Chapter VII: Appendix: THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN. See p. 5 (1)

In the versions of this ballad given in the body of this work, the Earl of Douglas is represented as falling by the hand of Harry Percy. In the ballad which follows, taken from Herd's _Scottish Songs_, i. 211, his death is ascribed to the revenge of an offended servant. Though there is not the slightest reason to give credence to this story, it has a certain foundation in tradition. Hume of Godscroft writes "there are that say, that he [Douglas] was not slain by the enemy, but by one of his own men, a groom of his chamber, whom he had struck the day before with a truncheon, in ordering of the battle, because he saw him make somewhat slowly to. And they name this man John Bickerton of Luffness, who left a part of his armour behind unfastened, and when he was in the greatest conflict, this servant of his came behind his back, and slew him thereat." Wintown says that the Earl was so intent on marshalling his forces, and so eager to be at the foe, that he neglected to arm himself carefully.--SCOTT's _Minstrelsy_, i. 350.

It fell, and about the Lammas time,
When husbandmen do win their hay,
Earl Douglas is to the English woods,
And a' with him to fetch a prey.

He has chosen the Lindsays light, 5
With them the gallant Gordons gay,
And the Earl of Fyfe, withouten strife,
And Sir Hugh Montgomery upon a grey.

They hae taken Northumberland,
And sae hae they the North-shire, 10
And the Otter-dale, they burnt it hale,
And set it a' into the fire.

Out then spack a bonny boy,[L13]
That serv'd ane o' Earl Douglas kin,
"Methinks I see an English host, 15
A-coming branken us upon."

"If this be true, my little boy,
An it be troth that thou tells me,
The brawest bower in Otterburn
This day shall be thy morning fee. 20

"But if it be false, my little boy,
But and a lie that thou tells me,
On the highest tree that's in Otterburn
With my awin hands I'll hing thee hie."

The boy's taen out his little penknife, 25
That hanget low down by his gare,
And he gae Earl Douglas a deadly wound,
Alas, a deep wound and a sare!

Earl Douglas said to Sir Hugh Montgomery,
"Tack thou the vanguard o' the three, 30
And bury me at yon bracken bush,
That stands upon yon lilly lee."

Then Percy and Montgomery met,
And weel I wat they war na fain;
They swapped swords, and they twa swat, 35
And ay the blood ran down between.

"O yield thee, yield thee, Percy," he said,
"Or else I vow I'll lay thee low;
"Whom to shall I yield," said Earl Percy,
"Now that I see it maun be so?" 40

"O yield thee to yon braken bush,
That grows upon yon lilly lee;
For there lies aneth yon braken bush[L43]
What aft has conquer'd mae than thee."

"I winna yield to a braken bush, 45
Nor yet will I unto a brier;
But I wald yield to Earl Douglas,
Or Sir Hugh Montgomery, if he was here."

As soon as he knew it was Montgomery,
He stuck his sword's point in the ground, 50
And Sir Hugh Montgomery was a courteous knight.
And he quickly caught him by the hand.

This deed was done at Otterburn,
About the breaking o' the day;
Earl Douglas was buried at the braken bush, 55
And Percy led captive away.

13. At this place a recited copy, quoted by Finlay (_Scottish Ballads_, I. p. xviii.), has the following stanzas:--

Then out an spak a little wee boy,
And he was near o' Percy's kin,
"Methinks I see the English host,
A-coming branking us upon;

Wi' nine waggons scaling wide,
And seven banners bearing high;
It wad do any living gude
To see their bonny colours fly.

43, 44. Supplied by Motherwell from a recited copy.

THE BATTLE OF HARLAW.

From Ramsay's _Evergreen_, i. 78.

This battle took place at Harlaw, near Aberdeen, on the 24th of July, 1411. The conflict was occasioned by a dispute concerning the succession to the earldom of Ross, between Donald, Lord of the Isles, and the son of the Regent, Robert, Duke of Albany, whose claim was supported by Alexander Stewart, Earl of Mar. The consequences of this battle were of the highest importance, inasmuch as the wild Celts of the Highlands and Islands received such a check that they never again combined for the conquest of the civilized parts of Scotland.

The _Battle of Harlaw_ is one of the old ballads whose titles occur in the _Complaynt of Scotland_ (1548). A bag-pipe tune of that name is mentioned in Drummond of Hawthornden's mock-heroic poem, the _Polemo Middinia_:

"Interea ante alios dux Piper Laius heros,
Præcedens, magnamque gerens cum burdine pypam
Incipit Harlai cunctis sonare Batellum."

Mr. Laing, in his _Early Metrical Tales_ (p. xlv.) speaks of an edition printed in the year 1668 as being "in the curious library of old Robert Myln." No copy is now known to exist of a date anterior to that which was published in Ramsay's _Evergreen_. Of the age of this copy the most opposite opinions have been maintained, some regarding the ballad as contemporary with the event, and others insinuating that Ramsay, or one of his friends, is chargeable with the authorship. This last notion has no other ground than the freedom which Ramsay notoriously took with his texts, and that freedom has very likely been exercised in the present case. We shall, perhaps, be going quite as far as is prudent, if we acknowledge that this may be one of "the Scots poems wrote by the ingenious before 1600." Most readers will agree with Lord Hailes that the language is as recent as the days of Queen Mary, or of James the Sixth. Sibbald, in his _Chronicle of Scottish Poetry_, iii. 288, has stated other objections to receiving this ballad for ancient, which seem, however, to be satisfactorily answered by Finlay, _Scottish Ballads_, i. 160.

The copy of this ballad in _The Thistle of Scotland_, p. 75, is only Ramsay's, imperfectly remembered, or, what is quite as probable, here and there altered according to the taste of the illiterate editor. At page 92 of the same book, three stanzas are given of a burlesque song on this battle. A traditional ballad, recently recovered, is inserted at the end of this volume.

Frae Dunidier as I cam throuch,
Doun by the hill of Banochie,
Allangst the lands of Garioch,
Grit pitie was to heir and se
The noys and dulesum hermonie, 5
That evir that dreiry day did daw,
Cryand the corynoch on hie,
Alas! alas! for the Harlaw.

I marvlit quhat the matter meint,
All folks war in a fiery-fairy; 10
I wist nocht quha was fae or freind,
Zit quietly I did me carrie.
But sen the days of auld King Hairy,
Sic slauchter was not hard nor sene,
And thair I had nae tyme to tairy, 15
For bissiness in Aberdene.

Thus as I walkit on the way,
To Inverury as I went,
I met a man and bad him stay,
Requeisting him to mak me quaint 20
Of the beginning and the event,
That happenit thair at the Harlaw:
Then he entreited me tak tent,
And he the truth sould to me schaw.

Grit Donald of the Yles did claim 25
Unto the lands of Ross sum richt,
And to the governour he came,
Them for to haif, gif that he micht:
Quha saw his interest was but slicht,
And thairfore answerit with disdain; 30
He hastit hame baith day and nicht,
And sent nae bodward back again.

But Donald richt impatient
Of that answer Duke Robert gaif,
He vowed to God Omnipotent, 35
All the hale lands of Ross to haif,
Or ells be graithed in his graif:
He wald not quat his richt for nocht,
Nor be abusit lyk a slaif;
That bargin sould be deirly bocht. 40

Then haistylie he did command,
That all his weir-men should convene,
Ilk an well harnisit frae hand,
To meit and heir quhat he did mein:
He waxit wrath, and vowit tein, 45
Sweirand he wald surpryse the North,
Subdew the brugh of Aberdene,
Mearns, Angus, and all Fyfe to Forth.

Thus with the weir-men of the Yles,
Quha war ay at his bidding bown, 50
With money maid, with forss and wyls,
Richt far and neir, baith up and doun,
Throw mount and muir, frae town to town,
Allangst the lands of Ross he roars,
And all obey'd at his bandown, 55
Evin frae the North to Suthren shoars.

Then all the countrie men did zield;
For nae resistans durst they mak,
Nor offer battill in the feild,
Be forss of arms to beir him bak. 60
Syne they resolvit all and spak,
That best it was for thair behoif,
They sould him for thair chiftain tak,
Believing weil he did them luve.

Then he a proclamation maid, 65
All men to meet at Inverness,
Throw Murray land to mak a raid,
Frae Arthursyre unto Spey-ness.
And further mair, he sent express,
To schaw his collours and ensenzie, 70
To all and sindry, mair and less,
Throchout the bounds of Byne and Enzie.

And then throw fair Straithbogie land
His purpose was for to pursew,
And quhasoevir durst gainstand, 75
That race they should full sairly rew.
Then he bad all his men be trew,
And him defend by forss and slicht,
And promist them rewardis anew,
And mak them men of mekle micht. 80

Without resistans, as he said,
Throw all these parts he stoutly past,
Quhair sum war wae, and sum war glaid,
But Garioch was all agast.
Throw all these feilds he sped him fast, 85
For sic a sicht was never sene;
And then, forsuith, he langd at last
To se the bruch of Aberdene.

To hinder this prowd enterprise,
The stout and michty Erle of Marr 90
With all his men in arms did ryse,
Even frae Curgarf to Craigyvar:
And down the syde of Don richt far,
Angus and Mearns did all convene
To fecht, or Donald came sae nar 95
The ryall bruch of Aberdene.

And thus the martial Erle of Marr
Marcht with his men in richt array;
Befoir the enemie was aware,
His banner bauldly did display. 100
For weil enewch they kend the way,
And all their semblance weil they saw:
Without all dangir, or delay,
Come haistily to the Harlaw.

With him the braif Lord Ogilvy, 105
Of Angus sheriff principall,
The constabill of gude Dundè,
The vanguard led before them all.
Suppose in number they war small,
Thay first richt bauldlie did pursew, 110
And maid thair faes befor them fall,
Quha then that race did sairly rew.

And then the worthy Lord Salton,
The strong undoubted Laird of Drum,
The stalwart Laird of Lawristone, 115
With ilk thair forces, all and sum.
Panmuir with all his men did cum,
The provost of braif Aberdene,
With trumpets and with tuick of drum,
Came schortly in thair armour schene. 120

These with the Earle of Marr came on,
In the reir-ward richt orderlie,
Thair enemies to sett upon;
In awfull manner hardily,
Togither vowit to live and die, 125
Since they had marchit mony mylis,
For to suppress the tyrannie
Of douted Donald of the Yles.

But he in number ten to ane,
Richt subtilè alang did ryde, 130
With Malcomtosch and fell Maclean,
With all thair power at thair syde;
Presumeand on thair strenth and pryde,
Without all feir or ony aw,
Richt bauldie battill did abyde, 135
Hard by the town of fair Harlaw.

The armies met, the trumpet sounds,
The dandring drums alloud did touk,
Baith armies byding on the bounds,
Till ane of them the feild sould bruik. 140
Nae help was thairfor, nane wald jouk,
Ferss was the fecht on ilka syde,
And on the ground lay mony a bouk
Of them that thair did battill byd.

With doutsum victorie they dealt, 145
The bludy battil lastit lang;
Each man his nibours forss thair felt,
The weakest aft-tymes gat the wrang:
Thair was nae mowis thair them amang,
Naithing was hard but heavy knocks, 150
That eccho mad a dulefull sang,
Thairto resounding frae the rocks.

But Donalds men at last gaif back,
For they war all out of array:
The Earl of Marris men throw them brak, 155
Pursewing shairply in thair way,
Thair enemys to tak or slay,
Be dynt of forss to gar them yield;
Quha war richt blyth to win away,
And sae for feirdness tint the feild. 160

Then Donald fled, and that full fast,
To mountains hich for all his micht;
For he and his war all agast,
And ran till they war out of sicht;
And sae of Ross he lost his richt, 165
Thocht mony men with hem he brocht;
Towards the Yles fled day and nicht,
And all he wan was deirlie bocht.

This is (quod he) the richt report
Of all that I did heir and knaw; 170
Thocht my discourse be sumthing schort,
Tak this to be a richt suthe saw:
Contrairie God and the kings law,
Thair was spilt mekle Christian blude,
Into the battil of Harlaw: 175
This is the sum, sae I conclude.

But zit a bonny quhyle abyde,
And I sall mak thee cleirly ken
Quhat slauchter was on ilkay syde,
Of Lowland and of Highland men: 180
Quha for thair awin haif evir bene;
These lazie lowns micht weil be spaird,
Chessit lyke deirs into their dens,
And gat thair waiges for reward.

Malcomtosh, of the clan heid cheif, 185
Macklean, with his grit hauchty heid,
With all thair succour and relief,
War dulefully dung to the deid:
And now we are freid of thair feid,
They will not lang to cum again; 190
Thousands with them, without remeid,
On Donald's syd that day war slain.

And on the uther syde war lost,
Into the feild that dismal day,
Chief men of worth, of mekle cost, 195
To be lamentit sair for ay.
The Lord Saltoun of Rothemay,
A man of micht and mekle main;
Grit dolour was for his decay,
That sae unhappylie was slain. 200

Of the best men amang them was
The gracious gude Lord Ogilvy,
The sheriff principal of Angus,
Renownit for truth and equitie,
For faith and magnanimitie: 205
He had few fallows in the field,
Zet fell by fatall destinie,
For he nae ways wad grant to zield.

Sir James Scrimgeor of Duddap, knicht,
Grit constabill of fair Dundè, 210
Unto the dulefull deith was dicht:
The kingis cheif banner man was he,
A valziant man of chevalrie,
Quhais predecessors wan that place
At Spey, with gude King William frie, 215
Gainst Murray and Macduncans race.

Gude Sir Allexander Irving,
The much renownit laird of Drum,
Nane in his days was bettir sene,
Quhen they war semblit all and sum. 220
To praise him we sould not be dumm,
For valour, witt, and worthyness;
To end his days he ther did cum,
Quhois ransom is remeidyless.

And thair the knicht of Lawriston 225
Was slain into his armour schene,
And gude Sir Robert Davidson,
Quha provest was of Aberdene:
The knicht of Panmure, as was sene,
A mortall man in armour bricht, 230
Sir Thomas Murray, stout and kene,
Left to the warld thair last gude nicht.

Thair was not sen King Keneths days
Sic strange intestine crewel stryf
In Scotland sene, as ilk man says, 235
Quhair mony liklie lost thair lyfe;
Quhilk maid divorce twene man and wyfe,
And mony childrene fatherless,
Quhilk in this realme has bene full ryfe:
Lord help these lands, our wrangs redress. 240

In July, on Saint James his even,
That four and twenty dismall day,
Twelve hundred, ten score and eleven
Of zeirs sen Chryst, the suthe to say,
Men will remember, as they may, 245
Quhen thus the veritie they knaw,
And mony a ane may murn for ay,
The brim battil of the Harlaw.

KING HENRIE THE FIFTH'S CONQUEST.

_Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England._ Percy Society, vol. xvii. p. 52.

"From the singing of the late Francis King, of Skipton in Craven, an eccentric character, who was well known in the western dales of Yorkshire as 'the Skipton Minstrel.' King's version does not contain the third verse, which is obtained, as is also the title, from a modern broadside, from whence also one or two verbal corrections are made, of too trifling a nature to particularize. The tune to which King used to sing it, is the same as that of _The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood_."

Another ballad, much inferior in spirit to this, on the Battle of Agincourt, is to be found in _The Crown Garland of Golden Roses_ (ed. 1659), Percy Soc. vol. xv. p. 65. Percy inserted in the _Reliques_, ii. 26, a song on this battle. Another, quoted in Heywood's _Edward Fourth_, and therefore popular before 1600, is printed in Mr. Collier's preface to Shakespeare's _Henry Fifth_ (new edition).

The story of the tennis-balls is adopted from the chronicles by Shakespeare. "It is reported by some historians," says Hume, "that the Dauphin, in derision of Henry's claims and dissolute character, sent him a box of tennis-balls, intimating that mere implements of play were better adapted to him than the instruments of war. But this story is by no means credible; the great offers made by the court of France show that they had already entertained a just idea of Henry's character, as well as of their own situation." _History of England_, ch. xix.

As our king lay musing on his bed,
He bethought himself upon a time
Of a tribute that was due from France,
Had not been paid for so long a time.
_Down, a-down, a-down, a-down_,
_Down, a-down, a-down._

He callèd on his trusty page, 5
His trusty page then callèd he,
"O you must go to the king of France,
O you must go right speedilie.

"And tell him of my tribute due,
Ten ton of gold that's due to me, 10
That he must send me my tribute home,
Or in French land he soon will me see."

O then away went the trusty page,
Away, away, and away went he,
Until he came to the king of France; 15
Lo! he fell down on his bended knee.

"My master greets you, worthy Sire;
Ten ton of gold there is due, says he;
You must send him his tribute home,
Or in French land you will soon him see." 20

"Your master's young, and of tender years,
Not fit to come into my degree;
But I will send him three tennis balls,
That with them learn to play may he."

O then away came the trusty page, 25
Away, and away, and away came he,
Until he came to our gracious king;
Lo! he fell down on his bended knee.

"What news, what news, my trusty page,
What news, what news, hast thou brought to me?" 30
"I've brought such news from the king of France,
That you and he will ne'er agree.

"He says you're young, and of tender years,
Not fit to come into his degree;
But he will send you three tennis balls, 35
That with them you may learn to play."

O then bespoke our noble king,
A solemn vow then vowèd he;
"I'll promise him such tennis balls,
As in French lands he ne'er did see. 40

"Go, call up Cheshire and Lancashire,
And Derby hills, that are so free;
Not a married man, nor a widow's son,
For the widow's cry shall not go with me."

They called up Cheshire and Lancashire, 45
And Derby lads that were so free;
Not a married man, nor a widow's son,
Yet they were a jovial bold companie.

O then he sailed to fair French land,
With drums and trumpets so merrilie; 50
O then bespoke the king of France,
"Yonder comes proud king Henrie."

The first fire that the Frenchmen gave,
They killed our Englishmen so free;
We killed ten thousand of the French, 55
And the rest of them they were forced to flee.

And then we marched to Paris gates,
With drums and trumpets so merrilie;
O then bespoke the king of France,
"Lord have mercy on my poor men and me! 60

"Go! tell him I'll send home his tribute due,
Ten ton of gold that is due from me;
And the fairest flower that is in our French land
To the Rose of England it shall go free."

JANE SHORE.

The story and character of Jane Shore can best be read in a charmingly written passage of Sir Thomas More's _History of Edward Fifth_, quoted in Percy's _Reliques_, ii. 268. The ballad adheres to matter of fact with a fidelity very uncommon. In Drayton's _England's Heroical Epistles_ is one from Jane Shore to King Edward, and in the notes he thus gives her portrait: "Her stature was meane, her haire of a dark yellow, her face round and full, her eye gray, delicate harmony being betwixt each part's proportion, and each proportion's colour, her body fat, white, and smooth, her countenance cheerfull and like to her condition." (Cited by Percy.)

This ballad is taken from the Collection of 1723, vol. i. p. 145. The full title is: _The Woeful Lamentation of Jane Shore, a Goldsmith's Wife in London, sometime King Edward the Fourth's Concubine_. The same version, with trifling variations, is found in Percy's _Reliques_, ii. 274, and Ritson's _Ancient Songs_, ii. 128. In the _Garland of Good Will_ there is another piece on the same subject, (Percy Society, vol. xxx. p. 9, _The Lamentation of Shore's Wife_,) and in the Collection of 1723, a burlesque song, called _King Edward and Jane Shore_ (vol. i. p. 153).

If Rosamond, that was so fair,
Had cause her sorrow to declare,
Then let Jane Shore with sorrow sing,
That was beloved of a king.

Then, wanton wives, in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

In maiden years my beauty bright 5
Was loved dear by lord and knight;
But yet the love that they requir'd,
It was not as my friends desir'd.

My parents they, for thirst of gain,
A husband for me did obtain; 10
And I, their pleasure to fulfil,
Was forc'd to wed against my will.

To Matthew Shore I was a wife,
Till lust brought ruin to my life;
And then my life I lewdly spent, 15
Which makes my soul for to lament.

In Lombard-street I once did dwell,
As London yet can witness well;
Where many gallants did behold
My beauty in a shop of gold. 20

I spread my plumes, as wantons do,
Some sweet and secret friende to wooe,
Because my love I did not find
Agreeing to my wanton mind.

At last my name in court did ring 25
Into the ears of England's king,
Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd,
But I made coy what he desir'd.

Yet Mistress Blague, a neighbour near,
Whose friendship I esteemed dear, 30
Did say, "It is a gallant thing
To be beloved of a king."

By her perswasions I was led
For to defile my marriage-bed,
And wronge my wedded husband Shore, 35
Whom I had lov'd ten years before.

In heart and mind I did rejoyce,
That I had made so sweet a choice;
And therefore did my state resign,
To be King Edward's concubine. 40

From city then to court I went,
To reap the pleasures of content;
There had the joys that love could bring,
And knew the secrets of a king.

When I was thus advanc'd on high, 45
Commanding Edward with mine eye,
For Mistress Blague I in short space
Obtain'd a living from his Grace.

No friend I had, but in short time
I made unto promotion climb; 50
But yet for all this costly pride,
My husbande could not me abide.

His bed, tho' wronged by a king,
His heart with deadly grief did sting;
From England then he goes away 55
To end his life beyond the sea.[L56]

He could not live to see his name
Impaired by my wanton shame;
Altho' a prince of peerless might
Did reap the pleasure of his right. 60

Long time I lived in the court,
With lords and ladies of great sort;
And when I smil'd, all men were glad,
But when I mourn'd, my prince grew sad.

But yet an honest mind I bore 65
To helpless people, that were poor;
I still redress'd the orphan's cry,
And sav'd their lives condemn'd to dye.

I still had ruth on widows tears,
I succour'd babes of tender years; 70
And never look'd for other gain
But love and thanks, for all my pain.

At last my royal king did dye,
And then my days of woe grew nigh;
When crook-back'd Richard got the crown, 75
King Edward's friends were soon put down.

I then was punish'd for my sin,
That I so long had lived in;
Yea, every one that was his friend,
This tyrant brought to shameful end. 80

Then for my lewd and wanton life,[L81]
That made a strumpet of a wife,
I penance did in Lombard-street,
In shameful manner in a sheet:

Where many thousands did me view, 85
Who late in court my credit knew;
Which made the tears run down my face,
To think upon my foul disgrace.

Not thus content, they took from mee
My goods, my livings, and my fee, 90
And charg'd that none should me relieve,
Nor any succour to me give.

Then unto Mistress Blague I went,
To whom my jewels I had sent,
In hope thereby to ease my want, 95
When riches fail'd, and love grew scant.

But she deny'd to me the same,
When in my need for them I came;
To recompence my former love,
Out of her doors she did me shove. 100

So love did vanish with my state,
Which now my soul repents too late;
Therefore example take by me,
For friendship parts in poverty.

But yet one friend among the rest, 105
Whom I before had seen distress'd,
And sav'd his life, condemn'd to dye,
Did give me food to succour me:

For which, by law it was decreed
That he was hanged for that deed; 110
His death did grieve me so much more,
Than had I dy'd myself therefore.

Then those to whom I had done good
Durst not afford mee any food;[L114]
Whereby in vain I begg'd all day, 115
And still in streets by night I lay.

My gowns beset with pearl and gold,
Were turn'd to simple garments old;
My chains and jems and golden rings,
To filthy rags and loathsome things. 120

Thus was I scorn'd of maid and wife,
For leading such a wicked life;
Both sucking babes and children small,
Did make a pastime at my fall.

I could not get one bit of bread, 125
Whereby my hunger might be fed:
Nor drink, but such as channels yield,
Or stinking ditches in the field.

Thus, weary of my life, at length
I yielded up my vital strength, 130
Within a ditch of loathsome scent,
Where carrion dogs do much frequent:

The which now since my dying day,
Is Shoreditch call'd, as writers say;[L134]
Which is a witness of my sin, 135
For being concubine to a king.

You wanton wives, that fall to lust,
Be you assur'd that God is just;
Whoredom shall not escape his hand,
Nor pride unpunish'd in this land. 140

If God to me such shame did bring,
That yielded only to a king,
How shall they scape that daily run
To practise sin with every man?

You husbands, match not but for love, 145
Lest some disliking after prove;
Women, be warn'd when you are wives,
What plagues are due to sinful lives:
Then, maids and wives, in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end.

56. upon.

81. rude.

114. restore.

134. But it had this name long before; being so called from its being a common sewer (vulgarly shore) or drain.--PERCY.

A TRUE RELATION OE THE LIFE AND DEATH OF SIR ANDREW BARTON, A PYRATE AND ROVER ON THE SEAS.

This copy of _Sir Andrew Barton_ is to be found in _Old Ballads_ (1723) vol. i. 159, Ritson's _Ancient Songs_, ii. 204, Moore's _Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry_, p. 256, and _Early Naval Ballads of England_, Percy Society, vol. ii. p. 4, with only exceedingly trifling variations. We have followed the last, where the ballad is given from a black-letter copy in the British Museum, "printed by and for W. O., and sold by the booksellers."

When Flora with her fragrant flowers,
Bedeckt the earth so trim and gay,
And Neptune with his dainty showers,
Came to present the month of May,
King Henry would a-hunting ride; 5
Over the river Thames passed he,
Unto a mountain-top also
Did walk, some pleasure for to see.

Where forty merchants he espy'd,
With fifty sail came towards him, 10
Who then no sooner were arriv'd,
But on their knees did thus complain;
"An't please your grace, we cannot sail
To France no voyage to be sure,
But Sir Andrew Barton makes us quail, 15
And robs us of our marchant ware."

Vext was the king, and turning him,
Said to the lords of high degree,
"Have I ne'er a lord within my realm,
Dare fetch that traytor unto me?" 20
To him reply'd Charles Lord Howard,
"I will, my liege, with heart and hand;
If it will please you grant me leave," he said,
"I will perform what you command."

To him then spoke King Henry, 25
"I fear, my lord, you are too young."
"No whit at all, my liege," quoth he;
"I hope to prove in valour strong.
The Scotch knight I vow to seek,
In what place soever he be, 30
And bring ashore with all his might,
Or into Scotland he shall carry me."

"A hundred men," the king then said,
"Out of my realm shall chosen be,
Besides sailors and ship-boys, 35
To guide a great ship on the sea.
Bowmen and gunners of good skill,
Shall for this service chosen be,
And they at thy command and will
In all affairs shall wait on thee." 40

Lord Howard call'd a gunner then,
Who was the best in all the realm,
His age was threescore years and ten,
And Peter Simon was his name.
My lord call'd then a bow-man rare, 45
Whose active hands had gained fame
A gentleman born in Yorkshire,
And William Horsely was his name.

"Horsely!" quoth he, "I must to sea,
To seek a traytor, with good speed: 50
Of a hundred bow-men brave," quoth he,
"I have chosen thee to be the head."
"If you, my lord, have chosen me
Of a hundred men to be the head,
Upon the mainmast I'll hanged be, 55
If twelve-score I miss one shilling's breadth."

Lord Howard then of courage bold,
Went to the sea with pleasant cheer,
Not curbed with winter's piercing cold,
Tho' it was the stormy time of year. 60
Not long had he been on sea,
More in days than number three,
But one Henry Hunt then he espy'd,
A merchant of Newcastle was he.

To him Lord Howard call'd out amain, 65
And strictly charged him to stand;
Demanding then from whence he came,
Or where he did intend to land.
The merchant then made answer soon,
With heavy heart and careful mind, 70
"My lord, my ship it doth belong
Unto New-castle upon Tine."

"Canst thou show me," the lord did say,
"As thou didst sail by day and night,
A Scottish rover on the sea, 75
His name is Andrew Barton, knight?"
Then the merchant sighed and said,
With grieved mind and well-a-way,
"But over well I know that wight,
I was his prisoner yesterday. 80

"As I, my lord, did sail from France,
A Burdeaue voyage to take so far,
I met with Sir Andrew Barton thence,
Who robb'd me of my merchant ware.
And mickle debts God knows I owe, 85
And every man doth crave his own;
And I am bound to London now,
Of our gracious king to beg a boon."

"Show me him," said Lord Howard then,
"Let me once the villain see, 90
And every penny he hath from thee ta'en,
I'll double the same with shillings three."
"Now, God forbid," the merchant said,
"I fear your aim that you will miss;
God bless you from his tyranny, 95
For little you think what man he is.

"He is brass within and steel without,
His ship most huge and mighty strong,
With eighteen pieces of ordinance,
He carrieth on each side along. 100
With beams for his top-castle,
As also being huge and high,
That neither English nor Portugal
Can Sir Andrew Barton pass by."

"Hard news thou shewst," then said the lord, 105
"To welcome stranger to the sea;
But as I said, I'll bring him aboard,
Or into Scotland he shall carry me."
The merchant said, "If thou will do so,
Take councel, then, I pray withal: 110
Let no man to his top-castle go,
Nor strive to let his beams downfall.

"Lend me seven pieces of ordnance then,
Of each side of my ship," said he,
"And to-morrow, my Lord, 115
Again I will your honour see.
A glass I set as may be seen,
Whether you sail by day or night;
And to-morrow, be sure before seven,
You shall see Sir Andrew Barton, knight." 120

The merchant set my lord a glass,
So well apparent in his sight,
That on the morrow, as his promise was,
He saw Sir Andrew Barton, knight:
The lord then swore a mighty oath, 125
"Now by the heavens that be of might,
By faith, believe me, and my troth,
I think he is a worthy knight."

"Fetch me my lyon out of hand,"[L129]
Saith the lord, "with rose and streamer high; 130
Set up withal a willow-wand,
That merchant like, I may pass by:"
Thus bravely did Lord Howard pass,
And on anchor rise so high;
No top-sail at last he cast, 135
But as a foe did him defie.

Sir Andrew Barton seeing him
Thus scornfully to pass by,
As tho' he cared not a pin
For him and his company; 140
Then called he his men amain,
"Fetch back yon pedlar now," quoth he,
"And ere this way he comes again,
I'll teach him well his courtesie."

A piece of ordnance soon was shot 145
By this proud pirate fiercely then,
Into Lord Howard's middle deck,
Which cruel shot killed fourteen men.
He called then Peter Simon, he:
"Look how thy word do stand instead, 150
For thou shall be hanged on main-mast,
If thou miss twelve score one penny breadth."

Then Peter Simon gave a shot,
Which did Sir Andrew mickle scare,
In at his deck it came so hot, 155
Killed fifteen of his men of war.
"Alas," then said the pirate stout,
"I am in danger now I see;
This is some lord, I greatly fear,
That is set on to conquer me." 160

Then Henry Hunt, with rigour hot,
Came bravely on the other side,
Who likewise shot in at his deck,
And killed fifty of his men beside.
Then "Out alas," Sir Andrew cryd, 165
"What may a man now think or say!
Yon merchant thief that pierceth me,
He was my prisoner yesterday."

Then did he on Gordion call
Unto the top castle for to go, 170
And bid his beams he should let fall,
For he greatly fear'd an overthrow.
The lord call'd Horsely now in haste:
"Look that thy word stand in stead,
For thou shall be hanged on main mast, 175
If thou miss twelve score a shilling's breadth."

Then up [the] mast tree swerved he,
This stout and mighty Gordion;
But Horsely he most happily
Shot him under his collar-bone: 180
Then call'd he on his nephew then,
Said, "Sister's son, I have no mo,
Three hundred pound I will give thee,
If thou will to top-castle go."

Then stoutly he began to climb, 185
From off the mast scorn'd to depart;
But Horsely soon prevented him,
And deadly pierced him to the heart.
His men being slain, then up amain
Did this proud pirate climb with speed, 190
For armour of proof he had on,
And did not dint of arrows dread.

"Come hither, Horseley," said the lord,
"See thou thy arrows aim aright;
Great means to thee I will afford, 195
And if thou speedst, I'll make thee knight."
Sir Andrew did climb up the tree,
With right good will and all his main;
Then upon the breast hit Horsley he,
Till the arrow did return again. 200

Then Horsley spied a private place,
With a perfect eye, in a secret part;
His arrow swiftly flew apace,
And smote Sir Andrew to the heart.
"Fight on, fight on, my merry men all, 205
A little I am hurt, yet not slain;
I'll but lie down and bleed awhile,
And come and fight with you again.

"And do not," said he, "fear English rogues,
And of your foes stand not in awe, 210
But stand fast by St. Andrew's crosse,
Until you hear my whistle blow."
They never heard this whistle blow,
Which made them all full sore afraid.
Then Horsely said, "My Lord, aboard, 215
For now Sir Andrew Barton's dead."

Thus boarded they his gallant ship,
With right good will and all their main;
Eighteen score Scots alive in it,
Besides as many more was slain. 220
The lord went where Sir Andrew lay,
And quickly thence cut off his head;
"I should forsake England many a day,
If thou wert alive as thou art dead."

Thus from the wars Lord Howard came, 225
With mickle joy and triumphing;
The pirate's head he brought along
For to present unto our king:
Who haply unto him did say,
Before he well knew what was done, 230
"Where is the knight and pirate gay,
That I myself may give the doom?"

"You may thank God," then said the lord,
"And four men in the ship," quoth he,
"That we are safely come ashore, 235
Sith you never had such an enemy;
That is Henry Hunt, and Peter Simon,
William Horsely, and Peter's son;[L238]
Therefore reward them for their pains,
For they did service at their turn." 240

To the merchant therefore the King he said,
"In lieu of what he hath from thee tane,
I give thee a noble a-day,
Sir Andrew's whistle and his chain:
To Peter Simon a crown a-day, 245
And half-a-crown a-day to Peter's son,
And that was for a shot so gay,
Which bravely brought Sir Andrew down.

"Horsely, I will make thee a knight,
And in Yorkshire thou shalt dwell: 250
Lord Howard shall Earl Bury hight,
For this act he deserveth well.
Ninety pound to our Englishmen,
Who in this fight did stoutly stand;
And twelve-pence a-day to the Scots, till they 255
Come to my brother king's high land."

129-136. In some copies this stanza is wrongly placed after the next.

238. The services of Peter's son, not mentioned in this ballad, are duly recorded in the older, unabridged copy. See v. 53-56, on p. 64.

THE BATTLE OF CORICHIE ON THE HILL OF FAIR, FOUGHT OCT. 28, 1562.

From Evans's _Old Ballads_, iii. 132.

The favor shown by Queen Mary to her brother Lord James Stuart, on her first coming to Scotland, excited a violent jealousy in Gordon, Earl of Huntly, who, as a Catholic, and the head of a loyal and powerful family in the North, expected no slight distinction from his sovereign. This jealousy broke out into open hostility when the Queen, in 1562, conferred on her brother the earldom of Murray, the honors and revenues of which had been enjoyed by Huntly since 1548. Mary was at this time on a progress in the northern part of her kingdom, attended by the new earl and a small escort. Huntly collected his vassals and posted himself at a place called the Fair Bank, or Corichie, near Aberdeen. Murray having increased his forces by seven or eight hundred of the Forbeses and Leslies, who, although attached to the Huntly faction, dared not disobey the Queen's summons, marched to the attack. As little confidence could be placed in the good faith of the northern recruits, he ordered them to begin the battle. In obedience to this command, they advanced against the enemy, but instantly recoiled and retreated in a pretended panic on Murray's reserve, followed by the Gordons in disorder. The Queen's party received both the flying and the pursuers with an impenetrable front of lances. Huntly was repulsed, and the other northern clans, seeing how the victory was going, turned their swords upon their friends. Many of the Gordons were slain, and the Earl, who was old and fat, being thrown from his horse, was smothered in the retreat. His sons John and Adam were taken prisoners, and the former was put to death at Aberdeen the day after the battle.

The following ballad, it will be perceived, is utterly at variance with the facts of history. It was first printed in Evans's _Old Ballads_, and is said to be the composition of one Forbes, schoolmaster at Mary-Culter, on Dee-side. The dialect is broad Aberdeen.

Murn ye heighlands, and murn ye leighlands,
I trow ye hae meikle need;
For thi bonny burn o' Corichie
His run this day wi' bleid.

Thi hopefu' laird o' Finliter,[L5] 5
Erle Huntly's gallant son,
For thi love hi bare our beauteous quine
His gar't fair Scotland mone.

Hi his braken his ward in Aberdene,
Throu dreid o' thi fause Murry, 10
And his gather't the gentle Gordone clan,
An' his father, auld Huntly.

Fain wid he tak our bonny guide quine,
An' beare hir awa' wi' him;
But Murry's slee wyles spoil't a' thi sport, 15
An' reft him o' lyfe and lim.

Murry gar 't rayse thi tardy Merns men,
An' Angis, an' mony ane mair,
Erle Morton, and the Byres Lord Linsay,
An' campit at thi hill o' Fare. 20

Erle Huntlie came wi' Haddo Gordone,
An' countit ane thusan men;
But Murry had abien twal hunder,
Wi' sax score horsemen and ten.

They soundit thi bougills an' the trumpits, 25
An' marchit on in brave array,
Till the spiers an' the axis forgatherit,
An' than did begin thi fray.

Thi Gordones sae fercelie did fecht it,
Withouten terrer or dreid, 30
That mony o' Murry's men lay gaspin,
An' dyit thi grund wi theire bleid.

Then fause Murry feingit to flee them,
An' they pursuit at his backe,
Whan thi haf o' thi Gordones desertit, 35
An' turnit wi' Murray in a crack.

Wi hether i' thir bonnits they turnit,
The traiter Haddo o' their heid,
An' slaid theire brithers an' their fatheris,
An' spoilit an' left them for deid. 40

Then Murry cried to tak thi auld Gordone,
An' mony ane ran wi' speid;
But Stuart o' Inchbraik had him stickit,
An' out gushit thi fat lurdane's bleid.

Then they teuke his twa sones quick an' hale, 45
An' bare them awa' to Aberdene;
But fair did our guide quine lament
Thi waeful chance that they were tane.

Erle Murry lost mony a gallant stout man;
Thi hopefu' laird o' Thornitune, 50
Pittera's sons, an Egli's far fearit laird,
An mair to mi unkend, fell doune.

Erle Huntly mist ten score o' his bra' men,
Sum o' heigh an' sum o' leigh degree;
Skeenis youngest son, thi pryde o' a' the clan,
Was ther fun' dead, he widna flee. 55

This bloody fecht wis fercely faucht
Octobri's aught an' twinty day,
Crystis' fyfteen hundred thriscore yeir
An' twa will merk thi deidlie fray. 60

But now the day maist waefu' came,
That day the quine did grite her fill,
For Huntly's gallant stalwart son,
Wis heidit on thi heidin hill.

Fyve noble Gordones wi' him hangit were 65
Upon thi samen fatal playne;
Crule Murry gar't thi waefu' quine luke out,
And see hir lover an' liges slayne.

I wis our quine had better frinds,
I wis our country better peice; 70
I wis our lords wid na' discord,
I wis our weirs at hame may ceise.

5. This.

THE BATTLE OF BALRINNES,

(OTHERWISE CALLED THE BATTLE OF GLENLIVET.)

When Philip the Second was preparing his Armada for the conquest of England, he spared no pains to induce James of Scotland to favor his enterprise. Elizabeth, on her part, was not less active to secure the friendship of a neighbor, who, by opening or closing his ports, might do so much to assist or to counteract the projects of her enemy. James had the wisdom to see that it was not for his interest to ally himself with a power that sought the extinction of the faith which he professed, and the subjugation of a kingdom to which he was the heir. The Spanish overtures were rejected, and the great body of the people, warmly applauding the king's decision, entered into a combination to resist an attempt to land at any point on the Scottish coast. There was, nevertheless, a small party in Scotland which favoured the designs of Philip. At the head of this faction were the Catholic Earls of Huntly, Errol, and Angus. Even after the dispersion of the Armada, they kept up negotiations with the Prince of Parma and the King of Spain, in the hope of restoring the ancient religion, or at least of obtaining for themselves an equality of privileges with the Protestants. More than once were the leaders of this party committed to prison for overt acts of treason, and released by the clemency of the sovereign, but suffering as the Romanists did under the oppression of a fanatical majority, rebellion was their natural condition.

After various acts of insubordination, continued for a series of years, it was proved beyond question that the Catholic earls had signed papers for an invasion of Britain by 30,000 foreigners. A Convention of Estates, summoned to consider the affair, finally determined that the three earls should be exempt from further inquiry on account of this conspiracy, but that before the first day of February, 1594, they should either renounce the errors of Popery, or remove from the kingdom. The Catholic leaders, relying on the number of their supporters, and not less on the inaccessible nature of the country in which their estates lay, scornfully rejected the choice proposed to them, renewed their connections with Spain, and were accordingly declared guilty of high treason and subjected to the doom of forfeiture.

King James's exchequer was at this time so low that it was impossible for him to undertake the enforcing of this sentence in person. He was obliged to delegate the office to the young Earl of Argyle, who was induced to accept the appointment by the promise of a portion of Huntly's forfeited estates. The prospect of booty and the authority of the chief of the Campbells drew together six or seven thousand Highlanders, to whom were joined some hundreds of men from the Western Islands, under the chief of Maclean. With this body, one fourth of whom carried firelocks, while the rest were armed after the Gaelic fashion, Argyle descended from the hills towards Huntly's castle of Strathbogie.

The chief of the Gordons, suddenly assailed, had no time to procure assistance from Angus. He collected about a thousand gentlemen of his own name, and Errol came to his aid with two or three hundred of the Hays. All these were men of birth, well armed and mounted, and to this small, but powerful, troop of cavalry, was added a train of six field pieces (engines very terrible to Highlanders), under the management of an excellent soldier, the very same Captain Ker, who has figured already in the ballad of _Edom o' Gordon_.

The armies encountered at a place called Belrinnes in a district called Glenlivet. The Highlanders were posted on a mountain-side, so steep that footmen could barely keep their hold. Notwithstanding this obstacle, the Earls determined to attempt the ascent, and Errol, supported by Sir Patrick Gordon, led the Hays up the hill in the very face of the foe. While the vanguard was advancing, Ker brought some of his artillery to bear on Argyle's front, which threw the Highlanders into confusion, and caused some of them to fly. Errol's horsemen, however, were soon forced by the steepness of the mountain to wheel and move obliquely, and their flank being thus exposed, their horses suffered considerable damage from a volley of bullets and arrows. Upon this Huntly made a fierce attack upon Argyle's centre, and bore down his banner, and his cavalry soon after attaining to more even ground, where their horses could operate with efficiency, the Highlanders, who were destitute of lances, and so unable to withstand the shock, were driven down the other side of the hill, and put to utter rout. The chief of Maclean alone withstood the assault of the horsemen, and performed marvellous feats of bravery, but was at last forced off the field by his own soldiers, and Argyle himself was compelled to fly, weeping with anger. Of the Catholics, Sir Patrick Gordon, Huntley's uncle, was slain, with only twelve others. The loss of the other party was several hundred soldiers, besides some men of note, among them Campbell of Lochinzell.

This battle was fought on the third of October, 1594. The action is called the Battle of Glenlivet, or of Balrinnes, and also of Strath-aven.--See the 38th chapter of Sir W. Scott's _History of Scotland_, and the contemporary narrative in Dalzell's _Scotish Poems of the Sixteenth Century_, i. 136.

The ballad which follows is taken from the publication of Dalzell just mentioned, vol. ii. p. 347. There is a copy in the Pepys Collection, and another in the Advocates' Library, printed at Edinburgh in 1681. The ballad is also printed, undoubtedly from a stall copy, in _Scarce Ancient Ballads_, p. 29. The first four stanzas had previously been given in Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, ii. 144. The older version of Dalzell is somewhat defective, and abounds in errors, which, as well as the vitiated orthography, are attributed to the ignorance of an English transcriber. The omissions are here supplied in the margin from the other copies.

Betuixt Dunother and Aberdein,
I rais and tuik the way,
Beleiuing weill it had not beine
Nought halff ane hour to day.
The lift was clad with cloudis gray, 5
And owermaskit was the moone,
Quhilk me deceaued whair I lay,
And maid me ryss ouer soone.

On Towie Mounth I mett a man,
Weill grathed in his gear: 10
Quoth I, "Quhat neues?" then he begane
To tell a fitt of warre.
Quoth he, "Of lait I heir,[L13]
Ane bloodie broust there was brouine,
Zesterday, withouten moir, 15
Upone ane hill at Strathdoune."

* * * * *

Then I, as any man wold be, 25
Desyrous for to know
Mair of that taill he told to me,
The quhilk he said he sawe--
Be then the day began to daw,
And back with him I red; 30
Then he began the soothe to schaw,
And on this wayis he said.

Macallenmore cam from the wast
With many a bow and brand;
To wast the Rinnes he thought best, 35
The Earll of Huntlies land.[L36]
He swore that none should him gainestand,
Except that he war fay;
Bot all sould be at his comand
That dwelt be northen Tay. 40

Then Huntlie, for to prevent that perrill,
Directit hastilie
Unto the noble Erll of Erroll,
Besought him for supplie.
Quha said, "It is my deutie 45
For to giue Huntlie support;
For if he lossis Strabolgie,
My Slaines will be ill hurt.

"Thairfoir I hald the subject vaine,
Wold rave us of our right; 50
First sall one of us be slaine,
The uther tak the flight.
Suppose Argyll be muche of might,
Be force of Heigheland men;
We's be a motte into his sight, 55
Or he pas hame againe.

"Be blaithe, my mirrie men, be blaithe,
Argyll sall have the worse,
Give he into this countrie kaithe,
I houpe in God[i]s cross." 60
Then leap this lord upon his horss,
Ane warrlyk troupe at Torray;
To meit with Huntlie and his force,
They ryde to Elgine of Murray.

The samen night thir lordis meit; 65
For utheris, who thought long,
(To tell zow all, I haue forgot)
The mirthe was them amonge.
Then playeris played, and songsters song,
To gled the mirrie host, 70
Quho feared not thair foes strong,
Nor zet Argylles boste.

They for two dayes wold not remove,
Bot blaithlie dranck the wyne,
Some to his lass, some to his loue, 75
Some to his ladeis fyne.
And he that thought not for to blyne,
His mistres tockin tackes;
They kist it first, and set it syne
Upone thair helmes and jackes. 80

They past thair tyme right wantonly,
Quhill word cam at ye last,
Argyll, with ane great armie,
Approached wondrous fast.
Then [out] of the toune thir barrones past, 85
And Huntlie to them said,
"Good gentillmen, we will us cast
To Strathbolgie but bed."[L88]