It befell at MartynmasWhen wether waxed colde,Captaine Care saide to his men,"We must go take a holde.""Haille, master, and wether you will,5And wether ye like it best.""To the castle of Crecrynbroghe;And there we will take our reste."I knowe wher is a gay castle,Is build of lyme and stone,10Within 'there' is a gay ladie,Her lord is ryd from hom."The ladie lend on her castle-walle,She loked upp and downe;There was she ware of an host of men,15Come riding to the towne."Come yow hether, my meri men all,And look what I do see;Yonder is ther an host of men,I musen who they bee."20She thought he had been her own wed lord,That had comd riding home;Then was it traitour Captaine Care,The lord of Ester-towne.They were no soner at supper sett,25Then after said the grace,Or captaine Care and all his menWer lighte aboute the place."Gyve over thi howsse, thou lady gay,And I will make the a bande;30To-nighte thoust ly wythin my arm,To-morrowe thou shall ere my lan[de]."Then bespacke the eldest sonne,That was both whitt and redde,"O mother dere, geve over your howsse,35Or elles we shal be deade.""I will not geve over my hous," she saithe,"Not for feare of my lyffe;It shal be talked throughout the land,The slaughter of a wyffe.40"Fetch me my pestilett,And charge me my gonne,That I may shott at the bloddy butcher,The lord of Easter-towne."She styfly stod on her castle-wall,45And lett the pellettes flee,She myst the blody bucher,And slew other three."I will not geve over my hous," she saithe,"Netheir for lord nor lowne,50Nor yet for traitour Captaine Care,The lord of Easter-towne."I desire of Captaine Care,And all his bloddye band,That he would save my eldest sonne,55The eare of all my lande.""Lap him in a shete," he sayth,"And let him downe to me,And I shall take him in my armes,His waran wyll I be."60The captayne sayd unto himselfe,Wyth sped before the rest;He cut his tonge out of his head,His hart out of his brest.He lapt them in a handerchef,65And knet it of knotes three,And cast them over the castell-wallAt that gay ladye."Fye upon thee, Captaine Care,And all thy bloddy band,70For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne,The ayre of all my land."Then bespake the yongest sonn,That sat on the nurses knee,Sayth, "Mother gay, geve ower your house,75[The smoke] it smoldereth me.""I wold geve my gold," she saith,"And so I wolde my fee,For a blaste of the wesleyn windTo dryve the smoke from thee.80"Fy upon thee, John Hamleton,That ever I paid thé hyre,For thou hast broken my castle-wall,And kyndled in [it]thefyre."The lady gate to her close parler,85The fire fell aboute her head;She toke up her children thre,Seth, "Babes, we are all dead."Then bespake the hye steward,That is of hye degree;90Saith, "Ladie gay, you are no 'bote,'Wethere ye fighte or flee."Lord Hamleton dremd in his dreame,In Carvall where he laye,His halle 'was' all of fyre,95His ladie slayne or daye."Busk and bowne, my merry men all,Even and go ye with me,For I 'dremd' that my hall was on fyreMy lady slayne or day."100He buskt him and bownd him,And like a worthi knighte,And when he saw his hall burning,His harte was no dele lighte.He sett a trumpett till his mouth,105He blew as it plesd his grace;Twenty score of HambletonsWas light aboute the place."Had I knowne as much yesternighteAs I do to-daye,110Captaine Care and all his menShould not have gone so quite [awaye.]"Fye upon thee, Captaine Care,And all thy blody 'bande;'Thou hast slayne my lady gaye,115More worth then all thy lande."Yf thou had ought eny ill will," he saith,"Thou shoulde have taken my lyffe,And have saved my children thre,All and my lovesome wyffe."120
It befell at MartynmasWhen wether waxed colde,Captaine Care saide to his men,"We must go take a holde."
"Haille, master, and wether you will,5And wether ye like it best.""To the castle of Crecrynbroghe;And there we will take our reste.
"I knowe wher is a gay castle,Is build of lyme and stone,10Within 'there' is a gay ladie,Her lord is ryd from hom."
The ladie lend on her castle-walle,She loked upp and downe;There was she ware of an host of men,15Come riding to the towne.
"Come yow hether, my meri men all,And look what I do see;Yonder is ther an host of men,I musen who they bee."20
She thought he had been her own wed lord,That had comd riding home;Then was it traitour Captaine Care,The lord of Ester-towne.
They were no soner at supper sett,25Then after said the grace,Or captaine Care and all his menWer lighte aboute the place.
"Gyve over thi howsse, thou lady gay,And I will make the a bande;30To-nighte thoust ly wythin my arm,To-morrowe thou shall ere my lan[de]."
Then bespacke the eldest sonne,That was both whitt and redde,"O mother dere, geve over your howsse,35Or elles we shal be deade."
"I will not geve over my hous," she saithe,"Not for feare of my lyffe;It shal be talked throughout the land,The slaughter of a wyffe.40
"Fetch me my pestilett,And charge me my gonne,That I may shott at the bloddy butcher,The lord of Easter-towne."
She styfly stod on her castle-wall,45And lett the pellettes flee,She myst the blody bucher,And slew other three.
"I will not geve over my hous," she saithe,"Netheir for lord nor lowne,50Nor yet for traitour Captaine Care,The lord of Easter-towne.
"I desire of Captaine Care,And all his bloddye band,That he would save my eldest sonne,55The eare of all my lande."
"Lap him in a shete," he sayth,"And let him downe to me,And I shall take him in my armes,His waran wyll I be."60
The captayne sayd unto himselfe,Wyth sped before the rest;He cut his tonge out of his head,His hart out of his brest.
He lapt them in a handerchef,65And knet it of knotes three,And cast them over the castell-wallAt that gay ladye.
"Fye upon thee, Captaine Care,And all thy bloddy band,70For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne,The ayre of all my land."
Then bespake the yongest sonn,That sat on the nurses knee,Sayth, "Mother gay, geve ower your house,75[The smoke] it smoldereth me."
"I wold geve my gold," she saith,"And so I wolde my fee,For a blaste of the wesleyn windTo dryve the smoke from thee.80
"Fy upon thee, John Hamleton,That ever I paid thé hyre,For thou hast broken my castle-wall,And kyndled in [it]thefyre."
The lady gate to her close parler,85The fire fell aboute her head;She toke up her children thre,Seth, "Babes, we are all dead."
Then bespake the hye steward,That is of hye degree;90Saith, "Ladie gay, you are no 'bote,'Wethere ye fighte or flee."
Lord Hamleton dremd in his dreame,In Carvall where he laye,His halle 'was' all of fyre,95His ladie slayne or daye.
"Busk and bowne, my merry men all,Even and go ye with me,For I 'dremd' that my hall was on fyreMy lady slayne or day."100
He buskt him and bownd him,And like a worthi knighte,And when he saw his hall burning,His harte was no dele lighte.
He sett a trumpett till his mouth,105He blew as it plesd his grace;Twenty score of HambletonsWas light aboute the place.
"Had I knowne as much yesternighteAs I do to-daye,110Captaine Care and all his menShould not have gone so quite [awaye.]
"Fye upon thee, Captaine Care,And all thy blody 'bande;'Thou hast slayne my lady gaye,115More worth then all thy lande.
"Yf thou had ought eny ill will," he saith,"Thou shoulde have taken my lyffe,And have saved my children thre,All and my lovesome wyffe."120
84, thee.
84, thee.
From Ritson'sScottish Songs, ii. 17. We presume this is the ballad printed by the Foulises.
It fell about the Martinmas,Quhen the wind blew schrile and cauld,Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,"We maun draw to a hauld."And what an a hauld sall we draw to,5My merry men and me?We will gae to the house of the Rodes,To see that fair ladie."She had nae sooner busket hersell,Nor putten on her gown,10Till Edom o' Gordon and his menWere round about the town.They had nae sooner sitten down,Nor sooner said the grace,Till Edom o' Gordon and his men15Were closed about the place.The lady ran up to her tower head,As fast as she could drie,To see if by her fair speeches,She could with him agree.20As soon as he saw the lady fair,And hir yates all locked fast,He fell into a rage of wrath,And hisheartwas aghast."Cum down to me, ze lady fair,25Cum down to me, let's see;This night ze's ly by my ain side,The morn my bride sall be.""I winnae cum down, ye fals Gordon,I winnae cum down to thee;30I winnae forsake my ane dear lordThat is sae far frae me.""Gi up your house, ze fair lady,Gi up your house to me,Or I will burn zoursel therein,35Bot you and zour babies three.""I winna gie up, zou fals Gordon,To nae sik traitor as thee,Tho' zou should burn mysel therein,Bot and my babies three."40"Set fire to the house," quoth fals Gordon,"Sin better may nae bee;And I will burn hersel therein,Bot and her babies three.""And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man,45I paid ze weil zour fee;Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane,Lets in the reek to me?"And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man,For I paid zou weil zour hire;50Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane,To me lets in the fire?""Ye paid me weil my hire, lady,Ye paid me weil my fee,But now I'm Edom of Gordon's man,55Maun either do or die."O then bespake her zoungest son,Sat on the nurses knee,"Dear mother, gie owre your house," he says,"For the reek it worries me."60"I winnae gie up my house, my dear,To nae sik traitor as he;Cum well, cum wae, my jewels fair,Ye maun tak share wi me."O then bespake her dochter dear,65She was baith jimp and sma,"O row me in a pair o' shiets,And tow me owre the wa."They rowd her in a pair of shiets,And towd her owre the wa,70But, on the point of Edom's speir,She gat a deadly fa'.O bonny, bonny, was hir mouth,And chirry were her cheiks,And clear, clear was hir zellow hair,75Whereon the reid bluid dreips.Then wi his speir he turn'd hir owr,O gin hir face was wan!He said, "Zou are the first that eerI wisht alive again."80He turn'd her owr and owr again;O gin hir skin was whyte!He said, "I might ha spard thy life,To been some mans delyte.""Busk and boon, my merry men all,85For ill dooms I do guess;I cannae luik in that bonny face,As it lyes on the grass.""Them luiks to freits, my master deir,Theirfreits will follow them;90Let it neir be said brave Edom o' GordonWas daunted with a dame."O then he spied hir ain deir lord,As he came owr the lee;He saw his castle in a fire,95As far as he could see."Put on, put on, mymighty men,As fast as ze can drie,For he that's hindmost of my men,Sall neir get guid o' me."100And some they raid, and some they ran,Fu fast out owr the plain,But lang, lang, eer he coud get up,They were a' deid and slain.But mony were the mudie men105Lay gasping on the grien;For o' fifty men that Edom brought outThere were but five ged heme.And mony were the mudie menLay gasping on the grien,110And mony were the fair ladysLay lemanless at heme.And round and round the waes he went,Their ashes for to view;At last into the flames he flew,115And bad the world adieu.
It fell about the Martinmas,Quhen the wind blew schrile and cauld,Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,"We maun draw to a hauld.
"And what an a hauld sall we draw to,5My merry men and me?We will gae to the house of the Rodes,To see that fair ladie."
She had nae sooner busket hersell,Nor putten on her gown,10Till Edom o' Gordon and his menWere round about the town.
They had nae sooner sitten down,Nor sooner said the grace,Till Edom o' Gordon and his men15Were closed about the place.
The lady ran up to her tower head,As fast as she could drie,To see if by her fair speeches,She could with him agree.20
As soon as he saw the lady fair,And hir yates all locked fast,He fell into a rage of wrath,And hisheartwas aghast.
"Cum down to me, ze lady fair,25Cum down to me, let's see;This night ze's ly by my ain side,The morn my bride sall be."
"I winnae cum down, ye fals Gordon,I winnae cum down to thee;30I winnae forsake my ane dear lordThat is sae far frae me."
"Gi up your house, ze fair lady,Gi up your house to me,Or I will burn zoursel therein,35Bot you and zour babies three."
"I winna gie up, zou fals Gordon,To nae sik traitor as thee,Tho' zou should burn mysel therein,Bot and my babies three."40
"Set fire to the house," quoth fals Gordon,"Sin better may nae bee;And I will burn hersel therein,Bot and her babies three."
"And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man,45I paid ze weil zour fee;Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane,Lets in the reek to me?
"And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man,For I paid zou weil zour hire;50Why pow ze out my ground wa' stane,To me lets in the fire?"
"Ye paid me weil my hire, lady,Ye paid me weil my fee,But now I'm Edom of Gordon's man,55Maun either do or die."
O then bespake her zoungest son,Sat on the nurses knee,"Dear mother, gie owre your house," he says,"For the reek it worries me."60
"I winnae gie up my house, my dear,To nae sik traitor as he;Cum well, cum wae, my jewels fair,Ye maun tak share wi me."
O then bespake her dochter dear,65She was baith jimp and sma,"O row me in a pair o' shiets,And tow me owre the wa."
They rowd her in a pair of shiets,And towd her owre the wa,70But, on the point of Edom's speir,She gat a deadly fa'.
O bonny, bonny, was hir mouth,And chirry were her cheiks,And clear, clear was hir zellow hair,75Whereon the reid bluid dreips.
Then wi his speir he turn'd hir owr,O gin hir face was wan!He said, "Zou are the first that eerI wisht alive again."80
He turn'd her owr and owr again;O gin hir skin was whyte!He said, "I might ha spard thy life,To been some mans delyte."
"Busk and boon, my merry men all,85For ill dooms I do guess;I cannae luik in that bonny face,As it lyes on the grass."
"Them luiks to freits, my master deir,Theirfreits will follow them;90Let it neir be said brave Edom o' GordonWas daunted with a dame."
O then he spied hir ain deir lord,As he came owr the lee;He saw his castle in a fire,95As far as he could see.
"Put on, put on, mymighty men,As fast as ze can drie,For he that's hindmost of my men,Sall neir get guid o' me."100
And some they raid, and some they ran,Fu fast out owr the plain,But lang, lang, eer he coud get up,They were a' deid and slain.
But mony were the mudie men105Lay gasping on the grien;For o' fifty men that Edom brought outThere were but five ged heme.
And mony were the mudie menLay gasping on the grien,110And mony were the fair ladysLay lemanless at heme.
And round and round the waes he went,Their ashes for to view;At last into the flames he flew,115And bad the world adieu.
24. heart,pronouncedhearrut.90. Then.97.Qy.wight yemen?
24. heart,pronouncedhearrut.
90. Then.
97.Qy.wight yemen?
These fragments appear to relate to the burning of Auchindown, a castle belonging to the Gordons, in vengeance for the death of William Mackintosh of the clan Chattan, which is said to have occurred at the castle of the Earl of Huntly. The event is placed in the year 1592. After the Mackintoshes had executed their revenge, they were pursued by the Gordons, and overtaken in the Stapler, where "sixty of the clan Chattan were killed, and Willie Mackintosh,their leader, wounded." So says the not very trustworthy editor of theThistle of Scotland.
Another fragment of four stanzas (containing nothing additional), is given by Whitelaw,Book of Scottish Ballads, p. 248.
I.From Finlay'sScottish Ballads, ii. 97.
As I came in by Fiddich-side,In a May morning,I met Willie MackintoshAn hour before the dawning."Turn again, turn again,5Turn again, I bid ye;If ye burn Auchindown,Huntly he will head ye.""Head me, hang me,That sall never fear me;10I'll burn AuchindownBefore the life leaves me."As I came in by Auchindown,In a May morning,Auchindown was in a bleeze,15An hour before the dawning.* * * * *"Crawing, crawing,For my crowse crawing,I lost the best feather i' my wing,For my crowse crawing."20
As I came in by Fiddich-side,In a May morning,I met Willie MackintoshAn hour before the dawning.
"Turn again, turn again,5Turn again, I bid ye;If ye burn Auchindown,Huntly he will head ye."
"Head me, hang me,That sall never fear me;10I'll burn AuchindownBefore the life leaves me."
As I came in by Auchindown,In a May morning,Auchindown was in a bleeze,15An hour before the dawning.* * * * *
"Crawing, crawing,For my crowse crawing,I lost the best feather i' my wing,For my crowse crawing."20
II.FromThe Thistle of Scotland, p. 106.
"Turn, Willie Mackintosh,Turn, I bid you,Gin ye burn Auchindown,Huntly will head you.""Head me, or hang me,5That canna fley me,I'll burn Auchindown,Ere the life lea' me."Coming down Dee-sideIn a clear morning,10Auchindown was in a flame,Ere the cock crawing.But coming o'er Cairn Croom,And looking down, man,I saw Willie Mackintosh15Burn Auchindown, man."Bonny Willie Mackintosh,Whare left ye your men?""I left them in the Stapler,But they'll never come hame."20"Bonny Willie Mackintosh,Where now is your men?""I left them in the Stapler,Sleeping in their sheen."
"Turn, Willie Mackintosh,Turn, I bid you,Gin ye burn Auchindown,Huntly will head you."
"Head me, or hang me,5That canna fley me,I'll burn Auchindown,Ere the life lea' me."
Coming down Dee-sideIn a clear morning,10Auchindown was in a flame,Ere the cock crawing.
But coming o'er Cairn Croom,And looking down, man,I saw Willie Mackintosh15Burn Auchindown, man.
"Bonny Willie Mackintosh,Whare left ye your men?""I left them in the Stapler,But they'll never come hame."20
"Bonny Willie Mackintosh,Where now is your men?""I left them in the Stapler,Sleeping in their sheen."
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 199.
"A. D. 1585, John Lord Maxwell, or, as he styled himself, Earl of Morton, having quarrelled with the Earl of Arran, reigning favourite of James VI., and fallen, of course, under the displeasure of the court, was denounced rebel. A commission was also given to the Laird of Johnstone, then Warden of the West Marches, to pursue and apprehend the ancient rival and enemy of his house. Two bands of mercenaries, commanded by Captains Cranstoun and Lammie, who were sent from Edinburgh to support Johnstone, were attacked and cut to pieces at Crawford-muir, by Robert Maxwell, natural brother to the chieftain; who, following up his advantage, burned Johnstone'sCastle of Lochwood, observing, with savage glee, that he would give Lady Johnstone light enough by which 'to set her hood.' In a subsequent conflict, Johnstone himself was defeated, and made prisoner, and is said to have died of grief at the disgrace which he sustained.
"By one of the revolutions, common in those days, Maxwell was soon after restored to the King's favour in his turn, and obtained the wardenry of the West Marches. A bond of alliance was subscribed by him, and by Sir James Johnstone, and for some time the two clans lived in harmony. In the year 1593, however, the hereditary feud was revived on the following occasion. A band of marauders, of the clan Johnstone, drove a prey of cattle from the lands belonging to the Lairds of Crichton, Sanquhar, and Drumlanrig; and defeated, with slaughter, the pursuers, who attempted to rescue their property.—[SeeThe Lads of Wamphray, post, p. 168.] The injured parties, being apprehensive that Maxwell would not cordially embrace their cause, on account of his late reconciliation with the Johnstones, endeavoured to overcome his reluctance, by offering to enter into bonds of manrent, and so to become his followers and liegemen; he, on the other hand, granting to them a bond of maintenance, or protection, by which he bound himself, in usual form, to maintain their quarrel against all mortals, saving his loyalty. Thus, the most powerful and respectable families in Dumfriesshire, became, for a time, the vassals of Lord Maxwell. This secret alliance was discovered to Sir James Johnstone by the Laird of Cummertrees, one of his own clan, though a retainer to Maxwell. Cummertrees even contrivedto possess himself of the bonds of manrent, which he delivered to his chief. The petty warfare betwixt the rival barons was instantly renewed. Buccleuch, a near relation of Johnstone, came to his assistance with his clan, 'the most renowned freebooters, [says a historian,] the fiercest and bravest warriors among the Border tribes.' With Buccleuch also came the Elliots, Armstrongs, and Græmes. Thus reinforced, Johnstone surprised and cut to pieces a party of the Maxwells, stationed at Lochmaben. On the other hand, Lord Maxwell, armed with the royal authority, and numbering among his followers all the barons of Nithsdale, displayed his banner as the King's lieutenant, and invaded Annandale at the head of two thousand men. In those days, however, the royal auspices seem to have carried as little good fortune as effective strength with them. A desperate conflict, still renowned in tradition, took place at the Dryffe Sands, not far from Lockerby, in which Johnstone, although inferior in numbers, partly by his own conduct, partly by the valour of his allies, gained a decisive victory. Lord Maxwell, a tall man, and heavily armed, was struck from his horse in the flight, and cruelly slain, after the hand, which he stretched out for quarter, had been severed from his body. Many of his followers were slain in the battle, and many cruelly wounded, especially by slashes in the face, which wound was thence termed a 'Lockerby lick.' The Barons of Lag, Closeburn, and Drumlanrig, escaped by the fleetness of their horses; a circumstance alluded to in the following ballad.
"John, Lord Maxwell, with whose 'Goodnight' the reader is here presented, was son to him who fell atthe battle of Dryffe Sands, and is said to have early avowed the deepest revenge for his father's death. Such, indeed, was the fiery and untameable spirit of the man, that neither the threats nor entreaties of the King himself could make him lay aside his vindictive purpose; although Johnstone, the object of his resentment, had not only reconciled himself to the court, but even obtained the wardenry of the Middle Marches, in room of Sir John Carmichael, murdered by the Armstrongs. Lord Maxwell was therefore prohibited to approach the Border counties; and having, in contempt of that mandate, excited new disturbances, he was confined in the castle of Edinburgh. From this fortress, however, he contrived to make his escape; and, having repaired to Dumfriesshire, he sought an amicable interview with Johnstone, under a pretence of a wish to accommodate their differences. Sir Robert Maxwell, of Orchardstane, (mentioned in the ballad, verse 1,) who was married to a sister of Sir James Johnstone, persuaded his brother-in-law to accede to Maxwell's proposal."
So far Sir Walter Scott. The meeting took place on the 6th of April, 1608, in the presence of Sir Robert Maxwell, each party being accompanied by a single follower. While the chieftains were conferring together, Charles Maxwell, the attendant of Lord John, maliciously began an altercation with the servant of Johnstone, and shot him with a pistol, and Sir James, looking round at the report, was himself shot by Lord Maxwell in the back with two poisoned bullets.
The murderer escaped to France, but afterwards venturing to return to Scotland, was apprehended,brought to trial at Edinburgh, and beheaded on the 21st of May, 1613. We may naturally suppose that theGoodnightwas composed shortly after Lord Maxwell fled across the seas, certainly before 1613.
This ballad was first printed in theBorder Minstrelsy"from a copy in Glenriddel's MSS., with some slight variations from tradition."
"Adieu, madame, my mother dear,But and my sisters three!Adieu, fair Robert of Orchardstane!My heart is wae for thee.Adieu, the lily and the rose,5The primrose fair to see!Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!For I may not stay with thee."Though I hae slain the Lord Johnstone,What care I for their feid?10My noble mind their wrath disdains,—He was my father's deid.Both night and day I labour'd oftOf him avenged to be;But now I've got what lang I sought,15And I may not stay with thee."Adieu, Drumlanrig! false wert aye—And Closeburn in a band!The Laird of Lag, frae my father that fled,When the Johnston struck aff his hand!20They were three brethren in a band—Joy may they never see!Their treacherous art, and cowardly heart,Has twined my love and me."Adieu, Dumfries, my proper place,25But and Carlaverock fair!Adieu, my castle of the Thrieve,Wi' a' my buildings there!Adieu, Lochmaben's gate sae fair,The Langholm-holm, where birks there be!30Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!For, trust me, I may not stay wi' thee."Adieu, fair Eskdale, up and down,Where my puir friends do dwell!The bangisters will ding them down,35And will them sair compell.But I'll avenge their feid mysell,When I come o'er the sea;Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!For I may not stay wi' thee."40"Lord of the land,"—that ladye said,"O wad ye go wi' me,Unto my brother's stately tower,Where safest ye may be!There Hamiltons, and Douglas baith,45Shall rise to succour thee.""Thanks for thy kindness, fair my dame,But I may not stay wi' thee."Then he tuik aff a gay gold ring,Thereat hang signets three;50"Hae, tak thee that, mine ain dear thing,And still hae mind o' me:But if thou take another lord,Ere I come ower the sea—His life is but a three days' lease,55Though I may not stay wi' thee."The wind was fair, the ship was clear,That good lord went away;And most part of his friends were there,To give him a fair convey.60They drank the wine, they didna spair,Even in that gude lord's sight—Sae now he's o'er the floods sae gray,And Lord Maxwell has ta'en his Goodnight.
"Adieu, madame, my mother dear,But and my sisters three!Adieu, fair Robert of Orchardstane!My heart is wae for thee.Adieu, the lily and the rose,5The primrose fair to see!Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!For I may not stay with thee.
"Though I hae slain the Lord Johnstone,What care I for their feid?10My noble mind their wrath disdains,—He was my father's deid.Both night and day I labour'd oftOf him avenged to be;But now I've got what lang I sought,15And I may not stay with thee.
"Adieu, Drumlanrig! false wert aye—And Closeburn in a band!The Laird of Lag, frae my father that fled,When the Johnston struck aff his hand!20They were three brethren in a band—Joy may they never see!Their treacherous art, and cowardly heart,Has twined my love and me.
"Adieu, Dumfries, my proper place,25But and Carlaverock fair!Adieu, my castle of the Thrieve,Wi' a' my buildings there!Adieu, Lochmaben's gate sae fair,The Langholm-holm, where birks there be!30Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!For, trust me, I may not stay wi' thee.
"Adieu, fair Eskdale, up and down,Where my puir friends do dwell!The bangisters will ding them down,35And will them sair compell.But I'll avenge their feid mysell,When I come o'er the sea;Adieu, my ladye, and only joy!For I may not stay wi' thee."40
"Lord of the land,"—that ladye said,"O wad ye go wi' me,Unto my brother's stately tower,Where safest ye may be!There Hamiltons, and Douglas baith,45Shall rise to succour thee.""Thanks for thy kindness, fair my dame,But I may not stay wi' thee."
Then he tuik aff a gay gold ring,Thereat hang signets three;50"Hae, tak thee that, mine ain dear thing,And still hae mind o' me:But if thou take another lord,Ere I come ower the sea—His life is but a three days' lease,55Though I may not stay wi' thee."
The wind was fair, the ship was clear,That good lord went away;And most part of his friends were there,To give him a fair convey.60They drank the wine, they didna spair,Even in that gude lord's sight—Sae now he's o'er the floods sae gray,And Lord Maxwell has ta'en his Goodnight.
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 148.
"The reader will find, prefixed to the foregoing ballad, an account of the noted feud betwixt the families of Maxwell and Johnstone. The following song celebrates the skirmish, in 1593, betwixt the Johnstones and Crichtons, which led to the revival of the ancient quarrel betwixt Johnstone and Maxwell, and finally to the battle of Dryffe Sands, in whichthe latter lost his life. Wamphray is the name of a parish in Annandale. Lethenhall was the abode of Johnstone of Wamphray, and continued to be so till of late years. William Johnstone of Wamphray, called the Galliard, was a noted freebooter. A place, near the head of Teviotdale, retains the name of the Galliard's Faulds, (folds,) being a valley, where he used to secrete and divide his spoil, with his Liddesdale and Eskdale associates. Hisnom de guerreseems to have been derived from the dance called the Galliard. The word is still used in Scotland, to express an active, gay, dissipated character. Willie of the Kirkhill, nephew to the Galliard, and his avenger, was also a noted Border robber. Previous to the battle of Dryffe Sands, so often mentioned, tradition reports, that Maxwell had offered a ten-pound-land to any of his party, who should bring him the head or hand of the Laird of Johnstone. This being reported to his antagonist, he answered, he had not a ten-pound-land to offer, but would give a five-merk-land to the man who should that day cut off the head or hand of Lord Maxwell. Willie of the Kirkhill, mounted upon a young grey horse, rushed upon the enemy, and earned the reward, by striking down their unfortunate chieftain, and cutting off his right hand."—Scott.
'TwixtGirth-headand theLangwoodend,Lived the Galliard, and the Galliard's men,But and the lads ofLeverhay,That drove the Crichton's gear away.It is the lads ofLethenha',5The greatest rogues amang them a';But and the lads ofStefenbiggin,They broke the house in at the rigging.The lads of Fingland, and Helbeck-hill,They were never for good, but aye for ill;10'Twixt the Staywood-bush and Langside-hill,They steal'd the broked cow and the branded bull.It is the lads of the Girth-head,The deil's in them for pride and greed;For the Galliard, and the gay Galliard's men,15They ne'er saw a horse but they made it their ain.The Galliard to Nithsdale is gane,To steal Sim Crichton's winsome dun;The Galliard is unto the stable gane,But instead of the dun, the blind he has ta'en.20"Now Simmy, Simmy of the Side,Come out and see a Johnstone ride!Here's the bonniest horse in a' Nithside,And a gentle Johnstone aboon his hide."Simmy Crichton's mounted then,25And Crichtons has raised mony a ane;The Galliard trow'd his horse had been wight,But the Crichtons beat him out o' sight.As soon as the Galliard the Crichton saw,Behind the saugh-bush he did draw;30And there the Crichtons the Galliard hae ta'en,And nane wi' him but Willie alane."O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang,And I'll never mair do a Crichton wrang!O Simmy, Simmy, now let me be,35And a peck o' gowd I'll give to thee!"O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang,And my wife shall heap it with her hand!"But the Crichtons wadna let the Galliard be,But they hang'd him hie upon a tree.40O think then Willie he was right wae,When he saw his uncle guided sae;"But if ever I live Wamphray to see,My uncle's death avenged shall be!"Back to Wamphray he is gane,45And riders has raised mony a ane;Saying—"My lads, if ye'll be true,Ye shall a' be clad in the noble blue."Back to Nithsdale they have gane,And awa' the Crichtons' nowt hae ta'en;50But when they cam to theWellpath-head,The Crichtons bade them light and lead.And when they cam to theBiddes-burn,The Crichtons bade them stand and turn;And when they cam to the Biddes-strand,55The Crichtons they were hard at hand.But when they cam to the Biddes-law,The Johnstones bade them stand and draw;"We've done nae ill, we'll thole nae wrang,But back to Wamphray we will gang."60And out spoke Willie of the Kirkhill,"Of fighting, lads, ye'se hae your fill;"And from his horse Willie he lap,And a burnish'd brand in his hand he gat.Out through the Crichtons Willie he ran,65And dang them down baith horse and man;O but the Johnstones were wondrous rude,When the Biddes-burn ran three days blood!"Now, sirs, we have done a noble deed,—We have revenged the Galliard's bleid;70For every finger of the Galliard's hand,I vow this day I've kill'd a man."As they cam in at Evan-head,AtRicklaw-holmthey spread abread;"Drive on, my lads! it will be late;75We'll hae a pint atWamphray gate."For where'er I gang, or e'er I ride,The lads of Wamphray are on my side;And of a' the lads that I do ken,A Wamphray lad's the king of men."80
'TwixtGirth-headand theLangwoodend,Lived the Galliard, and the Galliard's men,But and the lads ofLeverhay,That drove the Crichton's gear away.
It is the lads ofLethenha',5The greatest rogues amang them a';But and the lads ofStefenbiggin,They broke the house in at the rigging.
The lads of Fingland, and Helbeck-hill,They were never for good, but aye for ill;10'Twixt the Staywood-bush and Langside-hill,They steal'd the broked cow and the branded bull.
It is the lads of the Girth-head,The deil's in them for pride and greed;For the Galliard, and the gay Galliard's men,15They ne'er saw a horse but they made it their ain.
The Galliard to Nithsdale is gane,To steal Sim Crichton's winsome dun;The Galliard is unto the stable gane,But instead of the dun, the blind he has ta'en.20
"Now Simmy, Simmy of the Side,Come out and see a Johnstone ride!Here's the bonniest horse in a' Nithside,And a gentle Johnstone aboon his hide."
Simmy Crichton's mounted then,25And Crichtons has raised mony a ane;The Galliard trow'd his horse had been wight,But the Crichtons beat him out o' sight.
As soon as the Galliard the Crichton saw,Behind the saugh-bush he did draw;30And there the Crichtons the Galliard hae ta'en,And nane wi' him but Willie alane.
"O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang,And I'll never mair do a Crichton wrang!O Simmy, Simmy, now let me be,35And a peck o' gowd I'll give to thee!
"O Simmy, Simmy, now let me gang,And my wife shall heap it with her hand!"But the Crichtons wadna let the Galliard be,But they hang'd him hie upon a tree.40
O think then Willie he was right wae,When he saw his uncle guided sae;"But if ever I live Wamphray to see,My uncle's death avenged shall be!"
Back to Wamphray he is gane,45And riders has raised mony a ane;Saying—"My lads, if ye'll be true,Ye shall a' be clad in the noble blue."
Back to Nithsdale they have gane,And awa' the Crichtons' nowt hae ta'en;50But when they cam to theWellpath-head,The Crichtons bade them light and lead.
And when they cam to theBiddes-burn,The Crichtons bade them stand and turn;And when they cam to the Biddes-strand,55The Crichtons they were hard at hand.
But when they cam to the Biddes-law,The Johnstones bade them stand and draw;"We've done nae ill, we'll thole nae wrang,But back to Wamphray we will gang."60
And out spoke Willie of the Kirkhill,"Of fighting, lads, ye'se hae your fill;"And from his horse Willie he lap,And a burnish'd brand in his hand he gat.
Out through the Crichtons Willie he ran,65And dang them down baith horse and man;O but the Johnstones were wondrous rude,When the Biddes-burn ran three days blood!
"Now, sirs, we have done a noble deed,—We have revenged the Galliard's bleid;70For every finger of the Galliard's hand,I vow this day I've kill'd a man."
As they cam in at Evan-head,AtRicklaw-holmthey spread abread;"Drive on, my lads! it will be late;75We'll hae a pint atWamphray gate.
"For where'er I gang, or e'er I ride,The lads of Wamphray are on my side;And of a' the lads that I do ken,A Wamphray lad's the king of men."80
1-7. Leverhay, Stefenbiggin, Girth-head, &c., are all situated in the parish of Wamphray.—S.51-53. The Wellpath is a pass by which the Johnstones were retreating to their fastnesses in Annandale. The Biddes-burn, where the skirmish took place betwixt the Johnstones and their pursuers, is a rivulet which takes its course among the mountains on the confines of Nithesdale and Annandale.—S.74-76. Ricklaw-holm is a place upon the Evan-water, which falls into the Annan, below Moffat. Wamphray-gate was in those days an alehouse.—S.
1-7. Leverhay, Stefenbiggin, Girth-head, &c., are all situated in the parish of Wamphray.—S.
51-53. The Wellpath is a pass by which the Johnstones were retreating to their fastnesses in Annandale. The Biddes-burn, where the skirmish took place betwixt the Johnstones and their pursuers, is a rivulet which takes its course among the mountains on the confines of Nithesdale and Annandale.—S.
74-76. Ricklaw-holm is a place upon the Evan-water, which falls into the Annan, below Moffat. Wamphray-gate was in those days an alehouse.—S.
From Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, p. 161.
"A mortal feud having arisen between the Laird of Frendraught [Sir James Chrichton] and the Laird of Rothiemay [William Gordon], both gentlemen of Banffshire, a rencontre took place, at which the retainers of both were present, on the 1st of January, 1630; when Rothiemay was killed, and several persons hurt on both sides. To stanch this bloody quarrel, the Marquis of Huntly, who was chief to both parties, and who had therefore a right to act as arbiter between them, ordered Frendraught to pay fifty thousand merks to Rothiemay's widow. In the ensuing September, Frendraught fell into another quarrel, in the course of which James Lesly, son to Lesly of Pitcaple, was shot through the arm. Soon after the last incident, Frendraught, having paid a visit to the Marquis of Huntly at the Bog of Gight, the Laird of Pitcaple came up with thirty armed men, to demand atonement for the wound of his son. Huntly acted in this case with great discretion. Without permitting the two lairds to come to a conference, he endeavored to persuade the complaining party that Frendraught was in reality innocent of his son's wound; and, as Pitcaple went away vowing vengeance, he sent Frendraught home under a strong escort, which was commanded by his son, the Viscount Aboyne, and by the young Laird of Rothiemay, son to him whom Frendraught had killed some months before. The party reached Frendraught Castle without being attacked by Pitcaple; when, Aboyne and Rothiemay offering to take leave of Frendraught and his lady, in order to return home, they were earnestly entreated by these individuals to remain a night, and postpone their return till to-morrow. Being with difficulty prevailed upon, the young Viscount and Rothiemay were well entertained, and after supper went cheerfully to bed. To continue the narrative in the words of Spalding—"The Viscount was laid in an bed in the Old Tower going off the hall, and standing upon a vault, wherein there was ane round hole, devised of old, just under Aboyne's bed. Robert Gordon, his servitor, and English Will, his page, were both laid in the same chamber. The Laird of Rothiemay, with some servants beside him, was laid in another chamber just above Aboyne's chamber; and in another room above that chamber, were laid George Chalmers of Noth, and George Gordon, another of the Viscount's servants; with them also was laid Captain Rolloch, thenin Frendraught's own company. All being thus at rest, about midnight that dolorous tower took fire in so sudden and furious a manner, yea, and in ane clap, that the noble Viscount, the Laird of Rothiemay, English Will, Colonel Wat, another of Aboyne's servants, and other two, being six in number, were cruelly burnt and tormented to the death, without help or relief; the Laird of Frendraught, his lady, and haill household looking on, without moving or stirring to deliver them from the fury of this fearful fire, as was reported. Robert Gordon, called Sutherland Gordon, being in the Viscount's chamber, escaped this fire with the life. George Chalmers and Captain Rolloch, being in the third room, escaped this fire also, and, as was said, Aboyne might have saved himself also if he would have gone out of doors, which he would not do, but suddenly ran up stairs to Rothiemay's chamber, and wakened him to rise; and as he is awakening him, the timber passage and lofting of the chamber hastily takes fire, so that none of them could win down stairs again; so they turned to a window looking to the close, where they piteously cried many times, "Help! help! for God's cause!" The Laird and Lady, with their servants, all seeing and hearing the woeful crying, made no help or manner of helping; which they perceiving, cried oftentimes mercy at God's hands for their sins; syne clasped in each other's arms, and cheerfully suffered their martyrdom. Thus died this noble Viscount, of singular expectation, Rothiemay, a brave youth, and the rest, by this doleful fire, never enough to be deplored, to the great grief and sorrow of their kin, parents, and hail common people, especially to the noble Marquis, who for his good will got thisreward. No man can express the dolour of him and his lady, nor yet the grief of the Viscount's own dear lady, when it came to her ears, which she kept to her dying day, disdaining after the company of men all her life-time, following the love of the turtle dove.
'It is reported that upon the morn after this woeful fire, the Lady Frendraught, daughter to the Earl of Sutherland, and near cousin to the Marquis, backed in a white plaid, and riding on a small nag, having a boy leading her horse, without any more in her company, in this pitiful manner she came weeping and mourning to the Bog, desiring entry to speak with my lord; but this was refused; so she returned back to her own house, the same gate she came, comfortless.'—Spalding'sHistory of the Troubles in Scotland.
"Suspicion formed two theories regarding the cause of the fire of Frendraught. The first was, that the Laird had wilfully set fire to the tower, for the purpose of destroying the young Laird of Rothiemay. The other was, that it originated in the revengeful feelings of the Laird of Pitcaple. In the first theory there is extremely little probability. First, it could not have been premeditated; because the circumstance of Frendraught being accompanied home that day by Aboyne and Rothiemay, was entirely accidental. In the second place, there was no reason for Frendraught being inclined to murder Rothiemay, except that he grudged the payment of the fifty thousand merks to his mother; while there was every reason for his being inclined rather to befriend a youth whom he had already injured by occasioning the death of his father. In the third place, all Frendraught's family papers, with much gold and silver, both inmoney and plate, were consumed in the fire. And, in the fourth place, it is extremely improbable that any man of his rank should commit so deliberate and so atrocious an act of villainy. On the other hand, it seems by no means improbable that Pitcaple should have caused fire to be set to his enemy's house; a mode of reprisal which had been practised in the same district of country, as we have already seen, by a gentleman of only the preceding age. Pitcaple's men, moreover, had been heard to declare an intention of attempting some such enterprise against Frendraught; as was proved on the trial of a gentleman of the name of Meldrum, who was apprehended, condemned, and executed, for his alleged accession to their conspiracy."—Chambers'sScottish Ballads, p. 85.
This ballad was first printed in theNorth Countrie Garland, p. 4, and afterwards with a few slight corrections in Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, having in both cases been furnished by Mr. C. K. Sharpe. The tragic story was celebrated by one Arthur Johnston, a contemporary scholar, in two Latin poems, the one entitled,Querela Sophiæ Hay, dominæ de Melgeine, de morte mariti, and the other,De Johanne Gordonio, Vicecomite de Melgeine, el Johanne Gordonio de Rothemay, in arce Frendriaca combustis(Finlay, i. 67). In Herd's Collection (i. 199) is a modern piece on the subject calledFrennet Hall, in the detestable style of the last century. This very feeble production is also to be found in Ritson'sScottish Songs(ii. 31), Johnson'sMuseum, and elsewhere. But Ritson gives these few stanzas of an excellent old ballad, as remembered by the Rev. Mr. Boyd, the translator of Dante: