Chapter VII: Book 1 (4)

[462] This stanza is restored from a quotation of this ballad in Selden's _Titles of Honour_, who produces it as a good authority to prove, that one mode of creating _Esquires_ at that time, was by the imposition of a _Collar_. His words are, "Nor is that old pamphlet of the Tanner of Tamworth and King Edward the Fourth so contemptible, but that wee may thence note also an observable passage, wherein the use of making Esquires, by giving Collars, is expressed." (Sub Tit. Esquire; & vide in Spelmanni Glossar. Armiger.) This form of creating Esquires actually exists at this day among the Serjeants at Arms, who are invested with a Collar (which they wear on Collar Days) by the King himself.

This information I owe to Samuel Pegge, Esq. to whom the publick is indebted for that curious work the _Curialia_, 4to.

[463] [cow hide shall mend thy shoes.]

XVI.

AS YE CAME FROM THE HOLY LAND.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND TRAVELLER.

The scene of this song is the same as in Num. XIV. The pilgrimage to Walsingham suggested the plan of many popular pieces. In the Pepys collection, vol. i. p. 226, is a kind of Interlude in the old ballad style, of which the first stanza alone is worth reprinting.

"As I went to Walsingham,
To the shrine with speede,
Met I with a jolly palmer
In a pilgrimes weede.
Now God you save, you jolly palmer!
'Welcome, lady gay,
Oft have I sued to thee for love.'
--Oft have I said you nay."

The pilgrimages undertaken on pretence of religion, were often productive of affairs of gallantry, and led the votaries to no other shrine than that of Venus.[464]

The following ballad was once very popular; it is quoted in Fletcher's _Knt. of the burning pestle_, act ii. sc. ult. and in another old play, called, _Hans Beer-pot, his invisible Comedy, &c._ 4to. 1618; act i.--The copy below was communicated to the Editor by the late Mr. Shenstone as corrected by him from an ancient copy, and supplied with a concluding stanza.

We have placed this, and _Gentle Herdsman_, &c. thus early in the volume, upon a presumption that they must have been written, if not before the dissolution of the monasteries, yet while the remembrance of them was fresh in the minds of the people.

* * * * *

[Although Percy does not mention his folio MS. this song is there,
and a copy from it is now printed at the end of Percy's version.
With the exception of the last three lines there are little
but verbal differences, but these are numerous. The ending is
strikingly inferior to that of the MS. and does very little credit
to Shenstone's poetical taste. A copy of the song in the Bodleian
library (MS. Rawl. 85 fol. 124) is signed W. R., and Dr. Bliss in
consequence claimed it for Sir Walter Raleigh in his edition of
Wood's _Athenæ_. It is inserted in the Oxford edition of Raleigh's
Works, vol. viii. p. 733, with the title--_False Love and True
Love_. Dr. Hannah also includes it in his edition of the _Courtly
Poets_, but believes it highly improbable that Raleigh wrote the
song.

Mr. Chappell points out that the first line of the ballad quoted
above is introduced in Nashe's _Have with you to Saffron Walden_,
1596. In _The Weakest goes to the Wall_, 1600, we read

"King Richard's gone to Walsingham, to the Holy Land."

The tune of _Walsingham_ was highly popular, and numerous songs
have been set to it.]

* * * * *

As ye came from the holy land
Of blessed Walsingham,
O met you not with my true love
As by the way ye came?

"How should I know your true love, 5
That have met many a one,
As I came from the holy land,
That have both come and gone?"

My love is neither white[466], nor browne,
But as the heavens faire; 10
There is none hath her form divine,
Either in earth, or ayre.

"Such an one did I meet, good sir,
With an angelicke face;
Who like a nymphe, a queene appeard 15
Both in her gait, her grace."

Yes: she hath cleane forsaken me,
And left me all alone;
Who some time loved me as her life,
And called me her owne. 20

"What is the cause she leaves thee thus,
And a new way doth take,
That some times loved thee as her life,
And thee her joy did make?"

I that loved her all my youth, 25
Growe old now as you see;
Love liketh not the falling fruite,
Nor yet the withered tree.

For love is like a carelesse childe,
Forgetting promise past: 30
He is blind, or deaf, whenere he list;
His faith is never fast.

His fond desire is fickle found,
And yieldes a trustlesse joye;
Wonne with a world of toil and care, 35
And lost ev'n with a toye.

Such is the love of womankinde,
Or Loves faire name abusde,
Beneathe which many vaine desires,
And follyes are excusde. 40

But true love is a lasting fire,
[Which viewless vestals[467] tend,
That burnes for ever in the soule,
And knowes nor change, nor end.']

[***]

* * * * *

[The following version is reprinted from the Folio MS. (ed. Hales
and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 471.)

"As: yee came ffrom the holy Land
of Walsingham,
Mett you not with my true loue
by the way as you came?" 4
"how shold I know your true loue,
that haue mett many a one
as I cam ffrom the holy Land,
that haue come, that haue gone?" 8

"Shee is neither white nor browne,
but as the heauens ffaire;
there is none hathe their fforme diuine
on the earth or the ayre." 12
"such a one did I meete, good Sir,
with an angellike fface,
who like a nimph, like a queene, did appeare
in her gate, in her grace." 16

"Shee hath left me heere alone,
all alone as vnknowne,
who sometime loued me as her liffe
and called me her owne." 20
"What is the cause shee hath left thee alone,
and a new way doth take,
that sometime did loue thee as her selfe,
and her ioy did thee make?" 24

"I haue loued her all my youth,
but now am old, as you see.
loue liketh not the ffalling ffruite
nor the whithered tree; 28
for loue is like a carlesse child,
and fforgetts promise past:
he is blind, he is deaffe when he list,
and infaith neuer ffast; 32

"his desire is ffickle, ffond,
and a trustles ioye;
he is won with a world of dispayre,
and lost with a toye. 36

such is the [fate of all man] kind,
or the word loue abused,
under which many childish desires
and conceipts are excused." 40

"But loue is a durabler ffyer
in the mind euer Burninge,
euer sicke, neuer dead, neuer cold,
ffrom itt selfe neuer turninge." 44

ffinis.]

FOOTNOTES:

[464] Even in the time of Langland, pilgrimages to Walsingham were not unfavourable to the rites of Venus. Thus in his _Visions of Pierce Plowman_, fo. 1.

"Hermets on a heape, with hoked staves,
Wenten to Walsingham, and her[465] wenches after."

[465] _i.e._ their.

[466] sc. pale.

[467] sc. angels.

XVII.

HARDYKNUTE.

A SCOTTISH FRAGMENT.

As this fine morsel of heroic poetry hath generally past for ancient, it is here thrown to the end of our earliest pieces; that such as doubt of its age, may the better compare it with other pieces of genuine antiquity. For after all, there is more than reason to suspect, that it owes most of its beauties (if not its whole existence) to the pen of a lady, within the present century. The following particulars may be depended on. Mrs. Wardlaw, whose maiden name was Halket (aunt to the late Sir Peter Halket, of Pitferran, in Scotland, who was killed in America, along with general Bradock, in 1755), pretended she had found this poem, written on shreds of paper, employed for what is called the bottoms of clues. A suspicion arose that it was her own composition. Some able judges asserted it to be modern. The lady did in a manner acknowledge it to be so. Being desired to shew an additional stanza, as a proof of this, she produced the 2 last beginning with "_There's nae light_," &c. which were not in the copy that was first printed. The late Lord President Forbes, and Sir Gilbert Elliot of Minto (late Lord Justice Clerk for Scotland) who had believed it ancient, contributed to the expence of publishing the first edition, in folio, 1719.--This account was transmitted from Scotland by Sir David Dalrymple, the late Lord Hailes, who yet was of opinion, that part of the ballad may be ancient; but retouched and much enlarged by the lady abovementioned. Indeed he had been informed, that the late William Thomson, the Scottish musician, who published the _Orpheus Caledonius_, 1733, 2 vols. 8vo. declared he had heard fragments of it repeated in his infancy, before Mrs. Wardlaw's copy was heard of.

The poem is here printed from the original edition, as it was prepared for the press with the additional improvements.

In an elegant publication, intitled, _Scottish Tragic Ballads_, printed by and for J. Nichols, 1781, 8vo. may be seen a continuation of the Ballad of _Hardyknute_, by the addition of a _Second Part_, which hath since been acknowledged to be his own composition, by the ingenious Editor [John Pinkerton]--To whom the late Sir D. Dalrymple communicated (subsequent to the account drawn up above) extracts of a letter from Sir John Bruce, of Kinross, to Lord Binning, which plainly proves the pretended discoverer of the fragment of _Hardyknute_ to have been Sir John Bruce himself. His words are, "To perform my promise, I send you a true copy of the Manuscript I found some weeks ago in a vault at Dumferline. It is written on vellum in a fair Gothic character, but so much defaced by time, as you'll find that the tenth part is not legible." He then gives the whole fragment as it was first published in 1719, save one or two stanzas, marking several passages as having perished by being illegible in the old MS. Hence it appears, that Sir John was the author of _Hardyknute_, but afterwards used Mrs. Wardlaw to be the midwife of his poetry, and suppressed the story of the vault; as is well observed by the Editor of the _Tragic Ballads_, and of Maitland's _Scot. Poets_, vol. i. p. cxxvii.

To this gentleman we are indebted for the use of the copy, whence the second edition was afterwards printed, as the same was prepared for the press by John Clerk, M.D. of Edinburgh, an intimate companion of Lord President Forbes.

The title of the first edition was, "_Hardyknute, a Fragment_. Edinburgh, printed for James Watson, &c. 1719," folio, 12 pages.

Stanzas not in the first edition are, Nos. 17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 34, 35, 36, 37, 41, 42.

In the present impression the orthography of Dr. Clerk's copy has been preserved, and his readings carefully followed, except in a few instances, wherein the common edition appeared preferable: _viz._ He had in ver. 20. _but._--v. 56. _of harm._--v. 64. _every._--v. 67. _lo down._--v. 83. _That_ omitted.--v. 89. _And_ omitted.--v. 143. _With argument but vainly strave Lang._--v. 148. _say'd._--v. 155. _incampit on the plain._--v. 156. _Norse squadrons._--v. 158. _regand revers._--v. 170. _his strides he bent._--v. 171. _minstrals playand Pibrochs fine._--v. 172. _stately went._--v. 182. _mon._--v. 196. _sharp and fatal._--v. 219. _which._--v. 241. _stood wyld._--Stanza 39 preceded stanza 38.--v. 305. _There._--v. 313. _blew westling._--v. 336. had originally been, _He fear'd a' cou'd be fear'd_.

The Editor was also informed, on the authority of Dr. David Clerk, M.D. of Edinburgh (son of the aforesaid Dr. John Clerk), that between the present stanzas 36 and 37, the two following had been intended, but were on maturer consideration omitted, and do not now appear among the MS. additions:

"Now darts flew wavering through slaw speed,
Scarce could they reach their aim;
Or reach'd, scarce blood the round point drew,
'Twas all but shot in vain:
Right strengthy arms forfeebled grew,
Sair wreck'd wi' that day's toils:
E'en fierce-born minds now lang'd for peace,
And curs'd war's cruel broils.

"Yet still wars horns sounded to charge,
Swords clash'd and harness rang;
But saftly sae ilk blaster blew
The hills and dales fraemang.
Nae echo heard in double dints,
Nor the lang-winding horn,
Nae mair she blew out brade as she
Did eir that summers morn."

* * * * *

[Elizabeth Halket, second daughter of Sir Charles Halket of
Pitfirrane, Fife, and wife of Sir Henry Wardlaw of Pitrivie, Fife
and Balmulie near Dunfermline, who was born in the year 1677,
married in 1696, and died in 1727, is now known to have been the
authoress of _Hardyknute_, although it was many years before the
question of the authorship was finally settled.

Mr. David Laing once possessed a copy of this ballad printed in a
duodecimo of eight pages without date, which is supposed to be the
original edition. Besides various differences, some important and
others minute, it does not contain stanzas 27, 28 and 40, which
are printed in the folio of 1719. It was reprinted several times
before Percy included it in his book, and its antiquity does not
seem to have been doubted, for the editor of the edition of 1740
speaks of it as a specimen of the true sublime, and believes that
"it can only be the work of an author highly smitten with the fury
of a poetical genius." Allan Ramsay's _Evergreen_, 1724, vol. ii.
contains this ballad with the twelve additional stanzas noted above
by Percy.

When Percy first printed the ballad suspicions of its authenticity
had been expressed, which soon led to the discovery of the writer,
but after having stated who was the real author, he threw doubts
upon his statement on account of Pinkerton's truthless report.
Pinkerton was never to be depended upon, and he had previously
affirmed that the common people of Lanarkshire "repeat scraps of
_both parts_," although the second was his own composition. Sir
John Hope Bruce had nothing to do with the composition of the
ballad, and it is even doubtful whether his supposed letter to
Lord Binning ever had any existence. If it had, it was merely
a mystification. On the second of December, 1785, Lord Hailes
wrote to Pinkerton as follows, "You mistook if you suppose that I
reckoned Sir John Bruce to be the author of _Hardyknute_. It is his
sister-in-law, Lady Wardlaw, who is said to have been the author."
Yet Pinkerton made Percy believe that Bruce was the author. Great
difference of opinion has been expressed as to the merit of the
ballad by various critics. Mathias was fascinated with it, and
printed it privately with an encomiastic criticism. Scott wrote on
the fly-leaf of his copy of Ramsay's _Evergreen_, "_Hardyknute_ was
the first poem I ever learnt--the last that I shall forget," and
in his _Minstrelsy of the Border_ he terms it "a most spirited
and beautiful imitation of the ancient ballad." Thomas Warton was
deceived by it, and describes it as genuine in the first edition of
his _Observations on Spenser_. In the second edition he assigns
the ballad to its true author, but adds, "I am apt to think that
the first stanza is old and gave the hint for writing the rest."
On the other side Dr. Johnson considered it to have "no great
merit," and Aytoun esteemed it a very poor performance. It has
not been popular with the ordinary devourers of ballads, and Mr.
James Maidment never had the good luck to pick up a stall copy--he
writes, "The flying stationers, the best judges of what suited
their customers, not considering it an eligible republication."
The ballad is supposed to refer to the battle of Largs, fought on
the second of October, 1263, between the invading force led by
Haco, King of Norway, and the Scottish army commanded in person by
Alexander III., but it would, in fact, suit any conflict between
Scots and Northmen. The effect of this battle was the loss to
Scandinavia of the Hebrides and the Isle of Man, which dependencies
were relinquished to Alexander III. by terms of a treaty concluded
in 1266, with Magnus, the successor of Haco. The victory was
largely due to the Lord High Steward of Scotland, who is supposed
to be represented by Hardyknute. Mr. Gilfillan notes that "Fairly
Castle, the residence of Hardyknute, stands three miles south of
the battle field. It is a single square tower, by the side of a
wild stream tumbling over a rock into a deep ravine."]

* * * * *

I.

Stately stept he east the wa',[468]
And stately stept he west,
Full seventy years he now had seen,
Wi' scarce seven years of rest.
He liv'd when Britons breach of faith 5
Wrought Scotland mickle wae:
And ay his sword tauld to their cost,
He was their deadlye fae.

II.

High on a hill his castle stood,
With ha's[469] and tow'rs a height, 10
And goodly chambers fair to se,
Where he lodged mony a knight.
His dame sae peerless anes and fair,
For chast and beauty deem'd,
Nae marrow[470] had in all the land, 15
Save Elenor[471] the queen.

III.

Full thirteen sons to him she bare,
All men of valour stout;
In bloody fight with sword in hand
Nine lost their lives bot[472] doubt: 20
Four yet remain, lang may they live
To stand by liege and land;
High was their fame, high was their might,
And high was their command.

IV.

Great love they bare to Fairly fair, 25
Their sister saft and dear,
Her girdle shaw'd her middle gimp,[473]
And gowden glist[474] her hair.
What waefu' wae her beauty bred?
Waefu' to young and auld, 30
Waefu' I trow to kyth and kin,
As story ever tauld.

V.

The king of Norse in summer tyde,
Puff'd up with pow'r and might,
Landed in fair Scotland the isle 35
With mony a hardy knight.
The tydings to our good Scots king
Came, as he sat at dine,
With noble chiefs in brave aray,
Drinking the blood-red wine. 40

VI.

"To horse, to horse, my royal liege,
Your faes stand on the strand,
Full twenty thousand glittering spears
The king of Norse commands."
Bring me my steed Mage dapple gray, 45
Our good king rose and cry'd,
A trustier beast in a' the land
A Scots king nevir try'd.

VII.

Go little page, tell Hardyknute,
That lives on hill sae hie, 50
To draw his sword, the dread of faes,
And haste and follow me.
The little page flew swift as dart
Flung by his master's arm,
"Come down, come down, lord Hardyknute, 55
And rid your king frae harm."

VIII.

Then red red grew his dark-brown cheeks,
Sae did his dark-brown brow;
His looks grew keen, as they were wont
In dangers great to do; 60
He's ta'en a horn as green as grass,
And gi'en five sounds sae shill,[475]
That trees in green wood shook thereat,
Sae loud rang ilka hill.

IX.

His sons in manly sport and glee, 65
Had past that summer's morn,
When low down in a grassy dale,
They heard their father's horn.
That horn, quo' they, ne'er sounds in peace,
We've other sport to bide. 70
And soon they hy'd them up the hill,
And soon were at his side.

X.

"Late late the yestreen[476] I ween'd in peace
To end my lengthened life,
My age might well excuse my arm 75
Frae manly feats of strife;
But now that Norse do's proudly boast
Fair Scotland to inthrall,
It's ne'er be said of Hardyknute,
He fear'd to fight or fall. 80

XI.

"Robin of Rothsay, bend thy bow
Thy arrows shoot sae leel,[477]
That mony a comely countenance
They've turnd to deadly pale.
Brade[478] Thomas take you but your lance, 85
You need nae weapons mair,
If you fight wi't as you did anes
'Gainst Westmoreland's fierce heir.

XII.

"And Malcolm, light of foot as stag
That runs in forest wild, 90
Get me my thousands three of men
Well bred to sword and shield:
Bring me my horse and harnisine,[479]
My blade of mettal clear.
If faes but ken'd the hand it bare, 95
They soon had fled for fear.

XIII.

"Farewell my dame sae peerless good,
(And took her by the hand),
Fairer to me in age you seem,
Than maids for beauty fam'd. 100
My youngest son shall here remain
To guard these stately towers,
And shut the silver bolt that keeps
Sae fast your painted bowers."

XIV.

And first she wet her comely cheiks, 105
And then her boddice green,
Her silken cords of twirtle twist,[480]
Well plett with silver sheen;
And apron set with mony a dice
Of needle-wark sae rare, 110
Wove by nae hand, as ye may guess,
Save that of Fairly fair.

XV.

And he has ridden o'er muir and moss,
O'er hills and mony a glen,
When he came to a wounded knight 115
Making a heavy mane;
"Here maun I lye, here maun I dye,
By treacherie's false guiles;
Witless I was that e'er ga faith
To wicked woman's smiles." 120

XVI.

"Sir knight, gin you were in my bower,
To lean on silken seat,
My lady's kindly care you'd prove,
Who ne'er knew deadly hate:
Herself wou'd watch you a' the day, 125
Her maids a dead of night;
And Fairly fair your heart wou'd chear,
As she stands in your sight.

XVII.

"Arise young knight, and mount your stead,
Full lowns the shynand day:[481] 130
Choose frae my menzie[482] whom ye please
To lead you on the way."
With smileless look, and visage wan
The wounded knight reply'd,
"Kind chieftain, your intent pursue, 135
For here I maun abyde.

XVIII.

To me nae after day nor night
Can e're be sweet or fair,
But soon beneath some draping tree,
Cauld death shall end my care." 140
With him nae pleading might prevail;
Brave Hardyknute to gain
With fairest words, and reason strong,
Strave courteously in vain.

XIX.

Syne he has gane far hynd out o'er[483] 145
Lord Chattan's land sae wide;
That lord a worthy wight was ay,
When faes his courage sey'd:[484]
Of Pictish race by mother's side,
When Picts rul'd Caledon, 150
Lord Chattan claim'd the princely maid,
When he sav'd Pictish crown.

XX.

Now with his fierce and stalwart train,
He reach'd a rising hight,
Quhair braid encampit on the dale, 155
Norss menzie[485] lay in sicht.
"Yonder my valiant sons and feirs[486]
Our raging revers[487] wait
On the unconquert Scottish sward
To try with us their fate. 160

XXI.

"Make orisons to him that sav'd
Our sauls upon the rude;[488]
Syne[489] bravely shaw your veins are fill'd
With Caledonian blude."
Then furth he drew his trusty glave,[490] 165
While thousands all around
Drawn frae their sheaths glanc'd in the sun;
And loud the bougles sound.

XXII.

To joyn his king adoun the hill
In hast his merch he made, 170
While, playand pibrochs, minstralls meit[491]
Afore him stately strade.
"Thrice welcome valiant stoup of weir,[492]
Thy nations shield and pride;
Thy king nae reason has to fear 175
When thou art by his side."

XXIII.

When bows were bent and darts were thrawn;
For thrang scarce cou'd they flee;
The darts clove arrows as they met,
The arrows dart[493] the tree. 180
Lang did they rage and fight fu' fierce,
With little skaith to mon,
But bloody bloody was the field,
Ere that lang day was done.

XXIV.

The king of Scots, that sindle[494] brook'd 185
The war that look'd like play,
Drew his braid sword, and brake his bow,
Sin bows seem'd but delay.
Quoth noble Rothsay, "Mine I'll keep,
I wat it's bled a score." 190
Haste up my merry men, cry'd the king,
As he rode on before.

XXV.

The king of Norse he sought to find,
With him to mense[495] the faught,
But on his forehead there did light 195
A sharp unsonsie[496] shaft;
As he his hand put up to feel
The wound, an arrow keen,
O waefu' chance! there pinn'd his hand
In midst between his een. 200

XXVI.

"Revenge, revenge, cry'd Rothsay's heir,
Your mail-coat sha' na bide
The strength and sharpness of my dart:"
Then sent it through his side.
Another arrow well he mark'd, 205
It pierc'd his neck in twa,
His hands then quat[497] the silver reins,
He low as earth did fa'.

XXVII.

"Sair bleids my liege, sair, sair he bleeds!"
Again wi' might he drew 210
And gesture dread his sturdy bow,
Fast the braid arrow flew:
Wae to the knight he ettled at;[498]
Lament now queen Elgreed;
High dames too wail your darling's fall, 215
His youth and comely meed.

XXVIII.

"Take aff, take aff his costly jupe[499]
(Of gold well was it twin'd,
Knit like the fowler's net, through quhilk,
His steelly harness shin'd) 220
Take, Norse, that gift frae me, and bid
Him venge the blood it bears;
Say, if he face my bended bow,
He sure nae weapon fears."

XXIX.

Proud Norse with giant body tall, 225
Braid shoulders and arms strong,
Cry'd, "Where is Hardyknute sae fam'd,
And fear'd at Britain's throne:
Tho' Britons tremble at his name,
I soon shall make him wail, 230
That e'er my sword was made sae sharp,
Sae saft his coat of mail."

XXX.

That brag his stout heart cou'd na bide,
It lent him youthfu' micht:
"I'm Hardyknute; this day, he cry'd, 235
To Scotland's king I heght[500]
To lay thee low, as horses hoof;
My word I mean to keep."
Syne with the first stroke e'er he strake,
He garr'd[501] his body bleed. 240

XXXI.

Norss' een like gray gosehawk's stair'd wyld,
He sigh'd wi' shame and spite;
"Disgrac'd is now my far-fam'd arm
That left thee power to strike:"
Then ga' his head a blow sae fell, 245
It made him doun to stoup,
As laigh as he to ladies us'd
In courtly guise to lout.[502]

XXXII.

Fu' soon he rais'd his bent body,
His bow he marvell'd sair, 250
Sin blows till then on him but darr'd[503]
As touch of Fairly fair:
Norse marvell'd too as sair as he
To see his stately look;
Sae soon as e'er he strake a fae, 255
Sae soon his life he took.

XXXIII.

Where like a fire to heather set,
Bauld Thomas did advance,
Ane sturdy fae with look enrag'd
Up toward him did prance; 260
He spurr'd his steid through thickest ranks
The hardy youth to quell,
Wha stood unmov'd at his approach
His fury to repell.

XXXIV.

"That short brown shaft sae meanly trimm'd, 265
Looks like poor Scotlands gear,
But dreadfull seems the rusty point!"
And loud he leugh in jear.[504]
"Oft Britons b[l]ood has dimm'd its shine;
This point cut short their vaunt:" 270
Syne pierc'd the boasters bearded cheek;
Nae time he took to taunt.

XXXV.

Short while he in his saddle swang,
His stirrup was nae stay,
Sae feeble hang his unbent knee 275
Sure taiken he was fey:[505]
Swith[506] on the harden't clay he fell,
Right far was heard the thud:
But Thomas look't nae as he lay
All waltering in his blud.

XXXVI.

With careless gesture, mind unmov't,
On rode he north the plain;
His seem in throng of fiercest strife,
When winner ay the same:
Not yet his heart dames dimplet cheek 285
Could mease[507] soft love to bruik,
Till vengefu' Ann return'd his scorn,
Then languid grew his luik.

XXXVII.

In thraws of death, with walowit[508] cheik
All panting on the plain, 290
The fainting corps of warriours lay,
Ne're to arise again;
Ne're to return to native land,
Nae mair with blithsome sounds
To boast the glories of the day, 295
And shaw their shining wounds.

XXXVIII.

On Norways coast the widowit dame
May wash the rocks with tears,
May lang luik ow'r the shipless seas
Befor her mate appears. 300
Cease, Emma, cease to hope in vain;
Thy lord lyes in the clay;
The valiant Scots nae revers thole[509]
To carry life away.

XXXIX.

Here on a lee, where stands a cross 305
Set up for monument,
Thousands fu' fierce that summer's day
Fill'd keen war's black intent.
Let Scots, while Scots, praise Hardyknute,
Let Norse the name ay dread, 310
Ay how he faught, aft how he spar'd,
Shall latest ages read.

XL.

Now loud and chill blew th' westlin wind,
Sair beat the heavy shower,
Mirk[510] grew the night ere Hardyknute 315
Wan[511] near his stately tower.
His tow'r that us'd wi' torches blaze
To shine sae far at night,
Seem'd now as black as mourning weed,
Nae marvel sair he sigh'd. 320

XLI.

"There's nae light in my lady's bower,
There's nae light in my ha';
Nae blink shines round my Fairly fair,
Nor ward[512] stands on my wa'."
"What bodes it? Robert, Thomas, say;"-- 325
Nae answer fitts their dread.
"Stand back, my sons, I'le be your guide;"
But by they past with speed.

XLII.

"As fast I've sped owre Scotlands faes,"--
There ceas'd his brag of weir, 330
Sair sham'd to mind ought but his dame,
And maiden Fairly fair.
Black fear he felt, but what to fear
He wist nae yet; wi' dread
Sair shook his body, sair his limbs, 335
And a' the warrior fled.
* * * * *

FOOTNOTES:

[468] [wall or rampart of the castle.]

[469] [halls.]

[470] [match or equal.]

[471] [Margaret was the name of the queen of Alexander III. Her mother was Eleanor, Queen of England.]

[472] [without.]

[473] [slender.]

[474] [shone like gold.]

[475] [so shrill.]

[476] [yester even.]

[477] [true.]

[478] [broad.]

[479] [armour.]

[480] [twirled twist.]

[481] [full calm the shining day becomes.]

[482] [retinue.]

[483] [gone far over the country.]

[484] [tried.]

[485] [the horse army.]

[486] [companions.]

[487] [spoilers or robbers.]

[488] [cross.]

[489] [then.]

[490] [sword.]

[491] [proper.]

[492] [pillar of war.]

[493] [hit.]

[494] [seldom.]

[495] [to measure or try the battle.]

[496] [unlucky.]

[497] [quitted.]

[498] [aimed at.]

[499] [upper garment.]

[500] [promised.]

[501] [made.]

[502] [bend low.]

[503] [hit.]

[504] [in derision.]

[505] [sure token he was doomed to death.]

[506] [at once.]

[507] [mollify.]

[508] [faded.]

[509] [suffer.]

[510] [dark.]

[511] [drew near.]

[512] [warden.]

THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.

SERIES THE SECOND.