Chapter 105

1It rained so high, it rained so low,. . . . . . .In the Jew’s garden all below.2Out came a Jew,All clothëd in green,Saying, Come hither, come hither, my sweet little boy,And fetch your ball again.3‘I won’t come hither, I shan’t come hither,Without my school-fellows all;My mother would beat me, my father would kill me,And cause my blood to pour.4‘He showed me an apple as green as grass,He showed me a gay gold ring,He showed me a cherry as red as blood,And that enticed me in.5‘He enticed me into the parlour,He enticed me into the kitchen,And there I saw my own dear sister,A picking of a chicken.6‘He set me in a golden chairAnd gave me sugar sweet;He laid me on a dresser-board,And stabbed me like a sheep.7‘With a Bible at my head,A Testament at my feet,A prayer-book at the side of me,And a penknife in so deep.8‘If my mother should enquire for me,Tell her I’m asleep;Tell her I’m at heaven’s gate,Where her and I shall meet.’

1It rained so high, it rained so low,. . . . . . .In the Jew’s garden all below.

It rained so high, it rained so low,

. . . . . . .

In the Jew’s garden all below.

2Out came a Jew,All clothëd in green,Saying, Come hither, come hither, my sweet little boy,And fetch your ball again.

Out came a Jew,

All clothëd in green,

Saying, Come hither, come hither, my sweet little boy,

And fetch your ball again.

3‘I won’t come hither, I shan’t come hither,Without my school-fellows all;My mother would beat me, my father would kill me,And cause my blood to pour.

‘I won’t come hither, I shan’t come hither,

Without my school-fellows all;

My mother would beat me, my father would kill me,

And cause my blood to pour.

4‘He showed me an apple as green as grass,He showed me a gay gold ring,He showed me a cherry as red as blood,And that enticed me in.

‘He showed me an apple as green as grass,

He showed me a gay gold ring,

He showed me a cherry as red as blood,

And that enticed me in.

5‘He enticed me into the parlour,He enticed me into the kitchen,And there I saw my own dear sister,A picking of a chicken.

‘He enticed me into the parlour,

He enticed me into the kitchen,

And there I saw my own dear sister,

A picking of a chicken.

6‘He set me in a golden chairAnd gave me sugar sweet;He laid me on a dresser-board,And stabbed me like a sheep.

‘He set me in a golden chair

And gave me sugar sweet;

He laid me on a dresser-board,

And stabbed me like a sheep.

7‘With a Bible at my head,A Testament at my feet,A prayer-book at the side of me,And a penknife in so deep.

‘With a Bible at my head,

A Testament at my feet,

A prayer-book at the side of me,

And a penknife in so deep.

8‘If my mother should enquire for me,Tell her I’m asleep;Tell her I’m at heaven’s gate,Where her and I shall meet.’

‘If my mother should enquire for me,

Tell her I’m asleep;

Tell her I’m at heaven’s gate,

Where her and I shall meet.’

Pp. 258 ff.

‘Earl Marshall,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 4 b, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1The queen of England she is seek,And seek and like to dee;She has sent for friers out of France,To bespeek hir speed[i]ly.2The king has cald on his merrymen,By thirtys and by threes;Earl Marshall should have been the formest man,But the very last man was he.3‘The queen of England s[h]e is seek,And seek and like to dee,And she has sent for friers out of France,To bespeek hir speedyly.4‘But I will put on a frier’s weeg,And ye’l put on another,And we’ll away to Queen Helen gaits,Like friers both together.’5‘O no, no,’ says Earl Marshall,‘For this it must not be;For if the queen get word of that,High hanged I will be.’6‘But I will swear by my septer and crown,And by the seas so free,I will swear by my septer and crown,Earl Marshall, thow’s no dee.’7So he has put on a frier’s wig,And the king has put on another,And they are away to Queen Helen gaits,Like friers both together.8When they came to Queen Helen gaits,They tirled at the pin;There was non so ready as the queene herselfTo open and let them in.9‘O are you two Scottish dogs?—And hanged you shall be—Or are [you] friers come out of France,To bespeek me speedily?’10‘We are not two Scottish dogs,Nor hanged we shall be;For we have not spoken a wrong wordSince we came over the sea.’11‘Well then, the very first that ever I sindI freely confess to thee;Earl Marshall took my maidenheadBelow yon greenwood tree.’12‘That is a sin, and very great sin,But the Pope will pardon thee;’‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,But a feert, feert heart had he.13‘The very next sin that ever I sindI freely confess to thee;I had [poisen] seven years in my breastTo poisen King Hendry.’14‘That is a sin, and very great sin,But the Pope forgiveth thee;’‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,But a feert, feert heart had he.15‘The very next sin that ever I sindI freely confess to thee;I poisened one of my court’s ladies,Was far more fairer than me.’16‘That is a sin, and a very great sin,But the Pope forgiveth thee;’‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,But a feert, feert heart had he.17‘Do you see yon bony boys,Playing at the baw?The oldest of them is Earl Marshall’s,And I like him best of all.’18‘That is a sin, and very great sin,But the Pope forgiveth thee;’‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,But a feert, feert heart had he.19‘Do ye see two bony [boys],Playing at the baw?The youngest of them is King Hendry’s,And I like him worst of all.20‘Because he is headed like a bull,And his nose is like a boar;’‘What is the matter?’ says King Henry,‘For he shall be my heir.’21Now he put off his frier’s wigAnd drest himself [in] red;She wrung hir hands, and tore hir hair,And s[w]ore she was betraid.22‘Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,And by the seas so free,Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,Earl Marshall, thowst have died.’

1The queen of England she is seek,And seek and like to dee;She has sent for friers out of France,To bespeek hir speed[i]ly.

The queen of England she is seek,

And seek and like to dee;

She has sent for friers out of France,

To bespeek hir speed[i]ly.

2The king has cald on his merrymen,By thirtys and by threes;Earl Marshall should have been the formest man,But the very last man was he.

The king has cald on his merrymen,

By thirtys and by threes;

Earl Marshall should have been the formest man,

But the very last man was he.

3‘The queen of England s[h]e is seek,And seek and like to dee,And she has sent for friers out of France,To bespeek hir speedyly.

‘The queen of England s[h]e is seek,

And seek and like to dee,

And she has sent for friers out of France,

To bespeek hir speedyly.

4‘But I will put on a frier’s weeg,And ye’l put on another,And we’ll away to Queen Helen gaits,Like friers both together.’

‘But I will put on a frier’s weeg,

And ye’l put on another,

And we’ll away to Queen Helen gaits,

Like friers both together.’

5‘O no, no,’ says Earl Marshall,‘For this it must not be;For if the queen get word of that,High hanged I will be.’

‘O no, no,’ says Earl Marshall,

‘For this it must not be;

For if the queen get word of that,

High hanged I will be.’

6‘But I will swear by my septer and crown,And by the seas so free,I will swear by my septer and crown,Earl Marshall, thow’s no dee.’

‘But I will swear by my septer and crown,

And by the seas so free,

I will swear by my septer and crown,

Earl Marshall, thow’s no dee.’

7So he has put on a frier’s wig,And the king has put on another,And they are away to Queen Helen gaits,Like friers both together.

So he has put on a frier’s wig,

And the king has put on another,

And they are away to Queen Helen gaits,

Like friers both together.

8When they came to Queen Helen gaits,They tirled at the pin;There was non so ready as the queene herselfTo open and let them in.

When they came to Queen Helen gaits,

They tirled at the pin;

There was non so ready as the queene herself

To open and let them in.

9‘O are you two Scottish dogs?—And hanged you shall be—Or are [you] friers come out of France,To bespeek me speedily?’

‘O are you two Scottish dogs?—

And hanged you shall be—

Or are [you] friers come out of France,

To bespeek me speedily?’

10‘We are not two Scottish dogs,Nor hanged we shall be;For we have not spoken a wrong wordSince we came over the sea.’

‘We are not two Scottish dogs,

Nor hanged we shall be;

For we have not spoken a wrong word

Since we came over the sea.’

11‘Well then, the very first that ever I sindI freely confess to thee;Earl Marshall took my maidenheadBelow yon greenwood tree.’

‘Well then, the very first that ever I sind

I freely confess to thee;

Earl Marshall took my maidenhead

Below yon greenwood tree.’

12‘That is a sin, and very great sin,But the Pope will pardon thee;’‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,But a feert, feert heart had he.

‘That is a sin, and very great sin,

But the Pope will pardon thee;’

‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,

But a feert, feert heart had he.

13‘The very next sin that ever I sindI freely confess to thee;I had [poisen] seven years in my breastTo poisen King Hendry.’

‘The very next sin that ever I sind

I freely confess to thee;

I had [poisen] seven years in my breast

To poisen King Hendry.’

14‘That is a sin, and very great sin,But the Pope forgiveth thee;’‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,But a feert, feert heart had he.

‘That is a sin, and very great sin,

But the Pope forgiveth thee;’

‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,

But a feert, feert heart had he.

15‘The very next sin that ever I sindI freely confess to thee;I poisened one of my court’s ladies,Was far more fairer than me.’

‘The very next sin that ever I sind

I freely confess to thee;

I poisened one of my court’s ladies,

Was far more fairer than me.’

16‘That is a sin, and a very great sin,But the Pope forgiveth thee;’‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,But a feert, feert heart had he.

‘That is a sin, and a very great sin,

But the Pope forgiveth thee;’

‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,

But a feert, feert heart had he.

17‘Do you see yon bony boys,Playing at the baw?The oldest of them is Earl Marshall’s,And I like him best of all.’

‘Do you see yon bony boys,

Playing at the baw?

The oldest of them is Earl Marshall’s,

And I like him best of all.’

18‘That is a sin, and very great sin,But the Pope forgiveth thee;’‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,But a feert, feert heart had he.

‘That is a sin, and very great sin,

But the Pope forgiveth thee;’

‘Amene, Amene,’ says Earl Marshall,

But a feert, feert heart had he.

19‘Do ye see two bony [boys],Playing at the baw?The youngest of them is King Hendry’s,And I like him worst of all.

‘Do ye see two bony [boys],

Playing at the baw?

The youngest of them is King Hendry’s,

And I like him worst of all.

20‘Because he is headed like a bull,And his nose is like a boar;’‘What is the matter?’ says King Henry,‘For he shall be my heir.’

‘Because he is headed like a bull,

And his nose is like a boar;’

‘What is the matter?’ says King Henry,

‘For he shall be my heir.’

21Now he put off his frier’s wigAnd drest himself [in] red;She wrung hir hands, and tore hir hair,And s[w]ore she was betraid.

Now he put off his frier’s wig

And drest himself [in] red;

She wrung hir hands, and tore hir hair,

And s[w]ore she was betraid.

22‘Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,And by the seas so free,Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,Earl Marshall, thowst have died.’

‘Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,

And by the seas so free,

Had I not sworn by my septer and crown,

Earl Marshall, thowst have died.’

42. yet.

43. will.

142. they.

192. is Earl Marshall’s.

III, 276, note †. I had remarked that this ballad was after the fashion of Russian bylinas. Professor Wollner indicates especially the bylina of Dobrynja and Vasilij Kazimirović, which in a general way is singularly like ‘Hugh Spencer.’ In this very fine ballad, Vladimir is in arrears with his tribute to a Saracen king, and appoints Vasilij his envoy, to make payment. Vasilij asks that he may have Dobrynja go with him, and Dobrynja asks for Ivanuka’s company. (CompareB.) Dobrynja beats the king at chess and at the bow (which corresponds to the justing in the English ballad); then follows a great fight, the result of which is that the Saracen king is fain to pay tribute himself. Wollner, Volksepik der Grossrussen, pp. 123–125.

Other examples of difficult feats done in foreign lands, commonly by comrades of the hero, in Karadić, II, 445, 465, Nos 75, 79; also II, 132, No 29; and the Bulgarian Sbornik, II, 130, 1, 132, 3. (W. W.)

Pp. 294, 520. St George Our Lady’s Knight. ‘Swete Sainct George, our ladies knyght,’ Skelton, ‘Against the Scottes,’ v. 141, Dyce, I, 186; ‘Thankyd be Saynte Gorge our ladyes knythe,’ in the ‘Ballade of the Scottysche Kynge,’ p. 95 of the fac-simile edition by J. Ashton, 1882 (where the passage is somewhat different). In his note, II, 220, to the poem ‘Against the Scottes,’ Dyce remarks that St George is called Our Lady’s Knight “in a song written about the same time as the present poem, Cott. MS. Domit. A. xviii. fol. 248.” This appears to be the song quoted from the same MS. by Sir H. Ellis, Original Letters, First Series, I, 79:

‘Swet Sent Jorge, our Ladyes knyte,Save Kyng Hary bothe be day and nyȝth.’

‘Swet Sent Jorge, our Ladyes knyte,

Save Kyng Hary bothe be day and nyȝth.’

In his Chorus de Dis, super triumphali victoria contra Gallos, etc., Skelton speaks of St George as Gloria Cappadocis divæ milesque Mariæ, v. 13; Dyce, I, 191. See also John Anstis, The Register of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, London, 1724, I, 122; II, 27, 48 f. (G. L. K.)

299.C.First published in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, I, 27. 13,4there read The doughty earl of Douglas rode Into England, to catch a prey; 311, Yield thee, O yield thee, etc., and 313, Whom to shall I yield, said, etc.

For his later edition of ‘The Battle of Otterburn,’ Scott says he used “two copies ... obtained from the recitation of old persons residing at the head of Ettrick Forest.” James Hogg sent Scott, in a letter dated September 10 (1802?), twenty-nine stanzas “collected from two different people, a crazy old man and a woman deranged in her mind,” and subsequently recovered, by “pumping” his “old friends’ memory,” other lines and half lines out of which (using the necessary cement, and not a little) he built up eleven stanzas more, and these he seems to have forwarded in the same letter. These two communications are what is described by Scott as two copies. They will be combined here according to Hogg’s directions, and the second set of verses bracketed for distinction.

The materials out of whichCwas constructed can now easily be separated. We must bear in mind that Scott allowed himself a liberty of alteration; this he did not, however, carry very far in the present instance. 1–13, 15–19, 23 are taken, with slight change or none, from Hogg’s first “copy” of verses; 24, 26–29 from the second; 30–35 are repeated from Scott’s first edition. 14 is altered fromA16; 20=Hogg 211,2+ Scott; 21=Hogg 221+ Hogg 352–4; 22=Hogg 231,3+ Scott; 25=Hogg 281+B82–4. Scott did well to drop Hogg 9, and ought to have dropped Hogg 8.

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 132, Abbotsford, stanzas 1–24, 35–38, 40; the same, No 5, stanzas 25–34, 39. Communicated to Scott, in a letter, by James Hogg.

1It fell about the Lammas time,When the muir-men won their hay,That the doughty Earl Douglas wentInto England to catch a prey.2He chose the Gordons and the Graemes,With the Lindsays light and gay;But the Jardines wadna wi him ride,And they rued it to this day.3And he has burnt the dales o TineAnd part of Almonshire,And three good towers on Roxburgh fellsHe left them all on fire.4Then he marchd up to Newcastle,And rode it round about:‘O whae’s the lord of this castle,Or whae’s the lady o ‘t?’5But up spake proud Lord Piercy then,And O but he spak hie!I am the lord of this castle,And my wife’s the lady gaye.’6‘If you are lord of this castle,Sae weel it pleases me;For ere I cross the border againThe ane of us shall die.’7He took a lang speir in his hand,Was made of the metal free,And for to meet the Douglas thenHe rode most furiously.8But O how pale his lady lookd,Frae off the castle wa,When down before the Scottish spearShe saw brave Piercy fa!9How pale and wan his lady lookd,Frae off the castle hieght,When she beheld her Piercy yieldTo doughty Douglas’ might!10‘Had we twa been upon the green,And never an eye to see,I should have had ye flesh and fell;But your sword shall gae wi me.’11‘But gae you up to Otterburn,And there wait dayes three,And if I come not ere three days’ endA fause lord ca ye me.’12‘The Otterburn’s a bonny burn,’Tis pleasant there to be,But there is naught at OtterburnTo feed my men and me.13‘The deer rins wild owr hill and dale,The birds fly wild frae tree to tree,And there is neither bread nor kaleTo fend my men and me.14‘But I will stay at Otterburn,Where you shall welcome be;And if ye come not ere three days’ endA coward I’ll ca thee.’15‘Then gae your ways to Otterburn,And there wait dayes three;And if I come not ere three days’ endA coward ye’s ca me.’16They lighted high on Otterburn,Upon the bent so brown,They lighted high on Otterburn,And threw their pallions down.17And he that had a bonny boySent his horses to grass,And he that had not a bonny boyHis ain servant he was.18But up then spak a little page,Before the peep of the dawn;‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,For Piercy’s hard at hand!’19‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye loud liar,Sae loud I hear ye lie!The Piercy hadna men yestreenTo dight my men and me.20‘But I have seen a dreary dream,Beyond the isle o Sky;I saw a dead man won the fight,And I think that man was I.’21He belted on his good broad-swordAnd to the field he ran,Where he met wi the proud Piercy,And a’ his goodly train.22When Piercy wi the Douglas met,I wat he was right keen;They swakked their swords till sair they swat,And the blood ran them between.23But Piercy wi his good broad-sword,Was made o the metal free,Has wounded Douglas on the browTill backward he did flee.24Then he calld on his little page,And said, Run speedily,And bring my ain dear sister’s son,Sir Hugh Montgomery.25[Who, when he saw the Douglas bleed,His heart was wonder wae:‘Now, by my sword, that haughty lordShall rue before he gae.’26‘My nephew bauld,’ the Douglas said,‘What boots the death of ane?Last night I dreamd a dreary dream,And I ken the day’s thy ain.27‘I dreamd I saw a battle foughtBeyond the isle o Sky,When lo, a dead man wan the field,And I thought that man was I.28‘My wound is deep, I fain wad sleep,Nae mair I’ll fighting see;Gae lay me in the breaken bushThat grows on yonder lee.29‘But tell na ane of my brave menThat I lye bleeding wan,But let the name of Douglas stillBe shouted in the van.30‘And bury me here on this lee,Beneath the blooming brier,And never let a mortal kenA kindly Scot lyes here.’31He liftit up that noble lord,Wi the saut tear in his ee,And hid him in the breaken bush,On yonder lily lee.32The moon was clear, the day drew near,The spears in flinters flew,But mony gallant EnglishmanEre day the Scotsmen slew.33Sir Hugh Montgomery he rodeThro all the field in sight,And loud the name of Douglas stillHe urgd wi a’ his might.34The Gordons good, in English bloodThey steepd their hose and shoon,The Lindsays flew like fire about,Till a’ the fray was doon.]35When stout Sir Hugh wi Piercy met,I wat he was right fain;They swakked their swords till sair they swat,And the blood ran down like rain.36‘O yield thee, Piercy,’ said Sir Hugh,‘O yield, or ye shall die!’‘Fain wad I yield,’ proud Piercy said,‘But neer to loun like thee.’37‘Thou shalt not yield to knave nor loun,Nor shalt thou yield to me;But yield thee to the breaken bushThat grows on yonder lee.’38‘I will not yield to bush or brier,Nor will I yield to thee;But I will yield to Lord Douglas,Or Sir Hugh Montgomery.’39[When Piercy knew it was Sir Hugh,He fell low on his knee,But soon he raisd him up again,Wi mickle courtesy.]40He left not an Englishman on the field. . . . . . .That he hadna either killd or taenEre his heart’s blood was cauld.

1It fell about the Lammas time,When the muir-men won their hay,That the doughty Earl Douglas wentInto England to catch a prey.

It fell about the Lammas time,

When the muir-men won their hay,

That the doughty Earl Douglas went

Into England to catch a prey.

2He chose the Gordons and the Graemes,With the Lindsays light and gay;But the Jardines wadna wi him ride,And they rued it to this day.

He chose the Gordons and the Graemes,

With the Lindsays light and gay;

But the Jardines wadna wi him ride,

And they rued it to this day.

3And he has burnt the dales o TineAnd part of Almonshire,And three good towers on Roxburgh fellsHe left them all on fire.

And he has burnt the dales o Tine

And part of Almonshire,

And three good towers on Roxburgh fells

He left them all on fire.

4Then he marchd up to Newcastle,And rode it round about:‘O whae’s the lord of this castle,Or whae’s the lady o ‘t?’

Then he marchd up to Newcastle,

And rode it round about:

‘O whae’s the lord of this castle,

Or whae’s the lady o ‘t?’

5But up spake proud Lord Piercy then,And O but he spak hie!I am the lord of this castle,And my wife’s the lady gaye.’

But up spake proud Lord Piercy then,

And O but he spak hie!

I am the lord of this castle,

And my wife’s the lady gaye.’

6‘If you are lord of this castle,Sae weel it pleases me;For ere I cross the border againThe ane of us shall die.’

‘If you are lord of this castle,

Sae weel it pleases me;

For ere I cross the border again

The ane of us shall die.’

7He took a lang speir in his hand,Was made of the metal free,And for to meet the Douglas thenHe rode most furiously.

He took a lang speir in his hand,

Was made of the metal free,

And for to meet the Douglas then

He rode most furiously.

8But O how pale his lady lookd,Frae off the castle wa,When down before the Scottish spearShe saw brave Piercy fa!

But O how pale his lady lookd,

Frae off the castle wa,

When down before the Scottish spear

She saw brave Piercy fa!

9How pale and wan his lady lookd,Frae off the castle hieght,When she beheld her Piercy yieldTo doughty Douglas’ might!

How pale and wan his lady lookd,

Frae off the castle hieght,

When she beheld her Piercy yield

To doughty Douglas’ might!

10‘Had we twa been upon the green,And never an eye to see,I should have had ye flesh and fell;But your sword shall gae wi me.’

‘Had we twa been upon the green,

And never an eye to see,

I should have had ye flesh and fell;

But your sword shall gae wi me.’

11‘But gae you up to Otterburn,And there wait dayes three,And if I come not ere three days’ endA fause lord ca ye me.’

‘But gae you up to Otterburn,

And there wait dayes three,

And if I come not ere three days’ end

A fause lord ca ye me.’

12‘The Otterburn’s a bonny burn,’Tis pleasant there to be,But there is naught at OtterburnTo feed my men and me.

‘The Otterburn’s a bonny burn,

’Tis pleasant there to be,

But there is naught at Otterburn

To feed my men and me.

13‘The deer rins wild owr hill and dale,The birds fly wild frae tree to tree,And there is neither bread nor kaleTo fend my men and me.

‘The deer rins wild owr hill and dale,

The birds fly wild frae tree to tree,

And there is neither bread nor kale

To fend my men and me.

14‘But I will stay at Otterburn,Where you shall welcome be;And if ye come not ere three days’ endA coward I’ll ca thee.’

‘But I will stay at Otterburn,

Where you shall welcome be;

And if ye come not ere three days’ end

A coward I’ll ca thee.’

15‘Then gae your ways to Otterburn,And there wait dayes three;And if I come not ere three days’ endA coward ye’s ca me.’

‘Then gae your ways to Otterburn,

And there wait dayes three;

And if I come not ere three days’ end

A coward ye’s ca me.’

16They lighted high on Otterburn,Upon the bent so brown,They lighted high on Otterburn,And threw their pallions down.

They lighted high on Otterburn,

Upon the bent so brown,

They lighted high on Otterburn,

And threw their pallions down.

17And he that had a bonny boySent his horses to grass,And he that had not a bonny boyHis ain servant he was.

And he that had a bonny boy

Sent his horses to grass,

And he that had not a bonny boy

His ain servant he was.

18But up then spak a little page,Before the peep of the dawn;‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,For Piercy’s hard at hand!’

But up then spak a little page,

Before the peep of the dawn;

‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,

For Piercy’s hard at hand!’

19‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye loud liar,Sae loud I hear ye lie!The Piercy hadna men yestreenTo dight my men and me.

‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye loud liar,

Sae loud I hear ye lie!

The Piercy hadna men yestreen

To dight my men and me.

20‘But I have seen a dreary dream,Beyond the isle o Sky;I saw a dead man won the fight,And I think that man was I.’

‘But I have seen a dreary dream,

Beyond the isle o Sky;

I saw a dead man won the fight,

And I think that man was I.’

21He belted on his good broad-swordAnd to the field he ran,Where he met wi the proud Piercy,And a’ his goodly train.

He belted on his good broad-sword

And to the field he ran,

Where he met wi the proud Piercy,

And a’ his goodly train.

22When Piercy wi the Douglas met,I wat he was right keen;They swakked their swords till sair they swat,And the blood ran them between.

When Piercy wi the Douglas met,

I wat he was right keen;

They swakked their swords till sair they swat,

And the blood ran them between.

23But Piercy wi his good broad-sword,Was made o the metal free,Has wounded Douglas on the browTill backward he did flee.

But Piercy wi his good broad-sword,

Was made o the metal free,

Has wounded Douglas on the brow

Till backward he did flee.

24Then he calld on his little page,And said, Run speedily,And bring my ain dear sister’s son,Sir Hugh Montgomery.

Then he calld on his little page,

And said, Run speedily,

And bring my ain dear sister’s son,

Sir Hugh Montgomery.

25[Who, when he saw the Douglas bleed,His heart was wonder wae:‘Now, by my sword, that haughty lordShall rue before he gae.’

[Who, when he saw the Douglas bleed,

His heart was wonder wae:

‘Now, by my sword, that haughty lord

Shall rue before he gae.’

26‘My nephew bauld,’ the Douglas said,‘What boots the death of ane?Last night I dreamd a dreary dream,And I ken the day’s thy ain.

‘My nephew bauld,’ the Douglas said,

‘What boots the death of ane?

Last night I dreamd a dreary dream,

And I ken the day’s thy ain.

27‘I dreamd I saw a battle foughtBeyond the isle o Sky,When lo, a dead man wan the field,And I thought that man was I.

‘I dreamd I saw a battle fought

Beyond the isle o Sky,

When lo, a dead man wan the field,

And I thought that man was I.

28‘My wound is deep, I fain wad sleep,Nae mair I’ll fighting see;Gae lay me in the breaken bushThat grows on yonder lee.

‘My wound is deep, I fain wad sleep,

Nae mair I’ll fighting see;

Gae lay me in the breaken bush

That grows on yonder lee.

29‘But tell na ane of my brave menThat I lye bleeding wan,But let the name of Douglas stillBe shouted in the van.

‘But tell na ane of my brave men

That I lye bleeding wan,

But let the name of Douglas still

Be shouted in the van.

30‘And bury me here on this lee,Beneath the blooming brier,And never let a mortal kenA kindly Scot lyes here.’

‘And bury me here on this lee,

Beneath the blooming brier,

And never let a mortal ken

A kindly Scot lyes here.’

31He liftit up that noble lord,Wi the saut tear in his ee,And hid him in the breaken bush,On yonder lily lee.

He liftit up that noble lord,

Wi the saut tear in his ee,

And hid him in the breaken bush,

On yonder lily lee.

32The moon was clear, the day drew near,The spears in flinters flew,But mony gallant EnglishmanEre day the Scotsmen slew.

The moon was clear, the day drew near,

The spears in flinters flew,

But mony gallant Englishman

Ere day the Scotsmen slew.

33Sir Hugh Montgomery he rodeThro all the field in sight,And loud the name of Douglas stillHe urgd wi a’ his might.

Sir Hugh Montgomery he rode

Thro all the field in sight,

And loud the name of Douglas still

He urgd wi a’ his might.

34The Gordons good, in English bloodThey steepd their hose and shoon,The Lindsays flew like fire about,Till a’ the fray was doon.]

The Gordons good, in English blood

They steepd their hose and shoon,

The Lindsays flew like fire about,

Till a’ the fray was doon.]

35When stout Sir Hugh wi Piercy met,I wat he was right fain;They swakked their swords till sair they swat,And the blood ran down like rain.

When stout Sir Hugh wi Piercy met,

I wat he was right fain;

They swakked their swords till sair they swat,

And the blood ran down like rain.

36‘O yield thee, Piercy,’ said Sir Hugh,‘O yield, or ye shall die!’‘Fain wad I yield,’ proud Piercy said,‘But neer to loun like thee.’

‘O yield thee, Piercy,’ said Sir Hugh,

‘O yield, or ye shall die!’

‘Fain wad I yield,’ proud Piercy said,

‘But neer to loun like thee.’

37‘Thou shalt not yield to knave nor loun,Nor shalt thou yield to me;But yield thee to the breaken bushThat grows on yonder lee.’

‘Thou shalt not yield to knave nor loun,

Nor shalt thou yield to me;

But yield thee to the breaken bush

That grows on yonder lee.’

38‘I will not yield to bush or brier,Nor will I yield to thee;But I will yield to Lord Douglas,Or Sir Hugh Montgomery.’

‘I will not yield to bush or brier,

Nor will I yield to thee;

But I will yield to Lord Douglas,

Or Sir Hugh Montgomery.’

39[When Piercy knew it was Sir Hugh,He fell low on his knee,But soon he raisd him up again,Wi mickle courtesy.]

[When Piercy knew it was Sir Hugh,

He fell low on his knee,

But soon he raisd him up again,

Wi mickle courtesy.]

40He left not an Englishman on the field. . . . . . .That he hadna either killd or taenEre his heart’s blood was cauld.

He left not an Englishman on the field

. . . . . . .

That he hadna either killd or taen

Ere his heart’s blood was cauld.

353. swords still.

Hogg writes:

“As for the scraps of Otterburn which I have got, they seem to have been some confused jumble, made by some person who had learned both the songs which you have, and in time had been straitened to make one out of them both. But you shall have it as I had it, saving that, as usual, I have sometimes helped the measure, without altering one original word.”

After 24: “This ballad, which I have collected from two different people, a crazy old man and a woman deranged in her mind, seems hitherto considerably entire; but now, when it becomes most interesting, they haveboth failed me, and I have been obliged to take much of it in plain prose. However, as none of them seemed to know anything of the history save what they had learned from the song, I took it the more kindly. Any few verses which follow are to me unintelligible.

“He told Sir Hugh that he was dying, and ordered him to conceal his body, and neither let his own men nor Piercy’s know; which he did, and the battle went on headed by Sir Hugh Montgomery, and at length” (35, etc.).

After 38: “Piercy seems to have been fighting devilishly in the dark; indeed, my relaters added no more, but told me that Sir Hugh died on the field, but that” (40).

In the postscript, Hogg writes:

“Not being able to get the letter away to the post, I have taken the opportunity of again pumping my old friends’ memory, and have recovered some more lines and half lines of Otterburn, of which I am become somewhat enamourd. These I have been obliged to arrange somewhat myself, as you will see below; but so mixed are they with original lines and sentences that I think, if you pleased, they might pass without any acknowledgment. Sure no man will like an old song the worse of being somewhat harmonious. After [24] you may read [25–34]. Then after [38] read [39].”

Of Almonshire [32] Hogg writes: “Almon shire may probably be a corruption of Banburgh shire, but as both my relaters called it so, I thought proper to preserve it.”

Andrew Livingston writes to Scott, Airds by Castle Douglas, 28th April, 1806, Letters, I, No 183: “My mother recollects seven or eight verses of the ballad of ‘The Battle of Otterburn’ different from any I have seen either in the first and second editions of the Minstrelsy or in Percy’s Reliques.... In several parts they bear a great resemblance to the copy in the first edition of the Minstrelsy.”

P. 306. Fighting on or with stumps, etc.

Ketilbjörn’s foot is cut off at the ankle-joint. He does not fall, but hobbles against his enemies and kills two of them before his strength gives out: Gull-þóris Saga, c. 18, ed. Maurer, p. 75. Gnúpr fought on his knees after his foot was off: Vemundar Saga ok Vígaskútu, c. 13, Rafn, Íslendinga Sögur, II, 266. Sörli kills eleven men with his club, hobbling round on one foot and one stump (apparently, though Sörli and Hárr are perhaps confused in the narrative): Göngu-Hrólfs Saga, c. 31, Rafn, Fornaldar Sögur, III, 329, Ásmundarson, III, 214 (wrongly, 114). Már fights when both his hands are off: Gull-þóris Saga, c. 10, Maurer, p. 59. Compare the exploits of Sölvi after both his hands have been cut off: Göngu-Hrólfs Saga, c. 31, Rafn, F. S., III, 331, Ásmundarson, III, 215 (wrongly 115); and Röndólfr’s performances after one of his hands has been cut off and all the toes of one foot, in the same saga, c. 30, Rafn, p. 324 f., Ásmundarson, p. 211 (111); and Göngu-Hrólfr’s, who has had both feet cut off while he slept, the same saga, c. 25, Rafn, pp. 307–9, Ásmundarson, 197 f. The Highlander at the battle of Gasklune had his predecessor in Ali, in the same saga, c. 30, Rafn, p. 324, Ásmundarson, p. 210 (110). (G. L. K.)

P. 338 b. Gold to bury body. So in the story of Buridan and the Queen of France, Haupt’s Zeitschrift II, 364. (G. L. K.)

In Apollonius of Tyre: puellam in loculo conposuit . . . et uiginti sestertios ad caput ipsius posuit, et scripturam sic continentem: Quicumque corpus istud inuenerit et humo tradiderit medios sibi teneat, medios pro funere expendat; et misit in mare. C. 25, ed. Riese, p. 29. Cf. Jourdains de Blaivies, 2222–33, K. Hofmann, Amis et Amiles und Jourdains de Blaivies, 1882, p. 168 f. (P. Z. Round.)

‘The Sonnge of Sir Andraye Barton, Knight,’ English Miscellanies, edited by James Raine, Surtees Society, vol. lxxxv, p. 64, 1890; from a MS. in a hand of the sixteenth century now in York Minster Library.

This very interesting version of Sir Andrew Barton, the editor informs us, was originally No 25 of a ballad-book in small quarto. It came recently “into the possession of the Dean and Chapter of York with a number of papers which belonged in the seventeenth century to the episcopal families of Lamplugh and Davenant.” If, as is altogether probable, there were copies of other ballads in the same book in quality as good as this, and if, as is equally probable, no more of the book can be recovered, our only comfort is the cold one of having had losses. In several details this copy differs from that of the Percy MS., but not more than would be expected. The English sail out of the Thames on the morrow after midsummer month, July 1, and come back the night before St Maudlen’s eve, or the night of July 20, stanzas 17, 74. In stanza 42 Barton boasts that he had once sent thirty Portingail heads home salted— ‘to eat with bread’! We read in Lesley’s History that the Hollanders had taken and spoiled divers Scots ships, and had cruelly murdered and cast overboard the merchants and passengers; in revenge for which Andrew Barton took many ships of that country, and filled certain pipes with the heads of the Hollanders and sent them to the Scottish king. (Ed. 1830, p. 74; ed. 1578, p. 329.) The eating is a ferocious addition of the ballad. Several passages of this copy are corrupted. A throws light upon some of these places, but others remain to me unamendable.

1It fell against a midsomer moneth,When birds soonge well in every tree,Our worthë prence, Kinge Henrye,He roode untoe a chelvellrye.2And allsoe toe a forrest soe faire,Wher his Grace wente toe tak the ayre;And twentye marchantes of London citieThen on there knees they kneelled there.3‘Ye are welcome home, my rich merchantes,The best salers in Christentie!’‘We thanke yowe; by the rood, we are salers good,But rich merchantes we cannot be.4‘To France nor Flanders we der not goe,Nor a Burgesse voy[a]ge we der not fare,For a robber that lyes abrod on the sea,And robs us of oure merchantes-ware.’5King Henry was stout, and turnd hime about;He sware by the lord that was mickell of might,‘Is ther any rober in the world soe stouteDer worke toe England that unrighte?’6The merchantes answered, soore they sight,With a woefull harte to the kinge againe,‘He is one that robes us of our right,Were we twentie shippes and he but one.’7King Henrye lookte over his shoulder agayne,Amongst his lordes of hye degree:‘Have I not a lord in all my land soe stouteDer take yon robber upon the sea?’8‘Yes,’ then did answeer my lord Charls Howwarde,Neare the kinge’s grace that he did stande;He saide, If your Grace will give me leave,My selfe will be the onlie man,9‘That will goe beat Sir Andrewe BartonUpon the seas, if he be there;I’le ether bringe hime and his shippe toe this lande,Ore I’le come in England never more.’10‘Yow shall have five hundrethe men,’ saide Kinge Henrye,‘Chuse them within my realme soe free,Beside all other merriners and boys,Toe gide the great shippe on the sea.’11The first of all the lord up cald,A noble gunner he was one;This man was thre score yeares and ten,And Petter Symond height his name.12‘Petter,’ quoeth he, ‘I must saill the sea,Toe looke an enemye, God be my speede!As thowe arte ould, I have chossen theOf a hundreth gunners to be the headde.’13He said, If your Honor have chossen meOf a hundreth gunners to be the headd,On your mayn-mast-tre let me be hangd,If I miss thre mille a pennye breed.14Then next of all my lord up cald,A noble boweman he was ane;In Yorkeshier was this gentleman borne,And William Horsley height his name.15‘Horsley,’ saide he, ‘I must saill the sea,To meete an enemee, thow must knowe;I have oft [been] told of thy artillorye,But of thy shootinge I never sawe.16‘Yet fore thye drawght that thowe dost drawe,Of a hundreth bowemen to be the heade;’Said Horsley then, Let me be hang[d]e,If I mis twelve score a twelt penc[e] breed.17Yea, pickmen more, and bowmen both,This worthë Howward tooke to the sea;On the morowe after midsomer monethOut of Temes mouth saillëd he.18Hee had not sailled one daie but three,After his Honor tooke to the sea,When he mette with one Harrie Huntte,In Newcastell ther dwelte hee.19When he sawe the lion of England out blaisse,The streemers and the roose about his eye,Full soonne he let his toppe-saill fall;That was a tooken of curtissie.20My lord he cald of Henry Huntte,Bad Harry Hunt both stay and stande;Saies, Tell me where thy dwellinge is,And whome unto thye shippe belonnges.21Henrye Hunt he answered, sore he sight,With a woefull hart and a sorrowefull minde,‘I and this shippe doth both belongeUnto the Newe Castell that stands upon Tyne.’22‘But haist thowe harde,’ said my lord Charles Hawward,‘Wher thowe haist travelled, by daie or by night,Of a robber that lies abroode on the sea,They call him Sir Andrewe Barton, knight?’23‘Yes,’ Harye answered, sore he sight,With a woefull hart thus did he saye;‘Mary, overwell I knowe that wight,I was his pressoner yesterdaie.24‘Toe frome home, my lord, that I was boune,A Burgess voyage was boune so faire,Sir Andrewe Barton met with me,And robd me of mye merchantes-waire.25‘And I ame a man in mickle debte,And everye one craves his owne of mee;And I am boune to London, my lorde,Fore toe comepleanne to good King Henrye.’26‘But even I pray the,’ saies Lord Charlles Howeerd,‘Henrye, let me that robber see,Where that Scoott hath teyne from the a grootte,I’le paye the back a shillinge,’ said hee.27‘Nay, God forbid! yea, noble lord,I heare your Honor speake amisse;Christ keepe yowe out of his companye!Ye wott not what kine a man he is.28‘He is brase within and steelle without,He beares beames in his topcastle hye,He hath threscore peece on ether side,Besides, my lorde, well mande is he.29‘He hath a pennis is dearelye deighte,She is dearelye deighte and of mickell pried;His pennis hath ninescorre men and more,And thirtene peece on ethere side.30‘Were yowe twentie shippes, my lorde,As your Honor is but one,Ethere bye lerbord or by loweThat Scootte would overcome yowe, everye one.’31‘Marye, that’s ill hartinge,’ saies my lord Charlls Howeward,‘Harye, to welcome a stranger to the sea;I’le ether bringe thatt Scootte and his shippe toe England,Or into Scootteland hee [’s] carrye me.’32‘Well, since the matter is soe flatte,Take heed, I’le tell yowe this before;If yowe Sir Andrewe chance toe borde,Let noe man toe his topcastle goe.33‘Excepte yowe have a gunner goodeThat can well marke with his eye;First seeke to gette his pennis sunk,The soonner overcome his selfe may bee.34‘Yesterdaie I was Sir Andrewe’s pressonner,And ther he tooke me sworne,’ saide hee;‘Before I’le leave off my serving God,My wild-maide oeth may brooken be.35‘Will yowe lend me sexe peece of ordenance, my lord,To carye into my shippe with mee?Toe morrowe by seven a clocke, and souner,In the morne yowe shall Sir Andrewe see.36‘Fore I will set yowe a glasse, my lord,That yowe shall saille forth all this night;Toe morrowe be seven a clocke, and souner,Yow’s se Sir Andrewe Barton, knight.’37Nowe will we leave talkinge of Harry Hunt;The worthye Howwarde tooke to the sea;By the morne, by seven a clocke, and souner,My lord hee did Sir Andrewe see.38A larborde, wher Sir Andrewe laye,They saide he tould his gold in the light;‘Nowe, by my faith,’ saide my lord Charlles Howwarde,‘I se yonne Scootte, a worthë wight!39‘All our greatt ordienance wee’ll take in;Fetch downe my streemers,’ then saide hee,‘And hange me forth a white willowe-wande,As a marchante-man that sailles by the sea.’40By Sir Andrewe then mye lord he past,And noe topsaille let fall would hee:‘What meanes yonne English dogg?’ he saies,‘Dogs doe knowe noe curtissie.41‘For I have staid heare in this placeAdmirall more then yearës three;Yet was not ther Englisheman or PortingaillCould passe by me with his liffe,’ saide he.42‘Once I met with the Portingaills,Yea, I met with them, ye, I indeed;I salted thirtie of ther heades,And sent them home to eate with breade.43‘Nowe by me is yoen pedler past;It greves me at the hart,’ said hee;‘Fetch me yoen English dogs,’ he saide,‘I’le hange them al on my mayn-mast-tree.’44Then his pennis shotte of a peec[e] of ordenance;The shootte my lord might verye well ken,Fore he shootte downe his missonne-mast,And kild fifteen of my lordë’s men.45‘Come hether, Peter Simond,’ said my lord Charles Howward,‘Letes se thi word standis in steede;On my mayn-mast-tre thowe must be hunge,If thowe misse three mill a penney breed.’46Petter was ould, his hart was bould;He tooke a peece frome hie and laid hir beloue;He put in a chean of yeard[ë]s nine,Besides all other greate shoote and smalle.47And as he maide that gune to goe,And verye well he marke[d] with his eie,The first sight that Sir Andrewe sawe,He sawe his penis sunke in the sea.48When Sir Andrewe sawe his pennis sunke,That man in his hart was no thinge well:‘Cut me my cabells! let me be lousse!I’le fetch yoen English dogges me selne.’49When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe from his anker loouse,Nay, Lord! a mighty man was hee:‘Let my drumes strike up and my trumpetes sound,And blaise my banners vailliantlie.’50Peter Simon’s sonne shoote of a gune;That Sir Andrewe might very well ken;Fore he shoott throughe his over-decke,And kild fifttie of Sir Andrewe’s men.51‘Ever alack!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘I like not of this geare,’ saide hee;‘I doubt this is some English lordeThat’s comed to taik me on the sea.’52Harrye Hunt came in on the other side;The shoote Sir Andrewe might very well ken;Fore he shoote downe his misson-mast,And kild other fortye of his men.53‘Ever alacke!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘What maye a trewe man thinke or saye?He is becomed my greatest enymyeThat was my pressonner yesterdaie.54‘Yet feare no English dogges,’ said Sir Andrew Barton,‘Nor fore ther forse stand ye [in] no awe;My hands shall hange them all my selfe,Froe once I let my beames downe fawe.55‘Come hether quick, thou Girdon goode,And come thou hether at my call,Fore heare I may noe longer staye;Goe up and let my beames down fall.’56Then he swarmd up the maine-mast-tree,With mickell might and all his maine;Then Horsley with a broode-headed arroweStroke then Girdon throughe the weame.57And he fell backe to the hatches againe,And in that wound full sore did bleed;The blood that ran soe fast from hime,They said it was the Girdon’s deed.58‘Come hether, thow James Hamelton,Thowe my sister’s sonne, I have noe moe;I’le give the five hundreth pound,’ he saide,‘Ife thowe wilt toe the top[ca]saille goe.’59Then he swarmd up the mayn-mast-tree.With mickell might and all his mayne;Then Horsley with a broode-arrowe-headTooke hime in at the buttuke of the utuer beame.60Yet frome the tre he would not parte,But up in haist he did prossed;Then Horsley with anotheir arroweStrooke then Hamelton throughe the heade.61When Sir Andrewe sawe his sister’s sonne slayne,That man in his heart was nothinge well:‘Fight, maisters!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘It’s time I’le to the top myselne.’62Then he put on the armere of prooffe,And it was guilt with gold full cleare:‘My brother John of Barton,’ he saide,‘Full longe against Portingaill he it weare.’63When he had on that armore of prooffe,Yea, on his bodye he had that on,Marry, they that sawe Sir Andrewe BartonSaid arrowes nor guns he feared none.64Yet Horsley drewe a broode-headed arrowe,With mickell might and all his mayne;That shaft against Sir Andrewe’s brestCame back to my lord Howwarde’s shippe agayne.65When my lord he sawe that arrowe comme,My lord he was a woefull wight;‘Marke well thine ame, Horsley,’ he saide,‘Fore that same shoote I’le make the knight.’66‘Ever alacke!’ said Horsley then,’ For howe soe ever this geare doth goe,If I for my service louse my heade,I have in this shippe but arrowe[s] towe.’67Yet he mar[k]t hime with the one of them,In a previe place and a secrete pert;He shoote hime in at the left oxtere,The arrowe quiett throughe [the] harte.68‘Feight, maisters!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘I’se a lettle hurt, but I ame not slayne;I’le lie me downe and bleede a whill,I’le risse and feight with yowe agayne.69‘Yet feare noe English dogges,’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘Nore fore there force stand ye [in] noe awe;Stick stifeley to Sir Andrewe Barton,Feight till ye heare my whisstill blowe.’70The could noe skill of the whisstill heare;Quoeth Hary Hunt, I der lay my heade,My lord, yowe maye take the shippe when yowe will,I se Sir Andrewe Barton [’s] deade.71And then they borded that noble shippe,On both the sides, with all ther men;Ther was eighten [score] Scootes a live,Besides all other was hurte and slayne.72Then up my lord tooke Sir Andrewe Barton,And of he cutt the dead man’s head:‘I would forsweare England for twenty years,Toe have the quicke as thowe art deade.73But of he cut the dead man’s heade,And bounde his bodye toe borden tre,And tiede five hundreth angels about his midle,That was toe cause hime buried toe bee.74Then they sailled toe Ingland agayne,With mickle merienes, as I weane;They entred Englishe land agaynOn the night before SteMaudlen even.75Toe mete my lord came the kinge an quen,And many nobles of hie degree;They came fore noe kind of thingeBut Sir Andrewe Barton they would see.76Quoth my lord, Yowe may thanke Allmighty God,And foure men in the shippe with mee,That ever we scaipt Sir Andrewe [’s] hands;England had never such an enniemie.77‘That’s Henrye Hunt and Petter Symon,William Horsley and Petter Symon [’s] sonne;Reward all thoesse fore there paynes,They did good service att that time.’78‘Henry Hunt shall have his whistle and chean,A noble a daie I’le give him,’ quoeth hee,‘And his coustome betwexte Trent tid and Tyne,Soe longe as he doth use the sea.79‘Petter Symon shall have a crowne a daie,Halfe a crowne I’le give his sonne;That was fore a shoott he senteSir Andrew Barton with his gune.80‘Horsley, right I’le make the a knight,In Yorkshiere shall thy dwellinge be;My lord Charlles Howwarde shall be an earle,And soe was never Howward before,’ quoth he.81‘Everye Englishe man shall have eightten pens a daieThat did mainetayne [t]his feight soe free,And everye Scotchman a shillinge a daieTill they come atte my brother Jamie.’

1It fell against a midsomer moneth,When birds soonge well in every tree,Our worthë prence, Kinge Henrye,He roode untoe a chelvellrye.

It fell against a midsomer moneth,

When birds soonge well in every tree,

Our worthë prence, Kinge Henrye,

He roode untoe a chelvellrye.

2And allsoe toe a forrest soe faire,Wher his Grace wente toe tak the ayre;And twentye marchantes of London citieThen on there knees they kneelled there.

And allsoe toe a forrest soe faire,

Wher his Grace wente toe tak the ayre;

And twentye marchantes of London citie

Then on there knees they kneelled there.

3‘Ye are welcome home, my rich merchantes,The best salers in Christentie!’‘We thanke yowe; by the rood, we are salers good,But rich merchantes we cannot be.

‘Ye are welcome home, my rich merchantes,

The best salers in Christentie!’

‘We thanke yowe; by the rood, we are salers good,

But rich merchantes we cannot be.

4‘To France nor Flanders we der not goe,Nor a Burgesse voy[a]ge we der not fare,For a robber that lyes abrod on the sea,And robs us of oure merchantes-ware.’

‘To France nor Flanders we der not goe,

Nor a Burgesse voy[a]ge we der not fare,

For a robber that lyes abrod on the sea,

And robs us of oure merchantes-ware.’

5King Henry was stout, and turnd hime about;He sware by the lord that was mickell of might,‘Is ther any rober in the world soe stouteDer worke toe England that unrighte?’

King Henry was stout, and turnd hime about;

He sware by the lord that was mickell of might,

‘Is ther any rober in the world soe stoute

Der worke toe England that unrighte?’

6The merchantes answered, soore they sight,With a woefull harte to the kinge againe,‘He is one that robes us of our right,Were we twentie shippes and he but one.’

The merchantes answered, soore they sight,

With a woefull harte to the kinge againe,

‘He is one that robes us of our right,

Were we twentie shippes and he but one.’

7King Henrye lookte over his shoulder agayne,Amongst his lordes of hye degree:‘Have I not a lord in all my land soe stouteDer take yon robber upon the sea?’

King Henrye lookte over his shoulder agayne,

Amongst his lordes of hye degree:

‘Have I not a lord in all my land soe stoute

Der take yon robber upon the sea?’

8‘Yes,’ then did answeer my lord Charls Howwarde,Neare the kinge’s grace that he did stande;He saide, If your Grace will give me leave,My selfe will be the onlie man,

‘Yes,’ then did answeer my lord Charls Howwarde,

Neare the kinge’s grace that he did stande;

He saide, If your Grace will give me leave,

My selfe will be the onlie man,

9‘That will goe beat Sir Andrewe BartonUpon the seas, if he be there;I’le ether bringe hime and his shippe toe this lande,Ore I’le come in England never more.’

‘That will goe beat Sir Andrewe Barton

Upon the seas, if he be there;

I’le ether bringe hime and his shippe toe this lande,

Ore I’le come in England never more.’

10‘Yow shall have five hundrethe men,’ saide Kinge Henrye,‘Chuse them within my realme soe free,Beside all other merriners and boys,Toe gide the great shippe on the sea.’

‘Yow shall have five hundrethe men,’ saide Kinge Henrye,

‘Chuse them within my realme soe free,

Beside all other merriners and boys,

Toe gide the great shippe on the sea.’

11The first of all the lord up cald,A noble gunner he was one;This man was thre score yeares and ten,And Petter Symond height his name.

The first of all the lord up cald,

A noble gunner he was one;

This man was thre score yeares and ten,

And Petter Symond height his name.

12‘Petter,’ quoeth he, ‘I must saill the sea,Toe looke an enemye, God be my speede!As thowe arte ould, I have chossen theOf a hundreth gunners to be the headde.’

‘Petter,’ quoeth he, ‘I must saill the sea,

Toe looke an enemye, God be my speede!

As thowe arte ould, I have chossen the

Of a hundreth gunners to be the headde.’

13He said, If your Honor have chossen meOf a hundreth gunners to be the headd,On your mayn-mast-tre let me be hangd,If I miss thre mille a pennye breed.

He said, If your Honor have chossen me

Of a hundreth gunners to be the headd,

On your mayn-mast-tre let me be hangd,

If I miss thre mille a pennye breed.

14Then next of all my lord up cald,A noble boweman he was ane;In Yorkeshier was this gentleman borne,And William Horsley height his name.

Then next of all my lord up cald,

A noble boweman he was ane;

In Yorkeshier was this gentleman borne,

And William Horsley height his name.

15‘Horsley,’ saide he, ‘I must saill the sea,To meete an enemee, thow must knowe;I have oft [been] told of thy artillorye,But of thy shootinge I never sawe.

‘Horsley,’ saide he, ‘I must saill the sea,

To meete an enemee, thow must knowe;

I have oft [been] told of thy artillorye,

But of thy shootinge I never sawe.

16‘Yet fore thye drawght that thowe dost drawe,Of a hundreth bowemen to be the heade;’Said Horsley then, Let me be hang[d]e,If I mis twelve score a twelt penc[e] breed.

‘Yet fore thye drawght that thowe dost drawe,

Of a hundreth bowemen to be the heade;’

Said Horsley then, Let me be hang[d]e,

If I mis twelve score a twelt penc[e] breed.

17Yea, pickmen more, and bowmen both,This worthë Howward tooke to the sea;On the morowe after midsomer monethOut of Temes mouth saillëd he.

Yea, pickmen more, and bowmen both,

This worthë Howward tooke to the sea;

On the morowe after midsomer moneth

Out of Temes mouth saillëd he.

18Hee had not sailled one daie but three,After his Honor tooke to the sea,When he mette with one Harrie Huntte,In Newcastell ther dwelte hee.

Hee had not sailled one daie but three,

After his Honor tooke to the sea,

When he mette with one Harrie Huntte,

In Newcastell ther dwelte hee.

19When he sawe the lion of England out blaisse,The streemers and the roose about his eye,Full soonne he let his toppe-saill fall;That was a tooken of curtissie.

When he sawe the lion of England out blaisse,

The streemers and the roose about his eye,

Full soonne he let his toppe-saill fall;

That was a tooken of curtissie.

20My lord he cald of Henry Huntte,Bad Harry Hunt both stay and stande;Saies, Tell me where thy dwellinge is,And whome unto thye shippe belonnges.

My lord he cald of Henry Huntte,

Bad Harry Hunt both stay and stande;

Saies, Tell me where thy dwellinge is,

And whome unto thye shippe belonnges.

21Henrye Hunt he answered, sore he sight,With a woefull hart and a sorrowefull minde,‘I and this shippe doth both belongeUnto the Newe Castell that stands upon Tyne.’

Henrye Hunt he answered, sore he sight,

With a woefull hart and a sorrowefull minde,

‘I and this shippe doth both belonge

Unto the Newe Castell that stands upon Tyne.’

22‘But haist thowe harde,’ said my lord Charles Hawward,‘Wher thowe haist travelled, by daie or by night,Of a robber that lies abroode on the sea,They call him Sir Andrewe Barton, knight?’

‘But haist thowe harde,’ said my lord Charles Hawward,

‘Wher thowe haist travelled, by daie or by night,

Of a robber that lies abroode on the sea,

They call him Sir Andrewe Barton, knight?’

23‘Yes,’ Harye answered, sore he sight,With a woefull hart thus did he saye;‘Mary, overwell I knowe that wight,I was his pressoner yesterdaie.

‘Yes,’ Harye answered, sore he sight,

With a woefull hart thus did he saye;

‘Mary, overwell I knowe that wight,

I was his pressoner yesterdaie.

24‘Toe frome home, my lord, that I was boune,A Burgess voyage was boune so faire,Sir Andrewe Barton met with me,And robd me of mye merchantes-waire.

‘Toe frome home, my lord, that I was boune,

A Burgess voyage was boune so faire,

Sir Andrewe Barton met with me,

And robd me of mye merchantes-waire.

25‘And I ame a man in mickle debte,And everye one craves his owne of mee;And I am boune to London, my lorde,Fore toe comepleanne to good King Henrye.’

‘And I ame a man in mickle debte,

And everye one craves his owne of mee;

And I am boune to London, my lorde,

Fore toe comepleanne to good King Henrye.’

26‘But even I pray the,’ saies Lord Charlles Howeerd,‘Henrye, let me that robber see,Where that Scoott hath teyne from the a grootte,I’le paye the back a shillinge,’ said hee.

‘But even I pray the,’ saies Lord Charlles Howeerd,

‘Henrye, let me that robber see,

Where that Scoott hath teyne from the a grootte,

I’le paye the back a shillinge,’ said hee.

27‘Nay, God forbid! yea, noble lord,I heare your Honor speake amisse;Christ keepe yowe out of his companye!Ye wott not what kine a man he is.

‘Nay, God forbid! yea, noble lord,

I heare your Honor speake amisse;

Christ keepe yowe out of his companye!

Ye wott not what kine a man he is.

28‘He is brase within and steelle without,He beares beames in his topcastle hye,He hath threscore peece on ether side,Besides, my lorde, well mande is he.

‘He is brase within and steelle without,

He beares beames in his topcastle hye,

He hath threscore peece on ether side,

Besides, my lorde, well mande is he.

29‘He hath a pennis is dearelye deighte,She is dearelye deighte and of mickell pried;His pennis hath ninescorre men and more,And thirtene peece on ethere side.

‘He hath a pennis is dearelye deighte,

She is dearelye deighte and of mickell pried;

His pennis hath ninescorre men and more,

And thirtene peece on ethere side.

30‘Were yowe twentie shippes, my lorde,As your Honor is but one,Ethere bye lerbord or by loweThat Scootte would overcome yowe, everye one.’

‘Were yowe twentie shippes, my lorde,

As your Honor is but one,

Ethere bye lerbord or by lowe

That Scootte would overcome yowe, everye one.’

31‘Marye, that’s ill hartinge,’ saies my lord Charlls Howeward,‘Harye, to welcome a stranger to the sea;I’le ether bringe thatt Scootte and his shippe toe England,Or into Scootteland hee [’s] carrye me.’

‘Marye, that’s ill hartinge,’ saies my lord Charlls Howeward,

‘Harye, to welcome a stranger to the sea;

I’le ether bringe thatt Scootte and his shippe toe England,

Or into Scootteland hee [’s] carrye me.’

32‘Well, since the matter is soe flatte,Take heed, I’le tell yowe this before;If yowe Sir Andrewe chance toe borde,Let noe man toe his topcastle goe.

‘Well, since the matter is soe flatte,

Take heed, I’le tell yowe this before;

If yowe Sir Andrewe chance toe borde,

Let noe man toe his topcastle goe.

33‘Excepte yowe have a gunner goodeThat can well marke with his eye;First seeke to gette his pennis sunk,The soonner overcome his selfe may bee.

‘Excepte yowe have a gunner goode

That can well marke with his eye;

First seeke to gette his pennis sunk,

The soonner overcome his selfe may bee.

34‘Yesterdaie I was Sir Andrewe’s pressonner,And ther he tooke me sworne,’ saide hee;‘Before I’le leave off my serving God,My wild-maide oeth may brooken be.

‘Yesterdaie I was Sir Andrewe’s pressonner,

And ther he tooke me sworne,’ saide hee;

‘Before I’le leave off my serving God,

My wild-maide oeth may brooken be.

35‘Will yowe lend me sexe peece of ordenance, my lord,To carye into my shippe with mee?Toe morrowe by seven a clocke, and souner,In the morne yowe shall Sir Andrewe see.

‘Will yowe lend me sexe peece of ordenance, my lord,

To carye into my shippe with mee?

Toe morrowe by seven a clocke, and souner,

In the morne yowe shall Sir Andrewe see.

36‘Fore I will set yowe a glasse, my lord,That yowe shall saille forth all this night;Toe morrowe be seven a clocke, and souner,Yow’s se Sir Andrewe Barton, knight.’

‘Fore I will set yowe a glasse, my lord,

That yowe shall saille forth all this night;

Toe morrowe be seven a clocke, and souner,

Yow’s se Sir Andrewe Barton, knight.’

37Nowe will we leave talkinge of Harry Hunt;The worthye Howwarde tooke to the sea;By the morne, by seven a clocke, and souner,My lord hee did Sir Andrewe see.

Nowe will we leave talkinge of Harry Hunt;

The worthye Howwarde tooke to the sea;

By the morne, by seven a clocke, and souner,

My lord hee did Sir Andrewe see.

38A larborde, wher Sir Andrewe laye,They saide he tould his gold in the light;‘Nowe, by my faith,’ saide my lord Charlles Howwarde,‘I se yonne Scootte, a worthë wight!

A larborde, wher Sir Andrewe laye,

They saide he tould his gold in the light;

‘Nowe, by my faith,’ saide my lord Charlles Howwarde,

‘I se yonne Scootte, a worthë wight!

39‘All our greatt ordienance wee’ll take in;Fetch downe my streemers,’ then saide hee,‘And hange me forth a white willowe-wande,As a marchante-man that sailles by the sea.’

‘All our greatt ordienance wee’ll take in;

Fetch downe my streemers,’ then saide hee,

‘And hange me forth a white willowe-wande,

As a marchante-man that sailles by the sea.’

40By Sir Andrewe then mye lord he past,And noe topsaille let fall would hee:‘What meanes yonne English dogg?’ he saies,‘Dogs doe knowe noe curtissie.

By Sir Andrewe then mye lord he past,

And noe topsaille let fall would hee:

‘What meanes yonne English dogg?’ he saies,

‘Dogs doe knowe noe curtissie.

41‘For I have staid heare in this placeAdmirall more then yearës three;Yet was not ther Englisheman or PortingaillCould passe by me with his liffe,’ saide he.

‘For I have staid heare in this place

Admirall more then yearës three;

Yet was not ther Englisheman or Portingaill

Could passe by me with his liffe,’ saide he.

42‘Once I met with the Portingaills,Yea, I met with them, ye, I indeed;I salted thirtie of ther heades,And sent them home to eate with breade.

‘Once I met with the Portingaills,

Yea, I met with them, ye, I indeed;

I salted thirtie of ther heades,

And sent them home to eate with breade.

43‘Nowe by me is yoen pedler past;It greves me at the hart,’ said hee;‘Fetch me yoen English dogs,’ he saide,‘I’le hange them al on my mayn-mast-tree.’

‘Nowe by me is yoen pedler past;

It greves me at the hart,’ said hee;

‘Fetch me yoen English dogs,’ he saide,

‘I’le hange them al on my mayn-mast-tree.’

44Then his pennis shotte of a peec[e] of ordenance;The shootte my lord might verye well ken,Fore he shootte downe his missonne-mast,And kild fifteen of my lordë’s men.

Then his pennis shotte of a peec[e] of ordenance;

The shootte my lord might verye well ken,

Fore he shootte downe his missonne-mast,

And kild fifteen of my lordë’s men.

45‘Come hether, Peter Simond,’ said my lord Charles Howward,‘Letes se thi word standis in steede;On my mayn-mast-tre thowe must be hunge,If thowe misse three mill a penney breed.’

‘Come hether, Peter Simond,’ said my lord Charles Howward,

‘Letes se thi word standis in steede;

On my mayn-mast-tre thowe must be hunge,

If thowe misse three mill a penney breed.’

46Petter was ould, his hart was bould;He tooke a peece frome hie and laid hir beloue;He put in a chean of yeard[ë]s nine,Besides all other greate shoote and smalle.

Petter was ould, his hart was bould;

He tooke a peece frome hie and laid hir beloue;

He put in a chean of yeard[ë]s nine,

Besides all other greate shoote and smalle.

47And as he maide that gune to goe,And verye well he marke[d] with his eie,The first sight that Sir Andrewe sawe,He sawe his penis sunke in the sea.

And as he maide that gune to goe,

And verye well he marke[d] with his eie,

The first sight that Sir Andrewe sawe,

He sawe his penis sunke in the sea.

48When Sir Andrewe sawe his pennis sunke,That man in his hart was no thinge well:‘Cut me my cabells! let me be lousse!I’le fetch yoen English dogges me selne.’

When Sir Andrewe sawe his pennis sunke,

That man in his hart was no thinge well:

‘Cut me my cabells! let me be lousse!

I’le fetch yoen English dogges me selne.’

49When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe from his anker loouse,Nay, Lord! a mighty man was hee:‘Let my drumes strike up and my trumpetes sound,And blaise my banners vailliantlie.’

When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe from his anker loouse,

Nay, Lord! a mighty man was hee:

‘Let my drumes strike up and my trumpetes sound,

And blaise my banners vailliantlie.’

50Peter Simon’s sonne shoote of a gune;That Sir Andrewe might very well ken;Fore he shoott throughe his over-decke,And kild fifttie of Sir Andrewe’s men.

Peter Simon’s sonne shoote of a gune;

That Sir Andrewe might very well ken;

Fore he shoott throughe his over-decke,

And kild fifttie of Sir Andrewe’s men.

51‘Ever alack!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘I like not of this geare,’ saide hee;‘I doubt this is some English lordeThat’s comed to taik me on the sea.’

‘Ever alack!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,

‘I like not of this geare,’ saide hee;

‘I doubt this is some English lorde

That’s comed to taik me on the sea.’

52Harrye Hunt came in on the other side;The shoote Sir Andrewe might very well ken;Fore he shoote downe his misson-mast,And kild other fortye of his men.

Harrye Hunt came in on the other side;

The shoote Sir Andrewe might very well ken;

Fore he shoote downe his misson-mast,

And kild other fortye of his men.

53‘Ever alacke!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘What maye a trewe man thinke or saye?He is becomed my greatest enymyeThat was my pressonner yesterdaie.

‘Ever alacke!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,

‘What maye a trewe man thinke or saye?

He is becomed my greatest enymye

That was my pressonner yesterdaie.

54‘Yet feare no English dogges,’ said Sir Andrew Barton,‘Nor fore ther forse stand ye [in] no awe;My hands shall hange them all my selfe,Froe once I let my beames downe fawe.

‘Yet feare no English dogges,’ said Sir Andrew Barton,

‘Nor fore ther forse stand ye [in] no awe;

My hands shall hange them all my selfe,

Froe once I let my beames downe fawe.

55‘Come hether quick, thou Girdon goode,And come thou hether at my call,Fore heare I may noe longer staye;Goe up and let my beames down fall.’

‘Come hether quick, thou Girdon goode,

And come thou hether at my call,

Fore heare I may noe longer staye;

Goe up and let my beames down fall.’

56Then he swarmd up the maine-mast-tree,With mickell might and all his maine;Then Horsley with a broode-headed arroweStroke then Girdon throughe the weame.

Then he swarmd up the maine-mast-tree,

With mickell might and all his maine;

Then Horsley with a broode-headed arrowe

Stroke then Girdon throughe the weame.

57And he fell backe to the hatches againe,And in that wound full sore did bleed;The blood that ran soe fast from hime,They said it was the Girdon’s deed.

And he fell backe to the hatches againe,

And in that wound full sore did bleed;

The blood that ran soe fast from hime,

They said it was the Girdon’s deed.

58‘Come hether, thow James Hamelton,Thowe my sister’s sonne, I have noe moe;I’le give the five hundreth pound,’ he saide,‘Ife thowe wilt toe the top[ca]saille goe.’

‘Come hether, thow James Hamelton,

Thowe my sister’s sonne, I have noe moe;

I’le give the five hundreth pound,’ he saide,

‘Ife thowe wilt toe the top[ca]saille goe.’

59Then he swarmd up the mayn-mast-tree.With mickell might and all his mayne;Then Horsley with a broode-arrowe-headTooke hime in at the buttuke of the utuer beame.

Then he swarmd up the mayn-mast-tree.

With mickell might and all his mayne;

Then Horsley with a broode-arrowe-head

Tooke hime in at the buttuke of the utuer beame.

60Yet frome the tre he would not parte,But up in haist he did prossed;Then Horsley with anotheir arroweStrooke then Hamelton throughe the heade.

Yet frome the tre he would not parte,

But up in haist he did prossed;

Then Horsley with anotheir arrowe

Strooke then Hamelton throughe the heade.

61When Sir Andrewe sawe his sister’s sonne slayne,That man in his heart was nothinge well:‘Fight, maisters!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘It’s time I’le to the top myselne.’

When Sir Andrewe sawe his sister’s sonne slayne,

That man in his heart was nothinge well:

‘Fight, maisters!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,

‘It’s time I’le to the top myselne.’

62Then he put on the armere of prooffe,And it was guilt with gold full cleare:‘My brother John of Barton,’ he saide,‘Full longe against Portingaill he it weare.’

Then he put on the armere of prooffe,

And it was guilt with gold full cleare:

‘My brother John of Barton,’ he saide,

‘Full longe against Portingaill he it weare.’

63When he had on that armore of prooffe,Yea, on his bodye he had that on,Marry, they that sawe Sir Andrewe BartonSaid arrowes nor guns he feared none.

When he had on that armore of prooffe,

Yea, on his bodye he had that on,

Marry, they that sawe Sir Andrewe Barton

Said arrowes nor guns he feared none.

64Yet Horsley drewe a broode-headed arrowe,With mickell might and all his mayne;That shaft against Sir Andrewe’s brestCame back to my lord Howwarde’s shippe agayne.

Yet Horsley drewe a broode-headed arrowe,

With mickell might and all his mayne;

That shaft against Sir Andrewe’s brest

Came back to my lord Howwarde’s shippe agayne.

65When my lord he sawe that arrowe comme,My lord he was a woefull wight;‘Marke well thine ame, Horsley,’ he saide,‘Fore that same shoote I’le make the knight.’

When my lord he sawe that arrowe comme,

My lord he was a woefull wight;

‘Marke well thine ame, Horsley,’ he saide,

‘Fore that same shoote I’le make the knight.’

66‘Ever alacke!’ said Horsley then,’ For howe soe ever this geare doth goe,If I for my service louse my heade,I have in this shippe but arrowe[s] towe.’

‘Ever alacke!’ said Horsley then,

’ For howe soe ever this geare doth goe,

If I for my service louse my heade,

I have in this shippe but arrowe[s] towe.’

67Yet he mar[k]t hime with the one of them,In a previe place and a secrete pert;He shoote hime in at the left oxtere,The arrowe quiett throughe [the] harte.

Yet he mar[k]t hime with the one of them,

In a previe place and a secrete pert;

He shoote hime in at the left oxtere,

The arrowe quiett throughe [the] harte.

68‘Feight, maisters!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘I’se a lettle hurt, but I ame not slayne;I’le lie me downe and bleede a whill,I’le risse and feight with yowe agayne.

‘Feight, maisters!’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,

‘I’se a lettle hurt, but I ame not slayne;

I’le lie me downe and bleede a whill,

I’le risse and feight with yowe agayne.

69‘Yet feare noe English dogges,’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,‘Nore fore there force stand ye [in] noe awe;Stick stifeley to Sir Andrewe Barton,Feight till ye heare my whisstill blowe.’

‘Yet feare noe English dogges,’ said Sir Andrewe Barton,

‘Nore fore there force stand ye [in] noe awe;

Stick stifeley to Sir Andrewe Barton,

Feight till ye heare my whisstill blowe.’

70The could noe skill of the whisstill heare;Quoeth Hary Hunt, I der lay my heade,My lord, yowe maye take the shippe when yowe will,I se Sir Andrewe Barton [’s] deade.

The could noe skill of the whisstill heare;

Quoeth Hary Hunt, I der lay my heade,

My lord, yowe maye take the shippe when yowe will,

I se Sir Andrewe Barton [’s] deade.

71And then they borded that noble shippe,On both the sides, with all ther men;Ther was eighten [score] Scootes a live,Besides all other was hurte and slayne.

And then they borded that noble shippe,

On both the sides, with all ther men;

Ther was eighten [score] Scootes a live,

Besides all other was hurte and slayne.

72Then up my lord tooke Sir Andrewe Barton,And of he cutt the dead man’s head:‘I would forsweare England for twenty years,Toe have the quicke as thowe art deade.

Then up my lord tooke Sir Andrewe Barton,

And of he cutt the dead man’s head:

‘I would forsweare England for twenty years,

Toe have the quicke as thowe art deade.

73But of he cut the dead man’s heade,And bounde his bodye toe borden tre,And tiede five hundreth angels about his midle,That was toe cause hime buried toe bee.

But of he cut the dead man’s heade,

And bounde his bodye toe borden tre,

And tiede five hundreth angels about his midle,

That was toe cause hime buried toe bee.

74Then they sailled toe Ingland agayne,With mickle merienes, as I weane;They entred Englishe land agaynOn the night before SteMaudlen even.

Then they sailled toe Ingland agayne,

With mickle merienes, as I weane;

They entred Englishe land agayn

On the night before SteMaudlen even.

75Toe mete my lord came the kinge an quen,And many nobles of hie degree;They came fore noe kind of thingeBut Sir Andrewe Barton they would see.

Toe mete my lord came the kinge an quen,

And many nobles of hie degree;

They came fore noe kind of thinge

But Sir Andrewe Barton they would see.

76Quoth my lord, Yowe may thanke Allmighty God,And foure men in the shippe with mee,That ever we scaipt Sir Andrewe [’s] hands;England had never such an enniemie.

Quoth my lord, Yowe may thanke Allmighty God,

And foure men in the shippe with mee,

That ever we scaipt Sir Andrewe [’s] hands;

England had never such an enniemie.

77‘That’s Henrye Hunt and Petter Symon,William Horsley and Petter Symon [’s] sonne;Reward all thoesse fore there paynes,They did good service att that time.’

‘That’s Henrye Hunt and Petter Symon,

William Horsley and Petter Symon [’s] sonne;

Reward all thoesse fore there paynes,

They did good service att that time.’

78‘Henry Hunt shall have his whistle and chean,A noble a daie I’le give him,’ quoeth hee,‘And his coustome betwexte Trent tid and Tyne,Soe longe as he doth use the sea.

‘Henry Hunt shall have his whistle and chean,

A noble a daie I’le give him,’ quoeth hee,

‘And his coustome betwexte Trent tid and Tyne,

Soe longe as he doth use the sea.

79‘Petter Symon shall have a crowne a daie,Halfe a crowne I’le give his sonne;That was fore a shoott he senteSir Andrew Barton with his gune.

‘Petter Symon shall have a crowne a daie,

Halfe a crowne I’le give his sonne;

That was fore a shoott he sente

Sir Andrew Barton with his gune.

80‘Horsley, right I’le make the a knight,In Yorkshiere shall thy dwellinge be;My lord Charlles Howwarde shall be an earle,And soe was never Howward before,’ quoth he.

‘Horsley, right I’le make the a knight,

In Yorkshiere shall thy dwellinge be;

My lord Charlles Howwarde shall be an earle,

And soe was never Howward before,’ quoth he.

81‘Everye Englishe man shall have eightten pens a daieThat did mainetayne [t]his feight soe free,And everye Scotchman a shillinge a daieTill they come atte my brother Jamie.’

‘Everye Englishe man shall have eightten pens a daie

That did mainetayne [t]his feight soe free,

And everye Scotchman a shillinge a daie

Till they come atte my brother Jamie.’

In eight-line stanzas.

14. chelvellrye. chevachie?or some sort ofvallie?

31. Yea.

42. farre.

103. and blause.

104. give the the.

144. height: wasinterlined.

162. thou’s be?

192. sterne.Forstreemers,see392,andB 332.

233. weight.

283. threscoree.

294. sidde.

301. Were yare.Perhapsthare.

303. by lowe.Cf.A292:==hull?

323. you and.

384, 652. weight.

444. xvth.

452. the word.

463. ninee.

473. sawee.

521. sidde.

542. yea no.

551. hether, drinke.

582. noe more.

584, 662. goee.

593.Probablybroode-headed arrowe,as in563, 641.

594. utuer==outer? bane?But I do not understand.

624. Portingaill they weare:cf.A594.

723. xxth.

733. 5: angles.

751. Toe might.

782. An noble.

794. gunee.

814. Jamie, Jamiee.

P, 351 b, 12. See an account of the exhumation of a corpse wrapped in a hide without a covering of lead, in Archæologia, I, 34. (G. L. K.)

P. 367, note †. A new-born child thrown into the water by its mother tells her that she has lost Paradise: ‘L’Enfant noyé,’ La Tradition, V, 116.

P. 378. Is this the song quoted by Sir Toby in Twelfth Night, II, 3 (and hitherto unidentified), “O, the twelfth day of December”? (G. L. K.)

Pp. 379–97.Ia was first printed in the second edition of the Minstrelsy, 1803, II, 163. (Read in 12, on her; in 32, hand.) The copy principally used was one furnished by Sharpe, which was notA a, and has not so far been recovered. Besides this, “copies from various quarters” were resorted to. (Half a dozen stanzas are found inG, butGitself is very likely a compilation). Eight copies from Abbotsford are now printed for the first time. Two of these may have been in Scott’s hands in time to be used, two were certainly not, and for the others we have no date.

There is only one novel feature in all these copies: inU13 Mary’s paramour is a pottinger. The remark that there is no trace of an admixture of the Russian story with that of the apothecary, page 383, must therefore be withdrawn.[151]Mary in this version, as inE,F,Q,T,U,V,Y, is daughter of the Duke of York.

X, likeE,F, has borrowed from No 95: see 13–15.

Finlay sent Scott, March 27, 1803, the following copy of ‘The Queen’s Marie,’ as he “had written it down from memory:” Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, I, No 87, Abbotsford. Stanzas 10, 9, 12 appear in the second volume of the Minstrelsy, 1802, p. 154, with the variation of a couple of words, as ‘The Lament of the Queen’s Marie’ (hereI b). Perhaps Finlay adopted these three stanzas into his copy. Stanzas 1, 3, 6, 8, with very slight variations, were printed by Finlay in the preface to his Scottish Ballads, 1808 (O).

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