5. Thirlwall, or Thirlitwall, is said by Fordun, the Scottish historian, to be a name given to the Picts' or Roman wall, from its having been thirled, or perforated, in ancient times, by the Scots and Picts.Willie-haver, or Willeva, is a small district or township in the parish of Lanercost, near Bewcastledale, in Cumberland, mentioned in the ballad ofHobie Noble.—Ritson.31. This would be about eleven o'clock, the usual dinner-hour in that period.—Ritson.43. The two Earls were Thomas Percy, Earl of Northumberland, and Charles Nevil, Earl of Westmoreland, who, on the 15th of November, 1569, at the head of their tenantry and others, took arms for the purpose of liberating Mary, Queen of Scots, and restoring the old religion. They besieged Barnard castle, which was, for eleven days, stoutly defended by Sir George Bowes, who, afterward, being appointed the Queen's marshal, hanged the poor constables and peasantry by dozens in a day, to the amount of 800. The Earl of Northumberland, betrayed by the Scots, with whom he had taken refuge, was beheaded at York, on the 22d of August, 1572; and the Earl of Westmoreland, deprived of the ancient and noble patrimony of the Nevils, and reduced to beggary, escaped over sea, into Flanders, and died in misery and disgrace, being the last of his family.—Ritson. SeeThe Rising in the NorthandNorthumberland betrayed by Douglas.48. This is still the phraseology of Westmoreland: apoorlyman, asoftlyday, and the like.—Ritson.52. The 6th of December.66. Now a straggling village so called; originally, it would seem, the gate-house, or ranger's lodge, at the east entrance of Stanhope-park. At some distance from this place is Westgate, so called for a similar reason.—Ritson.The mention of the bailiff's house at the East-gate is (were such a proof wanting) strongly indicative of the authenticity of the ballad. The family of Emerson of East-gate, a fief, if I may so call it, held under the bishop, long exercised the office of bailiff of Wolsingham, the chief town and borough of Weardale, and of Forster, &c., under successive prelates.—Surtees.68. A place in the neighbourhood of East-gate, known at present, as well as the Dry-rig, or Smale-burns.—Ritson.92. The reciter, from his advanced age, could not recollect the original line thus imperfectly supplied.—Ritson.
5. Thirlwall, or Thirlitwall, is said by Fordun, the Scottish historian, to be a name given to the Picts' or Roman wall, from its having been thirled, or perforated, in ancient times, by the Scots and Picts.
Willie-haver, or Willeva, is a small district or township in the parish of Lanercost, near Bewcastledale, in Cumberland, mentioned in the ballad ofHobie Noble.—Ritson.
31. This would be about eleven o'clock, the usual dinner-hour in that period.—Ritson.
43. The two Earls were Thomas Percy, Earl of Northumberland, and Charles Nevil, Earl of Westmoreland, who, on the 15th of November, 1569, at the head of their tenantry and others, took arms for the purpose of liberating Mary, Queen of Scots, and restoring the old religion. They besieged Barnard castle, which was, for eleven days, stoutly defended by Sir George Bowes, who, afterward, being appointed the Queen's marshal, hanged the poor constables and peasantry by dozens in a day, to the amount of 800. The Earl of Northumberland, betrayed by the Scots, with whom he had taken refuge, was beheaded at York, on the 22d of August, 1572; and the Earl of Westmoreland, deprived of the ancient and noble patrimony of the Nevils, and reduced to beggary, escaped over sea, into Flanders, and died in misery and disgrace, being the last of his family.—Ritson. SeeThe Rising in the NorthandNorthumberland betrayed by Douglas.
48. This is still the phraseology of Westmoreland: apoorlyman, asoftlyday, and the like.—Ritson.
52. The 6th of December.
66. Now a straggling village so called; originally, it would seem, the gate-house, or ranger's lodge, at the east entrance of Stanhope-park. At some distance from this place is Westgate, so called for a similar reason.—Ritson.
The mention of the bailiff's house at the East-gate is (were such a proof wanting) strongly indicative of the authenticity of the ballad. The family of Emerson of East-gate, a fief, if I may so call it, held under the bishop, long exercised the office of bailiff of Wolsingham, the chief town and borough of Weardale, and of Forster, &c., under successive prelates.—Surtees.
68. A place in the neighbourhood of East-gate, known at present, as well as the Dry-rig, or Smale-burns.—Ritson.
92. The reciter, from his advanced age, could not recollect the original line thus imperfectly supplied.—Ritson.
FromMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 15.
This ballad is preserved in the Bannatyne MS., and was first printed in Ramsay'sEvergreen, ii. 224. Scott informs us that Ramsay took some liberties with the original text, and even interpolated the manuscript to favor his readings. A more accurate copy was given in theBorder Minstrelsy. The text in Herd'sScottish Songs, i. 91, and Caw'sMuseum, p. 235, is that of theEvergreen.
"The skirmish of the Reidswire happened upon the 7th of June, 1575, at one of the meetings held by the Wardens of the Marches, for arrangements necessary upon the Border. Sir John Carmichael was the Scottish Warden, and Sir John Forster held that office on the English Middle March. In the course of the day, which was employed as usual in redressing wrongs, a bill, or indictment, at the instance of a Scottish complainer, was fouled (i. e.found a true bill) against one Farnstein, a notorious English freebooter. Forster alleged that he had fled from justice. Carmichael, considering this as a pretext to avoid making compensation for the felony, bade him "play fair!" to which the haughty English warden retorted, by some injurious expressions respecting Carmichael's family, and gave other open signs of resentment. His retinue, chiefly men of Redesdale and Tynedale, the most ferocious of the English Borderers, glad of any pretext for a quarrel, discharged a flight of arrows among the Scots. A warm conflict ensued, in which, Carmichael being beat down and made prisoner, success seemed at first to incline to the English side, till the Tynedale men, throwing themselves too greedily upon the plunder, fell into disorder; and a body of Jedburgh citizens arriving at that instant, the skirmish terminated in a complete victory on the part of the Scots, who took prisoners, the English warden, James Ogle, Cuthbert Collingwood, Francis Russell, son to the Earl of Bedford, and son-in-law to Forster, some of the Fenwicks, and several other Border chiefs. They were sent to the Earl of Morton, then Regent, who detained them at Dalkeith for some days, till theheat of their resentment was abated; which prudent precaution prevented a war betwixt the two kingdoms. He then dismissed them with great expressions of regard; and, to satisfy Queen Elizabeth, sent Carmichael to York, whence he was soon after honourably dismissed. The field of battle, called the Reidswire, is a part of the Carter Mountain, about ten miles from Jedburgh."—Scott.
The seventh of July, the suith to say,At theReidswirethe tryst was set;Our wardens they affixed the day,And, as they promised, so they met.Alas! that day I'll ne'er forgett!5Was sure sae feard, and then sae faine—They came theare justice for to gett,Will never green to come again.Carmichael was our warden then,He caused the country to conveen;10And theLaird's Wat, that worthie man,Brought in that sirname weil beseen:The Armestranges, that aye hae beenA hardy house, but not a hail,The Elliots' honours to maintaine,15Brought down the lave o' Liddesdale.Then Tividale came to wi' spied;The Sheriffe brought the Douglas down,Wi' Cranstane, Gladstain, good at need,Baith Rewle water, and Hawick town.20Beanjeddart bauldly made him boun,Wi' a' the Trumbills, stronge and stout;The Rutherfoords, with grit renown,Convoy'd the town of Jedbrugh out.Of other clans I cannot tell,25Because our warning was not wide—Be this our folks hae ta'en the fell,And planted down palliones, there to bide,We looked down the other side,And saw come breasting ower the brae,30Wi'Sir John Forsterfor their guyde,Full fifteen hundred men and mae.It grieved him sair that day, I trow,Wi'Sir George Hearoune of Schipsydehouse;Because we were not men enow,35They counted us not worth a louse.Sir George was gentle, meek, and douse,Buthewas hail and het as fire;And yet, for all his cracking crouse,He rewd the raid o' the Reidswire.40To deal with proud men is but pain;For either must ye fight or flee,Or else no answer make again,But play the beast, and let them be.It was na wonder he was hie,45HadTindaill, Reedsdaill, at his hand,Wi' Cukdaill, Gladsdaill on the lee,AndHebsrime, and Northumberland.Yett was our meeting meek eneugh,Begun wi' merriment and mowes,50And at the brae, aboon the heugh,The clark sat down to call the rowes.And some for kyne, and some for ewes,Call'd in of Dandrie, Hob, and Jock—We saw, come marching ower the knows,55Five hundredFennicksin a flock,—With jack and speir, and bows all bent,And warlike weapons at their will:Although we were na weel content,Yet, by my troth, we fear'd no ill.60Some gaed to drink, and some stude still,And some to cards and dice them sped;Till on ane Farnstein they fyled a bill,And he was fugitive and fled.Carmichaell bade them speik out plainlie,65And cloke no cause for ill nor good;The other, answering him as vainlie,Began to reckon kin and blood:He raise, and raxed him where he stood,And bade him match him with his marrows;70Then Tindaill heard them reasun rude,And they loot off a flight of arrows.Then was there nought but bow and speir,And every man pull'd out a brand;"A Schafton and a Fenwick" thare:75Gude Symington was slain frae hand.The Scotsmen cried on other to stand,Frae time they saw John Robson slain—What should they cry? the King's commandCould cause no cowards turn again.80Up rose the laird to red the cumber,Which would not be for all his boast;What could we doe with sic a number—Fyve thousand men into a host?Then Henry Purdie proved his cost,85And very narrowlie had mischief'd him,And there we had our warden lost,Wert not the grit God he relieved him.Another throw the breiks him bair,Whill flatlies to the ground he fell:90Than thought I weel we had lost him there,Into my stomack it struck a knell!Yet up he raise, the treuth to tell ye,And laid about him dints full dour;His horsemen they raid sturdily,95And stude about him in the stoure.Then raise the slogan with ane shout—"Fy, Tindaill, to it! Jedburgh's here!"I trow he was not half sae stout,But anis his stomach was asteir.100With gun and genzie, bow and speir,Men might see mony a cracked crown!But up amang the merchant geir,They were as busy as we were down.The swallow taill frae tackles flew,105Five hundredth flain into a flight:But we had pestelets enew,And shot among them as we might.With help of God the game gaed right,Fra time the foremost of them fell;110Then ower the know, without goodnight,They ran with mony a shout and yell.But after they had turned backs,Yet Tindail men they turn'd again,And had not been the merchant packs,115There had been mae of Scotland slain.But, Jesu! if the folks were fainTo put the bussing on their thies;And so they fled, wi' a' their main,Down ower the brae, like clogged bees.120Sir Francis Russellta'en was there,And hurt, as we hear men rehearse;ProudWallintonwas wounded sair,Albeit he be a Fennick fierce.But if ye wald a souldier search,125Among them a' were ta'en that night,Was nane sae wordie to put in verse,AsCollingwood, that courteous knight.YoungHenry Schafton, he is hurt;A souldier shot him wi' a bow;130Scotland has cause to mak great sturt,For laiming of theLaird of Mow.The Laird's Wat did weel indeed;His friends stood stoutlie by himsell,With little Gladstain, gude in need,135ForGreteinkend na gude be ill.The Sheriffe wanted not gude will,Howbeit he might not fight so fast;Beanjeddart, Hundlie, and Hunthill,Three, on they laid weel at the last.140Except the horsemen of the guard,If I could put men to availe,None stoutlier stood out for their laird,Nor did the lads of Liddisdail.But little harness had we there;145But auldBadreulehad on a jack,And did right weel, I you declare,With all his Trumbills at his back.GudeEdderstanewas not to lack,Nor Kirktoun, Newton, noble men!150Thir's all the specials I of speake,By others that I could not ken.Who did invent that day of play,We need not fear to find him soon;For Sir John Forster, I dare well say,155Made us this noisome afternoon.Not that I speak preceislie out,That he supposed it would be perril;But pride, and breaking out of feuid,Garr'd Tindaill lads begin the quarrel.160
The seventh of July, the suith to say,At theReidswirethe tryst was set;Our wardens they affixed the day,And, as they promised, so they met.Alas! that day I'll ne'er forgett!5Was sure sae feard, and then sae faine—They came theare justice for to gett,Will never green to come again.
Carmichael was our warden then,He caused the country to conveen;10And theLaird's Wat, that worthie man,Brought in that sirname weil beseen:The Armestranges, that aye hae beenA hardy house, but not a hail,The Elliots' honours to maintaine,15Brought down the lave o' Liddesdale.
Then Tividale came to wi' spied;The Sheriffe brought the Douglas down,Wi' Cranstane, Gladstain, good at need,Baith Rewle water, and Hawick town.20Beanjeddart bauldly made him boun,Wi' a' the Trumbills, stronge and stout;The Rutherfoords, with grit renown,Convoy'd the town of Jedbrugh out.
Of other clans I cannot tell,25Because our warning was not wide—Be this our folks hae ta'en the fell,And planted down palliones, there to bide,We looked down the other side,And saw come breasting ower the brae,30Wi'Sir John Forsterfor their guyde,Full fifteen hundred men and mae.
It grieved him sair that day, I trow,Wi'Sir George Hearoune of Schipsydehouse;Because we were not men enow,35They counted us not worth a louse.Sir George was gentle, meek, and douse,Buthewas hail and het as fire;And yet, for all his cracking crouse,He rewd the raid o' the Reidswire.40
To deal with proud men is but pain;For either must ye fight or flee,Or else no answer make again,But play the beast, and let them be.It was na wonder he was hie,45HadTindaill, Reedsdaill, at his hand,Wi' Cukdaill, Gladsdaill on the lee,AndHebsrime, and Northumberland.
Yett was our meeting meek eneugh,Begun wi' merriment and mowes,50And at the brae, aboon the heugh,The clark sat down to call the rowes.And some for kyne, and some for ewes,Call'd in of Dandrie, Hob, and Jock—We saw, come marching ower the knows,55Five hundredFennicksin a flock,—
With jack and speir, and bows all bent,And warlike weapons at their will:Although we were na weel content,Yet, by my troth, we fear'd no ill.60Some gaed to drink, and some stude still,And some to cards and dice them sped;Till on ane Farnstein they fyled a bill,And he was fugitive and fled.
Carmichaell bade them speik out plainlie,65And cloke no cause for ill nor good;The other, answering him as vainlie,Began to reckon kin and blood:He raise, and raxed him where he stood,And bade him match him with his marrows;70Then Tindaill heard them reasun rude,And they loot off a flight of arrows.
Then was there nought but bow and speir,And every man pull'd out a brand;"A Schafton and a Fenwick" thare:75Gude Symington was slain frae hand.The Scotsmen cried on other to stand,Frae time they saw John Robson slain—What should they cry? the King's commandCould cause no cowards turn again.80
Up rose the laird to red the cumber,Which would not be for all his boast;What could we doe with sic a number—Fyve thousand men into a host?Then Henry Purdie proved his cost,85And very narrowlie had mischief'd him,And there we had our warden lost,Wert not the grit God he relieved him.
Another throw the breiks him bair,Whill flatlies to the ground he fell:90Than thought I weel we had lost him there,Into my stomack it struck a knell!Yet up he raise, the treuth to tell ye,And laid about him dints full dour;His horsemen they raid sturdily,95And stude about him in the stoure.
Then raise the slogan with ane shout—"Fy, Tindaill, to it! Jedburgh's here!"I trow he was not half sae stout,But anis his stomach was asteir.100With gun and genzie, bow and speir,Men might see mony a cracked crown!But up amang the merchant geir,They were as busy as we were down.
The swallow taill frae tackles flew,105Five hundredth flain into a flight:But we had pestelets enew,And shot among them as we might.With help of God the game gaed right,Fra time the foremost of them fell;110Then ower the know, without goodnight,They ran with mony a shout and yell.
But after they had turned backs,Yet Tindail men they turn'd again,And had not been the merchant packs,115There had been mae of Scotland slain.But, Jesu! if the folks were fainTo put the bussing on their thies;And so they fled, wi' a' their main,Down ower the brae, like clogged bees.120
Sir Francis Russellta'en was there,And hurt, as we hear men rehearse;ProudWallintonwas wounded sair,Albeit he be a Fennick fierce.But if ye wald a souldier search,125Among them a' were ta'en that night,Was nane sae wordie to put in verse,AsCollingwood, that courteous knight.
YoungHenry Schafton, he is hurt;A souldier shot him wi' a bow;130Scotland has cause to mak great sturt,For laiming of theLaird of Mow.The Laird's Wat did weel indeed;His friends stood stoutlie by himsell,With little Gladstain, gude in need,135ForGreteinkend na gude be ill.
The Sheriffe wanted not gude will,Howbeit he might not fight so fast;Beanjeddart, Hundlie, and Hunthill,Three, on they laid weel at the last.140Except the horsemen of the guard,If I could put men to availe,None stoutlier stood out for their laird,Nor did the lads of Liddisdail.
But little harness had we there;145But auldBadreulehad on a jack,And did right weel, I you declare,With all his Trumbills at his back.GudeEdderstanewas not to lack,Nor Kirktoun, Newton, noble men!150Thir's all the specials I of speake,By others that I could not ken.
Who did invent that day of play,We need not fear to find him soon;For Sir John Forster, I dare well say,155Made us this noisome afternoon.Not that I speak preceislie out,That he supposed it would be perril;But pride, and breaking out of feuid,Garr'd Tindaill lads begin the quarrel.160
2.Swiresignifies the descent of a hill, and the epithetRedis derived from the color of the heath, or perhaps, from the Reid-water, which rises at no great distance.—S.11. The Laird's Wat is perhaps the young Buccleuch, who, about twenty years after thisraid, performed the great exploit of rescuing Kinmont Willie from Carlisle Castle.—S.14. This clan are here mentioned as not being hail, or whole, because they were outlawed or broken men. Indeed, many of them had become Englishmen, as the phrase then went. There was an old alliance betwixt the Elliots and Armstrongs, here alluded to.—S.18. Douglas of Cavers, hereditary Sheriff of Teviotdale, descended from Black Archibald, who carried the standard of his father, the Earl of Douglas, at the battle of Otterbourne.—See the ballad of that name.—S.24. These were ancient and powerful clans, residing chiefly upon the river Jed. Hence, they naturally convoyed the town of Jedburgh out. The following fragment of an old ballad is quoted in a letter from an aged gentleman of this name, residing at New York, to a friend in Scotland:—"Bauld Rutherfurd, he was fou stout,Wi' a' his nine sons him round about;He led the town o' Jedburgh out,All bravely fought that day."—S.31. Sir John Forster, or, more properly, Forrester, of Balmbrough Abbey, Warden of the Middle Marches in 1561, was deputy-governor of Berwick, and governor of Balmborough Castle.—S.34. George Heron Miles of Chipchase Castle, probably the same who was slain at the Reidswire, was Sheriff of Northumberland, 13th Elizabeth.—S.46. These are districts, or dales, on the English Border.48. Mr. George Ellis suggests, with great probability, that this is a mistake, not for Hebburne, as the Editor stated in an earlier edition, but for Hexham, which, with its territory, formed a county independent of Northumberland, with which it is here ranked.—S.56. The Fenwicks; a powerful and numerous Northumberland clan.—S.98. The gathering word peculiar to a certain name, or set of people, was termedsloganorslughorn, and was always repeated at an onset, as well as on many other occasions. It was usually the name of the clan, or place of rendezvous, or leader. In 1335, the English, led by Thomas of Rosslyne, and William Moubray, assaulted Aberdeen. The former was mortally wounded in the onset; and, as his followers were pressing forward, shouting "Rosslyne! Rosslyne!" "CryMoubray," said the expiring chieftain; "Rosslyneis gone!"—S.115. The ballad-maker here ascribes the victory to the real cause; for the English Borderers dispersing to plunder the merchandise, gave the opposite party time to recover from their surprise. It seems to have been usual for travelling merchants to attend Border meetings, although one would have thought the kind of company usually assembled there might have deterred them.—S.121. This gentleman was son to the Earl of Bedford, and Warden of the East Marches. He was, at this time, chamberlain of Berwick.—S.123. Fenwick of Wallington, a powerful Northumbrian chief.—S.128. Sir Cuthbert Collingwood of Esslington, Sheriff of Northumberland, the 10th and 20th of Elizabeth.—S.129. The Shaftoes are an ancient family settled at Bavington, in Northumberland, since the time of Edward I.—S.132. An ancient family on the Borders. The Laird of Mowe here mentioned was the only gentleman of note killed in the skirmish on the Scottish side.—S.136. Graden, a family of Kers.—S.139. Douglas of Beanjeddart, an ancient branch of the house of Cavers, possessing property near the junction of the Jed and Teviot.Hundlie.—Rutherford of Hundlie, or Hundalee, situated on the Jed above Jedburgh.Hunthill.—The old tower of Hunthill was situated about a mile above Jedburgh. It was the patrimony of an ancient family of Rutherfords. I suppose the person, here meant, to be the same who is renowned in tradition by the name of theCock of Hunthill.—S.146. Sir Andrew Turnbull of Bedrule, upon Rule Water.—S.149. An ancient family of Rutherfords; I believe, indeed, the most ancient now extant.—S.150. The parish of Kirktoun belonged, I believe, about this time, to a branch of the Cavers family; but Kirkton of Stewartfield is mentioned in the list of Border clans in 1597.Newton.—This is probably Grinyslaw of Little Newton, mentioned in the said roll of Border clans.—S.
2.Swiresignifies the descent of a hill, and the epithetRedis derived from the color of the heath, or perhaps, from the Reid-water, which rises at no great distance.—S.
11. The Laird's Wat is perhaps the young Buccleuch, who, about twenty years after thisraid, performed the great exploit of rescuing Kinmont Willie from Carlisle Castle.—S.
14. This clan are here mentioned as not being hail, or whole, because they were outlawed or broken men. Indeed, many of them had become Englishmen, as the phrase then went. There was an old alliance betwixt the Elliots and Armstrongs, here alluded to.—S.
18. Douglas of Cavers, hereditary Sheriff of Teviotdale, descended from Black Archibald, who carried the standard of his father, the Earl of Douglas, at the battle of Otterbourne.—See the ballad of that name.—S.
24. These were ancient and powerful clans, residing chiefly upon the river Jed. Hence, they naturally convoyed the town of Jedburgh out. The following fragment of an old ballad is quoted in a letter from an aged gentleman of this name, residing at New York, to a friend in Scotland:—
"Bauld Rutherfurd, he was fou stout,Wi' a' his nine sons him round about;He led the town o' Jedburgh out,All bravely fought that day."—S.
"Bauld Rutherfurd, he was fou stout,Wi' a' his nine sons him round about;He led the town o' Jedburgh out,All bravely fought that day."—S.
31. Sir John Forster, or, more properly, Forrester, of Balmbrough Abbey, Warden of the Middle Marches in 1561, was deputy-governor of Berwick, and governor of Balmborough Castle.—S.
34. George Heron Miles of Chipchase Castle, probably the same who was slain at the Reidswire, was Sheriff of Northumberland, 13th Elizabeth.—S.
46. These are districts, or dales, on the English Border.
48. Mr. George Ellis suggests, with great probability, that this is a mistake, not for Hebburne, as the Editor stated in an earlier edition, but for Hexham, which, with its territory, formed a county independent of Northumberland, with which it is here ranked.—S.
56. The Fenwicks; a powerful and numerous Northumberland clan.—S.
98. The gathering word peculiar to a certain name, or set of people, was termedsloganorslughorn, and was always repeated at an onset, as well as on many other occasions. It was usually the name of the clan, or place of rendezvous, or leader. In 1335, the English, led by Thomas of Rosslyne, and William Moubray, assaulted Aberdeen. The former was mortally wounded in the onset; and, as his followers were pressing forward, shouting "Rosslyne! Rosslyne!" "CryMoubray," said the expiring chieftain; "Rosslyneis gone!"—S.
115. The ballad-maker here ascribes the victory to the real cause; for the English Borderers dispersing to plunder the merchandise, gave the opposite party time to recover from their surprise. It seems to have been usual for travelling merchants to attend Border meetings, although one would have thought the kind of company usually assembled there might have deterred them.—S.
121. This gentleman was son to the Earl of Bedford, and Warden of the East Marches. He was, at this time, chamberlain of Berwick.—S.
123. Fenwick of Wallington, a powerful Northumbrian chief.—S.
128. Sir Cuthbert Collingwood of Esslington, Sheriff of Northumberland, the 10th and 20th of Elizabeth.—S.
129. The Shaftoes are an ancient family settled at Bavington, in Northumberland, since the time of Edward I.—S.
132. An ancient family on the Borders. The Laird of Mowe here mentioned was the only gentleman of note killed in the skirmish on the Scottish side.—S.
136. Graden, a family of Kers.—S.
139. Douglas of Beanjeddart, an ancient branch of the house of Cavers, possessing property near the junction of the Jed and Teviot.Hundlie.—Rutherford of Hundlie, or Hundalee, situated on the Jed above Jedburgh.Hunthill.—The old tower of Hunthill was situated about a mile above Jedburgh. It was the patrimony of an ancient family of Rutherfords. I suppose the person, here meant, to be the same who is renowned in tradition by the name of theCock of Hunthill.—S.
146. Sir Andrew Turnbull of Bedrule, upon Rule Water.—S.
149. An ancient family of Rutherfords; I believe, indeed, the most ancient now extant.—S.
150. The parish of Kirktoun belonged, I believe, about this time, to a branch of the Cavers family; but Kirkton of Stewartfield is mentioned in the list of Border clans in 1597.Newton.—This is probably Grinyslaw of Little Newton, mentioned in the said roll of Border clans.—S.
Taken down from the recitation of an old woman, and first published (certainly not without what are called "improvements") in Richardson'sBorderer's Table Book, vol. vii. p. 364, with an introduction by Mr. Robert White, which we here abridge.
Percival or Parcy Reed, was proprietor of Troughend, a tract of land in Redesdale, Northumberland, a man of courage and devoted to the chase. Having been appointed warden of the district, he had the misfortune in the discharge of his duties, to offend a family of the name of Hall, who were owners of the farm of Girsonsfield, and also to incur the enmity of a band of moss-troopers, Crosier by name, some of whom had been brought to justice by his hands. The Halls concealed their resentment until they were able to contrive an opportunity for taking a safe revenge.In pursuance of this design, they requested Reed to join them on a hunting party. Their invitation was unsuspiciously accepted, and after a day of sport the company retired to a solitary hut in the lonely glen of Batinghope. Here Reed was attacked in the evening by the Crosiers, and as the Halls not only refused their assistance, but had treacherously deprived him of the means of defence by rendering his sword and gun unserviceable, he fell an easy victim to his savage foes.
It is probable that we cannot assign to the event on which this piece is founded, a date later than the sixteenth century.
The story of Parcy Reed is alluded to inRokeby, canto first,xx.; Sir Walter Scott has also taken the death of his dog Keeldar as the subject of a poem contributed to Hood's annual,The Gem, for 1829.
God send the land deliveranceFrae every reaving, riding Scot;We'll sune hae neither cow nor ewe,We'll sune hae neither staig nor stot.The outlaws come frae Liddesdale,5They herry Redesdale far and near;The rich man's gelding it maun gang,They canna pass the puir man's mear.Sure it were weel, had ilka thiefAround his neck a halter strang;10And curses heavy may they lightOn traitors vile oursels amang.Now Parcy Reed has Crosier ta'en,He has delivered him to the law;But Crosier says he'll do waur than that,15He'll make the tower o' Troughend fa'.And Crosier says he will do waur—He will do waur if waur can be;He'll make the bairns a' fatherless;And then, the land it may lie lee.20"To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed,"The morning sun is on the dew;The cauler breeze frae off the fellsWill lead the dogs to the quarry true."To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed,25And to the hunting he has gane;And the three fause Ha's o' GirsonsfieldAlang wi' him he has them ta'en.They hunted high, they hunted low,By heathery hill and birken shaw;30They raised a buck on Rooken Edge,And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe.They hunted high, they hunted low,They made the echoes ring amain;With music sweet o' horn and hound,35They merry made fair Redesdale glen.They hunted high, they hunted low,They hunted up, they hunted down,Until the day was past the prime,And it grew late in the afternoon.40They hunted high in Batinghope,When as the sun was sinking low,Says Parcy then, "Ca' off the dogs,We'll bait our steeds and homeward go."They lighted high in Batinghope,45Atween the brown and benty ground;They had but rested a little while,Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.There's nane may lean on a rotten staff,But him that risks to get a fa';50There's nane may in a traitor trust,And traitors black were every Ha'.They've stown the bridle off his steed,And they've put water in his lang gun;They've fixed his sword within the sheath,55That out again it winna come."Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,Or by your enemies be ta'en;For yonder are the five CrosiersA-coming owre the Hingin-stane."60"If they be five, and we be four,Sae that ye stand alang wi' me,Then every man ye will take one,And only leave but two to me:We will them meet as brave men ought,65And make them either fight or flee.""We mayna stand, we canna stand,We daurna stand alang wi' thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and we."70"O, turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha',O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me;When ye come to Troughend again,My gude black naig I will gie thee;He cost full twenty pound o' gowd,75Atween my brother John and me.""I mayna turn, I canna turn,I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and me."80"O, turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha',O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me;When ye come to Troughend again,A yoke o' owsen I'll gie thee.""I mayna turn, I canna turn,85I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and me.""O, turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha',O, turn now, man, and fight wi' me;90If ever we come to Troughend again,My daughter Jean I'll gie to thee.""I mayna turn, I canna turn,I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,95And they wad kill baith thee and me.""O, shame upon ye, traitors a'!I wish your hames ye may never see;Ye've stown the bridle off my naig,And I can neither fight nor flee.100"Ye've stown the bridle off my naig,And ye've put water i' my lang gun;Ye've fixed my sword within the sheath,That out again it winna come."He had but time to cross himsel',105A prayer he hadna time to say,Till round him came the Crosiers keen,All riding graithed, and in array."Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,Thou art the very man we sought;110Owre lang hae we been in your debt,Now will we pay you as we ought."We'll pay thee at the nearest tree,Where we shall hang thee like a hound;"Brave Parcy rais'd his fankit sword,115And fell'd the foremost to the ground.Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed,Alake, he was an unarmed man;Four weapons pierced him all at once,As they assailed him there and than.120They fell upon him all at once,They mangled him most cruellie;The slightest wound might caused his deid,And they have gi'en him thirty-three.They hacket off his hands and feet,125And left him lying on the lee."Now, Parcy Reed, we've paid our debt,Ye canna weel dispute the tale,"The Crosiers said, and off they rade—They rade the airt o' Liddesdale.130It was the hour o' gloamin' gray,When herds come in frae fauld and pen;A herd he saw a huntsman lie,Says he, "Can this be Laird Troughen'?""There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,135And some will ca' me Laird Troughen';It's little matter what they ca' me,My faes hae made me ill to ken."There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,And speak my praise in tower and town;140It's little matter what they do now,My life-blood rudds the heather brown."There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,And a' my virtues say and sing;I would much rather have just now145A draught o' water frae the spring!"The herd flung aff his clouted shoon,And to the nearest fountain ran;He made his bonnet serve a cup,And wan the blessing o' the dying man.150"Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair,—Ye maun do mair as I ye tell;Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend,And bear likewise my last farewell."A farewell to my wedded wife,155A farewell to my brother John,Wha sits into the Troughend tower,Wi' heart as black as any stone."A farewell to my daughter Jean,A farewell to my young sons five;160Had they been at their father's hand,I had this night been man alive."A farewell to my followers a',And a' my neighbours gude at need;Bid them think how the treacherous Ha's165Betrayed the life o' Parcy Reed."The laird o' Clennel bears my bow,The laird o' Brandon bears my brand;Whene'er they ride i' the border side,They'll mind the fate o' the laird Troughend."170
God send the land deliveranceFrae every reaving, riding Scot;We'll sune hae neither cow nor ewe,We'll sune hae neither staig nor stot.
The outlaws come frae Liddesdale,5They herry Redesdale far and near;The rich man's gelding it maun gang,They canna pass the puir man's mear.
Sure it were weel, had ilka thiefAround his neck a halter strang;10And curses heavy may they lightOn traitors vile oursels amang.
Now Parcy Reed has Crosier ta'en,He has delivered him to the law;But Crosier says he'll do waur than that,15He'll make the tower o' Troughend fa'.
And Crosier says he will do waur—He will do waur if waur can be;He'll make the bairns a' fatherless;And then, the land it may lie lee.20
"To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed,"The morning sun is on the dew;The cauler breeze frae off the fellsWill lead the dogs to the quarry true.
"To the hunting, ho!" cried Parcy Reed,25And to the hunting he has gane;And the three fause Ha's o' GirsonsfieldAlang wi' him he has them ta'en.
They hunted high, they hunted low,By heathery hill and birken shaw;30They raised a buck on Rooken Edge,And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe.
They hunted high, they hunted low,They made the echoes ring amain;With music sweet o' horn and hound,35They merry made fair Redesdale glen.
They hunted high, they hunted low,They hunted up, they hunted down,Until the day was past the prime,And it grew late in the afternoon.40
They hunted high in Batinghope,When as the sun was sinking low,Says Parcy then, "Ca' off the dogs,We'll bait our steeds and homeward go."
They lighted high in Batinghope,45Atween the brown and benty ground;They had but rested a little while,Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.
There's nane may lean on a rotten staff,But him that risks to get a fa';50There's nane may in a traitor trust,And traitors black were every Ha'.
They've stown the bridle off his steed,And they've put water in his lang gun;They've fixed his sword within the sheath,55That out again it winna come.
"Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,Or by your enemies be ta'en;For yonder are the five CrosiersA-coming owre the Hingin-stane."60
"If they be five, and we be four,Sae that ye stand alang wi' me,Then every man ye will take one,And only leave but two to me:We will them meet as brave men ought,65And make them either fight or flee."
"We mayna stand, we canna stand,We daurna stand alang wi' thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and we."70
"O, turn thee, turn thee, Johnie Ha',O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me;When ye come to Troughend again,My gude black naig I will gie thee;He cost full twenty pound o' gowd,75Atween my brother John and me."
"I mayna turn, I canna turn,I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and me."80
"O, turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha',O, turn thee, man, and fight wi' me;When ye come to Troughend again,A yoke o' owsen I'll gie thee."
"I mayna turn, I canna turn,85I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and me."
"O, turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha',O, turn now, man, and fight wi' me;90If ever we come to Troughend again,My daughter Jean I'll gie to thee."
"I mayna turn, I canna turn,I daurna turn and fight wi' thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,95And they wad kill baith thee and me."
"O, shame upon ye, traitors a'!I wish your hames ye may never see;Ye've stown the bridle off my naig,And I can neither fight nor flee.100
"Ye've stown the bridle off my naig,And ye've put water i' my lang gun;Ye've fixed my sword within the sheath,That out again it winna come."
He had but time to cross himsel',105A prayer he hadna time to say,Till round him came the Crosiers keen,All riding graithed, and in array.
"Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,Thou art the very man we sought;110Owre lang hae we been in your debt,Now will we pay you as we ought.
"We'll pay thee at the nearest tree,Where we shall hang thee like a hound;"Brave Parcy rais'd his fankit sword,115And fell'd the foremost to the ground.
Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed,Alake, he was an unarmed man;Four weapons pierced him all at once,As they assailed him there and than.120
They fell upon him all at once,They mangled him most cruellie;The slightest wound might caused his deid,And they have gi'en him thirty-three.They hacket off his hands and feet,125And left him lying on the lee.
"Now, Parcy Reed, we've paid our debt,Ye canna weel dispute the tale,"The Crosiers said, and off they rade—They rade the airt o' Liddesdale.130
It was the hour o' gloamin' gray,When herds come in frae fauld and pen;A herd he saw a huntsman lie,Says he, "Can this be Laird Troughen'?"
"There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,135And some will ca' me Laird Troughen';It's little matter what they ca' me,My faes hae made me ill to ken.
"There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,And speak my praise in tower and town;140It's little matter what they do now,My life-blood rudds the heather brown.
"There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,And a' my virtues say and sing;I would much rather have just now145A draught o' water frae the spring!"
The herd flung aff his clouted shoon,And to the nearest fountain ran;He made his bonnet serve a cup,And wan the blessing o' the dying man.150
"Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair,—Ye maun do mair as I ye tell;Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend,And bear likewise my last farewell.
"A farewell to my wedded wife,155A farewell to my brother John,Wha sits into the Troughend tower,Wi' heart as black as any stone.
"A farewell to my daughter Jean,A farewell to my young sons five;160Had they been at their father's hand,I had this night been man alive.
"A farewell to my followers a',And a' my neighbours gude at need;Bid them think how the treacherous Ha's165Betrayed the life o' Parcy Reed.
"The laird o' Clennel bears my bow,The laird o' Brandon bears my brand;Whene'er they ride i' the border side,They'll mind the fate o' the laird Troughend."170
"This ballad is founded upon a real event, which took place in the north of Scotland in the year 1571, during the struggles between the party which held out for the imprisoned Queen Mary, and that which endeavoured to maintain the authority of her infant son, James VI. The person designated Edom o' Gordon was Adam Gordon of Auchindown, brother of the Marquis of Huntly, and his deputy as lieutenant of the north of Scotland for the Queen. This gentleman committed many acts of oppression on the clan Forbes, under colour of the Queen's authority, and in one collision with that family, killed Arthur, brotherto Lord Forbes. He afterwards sent a party under one Captain Car, or Ker, to reduce the house of Towie, one of the chief seats of the name of Forbes. The proprietor of the mansion being from home, his lady, who was pregnant at the time, confiding too much in her sex and condition, not only refused to surrender, but gave Car some very opprobrious language over the walls, which irritated him so much that he set fire to the house, and burnt the whole inmates, amounting in all to thirty-seven persons. As Gordon never cashiered Car for this inhuman action, he was held by the public voice to be equally guilty, and accordingly [in one of the versions of the ballad] he is represented as the principal actor himself." (Chambers'sScottish Ballads, p. 67.) It appears that the Forbeses afterwards attempted to assassinate Adam Gordon in the streets of Paris. See more of this Captain Ker underThe Battell of Balrinnes, in the next volume.
The ballad was first printed by the Foulises at Glasgow, 1755, under the title ofEdom of Gordon, as taken down by Sir David Dalrymple from the recitation of a lady. It was inserted in theReliques, (i. 122,) "improved and enlarged," (or, as Ritson more correctly expresses the fact, "interpolated and corrupted,") by several stanzas from a fragment in Percy's manuscript, calledCaptain Adam Carre. Ritson published the following genuine and ancient copy, (Ancient Songs, ii. 38,) from a collection in the Cotton Library. He states that his MS. had received numerous alterations or corrections, all or most of which, as being evidently for the better, he had adopted into the text. We have added a copy ofEdom o' Gordongiven in Ritson'sScottish Songs, and in the Appendix an inferior version of the story, calledLoudoun Castle.
The names vary considerably in the different versions of this piece. The castle of Towie, or the house of Rothes, is here called the castle of Crecrynbroghe, in Percy's manuscript the castle of Brittonsborrow, and in the copy in the Appendix the locality is changed to Loudoun castle in Ayrshire. In like manner, Alexander Forbes is here turned into Lord Hamleton, and Captain Car is now called the lord of Easter-town and again the lord of Westerton-town.
In theGentleman's Magazine, vol. xci. Part 1, p. 451, will be found a modern ballad styledAdam Gordon, founded on the adventure of the freebooter of that name with Edward the First. Another on the same subject is given in Evans'sOld Ballads, iv. 86.