G
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 schill 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 said,
‘Come doun and speak to me;
I’ll 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 said,
‘Cum doun and speak to me;
I’ll kep thee on the point o my sword,
And thy warraner I will be.’
8
‘I winna come doun 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’ll tye the bands around my waist,
And fire thy death sall 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 ower 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’ll gar Lady Campbell come for to rew
As she burns in the flame.’
13
‘O 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 fair 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’ll 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 leifer 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 gude lord’s in the army strong,
He’s new gane ower the sea;
But gin he eer returns again,
Revenged my death sall be.’
27
Syne out and spak her waitin-maid:
Receive this babe frae me,
And save the saikless babie’s life,
And I’ll 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 lang,
And ’tis 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 Loudon’s bonnie castell,
And Loudon’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 Loudon 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.’
A.
Stanzas 1–15 have been revised, or altered, in another hand.
21. master in my copy: mary, Furnivall.
31. wher is is inserted.
32. ed in builded has been run through with a line.
34. riden & gone struck out, and ryd from hom written over.
41. she struck out.
51. Se yow changed to Com yow hether: merimen in MS.
52. Changed to And look what I do see. And (&), both in the original text and in the revised, is rendered O in my copy.
53. Changed to Yonder is ther.
54. musen, as a correction: Furnivall.
61. own wed, as a correction: Furnivall.
62. yt had for As he.
83. thou shall ly in altered to thoust ly wtin.
102. Not is a correction: Furnivall. My copy has no.
113. this substituted for yonder.
121. Changed to She styfly stod on her castle wall.
123. but then struck out.
124. she struck out.
131. I will: MS. torn.
153. arme, Furnivall: my copy, armes.
154. wyll substituted for shall.
194. Editors supply The smoke at the beginning of the line.
203. westeyn: Furnivall.
214. MS. has thee.
233. Saith: no close, Furnivall. South: in close, my copy. to chose, Böddeker.
242. Perhaps carnall: Furnivall.
251. Bush in my copy: merymen in MS.
253. dreme, hall in my copy: Furnivall as printed.
261. busht in my copy: buskt, Furnivall.
262,3. My copy renders And (&) O: Furnivall as printed.
284. Editors supply awaye at the end of the line. Böddeker reads so gai.
292. bande looks like baides, one stroke of the n wanting.
301. Should we not read me for eny? she for he in my copy: he, Furnivall.
And for & throughout.
Finis per me Willelmum Asheton, clericum.
By my copy is meant a collation made for me by Miss Lucy Toulmin Smith.
B.
133. 2.
144, 163, 181. 3.
103, 214. Half a page gone.
And for &.
D.
271, 281. Mudiemen, Mudie men.
Quhen, ze, zour, etc., are here spelled when, ye, your, etc.
F.
54. the loun to: cf. G 134.
G.
64. Another recitation gave Auchindown.
179
ROOKHOPE RYDE
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 1785.
Printed in Bell’s Rhymes of Northern Bards, 1812, p. 276; Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1833, II, 101; [Sir Cuthbert Sharp’s] Bishoprick Garland, 1834, p. 14.
The date of this ryde, or raid, may be precisely ascertained from the ballad itself; it is shown by 134, 11 to be December 6, 1569.
The thieves of Thirlwall (Northumberland) and Williehaver, or Willeva (Cumberland), avail themselves of the confusion incident 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 Rookhope, 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 bailiff of Wolsingham (the chief town and borough 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 overthrown.
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 Williehaver.
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 be:
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 nane 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 prey,
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 spy;
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 ferly 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 Williehaver,
. . . . . . . .
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’ll 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.
36
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.
23. mischief hither in Bell, who, however, prints from Ritson.
24. as: at in Scott, who had his copy, as printed in 1792, from Ritson’s nephew. at also in Bell.
93, 293. Corbyl, it is thought, should be Corbyt, which is a northern name. Both Corbyl and Carrick were new to Surtees.
103. Bell reads would, not understanding that could means did.
111. Scott, wrongly, have for is: Bell, who aims at grammar, are.
173. He had, Bell, for improvement again.
234. The reciter, from his advanced age, could not recollect this line: Ritson.
252. Bell, land for hand.
303. Bell, in for to.
Ritson’s emendations, indicated by ’ ‘, have necessarily been allowed to stand.
180
KING JAMES AND BROWN
‘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 grandfather, 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 conducts 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 pardoned. 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 irredeemable 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 imagine that the distance is no greater than Holyrood. How often hast thou fought for me, Brown? asks James. Brown’s first service 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 slaying his Grace. The third was when he killed the Bishop of St Andrews, who had undertaken 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 interfere. The venom works swiftly, the bishop’s belly bursts. The king knights Brown, and gives him lands and livings.
John Hamilton, Archbishop of St Andrews, 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 prelate was credited with being an accomplice to the murder of Darnley 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 Chatelheraut for letting an infant live between him and the throne. A report that the archbishop 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.[[287]]
Of Browne’s two previous performances, his standing stoutly for the king at Edinburgh, 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 Lennox, 81, that is, later than September, 1571, and the king is old enough to know something of the unhappy occurrences in his family, to forget and forgive, and to make knights and earls. There are correspondences between the ballad and the proceedings by which the Earl of Morton, after his resignation of the regency, obtained possession of the young king’s person and virtually reëstablished 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 himself 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 under 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 Stirling 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 liberation 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).[[288]]
The Douglas of this ballad is clearly William Douglas of Lochleven, who joined Mar at Stirling as Morton’s intermediary. He was afterwards engaged in the Raid of Ruthven.
It may be added that Robert Brown, a servant 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 Elderton, 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.
2
‘O Lord!’ he then said vntou me,
‘Why haue I liued soe long?
For yonder comes a cruell Scott,’
Quoth hee, ‘that will doe me some ronge.’
3
And then came traitor Douglas there,
He came for to betray his king;
Some they brought bills, and some they brought bowes,
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,
‘That 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
. . . . . . .
10
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
‘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 spill.’
15
‘For if you will grant me my pardon,’ he said,
‘Out of this place soe free,
I wilbe sworne before your 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,’
Quoth 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 your pardon, king,
That you haue granted forth soe plaine;
If I liue 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,’
Quoth 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,’
Quoth he, ‘that wold haue slaine your Grace.
28
‘The third time that I fought for you,
Here for to let you vnderstand,
I slew the Bishopp of St Andrew,’
Quoth he, ‘with a possat in [his hand].’
29
. . . . . quoth hee,
‘That 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 shorne 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.’
53. yoe bee.
54. by my: cf. 64.
61. are they.
82. mother for father.
94. Half a page torn away.
183. a 12.
204. 20 score.
243. a 1000.
281. the 3d
:.
284. possat? MS. rubbed: Hales.
APPENDIX
THE KING OF SCOTS AND ANDREW BROWNE
A new Ballad, declaring the great treason conspired 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 Society of Antiquaries, London, is signed W. Elderton, and was “imprinted at London for Yarathe Iames, dvvelling in Nevvgate 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 fictions 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 neede 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!’
Alas for woe! 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! etc.
As soone as the king gat word of this,
He humbly fell vppon his knee,
And praysed God that he did misse
To tast 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!
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 earles 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 selues 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.
181
THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY
A. ‘The Bonny Earl of Murray,’ Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, 11th ed., London, 1750, p. 356 (vol. iv).
B. ‘The Bonnie Earl o Murray,’ Finlay’s Scottish 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 consequence 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.”[[289]] There was a violent hostility between Murray and the Earl of Huntly. The occurrence which is the subject of the ballad may be narrated in the least space by citing the account given by Spottiswood. After his assault 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 Huntly. 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 suspected 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 mother the lady Doune. Huntly, being advertised 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 Blackness, as he was charged. But he staid not there many days, being dimitted, upon caution, 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 refusing 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; whereupon he fell afterwards away to Bothwell, and joined with him for revenge of the murder.”
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 because 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 before had commended” Murray, “in the king’s hearing, with too many epithets of a proper and gallant man.” Balfour may have had gossip, or he may have had a ballad, for his authority (see A 5); the suggestion deserves no attention.[[290]]
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, Blütenlese, p. 196.