing remarkable about it : " pp. 26, 616, of the work 
last cited. The Statistical Accounts of Scotland give no 
light ; the older tells the story of Corgarf, the later of both 
Corgarf and Towie, and the one is as uncritical as the 

John Forbes of Towie (Tolleis) is one of a long list of 
that name in an order of the Lords of Council concerning 
an action of the Forbes clan against the Earl of Huntly in 
1573; and in another paper, dated July, 1578, which has 
reference to the same action, the Forbeses complain that 
"sum of thair housiss, wyiffis and bairnis being thairin, 
were all uterlie wraikit and brount." (Robertson, Illustra 
tions, etc., IV, 762, 765.) Bearing in mind the latitude of 
phraseology customary in indictments, we are perhaps under 
no necessity of thinking that the atrocity of Towie was but 
one of several instances of houses burnt, wives (women) and 
bairns being therein. There may be those who will think 
it plausible that " Carrigill " in the Diurnal of Occnrrents 
should be Corgarf, and that both were burnt. 



may owe Corgarf to the reviser of 1667, al 
though he professes not to have altered the 
substance of his predecessor's work. 

Reverting now to the ballad, we observe 
that none of the seven versions, of which one is 
put towards the end of the sixteenth century, 
one is of the seventeenth century, two are of 
the eighteenth, and. the remainder from tradi 
tion of the present century, lay the scene at 
Towie. B, which is of this century, has Car- 
garf. A, B, the oldest copies (both English), 
give no name to the castle. Crecrynbroghe in 
A, Bittonsborrow in B, are not the name of the 
castle that is burned, but of a castle suggested 
for a winter retirement by one of Car's men, 
and rejected by the captain. The fragment 
C (English again) also names no place. D 
transfers the scene from the north to the 
house of Rodes, near Dunse, in Berwickshire, 
and F, G to Loudoun castle in Ayrshire ; the 
name of Gordon probably helping to the 
localizing of the ballad in the former case, 
and that of Campbell, possibly, in the other. 

Captain Car is the leader of the bloody 
band in A, B ; he is lord of Eastertown A 6, 
13, of Westertown B 5, 9 ; but ' Adam ' is 
said to fire the house in B 14. Adam Gordon 
is the captain in C-G. The sufferers are in 
A Hamiltons,* in P, G, Campbells. The 
name Forbes is not preserved in any version. 

A, B. Martinmas weather forces Captain 
Car to look for a hold. Crecrynbroghe, A, 
Bittonsborrow, B, is proposed, but he knows 
of a castle where there is a fair lady whose 
lord is away, and makes for that. The lady 
sees from the wall a host of men riding to 
wards the castle, and thinks her lord is com 
ing home, but it was the traitor Captain Car. 
By supper-time he and his men have lighted 
about the place. Car calls to the lady to 
give up the house ; she shall lie in his arms 
that night, and the morrow heir his land. 
She will not give up the house, but fires on 

* The making Gordon burn a house of the Hamiltons, 
who were of the queen's party, is a heedless perversion of 
history such as is to be found only in 'historical' ballads. 
The castle of Hamilton had been burnt in 1570, "and the 
toun and palice of Hamiltoun thairwith," more than a year 
before the burning of Towie, but by Lennox and his Eng 
lish allies. (Diurnal of Occurrents, p. 177.) 

Car and his men. [Orders are given to burn 
the house.] The lady entreats Car to save 
her eldest son. Lap him in a sheet and let 
him down, says Car ; and when this is done, 
cuts out tongue and heart, ties them in a 
handkerchief, and throws them over the wall. 
The youngest son begs his mother to sur 
render, for the smoke is smothering him. 
She would give all her gold and fee for a 
wind to blow the smoke away ; but the fire 
falls about her head, and she and her children 
are burned tq death. Captain Car rides 
away, -A. The lord of the castle dreams, 
learns by a letter, at London, that his house 
has been fired, and hurries home. He finds 
the hall still burning, and breaks out into 
expressions of grief, A. In B, half of which 
has been torn from the manuscript, after 
reading the letter he says he will find Car 
wherever Car may be, and, long ere day, comes 
to Dractonsborrow, where the miscreant is. 
If nine or ten stanzas were not lost at this 
point, we should no doubt learn of the re 
venge that was taken. 

In the short fragment C, upon surrender 
being demanded, reply is made by a shot 
which kills seven of the beleaguerers. An 
only daughter, smothered by the reek, asks 
her 'mother to give up the house. Rather 
would I see you burnt to ashes, says the 
mother. The boy on the nurse's knee makes 
the same appeal ; her mother would sooner 
see him burnt than give up her house to be 
Adam of Gordon's whore. 

D makes the lady try fair speeches with 
Gordon, and the lady does not reply with 
firearms to the proposal that she shall lie by 
his side. Nevertheless she has spirit enough 
to say, when her youngest son beseeches her 
to give up the house, Come weal, come woe, 
you must take share with me. The daughter, 
and not the eldest son, is wrapped in sheets 
and let down the wall ; she gets a fall on the 

"The old castle of Loudoun," says the Rev. Norman 
Macleod, " was destroyed by fire about 350 years ago [that 
is, about 1500]. The current tradition regarding the burn 
ing of the old castle ascribes that event to the clan Kennedy 
at the period above mentioned, and the remains of an old 
tower at Achruglen, on the Galston side of the valley, is still 
pointed out as having been their residence." 



point of Gordon's spear. Then follow de 
plorable interpolations, beginning with st. 19. 
Edom o Gordon, having turned the girl over 
with his spear, and wished her alive, turns 
her owr and owr again ! He orders his men 
to busk and away, for he cannot look on the 
bonnie face. One of his men hopes he will 
not be daunted with a dame, and certainly 
three successive utterances in the way of sen 
timent show that the captain needs a little 
toning up. At this point the lord of the 
castle is coming over the lea, and sees that 
his castle is in flames. He and his men put 
on at their best rate ; lady and babes are 
dead ere the foremost arrives ; they go at 
the Gordons, and but five of fifty of these 
get away. 

And round and round the wae's he went, 

Their ashes for to view : 
At last into the flames he flew, 

And bad the world adieu. 

This is superior to turning her owr and owr 
again, and indeed, in its way, not to be im 

Nothing need be said of the fragment B 
further than that the last stanza is modern. 

F is purely traditional, and has one fine 
stanza not found in any of the foregoing : 

Out then spake the lady Margaret, 

As she stood on the stair ; 
The fire was at her goud garters, 

The lowe was at her hair. 

There is no firing at the assailants (though 
the lady wishes that her only son could charge 
a gun). Lady Margaret, with the flame in 
her hair, would give the black and the brown 
for a drink of the stream that she sees below. 
Anne asks to be rowed in a pair of sheets 
and let down the wall ; her mother says that 
she must stay and die with her. Lord 
Thomas, on the nurse's knee, says, Give up, 
or the reek will choke me. The mother 
would rather be burned to small ashes than 
give up the castle, her lord away. And 
burnt she is with her children nine. 

P. 1,2,3,4, 5, 6, 7,8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13,14,15,16,17,18. 
O. 1, 2, 3, 4, 13, 14, 5, 6, 30, 20, 15, 16, 22, 24, 25, 26, 34, 35. 

G has the eighteen stanzas of F,* neglect 
ing slight variations, and twenty more (among 
them the bad D 21), nearly all superfluous, 
and one very disagreeable. Lady Campbell, 
having refused to " come down " and be 
" kept " (caught) on a feather-bed, 5, 6, is 
ironically asked by Gordon to come down 
and be kept on the point of his sword, 7. 
Since you will not- come down, says Gordon, 
fire your death shall be. The lady had liefer 
be burnt to small ashes than give up the 
castle while her lord is from home, 10. Fire 
is set. The oldest daughter asks to be rolled 
in a pair of sheets and flung over the wall. 
She gets a deadly fall on the point of Gor 
don's sword, and is turned over and over 
again, 18, over and over again, 19. Lady 
Margaret cries that the fire is at her garters 
and the flame in her hair. Lady Ann, from 
childbed where she lies, asks her mother to 
give up the castle, and is told that she must 
stay and dree her death with the rest. The 
youngest son asks his mother to go down, 
and has the answer that was given Gordon in 
10. The waiting-maid begs to have a baby 
of hers saved ; her lady's long hair is burnt 
to her brow, and how can she take it? So 
the babe is rolled in a feather-bed and flung 
over the wall, and gets a deadly fall on the 
point of Gordon's ever-ready sword. Several 
ill-connected stanzas succeed, three of which 
are clearly recent, and then pity for Lady 
Ann Campbell, who was burnt with her nine 
bairns. Lord Loudon comes home a "sorry" 
man, but comforts himself with tearing Gor 
don with wild horses. 

A slight episode has been passed over. It 
is a former servant of the family that breaks 
through the house-wall and kindles the fire, 
A 21, D 12-14, F 5, 6, G 13, 14. In all but 
A he makes the excuse that he is now Gor 
don's man, and must do or die. 

There is a Danish ballad of about 1600 
(communicated to me by Svend Grundtvig, 
and, I think, not yet printed) in which Karl 
grevens san, an unsuccessful suitor of Lady 
Linild, burns Lady Linild in her bower, and 
taking refuge in Maribo church, is there 
burned himself by Karl kejserens sen, Lady 



Linild's preferred lover. See also ' Liden En- 
gel,' under ' Fause Foodrage,' No 89, II, 298. 
The copy in Percy's Reliques is translated 
by Bodmer, I, 126, and by Doenniiiges, p. 69 ; 

Pinkerton's copy by Grundtvig, No 9, and by 
Loiive-Veimars, p. 307 ; Knortz, Schottiscbe 
Balladen, No 13, apparently translates Ailing- 

Cotton MS. Vespasian, A. xxv, No 67, fol. 187; Furni- 
vall, in Transactions of the New Shakspere Society, 1880- 
86, Appendix, p. 52t. 

1 IT befell at Martynmas, 

When wether waxed colde, 

Captaine Care said to his men, 

We must go take a holde. 

Syck, sike, and to-to\ve sike, 

And sike and like to die ; 
The sikest nighte that euer I abode, 

God lord haue mercy on me ! 

2 ' Haille, master, and wether you will, 

And wether ye like it best ; ' 
' To the castle of Crecrynbroghe, 
And there we will take our reste.' 

3 ' I knowe wher is a gay castle, 

Is builded of lyme and stone ; 
Within their is a gay ladie, 
Her lord is riden and gone.' 

4 The ladie she lend on her castle-walle, 

She loked vpp and downe ; 
There was she ware of an host of mew, 
Come riding to the towne. 

5 ' Se yow, my meri men all, 

And se yow what I see ? 
Yonder I see an host of mera, 
I muse who they bee.' 

6 She thought he had ben her wed lord, 

As he comd riding home ; 
Then was it trait?'?' Captaine Care 
The lord of Ester-towne. 

7 They wer no sorter at supper sett, 

Then after said the grace, 
Or Captaine Care and all his men 
Wer lighte aboute the place. 

8 ' Gyue ouer thi howsse, thou lady gay, 

And I will make the a bande ; 
To-nighte thou shall ly wit/tin my armes, 
To-morrowe thou shall ere my lande.' 

9 There bespacke the eldest sonne, 

That was both whitt and redde : 
O mother dere, geue o\ier yoitr howsse, 
Or elles we shalbe deade. 

10 ' I will not geue oner my hous,' she saithe, 

' Not for f eare of my lyffe ; 
It shalbe talked throughout the land, 
The slaughter of a wyffe. 

11 ' Fetch me my pestilett, 

And charge me my gonne, 
That I may shott at yonder bloddy butcher, 
The lord of Easter-towne.' 

12 Styfly vpon her wall she stode, 

And lett the pellette.s flee ; 
But then she myst the blody bucher, 
And she slew other three. 

13 ' [I will] not geue otier my hous,' she saithe, 

' Netheir for lord nor lowne ; 
Nor yet for traitowr Captaine Care, 
The lord of Easter-towne. 

14 ' I desire of Captine Care, 

And all his bloddye band, 
That he would saue my eldest sonne, 
The eare of all my lande.' 

15 ' Lap him in a shete,' he sayth, 

' And let him downe to me, 
And I shall take him in my armes. 
His waran shall I be.' 

16 The captayne sayd unto him selfe : 

Wyth sped, before the rest, 
He cut his tonge out of his head, 
His hart out of his brest. 



17 He lapt them in a haudkerchef, 

And knet it of knotes three, 
And cast them ouer the castell-wall, 
At that gay ladye. 

18 ' Fye vpon the, Captayne Care, 

And all thy bloddy band ! 
For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne, 
The ayre of all my land.' 

19 Then bespoke the yongest sonne, 

That sat on the nurses knee, 
Sayth, Mother gay, geue ouer your house ; 
It smoldereth me. 

20 ' I wold geue my gold,' she saith, 

' And so I wolde my ffee, 
For a blaste of the westryn wind, 
To dryue the smoke from thee. 

21 ' Fy vpon, the, John Hamleton, 

That euer I paid the hyre ! 
For thou hast broken my castle-wall, 
And kyndled in the ffyre.' 

22 The lady gate to her close pa/ier, 

The fire fell aboute her head ; 
She toke vp her childre?* thre, 
Seth, Babes, we are all dead. 

23 Then bespake the hye steward, 

That is of hye degree ; 
Saith, Ladie gay, you are in close, 
Wether ye fighte or flee. 

24 Lord Hamletow dremd in his dream, 

In Caruall where he laye, 
His halle were all of fyre, 
His ladle slayne or daye. 

25 ' Busk and bowne, my mery men all, 

Even, and go ye with me ; 
For I dremd that my liaal was on fyre, 
My lady slayne or day.' 

26 He buskt him and bownd hym, 

And like a worthi knighte ; 
And when he saw his hall burning, 
His harte was no dele lighte. 

27 He sett a trunipett till his mouth, 

He blew as it plesd his grace ; 
Twenty score of Ha??tlentons 
Was light aboute the place. 

28 ' Had I knowne as much yesternighte 

As I do to-daye, 
Captaine Care and all his me?t 
Should not haue gone so quite. 

29 ' Fye vpon the, Captaine Care, 

And all thy blody bande ! 
Thou haste slayne my lady gay, 
More wMrth then all thy laude. 

30 ' If thou had ought eny ill will,' he saith, 

' Thou shoulde haue taken my lyffe, 
And haue saved my children thre, 
All and my louesome wytfe.' 

Percy MS., p. 34 ; Hales and Furnivall, I, 79. 

1 ' FFA/TH, master, whither you will, 

Whereas you like the best ; 

Vnto the castle of Bittons-borrow, 

And there to take your rest.' 

2 ' But yonder stands a castle faire, 

Is made of lyme and stone ; 
Yonder is in it a fayre lady, 
Her lord is ridden and gone.' 

3 The lady stood on her castle-wall, 

She looked vpp and downe ; 
She was ware of an hoast of men, 
Came rydinge towards the towne. 

4 ' See you not, my merry men all, 

And see you not what I doe see ? 
Methinks I see a hoast of men ; 
I muse who they shold be.' 

5 She thought it had beene her louly lord, 

He had come ryding home ; 

It was the traitor, Captaine Carre, 

The lord of Westerton-towne. 

6 They had noe sooner super sett, 

And after said the grace, 

But the traitor, Captaine Carre, 

Was light about the place. 

7 ' Giue over thy house, thou lady gay, 

I will make thee a band ; 



All night wit/t-in mine armes thou 'st lye, 
To-morrow be the heyre of my land.' 

8 ' I 'le not giue over my house,' shee said, 

' Neither for ladds nor man, 
Nor yet for traitor Captaine Carre, 
Vntill my lord come home. 

9 ' But reach me my pistoll pe[c]e, 

And charge you well my gunne ; 
I 'le shoote at the bloody bucher, 
The lord of Westerton.' 

10 She stood vppon her castle-wall 

And let the bulletts flee, 
And where shee mist 

11 But then bespake the litle child, 

That sate on the nurses knee ; 
Sales, Mother deere, giue ore this house, 
For the smoake it smoothers me. 

12 ' I wold giue all my gold, my childe, 

Soe wold I doe all my fee, 
For one blast of the westerne wind 
To blow the smoke from thee.' 

13 But when shee saw the fier 

Came flaming ore her head, 
Shee tooke then vpp her children two, 
Sayes, Babes, we all beene dead ! 

14 But Adam then he fired the house, 

A sorrowful! sight to see ; 
Now hath he burned this lady faire 
And eke her children three. 

15 Then Captaine Carre he rode away, 

He staid noe longer at that tide ; 
He thought that place it was to warme 
Soe neere for to abide. 

16 He calld vuto his merry men all, 

Bidd them make hast away ; 
' For we haue slaine his children three, 
All and his lady gay.' 

17 Worde came to louly London, 

To London wheras her lord lay, 
His castle and his hall was burned, 
All and his lady gay. 

18 Soe hath he done his children three, 

More dearer vnto him 
Then either the siluer or the gold, 
That men soe faine wold win. 

19 But when he looket this writing on, 

Lord, in is hart he was woe ! 
Saies, I will find thee, Captaine Carre, 
Wether thou ryde or goe ! 

20 Buske yee, bowne yee, my merrymen all, 

With tempered swords of steele, 
For till I haue found out Captaine Carre, 
My hart it is nothing weele. 

21 But when he came to Dractons-borrow, 

Soe long ere it was day, 
And ther he found him Captaine Carre ; 
That night he ment to stay. 

Communicated to Percy by Robert Lambe, Norham, Oc 
tober 4, 1766, being all that a servant of Lambe's could 

1 ' LUK ye to yon hie castel, 
Yon hie castel we see ; 
A woman's wit's sun oercum, 
She '11 gie up her house to me.' 

2 She ca'd to her merry men a', 

' Bring me my five pistols and my lang gun ; 
The first shot the fair lady shot, 
She shot seven of Gordon's men. 

3 He turned round about his back, 

And sware he woud ha his desire, 
And if that castel was built of gowd, 
It should gang a' to fire. 

4 Up then spak her doughter deere, 

She had nae mair than she : 



' Gie up your house, now, mither deere, 
The reek it skomfishes me.' 

6 ' I d rather see you birnt,' said she, 

' And doun to ashes fa, 
Ere I gie up my house to Adam of Gordon, 
And to his merry men a'. 

6 ' I 've four and twenty kye 

Gaing upo the muir ; 
I 'd gie em for a blast of wind, 
The reek it blaws sae sour.' 

7 Up then spak her little young son, 

Sits on the nourrice knee : 

' Gie up your house, now, mither deere, 
The reek it skomfishes me.' 

8 ' I 've twenty four ships 

A sailing on the sea ; 
I '11 gie em for a blast of southern wind, 
To blaw the reek frae thee. 

9 ' I 'd rather see you birnt,' said she, 

' And grand as sma as flour, 
Eer I gie up my noble house, 
To be Adam of Gordon's hure.' 

Robert and Andrew Foulis, Glasgow, 1755 ; " as preserved 
in the memory of a lady." 

1 IT fell about the Martinmas, 

When the wind blew schrile and cauld, 
Said Edom o Gordon to his men, 
We maun draw to a hald. 

2 ' And what an a hald sail we draw to, 

My merry men and me ? 
We will gae to the house of the Rhodes, 
To see that fair lady.' 

3 She had nae sooner busket her sell, 

Nor putten on her gown, 
Till Edom o Gordon and his men 
Were round about the town. 

4 They had nae sooner sitten down, 

Nor sooner said the grace, 
Till Edom o Gordon and his men 
Were closed about the place. 

5 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. 

6 As soon he saw the lady fair, 

And hir yates all locked fast, 
He fell into a rage of wrath, 
And his heart was aghast. 

7 ' Cum down to me, ye lady fair, 

Cum down to me ; let 's see ; 
VOL. in. 55 

This night ye 's ly by my ain side, 
The morn my bride sail be.' 

8 ' I winnae cum down, ye fals Gordon, 

I winnae cum down to thee ; 
I winnae forsake my ane dear lord, 
That is sae far frae me.' 

9 ' Gi up your house, ye fair lady, 

Gi up your house to me, 
Or I will burn yoursel therein, 
Bot and your babies three.' 

10 ' I winnae gie up, you fals Gordon, 

To nae sik traitor as thee, 
Tho you should burn mysel therein, 
Bot and my babies three.' 

11 ' Set fire to the house,' quoth fals Gordon, 

' Sin better may nae bee ; 

And I will burn hersel therein, 

Bot and her babies three.' 

12 ' And ein wae worth ye, Jock my man ! 

I paid ye well your fee ; 
Why pow ye out my ground- wa-stane, 
Lets in the reek to me ? 

13 ' And ein wae worth ye, Jock my man ! 

For I paid you weil your hire ; 
Why pow ye out my ground-wa-stane, 
To me lets in the fire ? ' 

14 ' Ye paid me weil my hire, lady, 

Ye paid me weil my fee, 



But now I 'm Edom of Gordon's man, 
Maun either do or die.' 

15 O then bespake her youngest son, 

Sat on the nurses knee, 
' Dear mother, gie owre your house,' he says, 
' For the reek it worries me.' 

16 ' I winnae gie up my house, my dear, 

To nae sik traitor as he ; 
Cum weil, cum wae, my jewels fair, 
Ye maun tak share wi me.' 

17 O then bespake her dochter dear, 

She was baith jimp and sma ; 
' row me in a pair o shiets, 
And tow me owre the wa.' 

18 They rowd her in a pair of shiets, 

And towd her owre the wa, 
But on the point of Edom's speir 
She gat a deadly fa. 

19 bonny, bonny was hir mouth, 

And chirry were her cheiks, 
And clear, clear was hir yellow hair, 
Whereon the reid bluid dreips ! 

20 Then wi his speir he turnd hir owr ; 

gin hir face was wan ! 

He said, You are the first that eer 

1 wist alive again. 

21 He turned hir owr and owr again ; 

O gin hir skin was whyte ! 
He said, I might ha spard thy life 
To been some mans delyte. 

22 ' Busk and boon, my merry men all, 

For ill dooms I do guess ; 

I cannae luik in that bonny face, 
As it lyes on the grass.' 

23 ' Them luiks to freits, my master deir, 

Then freits will follow them ; 
Let it neir be said brave Edom o Gordon 
Was daunted with a dame.' 

24 then he spied hir ain deir lord, 

As he came owr the lee ; 
He saw his castle in a fire, 
As far as he could see. 

25 ' Put on, put on, my mighty men, 

As fast as ye can drie ! 
For he that 's hindmost of my men 
Sail neir get guid o me.' 

26 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. 

27 But mony were the mudie men 

Lay gasping on the grien ; 
For o fifty men that Edom brought out 
There were but five ged heme. 

28 And mony were the mudie men 

Lay gasping on the grien, 
And mony were the fair ladys 
Lay lemanless at heme. 

29 And round and round the waes he went, 

Their ashes for to view ; 

At last into the flames he flew, 

And bad the world adieu. 


Kinloch MSS, V, 384, in the handwriting of John Hill 

1 IT fell about the Martinmas time, 

When the wind blew shrill and cauld, 
Said Captain Gordon to his men, 
We '11 a' draw to som hauld. 

2 ' And whatena hauld shall we draw to, 

To be the nearest hame ? ' 

' We will draw to the ha o bonny Cargarff ; 
The laird is na at hame.' 

3 The lady sat on her castle-wa, 

Beheld both dale and down ; 
And she beheld the fause Gordon 
Come halycon to the town. 

4 ' Now, Lady Cargarff, gie ower yer house, 

Gie ower yer hottse to me ; 



Now, Lady Cargarff, gie ower yer house, 
Or in it you shall die.' 

5 ' I 'U no gie ower my bonny house, 

To lord nor yet to loun ; 
I '11 no gie ower my bonny house 
To the traitors of Auchindown.' 

6 Then up and spak her youngest son, 
Sat at the nourice's knee : 

' O mother dear, gie ower yer house, 
For the reek o 't smothers me.' 

7 ' I would gie a' my goud, my child, 

Sae would I a' my fee, 
For ae blast o the westlan win, 
To blaw the reek frae thee.' 

8 Then up and spak her eldest heir, 

He spak wi inuckle pride : 
' Now mother dear, keep weel yer house, 
And I '11 fight by yer side.' 


The New Statistical Account of Scotland, V, 846, Parish 
of Loudoun, by Rev. Norman Macleod : " known among the 
peasantry from time immemorial." 

1 IT fell about the Martinmas time, 

When the wind blew snell and cauld, 
That Adam o Gordon said to his men, 
Where will we get a hold ? 

2 See [ye] not where yonder fair castle 

Stands on yon lily lee ? 
The laird and I hae a deadly feud, 
The lady fain would I see. 

3 As she was up on the househead, 

Behold, on looking down, 
She saw Adam o Gordon and his men, 
Coming riding to the town. 

4 The dinner was not well set down, 

Nor the grace was scarcely said, 
Till Adam o Gordon and his men 
About the walls were laid. 

5 ' It 's fause now fa thee, Jock my man ! 

Thou might a let me be ; 
Yon man has lifted the pavement-stone, 
An let in the low unto me.' 

6 ' Seven years I served thee, fair ladle, 

You gave me meat and fee ; 
But now I am Adam o Gordon's man, 
An maun either do it or die.' 

7 ' Come down, come down, my lady Loudoun, 

Come down thou unto me ! 

1 11 wrap thee on a feather-bed, 
Thy warrand I shall be.' 

8 ' I '11 no come down, I '11 no come down, 

For neither laird no[r] loun ; 
Nor yet for any bloody butcher 
That lives in Altringham town. 

9 ' I would give the black,' she says, 

' And so would I the brown, 
If that Thomas, my only son, 
Could charge to me a gun.' 

10 Out then spake the lady Margaret, 

As she stood on the stair ; 
The fire was at her goud garters, 
The lowe was at her hair. 

11 ' I would give the black,' she says, 

' And so would I the brown. 
For a drink of yon water, 
That runs by Galston Town.' 

12 Out then spake fair Annie, 

She was baith jimp and sma 
' row me in a pair o sheets, 
And tow me down the wa ! ' 

13 ' O hold thy tongue, thou fair Annie, 

And let thy talkin be ; 
For thou must stay in this fair castle, 
And bear thy death with me.' 

14 ' O mother,' spoke the lord Thomas, 

As he sat on the nurse's knee, 

' O mother, give up this fair castle, 

Or the reek will worrie me.' 



15 ' I would rather be burnt to ashes sma, 

And be cast on yon sea-foam, 

Before I 'd give up this fair castle, 

And my lord so far from home. 

16 ' My good lord has an army strong, 

He 's now gone oer the sea ; 

He bad me keep this gay castle, 

As long as it would keep me. 

17 ' I 've four-and-twenty brave milk kye, 

Gangs on yon lily lee ; 
I 'd give them a' for a blast of wind, 
To blaw the reek from me.' 

18 O pittie on yon fair castle, 

That 's built with stone and lime ! 
But far mair pittie on Lady Loudoun, 
And all her children nine ! 


Motherwell's MS., p. 543, from the recitation of May 
Richmond, at the Old Kirk of Loudon. 

1 IT was in and about the Martinmas time, 

When the wind blew scliill and cauld, 
That Adam o Gordon said to his men, 
Whare will we get a hauld ? 

2 ' Do ye not see yon bonnie castell, 

That stands on Loudon lee ? 

The lord and I hae a deadlie feed, 

And his lady fain wuld I see.' 

3 Lady Campbell was standing in the close, 

A preenin o her goun, 
Whan Adam o Gordon and his men 
Cam riding thro Galston toun. 

4 The dinner was na weel set doun, 

Nor yet the grace weel said, 
Till Adam o Gordon and a' his men 
Around the wa's war laid. 

5 ' Come doun, come down, Ladie Campbell,' he 


' Come doun and speak to me ; 
I '11 kep thee in a feather bed, 
And thy warraner I will be.' 

6 ' I winna come doun and speak to thee, 

Nor to ony lord nor loun ; 
Nor yet to thee, thou bloody butcher, 
The laird o Auchruglen toun.' 

7 ' Come doun, come doun, Ladye Campbell,' he 


' Cum doun and speak to me ; 
I '11 kep thee on the point o my sword, 
And thy warraner I will be.' 

8 ' I "winna come donn and speak to thee, 

Nor to ony lord or loun, 
Nor yet to thee, thou bludie butcher, 
The laird o Auchruglen toun.' 

9 ' Syne gin ye winna come doun,' he said, 

' A' for to speak to me, 
I '11 tye the bands around my waist, 
And fire thy death sail be.' 

10 ' I 'd leifer be burnt in ashes sma, 

And cuist in yon sea-faem, 
Or I 'd gie up this bonnie castell, 
And my gude lord frae hame. 

11 ' For my gude lord 's in the army strong, 

He 's new gane o\ver the sea ; 
He bade me keep this bonnie castell, 
As lang 's it wuld keep me.' 

12 ' Set fire to the house,' said bauld Gordon, 

' Set fire to the house, my men ; 
We '11 gar Lady Campbell come for to rew 
As she burns in the flame.' 

13 ' wae be to thee, Carmichael,' she said, 

' And an ill death may ye die ! 
For ye hae lifted the pavement-stane, 
And loot up the lowe to me. 

14 ' Seven years ye war about my house, 

And received both meat and fee : ' 
' And now I 'm Adam o Gordon's man, 
I maun either do or dee.' 

15 ' Oh I wad gie the black,' she said, 

' And I wuld gie the brown, 

All for ae cup o the cauld water 

That rins to Galstoun toun.' 



16 Syne out and spak the auld dochter, 

She was baith jimp and sma : 
' O row me in a pair o sheets, 
And fling me ower the wa ! ' 

17 They row't her in a pair o sheets, 

And flang her ower the wa, 
And on the point o Gordon's sword 
She gat a deadlie fa. 

18 He turned her ower, and ower again, 

And oh but she looked wan ! 
' I think I 've killed as bonnie a face 
As ere the sun shined on.' 

19 He turned her ower, and ower again, 

And oh but she lookt white ! 
' I micht hae spared this bonnie face, 
To hae been some man's delight ! ' 

20 Syne out and spak Lady Margaret, 

As she stood on the stair : 
' The fire is at my gowd garters, 
And the lowe is at my hair.' 

21 Syne out and spak fair Ladie Ann, 

Frae childbed whare she lay : 
' Gie up this bonnie castell, mother, 
And let us win away.' 

22 ' Lye still, lye still, my fail 1 Annie, 

And let your talking be ; 
For ye maun stay in this bonnie castell 
And dree your death wi me.' 

23 ' Whatever death I am to dree, 

I winna die my lane : 
I '11 tak a bairn in ilka arm 
And the third is in my wame.' 

24 Syne out and spak her youngest son, 

A bonnie wee boy was he : 
' Gae doun, gae doun, mother,' he said, 
' Or the lowe will worry me.' 

25 ' I 'd leif er be brent in ashes sma 

And cuist in yon sea-faem, 
Or I 'd gie up this bonnie castell, 
And my guid lord frae hame. 

26 ' For my gnde lord 's in the army strong, 

He 's new gane ower the sea ; 

But gin he eer returns again, 
Revenged my death sail be.' 

27 Syne out and spak her waitin-maid : 

Receive this babe frae me, 
And save the saikless babie's life, 
And I '11 neer seek mair fee. 

28 ' How can I tak the bairn ? ' she said, 

' How can I tak 't ? ' said she, 
' For my hair was ance five quarters long, 
And 't is now brent to my bree.' 

29 She rowit it in a feather-bed, 

And flang it ower the wa, 
But on the point o Gordon's sword 
It gat a deidlie fa. 

30 ' I wuld gie London's bonnie castell, 

And London's bonnie lee, 
All gin my youngest son Johnnie 
Could charge a gun to me. 

31 ' Oh, I wuld gie the black,' she said, 

' And sae wuld I the bay, 
Gin young Sir George could take a steed 
And quickly ride away.' 

32 Syne out and spak her auldest son, 

As he was gaun to die : 
' Send doun your chamber-maid, mother, 
She gaes wi bairn to me.' 

33 ' Gin ye were not my eldest son, 

And heir o a' my land, 
I 'd tye a sheet around thy neck, 
And hang thee with my hand. 

34 ' I would gie my twenty gude milk-kye, 

That feed on Shallow lee, 
A' for ae blast o the norland wind, 
To blaw the lowe frae me.' 

35 Oh was na it a pitie o yon bonnie castell, 

That was biggit wi stane and lime ! 

But far mair pity o Lady Ann Campbell, 

That was brunt wi her bairns nine. 

36 Three o them war married wives, 

And three o them were bairns, 
And three o them were leal maidens, 
That neer lay in men's arms. 



37 And now Lord London he 's come hame, 

And a sorry man was he : 
' He micht hae spared my lady's life, 
And wreakit himsell on me ! 

38 ' But sin we 've got thee, bauld Gordon, 

Wild horses shall thee tear, 
For murdering o my ladie bricht, 
Besides my children dear.' 

Stanzas 1-15 have been revised, or altered, 

in another hand. 

2 1 . master in my copy : Taary, Furnivall. 
3 1 . wher is is inserted. 
3*. ed in builded has been run through with 

a line. 
3 4 . riden & gone struck out, and ryd from 

horn written over. 
4 1 . she struck out. 

5 1 . Se yow changed to Com yow hether : 
merimen in MS. 

5 2 . Changed to And look what I do see. 
And (&), both in the original text and in 
the revised, is rendered O in my copy. 

5 s . Changed to Yonder is ther. 

5 4 . musen, as a correction : Furnivall. 

6 1 . own wed, as a correction : Furnivall. 

6 2 . y* had for As he. 

8*. thou shall ly in altered to thoust ly 

10 2 . Not is a correction : Furnivall. My 

copy has no. 

11 s . this substituted for yonder. 
12 1 . Changed to She styfly stod on her castle 


12 8 . but then struck out. 
12 4 . she struck out. 
13 1 . I will : MS. torn. 
15 s . arme, Furnivall : my copy, armes. 
15*. wyll substituted for shall. 




19 4 . Editors supply The smoke at the begin 

ning of the line. 

20 3 . westeyn : Furnivall. 21 4 . MS. has thee. 
23 s . Saith: no close, Furnivall. South: in 

close, my copy, to chose, B'oddeker. 
24 2 . Perhaps carnall : Furnivall. 
25 1 . Bush in my copy : merymen in MS. 
25 3 . dreme, hall in my copy: Furnivall as 


26 1 . busht in my copy : buskt, Furnivall. 
26 2 ' 3 . My copy renders And (&) O : Furni 

vall as printed. 
28*. Editors supply awaye at the end of the 

line. B'oddeker reads so gai. 
29 2 . bande looks like baides, one stroke of 

the n wanting. 
30 1 . Should we not read me for eny ? she for 

he in my copy : he, Furnivall. 
Arid for & throughout. 
Finis per me "Willelmum Asheton, cleriewm. 
By my copy is meant a collation made for me 

by Miss Lucy Toulmin Smith. 
13". 2. 14 4 , 16 s , 18 1 . 3. 
10 s , 21 4 . Half a page gone. 
And /or &. 

27 1 , 28 1 . Mudiemen, Mudie men. 
Quhen, ze, zour, etc., are here spelled when, 

ye, your, etc. 
5 4 . the loun to : cf. G 13 4 . 

G. 6 4 . Another recitation gave Auchindown. 



The Bishopric Garland, or Durham Minstrel [edited by 
Joseph Ritson], 2d ed., Newcastle, 1792 ; here, from 
the reprint by Joseph Haslewood, 1809, p. 54, in 
Northern Garlands, London, 1810. " Taken down 

from the chanting of George Collingood the elder, 
late of Boltsburn, in the neighborhood of Ryhope," 
who died in 1 785. 

FEINTED in Bell's Rhymes of Northern 
Bards, 1812, p. 276 ; Minstrelsy of the Scot 
tish Border, 1833, II, 101; [Sir Cuthbert 
Sharp's] Bishoprick Garland, 1834, p. 14. 

The date of this ryde, or raid, may be pre 
cisely ascertained from the ballad itself ; it is 
shown by 13 4 , 11 to be December 6, 1569. 

The thieves of Thirlwall (Northumber 
land) and Williehaver, or Willeva (Cumber 
land), avail themselves of the confusion inci 
dent to the Rising in the North and of the 
absence of a part of the fencible men (some of 
whom were with the earls, others with Bowes 
in Barnard castle) to make a foray into Rook- 
hope, in Weardale, Durham. In four hours 
they get together six hundred sheep. But 
the alarm is given by a man whose horses 
they have taken ; the cry spreads through the 
dale ; word comes to the bailiff, who instantly 
arms, and is joined by his neighbors to the 
number of forty or fifty. The thieves are a 
hundred, the stoutest men and best in gear. 

When the Weardale men come up with them, 
the marauders get fighting enough. The 
fray lasts an hour ; four of the robbers are 
killed, a handsome number wounded, and 
eleven taken prisoners, with the loss of only 
one of those who fought for the right. 

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. Rookhope-head is the top of 
the vale. (Ritson.) 

The Weardale man who was killed was 
Rowland Emerson, perhaps a kinsman of the 
bailiff. The family of Emerson of Eastgate, 
says Surtees, long exercised the offices of bai 
liff of Wolsingham (the chief town and bor 
ough of Weardale) and of forester, etc., etc., 
under successive prelates. (Surtees to Scott, 
Memoir by Taylor and Raine, p. 33.) 

34. The thieves bare ' three banners ' 
against the Weardale men. They choose 
three captains in 9. 

1 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 die ! 

2 And so is the men of Thirlwa 'nd Williehaver, 

And all their companies thereabout, 
That is minded to do mischief, 

And at their stealing stands not out. 

3 But yet we will not slander them all, 

For there is of them good enough ; 

It is a sore consumed tree 

That on it bears not one fresh bough. 

4 Lord God ! is not this a pitiful case, 

That men dare not drive their goods to t' fell, 
But limmer thieves drives them away, 
That fears neither heaven nor hell ? 

5 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 over 



6 For great troubles they 've had in hand, 

With borderers pricking hither and thither, 
But the greatest fray that eer they had 

Was with the ' men ' of Thirlwa 'nd Willie- 

7 They gatherd together so royally, 

The stoutest men and the best in gear, 
And he that rade not on a horse, 
I wat he rade on a weil-fed mear. 

8 So in the morning, before they came out, 

So well, I wot, they broke their fast ; 
In the [forenoon they came] unto a bye fell, 
Where some of them did eat their last. 

9 When they had eaten aye and done, 

They sayd some captains here needs must 


Then they choosed forth Harry Corbyl, 
And ' Symon Fell,' and Martin Ridley. 

10 Then oer 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. 

11 ' For Weardale men is a journey taen ; 

They are so far out-oer yon fell 
That some of them 's with the two earls, 
And others fast in Barnard castell. 

12 ' There we shal get gear enough, 

For there is naue but women at hame ; 
The sorrowful fend that they can make 
Is loudly cries as they were slain.' 

13 Then in at Rookhope-head they came, 

And there they thought tul a had their 


But they were spy'd coming over the Dry Rig, 
Soon upon Saint Nicholas' day. 

14 Then in at Rookhope-head they came, 

They ran the forest but a mile ; 
They gatherd together in four hours 
Six hundred sheep within a while. 

15 And horses I trow they gat 

But either ane or twa, 
And they gat them all but ane 
That belanged to great Rowley. 

16 That Rowley was the first man that did them 


With that he raised a mighty cry ; 
The cry it came down Rookhope burn, 
And spread through Weardale hasteyly. 

17 Then word came to the bailif's house, 

At the East Gate, where he did dwell ; 
He was walkd out to the Smale Burns, 
Which stands above the Hanging Well. 

18 His wife was wae when she heard tell, 

So well she wist her husband wanted 
- gear ; 

She gard saddle him his horse in haste, 
And neither forgot sword, jack, nor spear. 

19 The bailif got wit before his gear came 

That such news was in the land ; 
He was sore troubled in his heart, 
That on no earth that he could stand. 

20 His brother was hurt three days before, 

With limmer thieves that did him prick ; 
Nineteen bloody wounds lay him upon ; 
What f erly was 't that he lay sick ? 

21 But yet the bailif shrinked nought, 

But fast after them he did hye, 
And so did all his neighbours near, 
That went to bear him company. 

22 But when the bailiff was gathered, 

And all his company, 
They were numberd to never a man 
But forty [or] under fifty. 

23 The thieves was numberd a hundred men, 

I wat they were not of the worst 
That could be choosed out of Thirlwa 'nd 

24 But all that was in Rookhope-head, 

And all that was i Nuketon Cleugh, 
Where Weardale men oertook the thieves, 
And there they gave them fighting eneugh. 

25 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 ; 



26 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.' 

27 About the time the fray began, 

I trow it lasted but an hour, 
Till many a man lay weaponless, 
And was sore wounded in that stour. 

28 Also before that hour was done, 

Four of the thieves were slain, 
Besides all those that wounded were, 
And eleven prisoners there was taen. 

29 George Carrick and his brother Edie, 

Them two, I wot, they were both slain ; 
Harry Corbyl and Lennie Carrick 
Bore them company in their pain. 

30 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. 

31 But thus they sayd : ' We '11 not depart 

While we have one ; speed back again ! ' 

And when they came amongst the dead men, 

There they found George Carrick slain. 

32 And when they found George Carrick slain, 

I wot it went well near their ' heart ; ' 
Lord, let them never make a better end 
That comes to play them sicken a ' part ! ' 

33 I trust to God, no more they shal, 

Except it be one for a great chance ; 
For God wil punish all those 
With a great heavy pestilence. 

34 Thir limmer thieves, they have good hearts, 

They nevir think to be oerthrown ; 
Three banners against Weardale men they bare, 
As if the world had been all their own. 

35 Thir Weardale men, they have good hearts, 

They are as stif as any tree ; 
For, if they 'd every one been slain, 
Never a foot back man would flee. 

36 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. 

37 And now I do entreat you all, 

As many as are present here, 
To pray for [the] singer of this song, 
For he sings to make blithe your cheer. 

2*. mischief hither in Bell, who, however, 
prints from Ritson. 

2*. as : at in Scott, who had his copy, as 
printed in 1792, from Ritson's nephew, at 
also in Bell. 

9", 29 s . Corbyl, it is thought, should be Cor- 
byt, ivhich is a northern name. Both Cor 
byl and Carrick were new to Surtees. 

10*. Bell reads would, not understanding that 
could means did. 

II 1 . Scott, wrongly, have for is : Bell, who 

aims at grammar, are. 
17 s . He had, Bell, for improvement again. 
23 4 . The reciter, from his advanced age, 

could not recollect this line : Ritson. 
25*. Bell, land for hand. 
30". Bell, in for to. 
Ritson's emendations, indicated Inj ' ', have 

necessarily been allowed to stand. 





' Kinge James and Browne,' Percy MS., p. 58 ; Hales and Furnivall, I, 135. 

As the minstrel is walking by himself, he 
hears a young prince lamenting. The prince 
says to him, Yonder comes a Scot who will do 
me wrong. Douglas comes with armed men, 
who beset the king with swords and spears. 
Are you lords of Scotland, come for council, 
asks the king, or are you traitors, come for 
my blood ? They say that they are traitors, 
come for his blood. Fie on you, false Scots ! 
exclaims the king ; you have slain my grand 
father, caused my mother to flee, and hanged 
my father. [About nine stanzas are lost 
here.] Douglas offers Brown his daughter 
in marriage to betray the king ; Brown will 
never be a traitor. Douglas is making off 
fast, but Brown takes him prisoner and con 
ducts him to the king. Douglas prays for 
pardon. The king replies that Douglas has 
sought to kill him ever since he was born. 
Douglas swears to be a true subject if par 
doned. The king pardons him freely, and all 
traitors in Scotland, great and small. Douglas 
mutters to himself (we may suppose), If I 
live a twelvemonth you shall die, and I will 
burn Edinburgh to-morrow. This irredeem 
able traitor hies to Edinburgh with his men, 
but the people shut the gates against him. 
Brown is always where he is wanted, and 
takes Douglas prisoner again ; the report that 
Douglas is secured goes to the king, who 
demands his taker to be brought into his 
presence, and promises him a thousand pound 
a year. So they call Brown ; we may im 
agine that the distance is no greater than 
Holyrood. How often hast thou fought for 
me, Brown? asks James. Brown's first ser 
vice was in Edinburgh ; had he not stood 
stoutly there, James had never been king. 

The second was his killing the sheriff of 
Carlisle's son, who was on the point of slay 
ing his Grace. The third was when he killed 
the Bishop of St Andrews, who had under 
taken to poison the king. James had already 
made the faithful Englishman (for such he 
is) knight ; now he makes him an earl, with 
professions of fidelity to the English queen. 

This third service of Brown is the subject 
of a poem by William Elderton, here given in 
an appendix. The bishop is about to give 
the king (then a child) a poisoned posset. 
The lady nurse calls for aid. Brown, an 
Englishman, hears, goes to help, meets the 
bishop hurrying off with the posset in his 
hand, and forces him to drink it, though the 
bishop makes him handsome offers not to in 
terfere. The venom works swiftly, the bishop's 
belly bursts. The- king knights Brown, and 
gives him lands and livings. 

John Hamilton, Archbishop of St An 
drews, must be the person whom Brown slays 
in the ballad for an attempt to poison the 
young king. He was, however, hanged by his 
political enemies, April 7, 1571. This prel 
ate was credited with being an accomplice to 
the murder of Daruley and to that of the 
Regent Murray. His elder brother was heir 
to the throne after the progeny of Mary 
Stuart, and both of these persons were more 
or less in the way. Mary Stuart's son was 
a step on which the Hamiltons must "fall 
down or else oerleap," and the archbishop is 
said to have sneered at the Duke of Chatel- 
heraut for letting an infant live between him 
and the throne. A report that the arch 
bishop had undertaken to poison this infant 
would readily be believed. Sir William 



Drury thought it worth his while to write to 
Cecil that Queen Mary had done the same 
before her son was a year old.* 

Of Browne's two previous performances, 
his standing stoutly for the king at Edin 
burgh, st. 26, and his killing the son of the 
sheriff of Carlisle, st. 27, we are permitted 
to know only that, since these preceded the 
killing of the bishop, they occurred at some 
time before James was five years old. The 
epoch of the adventure with Douglas, which 
is the principal subject of the ballad, could 
be determined beyond question if we could 
ascertain when Brown was made an earl. 
It falls after the murder of the Regent Len 
nox, 8 1 , that is, later than September, 1571, 
and the king is old enough to know some 
thing of the unhappy occurrences in his fam 
ily, to forget and forgive, and to make knights 
and earls. There are correspondences be 
tween the ballad and the proceedings by 
which the Earl of Morton, after his resigna 
tion of the regency, obtained possession of 
the young king's person and virtually reestab 
lished himself in his former power. This was 
in April, 1578, when James was not quite 
twelve years old. Morton was living at 
Lochleven "for policie, devysing the situation 
of a fayre gardene with allayis, to remove all 
suspicion of his consavit treason." James 
was in the keeping of Alexander Erskine, his 
guardian, at Stirling Castle, of which Erskine 
was governor ; and the young Earl of Mar, 
nephew of the governor, was residing there. 
This young man became persuaded, perhaps 
through Morton's representations, that he him 
self was entitled to the custody of the castle, 
and incidentally of the king. Early in the 

morning of the 26th of April, before the 
garrison were astir, Mar (who was risen un 
der pretence of a hunting-party), supported 
by two Abbot Erskines, his uncles, and a 
retinue of his own, demanded the castle-keys 
of the governor. An affray followed, in 
which a son of Alexander Erskine lost his 
life. The young king, wakened by the noise, 
rushed in terror from his chamber, tearing 
his hair. Mar overpowered resistance and 
seized the keys. Shortly after this, he and 
his uncle the governor came to terms at the 
instance of the king, Mar retaining Stirling 
Castle and the wardenship of the king, and 
the uncle being made keeper of the castle of 
Edinburgh. Morton was received into Stir 
ling Castle, and resumed his sway. All this 
did not pass without opposition. The citizens 
of Edinburgh rose in arms against Morton 
(cf. sts 21, 22), and large forces collected 
from other parts of the country for the libera 
tion of the king. A civil war was imminent, 
and was avoided, it would seem, chiefly 
through the influence of the English minister, 
Bowes, who offered himself as peacemaker, in 
the name of his queen (cf. sts 31, 32). f 

The Douglas of this ballad is clearly Wil 
liam Douglas of Lochleven, who joined Mar 
at Stirling as Morton's intermediary. He 
was afterwards engaged in the Raid of Ruth- 

It may be added that Robert Brown, a ser 
vant of the king's, played a very humble part, 
for the defence of his master, in the Gowrie 
Conspiracy, but that was nearly twenty years 
after Andrew Brown was celebrated by Elder- 
ton, and when James was no young prince, 
but in his thirty-fifth year. 

1 As I did walke my selfe alone, 
And by one garden greene, 
I heard a yonge prince make great moane, 
Which did turne my hart to teene. 

* "At the queen last being at Stirling, the prince being 
brought unto her, she offered to kiss him, but he would not, 
but put her away, and did to his strength scratch her. She 
offered him an apple, but it would not he received of him, 
and to a greyhound bitch having whelps was thrown, who 
eat it, and she and her whelps died presently. A sugar-loaf 
also for the prince was brought at the same time; it is 

2 ' O Lord ! ' he then said vntou me, 

' Why haue I liued soe long ? 
For yonder comes a cruell Scott,' 

Quoth hee, ' tfiat will doe me some ronge.' 

judged to be very ill compounded." Calendar of State 
Papers, Foreign, May 20, 1567, p. 235: cited by Burton. 
Consider ing that the prince had only just passed his eleventh 
month, it would seem that the apple or the sugar-loaf 
might have served without any compounding. 

t Historie of King James the Sext, p. 165 ft ; Ty tier's 
History, VIII, 35 ft ; Burton, V, 163 ff. 



3 And then came traitor Douglas there, 

He came for to betray his king ; 
Some they brought bills, and some they brought 

And some the brought other things. 

4 The king was aboue in a gallery, 

With a heauy heart ; 
Vnto his body was sett about 

With swords and speares soe sharpe. 

5 ' Be you the lordes of Scotland,' he said, 

' Thai hither for councell seeke to me ? 
Or bee yoe traitors to my crowne, 
My blood that you wold see ? ' 

6 ' Wee are the lords of Scottland,' they said, 

' Nothing we come to craue of thee ; 
But wee be traitors to thy crowne, 
Thy blood that wee will see.' 

7 ' O fye vpon you, you false Scotts ! 

For you neuer all trew wilbe ; 

My grandfather you haue slaine, 

And caused my mother to flee. 

8 ' My grandfather you haue slaine, 

And my owne father you hanged on a tree ; 
And now,' quoth he, ' the like treason 
You haue now wrought for me. 

9 ' Ffarwell hart, and farwell hand ! 

Farwell all pleasures alsoe ! 
Farwell th my head 


' If thou wilt .... 
And soe goe away with mee.' 

11 ' Goe marry thy daughter to whome thou wilt,' 

Quoth Browne ; ' thou marrys none to me ; 
For I 'le not be a traitor,' quoth Browne, 
' For all the gold that euer I see.' 

12 This Douglas, hearing Browne soe say, 

Began to flee away full fast ; 
' But tarry a while,' saies lusty Browne, 
' I 'le make you to pay before you passe." 

13 He hath taken the Douglas prisoner, 

And hath brought him before the king ; 

He kneeled low vpon his knee, 
For pardon there prainge. 

14 ' How shold I pardon thee,' saith the king, 

' And thou 'le remaine a traitor still ? 
For euer since that I was borne,' 

Quoth he, 'thou hast sought my blood to 

15 ' For if you will grant me my pardon,' he said, 

' Out of this place soe free, 
I wilbe sworne before yowr Grace 
A trew subiect to bee.' 

16 ' God for-gaue his death,' said the king, 

' When he was nayled vpon a tree ; 
And as free as euer God forgaue his death, 
Douglas,' quoth he, ' I 'le forgiue thee. 

17 ' And all the traitors in Scottland,' 

Qwoth he, ' both great and small ; 

As free as euer God forgaue his death, 

Soe free I will forgiue them all.' 

18 ' I thanke you for yowr pardon, king, 

That you haue granted forth soe plaine ; 
If I Hue a twelue month to an end, 
You shall not aliue remaine. 

19 ' Tomorrow yet, or ere I dine, 

I meane to doo thee one good turne ; 
For Edenborrow, that is thine owne,' 

Qwoth he, ' I will both h[arry] and [burne].' 

20 Thus Douglas hied towards Edenborrow, 

And many of his men were gone beffore, 
And after him on euery side, 

With him there went some twenty score. 

21 But when that they did see him come, 

They cryed lowd with voices, saying, 
' Yonder comes a false traitor, 
That wold haue slaine our king.' 

22 They chaynd vp the gates of Edenborrow, 

And there the made them wonderous fast, 
And there Browne sett on Douglas againe, 
And quicklye did him ouer cast. 

23 But worde came backe againe to the king, 

With all the speed that euer might bee, 
That traitor Douglas there was taken, 
And his body was there to see. 



24 ' Bring me his taker,' quoth the king, 

' Come, quickly bring him vnto me ! 
I 'le giue a thousand pound a yeere, 
What man soeuer he bee.' 

25 But then they called lusty Browne ; 

Sayes, ' Browne, come thou hither to mee. 
How oft hast thou foughten for my sake, 
And alwayes woone the victory '{ ' 

26 ' The first time that I fought for you, 

It was in Edenborrow, king ; 
If there I had not stoutly stood, 

My leege, you neuer had beene king. 

27 ' The second time I fought for you, 

Here I will tell you in this place ; 
I killd the sheriffs sonne of Carlile,' 

Qiwth he, ' that wold haue slaine yowr 

28 ' The third time that I fought for you, 

Here for to let you vnderstand, 

I slew the Bishopp of S' Andrew[s],' 
Quoth he, ' with a possat in [his hand].' 

29 . . . . . ((/".-ill hee, 

' T7iat euer my manhood I did trye ; 
I 'le make a vow for Englands sake 
That I will neuer battell flee.' 

30 ' God amercy, Browne,' then said the king, 

' And God amercy heartilye ! 
Before I made thee but a knight, 
But now an earle I will make thee. 

31 ' God saue the queene of England,' he said, 

' For her blood is verry neshe ; 
As neere vnto her I am 

As a colloppe shorue from the fleshe. 

32 ' If I be false to England,' he said, 

Either in earnest or in iest, 
I might be likened to a bird,' 

Quoth he, ' that did defile it nest.' 

5 8 . yoe bee. 5*. by my : cf. 6*. 6 1 . are they. 

8 2 . mother for father. 

9*. Half a page torn away. 

18 s . a 12. 20 4 . 20 score. 24 s . a 1000. 

28 1 . the 3?. 

28 4 . possat? MS. rubbed: Hales. 



A NEW Ballad, declaring the great treason con 
spired against the young King of Scots, and how 
one Andrew Browne, an Englishman, which was 
the king's chamberlaine, preuented the same. To 
the tune of Milfield, or els to Greenesleeues. 

This piece, which is contained in a collection of 
ballads and proclamations in the library of the Soci 
ety of Antiquaries, London, is signed W. Elderton, 
and was " imprinted at London for Yarathe lames, 
dwelling in Newgate Market, ouer against Christes 
Church." It was licensed to James, May 30, 1581 : 
Arber II, 393. Reprinted by Percy, Reliques, 
1765, II, 204 ; here from the original. There is 

an imperfect and incorrect copy in the Percy MS., 
p. 273 ; Hales and Furnivall, II, 265. 

Morton was beheaded only three days after these 
verses were licensed, and had been in durance for 
several months before at the castle of Edinburgh. 
Elderton cannot be supposed to have the last news 
from Scotland, and he was not a man to keep his 
compositions by him nine years. The exhortation 
of Morton to his confederate, Douglas, in the last 
stanza but one is divertingly misplaced. The fic 
tions of the privie banket and the selling of the 
king beyond seas are of the same mint as those in 
the ballad. 

JESUS, God ! what a griefe is this, 
That princes subiects cannot be true, 

But still the deuill hath some of his 

Will play their parts, whatsoeuer ensue ; 

Forgetting what a greeuous thing 

It is to offend the annointed kinge. 



Alas for woe ! why should it be so ? 
This makes a sorowfull heigh ho. 

In Scotland is a bonie kinge, 

As proper a youthe as ueede to be, 

Well giuen to euery happy thing 
That can be in a kinge to see; 

Yet that vnluckie countrie still 

Hath people giuen to craftie will. 
Alas for woe ! etc. 

On Whitson eue it so befell 
A posset was made to give the kinge, 

Whereof his ladie-nurse hard tell, 
And that it was a poysoned thing. 

She cryed, and called piteouslie, 

' Now helpe, or els the king shall die 1 ' 
Alas for woe 1 etc. 

One Browne, that was an English man, 

And hard the ladies piteous crye, 
Out with his sword, and besturd him than 

Out of the doores in haste to flie ; 
But all the doores were made so fast, 
Out of a window he got at last. 
Alas for woe ! etc. 

He met the bishop comming fast, 

Hauing the posset in his hande ; 
The sight of Browne made him agast, 

Who bad him stoutly staie and stand. 
With him were two that ranne away, 
For feare that Browne would make a fray. 
Alas for woe ! etc. 

' Bishop,' quoth Browne, ' what hast thou there? 

' Nothing at all, my freend,' sayde he, 
' But a posset to make the king good cheere.' 
' Is it so? ' sayd Browne, ' that will I see. 
First I will haue thy selfe begin, 
Before thou goe any further in ; 

Be it weale or woe, it shall be so." 
This makes a sorrowfull heigh ho. 

The bishop saide, Browne, I doo know 

Thou art a young man poore and bare ; 
Liuings on thee I will bestowe ; 

Let me go on, take thee no care. 
' No, no,' quoth Browne, ' I will not be 
A traitour for all Christiantie. 

Happe weal or woe, it shall be so : 
Drinke now, with a sorrowfull heigh ho.' 

The bishop dranke, and by and by 

His belly burst and he fell downe : 
A iust reward for his traytery. 

' This was a posset in deede ! ' quoth Browne. 
He serched the bishop, and found the keyes 
To come to the kinge when he did please. 
Alas for woe 1 etc. 

As soone as the king gat word of this, 

He humbly fell vppon his knee, 
And praysed God that he did misse 

To last of that extremity : 
For that he did perceaue and know 
His clergie would betray him so. 
Alas for woe! etc. 

' Alas,' he said, ' vnhappy realme 1 

My father and godfather slaine, 
My mother banished, O extreame 

Vnhappy fate, and bitter bayne ! 
And now like treason wrought for me. 
What more vnhappy realme can be ! ' 
Alas for woe ! etc. 

The king did call his nurse to his grace, 
And gave her twentie pound a yeere ; 
And trustie Browne to, in like case, 

He knighted him, with gallant geere, 
And gaue him . . . liuings great, 
For dooing such a manly feat 

As he did sho[w]e, to the bishops woe, 
Which made, etc. 

When all this treason don and past 

Tooke not effect of traytery, 
Another treason at the last 

They sought against his Maiestie ; 
How they might make their kinge away 
By a priuie banket on a daye. 
Alas for woe ! etc. 

Wherat they ment to sell the king 

Beyonde the seas, it was decreede: 
Three noble carles heard of this thing, 

And did preuent the same with speede. 
For a letter came, with such a charme, 
That they should doo they[r] king no harme, 
For further woe, if they did so; 
Which made a sorrowfull heigh ho. 

The Earle Mourton told the Douglas then, 

' Take heede you doo not offend the kinge: 
But shew your seines like honest men, 

Obediently in euery thing ; 
For his godmother will not see 
Her noble childe misvsde to be 

With any woe ; for if it be so, 

She will make a sorrowfull heigh ho.' 

God graunt all subiects may be true, 

In England, Scotland, and euerie where, 
That no such daunger may ensue, 

To put the prince or state in feare ; 
That God, the highest king, may see 
Obedience as it ought to be. 

In wealth or woe, God graunt it be so! 
To auoide the sorrowfull heigh ho. 





A. ' The Bonny Earl of Murray,' Ramsay's Tea-Table B. ' The Bonnie Earl o Murray,' Finlay's Scottish 
Miscellany, llth ed., London, 1750, p. 356 (vol. iv). Ballads, II, 11. 

A is not in the ninth edition of the Tea- 
Table Miscellany, 1733, but may be in the 
tenth (1736 ? 1740 ?), which I have not seen. 
It is printed in Percy's Reliques, 1765, II, 210, 
and in many subsequent collections : Herd's 
Scots Songs, 1769, p. 32 ; Ritson's Scottish 
Songs, 1794, II, 29 ; Johnson's Museum, No 
177 ; etc. 

James Stewart, son of Sir James Stewart 
of Doune, became Earl of Murray in con 
sequence of his marriage with the oldest 
daughter and heiress of the Regent Murray. 
" He was a comely personage, of a great 
stature, and strong of body like a kemp." * 
There was a violent hostility between Mur 
ray and the Earl of Huntly. The occurrence 
which is the subject of the ballad may be 
narrated in the least space by citing the ac 
count given by Spottiswood. After his as 
sault on Holyrood House in December (or 
September), 1591, " Bothwell went into the 
north, looking to be supplied by the Earl of 
Murray, his cousin-german ; which the king 
suspecting, Andrew Lord Ochiltrie was sent 
to bring Murray unto the south, of purpose to 
work a reconcilement betwixt him and Hunt 
ly. But a rumor being raised in the mean 
while that the Earl of Murray was seen in 
the palace with Bothwell on the night of the 
enterprise, the same was entertained by Huntly 
(who waited then at court) to make him sus 
pected of the king, and prevailed so far as he 
did purchase a commission to apprehend and 
bring Murray to his trial. The nobleman, not 
fearing that any such course should be used, 
was come to Donibristle, a house situated on 
the north side of Forth, and belonging to his 
Historic of King James the Sext, p. 246. 

mother the lady Doune. Huntly, being ad 
vertised of his coming, and how he lay there 
secure, accompanied only with the Sheriff of 
Murray and a few of his own retinue, went 
thither and beset the house, requiring him to 
render. The Earl of Murray refusing to put 
himself in the hands of his enemy, after some 
defence made, wherein the sheriff was killed, 
fire was set to the house, and they within 
forced by the violence of the smoke and flame 
to come forth. The earl staid a great space 
after the rest, and, the night falling down, 
ventured among his enemies, and, breaking 
through the midst of them, did so far outrun 
them all as they supposed he was escaped ; 
yet searching him among the rocks, he was 
discovered by the tip of his head-piece, which 
had taken fire before he left the house, and 
unmercifully slain. The report went that 
Huntly 's friends, fearing he should disclaim 
the fact (for he desired rather to have taken 
him alive), made him light from his horse and 
give some strokes to the dead corpse. . . . 
The death of the nobleman was universally 
lamented, and the clamors of the people so 
great . . . that the king, not esteeming it 
safe to abide at Edinburgh, removed with the 
council to Glasgow, where he remained until 
Huntly did enter himself in ward in Black 
ness, as he was charged. But he staid not 
there many days, being dimitted, upon cau 
tion, to answer before the justice whensoever 
he should be called. The corpses of the Earl 
and Sheriff of Murray were brought to the 
church of Leith in two coffins, and there lay 
divers months unburied, their friends refus 
ing to commit their bodies to the earth till 
the slaughter was punished. Nor did any 



man think himself so much interested in that 
fact as the Lord Ochiltrie, who had persuaded 
the Earl of Murray to come south ; where 
upon he fell afterwards away to Bothwell, 
and joined with him for revenge of the mur 

This outrage was done in the month of 
February, 1592. Huntly sheltered himself 
under the king's commission, and was not 
punished. He was no doubt a dangerous 
man to discipline, but the king, perhaps be 
cause he believed Murray to be an abettor of 
Bothwell, showed no disposition that way. 

According to Sir James Balfour, " the queen, 
more rashly than wisely, some few days be 
fore had commended" Murray, "in the king's 
hearing, with too many epithets of a proper 
and gallant man." Balfour may have had 
gossip, or lie may have had a ballad, for his 
authority (see A 5) ; the suggestion deserves 
no attention.* 

In B the Countess of Murray is treated as 
the sister of Huntly. 

A is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og 
skotske Folkeviser, No 8, p. 52 ; by Herder, 
II, 71. B by Arndt, Bliitenlese, p. 196. 

Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany, 1763, p. 356. 

1 YE Highlands, and ye Lawlands, 

Oh where have you been ? 
They have slain the Earl of Murray, 
And they layd him on the green. 

2 ' Now wae be to tliee, Huntly ! 

And wherefore did you sae ? 
I bade you bring him wi you, 
But forbade you him to slay.' 

3 He was a braw gallant, 

And he rid at the ring ; 
And the bonny Earl of Murray, 
Oh he might have been a king ! 

4 He was a braw gallant, 

And he playd at the ba ; 
And the bonny Earl of Murray 
Was the flower amang them a'. 

5 He was a braw gallant, 

And he playd at the glove ; 

And the bonny Earl of Murray, 

Oh he was the Queen's love ! 

6 Oh lang will his lady 

Look oer the castle Down, 
Eer she see the Earl of Murray 

Come sounding thro the town ! 
Eer she, etc. 

Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 1 1 ; from recitation. 

1 ' OPEN the gates, 

and let him come in ; 
He is my brother Huntly, 
he '11 do him nae harm.' 

2 The gates they were opent, 

they let him come in, 
But fause traitor Huntly, 
he did him great harm. 

3 He 's ben and ben, 

and ben to his bed, 

And with a sharp rapier 
he stabbed him dead. 

4 The lady came down the stair, 

wringing her bands : 
' He has slain the Earl o Murray, 
the flower o Scotland.' 

5 But Huntly lap on his horse, 

rade to the king : 
' Ye 're welcome hame, Huntly, 
and whare hae ye been ? 

* Spottiswood's History, ed. 1666, p. 387. See also The 
Historic of King James the Sext, p. 246 ff. ; Moysie's Me 
moirs, p. 88 ff. ; Birrel's Diary, p. 26 f. 



6 ' Whare hae ye been ? 

and how hae ye sped ? ' 
' I 've killed the Earl o Murray, 
dead in his bed.' 

7 ' Foul fa you, Huntly ! 

and why did ye so ? 

You might have taen the Earl o Murray, 
and saved his life too.' 

8 ' Her bread it 's to bake, 

her yill is to brew ; 
My sister 's a widow, 
and sair do I rue. 

9 ' Her corn grows ripe, 

her meadows grow green, 
But in bonny Dinnibristle 
I darena be seen.' 


A. 'The Laird o Logie,' Scott's Minstrelsy, 1833, III, 
128. The same, with the insertion of one stanza from 
recitation, Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 56. 

Randall, Stirling. The same in Motherwell's MS., 
p. 504, and in Maidment's Scotisli Ballads and 
Songs, p. 8, ' The young Laird of Logic.' 

B. 'The young Laird of Ochiltrie,' Herd, The An- D. 'Young Logie,' Harris MS., fol. 16. 
cient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 240; ed. 

1776, I, 21. Repeated in Campbell MSS, I, 142. E. ' The Laird o Logie, or. May Margaret,' Mother- 

well's Minstrelsy, p. 56, one stanza. 

C. ' The Laird of Logie,' a stall-copy printed by M. 

FRANCIS STEWART, Earl of Bothwell, a 
madcap cousin of the king, had been guilty 
of a violent assault upon Holyrood House 
in December (or September), 1591, and in 
June, 1592, had "conspired the apprehension 
of the king's person " while James was resid 
ing at Falkland. In August following he 
attempted to force himself into the king's 
presence to " make his reconciliation." 

" The lairds of Burlie and Logie, delated to 
[have] had intelligence with the Earl Both- 
well, were taken and apprehended by the 
Duke of Lennox the ninth day of August, 
1592, and committed to ward within Dal- 
keith ; where being examined they both con 
fessed the same. Burley gat his life for tell 
ing the truth, but Logie, being a great courtier 
with the king, and dealer with the Earl Both- 
well in Bothwell's enterprise which should 
[have] been done at Dalkeith, to wit, that 
they should come in at the back gate through 
the yard and [have] gotten the king in their 

hands, the said laird of Logie was ordained 
to be tried by an assize and executed to the 
death. But the same night that he was ex 
amined, he escaped out by the means of a 
gentlewoman whom he loved, a Dane, who 
conveyed him out of his keepers' hands, 
through the queen's chamber, where his Ma 
jesty and the queen were lying in their beds, 
to a window in the backside of the place, 
where he went down upon a tow [rope], and 
shot three pistols in token of his onlouping 
[mounting his horse] where some of his ser 
vants, with the laird of Niddry, were await 
ing him." (Moysie's Memoirs, p. 95.) 

Another account may be added, from The 
Historie of King James the Sext (p. 253 f.) : 

" It fortuned that a gentleman called We- 
myss of Logie, being also in credence at court, 
was delated as a trafficker with Francis Earl 
Bothwell ; and he, being examined before king 
and council, confessed his accusation to be of 
verity ; that sundry times he had spoken with 



him, expressly against the king's inhibition 
proclaimed in the contrary ; which confession 
he subscribed with his hand. . . . 

" Queen Anne, our noble princess, was served 
with divers gentlewomen of her own country, 
and namely with one called Mistress Margaret 
Twynstoun, to whom this gentleman, Wemyss 
of Logie, bore great honest affection, tending 
to the godly band of marriage ; the which was 
honestly requited by the said gentlewoman, 
yea, even in his greatest mister (ned). For 
how soon she understood the said gentleman 
to be in distress, and apparently by his con 
fession, to be punisht to the death, and she 
having privilege to lie in the queen's chamber 
that same very night of his accusation, where 
the king was also reposing that same night, 
she came forth of the door privily, both the 
princes being then at quiet rest, and past to 
the chamber where the said gentleman was 
put in custody to certain of the guard, and 
commanded them that immediately he should 
be brought to the king and queen ; where- 
unto they giving sure credence obeyed. But 
how soon she was come back to the chamber- 
door, she desired the watches to stay till he 
should come forth again ; and so she closed 
the door and conveyed the gentleman to a 
window, where she ministered a long cord 
unto him to convey himself down upon, and 
so, by her good charitable help, he happily 
escaped, by the subtlety of love." 

Calderwood gives the following account : 
" Upon Monday the seventh of August, the 
king being in Dalkeith, the young laird of 
Logie and Burlie promised to Bothwell to 
bring him in before the king to seek his par 
don. The king was forewarned, and Both- 
well, howbeit brought in quietly within the 
castle, was conveyed out again. Burlie was 
accused and confessed ; Logie denied, and 
therefore would have suffered trial. The 
night before, one of the queen's dames, Mis 
tress Margaret, a Dutchwoman, came to the 
guard and desired that he might be suffered to 

* History of the Church of Scotland, pnblished by the 
Wodrow Society, Edinburgh, 1844, V, 173; in Maidment's 
Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 8. 

t History of the Church of Scotland, ed. 1666, p. 389. 

come to the queen, who had something to in 
quire of him. Two of the guard brought him 
to the king's chamber-door, and staid upon his 
coming forth, but she conveyed him in the 
mean time out at a window in a pair of sheets. 
. . . Logie married the gentlewoman after, 
when he was received into the king's favor 
again." * Logie, according to Calderwood, 
was " a varlet of the king's chamber." 

Spottiswood says : John Weymis younger 
of Logie, gentleman of his Majesty's chamber, 
and in great favor both with the king and 
queea, was discovered to have the like dealing 
with Bothwell, and, being committed to the 
keeping of the guard, escaped by the policy of 
one of the Dutch maids, with whom he en 
tertained a secret love. The gentlewoman, 
named Mistress Margaret Twinslace, coming 
one night, whilst the king and queen were 
in bed, to his keepers, shewed that the king 
called for the prisoner, to ask of him some 
question. The keepers, suspecting nothing, 
for they knew her to be the principal maid 
in the chamber, conveyed him to the door of 
the- bed-chamber, and making a stay without, 
as they were commanded, the gentlewoman 
did let him down at a window, by a cord 
that she had prepared. The keepers, waiting 
upon his return, staid there till the morning, 
and then found themselves deceived. This, 
with the manner of the escape, ministered 
great occasion of laughter ; and not many 
days after, the king being pacified by the 
queen's means, he was pardoned, and took to 
wife the gentlewoman who had in this sort 
hazarded her credit for his safety. f 

The lady, called by Calderwood and Spot 
tiswood a Dutchwoman, but rightly by Moysie 
a Dane, was one of a train of her country 
women who attended Queen Anne when she 
came to Scotland in May, 1590. She is 
called Mistress Margaret Vinstar in a letter 
of Robert Bowes to Lord Burghley of August 
12, 1592; J Margaret Weiksterne in a charter 
dated 25th December, 1594. 

} Calendar of the State Papers relating to Scotland, 
Thorpe, II, 611. 

Carta loanni, filio natu maximo et heredi Andrese 
Weymis de Myrecarny, et Margarete Weiksterne, sue 



Young Logie cannot have received a com 
plete pardon within a few days of his escape. 
At a council meeting, September 14, 1592, 
it is ordered that Wemyss of Logie the 
younger, having failed to appear this day to 
answer touching the ' intercommuning and 
having intelligence with Francis, sometime 
Earl Bothwell,' be denounced rebel.* 

A. Young Logie is a prisoner, in Car- 
michael's f keeping, and May Margaret, who 
is enamored of him, is weeping for his ex 
pected death. The queen can do nothing, and 
tells her that she must go to the king himself 
to beg the life of her lover. She goes, accord 
ingly, but gets an ill answer : all the gold 
in Scotland shall not save Young Logie. In 
this strait she steals the king's comb and the 
queen's knife, and sends them to Carmichael 
as tokens that Logie is to be discharged. She 
provides the young man with money, and 
gives him a pair of pistols, which he is to fire 
in sign that he is at liberty. The king hears 
the 'volley ' from his bed, and by his peculiar 
sagacity recognizes the shot of Young Logie. 
He sends for Carmichael, and learning that 
the prisoner was set free in virtue of a royal 
token, says, You will make his place good to 
morrow. Carmichael hurries to Margaret, and 
wants a word w*th Logie. Margaret, with a 
laugh, tells him that the bird is flown. The 
young pair severally take ship and are mar 

In B, the queen, instead of referring Mar 
garet to the king as the only resource, herself 
undertakes to save the young man's life. She 
asks it of her consort as her first boon ; the 
king makes her the same answer which he 
gives Margaret in A, All the gold in Scotland 

sponse, Ten-arum de Myrecarny, etc. Fife, 25 Dec", 1594. 
Weymis de Myrecarny and Wemys de Logy are one, as ap 
pears by a charter of July 25, 1564. Register of the Great 
Seal of Scotland, Index, in the Signet Library, noted for me 
by Mr Macmath. 

* Register of the Privy Council of Scotland, V, 11. And 

again : 1594, April 13. Caution in 2000 by Wemys, 

apparent of that Ilk, for Johnne Wemyss, apparent of Logy, 
that he shall remain in ward with David Wemys of that Ilk 
till relieved. 

May 2. Caution in 300 merks by Johnne Wemys, younger 
of that Ilk, for Johnne Wemys of Logy, that he shall an 
swer before the Privy Council at Edinburgh upon 22d in 
stant " to sic thingis as salbe inquirit of him." 

will not buy mercy. Margaret, in despera 
tion, wishes to kill herself, but the queen will 
put her in a better way to save her lover. 
The queen steals the prison-keys, and the 
story proceeds as before. The king threatens 
to hang all his gaolers, to the number of 
thirty and three. The gaolers plead that 
they received the keys (which are also thirty 
and three) with a strict command to enlarge 
the prisoner. The queen says that, if the 
gaolers are to hang, a beginning must be made 
with her. 

B substitutes Ochiltrie for Logie. Andrew 
Stewart, Lord of Ochiltrie, was an active 
partisan of Bothwell (see the preceding bal 
lad), and at a council-meeting on May 2, 1594 
(the same meeting at which a caution of 
three hundred merks was required for Young 
Logie), was ordered to be denounced rebel for 
not appearing to answer touching his " tres- 
sounable attemptattis " ; that is, for having 
been Bothwell's main helper in the Raid of 
Leith, April 3 preceding. J So far his case re 
sembles Young Logic's, and it may be that the 
two became confounded in tradition earlier 
than the middle of the eighteenth century, 
about which time B was taken down. But 
an interchange of names is of the commonest 
occurrence in traditional ballads, and perhaps 
Ochiltrie's appearance here no more requires 
to be accounted for than his figuring, as he 
does, in one of the versions of ' The Broom of 

Although the queen had no hand in the 
freeing of Young Logie, and is not known 
even to have winked at it, she stood by Mis 
tress Margaret, and refused to give her up 
when requested. 

September 27. Sir Johnne Wemys of Tullibrek, Michaell 
Balfour of Monquhaine, and Andro Wemyss of Myrecairny, 
for Johnne Wemyss, son and apparent heir of Andro, 
.20,000, to go abroad by the 15th October next and not 
return without licence. Deleted by warrant subscribed by 
the king and treasurer-depute at Halirnidhous 20th Feb 
ruary, 1594. lb., pp 141 f., 144, 638. The entries in 1594 
may have reference to later offences. 

t Sir John Carmichael was appointed captain of the 
king's guard in 1588, and usually had the keeping of state 
criminals of rank. Scott. 

{The Historic of King James the Sext, p. 303 f. ; Register 
of the Privy Council of Scotland, V, 144. 

Calendar of State Papera relating to Scotland, Thorpe, 
n, 611, No 6. 



C agrees with B as to the part taken by the 
queen in the rescue. There are but three 
keepers, and presumably but three keys to 
steal from under the king's head, and the 
queen sends her wedding-ring with the keys, 
as a warrant to the keepers. In 5, Anne is 
queen of England as well as queen of Scot 
land ; but we cannot expect that a stall-ballad 
of this century should be nice about a matter 
of eleven years. 

The offence for which Young Logic is to 
die in D is the stealing of a kiss " from the 
queen's marie," which shows a high appre 
ciation of the discipline at James's court. 

The queen counterfeits the king's hand and 
steals his right glove, and sends the forged 
paper and the glove to " Pitcairn's walls " as 
authority for the liberation of the prisoner. 
The king, looking over his castle-wall, sees 
Young Logie approaching, and his exclama 
tion at the sight brings the queen to an in 
stantaneous confession of what she has done. 
The king very good-naturedly overlooks the 
offence and absolves the lover for whom it 
was committed. 

Translated from Motherwell by Wolff, 
Halle der Volker, I, 73. 

Scott's Minstrelsy, 1833,111, 128, " as recited by a gentle- 
mau residing near Biggar." 

1 I WILL sing, if ye will hearken, 

If ye will hearken unto me ; 
The king has taen a poor prisoner, 
The wanton laird o Young Logie. 

2 Young Logie 's laid in Edinburgh chapel, 

Carmichael 's the keeper o the key ; 
And May Margaret 's lamenting sail-, 
A' for the love of Young Logie. 

3 ' Lament, lament na. May Margaret, 

And of your weeping let me be ; 
For ye maun to the king himsell, 
To seek the life of Young Logie.' 

4 May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding, 

And she has curld back her yellow hair : 
' If I canna get Young Logic's life, 
Farewell to Scotland for evermair ! ' 

5 When she came before the king, 

She knelit lowly on her knee : 
' O what 's the matter, May Margaret ? 
And what needs a' this courtesie ? ' 

6 ' A boon, a boon, my noble liege, 

A boon, a boon, I beg o thee, 
And the first boon that I come to crave 
Is to grant me the life of Young Logie.' 

7 'O na, O na, May Margaret, 

Forsooth, and so it mauna be ; 
For a' the gowd o fair Scotland 

Shall not save the life of Young Logie.' 

8 But she lias stown the king's redding-kaim. 

Likewise the queen her wedding knife, 
And sent the tokens to Carmichael, 
To cause Young Logie get his life. 

9 She sent him a purse o the red gowd, 

Another o the white monie*; 
She sent him a pistol for each hand, 
And bade him shoot when be gat free. 

10 When he came to the Tolbootb stair, 

There he let his volley flee ; 
It made the king in his chamber start, 
Een in the bed where he might be. 

11 ' Gae out, gae out, my merrymen a', 

And bid Carmichael come speak to me ; 
For I '11 lay my life the pledge o that 
That yon 's the shot o Young Logie.' 

12 When Carmichael came before the king, 

He fell low down upon his knee ; 
The very first word that the king spake 
Was, Where 's the laird of Young Logie ? 

13 Carmichael turnd him round about, 

I wot the tear blinded his ee : 
' There came a token frae your Grace 
Has taen away the laird frae me.' 



14 ' Hast thou playd me that, Cannichael ? 

And hast thou playd me that ? ' quoth he ; 
' The morn the Justice Court 's to stand, 
And Logic's place ye maun supplie.' 

15 Carmichael 's awa to Margaret's bower, 

Even as fast as he may dree : 
' O if Young Logie be within, 

Tell him to come and speak with me.' 

16 May Margaret turnd her round about, 

I wot a loud laugh laughed she : 
' The egg is chippd, the bird is flown, 
Ye '11 see nae mair of Young Logie.' 

17 The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith, 

The tother at the Queen's Ferric, 

And she 's gotten a father to her bairn, 

The wanton laird of Young Logie. 

Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 240. 

1 LISTEN, gude peopell, to my tale, 

Listen to what I tel to tliee ; 
The king has taiken a poor prisoner, 
The wanton laird of Ochiltrie. 

2 When news came to our guiclly queen, 

Sche sicht, and said right mournfullie, 
' O what will cum of Lady Margret ! 
Wha beirs sick luve to Ocbiltrie.' 

3 Lady Margret tore hir yellow hair 

When as the queen tald hir the saim : 
' I wis that I had neir bin born, 

Nor neir had knawn Ochiltrie's naim ! ' 

4 ' Fie, na ! ' quoth the queen, ' that maunna be ; 

Fie, na ! that maunna be ; 
I '11 fynd ye out a better way 
To saif the lyfe of Ochiltrie.' 

5 The queen sche trippit up the stair, 

And lowlie knielt upon hir knie : 
' The first boon which I cum to craive 
Is the life of gentel Ochiltrie.' 

6 ' O iff you had askd me castels or towirs, 

I wad hae gin thaim, twa or thrie ; 
Bot a' the monie in fair Scotland 
Winna buy the lyfe of Ochiltrie.' 

7 The queen sche trippit down the stair, 

And down she gade richt mournfullie : 
' It 's a' the monie in fair Scotland 
Winna buy the lyfe of Ochiltrie ! ' 

8 Lady Margaret tore her yellow hair 

When as the queen tald hir the saim : 

' I '11 tak a knife and end my lyfe, 
And be in the grave as soon as him ! ' 

9 ' Ah, na ! Fie, na ! ' quoth the queen, 

' Fie, na ! Fie, na ! this maunna be ; 
I '11 set ye on a better way 

To loose and set Ochiltrie frie.' 

10 The queen sche slippit up the stair, 

And sche gaid up richt privatlie, 

And sche has stoun the prison-keys, 

And gane and set Ochiltrie frie. 

11 And sche 's gien him a purse of gowd, 

And another of whyt monie ; 
Sche 's gien him twa pistoles by 's syde, 
Saying to him, Shute, when ye win 

12 And when he cam to the queen's window, 

Whaten a joyfou shute gae he ! 
' Peace be to our royal queen, 
And peace be in hir companie ! ' 

13 ' O whaten a voyce is that ? ' quoth the 


' Whaten a voyce is that ? ' quoth he ; 
' Whaten a voyce is that ? ' quoth the 

' I think it 's the voyce of Ochiltrie. 

14 ' Call to me a' my gaolours, 

Call thaim by thirtie and by thrie ; 

Whairfoir the morn, at twelve a clock, 

It 's hangit schall they ilk ane be.' 

15 ' O didna ye send your keyis to us ? 

Ye sent thaim be thirtie and be thrie, 
And wi thaim sent a strait command 
To set at lairge young Ochiltrie.' 



16 ' Ah, na ! Fie, na ! ' quoth the queen, 
' Fie, my dear luve, this maunna be ! 
And iff ye 're gawn to hang thaim a', 
Indeed ye maun begin wi me.' 

17 The tane was schippit at the pier of Leith, 

The ither at the Queen's Ferrie, 
And now the lady has gotten hir luve, 
The winsom laird of Ochiltrie. 

A stall-copy, printed by M. Randall, Stirling. 

1 THE young laird of Logie is to prison cast ; 

Carmichael 's the keeper of the key ; 
Lady Margaret, the queen's cousin, is very 

And it 's all for love of Young Logie. 

2 She 's into the queen's chamber gone, 

She has kneeld low down on her knee ; 
Says she, You must go to the king yourself ; 
It 's all for a pardon to Young Logie. 

3 The queen is unto the king's chamber gone. 

She has kneeld low down on her knee : 
' what is the matter, my gracious queen ? 
And what means all this courtesie ? 

4 ' Have I not made thee queen of fair Scot 


The queen of England I trow thou be ; 
Have not I made thee my wedded wife ? 
Then what needs all this courtesie ? ' 

5 ' You have made me queen of [fair] Scotland, 

The queen of England I surely be ; 
Since you have made me your wedded wife, 
Will you grant a pardon for Young Logie ? ' 

6 The king he turned him right round about, 

I think an angry man was he : 
' The morrow, before it is twelve o'clock, 
O hangd shall the laird of Logie be.' 

7 The queen she 's into her chamber gone, 

Amongst her maries, so frank and free ; 
' You may weep, you may weep, Margaret,' 

she says, 
' For hanged must the laird of Logie be.' 

8 She has torn her silken scarf and hood, 

And so has she her yellow hair : 
' Now fare you well, both king and queen, 
And adieu to Scotland for ever mair ! ' 

9 She has put off her goun of silk, 

And so has she her gay clothing : 
' Go fetch me a knife, and I '11 kill myself, 
Since the laird of Logie is not mine.' 

10 Then out bespoke our gracious queen, 

And she spoke words most tenderlie ; 
' Now hold your hand, Lady Margaret,' she said, 
' And I '11 try to set Young Logie free.' 

11 She 's up into the king's chamber gone, 

And among his nobles so free ; 
' Hold away, hold away ! ' says our gracious 

' No more of your pardons for Young Logie. 

12 ' Had you but askd me for houses and land, 

I would have given you castles three ; 
Or anything else shall be at your command, 
But only a pardon for Young Logie.' 

13 ' Hold your hand now, my sovereign liege, 

And of your anger let it be ; 
For the innocent blood of Lady Margret 
It will rest on the head of thee and me.' 

14 The king and queen are gone to their bed, 

But as he was sleeping so quietly, 
She has stole the keys from below his head, 
And has sent to set Young Logie free. 

15 Young Logie he 'a on horseback got, 

Of chains and fetters he 's got free ; 
As he passd by the king's window, 
There he has fired vollies three. 

1G The king he awakend out of his sleep, 

Out of his bed came hastilie ; 
Says, I '11 lay all my lands and rents 
That yonder 's the laird of Logie free.' 

17 The king has sent to the prison strong, 

He has calld for his keepers three ; 
Says, How does all your prisoners ? 

And how does the young laird of Logie ? 



18 ' Your Majesty sent me your wedding-ring, 

With your high command to set him free ; ' 
' Then tomorrow, before that I eat or drink, 
I surely will hang you keepers three.' 

19 Then out bespoke our gracious queen, 

And she spoke words most tender lie ; 

' If ever you begin to hang a man for this, 
Your Majesty must begin with me." 

20 The one took shipping at [the pier of] Leith, 

The other at the Queen's Ferrie ; 
Lady Margaret has gotten the man she loves, 
I mean the young laird of Logie. 

Harris MS., fol. 16 ; from Mrs Harris's recitation. 

1 PRETTY is the story I hae to tell, 

Pretty is the praisin o itsel, 
An pretty is the prisner oor king 's tane, 
The rantin young laird o Logie. 

2 Has he brunt ? or has he slain ? 

Or has he done any injurie ? 
Oh no, no, he 's done nothing at all, 
But stown a kiss frae the queen's marie. 

3 Ladie Margaret cam doon the stair, 

Wringin her hands an tearin her hair ; 
Cryin, Oh, that ever I to Scotland cam, 
Aye to see Young Logie dee ! 

4 ' Had your tongue noo, Lady Margaret, 

An a' your weepin lat a bee ! 
For I '11 gae to the king my sell, 
An plead for hie to Young Logie.' 

5 ' First whan I to Scotland cam, 

You promised to gie me askens three ; 
The first then o these askens is 
Life for the young laird o Logic.' 

6 ' If you had asked house or lands, 

They suld hae been at your command ; 
But the morn, ere I taste meat or drink, 
High hanged sail Young Logie be.' 

7 Lady Margaret cam doon the stair, 

Wringin her hands an tearin her hair ; 

Cryin, Oh, that ever I to Scotland cam, 
A' to see Young Logie dee ! 

8 ' Haud your tongue noo, Lady Margaret, 

An a' your weepin lat a bee ! 
For I '11 counterfiet the king's hand-write, 

An steal frae him his richt hand gloe, 
An send them to Pitcairn's wa's, 

A' to lat Young Logie free.' 

9 She counterfieted the king's hand-write, 

An stole frae him his richt hand gloe, 
An sent them to Pitcairn's wa's, 
A' to let Young Logie free. 

10 The king luikit owre his castle-wa, 

Was luikin to see what he cald see : 
' My life to wad an my land to pawn, 
Yonder comes the young laird o Logie ! 

11 ' Pardon, oh pardon ! my lord the king, 

Aye I pray you pardon me ; 
For I counterfieted your hand-write, 

An stole frae you your richt hand gloe, 
An sent them to Pitcairn's wa's, 

A' to set Young Logie free.' 

12 ' If this had been done by laird or lord, 

Or by baron of high degree, 
I 'se mak it sure, upon my word, 

His life suld hae gane for Young Logie. 

13 ' But since it is my gracious queen, 

A hearty pardon we will gie, 
An for her sake we '11 free the loon, 
The rantin young laird o Logie.' 


Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 56, the third stanza ; from 

MAY MARGARET sits in the queen's bouir, 
Knicking her fingers ane be ane, 

Cursing the day that she ere was born, 
Or that she ere heard o Logic's name. 




6 1 . and towirs in ed. 1776. 

Qu in what, etc., is rendered by w, and z in 

ze, etc., by y. 
Maidment's copy has some slight variations, 

such as often occur in different issues of 

1'. very very. I 4 , the love. 3 1 . into. 


4 2 . you be. 6 4 . It 's hanged. 7 1 . her own. 

7 2 . and so free. 7 3 . Lady Margret. 8 1 . tore. 

8", 9". she has. 8 3 . ye. II 1 . up to. 

14 2 . beds. 18 2 . commands. 

19 s . you do hang. 20 1 . at the pier of. 

2 1 . Perliaps brent. G 1 . Perliaps houses. 

10 2 . Perliaps culd. 



A. 'Burning of Auchindown." a. The Thistle of 
Scotland, p. 106. b. Whitelaw, The Book of Scot 
tish Ballads, p. 248. 

B. ' Willie Mackintosh,' Finlay's Scottish Ballads, 
II, 89. 

THE murder of the " Bonny Earl of Mur 
ray " was the occasion of serious commotions 
in the North Highlands. Towards the end 
of the year 1592, the Macintoshes of the 
Clan Chattan, who of all the faction of Mur 
ray " most eagerly endeavored to revenge his 
death," invaded the estates of the Earl of 
Huntly, and killed four gentlemen of the sur 
name of Gordon. Huntly retaliated, "and 
rade into Pettie (which was then in the pos 
session of the Clan Chattan), where he wasted 
and spoiled all the Clan Chattan's lands, and 
killed divers of them. But as the Earl of 
Huntly had returned home from Pettie, he 
was advertised that William Macintosh with 
eight hundred of Clan Chattan were spoiling 
his lands of Cabrach : whereupon Huntly and 
his uncle Sir Patrick Gordon of Auchindown, 
with some few horsemen, made speed towards 
the enemy, desiring the rest of his company 
to follow him with all possible diligence, know 
ing that if once he were within sight of them 
they would desist from spoiling the country. 

* The History of the Fends and Conflicts among the 
Clans, etc., p. 41 f, in Miscellanea Scotica. Spottiswood, ed. 
1666, j). 390. 

t Lesley, History of Scotland, p. 235 ; Gregory, History 

Huntly overtook the Clan Chattan before 
they left the bounds of Cabrach, upon the 
head of a hill called Stapliegate, where, with 
out staying for the rest of his men, he invaded 
them with these few he then had. After a 
sharp conflict he overthrew them, chased 
them, killed sixty of their ablest men, and 
hurt William Macintosh with divers others of 
his company." * 

Two William Macintoshes are confounded 
in the ballad. The burning of Auchindown 
is attributed, rightly or wrongly, to an earlier 
William, captain of the clan, who, in August, 
1550, was formally convicted of conspiracy 
against the life of the Earl of Huntly, then 
lieutenant in the north, sentenced to lose his 
life and lands, and, despite a pledge to the 
contrary, executed shortly after by the Coun 
tess of Huntly.f 

Auchindown castle is on the banks of the 
Fiddich, B 1. By Cairn Groom, A 4, is meant, 
I suppose, the noted Cairngorm mountain, at 
the southern extremity of Banffshire. 

of the Western Highlands, ed. 1881, p. 184; Browne, His 
tory of the Highlands, IV, 476. For the traditional story, 
Finlay, II, 95, note; Laing's Thistle of Scotland, p. 107f. ; 
Whitelaw, p. 248. 



a. The Thistle of Scotland, p. 106, 1823. b. Whitelaw, 
The Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 248 ; from an Aberdeen 
newspaper of about 1815. 

1 'TURN, Willie Macintosh, 

Turn, I bid you ; 
Gin ye burn Auchindown, 
Huntly will head you.' 

2 ' Head me or hang me, 

That canna fley me ; 

I '11 burn Auchendown 

Ere the life lea me.' 

3 Coming clown Deeside, 

In a clear morning, 

Auchiudown was in flame, 
Ere the cock-crawing. 

4 But coming oer Cairn Croom, 

And looking down, man, 
I saw Willie Macintosh 
Burn Auchindown, man. 

5 ' Bonny Willie Macintosh, 

Whare left ye your men ? ' 
' I left them in the Stapler, 
But they '11 never come name.' 

6 ' Bonny Willie Macintosh, 

Whare now is your men ? ' 
' I left them in the Stapler, 
Sleeping in their sheen.' 


Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 89, 1808, as recollected by 
a lady and communicated by Walter Scott. 

1 As I came in by Fiddich-side, 

In a May morning, 
I met Willie Mackintosh, 
An hour before the dawning. 

2. 'Turn again, turn again, 
Turn again, I bid ye ; 
If ye burn Auchindown, 
Huntly he will head ye.' 

3 ' Head me, hang me, 

That sail never fear me ; 

I '11 burn Auchindown 

Before the life leaves me.' 

4 As I came in by Auchindown, 

In a May morning, 
Auchindown was in a bleeze, 
An hour before the dawning. 

5 Crawing, crawing, 

For my crowse crawing, 
I lost the best feather i my wing 
For my crowse crawing. 

A. b. 1*. Turn, turn. 1 s . If you. 
2". That winna. 3 wanting. 
4 1 . But wanting. 
After 4: 

5, 6 wanting. 

Light was the mirk hour 

At the day-dawing, 
For Auchindoun was in flames 

Ere the cock-crawing. 




Glenriddell MSS, XI, 34, 1791. 

' LADS of Wamphray, ane old ballad, some 
times called The Galiard,' is the superscrip 
tion in the manuscript. Printed in Scott's 
Minstrelsy, I, 208, 1802, II, 148, 1833 ; with 
the omission of 4 and 36, the insertion of four 
verses after 8, two transpositions, and some 
changes of language. 

" The following song celebrates the skir 
mish, in 1593, betwixt the Johnstones and 
Crichtons, which led to the revival of the an 
cient 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. Lethen- 
hall was the abode of Johnstone of Wam 
phray, 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 val 
ley, where he used to secrete and divide his 
spoil with his Liddesdale and Eskdale asso 
ciates. 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." 

" Leverhay, Stefenbiggen, Girth-head, etc., 
are all situated in the parish of Wamphray. 
The Biddes-burn, where the skirmish took 
place betwixt the Johnstones and their pur 
suers, is a rivulet which takes its course 
among the mountains on the confines of 
Nithesdale and Annandale. The Wellpath 
is a pass by which the Johnstones were re 

treating to their fastnesses in Annandale. 
Ricklaw-holin is a place upon the Evan water, 
which "falls into the Annan below Moffat. 
Wamphray-gate was in these days an ale 
house." Scott's Minstrelsy, I, 208 ff., ed. 

This affair is briefly noticed in the Historic 
of King James the Sext in the following 
terms : " Sum unbrydlit men of Johnestons . . . 
hapnit to ryd a steiling in the moneth of Julij 
this present yeir of God 1593, in the lauds 
and territoreis pertening to the Lord San- 
quhar and the knyghtis of Drumlanryg, Lag 
and Closburne, upon the watter of Nyth ; 
whare, attoure the great rcaf and spulye that 
thay tuik away with violent hand, thay slew 
and mutilat a great nomber of men wha stude 
for defence of thair awin geir and to reskew 
the same from the hands of sik vicious re- 
vers." * P. 297. 

It is hard to determine whether the first 
eight stanzas of the ballad are anything more 
than a prelude, and whether 5, 7 note the cus 
tomary practice of the Lads of Wamphray, or 
anticipate, as is done in 3, certain points in 
the story which follows. The gap after 8 is 
filled by Scott with verses which describe the 
Galliard as incapable of keeping his hands 
from another man's horse, and as having gone 
to Nithsdale to steal Sim Crichton's dun. The 
Galliard makes an unlucky selection from the 
Crichton stable, and takes a blind horse in 
stead of the coveted dun. Under the impres 
sion that he has the right beast, he calls out 
to Sim to come out and see a Johnstone ride. 
The Crichtons mount for pursuit ; the Gal- 

* "In the end of this year [1593] there fell out great dation upon the lands of Sanwhare and Drumlanrig, and 
troubles in the west marches. Some of the surname of killed eighteen persons that followed for rescue of their 
Johnston having in the July preceding made a great depre- goods," etc. Spottiswood, p. 400, ed. 1666. 



Hard sees that they will be up with him, and 
tries to hide behind a willow-bush. Resists 
ance is vain, for there is no other man by but 
Will of Kirkhill ; entreaties and promises are 
bootless; the Crichtons hang the Galliard 
high. Will of Kirkhill vows to avenge his 
uncle's death, and to this end goes back to 
Wamphray and raises a large band of riders, 
who proceed to Nithsdale and drive off the 
Crichtons' cattle. On the return the John- 
stones are followed or intercepted by the 
Crichtons ; a fight ensues, and the Crichtons 

suffer severely. Will of Kirkhill boasts that 
he has killed a man for every finger of the 
Galliard. The Johnstones drive the Crich 
tons' nout to Wamphray.* 

There is a story, not sufficiently authen 
ticated, that Lord Maxwell, while engaged in 
single combat with Johnstone, at the battle of 
Dryfesands, " was slain behind his back by the 
cowardly hands of Will of Kirkhill." The 
New Statistical Account of Scotland, IV, 148, 

1 TWTXT the Girthhead and Langwood-end 
Livd the Galiard and Galiard's men. 

2 It is the lads of Lethenha, 

The greatest rogues among them a'. 

3 It is the lads of Leverhay, 

That drove the Crichtons' gier away. 

4 It is the lads o the Kirkhill, 

The gay Galiard and Will o Kirkhill, 

5 But and the lads o Stefenbiggin, 
They broke the house in at the riggin. 

6 The lads o Fingland and Hellbackhill, 
They were neer for good, but aye for ill. 

7 Twixt the Staywood Bass and Langside Hill, 
They stelld the broked cow and branded bull. 

8 It is the lads o the Girtlihead, 

The diel 'a in them for pride and greed. 

9 . 

10 The Galiard is to the stable gane ; 
Instead of the Dun, the Blind he 's taen. 

11 ' Come out now, Simmy o the Side, 
Come out and see a Johnston ride ! 

12 ' Here 's the boniest horse in a' Nithside, 
And a gentle Johnston aboon his hide.' 

13 Simmy Crichton 's mounted then, 
And Crichtons has raised mony a ane. 

14 The Galiard thought his horse had been fleet, 
But they did outstrip him quite out o sight. 

15 As soon as the Galiard the Crichton he saw, 
Beyond the saugh-bush he did draw. 

16 The Crichtons there the Galiard hae taen, 
And nane wi him but Willy alane. 

17 ' O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang, 
And I vow I '11 neer do a Crichton wrang ! 

18 ' O Simmy, Simmy, now let me be, 
And a peck o goud I '11 gie to thee ! 

19 ' O Simmy, Simmy, let me gang. 

And my wife shall heap it wi her hand ! ' 

20 But the Crichtons wadna let Willy bee, 
But they hanged him high upon a tree. 

21 O think then Will he was right wae, 
When he saw his uncle guided sae. 

22 ' But if ever I live Wamphray to see, 
My uncle's death revenged shall be ! ' 



23 Back to Wamphray Willy 's gane, 
And riders has raised mony a ane. 

24 Saying, My lads, if ye '11 be true, 
Ye 's a' be clad in the noble blue. 

25 Back to Nidsdale they are gane, 

And away the Crichtons' nout they hae taen. 

26 As they came out at the "Wallpath-head, 
The Crichtons bad them light and lead. 

27 And when they came to the Biddess-burn, 
The Crichtons bad them stand and turn. 

28 And when they came to the Biddess-strand, 
The Crichtons they were hard at hand. 

29 But when they cam to the Biddess-law, 
The Johnstons bad them stand and draw. 

30 Out then spake then Willy Kirkhill : 

' Of fighting, lads, ye 's hae your fill.' 

31 Then off his horse Willy he lap, 

And a burnishd brand in his hand he took. 

32 And through the Crichtons Willy he ran, 
And dang them down both horse and man. 

33 O but these lads were wondrous rude, 
When the Biddess-burn ran three days blood ! 

34 ' I think, my lads, we 've done a noble deed ; 
We have revengd the Galiard's blood. 

35 ' For every finger o the Galiard's hand, 
I vow this day I 've killed a man.' 

36 And Inane for Wamphray they are gane, 
And away the Crichtons' nout they 've taen. 

37 ' Sin we 've done na hurt, nor we '11 

take na wrang, 
But back to Wamphray we will gang.' 

38 As they came in at Evanhead, 

At Reaklaw-holm they spred abreacl. 

39 ' Drive on, my lads, it will be late ; 
We '11 have a pint at Wamphray Gate. 

40 ' For where eer I gang, or eer I ride, 
The lads o Wamphr[a]y 's on my side. 

41 ' For of a' the lads that I do ken, 

The lads o Wamphr[a]y 's king o men.' 

Not divided into stanzas in the MS. Scott 

makes stanzas of four lines. 
3 1 . Leuerhay. 
After 8 Scott inserts : 

For the Galliard, and the gay Galliard's men, 
They neer saw a horse but they made it their ain. 

The Galliard to Nithside is gane, 
To steal Sim Crichton's winsome dun. 

20 1 . let Willy bee, in the text : or the Galiard, 

in the margin. 

21 1 . In the margin .- Will of Kirkhill. 
38 2 . Breaklaw : changed in the MS. to Reak- 





a. ' An excelent old song cald Dick of the Cow.' Percy Papers, 1775. b. Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 22, 1784. 
c. Campbell, Albyn's Anthology, II, 31, 1818. 

a seems to have been communicated to 
Percy by Roger Halt in 1775. b was con 
tributed to Caw's Museum by Jobn Elliot 
of Reidheugh, a gentleman, says Scott, well 
skilled in the antiquities of the western bor 
der, c was taken down "from the singing 
and recitation of a Liddesdale-man, namely, 
Robert Shortreed, sheriff-substitute of Rox 
burghshire, in the autumn of 1816 ; " but it 
differs from b in no important respect except 
the omission of thirteen stanzas, 17, 18, 24, 
32, 35-38, 51, 52, 56-58. 

Scott's copy, I, 137, 1802, II, 63, 1833, is 
c with the deficient stanzas supplied from b. 
A copy in the Campbell MSS, I, 204, is b. 

Ritson pointed out to Scott a passage in 
Nashe's Have with you to Saffren Walden 
which shows that this ballad was popular be 
fore the end of the sixteenth century : " Dick 
of the Cow, that mad demi-lance northren 
borderer, who plaied his prizes with the lord 
Jockey so bravely," 1596, in Grosart's Nashe, 
III, 6. 

An allusion to it likewise occurs in Parrot's 
Laquei Ridiculosi, or Springes for Woodcocks, 
London, 1613, Epigr. 76. 

Owenus wondreth, since he came to Wales, 
What the description of this isle should be, 

That nere had seen but mountains, hills, and dales ; 
Yet would he boast, and stand on pedigree 

From Rice ap Richard, sprung from Dick a Cow ; 

Be cod, was right gud gentleman, look ye now ! 

Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 62, 1833. 

* As there was no great " routh " of Christian names 
among the clansmen of the borders, to-names became neces 
sary for the distinction of the numerous Jocks, Christies, 
Watties and Archies. The name of parent, or of parent and 
grandparent, was sometimes prefixed, as John's Christie, 
Agnes' Christie, Peggie's Wattie, Gibb's Jack's Johnie, Pat- 

In a list of books printed for and sold by 
P. Brooksby, 1688, occurs Dick-a-the-Cow, 
containing north-country songs: Ritson, in 
Scott's Minstrelsy, I, 223, 1833. 

Two stanzas are cited in Pennant's Tour in 
Scotland and Voyage to the Hebrides in 1772, 
Part II, p. 276, ed. 1776. 

Then Johnie Armstrong to Willie gan say, 

' Billie, a riding then will we ; 
England and us have been long at feud ; 

Perhaps we may hit on some bootie.' 

Then they 're come on to Huttou-Ha ; 

They rade that proper place about ; 
But the laird he was the wiser man, 

For he had left na geir without 

Fair Johnie Armstrong* and Willie his 
brother, having lain long in, ride out on the 
chance of some booty. They come to Hutton 
Hall, but find no gear left without by the ex 
perienced laird, except six sheep, which they 
scorn to take. Johnie asks Willie who the 
man was that they last met, and learning that 
it was Dick o the Cow, a fool whom he knows 
to have three as good kine as are in Cumber 
land, says, These kine shall go with me to Lid- 
desdale. They carry off Dick's three kine, 
and also three coverlets from his wife's bed. 
When daylight reveals the theft, Dick's wife 
raises a wail ; he bids her be still, he will 
bring her three cows for one. Dick goes to 
his master and makes his loss known, and asks 

tie's Geordie's Johnie ; sometimes the place of abode was 
added, as Jock o the Side ; sometimes there was distinction 
by personal peculiarities, dress, or arms, as Fair Johnie, 
Red Cloak, John with the Jack, etc., etc. See lists of all 
varieties in Mr R. B. Armstrong's History of Liddesdale, 
etc., p. 78 f. 



leave to go to Liddesdale to steal ; his troth 
is required that he will steal from none but 
those who have stolen from him. Dickie goes 
on to Puddingburn, where there are three 
and thirty Armstrongs, and complains to the 
Laird's Jock of the wrong which Fair Johnie 
Armstrong and Willie have done him. Fair 
Johnie is for hanging Dick, Willie for slaying 
him, and another young man for tossing him 
in a sheet, beating him, and letting him go. 
The Laird's Jock, who is a better fellow than 
the rest, tells Dick that if he will sit down he 
shall have a bit of his own cow. Dick ob 
serves that a key has been flung over the door- 
head by lads who have come in late. With 
this key he opens the stable where are the 
Armstrongs' three and thirty horses. He ties 
all but three with a triple knot,* leaps on 
one, takes another in his hand, and makes 
off. Fair Johnie discovers in the morning 
that his own horse and Willie's have been 
stolen, borrows the Laird's-Jock's, which Dick 
(for improvement of the story) happens not 
to have tied, arms himself, and sets out in 
pursuit. Overtaking Dick on Canoby lee, 
Johnie sends a spear at him, which only 
pierces the innocent's jerkin. Dick turns on 
Johnie, and has the good fortune to fell him 
with the pommel of his sword. He strips 
Johnie of armor and sword, takes the third 
horse, and goes home to his master, who 
threatens to hang him for his thieving. The 
fool plants himself upon the terms his master 
had made with him : he had stolen from none 
but those that had stolen from him. His hav 
ing the Laird Jock's horse requires explana 
tion ; but Dick is able to give such satisfaction 
on that point that his master offers twenty 
pound and one of his best milk-kye for the 
horse. Dick exacts and gets thirty, and 

* Ties them with St Mary's knot : hamstrings them, says 
Caw, and say others after him. A St John's knot is double, 
a St Mary's triple. Observe that in 31 it is simply said that 
there is only one horse loose in the stable. 

t " The Armstrongs at length got Dick o the Cow in their 
clutches, and, out of revenge, they tore his flesh from his 
bones with rod-hot pincers : " note in Caw's Museum, p. 35. 
"At the conclusion of the ballad, the singer used invariably 
to add that Dickie's removal to Burgh under Stainniuir did 
not save him from the clutches of the Armstrongs. Having 
fallen into their power, several years after this exploit, he 

makes the same bargain with his master's 
brother for Fair Johnie Armstrong's horse. 
So he goes back to his wife, and gives her three 
score pound for her three coverlets, two kye 
as good as her three, and has the third horse 
over and above. But Dick sees that he can 
not safely remain on the border after this 
reprisal upon the Armstrongs, and removes 
to Burgh (Brough) under Stainmoor, in the 
extreme south of Cumberland, f 

Henry Lord Scroop of Bolton was warden 
of the West Marches for thirty years from 
1563,- and his son Thomas for the next ten 
years, down to the union of the crowns. 
Which of the two is intended in this ballad 
might be settled beyond question by identi 
fying my lord's brother, Ralph Scroop, Bailif 
Glazenberrie, or Glozenburrie, st. 54 f. ; but 
the former is altogether more probable. 

The Laird's Jock, in the opinion of Mr R. 
B. Armstrong, was a son of Thomas of Man- 
gerton, the elder brother of Gilnockie. There 
are notices of him from 1569 to 1599. In 
1569 Archibald Armstrong of Mangerton de 
clined to be pledge for John Armstrong, called 
the Lardis Jok, Reg. P. Council ; in 1599 he 
and other principal Armstrongs executed a 
bond, J and he is mentioned (in what fashion 
will presently appear) at various intermediate 

Jock, the Laird's son, an Armstrong of Lid 
desdale, had a brother called John, MS. 
General Register House, 1569. (He is not 
called Fair John in any document besides the 
ballad.) In a later MS. there is an entry of 
the marriage of John Armstrong, called the 
Lord's John. John Armstrong, son to the 
laird of Mangerton, is witness to two bonds 
in which John of the Syde is a party, in 1562, 
1563 : R. B. Armstrong, History of Liddes- 

was plunged into a large boiling pot, and so put to death. 
The scene of this cruel transaction is pointed out somewhere 
in Cumberland." Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 55, note. 
No well-wisher of Dick has the least occasion to be troubled 
by these puerile supplements of the singers. 

( I am indebted to Mr R. B. Armstrong for all infor 
mation not hitherto published. 

" It was not unusual to call two sons by a favorite name, 
and the brother of Gilnockie would have probably called his 
sons by that name : " R. B. A. 



dale, etc., Appendix, pp. ciii, civ. In a Lon 
don MS. the Lord's John is said to have been 

The Laird's Jock, his father the laird of 
Mangerton, Sim's Thorn, and their accom 
plices, are complained of in November, 1582, 
by Sir Simon Musgrave for burning of his 
barns, wheat, etc., worth ,1,000 sterling: 
Nicolson and Burn, History of Westmoreland 
and Cumberland, I, xxxi. The commenda 
tion of the Laird's Jock's honesty in st. 47, 
as Scott says, seems but indifferently founded ; 
" for in July, 1586, a bill was fouled against 
him, Dick of Dryup, and others, by the dep 
uty of Bewcastle, at a warden-meeting, for 
four hundred head of cattle taken in open 
foray from the Drysike in Bewcastle ; and in 
September, 1587, another complaint appears, 
at the instance of one Andrew Rutledge of the . 
Nook, against the Laird's Jock and his accom 
plices, for fifty kine and oxen, besides furni 
ture to the amount of one hundred merks ster 
ling : " Nicolson and Burn, as above. To be 
sure, we find the laird of Mangerton, on the 
next page, making complaints of the same 
kind against various persons, but it is to be 
feared that the Laird's Jock, at least, did not 
keep to the innocent's golden rule, ' to steal 
frae nane but them that sta from thee.' Sir 
Richard Maitland gives him his character: 
Thay spuilye puire men of thair pakis, 
Thay leif e tham nocht on bed nor bakis ; 
Baith henne and cok, 
With reill and rok, 

The Lairdis Jok all with him takis. (MS.) 
Hutton Hall, 3, being more than twenty 
miles from the border, seems remote for the 

* "The place which is alluded to by Scott was pointed 
out to me about thirty years since. There then were the 
remains of a tower which stood on a small plateau where 
the Dow Sike and the Blaik Grain join the Stanygillhurn, 
a tributary of the Tinnisburn. Some remains of the build 
ing may still be traced at the northern angle of the sheep- 
fold of which it forms part. The walls that remain are 4 
feet 3 inches thick, and measured on the inside about 6 
feet high. They extend about 18 feet 6 inches in one 
direction and 14 feet in another, forming portions of two 

Armstrongs' first reconnaissance, and it is no 
wonder that Fair Johnie stickled at driving 
six sheep to such a distance. We might ask 
how Dick, who evidently lives near Carlisle 
(for, besides other reasons, he is intimately 
acquainted with the Armstrongs), should have 
been met so far from home. 

Harribie, 14, mentioned also in ' Kinmont 
Willie,' was the place of execution at Carlisle. 

Puddingburn House, 16, according to 
Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 48, was a 
strong place on the side of the Tinnis Hill, 
about three miles westward from the Syde 
(and therefore a very little further from the 
house of Mangerton), of which the ruins now 
serve for a sheepfold. A MS. cited by Mr 
R. B. Armstrong says : " Joke Armestronge, 
called the Lord's Joke, dwelleth under Denys 
Hill besides Kyrsoppe in Tenisborne ; " and 
in another MS. the Lord Jock of Tennesborne 
is stated to have lived a mile west from Ker- 
sopp-foote. The name Puddingburn has not 
been found on any map.* 

Cannobei, 34, is on the east of the Esk, just 
above its juncture with the Liddel. Mattan, 
52, 58 (Morton in b), is perhaps the small 
town a few miles east of Whitehaven. There 
were cattle-fairs at Arlochden, which is very 
nigh, in the early part of this century : Ly- 
sons, Cumberland, p. 10. 

The Cow in Dick's name can have no ref 
erence to his cattle, for then his style would 
have been Dick o the Kye. Cow may pos 
sibly denote the hut in which he lived ; or 
bush, or broom. 

Translated by Knortz, Schottische Balla- 
den, No 15, p. 42. 

sides with the angle of the tower. . . . There must have 
been a considerable building of a rude kind. . . . This 
place, as the crow flies, is quite two miles and a quarter 
from Kershope-foot, and by the burn two miles and a half. 
. . . The Laird's Jock's residence is marked on a sketch 
map of Liddesdale by Lord Burleigh, drawn when Simon 
was laird of Mangerton. (Simon, son of Thomas, was laird 
in 1578-9.) It is also marked at the mouth of the Tinnis 
burn on a ' platt ' of the country, of 1590." B. B. A. 



1 Now Liddisdale has lain long in, 

Fa la 
There is no rideing there a ta ; 

Fa la 

Their horse is growing so lidder and fatt 
That are lazie in the sta. 

Fa la la didle 

2 Then Johne Armstrang to Willie can say, 

Billie, a rideing then will we ; 
England and us has been long at a feed ; 
Perhaps we may hitt of some bootie. 

3 Then they 'r comd on to Hutton Hall, 

They rade that proper place about ; 
But the laird he was the wiser man, 
For he had left nae gear without. 

4 Then lie had left nae gear to steal, 

Except six sheep upon a lee ; 
Says Johnie, I 'de rather in England die 
Before their six sheep good to Liddisdale 
with me. 

5 ' But how cald they the man we last -with mett, 

Billie, as we came over the know ? ' 
' That same he is an innocent fool, 

And some men calls him Dick o the Cow.' 

6 ' That fool has three as good kyne of his own 

As is in a' Cumberland, billie,' quoth he : 
' Betide my life, betide my death, 

These three kyne shal go to Liddisdaile with 

7 Then they 're comd on to the poor fool's house, 

And they have broken his wals so wide ; 
They have loosd out Dick o the Cow's kyne 

And tane three coerlets off his wife's bed. 

8 Then on the morn, when the day grew light, 

The shouts and crys rose loud and high : 
' Hold thy tongue, my wife,' he says, 
' And of thy crying let me bee. 

9 ' Hald thy tongue, my wife,' he says, 

' And of thy crying let me bee, 
And ay that where thou wants a kow, 
Good sooth that I shal bring the three.' 

10 Then Dick 's comd on to lord and master, 
And I wate a drerie fool [was] he : 

'Hald thy tongue, my fool,' he says, 
' For I may not stand to jest with thee.' 

11 'Shame speed a your jesting, my lord,' quo 


' For nae such jesting grees with me ; 
Liddesdaile has been in my house this last 

And they have tane my three kyne from me. 

12 ' But I may nae langer in Cumberland dwel, 

To be your poor fool and your leel, 
Unless ye give me leave, my lord, 
To go to Liddisdale and steal.' 

13 ' To give thee leave, my fool,' he says, 

' Thou speaks against mine honour and me ; 
Unless thou give me thy trouth and thy right 


Thou '1 steal frae nane but them that sta 
from thee.' 

14 ' There is my trouth and my right hand ; 

My head shal hing on Hairibie, 
I 'le never crose Carlele sands again, 

If I steal frae a man but them that sta frae 

15 Dickie has tane leave at lord and master, 

And I wate a merrie fool was he ; 
He has bought a bridle and a pair of new spurs, 
And has packed them up in his breek-thigh. 

16 Then Dickie 's come on for Puddinburn, 

Even as fast as he may drie ; 
Dickie 's come on for Puddinburn, 

Where there was thirty Armstrongs and 

17 ' What 's this comd on me ! ' quo Dicke, 

' What meakle wae 's this happend on me,' 

quo he, 
' Where here is but ae innocent fool, 

And there is thirty Armstrongs and three ! ' 

18 Yet he 's comd up to the hall among them all ; 

So wel he became his courtisie : 
' Well may ye be, my good Laird's Jock ! 
But the deil bless all your companie. 

19 ' I 'm come to plain of your man Fair Johnie 

And syne his billie Willie,' quo he ; 



' How they have been in my house this last 

And they have tane my three ky frae me.' 

20 Quo Johnie Armstrong, We '11 him hang ; 

' Nay,' thain quo Willie, ' we '11 him slae ;' 
But up bespake another young man, We 'le 

nit him in a four-nooked sheet, 
Give him his burden of batts, and lett him 

21 Then up bespake the good Laird's Jock, 

The best falla in the companie : 
Fitt thy way down a little while, Dicke, 

And a peice of thine own cow's hough I '1 
give to thee. 

22 But Dicki's heart it grew so great 

That never a bitt of it he dought to eat ; 
But Dickie was warr of ane auld peat-house, 
Where there al the night he thought for to 

23 Then Dickie was warr of that auld peat-house, 

Where there al the night he thought for to 


And a' the prayers the poor fool prayd was, 
'I wish I had a mense for my own three 

24 Then it was the use of Puddinburn, 

And the house of Mangertoun, all haile ! 
These that came not at the first call 

They gott no more meat till the next meall. 

25 The lads, that hungry and aevery was, 

Above the door-head they flang the key ; 
Dickie took good notice to that ; 

Says, There 's a bootie younder for me. 

26 Then Dickie 's gane into the stable, 

Where there stood thirty horse and three ; 
He has ty'd them a' with St Mary knot, 
All these horse but barely three. 

27 He has ty'd them a' with St Mary knott, 

All these horse but barely three ; 
He has loupen on one, taken another in his 

And out at the door and gane is Dickie. 

28 Then on the morn, when the day grew light, 

The shouts and cryes rose loud and high ; 

VOL. in. 59 

' What 's that theife ? ' quo the good Laird's 

Jock ; 
' Tel me the truth and the verity. 

29 ' What 's that theife ? ' quo the good Laird's 

Jock ; 

' See unto me ye do not lie : ' 
' Dick o the Cow has been in the stable this 

last night, 
And has my brother's horse and mine frae 


30 ' Ye wad never be teld it,' quo the Laird's 


' Have ye not found my tales f u leel ? 
Ye wade never out of England bide, 

Till crooked and blind and a' wad steal.' 

31 ' But will thou lend me thy bay ? ' Fair Johne 

Armstrong can say, 
' There 's nae mae horse loose in the stable 

but he ; 

And I 'le either bring ye Dick o the Kow again, 
Or the day is come that he must die.' 

32 'To lend thee my bay,' the Laird's Jock can 


' He 's both worth gold and good monie ; 
Dick o the Kow has away twa horse, 

I wish no thou should no make him three.' 

33 He has tane the Laird's jack on his back, 

The twa-handed sword that hang lieugh by 

his thigh ; 

He has tane the steel cap on his head, 
And on is he to follow Dickie. 

34 Then Dickie was not a mile off the town, 

I wate a mile but barely three, 
Till John Armstrang has oertane Dick o the 

Hand for hand on Cannobei lee. 

35 ' Abide th[e], bide now, Dickie than, 

The day is come that thow must die ; ' 
Dickie looked oer his left shoulder ; 

' Johnie, has thow any mo in thy company ? 

36 ' There is a preacher in owr chapell, 

And a' the lee-lang day teaches he ; 
When day is gane, and night is come, 
There 'a never a word I mark but three. 



37 ' The first and second 's Faith and Conscience ; 

The third is, Johnie, Take head of thee ; 
But what faith and conscience had thow, trai 
When thou took my three kye f rae me ? 

38 ' And when thou had tane my three kye, 

Thou thought in thy heart thou was no wel 

sped ; 

But thou sent tin billie Willie oer the know, 
And he took three coerlets of my wife's bed.' 

39 Then Johne lett a spear fa leaugh by his thigh, 

Thought well to run the innocent through ; 
But the powers above was more than his, 
He ran but the poor fool's jerkin through. 

40 Together they ran or ever they blan 

This was Dickie, the fool, and hee 
Dickie could not win to him with the blade of 

the sword, 
But he feld [him] with the plummet under 

the eye. 

41 Now Dickie has [feld] Fair Johne Armstrong, 

The prettiest man in the south countrey ; 
' Gramercie,' then can Dickie say, 

' I had twa horse, thou has made me three.' 

42 He has tane the laird's jack off his back, 

The twa-handed sword that hang leiugh by 

his thigh ; 
He has tane the steel cape off his head : 

' Johnie, I 'le tel my master I met with thee.' 

43 When Johne wakend out of his dream, 

I wate a dreiry man was he : 
' Is thou gane now, Dickie, than ? 
The shame gae in thy company ! 

44 ' Is thou gane now, Dickie, than ? 

The shame go in thy companie ! 
For if I should live this hundred year, 
I shal never fight with a fool after thee.' 

45 Then Dickie corned home to lord and master, 

Even as fast as he may driee : 
' Now Dickie, I shal neither eat meat nor drink 
Till high hanged that thou shall be ! ' 

46 ' The shame speed the liars, my lord ! ' quo 

'That was no the promise ye made to me ; 

For I 'd never gane to Liddesdale to steal 
Till that I sought my leave at thee.' 

47 ' But what gart thow steal the Laird 's-Jock's 

horse ? 
And, limmer, what gart thou steal him ? ' 

quo he ; 

' For lang might thow in Cumberland dwelt 
Or the Laird's Jock had stoln ought frae 


48 ' Indeed I wate ye leed, my lord, 

And even so loud as I hear ye lie ; 
I" wan him frae his man, Fair Johne Arm 
Hand for hand on Cannobie lee. 

49 ' There 's the jack was on his back, 

The twa-handed sword that hung lewgh by 

his thigh; 

There 's the steel cap was on his head ; 
I have a' these takens to lett you see.' 

50 'If that be true thou to me tels 

I trow thou dare not tel a lie 
I 'le give thee twenty pound for the good horse, 
Wel teld in thy cloke-lap shall be. 

51 'And I 'le give thee one of my best milk- 


To maintain thy wife and children three ; 
[And that may be as good, I think, 
As ony twa o thine might be.'] 

52 ' The shame speed the liars, my lord ! ' quo 


' Trow ye ay to make a fool of me ? 
I'le either have thirty pound for the good 

Or els he 's gae to Mattan fair wi me : ' 

53 Then he has given him thirty pound for the 

good horse, 

All in gold and good monie ; 
He lias given him one of his best milk-kye, 
To maintain his wife and children three. 

54 Then Dickie 's come down through Carlile 


Even as fast as he may drie : 
The first of men that he with mett 

Was my lord's brother, Bailife Glazeuberrie. 



55 ' Well may ye be, my good Ralph Scrupe ! ' 

' Welcome, my brother's fool ! ' quo he ; 
' Where did thou gett Fair Johnie Armstrong's 

horse ? ' 
' Where did I get him but steall him,' quo he. 

56 ' But will thou sell me Fair Johnie Arm- 

strong['s] horse? 

And, billie, will thou sel him to me ? ' quo he : 
' Ay, and tel me the monie on my cloke-lap, 
For there 's not one fathing I 'le trust thee.' 

57 ' I 'le give thee fifteen pound for the good horse, 

Wei teld on thy cloke-lap shal be ; 
And I 'le give [thee] one of my best milk-kye, 
To maintain thy wife and thy children three.' 

58 ' The shame speed the liars, my lord ! ' quo 


' Trow ye ay to make a fool of me ? ' quo he : 
' I 'le either have thirty pound for the good 

Or else he 's to Mattan Fair with me.' 

59 He has given him thirty pound for the good 

All in gold and good monie ; 

He has given him one of his best milk-kye, 
To maintain his wife and children three. 

60 Then Dickie lap a loup on high, 

And I wate a loud laughter lengh he : 
'I wish the neck of the third horse were 

For I have a better of my own, and onie 

better can be.' 

61 Then Dickie comd home to his wife again ; 

Judge ye how the poor fool he sped ; 
He has given her three score of English pounds 
For the three auld coerlets was tane of her 

62 ' Hae, take thee there twa as good kye, 

I trow, as al thy three might be ; 
And yet here is a white-footed naigg ; 
I think he 'le carry booth thee and me. 

63 ' But I may no langer in Cumberland dwell ; 

The Armstrongs the 'le hang me high : ' 
But Dickie has tane leave at lord and master, 
And Burgh under Stanemuir there dwels 

a. 4 4 . Over good is written went. 
10 2 . I wats : cf. 15", 34 2 , 43 2 . 

21 s . Fitt : Caw, Sit. / take fitt in the sense 

of fettle. 

23 4 . amense. 38". Sent y e . 
47 2 . steal the Laird Jock horse erroneotisly 

repeated from the line above : corrected 

from Caw. 

51 M wanting : supplied from b. 
55 1 . Srcupe. 
62 2 . for thy, thyee, corrected from three. 

b. Burden, after the first and f mirth line, Fala, 

fala, fala, faliddle. 
1*. horses are grown sae lidder fat. 
I 4 . They downa stur out o the sta. 
2 J . then we '11 gae. 2 4 . Ablins we '11 hit on. 
3". rade the. 4 8 . Quo J. 4 4 . Ere thir : gae. 
5 1 . with wanting. 5 4 . men ca. 
6 1 -*, II 4 , 19 4 . ky. 6 2 . As there 's. 
6*. me for my, twice. I 3 , three ky. 
8 1 . day was. 8 s , 9. O had. 
9 4 . In good sooth I '11. 10 1 . on for 's. 

10 s . was he. 10 8 . Now had. 

11 s . this wanting. 13 1 . I gi. 

13 2 . speakest : my. IS 8 , right wanting. 

13 4 . but wha sta frae. 14 2 . hang. 

14 4 . but wha sta. 16 2 . might. 

16 s . Now Dickie 's. 16 4 . were. 

17 1 . O what 's this comd o me now. 

18 2 . Sae well 's. 19 2 . o his. 19 8 . the last. 

20", 21 1 . up and. 

20 s . We '11 nit him in a four-nooked sheet 


20 4 . We 11 gie im his batts. 21 2 . in a' the. 
21 s . Sit thy ways: Dickie. 21 4 . thy: githee. 
22 8 . Then Dickie. 22 4 , 23 2 . there wanting. 
23 1 . o an auld. 23 s . was wanting. 
23 4 . a mense. 24 3 . came na. 24 4 . t' the. 
25 1 . weary for aevery : were. 
25 a . Aboon : hang for flang. 25 s . Dickie he. 

26 1 . Then D. into the stable is gane. 

26 2 , 27*. horses. 26 8 , 27 1 . Mary's. 

27 s . tane: his wanting. 28 s , 29 1 . O where 's. 
29*. dinna. 29 s . Dickie 's been : this wanting. 



30 1 . it wanting. 

31 1 . But lend me thy bay, Johnie. 

31 2 . mae wanting. 31 s . ye wanting. 
31*. he shall. 32 2 . worth baith. 

32 4 . na thou may make. 33 2 . lieugh wanting. 

33*. he gane. 34 1 . was na. 

34 s . Till he 's oertaiie by Johnie A. 

35 1 . Abide, abide. 35 2 . maun die. 

35 3 . Then wanting. 35*. thy wanting. 

36*. neer ae. 

37 2 . third, neer let a traitor free. 

37 8 . But Johnie : hadst : traitor wanting. 

38 1 . tane away. 38 3 . But sent thy. 

39 2 . to hae slain the innocent, I trow. 

39 s . were mair than he. 39 4 . For he. 

40 4 . But feld 'im. 41 1 . has feld. 

42 2 . leiugh wanting. 43 1 . Johnie. 

43 s , 44 1 . And is. 44 s . years. 

44 4 . I neer shall. 45 1 . come. 

45 s . I '11 neither eat nor. 

45 4 . hanged thou shalt. 

46 4 . Till I had got my. 

47 2 . gard thou steal him, quo he. 

47 4 . Ere : stawn frae. 48 3 . Johnie. 

49 s . And there 's. 49 4 . let thee. 50 2 . dare na. 

50 s , 52 s , 53 1 , 57 1 , 58 3 , 59 1 . punds. 

51 s ' 4 . And that may be as good, I think, As 

ony twa o thine might be. 
52 4 . els wanting : Mortan. 53 1 . He 's gien. 
54 1 . Dickie came. 54 2 . he might. 
54 s . met with. 54 4 . Glozenburrie. 56 1 ' 2 . wilt. 
56 4 . no ae fardin. 57 s . gi thee. 
57 4 . thy wanting. 58*. Or he 's gae : Mortan. 
60 1 . fu hie. 60 2 . laugh laughed. 
60 4 . if better can be. 61 l . Dickie's. 
61 2 . fool sped. 62 1 . these for there. 
62'. a accidentally iva/ntinrj : nagie. 
63 1 . bide for dwell. 63 4 . dwells he. 
Simple Scotticisms and ordinary contractions 

have generally not been noted. 
c. Reading of b are not repeated. 

Burden: after the first and the second verse,, 
Lai de ral, thrice, la lal de ; at the end of 
tJie stanza : 

Lal lal de ridle la di, fal lal de ridle la di, 
Fal lal di lal la, fal lal di ridle la. 

2 1 . Fair Johnie. 2 2 . riding we will. 

2 s . have been : at feid. 2 4 . we '11 light. 

3 1 . they are come. 3 2 . that proper, as a. 

4 1 . For he. 5 1 . ca. 5*. And men they call. 

6 2 . there are. 7 1 . they have come. 

7 4 . frae his. 8 2 . rase. 

9 2 . ay where thou hast lost ae. 

9 4 . suith I shall. 
10 1 . Now Dickie 's gane to the gude Lord 


II 1 . Shame fa your. II 4 . hae awa. 
12 s . you. 13 4 . Thou 'It. 15 l . leave o. 
15 2 . And wanting. 
16 1 . on to Pudding-burn house. 
16". Then : on to. 17, 18 wanting. 
19 s . house last. 20 1 . Ha quo fair. 

20 2 . then wanting. 

20 3 . Then up and spak : young Armstrang. 
21 1 . But up and spak. 21 s . down thy ways. 
21 4 . gie ye. 22 2 . the neer. 

22 3 .- Then was he aware. 

23 4 . Were I : amends : my gude. 

24 wanting. 25 2 . they threw. 25 s . o that. 

25 4 . There will be a bootie for. 

2G 1 . has into the stable gane. 

27 4 . And away as fast as he can hie. 

28 1 . But. 28 2 . raise. 

28 3 . Ah, whae has done this. 

29'. Whae has done this deed. 

29-. See that to me. 29 4 . has taen. 

31 *. But lend me thy bay, Fair Johnie can say. 

31 2 . save he. 31 s . either fetch. 32 wanting. 

33 2 . A: to hang by. 33 s . a for the. 

33 4 . And galloped on to. 

34 1 . Then wanting : frae aff. 

34 s . When he was : Fair J. A. 

35-38 wanting. 39 1 . iufor fa : misprint? 

40 s . at him. 41 1 . Thus. 41 4 . hast. 

42 1 . the steil-jack aff Johnie's back. 

42 2 . hang low. 

43*. The shame and dule is left wi me. 

44' 2 . The deil. 44 s . these h. years. 

45 1 . hame to the good Lord Scroop. 

45 J . he might hie. 

46 4 . Had I not got my leave frae. 

47*. garrd thee. 47 2 . garrd ye. 

47 s . thou mightst. 

48 s . wan the horse frae Fair. 

48 4 . Hand to. 49 2 . This : sword hang. 

49 4 . brought a'. 50 2 . And I think thou dares. 

50 s . fifteen pounds for the horse. 50 4 . on thy. 

51, 52 wanting. 53 1 . twenty pounds. 

54 2 . could drie. 55 1 . Well be ye met. 

55 s . didst. 56, 57, 58 wanting. 

59 1 . twenty punds. 59 2 . Baith in. 

60 4 . If ony of the twa were better than he. 

61 *. Dickie 's come. 61 2 . had sped. 

61 s . twa score. 61 4 . was wanting. 

62 1 . And tak. 63 a . they would. ' 63 s . So D. 

63 4 . And at. 




Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, I, 111, 1802; II, 32, 1833. 

THIS ballad celebrates a bold and masterly 
exploit of Sir Walter Scott of Branxholm, 
laird of Buccleuch, which is narrated as fol 
lows by a contemporary, Archbishop Spotis- 
wood : * 

" The Lord Scroop being then Warden of 
the West-Marches of England, and the Laird 
of Bacleugh having the charge of Lidisdale, 
they sent their deputies to keep a day of 
truce for redress of some ordinary matters. 
The place of meeting was at the Dayholme 
of Kershop, where a small brook divideth 
England from Scotland, and Lidisdale from 
Bawcastle. There met, as deputy for the 
Laird of Bacleugh, Robert Scott of Hayninge, 
and for the Lord Scroop, a gentleman with 
in the West- Wardenry called Mr Salkeld. 
These two, after truce taken and proclaimed, 
as the custom was, by sound of trumpet, met 
friendly, and, upon mutual redress of such 
wrongs as were then complained of, parted in 
good terms, each of them taking his way 
homewards. Meanwhile it happened one 
William Armstrong, commonly called Will 
of Kinmouth, to be in company with the 
Scottish deputy ; against whom the English 
had a quarrel for many wrongs he had com 
mitted, as he was indeed a notorious thief. 
This man having taken his leave of the Scots 
deputy, and riding down the river of Liddell 
on the Scottish side, towards his own house, 
was pursued by the English that espied him 
from the other side of the river, and after a 
chase of three or four miles taken prisoner, 
and brought back to the English deputy, who 
carried him away to the castle of Carlile. 

" The Laird of Bacleugh complaining of the 
breach of truce (which was always taken 
from the time of meeting unto the next day 
at sun-rising) wrote to Mr Salkeld and craved 
redress. He excused himself by the absence 
of the Lord Scroop. Whereupon Bacleugh 
sent to the Lord Scroop, and desired the 
prisoner might be set at liberty, without any 
bond or condition, seeing he was unlawfully 
taken. Scroop answered that he could do 
nothing in the matter, it having so happened, 
without a direction from the queen and 
council of England, considering the man was 
such a malefactor. Bacleugh, loath to in 
form the king of what was done, lest it might 
have bred some misliking betwixt the princes, 
dealt with Mr Bowes, the resident ambassa 
dor of England, for the prisoner's liberty : 
who wrote very seriously to the Lord Scroop 
in that business, advising him to set the man 
free, and not to bring the matter to a farther 
hearing. But no answer was returned; the 
matter thereupon was imparted to the king, 
and the queen of England solicited by letters 
to give direction for his liberty ; yet nothing 
was obtained. Which Bacleugh perceiving, 
and apprehending both the king, and himself 
as the king's officer, to be touched in honor, 
he resolved to work the prisoner's relief by 
the best means he could. 

" And upon intelligence that the castle of 
Carlile, wherein the prisoner was kept, was 
surprisable, he employed some trusty persons 
to take a view of the postern-gate, and meas 
ure the height of the wall, which he meant 
to scale by ladders ; and if those failed, to 

* The Archbishop's account is apparently based upon a manuscript of the period, in the later edition of the Min- 
more minute " relation of the maner of surprizeing of the strelsy, II, 32. There is another account of the rescue in 
Castell of Cairlell by the lord of Buccleugh," given, from a The Historic of King James the Sext, p. 366 ff. 



break through the wall with some iron in 
struments, and force the gates. This done 
so closely as he could, he drew together some 
two hundred horse, assigning the place of 
meeting at the tower of Morton,* some ten 
miles from Carlile, an hour before sun-set. 
With this company passing the water of Esk 
about the falling, two hours before day he 
crossed Eden beneath Carlile bridge (the 
water through the rain that had fallen being 
thick), and came to the Sacery [Sacray], a 
plain under the castle. There making a little 
halt at the side of a small bourn which they 
call Cadage [Caday, Caldew], he caused 
eighty of the company to light from their 
horses, and take the ladders and other instru 
ments which he had prepared with them. 
He himself, accompanying them to the foot 
of the wall, caused the ladders to be set to it ; 
which proving too short, he gave order to use 
the other instruments for opening the wall, 
nigh the postern, and finding the business 
like to succeed, retired to the rest whom he 
had left on horseback, for assuring those that 
entered upon the castle against any eruption 
from the town. With some little labor a 
breach was made for single men to enter, and 
they who first went in brake open the postern 
for the rest. The watchmen and some few 
the noise awaked made a little restraint, but 
they were quickly repressed and taken cap 
tive. After which they passed to the cham 
ber wherein the prisoner was kept, and hav 
ing brought him forth, sounded a trumpet, 
which was a signal to them without that the 
enterprise was performed. My Lord Scroop 
and Mr Salkeld were both within the house, 
and to them the prisoner cried a good-night. 
The captives taken in the first encounter 
were brought to Bacleugh, who presently re 
turned them to their master, and would not 
suffer any spoil, or booty, as they term it, to be 
carried away. He had straightly forbidden to 
break open any door but that where the pris 
oner was kept, though he might have made 
prey of all the goods within the castle and 
taken the warden himself captive ; for he would 

have it seen that he did intend nothing but 
the reparation of his Majesty's honor. By 
this time the prisoner was brought forth, the 
town had taken the alarm, the drums were 
beating, the bells ringing, and a beacon put 
on the top of the castle to give warning to 
the country. Whereupon Bacleugh com 
manded those that entered the castle, and the 
prisoner, to horse, and marching again by the 
Sacery, made to the river at the Stony bank, 
on the other side whereof certain were assem 
bled to stop his passage ; but he, causing 
sound the trumpet, took the river, day being 
then broken ; and they choosing to give him 
way, he retired in order through the Grahams 
of Esk (men at that time of great power 
and his unfriends) and came back into Scot 
tish ground two hours after sun-rising, and so 
homewards. This fell out the thirteenth of 
April, 1596." (History of the Church of 
Scotland, 1639, in the second edition, 1666, 
p. 413 ff.) 

Lord Scroope, on the morning after, wrote 
thus to the Privy Council of England : 

"Yesternight, in the dead time thereof, 
Walter Scott of Hardinge and Walter Scott 
of Goldylands, the chief men about Buclughe, 
accompanied with five hundred horsemen of 
Buclughe and Kinmont's friends, did come, 
armed and appointed with gavlocks and crows 
of iron, hand-picks, axes, and scaling-ladders, 
unto an outward corner of the base-court of 
this castle, and to the postern-door of the 
same, which they undermined speedily and 
quickly, and made themselves possessors of 
the base-court, brake into the chamber where 
Will of Kinmont was, carried him away, and, 
in their discovery by the watch, left for dead 
two of the watchmen, hurt a servant of mine, 
one of Kinmont's keepers, and were issued 
again out of the postern before they were 
descried by the watch of the inner ward, and 
ere resistance could be made. The watch, 
as it should seem, by reason of the stormy 
night, were either on sleep or gotten under 
some covert to defend themselves from the 
violence of the weather, by means whereof 

*Near the water of Sark, in the Debateable Land, and Morton Tower, called Will of Kinmouth, 1569." Register 
belonging to Kinmont Willie : " William Armstrong, in of the Privy Council of Scotland, II, 44. 



the Scots achieved their enterprise with less 
difficulty. ... If Buclughe himself have been 
thereat in person, the captain of this proud 
attempt, as some of my servants tell me they 
heard his name called upon (the truth where 
of I shall shortly advertise) then I humbly 
beseech that her Majesty may be pleased to 
send unto the king to call for and effectually 
to press his delivery, that he may receive pun 
ishment as her Majesty shall find that the 
quality of his offence shall demerit." * MS. 
of the State Paper Office, in Tytler's History, 
IX, 436. 

Kinmont's rapacity made his very name pro 
verbial. " Mas James Melvine, in urging 
reasons against subscribing the act of suprem 
acy, in 1584, asks ironically, Who shall take 
order with vice and wickedness ? The court 
and bishops ? As well as Martine Elliot and 
Will of Kinmont with stealing upon the bor 
ders ! " Scott, Minstrelsy, 1833, II, 46. 

Accordingly, when James was taking meas 
ures for bringing the refractory ministers and 
citizens of Edinburgh into some proper sub 
jection, at the end of the year 1596, a report 
that Kinmont Willie was to be let loose upon 
the city caused a lively consternation ; " but 
too well grounded," says Scott, " considering 
what had happened in Stirling ten years be 
fore, when the Earl of Angus, attended by 
Home, Buccleuch, and other border chief- 

* " The queen of England, having notice sent her of what 
was done, stormed not a little," and her ambassador was in 
structed to say that peace could not continue between the 
two realms unless Buccleuch were delivered to England, to 
be punished at the queen's pleasure. Buccleuch professed 
himself willing to be tried, according to ancient treaties, by 
commissioners of the respective kingdoms, and the Scots 
made the proposal, but Elizabeth did not immediately con 
sent to this arrangement. At last, to satisfy the queen, 
Buccleuch was put in ward at the castle of St Andrews. 
Spotiswood adds that he was " afterwards entered in Eng 
land, where he remained not long " (and Tytler to the same 
effect, IX, 226). According to one of the MSS of The His 
toric of King James the Sext, the king, to please and pleas 
ure her Majesty, entered Buccleuch iu ward at Berwick 
with all expedition possible, and the queen, of her courtesy, 
released him back in due and sufficient time: p. 421. But 
Buccleuch seems to have been entered in England only 
once, and that in 1 597, and not for the assault on Carlisle 
castle, or for a raid which he made in the next year, but 
because he did not deliver his pledges, as he was under ob 
ligation to do according to a treaty made by a joint com 
mission in 1597. See Ridpath's Border History, 1848, pp. 
473, 477. 

tains, marched thither to remove the Earl of 
Arran from the king's councils: the town 
was miserably pillaged by the borderers, par 
ticularly by a party of Armstrongs, under 
this very Kinmont Willie, who not only made 
prey of horses and cattle, but even of the very 
iron grating of the windows." Minstrelsy, 
II, 45. 

The ballad gives Buccleuch only forty men, 
and they are all of the name of Scott except 
Sir Gilbert Elliot of Stobs : st. 16. A par 
tial list of the men who forced the castle was 
obtained by Lord Scroope. It includes, as 
might be expected, not a few Armstrongs, 
and among them the laird of Mangerton, 
Christy of Barngleish (son of Gilnockie), and 
four sons of Kinmont Willie (he had at least 
seven) ; two Elliots, but not Sir Gilbert ; four 
Bells.f Scott of Satchells, in his History of 
the Name of Scott, 1688, makes Sir Gilbert 
Elliot one of the party, but may have taken 
this name from the ballad. (Scott's Min 
strelsy, 1833, II, 43.) Dick of Dryhope, 24, 
25, was an Armstrong.^ The ballad, again, 
after cutting down Buccleuch's men to thirty 
(st. 33) or forty (18, 19), assigns the very lib 
eral garrison of a thousand to the castle, 33 ; 
the ladders are long enough, Buccleuch 
mounts the first, the castle is won, and Kin 
mont Willie, in his irons, is borne down the 
ladder on Red Rowan's || shoulders: all of 

t Tytler's History, IX, 437. " The greatest nomber 
whareof war ordinar nycht-walkers " (H. of K. J. the Sext, 
p. 369). 

t " Dike Armestronge of Dryup dwelleth neare High 
Morgarton " (Mangerton). Dike Armestronge of Dryup 
appears in a list of the principal men in Liddesdale, drawn 
up when Simon Armstrong was laird of Mangerton, among 
Simon's uncles or uncles' sons. Dick of Dryup is complained 
of, with others, for reif and burning, in 1583, 1586, 1587, 
1603, and his name is among the outlaws proclaimed at 
Carlisle July 23, 1603. (Notes of Mr R. B. Armstrong.) 

" The informer saith that Buclughe was the fifth man 
which entered the castle:" Lord Scroop's letter, Tytler, 
IX, 437. But the MS. used by Scott, Spotiswood's account 
(founded chiefly or altogether upon that MS.), and The His 
toric of King James the Sext agree in saying that Buc 
cleuch remained outside, " to assure the retreat of his awin 
from the castell againe." 

|| " Red Rowy Forstcr " is one of the list complained of to 
the Bishop of Carlisle, about 1550 (see ' Hughie Granie '), 
and he is in company with Jock of Kiumont, one of Will's 
four sons, Archie of Gingles, Jock of Gingles, and George of 
the Giuglus, who may represent " The Chingles " in the in 
former's list already cited. Nicolson and Burn, I, Ixxxii. 



which is as it should be in a ballad. And so 
with the death of the fause Sakelde, though 
not a life seems to have been lost in the whole 
course of the affair. 

" This ballad," says Scott, " is preserved 
by tradition in the West Borders, but much 
mangled by reciters, so that some conjectural 
emendations have been absolutely necessary 
to render it intelligible. In particular, the 
Eden has been substituted for the Esk [in 
26 2 ], the latter name being inconsistent with 
geography." It is to be suspected that a 
great deal more emendation was done than 
the mangling of reciters rendered absolutely 
necessary. One would like, for example, to 
see stanzas 10-12 and 31 in their mangled 

1. William Armstrong, called Will of Kin- 
month, lived in Morton Tower, a little above 
the Marchdike-foot. He appears, says Mr R. 
B. Armstrong, to have been a son of Sandv, 
alias 111 Will's Sandy. Haribee is the place 
of execution outside of Carlisle. 3. The Lid- 
del-rack is a ford in that river, which, for a 
few miles before it empties into the Esk, is 
the boundary of England and Scotland. 8. 
Branxholm, or Branksome, is three miles 
southwest, and Stobs, 16, some four miles 
southeast, of Hawick. 19. Woodhouselee was 
a house on the Scottish border, a little west of 
the junction of the Esk and Liddel, " belong 
ing to Buccleuch," says Scott. 

1 O HAVE ye na heard o the fause Sakelde ? 

O have ye na heard o the keen Lord 

Scroop ? 

How they hae taen bauld Kinmont Willie, 
On Hairibee to hang him up ? 

2 Had Willie had but twenty men, 

But twenty men as stout as he, 
Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont taen, 
Wi eight score in his compauie. 

3 They band his legs beneatli the steed, 

They tied his hands behind his back ; 
They guarded him, fivesome on each side, 
And they brought him ower the Liddel- 

4 They led him thro the Liddel-rack, 

And also thro the Carlisle sands; 
They brought him to Carlisle castell, 
To be at my Lord Scroope's commands. 

5 ' My hands are tied, but my tongue is free, 

And whae will dare this deed avow ? 
Or answer by the border law ? 

Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch ? ' 

* This is also to be observed : " There are in this collec 
tion no fewer than three poems on the rescue of prisoners, 
the incidents in which nearly resemble each other, though 
the poetical description is so different that the editor did 
not think himself at liberty to reject any one of them, as 
borrowed from the others. As, however, there are several 

6 'Now hand thy tongue, thou rank reiver! 

There 's never a Scot shall set ye free ; 
Before ye cross my castle-yate, 

I trow ye shall take farewell o me.' 

7 ' Fear na ye that, my lord,' quo Willie ; 

' By the faith o my bodie, Lord Scroop,' 

he said, 

' I never yet lodged in a hostelrie 
But I paid my lawing before I gaed.' 

8 Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, 

In Branksome Ha where that he lay, 
That Lord Scroope has taen the Kinmont 

Between the hours of night and day. 

9 He has taen the table wi his hand, 

He garrd the red wine spring on hie ; 

' Now Christ's curse on my head,' he said, 

' But avenged of Lord Scroop I '11 be ! 

10 ' is my basnet a widow's curch ? 

Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree ? 
Or my arm a ladye's lilye hand ? 

That an English lord should lightly me. 

verses which, in recitation, are common to all these three 
songs, the editor, to prevent unnecessary and disagreeable 
repetition, has used the freedom of appropriating them to 
that in which they seem to have the best poetic effect." 
' Jock o the Side,' Minstrelsy, II, 76, ed. 1833. 



11 ' And have they taen him Kinmont Willie, 

Against the truce of Border tide, 
And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch 
Is keeper here on the Scottish side ? 

12 ' And have they een taen him Kinmont Willie, 

Withouten either dread or fear, 
And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch 
Can hack a steed, or shake a spear ? 

13 ' O were there war between the lands, 

As well I wot that there is none, 
I would slight Carlisle castell high, 
Tho it were builded of marble-stone. 

14 ' I would set that castell in a low, 

And sloken it with English blood ; 
There 's nevir a man in Cumberland 
Should ken where Carlisle castell stood. 

15 ' But since nae war 's between the lands, 

And there is peace, and peace should be, 
I '11 neither harm English lad or lass, 
And yet the Kinmont freed shall be ! ' , 

16 He has calld him forty marchmen bauld, 

I trow they were of his ain name, 
Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, calld 

The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same. 

17 He has calld him forty marchmen bauld, 

Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch, 
With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, 
And gleuves of green, and feathers blue. 

18 There were five and five before them a', 

Wi hunting-horns and bugles bright ; 
And five and five came wi Buccleuch, 
Like Warden's men, arrayed for fight. 

19 And five and five like a mason-gang, 

That carried the ladders lang and hie ; 
And five and five like broken men ; 

And so they reached the Woodhouselee. 

20 And as we crossd the Bateahle Land, 

When to the English side we held, 
The first o men that we met wi, 

Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde ! 

21 ' Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen ? ' 

Quo fause Sakelde ; ' come tell to me ! ' 
VOL. in. 60 

' We go to hunt an English stag, 
Has trespassd on the Scots countrie.' 

22 ' Where be ye gaun, ye marshal-men ? ' 

Quo fause Sakelde ; ' come tell me true ! ' 
' We go to catch a rank reiver, 

Has broken faith wi the bauld Buccleuch.' 

23 ' Where are ye gaun, ye mason-lads, 

Wi a' your ladders lang and hie ? ' 
' We gang to herry a corbie's nest, 

That wous not far frae Woodhouselee.' 

24 ' Where be ye gaun, ye broken men ? ' 

Quo fause Sakelde ; ' come tell to me ! ' 
Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, 
And the nevir a word o lear had he. 

25 ' Why trespass ye on the English side ? 

Row-footed outlaws, stand ! ' quo he ; 
The neer a word had Dickie to say, 

Sae he thrust the lance thro his fause bodie. 

26 Then on we held for Carlisle toun, 

And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we crossd ; 
The water was great, and meikle of spait, 
But the nevir a horse nor man we lost. 

27 And when we reachd the Staneshaw-bank, 

The wind was rising loud and hie ; 
And there the laird garrd leave our steeds, 
For fear that they should stamp and nie. 

28 And when we left the Staneshaw-bank, 

The wind began full loud to blaw; 
But 't was wind and weet, and fire and sleet, 
When we came beneath the castel-wa. 

29 We crept on knees, and held our breath, 

Till we placed the ladders against the wa ; 
And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell 
To mount the first before us a'. 

30 He has taen the watchman by the throat, 

He flung him down upon the lead : 
' Had there not been peace between our lands, 
Upon the other side thou hadst gaed. 

31 ' Now sound out, trumpets ! ' quo Buccleuch ; 

' Let 's waken Lord Scroope right merrilie ! ' 
Then loud the Warden's trumpets blew 
' O whae dare meddle wi me ? ' 



32 Then speedilie to wark we gaed, 

And raised the slogan ane and a', 
And cut a hole tliro a sheet of lead, 
And so we wan to the castel-ha. 

33 They thought King James and a' his men . 

Had won the house wi bow and speir ; 
It was but twenty Scots and ten 
That put a thousand in sic a stear ! 

34 Wi coulters and wi forehammers, 

We garrd the bars bang merrilie, 
Untill we came to the inner prison, 
Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie. 

35 And when we cam to the lower prison, 

Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie, 

' O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, 

Upon the morn that thou 's to die ? ' 

36 ' O I sleep saft, and I wake aft, 

It 's long since sleeping was fleyd frae me ; 
Gie my service back to my wyf e and bairns, 
And a' gude fellows that speer for me.' 

37 Then Red Rowan has hente him up, 

The starkest men in Teviotdale : 
' Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, 

Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell. 

38 ' Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope ! 

My gude Lord Scroope, farewell ! ' he cried ; 
' I '11 pay you for my lodging-maill 

When first we meet on the border-side.' 

39 Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, 

We bore him down the ladder lang ; 

At every stride Red Rowan made, 

I wot the Kinmont's aims playd clang. 

40 ' O mony a time,' quo Kinmont Willie, 

' I have ridden horse baith wild and wood : 
But a rougher beast than Red Rowan 
I ween my legs have neer bestrode. 

41 ' And mony a time,' quo Kinmont Willie, 

' I 've pricked a horse out oure the furs ; 
But since the day I backed a steed 
I nevir wore sic cumbrous spurs.' 

42 We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank, 

When a' the Carlisle bells were rung, 

And a thousand men, in horse and foot, 

Cam wi the keen Lord Scroope along. 

43 Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water, 

Even where it flowd frae bank to brim, 
And he has plunged in wi a' his band, 
And safely swam them thro the stream. 

44 He turned him on the other side, 

And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he : 
' If ye like na my visit in merry England, 
In fair Scotland come visit me ! ' 

45 All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope, 

He stood as still as rock of stane ; 
He scarcely dared to trew his eyes 
When tliro the water they had gane. 

46 ' He is either himsell a devil frae hell, 

Or else his mother a witch maun be ; 
I wad na have ridden that wan water 
For a' the gowd in Christentie.' 




A. 'John a Side,' Percy MS., p. 254; Hales and C. ' John o the Side,' Percy Papers, as collected from 
Furnivall, II, 203. the memory of an old person in 1775. 

B. 'Jock o the Side.' a. Caw's Poetical Museum, D. Percy Papers, fragment from recitation, 1774. 
1784, p. 145. b. Campbell, Albyn's Anthology, 

II, 28, 1818. 

THE copy in Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802, I, 
154, 1833, II, 76, is B b, with the insertion 
of three stanzas (0, 7, 23) from B a. Neither 
Campbell nor Scott has the last stanza of B a. 
Campbell says, in a note to his copy: The 
melody and particularly the words of this 
Liddesdale song were taken down by the 
editor from the singing and recitation of Mr 
Thomas Shortreed, who learnt it from his 
father. As to the words (except in the omis 
sion of four stanzas), b does not differ signifi 
cantly from a, and it may, with little hesita 
tion, be said to have been derived from a. 
Campbell seems to have given this copy to 
Scott, who published it sixteen years before 
it appeared in the Anthology, with the addi 
tion already mentioned.* The copy in the 
Campbell MSS, I, 220, is B a. 

The earliest appearance of John o the Side 
is, perhaps, in the list of the marauders 
against whom complaint was made to the 
Bishop of Carlisle " presently after " Queen 
Mary Stuart's departure for France ; not far, 
therefore, from 1550 : " John of the Side 
(Gleed John)." 

Mr R. B. Armstrong has printed two 
bonds in which John Armstrong of the Syde 
is a party, with others, of the date 1562 and 
1563. History of Liddesdale, etc., Appen 
dix, pp ciii, civ, Nos LXV, LXVI. 

The earls of Northumberland and West 
moreland, after the failure of the Rising in 

the North, fled first to Liddesdale, and thence 
" to one of the Armstrongs," in the De- 
bateable Land. The Liddesdale men stole 
the Countess of Northumberland's horses, 
and the earls, continuing their flight, left her 
" on foot, at John of the Syde's house, a cot 
tage not to be compared to any dog-kennel in 
England." At his departing, " my lord of 
Westmoreland changed his coat of plate and 
sword with John of the Syde, to be the more 
unknown : " Sussex to Cecil, December 22, 
1569, printed in Sharp's Memorials of the 
Rebellion, p. 114 f. 

John is nephew to the laird of Mangerton 
in B 1, 3, 4, C 1, 3, and therefore cousin to 
the Laird's Jock and the Laird's Wat : f but 
this does not appear in A. 

Sir Richard Maitland commemorates both 
John of the Syde and the Laird's Jock in his 
verses on the thieves of Liddesdale : 

He is weill kend, Johne of Syde, 
A greater theife did never ryd : 

He never tyres 

For to brek byres, 

Our inuire and myres our guid ane gyde. 
(MS., fol. 4, back, line 13.) 

An Archie Armstrang in Syde is com 
plained of, with others, in 1596, for burning 
eleven houses (Register of the Privy Council 
of Scotland, V, 294), and Christie of the Syde 

* Campbell " projected " his work as early as 1790, and " I do not say there never was a Laird's Wat, but I do not 

he intimates in his preface, p. viii (if I have rightly under- recollect having met with an Armstrong called Walter dur- 

stood him), that he gave help to Scott. ing the sixteenth century : " Mr R. B. Armstrong. 

t For the Laird's Jock, see ' Dick o the Cow,' No 185. 



is " mentioned in the list of border clans, 
1597 " (Scott). 

In Blaeu's map of Liddesdale, " Syid " is 
on the right bank of the Liddel, nearly op 
posite Mangerton, but a little higher up the 

A. John a Side has been taken in a raid * 
and carried prisoner to Newcastle. Sybill o 
the Side (his mother, 20) runs by the water 
with the news to Mangerton, where lords and 
ladies are ready to sell all their cattle and 
sheep for John's ransom. But Hobby Noble 
says that with five men he would fetch John 
back. The laird offers five thousand, but 
Hobby will take only five. They will not go 
like men of war, but like poor corn-dealers, 
and their steeds must be barefoot. When 
they come to Chollerton, on the Tyne, the 
water is up. Hobby asks an old man the 
way over the ford. The old man in three 
score years and three has never seen horse go 
over except a horse of tree ; meaning, we may 
suppose, a foot-bridge. In spite of the old 
man they find a way where they can cross 
in pairs. In Howbram wood they cut a tree 
of three-and-thirty foot, and with help of this, 
or without it, they climb to the top of the 
castle, where John is making his farewells to 
his mother, the lord of Mangerton, Much the 
Miller's son, and "Lord Clough." Hobby 
Noble calls to John to say that he has come 
to loose him ; f John fears that it will not be 
done. Two men keep the horses, and four 
break the outer door (John himself breaking 
five doors within) and come to the iron door. 
The bell strikes twelve. Much the Miller 
fears they will be taken, and even John de 
spairs of success. Hobby is not daunted ; he 
files down the iron door and takes John out. 
John in his bolts can neither sit nor stride ; 
Hobby ties the chains to John's feet, and says 
John rides like a bride. As they go through 
Howbram town John's horse stumbles, and 

* If the text is right, John (or was it Hobble Noble ?) had 
killed Peeter a Whifeild. See ' Hobbie Noble,' 9*. 

t " I am a bastard brother of thine," says Hobby in 2G 3 ; 
cf. 28 2 . But in B 7 and ' Ilobie Noble,' 3, he is an English 
man, born in Newcastle, and banished to Liddesdale. 

} This device, whether of great practical nse or not, has 
ranch authority to favor it : Ilereward, De Gestis Herwardi, 

Much is again in a panic, which seems to show 
that John's commendation of him in 22 ap 
plies rather to his capacity as a thief than to 
his mettle. In Howbram wood they file off 
John's bolts at the feet. Now, says Hobby, 
leap over a horse ! and John leaps over five. 
They have no difficulty in fording the Tyne 
on their return, and bring John home to 
Mangerton without further trouble. 

It is Hobby Noble, then, that looses John in 
A, as he is said to have done in his own bal 
lad, st. 27 ; but in B, C the Laird's Jock takes 
the lead, and Hobie plays a subordinate part. 
The Laird's Wat replaces the faint-hearted 
Much (who, however, is again found in the 
fragment D) ; Sybil of the Side becomes 
Downie (in D Dinah) ; the liberating party is 
but three instead of six. 

The laird in B orders the horses to be 
shod the wrong way, J whereas in A the shoes 
were taken off ; and the party must not seem 
to be gentlemen, Heaven save the mark ! but 
look like corn-cadgers, as in A. At Choler- 
ford they cut a tree with fifteen nags, B 

II, C with fifty nags, on each side, D twenty 
snags, and three long ones on the top ; but 
when they come to Newcastle it proves to 
be too short, as the ladders are in the histor 
ical account of the release of Kinmont Willie. 
The Laird's Jock says they must force the 
gate. A proud porter withstands them ; they 
wring his neck, and take his keys, B 13, 14, 
C 10 (cf. No 116, st. 65, No 119, 70, 71, and 

III, 95 note f). When they come to the jail, 
they let Jock know that they mean to free 
him ; he is hopeless ; the day is come he is to 
die ; fifteen stone of iron (fifty, C) is laid on 
him. Work them within and we without, 
says the Laird's Jock. One door they open 
and one they break. The Laird's Jock gets 
John o the Side on his back and takes him 
down the stair, declining help from Hobie. 
They put the prisoner on a horse, with the 

Michel, Chroniques A. Normandes, p. 81 ; Fulk Fitz-Warin, 
Wright, p. 92 ; Eustache le Moine, Michel, p. 55, vv. 1505 ff. 
(see Michel's note, p. 104 f.) ; Robert Bruce, Scotichronicon, 
Goodall, II, 226 ; other cases in Miss Bnrne's Shropshire 
Folk-Lore, pp. 16, 20, 93 note. It is repeated in 'Archie 
o Cawfield.' 



same jest as before ; the night is wet, as it 
was when Kinmont Willie was loosed, but 
they hie on merrily. They had no trouble in 
crossing the Tyne when they were coming, 
but now it is running like a sea. The old 
man had never seen it so b'ig ; the Laird Wat 
says they are all dead men. Set the prisoner 
on behind me, cries the gallant Laird's Jock, 
and they all swim through. Hardly have 
they won the other side when twenty English 
men who are pursuing them reach the river. 
The land-sergeant says that the water will 
not ride, and calls to them to throw him the 
irons; they may have the rogue. The Laird's 
Jock answers that he will keep the irons to 
shoe his grey mare.* They bring John to 
Liddesdale, and there they free him of his 
irons, B. Now, John, they say, ' the day 

was come thou wast to die ;' but thou 'rt as 
well at thy own fireside. 

In D 5 they cut their mares' tails before 
starting, and never stop running till they 
come to Hathery Haugh. Tyne is running 
like a sea when they come to Chollerton, on 
their way to the rescue, as in A. They cut 
their tree in Swinburn wood. When they are 
to re-cross the river, Much says his mare is 
young and will not swim ; the Laird's Jock (?) 
says, Take thou mine, and I '11 take thine. 

The ballad is one of the best in the world, 
and enough to make a horse-trooper of any 
young borderer, had he lacked the impulse. 
In deference to history, it is put after Kin 
mont Willie, for it may be a free version of 
his story. 

Percy MS., p. 254 ; Hales and Fnrnivall, II, 203. 


1 PEETER a Whifeild he hath slaine, 

And lohn a Side, he is tane, 
And lohn is bound both hand and foote, 
And to the New-castle he is gone. 

2 But tydinges came to the Sybill o the Side, 

By the water-side as shee rann ; 
Shee tooke her kirtle by the hem, 
And fast shee runn to Mangerton. 

The lord was sett downe at his meate ; 
When these tydings shee did him tell, 
Neuer a morsell might he eate. 

4 But lords, the wrunge their fingars white, 

Ladyes did pull themselues by the haire, 
Crying, Alas and weladay ! 

For lohn o the Side wee shall neuer see 

5 ' But wee 'le goe sell our droues of kine, 

And after them our oxen sell, 
And after them our troopes of sheepe, 

But wee will loose him out of the New Gas- 

6 But then bespake him Hobby Noble, 

And spoke these words wonderous bye ; 
Sayes, Giue me fiue men to my selfe, 
And I 'le feitch lohn o the Side to thee. 

7 ' Yea, thou 'st haue fiue, Hobby Noble, 

Of the best that are in this countrye ; 
I 'le giue thee fiue thousand, Hobby -Noble, 
That walke in Tyuidale trulye.' 

8 ' Nay. I 'le haue but fiue,' saies Hobby Noble, 

' That shall walke away with mee ; 

Wee will ryde like noe men of warr ; 

But like poore badgers wee wilbe.' 

9 They stuffet vp all their baggs with straw, 

And their steeds barefoot must bee ; 
' Come on, my bretheren,' sayes Hobby Noble, 
' Come on yowr wayes, and goe with mee.' 

10 And when they came to Culerton ford, 

The water was vp, they cold it not goe : 

And then they were ware of a good old man, 

How his boy and hee were at the plowe. 

11 ' But stand you still,' sayes Hobby Noble. 

' Stand you still heere at this shore, 
And I will ryde to yonder old man, 
And see w[h]ere the gate it lyes ore. 

* Bay and grey should be exchanged in B 10, C 7. 



12 ' But Christ you saue, father ! ' qwoth hee, 

' Crist both you saue and see ! 

"Where is the way ouer this fford ? 

For Christ's sake tell itt mee ! ' 

13 ' But I haue dwelled heere three score yeere, 

Soe haue I done three score and three ; 
I neuer sawe man nor horsse goe ore, 
Except itt were a horse of tree.' 

14 ' But fare thou well, thou good old man ! 

The devill in hell I leave with thee, 
Noe better comfort heere this night 

Thow giues my bretheren heere and me.' 

15 But when he came to his brether againe, 

And told this tydings full of woe, 
And then they found a well good gate 
They might ryde ore by two and two. 

16 And when they were come ouer the fforde, 

All safe gotten att the last, 
' Thankes be to God ! ' sayes Hobby Nobble, 
' The worst of our perill is past.' 

17 And then they came into Howbrame wood, 

And there then they found a tree, 
And cutt itt downe then by the roote ; 
The lenght was thirty ffoote and three. 

18 And four of them did take the planke, 

As light as it had beene a fflee, 

And carryed itt to the New Castle, 

Where as lohn a Side did lye. 

19 And some did climbe vp by the walls, 

And some did climbe vp by the tree, 
Vntill they came vpp to the top of the castle, 
Where lolin made his moane trulye. 

20 He sayd, God be with thee, Sybill o the Side ! 

My owne mother thou art, quoth hee ; 
If thou knew this night I were here, 
A woe woman then woldest thou bee. 

21 And fare you well, ~Lord Mangerton ! 

And euer I say God be with thee ! 
For if you knew this night I were heere, 
You wold sell your land for to loose mee. 

Thou has beene better att merke midnight 
Then euer thou was att noone o the day. 

23 And fare thou well, my good Lord Clough ! 

Thou art thy ffathers sonne and heire ; 
Thou neuer saw him in all thy liffe 

But with him durst thou breake a speare. 

24 ' Wee are brothers childer nine or ten, 

And sisters children ten or eleven. 
We neuer came to the feild to fight, 

But the worst of us was counted a man.' 

25 But then bespake him Hoby Noble, 

And spake these words vnto him ; 
Saies, Sleepest thou, wakest thou, lohn o the 

Or art thou this castle within ? 

26 ' But who is there,' qwoth lohn oth Side, 

' That knowes my name soe right and 

free ? ' 
' I am a bastard-brother of thine ; 

This night I am comen for to loose thee.' 

27 ' Now nay, now nay,' qicoth lohn o the Side ; 

' Itt ffeares me sore that will not bee ; 

Ffor a pecke of gold and silver,' lohn sayd, 

' In faith this night will not loose mee.' 

28 But then bespake him Hobby Noble, 

And till his brother thus sayd hee ; 
Sayes, Four shall take this matter in hand, 
And two shall tent our geldings ffree. 

29 Four did breake one dore without, 

Then lohn brake fiue himsell ; 
But when they came to the iron dore, 
It smote twelue vpon the bell. 

30 ' Itt ffeares me sore,' sayd Much, the Miller, 

' That heere taken wee all shalbee ; ' 
' But goe away, bretheren,' sayd lohn a Side, 
' For euer alas ! this will not bee.' 

31 ' But ffye vpon thee ! ' sayd Hobby Noble ; 

' Much, the Miller, fye vpon thee ! 
' It sore f eares me,' said Hobby Noble, 
' Man that thou wilt neuer bee.' 

22 And fare thou well, Much, Millers sonne ! 
Much, Millars sonne, I say ; 

32 But then he had Fflanders files two or three, 
And hee fyled downe that iron dore, 



And tooke lohn out of the New Castle, 

And sayd, Looke thou neuer come heere 
more ! 

33 When he had him fforth of the New Castle, 

'Away with me, lohn, thou shalt ryde : ' 
But euer alas ! itt cold not bee ; 

For lohn cold neither sitt nor stryde. 

34 But then he had sheets two or three, 

And bound lohns boults fast to his ffeete, 
And sett him on a well good steede, 
Himselfe on another by him seete. 

35 Then Hobby Noble smiled and loug[h]e, 

And spoke these worde in mickle pryde : 
Thou sitts soe finely on thy geldinge 
That, lohn, thou rydes like a bryde. 

36 And when they came thorrow Howbraine 


lohns horsse there stumbled at a stone ; 
' Out and alas ! ' cryed Much, the Miller, 
' lohn, thou 'le make vs all be tane.' 

37 ' But fye vpon thee ! ' saies Hobby Noble, 

' Much, the Millar, fye on thee ! 

I know full well,' sayes Hobby Noble, 

' Man that thou wilt neuer bee.' 

38 And when the came into Howbrame wood, 

He had Fflanders files two or three 
To file lohns bolts beside liis ffeete, 
That hee might ryde more easilye. 

39 Sayes, ' lohn, now leape ouer a steede ! ' 

And lohn then hee lope ouer fiue : 
' I know well,' sayes Hobby Noble, 
' lohn, thy ffellow is not aliue.' 

40 Then he brought him home to Mangerton ; 

The lord then he was att his meate ; 
But when lohn o the Side he there did see, 
For faine hee cold noe more eate. 

41 He sayes, Blest be thou, Hobby Noble, 

That euer thou wast man borne ! 
Thou hast feitched vs home good lohn oth 

Tliat was now cleane ffrom vs gone. 


a. Caw's Poetical Museum, 1784, p. 145 ; "from an old 
manuscript copy." b. Campbell's Albyn's Anthology, II, 
28 ; " taken down from the recitation of Mr Thomas Short- 
reed," of Jedburgh, " who learnt it from his father." 

1 ' Now Liddisdale has ridden a raid, 

But I wat they had better staid at hame ; 
For Mitchel o Winfield he is dead, 
And my son Johnie is prisner tane.' 

With my fa ding diddle, la la dow diddle. 

2 For Mangerton House auld Downie is gane ; 

Her coats she has kilted up to her knee, 
And down the water wi speed she rins, 
While tears in spaits fa fast frae her eie. 

3 Then up and bespake the lord Mangerton : 

'What news, what news, sister Downie, to 


' Bad news, bad news, my lord Mangerton ; 
Mitchel is killd, and tane they hae my son 


4 ' Neer fear, sister Downie,' quo Mangerton ; 

' I hae yokes of oxen four and twentie, 

My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a' weel 


And I '11 part wi them a' ere Johnie shall 

5 ' Three men I '11 take to set him free, 

Weel harnessd a' wi best o steel ; 
The English rogues may hear, and drie 
The weight o their braid swords to feel. 

6 ' The Laird's Jock ane, the Laird's Wat twa, 

Oh, Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be ; 
Thy coat is blue, thou has been true, 
Since England banishd thee, to me.' 

7 Now Hobie was an English man, 

In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born ; 
But his misdeeds they were sae great, 
They banishd him neer to return. 

8 Lord Mangerton them orders gave, 

'Your horses the wrang way maun a' be 

Like gentlemen ye must not seem, 

But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road. 



9 ' Your armour gude ye maunna shaw, 
Nor ance appear like men o weir ; 
As country lads be all arrayd, 

Wi branks and brecliarn on ilk mare.' 

10 Sae now a' their horses are shod the wrang 


And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine, 
Jock his lively bay, Wat 's on his white horse 

And on they rode for the water o Tyne. 

11 At the Choler-ford they a' light down, 

And there, wi the help o the light o the 


A tree they cut, wi fifteen naggs upo ilk side, 
To climb up the wa o Newcastle town. 

12 But when they cam to Newcastle town, 

And were alighted at the wa, 
They fand their tree three ells oer laigh, 
They fand their stick baith short and sma. 

13 Then up and spake the Laird's ain Jock, 

' There 's naething for 't, the gates we maun 

force ; ' 
But when they cam the gates unto, 

A proud porter withstood baith men and 


14 His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung, 

Wi hand or foot he neer playd paw ; 
His life and his keys at anes they hae tane, 
And cast his body ahind the wa. 

15 Now soon they reach Newcastle jail, 

And to the prisner thus they call : 
' Sleips thou, wakes thou, Jock o the Side ? 
Or is thou wearied o thy thrall ? ' 

16 Jock answers thus, wi dolefu tone : 

Aft, aft I wake, I seldom sleip ; 
But wha 's this kens my name sae weel, 
And thus to hear my waes do[es] seik ? 

17 Then up and spake the good Laird's Jock, 

' Neer fear ye now, my billie,' quo he ; 
' For here 's the Laird's Jock, the Laird's Wat, 
And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free.' 

18 ' Oh, had thy tongue, and speak nae mair, 

And o thy tawk now let me be ! 

For if a' Liddisdale were here the night, 
The morn 's the day that I maun die. 

19 ' Full fifteen stane o Spanish iron 

They hae laid a' right sair on me ; 
Wi locks and keys I am fast bound 
Into this dungeon mirk and drearie.' 

20 ' Fear ye no that,' quo the Laird's Jock ; 

' A faint heart neer wan a fair ladie ; 

Work thou within, we '11 work without, 

And I '11 be bound we set thee free.' 

21 The first strong dore that they came at, 

They loosed it without a key ; 
The next chaind dore that they cam at, 
They gard it a' in flinders flee. 

22 The prisner now, upo his back, 

The Laird's Jock 's gotten up f u hie ; 
And down the stair him, irons and a', 
Wi nae sma speed and joy brings he. 

23 ' Now, Jock, I wat,' quo Hobie Noble, 

' Part o the weight ye may lay on me ; ' 
'I wat weel no,' quo the Laird's Jock, 
' I count him lighter than a flee.' 

24 Sae out at the gates they a' are gane, 

The prisner 's set on horseback hie ; 
And now wi speed they 've tane the gate, 
While ilk ane jokes fu wantonlie. 

25 ' O Jock, sae winsomely 's ye ride, 

Wi baith your feet upo ae side ! 
Sae weel 's ye 're harnessd, and sae trig ! 
In troth ye sit like ony bride.' 

26 The night, tho wat, they didna mind, 

But hied them on fu mirrilie, 
Until they cam to Cholerford brae, 

Where the water ran like mountains hie. 

27 But when they came to Cholerford, 

There they met with an auld man ; 
Says, Honest man, will the water ride ? 
Tell us in haste, if that ye can. 

28 ' I wat weel no,' quo the good auld man ; 

' Here I hae livd this threty yeirs and three, 
And I neer yet saw the Tyne sae big, 
Nor r inning ance sae like a sea.' 



29 Then up and spake the Laird's saft Wat, 

The greatest coward in the company ; 
' Now halt, now halt, we needna try 't ; 
The day is comd we a' maun die ! ' 

30 ' Poor faint-hearted thief ! ' quo the Laird's 


' There '11 nae man die but he that 's fie ; 
I '11 lead ye a' right safely through ; 
Lift ye the prisner on ahint me.' 

31 Sae now the water they a' liae tane, 

By anes and twas they a' swam through ; 
' Here are we a' safe,' says the Laird's Jock, 
' And, poor faint Wat, what think ye now ? ' 

32 They scarce the ither side had won, 

When twenty men they saw pursue ; 

Frae Newcastle town they had been sent, 

A' English lads, right good and true. 

33 But when the land-sergeant the water saw, 

' It winna ride, my lads,' quo he ; 

Then out he cries, Ye the prisner may take, 
But leave the irons, I pray, to me. 

34 ' I wat weel no,' cryd the Laird's Jock, 

' I '11 keep them a', shoon to my mare they '11 

My good grey mare, foi 1 am sure, 

She 's bought them a' fu dear f rae thee.' 

35 Sae now they 're away for Liddisdale, 

Een as fast as they coud them hie ; 
The prisner 's brought to his ain fire-side, 
And there o 's aims they make him free. 

36 ' Now, Jock, my billie,' quo a' the three, 

' The day was comd thou was to die ; 
But thou 's as weel at thy ain fire-side, 
Now sitting, I think, tween thee and me.' 

37 They hae gard fill up ae punch-bowl, 

And after it they maun hae anither, 
And thus the night they a' hae spent, 

Just as they had been brither and brither. 

Percy Papers. " The imperfect copy sent me from Keel- 
der, as collected from the memory of an old person by Mr 
William Hadley, in 1775." 

1 ' Now Liddisdale has, ridden a rade, 

But I wat they had a better staid at home ; 
For Michel of Windfield he is slain, 

And my son Jonny, they have him tane.' 
With my fa dow diddle, lal la dow didle 

2 Now Downy 's down the water gone, 

With all her cots unto her arms, 
And she gave never over swift running 
Untill she came to Mengertown. 

3 Up spack Lord Mengertown and says, 

What news, what news now, sister Downy ? 

what news hast thou to me ? 
' Bad news, bad news, Lord Mengertown, 
For Michal of Windfield he is slain, and my 
son Jonny they have him tain.' 

4 Up speaks Lord Mengertown and says, I have 

four and twenty yoke of oxen, 
And four and twenty good milk-ky, 

TUL. III. 61 

And three times as mony sheep, 

And I '11 gie them a' before my son Jonny die. 

5 I will tak three men unto myself ; 

The Laird's Jack he shall be ane, 
The Laird's Wat another, 

For, Hobbie Noble, thow must be ane. 

thy cot is of the blue ; 
For ever since thou cam to Liddisdale 
To Mengertown thou hast been true. 

7 Now Hobbie hath mounted his frienged gray, 

And the Laird's Jack his lively bey, 
And Watt with the aid horse behind, 

And they are away as fast as they can ride. 

8 Till they are come to the Cholar foord, 

And there they lighted down ; 
And there they cut a tree with fifty nags upo 

each side, 
For to clim Newcastle wall. 

9 And when they came there . . . 

It wad not reach by ellish three ; 



' There 's nothing for 't,' says the Laird's Jack, 
' But forceing o New Castle gate.' 

10 And when they came there, 
There was a proud porter standing, 

And I wat they were obliged to wring his 
neck in twa. 

11 Now they are come to New Castle gile : 
Says they, Sleep thou, wakes thou, John o the 


12 Says he, Whiles I wake, but seldom sleep ; 
Who is there that knows my name so well ? 

13 Up speaks the Laird's Jack and says, 

Here is Jack and Watt and Hobby Noble, 
Come this night to set thee free. 

14 Up speaks John of the Side and says, 

O hold thy tongue now, billy, and of thy talk 

now let me be ; 

For if a' Liddisdale were here this night, 
The morn is the day that I must die. 

15 For their is fifty stone of Spanish iron 

Laid on me fast wee lock and key, 

16 Then up speaks the Laird's Jack and says, 

A faint heart neer wan a fair lady ; 
Work thou witliin and we without, 
And this night we'el set the free. 

17 The first door that they came at 

They lowsed without either lock or key, 

And the next they brock in flinders three. 

18 Till now Jack has got the prisner on his 

And down the tolbooth stair came he ; 

19 Up spack Hobby Noble and says, 

O man, I think thou may lay some weight o 

the prisner upo me ; 
' I wat weel no,' says the Laird's Jack, 

'For I do not count him as havy as ane 
poor flee.' 

20 So now they have set him upo horse back, 

And says, O now so winsomly as thou dost 


Just like a bride, wee beth thy feet 
Unto a side. 

21 Now they are away wee him as fast as they 

can heye, 
Till they are come to the Cholar foord brae 

And they met an aid man, 

And says, Will the water ride ? 

22 ' I wat well no,' says the aid man, 

' For I have lived here this thirty years and 

And I think I never saw Tyne running so 
like a sea.' 

23 Up speaks the Laird's Watt and says 

The greatest coward of the companie 

' Now, dear billies, the day is come that we 
must a' die.' 

24 Up speaks the Laird's Jack and says, Poor 

cowardly thief, 
They will never one die but him that 's fee ; 

Set the prisner on behind me. 

25 So they have tain the water by ane and two, 
Till they have got safe swumd through. 

26 Be they wan safe a' through, 

There were twenty men pursueing them from 
New Castle town. 

27 Up speaks the land-sergant and says, 

If you be gone with the rog, cast me my irons. 

28 ' I wat weel no,' says the Laird's Jack, 

' For I will keep them to shew my good 
grey mere ; 

For I am sure she has bought them dear.' 

29 'Good sooth,' says the Laird's Jack, 
' The worst perel is now past.' 

30 So now they have set him upo hoseback, 
And away as fast as they could hye, 



Till they brought him into Liddisdale, 
And now they have set him down at his own 

31 And says, now John, 

The day was come that thou was to die, 
But thou is full as weel sitting at thy own fire 

32 And now they are falln to drink, 

And they drank a whole week one day after 


And if they be not given over, 
They are all drinking on yet. 

Percy Papers. "These are scraps of the old song re 
peated to me by Mr Leadbeater, from the neighborhood of 
Hexham, 1774." 

1 LIDDISDAILL has ridden a raid, 

But they had better ha staid at liame ; 
For Michael a Wingfield he is slain, 
And Jock o the Side they hae taen. 

2 Dinah 's down the water gane, 

Wi a' her coats untill her knes, 

To Mangerton came she. 

3 . 

How now ? how now ? What 's your will 
wi me? 

And they nevir gave oer s . . . . d running 
Till they came to Hathery Haugh. 

6 And when they came to Chollerton ford 
Tyne was mair running like a sea. 

7 And when they came to Swinburne wood, 

Quickly they ha fellen a tree ; 
Twenty snags on either side, 

And on the top it had lang tliree. 

8 ' My mare is young, she wul na swim,' 

4 To the New Castle h[e] is gane. 

5 They have cuttin their yad's tailes, 

They 've cut them a little abune the hough, 

' Now Mudge the Miller, fie on thee ! 
Tak thou mine, and I '11 tak thine, 

And the deel hang down thy yad and 

A. I 1 , whifeild: the first imay be i : Furnivall. 

6 s , 7 1 , 8 1 . 5. 7 3 . 5000. 13 1 , 13 2 . 3. 

13 4 . 3: Percy queries, tree? 15 4 . 2 and 2. 

17*. 30: 3. 18 1 . 4. 

19 2 . by. MS. eaten through by ink: Furni 

20'. knight for night 24 l . 9: or: 10:. 

24". 10 : or : 11 : . The first and the second 
line might be transposed to the advantage 
of the rhyme. 

25 1 . hobynoble. 27*. infaith. 28 3 . 4. 

28 4 . 2. 29 1 . for 4. 29 2 . 5. 29 4 . 12. 

32 1 , 34 1 , 38 2 . 2 or 3. 39 2 . 5. 

B. a. 13 2 . wi' maun. 16 4 . do seik (=dosseik). 
34*. grey mare, but bay in 10 s . b has bay in 

b. Burden after tfie first and the fourth line : 

Wi my fa ding diddle, lal low dow diddle. 
I 2 , hae staid. 1, 3 4 . Michael. 
I 4 . And Jock o the Side. 
2 1 . Lady Downie has. 2 4 . the wanting. 
3 1 . and spoke our gude auld lord. 
3 4 . and they hae taen. 
4". ousen eighty and three. 5 1 . I '11 send. 
5'. A' harneist wi the. 
5'. loans /or rogues. 6, 7 wanting. 



8 1 . then for them. 8 2 . maun be. 

8 s . ye mauna. 8 4 . the road. 9 1 . you. 

9 2 . yet for ance. 9 4 . on each. 
10 1 . a' wanting : the wrang way shod. C. 

10". Jock 's on his. 11*. nogs on each. 
13 s . the gate untill. 

14 1 . twa the Armstrangs wrang. 

14 2 . Wi fute or hand. 14 4 . cast the. 
15*. Art thou weary. 

16*. to mese my waes does. 17 1 . out and. 

17*. Now fear ye na. 17 s . here are. 

18 1 . Now haud thy tongue, my gude Laird's 


18 a . For ever alas this canna be. 18*. was. 
19 4 . dark and. 20 4 . be sworn we '11. 
21 4 . a' to. 22 2 . Jock has. 23 wanting. 
28 2 . I hae lived here threty. 29 1 . out and. 
29 4 . come. 30 1 . cried the Laird's ane Jock. 
30 2 . but him. 30". I '11 guide thee. 
31 l . Wi that : they hae. 31 s . quo the. 
32 1 . the other brae. 32 4 . lads baith stout. 
33 2 . says he. D. 

33 s . Then cried aloud, The prisoner take. 
33*. the fetters. 34 1 . quo the. 
34 s . bay mare. 34 4 . She has : right dear. 
35 1 . are onto. 36 2 . is comd. 36 s . ingle side. 

36 4 . twixt thee. 37 wanting. 

Scott changes Campbell's readings for Caw's 
now and then, and Caw's for his own. 

Written continuously after the first stanza, 
and mostly without punctuation. The end 
of a stanza is indicated after 3 by the in 
sertion of the burden. Some one, probably 
Percy, has attempted to show the proper 
separation by marks between the lines. B 
has been taken as a guide for the divisions 
here adopted. 

9 1 . And when they came there ends 8 4 in the 

II 2 . in" for John. 

14 2 . And of thy talk, etc., is a line by itself in 
the MS. 

16 3 . And me. 19 2 . Two lines in the MS. 

20". Perhaps dos'. 20 s . Unto < 

21 2 ' 8 , 24, 28. The lines are run together. 

31. And says now John the day continues 30 4 
in the MS. 

6 s . s .... d, illegible. 

7 l . Perhaps Swinburin. 

9 s . gang has been changed to hang, or hang 
to gang : neither is quite intelligible. 

1, 2, 3 are in t/ie MS. 2, 3, 1. 


A. ' Archie of the Cawfield,' communicated to Percy 
by Miss Fisher of Carlisle, 1780. 

B. a. ' Archie of Cafield,' * Glenriddell MSS, XI, 14, 
1791; Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802,1, 177. b. 'Archie 
of Ca'field,' Scott's Minstrelsy, 1833, II, 116. 

C. 'The Three Brothers,' Buchan's Ballads of the 
North of Scotland, I, 111. 

D. 'Billie Archie,' MotherwelFs MS., p. 467, communi 
cated by Buclian, and by him derived from James 
Nicol of Strichen ; MotherwelPs Minstrelsy, p. 335. 

E. Macmath MS., p. 76, fragments. 

P. Communicated by Mr J. M. Watson, of Clark's 
Island, Plymouth Harbor, Massachusetts. 

B a was printed by Scott in the first edi 
tion of his Minstrelsy, with the omission of 
stanzas 11, 13, 15 M (15 3 - 4 , 16 1 - 2 , of the MS.), 
17 3 - 4 (18 1 - 2 of the MS.), 27, 28, and with many 
editorial improvements, besides Scotticising 
* Miswritten Capeld; again in 12 4 . 

of the spelling. Of B b, the form in which 
the ballad appears in the later edition of the 
Minstrelsy, the editor says that lie has been 
enabled to add several stanzas obtained from 
recitation, of which he remarks that, " as they 
contrast the brutal indifference of the elder 



brother with the zeal and spirit of his asso 
ciates, they add considerably to the dramatic 
effect of the whole." The new stanzas are 
ten, and partly displace some of a. None of 
the omitted stanzas are restored, and the other 
changes previously made are retained, except 
of course where new stanzas have been intro 

This ballad is in all the salient features a 
repetition of ' Jock o the Side,' Halls playing 
the parts of Armstrongs. The Halls are 
several times complained of for reif and away- 
taking of ky, oxen, etc., in 1579. There is a 
Jok Hall of the Sykis, Jok Hall, called Pait- 
ti's Jok, a Jokie Hall in the Clintis, and the 
name Archie Hall occurs, which is, to be sure, 
a matter of very slight consequence. See the 
Register of the Privy Council of Scotland, 
III, 236 f., 354 f. Cafield is about a mile west 
of Langholra, in Wauchopedale. The Arm 
strongs had spread into Wauchopedale in the 
sixteenth century, and Jock Armstrong of the 
Caffeild appears in the Registers of the Privy 
Council, III, 43, 85, 133, 535. I have not 
found Halls of Caffeild, and hope not to do 
them injustice by holding that some friend or 
member of that sept has substituted their 
name, for the glory of the family.* 

From a passage in A History of Dumfries, 
by William Bennet, in The Dumfries Monthly 
Magazine, III, 9 f., July, 1826 (kindly brought 
to my attention by Mr Macmath), there ap 
pears to have been a version of this ballad in 
which the John stones played the part of the 
Halls, or Armstrongs ; but against their ene 
mies the Maxwells, not against the public au 
thority. A gentleman of Dumfries informed 
Bennet that he had " often, in early life, lis 
tened to an interesting ballad, sung by an 
old female chronicle of the town, which was 
founded upon the following circumstance. In 
some fray between the Maxwells and John- 
stones, the former had taken the chief of the 
latter prisoner, and shut him up in the jail of 
Dumfries, in Lochmaben gate ; for in Dum 
fries they possessed almost the same power as 
in the Stewartry of Annandale, Crichton of 

" Tradition says that his [Archie's] name was Archibald 
AnnstroBg." (Note at the end of the MS.) 

Sanquhar, who was then hereditary sheriff 
of Nithsdale, being their retainer. In a dark 
night shortly afterwards, a trusty band of the 
Johnstones marched secretly into Dumfries, 
and, surprising the jail-keepers, bore off their 
chief, manacled as he then was, and, placing 
him behind one of their troopers, galloped off 
towards the head of Locher, there to regain 
the Tinwald side and strike into the moun 
tains of Moffat before their enemies should 
have leisure to start in pursuit. A band of 
the Maxwells, happening to be in town, and 
instantly receiving the alarm, started in pur 
suit of the fugitives, and overtook them about 
the dawn of morning, just as they had sud 
denly halted upon the banks of the Locher, 
and seemed to hesitate about risking its pas 
sage ; for the stream was much swollen by a 
heavy rain which had lately fallen, and 
seemed to threaten destruction to any who 
should dare to enter it. On seeing the Max 
wells, however, and reflecting upon the com 
parative smallness of their own party, they 
plunged in, and, by dextrous management, 
reached in safety the opposite bank at the 
moment their pursuers drew up on the brink 
of that which they had left. The Johnstones 
had now the decided advantage, for, had their 
enemies ventured to cross, they could, while 
struggling against the current, have been 
easily destroyed. The bloodthirsty warriors 
raged and shook their weapons at each other 
across the stream ; but the flood rolled on as 
if in mockery of their threatenings, and the 
one party at length galloped off in triumph, 
while the other was compelled to return in 

There are three Halls in A, B, C, brothers, 
of whom Archie is a prisoner, condemned to 
die. The actors in D are not said to be 
brothers or Halls ; the prisoner is Archie, as 
before. In A, Jock the laird and Dickie 
effect the rescue, assisted by Jocky Ha, a 
cousin. Dick is the leader, Jocky Ha subordi 
nate, and Jock the laird is the despondent and 
repining personage, corresponding to Much 
in Jock o the Side, A, D, and to the Laird's 
Wat, B, C. In B, Dick is the only brother 
named ; he and Jokie Hall from Teviotdale 



effect the rescue; Jokie Hall is prominent, 
and Dickie has the second place ; Archie the 
prisoner is faint-hearted, but, properly speak 
ing, that part is omitted. Jokie Hall repre 
sents Hobie Noble, who is the leader in A of 
the other ballad, as Jokie is here in B, and 
also C ; whereas Dick is the leader in A, D 
of the ballad before us, and represents the 
Laird's Jock, who is principal in B, C of the 
other. In B, C, only two are concerned in 
breaking the jail. In C, Dick loses heart, or 
has the place of Much ; in D, Caff o Lin. 

In_A 38, Jock the laird says his colt will 
drown him if he attempts to cross the river ; so 
Dick in B 23 (for it can be no other, though 
Dick is not named) and in C 24, and Caff o 
Lin in D 14. They have not two attacks of 
panic, as Much has in ' Jock o the Side,' A, 
with such excellent effect in bringing out 
Hobie Noble's steadiness. To make up for 
this, however, the laird has an unheroic qualm 
after all is well over, in A 44 : the dearsome 
night has cost him Cawfield ! It is a fine- 
spirited answer that Dick makes : ' Light o 
thy lands ! we should not have been three 
brothers.' In one of the stanzas which Scott 
added in B b, " coarse Ca'field," that is, the 
laird again, is addressed (inconsecutively, as 
the verses stand) with the like reproach : 
' Wad ye even your lands to your born billy ! ' 

Archie is prisoner at Dumfries in A, B, at 
Annan in C : in D no place is mentioned. 
The route followed in A is Barnglish,* only 
two or three miles westward, where the horse 
shoes are turned, 8 ; Bonshaw wood, where 
they take counsel, 10 ; over the Annan at 
Hoddam, 12, to Dumfries, 13 ; back by Bon 
shaw Shield, where they again take counsel, 
29 ; over the Annan at Annan Holm (Annan 
Bank ?), opposite Wamphray (where the 
Johnstones would be friendly), 31, to Cafield. 
Bonshaw Shield would have to be somewhere 

between Dumfries and Annan Water; it 
seems to be an erroneous repetition of the 
Bonshaw on the left of the Annan. 

The route in B is The Murraywhat, where 
shoes are turned, 6 ; Dumfries, 8 ; back by 
Lochmaben, 17 ; The Murraywhat, where 
they file off the shackles, 18 ; to and across 
the Annan. Here we may ask why the shoes 
are not changed earlier ; for The Murraywhat 
is on the west side of the Annan. The route 
in C is not described ; there is no reason, if 
they start from Cafield (see 23), why they 
should cross the Annan, the town being on 
the eastern side. All difficulties are escaped 
in D by giving no names. 

The New England copy, F, naturally 
enough, names no places. There are three 
brothers, as in A, B, C, and Dickie is the 
leader. The prisoner, here called Archer, 
gives up hope when he comes to the river ; his 
horse is lame and cannot swim ; but horses 
are shifted, and he gets over. His spirits are 
again dashed when he sees the sheriff in pur 

A, 6 2 , 14 2 , 16 4 , 'for leugh o Liddesdale 
cracked he,' is explained by B a, 10 2 , ' fra the 
laigh of Tiviotdale was he ; ' he bragged for 
lower Liddesdale, was from lower Liddesdale ; 
it seems to be a sort of ify* clvai. B b reads 
(that is, Scott corrects), ' The luve of Teviot- 
dale was he.' B a, 16 4 , ' And her girth was the 
gold-twist to be,' is unintelligible to me, and 
appears to be corrupt, b reads, And that was 
her gold-twist to be, an emendation of Scott's, 
gold-twist meaning " the small gilded chains 
drawn across the chest of a war-horse." The 
three stanzas introduced in B b after 7 (the 
colloquy with the smith) are indifferent mod 
ern stuff. This and something worse are C 
14, where Johnny Ha takes the prisoner on 
his back and leads the mare, the refreshments 
in 16, 17, and the sheriff in 19-21, 28, 29. 

* Belonging to John's Christie, son of .Tohnie Armstrong. 
Christie of Barnglish was in Kinmont Willie's rescue. R. 

B. Armstrong, Appendix, p. cii, No LXIV ; T. J- Carlyle, 
The Debateable Land, p. 22. Tytler, IX, 437. 



Communicated to Percy by Miss Fisher of Carlisle, 1780. 

1 LATE in an evening forth as I went, 

'T was on the dawning of the day ; 
I heard two brothers make their moan, 
I listend well what they did say. 

We were three born brethren, 

There [s] one of us condemnd to die. 

3 Then up bespake Jock the laird : 

' If I had but a hundre men, 
A hundred o th best i Christenty, 

I wad go on to fair Dumfries, I wad loose 
my brother and set him free.' 

4 So up bespak then Dicky Ha, 

He was the wisest o the three : 
' A hundre men we '11 never get, 

Neither for gold nor fee, 
But some of them will us betray ; 

They '1 neither fight for gold nor fee. 

5 ' Had I hut ten well-wight men, 

Ten o the best i Cliristenty, 
I wad gae on to fair Dumfries, 

I wad loose my broi/ter and set him free. 

6 ' Jocky Ha, our cousin, 's be the first man ' 

(For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he) ; 
' An ever we come till a pinch, 
He '11 be as good as ony three.' 

7 They mounted ten well-wight men, 

Ten o the best i Christenty ; 

8 There was horsing and horsing of haste, 

And cracking o whips out oer the lee, 
Till they came to fair Barngliss, 

And they ca'd the smith right quietly. 

9 He has shod them a' their horse, 

He 's shod them siccer and honestly, 
And he as turnd the cawkers backwards oer, 
Where foremost they were wont to be. 

10 And there was horsing, horsing of haste, 
And cracking of whips out oer the lee, 

Until they came to the Bonshaw wood, 
Where they held their council privately. 

11 Some says, We '11 gang the Annan road, 

It is the better road, said they ; 
Up bespak then Dicky Ha, 
The wisest of that company. 

12 ' Annan road 'H a publick road, 

It 's no the road that makes for me ; 
But we will through at Hoddam ford, 
It is the better road,' said he. 

13 And there was horsing, horsing o haste, 

And cracking of whips out oer the lea, 
Until they came to fair Dumfries, 
And it was newly strucken three. 

14 Up bespake then Jocky Ha, 

For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he : 
' I have a mare, they ca her Meg, 

She is the best i Cliristenty ; 
An ever we come till a pinch, 

She '11 bring awa both thee and me.' 

15 ' But five we '11 leave to had our horse, 

And five will watch, guard for to be ; 
Who is the man,' said Dicky then, 

' To the prison-door will go with me ? ' 

16 Up bespak then Jocky Ha, 

For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he : 
' I am the man,' said Jocky than, 

' To the prison-door I '11 go with thee.' 

17 They are up the jail-stair, 

They stepped it right soberly, 
Until they came to the jail-door ; 
They ca'd the prisoner quietly. 

18 ' O sleeps thou, wakest thou, Archie, my 


O sleeps thou, wakes thou, dear billy ? ' 
'Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I wake; 

But who 's that knows my name so well ? ' 

[said he.] 

' I am thy brother Dicky,' he says ; 
' This night I'm come to borrow thee.' 

19 But up bespake the prisoner then, 

And O but he spake woefully ! 
' Today has been a justice-court, 



And a' Liddesdale were here the night, 
The morn 's the day at I 'se to die.' 

20 ' What is thy crime, Archie, my billy ? 

What is the crime they lay to thee ? ' 
' I brake a spear i the warden's breast, 
For saving my master's land,' said he. 

21 ' If that be a' the crime they lay to thee, Ar 

chie, my billy, 

If that be the crime they lay to thee, 
Work thou within, and me without, 

And thro good strength I '11 borrow thee.' 

22 ' I cannot work, billy,' he says, 

' I cannot work, billy, with thee, 
For fifteen stone of Spanish iron 
Lyes fast to me with lock and key.' 

23 When Dicky he heard that, 

' Away, thou crabby chiel ! ' cried he ; 
He 's taen the door aye with his foot, 

And fast he followd it with his knee. 
Till a' the bolts the door hung on, 

th' prison-floor he made them flee. 

24 ' Thou 's welcome, welcome, Archy, my billy, 

Thou 's aye right dear welcome to me ; 
There shall be straiks this day,' he said, 
' This day or thou be taen from me.' 

25 He 's got the prisoner on o his back, 

He 's gotten him irons and aw, 

26 Up bespake then Jocky Ha, 

' Let some o th' prisoner lean on me ; ' 
' The diel o there,' quo Dicky than, 
' He 's no the wightdom of a flea.' 

27 They are on o that gray mare, 

And they are on o her aw three, 
And they linked the irons about her neck, 
And galloped the street right wantonly. 

28 ' To horse, to horse,' then, ' all,' he says, 

' Horse ye with all the might ye may, 
For the jailor he will waken next ; 
And the prisoners had a' wan away.' 

29 There was horsing, horsing of haste, 

And cracking o whips out oer the lea, 

Until they came to the Bonshaw Shield ; 
There they held their council privately. 

30 Some says, ' We '11 gang the Annan road ; 

It is the better road,' said they ; 
But up bespak than Dicky Ha, 
The wisest of that company : 

31 ' Annan road 's a publick road, 

It 's not the road that makes for me ; 
But we will through at Annan Holme, 

It is the better road,' said he ; 
1 An we were in at Wamfrey Gate, 

ThB Johnstones they will a' help me.' 

32 But Dicky lookd oer his left shoulder, 

I wait a wiley look gave he ; 
He spied the leiutenant coming, 

And a hundre men of his company. 

33 ' So horse ye, horse ye, lads ! ' he said, 

' O horse ye, sure and siccerly ! 
For yonder is the lieutenant, 

With a hundred men of his company.' 

34 There was horsing, horsing of haste, 

And cracking o whips out oer the lea, 
Until they came to Annan Holme, 
And it was running like a sea. 

35 But up bespake the lieutenant, 

Until a bonny lad said he, 
' Who is the man,' said the leiutenawt, 
' Rides foremost of yon company ? ' 

36 Then up bespake the bonny lad, 

Until the lieutenant said he, 
' Some men do ca him Dicky Ha, 
Bides foremost of yon company.' 

37 ' O haste ye, haste ye ! ' said the leiutenant, 

' Pursue with a' the might ye may ! 
For the man had needs to be well saint 
That comes thro the hands o Dicky Ha.' 

38 But up bespak Jock the laird, 

' This has been a dearsome night to me ; 
I Ve a colt of four years old, 

I wait he wannelld like the wind ; 
If ever he come to the deep, 

He will plump down, leave me behind.' 



39 ' Wae light o thee and thy horse baith, Jock, 

And even so thy horse and thee ! 
Take thou mine, and I '11 take thine, 

Foul fa the warst horse i th' company ! 
I '11 cast the prisoner me behind ; 

There '11 no man die but him that 's fee.' 

40 There they 've a' taen the flood, 

And they have taen it hastily ; 
Dicky was the hindmost took the flood, 
And foremost on the land stood he. 

41 Dicky 's turnd his horse about, 

And he has turnd it hastilly : 
' Come through, come thro, my lieutenaret, 

Come thro this day, and drink wi me, 
And thy dinner's be dressd in Annan Holme, 

It sail not cost thee one penny.' 

42 ' I think some witch has bore the, Dicky, 

Or some devil in hell been thy daddy ; 

I woud not swum that wan water double- 
For a' the gold in Christenty. 

43 ' But throw me thro my irons, Dicky, 

I wait they cost me full dear ; ' 
' O devil be there,' quo Jocky Hall, 

' They '1 be good shoon to my gray mare.' 

44 up bespoke then Jock the laird, 

' This has been a dearsome night to me ; 
For yesternight the Cawfield was my ain, 
Landsman again I neer sail be. 1 

45 ' Now wae light o thee and thy lands baith, 


And even so baith the land and thee ! 
For gear will come and gear will gang, 

But three brothers again we never were to 


a. Glenriddell MSS, XI, 14, 1791, "an old West Border 
ballad." b. Scott's Minstrelsy, 1833, II, 116. 

1 As I was walking mine alane, 

It was by the dawning o the day, 
I heard twa brothers make their maine, 
And I listned well what they did say. 

2 The eldest to the youngest said, 

' O dear brother, how can this be ! 

There was three brethren of us born, 

And one of us is condemnd to die.' 

3 ' chuse ye out a hundred men, 

A hundred men in Christ[e]ndie, 
And we '11 away to Dumfries town, 
And set our billie Archie free.' 

4 ' A hundred men you cannot get, 

Nor yet sixteen in Christendie ; 
For some of them will us betray, 
And other some will work for fee. 

5 ' But chuse ye out eleven men, 

And we ourselves thirteen will be, 
And we 'ill away to Dumfries town, 
And borrow bony billie Archie.' 

6 There was horsing, horsing in haste, 

And there was marching upon the lee, 
Untill they came to the Murraywhat, 
And they lighted a' right speedylie. 

7 ' A smith, a smith ! ' Dickie he crys, 

' A smith, a smith, right speedily, 
To turn back the cakers of our horses feet ! 
For it is forward we woud be.' 

8 There was a horsing, horsing in haste, 

There was marching on the lee, 
Untill they came to Dumfries port, 
And there they lighted right manfulie. 

9 ' There['s] six of us will hold the horse, 

And other five watchmen will be ; 
But who is the man among you a' 

Will go to the Tolbooth door wi me ? ' 

10 O up then spake Jokie Hall 

(Fra the laigh of Tiviotdale was he), 

' If it should cost my life this very night, 

I '11 ga to the Tollbooth door wi thee.' 

11 'O sleepst'thou, wakest thow, Archie laddie? 

sleepst thou, wakest thow, dear billie ? ' 
' I sleep but saft, I waken oft, 

For the morn 's the day that I man die.' 



12 ' Be o good cheer now, Archie lad, 

Be o good cheer now, dear billie ; 
Work thow within and I without, 

And the morn thou 's dine at Cafield wi me.' 

13 ' O work, O work, Archie ? ' he cries, 

' work, work ? ther 's na working for 

me ; 

For ther 's fifteen stane o Spanish iron, 
And it lys fow sair on my body.' 

14 O Jokie Hall stept to the door, 

And he bended it back upon his knee, 
And he made the bolts that the door hang on 
Jump to the wa right wantonlie. 

15 He took the prisoner on his back, 

And down the Tollbooth stairs came he ; 
Out then spak Dickie and said, 

Let some o the weight fa on me ; 
' O shame a ma ! ' co Jokie Ha, 

' For he 's no the weight of a poor flee.' 

16 The gray mare stands at the door, 

And I wat neer a foot stirt she, 
Till they laid the links out oer her neck, 
And her girth was the gold-twist to be. 

17 And they came down thro Dumfries town, 

And O but they came bonily ! 
Untill they came to Lochmaben port, 
And they leugh a' the night manfulie. 

18 There was horsing, horsing in haste, 

And there was marching on the lee, 

Untill they came to the Murraywhat, 

And they lighted a' right speedilie. 

19 ' A smith, a smith ! ' Dickie he cries, 

' A smith, a smith, right speedilie, 
To file off the shakles fra my dear brother ! 
For it is forward we wad be.' 

20 They had not filtt a shakle of iron, 

A shakle of iron but barely three, 
Till out then spake young Simon brave, 
' Ye do na see what I do see. 

21 ' Lo yonder comes Liewtenant Gordon, 

And a hundred men in his company : ' 

' O wo is me ! ' then Archie cries, 

' For I 'm the prisoner, and I must die.' 

22 there was horsing, horsing in haste, 

And there was marching upon the lee, 
Untill they came to Annan side, 
And it was flowing like the sea. 

23 ' I have a colt, and he 's four years old, 

And he can amble like the wind, 
But when he comes to the belly deep, 
He lays himself down on the ground.' 

24 ' But I have a mare, and they call her Meg. 

And she 's the best in Christendie ; 
Set ye the prisoner me behind ; 

Ther '11 na man die but he that 's fae ! ' 

25 Now they did swim that wan water, 

And O but they swam bonilie ! 
Untill they came to the other side, 

And they wrang their cloathes right drunk- 

26 ' Come through, come through, Lieutenant 

Gordon ! 

Come through, and drink some wine wi me ! 
For ther 's a ale-house neer hard by, 
And it shall not cost thee one penny.' 

27 ' Throw me my irons, Dickie ! ' he cries, 

' For I wat they cost me right dear ; ' 
' O shame a ma ! ' cries Jokie Ha, 

' For they '11 be good shoon to my gray mare.' 

28 ' Surely thy minnie has been some witch, 

Or thy dad some warlock has been ; 
Else thow had never attempted such, 
Or to the bottom thow had gone. 

29 ' Throw me my irons, Dickie ! ' he cries, 

' For I wot they cost me dear enough ; ' 
' O shame a ma ! ' cries Jokie Ha, 

' They '11 be good shakles to my plough.' 

30 ' Come through, come through, Liewtenant 

Gordon ! 

Come throw, and drink some wine wi me ! 
For yesterday I was your prisoner, 
But now the night I am set free.' 



Bucban's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 111. 

1 As I walked on a pleasant green 

'T was on the first morning of May 
I heard twa brothers make their moan, 
And hearkend well what they did say. 

2 The first he gave a grievous sigh, 

And said, Alas, and wae is me ! 
We hae a brother condemned to death, 
And the very morn must hanged be. 

3 Then out it speaks him Little Dick, 

I wat a gude fellow was he : 
' Had I three men unto mysell, 

Well borrowed shoud Bell Archie be.' 

4 Out it speaks him Johnny Ha, 

A better fellow by far was he : 

' Ye shall hae six men and yoursell, 

And me to bear you companie. 

5 ' Twa for keepers o the guard, 

See that to keep it sickerlie, 
And twa to come, and twa to gang, 
And twa to speak wi Bell Archie. 

6 ' But we winna gang like men o weir, 

Nor yet will we like cavalliers ; 
But we will gang like corn-buyers, 

And we '11 put brechens on our mares.' 

7 Then they are to the jail-house doors, 

And they hae tirled at the pin : 
' Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Bell Archie ? 
Quickly rise, lat us come in.' 

8 ' I sleep not aft, I lie not saft ; 

Wha 's there that knocks and kens my 

name ? ' 

' It is your brothers Dick and John ; 
Ye '11 open the door, lat us come in.' 

9 ' Awa, awa, my brethren dear, 

And ye '11 had far awa frae me ; 
If ye be found at jail-house door, 
I fear like dogs they '11 gar ye die.' 

10 ' Ohon, alas ! my brother dear, 

Is this the hearkning ye gie to me ? 

If ye '11 work therein as we thereout, 
Well borrowd shoud your body be.' 

11 ' How can I work therein, therein, 

Or yet how can I work thereout, 
When fifty tons o Spanish iron 
Are my fair body round about ? ' 

12 He put his fingers to the lock, 

I wat he handled them sickerlie, 

And doors of deal, and bands of steel, 

He gart them all in flinders flee. 

13 He 's taen the prisoner in his arms, 

And he has kissd him cheek and chin : 

' Now since we 've met, my brother dear, 

There shall be dunts ere we twa twine.' 

14 He 's taen the prisoner on his back, 

And a' his heavy irons tee, 
But and his marie in his hand, 

And straight to Annan gate went he. 

15 But when they came to Annan water, 

It was roaring like the sea : 
' stay a little, Johnny Ha, 

Here we can neither fecht nor flee. 

16 ' a refreshment we maun hae, 

We are baith dry and hungry tee ; 
We '11 gang to Robert's at the mill, 
It stands upon yon lily lee.' 

17 Up in the morning the jailor raise, 

As soon 's 't was light that he coud see ; 
Wi a pint o wine and a mess sae fine, 
Into the prison-house went he. 

18 When he came to the prison-door, 

A dreary sight he had to see ; 
The locks were shot, the doors were broke, 
And a' the prisoners won free. 

19 ' Ye '11 gae and waken Annan town, 

Raise up five hundred men and three ; 
And if these rascals may be found, 
I vow like dogs I '11 gar them die. 

20 ' dinna ye hear proud Annan roar, 

Mair loud than ever roard the sea ? 
We '11 get the rascals on this side, 
Sure they can neither fecht nor flee. 



21 ' Some gar ride, and some gar rin, 

Wi a' the haste that ye can make ; 
We '11 get them in some tavern-house, 
For Annan water they winna take.' 

22 As Little Dick was looking round, 

All for to see what he could see, 

Saw the proud sheriff trip the plain, 

Five hundred men his companie. 

23 ' O fare ye well, my bonny wife, 

Likewise farewell, my children three ! 
Fare ye well, ye lands o Cafield ! 
For you again I neer will see. 

24 ' For well I kent, ere I came here, 

That Annan water woud ruin me ; 
My horse is young, he '11 nae lat ride, 
And in this water I maun die.' 

25 Out it speaks him Johnny Ha, 

I wat a gude fellow was he : 
' plague upo your cowardly face ! 
The bluntest man I eer did see. 

26 ' Gie me your horse, take ye my mare, 

The devil drown my mare and thee ! 

Gie me the prisoner on behind, 

And nane will die but he that 's fay.' 

27 He quickly lap upo the horse, 

And strait the stirrups siccarlie, 
And jumpd upo the other side, 
Wi the prisoner and his irons tee. 

28 The sheriff then came to the bank, 

And heard its roaring like the sea ; 
Says, How these men they hae got ower, 
It is a marvel unto me. 

29 ' I wadna venture after them, 

For a' the criminals that I see ; 
Nevertheless now, Johnny Ha, 
Throw ower the fetters unto me.' 

30 ' Deil part you and the fetters," he said, 

' As lang as my mare needs a shee ; 
If she gang barefoot ere they be done, 
I wish an ill death mat ye die.' 

31 ' Awa, awa, now Johnny Ha, 

Your talk to me seems very snell ; 
Your mither 's been some wild rank witch, 
And you yoursell an imp o hell.' 

Motherwell's MS., p. 467, "received in MS. by Buchan 
from Mr Nicol, of Strichen, who wrote as he had learned 
early in life from old people:" Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 
p. 335. 

1 ' SEVEN years have I loved my love, 

And seven years my love 's loved me, 
But now to-morrow is the day 

That billy Archie, my love, must die.' 

2 then out spoke him Little Dickie, 

And still the best fellow was he : 
' Had I but five men and my self, 
Then we would borrow billy Archie.' 

3 Out it spoke him Caff o Lin, 

And still the worst fellow was he : 
' You shall have five men and yourself, 
And I will bear you companye.' 

4 ' We will not go like to dragoons, 

Nor yet will we like grenadiers, 

But we will go like corn-dealers, 

And lay our brechams on our meares. 

5 ' And twa of us will watch the road, 

And other twa will go between, 
And I will go to jail-house door, 

And hold the prisoner unthought lang.' 

6 ' Who is this at jail-house door, 

So well as they do know the gin ? ' 
' It 's I myself,' [said] him Little Dickie, 
' And oh sae fain 's I would be in ! ' 

7 ' Away, away, now, Little Dickie ! 

Away, let all your folly be ! 
If the Lord Lieutenant come on you, 
Like unto dogs he'll cause you die.' 

8 ' Hold you, hold you, billy Archie, 

And now let all your folly be ! 
Tho I die without, you '11 not die within, 
For borrowed shall your body be.' 



9 ' Away, away, now, Little Dickie ! 

Away, let all this folly be ! 
An hundred pounds of Spanish irons 
Is all bound on my fair bodie.' 

10 Wi plough-culters and gavellocks 

They made the jail-house door to flee ; 
' And in God's name,' said Little Dickie, 
' Cast you the prisoner behind me ! ' 

11 They had not rode a great way off, 

With all the haste that ever could be, 
Till they espied the Lord Lieutenant, 
With a hundred men in 's companie. 

12 But when they came to wan water, 

It now was rumbling like the sea ; 
Then were they got into a strait, 
As great a strait as well could be. 

13 Then out did speak him Caff o Lin, 

And aye the warst fellow was he : 
' Now God be with my wife and bairns ! 
For fatherless my babes will be. 

14 ' My horse is young, he cannot swim ; 

The water 's deep, and will not wade ; 
My children must be fatherless, 
My wife a widow, whateer betide.' 

15 O then cried out him Little Dickie, 

And still the best fellow was he : 
' Take you my mare, I '11 take your horse, 
And Devil drown my mare and thee! ' 

16 Now they have taken the wan water, 

Tho it was roaring like the sea, 
And whan they got to the other side, 
I wot they bragged right crouselie. 

17 ' Come thro, come thro now, Lord Lieutenant ! 

O do come thro, I pray of thee ! 
There is an alehouse not far off, 

We '11 dine you and your eompanye.' 

18 ' Away, away, now, Little Dickie ! 

now let all your taunting be ! 
There 's not a man in the king's army 

That would have tried what 's done by thee. 

19 ' Cast back, cast back my fetters again ! 

Cast back my fetters ! I say to thee ; 
And get you gane the way you came, 

1 wish no prisoners like to thee.' 

20 ' I have a mare, she 's called Meg, 

The best in all our low countrie ; 
If she gang barefoot till they are done, 
An ill death may your lordship die ! ' 


Macmath MS., p. 76. " Taken down by me, September, 
1886, from my aunt, Miss Jane Webster: heard by her in 
her youth, at Airds." 

1 . 

' We '11 awa to bonnie Dundee, 
And set our brither Archie free.' 

2 They broke through locks, and they broke 

through bars, 

And they broke through everything that 
cam in their way, 

Until they cam to a big iron gate, 

And that 's where brother Archie lay. 

3 . 

[Little John says] 

' O brither Archie speak to me, 
For we are come to set ye free.' 

4 . 

' Such a thing it ca/ma be, 
For there 's fifty pund o gude Spanish airn 
Atween my neckbane and my knee.' 



Communicated by Mr J. M. Watson, of Clark's Island, 
Plymouth Harbor, Massachusetts, April 10, 1889, as re 
membered by him from the singing of his father. 

1 As I walked out one morning in May, 

Just before the break of day, 
I heard two brothers a making their moan, 
And I listened a while to what they did say. 
I heard, etc. 

2 ' We have a brother in prison,' said they, 

' Oh in prison lieth he ! 
If we had but ten men just like ourselves, 
The prisoner we would soon set free.' 

3 ' Ob no, no, no ! ' Bold Dickie said he, 

' Oh no, no, no, that never can be ! 
For forty men is full little enough 
And I for to ride in their companie. 

4 ' Ten to hold the horses in, 

Ten to guard the city about, 
Ten for to stand at the prison-door, 
And ten to fetch poor Archer out.' 

5 They mounted their horses, and so rode they, 

Who but they so merrilie ! 
They rode till they came to a broad river's side, 
And there they alighted so manfullie. 

6 They mounted their horses, and so swam they, 

Who but they so merrilie ! 
They swam till they came to the other side, 
And there they alighted so manfullie. 

7 They mounted their horses, and so rode they, 

Who but they so merrilie ! 
They rode till they came to that prison-door, 
And then they alighted so manfullie. 

8 . 

' For I have forty men in my companie, 
And I have come to set you free.' 

9 ' Oh no, no, no ! ' poor Archer says he, 

' Oh no, no, no, that never can be ! 
For I have forty pounds of good Spanish iron 
Betwixt my ankle and my knee." 

10 Bold Dickie broke lock, Bold Dickie broke 

Bold Dickie broke everything that he could 


He took poor Archer under one arm, 
And carried him out so manfullie. 

11 They mounted their horses, and so rode they, 

Who but they so merrilie ! 
They rode till they came to that broad river's 

And there they alighted so manfullie. 

12 ' Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,' poor Archer says 


' Take my love home to my wife and chil 
dren three ; 
For my horse grows lame, he cannot swim, 

And here I see that I must die.' 

13 They shifted their horses, and so swam they, 

Who but they so merrilie ! 
They swam till they came to the other side, 
And there they alighted so manfullie. 

14 ' Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,' poor Archer says 


' Look you yonder there and see j 
For the high-sheriff he is a coming, 

With an hundred men in his companie.' 

15 ' Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,' High-sheriff said 


' You 're the damndest rascal that ever I see ! 
Go bring me back the iron you 've stole, 
And I will set the prisoner free.' 

16 ' Oh no, no, no ! ' Bold Dickie said he, 

' Oh no, no, no, that never can be ! 
For the iron 't will do to shoe the horses, 
The blacksmith rides in our companie.' 

17 ' Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie,' High-sheriff says 

' You 're the damndest rascal that ever I 

see ! ' 

' I thank ye for nothing,' Bold Dickie says he, 
' And you "re a damned fool for following 



A. Written in long lines, without division into 

stanzas, excepting a few instances. 
I 1 , folk I saw went. 13*. And cracking, etc. 
13 4 . 3. 29 2 . o whips, etc. 
42 s . one water. 42*. Xtenty. 
43 1 . Perhaps we should read, But throw me, 

throw me. 

B. a. 12*. Capeld. 15 6 -' are 16 1 - 2 : 16 1 ' 2 are 16 3 - 4 : 

IB 8 - 4 ,!? 1 '": IT 1 ' 2 ,!? 8 - 1 : 17 8 - 4 , IS 1 - 8 : 18", 18- 6 . 
b. I 1 , a-walking. I 4 , weel to what. 

2 1 - 2 . The youngest to the eldest said, Blythe 

and mei-rie how can we be. 
2 s . were. 

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

What the better wad billy Archie be ? 
Unless I had thirty men to mysell, 

And a' to ride in my cumpanie. 

' Ten to hald the horses' heads, 
And other ten the watch to be, 

And ten to break up the strong prison 
Where billy Archie he does lie.' 

Then up and spak him mettled John Hall 
(The luve of Teviotdale aye was he) ; 

' An I had eleven men to mysell, 
It 's aye the twalt man I wad be.' 

Then up bespak him coarse Ca'field 
(I wot and little gude worth was he) ; 

' Thirty men is few anew, 

And a' to ride in our companie.' 

6 2 . on the. 6". the wanting. 

6 4 , 18 4 . there for a'. 7*. shoon for feet. 

7 4 . it 's unkensome. 

After 7 : 
' There Jives a smith on the water-side 

Will shoe my little black mare for me, 
And I 've a crown in my pocket, 
And every groat of it I wad gie.' 

' The night is mirk, and it 's very mirk, 
And by candle-light I canna weel see ; 

The night is mirk, and it 's very pit mirk, 
And there will never a nail ca right for me.' 

' Shame fa you and your trade baith ! 

Canna beet a good fellow by your mystery ; 
But leeze me on thee, my little black mare ! 

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

8 1 . a wanting. 8 2 . And there : upon. 

8*. And they lighted there right speedilie. 

9 1 . There 's five. 9 a . will watchmen be. 

9". ye a'. 10 1 . spak him mettled John Hall. 
10 2 . of wanting. 11 wanting. 12". and we. 
12 4 . Ca'field. 13 wanting. 
14 2 . bended low back his knee. 
14*. that wanting. 14 4 . Loup frae the. 
15 2 . stair. 15 8 " 6 wanting. 

16 1 . The black mare stood ready at. 

16 2 . And wanting : I wot a foot neer stirred she. 
16 s . Till wanting. 16 4 . And that was her gold. 
17 2 . And wow : speedilie. 17 8 ' 4 wanting. 
18 1 ' 2 . The live-lang night these twelve men 

rade, And aye till they were right wearie. 
18 4 . lighted there right. 
19 1 . then Dickie. 19 s . file the irons frae. 
19 4 . For forward, forward. 20 1 . hadna filed. 
20". When out and spak. 
20 4 . O dinna you see. 21 2 . Wi a. 
21 3 ' 4 . This night will be our lyke-wake night, 

The morn the day we a' maun die. 
22 1 . was mounting, mounting. 
22 s . Annan water. 

23, 24. 
' My mare is young and very skeigh, 

And in o the well she will drown me; ' 
' But ye '11 take mine, and I '11 take thine, 

And sune through the water we sail be.' 

Then up and spak him coarse Ca'field 
(I wot and little gude worth was he) : 

' We had better lose ane than lose a' the lave ; 
We '11 lose the prisoner, we '11 gae free.' 

' Shame fa you and your lands baith ! 

Wad ye een your lands to your born billy ? 
But hey ! bear up, my bonnie black mare, 

And yet thro the water we sail be.' 

25 2 . And wow. 25 4 . drunkily. 

26 a . there is an ale-house here. 

26 4 . thee ae. 27, 28 wanting. 

29 1 . irons, quo Lieutenant Gordon. 

29 J . For wanting. 

29". The shame a ma, quo mettled John Ha. 

30 3 . Yestreen I was. 

30 4 . now this morning am I free. 

C. 5 2 . Saethat? 

D. Slightly changed by Motherwell in printing. 
2\ 15 1 , 18 2 . Oh. 

B. The ancient and veritable balladof 'Bold Dickie,' 
as sung by A. M. Watson, and remembered 
and rendered by his son, J. M. Watson. 


VOL. I. 

1. Riddles Wisely Expounded. 

P. 1 a. Guess or die. A grim kemp, an uncoknicht, 
asks nine riddles of a young man ; all are guessed ; 
wherefore the kemp says it shall go well with him. 
Kristensen, Skattegraveren, II, 97 fL, 154 f., Nos 457, 
458, 724; V, 49, No 454. 

2. The Elfin Knight. 

P. 6. Nigra, No 118, p. 483, ' Che mestiere e il vos- 
tro? ' A sempstress to make a shirt without stitch 
or seam; a mason to make a room without bricks and 

7 b, second paragraph. Add : ' Store Fordringer,' 
Kristensen's Skattegraveren, II, 8, No 6. 

3. The Fause Knight upon the Road. 

P. 20. ' Kail og svein ungi,' Hammershaimb, Fa;r0sk 
Anthologi, p. 283, No 36 (three versions), is another 
piece of this kind. The boat is in all the copies, Sco.,- 
tish, Swedish, and Faroe. 

M. Gaidoz, Alelusine, IV, 207, cites a passage. from 
Plutarch's life of Numa, c. 15, which is curiously like 
this ballad. The question being what is the proper 
expiatory sacrifice when divine displeasure has been 
indicated by thunderbolts, Zeus instructs Numa that 
it must be made with heads. Onions'? interposes 
Numa. With men's says Zeus. Hairs? suggests 
Numa. With LIVE says Zeus. Sardines ? puts in 

4. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight. 

P. 22. E is given from singing and recitation in 
Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by Charlotte Sophia 
Burne, 1883-86, p. 548. 

Mr W. II. Babcock has recently printed the follow 
ing version, as sung in a Virginian family from " the 
corner between the Potomac and the Blue Rid-e:" 
The Folk-Lore Journal, VII, 28. 

1 Wilson, sitting in his room one day, 

With his true-love on his knee, 
Just as happy as happy could be, be, be, 
Just as happy as happy could be, 

2 ' Do you want for fee? ' said she, 

' Or do you want for gold ? 
Or do you want a handsome ladye, 
More handsomer than me ? ' 

3 ' I do want for fee,' said he, 

' And I do want for gold; 
But I don't want a handsomer ladye, 
More handsomer than thee. 

4 ' Go get some of your father's fee, 

And some of your father's gold, 
And two of the finest horses he has, 
And married we will be, be, be, 
And married we will be.' 

5 She mounted on the milk-white steed, 

And he the iron-grey, 
And when they got to the broad waterside 
It was six hours and a half till day. 

6 'Get down, get down! my pretty fair maid, 

Get down, get down! ' said he; 
' For it 's nine of the king's daughters I ' ve drowned 

And the tenth one you shall be. 

7 ' Take off, take off that costly silk, 

For it is a costly thing ; 
It cost your father too much bright gold 
To drown your fair body in. 

8 ' In stooping down to cut the cords round, 

Sing, Turn your back on me; ' 
And with all the strength this lady had, 
She pushed him right into the sea. 

9 ' Help me out ! my pretty fair miss, 

O help me out! ' said he, 
' And we '11 go down to the Catholic church, 
And married we will be.' 

10 ' Lie there, lie there! you false-hearted man, 

Lie there, lie there ! ' said she, 
' For it 's nine of the king's daughters you 've 

drowned here, 
But the tenth one 's drowned thee.' 

11 She mounted on the milk-white steed, 

And led the iron-grey, 
And when she got to her own father's house 
It was three hours and a half till day. 



12 While she was walking in the room, 

Which caused the parrot to wake, 
Said he, What 's the matter, my pretty fair miss, 
That you 're up so long before day? 

13 'Hush up, hush up! my pretty little parrot, 

Don't tell no tales on me; 
Your cage shall be lined with sweet may gold, 
And the doors of ivorie.' 

14 While they were talking all of this, 

Which caused the old man to wake, 
Said, What 's the matter, my pretty little parrot, 
That you chatter so long before day ? 

15 ' The cat she sprung against my cage, 

And surely frightened me, 
And I called for the pretty fair miss 
To drive the cat away.' 

(1 lacks the third verse; in 2 1 ' 2 , 3 1 -*, 4 liS , /ee and gold 
should be exchanged; in 12 2 , 14 2 , wake should perhaps 
be say.) 

26 b. Add these Danish copies: Kristensen, Skatte- 
graveren, I, 210 ff., Nos 1198, 1199. (Some stanzas of 
' Kvindemorderen ' are inserted in No 932, III, 177.) 

29, 34 f. O, P. O is repeated in Lutolf, Sagen, 
Brauche u. Legenden, u. s. w., p. 71, No 29, ' Schbn 
Anneli; ' P in Kurz, Aeltere Dichter, u. s. w., der 
Schweizer, I, 117. ' Schon Anneli,' Tobler, Schweizer- 
ische Volkslieder, II, 170, No 6, is an edited copy, 
mainly O, with use of P. 

42. A variety of A in Revue des Traditions popu- 
laires, II, 293, communicated by A. Gitte"e, Chanson 
wallonne, de Bliquy, environs d'Ath. 

42 f. A robber has his hand cut off by a girl. Later 
he marries her. The day after the marriage they go 
on horseback to see his relations. On coming to a wood 
he says, Do you remember the night when you cut off 
my hand? It is now my turn. He orders her to strip, 
threatening her with his dagger. When she is in her 
shift, she begs him to turn away his eyes, seizes the 
dagger, and cuts his throat. ' Le Voleur des Crepes,' 
Sdbfllot, Contes pop. de la Haute-Bretagne, I, 341, No 
62. (G. L. K.) 

43 b. 'La Fille de Saint-Martin,' etc. Add: Hol 
land, II, 171, obtained by Nere'e Qudpat. 

44 a. Nigra, Canti popolari del Piemonte, 1888, p. 
90 ff., No 13, ' Un' Eroina,' gives five unpublished ver 
sions (B-P), ' La Monferrina,' D, being A of this large 
and beautiful collection. 

Add also: Giannini, Canti p. della Montagna Luc- 
chese, 1889, p. 143, 'La Liberatrice ; ' Finamore, 
Storie p. abruzzesi, in Archivio, I, 207, ' Lu Pringepe 
de Meldne.' 

44 b. ' II Corsaro,' in Nigra's collection, No 14, p. 
106 ff., with the addition of another version. For ' La 

VOL. in. 63 

Monferrina incontaminata,' see Nigra again, 'La 
Fuga,' No 15, pp. Ill ff.; Finamore, in Archirio, 
I, 87, 'La Fandell' e lu Cavaljiere' (mixed). 

Spanish. Nos 38-41, Venganza de Honor,' No 42, 
' La Hija de la Viudina,' Pidal, Asturian Romances, 
have the incident of the girl's killing with his own 
sword or dagger a caballero who offers her violence. 
The weapon is dropped in the course of a struggle in 
all but No 40 ; in this the damsel says, Give me your 
sword, and see how I would wear it. 

It is a commonplace for a pair on horseback to go 
a long way without speaking. So Pidal, pp. 114, 115, 
130, 133, 135, 159: 

Siete leguas anduvieron 
sin hablar una palabra. 

60 a. A. Burden. The song in the Tea-Table Mis 
cellany and the music are found in John Squair's 
MS., fol. 22, Laing collection, library of the Univer 
sity of Edinburgh, handwriting about 1700. (W. Mac- 

5. Gil Brenton. 

P. 65 b. A ballad from Normandy, published by Le- 
grand, Romania, X, 367, III, which I am surprised to 
find that I have not mentioned, is a very interesting 
variety of ' Gil Brenton,' more particularly of the Da 
nish ' Peder og Malfred.' It has the attempt at substi 
tution (a sister) ; the wife acknowledges that she had 
been forced (par ses laquais les bras il me bandit) ; the 
husband reveals, and proves, that he was the ravisher. 
The beginning of the Norman ballad, which is lost, 
would probably have had the feature of the informa 
tion given the husband by the shepherdess. Another 
French ballad, corrupted (environs de Redon, Ille-et- 
Vilaine), has this and the attempt to pass off the sister; 
the husband kills his wife. Music is ordered in the last 
stanza. Rolland, IV, 70. An Italian and a Breton 
ballad which begin like the Danish, but proceed differ 
ently, are spoken of under ' Fair Janet,' No 64, II, 
102 f.. See now Nigra's ' Fidanzata infedele ' in his 
collection, No 34, p. 197. 

6. Willie's Lady. 

P. 82. ' Hustru og mands moder,' Kristensen, Skatte- 
graveren, I, 73, No 436, VII, 97, No 651; ' Barsel- 
kvinden,' the same, II, 10, No 7. (The tale, p. 83 b, 
is reprinted by inadvertence, I, 73, No 234.) 

7. Earl Brand. 

P. 88 a. B. " The copy principally used in this edi 
tion of the ballad was supplied by Mr Sharpe." Scott. 
" The Douglas Tragedy was taught me by a nursery 
maid, and was so great a favorite that I committed it 
to paper as soon as I was able to write." Sharpe's 


Letters, ed. Allardyce, I, 135, Augusts, 1802. Sharpe 
was born in 1 781. 

88 b. 'Hr. Ribolt,' Kristensen, Skattegraveren, 
VI, 17, No 257, is a good copy of ' Ribold og Guld- 
borg.' It has the testaments at the end, like several 
others (see I, 144 b). 

89-91 a. 'Stolt Hedelil,' Kristensen, Skattegraveren, 
1,68, No 231, is another version of 'Hildebrand og 
Hilde,' closely resembling G. So is 'Den mislykkede 
flugt,' the same, VIII, 17, No 24, with the proper 
tragic conclusion. Both are inferior copies. 

92 a and 489 b. Add: K, ' Kung Valleino ock liten 
Kerstin,' Bergstrb'm ock Nordlander, Nyare Bidrag, 
o. s. v., p. 101. 

95 b, 96, 489. I have omitted to mention the effect 
of naming on ' Clootie ' in No 1, C 19, I, 5: 

As sune as she the fiend did name, 
lie flew awa in a blazing flame. 

The Alpthier loses its power to harm and appears in 
its proper shape, as this or that person, if called by 
name: Wuttke, Der deutsehe Volksaberglaube der Ge- 
genwart, 2d ed., p. 257. Were- wolves appear in their 
proper human shape on being addressed by their name : 
Wilhelm Hertz, Der Werwolf, pp. 61, 84, Ulrich Jahn, 
Volkssagen aus Pommern u. Riigen, pp. 386-7. An en 
chanted prince is freed when his name is pronounced: 
Meier, No 53, p. 188 and n., p. 311. "There was in 
the engagement a man [on the side of Hades] who 
could not be vanquished unless his name could be dis 
covered:" Myvyrian Archaiology of AVales, I, 167, as 
quoted by Rhys, Celtic Mythology, Hibbert Lectures, 
p. 244. (G. L. K.) 

96 ff., 489, II, 498. Plants from lovers' graves. 
Add : Portuguese, Romero, II, 157, two pines. 
Italian, Nigra, No 18, 'Le dueTombe,' p. 125 ff.. 
A. The lovers are buried apart, one in the church, 

one outside, a pomegranate springs from the man's 
grave, an almond-tree from the maid's; they grow large 
enough to shade three cities ! B. A pomegranate is 
planted on the man's grave, a hazel on the maid's; 
they shade the city, and interlock. C. An almond-tree 
is planted on the maid's grave, and is cut down. D. 
The lovers are buried as in A (and C), an almond-tree 
grows from the grave of the man, a jessamine from the 
maid's. See also No 19, ' Fior diTomba,' where, how 
ever, there is but one grave, which is to contain the 
maid's parents as well as her lover. The same phe 
nomenon in the fragments E, F. ' II Castello d'Ovi- 
glio,' Ferraro, Canti p. nionferrini, No 45, p. 64, is 
another version of this ballad. A pomegranate springs 
up at the maid's feet, and shades three cities. Cf. ' La 
Mort des deuxAmants,' Rolland, I, 247, No 125. 

Roumanian. ' Ring and Handkerchief ' also in 
Marienescu, Balade, p. 50 : cited in Melusine, IV. 

97 b and 489 f., II, 498 a. Bulgarian, Miladinof, 
Bulgarski narodni pesni, p. 455, No 497, translated 

by Krauss, Sagen u. Miirchen der Siidslaven, II, 427; 
the youth as rose-tree, the maid as grape-vine. Cited 
by G. Meyer in Me"lusine, IV, 87. Little-Russian, 
plane-trees of the two sexes ; cited by J. Karlowicz, 
ib., 87 f. Ruthenian (mother attempting to poison her 
son's wife poisons both wife and son), Herrmann, Eth- 
nologische Mittheilungen, 205 f. ; buried on different 
sides of the church, plants meet over the roof of the 
church, the mother tries to cut them down, and while so 
engaged is turned into a pillar. 

Servian. Vuk, I, No 342, II, No 30; youth, pine, 
maid, grape-vine. Krasic', p. 105, No 21, p. 114, No 
26; vine and pine, vine twines round pine. Bulga 
rian, Miladinof, p. 375, No 288, rose and vine. Ma 
gyar-Croat, Kurelac, p. 147, No 444, grape-vine and 
rose; No 445, youth behind the church, maid before, 
grape-vine and rose ; p. 154, No 454, rosemary and a 
white flower (aleluja?). (W. W.) 

Breton. Melusine, III, 453 f. A tree springs from 
over the young man's heart (but this is an insertion, 
and not quite beyond suspicion), a rose from the 
maid's. There is another version of the ballad at p. 
182 f., in which une fleur dore"e grows over the man's 
grave, nothing being said of his mistress's grave, or 
even of her death. 

Italo-Albanian. Also in Vigo, Canti p. siciliani, 
1857, p. 345, V, and the edition of 1870-74, p. 698 : 
cited in Melusine, IV, 87. 

Gaelic. Of Naisi (Naois) and Deirdre. King 
Conor caused them to be buried far apart, but for some 
days the graves would be found open in the morning 
and the lovers found together. The king ordered 
stakes of yew to be driven through the bodies, so that 
they might be kept asunder. Yew trees grew from the 
stakes, and so high as to embrace each other over the 
cathedral of Armagh. Transactions of the Gaelic So 
ciety of Dublin, I, 133, 1808. 

In a Scotch-Gaelic version recently obtained, after 
Naois is put into his grave, Deirdre jumps in, lies down 
by his side and dies. The bad king orders her bodv 
to be taken out and buried on the other side of a loch. 
Firs shoot out of the two graves and unite over the 
loch. The king has the trees cut down twice, but 
the third time his wife makes him desist from his ven 
geance on the dead. The original in Transactions of 
the Gaelic Society of ^Inverness, XIII, 257 ; a trans 
lation in The Celtic Magazine, XIII, 138. (All of 
these cited by Gaidoz, Mdlusine, IV, 12, and 62, note.) 

8. Erlinton. 

107 b, and also No 53, 'Young Beichan,' I, 463 b. 
For the Magyar ballads of Szilagyi and Hagym&si, see 
Herrmann, Ethnologisehe Mittheilungen, cols 65-66; 
also col. 215. (A Transylvanian-Saxon ballad, a Rou 
manian tale, and a Transylvanian-Gipsy ballad, which 
follow, are of more or less questionable authenticity : 
Herrmann, col. 216.) 


109. C, as well as ' Robin Hood and the Pedlars,' III, 
170, are found in a manuscript pretended to be of about 
1650, but are written in a forged hand of this cen 
tury. I do not feel certain that the ballads them 
selves, bad as they are, are forgeries, and accordingly 
give the variations of Gutch's Robin Hood from the 
manuscript, not regarding spelling. 

3*. hold good. 3 4 . thou will. 7 1 . thus he. 
10 1 . Thorough: I run. II 1 . [kine ?] 16 s . while. 
19 1 . lie. 21 s . he lent. 24 s . be not. 25 s . eldest. 
28 1 . leant. 29 2 . wield. No " Finis " at the end. 

9. The Fair Flower of Northumberland. 

P. 113. The Servian hero Marko Krai je vie" is guilty 
of the same ingratitude. The daughter of the Moorish 
king releases him from a long captivity and makes him 
rich gifts. He promises to marry her and they go off 
together. During a halt the princess embraces him, 
and he finds her black face and white teeth so repul 
sive that he strikes off her head. He seeks to atone 
for his sin by pious foundations. Servian, Vuk, II, 
No 44 [Bowring, p. 86]; Croat, BogiSic, p. 16; Bulga 
rian, Miladinof, No 54, Kacanofskij, No 132. (W. W.) 

1O. The Twa Sisters. 

P. 119. A Danish fragment of nine stanzas in Kris- 
tensen's Skattegraveren, IV, 161, No 509. 

119 b. Three copies of the Swedish ballad are 
printed by Wahlfisk, Bidrag till Sodermanlands aldcre 
Kulturhistoria, No VI, p. 33 f.. 

124 b, 493 b, II, 498 b. 

Rudchenko, South Russian Popular Tales, I, No 55: 
murder of brother revealed by a flute made from a reed 
that grows from his grave (No 56, flute from a willow). 
II, No 14, murder of a boy killed and eaten by his 
parents revealed by a bird that rises from his bones. 

In a Flemish tale reported in the Revue des Tradi 
tions populaires, II, 125, Janneken is killed by Milken 
for the sake of a golden basket. The murder is dis 
closed by a singing rose. In 'Les Roseaux qui chan- 
tent ' a sister kills her brother in a dispute over a 
bush covered with pain-prunelle. Roses grow from his 
grave. A shepherd, hearing them sing, cuts a stem of 
the rose-bush and whistles in it. The usual words fol 
low. Revue des Traditions populaires, II, 365 ff. ; cf. 
Sebillot's long note, p. 366 ff.. Das Flotenrohr (two 
prose versions), TJ. Jahn, Volkssagen aus Pommern 
und Riigen, No 510, pp. 399-401. (G. L. K. 

11. The Cruel Brother. 

Pp. 142 b, 496 a. ' Rizzardo bello,' E, ' Ruggiero," 
in Mazzatinti, Canti p. umbri, p. 286, Bologna, 1883. 
143 b. ' Hr. Adelbrant og jomfru Lindelil,' with a 

testament, again in Skattegraveren, I, 5, No I, and V, 
17, No 12. 

144 a, 496 b. Testaments. A wife who has been 
gone from home in pursuit of her pleasure is so beaten 
by her husband on her return that she dies. She 
leaves valuable legacies to her children and a rope to 
him. Nigra, No 25, 'Testamento della Mobile,' P- 

144 b. ' Ra?vens Arvegods,' Kristensen, Skatte 
graveren, II, 192 ff, Nos 774-78, and VIII, 209, No 

12. Lord Randal. 

Pp. 152, 498. Italian. Add G, H, I, Nigra, No 
26, A, B, C, 'Testamento dell' Avvelenato.' J. 
'L'Amante avvelenato,' Giannini, No 27, p. 199. K. 
' Mamma e Figghiolo,' Nerucci, in Archivio, II, 526. 

154 b, 498 b. ' A megete'tt Jiinos ' in Arany and 
Gyulai, III, 7, Kriza. 

156 a. ' Donna Lombarda ' is now No 1 of Nigra's 
collection, where it is given in sixteen versions. 

156 b, 499 a, II, 499 a. Slavic ballads of the sister 
that poisons her brother, etc. Add : Servian, Raj- 
kowic', No 251. Compare, Bulgarian, Miladinof, No 262; 
Croat, Mazuraniu, p. 152, Sammlung der Zeitscbrift 
'Nasa Sloga,' II, No 158; Slovenian, Koritko, IV, 
No 47. In Golovatsky, II, 584, a mother asks her 
son whether he supped with the widow. He supped 
with her, the witch. What did she cook for him ? A 
small fish. Where did she catch it, dress it ? Did she 
eat any of it? No, her head ached. Did the chil 
dren ? No, they went to bed. In Verkovie, No 31 7, 
p. 350, the fair Stana is poisoned by her husband's 
parents with a snake given as a fish. (W. W.) 

A Ruthenian ballad of a mother attempting to poison 
her son's wife, and poisoning the pair, Herrmann, in 
Ethnologische Mittheilungen, col. 205 f. 

A Slovak ballad of this sort in Kolldr, Narodnie 
Zpiewanky, II, 32, translated by Herrmann, 91 f., No 
3 ; and another version of the same col. 204 f., No 7. 
Roumanian versions, cols 206, 207 f., 209 f., Nos 9, 10, 
12, the last with another story prefixed. See also 
Herrmann, col. 90, No 1, 92 f., Nos 4, 5, 208 f., No 
11, for poisoning-ballads, and his references at the top 
of col. 211 

13. Edward. 

Pp. 167 b, 501 b. Another copy of ' Sven i Rosen- 
gard,' F, is printed by Aminson in Bidrag till Soder 
manlands a'ldere Kulturhistoria, No V, p. 12, eleven 
stanzas. The swain has killed his sister. 

168 b. Danish. Four concluding stanzas (When?) 
in Kristensen's Skattegraveren, II, 100, No 459. 

14. Babylon, or, The Bonnie Banks o 

P. 170. Add: 



" In Gipsy Tents," by Francis Hindes Groome, p. 143. 

1 There were three sisters going from home, 

All in a lea and alony, oh 
They met a man, and he made them stand, 
Down by the bonny banks of Airdrie, oh. 

2 He took the first one by the hand, 

He turned her round, and he made her stand. 

3 Saying, Will you be a robber's wife ? 
Or will you die by my penknife ? 

4 ' Oh, I wont be a robber's wife, 
But I will die by your penknife.' 

5 Then he took the second by her hand, 

He turned her round, and he made her stand. 

6 Saying, Will you be a robber's wife ? 
Or will you die by my penknife ? 

7 ' Oh, I wont be a robber's wife, 
But I will die by your penknife.' 

8 He took the third one by the hand, 

He turned her round, and he made her stand. 

9 Saying, Will you be a robber's wife ? 
Or will you die by my penknife ? 

10 ' Oh, I wont be a robber's wife, 
And I wont die by your penknife. 

11 ' If my two brothers had been here, 

You would not have killed my sisters two.' 

12 ' What was your two brothers' names ? ' 

' One was John, and the other was James.' 

13 ' Oh, what did your two brothers do ? ' 

' One was a minister, the other such as you.' 

14 ' Oh, what is this that I have done ? 
I have killed my sisters, all but one. 

15 ' And now I '11 take out my penknife, 
And here I '11 end my own sweet life.' 

P. 173, IT, 499. Add to the French ballad: ' Le 
Passage du Bois,' V. Smith, Chants p. du Velay et du 
Forez, llomania, X, 205 ; ' La Doulento,' Arbaud, I, 

120 ; Poesies p. de la France, MS., IV, fol. 442, printed 
in Holland, III, 55. With these belong La Ragazza 
assassinata," Nigra, No 12, three versions, p. 85 ff. ; 
' La Vergine uccisa,' Ferraro, Canti p. monferrini, p. 1 7. 

15. Leesome Brand. 

P. 179 a. Danish, II. 'Rosenelle og hr. Agervold," 
Kristensen, Skattegraveren, I, 65, No 230, is an im 
portant variety of Redselille og Medelvold. Another 
version, III, 82, No 260, ' Rosenelle og hr. Medervold.' 
In both of these the knight is the lady's brother. 

Swedish, II. A copy of ' Lilla Lisa och Herr Neder- 
vall ' is printed by Aminson, Bidrag, o. s. v., No 5, 
p. 17. 

16. Sheath and Knife. 

P. 185. Mr Macmath has found the following bal 
lad in Motherwell's handwriting, on a half-sheet of 
paper. It is not completely intelligible (why should 
Lady Ann be left in the death-throe, to bury herself?), 
but undoubtedly belongs here. The first stanza 
agrees with D. 


1 One king's daughter said to anither, 

Brume blumes bonnie and grows sae fair 
' We '11 gae ride like sister and brither.' 

And we '11 neer gae down to the brume nae 

2 ' We '11 ride doun into yonder valley, 

Whare the greene green trees are budding sae 

3 ' Wi hawke and hounde we will hunt sae rarely, 
And we '11 come back in the morning early.' 

4 They rade on like sister and brither, 

And they hunted and hawket in the valley the- 

5 ' Now, lady, hauld my horse and my hawk, 
For I maun na ride, and I downa walk. 

6 ' But set me doun he the rute o this tree, 
For there hae I dreamt that my bed sail be.' 

7 The ae king's dochter did lift doun the ither, 
And she was licht in her armis like ony fether. 

8 Bonnie Lady Ann sat doun be the tree, 

And a wide grave was houkit whare nane suld 



9 The hawk had nae lure, and the horse had nae 


And the faithless hounds thro the woods ran 

10 The one king's dochter has ridden awa, 
But bonnie Lady Ann lay in the deed-thraw. 

Some words are difficult to read. 

2. sae wanting in burden 1. 

3 1 . hunt ? growis fair in burden 1. 

5 1 . Originally Oh hauld my bridle and stirrup. 

Ann, or come, is written aver Oh. 
9". faithless? 

The lost knife here in A 8-10, B 5, and in ' Lee- 
some Brand,' No 15, 3641, appears in ' The 
Squire of Low Degree,' Percy Folio, III, 267, vv. 
117126 (not in the version printed by Ritson and 
by Hazlitt). 

1 Daughter,' he sais, ' ffor whose sake 

Is that sorrow that still thou makes ? ' 
' Ffather,' shee sais, ' as I doe see, 

Itt is ffor no man in Christentye ; 

Ffather,' shee sayes, ' as I doe thriue, 

Itt is ffor noe man this day aliue. 

Ffor yesterday I lost my kniffe; 

Much rather had I haue lost my liff e ! ' 
1 My daughter,' he sayes, ' if itt be but a blade, 

I can gett another as good made.' 
' Ffather,' shee sais, ' there is neuer a smith but one 

That [can] smith you such a one.' 

(G. L. K.) 

17. Hind Horn. 

P. 193 (2). ' Hr. Lovmand' in Kristensen's Skatte- 
graveren, VIII, 49, No 115. 

194 ff., 502 f., II, 499 b. 

According to a Devonshire tradition given by Mrs 
Bray, Traditions of Devonshire, II, 172 (II, 32, of the 
new ed. of 1879, which has a fresh title, The Borders 
of the Tamar and the Tavy) , Sir Francis Drake, hav 
ing been abroad seven years, was apprised by one of 
his devils that his wife was about to marry again. 
He immediately discharged one of his great guns up 
through the earth. The cannon-ball " fell with a loud 
explosion between the lady and her intended bride 
groom," who were before the altar. In another ver 
sion, known to Southey and communicated by him to 
Mrs Bray (as above, II, 174; new ed., II, 33, 34), the 
marriage is broken off by a large stone (no doubt a gun- 
stone) which falls on the lady's train as she is on her 


Contes pop. de Basse-Bretagne, I, 416; 'Der todte 

Schuldner,' Zingerle, Zeitschrift fur deutsche Mytho- 
logie, II, 367 ; ' De witte Swane,' Woeste, the same, 
III, 46, translated from the Markish dialect by Sim- 
rock, ' Der gute Gerhard,' u. B. w., p. 75 ; Vernaleken, 
Mytben u. Briiuche des Volkes in Oesterreich, p. 372; 
Vernaleken, Kinder- u. Hausmarchen, No 54, p. 315 f. ; 
J. H. Knowles, Folk-Tales of Kashmir, p. 184 f.; Prym 
u. Socin, Syrische Sagen u. Marcheo, No 20, II, 72. 
(G. L. K.) 

Pp. 198 b, 502 b, II, 499 b. An Italian form of ' Le 
Retourdu Mari ' is 'IlRitorno del Soldato,' Nigra, No 
28b, p. 174. 

Another Italian ballad has some of the points in the 
story of Horn. A man goes off for seven years im 
mediately after marriage ; the woman looking out to 
wards the sea perceives a pilgrim approaching ; he asks 
for charity, and makes what seems an impudent sugges 
tion, for which she threatens him with punishment. But 
how if I were your husband? Then you would give me 
some token. He pulls out his wedding-ring from under 
his cloak. ' II finto [false] Pellegrino,' Bernoni, ix, no 
7, Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 33, Giannini, p. 151 
(nearly the same in Archivio, VI, 361); 'La Moglie 
fedele,' Wolf, p. 59, No 81, Ive, p. 334; 'Bennardo,' 
Nerucci, in Archivio, III, 44. 

To the Portuguese ballads, I, 502 b, add ' A bella In 
fanta,' Bellermann, p. 100. 

Add to the Polish ballads, p. 502 b : Roger, p. 13, 
Nos 25, 26. 

With the Slavic ballads belong : Servian, Vuk, III, 
No 25 ; Bulgarian, Miladinof, Nos 65, 66, 111, 573, Ka- 
canovskiy, Nos 68-73, 112. (W. W.) 

202 a. The three singing laverocks in B 3, P4, (cf. 
A 3,) are to be taken as curiosities of art. Artificial 
singing-birds are often mentioned in the earlier times, 
(by Sir John Mandeville for instance) : see Liebrecht, 
Volkskunde, p. 89 f., No 5. Such birds, and artificially 
hissing snakes, occur in the Great-Russian bylina of 
Djuk Stepanovic"; cf. Wollner, Untersuchungen ii. d. 
grossr. Volksepik, p. 134 f. (W. W.) 

205. G would have been printed as it stands in 
Kinloch MSS VII, 117, had the volume been in my 
possession. The copy principally used in Kinloch's 
Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 138, was derived from the 
editor's niece, M. Kinnear. Readings of another copy 
are written in pencil over the transcript of the first in 
places, and as the name " Christy Smith " is also writ 
ten at the beginning in pencil, it may be supposed that 
these readings were furnished by this Christy Smith. 
Kinloch adopted some of these readings into the copy 
which appears in his book, and he introduced others 
which seem to be his own. The readings of the Kin- 
near copy not retained by Kinloch will now be given 
under a, and those supplied (as may be supposed) by 
Christy Smith under b. 

a. I 2 . Whare was ye born ? or frae what cuntrie? 
3 1 . a gay gowd wand. 4 l . a silver ring. 
5 l . Whan that ring. 6 1 . Whan that ring. 



7 2 . Till he cam. 8 1 . Whan he lookit to. 

8 J . Says, I wish. 9 2 . Until he cam till. 

10*. met with. 10 2 . It was with. 

II 1 . my puir auld man. 13 1 . to me. 

13 2 . I'll lend you. 

15 1 . He has changed wi the puir auld. 

16 1 . What is the way that ye use. 16 2 . words that. 

18 1 , 22 1 . to yon town end. 

19 2 . your Hynde (your struck out). 

23 2 . his Hynde (his struck out). 

24 1 . he took na frae ane. 

27 1 . But he drank his glass. 27 2 . Into it he dropt. 

SO 2 , to your. 34 2 . him evermair. 

36 1 . The red : oure them aw. 

b. I 2 , in what. 2 1 . greenwud's. 2". have left. 

3 1 . a silver wand. 

4 1 . And my love gave me a gay gowd ring. 

5 1 . As lang as that ring. 7 s . Till that he cam. 

9 2 . Until that. 10 2 . a jolly beggar man. 

15 1 . struck out in pencil. 

18*. And whan : yonder down. 

20 2 . Unless it be frae. 22 1 . yonder down. 

24 1 . But he wad tak frae nane. 34 2 . for evermair. 

19. King Orfeo. 

P. 21 7. The first half of the Norse burden is more 
likely to have been, originally, what would correspond 
to the Danish Skoven [or] herlig gron, or, Skoven 
herlig grbnnes. In the other half, griin forbids us to 
look for hjort in giorten, where we are rather to see 
Danish urt (English wort), Icelandic jurt: so that this 
would be, in Danish, Hvor urten hun gronnes herlig. 
(Note of Mr. Axel Olrik.) 

2O. The Cruel Mother. 

P. 218 b. Danish. 'I d01gsmal,' Kristensen, Skatte- 
graveren, V, 98, No 644 ; corrupted. 

(N, O should be O, P, II, 500: see I, 504.) 


'The Cruel Mother,' Shropshire Folk-Lorc, edited hy 
Charlotte Sophia Burne, 1883-86, p. 540; "suug by Eliza 
Wharton and brothers, children of gipsies, habittmlly trav 
elling in North Shropshire and Staffordshire, 13th July, 

1 There was a lady, a lady of York, 

Ri fol i diddle i gee wo 
She fell a-courting in her own father's park. 
Down by the greenwood side, O 

2 She leaned her back against the stile, 
There she had two pretty babes born. 

3 And she had nothing to lap 'em in, 
But she had a penknife sharp and keen. 

There she stabbed them right through the heart 

5 She wiped the penknife in the sludge ; 

The more she wiped it, the more the blood 

6 As she was walking in her own father's park, 
She saw two pretty babes playing with a ball. 

7 ' Pretty babes, pretty babes, if you were mine, 
I 'd dress you up in silks so fine.' 

8 'Dear mother, dear mother, [when we were 

You dressed us not in silks so fine. 

9 ' Here we go to the heavens so high, 
You '11 go to bad when you do die.' 

219 b, 504 a, II, 500 a. (M at this last place should 
be O.) Add : P, ' Die Schaferstochter," as sung in the 
neighborhood of Kdslin, Ulrich Jahn, Volkssagen aus 
Pommern u. Riigen, No 393, p. 310 f. (G. L. K.) 

A Magyar-Croat ballad of the same tenor as the 
German, Kurelac, p. 150, No 451. (W. W.) 

21. The Maid and the Palmer. 

P. 228 a. Danish. Another copy of ' Synderinden ' 
in Kristensen's Skattegraveren, VII, 81, No 505. 

230 b. Slavic. Susil, No 3, p. 2, closely resembles 
Moravian A ; the woman is turned to stone. In a 
variant, p. 3, she has had fifty paramours, and again in 
a Little-Russian ballad, Golovatsky, I, 205, No 68, 
seventy. In this last, after shrift, the sinner is dissipated 
in dust. (W. W.) 

231. French. Add : Victor Smith, Chants du Velay 
et du Forez, Romania IV, 439 (the conversion, p. 438); 
Chabaneau, Revue des Langues Romanes, XXIX, 
265, 267, 268. 

Catalan. ' Santa Magdalena,' conversion and pen 
ance, Miscelfinea Folk-Ldrica, 1 88 7, p. 1 1 9, No 8. The 
Samaritan Woman, simply, p. 118, No 7. 

22. St Stephen and Herod. 

P. 234 a. ' Rudisar visa ' is now No 11 of Hammers- 
haimb's Fa?r0sk Anthologi, p. 39. There are two 
other copies. 

237. ' Skuin over de groenelands heide,' Dykstra 
en van der Meulen, p. 121, resembles the Breton sto 
ries, but lacks the miracle of the capon. 

239. Miracle of the roasted cock. Jesus visits a Jew 
on Easter Sunday and reproaches him with not believ 
ing in the resurrection. The Jew replies that Jesus 



having been put to death it was as impossible for him 
to come to life again as it would be for a roast chicken 
which lies before them. Faith can do anything, says 
Jesus. The fowl conies to life and lays eggs ; the Jew 
has himself baptized. Kostomarof, Monuments of the 
older Russian Literature, I, 217. In a note, a Red- 
Russian ballad is mentioned which seems to be iden 
tical with Golovatsky, II, 6, No 8. A young Jewess, 
who was carrying water, was the first to see Jesus after 
his resurrection. She tells her father, as he sits at 
meat, that the God of the Russians is risen from the 
dead. " If you were not my daughter, I would have 
you drowned," says the father. "The God of the 
Russians will not rise again till that capon flies up and 
crows." The capon does both; the Jew is turned to 
stone. (\V. W.) 

25. Willie's Lyke-Wake. 

Pp. 247-49 a. Danish. Add : Vagestuen,' in Kris- 
tensen's Skattegraveren, II, 17, No 17; IV, 17, 115, 
Nos 26, 285. 

249 b and 506 a. Swedish. Brb'ms Gyllenmiirs' 
visbok has been printed in Nyare Bidrag, o. s. v., 1887, 
and the ballad of Herr Carl is No 77, p. 252. There 
is an imperfect copy in Bergstrbin ock Nordlander, Ny 
are Bidrag, p. 102, No 9. 

250. ' II Genovese ' is given in eight versions, one a 
fragment, by Nigra, No 41, p. 257. 

250, 506 a, II, 502 a. Bulgarian. Stojan, who 
wants to carry off Bojana, does, at his mother's advice, 
everything to bring her within his reach. He builds a 
church, digs a well, plants a garden. All the maids 
come but her. He then feigns death ; she comes with 
flowers and mourns over him ; he seizes her ; the priest 
blesses their union. Miladinof, p. 294, No 185. An 
old woman, in a like case, advises a young man to 
fei^n death, and brings Bojana to see the body. 
" Why," asks Bojana, " do his eyes look as if they had 
sight, his arms as if they would lay hold of me, his feet 
as if ready to jump up?" "That is because he died 
so suddenly," says the beldam. The youth springs up 
and embraces Bojana. Verkovic", p. 334, No 304. A 
Magyar-Croat version begins like this last, but has suf 
fered corruption : Kurelac, p. 148, No. 447. (VV. W.) 

28. Burd Ellen and Young Tamlane. 

P. 256. The first paragraph was occasioned by a 
misprint in Motherwell (corrected at p. cv of his Intro 
duction), and may be dropped. In Pitcairn's MS. it is 
noted that this fragment was obtained from Mrs Gam- 

29. The Boy and the Mantle. 

Pp. 268 ff., 507, II, 502. 

On going to war a king gives each of his two daugh 

ters a rose. " Si vous tombez en faute, quoi que ce soit," 
says he, "vos roses fle"triront." Both princesses yield 
to the solicitations of their lovers, so that the king, on 
returning, finds both roses withered, and is grieved 
thereat. Vinson, Folk-Lore du Pays Basque, p. 102. 

Wer ein ausgelbschtes Licht wieder anblasen kann 
ist noch Jungfrau oder Junggeselle. Wer ein ganz 
voiles Glas zum Munde fiihren kann, ohne einen Trop- 
fen su verschiitten, ist Junggeselle. Zingerle, Sitten 
der Tiroler, p. 35. 

There is a shield in Perceval le Gallois which no 
knight can wear with safety in a tournament if he is 
not all that a knight should be, and if he has not, also, 
"bele amie qui soit loiaus sans trecerie." Several of 
Arthur's knights try the shield with disastrous results ; 
Perceval is more fortunate. (See 31805-31, 31865, 
32023-48, 32410 ft., Potvin, IV, 45 ff..) 

" Vpon the various earth's embrodered gowne 
There is a weed vpon whose head growes downe; 
Sow-thistle 'tis ycleepd; whose downy wreath 
If any one can blow off at a breath, 
We deeme her for a maid." 

(William Browne, Britannia's Pastorals, Book I, 
Song 4, Works, ed. Hazlitt, p. 103.) 

Eodem auxilii genere, Tucciae virginis Vestalis, incesti 
criminis reae, castitas infamiae nube obscurata emersit. 
Quae conscientia certae sinceritatis suae spem salutis 
ancipiti argumento ausa petere est. Arrepto enim 
cribro, ' Vesta,' inquit, 'si sacris tuis castas semper 
admovi manus, effice ut hoc hauriam e Tiberi aquam 
et in aedem tuam perferam.' Audaciter et temere 
iactis votis sacerdotis rerum ipsa natura cessit. Vale 
rius Maximus, viii, 1, 5. Cf. also Pliny, Hist. Nat., 
xxviii, 2 (3), and the commentators. 

Th^re was a (qualified) test of priestesses of Ge at 
JEegse by drinking bull's blood, according to Pausa- 
nias, VIII, xxv, 8 ; cited by H. C. Lea, Superstition 
and Force, 3d ed., 1878, p. 236 f. (All the above by 
G. L. K.) 

A spring in Apollonius Heinrichs von Neustadt black 
ens the hand of the more serious offender, but in a 
milder case only the ring-finger, "der die geringste 
Befleckung nicht ertr'agt." W. Grinim's Kleinere 
Schriften, III, 446. (C. R. Lanman.) 

30. King Arthur and King Cornwall 

P. 274. That this ballad is a traditional variation of 
Charlemagne's Journey to Jerusalem and Constanti 
nople, was, I am convinced, too hastily said. See M. 
Gaston Paris' s remarks at p. 110 f. of his paper, Les 
romans en vers du cycle de la Table Ronde (Extrait du 
tome xxx de 1'Histoire Litteraire de la France). The 
king who thinks himself the best king in the world, 
etc., occurs (it is Arthur) also in the romance of Ri- 
gomer: the same, p. 92. 



34. Kemp Owyne. 

P. 307 b. Add 'Linden,' Kristensen's Skattegrav- 
eren, V, 50, No 455. 

A princess in the form of a toad is kissed three times 
and so disenchanted : Revue des Traditions popu- 
laires, III, 475-6. A princess in the form of a black 
wolf must be kissed thrice to be disenchanted: Ver- 
naleken, Alpensagen, p. 123. A princess persuades a 
man to attempt her release from enchantment. Three 
successive kisses are necessary. On the first occasion 
she appears as a serpent ; he can kiss her but once. 
The second attempt is also unsuccessful ; she appears 
as a salamander and is kissed twice. The third time 
she takes the form of a toad, and the three kisses are 
happily given. Luzel, in the Annuaire de la Soc. des 
Traditions populates, II, 53. (G. L. K.) 

35. Allison Gross. 

P. 314 a. Hill-maid's promises. Add: ' Bjaergjom- 
fruens frieri,' Kristensen's Skattegraveren, II, 100, No 

37. Thomas Rymer. 

P. 319 b, last paragraph. In a Breton story, 'La 
Fleur du Rocher,' Se'billot, Contes pop. de la Haute- 
Bretagne, II, 31, Jean Gate addresses the fairy, when 
he first sees her, as the Virgin Mary. (G. L. K.) 

39. Tarn Lin. 

P. 335. Mr Macmath has found an earlier transcript 
of B in Glenriddel's MSS, VIII, 106, 1789. The va 
riations (except those of spelling, which are numerous) 
are as follows : 

I 2 , that wears. I 8 , go. 3 3 . has snoded. 

3 6 . is gaen. o 1 . had not. 6 s . comes. 7 2 . give. 

8 2 ' 4 , 16 2 ' 4 , 35 2 - 1 . above. 
II 1 . Out then: gray-head. 
II 8 . And ever alas, fair Janet, he says. 
13 s . fair Janet. 13 4 , thow gaes. 14 1 . If I. 
14 a . Thor'e not. 14 4 , 34 4 . bairns. 
15 4 . ye nae, wrongly. 16 6 . she is on. 
19". groves green. 20 1 . Thomas. 20 2 . for his. 
20 s . Whether ever. 22 s . from the. 
22 4 . Then from. 23 3 . The Queen o Fairies has. 
23 4 . do dwell. 23 6 . Fiend, wrongly. 
24 1 . is a Hallow-eon. 24 s . And them. 
25 s . Amongst. 27 1 . ride on. 27". gave. 
30 4 . wardly. 31 8 . Hald me. 34 2 . then in. 
37 4 . And there. 38 s . Them that hes. 38 4 . Has. 
40 8 ' 4 . eyes. 41 1 . I kend. 41 s . I'd. 


'The Queen of the Fairies,' Macmath MS., p. 57. 
"Taken down by me 14th October, 1886, from the reci 

tation of Mr Alexander Kirk, Inspector of Poor, Dairy, 
in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, who learned it about 
fifty years ago from the singing of David Ray, Barlay, 

This copy has been considerably made over, and was 
very likely learned from print. The cane in the maid's 
hand, already sufficiently occupied, either with the 
Bible or with holy water, is an imbecility such as only 
the " makers " of latter days are capable of. (There 
is a cane in another ballad which I cannot at this mo 
ment recall.) 

1 The maid that sits in Katherine's Hall, 

Clad in her robes so black, 
She has to yon garden gone, 
For flowers to flower her hat. 

2 She had not pulled the red, red rose, 

A double rose but three, 
When up there starts a gentleman, 
Just at this lady's knee. 

3 Says, Who 's this pulls the red, red rose? 

Breaks branches off the tree ? 
Or who 's this treads my garden-grass, 
Without the leave of me? 

4 'Yes, I will pull the red, red rose, 

Break branches off the tree, 
This garden in Moorcartney wood, 
Without the leave o thee.' 

5 He took her by the milk-white hand 

And gently laid her down, 
Just in below some shady trees 

Where the green leaves hung down. 

6 ' Come tell to me, kind sir,' she said, 

' What before you never told ; 
Are you an earthly man? ' said she, 
' A knight or a baron bold?' 

7 ' I '11 tell to you, fair lady,' he said, 

' What before I neer did tell ; 
I 'm Earl Douglas's second son, 

With the queen of the fairies I dwell. 

8 ' When riding through yon forest-wood, 

And by yon grass-green well, 
A sudden sleep me overtook, 
And off my steed I fell. 

9 ' The queen of the fairies, being there, 

Made me with her to dwell, 
And still once in the seven years 
We pay a teind to hell. 

10 ' And because I am an earthly man, 
Myself doth greatly fear, 



For the cleverest man in all our train 
To Pluto must go this year. 

11 ' This night is Halloween, lady, 

And the fairies they will ride ; 
The maid that will her true-love win 
* At Miles Cross she may bide.' 

12 'But how shall I thee ken, though, sir? 

Or how shall I thee know, 
Amang a pack o hellish wraiths, 
Before I never saw? ' 

13 ' Some rides upon a black horse, lady, 

And some upon a brown, 
But I myself on a milk-white steed, 
And I aye nearest the toun. 

14 'My right hand shall be covered, lady, 

My left hand shall be bare, 

And that 's a token good enough 

That you will find me there. 

15 ' Take the Bible in your right hand, 

With God for to be your guide, 
Take holy water in thy left hand, 
And throw it on every side.' 

16 She 's taen her mantle her about, 

A cane into her hand, 
And she has unto Miles Cross gone, 
As hard as she can gang. 

17 First she has letten the black pass by, 

And then she has letten the brown, 
But she 's taen a fast hold o the milk-white steed, 
And she 's pulled Earl Thomas doun. 

18 The queen of the fairies being there, 

Sae loud she 's letten a cry, 
' The maid that sits in Katherine's Hall 
This night has gotten her prey. 

19 'But hadst thou waited, fair lady, 

Till about this time the morn, 
He would hae been as far from thee or me 
As the wind that blew when he was born.' 

20 They turned him in this lady's arms 

Like the adder and the snake ; 
She held him fast; why should she not? 
Though her poor heart was like to break. 

21 They turned him in this lady's arms 

Like two red gads of airn ; 
She held him fast; why should she not? 
She knew they could do her no harm. 

22 They turned him in this lady's arms 

Like to all things that was vile; 
VOL. in. 64 

She held him fast; why should she not? 
The father of her child. 

23 They turned him in this lady's arms 

Like to a naked knight; 
She 'a taen him hame to her ain bower, 
And clothed him in armour bright. 

338 a, 507, II, 505 b. 

A king transformed into a nightingale being plunged 
three times into water resumes his shape : Vernaleken, 
K.- u. H. Marchen, No 15, p. 79. In Guillaume de 
Palerne, ed. Michelant, v. 7770 ff., pp. 225, 226, the 
queen who changes the werewolf back into a man takes 
care that he shall have a warm bath as soon as the 
transformation is over ; but this may be merely the 
bath preliminary to his being dubbed knight (as in Li 
Chevaliers as Deus Espees, ed. Fbrster, vv. 1547-49, 
p. 50, and L'Ordene de Chevalerie, vv. 111-124, Bar- 
bazan-Meon, I, 63, 64). A fairy maiden is turned into 
a wooden statue. This is burned and the ashes thrown 
into a pond, whence she immediately emerges in her 
proper shape. She is next doomed to take the form of 
a snake. Her lover, acting under advice, cuts up a 
good part of the snake into little bits, and throws these 
into a pond. She emerges again. J. H. Knowles, 
Folk- Tales of Kashmir, p. 468 ff.. (G. L. K.) 

339 b, II, 505 b. 

Fairy salve and indiscreet users of it. See also Se"- 
billot, Contes pop. de la Haute-Bretagne, II, 41, 42, cf. 
I, 122-3 ; the same, Traditions et Superstitions de la 
Haute-Bretagne, I, 89, 109 ; the same, Litt. orale de la 
Haute-B., pp. 19-23, 24-27, and note; Mrs Bray, Tra 
ditions of Devonshire, 1838, 1, 184-188, 1, 175 ff. of the 
new ed. called The Borders of the Tamar and the Tavy ; 
" Lageniensis " [J. O'Hanlon], Irish Folk-Lore, Glas 
gow, n. d., pp. 48-49. In a Breton story a fairy gives 
a one-eyed woman an eye of crystal, warning her not to 
speak of what she may see with it. Disregarding this 
injunction, the woman is deprived of the gift. Se"bil- 
lot, Contes pop. de la Haute-Bretagne, II, 24-25. 
(G. L. K.) 

340. The danger of lying under trees at noon. " Is 
not this connected with the belief in a Sai^ioy /leo-ij/x- 
fyw6v (LXX, Psalm xci, 6)? as to which see Rochholz, 
Deutscher Unsterblichkeitsglaube, pp. 62 ff., 67 ff., and 
cf. Lobeck, Aglaophamus, pp. 1092-3." Kittredge, 
Sir Orfeo, in the American Journal of Philology, VII, 
190, where also there is something about the dangerous 
character of orchards. Of processions of fairy knights, 
see p. 189 of the same. 

Tarn o Lin. Add : Tom a Lin, Robert Mylne's MS. 
Collection of Scots Poems, Part I, 8, 1707. (W. Mac- 

4O. The Queen of Elfan's Nourice. 

P. 358 f., II, 505 b. 

Mortal women as midwives to fairies, elves, water- 



sprites, etc. Further examples are : Se'billot, Litte"ra- 
ture orale de la Haute-Bretagne, pp. 19-23 ; the same, 
Traditions et Superstitions de la Haute-Bretagne, 1, 89, 
109 ; Vinson, Folk-Lore du Pays Basque, pp. 40, 41 ; 
Meier, Deutsche Sagen, u. s. w., aus Schwaben, pp. 
16-18, 59, 62; Mrs Bray, Traditions of Devonshire, 
1838, I, 184-188 (in the new ed., which is called The 
Borders of the Tamar and the Tavy, I, 174 ff.) ; " La- 
geniensis " [J. O'Hanlon], Irish Folk Lore, Glasgow, 
n. d., pp. 48, 49; U. Jahn, Volkssagen aus Pommern 
und Riigcn, pp. 50, 72 ; Vonbun, Die Sagen Vorarl- 
bergs, p. 16, cf. p. 6 ; Vernaleken, Alpensagen, p. 183. 
Mortal woman as nurse for fairy child. Se'billot, 
Contes populaires de la Haute-Bretagne, I, 121. 
(G. L. K.) 

41. Hind Etin. 

P. 361 f. Danish. Add: 'Jomfruen og dvasrgen,' 
Kristensen, Skattegraveren, III, 98, No 393. A frag 
ment of four stanzas, IV, 193, No 570. 

364. Danish. Add : ' Angenede og havmanden,' 
Kristensen, Skattegraveren, III, 17, No 34. 

42. Clerk Colvill. 

P. 379 a, II, 506. Breton P is now printed entire 
(twenty-one stanzas instead of eleven) by Gaidoz, in 
Melusine, IV, 301 ff. (The language appears to be 

380, II, 506. A is printed by Holland, III, 39 ; P, 
Q, ib., p. 41, p. 37 ; T, ib., p. 82, and in Revue des 
Traditions pop., I, 33 ; X, by Holland, III, 45 ; GG, 
in Revue des T. p., Ill, 195. The five stanzas in 
Foe's, pop. de la F., MS., VI, 491 (MM), by Holland, 
IH, 36. 

Add : NN, 38 verses, without indication of place, by 
C. de Sivry in Rev. des T. p., II, 24 ; OO, ' Le roi 
Le"ouis,' Haute-Bretagne, 60 verses, P. Se'billot, in the 
same, III, 196. 

A Basque version, with a translation, in Rev. des 
Trad, pop., Ill, 198. 

382 a. Italian. C-P, H-K now in Nigra's collection, 
'Morte Occulta,' A-G, No 21, p. 142, in a different 
order. C, D, B, P, H, I, K are in Nigra now A, C, D, 
E, G, F, B. The fragment spoken of p. 383 b is now 
Nigra's No 22, p. 149, ' Mai fcrito.' The tale which 
follows this is given p. 148 f. 

384 a. There are two good Asturian versions in 
Pidal, ' DoSa Alda,' Nos 46, 47, pp. 181, 183. The 
editor mentions a copy in the second number of Folk- 
Lore Betico-Extremeno, much injured by tradition, 
which is more like the Catalan than the Asturian ver 

43. The Broomfleld Hill. 

P. 392 b. Sleep-thorns. 

Sleep-thorns, or something similar, occur in the West 
Highland tales. In a story partly reported by Camp 

bell, I, xci, " the sister put gath nimh, a poisonous sting 
or thorn, into the bed, and the prince was as though 
he were dead for three days, and he was buried. But 
Knowledge told the other two dogs what to do, and they 
scraped up the prince and took out the thorn, and he 
came alive again and went home." So in "The Widow's 
Son," Campbell, II, 296: "On the morrow he went, 
but the carlin stuck a bior nimh, spike of hurt, in 
the outside of the door post, and when he came to the 
church he fell asleep." In another version of The 
Widow's Son, II, 297, a "big pin " serves as the 
' spike of hurt." Cf. the needle in Haltrich, Deutsche 
Volksmarchen aus dem Sachsenlande in Siebenburgen, 
3d ed., p. 141, No 32. (G. L. K.) 

393. Italian ballad. Add : Righi, p. 33, No 96 ; 
Nigra, No 77, p. 393, 'La Bevanda sonnifera,' A-H; 
Giannini, 'II Cavaliere ingannato,' p. 157; Ferrari, 
Biblioteca di Lett. pop. italiana, I, 218, ' La bella Bru- 
netta;' Finamore, in Archivio, I, 89, La Fandell' e lu 
Cavaljiere (mixed) ; Nerucci, in Archivio, II, 524, 'La 
Ragazza Fantina; ' Julia, in Archivio, VI, 244, 'La 
'nfantina e lu Cavalieri ; ' Rondini, in Archivio, VII, 

Ricordi, Canti p. Lombardi, No 9, ' La Moraschina,' 
gives the first half of the story, with a slight alteration 
for propriety's sake. 

44. The Twa Magicians. 

P. 400 a, II, 506 b. B, P, partly, in Revue des Tra 
ditions populaires, I, 104 f. (Q was previously cited as 
J.) Q. ' Les Transformations,' Avenay, Marne, Gaston 
Paris, in Rev. des Trad, pop., I, 98 ; R, Haute-Bre 
tagne, Se'billot, the same, p. 100 ; S, Le Morvan, Tier- 
sot, p. 102; T, Tarn-et-Garonne, the same, II, 208. 
U. 'Les Metamorphoses,' Finistere, Holland, IV, 32, c; 
V, environs de Brest, the same, p. 33, d. E is printed 
by Holland, IV, 30, 6. 

Italian. A ballad in Nigra, No 59, p. 329, ' Amore 

401 a. Vuk, I, No 602, is translated in Bowring's 
Servian Popular Poetry, p. 195. 

In a Magyar-Croat ballad the lover advises the maid, 
who has been chidden by her mother on his account, if 
her mother repeats the scolding, to turn herself into a 
fish, then he will be a fisherman, etc. Kurelac, p. 309, 
XV, 2. (W. W.) 

401 b, last two paragraphs. 

Other specimens of the first kind (not in Kbhler's 
note to Gonzenbach, II, 214) are : 

Luzel, Annuaire de la Socie'te' des Traditions popu 
laires, II, 56 ; Baissac, Folk-Lore de 1'lle Maurice, p. 
88 ff. ; Wigstrb'm, Sagor ock Afventyr uppt i Skane, 
p. 37 ; Luzel, Revue des Traditions populaires, 1, 287, 
288 ; Luzel, Contes pop. de Basse-Bretagne, II, 13, 41 ff., 
cf. 64-66 ; Vernaleken, Kinder- u. Hausmarchen, No 
49, p. 277; Blade", Contes pop. de la Gascogne, II, 
26-36 ; Carnoy, Contes populaires picards, Romania, 
VIII, 227. Cf. also Ortoli, Contes pop. de Pile de 



Corse, pp. 27-29, and Cosquin's notes (which do not 
cite any of the above-mentioned places), Contes pop. de 
Lorraine; I, 105 ff. 

Other specimens of the second kind : 

Luzel, Contes pop. de Basse-Bretagne, II, 92-95, and 
note ; Haltrich, Deutsche Volksmarchen aus dem 
Sachsenlande, u. s. w., 3d ed., 1882, No 14, p. 52 f.. 
(G. L. K.) 

402 a, last paragraph. "The pursuit in various 
forms by the witch lady has an exact counterpart in a 
story of which I have many versions and which I had 
intended to give if I had room. It is called ' The 
Fuller's Son," ' The Cotter's Son,' and other names, and 
it bears a strong resemblance to the end of the Norse 
tale of ' Farmer Weathersky.' " Campbell, Pop. Tales 
of the West Highlands, IV, 297. (G. L. K.) 

46. Captain Wedderburn's Courtship. 

P. 415, note f. A version from Scotland has been 
printed in the Folk-Lore Journal, III, 272, ' I had six 
lovers over the sea.' (G. L. K.) 

417, notef, II, 507 b. 

The one stake with no head on it occurs also in Wolf- 
dietrich B. The heathen, whom Wolfdictrich after 
wards overcomes at knife-throwing, threatens him thus: 

" Sihstu dort an den zinnen fu'nf hundert houbet stan, 
Diu ich mit minen henden alle verderbet han ? 
Noch stat ein zinne Isere an minem tiirnlin : 
Dfi muoz din werdez houbet ze einem phande sin." 

(St. 595, Janicke, Deutsches Heldenbuch, III, 

Two cases in Campbell's Pop. T. of the West High 
lands. " Many a leech has come, said the porter. 
There is not a spike on the town without a leech's head 
but one, and may be it is for thy head that one is." 
(The Ceabharnach, I, 312.) Conall " saw the very 
finest castle that ever was seen from the beginning of 
the universe till the end of eternity, and a great wall 
at the back of the fortress, and iron spikes within a 
foot of each other, about and around it ; and a man's 
head upon every spike but the one spike. Fear struck 
him and he fell a-shaking. He thought that it was 
his own head that would go on the headless spike." 
(The Story of Conall Gulban, III, 202.) In Cres- 
tien's Erec et Enide, Erec overcomes a knight in an 
orchard. There are many stakes crowned with heads, 
but one stake is empty. Erec is informed that this is 
for his head, and that it is customary thus to keep a 
stake waiting for a new-comer, a fresh one being set up 
as often as a head is taken. Ed. by Bekker in Haupt's 
Ztschr.,X, 520, 521, w. 5732-66. (G. L. K.) 

49. The Twa Brothers. 

P. 435. There is a copy in Nimmo, Songs and Bal 
lads of Clydesdale, p. 131, made from D, E, with half 
a dozen lines for connection. 

437 b. It is E (not A) that is translated by Grundt- 
vig ; and D by Afzelius, Grimm, Talvj, Rosa War 

436 f. In one of the older Croat ballads Marko 
Kraljevic' and his brother Andrija, who have made 
booty of three horses, quarrel about the third when 
they come to dividing, and Marko fells Andrija with a 
stab. Andrija charges Marko not to tell their mother 
what took place, but to say that he is not coming home, 
because he has become enamored of a girl in a foreign 
country. Bogisic", p. 18, No 6. There is a Magyar-Croat 
variant of this, in which two brothers returning from 
war fall out about a girl, and the older (who, by the 
way, is a married man) stabs the younger. The dying 
brother wishes the mother to be told that he has staid 
behind to buy presents for her and his sisters. The 
mother asks when her son will come home. The elder 
brother answers, When a crow turns white and a with 
ered maple greens. The (simple) mother gets a crow 
and bathes it daily in milk, and irrigates the tree with 
wine ; but in vain. Other Slavic examples of these 
hopeless eventualities: Little-Russian, Golovatsky, I, 
74, No 30, 97, No 7, 164, No 12, 173, No 23, 229, No 
59; II, 41, No 61, 585, No 18, 592, No 27; III, 12, 
No 9, 136, No 256, 212, No 78 ; Bohemian, Erben, p. 
182, No 340; Polish, Roger, p. 3, No 2; Servian, Vuk, 
I, No 364, Herzegovine, p. 209, No 176, p. 322, No 
332; Bulgarian, Verkovie, No 226; Dozon, p. 95; Mag 
yar-Croat, Kurelac, p. 11, No 61, p. 130, No 430, p. 
156, No 457 (and note), p. 157, No 459, p. 244, No 
557. (W. W.) 

53. Young Beichan. 

P. 454. The modern street or broadside ballad L 
(see II, 508) is given from singing by Miss Burne, 
Shropshire Folk- Lore, p. 547. 

459 b. The Faroe ballad (of which there are four 
copies) is printed in Hammershaimb's Fasrask Antho- 
logi, p. 260, No 33, 'Harra PaHur og Elinborg.' 

462 a. ' Gerineldo,' also in Pidal, Asturian Ro 
mances, p. 90 f. 

462 a, b. ' Moran d' Inghilterra,' with a second ver 
sion, in Nigra, No 42, p. 263. 


55. The Carnal and the Crane. 

P. 7 f., 5 10 a. Legend of the Sower. Catalan (with 
the partridge), Miscelanea Folk-Ldrica, 1887, p. 115, 
No 6. 

Moravian, Susil, p. 19, No 16; Little-Russian, Golo 
vatsky, II, 9, No 13. (W. W.) 

56. Dives and Lazarus. 

P. lOb. 'II ricco Epulone,' Nigra, No 159, p. 543, 
with Jesus and the Madonna for Lazarus. 



Little-Russian, Golovatsky, II, 737, No 5; III, 263, 
Nol, and 267, No 2. Lazarus and the rich man are 
represented as brothers. (W. W.) 

57. Brown Bobyn's Confession. 

P. 13 b, 5th line. A is not a manuscript of the ' fif 
teenth ' century, but of the date 1590 or 1591. (Note 
of Mr Axel Olrik.) 

59. Sir Aldingar. 

Pp. 37-43. The first adventure of the fragmentary 
romance of Joufrois affords this story. Count Rich 
ard of Poitiers has a son Joufrois. The boy begs his 
father to send him to the English court, that King 
Henry may knight him. The English king receives 
him well, but he remains a vaslet for some time. The 
seneschal of the court endeavors to win the queen's 
amiste, but fails. He tells the king that he has seen the 
queen in bed with a kitchen-boy, and Henry swears 
that she shall hang or burn. The vaslet Joufrois offers 
to prove the seneschal a liar, and begs to be knighted 
for that purpose. Everybody thinks him mad to under 
take battle with the seneschal, who is an unmatched 
man-at-arms : li biaus vaslet estoit enfens. The fight 
takes place at Winchester. Joufrois' sword is broken, 
but he picks up a piece of a huge lance and disables 
his adversary with a blow on the arm. Joufrois then 
threatens to cut off the felon's head if he does not re 
tract, and as the seneschal prefers death to eating his 
words, this is done. Joufrois, Altfranzosisches Ritter- 
gedicht, ed. Hofmann und Muncker, vv. 91-631, pp. 3- 
18. (G. L. K.) 

6O. King Estmere. 

Pp. 51, 510 b. Mr Kittredgehas noted for me some 
twenty other cases in metrical romances of knights rid 
ing into hall. 

Aiol's steed is stabled in the hall, Aiol et Mirabel, 
ed. Forster, vv. 1758-61, p. 51. So Gawain's horse in 
the ' Chevalier a 1'Espee,' vv. 224-236, Me'on, Nou- 
veau Recueil, I, 134. Cf. ' Perceval le Gallois,' ed. 
Potvin, II, 255 ff., vv. 16803-42. In ' Richars li Biaus,' 
the hero evidently lias his horse with him while at din 
ner in the hall of the robber-castle: ed. Forster, v. 3396, 
p. 93; cf. the editor's note, p. 182. In 'Perceval le 
Gallois,' a knight takes his horse with him into a bed 
chamber and ties him to a bed-post: ed. Potvin, III, 
34, v. 21169 f.. Cf. Elie de Saint Gille, ed. Forster, 
pp. 377, 379, 380, vv. 2050-55, 2105, 2129-42. (G. 
L. K.) 

61. Sir Cawline. 

P. 56 b. Amadas, while watching at the tomb of 
Ydoine, has a terrific combat with a highly mysterious 
stranger knight, whom he vanquishes. The stranger 

then informs Amadas that Ydoine is not really dead, 
etc., etc. He gives sufficient evidence of his elritch 
character, and the author clinches the matter by speak 
ing of him as " the maufe" " (v. 6709). Amadas et 
Ydoine, ed. Hippeau, vv. 5465 ff., p. 189 ff.. (G. L. K.) 
60. Stanzas 42 ff.. It might have been remarked that 
this feat of tearing out a lion's heart belongs to King 
Richard (see Weber's Romances, II, 44), hence, ac 
cording to the romance, named Coeur de Lion, and that 
it has also been assigned to an humbler hero, in a well- 
known broadside ballad, ' The Honour of a London 
Prentice,' Old Ballads, 1723, I, 199 (where there are 
two lions for one). 

63. Child Waters. 

P. 83. Italian. ' Ambrogio e Lietta,' Nigra, No 
35, p. 201. The Piedmontese ballad, though incomplete, 
has the rough behavior of the man to the woman, the 
crossing of the water, the castle and the mother, the 
stable, and twins brought forth in a manger. 

84 b. Danish. ' Hr. Peders stalddreng,' Kristen- 
sen, Skattegraveren, I, 121, No 441; ' Liden Kirsten 
som stalddreng,' V, 98, No 645. 

1 Hr. Grb'nnevold,' Kristensen, Skattegraveren, VII, 
49, No 177, is an imperfect copy of the second sort of 
Scandinavian ballads. 

64. Fair Janet. 

P. 103, note. ' La Fidanzata Infedele ' is now No 
34 of Nigra's collection. See above the addition to No 
5, I, 65 b. 

65. Lady Maisry. 

P. 113 a, last paragraph. Burning, etc. See Amis 
e Amiloun (the French text), v. 364, p. 134, ed. Kol- 
bing; Elie de St Gille, ed. Forster, vv. 2163-69, p. 381. 
Amadis de Gaule, Nicolas de Herberay, Anvers, 1573, 
I, 8 f., book 1, chap. 2, maid or wife; but Venice, 1552, 
I, 6 b, and Gayangos, Libros de Caballerias, p. 4, wife. 
(G. L. K.) 

113 b. Only certain copies, and those perverted, of 
Grundtvig Nos 108, 109 have the punishment of burn 
ing for simple incontinence. This is rather the penalty 
for incest: cf. Syv, No 16, = Kristensen, I, No 70, II, 
No 49, = Grundtvig, No 292, and many other ballads. 
(Note of Mr Axel Olrik.) 

Note . ' Galanzuca,' ' Galancina,' Pidal, Asturian 
Romance, Nos 6, 7, pp. 92, 94, belong here. They 
have much of the story of ' Lady Maisry,' with a happy 

66. Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet. 

P. 127 a, 9th line of the second paragraph. A copy 
of ' Fru Margaretha ' in Harald Oluffsons Visbok, Ny- 
are Bidrag, o. s. v., p. 36, No 16, stanzas 21, 22. 



127 b, 51 1 b. In a Breton ballad, Melusine, III, 350 f., 
a priest jumps a table, at the cry of bis sister, who is 
in a desperate extremity. 

But the greatest achievements in this way are in 
Slavic ballads. A bride, on learning of her bride 
groom's death, jumps over four tables and lights on the 
fifth, rushes to her chamber and stabs herself : Mora 
vian, Susil, p. 83. According to a variant, p. 84, note, 
she jumps over nine. A repentant husband who had 
projected the death of his wife, on hearing that she 
is still living, leaps nine tables without touching the 
glasses on them : Magyar-Croat, Kurelac, p. 184, No 
479. (W. W.) 

Mr Kittredge has given me many cases from ro 

127b, note. Sword reduced to a straw: add Nigra, 
No 113, etc. ' Gerineldo: ' add Pidal, Asturian Ro 
mances, Nos 3, 4, 5. 

67. Glasgerion. 

P. 137 b. ' Poter del Canto ' is now No 47, p. 284, of 
Nigra's collection. 

68. Young Hunting. 

P. 142. A copy in A. Nimmo's Songs and Ballads 
of Clydesdale, 'Young Hyndford,' p. 155, is made up 
(with changes) from Scott, Kinloch, Buchan, Mother- 
well and Herd, E, J, B, K, F, G. 

143, 512 a. Discovery of drowned bodies. See 
Revue des Traditions populaires, I, 56; Melusine, III, 

69. Clerk Saunders. 

P. 157. There are four copies of the Faroe ' FaSir og 
ddttir,' and Hammershaimb has printed a second (with 
but slight variations) in his Fairesk Anthologi: p. 253, 
No 31. 

158. Spanish. Add: 'La Esposa infiel,' Pidal, As 
turian Romances, No 33, p. 154. 

71. The Bent Sae Brown. 

P. 1 70. Nine versions of ' Jomfruens Bradre ' in Kris- 
tensen's Skattegraveren, II, 145 ff., Nos 717-23, V, 81 
ft., Nos 633, 634. 

72. The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford. 

Pp. 174, 512. Add to the French ballads one from 
Carcassonne, first published in a newspaper of that 
place, Le Bon Sens, August 10, 1878, and reprinted in 
Melusine, II, 212. The occurrence which gave rise to 
the ballad is narrated by Nigra, C. p. del Piemonte, p. 
54 f., after Mary Lafon, and the Italian version is No 4 
of that collection, ' Gli Scolari di Tolosa.' The ballad 
is originally French, the scene Toulouse. 

73. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet. 

P. 1 79 f. D. The Roxburghe copy of ' Lord Thomas 
and Fair Eleanor,' III, 554, is printed by Mr J. W. 
Ebsworth in the Ballad Society's edition of the Rox 
burghe Ballads, VI, 647. (Mr Ebsworth notes that the 
broadside occurs in the Bagford Ballads, II, 127; 
Douce, I, 120 v., Ill, 58 v., IV, 36; Ouvry, II, 38; 
Jersey, III, 88.) ' The Unfortunate Forrester,' Rox 
burghe, II, 553, is printed at p. 645 of the same vol 
ume. A copy from singing is given (with omissions) 
in Miss Burne's Shropshire Folk-Lore, 1883-86, p. 
545; another, originally from recitation, in Mr G. R. 
Tomson's Ballads of the North Countrie, 1888, p. 82. 
Both came, traditionally, from print. Still another, 
from the singing of a Virginian nurse-maid (helped out 
by her mother), was communicated by Mr W. H. Bab- 
cock to the Folk-Lore Journal, VII, 33, 1889, and 
may be repeated here, both because it is American and 
also because of its amusing perversions. 


1 ' O mother, O mother, come read this to me, 

And regulate all as one, 
Whether I shall wed fair Ellinter or no, 
Or fetch you the brown girl home.' 

2 ' Fair Ellinter she has houses and wealth, 

The brown girl she has none; 
But before I am charged with that blessing, 
Go fetch me the brown girl home.' 

3 He dressed himself in skylight green, 

His groomsmen all in red; 
And every town as he rode through 
They took him to be some king. 

4 He rode and he rode until he came to fair Ellin- 

ter's door ; 

He knocked so loud at the ring; 
There was none so ready as fair Ellinter herself 
To rise and let him in. 

5 ' O what is the news, Lord Thomas? ' she said, 

' O what is the news to thee ? ' 
' I 've come to invite you to my wedding, 
And that is bad news to thee.' 

6 ' God forbid, Lord Thomas,' she said, 

1 That any such thing should be ! 
For I should have been the bride myself, 
And you should the bridegroom be. 

7 ' O mother, O mother, come read this to me, 

And regulate all as one, 
Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas' wed, 
Or stay with you at home.' 



8 ' Here you have one thousand friends, 

Where there you would but one ; 
So I will invite you, with my blessing, 
To stay with me at home.' 

9 But she dressed herself in skylight red, 

Her waiting-maids all in green, 

And every town as she rode through 

They took her to be some queen. 

10 She rode and she rode till she came to Lord 

Thomas's door; 

She knocked so loud at the ring; 
There was none so ready as Lord Thomas himself 
To rise and let her in. 

11 He took her by her lily-white hand, 

He led her across the hall; 
Sing, ' Here are five and twenty gay maids, 
She is the flower of you all.' 

12 He took her by her lily-white hand, 

He led her across the hall, 
He sat her down in a big arm-chair, 
And kissed her before them all. 

13 The wedding was gotten, the table was set, 

The first to sit down was Lord Thomas himself, 
His bride, fair Ellinter, by his side. 

14 'Is this your bride, Lord Thomas? ' she said; 

' If this is your bride, Lord Thomas, she looks 

most wonderfully dark, 
When you could have gotten a fairer 
As ever the sun shone on.' 

15 ' O don't you despise her,' Lord Thomas said he, 

' O don't you despise her to me ; 
Yes, I like the end of your little finger 
Better than her whole body.' 

16 The brown girl, having a little penknife, 

And being both keen and sharp, 

Eight between the long and short ribs, 

She pierced poor Ellmter's heart. 

1 7 ' O what is the matter, fair Ellinter,' said he, 

' That you look so very dark, 
When your cheeks used to have been so red and 

As ever the sun sinned on ? ' 

18 ' Are you blind, or don't you see, 

My heart-blood come trickling down to my 

3H green and red should be interchanged : cf. 9. 
13, 14. Rearranged. 15 1 . said she. 

181. Add to the French ballads, 'La De'laisseV V. 
Smith, Romania, VII, 82 ; Legrand, Romania, X, 386, 
No 32; 'Latriste Noce," Thiriat, Melusine, I, 189; and 
to the Italian ballad, Nigra, No 20, p. 139, 'Danze e 

75. Lord Lovel. 

P. 205 b. Other copies of ' Den elskedes Dad ' 
('Kjserestens Dad '), Kristensen, Skattegraveren, VII, 
1, 2, Nos 1, 2; Bergstrom ock Nordlander, in Nyare 
Bidrag, o. s. v., pp. 92, 100; and 'Olof Adelen,' p. 98, 
may be added, in which a linden grows from the com 
mon grave, with two boughs which embrace. 

Note. With the Scandinavian-German ballads be 
longs ' Greven og lille Lise,' Kristensen, Skattegra 
veren, V, 20, No 14. 

206, 512 b. To the southern ballads which have a 
partial resemblance may be added: French, Beaure- 
paire, p. 52, Combes, Chants p. du Pays castrais, p. 
139, Arbaud, I, 117, Victor Smith, Romania, VII, 83, 
No. 32; Italian, Nigra, 'La Sposa morta,' No 17, p. 
120 ff. (especially D). 

215. I ought not to have omitted the o^/taro by which 
Ulysses convinces Penelope, Odyssey, xxiii, 181-208; 
to which might be added those which convince Laertes, 
xxiv, 328 ff. See also the romance of Don Bueso, Du- 
ran, I, Ixv: 

^ Quo" senas me dabas 

Por ser conocida? et ce"t. 

76. The Lass of Roch Royal. 

II, 213. There is a version of this ballad in the Rox- 
burghe collection, III, 488, a folio slip without imprint, 
dated in the Museum Catalogue 1 740. I was not aware 
of the existence of this copy till it was printed by Mr 
Ebsworth in the Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 609. He puts 
the date of issue circa 1 765. It is here given from the 
original. Compare H. 


1 I built my love a gallant ship, 

And a ship of Northern fame, 
And such a ship as I did build, 
Sure there never was seen. 

2 For her sides were of the beaten gold, 

And the doors were of block-tin, 
And sure such a ship as I built 
There sure never was seen. 

3 And as she was a sailing, 

By herself all alone, 
She spied a proud merchant-man, 
Come plowing oer the main. 



4 ' Thou fairest of all creatures 

Under the heavens,' said she, 
' I am the Lass of Ocram, 
Seeking for Lord Gregory." 

6 ' If you are the Lass of Ocram, 

Aa I take you for to be, 
You must go to 'yonder island, 
There Lord Gregory you '11 see.' 

6 ' It rains upon my yellow locks, 

And the dew falls on my skin ; 
Open the gates, Lord Gregory, 
And let your true-love in ! ' 

7 ' If you 're the Lass of Ocram, 

As I take you not to be, 
You must mention the three tokens 
Which passd between you and me." 

8 ' Don't you remember, Lord Gregory, 

One night on my father's hill, 

With you I swaf t my linen fine ? 

It was sore against my will. 

9 ' For mine was of the Holland fine, 

And yours but Scotch cloth ; 
For mine cost a guinea a yard, 
And yours but five groats.' 

10 ' If you are the Lass of Ocram, 

As I think you not to be, 
You must mention the second token 
That passd between you and me.' 

11 ' Don't you remember, Lord Gregory, 

One night in my father's park, 
We swaffecl our two rings ? 
It was all in the dark. 

12 ' For mine was of the beaten gold, 

And yours was of block-tin ; 

And mine was true love without, 

And yours all false within.' 

13 ' If you are the Lass of Ocram, 

As I take you not to be, 
You must mention the third token 
Which past between you and me.' 

14 ' Don't you remember, Lord Gregory, 

One night in my father's hall, 

Where you stole my maidenhead ? 

Which was the worst of all.' 

15 ' Begone, you base creature ! 

Begone from out of the hall ! 
Or else in the deep seas 

You and your babe shall fall.' 

16 ' Then who will shoe my bonny feet ? 

And who will close my hands ? 
And who will lace my waste so small, 
Into a landen span ? 

17 ' And who will comb my yellow locks, 

With a brown berry comb? 
And who 's to be father of my child 
If Lord Gregory is none ? ' 

18 ' Let your brother shoe your bonny feet, 

Let your sister close your hands, 
Let your mother lace your waist so small, 
Into a landen span. 

19 ' Let your father comb your yellow locks, 

With a brown berry comb, 
And let God be father of your child, 
For Lord Gregory is none.' 

20 ' I dreamt a dream, dear mother, 

I could wish to have it read ; 
I saw the Lass of Ocram 
A floating on the flood.' 

21 ' Lie still, my dearest son, 

And take thy sweet rest ; 
It is not half an hour ago, 
The maid passd this place.' 

22 ' Ah ! cursed be you, mother ! 

And cursed may you be, 
That you did not awake me, 
When the maid passd this way ! 

23 ' I will go down into some silent grove, 

My sad moan for to make ; 
It is for the Lass of Ocram 

My poor heart now will break.' 

(4 1 . Perhaps the reading was : The fairest, etc.) 

Mr W. H. Babcock has printed a little ballad as 
sung in Virginia, in which are two stanzas that be 
long to 'The Lass of Eoch Royal:' The Folk-Lore 
Journal, VII, 31. 

' Come along, come along, my pretty little miss, 
Come along, come along,' said he, 
1 And seat yourself by me.' 



' Neither will I come, and neither sit down, 

For I have not a moment's time ; 
For I heard that you had a new sweetheart, 

And your heart is no more mine.' 

' It never was, and it never shall be, 
And it never was any such a thing; 

For yonder she stands, in her own father's garden, 
The garden of the vine, 

Mourning for her own true, love, 
Just like I 've mourned for mine.' 

I laid my head in a little closet-door, 
To hear what my true love had to say, 

So that I might know a little of his mind 
Before he went away. 

I laid my head on the side of his bed, 

My arms across his breast; 
I made him believe, for the fall of the year, 

The sun rose in the west. 

' I 'm going away, I 'm coming back again, 

If it is ten thousand miles ; 
It 'a who will shoe your pretty little feet ? 

And who will glove your hand ? 
And who will kiss your red, rosy lips, 

While I 'm in a foreign land ? ' 

' My father will shoe my pretty little feet, 

My mother glove my hand, 
My babe will kiss my red, rosy lips, 

While you 're in a foreign land.' 

Mr James Mooney, of the Bureau of Ethnology, 
obtained two very similar stanzas in the ' Carolina 

' O who will shoe your feet, my dear ? 

Or who will glove your hands ? 
Or who will kiss your red rosy cheeks, 

When I 'm in the foreign lands ? ' 

' My father will shoe my feet, my dear, 
My mother will glove my hands, 

And you may kiss my red rosy cheeks 
When you come from the foreign lands.' 

P. 234. 

78. The Unquiet Grave. 


'In Gipsy Tents,' by Francis Hindes Groome, 1880, p. 
141, as sung by an old woman. 

1 ' Cold blows the wind over my true love, 
Cold blows the drops of rain ; 

I never, never had but one sweetheart, 
In the green wood he was slain. 

2 ' But I '11 do as much for my true love 

As any young girl can do ; 
I '11 sit and I '11 weep by his grave-side 
For a twelvemonth and one day.' 

3 When the twelvemonth's end and one day was 


This young man he arose : 
' What makes you weep by my grave-side 
For twelve months and one day ? ' 

4 ' Only one kiss from your lily cold lips, 

One kiss is all I crave ; 
Only one kiss from your lily cold lips, 
And return back to your grave.' 

5 ' My lip is cold as the clay, sweet-heart, 

My breath is earthly strong ; 
If you should have a kiss from my cold lip, 
Your days will not be long.' 

6 ' Go fetch me a note from the dungeon dark, 

Cold water from a stone ; 
There I '11 sit and weep for my true love 
For a twelvemonth and one day. 

7 ' Go dig me a grave both long, wide and deep ; 
I will lay down in it and take one sleep, 

For a twelvemonth and one day; 
I will lay down in it and take a long sleep, 
For a twelvemonth and a day.' 

' Cold Hows the wind," Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by 
Charlotte Sophia Burne, 1883-86, p. 542; "sung by Jane 
Butler, Edgmond, 1870-80." 

' Cold blows the wind over my true love, 

Cold blow the drops of rain ; 
I never, never had but one true love, 

And in Camvile he was slain. 

' I '11 do as much for my true love 

As any young girl may ; 
I '11 sit and weep down by his grave 

For twelve months and one day.' 

But when twelve months were come and gone, 
This young man he arose : 



' What makes you weep down by my grave ? 
I can't take my repose.' 

' One kiss, one kiss, of your lily-white lips, 

One kiss is all I crave ; 
One kiss, one kiss, of your lily-white lips, 

And return back to your grave.' 

' My lips they are as cold as my clay, 
My breath is heavy and strong ; 

If thou wast to kiss my lily-white lips, 
Thy days would not be long. 

* don't you remember the garden-grove 

Where we was used to walk ? 
Pluck the finest flower of them all, 

'T will wither to a stalk.' 

' Go fetch me a nut from a dungeon deep, 

And water from a stone, 
And white milk from a maiden's breast 

[That babe bare never none].' 

From the singing of a wandering minstrel and story-teller 
of the parish of Cury, Cornwall. After the last stanza fol 
lowed "a stormy kind of duet between the maiden and her 
lover's ghost, who tries to persuade the maid to accompany 
him to the world of shadows." Hunt, Popular Romances 
of the West of England, First Series, 1865, p. xvi. 

1 ' Cold blows the wind to-day, sweetheart, 

Cold are the drops of rain ; 
The first truelove that ever I had 
In the green wood he was slain. 

2 ' 'T was down in the garden-green, sweetheart, 

Where you and I did walk ; 
The fairest flower that in the garden grew 
Is witherd to a stalk. 

3 ' The stalk will bear no leaves, sweetheart, 

The flowers will neer return, 
And since my truelove is dead and gone, 
What can I do but mourn ? ' 

4 A twelvemonth and a day being gone, 

The spirit rose and spoke : 

And if you kiss my lily-white lips 
Your time will not be long.' 

285 f. Add: Gaspe", Les anciens Canadiens, Quebec, 
1877, I, 220 ff.; cited by Se'billot, Annuaire des Tradi 
tions populaires, 1887, p. 38 ft.. 

236. A 5, etc. So Nigra, ' La Sposa morta,' p. 122, 
No 17, D 12 : ' Mia buca morta 1'a odur di terra, ch'a 
1'era, viva, di roze e fiur.' 

Little-Russian tale, Trudy, II, 416, No 122. A 
girl who is inconsolable for the death of her mother 
is advised to hide herself in the church after vespers 
on Thursday of the first week in Lent, and does so. 
At midnight the bells ring, and a dead priest performs 
the service for a congregation all of whom are dead. 
Among them is the girl's godmother, who bids her be 
gone before her mother remarks her. But the mother 
has already seen her daughter, and calls out, You here 
too V Weep no more for me. My coffin and my grave 
are filled with your tears ; wretched it is to bathe in 
them! (W. W.) After this the mother's behavior is 
not quite what we should expect. Cf. the tale in Gaspe", 
just cited. 

79. The Wife of Usher's Well. 

II, 238. 


'The Widow-Woman,' Shropshire Folk-Lore, edited by 
Charlotte Sophia Burne, 1883-86, p. 541 ; "taken down by 
Mr Hubert Smith, 24th March, 1883, from the recitation of 
an elderly fisherman at Bridgworth, who could neither read 
nor write, and had learnt it some forty years before from 
his grandmother in Corve Dale." 

" The West and South Shropshire folk say far lot fair." 

1 There was a widow- woman lived in far Scotland, 

And in far Scotland she did live, 
And all her cry was upon sweet Jesus, 
Sweet Jesus so meek and mild. 

2 Then Jesus arose one morning quite soon, 

And arose one morning betime, 
And away he went to far Scotland, 

And to see what the good woman want 

3 And when he came to far Scotland, 

' My body is clay-cold, sweetheart, 
My breath smells heavy and strong, 

Crying, What, O what, does the good woman 

That is calling so much on me ? 

4 ' It '& you go rise up my three sons, 
Their names, Joe, Peter, and John, 

And put breath in their breast, 
And clothing on their backs, 

And immediately send them to far Scotland, 
That their mother may take some rest.' 



5 Then he went and rose up her three sons, 

Their names, Joe, Peter, and John, 
And did immediately send them to far Scot 
That their mother may take some rest. 

6 Then she made up a supper so neat, 
As small, as small, as a yew-tree leaf, 
But never one bit they could eat. 

7 Then she made up a bed so soft, 

The softest that ever was seen, 
And the widow-woman and her three sons 
They went to bed to sleep. 

8 There they lay ; about the middle of the night, 

Bespeaks the youngest son : 
' The white cock he has crowed once, 
The second has, so has the red.' 

9 And then bespeaks the eldest son : 
' I think, I think it is high time 

For the wicked to part from their dead.' 

10 Then they laid [= led] her along a green road, 

The greenest that ever was seen, 
Until they came to some far chaperine, 

Which was builded of lime and sand ; 
Until they came to some far chaperine, 

Which was builded with lime and stone. 

11 And then he opened the door so big, 

And the door so very wide ; 
Said he to her three sons, Walk in ! 
But told her to stay outside. 

12 ' Go back, go back ! ' sweet Jesus replied, 

' Go back, go back ! ' says he ; 
' For thou hast nine days to repent 

For the wickedness that thou hast done.' 

13 Nine days then was past and gone, 

And nine days then was spent, 
Sweet Jesus called her once again, 
And took her to heaven with him. 

8O. Old Robin of Portingale. 

P. 240 a. 'Sleep you, wake you.' Add: 'Young 
Beichan,' No 53, B 5 ; Duran, Romancero, I, 488, Nos 
742, 743. 

240 a, II, 513 a. 

The very wicked knight Owen, after coming out of 
St Patrick's Purgatory, lay in his orisons fifteen days 
and nights before the high altar, 

" And suj>]>e in is bare flech fe holi crois he nom, 
And wende to j>e holi loud, and holi inon bicom." 

Horstmann, Altengl. Legenden, 1875, p. 174, vv. 611- 
612 ; also p. 208, v. 697, and p. 209, v. 658. In a me 
diaeval traveller's tale the Abyssinians are said to burn 
the cross in their children's foreheads. " Vort wonent 
da andere snoide kirsten in dome lande ind die heisch- 
ent Ysini ; wan man yr kinder douft ind kirsten macht, 
dan broct der pricster yn eyn cruce vor dat houft." 
Ein niedcrrheinischer Bericht u'ber den Orient, ed. 
Riihriuht u. Meier, in Zacher's Zeitschrift, XIX, 15. 
(G. L. K.) 

83. Child Maurice. 

P. 272. F. 

Mr Macmath has found the edition of 1755, and has 
favored mo with a copy. Substitute for P. a., p. 263 : 
Gill Morice, An Ancient Scottish Poem. Second Edi 
tion. Glasgow, Printed and sold by Robert and An 
drew Foulis, 1755. (Small 4, 15 pages.) The copy 
mentioned p. 263 b, note, is a reprint of this or of the 
first edition ; it has but two variations of reading. The 
deviations from the text of 1 755 will be put in the list 
of things to be corrected in the print. 

84. Bonny Barbara Allen. 

P. 276. In Miss Fume's Shropshire Folk-Lore, 1883- 
86, p. 543, there is a copy, taken from singing, which 
I must suppose to be derived ultimately from print. 

85. Lady Alice. 

P. 279. The following version is printed by Mr G. 
R. Tomson in his Ballads of the North Countrie, 1888, 
p. 434, from a MS. of Mrs Rider Haggard. 


1 Giles Collins said to his own mother, 

' Mother, come bind up my head, 
And send for the parson of our parish, 
For to-morrow I shall be dead. 

2 ' And if that I be dead, 

As I verily believe I shall, 
O bury me not in our churchyard, 
But under Lady Annice's wall.' 

3 Lady Annice sat at her bower-window, 

Mending of her night-coif, 
When passing she saw as lovely a corpse 
As ever she saw in her life. 

4 ' Set down, set down, ye six tall men, 

Set down upon the plain, 



That I may kiss those clay-cold lips 
I neer shall kiss again. 

5 ' Set down, set down, ye six tall men, 

That I may look thereon ; 
For to-morrow, before the cock it has crowd, 
Giles Collins and I shall be one. 

6 ' What had you at Giles Collins's burying ? 

Very good ale and wine ? 
You shall have the same to-morrow night, 
Much about the same time.' 

7 Giles Collins died upon the eve, 

This fair lady on the morrow ; 
Thus may you all now very well know 
This couple died for sorrow. 

Lt-Col. Prideaux has sent me this copy, from Fly- 
Leaves, London, John Miller, 1854, Second Series, p. 98. 


1 Lady Annis she sat in her bay-window, 

A-mending of her night-coif ; 
As she sat, she saw the handsomest corpse 
That ever she saw in her life. 

2 ' Who bear ye there, ye four tall men ? 

Who bear ye on your shouldyers ? ' 
' It is the body of Giles Collins, 
An old true lovyer of yours.' 

3 'Set 'n down, set 'n down,' Lady Annis she 


' Set 'n down on the grass so trim ; 
Before the clock it strikes twelve this night, 
My body shall lie beside him.' 

4 Lady Annis then fitted on her night-coif, 

Which fitted her wondrous well ; 
She then pierced her throat with a sharp-edgd 

As the four pall-bearers can tell. 

5 Lady Annis was buried in the east church-yard, 

Giles Collins was laid in the west. 
And a lily grew out from Giles Collins's grave 
Which touched Lady Annis's breast. 

f> There blew a cold north-westerly wind, 

And cut this lily in twain ; 
Which never there was seen before, 
And it never will again. 

89. Pause Foodrage. 

P. 298 a. Add, 'Sonnens haevn,' Kristensen, Skatte- 
graveren, IV, 113, No 284 ; a fragment. 

9O. Jellon Grame. 

Pp. 303 b, 513 b. Marvellous growth, etc. Ormr 
Stdrdlfsson very early attained to a great size, and at 
seven was a match for the strongest men : Flateyjar- 
bok, I, 521, Fornmanna Siigur, III, 205, cited by Bugge 
in Paul a. Braune's Beitriige, XII, 58. Wolfdietrich 
gains one man's strength every year, and amazes every 
body in his infancy even. Wolfdietrich A, ed. Ame- 
lung, sts 31, 38-41, 45, 233, 234, pp. 84, 85, 86, 108. 
(Some striking resemblances to Robert le Diable.) 
Cf. also Wigalois, ed. Pfeiffer, 36, 2f., =Benecke, 
1226f. : 

In einem jare wuchs ez mer 
dan ein anderz in zwein tuo. 

Elias (afterwards the Knight of the Swan), who is to 
avenge his mother, astonishes by his rapid growth the 
old hermit who brings him up : 

"A! Dieu! dist ly preudons, a qui est cest enfant ? 
II est sy jouenes d'age et s'a le corps sy grant : 
S'il croist sy faitement, ce sera ung gaiant." 

Chevalier au Cygne, ed. Reiffenberg, vv. 960-963, I, 45. 
"The little Malbrouk grew fast, and at seven years old 
he was as tall as a tall man." Webster, basque Le 
gends, 2d ed., p. 78 ; Vinson, Folk-Lore du Pays basque, 
p. 81. The Ynca Mayta Ccapac "a few months after 
his birth began to talk, and at ten years of age fought 
valiantly and defeated his enemies." Markham, Nar 
ratives of the Rites and Laws of the Yncas, Hakluyt 
Society, p. 83. A Tete-Rase'e infant in four days grows 
to the full size of man. Petitot, Traditions Indiennes 
du Canada Nord- Quest, pp. 241-243. (G. L. K.) 

91. Pair Mary of Wellington. 

P. 310. Danish. Another copy of ' Malfreds Dad," 
Kristensen's Skattegraveren, VI, 195, No 804. 

93. Lamkin. 

P. 320. The negroes of Dumfries, Prince William 
County, Virginia, have this ballad, orally transmitted 
from the original Scottish settlers of that region, with 
the stanza found in F (19) and T (15): 

Mr Lammikin, Mr Lammikin, 

oh, spare me my life, 
And I "11 give you my daughter Betsy, 

and she shall be your wife. 

" They sang it to a monotonous measure." (Mrs Du- 



94. Young Waters. 

P. 343. By the kindness of Mr Macmath, I have now 
a copy of the original edition. 

Young Waters, an Ancient Scottish Poem, never be 
fore printed. Glasgow, Printed and sold by Robert and 
Andrew Foulis, 1755. (Small 4, 8 pages.) The few 
differences of reading will be given with corrections to 
be made in the print. 

95. The Maid Freed from the Gallows. 

P. 346. Mr Alfred Nutt has communicated to the 
Folk-Lore Journal, VI, 144, 1888, the outline of a bal 
lad in which, as in some versions of the European con 
tinent, the man has the place of the maid. But this 
may be a modern turn to the story, arising from the 
disposition to mitigate a tragic tale. The ballad was 
obtained " from a relative of Dr Birbeck Hill's, in 
whose family it is traditional. Mother, father, and 
brethren all refuse him aid, but his sweetheart is 
kinder, and buys him off." For the burden see C 6, 
which, as well as B 12, might better have been printed 
as such. 

1 ' Hold up, hold up your hands so high ! 

Hold up your hands so high ! 
For I think I see my own mother comincj 

> o 

Oer yonder stile to me. 
Oh the briars, the prickly briars, 

They prick my heart full sore ; 
If ever I get free from the gallows-tree, 

I '[11] never get there any more. 

2 ' Oh mother hast tliou any gold for me, 

Any money to buy me free, 
To save my body from the cold clay ground, 
And my head from the gallows-tree ? ' 

3 ' Oh no, I have no gold for thee, 

No money to buy thee free, 
For I have come to see thee hanged, 
And hanged thou shalt be.' 

Struppa's text of ' Scibilia Nobili ' is repeated in 
Salomone-Marino's Leggende p. siciliane in Poesia, p. 
160, No 29. The editor supplies defects and gives some 
varying readings from another version, in which Sci 
bilia is the love, not the wife, of a cavalier. Man^o, 
Calabria, in Archivio, I, 394, No 75 (wife). ' La Pri- 
gioniera,' Giannini, No 25, p. 195, two copies, reduces 
the story to four or five stanzas. The sequel, No 26, 
p. 197, is likely to have been originally an independent 
ballad. It is attached to ' Scibilia Nobili,' but is found 
separately in Bernoni, XI, No 3, ' La Figlia snaturata,' 
Finamore, Archivio, I, 212, 'Catarine.' 

347 b. ' Fri'sa visa ' is reprinted by Hammershaimb, 
Fasrask Anthologi, p. 268, No 34. The editor ex 
pressly says that the ballad is used as a children's 
game, like the English P. So also are Danish A, 
and a Magyar ballad of like purport, to be mentioned 

348 b. Danish. A, in Kristensen's Skattegrave- 
ren, ' Jomfruens udlesning,' II, 49, No 279, 1884; B, III, 
5, No 3, 1885. From tradition. Both versions agree 
with the Swedish in all important points, and the lan 
guage of B points to a Swedish derivation. 

349 a. Ransom for maid refused by father, mother, 
brother, sister, and paid by lover: Little-Russian, Golo- 
vatsky, I, 50, No 11; II, 245, No 7. (W. W.) 

349 b, 514 a. Man redeemed by maid when aban 
doned by his own blood: Little-Russian, Golovatsky, I, 
250, No 26; Servian, Vuk, III, 547, No 83; Magyar- 
Croat, Kurelac, p. 254, No 61, p. 352, No 96. (W. W.) 

In a Slovak ballad in Kollar, Narodnie Zpiewanky, 
II, 13, translated by Herrmann, Ethnologische Mitthei- 
lungen, col. 42 f., John, in prison, writes to his father 
to ransom him ; the father asks how much would have 
to be paid; four hundred pieces of gold and as many 
of silver; the father replies that he has not so much, 
and his son must perish. An ineffectual letter to 
mother, brother, sister, follows; then one to his sweet 
heart. She brings a long rope, with which he is to let 
himself down from his dungeon. If the rope proves 
too short, he is to add his long hair (cf. I, 40 b, line 2, 
486 b) ; and if it be still too short, he may light upon 
her shoulders. John escapes. Nearly the same is the 
Polish ballad translated in Waldbriihl's Balalaika, 
which is referred to II, 350 b. 

A fragment of a Szekler ransom-ballad is found in 
Arany and Gyulai's collection, III, 42: Herrmann, as 
above, col. 49. Another form of love-test is very 
popular in Hungary, of which Herrmann gives eight 
versions. In one of these, from a collection made in 
1813, Arany and Gyulai, I, 189 (Herrmann's IV), the 
story is told with the conciseness of the English ballad. 
A snake has crept into a girl's bosom : she entreats her 
father to take it out; he dares not, and sends her to her 
mother; the mother has as little devotion and courage 
as the father, and sends her to her brother; she is 
successively passed on to sister-in-law, brother-in-law, 
sister; then appeals to her lover, who instantly does 
the service. This is the kernel, and perhaps all that is 
original, in versions, I (of Herrmann), col. 34 f., con 
tributed by Kalmdny; II, 36 f., contributed by Szabd; 
V, col. 38, Kalmany, Koszoriik az Alfb'ld vad Virdgai- 
bdl, I, 21, translated into German by Wlislocki, Un- 
garische Revue, 1884, p. 344 ; VIII, col. 39, Kalmany, 
Szeged Ne'pe, II, 13. In Herrmann, VI, col. 38, Kal 
many, Koszonik, II, 62; VII, col. 38 f., Kalmany, Szeged 
Ne'pe, II, 12 ; and III, col. 37 (a fragment), young man 
and maid change parts. In I, III, V (?), VI, VII, the 
father says he can better do without a daughter (son) 
than without one of his hands, and the youth (maid) 
would rather lose one of his (her) hands than his (her) 



beloved.* In I the snake has been turned to a purse 
of gold when the maid attempts to take it out; in II, 
according to a prose and prosaic comment of the re 
citer, there was no snake, but the girl had put a piece of 
gold in her bosom, and calls it a yellow adder to experi 
ment upon her family; in VII, again, there is no snake, 
but a rouleau of gold, and the snake is explained away 
in like manner in a comment to VIII. Even the trans 
formation in I is to be deprecated ; the money in the 
others is a modern depravation. 

A brief ballad of the Transylvania Gipsies, commu 
nicated and translated by Wlislocki, Ungarische Re 
vue, 1884, p. 345 f., agrees with the second series of 
those above. A youth summons mother and sister to 
take a reptile from his breast; they are afraid; his 
sweetheart will do it if she dies. A very pretty popu 
lar Gipsy tale to the same effect is given by Herr 
mann, col. 40 f. 

A Roumanian ballad, ' Giurgiu,' closely resembling 
the Magyar I, VII, from Pompiliu Miron's Balade po- 
pulare romane, p. 41, is given in translation by Herr 
mann, col. 106 ff.; a fragment of another, with parts 
reversed, col. 213. 

A man, to make trial of his blood-relations, begs 
father, mother, etc., to take out a snake from his breast, 
and is refused by all. His wife puts in her hand and 
takes out a pearl necklace, which she receives as her 
reward: Servian, Vuk, I, No 289, Herzegovine, No 136, 
Petranovic, Serajevo, 1867, p. 191, No 20; Slavonian, 
Stojanovic, No 20. (W. W.) 

There are many variations on this theme, of which 
one more may be specified. A drowning girl given 
over by her family is saved by her lover: Little-Rus 
sian, Golovatsky, II, 80, No 14, 104, No 18, 161, No 
15, 726, No 11; Servian, Vuk, I, Nos 290, 291; Bulga 
rian, Dozon, p. 98, No 61; Polish, Kolberg, Lud, 1857, 
I, 151, 12'. Again, man is saved by maid: Little-Rus 
sian, Golovatsky, I, 114, No 28; Waclaw z Oleska, p. 
226. (W. W.) 

96. The Gay Goshawk. 

P. 356 a. (1.) (2.) (4.) are now printed in Melu- 
sine, II, 342, III, 1, II, 341. (15.) (16.) 'La Fille 
dans la Tour,' Victor Smith, Chansons du Velay et du 
Forez, Romania, VII, 76, 78. (17.) Blade", Poesies p. 
rec. dans 1'Armagnac, etc., p. 23, 'La Prisonniere.' 

There is an Italian form of ' Belle Isambourg ' in 
Nigra, No 45, p. 277, ' Amor costante.' 

356 b. For other forms of ' Les trois Capitaines,' 
see, French, Puymaigre, I, 131, 134 and note; Tiersot, 
in Revue des Traditions populaires, III, 501, 502 ; Rol- 
land, III, 58 ff., a, b, d; Italian, Marcoaldi, p. 162, 'La 
Fuga e il Pentimento; ' Nigra, No 53, p. 309, ' L'Onore 

The " white hand" in the Slovenian ballad, II, 350, is 
hard to explain unless there is a mixture of a prison-ballad 
and a snake-ballad. 

357 b, second paragraph. 

On messenger-birds, see Nigra, p. 339 f., and note. 
A girl feigns death simply to avoid a disagreeable 
suitor. Proof by fire, etc. ; cf. C 23 f., D 7 f., E 27 f., 
P 1-3, G 36-38. Servian. (1.) Mara, promised to 
the Herzog Stephen, and wishing for good reasons to 
escape him, pretends death. Stephen is incredulous; 
puts live coals into her bosom, then a snake ; she does 
not flinch. He then tickles her face with his beard ; 
she does not stir. Stephen is convinced and retires ; 
Mara springs from the bier. Her mother asks her what 
had given her most trouble. She had not minded the 
coals or the snake, but could hardly keep from laugh 
ing when tickled with the beard. Vuk, I, 551, No 
727. (2.) The suitor tests the case by thrusting his 
hands into the girl's bosom, fire, snake. The first is 
the worst. Vuk, Herzegovine, No 133. (3.) The same 
probation, with the same verdict (in this case the girl 
loves another), Petranovic, Srpske n. pjesme, Serajevo, 
1867, No 362. Cf. Rajkovic, p. 176, No 211. Bulga 
rian. Proofs by snow and ice laid on the heart; a 
snake. She stands both. Miladinof, No 68, cf. No 
468. In the same, No 660, the girl holds out under ice 
and snake, but when kissed between the eyes wakes 
up. Bohemian, Erben, p. 485, No 20, 'The Turk 
duped,' and Moravian, Susil, No 128, the tests are 
lacking. (W. W.) 

Three physicians from Salerno pour melted lead in 
the hands of Fenice, who is apparently dead. (She 
has taken a drug which makes her unconscious for a 
certain time. Her object is to escape from her hus 
band to her lover, Clige"s.) The lead has no effect in 
rousing Fenice. Crestien de Troies, Clig^s, ed. For- 
ster, vv. 6000-6009, pp. 246, 247. Forster cites Solomon 
and Morolf (Salman und Morolf, St. 133, ed. F. Vogt, 
Die deiitschen Dichtungen v. Salomon und Markolf, 
I, 27, molten gold), and other parallels. Einleitung, 
pp. xix-xx. Cf. Revue de Traditions pop., II, 519. 
(G. L. K.) 

100. Willie o "Winsbury. 

P. 398. There is a 'Lord Thomas of Wynnesbury ' 
in the Murison MS., p. 1 7, which was derived from reci 
tation in Aberdeenshire, but it seems to me to have 
had its origin in the stalls, resembling I, which is of 
that source. 

1O1. Willie o Douglas Dale. 

Pp. 407, 409, A 14 2 , B 12 2 , ' An lions gaed to their 
. dens,' 'And the lions took the hill.' "Lions we have 
had verie manie in the north parts of Scotland, and 
those with maines of no less force than they of Mauri 
tania are sometimes reported to be ; but how and when 
they were destroied as yet I doonot read: " Holinshed, 
I, 379. 



102. Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter. 
P. 412 b. A is translated by Anastasius Griin, Robin 
Hood, p. 57; Doenniges, p. 166; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt- 
englands, No 18; Loeve-Veimars, p. 252. 

105. The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington. 

II, 426 b, 428. The tune of 105 b is, I have a good 
old woman at home: of f, I have a good old wife at 

Italian. 'La Prova,' Nigra, No 54, p. 314, A-D. 
'II Kitorno,' Giannini, p. 154. 

enshrined ' the souls of thim that were drowned at the 
flood.' They were supposed to possess the power of 
casting aside their external skins and disporting them 
selves in human form on the sea-shore. If a mortal 
contrived to become possessed of one of these outer 
coTerings belonging to a female, he might claim her and 
keep her as his bride." Charles Hardwick, Traditions, 
Superstitions, and Folk-Lore, chiefly Lancashire and 
the North of England, p. 231. (G. L. K.) 

506 a, last paragraph but one. So in Uouns LioS, 
Strengleikar, ed. Kayser and Unger, p. 52 ff. (G. L. K.) 

106. The Famous Flower of Serving-Men. 

P. 428. The Roxburghe copy, III, 762, Aldermary 
Church- Yard, is in the Ballad Society's edition, VI, 
567. The Euing copy, printed for John Andrews, is 
signed. L. P., for Laurence Price: Mr J. W. Ebsworth, 
at p. 570. 

1O9. Tom Potts. 

P. 441 b. B. b. Ritson's copy was "compared with 
another impression, for the same partners, without 

I have failed to mention, but am now reminded by 
Mr Macmath, that the ballad of ' Jamie o Lee ' is 
given, under the title 'James Hatelie,' by Robert 
Chambers in the Romantic Scottish Ballads, their 
Epoch and Authorship, 1859, p. 37, Lord Phenix ap 
pearing as simple Fenwick. 

112. The Baffled Knight. 

P. 480 b. Spanish C, ' El Caballero burlado,' is now 
printed in full in Pidal, Asturian Romances, No 34, p. 

481 b. Add: 'LaMarchande d'Oranges* in Rolland, 
V, 10. (Say Rolland, I, 258.) 

Tears. Add : Rolland, II, 29, e, g, 7i. 

Varieties. There may be added : Melusine I, 483 = 
Revue des Traditions pop., Ill, 634 f.; Romania, X, 379 
f., No 18; Blade", Poe'sies p. de la Gascogne, II, 208. 

482 a. Italian. Nigra, No 71, p. 375, ' Occasione 
mancata,' A-P. See also ' La Monacella salvata,' No 
72, p. 381, and 'II Galante burlato,' No 75, p. 388. 

482 b. The ballad, it seems, is by Madame Favart: 
see Rolland, II, 33, k. Add : /, ib., p. 34, and Poe'sies 
pop. de la France, MS., Ill, 493. 

483 b. Danish A is translated by Prior, III, 182, No 

113. The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry. 

P. 494. 

" On the west coast of Ireland the fishermen are 
loth to kill the seals, which once abounded in some 
localities, owing to a popular superstition that they 

VOL. ni. 

116. Adam Bell, etc. 

P. 1 7 b. I have omitted to mention the Norwegian 
ballad ' Hemingjen aa Harald kungen ' in Bugge's 
Gamle Norske Folkeviser, No 1, p. 1. 

44. ' A Robynhode,' etc. 

In the Convocation Books of the Corporation of 
Wells, Somerset, vol. ii, "under the 13th Henry 7, 
Nicholas Trappe being master, there is the following 
curious entry, relative, apparently, to a play of Robin 
Hood, exhibitions of dancing girls, and church ales, 
provided for at the public expense. 

" ' Et insuper in eadem Convocatione omnes et sin- 
guli burgenses unanimi assensu ad tune et ibidem de- 
derunt Magistro Nicolao Trappe potestatem generalem 
ad inquirendum in quorum manibus pecuniar ecclesiaj 
ac communitatis Welliae sunt injuste detents; ; vide 
licet, provenientes ante hoc tempus de Robynhode, 
puellis tripudiantibus, communi cervisia ecclesia;, et 
hujusmodi. Atque de bonis et pecuniis dicta; communi- 
tati qualitercunque detentis, et in quorumcunque mani 
bus existentibus. Et desuper, eorum nomina scribere qui 
habent hujusmodi bona, cum summis, etc.' " H. T. 
Riley in the First Report of the Historical MSS Com 
mission, 1874, Appendix, p. 107. 

The passage in the Wells Convocation Records is 
perhaps illustrated by an entry in the Churchwardens' 
Accounts of the Parish of Kingston-upon-Thames, cited 
by Ritson, Robin Hood, 2d ed., I, cxviii, from Lysons, 
Environs of London, 1792, I, 228: 

"16 Hen. 8. Rec 4 at the church-ale and Robynhode 
all things deducted 3 10 6." 

With this may be compared the following : 

" Anno MDLXVI, or 9 of Eliz., payde for setting up 
Robin Hoodes bower 18 " 

(Churchwardens' Accompts of St. Helen's [at Abing- 
don, Berks], Archsologia, I, 18). This latter entry is 
loosely cited by Ritson, I, cxiv, 2d ed., as dating from 
1556. Ibidem may be found his opinion as to R. H.'s 
bower (n. *). Hampson, Medii .3Svi Kalendarium, I, 



265, quotes this entry, also with the wrong year. He 
has no doubt about the Bower: " An arbour, called 
Robin Hood's Bower, was erected in the church-yard, 
and here maidens stood gathering contributions." I, 
283. (All the above by G. L. K.) 

117. A Grest of Robyn Hode. 

P. 46 b, note. The Sloane MS. cited by Ritson as 
No 715 is No 780 (which is bound up with 715) and is 
'paper, early xviith century:" Ward, Catalogue of 
Romances, etc., I, 517. This correction is also to be 
made at p. 121 b, note; pp. 129 a, 173 b, 175 b. 

51 b, sts 62-66. 

The late Miss Hamilton McKie, New Galloway, told 
me this story : 

A sturdy beggar, or luscan, came to a farm-house 
among the hills and asked quarters for the night. The 
gudewife, before entrusting him with the bedclothes 
in which to sleep in one of the outhouses, required a 
pledge or security for their return. He said he had 
none to offer but his Maker, and got his night's lodg 
ing. In the morning he walked off with the bed 
clothes, but, becoming bewildered in a mist, he wan 
dered about the whole day, and in the evening, seeing 
the light of a house, made towards it and knocked at 
the door. A woman opened it and said, " Your Cau 
tioner has proved gude! " He had come back to the 
same house. 

Mactaggart gives the story in his Gallovidian Ency 
clopedia, p. 325, but without the trait of the security. 
(W. Macmath.) 

147. Robin Hood's Golden Prize. 

P. 210. The signature to a, L. P., is for Laurence 
Price : Ebswortb, Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 64. 

15O. Robin Hood and Maid Marian. 

P. 218 (and 43-46). 

Mr H. L. D. Ward, in his invaluable Catalogue 
of Romances, etc., while treating of Fulk Fitz-Warine, 
has made the following important remarks concerning 
the literary history of Maid Marian (p. 506 f.). 

" There were three Matildas who were popularly 
supposed to have been persecuted by King John. The 
most historical of these was Matilda de Braose. She 
was imprisoned, with her son and her son's wife, in 
1210, some (Matthew Paris and others) say at Windsor, 
but another chronicler says at Corfe Castle (see a 
volume published by the Soc. de I 'Hist, de France in 
1840), and they were all starved to death. The second 
was Fulk's wife Mahaud, who was the widow of Theo 
bald Walter. The third was the daughter of Robert 
Fitz- Walter. The only authority that can be quoted for 
the story of the third Matilda is the Chronicle of Dun- 
mow, of which one copy of the 16th century remains, in 
the Cotton MS., Cleopatra, C. iii. (ft. 281-7), but which 

was probably begun by Nicholas de Brumfeld, a canon 
of Dunmow in the latter part of the 13th century. It 
is there stated that, when Robert Fitz- Walter fled to 
France in 1213, his daughter took refuge in Dunmow 
Priory, where John, after a vain attempt at seduction, 
poisoned her. Now all these three Matildas may be 
said to appear in the two plays known as The Down 
fall and The Death of Robert Earle of Hunlington, by 
Anthony Munday and Henry Chettle, which are first 
mentioned in Henslowe's Diary in February and No 
vember, 1598. Two of them indeed appear in their 
own names, Matilda de Braose (or Bruce) and Matilda 
Fitz- Walter; and the one is starved at Windsor and 
the other is poisoned at Dunmow in the second play. 
But in the first play Matilda Fitz- Walter escapes the 
solicitations of John by joining her newly-married hus 
band in Sherwood, where they are called Robin Hood 
and Maid Marian. This is clearly owing to a combi 
nation of the second and third Matildas. It may have 
been effected by the course of tradition, or it may have 
been the arbitrary work of a single author. But if the 
romance of Fulk Fitz-Warin had been known to either 
Munday or Chettle, other portions of it would almost 
certainly have appeared in plays or novels or ballads. 
Now Munday introduces the piece as a rehearsal, con 
ducted by John Skelton the poet, who himself plays 
Friar Tuck, with a view to performing it before Henry 
VIII. And it is not at all unlikely that it was really 
founded upon a May-day pageant devised by Skelton, 
but not important enough to be specified in the list of 
his works in his Garlande of Laurell. We know that 
Skelton did write Interludes, of which one still re 
mains, Magnyfycence : and Anthony Wood tells us 
that at Diss in Norfolk, where Skelton was rector, he 
was 'esteemed more fit for the stage than the pew 
or pulpit.' Thus there was no man more likely than 
Skelton to devise a new Robin Hood pageant for his 
old pupil, Henry VIII. And again, there was no man 
more likely to celebrate the story of Matilda Fitz-Wal- 
ter, for the patron of his living was Robert Lord Fitz- 
Walter, who was himself a Ratcliffe, but who had inher 
ited the lordship of Diss through his grandmother, the 
last of the old Fitz- Walters.* But whether Skelton 
may have read the then accessible poem about Fulk, 
afterwards described by Leland, or whether either he or 
Munday may have received the story in its composite 
form, it is pretty evident that the two reputed objects 
of King John's desire, Matilda Walter and Matilda 
Fitz-Walter, have become blended together into the 
Maid Marian of the play." 

155. Sir Hugh, or, The Jew's Daughter. 
P. 235 a. Bells ringing of themselves (in ballads). 

* " The earldom of Huntingdon was vacant from about 1487 
to 1529, and, as the Fitz-Walters were lineally descended from 
the daughter of the first Simon de St Liz, Earl of Huntingdon, 
this may have suggested to Skelton the idea of giving that title 
to the husband of Matilda Fitz-Wlter." 



Pidal, Asturian Romances, 'II Penitente,' Nos 1, 2, pp. 
82,84; Nigra, 'Sant' Alessio,' No 148, A, B, p. 538 ff., 
and see p. 541. 

161. The Battle of Otterburn. 
P. 294. St George our Lady's knight. 

A nemnede sein Gorge our leuedi knijt: 

Sir Beues of Hatntoun, ed. Kb'lbing, v. 2817, p. 129 ; 
Maitland Club ed., v. 2640. (G. L. K., who also gave 
me the case in Roister Doister.) 

" Now holy St George, myne only avower, 

In whom I trust for my protection, 
O very Chevalier of the stourished Flower, 

By whose Hands thy Sword and Shield hast wone, 
Be mediator, that she may to her Sone 

Cause me to hear Rex splendens songen on hye, 

Before the Trinitye, when that I shall dye." 

Poem on the Willoughbies of Eresby, in the form of a 
prayer to St George put into the mouth of one of the 
Willoughby family, Dugdale, Baronage of England, 
1676,11,85,86. Dugdale does not date the MS. The 
male line of the Willoughbies became extinct in 1525. 

(3. flourished ? 4. thou thy ?) (G. L. K.) 

169. Johnie Armstrong. 

P. 371 f. B a, b are signed T. R., the initials of a 
purveyor or editor of ballads for the popular press. 
B a of ' Robin Hood and the Butcher,' No 122, and a 
of ' Robin Hood and the Beggar,' I, No 133, bear the 
same signature : see pp. 116, 156 of this volume. No 
such rhymster as T. R. shows himself to be in these 
two last pieces could have made ' Johnie Armstrong,' 
one of the best ballads in English. 

178. Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon. 

P. 423. "The Donean Tourist," by Alexander 
Laing, Aberdeen, 1828, p. 100, has a very bad copy, 
extended to fifty-nine stanzas. 

182. The Laird o Logie. 

P. 449. ' Young Logie ' is among the ballads taken 
down by Mrs Murison in Aberdeenshire, p. 88 of the 
collection. The copy is imperfect, and extremely cor 
rupted. Lady Margaret is the daughter of the king 
(who is not called by that name), but is confused with 
her mother, who counterfeits her consort's ban-write and 
steals his right-han glove, as is done in D. Three ships 
at the pier of Leith, and three again at Queen's Ferry. 

184. The Lads of Wamphray. 

P. 458. Mr Macmath has pointed out to me a case 
in Pitcairn's Criminal Trials, I, 397 f., in which " Jok 
Johnstoun, callit the Galzeart, Jok J., bruj>er to 
Wille of Kirkhill," with a Grahame, a couple of 
Armstrangs, and their accomplices, are accused of the 
theft of twelve score sheep from James Johnstoune, 
in February, 1557. We can make no inference as to 
the relation of Jok the Galliard to the Galliard of our 
ballad. There were generations of Jocks and Wills in 
these families, and the sobriquet of The Galliard, as 
Pitcairn has remarked, "was very prevalent." He 
cites a " Gilbert Ellote, callit Gib the Galzart," HI, 
441, under the date 1618. 

To be Corrected in the Print. 

I, 7 b, last line but three of text. Read Fordringer. 
71 a, 33 2 . tell thee, ed. 1802 ; tell to thee, ed. 1833. 
132 b, 7 3 . Read Lord John. 

159 a, 3 1>2 . to your, in the MS. 

186 a, Notes to A b. Add 2". slung at. 

256 a, I 4 . Read Machey/or May-hay. 

274 b, note J. Read Romania IX. 
356 b, D c I 8 . Read O go not. 
400 a, I. Read II, 360. 

469 a, 22 3 . Read your for yonr. 
482 a, D 16, 17, 5th line. Read Hine. 
489 a, between 67 a and 84 b. Insert 6. Willie's 

503 a. The title of I is ' Hynd Horn.' 

504 b, between 226 a and 231. Insert 21. The Maid 
and the Palmer. 

II, 70 a, 18 4 . Fall, ed. 1802 ; fell, ed. 1833. 
104 a, 19 1 ' 2 . Read pat. 

129 a, II 1 . Read O here I am ' the boy says. 
135 a, A. a. II 1 . Drop. 
176b, 11 s . Read Gae. 
179 b, note to B 7 2 . Drop. 

192 a, 7 1 . Read maun. 8 2 . Read Ye'r seer. 
9 2 . Drop the brackets. 

193 a, 20 4 . Read ye never gat. 

22 2 . Drop the brackets. 25 2 . Read dreams. 
193 b, 28 1 . Read Ge (= Gae) for Ye. 
226 a, 229 a, Sweet William's Ghost,' A. Read 

1750 for 1763. 
239 a, B 3 1 . Read O she. 
272 f. Read (according to the text of 1 755) : 2 1 . will I. 

7 4 . gar thy. 10 2 . to thy. 18 s . maun cum. 

22 1 . Note : "perhaps fetchie " nurse. 

23 4 . hes he. 26 1 . sits. 26 8 . means a' those folks. 

26 4 . mother she. 

27 1 . And when he cam to gude grene wod. 

27 s . first saw. 27 4 . Kemeing down. 

28 3 . Than, misprint for That. 34 4 . they lay. 

35 4 . hip was. 39 2 . ill deed. 

275 b. Read, v. 17, You see his held upon my. v. 20, 
that did, apparently a misprint for that thocht. 



The only variations in the other copy are: 26 s , these 
for those ; thocht/or did, in v. 20 of p. 275 b. 
276 a. A. a. Read 1750 for 1763 frnce. 
276 b, 4th line of the preface. Read Annandale. 
13th line of the preface. Read our old. 
2 1 . Read man (ed. 1750). 
310 a, third paragraph, line seven. Read authenti- 


S43. Read (ed. 1755) : 2". And there. 
3*. And mantel. 

12 1 . I have. (Drop the notes to 3 s , 5 1 .) 
348 b, O, H. Read Reifferscheid. 
352 b, D 5*. MS. has And free. 
378 a, last line. Read Andrew Small. 
381 b, 20". Read Scotch. 
393 a, 14 2 . Read shook. 
405 b, notes. 16 belongs to I and should be on p. 

437 b, translations. Read E is translated by Grand t- 

vig, etc. ; D by Afzelius, etc. 
462 a, 26 4 . Read sned/or sued. 
478, first line after the title. Read 56 bfor 27 b. 
481 b, third paragraph, sixth line. Read, 27. 
500, 20, first line. Read O for M. English N, O 

should be O, F. 

502 b, 34, first line. Read Decurtins_/<>r Decurtius. 
506 b, 44, 400 a. Drop Q, etc. . Note to 401, drop 

Revue des Traditions, etc. . 
51 3 a, seventh line from bottom. Read quam. 
Ill, 6 a, 12 1 . Read Braidisbauks. 

11, M. Say: Reminiscences by Thomas Carlyle, II, 

171, 1881, Froude'sLife of Carlyle, II, 416, 1882. 

In line 2, read, O busk and go with me, me. 
46 b, line 9. Read S. S. for S. G. 
95 b, note f- Say : Jock o the Side, B 13, 14, C 10, 

HI, 480, 482. 

(The following are mostly trivial variations from the 
spelling of the text.) 

I, 71 b, 51 1 . Oh, ed. 1802; O, ed. 1833. 
80 b, 14 1 . Read f[e]ast. 

132 a, 5 l . Read father[s]. 

133 a, M. Read Deer. 
13 7 b, S 4 2 . Read cam. 

256 b, 3*. Read O. 4". Read rocked. 
302 a, B 1 , 3 . Read Whare. 
321 b, 7 4 . Read doun. 
3 25 a, 3 s . Read Heavn. 6*. Read danton. 
331 a, C 2 4 . Read thrie. D 2. Read micht. 
441 a, 1'. Read warsell. 4. Read bloody. 
468 a, 4 1 . Read stock. 10". Read saftly. 
b IS 3 . MS. has bone. 16'. Read Beachen. 

481 a, 31 s . .Reoddazled. 
500 a, 10 4 . Read down. 
508 a, 7 4 . Read by. 
II, 32 a, P 1. Read aboon. 

70 a, 19 4 . Read cheik. 20 2 . Read smil'd. 

b, 30 4 . Read tine. 
90 b, 26 1 . Read won, twice. 
108 a, 2 4 . Read die. b, 11. Read mony. 
130a,3. Read Gil 4. Read Jill. 
131 a, 17. Readhan. b, 19. Read ain. 
152 a, 4, 5 1 . Read grene. 
153b, 22. Read grene. 
161 a, 7, 8 1 . Read tane. 
192 a, 5 4 . Read An. 7. Read askin. 
193b, 26 1 . Read bom. 
240 a, note. -Read Madden. 
272 f. Read (ed. 1755): I 1 . Gill Morice. 5. said. 

6". red. 8, 16, 17, 24, 26 1 , 36. guid grene wod. 

9 2 , 18 2 . slive. 10 2 , 15 3 . Tho. II 1 . micht. 

II 3 . near. II 3 , 20 2 . coud. 12. I's. 

13". wharhe. 14 3 . woud. 15. stracht. 

17*. Even. 21 4 . welcom. 21 4 , 39 4 . me. 22 3 . lie. 

22 4 . she. 23 2 . he. 24 4 . with. 26 1 . Gill. 

26 a . whistld. 26 4 . tarrys. 27 2 , 36". miekle. 

27 2 . cair. 28 3 . well. 29 4 , 31 1 , 31 4 , 33 s , 34 1 . heid. 

SO 8 , bodie. 33 4 . town. 34 4 . there. 35 s . ance. 

87. credle. 39 2 . die. 
275 a, last line but three. Read Wi, pearce. 

L. 1. but one, naithing, heid. Last line, coud. 

b, v. 3. day[s]. 7. been. 8. me. 

15. teirs, wensom. 18. bluid. 22. comly. 

25. driry. 

321 b, note J. Read Balcanqual. 
331 b, 3 1 . Read nurice. 
343. Read (ed. 1755): I 4 , favord. 5 1 . spack. 

6 s . bot. 7. bin. 9 1 . coud. 9 4 , 14 4 . die. 
352 b, 3*. Read pown. 

363 b, II 1 . Read ladle's. 

364 a, 20 1 . Read ladye 's. 

389 a, 8". Read Yon'r. 

390 b, 29 J . Readbir. 5 1 . Read bouer. 

391 a, 12 1 . Bead Whan. 
396 a, I 2 . Read blithe. 
404 b, 9 1 . Read Whan. 
473 b, 17. Read mony. 

475 a, 11*. Read down, twice. 

478. Read: I 2 , on for an. 4 1 . sir. 6 3 . do. 

14 1 . a[t] London. 15 1 . medans. 17 1 . leyne. 
483, 1'. Read wel. 6 4 . Read beene. 
HI, 2 a, note, line 5. Read Bennet. 

5 a, D 5 3 . Read Lincolm. b, 10 1 . Read there. 

8 b, 24 1 . Read betide. 

253 b, R, v. 3. Read dochter. 








Child, Francis James 

The English and Scottish 
popular ballads