R
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’.
31. She’s rowed.
32. She’s cuist it.
33. My bonnie bairn ga sink or swim.
34. Ye’s no hear mair.
41. Then doon.
42. Wi tasslets.
43. Cri’n, M. H., whaur’s the bairn.
44. That wanting.
51. There’s no a bairn in a’ the toon.
52. Nor yet.
53. ’Twas but a steek in.
61. And ye maun.
64. And ye maun awa wi me the morn.
71. I’se no.
74. To see fair.
81. And when.
83. And when.
84. tear stood in.
91. And when.
92. heel slipped off.
93. And when she cam doon the Parliament stair.
10, 11 wanting.
121. But bring: she cried.
131, 141. And here’s to the jolly sailor lad.
132, 142. sails: faem.
133. And let not my father nor mother get wit.
134. that I shall come again.
143. But let, as in 133.
144. O the death that I maun dee.
15, 16 wanting.
171. auld queen’s.
172. And I laid her gently.
173. I hae gotten the day.
174. Is to.
181. night the queen had.
182. This night she’ll hae.
184. M. Beton and M. Seton.
c.
Begins:
This nicht the queen has four Maries,
Each fair as she can be;
There’s Marie Seton, etc.
31. The bairn’s tyed.
32. And thrown intill.
43. O sink.
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.
41. Then down cam Queen Marie.
43. Saying, Marie mild, where is the babe.
51. There was nae babe.
52. There was na babe wi me.
53. 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.
O 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.
83. But when.
After 12:
Yestreen the queen had four Maries,
The nicht she’ll hae but three;
There was M. S., and M. B.
And M. C., and me.
13 wanting.
141. Ye mariners, ye mariners.
143. L[et] not my father and mother wit.
144. The death that I maun dee.
After 14:
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.
17 wanting.
181. there were.
Largely taken from a, 1, 2, 6–12, 15, 16 being literally repeated.
B.
33. us up.
85,6. wrongly:
And we’ll ride into Edinburgh town,
High hanged thou shalt be.
C.
92. Altered from I’ll put on my brown. Var. between 92 and 93:
Nor I’ll no put on my suddling silks,
That I wear up and down.
up and down altered from ilka day.
101. went altered from gaed.
131, 141. Oh.
D.
From two reciters, which accounts for the alterations and insertions.
11. Altered from There was a lord lived in the north.
21. Altered from And the third.
23. Altered from that he.
41. gay added later.
42. Altered from And pued the saving tree.
43. for inserted later.
44. it inserted later.
73. a fit o inserted later.
74. Altered from I am just.
9. After 9, Motherwell wrote A stanza wanting, and subsequently added 10, 11.
123. 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 reading)
And standing at the cross,
There she saw all the coblers’ wifes,
Sat greeting at the cross.
153,4. Originally, For I am come to, etc., Weeded for to be.
A marginal note by Motherwell, opposite the last line, but erased, has A rich wedding to sie.
161. stair altered from close.
19, 20. Written in the margin, after those which follow.
233,4 and And, 235, are of later insertion.
E.
For the seven stanzas after 15, see No 95, II, 346.
F.
3.
Mary Beaton & Mary Seaton & Lady Livinston
Three we’ll [or will] never meet
In queen Mary’s bower
Now Maries tho ye be.
132. then cryed.
141. had your.
184. pine.
For the six stanzas after 18, see No 95, II, 346.
G.
11. Oh.
H.
3, 16, 17, 22 are put into smaller type as being evidently spurious.
I. a.
24 is certainly spurious, and reduces the pathos exceedingly.
b.
184. 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.
41. Oh.
6 is the last stanza but one in the MS.
L.
9 might better be 1.
N.
Variations.
13–6.
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.
21. sae jimp.
23. She loved to lie.
32. the savin tree.
33,4.
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.
174
EARL BOTHWELL
‘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 participation 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 nineteen), not sent for, but very possibly with some hope of pleasing his cousin, ‘the queen [dowager] of France,’ to whom he was married 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 Scotsmen of good rank seem to have been in attendance as domestics.”[[252]]
6. The ballad should not be greatly in excess as to the number of the daggers, since Riccio had fifty-six [fifty-two] wounds.
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 reproaches 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.”[[253]]
9–14. 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 considerable distance from the house, without any marks of having been subject to the explosion. 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.”[[254]] 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, 82.
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 described as ‘bitterly banishing’ Mary, wherefore she durst not remain in Scotland, but fled to England. The queen escaped from Lochleven 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 Reliques.
1
Woe worth thee, woe worth thee, false Scottlande!
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 king.
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;
Lord 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 in Scottland waxed wonderous wroth,
And quarrelld with him for the nonce;
I shall you tell how itt beffell,
Twelue daggers were in him all att once.
7
When this queene see the chamberlaine was slaine,
For him her cheeks shee did weete,
And made a vow for a twelue month and a day
The king and shee wold not come in one sheete.
8
Then some of the lords of Scottland waxed wrothe,
And made their vow vehementlye,
‘For death of the queenes chamberlaine
The king himselfe he shall dye.’
9
They strowed his chamber ouer with gunpowder,
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 blasing fyer.
11
Vp he lope, and a glasse window broke,
He had thirty foote for to ffall;
Lord Bodwell kept a priuy wach
Vnderneath his castle-wall:
‘Who haue wee heere?’ sayd Lord Bodwell;
‘Answer me, now I doe call.’
12
‘King 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
That the worthye king he was slaine,
He hath banished the queene soe bitterlye
That in Scottland shee dare not remaine.
16
But shee is ffled into merry England,
And Scottland to a side hath laine,
And through the Queene of Englands good grace
Now in England shee doth remaine.
62. noncett, with tt blotted out. (?) Furnivall.
64, 73. 12. 103. sleepee.
112. 30.
121. 8th
..
131. Partly pared away. Furnivall.
162. to aside.
175
THE RISING IN THE NORTH
‘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 editor’s folio collection. They contained considerable variations, out of which such readings were chosen as seemed most poetical and consonant to history.” Bearing in mind Percy’s express avowal that he “must plead guilty to the charge of concealing his own share in amendments under some such general 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 describes it as containing much which is omitted in the other, and as beginning like ‘The Earl of Westmoreland,’ (No 177). Of the beginning 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 acknowledged improvements of other ballads, and will be compelled to impute them to the editor or his double.[[255]]
The earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, having for a time succeeded, by exuberant 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 intent of the insurgents was, in Northumberland’s own words, “the reformation of religion, 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 confident, were favored by the larger number of noblemen within the realm.[[256]] 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,[[257]] the rising would have been highly dangerous. As things were, it collapsed in five weeks without the shedding of a drop of blood; but hundreds of simple people were subsequently hanged.
The earls, with others, among whom Richard 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 collecting 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” (Holinshed). They proceeded to Ripon, Wetherby, and Clifford Moor (Bramham Moor) near Tadcaster. “Their main body was at Wetherby and Tadcaster, their advanced horse were far down across the Ouse.” Their numbers, according to Holinshed, never exceeded about two thousand horse and five thousand foot. Tutbury, where Mary Stuart was confined, 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. Mary Stuart, at the nick of time, was removed 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 Barnard Castle, which Sir George Bowes was obliged to surrender on December twelfth; on the fifteenth the earls were still at Durham. On the thirteenth the earls of Warwick and Clinton, commanders of the Army of the South, met at Wetherby with a combined 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 December, 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.”[[258]]
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 himself, 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,[[259]] 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 Warwick, and they never stop till they reach York. (A gap occurs here, which need not be a large one, considering the leaps taken already.) Northumberland is gone, Westmoreland vanished, and Norton and his eight sons fled.
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 William, 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 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 practices, 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 pretended 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-penalty 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 father, fled to Flanders with his sons Francis and Sampson, and all three seem to have died there.
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 disposed, 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.[[260]]
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 Erle of Westmorlande,
A noble erle was callëd hee,
And he wrought treason against the crowne;
Alas, itt was the more pittye!
3
And soe itt was the Erle 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 ffight 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;
Att the court I must not bee.’
7
‘But goe to the court yet, good my lord,
Take men enowe with thee;
If any man will doe you wronge,
Your 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,
Your 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 Master 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,
That 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 your 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 your head is white, ffather,’ he sayes,
‘And your 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 neuer 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 crowne,
An ill death may hee dye!’
28
But then rose vpp Master Nortton, that esquier,
With him a ffull great companye;
And then the erles they comen downe
To ryde in his 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 Erle of Westmoreland, he had in his ancyent
The dunn bull in sight most hye,
And three doggs with golden collers
Were sett out royallye.
31
The Erle of Northumberland, he had in his ancyent
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 Bowes,
After them a spoyle to make;
The erles returned backe againe,
Thought euer that 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 Erle of Warwicke,
Soe did they many another man;
Vntill they came to Yorke castle,
I-wis they neuer stinted nor blan.
* * * * *
39
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
‘Spread thy ancyent, Erle 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 your tounge! why say you soe?
Men wilbe men when mony is gone.
34. their for the.
74. they altered in MS. from them.
181. amercy: and afterwards.
191. 9.
201. 8th.
212. godamercy.
293. 13000.
302. Dum̄: m for nn. Furnivall.
303. 3.
343. imermust.
352. all they.
364. 1000.
371,3. 30000.
382. Only half the n in many. Furnivall.
And for & throughout.
Variations of the copy in Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 250.
12–4.
Lithe and listen unto mee,
And I will sing of a noble earle,
The noblest earle in the north countrie.
2, 3 wanting.
42. after him walkes his faire.
43. mine.
51,2.
Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord,
That eer such harm should hap to thee.
61, 81, 101, 241. Now for But.
62,3.
Alas thy counsell suits not mee;
Mine enemies prevail so fast.
64. That at: I may.
71. O goe.
72. And take thy gallant men.
73. any dare to doe.
74. Then your warrant.
81. thou lady faire.
82. The court is full of subtiltie.
83. And if.
84. Never more I may thee see.
91. Yet goe to the court, my lord, she sayes.
92. And I: will goe wi. ryde in ed. 1794.
93. At court then for my dearest lord.
94. His faithfull borrowe I will.
101. lady deare.
102–4.
Far lever had I lose my life,
Than leave among my cruell foes
My love in jeopardy and strife.
111. come thou: my little.
113. To maister Norton thou must goe.
122. And beare this letter here fro mee.
123. And say that earnestly I praye.
124. That wanting.
131. But wanting: little footpage.
132. And another.
133. to his journeys end.
134. little footpage.
141. When to that gentleman he came.
142. Down he knelt upon.
143,4.
Quoth he, My lord commendeth him,
And sends this letter unto thee.
The reading of the Folio is restored in ed. 1794.
152. Affore that goodlye.
153. you the truthe wold know.
161. thither, Christopher.
162. A gallant youth thou seemst.
163,4.
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.
181–3.
Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne,
Thy counsell well it liketh mee,
And if we speed, and
184. thou shalt.
191. But wanting.
192. Gallant men I trowe.
194. Will stand by that good earle and mee.
201. But wanting: answer make.
202. Eight of them spake hastilie.
203,4.
O father, till the daye we dye,
We’ll stand by that good earle and thee.
211.
Gramercy now, my children deare,
You showe yourselves right bold and brave;
And whethersoeer I live or dye,
A fathers blessing you shal have.
221. O Francis.
222–4.
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?
271,2.
But, father, I will wend with you,
Unarmd and naked will I bee.
273. And he: the first stroake wanting.
274. 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.
301,2.
Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde,
The dun bull he raysd on hye.
303. And wanting: collars brave.
304. 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 beare.
321. Then Sir George Bowes he straitwaye rose.
322. some spoyle.
323. Those noble earles turnd.
324. 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.
351. Then newes unto leeve London came.
352. ever may.
353. word is brought.
354. Of the rysing in.
361. Her grace she turned her round about.
362. swore.
363. Sayes wanting.
364. As never was in the North before.
371. be raysd.
372. harneis faire to see.
373. And wanting: be raised.
374. the earles i th’.
381,2.
Wi them the false Earle Warwick went,
Th’ earle Sussex and the lord Hunsdèn.
383. to Yorke castle came.
384. stint ne.
39.
Now spread thy ancyent, Westmorland,
Thy dun bull faine would we spye;
And thou, the Earl o Northumberland,
Now rayse thy half moone up on hye.
401. the dun bulle is.
402. the half moone vanished.
403,4.
The Earles, though they were brave and bold,
Against soe many could not stay.
41.
Thee, Norton, wi thine eight good sonnes,
They doomd to dye, alas! for ruth!
Thy reverend lockes thee could not save,
Nor them their faire and blooming youthe.
Wi them full many a gallant wight
They cruellye bereavd of life,
And many a childe made fatherlesse,
And widowed many a tender wife.
176
NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS
‘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 variations, 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 Westmoreland’]. The minstrels often made such changes.”
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 Northumberland and Westmorland took refuge in Liddesdale, Martin Eliot and others of the principal men of the dale raised a force against the earls, Black Ormiston, and the 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, leaving the Countess of Northumberland “at John of the Sydes house, a cottage not to be compared 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.”[[261]] The Regent took Northumberland to Edinburgh, and on the second of January, 1570, committed him to the castle of Lochleven, attended by two servants.[[262]]
The sentiment of Scotsmen, and especially of borderers, was outraged by this proceeding: “for generally, all sorts, both men and women, cry out for the liberty of their country; which is, to succor banisht men, as themselves have been received in England not long since, and is the freedom of all countries, as they allege.”[[263]]
Northumberland remained in confinement at Lochleven until June, 1572. Meanwhile the Countess of Northumberland, who had escaped 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 assurance 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 Scotland. “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 considerations 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).[[264]]
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, rallies 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 deliver Percy to England. Northumberland will not believe this; the surrender of a banisht man would break friendship forever between 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 relation 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 Lochleven again. Mary faints when she sees him in the boat, and Percy once and again proposes 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,[[265]] asks how far it is to the shooting, 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 491 is probably corrupted). “This is mere flouting,” 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, “extradited” 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 Douglas of Lochleven, 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 attribution of sorcery to Lady Douglas of Lochleven.[[266]]
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 Berwick. In a Swiss popular song the infidelity 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.[[267]]
32, 33. The day after Northumberland was put into his hands, Hunsdon writes to Burghley: “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 Northumberland’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 surprise 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’st 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 amonge!
Ffull much was there traitorye
The wrought the Erle 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 Erle of Northumberland:
4
‘What makes you be soe sad, my lord,
And in your mind soe sorrowffullye?
In the north of Scottland to-morrow there’s a shooting,
And thither thou’st goe, my Lord Percye.
5
‘The buttes are sett, and the shooting is made,
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 traiterous man.
8
‘He is a traitor stout and stronge,
As I’st tell you the veretye;
For he hath tane liuerance of the Erle,
And into England he will liuor thee.’
9
‘Now hold thy tounge, thou goodlye ladye,
And let all this talking bee;
Ffor all the gold that’s in Loug Leuen,
William wold not liuor mee.
10
‘It wold breake truce betweene England and Scottland,
And freinds againe they wold neuer bee,
If he shold liuor a baniht erle,
Was driuen out of his owne countrye.’
11
‘Hold your 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 Lord Hume,
And you know a trew Scothe lord is hee,
For he hath lost both land and goods
In ayding of your 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
Saies, 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 your chamberlaine goe with mee,
Three words that I may to him speake,
And soone he shall come againe to thee.’
21
When Iames Swynard came that lady before,
Shee let him see thorrow the weme of her ring
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, Iamye,’ she saye[d],
‘Alas, hee’le doe you both tree and teene!’
23
‘And who beene yonder, thou gay ladye,
That walkes soe royallye him beside?’
‘Yond is Sir William Drurye, Iamy,’ shee sayd,
‘And a keene captain hee is, and tryde.’
24
‘How many miles is itt, thou good ladye,
Betwixt yond English lord and mee?’
‘Marry, thrise fifty mile, Iamy,’ 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 Iohn Forster, Iamye,’ 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, Iamy,’ he sayd,
‘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 mouth
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 your 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 ouer the sea,
And he hath cast vpp a siluer wand,
Saies, 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 your selfe, 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 mee.’
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
Iamye 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, Iamye,’ 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 trulye.’
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 mee?
49
‘Looke that your brydle be wight, my lord,
That you may goe as a shipp att sea;
Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe,
That you may pricke her while shee’le awaye.’
50
‘What needeth this, Douglas,’ he sayth,
‘That thou needest to ffloute mee?
For I was counted a horsseman good
Before that 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 Percye.
61. my Land.
154. 2.
161. This line is partly pared away. Furnivall.
184. Lorid, or Louerd; or Lord, with one stroke too many. Furnivall.
203. 3.
221. ny for my.
243. 3se 50.
312. 3d.
322. 3.
334. Partly cut away by the binder. Furnivall.
431,2, 481,2, 521,2. 50.
524. land for lord.
And for & throughout.
Variations of Percy’s Reliques, 1765, 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’ll 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-levèn,
With William Douglas to abide.
And when he to the Douglas came,
He halched him right courteouslie;
Sayd, Welcome, welcome, noble earle,
Here thou shalt safelye bide with 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.
43 4.
To-morrow a shootinge will bee held
Among the lords of the North countrye.
51. sett, the shooting’s.
52. there will be.
61. hand, thou gentle Douglas: he sayes wanting.
62. And here by my true faith, quoth hee.
63. If thou: worldes.
64. I will.
71. bespake a lady faire.
82. As I tell you in privitie.
83. he has. hath, 1794.
84. 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 Englànd
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.
101. Tween England and Scotland ‘twold break truce. Betweene: it, 1794.
103. If they.
11, 12.
Alas! alas! my lord, she sayes,
Nowe mickle is their traitorìe;
Then let my brother ride his ways,
And tell those English lords from thee.
131. with him.
14–17.
‘To the Lord Hume I will thee bring;
He is well knowne a true Scots lord,
And he will lose both land and life
Ere he with thee will break his word.’
‘Much is my woe,’ Lord Percy sayd,
‘When I thinke on my own countrìe;
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, 1794.
18.
‘If you’ll give me no trust, my lord,
Nor unto mee no credence yield,
Yet step one moment here aside,
Ile showe you all your foes in field.’
191,2.
Lady, I never loved witchcraft,
Never dealt in privy wyle.
194. Of truth and honoure, free from guile.
201. If you’ll.
202. Yet send your chamberlaine with.
203. Let me but speak three words with him.
204. And he.
211. James Swynard with that lady went.
213. She showed him through.
213. many English lords there were.
214. Waiting for.
221. And who walkes yonder.
222. That walkes wanting.
223. O yonder is the lord Hunsdèn.
224. you drie and teene.
231. who beth.
232. so proudly.
233. That is: Iamy wanting.
234. And wanting.
241. itt, madàme.
242. lords.
243,4.
Marry, it is thrice fifty miles,
To sayl to them upon the sea.
252. Ne never sawe.
253,4.
But as my book it sheweth mee,
And through my ring I may descrye.
261. witch ladye.
262. And of her skille she.
271. thou lady faire.
272. That looketh with sic an.
273,4.
Yonder is Sir John Foster, quoth shee,
Alas! he’ll do ye sore disgrace.
275,6 wanting.
281. downe over his browe.
282. And in his heart he was full woe. He wept; his heart he was full of woe, 1794.
283,4.
And he is gone to his noble lord,
Those sorrowfull tidings him to show.
29.
Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd,
I may not believe that witch ladìe;
The Douglasses were ever true,
And they can neer prove false to mee.
30, 31 wanting.
321. I have now in Lough-leven been.
323. And I have never had. Yett have I never had, 1794.
324. Ne no good.
33.
Therefore I’ll to yond shooting wend,
As to the Douglas I have hight;
Betide me weale, betide me woe,
He neer shall find my promise light.
341. He writhe a gold ring from.
342. that faire ladìe. that gay ladìe, 1794.
343. Sayes, It was all that I cold save.
35.
And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord?
Then farewell truth and honestìe!
And farewell heart, and farewell hand!
For never more I shall thee see.
36 wanting.
371,2.
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.
373–6.
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 ladìe;
If ought befall yond lady but good,
Then blamed for ever I shall bee.
402. Come on, come on, and let her bee.
404. For to: that gay.
41.
‘If you’ll 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.
422–4.
‘Come on, come on, and let her bee;
My sister is crafty, and wold beguile
A thousand such as you and mee.
432. Now wanting: restored, 1794.
433,4 wanting.
435–6.
Hee sent his man to ask the Douglas
When they shold that shooting see.
441. Faire words, quoth he, they make.
442. And that by thee and thy lord is seen.
443. You may hap to.
444. Ere you that shooting reach, I ween.
451. his hatt pulled over.
452–4.
He thought his lord then was betrayd;
And he is to Earle Percy againe,
To tell him what the Douglas sayd.
46 wanting.
471. head, man, quoth his lord,
472–4.
Nor therfore let thy courage fail;
He did it but to prove thy heart,
To see if he cold make it quail.
481. had other fifty sayld.
483. calld to the Douglas himselfe. to D., 1794.
484. Sayd, What wilt thou nowe doe.
492. And your horse goe swift as ship.
501. sayd. sayth, 1794.
502. What needest thou to flyte with mee.
511. he hath. hath, 1794.
512. Who dealt with mee so treacherouslìe.
513. A false Armstrong he hath. hath, 1794.
514. geere that. geere, 1794.
523. landed him at Berwick towne. MS. reading restored, 1794.
524. The Douglas landed Lord Percie.
MS. reading restored with ‘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.
177
THE EARL OF WESTMORELAND
‘Earle of Westmorlande,’ Percy MS., p. 112; Hales and Furnivall, I, 292.
“These lines,” says Percy in a note in his MS. to 11, “are given in one of my old copies to Lord Northumberland; they seem here corrupted.” The first three stanzas, with extensive variations, begin ‘Northumberland betrayed 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 Douglas.’
The earls of Westmoreland and Northumberland, 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 Jedburgh; Old Norton, Markenfield, and others, by Buccleuch at Branxholm. Lady Northumberland shortly after removed to Hume Castle. The Regent Murray sent a secret messenger to persuade Fernihurst and Buccleuch 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 pensioner of Spain, dying at Newport in November, 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 Northumberland 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.[[268]]
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”[[269]] 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. (104 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 removes 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 master 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 Neville, ‘with a child’s voice,’ should come over 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 Markenfield 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 manhood, he shall part with none of them. Both ships land at Seville, where the duke recommends 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 council put their heads together, and it is determined that Neville shall fight with the soldan. The battle is to come off at the Headless 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[[270]] 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 England 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 Flanders. But Leonard Dacre may be intended, who, though he 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, Francis 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 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 ffall 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 that I doe ken,
Alas, with thee I dare not mocke!
Thou dwellest soe far on the west border,
Thy name is called the Lord Iocke.’
4
Now hath Armstrong taken noble Nevill,
And as one Martinfield did profecye;
He hath taken the Lord Dakers,
A lords sonne of great degree.
5
He hath taken old Master Nortton,
And sonnes four in his companye;
Hee hath taken another gentleman,
Called Iohn 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 his noble companye;
The Lord 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 me.
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 Camelye.
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 fiue 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 language,
And then haue told it vnto mee.
20
‘Master, master, see you yonder faire ancyent?
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 Iohn 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 hornes 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 that 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 armes came before noble Nevill,
He fell downe low vpon his knee:
‘You must tell me true what is your name,
And in what countrye your dwelling may bee.’
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,
O that he spoke soe curteouslye!
Duke Iohn 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 say,
‘Where wee trauell vpon the sea.
32
‘And Charles Nevill itt is my name,
I will neuer lene it vpon the sea;
When I was att home in England faire,
I was the Erle 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 Erle 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 ouer 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 Iohn 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 Dakers,
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 Iohn 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 your 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 Ffrance,
There a captaine ffor to bee;
And those two other gentlemen wold goe with him,
And for to fare in his companye.
44
And you your-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, scarnesse 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 your citye within,
I mett him pleasantlye vpon the sea;
He seemes to be a noble man,
And captaine to your Grace he faine wold bee.
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 your 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 Erle of Westmorland trulye.
53
The queene made him captaine ouer forty thousand,
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 your 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 your realme,
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 together,
. . . . . . .
That Nevill shold fight with the heathen soldan
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,
‘That sore ouerthrowen this prince hath beene.
67
‘O sett me vp my fayre Dun Bull,
And trumpetts blow me farr and nee,
Vntill I come within a mile of the Headlesse Crosse,
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 that 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 soldans 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] land,
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 mett,
With procession that was soe fayre;
Shee tooke the crowne beside her heade,
And wold haue crowned him king 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 againe 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 day,
To keepe his men more merrylye.
81
‘I thanke your Grace,’ sayd noble Nevill,
‘For this worthy gift you haue giuen to me;
If euer your Grace doe stand in neede,
Champion to your Highnesse again I’le bee.’
11. feare for dreade.
22. fayre for free.
24. my for me.
52, 402, 424. 4.
54. Carnakie: cf. 404.
82, 152, 481, 574. 3.
83. he & god.
141. fortume.
154. 5.
203. middest ffitt.
35. The Second Part.
371, 433, 471, 721, 731. 2.
484. Ciuilee. In this and the like names following, the u has only one stroke in the MS., as often happens. The letter is not meant for c, clearly, as it has not the accent or beak of a c. Furnivall.
531. 40000.
553. all they? all these?
623. ben.
702. 2se
:.
781. 7.
802. 100li
:.
And for & always.
178
CAPTAIN CAR, OR, EDOM O GORDON
A. Cotton MS. Vespasian, A. xxv, No 67, fol. 187, of the last quarter of the 16th century,[[271]] British Museum; Ritson’s Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 137; Böddeker, in Jahrbuch für romanische und englische Sprache und Literatur, XV, 126, 1876 (very incorrectly); Transactions of the New Shakspere Society, 1880–86, Appendix, p. 52[B], 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 4º, 12 pages. Ritson, Scotish Songs, II, 17.
E. ‘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,’ Motherwell’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 Dalrymple ballad in his Reliques, 1765, I, 99, “improved, and enlarged with several fine stanzas recovered from a fragment ... in the Editor’s folio MS.” Seven stanzas of the enlarged copy were adopted from this MS., with changes; 162,4, 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 fragment 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-lieutenant 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.[[272]]
“The queen’s lieutenant-deputy in the north, called Sir Adam Gordon of Auchindown, knight, was very vigilant in his function; for suppressing of whom the Master of Forbes was directed, with the regent’s commission. But the first encounter, which was upon the ninth day of October [1571], Auchindown 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 northwest 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.[[273]]
“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 rendered 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 contemporary 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 persons were destroyed, to the number of twenty-seven or thereby.”[[274]] This was in November, 1571.
We have a third report of this outrage from Richard Bannatyne, also a contemporary, 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 timbers and hather about the house, and set all on fire.”[[275]]
Buchanan puts the incident which mainly concerns us between the fights of Tulliangus and Crabstone; so does Archbishop Spottiswood. “Not long after” the former, says the archbishop, who was a child of six when the affair occurred, Adam Gordon “sent to summon the house of Tavoy, pertaining to Alexander Forbes. The lady refusing to yield without direction from her husband, he put fire unto it and burnt her therein with children and servants, being twenty-seven persons 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.”[[276]]
Buchanan dispatches the burning of the house in a line: Domus Alexandri Forbosii, cum uxore pregnante, liberis et ministris, cremata. Ed. 1582, fol. 248 b.
Towie was a place of no particular importance; 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 transaction is spoken of by contemporaries, who were familiarized to a ferocious kind of warfare,[[277]] that there must have been something quite beyond the common in Captain Ker’s proceedings on this occasion, for they are denounced even in those days as infamous, inhuman, 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 employed by Spottiswood might be so interpreted 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 refusal to surrender, accompanied with opprobrious 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, Bannatyne knows nothing, or chooses to say nothing, 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.[[278]]
A favorable construction, where the direct evidence is conflicting, is due to Adam Gordon because of his behavior on two other occasions, 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 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.”[[279]] 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 unlawful acts done contrary to the laws of arms; and I doubt not, if I were under their dominion, as you are under mine, that I should die the death most cruelly. Yet notwithstanding, 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 assurance 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 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.”[[280]]
After the Pacification of February, 1573, Adam Gordon obtained license to go to France and other parts beyond sea, for certain years, on condition of doing or procuring 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 gentlemen who had gone to France with him, and was in ward in 1576. He died at St. Johnston in October, 1580, “of a bleeding.” As he was of tender age in 1562, he must still have been a young man.[[281]]
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 Captain Gilbert Wauchop, with their respective lieutenants and ensigns, and two other persons, “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 troubles.” He was accused of being engaged in practices against the regency, as we have already seen, in 1574. He was released from ward upon caution in February, 1575. 1578, 26th July, he was summoned to appear before 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 Balrinnes 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.[[282]]
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 Bandallach’s daughter, the said John Forbes married 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 Forbes.... The said John Forbes of Towie, after the murder of Margaret Campbell, married —— 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 William, sons of Margaret Campbell, died without succession, and by the death of an only son of John, junior, the house of Towie became extinct. “The rest of the said Margaret Campbell’s bairns, with herself, were unmercifullie murdered in the castle of Corgaffe.”[[283]]
According to the Lumsden genealogy, then, Margaret Campbell, with her younger children, 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.[[284]] Three sixteenth-century accounts, 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 concerned with the Forbes family than any of the other writers referred to, his statement cannot be peremptorily set aside. But we may owe Corgarf to the reviser of 1667, although 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 tradition of the present century, lay the scene at Towie. E, which is of this century, has Cargarf. 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,[[285]] in F, 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 towards the castle, and thinks her lord is coming 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 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 surrender, 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 to 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 revenge 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 point of Gordon’s spear. Then follow deplorable 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 sentiment 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 improved.
Nothing need be said of the fragment E 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.
G has the eighteen stanzas of F,[[286]] neglecting 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 Gordon’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 Gordon 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 Gordon’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 søn, 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 søn, Lady Linild’s preferred lover. See also ‘Liden Engel,’ under ‘Fause Foodrage,’ No 89, II, 298.
The copy in Percy’s Reliques is translated by Bodmer, I, 126, and by Doenninges, p. 69; Pinkerton’s copy by Grundtvig, No 9, and by Loève-Veimars, p. 307; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 13, apparently translates Allingham’s.