And carried him along,
Till he came to the queen's own bed,
And there he laid him down.
He then stepp'd out of the queen's bower,
As switt as any roe,
Till he came to the very place
Where the king himself did go.
The king said unto Rodingham,
"What news have you to me?"
He said, "Your queen's a false woman,
"As I did plainly see."
He hasten'd to the queen's chamber,
So costly and so fine,
Untill he came to the queen's own bed,
Where the leper-man was lain.
He looked on the leper-man,
Who lay on his queen's bed;
He lifted up the snaw-white sheets,
And thus he to him said:
"Plooky, plooky,[A]are your cheeks,
"And plooky is your chin,
"And plooky are your arms two
"My bonny queen's layne in.
"Since she has lain into your arms,
"She shall not lye in mine;
"Since she has kiss'd your ugsome mouth,
"She never shall kiss mine."
In anger he went to the queen,
Who fell upon her knee;
He said, "You false, unchaste woman,
"What's this you've done to me?"
The queen then turn'd herself about,
The tear blinded her e'e—
There's not a knight in all your court
"Dare give that name to me."
He said, "'Tis true that I do say;
"For I a proof did make:
"You shall be taken from my bower,
"And burned at a stake.
"Perhaps I'll take my word again,
"And may repent the same,
"If that you'll get a Christian man
"To fight that Rodingham."
"Alas! alas!" then cried our queen,
"Alas, and woe to me!
"There's not a man in all Scotland
"Will fight with him for me."
She breathed unto her messengers,
Sent them south, east, and west;
They could find none to fight with him,
Nor enter the contest.
She breathed on her messengers,
She sent them to the north;
And there they found Sir Hugh le Blond,
To fight him he came forth.
When unto him they did unfold
The circumstance all right,
He bade them go and tell the queen,
That for her he would fight.
The day came on that was to do
That dreadful tragedy;
Sir Hugh le Blond was not come up
To fight for our lady.
"Put on the fire," the monster said;
"It is twelve on the bell!"
"Tis scarcely ten, now," said the king;
"I heard the clock mysell."
Before the hour the queen is brought,
The burning to proceed;
In a black velvet chair she's set,
A token for the dead.
She saw the flames ascending high,
The tears blinded her e'e:
"Where is the worthy knight," she said,
"Who is to fight for me?"
Then up and spake the king himsel,
"My dearest, have no doubt,
"For yonder comes the man himsel,
"As bold as ere set out."
They then advanced to fight the duel
With swords of temper'd steel,
Till down the blood of Rodingham
Came running to his heel.
Sir Hugh took out a lusty sword,
'Twas of the metal clear;
And he has pierced Rodingham
Till's heart-blood did appear.
"Confess your treachery, now," he said,
"This day before you die!"
"I do confess my treachery,
"I shall no longer lye:
"I like to wicked Haman am,
"This day I shall be slain."
The queen was brought to her chamber
A good woman again.
The queen then said unto the king,
"Arbattle's near the sea;
"Give it unto the northern knight,
"That this day fought for me."
Then said the king, "Come here, sir knight,
"And drink a glass of wine;
"And, if Arbattle's not enough,
"To it we'll Fordoun join."
[A]
Plooky—Pimpled.
Plooky—Pimpled.
NOTES ON SIR HUGH LE BLOND.
Until he met a leper-man. &c.—P. 268. v. 4.
Filth, poorness of living, and the want of linen, made this horrible disease formerly very common in Scotland. Robert Bruce died of the leprosy; and, through all Scotland, there were hospitals erected for the reception of lepers, to prevent their mingling with the rest of the community.
"It is twelve on the bell!"
"Tis scarcely ten, now," said the king, &c.—P. 272. v. 2.
In the romance of Doolin, calledLa Fleur des Battailles, a false accuser discovers a similar impatience to hurry over the execution, before the arrival of the lady's champion:—"Ainsi comme Herchambaut vouloit jetter la dame dedans le feu, Sanxes de Clervaut va a lui, si lui dict; 'Sire Herchambaut, vous estes trop a blasmer; car vous ne devez mener ceste chose que par droit ainsi qu'il est ordonnè; je veux accorder que ceste dame ait un vassal qui la diffendra contre vous et Drouart, car elle n'a point de coulpe en ce que l'accusez; si la devez retarder jusque a midy, pour scavoir si un bon chevalier l'a viendra secourir centre vous et Drouart."—Cap. 22.
"And, if Arbattle's not enough,
"To it we'll Fordoun join."—P. 274. v. 1.
Arbattle is the ancient name of the barony of Arbuthnot. Fordun has long been the patrimony of the same family.
GRAEME AND BEWICK.
The date of this ballad, and its subject, are uncertain. From internal evidence, I am inclined to place it late in the sixteenth century. Of the Graemes enough is elsewhere said. It is not impossible, that such a clan, as they are described, may have retained the rude ignorance of ancient border manners to a later period than their more inland neighbours; and hence the taunt of old Bewick to Graeme. Bewick is an ancient name in Cumberland and Northumberland. The ballad itself was given, in the first edition, from the recitation of a gentleman, who professed to have forgotten some verses. These have, in the present edition, been partly restored, from a copy obtained by the recitation of an ostler in Carlisle, which has also furnished some slight alterations.
The ballad is remarkable, as containing, probably, the very latest allusion to the institution of brotherhood in arms, which was held so sacred in the days of chivalry, and whose origin may be traced up to the Scythian ancestors of Odin. Many of the old romances turn entirely upon the sanctity of the engagement, contracted by thefreres d'armes. In that ofAmis and Amelion, the hero slays his two infant children, that he may compound a potent salve with their blood, to cure the leprosy of his brother in arms. The romance ofGyron le Courtoishas a similar subject. I think the hero, like Graeme in the ballad, kills himself, out of some high point of honour towards his friend.
The quarrel of the two old chieftains, over their wine, is highly in character. Two generations have not elapsed since the custom of drinking deep, and taking deadly revenge for slight offences, produced very tragical events on the border; to which the custom of going armed to festive meetings contributed not a little. A minstrel, who flourished about 1720, and is often talked of by the old people, happened to be performing before one of these parties, when they betook themselves to their swords. The cautious musician, accustomed to such scenes, dived beneath the table. A moment after, a man's hand, struck off with a back-sword, fell beside him. The minstrel secured it carefully in his pocket, as he would have done any other loose moveable; sagely observing, the owner would miss it sorely next morning. I chuse rather to give this ludicrous example, than some graver instances of bloodshed at border orgies. I observe it is said, in a MS. account of Tweeddale, in praise of the inhabitants, that, "when they fall in the humour of good fellowship, they use it as a cement and bond of society, and not to foment revenge, quarrels, and murders, which is usual in other countries;" by which we ought, probably, to understand Selkirkshire and Teviotdale.—Macfarlane's MSS.
GRAEME AND BEWICK.
Gude lord Graeme is to Carlisle gane;
Sir Robert Bewick there met he;
And arm in arm to the wine they did go,
And they drank till they were baith merrie.
Gude lord Graeme has ta'en up the cup,
"Sir Robert Bewick, and here's to thee!
"And here's to our twae sons at hame!
"For they like us best in our ain countrie."
"O were your son a lad like mine,
"And learn'd some books that he could read,
"They might hae been twae brethren bauld,
"And they might hae bragged the border side."
"But your son's a lad, and he is but bad,
"And billie to my son he canna be;
"Ye sent him to the schools, and he wadna learn;
"Ye bought him books, and he wadna read."
"But my blessing shall he never earn,
"Till I see how his arm can defend his head."
Gude lord Graeme has a reckoning call'd,
A reckoning then called he;
And he paid a crown, and it went roun';
It was all for the gude wine and free.[A]
And he has to the stable gaen,
Where there stude thirty steeds and three;
He's ta'en his ain horse amang them a',
And hame he' rade sae manfullie.
"Wellcome, my auld father!" said Christie Graeme,
"But where sae lang frae hame were ye?"
"It's I hae been at Carlisle town,
"And a baffled man by thee I be.
"I hae been at Carlisle town,
"Where Sir Robert Bewick he met me;
"He says ye're a lad, and ye are but bad,
"And billie to his son ye canna be.
"I sent ye to the schools, and ye wadna learn;
"I bought ye books, and ye wadna read;
"Therefore, my blessing ye shall never earn,
"Till I see with Bewick thou save thy head."
"Now, God forbid, my auld father,
"That ever sic a thing suld be!
"Billie Bewick was my master, and I was his scholar,
"And aye sae weel as he learned me."
"O hald thy tongue, thou limmer lown,
"And of thy talking let me be!
"If thou does na end me this quarrel soon,
"There is my glove I'll fight wi' thee."
Then Christie Graeme he stooped low
Unto the ground, you shall understand;—
"O father, put on your glove again,
"The wind has blown it from your hand."
"What's that thou says, thou limmer loun?
"How dares thou stand to speak to me?
"If thou do not end this quarrel soon,
"There's my right hand thou shalt fight with me."
Then Christie Graeme's to his chamber gane,
To consider weel what then should be;
Whether he suld fight with his auld father
Or with his billie Bewick, he.
"If I suld kill my billie dear,
"God's blessing I sall never win;
"But if I strike at my auld father,
"I think 'twald be a mortal sin.
"But if I kill my billie dear,
"It is God's will! so let it be.
"But I make a vow, ere I gang frae hame,
"That I shall be the next man's die."
Then he's put on's back a good ould jack,
And on his head a cap of steel,
And sword and buckler by his side;
O gin he did not become them weel!
We'll leave off talking of Christie Graeme,
And talk of him again belive;
And we will talk of bonnie Bewick,
Where he was teaching his scholars five.
When he had taught them well to fence,
And handle swords without any doubt;
He took his sword under his arm,
And he walked his father's close about.
He looked atween him and the sun,
And a' to see what there might be,
Till he spied a man, in armour bright,
Was riding that way most hastilie.
"O wha is yon, that came this way,
"Sae hastilie that hither came?
"I think it be my brother dear;
"I think it be young Christie Graeme."
"Ye're welcome here, my billie dear,
"And thrice you're welcome unto me!"
"But I'm wae to say, I've seen the day,
"When I am come to fight with thee.
"My father's gane to Carlisle town,
"Wi' your father Bewick there met he;
"He says I'm a lad, and I am but bad,
"And a baffled man I trow I be.
"He sent me to schools, and I wadna learn;
"He gae me books, and I wadna read;