He had a litill we leg,
And it wes cant as any cleg,
It wes wynd in ane wynden schet,
Baythe the handis and the feit:
Suppose this gaist wes litill
Yit it stal Godis quhitell;
It stal fra peteous Abrahame,
Ane quhorle and ane quhim quhame;
It stal fra ye carle of ye mone
Ane payr of awld yin schone;
It rane to Pencatelane,
And wirreit ane awld chaplane;
This litill gaist did na mair ill
Bot clok lyk a corn mill;
And it wald play and hop,
About the heid ane stre strop;
And it wald sing and it wald dance,
Oure fute, and Orliance.
Quha conjurit the litill gaist say ye?
Nane bot the litill Spenzie fle,
That with hir wit and her ingyne,
Gart the gaist leif agane;
And sune mareit the gaist the fle,
And croun'd him King of Kandelie;
And they gat them betwene,
Orpheus king, and Elpha quene.[71]
To reid quha will this gentill geist,
Ye hard it not at Cockilby's feist.[72]
[Footnote 70: Apparently some lines are here omitted.]
[Footnote 71: This seems to allude to the old romance of _Orfeo and
Heurodis_, from which the reader will find some extracts, Vol. II.
The wife of _Orpheus_ is here called _Elpha_, probably from her having
been extracted by the elves, or fairies.]
[Footnote 72: Alluding to a strange unintelligible poem in the
Bannatyne MSS., called _Cockelby's sow_.]
APPENDIX, No. VI.
SUPPLEMENTAL STANZAS TO COLLINS'S ODE ON
THE SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDS.
BY
WILLIAM ERSKINE, ESQ.
ADVOCATE.
* * * * *
The editor embraces this opportunity of presenting the reader with
the following stanzas, intended to commemorate some striking Scottish
superstitions, omitted by Collins in his ode upon that subject; and
which, if the editor can judge with impartiality of the production
of a valued friend, will be found worthy of the sublime original.
The reader must observe, that these verses form a continuation of
the address, by Collins, to the author of _Douglas_, exhorting him to
celebrate the traditions of Scotland. They were first published in the
_Edinburgh Magazine_, for April, 1788.
* * * * *
Thy muse may tell, how, when at evening's close,
To meet her love beneath the twilight shade,
O'er many a broom-clad brae and heathy glade,
In merry mood the village maiden goes;
There, on a streamlet's margin as she lies,
Chaunting some carol till her swain appears,
With visage deadly pale, in pensive guise,
Beneath a wither'd fir his form he rears![73]
Shrieking and sad, she bends her irie flight,
When, mid dire heaths, where flits the taper blue,
The whilst the moon sheds dim a sickly light,
The airy funeral meets her blasted view!
When, trembling, weak, she gains her cottage low,
Where magpies scatter notes of presage wide,
Some one shall tell, while tears in torrents flow,
That, just when twilight dimm'd the green hill's side,
Far in his lonely sheil her hapless shepherd died.
[Footnote 73: The _wraith_, or spectral appearance, of a person
shortly to die, is a firm article in the creed of Scottish
superstition. Nor is it unknown in our sister kingdom. See the story
of the beautiful lady Diana Rich.--_Aubrey's Miscellanies_, p, 89.]
Let these sad strains to lighter sounds give place!
Bid thy brisk viol warble measures gay!
For see! recall'd by thy resistless lay,
Once more the Brownie shews his honest face.
Hail, from thy wanderings long, my much lov'd sprite!
Thou friend, thou lover of the lowly, hail!
Tell, in what realms thou sport'st thy merry night,
Trail'st the long mop, or whirl'st the mimic flail.
Where dost thou deck the much-disordered hall,
While the tired damsel in Elysium sleeps,
With early voice to drowsy workman call,
Or lull the dame, while mirth his vigils keeps?
'Twas thus in Caledonia's domes, 'tis said,
Thou ply'dst the kindly task in years of yore:
At last, in luckless hour, some erring maid
Spread in thy nightly cell of viands store:
Ne'er was thy form beheld among their mountains more.[74]
[Footnote 74: See Introduction, p. ci.]
Then wake (for well thou can'st) that wond'rous lay,
How, while around the thoughtless matrons sleep,
Soft o'er the floor the treacherous fairies creep,
And bear the smiling infant far away:
How starts the nurse, when, for her lovely child,
She sees at dawn a gaping idiot stare!
O snatch the innocent from demons vilde,
And save the parents fond from fell despair!
In a deep cave the trusty menials wait,
When from their hilly dens, at midnight's hour,
Forth rush the airy elves in mimic state,
And o'er the moon-light heath with swiftness scour:
In glittering arms the little horsemen shine;
Last, on a milk-white steed, with targe of gold,
A fay of might appears, whose arms entwine
The lost, lamented child! the shepherds bold[75]
The unconscious infant tear from his unhallowed hold.
[Footnote 75: For an account of the Fairy superstition, see
_Introduction to the Tale of Tamlane_.]
MINSTRELSY
OF THE
SCOTTISH BORDER.
PART FIRST.
* * * * *
_HISTORICAL BALLADS_.
SIR PATRICK SPENS.
* * * * *
One edition of the present ballad is well known; having appeared in
the _Reliques of Ancient Poetry_, and having been inserted in almost
every subsequent collection of Scottish songs. But it seems to have
occurred to no editor, that a more complete copy of the song might be
procured. That, with which the public is now presented, is taken
from two MS. copies,[76] collated with several verses recited by the
editor's friend, Robert Hamilton, Esq. advocate, being the 16th, and
the four which follow. But, even with the assistance of the common
copy, the ballad seems still to be a fragment. The cause of Sir
Patrick Spens' voyage is, however, pointed out distinctly; and it
shews, that the song has claim to high antiquity, as referring to a
very remote period in Scottish history.
[Footnote 76: That the public might possess this carious fragment as
entire as possible, the editor gave one of these copies, which seems
the most perfect, to Mr. Robert Jamieson, to be inserted in his
Collection.]
Alexander III. of Scotland died in 1285; and, for the misfortune
of his country, as well as his own, he had been bereaved of all his
children before his decease. The crown of Scotland descended upon
his grand-daughter, Margaret, termed, by our historians, the _Maid of
Norway_. She was the only offspring of a marriage betwixt Eric, king
of Norway, and Margaret, daughter of Alexander III. The kingdom had
been secured to her by the parliament of Scotland, held at Scone,
the year preceding her grandfather's death. The regency of Scotland
entered into a congress with the ministers of the king of Norway and
with those of England, for the establishment of good order in
the kingdom of the infant princess. Shortly afterwards, Edward I.
conceived the idea of matching his eldest son, Edward, Prince of
Wales, with the young queen of Scotland. The plan was eagerly embraced
by the Scottish nobles; for, at that time, there was little of the
national animosity, which afterwards blazed betwixt the countries,
and they patriotically looked forward to the important advantage, of
uniting the island of Britain into one kingdom. But Eric of Norway
seems to have been unwilling to deliver up his daughter; and, while
the negociations were thus protracted, the death of the Maid of Norway
effectually crushed a scheme, the consequences of which might have
been, that the distinction betwixt England and Scotland would, in our
day, have been as obscure and uninteresting as that of the realms of
the heptarchy.--_Hailes' Annals. Fordun, &c._
The unfortunate voyage of Sir Patrick Spens may really have taken
place, for the purpose of bringing back the Maid of Norway to her own
kingdom; a purpose, which was probably defeated by the jealousy of the
Norwegians, and the reluctance of King Eric. I find no traces of
the disaster in Scottish history; but, when we consider the meagre
materials, whence Scottish history is drawn, this is no conclusive
argument against the truth of the tradition. That a Scottish vessel,
sent upon such an embassy, must, as represented in the ballad, have
been freighted with the noblest youth in the kingdom, is sufficiently
probable; and, having been delayed in Norway, till the tempestuous
season was come on, its fate can be no matter of surprise. The
ambassadors, finally sent by the Scottish nation to receive their
queen, were Sir David Wemyss, of Wemyss, and Sir Michael Scot of
Balwearie; the same, whose knowledge, surpassing that of his age,
procured him the reputation of a wizard. But, perhaps, the expedition
of Sir Patrick Spens was previous to their embassy. The introduction
of the king into the ballad seems a deviation from history; unless
we suppose, that Alexander was, before his death, desirous to see his
grand-child and heir.
The Scottish monarchs were much addicted to "sit in Dumfermline town,"
previous to the accession of the Bruce dynasty. It was a favourite
abode of Alexander himself, who was killed by a fall from his horse,
in the vicinity, and was buried in the abbey of Dumfermline.
There is a beautiful German translation of this ballad, as it appeared
in the _Reliques_, in the Volk-Lieder of Professor Herder; an elegant
work, in which it is only to be regretted, that the actual popular
songs of the Germans form so trifling a proportion.
The tune of Mr. Hamilton's copy of _Sir Patrick Spens_ is different
from that, to which the words are commonly sung; being less plaintive,
and having a bold nautical turn in the close.
SIR PATRICK SPENS.
* * * * *
The king sits in Dumfermline town,
Drinking the blude-red wine;
"O[77] whare will I get a skeely skippe[78],
"To sail this new ship of mine?"
O up and spake an eldern knight,
Sat at the king's right knee,--
"Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,
"That ever sail'd the sea."
Our king has written a braid letter.
And seal'd it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.
"To Noroway, to Noroway,
"To Noroway o'er the faem;
"The king's daughter of Noroway,
"'Tis thou maun bring her hame."
The first word that Sir Patrick read,
Sae loud loud laughed he;
The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
The tear blinded his e'e.
"O wha is this has done this deed,
"And tauld the king o' me,
"To send us out, at this time of the year,
"To sail upon the sea?
"Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
"Our ship must sail the faem;
"The king's daughter of Noroway,
"'Tis we must fetch her hame,"
They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
Wi' a' the speed they may;
They hae landed in Noroway,
Upon a Wodensday.
They hadna been a week, a week,
In Noroway, but twae,
When that the lords o' Noroway
Began aloud to say,--
"Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,
"And a' our queenis fee."
"Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!
"Fu' loud I hear ye lie."
"For I brought as much white monie,
"As gane[79] my men and me,
"And I brought a half-fou[80] o' gude red goud,
"Out o'er the sea wi' me."
"Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a'!
"Our gude ship sails the morn."
"Now, ever alake, my master dear,
"I fear a deadly storm!
"I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
"Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
"And if we gang to sea, master,
"I fear we'll come to harm."
They hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
And gurly grew the sea.
The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,[81]
It was sik a deadly storm;
And the waves came o'er the broken ship,
Till a' her sides were torn.
"O where will I get a gude sailor,
"To take my helm in hand,
"Till I get up to the tall top-mast,
"To see if I can spy land?"
"O here am I, a sailor gude,
"To take the helm in hand,
"Till you go up to the tall top-mast;
"But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."
He hadna' gane a step, a step,
A step, but barely ane,
When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,
And the salt sea it came in.
"Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,
"Another o' the twine,
"And wap them into our ship's side,
"And let na the sea come in."
They fetched a web o' the silken claith,
Another of the twine,
And they wapped them round that gude ship's side,
But still the sea came in.
O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords
To weet their cork-heel'd shoon!
But lang or a' the play was play'd,
They wat their hats aboon.
And mony was the feather-bed,
That flattered[82] on the faem;
And mony was the gude lord's son,
That never mair cam hame.
The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
The maidens tore their hair,
A' for the sake of their true loves;
For them they'll see na mair.
O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit,
Wi' their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand!
And lang, lang, may the maidens sit,
Wi' their goud kaims in their hair,
A' waiting for their ain dear loves!
For them they'll see na mair.
O forty miles off Aberdeen,
'Tis fifty fathom deep,
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
[Footnote 77: In singing, the interjection, O, is added to the second
and fourth lines.]
[Footnote 78: _Skeely skipper_--Skilful mariner.]
[Footnote 79: _Gane_--Suffice.]
[Footnote 80: _Half-fou_--the eighth part of a peck.]
[Footnote 81: _Lap_--Sprang.]
[Footnote 82: _Flattered_--Fluttered, or rather floated, on the foam.]
NOTES ON SIR PATRICK SPENS.
* * * * *
_To send us out at this time of the year_,
_To sail upon the sea_?--P. 8, v. 3.
By a Scottish act of parliament, it was enacted, that no ship should
be fraughted out of the kingdom, with any staple goods, betwixt
the feast of St. Simon's day and Jude and Candelmas.--_James III.
Parliament 2d, chap._ 15. Such was the terror entertained for
navigating the north seas in winter.
_When a bout flew out of our goodly ship_.--P. 10. v. 5.
I believe a modern seaman would say, a plank had started, which must
have been a frequent incident during the infancy of ship-building. The
remedy applied seems to be that mentioned in _Cook's Voyages_, when,
upon some occasion, to stop a leak, which could not be got at in the
inside, a quilted sail was brought under the vessel, which, being
drawn into the leak by the suction, prevented the entry of more water.
Chaucer says,
"There n'is no new guise that it na'as old."
_O forty miles off Aberdeen_,--P. 11. v. 3.
This concluding verse differs in the three copies of the ballad, which
I have collated. The printed edition bears,
"Have owre, have owre to Aberdour;"
And one of the MSS. reads,
"At the back of auld St. Johnstowne Dykes."
But, in a voyage from Norway, a shipwreck on the north coast seems
as probable as either in the Firth of Forth, or Tay; and the ballad
states the disaster to have taken place out of sight of land.
AULD MAITLAND.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
* * * * *
This ballad, notwithstanding its present appearance, has a claim
to very high antiquity. It has been preserved by tradition; and is,
perhaps, the most authentic instance of a long and very old poem,
exclusively thus preserved. It is only known to a few old people, upon
the sequestered banks of the Ettrick; and is published, as written
down from the recitation of the mother of Mr. James Hogg[83], who
sings, or rather chaunts it, with great animation. She learned the
ballad from a blind man, who died at the advanced age of ninety,
and is said to have been possessed of much traditionary knowledge.
Although the language of this poem is much modernised, yet many words,
which the reciters have retained, without understanding them, still
preserve traces of its antiquity. Such are the words _Springals_
(corruptly pronounced _Springwalls_), _sowies_, _portcullize_, and
many other appropriate terms of war and chivalry, which could never
have been introduced by a modern ballad-maker. The incidents are
striking and well-managed; and they are in strict conformity with
the manners of the age, in which they are placed. The editor has,
therefore, been induced to illustrate them, at considerable length, by
parallel passages from Froissard, and other historians of the period
to which the events refer.
[Footnote 83: This old woman is still alive, and at present resides at
Craig of Douglas, in Selkirkshire.]
The date of the ballad cannot be ascertained with any degree of
accuracy. Sir Richard Maitland, the hero of the poem, seems to have
been in possession of his estate about 1250; so that, as he survived
the commencement of the wars betwixt England and Scotland, in 1296,
his prowess against the English, in defence of his castle of Lauder,
or Thirlestane, must have been exerted during his extreme old age. He
seems to have been distinguished for devotion, as well as valour; for,
A.D. 1249, Dominus Ricardus de Mautlant gave to the abbey of Dryburgh,
"_Terras suas de Haubentside, in territorio suo de Thirlestane,
pro salute animae suae, et sponsae suae, antecessorum suorum et
successorum suorum, in perpetuum_[84]." He also gave, to the same
convent, "_Omnes terras, quas Walterus de Giling tenuit in feodo suo
de Thirlestane, et pastura incommuni de Thirlestane, ad quadraginta
oves, sexaginta vaccas, et ad viginti equos_."--Cartulary of Dryburgh
Abbey, in the Advocates' Library.
[Footnote 84: There exists also an indenture, or bond, entered into by
Patrick, abbot of Kelsau, and his convent, referring to an engagement
betwixt them and Sir Richard Maitland, and Sir William, his eldest
son, concerning the lands of Hedderwicke, and the pasturages of
Thirlestane and Blythe. This Patrick was abbot of Kelso, betwixt 1258
and 1260.]
From the following ballad, and from the family traditions referred to
in the Maitland MSS., Auld Maitland appears to have had three sons;
but we learn, from the latter authority, that only one survived
him, who was thence surnamed _Burd alane_, which signifies either
_unequalled_, or _solitary_. A _Consolation_, addressed to Sir Richard
Maitland of Lethington, a poet and scholar who flourished about the
middle of the sixteenth century, and who gives name to the Maitland
MSS., draws the following parallel betwixt his domestic misfortunes
and those of the first Sir Richard, his great ancestor:
Sic destanie and derfe devoring deid
Oft his own hous in hazard put of auld;
Bot your forbeiris, frovard fortounes steid
And bitter blastes, ay buir with breistis bauld;
Luit wanweirdis work and walter ay they wald,
Thair hardie hairtis hawtie and heroik,
For fortounes feid or force wald never fauld;
Bot stormis withstand with stomak stoat and stoik.
Renowned Richert of your race record,
Quhais prais and prowis cannot be exprest;
Mair lustie lynyage nevir haid ane lord,
For he begat the bauldest bairnis and best,
Maist manful men, and madinis maist modest,
That ever wes syn Pyramus tym of Troy,
But piteouslie thai peirles perles apest.
Bereft him all hot Buird-allane, a boy.
Himselfe was aiget, his hous hang be a har,
Duill and distres almaist to deid him draife;
Yet Burd-allane, his only son and air,
As wretched, vyiss, and valient, as the laive,
His hous uphail'd, quhilk ye with honor haive.
So nature that the lyk invyand name,
[85]In kindlie cair dois kindly courage craif,
To follow him in fortoune and in fame.
Richerd he wes, Richerd ye are also,
And Maitland als, and magnanime as he;
In als great age, als wrappit are in wo,
Sewin sons[86] ye haid might contravaill his thrie,
Bot Burd-allane ye haive behind as he:
The lord his linage so inlarge in lyne,
And mony hundreith nepotis grie and grie[87]
Sen Richert wes as hundreth yeiris are hyne.
_An Consolator Ballad to the Richt Honorabill Sir Richert Maitland of
Lethingtoune.--Maitland MSS. in Library of Edinburgh University_.
[Footnote 85: _i.e._ Similar family distress demands the same family
courage.]
[Footnote 86: _Sewin sons_--This must include sons-in-law; for the
last Sir Richard, like his predecessor, had only three sons, namely,
I. William, the famous secretary of Queen Mary; II. Sir John, who
alone survived him, and is the _Burd-allane_ of the consolation; III.
Thomas, a youth of great hopes, who died in Italy. But he had four
daughters, married to gentlemen of fortune.--_Pinkerton's List of
Scottish Poets_, p. 114.]
[Footnote 87: _Grie and grie_--In regular descent; from _gre_,
French.]
Sir William Mautlant, or Maitland, the eldest and sole surviving son
of Sir Richard, ratified and confirmed, to the monks of Dryburgh,
"_Omnes terras quas Dominus Ricardus de Mautlant pater suus fecit
dictis monachis_ _in territorio suo de Thirlestane," Sir William is
supposed to have died about 1315.--Crawford's Peerage_.
Such were the heroes of the ballad. The castle of Thirlestane is
situated upon the Leader, near the town of Lauder. Whether the present
building, which was erected by Chancellor Maitland, and improved by
the Duke of Lauderdale, occupies the site of the ancient castle, I do
not know; but it still merits the epithet of a "_darksome house_."
I find no notice of the siege in history; but there is nothing
improbable in supposing, that the castle, during the stormy period of
the Baliol wars, may have held out against the English. The creation
of a nephew of Edward I., for the pleasure of slaying him by the hand
of young Maitland, is a poetical licence[88]; and may induce us to
place the date of the composition about the reign of David II., or of
his successor, when the real exploits of Maitland, and his sons, were
in some degree obscured, as well as magnified, by the lapse of time.
The inveterate hatred against the English, founded upon the usurpation
of Edward I., glows in every line of the ballad.
[Footnote 88: Such liberties with the genealogy of monarchs were
common to romancers. Henry the Minstrel makes Wallace slay more than
one of King Edward's nephews; and Johnie Armstrong claims the merit of
slaying a sister's son of Henry VIII.]
Auld Maitland is placed, by Gawain Douglas, bishop of Dunkeld,
among the popular heroes of romance, in his allegorical Palice of
Honour[89]:
[Footnote 89: It is impossible to pass over this curious list of
Scottish romances without a note; to do any justice to the subject
would require an essay.--_Raf Coilyear_ is said to have been printed
by Lekprevik, in 1572; but no copy of the edition is known to exist,
and the hero is forgotten, even by popular tradition.
_John the Reif_, as well as the former personage, is mentioned by
Dunbar, in one of his poems, where he stiles mean persons,
Kyne of Rauf Colyard, and Johne the Reif.
They seem to have been robbers: Lord Hailes conjectured John the Reif
to be the same with Johnie Armstrong; but, surely, not with his usual
accuracy; for the _Palice of Honour_ was printed twenty-eight years
before Johnie's execution. John the Reif is mentioned by Lindesay, in
his tragedy of _Cardinal Beatoun_.
--disagysit, like John the Raif, he geid.--
_Cowkilbeis Sow_ is a strange legend in the Bannatyne MSS.--See
_Complaynt of Scotland_, p. 131.
_How the wren came out of Ailsay_.--The wren, I know not why, is often
celebrated in Scottish song. The testament of the wren is still sung
by the children, beginning,
The wren she lies in care's nest,
Wi' meikle dole and pyne.
This may be a modification of the ballad in the text.]
I Saw Raf Coilyear with his thrawin brow,
Crabit John the Reif, and auld Cowkilbeis Sow;
And how the wran cam out of Ailsay,
And Peirs Plowman[90], that meid his workmen few;
Gret Gowmacmorne, and Fyn MacCowl, and how
They suld be goddis in Ireland, as they say.
_Thair saw I Maitland upon auld beird gray_,
Robine Hude, and Gilbert with the quhite hand,
How Hay of Nauchton flew in Madin land.
In this curious verse, the most noted romances, or popular histories,
of the poet's day, seem to be noticed. The preceding stanza describes
the sports of the field; and that, which follows, refers to the tricks
of "jugailrie;" so that the three verses comprehend the whole pastimes
of the middle ages, which are aptly represented as the furniture of
dame Venus's chamber. The verse, referring to Maitland, is obviously
corrupted; the true reading was, probably, "_with his_ auld beird
gray." Indeed the whole verse is full of errors and corruptions; which
is the greater pity, as it conveys information, to be found no where
else.
[Footnote 90: _Peirs Plowman_ is well known. Under the uncouth names
of Gow Mac Morn, and of Fyn MacCowl, the admirers of Ossian are to
recognise Gaul, the son of Morni, and Fingal himself; _heu quantum
mutatus ab illo_!
To illustrate the familiar character of _Robin Hood_, would be an
insult to my readers. But they may be less acquainted with _Gilbert
with the White Hand_, one of his brave followers. He is mentioned in
the oldest legend of that outlaw; Ritson's _Robin Hood_, p. 52.
Thryes Robin shot about,
And alway he slist the wand,
And so dyde good _Gylberte
With the White Hand_.
_Hay of Nachton_ I take to be the knight, mentioned by Wintown, whose
feats of war and travel may have become the subject of a romance, or
ballad. He fought, in Flanders, under Alexander, Earl of Mar, in 1408,
and is thus described;
Lord of the Nachtane, schire William,
Ane honest knycht, and of gud fame,
A travalit knycht lang before than.
And again, before an engagement,
The lord of Nachtane, schire William
The Hay, a knycht than of gud fame,
Mad schire Gilberte the Hay, knycht.
_Cronykil_, B. IX. c. 27.
I apprehend we should read "How Hay of Nachton _slew_ in Madin Land."
Perhaps Madin is a corruption for Maylin, or Milan Land.]
The descendant of Auld Maitland, Sir Richard of Lethington, seems to
have been frequently complimented on the popular renown of his great
ancestor. We have already seen one instance; and in an elegant copy
of verses in the Maitland MSS., in praise of Sir Richard's seat of
Lethingtoun, which he had built, or greatly improved, this obvious
topic of flattery does not escape the poet. From the terms of his
panegyric we learn, that the exploits of auld Sir Richard with the
gray beard, and of his three sons, were "sung in many far countrie,
albeit in rural rhyme;" from which we may infer, that they were
narrated rather in the shape of a popular ballad, than in a _romance
of price_. If this be the case, the song, now published, may have
undergone little variation since the date of the Maitland MSS.; for,
divesting the poem, in praise of Lethington, of its antique spelling,
it would run as smoothly, and appear as modern, as any verse in the
following ballad. The lines alluded to, are addressed to the castle of
Lethington:
And happie art thou sic a place,
That few thy mak ar sene:
But yit mair happie far that race
To quhome thou dois pertene.
Quha dais not knaw the Maitland bluid,
The best in all this land?
In quhilk sumtyme the honour stuid
And worship of Scotland.
Of auld Sir Richard, of that name,
We have hard sing and say;
Of his triumphant nobill fame,
And of his auld baird gray.
And of his nobill sonnis three,
Quhilk that tyme had no maik;
Quhilk maid Scotland renounit be,
And all England to quaik.
Quhais luifing praysis, maid trewlie,
Efter that simple tyme,
Ar sung in monie far countrie,
Albeit in rural rhyme.
And, gif I dar the treuth declair,
And nane me fleitschour call,
I can to him find a compair,
And till his barnis all.
It is a curious circumstance, that this interesting tale, so often
referred to by ancient authors, should be now recovered in so perfect
a state; and many readers may be pleased to see the following sensible
observations, made by a person, born in Ettrick Forest, in the humble
situation of a shepherd. "I am surprised to hear, that this song is
suspected by some to be a modern forgery; the contrary will be best
proved, by most of the old people, hereabouts, having a great part
of it by heart. Many, indeed, are not aware of the manners of this
country; till this present age, the poor illiterate people, in these
glens, knew of no other entertainment, in the long winter nights, than
repeating, and listening to, the feats of their ancestors, recorded in
songs, which I believe to be handed down, from father to son, for many
generations; although, no doubt, had a copy been taken, at the end of
every fifty years, there must have been some difference, occasioned
by the gradual change of language. I believe it is thus that many
very ancient songs have been gradually modernised, to the common
ear; while, to the connoisseur, they present marks of their genuine
antiquity."--_Letter to the Editor from Mr. James Hogg_. To the
observations of my ingenious correspondent I have nothing to add,
but that, in this, and a thousand other instances, they accurately
coincide with my personal knowledge.
AULD MAITLAND.
* * * * *
There lived a king in southern land,
King Edward hight his name;
Unwordily he wore the crown,
Till fifty years were gane.
He had a sister's son o's ain,
Was large of blood and bane;
And afterward, when he came up,
Young Edward hight his name.
One day he came before the king,
And kneel'd low on his knee--
"A boon, a boon, my good uncle,
"I crave to ask of thee!
"At our lang wars, in fair Scotland,
"I fain hae wished to be;
"If fifteen hundred waled[90] wight men
"You'll grant to ride wi' me."
"Thou sail hae thae, thou sail hae mae;
"I say it sickerlie;
"And I mysell, an auld gray man,
"Array'd your host sall see."
King Edward rade, King Edward ran--
I wish him dool and pyne!
Till he had fifteen hundred men
Assembled on the Tyne.
And thrice as many at Berwicke[91]
Were all for battle bound,
_Who, marching forth with false Dunbar,
A ready welcome found_.
They lighted on the banks of Tweed,
And blew their coals sae het,
And fired the Merse and Teviotdale,
All in an evening late.
As they fared up o'er Lammermore,
They burned baith up and down,
Until they came to a darksome house;
Some call it Leader-Town.
"Wha hauds this house?" young Edward cry'd,
"Or wha gies't ower to me?"
A gray-hair'd knight set up his head,
And crackit right crousely:
"Of Scotland's king I haud my house;
"He pays me meat and fee;
"And I will keep my gude auld house,
"While my house will keep me."
They laid their sowies to the wall,
Wi' mony a heavy peal;
But he threw ower to them agen
Baith pitch and tar barrel.
With springalds, stanes, and gads of airn,
Amang them fast he threw;
Till mony of the Englishmen
About the wall he slew.
Full fifteen days that braid host lay,
Sieging Auld Maitland keen,
Syne they hae left him, hail and fair,
Within his strength of stane.
Then fifteen barks, all gaily good,
Met them upon a day,
Which they did lade with as much spoil
As they could bear away.
"England's our ain by heritage;
"And what can us withstand,
"Now we hae conquer'd fair Scotland,
"With buckler, bow, and brand?"
Then they are on to the land o' France,
Where auld King Edward lay,
Burning baith castle, tower, and town,
That he met in his way,
Untill he came unto that town,
Which some call Billop-Grace;
There were Auld Maitland's sons, a' three,
Learning at school, alas!
The eldest to the youngest said,
"O see ye what I see?
"Gin a' be trew yon standard says[92],
"We're fatherlesse a' three.
"For Scotland's conquer'd, up and down;
"Landmen we'll never be:
"Now, will ye go, my brethren two,
"And try some jeopardy?"
Then they hae saddled twa black horse,
Twa black horse, and a grey;
And they are on to King Edward's host,
Before the dawn of day.
When they arriv'd before the host,
They hover'd on the lay--
"Wilt thou lend me our king's standard,
"To bear a little way?"
"Where was thou bred? where was thou born?
"Where, or in what countrie?"
"In north of England I was born:
(It needed him to lie.)
"A knight me gat, a lady bore,
"I'm a squire of high renowne;
I well may bear't to any king,
"That ever yet wore crowne."
"He ne'er came of an Englishman,
"Had sic an e'e or bree;
"But thou art the likest Auld Maitland,
"That ever I did see.
"But sick a gloom, on ae brow-head,
"Grant I ne'er see agane!
"For mony of our men he slew,
"And mony put to pain."
When Maitland heard his father's name,
An angry man was he!
Then, lifting up a gilt dagger,
Hung low down by his knee,
He stabb'd the knight, the standard bore,
He stabb'd him cruellie;
Then caught the standard by the neuk,
And fast away rode he.
"Now, is't na time, brothers," he cried,
"Now, is't na time to flee?"
"Aye, by my sooth!" they baith replied,
"We'll bear you company."
The youngest turn'd him in a path,
And drew a burnished brand,
And fifteen of the foremost slew,
Till back the lave did stand.
He spurr'd the gray into the path,
Till baith his sides they bled--
"Gray! thou maun carry me away,
"Or my life lies in wad!"
The captain lookit ower the wa',
About the break o' day;
There he beheld the three Scots lads,
Pursued along the way.
"Pull up portcullize! down draw-brigg!
"My nephews are at hand;
And they sall lodge wi' me to-night,
"In spite of all England."
Whene'er they came within the yate,
They thrust their horse them frae,
And took three lang spears in their hands,
Saying, "Here sall come nae mae!".
And they shot out, and they shot in,
Till it was fairly day;
When mony of the Englishmen
About the draw-brigg lay.
Then they hae yoked carts and wains,
To ca' their dead away,
And shot auld dykes aboon the lave,
In gutters where they lay.
The king, at his pavilion door,
Was heard aloud to say,
"Last night, three o' the lads o' France
"My standard stole away.
"Wi' a fause tale, disguised, they came,
"And wi' a fauser trayne;
"And to regain my gaye standard,
"These men were a' down slayne."
"It ill befits," the youngest said,
"A crowned king to lie;
"But, or that I taste meat and drink,
"Reproved sall he be."
He went before King Edward strait,
And kneel'd low on his knee;
"I wad hae leave, my lord," he said,
"To speak a word wi' thee."
The king he turned him round about,
And wistna what to say--
Quo' he, "Man, thou's hae leave to speak,
Tho' thou should speak a' day."
"Ye said, that three young lads o' France
"Your standard stole away,
"Wi' a fause tale, and fauser trayne,
"And mony men did slay:
"But we are nane the lads o' France,
"Nor e'er pretend to be;
"We are three lads o' fair Scotland,
"Auld Maitland's sons are we;
"Nor is there men, in a' your host,
"Daur fight us, three to three."
"Now, by my sooth," young Edward said,
"Weel fitted ye sall be!
"Piercy sall wi' the eldest fight,
"And Ethert Lunn wi' thee;
"William of Lancaster the third,
"And bring your fourth to me!"
"_Remember, Piercy, aft the Scot[93]
"Has cow'rd beneath thy hand_:
"For every drap of Maitland blood,
"I'll gie a rigg of land."
He clanked Piercy ower the head,
A deep wound and a sair,
Till the best blood o' his bodie
Cam rinning down his hair.
"Now, I've slayne ane; slay ye the twa;
"And that's gude companye;
"And if the twa suld slay you baith,
"Ye'se get na help frae me."
But Ethert Lunn, a baited bear,
Had many battles seen;
He set the youngest wonder sair,
Till the eldest he grew keen--
"I am nae king, nor nae sic thing:
"My word it shanna stand!
"For Ethert sail a buffet bide,
"Come he beneath my brand."
He clanked Ethert ower the head,
A deep wound and a sair,
Till the best blood of his bodie
Cam rinning ower his hair.
"Now I've slayne twa; slay ye the ane;
"Is na that gude companye?
"And tho' the ane suld slay ye baith,
"Ye'se get na help o' me."
The twa-some they hae slayne the ane;
They maul'd him cruellie;
Then hung them over the draw-brigg,
That all the host might see.
They rade their horse, they ran their horse,
Then hovered on the lee;
"We be three lads o' fair Scotland,
"That fain wad fighting see."
This boasting, when young Edward heard.
An angry man was he!
"I'll take yon lad, I'll bind yon lad,
"And bring him bound to thee!"
"Now, God forbid," King Edward said,
"That ever thou suld try!
"Three worthy leaders we hae lost,
"And thou the fourth wad lie.
"If thou should'st hang on yon draw-brigg,
"Blythe wad I never be!"
But, wi' the poll-axe in his hand,
Upon the brigg sprang he.
The first stroke that young Edward gae,
He struck wi' might and mayn;
He clove the Maitlan's helmet stout,
And bit right nigh the brayn.
When Maitland saw his ain blood fa',
An angry man was he!
He let his weapon frae him fa',
And at his throat did flee.
And thrice about he did him swing,
Till on the grund he light,
Where he has halden young Edward,
Tho' he was great in might.
"Now, let him up," King Edward cried,
"And let him come to me!
"And, for the deed that thou hast done,
"Thou shalt hae erldomes three!"
"Its ne'er be said in France, nor e'er
In Scotland, when I'm hame,
That Edward once lay under me,
And e'er gat up again!"
He pierced him through and through the heart;
He maul'd him cruellie;
Then hung him ower the draw-brigg,
Beside the other three.
"Now, take frae me that feather-bed!
"Mak me a bed o' strae!
"I wish I had na lived this day,
"To mak my heart sae wae.
"If I were ance at London tower,
"Where I was wont to be,
"I never mair suld gang frae hame,
"Till borne on a bier-tree."
[Footnote 90: _Waled_--Chosen.]
[Footnote 91: North-Berwick, according to some reciters.]
[Footnote 92: Edward had quartered the arms of Scotland with his own.]
[Footnote 93: The two first lines are modern, to supply an imperfect
stanza.]
NOTES ON AULD MAITLAND.
* * * * *
_Young Edward hight his name_.--P, 25. v. 2.
Were it possible to find an authority for calling this personage
_Edmund_, we should be a step nearer history; for a brother, though
not a nephew of Edward I., so named, died in Gascony during an
unsuccessful campaign against the French.--_Knighton_, Lib. III. cap.
8.
_I wish him dool and pyne_.--P. 26. v. 3.
Thus, Spenser, in _Mother Huberd's tale_--
Thus is this ape become a shepherd swain,
And the false fox his dog, God give them pain!
_Who, marching forth with false Dunbar,
A ready welcome found_.--P. 26. v. 4.
These two lines are modern, and inserted to complete the verse.
Dunbar, the fortress of Patrick, Earl of March, was too often opened
to the English, by the treachery of that baron, during the reign of
Edward I.
_They laid their sowies to the wall_,
_Wi' many a heavy peal_.--P. 27. v. 4.
In this and the following verse, the attack and defence of a
fortress, during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, is described
accurately and concisely. The sow was a military engine, resembling
the Roman _testudo_. It was framed of wood, covered with hides, and
mounted on wheels, so that, being rolled forwards to the foot of the
besieged wall, it served as a shed, or cover, to defend the miners, or
those who wrought the battering ram, from the stones and arrows of the
garrison. In the course of the famous defence, made by Black Agnes,
Countess of March, of her husband's castle of Dunbar, Montague, Earl
of Salisbury, who commanded the besiegers, caused one of these engines
to be wheeled up to the wall. The countess, who, with her damsels,
kept her station on the battlements, and affected to wipe off with her
handkerchief the dust raised by the stones, hurled from the English
machines, awaited the approach of this new engine of assault. "Beware,
Montague," she exclaimed, while the fragment of a rock was discharged
from the wall--"Beware, Montague! for farrow shall thy sow!"[94] Their
cover being dashed to pieces, the assailants, with great loss and
difficulty, scrambled back to their trenches. "By the regard of suche
a ladye," would Froissart have said, "and by her comforting, a man
ought to be worth two men, at need." The sow was called by the French
_Truie_.--See _Hailes' Annals_, Vol. II. p. 89. _Wintown's Cronykil_,
Book VIII. _William of Malmesbury_, Lib. IV.
The memory of the _sow_ is preserved in Scotland by two trifling
circumstances. The name given to an oblong hay-stack, is a _hay-sow_;
and this may give us a good idea of the form of the machine. Children
also play at a game with cherry stones, placing a small heap on the
ground, which they term a _sowie_, endeavouring to hit it, by throwing
single cherry-stones, as the sow was formerly battered from the
walls of the besieged fortress. My companions, at the High School of
Edinburgh, will remember what was meant by _berrying a sowie_. It is
strange to find traces of military antiquities in the occupation of
the husbandman, and the sports of children.
[Footnote 94: This sort of bravade seems to have been fashionable in
those times: "Et avec drapeaux, et leurs chaperons, ils torchoient
les murs Г l'endroit, ou les pierres venoient frapper."--_Notice des
Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque Nationale_.]
The pitch and tar-barrels of Maitland were intended to consume the
formidable machines of the English. Thus, at a fabulous siege of York,
by Sir William Wallace, the same mode of defence is adopted:
The Englishmen, that cruel were and kene,
Keeped their town, and fended there full fast;
Faggots of fire among the host they cast,
Up _pitch and tar_ on feil _sowis_ they lent;
Many were hurt ere they from the walls went;
_Stones on Springalds they did cast out so fast,
And goads of iron made many grome agast_.
Henry the Minstrel's History of Wallace.--B. 8. c. 5.
A more authentic illustration may be derived from Barbour's Account of
the Siege of Berwick, by Edward II., in 1319, when a _sow_ was brought
on to the attack by the English, and burned by the combustibles hurled
down upon it, through the device of John Crab, a Flemish engineer, in
the Scottish service.
And thai, that at the sege lay,
Or it was passyt the fyft day,
Had made thaim syndry apparall,
To gang eft sonys till assaill.
Off gret gests a _sow_ thai maid,
That stalwart heildyne aboyne it haid;
With armyt men inew tharin,
And instruments for to myne.
Syndry scaffalds thai maid withall,
That war wele heyar than the wall,
And ordanyt als that, be the se,
The town suld weill assaillyt be.
Thai within, that saw thaim swa,
Swa gret apparaill schap to ma,
Throw Craby's cunsaill, that wes sley,
A crane thai haiff gert dress up hey,
Rynnand on quheills, that thai micht bryng
It quhar that nede war off helping.
And pyk, and ter, als haiff thai tane;
And lynt, and herds, and brymstane;
And dry treyis that wele wald brin,
And mellyt aythir other in:
And gret fagalds thairoff thai maid,
Gyrdyt with irne bands braid.
The fagalds weill mycht mesuryt be,
Till a gret towrys quantite.
The fagalds bryning in a ball,
With thair cran thoucht till awaill;
And giff the sow come to the wall,
To lat it brynand on her fall;
And with stark chenyeis hald it thar,
Quhill all war brynt up that thar war.
* * * * *
Upon sic maner gan thai fycht,
Quhill it wes ner none off the day,
That thai without, on gret aray,
Pryssyt thair _sow_ towart the wall;
And thai within sune gert call
The engynour, that takyn was,
And gret manance till hym mais,
And swour that he suld dey, bot he
Prowyt on the sow sic suteltГ©
That he to fruschyt ilk dele,
And he, that hath persawyt wele
That the dede wes wele ner hym till,
Bot giff he mycht fulfil thair will
Thoucht that he at hys mycht wald do.
Bendyt in gret by then wes sche,
That till the sow wes ewyn set.
In hy he gert draw the cleket;
And smertly swappyt owt a stane,
Ewyn our the sow the stane is gane,
And behind it a litill way
It fell: and then they cryt, "Hey!"
That war in hyr, "furth to the wall,
For dredles it is ours all!"
The gynour than deleuerly
Gert bend the gyn in full gret hy;
And the stane smertly swappyt out.
It flaw out quethyr, and with a rout,
And fell rycht ewyn befor the sow.
Thair harts than begouth to grow.
Bot yhet than, with thair mychts all
Thai pressyt the sow towart the wall;
And has hyr set tharto gentilly.
The gynour than gert bend in hy
The gyne, and wappyt owt the stane,
That ewyn towart the lyft is gane,
And with gret wycht syne duschyt doun,
Rycht be the wall in a randoun;
And hyt the sow in sic maner,
That it that wes the maist sowar,
And starkast for to stynt a strak,
In sundre with that dusche it brak.
The men than owt in full gret hy,
And on the wallis thai gan cry,
That thair sow wes feryt thar.
Jhon Crab, that had hys geer all yar
In hys fagalds has set the fyr,
And our the wall syne gan thai wyr,
And brynt the sow till brands bar.
_The Bruce_, Book XVII
The _springalds_, used in defence of the castle of Lauder, were
_balistae_, or large cross-bows, wrought by machinery, and capable of
throwing stones, beams, and huge darts. They were numbered among the
heavy artillery of the age; "Than the kynge made all his navy to
draw along, by the cost of the Downes, every ship well garnished
with bombardes, crosbowes, archers, _springalls_, and other
artillarie."--_Froissart_.
Goads, or sharpened bars of iron, were an obvious and formidable
missile weapon. Thus, at the assault of Rochemiglion "They within
cast out great barres of iron, and pots with lyme, wherewith they
hurt divers Englishmen, such as adventured themselves too
far."--_Froissart_, Vol. I. cap. 108.
From what has been noticed, the attack and defence of Lauder castle
will be found strictly conformable to the manners of the age; a
circumstance of great importance, in judging of the antiquity of the
ballad. There is no mention of guns, though these became so common in
the latter part of the reign of Edward III., that, at the siege of St.
Maloes, "the English had well a four hondred gonnes, who shot day and
night into the fortresse, and agaynst it."--_Froissart_, Vol. I. cap.
336. Barbour informs us, that guns, or "crakis of wer," as he calls
them, and crests for helmets, were first seen by the Scottish, in
their skirmishes with Edward the Third's host, in Northumberland A.D.
1327.
_Which some call Billop-Grace_.--P. 28. v. 5.
If this be a Flemish, or Scottish, corruption for Ville de Grace, in
Normandy, that town was never besieged by Edward I., whose wars in
France were confined to the province of Gascony. The rapid change of
scene, from Scotland to France, excites a suspicion, that some verses
may have been lost in this place. The retreat of the English
host, however, may remind us of a passage, in Wintown, when, after
mentioning that the Earl of Salisbury raised the siege of Dunbar, to
join King Edward in France, he observes,
"It was to Scotland a gud chance,
"That thai made thaim to werray in France;
"For had thai halyly thaim tane
"For to werray in Scotland allane.
Eftyr the gret mischeffis twa,
Duplyn and Hallydowne war tha,
Thai suld have skaithit it to gretly.
Bot fortowne thoucht scho fald fekilly
Will noucht at anis myscheffis fall;
Thare-fore scho set thare hartis all,
To werray Fraunce richit to be,
That Scottis live in grettar lГ©.
_Cronykil_, B. VIII. cap. 34.
_Now, will ye go, my brethren two,
And try some jeopardie_?--P. 29. v. 2.
The romantic custom of atchieving, or attempting, some desperate and
perilous adventure, without either necessity or cause, was a peculiar,
and perhaps the most prominent, feature of chivalry. It was not merely
the duty, but the pride and delight, of a true knight, to perform such
exploits, as no one but a madman would have undertaken. I think it is
in the old French romance of _Erec and Eneide_, that an adventure, the
access to which lay through an avenue of stakes, garnished with the
bloody heads of the knights who had attempted and failed to atchieve
it, is called by the inviting title of _La joie de la Cour_. To be
first in advancing, or last in retreating; to strike upon the gate of
a certain fortress of the enemy; to fight blindfold, or with one
arm tied up; to carry off a banner, or to defend one; were often the
subjects of a particular vow, among the sons of chivalry. Until some
distinguishing exploit of this nature, a young knight was not said
to have _won his spurs_; and, upon some occasions, he was obliged to
bear, as a mark of thraldom, a chain upon his arm, which was removed,
with great ceremony, when his merit became conspicuous. These chains
are noticed in the romance of _Jehan de SaintrГ©_. In the language of
German chivalry, they were called _Ketten des Gelubdes_ (fetters of
duty). Lord Herbert of Cherbury informs us, that the knights of the
Bath were obliged to wear certain strings, of silk and gold, upon
their left arm, until they had atchieved some noble deed of arms. When
Edward III. commenced his French wars, many of the young bachelors
of England bound up one of their eyes with a silk ribband, and swore,
before the peacock and the ladies, that they would not see with
both eyes until they had accomplished certain deeds of arms in
France.--_Froissart_, cap. 28.
A remarkable instance of this chivalrous frenzy occurred during
the expedition of Sir Robert Knowles, who, in 1370, marched through
France, and laid waste the country, up to the very gates of Paris.
"There was a knighte, in their companye, had made a vowe, the day
before, that he wolde ryde to the walles or gates of Parys, and stryke
at the barryers with his speare. And, for the fournyshing of his vowe,
he departed fro his companye, his spear in his fyst, his shelde
about his neck, armed at all pecesse, on a good horsse, his squyer on
another, behinde him, with his bassenet. And whan he approached neare
to Parys, he toke and dyde on his helme, and left his squyer behind
hym, and dashed his spurres to his horsse, and came gallopynge to
the barryers, the whiche as then were opyn; and the lordes, that were
there, had wened he wolde have entred into the towne; but that was
not his mynde; for, when he hadde stryken at the barryers, as he
had before avowed, he towrned his reyne, and drue back agayne, and
departed. Than the knightes of France, that sawe hym depart, sayd to
hym, 'Go your waye; you have ryghte well acquitted yourself.' I can
nat tell you what was thys knyghtes name, nor of what contre; but the
blazure of his armes was, goules, two fusses sable, a border sable.
Howbeit, in the subbarbes, he had a sore encontre; for, as he passed
on the pavement, he founde before hym a bocher, a bigge man, who had
well sene this knighte pass by. And he helde in his handes a sharpe
hevy axe, with a longe poynt; and, as the knyght returned agayne, and
toke no hede, this bocher came on his side, and gave the knyghte suche
a stroke, betwene the neck and the shulders, that he reversed forwarde
heedlynge, to the neck of his horsse, and yet he recovered agayne. And
than the bocher strake hym agayne, so that the axe entered into his
body, so that, for payne, the knyghte fell to the erthe, and his
horsse ran away, and came to the squyer, who abode for his mayster
at the stretes ende. And so, the squyer toke the horsse, and had gret
marveyle what was become of his mayster; for he had well sene him
ryde to the barryers, and stryke therat with his glayve, and retourne
agayne. Thanne he rode a lytell forthe, thyderwarde, and anone he sawe
where his master layn upon the erthe, bytwene foure men, layenge on
him strokes, as they wolde have stryken on a stethey _(anvil)_; and
than the squyer was so affreyed, that he durst go no farther; for he
sawe well he could nat helpe his mayster. Therefore he retourned
as fast as he myght: so there the sayd knyghte was slayne. And the
knyghtes, that were at the gate, caused hym to be buried in holy
ground."--_Froissart_, ch. 281.
