Ettricke Foreste is a feir foreste,In it grows manie a semelie trie;There's hart and hynd, and dae and rae,And of a' wilde bestis grete plentie.There's a feir castelle, bigged wi' lyme and stane;O gin it stands not pleasauntlie!6In the fore front o' that castelle feir,Twa unicorns are bra' to see:There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright,And the grene hollin abune their brie:10There an Outlaw kepis five hundred men,He keepis a royalle cumpanie.His merryemen are a' in ae liverye clad,O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see;He and his ladye in purple clad,15O gin they lived not royallie!Word is gane to our nobil King,In Edinburgh where that he lay,That there was an Outlaw in Ettricke Foreste,Counted him nought, nor a' his courtrie gay.20"I make a vowe," then the gude King said,"Unto the man that deir bought me,I'se either be King of Ettricke Foreste,Or King of Scotlande that Outlaw sall be!"Then spake the lord hight Hamilton,25And to the nobil King said he,"My sovereign prince, sum counsell take,First at your nobilis, syne at me."I redd ye, send yon braw Outlaw till,And see gif your man cum will he:30Desyre him cum and be your man,And hald of you yon Foreste frie."Gif he refuses to do that,We'll conquess baith his landis and he!Or else, we'll throw his castell down,35And make a widowe o' his gaye ladye."The King then call'd a gentleman,James Boyd (the Earle of Arran his brother was he);When James he cam before the King,He knelit befor him on his kné.40"Wellcum, James Boyd!" said our nobil King,"A message ye maun gang for me;Ye maun hye to Ettricke Foreste,To yon Outlaw, where bydeth he."Ask him of whom he haldis his landis,45Or man, wha may his master be,And desyre him cum, and be my man,And hald of me yon Foreste frie."To Edinburgh to cum and gang,His safe warrant I sall gie;50And gif he refuses to do that,We'll conquess baith his landis and he."Thou mayst vow I'll cast his castell down,And mak a widowe o' his gaye ladye;I'll hang his merryemen, payr by payr,55In ony frith where I may them see."James Boyd tuik his leave o' the nobil King,To Ettricke Foreste feir cam he;Down Birkendale Brae when that he cam,He saw the feir Foreste wi' his ee.60Baith dae and rae, and harte and hinde,And of a' wilde bestis great plentie;He heard thebowsthat bauldly ring,And arrows whidderan' hym near bi.Of that feir castell he got a sight;65The like he neir saw wi' his ee!On the fore front o' that castell feir,Twa unicorns were gaye to see;The picture of a knight, and ladye bright,And the grene hollin abune their brie.70Thereat he spyed five hundred men,Shuting with bows on Newark Lee;They were a' in ae livery clad,O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see.His men were a' clad in the grene,75The knight was armed capapie,With a bended bow, on a milk-white steed,And I wot they rank'd right bonnilie:Thereby Boyd kend he was master man,And served him in his ain degré.80"God mot thee save, brave Outlaw Murray!Thy ladye, and all thy chyvalrie!""Marry, thou's wellcum, gentleman,Some king's messenger thou seemis to be.""The King of Scotlonde sent me here,85And, gude Outlaw, I am sent to thee;I wad wot of whom ye hald your landis,Or man, wha may thy master be?""Thir landis areMINE!" the Outlaw said;"I ken nae king in Christentie;90Frae Soudron I this foreste wan,When the King nor his knightis were not to see.""He desyres you'l cum to Edinburgh,And hauld of him this foreste fre;And, gif ye refuse to do this,95He'll conquess baith thy landis and thee.He hath vow'd to cast thy castell down,And mak a widowe o' thy gaye ladye;"He'll hang thy merryemen, payr by payr,In ony frith where he may them finde."100"Ay, by my troth!" the Outlaw said,"Than wauld I thinke me far behinde."Ere the King my feir countrie get,This land that's nativest to me,Mony o' his nobilis sall be cauld,105Their ladyes sall be right wearie."Then spak his ladye, feir of face,She seyd, "Without consent of me,That an Outlaw suld come befor a King;I am right rad of treasonrie.110Bid him be gude to his lordis at hame,For Edinburgh my lord sall nevir see."James Boyd tuik his leave o' the Outlaw kene,To Edinburgh boun is he;When James he cam before the King,115He knelit lowlie on his kné."Welcum, James Boyd!" seyd our nobil King;"What foreste is Ettricke Foreste frie?""Ettricke Foreste is the feirest foresteThat evir man saw wi' his ee.120"There's the dae, the rae, the hart, the hynde,And of a' wild bestis grete plentie;There's a pretty castell of lyme and stane,O gif it standis not pleasauntlie!"There's in the fore front o' that castell,125Twa unicorns, sae bra' to see;There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright,Wi' the grene hollin abune their brie."There the Outlaw keepis five hundred men,He keepis a royalle cumpanie;130His merryemen in ae livery clad,O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see:He and his ladye in purple clad;O gin they live not royallie!"He says, yon foreste is his awin;135He wan it frae the Southronie;Sae as he wan it, sae will he keep it,Contrair all kingis in Christentie.""Gar warn me Perthshire, and Angus baith,Fife, up and downe, and Louthians three,140And graith my horse!" said our nobil King,"For to Ettricke Forest hie will I me."Then word is gane the Outlaw till,In Ettricke Forest, where dwelleth he,That the King was cuming to his cuntrie,145To conquess baith his landis and he."I mak a vow," the Outlaw said,"I mak a vow, and that trulie,Were there but three men to tak my pairt,Yon King's cuming full deir suld be!"150Then messengers he called forth,And bade them hie them speedilye—"Ane of ye gae to Halliday,The Laird of the Corehead is he."He certain is my sister's son;155Bid him cum quick and succour me!The King cums on for Ettricke Foreste,And landless men we a' will be.""What news? What news?" said Halliday,"Man, frae thy master unto me?"160"Not as ye wad: seeking your aide;The King's his mortal enemie.""Ay, by my troth!" said Halliday,"Even for that it repenteth me;For gif he lose feir Ettricke Foreste,165He'll tak feir Moffatdale frae me."I'll meet him wi' five hundred men,And surely mair, if mae may be;And before he gets the foreste feir,We a' will die on Newark Lee!"170The Outlaw call'd a messenger,And bid him hie him speedilye,ToAndrew Murray of Cockpool,"That man's a deir cousin to me;Desyre him cum, and make me aide,175With a' the power that he may be.""It stands me hard," Andrew Murray said,"Judge gif it stand na hard wi' me;To enter against a king wi' crown,And set my landis in jeopardie!180Yet, if I cum not on the day,Surely at night he sall me see."ToSir James Murray of Traquair,A message came right speedilye—"What news? What news?" James Murray said,185"Man, frae thy master unto me?""What neids I tell? for weel ye kenThe King's his mortal enemie;And now he is cuming to Ettricke Foreste,And landless men ye a' will be."190"And, by my trothe," James Murray said,"Wi' that Outlaw will I live and die;The King has gifted my landis lang syne—It cannot be nae warse wi' me."The King was cuming thro'Caddon Ford,195And full five thousand men was he;They saw the derke Foreste them before,They thought it awsome for to see.Then spak the lord hight Hamilton,And to the nobil King said he,200"My sovereign liege, sum council tak,First at your nobilis, syne at me."Desyre him mete thee at Permanscore,And bring four in his cumpanie;Five Erles sall gang yoursell befor,205Gude cause that you suld honour'd be."And, gif he refuses to do that,We'll conquess baith his landis and he;There sall nevir a Murray, after him,Hald land in Ettricke Foreste free."210Then spak the kene Laird of Buckscleuth,A stalworthe man, and sterne was he—"For a King to gang an Outlaw till,Is beneath his state and his dignitie."The man that wons yon foreste intill,215He lives by reif and felonie!Wherefore, brayd on, my sovereign liege,Wi' fire and sword we'll follow thee;Or, gif your countrie lords fa' back,Our Borderers sall the onset gie."220Then out and spak the nobil King,And round him cast a wilie ee—"Now, had thy tongue, Sir Walter Scott,Nor speak of reif nor felonie:For had every honest man his awin kye,225A right puir clan thy name wad be!"The King then call'd a gentleman,Royal banner-bearer there was he,James Hoppringle of Torsonse, by name;He cam and knelit upon his kné.230"Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse!A message ye maun gang for me:Ye maun gae to yon Outlaw Murray,Surely where bauldly bideth he."Bid him mete me at Permanscore,235And bring four in his cumpanie;Five erles sall cum wi' mysell,Gude reason I suld honour'd be."And gif he refuses to do that,Bid him luke for nae good o' me!240There sall nevir a Murray, after him,Have land in Ettricke Foreste free."James cam before the Outlaw kene,And served him in his ain degré—"Welcum, James Pringle of Torsonse!245What message frae the King to me?""He bids ye meet him atPermanscore,And bring four in your cumpany;Five erles sall gang himsell befor,Nae mair in number will he be.250"And gif you refuse to do that,(I freely here upgive wi' thee,)He'll cast yon bonny castle down,And make a widowe o' that gay ladye."He'll loose yon bluidhound Borderers,255Wi' fire and sword to follow thee;There will nevir a Murray, after thysell,Have land in Ettrick Foreste free.""It stands me hard," the Outlaw said,"Judge gif it stands na hard wi' me,260Wha reck not losing of mysell,But a' my offspring after me."My merryemen's lives, my widowe's teirs—There lies the pang that pinches me;"When I am straught in bluidie eard,265Yon castell will be right dreirie."Auld Halliday, young Halliday,Ye sall be twa to gang wi' me;Andrew Murray, and Sir James Murray,We'll be nae mae in cumpanie."270When that they cam before the King,They fell before him on their kné—"Grant mercie, mercie, nobil King!E'en for his sake that dyed on tree.""Sicken like mercie sall ye have,275On gallows ye sall hangit be!""Over God's forbode," quoth the Outlaw then,"I hope your grace will bettir be;Else, ere you come to Edinburgh port,I trow thin guarded sall ye be.280"Thir landis of Ettricke Foreste fair,I wan them from the enemie;Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them,Contrair a' kingis in Christentie."All the nobilis the King about,285Said pitie it were to see him dee—"Yet grant me mercie, sovereign prince,Extend your favour unto me!"I'll give thee the keys of my castell,Wi' the blessing o' my gay ladye,290Gin thou'lt make me sheriffe of this Foreste,And a' my offspring after me.""Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell,Wi' the blessing of thy gaye ladye?I'se make thee sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste.295Surely while upward grows the tree;If you be not traitour to the King,Forfaulted sall thou nevir be.""But, Prince, what sall cum o' my men?When I gae back, traitour they'll ca' me.300I had rather lose my life and land,Ere my merryemen rebuked me.""Will your merryemen amend their lives,And a' their pardons I grant thee?Now, name thy landis where'er they lie,305And here IRENDERthem to thee."—"Fair Philiphaugh is mine by right,And Lewinshope still mine shall be;Newark, Foulshiells, and Tinnies baith,My bow and arrow purchased me.310"And I have native steads to me,The Newark Lee and Hanginshaw;I have mony steads in the forest schaw,But them by name I dinna knaw."The keys of the castell he gave the King,315Wi' the blessing o' his feir ladye;He was made sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste,Surely while upward grows the tree;And if he was na traitour to the King,Forfaulted he suld never be.320Wha ever heard, in ony times,Sicken an outlaw in his degré,Sic favour get befor a King,As did theOutlaw Murrayof the Foreste free?
Ettricke Foreste is a feir foreste,In it grows manie a semelie trie;There's hart and hynd, and dae and rae,And of a' wilde bestis grete plentie.
There's a feir castelle, bigged wi' lyme and stane;O gin it stands not pleasauntlie!6In the fore front o' that castelle feir,Twa unicorns are bra' to see:
There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright,And the grene hollin abune their brie:10There an Outlaw kepis five hundred men,He keepis a royalle cumpanie.
His merryemen are a' in ae liverye clad,O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see;He and his ladye in purple clad,15O gin they lived not royallie!
Word is gane to our nobil King,In Edinburgh where that he lay,That there was an Outlaw in Ettricke Foreste,Counted him nought, nor a' his courtrie gay.20
"I make a vowe," then the gude King said,"Unto the man that deir bought me,I'se either be King of Ettricke Foreste,Or King of Scotlande that Outlaw sall be!"
Then spake the lord hight Hamilton,25And to the nobil King said he,"My sovereign prince, sum counsell take,First at your nobilis, syne at me.
"I redd ye, send yon braw Outlaw till,And see gif your man cum will he:30Desyre him cum and be your man,And hald of you yon Foreste frie.
"Gif he refuses to do that,We'll conquess baith his landis and he!Or else, we'll throw his castell down,35And make a widowe o' his gaye ladye."
The King then call'd a gentleman,James Boyd (the Earle of Arran his brother was he);When James he cam before the King,He knelit befor him on his kné.40
"Wellcum, James Boyd!" said our nobil King,"A message ye maun gang for me;Ye maun hye to Ettricke Foreste,To yon Outlaw, where bydeth he.
"Ask him of whom he haldis his landis,45Or man, wha may his master be,And desyre him cum, and be my man,And hald of me yon Foreste frie.
"To Edinburgh to cum and gang,His safe warrant I sall gie;50And gif he refuses to do that,We'll conquess baith his landis and he.
"Thou mayst vow I'll cast his castell down,And mak a widowe o' his gaye ladye;I'll hang his merryemen, payr by payr,55In ony frith where I may them see."
James Boyd tuik his leave o' the nobil King,To Ettricke Foreste feir cam he;Down Birkendale Brae when that he cam,He saw the feir Foreste wi' his ee.60
Baith dae and rae, and harte and hinde,And of a' wilde bestis great plentie;He heard thebowsthat bauldly ring,And arrows whidderan' hym near bi.
Of that feir castell he got a sight;65The like he neir saw wi' his ee!On the fore front o' that castell feir,Twa unicorns were gaye to see;The picture of a knight, and ladye bright,And the grene hollin abune their brie.70
Thereat he spyed five hundred men,Shuting with bows on Newark Lee;They were a' in ae livery clad,O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see.
His men were a' clad in the grene,75The knight was armed capapie,With a bended bow, on a milk-white steed,And I wot they rank'd right bonnilie:Thereby Boyd kend he was master man,And served him in his ain degré.80
"God mot thee save, brave Outlaw Murray!Thy ladye, and all thy chyvalrie!""Marry, thou's wellcum, gentleman,Some king's messenger thou seemis to be."
"The King of Scotlonde sent me here,85And, gude Outlaw, I am sent to thee;I wad wot of whom ye hald your landis,Or man, wha may thy master be?"
"Thir landis areMINE!" the Outlaw said;"I ken nae king in Christentie;90Frae Soudron I this foreste wan,When the King nor his knightis were not to see."
"He desyres you'l cum to Edinburgh,And hauld of him this foreste fre;And, gif ye refuse to do this,95He'll conquess baith thy landis and thee.He hath vow'd to cast thy castell down,And mak a widowe o' thy gaye ladye;
"He'll hang thy merryemen, payr by payr,In ony frith where he may them finde."100"Ay, by my troth!" the Outlaw said,"Than wauld I thinke me far behinde.
"Ere the King my feir countrie get,This land that's nativest to me,Mony o' his nobilis sall be cauld,105Their ladyes sall be right wearie."
Then spak his ladye, feir of face,She seyd, "Without consent of me,That an Outlaw suld come befor a King;I am right rad of treasonrie.110Bid him be gude to his lordis at hame,For Edinburgh my lord sall nevir see."
James Boyd tuik his leave o' the Outlaw kene,To Edinburgh boun is he;When James he cam before the King,115He knelit lowlie on his kné.
"Welcum, James Boyd!" seyd our nobil King;"What foreste is Ettricke Foreste frie?""Ettricke Foreste is the feirest foresteThat evir man saw wi' his ee.120
"There's the dae, the rae, the hart, the hynde,And of a' wild bestis grete plentie;There's a pretty castell of lyme and stane,O gif it standis not pleasauntlie!
"There's in the fore front o' that castell,125Twa unicorns, sae bra' to see;There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright,Wi' the grene hollin abune their brie.
"There the Outlaw keepis five hundred men,He keepis a royalle cumpanie;130His merryemen in ae livery clad,O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see:He and his ladye in purple clad;O gin they live not royallie!
"He says, yon foreste is his awin;135He wan it frae the Southronie;Sae as he wan it, sae will he keep it,Contrair all kingis in Christentie."
"Gar warn me Perthshire, and Angus baith,Fife, up and downe, and Louthians three,140And graith my horse!" said our nobil King,"For to Ettricke Forest hie will I me."
Then word is gane the Outlaw till,In Ettricke Forest, where dwelleth he,That the King was cuming to his cuntrie,145To conquess baith his landis and he.
"I mak a vow," the Outlaw said,"I mak a vow, and that trulie,Were there but three men to tak my pairt,Yon King's cuming full deir suld be!"150
Then messengers he called forth,And bade them hie them speedilye—"Ane of ye gae to Halliday,The Laird of the Corehead is he.
"He certain is my sister's son;155Bid him cum quick and succour me!The King cums on for Ettricke Foreste,And landless men we a' will be."
"What news? What news?" said Halliday,"Man, frae thy master unto me?"160"Not as ye wad: seeking your aide;The King's his mortal enemie."
"Ay, by my troth!" said Halliday,"Even for that it repenteth me;For gif he lose feir Ettricke Foreste,165He'll tak feir Moffatdale frae me.
"I'll meet him wi' five hundred men,And surely mair, if mae may be;And before he gets the foreste feir,We a' will die on Newark Lee!"170
The Outlaw call'd a messenger,And bid him hie him speedilye,ToAndrew Murray of Cockpool,"That man's a deir cousin to me;Desyre him cum, and make me aide,175With a' the power that he may be."
"It stands me hard," Andrew Murray said,"Judge gif it stand na hard wi' me;To enter against a king wi' crown,And set my landis in jeopardie!180Yet, if I cum not on the day,Surely at night he sall me see."
ToSir James Murray of Traquair,A message came right speedilye—"What news? What news?" James Murray said,185"Man, frae thy master unto me?"
"What neids I tell? for weel ye kenThe King's his mortal enemie;And now he is cuming to Ettricke Foreste,And landless men ye a' will be."190
"And, by my trothe," James Murray said,"Wi' that Outlaw will I live and die;The King has gifted my landis lang syne—It cannot be nae warse wi' me."
The King was cuming thro'Caddon Ford,195And full five thousand men was he;They saw the derke Foreste them before,They thought it awsome for to see.
Then spak the lord hight Hamilton,And to the nobil King said he,200"My sovereign liege, sum council tak,First at your nobilis, syne at me.
"Desyre him mete thee at Permanscore,And bring four in his cumpanie;Five Erles sall gang yoursell befor,205Gude cause that you suld honour'd be.
"And, gif he refuses to do that,We'll conquess baith his landis and he;There sall nevir a Murray, after him,Hald land in Ettricke Foreste free."210
Then spak the kene Laird of Buckscleuth,A stalworthe man, and sterne was he—"For a King to gang an Outlaw till,Is beneath his state and his dignitie.
"The man that wons yon foreste intill,215He lives by reif and felonie!Wherefore, brayd on, my sovereign liege,Wi' fire and sword we'll follow thee;Or, gif your countrie lords fa' back,Our Borderers sall the onset gie."220
Then out and spak the nobil King,And round him cast a wilie ee—"Now, had thy tongue, Sir Walter Scott,Nor speak of reif nor felonie:For had every honest man his awin kye,225A right puir clan thy name wad be!"
The King then call'd a gentleman,Royal banner-bearer there was he,James Hoppringle of Torsonse, by name;He cam and knelit upon his kné.230
"Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse!A message ye maun gang for me:Ye maun gae to yon Outlaw Murray,Surely where bauldly bideth he.
"Bid him mete me at Permanscore,235And bring four in his cumpanie;Five erles sall cum wi' mysell,Gude reason I suld honour'd be.
"And gif he refuses to do that,Bid him luke for nae good o' me!240There sall nevir a Murray, after him,Have land in Ettricke Foreste free."
James cam before the Outlaw kene,And served him in his ain degré—"Welcum, James Pringle of Torsonse!245What message frae the King to me?"
"He bids ye meet him atPermanscore,And bring four in your cumpany;Five erles sall gang himsell befor,Nae mair in number will he be.250
"And gif you refuse to do that,(I freely here upgive wi' thee,)He'll cast yon bonny castle down,And make a widowe o' that gay ladye.
"He'll loose yon bluidhound Borderers,255Wi' fire and sword to follow thee;There will nevir a Murray, after thysell,Have land in Ettrick Foreste free."
"It stands me hard," the Outlaw said,"Judge gif it stands na hard wi' me,260Wha reck not losing of mysell,But a' my offspring after me.
"My merryemen's lives, my widowe's teirs—There lies the pang that pinches me;"When I am straught in bluidie eard,265Yon castell will be right dreirie.
"Auld Halliday, young Halliday,Ye sall be twa to gang wi' me;Andrew Murray, and Sir James Murray,We'll be nae mae in cumpanie."270
When that they cam before the King,They fell before him on their kné—"Grant mercie, mercie, nobil King!E'en for his sake that dyed on tree."
"Sicken like mercie sall ye have,275On gallows ye sall hangit be!""Over God's forbode," quoth the Outlaw then,"I hope your grace will bettir be;Else, ere you come to Edinburgh port,I trow thin guarded sall ye be.280
"Thir landis of Ettricke Foreste fair,I wan them from the enemie;Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them,Contrair a' kingis in Christentie."
All the nobilis the King about,285Said pitie it were to see him dee—"Yet grant me mercie, sovereign prince,Extend your favour unto me!
"I'll give thee the keys of my castell,Wi' the blessing o' my gay ladye,290Gin thou'lt make me sheriffe of this Foreste,And a' my offspring after me."
"Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell,Wi' the blessing of thy gaye ladye?I'se make thee sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste.295Surely while upward grows the tree;If you be not traitour to the King,Forfaulted sall thou nevir be."
"But, Prince, what sall cum o' my men?When I gae back, traitour they'll ca' me.300I had rather lose my life and land,Ere my merryemen rebuked me."
"Will your merryemen amend their lives,And a' their pardons I grant thee?Now, name thy landis where'er they lie,305And here IRENDERthem to thee."—
"Fair Philiphaugh is mine by right,And Lewinshope still mine shall be;Newark, Foulshiells, and Tinnies baith,My bow and arrow purchased me.310
"And I have native steads to me,The Newark Lee and Hanginshaw;I have mony steads in the forest schaw,But them by name I dinna knaw."
The keys of the castell he gave the King,315Wi' the blessing o' his feir ladye;He was made sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste,Surely while upward grows the tree;And if he was na traitour to the King,Forfaulted he suld never be.320
Wha ever heard, in ony times,Sicken an outlaw in his degré,Sic favour get befor a King,As did theOutlaw Murrayof the Foreste free?
38. Thomas Boyd, Earl of Arran, was forfeited, with his father and uncle, in 1469, for an attempt on the person of James III. He had a son, James, who was restored, and in favor with James IV. about 1482. If this be the person here meant, we should read, "The Earl of Arran hissonwas he." Glenriddel's copy reads, "a Highland laird I'm sure was he." Reciters sometimes call the messenger the Laird of Skene.—S.60. Birkendale Brae, now commonly calledBirkendailly, is steep descent on the south side of Minch-moor, which separates Tweeddale from Ettrick Forest; and from the top of which we have the first view of the woods of Hangingshaw, the Castle of Newark, and the romantic dale of Yarrow.—S.63, Scott,blows: Aytoun,bows.154. This is a place at the head of Moffat-water, possessed of old by the family of Halliday.—S.173. This family were ancestors of the Murrays, Earls of Annandale; but the name of the representative, in the time of James IV., was William, not Andrew. Glenriddel's MS. reads, "the country-keeper."—S.183. Before the Barony of Traquair became the property of the Stewarts, it belonged to a family of Murrays, afterwards Murrays of Black-barony, and ancestors of Lord Elibank. The old castle was situated on the Tweed. The lands of Traquair were forfeited by Willielmus de Moravia, previous to 1464; for, in that year, a charter, proceeding upon his forfeiture, was granted by the crown to "Willielmo Douglas de Cluny." Sir James was, perhaps, the heir of William Murray. It would farther seem, that the grant in 1464 was not made effectual by Douglas; for another charter from the crown, dated the 3d February, 1478, conveys the estate of Traquair to James Stewart, Earl of Buchan, son of the Black Knight of Lorne, and maternal uncle to James III., from whom is descended the present Earl of Traquair. The first royal grant not being followed by possession, it is very possible that the Murrays may have continued to occupy Traquair long after the date of that charter. Hence, Sir James might have reason to say, as in the ballad, "The King has gifted my lands lang syne."—S.195, A ford on the Tweed, at the mouth of the Caddon Burn, near Yair.—S.247. Permanscore is a very remarkable hollow on the top of a high ridge of hills, dividing the vales of Tweed and Yarrow, a little to the eastward of Minch-moor. It is the outermost point of the lands of Broadmeadows. The Glenriddel MS., which, in this instance, is extremely inaccurate as to names, calls the place of rendezvous, "The Poor Man's House," and hints that the Outlaw was surprised by the treachery of the King:—"Then he was aware of the King's coming,With hundreds three in company,'I wot the muckle deel * * * * *He learned Kingis to lie!For to fetch me here frae amang my men,Here, like a dog for to die.'"I believe the reader will think with me, that the catastrophe is better, as now printed from Mrs. Cockburn's copy. The deceit, supposed to be practised on the Outlaw, is unworthy of the military monarch, as he is painted in the ballad; especially if we admit him to be King James IV.—S.312. In this and the following verse, the ceremony of feudal investiture is supposed to be gone through, by the Outlaw resigning his possessions into the hands of the king, and receiving them back, to be held of him as superior. The lands of Philiphaugh are still possessed by the Outlaw's representative. Hangingshaw and Lewinshope were sold of late years. Newark, Foulshiels, and Tinnies, have long belonged to the family of Buccleuch.—S.
38. Thomas Boyd, Earl of Arran, was forfeited, with his father and uncle, in 1469, for an attempt on the person of James III. He had a son, James, who was restored, and in favor with James IV. about 1482. If this be the person here meant, we should read, "The Earl of Arran hissonwas he." Glenriddel's copy reads, "a Highland laird I'm sure was he." Reciters sometimes call the messenger the Laird of Skene.—S.
60. Birkendale Brae, now commonly calledBirkendailly, is steep descent on the south side of Minch-moor, which separates Tweeddale from Ettrick Forest; and from the top of which we have the first view of the woods of Hangingshaw, the Castle of Newark, and the romantic dale of Yarrow.—S.
63, Scott,blows: Aytoun,bows.
154. This is a place at the head of Moffat-water, possessed of old by the family of Halliday.—S.
173. This family were ancestors of the Murrays, Earls of Annandale; but the name of the representative, in the time of James IV., was William, not Andrew. Glenriddel's MS. reads, "the country-keeper."—S.
183. Before the Barony of Traquair became the property of the Stewarts, it belonged to a family of Murrays, afterwards Murrays of Black-barony, and ancestors of Lord Elibank. The old castle was situated on the Tweed. The lands of Traquair were forfeited by Willielmus de Moravia, previous to 1464; for, in that year, a charter, proceeding upon his forfeiture, was granted by the crown to "Willielmo Douglas de Cluny." Sir James was, perhaps, the heir of William Murray. It would farther seem, that the grant in 1464 was not made effectual by Douglas; for another charter from the crown, dated the 3d February, 1478, conveys the estate of Traquair to James Stewart, Earl of Buchan, son of the Black Knight of Lorne, and maternal uncle to James III., from whom is descended the present Earl of Traquair. The first royal grant not being followed by possession, it is very possible that the Murrays may have continued to occupy Traquair long after the date of that charter. Hence, Sir James might have reason to say, as in the ballad, "The King has gifted my lands lang syne."—S.
195, A ford on the Tweed, at the mouth of the Caddon Burn, near Yair.—S.
247. Permanscore is a very remarkable hollow on the top of a high ridge of hills, dividing the vales of Tweed and Yarrow, a little to the eastward of Minch-moor. It is the outermost point of the lands of Broadmeadows. The Glenriddel MS., which, in this instance, is extremely inaccurate as to names, calls the place of rendezvous, "The Poor Man's House," and hints that the Outlaw was surprised by the treachery of the King:—
"Then he was aware of the King's coming,With hundreds three in company,'I wot the muckle deel * * * * *He learned Kingis to lie!For to fetch me here frae amang my men,Here, like a dog for to die.'"
"Then he was aware of the King's coming,With hundreds three in company,'I wot the muckle deel * * * * *He learned Kingis to lie!For to fetch me here frae amang my men,Here, like a dog for to die.'"
I believe the reader will think with me, that the catastrophe is better, as now printed from Mrs. Cockburn's copy. The deceit, supposed to be practised on the Outlaw, is unworthy of the military monarch, as he is painted in the ballad; especially if we admit him to be King James IV.—S.
312. In this and the following verse, the ceremony of feudal investiture is supposed to be gone through, by the Outlaw resigning his possessions into the hands of the king, and receiving them back, to be held of him as superior. The lands of Philiphaugh are still possessed by the Outlaw's representative. Hangingshaw and Lewinshope were sold of late years. Newark, Foulshiels, and Tinnies, have long belonged to the family of Buccleuch.—S.
"Johnie Armstrong, of Gilnockie, the hero of the following ballad, is a noted personage, both in history and tradition. He was, it would seem from the ballad, a brother of the Laird of Mangertoun, chief of the name. His place of residence (now a roofless tower) was at the Hollows, a few miles from Langholm, where its ruins still serve to adorn a scene, which, in natural beauty, has few equals in Scotland. At the head of a desperate band of freebooters, this Armstrong is said to have spread the terror of hisname almost as far as Newcastle, and to have levied black-mail, or protection and forbearance money, for many miles round. James V., of whom it was long remembered by his grateful people that he made the "rush-bush keep the cow," about 1529, undertook an expedition through the Border counties, to suppress the turbulent spirit of the Marchmen. But before setting out upon his journey, he took the precaution of imprisoning the different Border chieftains, who were the chief protectors of the marauders. The Earl of Bothwell was forfeited, and confined in Edinburgh Castle. The Lords of Home and Maxwell, the Lairds of Buccleuch, Fairniherst, and Johnston, with many others, were also committed to ward. Cockburn of Henderland, and Adam Scott of Tushielaw, called the King of the Border, were publicly executed.—Lesley, p. 430. The King then marched rapidly forward, at the head of a flying army of ten thousand men, through Ettrick Forest and Ewsdale. The evil genius of our Johnie Armstrong, or, as others say, the private advice of some courtiers, prompted him to present himself before James, at the head of thirty-six horse, arrayed in all the pomp of Border chivalry. Pitscottie uses nearly the words of the ballad, in describing the splendor of his equipment, and his high expectations of favor from the King. "But James, looking upon him sternly, said to his attendants, 'What wants that knave that a king should have?' and ordered him and his followers to instant execution."—"But John Armstrong," continues this minute historian, "made great offers to the King: That he should sustain himself, with forty gentlemen, ever ready at his service, on their own cost, without wronging any Scottishman: Secondly, that there was not a subject in England, duke, earl, or baron, but, within a certain day, he should bring him to his majesty, either quick or dead. At length, he seeing no hope of favor, said very proudly, 'It is folly to seek grace at a graceless face; but,' said he, 'had I known this, I should have lived upon the Borders in despite of King Harry and you both; for I know King Harry woulddownweigh my best horse with gold, to know that I were condemned to die this day."—Pitscottie'sHistory, p. 145. Johnie and all his retinue were accordingly hanged upon growing trees, at a place called Carlenrig Chapel, about ten miles above Hawick, on the high road to Langholm. The country people believe, that, to manifest the injustice of the execution, the trees withered away. Armstrong and his followers were buried in a deserted churchyard, where their graves are still shown.
"As this Border hero was a person of great note in his way, he is frequently alluded to by the writers of the time. Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, in the curious play published by Mr. Pinkerton, from the Bannatyne MS., introduces a pardoner, or knavish dealer in relics, who produces, among his holy rarities—
—"The cordis, baith grit and lang,Quhilk hangit Johnnie Armstrang,Of gud hempt, soft and sound.Gud haly pepill, I stand ford,Quhavir beis hangit in this cord,Neidis nevir to be dround!"
—"The cordis, baith grit and lang,Quhilk hangit Johnnie Armstrang,Of gud hempt, soft and sound.Gud haly pepill, I stand ford,Quhavir beis hangit in this cord,Neidis nevir to be dround!"
Pinkerton'sScottish Poems, vol. ii. p. 69.
"InThe Complaynt of Scotland, John Armistrangis' dance, mentioned as a popular tune, has probablysome reference to our hero." [See theMusical Museum, ed. 1853, vol. iv. p. 336.]—Scott'sMinstrelsy, i. 402.
The ballad as here given is to be found inA Collection of Old Ballads, 1723, vol. i. p. 170. The whole title is:Johnny Armstrang's Last Good-night, shewing how John Armstrong, with his eightscore men, fought a bloody battle with the Scotch King at Edenborough. It had previously appeared inWit Restor'd, 1658, p. 123, in very good shape, except the want of some stanzas towards the end. It is in this form, says Motherwell, that the story is preserved in the mouths of the people. Nevertheless, Allan Ramsay has inserted in hisEvergreenquite a different version, taken down from the mouth of a gentleman of the name of Armstrong, "the sixth generation from this John," which the reciter maintained to be the genuine ballad, "and the common one false."
Ramsay's copy is subjoined, and the imperfect edition fromWit Restor'dfinds a placein the Appendix.
The following verses, generally styledArmstrong's Good-night, are said to have been composed by one of that tribe who was executed in 1601 for the murder of Sir John Carmichael, Warden of the Middle Marches. They are from Johnson'sMuseum, p. 620, and are also found in Herd'sScottish Songs, ii. 182. In Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, ii. 127, there is a twaddling piece calledThe Last Guid Night, which is a sort of imitation of these stanzas.
The night is my departing night,The morn's the day I maun awa,There's no a friend or fae of mine,But wishes that I were awa.What I hae done for lack o' witI never never can reca';I trust ye're a' my friends as yet,Gude night, and joy be wi' you a'.
The night is my departing night,The morn's the day I maun awa,There's no a friend or fae of mine,But wishes that I were awa.
What I hae done for lack o' witI never never can reca';I trust ye're a' my friends as yet,Gude night, and joy be wi' you a'.
Is there ever a man in all Scotland,From the highest estate to the lowest degree,That can shew himself now before our King?Scotland is so full of treachery.Yes, there is a man in Westmorland,5And Johnny Armstrong they do him call;He has no lands nor rents coming in,Yet he keeps eightscore men within his hall.He has horses and harness for them all,And goodly steeds that be milk-white,10With their goodly belts about their necks,With hats and feathers all alike.The King he writes a loving letter,And with his own hand so tenderly,And hath sent it unto Johnny Armstrong,15To come and speak with him speedily.When John he look'd this letter upon,He lok'd as blith as a bird in a tree;"I was never before a King in my life,My father, my grandfather, nor none of us three.20"But seeing we must go before the King,Lord, we will go most gallantly;Ye shall every one have a velvet coat,Laid down with golden laces three."And every one shall have a scarlet cloak,25Laid down with silver laces five,With your golden belts about your necks,With hats and feathers all alike."But when Johnny went from Giltnock-Hall,The wind it blew hard, and full fast it did rain;"Now fare thee well, thou Giltnock-Hall,30I fear I shall never see thee again."Now Johnny he is to Edenborough gone,With his eightscore men so gallantly,And every one of them on a milk-white steed,35With their bucklers and swords hanging to their knee.But when John came the King before,With his eightscore men so gallant to see,The King he mov'd his bonnet to him,He thought he had been a king as well as he.40"O pardon, pardon, my sovereign liege,Pardon for my eightscore men and me;For my name, it is Johnny Armstrong,And subject of yours, my liege," said he."Away with thee, thou false traytor,45No pardon will I grant to thee,But to-morrow morning by eight of the clock,I will hang up thy eightscore men and thee."Then Johnny look'd over his left shoulder,And to his merry men thus said he,50"I have asked grace of a graceless face,No pardon there is for you and me."Then John pull'd out his good broad sword,That was made of the mettle so free;Had not the King moved his foot as he did,55John had taken his head from his fair body."Come, follow me, my merry men all,We will scorn one foot for to fly;It shall never be said we were hang'd like dogs;We will fight it out most manfully."60Then they fought on like champions bold,For their hearts were sturdy, stout, and free;'Till they had kill'd all the King's good guard,—There were none left alive but one, two, or three.But then rose up all Edenborough,65They rose up by thousands three;A cowardly Scot came John behind,And run him through the fair body.Said John, "Fight on, my merry men all,I am a little wounded, but am not slain;70I will lay me down to bleed a while,Then I'll rise and fight with you again."Then they fought on like mad men all,Till many a man lay dead on the plain,For they were resolved before they would yield,75That every man would there be slain.So there they fought couragiously,'Till most of them lay dead there and slain,But little Musgrave, that was his foot-page,With his bonny Grissel got away unta'n.80But when he came to Giltnock-Hall,The Lady spy'd him presently;"What news, what news, thou little foot-page,What news from thy master, and his company?""My news is bad, Lady," he said,85"Which I do bring, as you may see,My master Johnny Armstrong is slain,And all his gallant company."Yet thou are welcome home, my bonny Grissel,Full oft thou hast been fed with corn and hay,90But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine,And thy sides shall be spurr'd no more, I say."O then bespake his little son,As he sat on his nurse's knee,"If ever I live to be a man,95My father's death reveng'd shall be."
Is there ever a man in all Scotland,From the highest estate to the lowest degree,That can shew himself now before our King?Scotland is so full of treachery.
Yes, there is a man in Westmorland,5And Johnny Armstrong they do him call;He has no lands nor rents coming in,Yet he keeps eightscore men within his hall.
He has horses and harness for them all,And goodly steeds that be milk-white,10With their goodly belts about their necks,With hats and feathers all alike.
The King he writes a loving letter,And with his own hand so tenderly,And hath sent it unto Johnny Armstrong,15To come and speak with him speedily.
When John he look'd this letter upon,He lok'd as blith as a bird in a tree;"I was never before a King in my life,My father, my grandfather, nor none of us three.20
"But seeing we must go before the King,Lord, we will go most gallantly;Ye shall every one have a velvet coat,Laid down with golden laces three.
"And every one shall have a scarlet cloak,25Laid down with silver laces five,With your golden belts about your necks,With hats and feathers all alike."
But when Johnny went from Giltnock-Hall,The wind it blew hard, and full fast it did rain;"Now fare thee well, thou Giltnock-Hall,30I fear I shall never see thee again."
Now Johnny he is to Edenborough gone,With his eightscore men so gallantly,And every one of them on a milk-white steed,35With their bucklers and swords hanging to their knee.
But when John came the King before,With his eightscore men so gallant to see,The King he mov'd his bonnet to him,He thought he had been a king as well as he.40
"O pardon, pardon, my sovereign liege,Pardon for my eightscore men and me;For my name, it is Johnny Armstrong,And subject of yours, my liege," said he.
"Away with thee, thou false traytor,45No pardon will I grant to thee,But to-morrow morning by eight of the clock,I will hang up thy eightscore men and thee."
Then Johnny look'd over his left shoulder,And to his merry men thus said he,50"I have asked grace of a graceless face,No pardon there is for you and me."
Then John pull'd out his good broad sword,That was made of the mettle so free;Had not the King moved his foot as he did,55John had taken his head from his fair body.
"Come, follow me, my merry men all,We will scorn one foot for to fly;It shall never be said we were hang'd like dogs;We will fight it out most manfully."60
Then they fought on like champions bold,For their hearts were sturdy, stout, and free;'Till they had kill'd all the King's good guard,—There were none left alive but one, two, or three.
But then rose up all Edenborough,65They rose up by thousands three;A cowardly Scot came John behind,And run him through the fair body.
Said John, "Fight on, my merry men all,I am a little wounded, but am not slain;70I will lay me down to bleed a while,Then I'll rise and fight with you again."
Then they fought on like mad men all,Till many a man lay dead on the plain,For they were resolved before they would yield,75That every man would there be slain.
So there they fought couragiously,'Till most of them lay dead there and slain,But little Musgrave, that was his foot-page,With his bonny Grissel got away unta'n.80
But when he came to Giltnock-Hall,The Lady spy'd him presently;"What news, what news, thou little foot-page,What news from thy master, and his company?"
"My news is bad, Lady," he said,85"Which I do bring, as you may see,My master Johnny Armstrong is slain,And all his gallant company.
"Yet thou are welcome home, my bonny Grissel,Full oft thou hast been fed with corn and hay,90But now thou shalt be fed with bread and wine,And thy sides shall be spurr'd no more, I say."
O then bespake his little son,As he sat on his nurse's knee,"If ever I live to be a man,95My father's death reveng'd shall be."
From Ramsay'sEvergreen, ii. 190.
Sum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds,And sicklike men of hie degrie;Of a gentleman I sing a sang,Sumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie.The King he wrytes a luving letter,5With his ain hand sae tenderly,And he hath sent it to Johny Armstrang,To cum and speik with him speidily.The Elliots and Armstrangs did convene,They were a gallant company—10"We'il ryde and meit our lawfull King,And bring him safe to Gilnockie."Make kinnen and capon ready, then,And venison in great plenty;"We'il welcome hame our royal King;15I hope he'il dyne at Gilnockie!"They ran their horse on theLangholme howm,And brake their speirs with mekle main;The ladys lukit frae their loft windows—"God bring our men weil back again!"20When Johny came before the King,With all his men so brave to see,The King he movit his bonnet to him;He wein'd he was a King as well as he."May I find grace, my sovereign liege,25Grace for my loyal men and me?For my name it is Johny Armstrang,And subject of yours, my liege," said he."Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out of my sichtsune mayst thoube!30I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,And now I'll not begin with thee.""Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!And a bonny gift I will give to thee—Full four-and-twenty milk-whyt steids,35Were a' foald in a yeir to me."I'll gie thee all these milk-whyt steids,That prance and nicher at a speir;With as mekle gude Inglis gilt,As four of their braid backs dow beir."40"Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,And now I'll not begin with thee!""Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!45And a bonny gift I'll gie to thee—Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills,That gang throw a' the yeir to me."These four-and-twenty mills completeSall gang for thee throw all the yeir;50And as mekle of gude reid wheit,As all thair happers dow to bear.""Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,55And now I'll not begin with thee.""Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!And a great gift I'll gie to thee—Bauld four-and-twenty sisters' sons,Sall for thee fecht, tho all sould flee!"60"Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,And now I'll not begin with thee.""Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!65And a brave gift I'll gie to thee—All betwene heir and Newcastle townSall pay their yeirly rent to thee.""Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!70I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,And now I'll not begin with thee.""Ye lied, ye lied, now, King," he says,"Althocht a king and prince ye be!For I luid naithing in all my lyfe,75I dare well say it, but honesty—"But a fat horse, and a fair woman,Twa bonny dogs to kill a deir;But Ingland suld haif found me meil and malt,Gif I had livd this hundred yeir!80"Scho suld haif found me meil and malt,And beif and mutton in all plentie;But neir a Scots wyfe could haif said,That eir I skaithd her a pure flie."To seik het water beneth cauld yce,85Surely it is a great folie;I haif asked grace at a graceles face,But there is nane for my men and me!"But had I kend, or I came frae hame,How thou unkind wadst bene to me,90I wad haif kept the Border syde,In spyte of all thy force and thee."Wist Englands King that I was tane,O gin a blyth man wald he be!For anes I slew his sisters son,95And on his breist-bane brak a tree."John wore a girdle about his midle,Imbroidred owre with burning gold,Bespangled wi' the same mettleMaist beautifull was to behold.100Ther hang nine targats at Johnys hat,And ilka an worth three hundred pound—"What wants that knave that a King suld haif,But the sword of honour and the crown?"O whair gat thou these targats, Johnie,105That blink sae brawly abune thy brie?""I gat them in the field fechting,Wher, cruel King, thou durst not be."Had I my horse, and harness gude,And ryding as I wont to be,110It sould haif bene tald this hundred yeir,The meiting of my King and me!"God be withee, Kirsty, my brither,Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun!Lang mayst thou live on the Border syde,115Or thou se thy brither ryde up and doun."And God be withee, Kirsty, my son,Whair thou sits on thy nursees knee!But and thou live this hundred yeir,Thy fathers better thou'lt never be.120Farweil, my bonny Gilnock-Hall,Whair on Esk syde thou standest stout!Gif I had leived but seven yeirs mair,I wald haif gilt thee round about."John murdred was at Carlinrigg,125And all his galant companie;But Scotlands heart was never sae wae,To see sae mony brave men die.Because they savd their country deirFrae Englishmen: nane were sae bauld,130Whyle Johnie livd on the Border syde,Nane of them durst cum neir his hald.
Sum speiks of lords, sum speiks of lairds,And sicklike men of hie degrie;Of a gentleman I sing a sang,Sumtyme calld Laird of Gilnockie.
The King he wrytes a luving letter,5With his ain hand sae tenderly,And he hath sent it to Johny Armstrang,To cum and speik with him speidily.
The Elliots and Armstrangs did convene,They were a gallant company—10"We'il ryde and meit our lawfull King,And bring him safe to Gilnockie.
"Make kinnen and capon ready, then,And venison in great plenty;"We'il welcome hame our royal King;15I hope he'il dyne at Gilnockie!"
They ran their horse on theLangholme howm,And brake their speirs with mekle main;The ladys lukit frae their loft windows—"God bring our men weil back again!"20
When Johny came before the King,With all his men so brave to see,The King he movit his bonnet to him;He wein'd he was a King as well as he.
"May I find grace, my sovereign liege,25Grace for my loyal men and me?For my name it is Johny Armstrang,And subject of yours, my liege," said he.
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out of my sichtsune mayst thoube!30I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,And now I'll not begin with thee."
"Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!And a bonny gift I will give to thee—Full four-and-twenty milk-whyt steids,35Were a' foald in a yeir to me.
"I'll gie thee all these milk-whyt steids,That prance and nicher at a speir;With as mekle gude Inglis gilt,As four of their braid backs dow beir."40
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,And now I'll not begin with thee!"
"Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!45And a bonny gift I'll gie to thee—Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills,That gang throw a' the yeir to me.
"These four-and-twenty mills completeSall gang for thee throw all the yeir;50And as mekle of gude reid wheit,As all thair happers dow to bear."
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,55And now I'll not begin with thee."
"Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!And a great gift I'll gie to thee—Bauld four-and-twenty sisters' sons,Sall for thee fecht, tho all sould flee!"60
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,And now I'll not begin with thee."
"Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King!65And a brave gift I'll gie to thee—All betwene heir and Newcastle townSall pay their yeirly rent to thee."
"Away, away, thou traytor strang!Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be!70I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,And now I'll not begin with thee."
"Ye lied, ye lied, now, King," he says,"Althocht a king and prince ye be!For I luid naithing in all my lyfe,75I dare well say it, but honesty—
"But a fat horse, and a fair woman,Twa bonny dogs to kill a deir;But Ingland suld haif found me meil and malt,Gif I had livd this hundred yeir!80
"Scho suld haif found me meil and malt,And beif and mutton in all plentie;But neir a Scots wyfe could haif said,That eir I skaithd her a pure flie.
"To seik het water beneth cauld yce,85Surely it is a great folie;I haif asked grace at a graceles face,But there is nane for my men and me!
"But had I kend, or I came frae hame,How thou unkind wadst bene to me,90I wad haif kept the Border syde,In spyte of all thy force and thee.
"Wist Englands King that I was tane,O gin a blyth man wald he be!For anes I slew his sisters son,95And on his breist-bane brak a tree."
John wore a girdle about his midle,Imbroidred owre with burning gold,Bespangled wi' the same mettleMaist beautifull was to behold.100
Ther hang nine targats at Johnys hat,And ilka an worth three hundred pound—"What wants that knave that a King suld haif,But the sword of honour and the crown?
"O whair gat thou these targats, Johnie,105That blink sae brawly abune thy brie?""I gat them in the field fechting,Wher, cruel King, thou durst not be.
"Had I my horse, and harness gude,And ryding as I wont to be,110It sould haif bene tald this hundred yeir,The meiting of my King and me!
"God be withee, Kirsty, my brither,Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun!Lang mayst thou live on the Border syde,115Or thou se thy brither ryde up and doun.
"And God be withee, Kirsty, my son,Whair thou sits on thy nursees knee!But and thou live this hundred yeir,Thy fathers better thou'lt never be.120
Farweil, my bonny Gilnock-Hall,Whair on Esk syde thou standest stout!Gif I had leived but seven yeirs mair,I wald haif gilt thee round about."
John murdred was at Carlinrigg,125And all his galant companie;But Scotlands heart was never sae wae,To see sae mony brave men die.
Because they savd their country deirFrae Englishmen: nane were sae bauld,130Whyle Johnie livd on the Border syde,Nane of them durst cum neir his hald.