Tales and Legends of the English Lakes Part 10

"But since nae war's between the lands And there is peace and peace should be; I'll neither harm English lad or la.s.s, And yet the Kinmont shall go free."

Then on we held for Carlisle town And at Staneshaw bank the Eden we crossed, The water was great and mickle of spait But there never a man nor horse we lost.

And when we reached the Staneshaw bank, The wind was rising loud and hie, And there the laird gar'd leave our steeds For fear that they should stamp and nie.

And when we left the Staneshaw bank, The wind began full loud to blaw, But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet, When we came beneath the castle wa'.

We crept on knees and held our breath, Till we placed the ladders against the wa', And ready was bold Buccleugh himself To mount the first before us a'.

He has ta'en the watchman by the throat, He flung him down upon the lead; "Had there not been peace between our land, Upon the other side thou hadst gaed."

"Now sound our trumpet," quoth Buccleugh, Let's waken Lord Scrope, right merrilie; Then loud the Warder's trumpet blew, "Wha daur meddle wi' me?"

Wi' coulters and wi' forehammers We garred the bars bang merrilie, Until we came to the inner prison, Where Kinmont Willie he did lie.

And when we came to the lower prison, Where Kinmont Willie he did lie.

"O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, Upon the morn that thou's to die?"

"O, I sleep saft, and I wake aft, It's long since sleeping was fley'd frae me!

Gie my service back to my wife and bairns, And a' gude fellows that speir for me!"

The Red Rowan has lifted him up The starkest man in Teviotdale; "Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, Till of Lord Scrope I take farewell.

"Farewell, farewell, my good Lord Scrope, My good Lord Scrope, farewell," he cried, "I'll pay you for my lodging maill, When first we meet on the border side."

Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, We bore him down the ladder lang, At every stride Red Rowan made I wot the Kinmont's airms played clang.

"O, mony a time," quoth Kinmont Willie, "I have ridden horse both wild and woad, But a rougher beast than Red Rowan, I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode!"

We scarce had reached the Haneshaw bank, When all the Carlisle hills were rung, And a thousand men on horse and foot Came wi' the keen Lord Scrope along.

Buccleugh has turned to Eden water, Even where it flowed from bank to brim, And he has plunged in wi' a' his band And safely swam them thro' the stream.

He turned him on the other side, And at Lord Scrope his glove flung he, "If ye like na' my visit in merry England, In fair Scotland come visit me!"

This was a daring exploit, and has been gallantly sung. The words seem to come out of the mouth of one of the very moss troopers who had acted a part in the achievement, and the whole composition is rough but finely flavoured; and strongly dramatic. Queen Elizabeth, when she heard of it, was highly indignant, and "stormed not a little." Two years afterwards, the "bold Buccleugh" was in England, and Elizabeth was anxious to see so doughty a chieftain. He was presented accordingly, and Elizabeth, in a rough and peremptory manner, demanded of him how he had dared to undertake an enterprise so desperate and presumptuous!

"What is it," replied the undaunted Scot, "that a man dare not do?"

Elizabeth, struck with his boldness, turned to a lord in waiting, and said, "with ten thousand men such as this, our brother of Scotland might shake the firmest throne in Europe."

There is another ballad relating to the same Lord Scrope, and the execution of a noted reiver, named "Hughie the Graeme," who had made woeful havoc in his time among the farmsteads of the Marches, and the cattle of "merry England." Hughie did not escape Hairibee. The actual offence for which he suffered was his stealing the Bishop of Carlisle's mare. The following is the ballad:--

HUGHIE THE GRaeME.

Gude Lord Scroope's to the hunting gane, He has ridden our moss and muir; And he has grippit Hughie the Graeme, For stealing o' the bishop's mare.

"Now, Good Lord Scroope, this may not be!

Here hangs a broadsword by my side; And if that thou canst conquer me, The matter it may soon be tryed.

"I ne'er was afraid of a traitor thief, Although my name be Hughie the Graeme; I'll make thee repent thee of thy deeds, If G.o.d but grant me life and time.

"Then do your worst now, good Lord Scroope, And deal your blows as hard as you can; It shall be tried within an hour, Which of us two is the better man."

But as they were dealing their blows so free, And both so b.l.o.o.d.y at the time, Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall, All for to take brave Hughie the Graeme.

Then they ha'e gribbit Hughie the Graeme, And brought him up through Carlisle town; The la.s.ses and lads stood on the walls, Crying, "Hughie the Graeme, thou'se ne'er gae down!"

Then ha'e they chosen a jury of men, The best that were in Carlisle town: And twelve of them cried out at once, "Hughie the Graeme, thou must gae down!"

Then up bespake him gude Lord Hume, As he sat by the judge's knee: "Twenty white owsen, my gude Lord, If you'll grant Hughie the Graeme to me."

"O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume!

Forsooth, and sae it mauna be; For were there but three Graemes of the name, They suld be hanged a' for me."

'Twas up and spake the gude Lady Hume, As she sat by the judge's knee: "A peck of white pennies, my gude lord judge, If you'll grant Hughie the Graeme to me."

"O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume!

Forsooth and so it mustna be; Were he but the one Graeme of the name, He suld be hanged high for me."

"If I be guilty," said Hughie the Graeme, "Of me my friends shall have small talk:"

And he has leaped fifteen feet and three, Tho' his hands they were tied behind his back.

He looked over his left shoulder, And for to see what he might see; There was he aware of his ould father, Came tearing his hair most piteously.

"O hauld your tongue, my father," he says, "And see that ye dinna weep for me!

For they may ravish me o' my life, But they canna banish me fro' heaven hie.

"Fare ye weel, fair Maggie, my wife!

The last time we came ower the muir, 'Twas thou bereft me of my life, And wi' the bishop thou play'd the wh.o.r.e.

"Here, Johnnie Armstrong, take thou my sword, That is made o' the metal sae fine; And when thou comest to the English side, Remember the death of Hughie the Graeme."

There are two or more versions of the foregoing: one in Ritson's Collection; and one communicated by Burns to Johnson's Museum. The ballad of Hobbie n.o.ble relates to a hero of the same stamp, who suffered about the same period, at the same place, for a similar love for English oxen and sheep. Hobbie was an Englishman; who, finding less difference in the laws of "mine and thine" on the Scotch side of the border, and more sympathy with such loose notions of property as he possessed, established himself among the Scotch, and helped them to ravage the country to Carlisle southward, whenever opportunity offered. The Scotch, however, proved false to him. The Armstrongs, amongst whom he was residing, were bribed by the English to decoy him over the border upon pretence of a raid or foray; where he was delivered up to a party from Carlisle castle, that had long been on the look-out for him. By these he was taken to Carlisle, and hanged on Hairibee in less than twenty-four hours afterwards.

HOBBIE n.o.bLE.

Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in!

That Liddesdale may safely say: For in it there was baith meat and drink, And corn unto our geldings gay.

And we were a' stout-hearted men, As England she might often say; But now we may turn our backs and flee, Since brave n.o.ble is sold away.

Now Hobbie was an Englishman, And born in Bewcastle dale; But his misdeeds they were so great, They banished him to Liddesdale.

At Kershope foot the tryst was set, Kershope of the lilye lee; And there was traitor Sim o' the Mains, And with him a private companie.

Then Hobbie has graithed his body fair, Baith wi' the iron and wi' the steil; And he has ta'en out his fringed gray, And there brave Hobbie he rade him weel.