THE BATTLE OF HUMBLEDOWN HILL.
(By E.W. August 5th, 1791.)
The author of this suggested the idea from reading the verse of Chevy Chace:—
“This vow full well the King perform’d
After, on Humbledown,
In one day fifty Knights were slain
With Lords of great renown.”
In the second volume of Guthrie’s History of Scotland, the battle is fully described.
Sir Swinton was a doughty knight
As ever Scotland bred;
Than Gordon none more brave in fight,
Did ever cross the Tweed.
But deidly feuds subsisted long
Between these valiant twain,
They never met—but straight they fought
With all their martial train.
At last they hied with ilk his band
To Brae of Humbledown,
Where Douglas and his army lay
Wi’ Knights of great renown.
Now baith afore the Douglas stood,
And glowr’d wi’ hatefu’ spite,
And half unsheath’d their shining blades,
And quak’d and burn’d to fight.
Then mighty Douglas leap’d between
To redd the foul debate,
“O Sirs!” he cries, “thrust in your glaives
And quell this rising state.
“For, look you! where the English lies
On yonder tented field,
To morrow’s morn, if right I ween,
We’ll need both sword and sheild.
“Gin we to Scotland mean to go,
Our road lies thro’ yon host;
First spend your fury on the foe,
Then fight—if fight ye must.”
He spake—in sullens baith withdrew,
Now all prepare for fight,
And arms and armour clattering brake
The silence of the night.
In bluid red clouds the Sun arose,
Which saw that fatal day,
Where bretheless on the green hill side
Fu’ many a bra’ Scot lay.
For sair—the English bowmen gall’d
The van—the ungear’d stood,
Nae thirsty shaft e’er reach’d the earth
Unstain’d wi’ Scottish bluid.
Then Sir John Swinton loudly cries
“Bra’ lads! gif we must die,
Follow our cheif, and syne our foes
Shall bear us companie.”
These words when Adam Gordon heard,
He hastens to the place,
“When our dear country claims our aid
Let all our quarrels cease.
“For, mine are gone—most valiant Knight!
And now a boon I crave—
That frae thy noble arm—the meed
Of Knighthood I must have.”
“And mine for aye!”—replies Sir John,
And to his breast him drew;
Then dubb’d him Knight, while deidly flight
Of arrows round them flew.
Then wi’ their men, these valiant twain
Rush’d down the green hill’s side,
And ’mongst their foes, wi’ mortal blows
Their hands in bluid they dy’d.
Like two huge rocks on Bramor’s brow,
When loossen’d fra’ their bed,
That thunder down and overthrow
The pines which crown the glade.
Thus they, thro’ ranks, the Earl of March
And the bold Percies fought,
And bluid and carnage mark’d their path
Where’er they step’d and fought.
At length they’re wi’ their gallant train
By numbers compass’d round,
And fighting fall on heaps of slain,
And stain with gore the ground.
Thus did these valiant cheiftains fall
Who liv’d in mortal strife,
But lock’d in one another’s arms,
Dear friendship clos’d their life.
And now the Scottish lines were broke
Wi’ rout and disarray,
And many a man was lost in [Tweed]
That strove to flee that day.
The mighty Douglas too was ta’en
For ne’er a foot he’d flee,
But first five greevous wounds he got
And also lost an eye.
With Gordon and with Swinton fell
Sir John of Callender,
Sir Ramsay of Dalhousie too,
And Sir Walter Sinclair.
And Roger Gordon likewise died,
Wi’ Walter Scot sae brave,
And many more of note beside
Whom valour cou’d not save.
But past all count, the pris’ners were
Wi’ doughty Douglas ta’en,
Fife, Murray, Angus, Orkney Earls,
Lord Graham and Erskine.
With eighty Knights and many more
Than can ee’ now be told,
All captives led, for ransome sett
By Harry Hotspur bold.
Fra’ Forth to Tweed, a swankie blade
Was then a sight to see,
The co’uter left in half plough’d lidge
Lay rusting in the lee.
God prosper Scotland, let us say,
And grant our wars be done,
And may we ne’er see sic a day
As that of Humbledown.[45]
[45] In the plain beneath the hill and village of Humbledown or Humbleton is a stone pillar, denoting the ground where 10,000 of the Scots, under Earl Douglas, in the reign of King Henry IV, on Holyrood-day, 1402, had a great overthrow, by Henry Lord Percy and George Earl of March. Douglas had entered England about the middle of August, and destroyed and plundered the country as far as Newcastle. On his return to Scotland he was intercepted by Earl Percy, and was obliged to engage on this plain: the battle was so bloody that the lands gained the name of Redriggs, from the slaughter with which they were stained. Among the prisoners were the Earls of Fife, Murray, Angus, Athol, Orkney, and Monteath, the Lords Montgomery and Erskine, and about 80 knights. Douglas received five wounds and lost an eye. Being hotly pursued, in the flight 500 Scots were drowned in the Tweed, the most of their army on this fatal day were left dead, or taken prisoners.
THE LAIDLEY WORM
OF SPINDLESTON-HEUGH.
Virgo jam serpens sinuosa volumina versat,
Mille trahens varios adverso sole colores,
Arrectis horret squamis et sibilat ore;
Arduaque insurgens navem de littore pulsat.
A Song about 550 Years old, made by the old Mountain-bard, Duncan Frasier, living on Cheviot, A.D. 1270.
First printed from an ancient MSS.
BY MR ROBERT LAMBE, VICAR OF NORHAM.
The king is gone from Bambrough Castle,
Long may the princess mourn,
Long may she stand on the castle wall,
Looking for his return.
She has knotted the keys upon a string,
And with her she has them ta’en,
She has cast them o’er her left shoulder,
And to the gate she is gane.
She tripped out, she tripped in,
She tript into the yard;
But it was more for the king’s sake,
Than for the queen’s regard.
It fell out on a day, the king
Brought the queen with him home;
And all the lords, in our country,
To welcome them did come.
Oh! welcome father, the lady cries,
Unto your halls and bowers;
And so are you, my step-mother,
For all that’s here is yours.
A lord said, wond’ring while she spake,
This princess of the North
Surpasses all of female kind
In beauty, and in worth.
The envious queen replied, at least,
You might have excepted me;
In a few hours, I will her bring
Down to a low degree.
I will her liken to a Laidley worm,
That warps about the stone,
And not, till Childly Wynd comes back,
Shall she again be won.
The princess stood at the bower door
Laughing, who could her blame?
But e’er the next day’s sun went down,
A long worm she became.
For seven miles east, for seven miles west,
And seven miles north, and south,
No blade of grass or corn could grow,
So venomous was her mouth.
The milk of seven stately cows,
It was costly her to keep,
Was brought her daily, which she drank
Before she went to sleep.
At this day may be seen the cave,
Which held her folded up,
And the stone trough, the very same
Out of which she did sup.
Word went east, and word went west,
And word is gone over the sea,
That a Laidley worm in Spindleston-Heughs
Would ruin the North Country.
Word went east, and word went west,
And over the sea did go;
The Child de Wynd got wit of it,
Which filled his heart with woe.
He called straight his merry men all,
They thirty were and three:
I wish I were at Spindleston,
This desperate worm to see.
We have no time now here to waste,
Hence quickly let us sail:
My only sister Margaret,
Something, I fear, doth ail.
They built a ship without delay,
With masts of the rown tree,
With flut’ring sails of silk so fine,
And set her on the sea.
They went on board. The wind with speed
Blew them along the deep,
At length they spied an huge square tower
On a rock high and steep.
The sea was smooth, the weather clear,
When they approached nigher,
King Ida’s castle they well knew,
And the banks of Bambroughshire.
The queen look’d out at her bower window,
To see what she could see;
There she espied a gallant ship
Sailing upon the sea.
When she beheld the silken sails,
Full glancing in the sun,
To sink the ship she sent away
Her witch wives every one.
The spells were vain; the hags returned
To the queen in sorrowful mood,
Crying that witches have no power,
Where there is rown-tree wood.
Her last effort, she sent a boat,
Which in the haven lay,
With armed men to board the ship,
But they were driven away.
The worm lept up, the worm lept down,
She plaited round the stone;
And ay as she came to the land
She banged it off again.
The child then ran out of her reach
The ship on Budley-sand;
And jumping into the shallow sea,
Securely got to land.
And now he drew his berry-broad sword,
And laid it on her head;
And swore if she did harm to him
That he would strike her dead.
O! quit thy sword and bend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;
For though I am a poisonous worm,
No hurt I’ll do to thee.
Oh! quit thy sword, and bend thy bow
And give me kisses three;
If I’m not won, e’er the sun go down,
Won I shall never be.
He quitted his sword and bent his bow,
He gave her kisses three;
She crept into a hole a worm,
But out stept a lady.
No cloathing had this lady fine,
To keep her from the cold;
He took his mantle from him about,
And round her did it fold.
He has taken his mantle from him about,
And in it he wrapt her in,
And they are up to Bambrough castle,
As fast as they can win.
His absence and her serpent shape,
The king had long deplored,
He now rejoiced to see them both
Again to him restored.
The queen they wanted, whom they found
All pale, and sore afraid;
Because she knew her power must yield
To Childy Wynd’s, who said,
Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch,
An ill death mayest thou dee;
As thou my sister hast lik’ned,
So lik’ned shalt thou be.
I will turn you into a toad,
That on the ground doth wend;
And won, won, shall thou never be,
Till this world hath an end.
Now on the sand near Ida’s tower,
She crawls a loathsome toad,
And venom spits on every maid
She meets upon her road.
The virgins all of Bambrough town,
Will swear that they have seen
This spiteful toad, of monstrous size,
Whilst walking they have been.
All folks believe within the shire
The story to be true,
And they all run to Spindleston,
The cave and trough to view.
This fact now Duncan Frasier
Of Cheviot, sings in rhyme;
Lest Bambrough-shire-men should forget
Some part of it in time.
