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 ST BALDRED OF THE BASS, 
 
 OTHER POEMS.
 
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 Til*- *Hirnirk3 friar* leap ta tfair fat . 
 ne ftvltJ Ufrt lafl <nUA- m .
 
 ST BALDRED OF THE BASS, 
 
 SIEGE OF BERWICK, 
 
 WITH OTHER 
 
 POEMS AND BALLADS, 
 
 FOUNDED ON THE LOCAL TRADITIONS OF EAST LOTHIAN 
 AND BERWICKSHIRE. 
 
 BY JAMES MILLER. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 SOLD BY 
 
 OLIVER & BOYD, TWEEDDALE-COURT ; 
 
 AND 
 
 GEO. B. WHITTAKER, LONDON. 
 1824.
 
 EDINBURGH, 
 PRINTED BY OLIVER & BOYD, 
 TWEEDDALE-COURT.
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 CHARLES, EARL OF HADDINGTON, 
 
 BARON OF BINNING AND BYRES, &c. 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 HADDINGTON, 
 November 1, 1824.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS, a Pictish Legend: p age 
 
 Introduction 3 
 
 Introductory Stanzas. 9 
 
 PART I. The FuneraL 17 
 
 PART II. The Pilgrimage 53 
 
 Notes 73 
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK, a Tragedy : 
 
 Preface 103 
 
 The Siege of Berwick ; or the Murdered Hostage 1 09 
 
 Alan of Winton ; Or the Heiress of Seton 207 
 
 Notes 229 
 
 The Vision of Hungus 233 
 
 Notes 237 
 
 The Abbess of St Abb 239 
 
 Walter of Congalton 245 
 
 The Lost Drave of Dunbar ; or the Witch of Keith 247 
 
 Notes 265 
 
 Account of the Witches of East Lothian 266 
 
 A Tale of Garleton 283 
 
 The Vicar of Golyn 285 
 
 The Gudewife of TulloshUl and the Lord of Lauderdale 297 
 
 Young Argyle ; or, Stanzas to Lethington Castle 311 
 
 Notes 323 
 
 The Murder of Sir James Stanfield; in two Fits 327 
 
 Fit the First 329 
 
 Fit the Second 338 
 
 Notes 345 
 
 Sonnet, on visiting Barra Church-yard 348
 
 vm CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Verses in Memory of Dunbar Collegiate Church 349 
 
 Notes 369 
 
 Ormiston Yew Tree ; with a Lament for the Earl of Hopetoun 373 
 
 Notes 378 
 
 Sonnet to Dirleton Castle. 380 
 
 Wreck of the John and Agnes Sloop of Newcastle at Tyne Sands.. 381 
 
 The Shepherd of Lammermoor 385 
 
 Dunpender Law 389 
 
 To the Moon and the Evening Star 395 
 
 SONGS. 
 
 THE False Alarm 397 
 
 George the Fourth's Welcome 399 
 
 On laying the Foundation Stone of Lord Hopetoun's Monument... 403 
 On placing Mr Ferme's Portrait in the Masonic Lodge at Had- 
 
 dington 405 
 
 The Gardener's Song 407 
 
 The Hammerman's Song 410 
 
 The Country Laird's Courtship 412 
 
 My Auld Maiden Aunty 414 
 
 To .... .. 416
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS, 
 
 A PICTISH LEGEND. 
 
 IN TWO PARTS.
 
 SAINT BALDRED. 
 
 SAINT BALDUED, the venerable subject of the follow- 
 ing poem, was the disciple of Kentigern or St Mungo, 
 the tutelary saint of Glasgow. According to Boece, he 
 was of Scottish descent ; and, during the reign of 
 Brudeus, king of the Picts, held his pastoral charge in 
 East Lothian, which then formed part of the kingdom 
 of Pictland. His instructor in the faith was the re- 
 puted son of Thametis, a Pictish princess,* who was 
 cousin to the reigning monarch ; it is probable, therefore, 
 from this circumstance, that he enjoyed the smiles of 
 royal patronage and favour. 
 
 " The Breviary of Aberdeen," says Dr Jamieson, in 
 his History of the Culdees, " contains some particulars 
 with respect to Baldred, which I have not met with 
 
 * Thametis was daughter to Loth, king of the Picts, who gave his 
 name to Lothian. Spntxu'owl.
 
 4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 any where else. ' This suffragan of St Kentigern 
 flourished in Lothian, in virtues and in illustrious 
 miracles. Being eminently devout, he renounced all 
 worldly pomp, and, following the example of John 
 the Divine, resided in solitary places, and betook him- 
 self to the islands of the sea. Among these he had 
 recourse to one called a#s, where he led a life, with- 
 out all question, contemplative and strict, in which, for 
 many years, he held up to remembrance the most 
 blessed Kentigern, his instructor, in the constant con- 
 templation of the sanctity of his conduct. 111 Hist. 
 Culdees, p. 190. 
 
 " In this work, 11 continues the doctor, " we find a 
 miracle ascribed to the worthy Baldred, that must have 
 rendered him an inestimable acquisition to a people 
 living on a rocky coast. ' There was a great rock 
 between the said island and the adjacent land, which 
 remained fixed in the middle of the passage, unmoved 
 by all the force of the waves, giving the greatest hin- 
 derance to navigation, and often causing shipwrecks. 
 The blessed Baldred, moved by piety, ordered that he 
 should be placed on this rock. This being done, at his 
 nod the rock was immediately lifted up, and, like a 
 ship driven by a favourable breeze, proceeded to the 
 nearest shore, and henceforth remained in the same 
 place, as a memorial of this miracle, and is to this day
 
 INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 called St Baldred's Coble or Cock-boat." A small 
 rock, at the mouth of Aldham bay, still bears the 
 name of Baudrwi's Boat. 
 
 If personal safety merited consideration from the 
 ascetic, who was all but adored in that rude age, and 
 who li ved a life of patriarchal innocence and simplicity, 
 we may suppose that he retired to the " strong castle 11 
 of the Bass from prudential motives; for, at this 
 period, an exterminating war raged between the Scots 
 and the Picts, at the instigation of Ethelfrid, the pagan 
 prince of Northumberland, who sought his own aggran- 
 disement in the destruction of the contending nations. 
 
 While residing in this solitude, Baldred died 6th 
 March 607-8. See Boece's Chran. and Keith's Cat. He 
 was held in such veneration by the natives, that on his 
 demise, the three neighbouring parishes of Aldham, 
 Tyningham, and Preston, laid claim to his remains. 
 It being impossible to satisfy the multitude without 
 supernatural agency, the enraged embassy were on the 
 point of deciding their right by blows, when a Pictish 
 sage judiciously advised them to spend the night in 
 prayer, that the bishop of the diocese might have an 
 opportunity of settling their dispute in the morning. 
 
 " When day dawned," says Holinshed, " there were 
 found three biers with three bodies decently covered 
 with clothes, so like in all resemblance, that no man
 
 6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 might perceive any difference. Then by command- 
 ment of the bishop, and with great joy of all the 
 people, the said several bodies were carried severally 
 unto the said three several churches, and in the same 
 buried in most solemnwise, where they remain unto this 
 day, in much honour with the common people of the 
 countries near adjoining." Holm. Chron. vol. i. 
 
 The same legend assumes a more warlike attitude in 
 the English Martyrology. 
 
 " The people waxing wroth took arms, and each of 
 them sought by force to enjoy the same ; and when the 
 matter came to issue, the said sacred body was found 
 all whole in three distinct places of the house where he 
 died : so as the people of each village coming thither, 
 and carrying the same away, placed it in their 
 churches, and kept it with great honour and veneration 
 for the miracles that at each place it pleased God to 
 work."* 
 
 In the Breviary of Aberdeen, before quoted, we are 
 informed, that " the inhabitants of the three parishes 
 
 * We meet with a similar legend of a Welsh saint in Williams's His- 
 tory of Monmouthshire. Teilo, " when slain at the altar, devotees 
 contended with so much virulence for the reputation of possessing his 
 body, that the priest, to avoid scandalous divisions, found three miracu- 
 lous bodies of the saint, as similar, according to the phrase used on the 
 occasion, as one egg to another ; and miracles were equally performed at 
 the tomb of all the three."
 
 INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 which were under his charge, as soon as they knew of 
 his death, assembled in three different troops at Aid- 
 ham, where he breathed his last, severally begging his 
 body. But, as they could not agree among themselves, 
 they, by the advice of a certain old man, left the body 
 unburied, and separately betook themselves to prayer. 
 Morning being come (as aforesaid) they found three 
 bodies perfectly alike, and all prepared with equal 
 pomp for interment. Each of the companies, of course, 
 departed well pleased ; and each parish erected a 
 monument over that body of the saint which had fallen 
 to their share." 1 ' 
 
 " Such was the credulity of these times," concludes 
 the doctor, " that it was believed, that the body of the 
 saint was in all these places ; and this, of course, af- 
 forded an irrefragable proof of the doctrine of transub- 
 stantiation. Camerarius gravely says, that, * for the 
 termination of the dispute between these parochial 
 churches, it was at length effected, by the prayers of 
 the saint himself (for nothing is impossible with God) 
 that each of them should enjoy this treasure. 1 " Major 
 asserts the doctrine as supported by this fact. See 
 Hist. Culdees, pp. 191, 188. 
 
 According to the learned Chalmers, a Saxon monas- 
 tery of St Baldred was established at Tyningham, 
 at an after period, whose diocese comprehended the
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 whole of East Lothian, and whose lands, says Simeon, 
 the monk of Durham, extended from Lammermoor to 
 Inveresk. " Et tota terra qua? pertinet ad monas- 
 terium sancti Balthere, quod vocatur Tyningham a 
 Lambermore usque ad Escemuthe." 
 
 Two elegant Saxon arches, the remains of the old 
 chapel, still ornament the beautiful domain of Tyning- 
 ham, where the principal scene of the poem is laid.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE pilgrim views on Lothian's eastern shore, 
 (Whose fields are waving far with golden grain,) 
 Like giant's fabled tower, sublimely hoar, 
 The Bass, majestic, rising from the main : 
 Here ocean's waves usurp the rural scene, 
 And the blue waters gird the mountain's zone, 
 Where spread of yore the verdant blooming plain, 
 As sage geologists have deftly shewn, 
 
 In times to topographic lore, alas ! unknown. 
 
 6
 
 10 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 II. 
 
 The muse has deem'd this crag, in fancy's hours, 
 The prototype of monster huge and tall, 
 That having left Zahara's citron bowers, 
 Dips his proboscis in the Senegal ; 
 While round his rugged sides the waters fall, 
 His stately form frowns awful o'er the tide, 
 Gleams on his back the castellated wall, 
 As erst by Porus led, in Indian pride, 
 The tower-crown'd elephant, by green Hydaspes side. 
 
 III. 
 
 The pious Baldred scoop'd his hermit cell 
 Upon the sunny summit of the rock, 
 Whence issued forth a fountain's crystal well 
 Which o'er the cliffs in showery spangles broke ; 
 The sea gulls, charm'd to tameness, round would flock, 
 Bringing their finny offerings to his cave ; 
 While as the Pict skimm'd by in light carrock, 
 He paused, a holy benison to crave, 
 Then push'd his little skiff undaunted through the wave.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 11 
 
 IV. 
 
 And oft at dead of night, when howl'd the storm, 
 The anchorite left his couch his beads to tell ; 
 And press'd the cold bare rock in prayers till morn, 
 For vessels drifting near the Inch Cape's bell, 
 Whichrung, between each gust, the seaman's knell ; 
 And evermore he closer claspt his hands, 
 As burst upon his ear the water's swell, 
 For the lone wretch who shudd'ring, drowning stands, 
 Waist-deep, and lock'd inTyne's deceitful sinking-sands. 
 
 V. 
 
 When rosy-fmger'd Flora from her urn 
 Strew'd earth with flowers, and pearl'd the azure deep, 
 While the red sun in Leo fierce did burn, 
 At depth of noon, the saint his limbs would steep 
 In the transparent waves, where breezes creep 
 O'er Fidrey's sacred isle ; meanwhile, the fry 
 Sported around in shoals, as glad to keep 
 Their summer sabbath : the sea-calf roll'd by, 
 Forsook her briny pool, and lick'd the patriarch dry.
 
 2 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 He was a star in reason's dawning day, 
 That led the savage hordes of human kind, 
 Ere Learning poured her intellectual ray 
 Like light from heav'n upon the vacant mind : 
 Then God was heard in thunder or the wind, 
 While meteor forms did aerial conflict wage ; 
 As tattooed groups upon the shore reclin'd, 
 Listened the mystic lore of Runic sage, 
 Cull'd from the Scandinavian's darkest pagan page. 
 
 VII. 
 
 He travelPd paths untrod, o'er mountains bare, 
 To preach the gifted creed to barbarous men ; 
 His food alone the jetty juniper 
 That blossom'd on the steeps of Lammer's glen ; 
 He dragged the savage from his gloomy den, 
 In silken chains his wayward passions bound, 
 While Hope's bright rainbow glitter'd o'er the fen, 
 And Mercy scatter'd pearls upon the ground, 
 Where erst dark Odin's chiefs in blood-stain'd garments 
 frown'd.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 13 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Yet deem not that the lonely orison 
 Was life's sole business ; for he also taught 
 To rear the rustic dome, which, formed of stone, 
 Fair Architecture to perfection brought ; 
 The oaken wall the roof ingenious wrought, 
 Pictured the Gothic arch with willow wand, 
 In embryo modelling those shrines of thought ; 
 Such as by Doric Tweed do sculptured stand, 
 Whose cloisters seem as carved by Nature's sylvan hand. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And, oh ! if e'er he felt that gentle flame, 
 Which, born in heav'n, on earth like vapour dies, 
 'Twas sigh'd in secret (and was he to blame ?) 
 For pious Breda, beautiful as wise, 
 Who left the pomp of gilded canopies 
 In regal lands, for the lone convent's cell. 
 And, fair, her house of prayer was seen to rise, 
 Where the Cistertian sisters loved to dwell 
 Beneath the mighty shade of Lothian's Alpine hill.
 
 14 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 X. 
 
 Of Baldred's lineage little we may learn, 
 Whether of princess born or lowly swain,- 
 Suffice, that he was bred by Kentigern 
 What time St Colme to lona came ; 
 And cleans'd the church from her Pelagian stain, 
 And royal Brudeus to the faith subdu'd ; 
 Who, haply, left the world's tumultuous scene 
 To meditate in sentimental mood, 
 And hold high converse in the Bass's solitude. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Methinks oft gazing o'er Bodotria's tide, 
 King Brude and Baldred sat in cavern'd shade, 
 The prince's robes the leopard's spotted hide, 
 Thrown o'er his brawny shoulders, which display'd, 
 Deep painted in his skin, in fierce parade, 
 The milk-white buffalo and the tusked boar ; 
 And evermore the saint some truth convey'd ; 
 Anon he shook his beard all silver'd o'er, 
 And talk'd of pilgrimage on Judah's distant shore.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 15 
 
 XII. 
 
 The prince, wrapt in astonishment, would ask 
 Of foreign climes, their manners and array ; 
 Now burn'd to crush the Persian basilisk, 
 Reserved for the crusades of latter day 
 Now sought to know if the world's barriers lay 
 Where Alps lie pillow'd till they prop the skies ! 
 And much he long'd to pierce the milky-way, 
 Even as an eagle ; while, before his eyes 
 Fair pictured in the sand, the zodiac's splendour lies. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Philosophizing thus, the hours were lost, 
 Till war's horn blew, and Brudeus graspt the spear ; 
 For valiant Arthur's Bacchanalian host 
 Have left their Christmas-pie for rougher cheer ; 
 The Scot and Pict invading warfare bear, 
 And drive the Table-knights to Humber's flood ; 
 Then* monarch slain, the Britons yield through fear, 
 While the sun shone at noon array'd in blood, 
 And York's esculent herbs gleamM crimson from the bud.
 
 1C SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS- 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Too soon to these leagued warriors omens told 
 Of broken friendship, desolating woe ; 
 For the Northumbrian prince with treacherous gold 
 Seduced the Pict to hold the Scot his foe ; 
 Grief for their strife brought saintly Baldred low ; 
 Upon the Bass he pined away, and died, 
 When o'er a rainbow-bridge, in robes of snow, 
 Upborne by angels, he was seen to glide ; 
 As erst St Idan rose from Leader's pastoral side.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Jf utwraf. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE requiem rises loud, but drear, 
 
 Within the Bass's rocky isle ; 
 Where watchful round St Baldred's bier 
 
 The monks await the morning's smile ; 
 While torch-light reddens the lone cave,. 
 
 And brightens every paler face, 
 Till in each feature, darkly grave, 
 
 Sorrow her gentle tear may trace. 
 
 II. 
 
 That day from Preston's holy fane, 
 Three friars came the priest to claim ; 
 
 For there, in Modred's gloomy reign, 
 Before the Saxons were subdued,
 
 18 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. PA 
 
 His foster-mother was a dame 
 
 Supposed the heir of high-born blood. 
 Three friars came from A Wham's shrine 
 
 In quest of the revered man ; 
 For there, among the Pictish line, 
 
 His pastoral charge at first began. 
 Three friars came from Tyningham 
 
 To claim the Saint's much-hallow'd clay ; 
 For there, enshrined in folds of balm, 
 
 His saintly predecessors lay, 
 
 The church-light of an earlier day. 
 
 III. 
 
 Th' assembled friars stood amazed, 
 Speechless, and swollen with rage they gazed, 
 Till arms in angry mood were raised, 
 
 And crosier-staffs were broke ; 
 When ripe for vengeance and for war, 
 They rent the cross-woven scapular, 
 
 And tore the scanty cloak ; 
 From grasp and squeeze they pass'd to blows, 
 One took his neighbour by the nose, 
 
 Another by the hair; 
 Nor ceased to ply the dangerous art, 
 Till each could shew a wounded part, 
 And every back was bare !
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 19 
 
 IV. 
 
 Alarm'd by the tumultuous roar 
 
 The solan left her rocky nest, 
 And travelling to the Fifean shore, 
 
 Like snowy curtains deck'd the west ; 
 While monsters in the Forth were seen, 
 Disporting in the waters green, 
 With crested head, like horned owl, 
 O'erspread with film like Carmelite's cowl ; 
 Then all look'd ominous and drear 
 As if some great event was near ; 
 And many saw pale Loda's form, 
 
 Gleam in his meteor-clad array ; 
 While others only heard the storm 
 
 As grief or terror held their sway. 
 
 V. 
 
 Dark grew the Warden's cheeks of bloom, 
 Like wizard started from the tomb ; 
 
 He blest each saint he knew ! 
 And as his ruddy face grew pale, 
 His lips shook, quivering as the gale, 
 
 And pass'd from red to blue.
 
 20 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. PART i. 
 
 By good St Mungo's soul he swore, 
 (As evermore his locks he tore, 
 
 And fierce his blood did boil,) 
 That " ere they moved the old man's bones, 
 " As easily they'd move the stones. 
 
 " Which propp'd the lofty isle ! " 
 
 VI. 
 
 When, lo ! a vessel near, they spy, 
 
 That proudly heaves in sight ; 
 Fair blows the wind, serene the sky, 
 " Ho ! boatmen, o'er the waters fly, 
 
 " And reach the land ere night ; 
 
 ' 
 
 " To favouring breeze your canvass stretch, 
 
 " To Holy Island speed ; 
 " And bid the Bishop cease to preach, 
 " And leave his miracles unwrought, 
 " And bring him here as swift as thought, 
 
 " To aid us in our need !" 
 
 VII. 
 
 Meanwhile a host upon the shore 
 
 Await the embassy's return ; 
 But when the herald struck his oar, 
 
 Their souls for vengeance burn :
 
 r i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 While gathering far, on Aldhain's height, 
 
 The rival parishes advance ; 
 Now mingle in the deadly fight 
 
 And hurl the sounding lance. 
 When forward rush'd an aged man, 
 
 So venerable in years, 
 That silence through the warriors ran, 
 
 And nerveless fell their spears ; 
 And thus, the Priest of Garmilton 
 Loud spake, while from his eyes there shone 
 Radiance, like lightning from a cloud, 
 Which backward awed the dusky crowd : 
 " O mock not the decree of Heaven, 
 " In angry strife, to madness driven ! 
 
 " But let^the calm of peace prevail, 
 " Till supernatural powers be given 
 
 " To bless your deep excess of zeal." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But, frowning still in angry mood 
 Unmoved, the men of Aldham stood ; 
 A hardy race nursed by the sea, 
 In manners haughty, fierce, and free ;
 
 22 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. PART i. 
 
 Again the smother'd murmur rung, 
 
 While they were seen to seek the shore ; 
 For on their backs the corrock hung, 
 
 And in their hands the oar, 
 When rose the Priest of Garmilton, 
 
 With his prophetic eye, 
 " I swear by Hadda-Chuari's stone, 
 
 " That storms are in the sky ! 
 " Yes, by the tempest-saint I swear, 
 
 " Of green lona's isle ! 
 " That to the depths of hell ye steer, 
 
 " Debarr'd from heaven's smile ! 
 " Backward St Baldred's rock shall roll, 
 
 " And choke your navigation up, 
 " While fires shall riot on your soul, 
 
 " And sea-wolves on you sup, 
 " If ye despise my warning now f ' 
 Thus spake the priest, and smote his brow. 
 While back the trembling men return, 
 
 As if the curse begun they feel ; 
 And silent for that vengeance burn 
 
 Which they dare not reveal.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 23 
 
 IX. 
 
 The friars in the lonely isle 
 
 Like guards their watches keep ; 
 Till most of them, overcome with toil, 
 
 Go piously to sleep ; 
 While others, chatting o'er the bowl, 
 Simper beneath the monkish cowl 
 
 To see their fellows weep, 
 And quaff, in horns, from mountain still, 
 The liquor brew'd from heather-bell 
 So changing is man's wayward mood 
 From false to fair, from smooth to rude. 
 
 X. 
 
 O death ! thou art a fearful thing, 
 Although 'tis said relief thou'lt bring, 
 The wretch without a friend or home, 
 Condemned in hungry rags to roam, 
 Will life's last bitter chalice drain, 
 Sooner than mingle with thy train ! 
 Thou strik'st the hermit in his cell, 
 Who long has bid the world farewell ; 
 Thou strik'st the warrior in the field, 
 While charging squadrons round him yield ;
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 And rosy youth, and wrinkled age, 
 And motley fool, and cunning sage, 
 Alike before thy arrows fall, 
 Whose quiver has a barb for all. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Each left the corpse, save that dark man 
 
 Cormac, from Aberlady's shore, 
 Who, deem'd a cunning artisan, 
 Had left Kilspindie's cells at dawn, 
 Yet landed not till twilight hour. 
 Two black-hoods followed in his train, 
 
 Like shadows on the rock, 
 Who only deign'd to breathe amen ! 
 As low their master spoke : 
 " Refugium peccatorum, 
 " Consolatrix afflictorum, 
 " Or a pro nobis."" 1 
 
 XII. 
 
 Yet, thought the soldiers of the Bass, 
 As slow the midnight moments pass, 
 Some demon horrid rites preferred, 
 
 To rend the rock asunder, 
 For evermore they, shuddering, heard 
 
 Deep buried sounds like thunder ;
 
 i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 25 
 
 While underneath the waters boil'd, 
 
 As if Leriathan had coil'd 
 
 His monstrous shape around the base 
 
 The castellated isle to raise ; 
 
 While started in the unfathom'd deep 
 
 The coral tenants from their sleep ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 At morning's dawn the Bass appeared, 
 
 Half hid in ocean's mantle fold, 
 Shining as magic wand had rear'd 
 
 A mountain pearl in bed of gold. 
 Afar, impervious to the sun, 
 The woad-dyed groups, in shadows dun, 
 
 Along the summits steal ; 
 While glad the Bishop's barge they hail, 
 Seen, swan-like, urged by favouring gale 
 
 Westward the port of Bele. 
 Where high Tantallon's castle stands, 
 
 Like vet'ran set to watch the deep, 
 Gleam'd nodding heads, and waving hands, 
 
 Wherever human foot might creep ; 
 And rocky cave, and ocean bay, 
 Bore the loud shoutings far away, 
 
 That hail'd the monk of Lindisfarn 
 In friendship free in virtue stern.
 
 26 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Chiming o'er Lothian's sunny shore, 
 
 The chapel bells began to ring, 
 And still was echo'd more and more, 
 
 " Hail to the holy man ye bring ! " 
 The sails are struck the oars are plied 
 The barge moor'd by the Bass's side ; 
 And as the Bishop trod the strand, 
 They forward press'd to kiss his hand : 
 Enough of worldly bliss for them 
 
 To see him ere they die ; 
 To touch that garment's hallow'd hem 
 
 Which he did sanctify. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Down to the castle's caves they wend, 
 
 With hesitating steps and slow, 
 And, fearful, one by one descend, 
 
 As if Vesuvius yawn'd below ; 
 The first sent up a horrid sound, 
 His glaring torch fell to the ground ; 
 Another, and another fell- 
 Some vow'd to heav'n, some thought of hell ; 
 And as the smouldering flame upbroke, 
 They shudder'd as they saw
 
 r i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 27 
 
 The devil tow'ring o'er the smoke, 
 Seize Baldred, and, with agile bound, 
 . Leap o'er North Berwick Law ! 
 That hill, which in a latter day, 
 By witchcraft near was borne away, 
 When the Gyre Carling strode the mast, 
 And, like a huntress, rein'd the blast. 
 Retreated all as best they might, 
 Each sought to save himself in flight ; 
 Nor did the Bishop stoop to kneel 
 Unlike St Serf, the church's keel, 
 Who with his prayers the dragon slew, 
 St George eclipsing if 'tis true ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Surprise upon each brow had striven, 
 
 As dread conjecture ran, 
 When they beheld, as dropt from heav'n, 
 
 That lone Aemonian, 
 The hermit of Inch-Colme's isle, 
 Whose face ne'er lighten'd with a smile ; 
 Yet was his temper framed so mild, 
 In innocence he walk'd a child ; 
 The untamed tenants of the moor 
 RoanVd in his daily haunts secure ;
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 For brute and man alike were shewn 
 That mercy claim'd this priest her own ; 
 
 But him they questioned not, 
 So scriptural his answers were, 
 Long prefaced by a tedious prayer, 
 
 The subject he forgot ; 
 Ere the proeme had been begun, 
 Another day had seen the sun ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The Warden stood in fierce array, 
 Like savage of St Julian's bay, 
 By nature form 1 d for martial fray, 
 
 In stature towering high ; 
 As trunk of oak his massy limb, 
 Though muscular, yet moulded trim ; 
 His visage pointed, long, and grim, 
 
 Lank cheeks and hollow eye. 
 Unlike the carpet-race we boast 
 The soldier's jest, though fashion's toast, 
 Who leave Castalian springs for wine, 
 Whose greatest glory is to dine ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Men often show least signs of fear 
 When certain danger hovers near:
 
 i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 29 
 
 The Pict conceal'd his wrath 
 He craved the Bishop's benison, 
 Then went like Roman denizen 
 
 To victory or death ! 
 His zone with iron hoops was braced ; 
 His buckler on his arm was placed, 
 
 Made of the buffalo's hide ; 
 While, punctured, on his breast appear'd 
 The monster, fierce as when 'twas spear'd ; 
 Now raising high his sounding lance 
 He bade the trembling crowds advance, 
 
 And march'd with martial stride ; 
 But none durst follow in the van 
 With that gigantic-bodied man ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Then fell an awful pause, as when 
 
 The Indian striplings fearless run 
 To slay the tiger in his den, 
 
 In caves, that never saw the sun : 
 Meanwhile the Warden had his fears 
 
 When he beheld the friars dying, 
 And, side by side, survey'd three biers 
 
 Whereon the saint in state was lying. 
 Each load was borne most pompously, 
 Deck'd with its cross and rosary ; 
 6
 
 30 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. P 
 
 While, one by one, three corpses lay 
 Like twin-brothers transformed to clay, 
 Moulded so nicely like each other, 
 The eye no difference might discover ; 
 And as the tapers flickered dim, 
 
 The features look'd uncouth : 
 Each countenance appeared more grim, 
 
 And seem'd to ope its mouth. 
 Recovering soon, the Warden raised 
 His voice, to urge them on, who gazed : 
 They forward press they kneel and pray 
 While, lacking faith, some steal away, 
 As starting from their fearful swoon 
 
 The astonished friars leap to their feet ; 
 The stoled biers look wildly on, 
 
 And deem the vision is complete : 
 Till by a glimpse of reason's beam 
 They wake to a substantial dream ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Mother of God T the Bishop cried, 
 " Thy aid is never sought in vain ! 
 . " To crush the paynim in his pride, 
 
 " Thy spirit walks on earth again ! 
 " Wherever thy dove-like presence strays 
 " Among the bowers 6f human wo,
 
 PART I. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 31 
 
 " O teach our harps to sing thy praise 
 " In strains that seraphs only know f" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 They raised the sheet from Baldred's face, 
 They turn'd the corpses where they lay, 
 
 In each his features clearly trace, 
 Crown'd with a tuft of silvery gray. 
 
 They deenTd his bright ethereal flame 
 Which mortal form could not control, 
 
 From heav'n had held a trio frame 
 To suit his zealous warmth of soul ; 
 
 That he might stray in paynim lands, 
 A pilgrim lone in Palestine ; 
 
 Now tread the desert's burning sands- 
 Now preach the faith by Pictish Tyne ; 
 
 With that sweet angel for his guide, 
 Who led St Serf by Bosphorus' strand, 
 
 Attendant duteous by his side, 
 
 Like earth and heaven hand in hand ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But, hark ! the Bass's chapel bell 
 
 Again its mournful music plies, 
 And Aldham's chimes the breezes swell, 
 
 And Tyningham as soft replies.
 
 32 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. ] 
 
 While o'er the lake in dark parade 
 The painted chiefs are seen to glide, 
 
 From verdant Tyne's green holly shade 
 To dwarfish PefFers' sandy side. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Afar upon the spangled deep 
 
 The barges move in solemn show ; 
 The oars their regular cadence keep, 
 
 As 'twixt each pause a sob of wo 
 Bursts from the sailor, and a tear 
 
 Falls down unseen on ocean's breast ; 
 
 While, in their gloomy livery drest, 
 The sable nodding biers appear 
 Reflected in the waters clear, 
 
 Like plumes upon a silver crest ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The seal lay on the scarry shore, 
 As charm'd to hear the distant oar ; 
 The tarrock left Craig Leith's rough breast, 
 To crown the isles like feathery crest ; 
 And every rock that gemmed the deep 
 Was peopled like the grassy steep ; 
 Some launch the skiff, while others brave 
 The swelling surface of the wave ;
 
 i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 33 
 
 Anxious to join the funeral train : 
 And, but for weeds that pictured pain, 
 'Twas like a festive holiday, 
 When princes short-lived visits pay, 
 And the high rulers of the earth 
 A jubilee give to lowly mirth. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Soon reached the pebbly-studded strand, 
 The oars are struck the mourners land 
 
 In Aldham's pleasant bay ; 
 Upon the beach three chieftains stood, 
 With litters fornVd of laurel-wood, 
 
 And crowned with rosemary ; 
 On these St Baldred's relics laid, 
 With other honours duteous paid, 
 They forward march'd in sad parade ; 
 Where all were willing those were blest, 
 To whom were given the high behest 
 
 To bear the corpse away ; 
 Preceded by six vestals fair, 
 Who tore the long dark glossy hair 
 That fell upon their shoulders bare 
 
 As clouds on mountain snow ; 
 Anon their lily hands they wrung, 
 And mournfully the requiem sung 
 
 In plaintive notes of woe. 
 c
 
 34 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. I-ABT i. 
 
 Spirit of bliss ! a cup of joy 
 
 Awaits thee in the halls of Thor, 
 
 Where earthly sorrows ne'er destroy, 
 Where heavenly hearts are never sore. 
 
 Did thy mother, in midnight dreams, 
 Call thee from this land of care, 
 
 To sail on heaven's transparent streams 
 With Jhules, the angels of the air ? 
 
 Save us from pale Loda's power, 
 When in the gale his form appears ; 
 
 Cheer us in affliction's hour, 
 
 And shield us in the strife of spears. 
 
 Spirit of bliss ! a cup of joy 
 Awaits thee in the halls of Thor, 
 
 Where pleasure charms without alloy, 
 Where tempests never wreck the shore. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Up Aldham's flowery steep the biers 
 Ascend, in a long dusky line, 
 
 Where, tow'ring o'er their dark compeers, 
 The warriors' glancing helms shine ;
 
 PART i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 35 
 
 And golden mitres lustre shed 
 Upon each bishop's ancient head. 
 
 First solemn walk'd, behind the pall, 
 Conwal, that priest austere and tall, 
 Who dwelt by Clutha's winding stream ; 
 
 His loins were girdled round with hair : 
 For such like penance he did deem 
 
 Useful to fit his soul for prayer. 
 He was St Baldred's friend in youth, 
 St Mungo train'd them both to truth ; 
 And ne'er do tears sincerer flow 
 Than those which early friends bestow, 
 When weeping o'er some parted shade 
 In life's luxuriant prime decay 'd. 
 Ah ! who would wish to linger here 
 
 When those who made life sweet are gone, 
 When loves and friendships disappear 
 
 Beneath the dark sepulchral stone ; 
 And all we know of sage and fair, 
 Is the dull record that they were ! 
 
 Upon his right, with martial brow, 
 
 Appeared the young Prince Derili, 
 Who wept in Baldred's relics now 
 
 A lost preceptor, and did sigh
 
 36 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 While running o'er instructive hours 
 
 Which now, alas ! too quick had sped 
 As oft in Dirleton's ivied towers 
 
 He listened to the honour'd dead, 
 And heard truths morally sublime, 
 That purified his soul from crime, 
 And bade him afterwards atone 
 For errors that were not his own ; 
 And in Loch Leven's lonely isle 
 To heaven bequeath a holy pile. 
 
 St Conwal, on his left, was led 
 By Asaph soon to suffering bred, 
 A zealous man, who did adorn 
 The holy church, for which he'd borne 
 
 The martyr's faggot-blaze ; 
 Unburthening his soul of guilt 
 Three hundred times a-day he knelt 
 
 In silent deeds of praise ; 
 So oft he'd paced the altar's bound, 
 His steps had worn the marble ground ! 
 He was supported by that sage, 
 
 Who 'midst the others shone 
 So venerable in his age, 
 
 The Priest of Garmilton.
 
 PART i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 37 
 
 Idan came next of Lindisfarn, 
 
 In demon-conflicts bold, 
 Who, on the gloomy rocks of Fern 
 
 Did secret vigils hold, 
 And afterwards, upon that shore, 
 The bishop's pastoral crosier bore. 
 While Eta, abbot of Melrose, 
 The bishop's stoled ranks did close. 
 Then followed those of less degree, 
 Yet not less famed for sanctity ; 
 There stalk'd Dricthelmus the austere, 
 
 Who one dread night in death's arms slept, 
 And saw Heaven's mystic visions fair, 
 
 As o'er the golden walls he crept, 
 When, lo ! a weight of earthly sin, 
 
 Like Eden-cherub's flaming brand, 
 Just as he leap'd to enter in, 
 
 Drove him to this terrestrial land ! 
 There also walk'd those monks profound, 
 With eye devout upon the ground, 
 The followers of St Benedict, 
 In sanctimonious manners strict. 
 While wander'd in the rabble's van, 
 That sadly lone Aemonian ! 
 Where'er this gentle hermit went 
 
 Still followed him a sacred cow,
 
 38 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. P 
 
 Whether he trod the sandy bent, 
 
 Or clomb the mountain's heathery brow. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 For those who sail'd on Forth' s green wave, 
 
 It was a splendid sight to view 
 The cavalcade, as dark and grave 
 
 It gave the cliffs a chequer'd hue ; 
 
 While evermore the torches threw 
 A sparkling glare among the crowd, 
 
 As stars will hide their eyes of blue 
 In dawning morning's dusky cloud ; 
 Then first by Aldham's holy shade 
 
 The solemn pageant paused the while, 
 
 As in the church's holy pile 
 One body of the Saint was laid 
 Beneath a yew's undying bloom, 
 Emblem of tenant of the tomb. 
 This tree a holy calm diffused 
 O'er passing strangers, as they mused 
 Upon the nicely sculptured scroll, 
 That told its moral to the soul. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Low chanted in the house of God, 
 On high the choir's full measure flow'd,
 
 i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 39 
 
 While the soft echo of a sigh, 
 Dimm'd the bright lustre of each eye. 
 
 4ffr0t 
 
 1. 
 
 Be hallowed the place of thy rest, 
 
 O soft be thy bed in the tomb ! 
 ThouVt gone to the land of the blest, 
 
 With the souls of the happy to roam : 
 As planets in loveliness roll, 
 
 And light the lone wanderer's way, 
 Thou beam'd on the night of the soul, 
 
 And left us at dawning of day. 
 
 2. 
 With bay we'll embroider that stone, 
 
 That tells us of glory and thee ! 
 While the changes of seasons roll on, 
 
 Thy memory unfading shall be. 
 Though fled on the seraphim's wing, 
 
 And left us in darkness to mourn, 
 With earliest blossoms of spring 
 
 We duly will garland thy urn.
 
 40 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 O who is he, with locks of grey, 
 
 That bids the pressing crowds recede, 
 As backward rolls the ocean's spray, 
 
 Where canvas-crowned galleys glide ? 
 A scallop-shell the stranger wears, 
 St Peter's keys in red he bears 
 
 Wrought in his scapular ; 
 The Pictish lanqes rattling sound, 
 
 And far the waving pennons float, 
 The bishop's palfreys paw the ground, 
 
 And startle at the war-horn's note, 
 While mingling voices loud exclaim, 
 " Ho ! pilgrim, with your cross of flame ! 
 
 " Come ye for peace or war ? 
 " Or why upon our march intrude, 
 " In humble guise, but forward mood." 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " O let short-breathing space be given," 
 
 The way-worn stranger cried : 
 " Three moons have scarcely waned in heaven, 
 " Since Baldred, in Loretto's shrine, 
 
 " Was kneeling at my side.
 
 i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 41 
 
 " Before the virgin and her son, 
 
 " Where silver lamps for ever shine, 
 
 " He drank the Eucharistal wine, 
 " And said ' My earthly task is done f 
 " I turn'd to bid the old man hail 
 " And saw his face was waxing pale 
 
 " As monumental bust 
 " I turn'd ; but, lo ! the priest was gone, 
 
 " And I fell humbled in the dust !" 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Beloved of heaven !" the bishop cried, 
 
 " Mary ! maiden-mother, fair ! 
 " Who lovest to crush the paynim's pride, 
 
 " And hear the lowly pilgrim's prayer, 
 " Again to thee on earth be given, 
 " That homage which ascends to heaven ! 
 
 " Holy pilgrim ! speed the while, 
 
 " Rest thee in the rocky isle, 
 
 " Till the morning's purple light 
 
 " Gilds Dumpender's verdant height ; 
 
 " Onward then, Heaven be your guide, 
 
 " As it has ever been ; 
 " When wafting o'er the western tide, 
 " O tell by lone lona's side 
 
 "The mysteries you have seen P
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 'Twas noon, when o'er the Thistly Moor 
 
 The funeral held its mazy route, 
 When roused by sounds unheard before 
 
 The wily fox was on the scout ; 
 The woodcock plied his jetty wing, 
 The red deer made his lofty spring, 
 A moment view'd the dark array, 
 Next fleetly bounding shot away, 
 Just stopped to slake his thirst in Tyne, 
 
 Then, arrow-like, straight onward flew, 
 Till on the horizon's farthest line 
 
 His antlers pierced the heaven's blue ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Eastward of Binning's beauteous wood 
 
 Stood Baldred's mossy cell, 
 Where in communion deep with God 
 
 The patriarch loved to dwell, 
 What time the summer breezes bland 
 Were wafting perfume o'er the land ; 
 And so serene the ocean lay, 
 It pictured headland-rock and bay ; 
 And heaven's veil of azure hue 
 Was only speck'd by grey curlew. 
 
 6
 
 i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 4-3 
 
 Here often, tame as Rylston's doe, 
 
 The chase-driven deer would stand, 
 And lick the hermit's palm of snow, 
 
 And eat from gentle hand. 
 And here, before the altar's mound, 
 
 Which time-worn hieroglyphics graced, 
 
 His canonized bones they placed, 
 And sanctified the ground ; 
 And holily they sprinkled o'er 
 His grave, as sung the pious choir. 
 
 Beqwrm 
 
 1. 
 
 When death meets the chieftain 'midst victory's hum, 
 His fall is deplored by the trumpet and drum ; 
 But softer the music, and warmer the sighs, 
 That waft pious soul's to their throne in the skies. 
 
 2. 
 
 O drear were our walks in the shadow of death, 
 'ill the star of Balclutha illumined our path ? 
 ike the planet of Bethel it gilded the night, 
 ill it set in a Halo of heavenly light.
 
 44 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 3. 
 
 Let bay deck the turf where the saint lowly lies, 
 Like the symbol we scatter, his leaf never dies ; 
 For his fame in its innocence beauteously 'ray'd, 
 Like the rose-bud of Jericho, never will fade. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 The dying sounds had scarcely ceased, 
 
 The prayer, half-muttered by the priest, 
 
 When round, the congregated crowd 
 
 Was parted like the thunder-cloud ; 
 
 Some grasp the sword, some couch the lance, 
 
 Backward recoil, or firm advance ; 
 
 Then quiver'd as with earthquake's shock 
 
 St Baldred's cradle in the rock, 
 
 And Whitberry's rugged point was broke ; 
 
 And, lo ! (as old traditions' say) 
 
 That boat of stone in Aldham's bay, 
 
 Yclept the Saint's, was seen to sail 
 
 As chaff before the mountain gale ; 
 
 And all beneath fair Preston's fane 
 
 The Tyne began to boil amain ! 
 
 Until it foam'd o'er Linton linn, 
 
 Whence rose that loud horrific din,
 
 i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 45 
 
 As if another Tityus lay 
 
 Chain'd with the vulture at his heart, 
 Wailing his soul in groans away 
 
 O'er agonies that must ne'er depart ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 A knight comes on a lofty steed, 
 
 With spear reversed and helmless head, 
 
 A branch of olive in his hand. 
 
 The bishop bids the mourners stand, 
 
 When lighting by St Baldred's side, 
 
 " A boon ! a boon !" the warrior cried, 
 
 Craving to see the illustrious dead, 
 
 As if affiance he might trace 
 
 In the old man's pale ghastly face ; 
 
 Then roll'd his eyes from earth to heav'n, 
 
 Swore, as he hoped to be forgiven, 
 
 That, lately, on the Flemish shore, 
 
 He met the saint in Antwerp's choir, 
 
 What time the vesper prayers were said : 
 
 " Nay, father ! do not doubt my word, 
 " I do not deal in gasconade, 
 
 " But wear a still untainted sword, 
 " That ever is unsheathed for God, 
 " Aye ready at the church's nod ;
 
 " Behold my doublet's lightsome sheen, 
 " It once was dervise-pennon green, 
 " Hard won in Canaan's holy land, 
 
 " When combating the Jews accurst ; 
 " To mount the breach with sword or brand 
 
 " St Baldred knew I was the first ! 
 " And thrice he blest me where I stood, 
 " And thrice he signed the holy rood ; 
 " Then press'd my hand it felt like flame 
 " Behold ! it left his hallow'd name ! 
 " And now I come this boon to crave, 
 " That I may lower him in the grave, 
 
 " That some last relic you'll bestow, 
 " 'Twill bear me foremost 'midst the brave, 
 
 " 'Twill raise me when my arm is low !" 
 The bishop waved his hand on high, 
 And gave propitious reply 
 " Gentle knight, thy claim is won ; 
 
 " Priests and mourners ! onward, on !" 
 
 i 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 The sun, beyond the Pentland's ridge, 
 Had given the skies a rainbow hue, 
 
 When crossing Tyne on osier bridge 
 The crowd the funeral's march pursue ;
 
 r i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS- 
 
 The evening dews are falling chill, 
 
 The mountain cock with crimson eye* 
 And jetty wing, has sought the hill 
 
 Where mists are shadowing far the sky ; 
 While in the skirts of Lammermoor 
 The tod peeps from his den secure, 
 And sees afar the dusky crowd 
 Move on, like summer's passing cloud, 
 In slow and stately majesty, 
 When scarce a breeze is wafting by ; 
 And as they pass near ancient Cnolle, 
 Fair Preston's bell begins to toll, 
 For they have almost reach'd the goal 
 
 Of this eventful day ; 
 And, as by winding Tyne they turn, 
 Clearer the funeral torches burn, 
 
 Seen through the twilight's grey. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 They have made St Baldred's grave 
 Under Preston's sculptured nave, 
 Where forgotten 'scutcheons wave 
 
 Of those who've pass'd away ! 
 Gentle space, and mossy stone, 
 Tell of him who dazzling shone 
 
 The meteor of his day !
 
 48 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. PAI 
 
 He, whom nations could not bound, 
 Lies in a few feet of ground ! 
 And he, whom kings wou'd bleed to save, 
 Will lie forgotten in the grave ! 
 
 They have borne the saint's last pall, 
 And placed his statue in the wall ; 
 Dust to dust the bell is tolling, 
 
 As it must toll for all ; 
 While through the aisles the anthem's rolling, 
 
 Lovely in its dying fall, 
 Fanning, with melodious breath, 
 The solitary house of death ! 
 
 1. 
 
 The waves lie smooth when storms have fled, 
 Beneath St Abb's high rocky head ; 
 The green-capp'd islands of the deep 
 Are lovely when the breezes sleep, 
 Viewless upon their beds of balm ; 
 But, ah ! this is a treacherous calm ! 
 
 For here the dove no rest can find 
 
 . 
 While storms are lingering in the wind.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 49 
 
 2. 
 
 The fairest scenes of earth's dull round 
 Trail their dark shadows on the ground ; 
 The thorny rose the honied sting 
 The winter's cold the blight of spring : 
 While Love's chill frown, and Hope's deceit, 
 And Friendship changing oft to hate, 
 Prove that the dove no rest can find 
 Where man to man still proves unkind. 
 
 3. 
 
 Beyond yon bright cerulean skies 
 Elysium's land of promise lies : 
 Her sun no clouds are ever shading ; 
 Her fruits and flowers are never fading ; 
 Her hearts are pure as those that bear them, 
 The blight of sin cannot come near them : 
 Oh ! there the dove its rest may find, 
 And taste that heaven at least is kind. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Thus closed the quire their lyric strain, 
 In sounds that oft were woke again ; 
 For still the requiem's notes were sung, 
 The echoes of the aisles still rung
 
 50 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 The chanted dirge the fervent prayer 
 For him who lay embalmed there. 
 
 Since then these shores have never seen 
 
 So much funereal pomp and show, 
 Save when the priests of holy mien, 
 
 Wander'd o'er Soutra's chilly brow, 
 In fair Melrose's shrine to place 
 
 The relics of the great De Vaux, 
 To sleep with many a nameless race 
 
 Till Heaven's own awful trumpets blow ! 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Still on the Hebrew's purim day, 
 (That day that tells of Hainan's fall) 
 
 In after ages, blithe and gay, 
 Was held St Baldred's festival. 
 
 At earliest morn the swains would go 
 To deck his loved and hallow'd shrine, 
 
 With blooming bay and misletoe, 
 
 Cull'd from the daisied banks of Tyne. 
 
 The chapel's Saxon windows dight 
 So artfully with boughs were drest, 
 
 That tuneful birds, decoyed, would light, 
 To build their temporary nest.
 
 PART i. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 51 
 
 But now the yellow crocus flower 
 
 Sprouts blooming on the breast of Spring, 
 
 And blithe in every shady bower 
 The minstrels of the forest sing ; 
 
 While, Tyningham ! thy chapel bell 
 Is heard no more these shades among ; 
 
 For, Time, alas ! has ceased to swell 
 The saintly Baldred's funeral song ! 
 
 END OF PART FIKST.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 They dug his grave e'en where he lay, 
 
 But every mark is gone ; 
 Time's wasting hand has done away 
 The simple cross of Sybil grey. Sir W. Scott. 
 
 I. 
 
 "Tis Autumn golden Harvest crowned 
 Upon his throne of sheaves sits smiling ; 
 
 The farmer's feast goes gaily round, 
 His summer's ardent toils beguiling : 
 
 When tired of the world's bustling scene, 
 
 I seek the flowery fields again, 
 
 To snatch a pleasant holiday 
 
 Before their lustre die away ;
 
 54 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 To tread once more by rural Tyne 
 A pilgrimage to Baldred's shrine ; 
 Another votive wreath to shed, 
 Like hapless poet's, soon to fade ! 
 
 II. 
 
 In Tyningham's delicious woods 
 
 Her early song the milk-maid sings, 
 While from the deepening solitudes 
 
 The spotted plover upward springs ; 
 The woodlark, on the lofty spray, 
 Pours forth the soul of harmony ; 
 The shrill-toned linnet, in the bush, 
 Chimes music with the mellow thrush ; 
 And nameless birds of speckled wing, 
 And golden hues, their offerings bring, 
 To hail the pilgrim as he gleams 
 By coppiced woods and shaded streams ; 
 And as I blithely pace the mead, 
 
 Fresh with the morning dew, 
 The flowery carpet which I tread 
 
 Glistens with glassy hue ; 
 Enamoured of the cloudless day 
 Each floweret woos the sunny ray : 
 Here, gleaming through its mossy hair, 
 The wild-rose waves in scented air,
 
 c ii. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 55 
 
 While blue-bells hang their star-like gems, 
 
 And pinks and cowslips scattered near, 
 
 In nature's varied colours clear, 
 Gleam lovely on their dewy stems. 
 Above, arcades tower o'er my head 
 
 Like sculptured arches wove on high, 
 Which round a solemn grandeur spread, 
 
 Veiling with clouds of leaves the sky. 
 
 III. 
 
 Where, shining through the flowery glade, 
 
 The mouth of Tyne translucent streams, 
 Within a lilac covert's shade 
 
 St Baldred's shrine romantic gleams. 
 Two Saxon arches still remain ; 
 
 But, Time, alas ! with viewless hand 
 Completes the labours of the Dane, 
 
 And triumphs o'er the brand : 
 For thou didst feel the shock of war 
 
 When fiery Anlaf storming came, 
 And horrid shrieks were heard afar 
 
 As church and town were given to flame. 
 Alas ! that vengeance did not fall 
 
 Upon the minstrel-muffled Dane, 
 When harping bold in Brunsbury hall 
 
 He stood before King Athelstane :
 
 56 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. PAR 
 
 Had the snake been crushed in its gilded fold, 
 The tide of war might have backward rollM. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In this fair mansion of the dead, 
 Where rests illustrious Hamilton, 
 
 'Neath arched niche, with pillowed head, 
 A statue lies of sculptured stone, 
 
 The image of a lady fair, 
 
 Whose han.ls are claspt in silent prayer. 
 
 The blessed lamb kneels at her feet 
 
 The lady of Tyningham we greet ; 
 
 Or, borrowing tradition's tale, 
 
 Shall we the form of Baldred hail ? 
 
 V. 
 This were the sweetest spot below 
 
 For saint or anchorite to repose ; 
 So mild the morning breezes blow, 
 
 So calm the summer evening's close ; 
 Here, seated in mosaic grot, 
 
 With scrip, and book, and rosary, 
 Devotion, by the world forgot, 
 
 Might charm the leaden hours away, 
 Could man, to reason's dictates true, 
 His wayward passions e'er subdue !
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 57 
 
 VI. 
 
 Old Tyningham ! thy nut-brown ale 
 
 In reaming bumpers flowing, 
 Once roused the woodman's sober tale, 
 
 And set his heart a-glowing ; 
 Around yon elm, with nimble feet, 
 
 They danced conversed where green-boughs wave ; 
 The tree which screened from summer's heat, 
 
 Now shades their viewless grave ! 
 Thy ancient village, stone by stone, 
 Removed its rural inmates gone ! 
 But oft a mossy stone appears 
 
 Amidst the leafy solitude, 
 That marks, where met in other years 
 
 The aged tenants of the wood. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The cheering sea-breeze fans my cheek, 
 As o'er the thick-strewn furze I seek 
 A pathway to the glorious ocean, 
 Whose waters glow in peaceful motion ; 
 Spreading wide her whit'ning wings 
 The startled seagull soaring springs, 
 And mingles in the clouds away 
 As morning melts into the day.
 
 58 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. PAR 
 
 And now I stand on Whitberry's steep, 
 
 And gaze upon the mighty deep, 
 
 Where trembles 'neath the wild wave's shock, 
 
 St Baldred's cradle in the rock ; 
 
 On which his venerable form 
 
 Once rode the billows of the storm. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Far, in the blue haze, dimly seen, 
 I view the beacon-beaming isle, 
 
 Stretching its sides in waves serene, 
 Like a gaunt rugged crocodile 
 Bathed in the waters of the Nile ; 
 
 While farther on the horizon's line 
 
 The Fifean shores in shadows shine ; 
 
 And as through tansied meads I fly, 
 
 New images burst on mine eye ; 
 
 For, hark ! the wild bee leaves the flower, 
 
 And pilots me to Aldham's tower. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Aldham ! the wall-flower's scented bloom 
 Gleams lovely on thy turrets grey, 
 
 And, like the rose strewn on a tomb, 
 A fragrance sheds around decay.
 
 ii. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 59 
 
 No more before thy gates is heard 
 
 The herald's trump ; thy stable-yard 
 
 Is empty now, and netted o^er 
 
 With weeds, and hingeless stands each door ; 
 
 No harps are murmuring in the hall ; 
 
 No armour glittering on the wall ; 
 
 For gone are knight and seneschal, 
 
 The voice of man is dumb ! 
 And nought but ghosts, so gaunt and tall, 
 
 At dreary midnight come, 
 Denouncing vengeance on the spade 
 That gave to levelling Time its aid ; 
 
 For Aldham church is gone ! 
 Nor bust nor cipher left to show, 
 Where death has laid the mighty low. 
 Time does not spare the mundic urn, 
 The ruthless ploughshare robs the worm, 
 
 O man to fortune blind ! 
 Despite what power and art devised, 
 The saint whom nations canonized 
 
 Is scattered by the wind. 
 But let me leave this darker scene, 
 And seaward hold my course again, 
 While brighter scenes before me rise, 
 Where yon high rock in grandeur lies.
 
 60 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 X. 
 
 Proud Bass ! amidst the crystal sea 
 Thou'rt like a fairy-haunted isle, 
 Now echoing blithe the sportsman's glee. 
 
 Now bright with Beauty's radiant smile. 
 Upon the wave right glad we hail 
 Thy rugged face, and strike the sail ; 
 And land upon thy rocky shore, 
 Stunn'd by the breakers rising roar. 
 Escap'd the perils of the deep, 
 We almost kneel to kiss thy steep. 
 
 Alas ! we may not mark the spot 
 
 Where stood the hermit's holy cell ; 
 Its sacred precincts are forgot, 
 And if we find his crystal well, 
 'Tis but the stubborn truth to tell 
 That streams and rocks remain the same 
 Man rather makes the change of scene 
 Than nature ; for she shineth now 
 
 With birds in many a snowy flock, 
 As bright as when the priest did bow 
 Before the altar of the rock !
 
 r ii. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Here Pleasure steers her painted barge 
 
 Joy smiling on the prow ; 
 And soon her votaries roam at large 
 
 On thy romantic brow ; 
 Now gazing o'er the dark-blue sea, 
 
 Now seated on the ground, 
 The cold collation circles free, 
 While every heart is big with glee, 
 
 And jests are passing round ; 
 And as the malt foams by in tides, 
 Droll Humour holds his shaking sides ; 
 While on their feet, a joyful band 
 Tread lightsome measure, hand in hand, 
 To the violin's dancing voice, 
 
 Mellow'd with the flute's deep tone, 
 That bids them, while they may, rejoice, 
 
 For Pleasure's blossoms soon are blown. 
 
 XII. 
 Here, oft the boatman rests ins oar, 
 
 While o'er the rock the fowler hung, 
 Like the bold youth of Kilda's shore, 
 
 Descends to seek the solan's young.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 That bird, which on gigantic wing, 
 Like Cormorant, delights to soar, 
 Then downward makes her deadly spring, 
 
 Unfathom'd waters to explore. 
 Wo to the silvery shoals that lie 
 'Neath the bright lustre of her eye, 
 When, like a shark, she cleaves the wave, 
 To make but not to find a grave. 
 
 Where fissures in the rock are riven, 
 Birds cluster thick as stars of heaven. 
 The tarrock shines, like snowy speck ; 
 The pewit gleams with dusky neck ; 
 The puffin with her crimson bill, 
 Deem'd sacred by the lone Kurile, 
 Beholds the fishers shooting by, 
 And mimics man with mournful cry. 
 Till, hark ! explodes the thund'ring gun, 
 And feathery myriads veil the sun ; 
 Unnumbered as the flakes of snow, 
 When drifting gales o'er Soutra blow. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 This rock ! where Pictish chiefs held sway, 
 Was patriots 1 boast of latter day ;
 
 ii. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 63 
 
 Men, who, by Freedom's watch-word led, 
 With Wallace for their country bled ; 
 First to oppose tyrannic laws, 
 The last to leave their sovereign's cause. 
 Would 1 st thou inquire the honoured name 
 For whom the muse her meed would claim ? 
 Go to North Berwick's aisles elate, 
 And read of Lauder good and great ! 
 These ancient lairds did long retain 
 
 The Bass. The solan was their crest, 
 And much they loved her lofty nest, 
 
 Which kings had coveted in vain. 
 " I'll hae my auld crag back again !" 
 
 Said Lauder to his lord's request : 
 " But come ye here in weal or woe, 
 " My sword is ready for your foe ; 
 " As erst, in treason's gloomy hour, 
 
 " On faction's billows wildly driven, 
 " My holde did shelter Scotia's flower, 
 
 " When from its parent stem 'twas riven.* 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Proud rock ! thou'st seen a motley race, 
 Since here St Baldred rear'd his cell ; 
 
 Like shadows o'er thy rugged face, 
 I see their forms around me swell :
 
 64- SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. PART n 
 
 There gleams the Pict a warrior brave, 
 
 And Covenanter plodding grave ; 
 
 And murderous Pirate, bath'd in gore, 
 
 Frowning defiance on the shore ; 
 
 Where silken-streamer'd barges flock, 
 
 Plied dusky chiefs in light carrock ; 
 
 And where the modern villa glows, 
 
 Huts like the Indian wigwam rose ; 
 
 And lands were bleak where tempest's scowl'd, 
 
 And monsters 'mid the brushwood prowl'd ; 
 
 In marshes deep the otter play'd, 
 
 Lit by the vapour's deadly shade ; 
 
 Till culture on the ploughshare smiled, 
 
 And gardens glitter'd in the wild ! 
 
 Ere Meikle, with inventive mind, 
 
 Abridged the labours of mankind. 
 
 Man also changed ; 'twas but in name 
 
 His selfish passions were the same ! 
 
 With more of specious shew and art 
 
 He bore conceal'd a savage heart ! 
 
 Was there in Goran's gloomy reign 
 
 A darker page, of redder stain, 
 
 Than that which British annals show'd, 
 
 When persecution's torches glow'd, 
 
 And men were at their altars shriven, 
 
 Because, as conscience bid, they worshipp'd heaven ?
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 65 
 
 XV. 
 
 Then Scotia wept, on Bothweirs plain, 
 O'er her lone Covenanters slain ; 
 Her zealous clergy chased abroad, 
 (Deem'd martyrs in the cause of God,) 
 Before the fierce militia fled, 
 Denied a home to rest their head ; 
 But as the harmless fawn will bay 
 When hope has left him for dismay, 
 So, in affliction's furnace schooled, 
 The blood grew warm that might have cool'd, 
 And firmer for their rights they stood, 
 And burst their chains though link'd in blood ; 
 Then in the Bass's dungeons strong 
 Was pouring Babel's captive song ; 
 And kiss'd their bonds those sterner few, 
 Whom threats nor torture could subdue. 
 Peden, who, with prophetic eye, 
 Did Bothwell's fatal fight descry ; 
 Brave Earlston (of Gordon's line,) 
 Whose sword sharp-edged for Christ did shine ; 
 Hogg, Rule, and Erskine, men of yore, 
 Who Scotland's pulpit honours bore ; 
 And Blackadder, whose pious toil 
 Resembled his of Patmos isle, 
 E
 
 66 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. PART 
 
 Till, like the dove that found no rest, 
 He sought in heaven a peaceful nest. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Farewell ! the pilgrim seeks the shore, 
 Once more we ply the sounding oar ; 
 And as I leap upon the strand, 
 By Fancy's form-creating wand, 
 
 Their watch the warders keep, 
 As by Tantallon's towers I stand, 
 
 That crown the wave- worn steep ; 
 Fair Clara waves her hand on high, 
 While lordly Marm on gallops by ; 
 Till rising, like a warrior's ghost, 
 I see the Douglas 1 form in awful shadows lost ! 
 
 Here, like some veteran seared with scars, 
 The castle's front appears sublime, 
 
 Which braved the brunt of civil wars, 
 As now it mocks the siege of time ; 
 
 For, jealous of proud March's power, 
 
 The Douglas built this mighty tower ; 
 
 And soon that baron held command 
 
 O'er the most powerful of the land ; 
 
 His country's friend, his sov'reign's dread, 
 
 From royalty he ask'd no meed,
 
 T ir. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 67 
 
 Save that applause his bosom gave, 
 Turbulent as the Pentland's wave ! 
 Now belPd the cat at Lauder bridge ; 
 Now bearded James on Stirling's ridge ; 
 With haughty heart, unknown to yield, 
 Stubborn as that upon his shield ; 
 For he whom thousand hearts obey'd, 
 111 brook'd when wavering monarchs sway'd ; 
 But when the sound of Southron's horn 
 
 Among his native Valleys ran, 
 All private feuds were held in scorn, 
 
 And mighty Douglas led the van ; 
 As witness Cheviot's fatal fray, 
 As witness Flodden's bloody day ; 
 The Stuart never held command 
 O'er truer heart and firmer hand. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Near to Tantallon is a spring, 
 
 St Baldred's well 
 
 The maidens tell, 
 
 Where birds will dip their charmed wing, 
 And more melodious sing. 
 As the parch'd Arab sips the brook 
 Devotedly, a draught I took,
 
 68 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 When all was shining as a dream, 
 And round romantic forms did teem. 
 Methought I saw a beauteous maid 
 Steal softly from the greenwood shade, 
 And, as she knelt her rosary counting, 
 Thus spake the spirit of the fountain : 
 
 Maid, why lov'st thou Baldred's spring ? 
 Does its sedge-crowned waters bring 
 Forgetfulness, like that dull stream 
 That soothM the Grecian's noonday dream ? 
 Do its fallings, whispering near, 
 Charm thy love-enchanted ear, 
 And with the music of its voice 
 Bid thy parched heart rejoice ? 
 
 Stranger ! in that font I trace 
 
 Sorrows in my faded face, 
 
 Where, within its waters clear, 
 
 Brighter shadows did appear, 
 
 When like dryad, young and fair, 
 
 I leanM to busk my bridal hair, 
 
 Bridal hair that ne'er was tied ; 
 
 The morn arrived the bridegroom died !
 
 : ii. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 69 
 
 
 
 Now, I deem some spirit dwells 
 In that fountain's crystal wells, 
 Where the echoes of a voice 
 Bid me still, rejoice ! rejoice ! 
 Since life's short and stormy day, 
 Like noiseless waters, steals away, 
 Till on heaven's bosom it doth lie, 
 Mingled with Eternity. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 I woke, but, lo ! this vestal maid 
 Had vanish'd to her native shade ; 
 When leaving Baldred's sacred rill, 
 And winding round by Hamer's hill, 
 Beside her ancient church I stood, 
 And the blithe priests of Holyrood 
 Came, marshalling, in merry mood. 
 But soon they flit, an aerial train, 
 
 Like rustling of the wind ; 
 And, though the harp's lone chords complain; 
 
 Deign not to look behind. 
 I sought St Mary's chapel fair, 
 
 The holy font was dry ! 
 No priests were there to mutter prayer 
 
 For pilgrim passing by ;
 
 70 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. PART n 
 
 All, tomb-like, was her silent quire, 
 As when the ruthless Edward came, 
 
 And gave, in retributive ire, 
 
 The lady's white-robed church to flame, 
 
 When on these shores he saw his navy driven, 
 
 And strove with mortal arm to strike at heaven ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 To Binning Wood I wander'd on, 
 Where leafy labyrinths darkly shone ; 
 I walked upon enchanted ground, 
 
 'Neath boughs that clustering met around, 
 
 Where a lone flowery circle spreads 
 In beauty. Fays their small harps sound 
 
 Reclining on their violet-beds, 
 When here in moonlight hours they meet 
 
 Beneath the fox-glove's purple bell, 
 To shake their soft elastic feet, 
 
 As loves, unearthly deem'd, they tell. 
 
 And, O ! 'tis sweet among these bowers 
 The blushing hermit-rose to seek ; 
 
 For still this lovely queen of flowers 
 Reminds me of Maria's cheek ; 
 
 While sylvan spirits hover bland, 
 And verdant deck the lady's shrine
 
 r ii. SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 71 
 
 Who bade these canopies expand, 
 
 In Gothic-fashion'd wreathes to twine. 
 
 XX. 
 
 In spiral clouds, through holly's green, 
 The meadow-hamlet's smoke I spy, 
 
 As hastening, ere the fall of e'en, 
 To Preston's sacred shades I fly ; 
 
 While playful in my path appears 
 
 The house-dog pricking up his ears, 
 
 And rosy boys that struggling seek 
 
 Who first a parent's name may speak ; 
 
 And, as expression warms each face, 
 
 Rush fondly to their sire's embrace. 
 
 Short greetings were as shortly made, 
 When winding by the river's shade, 
 
 Where fertile pastures shine, 
 I stood by Baldred's noisy wheel, 
 Where, serpent-like, the waters steal 
 
 Bright, through the groves of Tyne. 
 I sought in Preston's holy fane, 
 But all my search was given in vain 
 
 To find his sacred shrine ; 
 Here wakes no midnight anthem's swell,
 
 72 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 No croslet mark remains to tell 
 Where the saint's relics lie ; 
 For time, alas ! long since has thrown 
 Oblivion o'er the mouldered stone, 
 
 And veil'd it from the eye ! 
 The moralist may homeward turn, 
 The futile works of man to mourn ; 
 If mean and lowly be his lot, 
 The great alike will be forgot ! 
 If earthly glory dims his eyes, 
 Here let him ponder, and be wise .' 
 
 END OF ST BALDRED.
 
 NOTES TO SAINT BALDRED. 
 
 Entro&uctorn 
 
 1. 
 
 Stanza i. page 9. 
 
 Here ocean s waves usurp the rural scene, 
 And the blue waters gird the mountain's zone, 
 Where spread of yore the verdant blooming plain. 
 
 THEUE are some ingenious observations on the sea-coast, in the 
 appendix to the Agricultural Survey of East Lothian, wherein the 
 writer supposes that the ancient fortress of Tantallon, which is now 
 nearly insulated, once stood at a considerable distance from the sea. 
 He imagines that the perpendicular shore on each side of the castle, 
 which consists for the most part of soft earth, and upwards of two 
 hundred feet in height, leads the mind back to the time when this 
 shore ended in a gentle slope, and extended greatly beyond the Bass. 
 
 2. 
 Stanza v. page 11. 
 
 Where breezes creep 
 O'er Fidrey's sacred isle. 
 
 As early as the reign of William, a chapel stood on the isle of 
 Fidrey, near the shore of Elbotle, (now forming part of the parish 
 of Dirleton,) dedicated to St Nicolas. The ruins still remain. 
 
 3. 
 
 Stanza v. page 11. 
 The sea-calf roll' d by, 
 Forsook her briny pool, and lick'd the patriarch dry. 
 
 Btde relates of St Cuthbert, that when on a visit to the Abbess of 
 Coldingham, one of the monks having discovered that the saint 
 left the monastery in the night, had the curiosity to trace his 
 steps, when he discovered him on the sea-shore, standing up to the
 
 74 NOTES TO INTRODUCTORY STANZAS. 
 
 neck in water, where he spent the hours in prayer till the time of 
 the morning devotions. Having retired from the waves, two sea 
 calves came forth from the sea, and, approaching the saint, warmed 
 his feet with their breath, and wiped them dry with their skins, 
 after which, on receiving his benediction, they retired to the deep. 
 
 4. 
 
 Stanza viii. page 13. 
 He also taught 
 
 To rear the rustic dome, which, formed of stone, 
 Fair architecture to perfection brought. 
 
 Fenan, the successor of Aidan at Lindisfarn, built a church in the 
 Scottish fashion, of beams and planks of oak, covered with reeds, 
 which in those times was judged fit for the seat of a bishop. See 
 Bede, book iii. chap. 25. The splendid cathedral of York, which 
 is esteemed the largest and most magnificent in Europe, owes its 
 origin to a church built hastily of wood about the time of this 
 poem, and dedicated to St Peter. These rustic houses of prayer 
 were held in such veneration, that afterwards, as was the case with 
 York Minster, when churches of stone began to be built, they 
 commonly comprehended the old fabric within their walls. From 
 various passages in Bede, it appears that the monks employed their 
 leisure hours in the cultivation of agriculture and of the arts. 
 Easterwin, colleague of the abbot of Weremouth, though a man of 
 noble birth, and who had been the minister of King Egfrid, yet 
 having abandoned secular affairs, he sought not to be distinguished 
 from the other brethren, but would fan, grind, milk cows or sheep, 
 guide the plough, beat out iron, work in the bakehouse, &c., and 
 employ himself in any business relative to the monastery as an ex- 
 ample to others. See Border Hist. Scot. 
 
 5. 
 
 Stanza ix. page 13. 
 
 And, fair, her house of prayer was seen to rise, 
 Where the Cistertian sisters loved to dwell, 
 Beneath the mighty shade of Lothian's Alpine hill. 
 
 The ruins of the Cistertian nunnery of North Berwick stand on 
 an eminence south-west from the town, and command a delight-
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 75 
 
 ful view of the sea, the shores of Fife, the Bass, and an immense 
 conical hill, called North Berwick Law, which rises at least 800 
 feet above the level of the sea. Of this nunnery there are three 
 views in Grose's Scottish Antiquities. It was consecrated to the 
 Virgin Mary, and founded by Malcolm, son of Duncan, Earl of 
 Fife, in 1216'. Besides the patronage of the church of Kilconchar, 
 granted to this place by the Earls of Carrick, and other advow- 
 sbns, Dame Isabel Home, daughter to Alexander Home of Polwart, 
 prioress of this nunnery, gave to her kinsman, Alexander Home, 
 in feu, the teind sheaves of Largo church in Fife, iu 1 532 ; and 
 Dame Margaret Home, her successor, and daughter to the same 
 family, gave a tack of the parsonage-teinds of Logic, in the diocese 
 of Dunblane, to Sir Patrick Home of Polwart and his heirs, in 
 1555. See Spotswood's Acct. Religious Houses. But Sir James 
 Dalrymple states, that the elder Earl Duncan, who died in 1154, 
 was the founder, whose father gave to the monastery the lands of 
 Muthritht in Fife, and other lands, which were confirmed by 
 King William, as also those of Kirkamstown, and of two hospitals. 
 The church had been originally the cell or kirk of a religious 
 person, called Campston. 
 
 At the Reformation the revenues of the nunnery were converted 
 by operation of law into a lordship for Sir Alexander Home, a fa- 
 vourite of James VI. At this epoch the nunnery was inhabited 
 by eleven nuns, who had each L.20 a year. See Caledonia, vol. ii. 
 p. 506. 
 
 A picturesque ruin stands on a sandy eminence, near the harbour 
 of North Berwick. The adjacent ground seems to have been a 
 burial place, from the number of human bones scattered around. 
 Grose. 
 
 At Elbotle and Golyn there were also convents of Cistertians ; 
 but what may appear remarkable, these cells belonged not to North 
 Berwick, but to South. Berwick. 
 
 6. 
 
 Stanza xi. page 14. 
 
 Methinks, oj't gazing o'er Bodutria's tide, 
 King Brude and Baldred sat in caver n'd shade. 
 
 Bodotria JEstuarium, the mouth of the Frith of Forth.
 
 NOTES TO SAINT BALDRED. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 1. 
 
 Stanza i. page 17. 
 
 While torch-light reddens the lone cave, 
 And brightens every paler face. 
 
 BOECE describes the Bass as " ane wounderful crag, risand within 
 the see, with sa narro and strait hals (passage) that na schip 
 nor bait may arrive bot allanerlie at ane part of it. This crag is 
 callit the Bas ; unwinnabill be ingine of man. In it ar coves, als 
 profitable for defence of men, as they were biggit be crafty indus- 
 try. Bellenden's Boece, vol. 1. cap. xxxvii. The ruins of the cas- 
 tle, or rather of later fortifications, still remain. 
 
 2. 
 
 Stanza iv. page 19. 
 
 While monsters in the Forth were seen 
 Disporting in the waters green, 
 With crested head, like horned owl, 
 O'erspread with film like Carmelite's cowl. 
 
 " Ane multitude of fische was sene in Forth, the tane half of thame 
 above the watter, na thing different fra the rigour of man ; callit, 
 be the pepil, Bassinatis. Thir fische hes blak skinnis hingand on 
 thair bodyis, with quhilk, sum time, thay covir thair heid and 
 thair cragis, evin to thair schulderis. Quhen thir fische fletis in 
 our seyis, thay signify gret infortuniteis to mortal pepill. Ibid, 
 vol. ii. 179. These monsters were probably seals, or sea-dogs, 
 which frequent the mouth of Tyne ; but which now come and go 
 without either breeding terror to man or murrain to cattle.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 77 
 
 3. 
 
 Stanz* iv. page 1 9. 
 And many saiv pale Loda'sform 
 Gleam in his meteor-clad array. 
 
 " The spirit of Loda sat, in his cloud, behind the ships of Frothal. 
 He hung forward with all his blasts, and spread the white-bo- 
 somed sails." Ossian. 
 
 Loda is supposed to be the ancient Odin of Scandinavia. 
 
 4. 
 
 Stanza vii. page 21. 
 The Priest of Garmilton 
 Loud spake, u-hilefrom his eyes there shone 
 Radiance, like lightning from a cloud. 
 
 The priest of Garmilton, or Garleton, is an imaginary character ; 
 but from the writs of Garmilton it appears, that there was a chapel 
 of St Mungo existed there in 1457. 
 
 1. " Foundation of William Tours and his spouse in honour of 
 the altar of St Mungo, of an annual of ten merks yearly, out of 
 certain lands in Haddington, January 3, 1457. 
 
 2. " An indenture betwixt Sir James Tours, and Walter Hen- 
 derson, chaplain of the chaplainry of his chapel of Garleton, founded 
 of St Mungo, May 26, 1534. 
 
 3. " Charter granted by Alexander Tours of Innerleith of the 
 chaplainry of St Mungo, situate in Garleton- Noble, in favour of 
 Finlay Hunter, of all and hail, a tenement of land in Haddington, 
 dated last January 1 4." Heads of the Writs of Garmilton. 
 
 Near the chapel was a mineral spring, called, from the virtue of 
 its waters, the Vertur Well. It was much resorted to by persons 
 afflicted with scrofulous disorders. 
 
 Anciently there were two villages or hamlets at Garleton, called 
 Garmilton-Noble (from William Noble,) and Garmilton Alex- 
 ander (from Alexander II.) or Mid Garleton, now East and West 
 Garleton. In 1507, the Garletons passed from Lindsay of the 
 Byres to the celebrated Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, poet,
 
 78 NOTES TO PART I. 
 
 and Lord Lyon King at Arms, during the reign of James V.; from 
 him it was conveyed to John Tours, next to George, Earl of Winton; 
 in 1720 to Sir Francis Kinloch,and in 17 24 to the Earl of Wemyss. 
 The original name is evidently derived from Gar-mull-ton, the 
 bare rocky town, which is applicable to its situation. 
 
 There was an old song in praise of Garleton, which Mr Skirving, 
 author of the fine satirical song on the battle of Prestonpans, and 
 the father of the celebrated painter of that name, was wont to sing, 
 but I never heard more than the two first lines, printed in italics; 
 the other lines I have added, to give some meaning to the verses : 
 
 The bonny parks o' Garleton, 
 
 Their name ye ken, their name ye ken, 
 That lie beneath the Hanging Crags, 
 
 Where Cogtal's gentle waters rin. 
 
 The bird that soars frac dawning morn 
 
 To pensive e'en ing's twilight fa', 
 Beholds nae fairer fields than these 
 
 On a' the earth's terraqueous ba.' 
 
 O ! meet me on the Lady's Knowe, 
 
 When day glides o'er the Ochils hie : 
 Then crowns may deck the monarch's brow, 
 While Love and Beauty stray wi' me. 
 
 It is more than probable that St Kentigern or Mungo resided 
 in this neighbourhood, as the chapel of Garleton is the only one 
 which I have discovered, dedicated to St Mungo in East Lothian ; 
 and about a mile and a half from its site is a place still called 
 Mungo' s Wells. I may conclude in the words of Chalmers, that 
 " at the romantic foot of the Garleton hills stands the house of 
 " Garleton, which shows in its present ruins its ancient mag- 
 " nificence." For a strange story of an apparition, connected with 
 this decayed mansion, see my notes on witchcraft, appended to 
 the " LOST DRAVE," in this volume; and for an account of the 
 remains of a Pictish town or fort near this place, see notes to the 
 " VISION OF HUNGUS." 
 
 While on this subject, I may be pardoned for introducing an- 
 other ballad to the notice of the reader, of more importance. 
 
 David Lindsay, third son of Patrick, fourth Lord Lindsay
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 79 , 
 
 and Byres, was killed at the battle of Flodden. Some of his tenants 
 probably accompanied him to that fatal field, since the old song 
 says, 
 
 " For a' that fell at Flodden field, 
 
 " Rouny HOOD of the Ilulc cam hame." 
 
 It were devoutly to be wished that more of this ballad could be 
 recovered. The Huh- now consists of a few cottages on the farm of 
 Prora, in the parish of Athelstaneford. The epithet ?~ouny seems 
 here used as a term of reproach. Old Scottish nicknames com- 
 monly terminated with that syllable ; as, custroun, a poor pitiful 
 fellow, &c. See Sibbald's Glossary. 
 
 5. 
 
 Stanza viii. page 22. 
 I swear by Hadda-Chuan's stone, 
 That storms are in the sky ! 
 Yes, by the tempest saint I swear 
 Of green lona's Isle ! 
 
 There-was a chapel dedicated to St Columba in the isle of Troda, 
 near the northernmost point of Sky, called Hunish. In Hadda- 
 Chuan also, that is, Hadda, of the Ocean, which is about two 
 leagues distant from Hunish Point, there is another chapel de- 
 dicated to the same saint. 
 
 " It has an altar in the east end ; and there is a blue stone of 
 " a round form on it, which is always moist. It is an ordinary 
 " custom, when any of the fishermen are detained in the isle, by 
 " contrary winds, to wash the blue stone with water all around, 
 " expecting thereby to procure a favourable wind, which the cre- 
 " dulous tenant living in the isle, says, never fails, especially if 
 " a stranger wash the stone. The stone is likewise applied to 
 " the sides of people troubled with stitches, and they say it is 
 " effectual for that purpose. And so great is the regard that they 
 " have for this stone, that they swear decisive oaths on it." See 
 Western Islands, p. 27, and Hist. Culdees, p. 184.
 
 80 NOTES TO PART I. 
 
 6. 
 
 Stanza xi. p. 24. 
 
 Each left the corpse, save that dark man 
 Cor mac, from Aberlady's shore, 
 Who, deem'd a cunning artisan, 
 Had left Ki/spindie's cells at dawn. 
 
 It has been conjectured that the Culdees had a cell near Aber- 
 lady. There are still visible the vestiges of a small chapel on the 
 north-west corner of the church-yard. " Kilspindie, the place of 
 their settlement, near Aberlady, (observes Chalmers,) is supposed 
 to have derived its name from the Culdees ; Cil-ys-pen-du, signify- 
 ing, in the British speech, the cell of the Slack Heads." 
 
 Cormac, as regards the poem, is a fictitious personage ; but while 
 St Columba resided at the court of Brudi, King of the Picts, he 
 met with the Regulus, or petty prince of the Orkneys, whose pro- 
 tection he solicited for Cormac, one of his disciples, whom lie fore- 
 knew was on his way to the Western Islands. Hist. Culd. p. 1 79. 
 
 I may add, with respect to this monk's being deemed a cunning- 
 artisan, that in a monastery which St Mungo founded in Wales, 
 " there were daily entertained six hundred three score and three 
 " persons, of which number three hundred were kept at some 
 " manual work within the monastery ; other three hundred did 
 " labour in the fields, and practise husbandry ; and the rest being 
 " appointed for divine service, had the day and night divided 
 '' among them, so that there were some always in the church 
 " praising God." Spotsivood, p. 11. 
 
 7. 
 
 Stanza xiii. page 25. 
 Thai hail'd the monk of Lindisfarn, 
 1 a friendship free in virtue stern. 
 
 The introduction of the Bishop of Lindisfarn may in part be con- 
 sidered an anachronism ; as, according to Chalmers, the epoch of 
 this bishoprick did not exist till 30 years afterwards, when it ex- 
 tended over the ample range of Lothian, and continued till the
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 81 
 
 decline of the Northumbrian kingdom. Tyningham belonged to 
 this bishoprick, saith Hoveden. Caledonia, vol. ii. p. 501. In King 
 Duncan's charter of grants to St Cuthbert, (who was successor to 
 Aidan,) the following four places are mentioned : Tyningham, 
 Aldham, Scuchale (Scoughal) and Cnolle (Knowes,) with Hether- 
 wick and Brocesmouth. Ibid. 
 
 S. 
 
 Stanza xv. page 27. 
 That hill, which in a latter day 
 By witclicraft near was borne away, 
 When the Gyre Curling strode the mast. 
 
 For an account of the Gyre Carting, the mother witch of the 
 Scottish peasantry, see notes to the " LOST DRAVE" in this 
 volume. 
 
 9. 
 
 Stanza xv. page 27. 
 Unlike St Serf, the church's keel, 
 Who with his prayers the dragon slew ! 
 
 The legend of St Serf is a specimen of the absurd tales that 
 amused the ignorant in the early ages. 
 
 " In dovyn of devbtyoune, 
 
 " And prayere he slwe a fell Dragowne." 
 
 Wyntowris CronylcU, book v. chap. 12. 
 
 St Mungo was the disciple of St Serf. The long conversation 
 between St Serf and the devil in a cave at Dysart, is a valuable spe- 
 cimen of the theology and logic of that age : When Satan found 
 he could not subdue the Saint, 
 
 " He sayd than, 
 " He kend hym for a wys man ; 
 " For he wan at hym na profyte." Ibid. 
 
 Amongst other miracles related of St Serf, when he landed in 
 Fife, on his way to Culross, 
 
 " Tharc oure the wattyr he kest his wand, 
 
 " That suddanly grewe in a tree, 
 
 " And bare of appylys gret plente." Ibid.
 
 82 NOTES TO PART I. 
 
 The story of his favourite ram must not be passed over : On the 
 thief being brought into the Saint's presence, 
 
 " Soon he worthyd rede for schame, 
 " The schepe thar bletyd in hys wame." 
 
 Wyntowris Cronykil, book v. chap. 12. 
 
 10. 
 
 Stanza xvi. page 27. 
 When they beheld, as droptfrom heaven, 
 That lone Aemonian, 
 The hermit of Inch-Colme's isle. 
 
 The abbey of Inch-Colm was founded by Alexander I. about the 
 year 1123; but it was dedicated to St Columba, abbot of lona, 
 and had formerly been possessed by one of his followers. Vene- 
 ration for the memory of Columba is assigned as the reason of the 
 royal foundation. It is said, that the king, when attempting to cross 
 at the Queen's Ferry, being overtaken by a violent storm from the 
 south, urged the mariners to run into the isle Aemonia, where at 
 that time lived a certain hermit, who, devoted to the service of St 
 Columba, diligently attended to the duties of religion, contenting 
 himself with such slender support as the milk of one cow and the 
 shell fishes en the sea shore afforded. The king and his company 
 being confined here for three days by the storm, were supported 
 by these means ; and, because from his youth he was attached to 
 St Columba, and had vowed to him, when in danger of perishing 
 by the storm, that, if he arrived safely at this island, he would 
 erect some monument worthy of his memory, he afterwards founded 
 and endowed the abbey here. Vide Resist. Inch-Colm, 56. 
 See Hist. Culd. p. 187. 
 
 11. 
 
 Stanza xviii. page 29. 
 His zone with iron hoops was braced ; 
 His buckler on his arm was placed: 
 Now raising high his sounding lance, 
 He bade the trembling crowds advance. 
 
 " The Pict (says Herodian) has generally no use in apparel, 
 " howbeit the nobler sort of them do wrap their heads and wombs
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 83 
 
 " in hoops of iron, esteeming this kind of attire, in such as wear 
 " the same, to be a token of wealth and riches. Besides shaving 
 " their nether lip, they painted over their bodies with the image 
 " of all kinds of beasts. They esteemed it a great glory to have 
 " these paintings seen, instead of other armour, with a short lance 
 " and narrow target or buckler. Their swords were tied to their 
 " naked sides with a thong ; and as for jack, shirt of mail or hel- 
 " met, they made no regard of them, because they would trouble 
 " them in swimming, or when compelled to wade." Holinshecfs 
 Chron. The end of the Pictish lance contained a hollow bullet of 
 brass, filled with small pieces of iron, which made a great noise 
 when shaken. 
 
 12. 
 
 Stanza xxv. page 34. 
 To sail on heaven s transparent streams 
 With Jhules, the angels of the air. 
 
 Jhules, a particular species of genii, which the northern nations 
 worship on certain festivals : they are supposed to inhabit the air, 
 and to have great power over human actions, yet are without form 
 or substance. As the Picts are considered to have been a colony of 
 Scandinavians, or more northern nations, it seems not out of place 
 to introduce the objects of Teutonic superstition. 
 
 13. 
 
 Stanza xxvi. page 35. 
 Upon his right, with martial brow, 
 Appeared the young Prince Derili. 
 
 A clerical friend of mine is of opinion, that we may trace the 
 etymology of Dirleton from Derili king of the Picts. If so, it 
 establishes this beautiful domain as a royal residence of great anti- 
 quity. As the principal seat of the Pictish kings was situated on 
 the Tay, on the opposite coast, its proximity to the shores of Fife 
 might render it a desirable residence for a young prince, when it 
 was more safe and expeditious to travel by sea than over a barbarous 
 country. 
 
 Derili was the son of Brudeus, the patron of Kentigern, who
 
 84 NOTES TO PART I. 
 
 was the instructor of Baldred. In the year 700, Brude V., the son 
 of Derili, bestowed the island of Lochleven on St Serf and the 
 Culdees residing there. See Hist. Culdees, p. 131. According to 
 Winton, there was another of this sirname, called Nectan Derly, 
 who reigned in 716: 
 
 " Sevyn hundyr wynter and sextene, 
 Quhen lychtare wes the Virgyne clene, 
 Pape of Rome than Grcgore 
 The secund, quliam of yhe herd before, 
 And Anastas than Empryowre, 
 The fyrst yhere of hys honowre, 
 Nectan DERLY wes than regnand 
 Owre the Peychtis in Scotland.* 
 
 Wyntown'a Cronykil, vol. i. book v. 
 
 14. 
 
 Stanza xxvi. page 36. 
 St Conwal, on his left, was led 
 By Asaph, soon to suffering bred, 
 
 Conwal and Asaph were hoth disciples of St Mungo. Keith's 
 Cat. p. 232. The latter, like Baldred, was bishop and confessor, 
 a title only given to those who, in spite of persecution, had ad- 
 hered to the faith. Those who may be credulous of the self-in- 
 flicted mortifications I have ascribed to these early saints, may 
 consult Swift's Jocelin's Life of St Patrick, p. 244. Their master, 
 St Mungo, after he came to the years of understanding, never tasted 
 flesh nor drank wine, but slept on the cold ground, with a stone 
 for his pillow. See Spotswood, p. 11. 
 
 15. 
 
 Stanza xxvii. page 38. 
 Thenjirst by Aldhams holy shade 
 The solemn pageant paused the while. 
 
 Aldhum church was situated on the sea-cliff west from the vil- 
 lage. Its ruins were visible in 1770, but have since been removed 
 to make room for agricultural improvements. This church was 
 said to be founded by Baldred. At Scoughall, a short distance 
 eastward from Aldham, were also the remains of a chapel.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 85 
 
 16. 
 
 Stanza xxxiii. page 42. 
 Eastward of Binning* s beauteous wood, 
 Stood Baldred's mossy cell. 
 
 The church of Tyningham was founded by St Baldred in the 
 sixth century. This chapel had the privilege of sanctuary ; for 
 Malcolm IV. granted to the monks of Kelso the church of Inver- 
 lethan, with the same privileges of that kind as Tyningham and 
 Stowe enjoyed, both of which belonged to the see of St Andrews. 
 Chalmers' Col. voL ii. p. 545. 
 
 The ruins of the church, which still remain, will be noticed in 
 the subsequent pages. 
 
 17. 
 
 Stanza xxxiv. page 44. 
 Then, quiver d, as with earthquake's shock, 
 St Baldred's cradle in the rock, 
 And Whitberry's rugged point was broke ; 
 And, lo ! (as old traditions' say) 
 Thai boat of stone in Aldham's bay, 
 Yclept the Saint's, was seen to sail ! 
 
 At Whitberry point, near the mouth of the Tyne, a deep fissure 
 formed between two rocks, is called St Baldred's Cradle, which tra- 
 dition says elegantly, is " rocked by the winds and the waves." A 
 small rock at the mouth of Aldham bay is called Baudron's 
 (Baldred's) Boat. See Introduction to the poem, p. 5. 
 
 18. 
 
 Stanza xxxvi. page 47. 
 And as they pass near ancient Cnolle, 
 Fair Preston's bell begins to toll. 
 
 Cnolle (Knowes) is one of the places mentioned in the charter 
 of King Duncan to St Cuthbert. As a living proof that it stands 
 on holy ground, a field adjoining to the present farm house is call- 
 ed the Bishop'x Garden. Some years ago, the workmen of Mr
 
 86 NOTES TO PART I. 
 
 Hunter, while giving a deep furrow to a field south from the house, 
 came upon the remains of an ancient cemetery. It contained, in 
 coffins, formed of stone flags, a number of human skeletons, placed 
 in regular rows, with their feet to the east. From the ground oc- 
 cupied, it was calculated that six or seven hundred bodies may 
 have been thus interred. As the teeth of those examined were en- 
 tire, and the skeletons measured from four feet four to more than 
 six feet, it was reasonably conjectured that they were the victims 
 of a battle. This conclusion is strengthened from the circumstance, 
 that, in a park, about half a mile distant, on the farm of Kirkland- 
 hill, is one of those rudely sculptured perpendicular stones, which 
 are commonly supposed to mark the scene of contention of an early 
 period. A similar rude monument stands on the north side of 
 Pencraik-hill; as also several in Athelstaneford parish, which I shall 
 have occasion to notice in my notes to the " VISION OF HUNGUS." 
 
 19. 
 
 Stanza xxxvii. page 47. 
 
 They have made St Baldred's grave 
 
 Under Preston's sculptured nave 
 
 They have borne the saint's last pal!, 
 
 And placed his statue in the wall. 
 
 The church of Prestonkirk is supposed to have been originally 
 built for St Baldred ; part of the ruins still remain contiguous to 
 the modern fabric, which was built in 1770. The late Sir George 
 Buchan Hepburn observes, in a letter to the author of Caledonia, 
 that " Baldred's statue lay long in the church-yard ; and he had 
 " intended to have got it built into the church-wall ; but, during 
 " his absence, an irreverent mason ignorantly broke it in pieces." 
 Caledonia, vol. ii. p. 541. 
 
 An old intelligent carpenter told me, that this statue was similar 
 to the one now lying in Tyningham church. It was called St 
 Baudron's ; but was supposed to be the figure of some one who had 
 left large endowments for ecclesiastical purposes.
 
 NOTES TO SAINT BALDRED. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 1. 
 
 Stanza iii. page 55. 
 
 Where, shining through ihejlowery glade, 
 The mouth of Tyne translucent streams, 
 Within a liliac covert's shade 
 St Baldred's shrine romantic gleams. 
 
 THE church, and the old village of Tyningham stood on the west 
 side of the Tyne, about half a mile below the site of the present 
 village. The latter terminated on the east by the side of an elm 
 tree, and was removed for domestic improvements. The ruins of 
 the church still remain, and consist of two beautiful Saxon arches, 
 which are tastefully shaded with shrubbery, and have a picturesque 
 appearance. This spot is now the cemetery of the noble family of 
 the domain. Within the interior of the church there is a small 
 niche, where three shields are sculptured in relievo. Below its arch 
 a detached figure reclines, habited in a close gown, with hands 
 claspt in the attitude of prayer. At the feet of this figure lies the 
 symbolical lamb, originally holding the cross, which is broken 
 away. The old carpenter formerly mentioned, told me that this 
 statue, like that of Prestonkirk, was called St Baudrons. This, 
 however, is evidently the statue of a lady.
 
 88 NOTES TO PART II. 
 
 2. 
 
 Stanza iii. page 55. 
 But, Time, alas ' with viewless hand, 
 Completes the labours of the Dane, 
 And triumphs o'er the brand. 
 
 Ankf, the Dane, spoiled the church, and burnt the village of 
 Tyningham, in 941, which, Chalmers observes, is a very early notice 
 of the kirk-town of this place. 
 
 " The fierce Dane 
 
 Upon the eastern coast of Lothian landed, 
 Near to that place where the sea-rock immense, 
 Amazing Bass, looks o'er a fertile land." Home's Douglas. 
 
 While the workmen of the Earl of Haddington were, a few years 
 ago, clearing the ruins of the church, they dug a considerable way 
 in search of relics. About five feet below the niche formerly men- 
 tioned something like burnt ashes were turned up, but nothing 
 further discovered. If the relics of the saint were, however, 
 spared by the fiery Dane, while in search of plunder, it is not likely 
 they escaped the mania of the early centuries for this precious mer- 
 chandise, when the tooths, legs, and arms of the saints were en- 
 chased in silver, and bartered at a high rate. 
 
 3. 
 
 Stanza viii. page 58. 
 Fur, in the blue haze, dimly seen, 
 I view the beacon-beaming isle. 
 
 The Isle of May, like the Bass, forms a conspicuous object iu 
 the Frith of Forth. David I. founded a monastery on the island, 
 for the monks of Reading, in Yorkshire, to whom it originally be- 
 longed, and dedicated his benefaction to all the saints. It was af- 
 terwards consecrated to St Adrian, who, along with Glodian, Gaius, 
 (or, as others write, Monanus,) archdeacon of St Andrews, and 
 Bishop Stolbrand, were martyred here by the Danes. It was af- 
 terwards purchased by William Lamberton, bishop of St Andrews, 
 from the Abbot of Reading ; who, notwithstanding the complaints
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 89 
 
 of King Edward, bestowed it upon the canons regular of his ca- 
 thedral. See Holinshed. Like Whitekirk, it was of old much 
 frequented by barren women on pilgrimage. 
 
 This island was next granted in feu by Charles I. to Cunning- 
 ham of Burns, for the purpose of erecting a lighthouse for the be- 
 nefit of mariners. A tower of forty feet was built for that pur- 
 pose. The first builder was cast away, in a tempest raised by 
 witchcraft, while returning from thence to his house in Fife, for 
 which some unfortunate old women were executed. See Keith's 
 Cat. p. 238, and Grose's Scot. Ant. vol. i. p. 81. 
 
 A lighthouse, upon an improved plan, with revolving burners, 
 has recently been erected. 
 
 4. 
 
 Stanza x. page 60. 
 Proud Bass I amidst the crystal sea, 
 Thourt like a fairy-haunted isle. 
 
 This picturesque rock rises with a bold and rugged sweep, at 
 least four hundred feet above the surface of the waters, and in the 
 month of July looks like an enchanted island, where web-footed 
 birds come to hold a jubilee. It is situated in the mouth of the 
 Forth, about two miles from the shore, and is inaccessible except 
 by a narrow passage in the west. The base of the rock is com- 
 puted to be an English mile in circumference. From the depth of 
 the water, extending from thirty to forty fathoms, its entire height 
 may be estimated at six hundred feet. A cavern runs through 
 the rock from east to west, which may be traversed at ebb-tide. 
 It is dark in the centre, where there is a deep pool. While sail- 
 ing on the south side of the rock, opposite the opening of this cave, 
 it was truly delightful to contemplate its sublime scenery. The 
 rock here appeared piled in tremendous masses, frowning over our 
 heads, and scattered the restless waves as they rose against its rugged 
 summits or washed its everlasting foundations, while myriads of 
 sea birds sat secure and undisturbed on their lofty perches. 
 
 Besides the solan geese, which are its principal inhabitants, the 
 Bass contains pasture for at least twenty sheep, celebrated it is said 
 in the annals of gluttony ; it has also a small warren of rabbits.
 
 90 NOTES TO PART II. 
 
 The best season for visiting the Bass is during the incubation 
 of the geese, in the months of June and July. The most propi- 
 tious time is shortly after sunrise, when the waves are calm, and 
 the greatest variety of birds to be seen. An easterly breeze must 
 be avoided, otherwise the visitor may expect a good ducking if he 
 sails round the north side of the rock. 
 
 5. 
 
 Stanza x. page 60. 
 Alas ! we may not mark the spot 
 Where stood the hermit's holy cell ; 
 Its sacred precincts are forgot, 
 
 About half way up the rock, a little below the old garden, is the 
 remains of a chapel pretty entire, where the ammunition of the 
 garrison was kept when the island was used as a state-prison for 
 the Covenanters. The niches for the holy fonts show that it must 
 have been built prior to the reformation of the church. 
 
 The Bass pays annually twelve geese to the church of North 
 Berwick as part of the minister's stipend. 
 
 6. 
 
 Stanza xii. page 61. 
 
 Here oft the boatman rests his oar, 
 
 While o'er the rock the fowler hung, 
 
 Like the bold youth of Kilda's shore, 
 
 Descends to seek the solan's young. 
 
 The solan are commonly taken in the month of August. This 
 is effected by hoisting the fowler over inaccessible places of the 
 rock, by a rope fastened to a girdle. The young birds are killed 
 by striking them on the head, while the boatmen below are ready 
 to receive them. This perilous employment is often attended with 
 danger from the falling of loose stones. Some years ago one of the 
 fowlers would have been buried under a ton-weight of fragments, 
 had he not had the presence of mind to swing himself under a 
 jutting crag, where he remained in safety till the mass rolled over 
 his head.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 91 
 
 7. 
 
 Stanza xii. page 62. 
 That bird, which on gigantic wing, 
 Like cormorant, delights to soar. 
 
 The solan resembles the cormorant and pelican, both in its 
 manner of fishing, by diving from a great height, and the method 
 of securing its prey in a dilatable pouch, of sufficient size to contain 
 four or five herrings. The gannet or solan goose (the Pelecanus 
 Bassanus of Linnaeus) was supposed to breed no where in Europe 
 save on the Bass, and the isle of Ailsa in the frith of Clyde ; but 
 they are also found on the Stark of Suliskerry, a holm or unin- 
 habited island, a little to the south-west of the Orkney isles, and 
 at St Kilda in the Hebrides. 
 
 8. 
 
 Stanza xii. page 62. 
 Wo to the silvery shoals that lie 
 'Neath the bright lustre of her eye. 
 
 The gannet also resembles the cormorant in its quickness of 
 sight. It has a transparent membrane under the eyelid, with 
 which it covers the whole eye at pleasure, without obscuring the 
 sight, which seems a necessary provision for so weighty a creature, 
 whose method of seizing its prey is by darting down headlong 
 from a height of at least a hundred feet into the water. " They 
 " have a crane's neck, and a strong sharp bill, about the length of 
 " one's middle finger, with which they strike through their prey 
 " with such violence, that it often sticks in a board, baited with 
 " herring, so as they cannot pull it out again, and are catched by 
 " the inhabitants." Journey through Scot. 1723. Mr Pennant 
 relates a similar story of one of these birds, which, when flying 
 over Penzance, in Cornwall, saw some pilchards lying on a fir 
 plank, upon which, darting down for the purpose of seizing them, 
 it struck its bill through an inch and quarter plank, and was kill- 
 ed on the spot. 
 
 Holinshed observes, " Certes, there is nothing in this rock that
 
 92 NOTES TO PART II. 
 
 " is not full of admiration and wonder: therein is also great store 
 " of solan geese, (not unlike to those which Pliny calleth water 
 " eagles, or, as we say, sea herons,) and no where else but in Ailsa 
 " and this rock. At their first coming, they gather such great 
 " plenty of sticks and boughs together for the building of their 
 " nests, that the same do satisfy the keeper of the castle for the 
 " yearly maintenance of his fuel. Within the bowels of these 
 " geese there is a kind of grease to be had of singular force in me- 
 " dicine, and flaying likewise the skin from their bodies with the 
 " fat, they make an oil very profitable for the gout, and many 
 " other diseases in the haunches and groins of mankind. In this 
 " crag more there growth a herb very pleasant and delicious for 
 " sallads, but if it be taken up and planted elsewhere, it either 
 " groweth not, or utterly loses its virtues. 
 
 " There was some time a stone found here, much like to a water 
 " sponge or pumice, hollow on the one side, and of such a nature, 
 " that if any salt water had been poured thereunto, and suffered 
 " to run through, it would forthwith lose the natural saltness, 
 " and become very fresh and pleasant unto the mouth and taste. 
 " We hear in these days that this stone is to be seen in Fast Cas- 
 " tie, whither it was brought after it had passed many hands for 
 " the trial of this matter." See Holinshed's Chron. vol. i. introd. 
 
 9. 
 
 Stanza xii. page 62. 
 The puffin, with her crimson bill, 
 Deem'd sacred by the lone Kurile. 
 
 This remarkable bird is also a native of the Bass, and common- 
 ly goes by the name of the Tommy Nora. It is found, however, 
 in greater plenty on the isle of Craig Leith, near North Berwick, 
 where it takes up its abode in the rabbit burrows. When sail- 
 ing round the rock on the summer evenings, the bird is heard to 
 make a mournful noise, like a person crying Ah .' ha ! Its voice 
 has been compared to a dumb person attempting to speak, or to 
 the hum of a large spinning-wheel. This humming sound had a 
 very pleasant effect, when, from the top of the Bass, we looked
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 
 
 down on the myriads below, and heard it mingled with the chatter- 
 ing of the guillimot or skout, and the screaming of the sea-gulls. 
 
 The puffin is most celebrated for its bill, which is large and flat, 
 with its edge upwards, partly ash-coloured and partly red, of a tri- 
 angular shape, not unlike the coulter of a plough, hence the bird 
 gets the name of Coulterneb. The Kamtschadales and Kuriles 
 decorate their necks with the bill, which the priest puts on with 
 an appropriate ceremony. While in possession of this amulet, they 
 consider good fortune will attend them. 
 
 10. 
 
 Stanza xiii. page 62. 
 
 This rock ! where Pictish ch iefs held sway, 
 Was patriot's boast of latter day. 
 
 The Bass was an ancient possession of the family of Lauder, who 
 sprung originally from Lauder of that ilk, or Lauder Tower. 
 Nisbet's Heraldry, vol. i. p. 344. According to Henry the Min- 
 strel, Robert Lauder accompanied Wallace in many of his exploits. 
 This family continued in a lineal descent till the reign of Charles 
 I.,, when it merged into that of Lauder 01 Beilmouth. In the 
 aisle of the lairds of the Bass, in the old church of North Berwick, 
 a tombstone bears the following inscription, in Latin Saxon char- 
 acters : " Here lies the good Robert Lauder, the great laird of 
 " CongaltoH and Bass, who died May 1311." 
 
 11. 
 
 Stanza xiii. page C3. 
 As erst in treasons gloomy hour, 
 On faction's billows wildly driven, 
 My holde did shelter Scotia' slower, 
 When from its parent stem 'twas riven. 
 
 The Bass sheltered James, the infant heir of Robert III., in 
 1405, when it was judged expedient to send the young prince to 
 France, to secure him against the dark intentions of the Duke of 
 Albany. Henry Sinclair, Earl of Orkney, was appointed chief at-
 
 94 NOTES TO PART II. 
 
 tendant in this voyage, and a ship was ordered to the isle of Bass 
 to receive the young prince ; but they had enly proceeded to 
 Flamborough-head, when they were captured by the English. 
 Nineteen years elapsed before James saw the end of his captivity. 
 While confined in Windsor Castle he wrote his poem of the Kings 
 Quair. 
 
 The Bass was the last place that held out for James VII. in 
 Great Britain. It was defended by a gallant officer, David, third 
 son of James Blair of Ardblair, who afterwards went to France to 
 his royal master, where he died. See Douglas' Baronage, p. 191. 
 After the Revolution a desperate race of pirates got possession of 
 it, who had a large boat, which they hoisted down at pleasure, and 
 committed several piracies. Their boat being at length seized or 
 lost, and not receiving their accustomed supply of provisions from 
 France, they were compelled to surrender. 
 
 12. 
 
 Stanza xv. page 65. 
 Then in the Bass's dungeons strong 
 Was pouring Babel's captive song. 
 
 The Bass was purchased by the Crown from Sir Alexander 
 llamsay, soon after the Restoration, 1671, for 4000 Sterling, and 
 converted into a state-prison during the reign of Charles II. and 
 his brother James, where the western Covenanters, called Camer- 
 onians, were confined for being in arms against the king. Trans. 
 Scot. Ant. It now belongs to Sir H. D. Hamilton, Bart. 
 
 Amidst a multitude of prisoners the most remarkable were, 
 1. Alexander Peden, of prophetic memory. WTiile Peden was 
 prisoner in the Bass, " one sabbath morning, being about the pub- 
 " lie worship of God, a young girl, about the age of fourteen years, 
 " came to the chamber-door mocking with loud laughter ; he said, 
 " Poor thing, thou laughest and mockest at the worship of God, 
 " but ere long God shall write such a sudden and surprising judg- 
 " ment on thee, that shall stay this laughing, &c. Very shortly 
 " after that, as she was walking on the rock, a blast of windswept 
 " her off to the sea, where she was lost."
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 95 
 
 Another day, while Peden was walking on the rock, some sol- 
 diers passing by, cried, " The devil take him." He said, " Fy, 
 " fy ! poor man, thou knowest not what thou art saying ; but 
 " thou shalt repent that. At which the soldier stood astonished, 
 " and went to the guard distracted, crying aloud for Mr Peden, 
 " saying, The devil would immediately come and take him away. 
 " Mr Peden came, and spoke to and prayed for the soldier, and 
 " next morning came to him again, and found him in his right 
 " mind, under deep convictions of great guilt. The guard being 
 " to change, they commanded him to his arms, but he refused ; 
 " and said, He would lift no arms against Jesus Christ, his cause, 
 " and his people ; I have done that too long. The governor 
 " threatened him with death to-morrow by ten o'clock. He con- 
 " fidently said, three times, ' That though he should tear him in 
 " pieces, he should never lift arms that way.' About three days 
 " after, the governor put him forth of the garrison, setting him 
 " ashore, and he, having a wife and children, took a house in East 
 " Lothian, and became a singular Christian." See Biog. Scoti- 
 cana. 
 
 2. Thomas Hogg, minister of Kiltern. Having contracted a se- 
 vere dysentery, he petitioned the council for liberation, which 
 Sharpe opposed, declaring that the prisoner was in a capacity to do 
 more hurt in his elbow-chair, than twenty others travelling through 
 the country ; and if the justice of God was pursuing him, the cle- 
 mency of government should not prevent it. Hogg was carried to 
 a low, nasty dungeon, and in a short time recovered. When 
 speaking of the arch-prelate afterwards, he jocularly said, " Com- 
 mend him to me for a good physician." See Wodrow, vol. ii. 
 and Hogg's Mem. in Scots Worthies. 
 
 3. Gilbert Rule, minister at Alnwick. After the Revolution he 
 became Principal of the University of Edinburgh, and colleague 
 of Dr G. Campbell, professor of divinity. Dr Rule sat late at his 
 studies, and Professor Campbell rose early, so that the candle of 
 the one was often lighted before the other had finished his lucu- 
 brations. Their lodgings being at a little distance with opposite 
 windows, the one went by the name of the Evening Star, and the 
 other of the Morning Star. Cricliton's Mem. Blackadder.
 
 96 NOTES TO PART II. 
 
 4. Alexander Gordon of Earlston, who was incarcerated in 1683. 
 His father was slain when on his way to join the Covenanters at 
 the battle of Bothwell Bridge. He is supposed to be the hero of 
 the ballad written in commemoration of that fray. See Minstrelsy 
 Scot. Border, vol. ii. p. 89. 
 
 So Earlstoun rose in the morning, 
 An' mounted by the break o 1 day ; 
 An' he has join'd our Scottish lads, 
 As they were marching out the way. 
 
 " Now, fareweel father, and fareweel mother, 
 " An* fare ye weel my sisters three ; 
 " An' fare ye weel my Earlstoun, 
 " For thee again I'll never see !" 
 
 Then he set up the flag o' red, 
 A' set about wi' bonny blue. 
 
 After the battle, Earlston narrowly escaped being taken by the 
 ingenuity of one of his tenants, who, knowing him when he was 
 pursued through Hamilton, made him dismount, and having hid 
 his horse's furniture in a dunghill, dressed him in female attire, 
 and set him to rock the cradle. On the 22d August, 1684, he was 
 removed from the Bass and ordered for execution ; but through 
 the intercession of his friend the Duke of Gordon, his life was 
 spared. He was thrown into Blackness Castle, where he remain- 
 ed till the Revolution. See Scots Worthies, Fountainliall, Min- 
 strelsy, ffC. 
 
 And, lastly, John Blackadder, a lineal descendant of the house 
 
 * An old woman in Dunbar has a flag, which is said to have been borne by the Co- 
 venanters at Bothwell Bridge. Its texture is light-blue silk. The inscription on one 
 side, in gilt letters, " For Christ and his truth" and on the reverse, in red, " So 
 quarter for ye active enemies of the Covenant," The motto is surmounted by a Hebrew 
 inscription, in gilt letters, signifying, " For the covenant of Jehovah." This flag be- 
 longed to Henry Hall of Haughead, who took an active part in the transactions at that 
 time, and held a command in the army from the skirmish at Drumclog to their defeat 
 at Bothwell Bridge. On his death the flag of course fell to his son. Young Hall, on 
 his death-bed, bequeathed it to James Cochran, shoemaker in Greenlaw, a noted Cam- 
 cronian, who presented it to Michael Naismyth, Edinburgh. It was destined to return 
 to Cochran's family again; for, at Naismyth's death he bequeathed it to James Raeburn, 
 tele cabinet-maker in Dunbar, the son-in-law of Cochran, and it is now held most sacred 
 >>y his widow.
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 97 
 
 of Tulliallan, who died in 1685, after five years' confinement. He 
 was buried in North Berwick church-yard, where a handsome 
 tombstone, with a suitable epitaph, has been erected to his memo- 
 ry. His Memoirs, by Crichton, have lately been published. 
 
 13. 
 
 Stanza xvi. page 66. 
 As by Tantallon's towers 1 stand, 
 That crown the wave-worn steep. 
 
 Tantallon castle stands about two miles and a half east from 
 North Berwick, on a high rock, overlooking the sea, which sur- 
 rounds it on three sides. The greater part of the building re- 
 mains in a ruinous state. The only approach is from the west, 
 which was defended by batteries. It is said to have been built by 
 the Douglases, when the overgrown powtr of the earls of Dunbar 
 had awakened their jealousy. 
 
 The following curious etymology of the place is noticed in 
 Blaeu's Atlas, vol. i. p. 41. Two superintendents of the building, 
 called Thomas and Allan, got permission from the lord of the cas- 
 tle to inscribe their names on a prominent part of the walls in 
 Latin, which stood Tom et Allan : hence the country people called 
 it the castle of Tarn 't Allan. 
 
 In 1528 this castle was held for some time against James V. 
 The particulars of the siege may be found in Lindsay of Pitscottie's 
 Chronicle of Scotland. 
 
 John Rolland, author of a pedantic poem called the Seven Sages, 
 resided here about 1544 or 1547. The time and place of composi- 
 tion are thus mentioned in the Epilogue : 
 
 " So in seven weeks this quair was clene compleit, 
 Out of plaine prose, now keiping meters feit: 
 Within the fort and towre of Tamtattoun, 
 When the English fleat besyde Inchkeith did sleit, 
 Upon the sea in that great burning heate. 
 Both Scottis and Inglisch of Leith lay at the toun. 
 With scharp assiege, and garneist garisoun, 
 On athcr sort quhair sundrie lost the sweit, 
 That same tyme I maid this translations" 
 
 Sibbald's Cfiron. vol. iii. p. 287. 
 
 G
 
 98 NOTES TO PART II. 
 
 During the protectorate of Cromwell, General Monk was detach- 
 ed with three regiments of horse and foot to reduce Tantallon. 
 As the garrison held out, he caused the mortar-pieces to play for 
 forty-eight hours ; but these did little execution, till six battering 
 guns being planted, they were so well managed, that the governor 
 was compelled to submit. It was on the high ground, south from 
 St Baldred's well, where it is said the artillery was planted. 
 
 The following letter of General Monk is preserved in the burgh 
 archives of North Berwick, which, on account of the singularity 
 of its style, is worthy of being transcribed : 
 
 " For my very loving friends the Magistrates of the Burgh of 
 North Berwick. 
 
 " GENTLEMEN, Having a call from God and his people to 
 " march into England to assert and maintain the liberty and being 
 " of Parliament, our undent constitution, and therein the free- 
 " dom and rights of the people of these three Nations from Arbi- 
 " trary and Tyrannical usurpations uppon their considering per- 
 " sons and Estates, and for a Godly ministry, I do therefore ex- 
 " pe*t from you, the Magistrates of the Burgh of North Berwick, 
 " That you do preserve the peace of Comonweal in y r Burgh, and 
 " I hereby authorize you to Suppress all Tumults, stirring and un- 
 " lawful assemblies, and that you hold no correspondency with 
 " any of Charles Stewart's party, or his Adherents, but apprehend 
 " any such as shall make any disturbance, and send them to the 
 " next Garrison, and do further desire you to assert, counte- 
 " nance, and encourage the Godly ministry, and all that truely 
 " fear God in the Land, and that you continue faithful to owne 
 " and assert the interest of the Parliamentary Government in y r 
 " several places and stations. I hope my absence will be very 
 " short. But I do assure you that I shall procure from the Par- 
 " liament whatever may be for the good Government and relief of 
 " this Nation, and doubt not but to obtain abatements in your 
 " Assess and other public burthens, according to the proportion 
 " of England ; and what further sendees I may be able I shall 
 " not be wanting in, what may promote the happiness and peace
 
 SAINT BALDRED OF THE BASS. 99 
 
 " of this afflicted people. I shall not trouble you further but beg 
 " y r prayers, and desire you to assure y r selves that I am 
 " Your faithful Friend, 
 
 " And humble Servant, 
 
 " GEORGE MONCK." 
 Edinburgh, 15th November, 1659. 
 
 " I desire that what is behind of the four months of the twelve 
 " months Assess may be in aread in sse against it be called for by 
 " the twelfth of December next. 
 
 " I desire you to send me word to Berwick under your hands, 
 " how far you will comply with my desires." 
 
 14. 
 
 Stanza xvii. page 67. 
 Near to Tantallon is a spring, 
 St Baldred's well 
 The maidens tell. 
 
 About half a mile south west from Tantallon, a fountain well 
 bears the name of the Saint. 
 
 15. 
 
 Stanza xviii. page 69. 
 
 And winding round by Hamer s hill, 
 
 Beside her ancient church I stood, 
 
 And the blithe priests of Holy rood 
 
 Came, marsfialling, in merry mood. 
 
 The parish of Whitekirk was anciently called Hamer, which in 
 Saxon signifies the greater Ham ; and may have obtained this ap- 
 pellation in contradistinction to Aldham. The church and manor 
 of Hamer were granted during the twelfth century to the Monks 
 of Holyroodhouse. This Church was dedicated to the Virgin 
 Mary, and from the whiteness of its appearance was called White- 
 kirk. During the seventeenth century, the parish was augmented 
 by the annexation of Aldham ; and in 1761 it was farther aug- 
 mented by the annexation of the adjoining parish of Tyningham. 
 Chalmers' Cal. vol. ii. p. 547.
 
 100 NOTES TO SAINT BALDRED, PART II. 
 
 Hither many pilgrimages were made. It was under pretence of 
 a pious expedition to Whitekirk, in order to perform a vow which 
 she had made for the safety of her son, that the Queen-mother 
 cozened Crichton, the Chancellor, and carried off James II. in a 
 chest to Stirling. Hist. Culdees, p. 188. Tradition says, that 
 Whitekirk was of old a celebrated place for the fattening of bar- 
 ren wives, who generally returned home (in one sense,) " as wo- 
 men wish to be who love their lords." Immediately behind the 
 church is a large house, now converted into a granary, where the 
 unfortunate Queen Mary is said to have passed two nights. 
 
 On the hill above Whitekirk, a cairn of stones marks the grave 
 of two persons who were slain at a conventicle, by a party from the 
 Bass. This was probably the meeting held here in May 1678, 
 which was dispersed by Charles Maitland, deputy-governor, when 
 James Learmont and his brother, with one Temple, (from Dun- 
 bar,) were pannelled, llth September 1678, for the murder of 
 John Hay, who came with the King's forces. 
 
 16. 
 
 Stanza xix. page 70. 
 While sylvan spirits hover bland, 
 And verdant deck the lady's shrine, 
 Who bade these canopies expand, 
 In Gothic-fashion d wreathes to twine. 
 
 To the sylvan taste of Helen, sixth Countess of Haddington, 
 East Lothian is indebted for some of the finest plantations in Scot- 
 land. The horticulturist may consult " Treatise on the manner 
 of raising Forest Trees," Edin. 1761, or Douglas' Peerage, vol. i. p. 
 683, for an interesting letter, dated Tyningham, Dec. 22, 1733, 
 from Thomas, sixth Earl of Haddington, to his grandson, giving a 
 history of the progress of these plantations, which arose under the 
 cultivated taste of his lady. 
 
 This excellent person was only daughter to John Hope of Hope- 
 toun, and sister to Charles, first Earl of Hopetoun. She died at 
 Edinburgh in 1768, in her 91st year.
 
 SIEGE OF BERWICK; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 MURDERED HOSTAGE. 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE dramatic sketch of THE SIEGE OF BERWICK, is 
 founded on a disputed passage of Scottish history, re- 
 specting the barbarous policy of Edward III. in put- 
 ting a hostage to death. The silence of the English 
 historians has been advanced as an argument against 
 a deed, which was calculated to stain the chaplet of 
 their favourite hero ; a silence which must have arisen 
 from obvious motives, and cannot be brought to bear 
 against the testimony of Fordun and Winton, who lived 
 at a period near enough to the time of action to have 
 ascertained its truth. 
 
 Lord Hailes took considerable trouble to clear up 
 the mystery that hung over this transaction ; and the 
 following extract, which he found in the Scala Chronica, 
 besides bringing several curious circumstances to light, 
 seems to establish the fact. 
 
 " The besieged entered into a treaty with the be- 
 siegers, and agreed to surrender the town, unless suc- 
 coured before a certain day, and to that effect they
 
 104 PREFACE TO 
 
 gave hostages. Before the day thus limited, the whole 
 power of Scotland, in astonishing numbers, crossed the 
 river of Tweed one morning at day-break, at the Yare- 
 ford, and shewed themselves before Berwick, on the 
 south side of the river, towards England, in full view 
 of the King and his army. They conveyed some men 
 and provisions into the town, and remained on their 
 ground all the day and the night following ; and next 
 day before noon, they removed into the territories of 
 the King in Northumberland, burning and ravaging 
 the country. 
 
 " The King's counsellors required the town to be 
 given up, as the term stipulated for their being suc- 
 coured had elapsed. The besieged made answer, that 
 they had received succours both of men and of provi- 
 sions ; and they shewed that there were new governors 
 in the town, and also knights, who had been sent from 
 their army. SIR WILLIAM KEITH was one, and there 
 were others besides. It was the opinion of the English 
 council that the Scots had forfeited their hostages, and 
 therefore they caused the son of SIR ALEXANDER SETON, 
 governor of the town, to be hanged." 
 
 " The narrative of Scala Chronica (observes his 
 Lordship) appears in general to be authentic. From 
 it we discover the solution of that difficulty in the ac- 
 counts given by the Scottish historians, which hitherto
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 105 
 
 has been inexplicable ; namely, how Sir Alexander 
 Seton could have been governor of the town of Berwick 
 in July 1333, while it appeared from record, that at 
 that very time Sir William Keith was governor. 
 
 " That parties contracting may agree to give some 
 of their own number as hostages, to be put to death if 
 the treaty is violated on their part, appears to be a pro- 
 position of more difficulty than is generally apprehend- 
 ed ; but, that they may agree to give their children as 
 hostages under such condition, is repugnant to every 
 notion of morality ; and therefore I neither pretend 
 to justify Sir Alexander Seton for exposing his child 
 to death, nor Edward III. for killing him. 11 LORD 
 HAILES' Annals Scot. vol. ii. p. 384. 8vo edit. 
 
 While this tragedy was enacting, Seton felt all the 
 compunctions natural to a father placed in such a hor- 
 rible situation, where his duty to himself and to his 
 country were both at stake ; and, but for the heroic 
 speech and conduct of his wife, whom Bellenden calls 
 " a wise woman, above the spirit of man !" he would 
 have surrendered the place. This lady acted quite in 
 tlje spirit of a Spartan mother ; but indeed this was 
 the age of heroic ladies. Besides Christian Bruce, the 
 defender of Kildrummy, and Agnes Randolph, the pro- 
 tector of Dunbar ; Philippa, Queen of England, the 
 Countess of Salisbury, and the Countess of Montfort,
 
 106 PREFACE. 
 
 were all distinguished by those warlike exertions, which, 
 we opine, might have been happily transferred from 
 themselves to the rougher sex. 
 
 The mistake into which some historians have fallen 
 in sacrificing two of the sons of Sir Alexander Seton, 
 may have arisen from the circumstance of one of them 
 being killed in an attack on the English shipping : 
 
 Williame of Seytown fawcht sa fast 
 Araang the schyppys, qwhill at the last 
 Hys fadyre, than cheftane of the towne, 
 Into the sea there saw hym drown. 
 
 Wyntffwri's Cronykil, book viiL chap, xxvii. 
 
 Tradition, which delights to magnify objects, points 
 to " two human sculls in the poor-house of Tweedmouth, 
 which the oldest inhabitants of the village affirm to 
 have been handed down from generation to generation, 
 as the sculls of Sir Alexander Seton's sons." See 
 Fuller's Hist. Berwick, Edin. 1799. 
 
 The eminence, where the execution took place, is 
 situated on the south side of the river, about a hundred 
 yards distant from a fishing water, formerly called the 
 Pool, but since that event termed Hang-a-dyke Nook.
 
 SIEGE OF BERWICK; 
 
 OH, THE 
 
 MURDERED HOSTAGE.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 ftcottofc. 
 
 PATRICK DUNBAR, EARL OF MARCH, Governor of Berwick Cattle. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM KEITH, Governor of the Town. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER SETON, Deputy-Governor. 
 
 MASTER THOMAS SETON, one of the Hostages. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER RAMSAY. 
 
 WILLIAM DE PRENDERGEST. 
 
 THE MAYOR OF BERWICK. 
 
 FRIAR ADAM. 
 
 TURNBULL, a Champion. 
 
 GOLDING, \ 
 
 AUBERY, J 
 
 ALAN, and other Hostages. 
 AMBROSE CARMICHAEL, Town Fiddler^ $c. fyc. 
 OFFICERS AND SERGEANTS-AT.MACE, FRIARS, FLEMINGS, OLD 
 MAN, MESSENGERS, &c. 
 
 LADY CHRISTIAN SETON. 
 
 ANNA, her Maid. 
 
 THE GUDEWIFE OF AULD CAMBUS. 
 
 MAGGY CARMICHAEL, the Fiddler's Wife. 
 
 EDWARD III., King of England. 
 
 EDWARD BALIOL. 
 
 THE ARCHBISHOP OF DURHAM. 
 
 THE EARL OF ARUNDEL. 
 
 LORD WILLIAM MONTAGUE. 
 
 LORD HENRY PERCY. 
 
 LORD D'ARCY. 
 
 JOHN OF HAINAULT. 
 
 SIR ROBERT BENHALE. 
 
 THOMAS ROKESBY, Esquire. 
 
 IRISH TROOPERS. 
 
 HERALDS, OFFICERS, ARCHERS, EXECUTIONER, GUARDS, &c. 
 
 SCENE Berwick, the English Camp at Tweedinoiith, and the Lands 
 adjacent.
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The Council Chamber in Berwick Castle. 
 
 [Flourish of drums and trumpets, and shouts 
 heard without. 
 
 Enter LORD DUNBAR, SIR WILLIAM KEITH, and 
 SIR ALEXANDER SETON, with attendants. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 THE assault continues, and the gallant Ramsay 
 Fills up each deadly gap with volunteers, 
 Mocking all masonry. 
 
 KEITH. 
 
 Ne'er doth battle shew 
 A fiercer front, than when her gallant yeomen
 
 110 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT i. 
 
 Marshal in proud array to meet th' invader, 
 And die or conquer for their church and homes, 
 Their wives, their children, and their loved firesides. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Well said ! and, with the purest hospitality 
 To give the audacious foe an earthly bed 
 Covered with crimson drapery. What now, sir ? 
 
 Enter LIEUTENANT. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 My lords, the Mayor doth crave an audience. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Usher him in. He is an upright man, 
 
 A good, devout, and worthy citizen : 
 
 A person fitted for important matters ; 
 
 But rather kind of heart for scenes like these. 
 
 Enter the MAYOR OF BERWICK, with AMBROSE CAR- 
 MICHAEL, his body servant, [whom the Officer in 
 waiting interrupts,] accompanied also by four Ser- 
 geants-at- Mace. 
 
 OFFICER. 
 Back, fellow ! How dare you intrude here ? 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Ambrose Carmichael, town-musician, town-crier, and 
 grave-digger, at your service, sir; attendant on his
 
 SCEKE i. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. Ill 
 
 honour, the Mayor. Respect the bear's livery, and be 
 civil. [ The MAYOR motions AMBROSE to stand back. 
 
 MAYOR. 
 
 My lords, I almost dread to make my suit, 
 Because, before 'tis made, I read too well 
 Refusal in your looks. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Then, pray, good sir, 
 Let the said suit be made to fit the wearer. 
 
 MAYOR. 
 
 The city is in flames : The trembling burghers, 
 Upon their knees, intreat me to implore 
 That ye this fated city will surrender 
 Before their families fall beneath the butchery 
 Of the rude soldiers ; and their little ones 
 Perish of hunger, or of worse disease. 
 
 DUNBAH. 
 
 My precious gormandizers, thus you come; 
 Oh ! cannot your Pie-powder Court supply ye. 
 (I've heard that ye will fatten on a bell-rope,) [4side. 
 Has corporation dinners eat all up, 
 That thus you beard us in the face of war 
 With dread starvation, ere the fight's begun ? 
 
 [The MAYOR, who is a tall slender-looking man, 
 standing erect.
 
 112 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT i. 
 
 MAYOR. 
 
 My lord, I surely do not look like that ! 
 
 [AMBROSE advancing, who is a plump little man. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Nor I, my noble lord, for my fatness comes from 
 my mother, rest her soul. My red complexion and 
 dumpling body to boot, comes from drinking nourish- 
 ing waters, as the parish clerk was wont to say, rather 
 than by eating gross meat from the shambles. 
 
 DUKBAR. 
 
 I suspect, fellow, thou hast not lived upon the Spittal 
 Spaw ;* but be silent. Fools should not come here. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Fools will venture, my lord, where wise men dare 
 not enter, my lord ! [Retires. 
 
 [To the OFFICER.] Why do you devour me with your 
 greedy eyes : didst thou ne'er see an honest man before ? 
 
 MAYOR. 
 
 May't please your lordship, 'tis no time for jesting ; 
 O save the city ere it be too late ! 
 Not for myself I plead, but hapless wretches, 
 That run like bedlamites across the streets, 
 Shrieking for help ; yet scarce know what they seek ! 
 As they behold their all devoured by fire 
 
 * A mineral well near Tweedmouth. 
 
 6
 
 SCENE i. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. H3 
 
 Lit by the glare of Ruin. For myself, 
 
 Could I shake off the manacles of age 
 
 That rivet every sinew, ye should see 
 
 Me first to mount the walls the last to leave them. 
 
 Heard ye that shout without ? I do beseech you, 
 
 With skill united, meditate our safety, 
 
 While I retire to keep the mob in order, 
 
 Lest, like the flames, they do destroy themselves. 
 
 Eternal Heav'n, why didst thou poise the world, 
 
 To hang it on such human wretchedness ! 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Retire, good man ! and rein the brawling burghers, 
 While we deliberate here, in secret council, 
 What best may suit the purpose of events ! 
 
 [Exit MAYOR. 
 AMBROSE {aside.) 
 
 What a ravenous, rascally thing is war ! It pays 
 no respect to persons, gentle or semple, lord or clown. 
 In battle, as in the grave, we are all upon an equal 
 footing at a short notice : so run, Ambrose, and keep 
 at the tail of your master; as for poor Maggy, she 
 must shift for herself, as the forester did when the 
 bears devoured his wife and three sons, and he was left 
 alone to cry out a Bare Week* [Exit AMBROSE. 
 
 * Tradition derives the name of Berwick from this strange etymology ; 
 also from being a rendezvous of bears, which are blazoned in the townr 
 arms. 
 
 H
 
 114 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT i. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 To council now, my honoured governors ! 
 
 I move that we do seek a gentle truce, 
 
 Wer't but to earth our dead ; and for this purport 
 
 Seton goes envoy to the English camp, 
 
 To ask delay, while we await the issue : 
 
 Should the proud monarch grant this small request, 
 
 Keith goes to Bamburgh, to consult the Regent 
 
 What may be done. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 And on what terms shall I crave a truce, 
 Since haughty Edward will not grant delay, 
 Unless 'tis bought with obvious advantage ? 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 That town and castle shall be rendered up, 
 Unless within six days we meet with succour ; 
 But should two hundred men at arms succeed, 
 To cut a passage through the English host, 
 We stand relieved, and meet them man for man. 
 
 KEITH. 
 
 O sage in council as renowned in war ! 
 We shall abide, my lord, by your decision ; 
 Plans wisely laid, must in maturity 
 Bear goodly fruit ; meanwhile, remember, Seton, 
 To seek safe-conduct to Northumberland. [Exit KEITH.
 
 SCENE ii. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 115 
 
 SETON. 
 
 Farewell, my lord, while I proceed to Tweedmouth 
 Upon this desp'rate mission. Heaven forfend 
 That it may meet the success its importance, 
 Big with the fate of Scotland, doth deserve ; 
 God and St Andrew be our country's help ! 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Inside of' a Hovel. 
 
 AMBROSE (solus) 
 
 Thank Heaven ! there's peace again since the blessed 
 parley was sounded. Thrice blessed be the manes of 
 the man who invented parleys; for they speak plea- 
 santly to the ear of the soldier that has been long deaf- 
 ened with the din of war. They are like a sweet word 
 from Maggy after a violent scolding. Why do you 
 cry, Mag? 
 
 Enter MAGGY. 
 MAGGY. 
 
 Woes me ! they're leading the poor lads down the 
 Western lane like sheep to the slaughter, while their 
 fathers are sobbing and their mothers are crying.
 
 116 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT i. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 What poor lads, Maggy ? 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 The young hostages. Devil take that English tyke, 
 and make a haggis of his bladder ! I wonder if he has 
 bairns of his own and how he would like to see them 
 led forth like two-month-old lambs. No doubt every 
 body thinks their own crow the fairest ! 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Hush, Maggy, and shut your mouth, and talk lowly. 
 There's no doubt kings and emperors come into the 
 world and go out of it like other folk, but they don^t 
 care so much for their bairns as we do : seeing they 
 get others to keep them, and teach them, and so forth. 
 But it does not become either you or I to speak evil of 
 authorities. Let us mind our own concerns. Do you 
 hear that noise, honey ? 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 Let us run, Ambrose, and hide ourselves in the peat 
 cellar, where we may pray in safety ! 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Get you there, while I seek the tail of my master ; 
 since, doubtless, the greatest savages in Christendom 
 will respect the bear's livery, and do no harm to the 
 Mayor of Berwick. [Eacit AMBROSE.
 
 SCKNE in. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 117 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 Then I'll e'en go with you ; since it is not meet that 
 man and wife should be separated. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 A Room in the Castle. 
 Enter LORD DUNBAR. 
 
 DUNBAE. 
 
 I do not like the feature of this war, 
 That in the shadow of my mind appears 
 Too like the sun that rose on fatal Duplin, 
 A day to be deplored in Scottish annals. 
 This puppet Baliol is too well supported 
 By that baronial faction, that do serve 
 The side that suits their purpose. Honesty, 
 Alas ! has been too long estranged from Scotland. 
 Am I not blamed for serving England too ? 
 Why not ? The dazzling gewgaw of a crown 
 SeemM once within my grasp ; my claim as good 
 As Bruce and Cumyn ; ay, and many more. 
 Was not my father's grandam sister-in-law 
 To Henry Fourth of England ? was not Bruce
 
 118 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT i 
 
 My father's cousin ? Now for once I strive 
 
 To emulate the soul of glorious Randolph, 
 
 And serve my country with a duteous love : 
 
 Edward is in my debt ! Did he not hire 
 
 The monk, that, like another Saxon Coppa, 
 
 Administered medicine in the shape of drugs 
 
 To the regent, Thomas Randolph, my wife's brother, 
 
 Who yielded his dear life through this assassin, 
 
 When Scotland needed most his gracious aid ; 
 
 I shall requite the king ; but, hark ! who comes ? 
 
 Enter KEITH and SETON. 
 Sir knights, so soon returned ? 
 SETON. 
 
 Even so, my lord. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 How speeds the mission ? 
 
 SETON. 
 
 I've succeeded well, 
 
 But rather for the mission than myself ; 
 Since a short truce is bought at a high price 
 For my soul's comfort. England, as surety, 
 Demands eight hostages, 'mongst which my son 
 Is honour'd with a sorry precedence 
 In the devoted list. Three short, short days, 
 The utmost limits of this puny truce. 
 Heaven waft Sir William on the eagle's wing,
 
 SCENE in. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 119 
 
 And bring the Regent here with early succour ; 
 For many a parent's heart will throb till then. 
 
 DUXBAR. 
 
 I feel for thee, sir knight ; but thy devotion 
 For this lost land by Heaven will be rewarded. 
 The deadly blast of war will soon blow o'er, 
 Then shall our warriors fill the goblet high 
 In honour of the chiefs who saved their country ; 
 And our fair daughters, when to grandames grown, 
 Shall tell their children of their great grandsires 
 Who fought and fell at Berwick. 
 
 KEITH. 
 
 Be comforted, dear friend ! what man can do 
 To bring relief in this sad strait shall I. 
 I'll spur my steed, even to its utmost strength, 
 Until its coal-black sides are white with foam. 
 I only crave your pious dame's best prayers 
 To aid me in my absence time is short, 
 But summer days are long, and willing hearts 
 Travel like Mercury : my good lords, adieu ! 
 
 [Exit KEITH. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 There goes as brave a knight as ever wore 
 A pair of gilded spurs, or e'er partook 
 The peacock's royal feast.
 
 120 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT I. 
 
 SETON, 
 
 Yes ! and I promise him two spurs of gold 
 Should he return in time to save the city 
 And those within its walls. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 He reins a steed 
 
 Fresh from the desert, footed by the wind ; 
 So, Seton, be of cheer. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 Time wears apace. 
 I go to muster the young hostages, 
 For England's monarch will not brook delay. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 A Room in the Governor's House. 
 
 SIB ALEXANDER SETON, LADY SETON, MASTER 
 THOMAS SETON, with other eight of the Hostages, 
 the MAYOR OF BERWICK, and AMBROSE CAR- 
 MICHAEL. Guards appear in waiting- in the back- 
 ground. 
 
 YOUNG SETON. 
 
 Don't weep, my dear father and mother. I shall 
 soon, very soon return. Edward is a great and a good
 
 SCENE iv. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 121 
 
 prince, and will not hurt us ; and then I am not afraid 
 of the English, for they wear no beards, and look lady- 
 like. 
 
 AMBROSE (aside.) 
 
 Neither does the vulture ; but it is best to keep out 
 of the vulture's claws ; and I don't like those hungry 
 Welshmen, with their large knives. 
 
 SETON. 
 We shall hope the best, my dearest boy ! 
 
 YOUNG SETON. 
 
 Then we'll have such a fine view of the English camp, 
 and those whiskered Hainaulters, and the Yorkshire 
 bowmen. O what sport the other boys and I will have ! 
 Won't we, Alan ? 
 
 ALAN. 
 
 O yes ! and we will learn to play at shuttlecock, and 
 wrestle like big men. 
 
 THE MAYOR. 
 
 Grant Heaven may protect the poor innocents ! 
 
 AMBROSE (aside.) 
 
 Amen ! For the tender mercies of the wicked are 
 cruel ! 
 
 SETON. 
 
 Take a father's blessing with thee, my dear Thomas. 
 
 [Embraces him.
 
 122 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT i. 
 
 YOUNG SETON. 
 
 I can take nothing better with me, my dear father. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Kiss me, my dear boy ! Be brave like your brothers. 
 Remember always that you are a Seton, and part with 
 your life rather than with your honour. Kneel to no 
 earthly power ; but bow to the Majesty of heaven 
 evening and morning, and God will protect thee. 
 Again, before you go, remember that your uncle was 
 the bosom-friend of Wallace ; and, that the whole of 
 the Tweed will not wash the Bruce's blood out of your 
 veins, in whose cause you now embark. Farewell. 
 
 [Kisses him. 
 
 YOUNG SETON. 
 
 I will remember all, my dear mother ! adieu, adieu. 
 Enter LIEUTENANT. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 My lord governor, the boats are ready. 
 AMBROSE (aside.) 
 
 We may thank the rascally English that the young 
 lads must walk upon water, and be indebted to the 
 prayers of the Trinity friars for a safe passage. 
 
 YOUNG SETON. 
 
 Lieutenant, we are ready ; being as impatient to go as 
 you are to fulfil your duty. [Exeunt severally.
 
 SCENE v. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 123 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Thank Heaven I am neither a burgess, nor the father 
 of a family, else my children might have had the hon- 
 our of a tramp to the enemy's camp ! [Exit AMBROSE. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 A Hall in the Castle. 
 Enter AUBERY. 
 AUBERY (sings.) 
 
 Farewell ! farewell ! sweet day, adieu ! 
 The sun that's fading fast to view, 
 And sinks so lone in Arran's wave, 
 Will rise to gild the patriot's grave. 
 
 Yes ! fare-thee-well ! sweet day, farewell ! 
 The evening chimes so softly swell : 
 Those silver chimes the patriot hears 
 Will be the last he lists in tears. 
 
 Enter GOLDING. 
 How goes it, Golding ? you look very sad. 
 
 GOLDING. 
 The prisoner died 
 Last night of hunger, after he had gnaw'd
 
 124 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. AC 
 
 His hand off', save what dangled in the chains. 
 Poor man ! three weary days he was forgotten ; 
 'Tis horrible most horrible, and proves 
 Our cannibal nature. For, alas ! IVe heard, 
 That in the flowery vale of Annandale, 
 In ancient times, there dwelt a savage people 
 CalPd Ordovitians, who devoured their prisoners ; 
 And that the monstrous wives of such sad husbands 
 Slew them, if they forsook the battle-field, 
 Or were defeated. 
 
 AUBERY. 
 
 Tush, man ! the event 
 
 I could have prophesied. Last night, on guard, 
 A little bird came flirting in my ears, 
 Like that thou bearest now. Bethought me, then, 
 The soul of man will enter into birds ; 
 And it were heaven to the poor wretch who pines 
 His better part of life in the damp Keep 
 Half rotten above earth ; yes ! it were heaven 
 To leave his chains behind, and fly away, 
 And mingle with the mountain breeze, and be 
 A thing of liberty. I often wish 
 I were a tuneful linnet, that might fly 
 Unknown, to nestle on the shady Pease, 
 And serenade my Flora when she goes 
 To milk the kye on those romantic banks.
 
 SCENE v. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 125 
 
 GOLDING. 
 
 Pshaw, Aubery, away with love-sick nonsense ! 
 But, ha ! I feel a tear start in mine eye, 
 What of the bird ? 
 
 AUBERY. 
 
 I turn'd and gazed ; and, lo ! the Fleming's tower 
 Appeared on fire, (even as that beauteous chapel 
 Seen in the wayward walks of Hawthornden 
 When Roslin's lords do pay the debt of nature ;) 
 While I distinctly heard the clash of chains 
 And ponderous armour. 
 
 GOLDING. 
 
 Probable, most probable ! 
 
 The armourers were at work ; yet, 'tis most sad 
 To be pent up within these walled towns, 
 And fed on horse-flesh, till the leprosy 
 Do rot us out. Oh ! for that glorious time 
 When, led by Douglas "gainst Osmyn the Moor, 
 I first adventured in the Holy Land : 
 Then I was young, and burn'd for scenes of arms, 
 And deem'd the soldier's life a pleasant pastime 
 For gallant, generous hearts that loved adventure, 
 Its darker parts conceal'd in the back-ground. 
 Then at our tinel we had spice and wine, 
 Trumpets and timbrels, while the choicest flowers 
 Of chivalry sat round the warrior's banquet ;
 
 126 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT i. 
 
 Graced with those dark-eyed dames, nearer allied 
 To Sol than those our frigid climes produce ; 
 Beautiful, mellow, yielding as their fruit, 
 With hearts as cheerful as their cloudless skies ; 
 Yes ! Aubery, then the poorest sentinel 
 Fed like a prince, glutting the raven War 
 With choicest cookery. 
 
 AUBERY. 
 
 Pshaw ! kickshaws and trifles ; 
 My bag of oatmeal now would bring content, 
 Could I enjoy it in a peaceful shade 
 With Flora, and her sister Innocence. 
 My light iron girdle, now it lacketh flour, 
 Is like a body parted with the soul, 
 Or like our hide-form'd cauldrons void of venison. 
 
 GOLDING. 
 
 O Aubery ! Aubery ! 
 
 Your wit is like St Bothan's crystal spring, 
 That never fogs or freezes ! always pure. 
 
 AUBERY. 
 
 Heavens ! for the festival of good St Cuthbert, 
 That we might hamstring the five harts of Selkirk 
 Upon their march to holy Coldingham, 
 To feed the greasy monks, who lacketh not. 
 
 GOLDING. 
 Oh ! some of those fat beevies were delightful,
 
 SCENE v. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 1 27 
 
 Which we took up in our Northumbrian raid, 
 And left upon the south banks of the Wear, 
 To feed the glutton English. But the Douglas 
 Liked better to destroy than eat their cattle. 
 Had we such leaders now, we would not starve, 
 While the poor burghers, Nebuchadnezzar-like, 
 Feed on the grass. I have not had a morsel 
 Free from loath'd putrefaction this bless'd month. 
 What boots it, then, in hungry times like these 
 To rear up popinjays ? I'll teach an art, 
 Taught by an English archer, for that bird ; 
 Wrestle a fall with thee ; and he who wins 
 Shall banquet on the prize. 
 
 AUBERY. 
 
 ""Twere better not, 
 Perhaps the bird contains the prisoner's soul ! 
 
 GOLDING. 
 
 So much the better ; double meals are sweet 
 In hungry times like these. A portly priest, 
 A flesher, or a tapster ; each were good ; 
 Now, for the glorious attitude of man. 
 
 [GOLDING places himself in the wrestler's Jirst 
 position. While they wrestle, the bird is put 
 below a cap. AUBERY is thrown. 
 The prize is mine ! There, Aubery, thou liest 
 Flat as a flounder on thy spacious back,
 
 128 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT r. 
 
 Which might serve Thimble for a shaping-board. 
 
 [ Takes up the bird, squeezes it, and while retir- 
 ing" exclaims, 
 
 "Twill make a precious meal ! [Exit GOLDING. 
 
 AUBERY (recovering-.) 
 
 Marry, it will. 
 
 I did intend it for another purpose ; 
 To stuff it for my Flora. Devil choke thee, 
 No good will come of such begotten gear. 
 
 [Exit AUBERY. 
 
 Enter AMBROSE, (who had observed them unseen) in 
 the costume of one of the TOWN WAITS ; viz. a large 
 blue cloak, faced with gold lace, and a cocked hat 
 trimmed with the same embroidery. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Precious fools ! thus to wrangle for jackdaws, when 
 perhaps a piece of winged iron next moment brings 
 their billet of reckoning. The true saying, that every 
 bullet has its billet, supports me amidst the cracking 
 of culverins, and the pouting of battering-rams, that 
 shake the masonry of our ramparts like an earthquake; 
 but I must not forget the purport of my ambassador- 
 ship. Ambrose Carmichael, town fiddler, town crier, 
 and grave-digger, at your service, has the honour to
 
 SCENE v. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 129 
 
 be the bearer of a billet to the governor ; herein shew- 
 ing, that ambassadors are but letter-carriers, and letter- 
 carriers but pigeons. Hush ! May not these important 
 services of mine in canny moments, hitch me into a 
 captaincy of the town-guard. My mother was a sen- 
 sible woman in her day and generation : she always 
 said Ambrose would either be a little man or a great 
 man ; so, guess ye to which my prepondering genius 
 has a tendency. [Exit AMBROSE.
 
 130 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 The Council Chamber. 
 
 LORD DUNBAR, SIR ALEXANDER SETON, and SIR 
 ALEXANDER RAMSAY, in conversation. Attendants 
 in waiting in the back-ground. 
 
 [Flourish of Drums and Trumpets- 
 Enter HERALD. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 IN name of puissant Edward, King of England, 
 
 The Lord of Ireland, Duke of Aquatine, 
 
 I summon thee to render town and castle, 
 
 Ceded to us by John of Scotland, king, 
 
 In recompense for ancient services 
 
 Done to your country by our gracious sovereign.
 
 SCENE i. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 131 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 We know no services your king has rendered 
 
 To this devoted land, unless 'tis service 
 
 To stir her factious nobles up to strife, 
 
 Then slay them in detail. Call ye this service ? 
 
 We own no prince but David ; here we stand 
 
 Receiving daily succour, and determined 
 
 To hold out while we may. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Enough, great baron ! 
 Who estimatest an action by its success, 
 Not by its moral worth. Whence blows the wind, 
 The wavering wind of thy state politics ? [Aside. 
 
 My purport is to tell thee, England's king 
 Has sworn procrastination's at an end, 
 He hates thy evasive measures. In the name 
 Of England I defy thee ; as a token 
 I throw my gauntlet thus upon the ground. 
 
 [RAMSAY, unable to conceal his rage, kicks it 
 
 away. 
 
 Thank ye, sir knight ! We will not starve you out, 
 But beat you out by force. Should still your gates 
 Remain shut up against our monarch's mercy, 
 Wo be within your walls. 
 
 RAMSAY. 
 
 Sooner than yield,
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT 11. 
 
 I'll fight until the walls become my monument ; 
 Sooner than starve, I'll plough the unpaved streets, 
 And wait till spring shall whiten them with grain. 
 
 SETON. 
 Peace, gentle Ramsay ! 
 
 RAMSAY. 
 
 No ! war to the hilt ! 
 
 for the Douglas now to lead you on ! 
 
 [Exit RAMSAY. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 My worthy Herald, tell your puissant lord, 
 We crave delay, in terms of the truce, 
 Till Sir William Keith's return. 
 
 DUXBAR. 
 
 'Tis meet we wait despatches from the Regent. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Wo be within your walls wo to your matrons ; 
 For high in air, like scarecrows, each young hostage 
 Shall teach obedience to my royal master. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 If heavenly truth remains the brightest gem 
 In the king's crown ; (for prince's words are sacred,) 
 
 1 crave delay in terms of the truce. 
 
 O teh 1 your master, as he hopes for mercy 
 
 In the great day, so he will spare our feelings I
 
 SCEKE ii. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 133 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Tell king Edward, 
 
 Should not two hundred men by break of day 
 Break through the English host, we pay him homage. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Again I give defiance, and take leave, 
 
 For in my person yeVe insulted England ; 
 
 The ultimatum is, lend ears and hear, 
 
 Should ye hold out till vesper-bell be rung, 
 
 Sir Alexander Seton's son is hung. [Exit HERALD. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 There goes a puppet ! I should like, by heaven, 
 To have him in my castle's massy Keep ; 
 I'd wring politeness from him. Let us now 
 Prepare for war ; but, Seton, be of cheer, 
 For Heaven will help, and Keith will soon be here. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A Room in tJie Governor's House. 
 
 SETON 
 
 This fearful conflict, with paternal love 
 And duty to my country, is most dreadful ; 
 Sure my poor heart will break, or burst the steel
 
 134 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT 
 
 That laces it. IVe somewhere read of men 
 
 Who died for friendship ; of a judge who pass'd 
 
 Sentence on his own son ; but I have ne'er 
 
 Heard of that man who sacrificed his child 
 
 To save his country. It is horrible ! 
 
 Bury me, earth ; for what were fame, promotion, 
 
 To live the murderer is there in our language 
 
 A term so unnatural live the murderer 
 
 Of one's own child ! Good Heaven ! I'd better live 
 
 A life of wo, an outcast from society, 
 
 Than be the death of one so young and gentle, 
 
 Who holds a charter, drawn on me by nature, 
 
 Of preservation. Ha ! I see even now 
 
 My boy down on his knees, begging his life ! 
 
 Asking his father not to shed his blood. 
 
 I am a monster, that with sad delay 
 
 Pass sentence on my son. These eyes behold 
 
 His tongue choked up and palsied with the halter ; 
 
 That tongue whose parting accents blest its father ! 
 
 Here comes a sorry comforter, poor lady ! 
 
 She walks like Melancholy ; and I dread 
 
 The sternness of her dull perturbed look. 
 
 Enter LADY SETON. 
 
 Hail, gentle Christian ! I am sick at heart ; 
 The want of sleep, and fearful dreams, have thrown 
 A languor o'er my spirits.
 
 SCENE it. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 135 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 What news from Tweedmouth ? 
 Does the royal tyrant, with his gilded banners 
 That mock the sun, intend to blast our sight, 
 Till Scottish mists do rot his silk pavilions, 
 Or Scottish earth receive his rotten heart ? 
 
 SETON. 
 
 I fear thy first surmise resolves to truth, 
 Unless kind Heaven doth send us speedy aid ; 
 He is no idle, no inglorious foe 
 Goaded by youth, ambition, rival factions ; 
 And like his father, whom that faction duped, 
 Too lofty-minded for his subjects' weal. 
 Had not rich France, the lion lured aside, 
 He'd mounced us long ere now. Alas ! alas ! 
 I can unfold no more. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Alas ! I know 
 
 What ye would say. Heaven's sovereign will be done ! 
 But oft when storms look darkest on the Cheviot 
 A wandering sunbeam cheers the face of nature. 
 The event lies hid in dark futurity ; 
 Whatever the issue, Seton will not violate 
 His country's trust its safety and his honour I 
 Though every pledge of mine were naked laid
 
 136 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT 11. 
 
 Before the sabre's edge ! our weakness ne'er 
 Shall shade the rising glories of the war. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 O woman ! to such fate canst thou abandon 
 The fruit of thine own womb, that fed upon 
 The juices of your breast, whose little eyes 
 Beam'd pleasure when they first beheld thy face ! 
 Can ye abandon him whose latest accents 
 Lisp'd a farewell with tears, and blest his mother 
 For her maternal love ; and can ye now 
 Forget the dearest part of woman's nature ? 
 Speak but the word : I render up the town. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Nay, talk not thus ; let Heaven's will be done, 
 
 Since we must suffer ill that good may follow. 
 
 God gave us children, and the Lord shall take 
 
 His own in his good time. The blessed book 
 
 Tells me of many saints in ancient times, 
 
 (When faith was nurtured on a richer soil 
 
 Than in these latter days,) who gave themselves 
 
 A sacrifice to God ; and next to God's 
 
 Our native land. " Did not the prophet Daniel 
 
 " Banquet with lions, and escaped unhurt 
 
 " From out their hungry maws, while the poor heathen 
 
 " Lay mangled round ? And did not Machobee, 
 
 " With her seven sons, rather than break the laws
 
 SCENE in. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 137 
 
 " By eating swine's flesh, suffer dreadful torment ? 
 
 " And did not the three children glad prefer 
 
 " The seven times heated furnace rather than bow 
 
 " The knee to idol-worship ? and shall we 
 
 " Grudge God a sacrifice ? forbid it, Heaven !"* 
 
 Remember Abram ; I will not offend 
 
 Your ears with samples ta'en from writs profane ; 
 
 But, see ! come forth unto the battlements, 
 
 And view a scene will rouse your drooping spirits, 
 
 St Cuthbert ! joy, their navy is in flames. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 The Ramparts The English Ships in the offing 
 appear injlames. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Behold yon Fleming 
 
 Bears down amidst the smoke ; and, like King David, 
 
 Grapples with a Goliath. Ha !.he sinks ! 
 
 The English giant drowns ! 
 
 The lines distinguished by inverted commas, are a literal paraphrase 
 of the oration ascribed to Lady Seton by Boece.
 
 138 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT n. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 My eyes pursue 
 
 The well-known pennon, where my William's prow 
 Bears on the gun-brig. Now, they board, they board ! 
 I hear the clash of swords, I must away 
 And open the battery's mouth ; for yon corvette 
 Lies underneath its jaws. My love, retire. 
 
 LADY SETOX. 
 
 Nay, I will tarry till yon boat approaches 
 
 The shore with tidings, which I long to hear, 
 
 Yet dread their import ; for methought I saw 
 
 A gallant youth slip down between the ships ! 
 
 Oh, that the slumbering heavens would rise in wrath 
 
 And rouse its eastern gales, until their navy 
 
 Lay anchored on our rocks, but not in safety. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 My love, it is not safe to linger here, 
 Retire till I return. 
 
 Enter LIEUTENANT. 
 
 Make haste and speak ; 
 For if the face bears index of the mind 
 You bring no pleasant news. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 I am, indeed, the messenger of wo ; 
 
 In the sea-fight, when the two vessels closed 
 
 In mortal enmity, your gallant son
 
 SCENE in. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 139 
 
 The first to board, slipt down between the ships, 
 And sunk to rise no more, amidst the cheers 
 Of victory ! 
 
 SETON. 
 
 O woman ! earth is reeling, 
 Help, help, oh ! 
 
 [While the Lady supports SIR ALEXANDER 
 sobbing, the Attendants enter. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 dear-bought victory, at such a price ! 
 
 SETON (recovering.) 
 
 Bear me unto my couch. What ! do I live ? 
 Have they destroyed my boy; methought even now 
 He call'd me murderer ! Do I rave ? Hell, hell ! 
 Strike your red daggers hilt-deep in the tyrant, 
 Whose frozen heart ne'er melted with compassion ! 
 
 1 feel my sickness gone ! away, away ! 
 
 For I had need of rest. [E&it SETON, with Attendants. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Heaven grant I meet affliction as becomes 
 
 The daughter of a Cheyne, who bears the cross 
 
 Upon his shield itself the best of shields ! 
 
 Mary, support me now ! [Exit.
 
 140 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 A Room in the Governor's House. 
 
 LORD DUNBAR and SIR ALEXANDER SETON in conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Enter OFFICER. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 What news from Bamburgh ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 My lord, Sir William Keith has just arrived, 
 And craves admittance. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Usher his excellency in. 
 Enter KEITH. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 Heaven brightens now ! thrice welcome, gallant knight, 
 I weary to give up my charge to one 
 More fitted for the office, in these times 
 When men need Roman hearts. What news from Eng- 
 land ? 
 
 KEITH. 
 
 My gallant friends, 
 
 The siege is raised at Bamburgh, and the Regent
 
 SCENE iv. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 141 
 
 Comes with a powerful host in aid of Berwick, 
 That he may lure the royal beast aside, 
 And save us from his claws. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 'Tis well i [Aside.] I fear 
 That this manoeuvre will exalt his rage 
 To some rash act. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 O God ! I dread, I fear 
 My boy will suffer. Oh, 'tis very sad 
 To be a father in the day of sorrow, 
 And lose a favourite child. It makes a gap 
 In life, which fate or time can ne'er restore. 
 
 KEITH. 
 
 Be firm, while I, De Prendergest and Gray, 
 Try what yet may be done. I leave this place 
 In noble hands, the brave Dunbar and Ramsay. 
 
 [Exit KEITH. 
 SETON. 
 
 My Lord Dunbar, I stand in need of counsel ; 
 Edward, I dread, will execute his threat, 
 Unless we render this fair town and castle ; 
 Alas ! alas ! my gentle boy has fallen 
 In the sea-fight, and now I dread his brother, 
 Before another sun shall shine on Berwick, 
 Will be hung up to appease the tyrant's rage I
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. J 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 'Twere barbarous ! 
 
 But since too much approved in time of war 
 Men are not nice in means to serve their purpose, 
 I have a varlet here who owes me service, 
 And he will render it in gratitude, 
 Seeing my lady's brother saved his life 
 At Roxburgh's bridge, and gave himself in lieu 
 Rather against his will. This soldier, school'd 
 In deeds of stratagem by the Black Douglas, 
 Will beard the royal lion in his den, 
 And stay or mar his purpose. 
 SETON. 
 
 Be it so ! - 
 
 Although in calmer hours my soul would shrink 
 From such an act ; but being thus pursued 
 I can but strike, be the blow foul or fair ; 
 And, surely, if in jeopardy the drowner 
 Destroys the arm that saves him, well may I 
 Strike down the monster who devours my flesh. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 It does not merit thought ; ho, Golding, here ! 
 
 Enter GOLDING, in a Minstrel's Habit. 
 
 GOLDING. 
 I wait your lordship.
 
 SCENE iv. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 143 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Thank thee, valiant man ; 
 
 Speed, Golding, speed, and in thy minstrel habit 
 Sue for admittance to the royal tent. 
 Tell that there's treason here ; that ere the morrow 
 The castle is surrender'd ; should ye fail 
 Signal of smoke shall show ; so may ye save 
 The beardless hostages ; so Berwick's wives 
 Will bless and glad reward thee. 
 GOLDING. 
 
 With a kiss ! 
 
 But, by the rood, should this same emprise fail- 
 Should I return without a draught of vengeance ! 
 I forfeit life, and at St Mary's Port 
 Dub me a traitor ; your reward reserve, 
 As I shall prosper, so shall I deserve. 
 
 [Exit GOLDING. 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 There goes a resolute soldier would to Heaven 
 My Agnes had a dozen such at present. 
 Dunbar too soon will feel the brunt of war ! [Exeunt.
 
 144 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 The Interior of a Hovel. 
 Enter AMBROSE and MAGGY. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Well, Maggy, it's just what I said : these great peo- 
 ple care no more for their children than a he-cat. The 
 governor will not open the gates to the English to save 
 his own son, and the upshot will be, that all the young 
 lads will be hanged without benefit of clergy. Ay, ay, 
 I dread much all will soon be over ; for no doubt the 
 young king carries his father's bones in his doublet, 
 and wherever the old rascal's bones are, the Scots will 
 be defeated, if we may believe the soothsayers. 
 MAGGY. 
 
 Woes me ! and there's my lady ranging about the 
 town like a mad-cap, encouraging the men to fight. 
 It were more wise that she were down on her bare knees 
 like me in the peat-cellar. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 'Tis very savage-hearted, Maggy, but every one is 
 6
 
 SCEXE v. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 145 
 
 no gifted with the treasure of humanity like you and 
 me. They are just like the cannibal Romans, who 
 were never so happy as when their children were mas- 
 sacred in battle. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 You are deep learned, Ambrose ; but I often praise 
 God that you are a town-fiddler and not a general ! 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 But an officer of the town-guard, Maggy, were both 
 safe and honourable, except on extraordinary occasions. 
 Sieges do not happen every day. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 If you set your heart to that, Ambrose, I will not 
 oppose you. I'll neither advise you for or against it, 
 since I know my advice would not be taken. 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Then the salary is so handsome, Maggy ; and you 
 would go drest like a lady .' 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 I'm not envious, Ambrose ; " for pride gangs before, 
 and shame follows ;" but we cannot help good luck if 
 it comes to us whether we will or no. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 I'm not ambitious, Maggy; every man is not born 
 with a silver ladle in his mouth ; but if a man is gift- 
 ed with talents, it were sinful to abuse them and not 
 
 K
 
 146 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT ir. 
 
 use them. Ye know that old Rome was saved by the 
 cackle of geese. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 And if Rome was saved by the cackle of geese, may 
 not Berwick, haply, be saved by the town-fiddler ? 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Doubtless, Maggy ; but I have a secret which I 
 may not venture to tell you. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 And why would you keep a secret from me, Am- 
 brose ? 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Because I promised on my Jwnour not to divulge it. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 O, in that case, all's right ! I'll not press ye, Am- 
 brose ; but was I, who am your born wife, included in 
 the bargain ? 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 All, and every one, Maggy. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 Then seeing, that being part of thee, I am conse- 
 quently nobody, do please tell me. 
 
 AMBROSE (whispering.') 
 
 I've been with a billet from the Mayor to the Gover- 
 nor. Lady Seton is afraid of the vengeance of the
 
 SCENE v. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 147 
 
 King of England, and wishes to make her escape in dis- 
 guise. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 Oh, Ambrose ! try and get me included in her train, 
 were it only to carry her farthingales off the cause- 
 way ; for I long to leave this place ; and might be use- 
 ful to my lady as a maid of honour. 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 It were desirable, Maggy. I shall proffer your ser- 
 vices, which, if accepted, may hitch us both a yard 
 higher up the ladder of preferment. Meanwhile clap 
 your thumb on what I have told you. Keep your eyes 
 open, but your mouth shut, as the cook said to the 
 careless scullion. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 As I am a woman, so shall I keep your secret : but 
 I must go, for the pork is frying, and I don't wish the 
 hungry neighbourhood to smell it. [Exit MAGGY. 
 
 / 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Well thought ; for they would fight like racoons to 
 devour it ; and would make as much fuss about it as 
 Symy and his lad Lowrie did for Cowkelbie's sow. 
 Oh ! I long to see Ambrose Carmichael, town-fiddler, 
 promoted to a captaincy in the town-guard, for im- 
 portant services rendered to his king and country. 
 
 [Exit AMBROSE.
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT irr. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 The Council Chamber. 
 
 LORD DUNBAR, SIR ALEXANDER SETON, with 
 Attendants, grouped in consultation. 
 
 Enter OFFICER. 
 
 OFFICER. 
 MY lords, the herald. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 The King of England, merciful as brave, 
 
 Doth once more summon thee, to render up 
 
 The town and castle to your rightful liege, 
 
 King Edward Baliol, who is now at Tweedmouth. 
 
 Should ye resist the royal mercy still, 
 
 The hour of vespers, which approaches near, 
 
 Shall see each hostage quivering high in air :
 
 SCENE i. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 149 
 
 As token of the truth, behold, even now, 
 The gibbets rise before the walls of Berwick. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 Down, flown, proud heart ! . [Aside . 
 
 In terms of the truce, we yet do crave 
 Delay till Keith's return. Speak to him, March. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Tell proud Plantagenet, king of haughty England, 
 That I, Patrick Dunbar, the earl of March, 
 Will hold this castle till its stubborn walls 
 Be leveird with the ground ; and if I render, 
 Ungird my sword, cut off my knighthood's spurs, 
 And let me live degraded. When 'tis ta'en 
 The prince may breakfast with my lady, Agnes, 
 Who'll give him warm toast in her family house, 
 A few leagues distant. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 My lord, we lack not toast, 
 Although your lady were a noble toast 
 To grace a conqueror's banquet. Here I breathe 
 Defiance in the name of England's king ! 
 Our veterans burn to kiss your yielding maids ; 
 The gibbets are impatient ; at the toll 
 Of vespers, mercy on each youthful soul ! 
 
 [Exit HERALD.
 
 150 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT 111. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Seton, prepare for war ; for in the camp 
 There's mighty movements ; but I do not deem 
 That Edward's royal mind will stain his chaplet 
 By such a deed. 
 
 Enter OFFICER. 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 My lord, on the horizon 
 
 We see the troops advancing. Helm on helm, 
 Banner on banner, glittering in the sun ; 
 While the far spears gleam like a silver forest 
 Gilded by lightning. 
 
 SETON. 
 Now Heaven be praised ; for Keith will soon be here! 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 I guard the castle Seton, to the town ; 
 Send gallant Ramsay to protect the ramparts ; 
 Let Prendergest and Gray close up each avenue ; 
 This is the time when England's arm will strike ; 
 Ring the alarum, till the Bell Tower shakes 
 To its foundations, and with one voice cry 
 God for our country, David and St Andrew! [Exeunt.
 
 SCENE ii. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 151 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 The Governor's House. 
 Enter SIR ALEXANDER SETON and LADY SETON. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Whence is this haste, my lord ? 
 SETON. 
 
 Love, to the castle, 
 
 Where ye may rest in safety as the dove 
 Sits in the clefted rock when tempests rave. 
 Oh ! know ye not the assault's again begun ! 
 The magistrates implore us to surrender, 
 Alarm'd as I am for their hapless children. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 What ! will your coward hearts, without a blow, 
 Deliver up the place ? 
 
 SETON. 
 
 What can we do ? 
 
 For sack or storm I care not ; no, not I, 
 But, Heaven ! my boy, my boy ! 
 
 LADY SETON 
 
 O wavering man !
 
 152 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT in. 
 
 Would ye give up your country^ precious trust ? 
 
 By Bruce's royal blood that warms your veins, 
 
 I conjure you to pause. Think not the tyrant 
 
 Will keep his perjured word, though ye surrender. 
 
 Ah ! no ; and these poor minions all too late 
 
 Will see their temples spoiFd, their infants slain 
 
 Chopped from their mothers' 1 breasts, virgins deflower'd, 
 
 And hoary headed men, and sickly wretches, 
 
 Piled dying on the streets ; war's red arm bared 
 
 Till Tweed run blood ; the burghers crucified 
 
 By the accursed Jews let loose to plunder ; 
 
 And would ye ope your adamantine gates 
 
 To such a horrid scene ? 
 
 Enter OFFICES. 
 OFFICER. 
 
 My lord governor, 
 
 In a sortie led by the gallant Ramsay, 
 Your son is taken by the enemy. \_Exlt OFFICER. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 Here I stand, like Job, 
 
 Beneath the blasts of Heaven ! ay, like the gourd 
 Smit in the wilderness. Alas ! alas ! 
 My children falling round me, one by one. 
 I can support no more. My son, even now, 
 Like his lost brother, doonVd to execution.
 
 SCENE IT. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 153 
 
 Heaven's scourge falls heavy. Shall my stubborn heart 
 Refuse submission, that the tyrant's vengeance 
 May make me childless. 
 
 LADY SETOX. 
 
 My dear lord, don't faint ! 
 Bear yourself like a man, and comfort me, 
 For I had need of it. The cunning Edward 
 Must not betray us thus. What boots his word ? 
 Remember thy brave brother Christopher, 
 Who was betray'd, beheaded, like his friend 
 The glorious Wallace ! If they gave themselves 
 Martyrs for Scotland, oh ! shall we refuse 
 Our sons, who both are young, and Heaven will sure 
 Reward our sacrifice with plants as fair 
 As those we're doom'd to lose, if plants as fair 
 May be. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 O might I perish in their stead ! 
 But Heaven requite the tyrant's broken faith 
 Kings promise, are absolved, and die reputed 
 For what would damn the meanest wretch that lives. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 And would ye take the tyrant at his word, 
 And render town and castle, fame and honour, 
 To be the victim of credulity, 
 And afterwards derided as a traitor ?
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT in 
 
 Rather than homage thus Plantagenet, 
 Had I a thousand lives Fd lose them all ; 
 Rather bear children daily for an age, 
 Than buy their lives at such a doubtful price ! 
 While I, your lady, love, like Buchan^s countess, 
 Will be perch'd up upon the castle's turrets, 
 Throned like a wild beast in an iron cage, 
 For Scorn to point at, and cry Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 SETON. 
 
 Nay, Christian, it must be, whatever the event, 
 For nature now, in silent eloquence, 
 Even as a voice sent from the opening heavens, 
 Urges parental duty. What is Fame ? 
 'Tis sound ! a bubble floating in the air ; 
 Painted with rainbow colours, by the sun 
 Of dazzling honour, and as false as they ; 
 Which men, like grown-up children, seek to catch, 
 Yet find it nothing, Oh, my son ! my son ! 
 Time flies ; ho ! messenger ! [Exit SETON. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Now all is lost. [Exit.
 
 SCENE in. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 155 
 
 SCENE III. 
 The English Camp at Tweedmouth. 
 
 KING EDWARD seated under a Royal Canopy, surround- 
 ed by BALIOL, LORDS MONTAGUE, D'ARCY, PERCY, 
 JOHN OF HAINAULT, and other Generals. Guards 
 in the back-ground. 
 
 [Flourish of Trumpets. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 See that the caitiff be secured, and led 
 To instant execution ! 
 
 OFFICER. 
 It shall be done, my liege. [Exit OFFICER. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 These damned Scots, 
 
 Nursed in the school of Douglas, practise well 
 The arts of stratagem ; but in the field 
 Are arrant cowards, else they would not shun 
 My chastisement. Thanks to my trusty doublet 
 Well tempered, else that minion's thirsty dagger 
 Had done its office. It is shameful thus
 
 156 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT in. 
 
 To tarry, lords, while royal blood is spilt 
 On such occasion. 
 
 D'AECY. 
 
 My most gracious liege, 
 We wait your orders to chastise the foe. 
 
 [ They all grasp their swords. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 'Tis like the game they play'd at Stanhope Park, 
 
 When I was rescued by my gallant chaplain ; 
 
 Those priests fight well ; remember the brave Chapter 
 
 Of Mitton, led on by th 1 Archbishop of York 
 
 Against the mob, who perish'd, every soul, 
 
 And saved the queen ! these, these were noble men, 
 
 To teach my warriors valour ! 
 
 D'AECY (aside.) 
 
 I, by Saint Patrick, that was well-fed mutton 
 For the poor hungry Scots. 
 
 KING EDWAED. 
 
 I burn to whet my faulchion on these Scots, 
 
 That fly like game pursued, and ever mock 
 
 Our generalship. We march, they fly retreat 
 
 Till night returns, and burning villages 
 
 Tell where the base outlaws have fix'd their camp ; 
 
 Next morn beholds the ravaged plains deserted, 
 
 Smoking with refuse of luxurious spoils 
 
 Stolen from our wealthy yeomen ; even as those
 
 SCEXE HI. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 157 
 
 Swart vagabonds that banquet on the heath, 
 Beneath the blasted tree ; and fly at dawn, 
 Lest the fair day reveal their hellish deeds. 
 
 BALIOL. 
 
 They dread to meet your highness in the field ; 
 But, like the assassin, strike you in your tent 
 When asking charity. 
 
 Enter SIR RICHARD BENHALE. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Is the caitiff hung 
 
 BENHALE. 
 
 Yes, gracious liege ! and died a horrid death ; 
 For, when upon the scaffold, from his breast 
 He drew a roll of flax, which, waved in air, 
 Sent up a rising smoke ; he thrust it down 
 His throat, it did the executioner's office ; 
 For when his entrails were taken out, they boil'd 
 As might become a traitor's. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Precious rogue ! 
 
 Useful in death : He must have been a spy, 
 And this a signal given. 
 
 BENHALE. 
 
 Even so, my liege I 
 
 For now, seen high, upon the' walls of Berwick, 
 The white flag's hoisted.
 
 158 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT in. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 'Tis all a trick ! but I am ripe for vengeance. 
 Hell rot their flags ! my purpose now is vengeance ! 
 Lead forth the hostages unto the ramparts, 
 And hang them in the very teeth of Berwick ! 
 Let Seton's son be strung above the rest 
 To rot like carrion in his mother's face. 
 Let it be done in silence, that their cries, 
 Wafted across tlie Tweed, may ring Y their ears 
 Through every future age the wrath of England ! 
 Meanwhile, my warriors, Percy, John of Hainault, 
 And gallant D'Arcy, be upon the watch. 
 
 PERCY. 
 
 My sword will be an earnest, for the lands 
 I hold of Scotland ; and that sword will punish 
 Those chiefs who sought to cheat me of my own. 
 
 [Exit PERCY. 
 
 JOHN OF HAINAULT. 
 
 My heavy horse shall crush their spears to atoms ! 
 
 [Exit HAINAULT. 
 D^ARCY. 
 
 By good St Patrick, if they escape me now 
 I ne'er shall see your highness face again ; 
 For I will choke with grief; then drown myself 
 In the bottom of Loch Neagh ! [Exit D'ARCY. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 And, ye young galliards ! signalize yourselves.
 
 SCENE iv. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 159 
 
 Who first discovers where the coward Scots 
 Have fix'd their camp, shall from our royal bounty 
 Receive a pension of one hundred pounds. 
 Montague sack the town ; nor sex, nor age, 
 Nor suckling babe spare not, until the Tweed, 
 Swollen high with blood, overflows its fertile banks ; 
 Hence shall the haughty burghers learn obedience, 
 Hear but the name of Edward and submit .' [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 A plain on the English side of the Tweed, fronting the 
 Ramparts of Berwick, where a Gibbet is erected, sur- 
 rounded by Men-at-Arms. The English Bugles are 
 heard at a distance, and the Troops are seen marshal- 
 ling in the back-ground. The eight young Hostages 
 are led forth to Execution, with their hands pinioned, 
 and halters tied round their necks. 
 
 YOUNG SETON and the other Hostages, EXECUTIONER, 
 GUARDS, Sic. 
 
 EXECUTIONER. 
 
 Come forth, my pretty boy! you are the first 
 Upon the roll.
 
 160 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT n 
 
 YOUNG SETON. 
 
 Thanks for the precedence ! 
 I'm ready ; but I weep that these poor youths 
 Should suffer. Would that I might see the king 
 To intercede for them. Oh ! would that I 
 Might feed the tyrant's rage. Don't weep, my lads ! 
 For we'll be happy soon. I envy not 
 The conqueror who gluts his puny vengeance 
 On harmless heads like ours. We die to serve 
 Our country, while he lives but to destroy 
 The innocent. I have but one request 
 Of thee, stern man ! 
 
 EXECUTIONER. 
 
 'Tis foolish prattling ; 
 I must make haste to do my duty. 
 
 YOUNG SETON. 
 
 yes ! make haste ; I hear a parley sounded, 
 
 1 see the white flag hoisted. Haste, make haste ! 
 And tarry not, lest they give up the town 
 
 To save our lives ; alas ! of little moment. 
 But if you have a mother, stern man ! hear, 
 Oh ! hear my last request. 
 
 Enter MESSENGER. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 The boys are all reprieved, except young Seton ;
 
 SCENE iv. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 161 
 
 Be quick, and execute the law on him : 
 The guards are murmuring at your delay. 
 
 YOUXG SETON. 
 
 My friends, farewell ! as thus I kiss you all. 
 
 [SETON embraces the Boys, who shed tears, in- 
 terrupted with sobs of joy, at being so unex- 
 pectedly delivered, except ALAN, who looks 
 melancholy, and takes SETON by the liand. 
 Since this cruel man will hearken not to me, 
 Alan, I pray thee, give this lock of hair 
 To my poor mother ; tell her that I died 
 As her son ought to die. This silver bell 
 Give to my sister Margaret for her falcon ; 
 
 [The Jailer, unseen by SETON, takes it from ALAN. 
 And tell my father to be comforted 
 Since we will meet in Heaven. (Kneels.) Almighty 
 
 God! 
 Receive my sinful soul. 
 
 [Then looks up unconcernedly into thejace of the 
 Executioner, and exclaims, 
 
 Sir, I am ready, 
 Now God for Scotland, David, and Saint Andrew ! 
 
 [ A shout is heard without. " A rescue ! a rescue /" 
 while the curtain falls.
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. A 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 A Room in the Governor's House. 
 
 LADY SETON (sold.) 
 
 I dread the blow is struck ! O Heaven forfend ! 
 
 The stroke be not too heavy for my lord, 
 
 Whose feelings are acute, since it may urge him 
 
 Over the fatal precipice of death ; 
 
 I'm wondrously supported at this time 
 
 Heaven sends afflictions, but it also sends 
 
 A supernatural strength to bear them out. 
 
 Enter MESSENGER. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 O that the night had never grown to day 
 When I was born, to be the messenger 
 Of such sad tidings ! 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Well, then, speak them out ! 
 Since what has happened cannot be undone. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Lady, your son has yielded his fair life, 
 Innocent as the flower hid in the bud.
 
 SCENE v. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 163 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Was there no spark of feeling in their breasts ? 
 Were they not men cast in a fleshly mould, 
 That thus they did outrage both God and man ? 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 The men-at-arms look'd grim, and many hearts 
 Felt warm beneath the icy steel that braced them ; 
 And married men shed tears. Perhaps the youths 
 Reminded them of home, and of their young ones 
 By Ouse's side. I can no more, good lady. 
 
 [Exit MESSENGER. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Monster ! for once revenge shall be a virtue ! 
 My son has died to win immortal fame, 
 To bloom like laurel on the shield of Cheyne, 
 And be a stain for aye on Edward's chaplet. 
 Sound the war-slogan now " Set-on," to the siege, 
 Let the red crest spit fire Revenge, revenge ! 
 
 [Exit LADY SETON.
 
 164 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The front of Berwick Walls at Port St Mary. RAM- 
 SAY is seen on ilie Ramparts, jlyingfrom Post to 
 Post, and Jilting up the gaps made by the As- 
 sailants, who keep up a constant discharge of Ar- 
 rows. The English Pioneers attempt to break the 
 Barrier, and at last succeed in burning it down. 
 They shout, while LORD MONTAGUE leads the As- 
 sault. 
 
 MONTAGUE. 
 
 On, on, my men of England ! to the breastwork. 
 St George ! St Edward ! ho ! 
 
 [ The English pull down the Drawbridge, cross 
 
 it, andjire the Gate. 
 Well done, my gallants, every man a hero !
 
 SCEXE i. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 165 
 
 Now for the plunder ; see that ye spare none. 
 
 [The Gate being- consumed, RAMSAY calls down 
 
 the Guard from the Ramparts, rushes through 
 
 the flames, and attacks the Assailants sword 
 
 in hand. 
 
 RAMSAY. 
 
 Back, varlets as ye are ! ye shall not pass here 
 Until you cut a passage through our bodies ; 
 Charge, gallant Scots, remember Bannockburn ! 
 Remember how a handful of your fathers 
 AnnulPd these braggadocios show yourselves 
 Their true descendants, and don't shame your mothers! 
 Charge yet again, refresh the parched earth 
 With the invaders 1 blood The Bruce the Bruce ! 
 
 {After a desperate conflict, the English are beat 
 
 back, and the Scots retire loithin the Watts. 
 Thanks, gallant friends ; we'll now refresh ourselves 
 With what the morning's bivouac afforded. 
 
 PREXDERGEST. 
 
 The sun has set upon a bloody day, 
 
 But it must shine upon a bloodier morrow. 
 
 RAMSAY. 
 
 And cursed be the coward heart that shrinks from 
 A life of honour, or a death of glory ! [Exeunt
 
 166 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. A 
 
 SCENE II. 
 The King's Pavilion in the English Camp. 
 
 KING EDWARD 
 
 The Persian wept, when he beheld his hosts 
 Array'd in all the pomp and strength of war ; 
 He wept to think, that in one hundred years 
 The soul of life that stirr'd a million men 
 Should be extinct, and all their warrior forms 
 Resolved to dust. I weep for other cause ! 
 I weep to see so many chosen men 
 Wasting their prime in an inglorious ease, 
 While they might combat on the fields of France, 
 And dictate laws to nations. 
 
 Enter LORDS ARUNDEL, MONTAGUE, D'ARCY, PERCY, 
 and other Nobles, with JOHN OF HAINAULT, and 
 SIR RICHARD BENHALE. 
 
 MONTAGUE. 
 
 Gracious king ! 
 
 Keith has rejoined the Scots, with many knights, 
 Prendergest, Ramsay, Gray th 1 assault has fail'd, 
 As we knew nought of this superior force.
 
 SCENE ii. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 167 
 
 Inflated now, like frogs who sought a king, 
 With new-come succours, they refuse surrender ; 
 Treating your summons with insulting scorn ; 
 And say, in terms of truce they stand relieved, 
 And that their hostages should be given up. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Hah ! there I have them, tantalizing rogues ! 
 St George ! my nobles, hear ye this, and pause ? 
 
 ARUNDEL. 
 
 Even as the sleugh-hound burns to dip its tongue 
 In blood of game, we burn to meet the Scots 
 In deadly conflict. 
 
 Enter ROKESBY. 
 
 ROKESBY. 
 
 My liege, the Douglas, with a powerful host, 
 Comes to the aid of Berwick, and has crossed 
 The Tweed beneath the skirts of Halidon. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 My gallant Rokesby, ye shall be rewarded 
 At our royal leisure. Nobles, hear ye this ? 
 Montague, D'Arcy, to the field prepare, 
 
 [Exeunt MONTAGUE and D'ARCY. 
 Percy and John of Hainault, marshal quick 
 Your numerous troops, and let the traitors feel 
 The strength of English spear and English bow. 
 
 [Exeunt PERCY and HAINAULT.
 
 168 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT iv. 
 
 Scots, if ye cheat me now, like Vortigern 
 
 I'll tear the plaited mail from off my shoulders, 
 
 And rush upon destruction ! 
 
 Enter LIEUTENANT. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 My liege, already from the Scottish camp 
 Defiance has been given. A giant Scot, 
 Who turn'd aside the bull from Robert Bruce, 
 Challenges England's stoutest knight to combat. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Hah ! St George ! I feel the elixir 
 Of life shoot through my veins, to think that I 
 For once shall meet these rascals in the field : 
 Speak any ? 
 
 BENHALE. 
 
 I am young, and but the least 
 Of English knights, yet I accept the challenge, 
 And in the front of both the armed hosts 
 Will slay or turn the bull ! 
 
 [All exclaim " Bravo !"] 
 [Exit BENHALE. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Nobles, unto the camp. [Exeunt. 
 
 [ Flourish of Trumpets, fyc.
 
 SCENE 111. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 169 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A Plain between the front of the two Armies at 
 Halidon-hill. 
 
 [Martial Music heard at a distance. 
 
 Enter SIR RICHARD BENHALE. TURNBULL comes 
 from the opposite side of the Stage, attended by a 
 huge Mastiff. 
 
 BENHALE. 
 
 I came to fight with men and not with dogs. 
 
 TURNBULL. 
 
 I came to fight a man and not a pup ! 
 
 BENHALE. 
 
 Were thy hide like the mail'd rhinoceros ; 
 
 Thy brawny arms like Hercules' strangling serpents ; 
 
 Thy ample shoulders like gigantic Atlas 
 
 With the globe on his back, I would not shrink, 
 
 But with this little arm and trusty sword 
 
 Teach thee to temper speech with more politeness. 
 
 TURNBULL. 
 
 Foam not nor fret not thus, thou baby knight, 
 The champion of some whorish dame of Norfolk 
 Fed upon turkies by some foolish housewife.
 
 170 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT iv. 
 
 Ho ! Towser, seize him : shake his silken doublet, 
 And dine upon his brains, if brains there be 
 Within his egg-shell skull. 
 
 BENHALE. 
 
 Down with thee, brute ! 
 
 [The Dog attacks the Knight, who, with one 
 blow across the loins, severs the hinder-legs 
 from the body. 
 Thus will I chop your ruffian of a master. [ They fight. 
 
 TURNBULL. 
 
 Thou art a well-built piece of painted clay, 
 With bones and sinews in thy dext'rous arm ; 
 Now feel my mountain-strength, that crushes thee 
 Like a cobweb, since you've destroyed my idol, 
 My precious dog ! 
 
 BENHALE. 
 
 Not, ruffian, till you feel 
 The venom of my sting unto your marrow ! 
 
 [BENHALE, with skill and dexterity, avoids the 
 blows of his antagonist, wlio nearly overturns 
 himself by a false stroke ; the Knight, im- 
 proving the opportunity, cuts off his opponent's 
 left arm. 
 
 What think ye, braggart ! of our English pups, 
 Now that ye feel their claws ? 
 
 \Shoutsfrom the English.
 
 SCEXE in. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 171 
 
 TURNBULL (recovering.) 
 
 Thou wicked one, 
 
 Nursed by some imp of hell ; hence musket-proof, 
 With Satan's phiz embroider^ on your vest ! 
 Confess yourself a fiend, nor urge a strife 
 Unequal. [They both rest on their swords. 
 
 BENHALE. 
 
 Hadst thou met me as a knight, 
 With courtesy of arms, on equal ground, 
 Nor sought to brute and worry me with dogs 
 Too like yourself, I should have spared you now ; 
 But thou must die : the army has decided 
 The fate of him whose vanquished St George for 
 England! [Theyjight. 
 
 TURNBULL. 
 
 I did but sport with thee, thou baby knight ! 
 And thus I dash your maggot soul to atoms. 
 
 [After a farce combat, BENHALE is nearly 
 worsted, when, by a dexterous pass, he stabs 
 his opponent, who falls. 
 
 H ! hast thou mastered me ? I scorn thee still ; 
 Oh ! that my voice might rouse my murder'd mastiff 
 T' avenge my death ! I but regret to perish 
 By such a puny hand. Revenge me, Scots ! [Dies. 
 
 BENHALE. 
 
 Ye Scots ! behold your champion slain, and tremble :
 
 172 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT iv. 
 
 As the bull's head, when set at baron's banquet, 
 
 So nicely deck'd with garlands and rosemary, 
 
 Foretells assassination to the guest ; 
 
 So this gigantic head upon my spear, 
 
 Which as a garland on my crest I'll wear, 
 
 [He cuts off his opponent's head., and places it on 
 his spear. 
 
 Foretells defeat, destruction to your army, 
 
 God save the king ! 
 
 [Shouts from the English, accompanied Kith 
 execrations from the Scots. The armies now 
 mutually en-gage, and the scene closes. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 A Council Chamber in the Castle. 
 
 Enter LORD DUNBAR, SIR ALEXANDER SETOX, SIR 
 ALEXANDER RAMSAY, Sfc. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 The messenger return'd, says, All is lost ! 
 The Regent mortally wounded ; aged Lennox, 
 With the Earls of Ross, Monteith, and Sutherland, 
 Carrick and Athole, with the gallant Stewart,
 
 SCENE iv. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 178 
 
 And knights unnumbered, (what a fearful catalogue !) 
 With fourteen thousand commoners, are slain ! 
 O, would to Heaven, that we had rendered sooner, 
 It might have saved my son ; now God preserve 
 My wife from Edward^s vengeance. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 My nobles, now, we must go strike the flag 
 Ere 'tis pulled down ! and by capitulation 
 Seek to secure our rights, if not too late, 
 And save the city from the mercenaries ! 
 
 RAMSAY. 
 
 Scotland is like a mighty cataract, 
 That bears the weight of navies on its bosom, 
 And hurls them to destruction. When divided 
 In many petty streams, it frets, and foams, 
 And wastes itself away like idle spray, 
 And does no execution. Were thy nobles t 
 United, they might brave the power of Edward ; 
 But thy proud barons leagued against each other, 
 Destroy their country and defeat themselves, 
 The victims of extremes. I will not stay 
 To bow to Edward ; but, with a few friends, 
 Will cut my way through the victorious hosts, 
 Were they thrice doubled, and shall meet the war 
 That soon must burst upon thy towers, Dunbar !
 
 174 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT iv 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Go, faithful Ramsay, aid my noble wife 
 
 In this most perilous time ; for though the blood 
 
 Of Randolph warms her veins, she's but a woman 
 
 Who needs thy manly counsel warriors arm 
 
 To aid defensive measures ; since the traitor 
 
 Too often lurks beneath a friendly mask 
 
 In these sad times, to aid the cunning foe. 
 
 If possible, escort the Lady Seton 
 
 To place of safety. 
 
 RAMSAY. 
 
 'Tis impracticable ! 
 
 Since I must take the high road to Dunbar ; 
 But were her ladyship at Colbrand's path 
 I'd guarantee her safety. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 See to this, 
 Good Seton ; seek the aid of Prendergest. 
 
 RAMSAY. 
 
 The soldier, Aubery, knows each secret path 
 By shady Pease. 
 
 SETON. 
 
 Well thought ! sir knights, I speed ; 
 For time, alas ! has turn'd an arrant racer, 
 And flies with winged speed towards his goal. 
 
 [Exit SETON.
 
 SCENE v. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 175 
 
 DUNBAE. 
 
 My gallant Ramsay, tell my noble wife 
 To be of cheer, her castle is impregnable, 
 Which if she cannot keep, let her destroy ! 
 Tell her to hold out though her lord may yield 
 To suit occasion ; so may we deceive 
 Edward, and trick the treacherous. 
 
 RAMSAY. 
 
 Trust me, my lord. I go ; for, hark ! these shouts 
 Announce the foe. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 Port St Mary, and Front of the Watts of Berwick. 
 
 The Scots Army being totally defeated at Halidon-hill, 
 the English renew the Siege of Berwick. While one 
 party is engaged at the Barriers, another, by means 
 of a huge machine, escalades the Walls. The Scots, 
 thrown into confusion, retire into the Castle. A 
 Female, pursued by an Archer, runs across the stage; 
 he discharges his arrow, upon which she Jails on her 
 knees in the attitude of supplication. 
 
 ARCHER. 
 Yield thee, my buxom maid ! if thou art maid,
 
 176 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT iv. 
 
 And art not mad ; else, shall thy stubborn soul 
 Become the forfeit ; which 'twere sad to lose, 
 Seeing thy sinful person's better fitted 
 For me ! 
 
 [The Female's Cap and Scarf falling off, dis- 
 covers the bald head of a Dominican Friar. 
 
 FRIAR ADAM. 
 
 O misericordie ! help, St Dominic ! Would that I were 
 hid in the Pigeon's Cove. 
 
 ARCHER. 
 
 Nay, down, old poltron, down ! unto the death ; 
 Since I must take your life for your deceit. 
 Ecclesiastics always come between 
 The soldier and his heaven ! 
 
 FRIAR ADAM. 
 
 Help, Dominic ! 
 
 It were not worth thy while to kill a friar, 
 Since thou may'st profit by his safe condition. 
 
 ARCHER. 
 
 How, fellow, say ; I cannot brook delay, 
 My comrades fast advance to share the booty. 
 
 FRIAR ADAM. 
 
 Spare me, and I will purchase absolution 
 For your sad soul by penitence and prayer. 
 
 ARCHER. 
 Old poltron, damn your church's absolution !
 
 SCENE vi. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 177 
 
 What 'vaileth that to me at such a time ! 
 Since all the holy waves of Christendom, 
 With thy long hypocritical prayers to boot, 
 Won't purchase my salvation. During peace 
 You fatten on a country ; may not we 
 In time of war pick up some prize-money, 
 Seeing that killing in our trade's no murder ! 
 Give me substantial stuff, or die, old rogue ! 
 
 [ The Friar drops a Purse, and appears to swoon ; 
 the Archer passes on. The Friar makes his 
 escape as a Storming- Party comes up. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 
 The Flemings'" Tower. 
 Enter a STORMING PARTY. 
 
 CAPTAIN. 
 
 Heavens ! these brave fellows, in that lofty tower 
 Have entrenched themselves admirably. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 These are Flemings, 
 
 Merchants of Flanders, tenants of the tower ; 
 Here must be gold in store ! 
 
 M
 
 178 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT 
 
 CAPTAIN. 
 
 We might as well 
 
 Besiege the heav'ns, as seek by physical force 
 To conquer these. We must make bees of them 
 For their rich honey-combs, and smoke them out. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 Even so ; but first we speak them a fair chance. 
 Ho I in the name of England's king surrender ! 
 Open your gates ; so shall your lives be spared, 
 Your goods protected ! 
 
 A FLEMING. 
 
 We have proved you well : 
 Too well, alas ! to take you at your word : 
 Here, loyal subjects of King David Bruce, 
 We do defend this tower with it ourselves ; 
 While blood is in our veins, heads on our shoulders, 
 Strength in our arms, we do defy you here. 
 
 CAPTAIN. 
 
 Then we shall roast you out, ye churlish knaves ; 
 Even as ye would the bear upon your pennon, 
 Were he eatable ! 
 
 A FLEMING. 
 
 We do not lack provisions, 
 Nor ammunition neither ; on the moment 
 When you apply the torch we blow this tower 
 To heaven, and you to hell.
 
 SCEHE vi. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 179 
 
 CAPTAIN. 
 
 Come ! fire the gate, 
 And smoke these vermin out ! 
 
 [The Soldiers' fire the Gate, while the Flanders 
 Merchants spring" a Mine, which blows up the 
 Tower, and scatters destruction in every di- 
 rection. The Soldiers run. 
 
 Ha ! there they go, 
 Like rockets to the skies ! Let's save ourselves. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter an OLD MAN with his DAUGHTER. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Nay, leave me here, 'dear Anna ! life is sweet 
 To one so young as thee, but not to me, 
 Laden with age, infirmity, disease.. 
 Leave me, and save your person and your honour ; 
 I hope the lady's safe ? 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 She is, thank Heaven ! 
 
 Hid in a friar's disguise she pass'd the army ; 
 'Twill not be well for Edward if he meets her ; 
 She wears a sharpen'd dagger in her bosom, 
 As I do now, which I too soon may use. 
 
 [A Soldier comes up and seizes the Female, while 
 the OLD MAN grapples with him.
 
 180 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT iv. 
 
 SOLDIER. 
 
 Nay, greybeard, do not seek to grapple youth ; 
 As well might ivy wrestle with the oak 
 To be thus crush'd, down ! down ! 
 
 [The OLD MAN is thrown. 
 
 OLD MAN. 
 
 Oh ! spare my daughter ! 
 And I forgive thee. [Dies. 
 
 SOLDIEE. 
 
 There, thou hoary rogue ! 
 Green trees will often snap before old trunks ; 
 But I have master'd thee. Come, pretty maid ! 
 
 [ While he gazes on the OLD MAN, she stabs him 
 behind. 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 There, monster ! take thou that ; I joy to see 
 Thine agonies, thou murderer of my father ! 
 He wings to heav'n, while you descend to hell ! 
 
 SOLDIER. 
 
 Oh ! thou hast murdered me, thou cruel maid ! 
 Hear me before I die : I am a Scot, 
 Though drest (I blush to say't,) in English garb. 
 Take this last token ; and, if e'er you meet 
 With Anna Harrison give her this ring ; 
 Say 'twas bequeath'd her by a dying sister ! 
 I die, die ! [He dies.
 
 SCENE vi. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 181 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 My sister's husband ! damned, damned war ! 
 
 That thus destroys consanguinity ! 
 
 I never can survive this horrid deed, 
 
 But bare my breast to the first spear I meet. 
 
 [ Weeps over her Father's body. 
 Poor, aged man ! how cold and stiff art thou ! [Exit. 
 
 Enter LORD MONTAGUE with another Party. 
 
 MONTAGUE. 
 
 Hurra ! brave men ! on to the citadel ; 
 The town is won, and now our task is done ; 
 The stubborn Scot at last beats the chamade, 
 And sounds a parley. 
 
 D'ARCY. 
 
 They deserve no quarter ! 
 I would not bet a groat, that they do wear 
 The heads they wear, even now another day. [Exeunt.
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The Kings Tent. 
 
 KING EDWARD, attended by the ARCHBISHOP OF DUR- 
 HAM, the EARL OF ARUNDEL, LORD D'AfiCY, and 
 other Nobles, Sfc. 
 
 [Fourish of Trumpets 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Heaven fought for us ! therefore, in gratitude, 
 Let every prelate offer public thanks 
 In every nook of England where a church 
 Points its white spire, while at our royal leisure 
 I progress make to Becket's holy shrine. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF DURHAM. 
 
 It shall be done, my liege. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 And in St Margarets church, near Halidon, 
 Let there be rear'd a costly gorgeous altar,
 
 SCENE i. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 183 
 
 In token of our reverence for that virgin, 
 Who, on her eve, made victory lit on us. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP OF DURHAM. 
 
 'Twill be a sad memorial for the Scots, 
 Where they will pause before they dare to meet 
 Your mighty warrior arm, most puissant prince ! 
 
 [Exit ARCHBISHOP. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 It is incredible ! so great a victory, 
 
 Bought with so small a loss ! one knight, one esquire, 
 
 And twelve foot soldiers ! Heaven fought for us ! 
 
 Enter MONTAGUE. 
 
 MONTAGUE (kneels.) 
 
 Berwick, my liege, is rendered 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 We appreciate 
 
 Thy services, Montague. They'll be rewarded 
 At our royal leisure. 
 
 MONTAGUE (Kisses the King's hand, then rises.) 
 
 Thanks, my generous liege ! 
 When I was but a boy I served your father ; 
 And Heaven will bless me, if my youthful locks 
 Grow hoary in thy service. The Earl of March 
 Awaits to do thee homage. Seton, Keith, 
 And the Mayor of Berwick to give up the keys 
 Held so unworthily.
 
 184 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Usher them to our presence. 
 
 [Exit MONTAGUE. 
 
 This Earl Dunbar is but a crafty chief, 
 But I must mould him to my politics ; [Aside. 
 
 The others pay the forfeit of their lives. 
 Speed, noble Arundel, with Montague, 
 (While we deliberate here in secret council,) 
 Pursue the fugitives, and push the war, 
 Till England's ensign floats above Dunbar. 
 
 ARUNDEL. 
 
 My liege, we'll follow up the victory, 
 
 With the effect such victory deserves. [Exit ARUNDEL. 
 
 D'ARCY. 
 
 Your highness, when we Ve muzzled these fierce barons, 
 And caged their ladies, we shall sue for grace. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Ha ! D'Arcy, ye've refreshed our memory 
 With thine own worth. I mark'd in the pursuit 
 The dreadful havoc made by your bold Kernes. 
 
 Enter MONTAGUE with LORD DUNBAR and the MAYOR 
 OF BERWICK, attended by AMBROSE CARMICHAEL, 
 with the Keys of the C\ty. 
 
 MONTAGUE (whispers the King.) 
 My liege, my Lord Dunbar. [Exit MONTAGUE.
 
 SCEKE r. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 185 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Proud lord ! ye might have saved some traitors 1 lives 
 Had ye surrendered sooner. 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Good, my liege ! 
 
 I must regret, that while such royal mercy 
 Exists in monarch's breast, that I was up 
 In arms against it. Judgment often errs, 
 And stupid heads make often aching hearts. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Even so, my lord ; but, ha ! thou lean-faced man, 
 When did you dine ? 
 
 MAYOR. 
 
 When Edward could not eat, 
 Because so many wretches in the city 
 Grappled with hunger. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Keep your taunts, old man ! 
 Kings love not jests unless they jest for love ; 
 A soldier's free of speech ; but, mark me, Mayor ! 
 He's also free of hand. Give up the keys.. 
 
 MAYOR. 
 
 My liege, most willingly, and yet unwillingly ; 
 Willingly, since it 'vaileth not to keep them, 
 And yet unwillingly, since with these keys 
 We give our liberties. [PERCY takes the keys.
 
 186 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Ha ! braggart, think you this a Roman senate, 
 And do ye come like some obstreperous Cato 
 To beard a Caesar, flush'd with victory ? 
 Guards, load the caitiff with his weight of chains ; 
 Keep him in durance till .each separate item 
 That's mentioned in the treaty be fulfilPd : 
 Percy, see the twelve hostages secured 
 The city now is given to your charge. 
 
 [Exit PERCY, with the Hostages. 
 
 MAYOR. 
 The Guards approach.] Young prince, I crave respect 
 
 to these grey hairs ; 
 
 Rather more white with grief than length of years ! 
 Since me, nor mine, have ne'er borne arms against you. 
 Spare also the poor boys ; so shall the mothers 
 Of Berwick bless you. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Nor I neither ; I did ne'er bear arms against your 
 
 majesty, most excellent ! save when I could not help it. 
 
 [The MAYOR motions AMBROSE to stand back, 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Mothers of Berwick ! ha ! these Scottish women 
 Are amazons in battle, and might teach 
 Their sons a lesson of good soldiership.
 
 SCEKE i. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 187 
 
 D'ARCY. 
 
 During the siege old women and young children 
 Aided the men with stones and ammunition. 
 
 MAYOR. 
 
 They did but emulate the maids of England, 
 When they repulsed the Scotsmen at Carlisle. 
 
 [They lead off the MAYOR. 
 AMBROSE (aside.) 
 
 Hold your tongue, master ; hold your tongue ; for ye 
 ought to know that two black corbies will not make a 
 white crow. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 My lord, Dunbar, 
 
 Whereas your friend Seton and his noble wife ? 
 
 Let her be caged ; and, Benhale, let that caitiff 
 
 Be strung up to the nearest gibbet, since 
 
 He is not worthy of a soldier's death ! 
 
 [Pointing to AMBROSE. 
 DUNBAR. , 
 
 My liege, Sir Alexander waits your message, 
 His lady has escaped ! 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Gads blood ! escaped .' 
 D'Arcy, pursue, pursue ! I'd rather lose 
 The victory than the lady ! Oh, revenge 
 Will want its zest without her !
 
 188 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 AMBROSE (kneeling.) 
 
 Spare, spare my life ! O king, most excellent ! and I 
 will guide your captain where he will find the lady ; 
 yea, though my poor wife may be taken in the snare- 
 
 KING EDWAED. 
 
 D'Arcy, speed, see to this ! and should the rogue 
 Be making dupes of us to save himself, 
 Give him a sudden death ! 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Even so, may it please your majesty, most excellent ! 
 but if I prove successful, I expect you will reward me 
 with your royal bounty and promotion. 
 
 [Exit D^ARCY with AMBROSE, 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 My lord, Dunbar, I speak with thee alone. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 The Press Moor. 
 
 Enter IRISH TROOPERS with AMBROSE CARMICHAEL. 
 
 FIRST TROOPER. 
 
 By the blood of St Patrick, my ould fellow ! where 
 have those stray sheep gone ? Arrah ! now, if thou mis- 
 leadest us, boy, by the souls of the thousand saints who
 
 SCENE ii. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 189 
 
 danced on the point of a needle ! Arrah ! I say, boy, 
 if thou misleadest us, we shall put ourselves right by 
 hanging thee on the first tree we meet with in this bare 
 rascally country, where no trees are to be found. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 For once in my life I shall speak truth ; my gran- 
 dam always said it stood longest ; and no wonder, see- 
 ing it stands upon two legs, while falsehood may not 
 balance itself upon one. If we go much farther we 
 shall meet some of Dunbar's troopers. We must cross 
 the Moor of Aldcamus ; for I guess their path lies 
 by the windings of the Pease. 
 
 SECOND TROOPER. 
 
 Marry, ould boy ! if we take the right path of your 
 directions, we will assuredly go wrong ; so, to go right, 
 we will take the road before us. We proceed onwards 
 to yon hovel where the blue smoke rises. 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 If you won't believe my veracity, believe the vision 
 of your own eyes, and behold yonder white forms glid- 
 ing among' the green trees. If I speak false, duck me 
 as a witch in Coldingham Loch. 
 
 FIRST TROOPER. 
 
 We do believe our ogles, by the powers ! and are 
 off like a shot. 
 
 [While they are absent, AMBROSE makes his escape. 
 They return with MAGGY, AMBROSE'S WIFE.
 
 190 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 If your mother was a woman, spare me, good gentle- 
 men ! My lady has taken the path of Pease ; and, for- 
 sooth, because I could not keep up with their hard trot 
 and gallop they left me behind. 
 
 SECOND TROOPER. 
 
 I suppose, ould one, your bulky hinder-parts were 
 not made for a horse's back. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 Surely not, good sirs ! the town-fiddler's wife can- 
 not ride like a lady. I slipt over the mare's tail, and 
 there they left me. Oh, Ambrose ! we have driven 
 our hogs to a bad market ! 
 
 FIRST TROOPER. 
 
 Well, my good crature! since your husband is a 
 notable liar, and has just escaped from Murphy Slab- 
 berdash, by the powers ! we keep the path onwards, 
 and bind thee to the trunk of the first shadow of a tree 
 we meet with, till we return, if we e'er return. [Exeunt.
 
 SCENE in. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 191 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 The Hostel of Aldcamus. 
 
 FRIARS sitting drinking, AUBERY, fyc. 
 
 FIRST FRIAR. 
 
 Come, drink and make merry, my masters ! it is not 
 every gale that wafts us a young friar with a purse, 
 and a soldier with a song. 
 
 SECOND FRIAR. 
 
 Why dost thou not sing, thou comely anchorite, with 
 the cowl nailed to your head ? Surely thou mayest doff 
 it out of courtesy to our order ? 
 
 YOUNG FRIAR. 
 
 Beshrew me, friend ! it is not from want of reverence 
 to those to whom reverence is due, that makes me wear 
 the cowl ; but I have a disagreeable ache in my head 
 from an accidental sore ; I shall, however, sing as well 
 as I can to please my kind brethren. [Sings. 
 
 Weep not, because the patriot's sword 
 
 Awhile is sheath'd in sadness ; 
 That sword will from its scabbard leap 
 
 To trumpet notes of gladness, 
 When he who forges freemen's chains, 
 
 This earth no more shall cumber, 
 When blood that sleeps in freemen's veins 
 
 Shall wake no more to slumber.
 
 192 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 It is but the fragment of a song ; but you must take 
 the will for the deed. 
 
 FIRST FRIAR. 
 
 Well sung, young one ! but very mournful. Come, 
 soldier ! free of speech, give us a song, and let it speak 
 to the occasion. I can give a joke, and take a joke in 
 good fellowship. Let the song be trite and terse with 
 a little of the nutmeg. 
 
 SECOND FRIAR. 
 
 No ! no ! let the song be modest. True humour 
 looks best in a natural dress. Strike up, my boon 
 companion ! 
 
 AUBERY. 
 
 I can't sing, but I will give you a rant, while my 
 friend seeks relief in a short repose. Gudewife, see to 
 the lady to the friar I mean. [Sings. 
 
 TUNE, Kenmuir's on, and awa, Willie. 
 CHORUS. 
 
 I redd you beware o Friar Adam, gudeman ; 
 I redd you beware o' Friar Adam, gudeman ; 
 He's first at a feast, but he's last at the cann 
 / redd you beware o' Friar Adam, gudeman. 
 
 The gudewife can bake, and the gudewife can brew, 
 Can dress up her board with the famed barbecue ; 
 Can eke out a table where bishops may dine, 
 And baffle the drawer wi' hamen-made wine.
 
 SCEWE m. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 193 
 
 The gudewife on Sundays is bonny I trow, 
 Her golden-laced bonnet sits light on her brow ; 
 In her fine furred cloak at the preachings she's seen, 
 And looks like Diana in mantle o' green. 
 
 Friar Adam is learned in Latin and Greek, 
 With his eyes and his fingers he also can speak ; 
 "Pis whisper'd, the priest has a magical e'e, 
 And kens the black art that's taught over the sea. 
 
 Mine host and the baxter grew bright o'er the cann, 
 Till they first miss'd the gudewife, then Friar Adam ; 
 The quegh being empty, for liquor they bawl, 
 But nothing but echo replies to their call. 
 
 They sought for our Friar by the windings of Tweed, 
 Where they found him laid low like a wind-shaken reed ; 
 They found him, O beastly. 1 asleep, sitting squat, 
 Enjoying the dream of a Cardinal's hat. 
 
 They search'd for the gudewife by thicket and loan, 
 Till they found the gay lady a-making her moan ; 
 While milking her quey, popp'd a wasp on its tail, 
 When the brute gave a kick, and upset the milk-pail. 
 
 FIRST FRIAE. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! well sung, and passing humorous. 
 Hark ! who craves admittance? [Noise without. 
 
 FIRST TROOPER. 
 
 Hollo ! ho ! open the door. 
 
 SECOND FRIAR. 
 
 First say who wishes to be admitted.
 
 194 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 SECOND TROOPER. 
 
 Open the door, in the king's name, else we fulfil our 
 warrant to the very letter, and enter thus. 
 
 [Pushes up the door. 
 
 FIRST FRIAR. 
 
 Friend, your manners need polishing. 
 
 FIRST TROOPER. 
 
 If thou say'st so, by the powers ! I will polish your 
 face, you ugly crature, by levelling the huge bridge of 
 thy nasal organ, which glitters with rubies. 
 
 FIRST FRIAR. 
 
 I crave pardon, my brave man of speech ! I meant 
 no offence. 
 
 SECOND TROOPER, (taking up a glass.) 
 Here's to my native land and her pretty daughters ! 
 What say ye to that, you black sheep ? 
 
 FIRST TROOPER, (to the Gudewjfe.) 
 Where's the host ? 
 
 GUDEWIFE OF ALDCAMUS. 
 
 In Heaven as I hope ; but I am his substitute. 
 
 SECOND TROOPER. 
 
 And a goodly one truly ; we must search you. 
 
 GUDEWIFE OF ALDCAMUS. 
 
 Heaven forfend ! I hope you mean no evil towards 
 me, as these holy men shall witness.
 
 SCEWE ni. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 195 
 
 FIRST TROOPER. 
 
 No ! no ! we shall not so much as harm the mole upon 
 your chin, plump one ! But you know, that in these 
 times many a pretty face and wicked heart is hid under 
 the shadow of the monkish cowl, and a pair of hand- 
 some limbs under the clumsy buskin : Now, by the 
 powers ! to the search. Here, ould fellow ! {Examines 
 tlie first FRIAR.) Thou art too ugly to mess with any 
 one but the devil ; here, boy, (Examines the other.) 
 and thou art his brother. 
 
 SECOND TROOPER. 
 
 A pack of filthy knaves! and why should we dirty 
 our fingers with them. Ha ! whom have we got here ? 
 AUBERY. 
 
 One with whom thou hast no concern, and whom 
 thou hadst best let alone. 
 
 FIRST TROOPER. 
 
 In the king's name resist not, but deliver up your 
 sword. 
 
 AUBERY. 
 
 To what king ? Not till its strength be tried, which 
 is of good Damascus steel. 
 
 [While they figlit, the LIEUTENANT, with others 
 of the party, enter, and seize AUBERY behind. 
 Against such odds it were folly in me to combat. 
 (Aside.) I bide my time.
 
 196 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT r. 
 
 SECOND TROOPER. 
 
 Whom have we in the chamber ? Ha ! another friar ! 
 [LADY SETON, (in tlie disguise of the young 
 Friar,) alarmed, comes forth : the Cowl off, 
 and her long flowing locks dishevelled. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Not a Friar ! but an unfortunate lady, who has lost 
 her all at Berwick. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 I presume, madam, you are the lady we are in search 
 of. If so, you had better announce yourself, that you 
 may be treated as an honourable prisoner. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 What, sir, are you a soldier, and don't know that all 
 women should be treated with equal courtesy by brave 
 men ? We are all branches of the same great tree, and 
 all one in the eye of God. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 Doubtless, fair lady ! but we came not here to preach ; 
 our business is too short and summary for detail, 
 your name, sweet lady ? 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 It is a name which has often made the English 
 tremble Seton ! 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 For once it shall not, fair lady ! In the name of 
 King Edward, ye are our prisoner.
 
 SCENE HI. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 197 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 I accompany you through necessity ; but, by the 
 courtesy of your nation, who, though blunt, are brave; 
 forward, yet civil; I entreat you to unbind my servant: 
 you have already disarmed him. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 In this, lady, you cannot be obeyed. We must pro- 
 ceed quickly ; for the way is long, and the paths of 
 Pease intricate. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Then I do make a virtue of necessity, and bear my 
 burden rejoicing; farewell, good woman, and holy men. 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 To the door, soldiers, and bind the prisoner. 
 
 [Exit TKOOPERS with AUBERY. 
 
 GUDEWIFE OF ALDCAMUS. 
 
 Fareweel, gude lady ! and gif ye cum this way again, 
 an' it no be far out o 1 your way, just spier for the Gude- 
 wife o' Aldcamus, and it will be an especial favour 
 to your humble well-wisher, keeping warldly concerns 
 in the way of business out o 1 the question. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Thank ye, old lady, for your hospitality ; and if, in 
 happier times, you ever come to the palace of Seton, 
 on the high road to Edinburgh, ask for Christian 
 Cheyne, and ye shall be rewarded. [Exeitnt.
 
 198 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 The Kings Pavilion in the English Camp. 
 
 KING EDWARD seated, with Attendants. 
 
 Enter D'ARCY with LAJDY SETOX. 
 
 KING EDWABD. 
 
 Whom bring you now to grace our presence ? 
 Some rebel's lady by her port I guess. 
 
 D'ARCY. 
 Even so, my liege ; the Lady Seton. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 I'm glad to see thee, dame, the foe of England, 
 In Edward's power. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 What follows that, your highness ? 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Ye are a scion of that poisonous tree, 
 
 That bears us deadly fruit. The Setons league 
 
 Forever 'gainst our royal will and pleasure. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 A Seton, seeks to serve her lawful king ; 
 
 If this is treason, may I die a traitor ; 
 
 'Twere sweeter thus to die than live in bondage.
 
 SCENE iv. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 199 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Say, is not Edward Baliol your liege lord, 
 
 And have ye not rebell'd 'gainst him and England ? 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 I ask the proof, we own no king but David, 
 The lawful husband of your sister Joan. 
 King ! is it fair to use your brother thus ? 
 If to be up in arms 'gainst a usurper 
 Be called rebellion, then, I am a rebel ! 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 And but for thy sweet sex, obstreperous dame, 
 You'd die a rebel's death ! 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 In such a cause, 
 
 It were my earnest wish. Have ye not slain 
 My children ? and ye now would blast my honour ! 
 But this a king shall not deprive me of. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Proud amazon of women, since ye deem 
 Death but a lightly thing, ye shall not die 
 Till scorn shall have a merry jubilee ! 
 Coped in an iron cage, on Berwick's turrets, 
 ThouVt be enthroned to reign through irksome life, 
 (Like Buchan's countess, that audacious rebel,) 
 To ornament the walls which ye preserved, 
 And be the queen of laughter to the city.
 
 200 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 I'll perish sooner ! 
 
 [Attempts first to stab herself, then the KING; 
 but is prevented by the Guards ; upon which 
 she throws away the dagger, and sobs more 
 in anger than in grief. 
 
 Oh ! Heaven ! forgive the deed ! 
 
 Misfortune thus makes cowards of us all. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Woman ! I do forgive thee. 
 
 We took one life from thee, you owe me one ! 
 
 Be sorry for the past, and crave our mercy. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Alas ! that I should be in Edward's debt ! 
 The murderer of my son. I will not bend 
 Nor own allegiance to my country's foe. 
 
 KING EDWAED. 
 
 Then, since ye do despise our royal mercy, 
 Away with her, ye laggards ! do your duty. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Support me, Heaven ! support the rights of Scotland ! 
 
 [Exit with GUARDS. 
 
 MAGGY CARMICHAEL is brought in as a Prisoner. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Whom have we now ? what bedlamite is this ?
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 
 
 201 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 This woman's husband, liege, gave us the slip. 
 We crave to know if she should pay the price 
 Of his delinquency, most gracious sovereign ! 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Don't trouble us 
 
 With such low matters. Give her to the beadle ; 
 Let her be whipped, unless her husband comes 
 Ere set of sun to bear the stripes himself. 
 
 MAGGY (to the Guards, as they go out.) 
 He come ! the earth will leap to the moon ere he 
 come ! and the gun-brigs sail through the Needles ere 
 he come ! and King Arthur return from fairy-land ere 
 he come ! A murrain on him, to betray his wife into 
 the hands of the Philistines ! 
 
 Enter DUNBAR and SETON, with eight Hostages. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 My lords, Pm ready to receive your fealty : 
 Have ye prepared the deed that guarantees 
 The future conduct of our Berwick lieges ! 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 In these long instruments, your majesty 
 Will find each item noted as agreed ; 
 To which our names as witness are appended ; 
 These pretty boys must answer the fulfilment ; 
 With these I bring Sir Alexander Seton 
 To do you homage.
 
 202 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. AC 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 It is well, my lord ! 
 
 Fair youths of promise ! beauteous smiling boys, 
 Were Englishmen your fathers ? Do not frown : 
 Seton, you have a devil of a wife ! 
 
 SETON. 
 
 I hope your highness will forgive her rudeness ; 
 She smarts beneath the sorrows of the war ; 
 A woman's roused feelings rend her heart ! 
 Else she would not despise that clemency 
 That falls like dew from heaven upon the earth. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 An arrant rebel ! Seton, call her in ; 
 For I will not forgive her till she kneels 
 To bless the name of Edward ! 
 SETON. 
 
 Gracious prince ! 
 
 That is impossible ; no human power 
 Will bend her stubborn heart. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Then she must live 
 Disgraced, or die a death a death of torture ! 
 
 SETON. 
 
 Spare her, most gracious prince ! upon my knees 
 I beg this boon, who never knelt before. 
 
 BALIOL. 
 Forgive her, king, she knows not what she does.
 
 SCENE iv. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 203 
 
 KING EDWAED. 
 
 Nay, I forgive her not, until she kneels, 
 And does due homage to her prince and me. 
 
 [LADY SETON is brought in. 
 Lady, come bless the puissant arms of England, 
 And swear allegiance to your sovereign, Baliol, 
 Who intercedes for thee. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 I am resolved ! 
 
 I cannot bless the murderer of my sons ! 
 I cannot own ought prince but David Bruce ! 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Then if thou wilt not bless our clemency, 
 
 Thou now shalt feel our rigour ! 
 
 [ Motions to one of the Guards, who comes for- 
 ward, but in place of seizing the Lady, throws 
 off his disguise, and discovers himself to be 
 her Son. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 My son, my son ! [Embraces him, then kneels. 
 
 For once, high Heaven, I bless the name of Edward, 
 Who has restored my long-lost sheep to me ! 
 
 KING EDWAED. 
 
 Lady, if justice did demand that one 
 
 Of thine should pay the price of others' treason, 
 
 We now repent us of it, and restore
 
 204 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 A lawful prisoner to his mother's arms ! 
 I combat not for vengeance, but for glory. 
 
 LADY SETON. 
 
 Eternal Heaven reward you ! one boon more 
 
 I crave, great prince ! that you will spare that woman, 
 
 Whose hands are innocent of her husband's fault. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 By deeds of policy I thus subdue 
 
 These Scots unto my purpose. [Aside. 
 
 My lovely suitor, that cannot be done ; 
 
 These vagrants must be kept in due subjection 
 
 By wholesome discipline ! 
 
 Enter LIEUTENANT mth AMBROSE. 
 
 Ha ! here's the caitiff ! 
 The fellow now must suffer for himself. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 May't please your majesty, most excellent ! unto 
 the Irish troopers I appeal, if I did not set them on the 
 right scent, as my loving wife knows to her great cost 
 and narrow escape, 
 
 LIEUTENANT. 
 
 My liege ! this fellow was a trusty guide, 
 Who did betray his loving wife and mistress ; 
 But, like a treach'rous rascal, in the sequel 
 Took leave of us, and left his counterpart. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Bring her unto our presence !
 
 SCENE iv. THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 205 
 
 Enter SOLDIER with MAGGY. 
 
 MAGGY. 
 
 Oh, Ambrose ! Ambrose ! you've done for us both 
 now. " Pride gangs before, but shame follows as fast 
 behind, 11 as I told you. Here we stand, fine exempli- 
 fications, like condemned criminals. 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 Hush, Maggy, till ye hear our lord the king's deci- 
 sion. If shame follows pride, so much the better, for 
 it will work repentance ! 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Come forward, sirrah ! your excess of zeal 
 
 To worry others has mounced up yourself; 
 
 But since you've done us some small loyal service, 
 
 It is our royal pleasure to reward you : 
 
 Speak your desire. 
 
 AMBROSE (meditating.) 
 
 Whatever your most excellent majesty may please ; 
 any thing but Mayor. Captain of the Town-guard. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Excellent ! kneel, thou chubby one ! 
 
 [He kneels on both knees. The Courtiers laugh. 
 Rise up, Ambrose Carmichael, captain of the town- 
 guard, with all the honours ! 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 Heaven bless your majesty ! for I'll go crazy with
 
 206 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. ACT v. 
 
 joy. O Maggy ! oh, my old mother ! what would you 
 say to this ? Captain of the town-guard ! 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 I fear, my liege, the town-guard will not accept of 
 this fellow as their captain. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Why not ? 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Because he belongs to the Waits, and not to the 
 town-guard. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 Waits ! what are those ? 
 
 DUNBAR. 
 
 Those wandering minstrels of the night, who lull the 
 love-sick maids of Berwick asleep with amorous airs. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 What say you to this, Ambrose ? 
 
 AMBROSE. 
 
 An't please your majesty, to grant me the pension, I 
 willingly resign the captaincy, as, although I am not 
 envious, yet am better bred than to refuse your majesty's 
 bounty. 
 
 KING EDWARD. 
 
 So shall it be ! Now, nobles, to the camp, 
 
 Since we must follow up this victory 
 
 With greater conquests ! [The curtain falls. 
 
 END OF THE SIEGE OF BERWICK.
 
 ALAN OF WINTON, 
 
 THE HEIRESS OF SETON.
 
 [!JT 1336, Alan of Winton forcibly carried off the young heiress of 
 Seton, which produced a feud in Lothian, as some favoured the ravisher, 
 while others sought to bring him to punishment Hailes' Annals, vol. ii. 
 The Prior of Lochleven states, that William Murray, then lying in 
 Edinburgh castle, was the chief aid and support of Alan of Winton in 
 the feudal war to which this riot gave rise. Further, that after Margaret 
 Seton bore him two children, he went beyond seas, and died in the Holy 
 Land. This lady was the only daughter of Sir Alexander Seton, who is 
 celebrated in the Siege of Berwick.]
 
 ALAN OF WINTON, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE HEIRESS OF SETON, 
 
 O ELPHINGSTON ! thy rural shades . 
 
 Are bare, which firry forests crown'd, 
 When Margaret, pride of Scottish maids, 
 
 Trod joyfully thy verdant ground. 
 
 Seen far upon the hill's green side, 
 Thy lofty tower, august and hoar, 
 
 Views Agriculture's sons preside 
 Where rival factions ruled before. 
 
 How changed since that eventful day 
 When Winton's baron, young but sage, 
 
 Amidst thy leafy dells did stray, 
 
 And communed with his fairy page !
 
 210 ALAN OF WINTON, 
 
 " Go, search, my boy, ere autumn fades, 
 " From pastoral Tweed to Jura's isle, 
 
 " And 'mongst the flower of Scottish maids 
 " Seek one that rivals Seton's smile." 
 
 " As well, Sir Knight, go lift the Bass, 
 
 " Or fathom Corryvrekin's linn, 
 " Forget to love a bonny lass, 
 
 " Or live on earth unstained by sin !" 
 
 Thus spake the page to Wintotfs chief, 
 What each admiring heart confessed ; 
 
 But, ah ! it did not give relief 
 
 To pangs that rent his master's breast. 
 
 " Go, sharpen me my stoutest spear, 
 " Go, saddle me my fleetest steed, 
 
 *' By Byres-hill to hunt the deer, 
 
 " We go at morn, speed, Maurice ! speed ! 1<r 
 
 " Men seek not deer with mail and spear, 
 
 " But I obey, whate'er betide : 
 " 'Twere better far, for sylvan war, 
 
 " To lead the hounds bySoutra's side,"
 
 AND THE HEIRESS OF SETON. 211 
 
 " What boots my trusty page to tell, 
 
 " But ere the eve is rising hoar, 
 " We brush the broom on Luffness fell, 
 
 " And rouse to death the brindled boar." 
 
 The chief withdrew ; but do not blame 
 
 His cunning vassal's quick surmise, 
 That his lord went in quest of game 
 
 Which look'd more fair in youthful eyes. 
 
 We spoke of that enchanting maid, 
 Who now, in Seton's ancient towers, 
 
 Lamented both her parents dead, 
 And wept away the lonely hours. 
 
 That heart grew chill that once was glad ; 
 
 She sought the orchard's walks alone, 
 And 'neath the walnut tree so sad 
 
 She woke her harp to sorrow's tone. 
 
 Here, like a jewel in casket hid, 
 
 She pined obscure in solitude ; 
 Till, playful, Love would lift the lid, 
 
 As misers o'er their treasure brood.
 
 ALAN OF WINTON, 
 
 Too much inclined in courts to rove, 
 Lindsay, that " pink of chivalry," 
 
 Forsook the tented shrine of Love, 
 In Seton's lonely shades to sigh. 
 
 For her, the youthful Elphingston, 
 
 Though less renowned, yet not less true, 
 
 Had left an oriental throne, 
 
 And bade its gilded pomp adieu ! 
 
 And Salton's baron, high in grace, 
 
 And Keith's own Fraser, stoop'd to tell 
 
 How they had left the mountain chase 
 For glimpse of her in Seton's cell. 
 
 And great De Vaux, that prince of men, 
 
 Whose castle looks o'er fairer fields 
 Than ere was washed by silver Nen, 
 
 To her the palm of beauty yields. 
 
 i 
 
 And Alan, lord of Winton's vale, 
 The first in field the first in hall 
 
 Sought to reveal love's tender tale 
 To her who had his heart in thrall.
 
 AND THE HEIRESS OF SETON. 213 
 
 Come paint her form in maiden bower, 
 
 Her virgin bosom's rising swell, 
 As well go paint the matchless flower 
 
 That blossoms in St Germains' dell ! 
 
 Her sunny hair, with jewels crown'd, 
 
 Upon her parted bosom lies ; 
 But search the heaven's starry round 
 
 To match the lightning of her eyes. 
 
 Her face and neck like mountain snow 
 That duns the hue of whitest flower, 
 
 Her cheeks tinged with a rosy glow, 
 In secret stolen from Flora's bower. 
 
 Her lips like cherry-twins rejoice, 
 
 Bathed in the morning's sparkling dew, 
 
 While the soft music of her voice 
 
 In angel-strains comes warbling through. 
 
 Her form is stately as the pine, 
 
 Amongst the forest's pride the queen ; 
 
 Her limbs like polish'd pillars shine, 
 Where Nature's perfect art is seen.
 
 214 ALAN OF WINTON, 
 
 Her waist appears a gentle span, 
 Within her girdle's diamond star ; 
 
 O, Heaven will bless the happy man 
 Who may that starry belt unbar ! 
 
 " Fair Marg'ret, come for gentle space, 
 " O come to Winton's blooming vale, 
 
 " Till lenient time, with change of place, 
 " Shall sooth the griefs it may not heal. 
 
 " I cannot ride in Winton loan, 
 
 " Her castle's walks no views afford ; 
 
 " I go to princely Dirleton, 
 
 " To banquet with its noble lord." 
 
 i 
 
 Less spake in earnest than in jest, 
 The beauteous Seton did reply, 
 
 When for the baron's gorgeous feast 
 Her horse stood saddled pompously. 
 
 At early hour, on autumn morn, 
 She vaulted on her coal-black steed, 
 
 And look'd like light by darkness borne, 
 While pacing Germains 1 flowery mead.
 
 AND THE HEIRESS OF SETON. 215 
 
 One trusty page one faithful maid 
 With kernes on foot, away she flew, 
 
 Till pass'd Long Niddry's naked shade, 
 Close to Redcastle's towers she drew. 
 
 The warder's horn blew loud and shrill, 
 
 That haiPd the lady passing by ; 
 The sound was echoed from Lochill, 
 
 As rose the buckler-pennon high. 
 
 A page rode up in doublet green, 
 On dwarfish steed, but fleet as wind 
 
 Handed a billet all unseen, 
 
 Then shot away, nor look'd behind. 
 
 The scroll was tied with crimson thread, 
 The ink was red as new-drawn blood ; 
 
 The purport ran, " Wo to the kid !. 
 " Who seeks the fox by Peffers' flood ! 
 
 " There is a maid in Fenton Tower, 
 
 " That walks the woods when others sleep ; 
 
 " Talks to the moon, in hollin bower, 
 " And dreams of yonder Castle's Keep."
 
 216 ALAN OF WINTON, 
 
 The lady's cheek grew deadly pale, 
 
 She smote her steed, yet check'd its rein ; 
 
 She sigh'd for Winton's peaceful vale, 
 And thought of Alan's noble mien. 
 
 She felt a thought pass o'er her soul, 
 That orphan-woman needs a stay ; 
 
 But thoughts what maiden may control, 
 Like sunny clouds they pass away. 
 
 The lady came to Luffness-moor, 
 
 And roused the deer and dark curlew ; 
 
 The lady came to Luffness Tower, 
 But there, no ostrich-pennon flew. 
 
 She found the Lindsay's vassals gone, 
 To rouse the game 'yond Peffers' flood ; 
 
 She thought of snaky Spindleston, 
 And war-wolf dread of Wormwood. 
 
 Then, as her maiden heart 'gan fail, 
 She sent her page to Luffness mill ; 
 
 Thinks she, while Kelso's monks love kail. 
 There's work for clapper here and kiln.
 
 AND THE HEIRESS OF SETON. 217 
 
 No guest was found but bearded hag, 
 Who spake, while mouthing carrion raw, 
 
 " Knave's gone the Marie Loch to drag, 
 " Or wire the hare on Galla Law." 
 
 But, hark ! the huntsman's jovial horn 
 
 Makes all the leafy coverts ring ; 
 The merry shouts are onward borne, 
 
 O'er brake and bush the coursers spring. 
 
 What booted now her Flanders rein, 
 Her steed through thickets wildly tore, 
 
 Till, like some forest-fashion'd queen, 
 
 She faced dread Saltcoats' ravenous boar. 
 
 Fiercely the brindled monster came, 
 
 While far behind the chase-hounds roam ; 
 
 His eyes glared red, as dipt in flame, 
 His tusks distended o'er with foam. 
 
 Death's muffled horn must shortly sound ! 
 Yon distant knight too slowly rides ; 
 
 The monster furrows up the ground, 
 His tusks plough up the horse's sides.
 
 218 ALAN OF WIIS 7 TON, 
 
 From stunned steed the lady fell, 
 Amidst the horrors of the chase ; 
 
 But who her bosom's thoughts may tell 
 When she look'd up in Alan's face ! 
 
 He stood across her as a shield, 
 
 The gleaming faulchion in his hand ; 
 
 For such a prize who would not wield 
 The deadly dartthe burning brand ! 
 
 O'er her his scarlet cloak he threw, 
 To veil where silken scarf was rent, 
 
 Which gave a bosom to his view, 
 That shamed Medici's monument. 
 
 The scatter'd hunters fast advance, 
 The forest trembles to the roar, 
 
 When Saltcoats' chief, with sharpen'd lance, 
 Rush'd fiercely on the fiercer boar. 
 
 Ribb'd in the monster's sides the spear 
 Snapp'd, dealing forth a double pain ; 
 
 His tusks the oak's firm roots uptear, 
 Or worm in wrath the shaking plain.
 
 AND THE HEIRESS OF SETON. 219 
 
 With glove of steel, and ready dart, 
 
 Down the boar's throat his hand he thrust, 
 
 Till the sword drank the vital part, 
 And hurl'd the savage to the dust. 
 
 " Come, fill the goblet high with wine !" 
 Young Saltcoats cried, as forth he drew 
 
 The streaming dart" we meet to dine 
 " To-morrow on the barbecue. 
 
 " Where is the haughty Winton now, 
 
 " Who watch'd yon lady, drooping faint ?" 
 
 Surprise grew dark on every brow, 
 They gazed on earth and firmament. 
 
 When, lo ! by dark Kilspindie's shade, 
 The winged steeds are seen to glide ; 
 
 " St Andrew !" Saltcoats cried, " yon maid 
 " By gallant is constrain'd to ride. 
 
 " O for one hour of Lindsay gay ! 
 
 " De Vaux, Morville, or Elphingston ; 
 " Yon collier chief should rue the day, 
 
 " And 'neath the thirsty broad-sword groan."
 
 220 ALAN OF WINTON, 
 
 Margaret's dull vassal, left behind, 
 Told them of what he heard and saw ; 
 
 But now as well go chase the wind, 
 As near their course by Galla Law. 
 
 " O lady, thou art weak and wan, 
 " Thy lovely limbs had need of rest ! 
 
 " I'll be your trusty waiting-man, 
 
 " If thou'lt be Moray's welcome guest." 
 
 " I cannot sleep in Gosford's shade, 
 
 " Where many a chosen archer dwells ; 
 
 " It were not meet for Seton's maid 
 " To sleep save in her castle's cells."" 
 
 One hour's repose, with gentle fare, 
 Refreshed Kilspindie's gentle guest ; 
 
 When she threw back her sunny hair, 
 Her head reclined on Alan's breast. 
 
 Yet deem not aught but virgin love 
 That bosom e'er could venture in, 
 
 Pure as the angel-pairs above 
 
 She walk'd unstained with passion's sin.
 
 AND THE HEIRESS OF SETON. 221 
 
 ' Awake ! my love, while all is still, 
 
 " Lest rivals mar our honeymoon, 
 " Well pitch our tents by Gogar's rill, 
 
 " And sleep in Niddry's fair saloon. 
 
 " Until that feudal storm is o'er, 
 
 " That rises now but do not weep ; 
 
 " It gathers gloomy on the shore, 
 
 " But, like the waves, will roar to sleep. 
 
 " The boat lies rocking in the bay, 
 
 " Her crew are brave, her oars are ready, 
 
 " Then rise, my love, ere dawn of day 
 " Awakes the maids of Aberlady. 
 
 " When shooting o'er the dark green sea, 
 " Our canvass full, our vessel steady, 
 
 " I'll kiss your cheek, and then be free 
 " To hail you Winton's lovely lady. 
 
 " Though far the castle's turrets blaze 
 " Like beacons on the ocean burning, 
 
 " As high the festal fire they'll raise, 
 
 " To hail their chieftain's glad returning."'
 
 ALAN OF W1NTON, 
 
 The shallop flew along the shore, 
 Dashing the rising waves aside, 
 
 They raise the sail, and strike the oar, 
 So favouring breeze and swelling tide ! 
 
 Landed on Preston's fertile strand, 
 They hear the organ's dying strain ; 
 
 As Alan takes his Margaret's hand, 
 And leads to Seton's holy fane. 
 
 The portly Bishop look'd on high, 
 The golden-chalice stretch'd to bless, 
 
 When he beheld with wondering eye 
 Love's culprit in her loveliness. 
 
 " Father ! this lady as my bride, 
 " I claim before my God and thou ; 
 
 " When warrior to the field must ride, 
 " No forms should e'er delay his vow. 
 
 " Although this marriage course be rude, 
 " This diamond ring must plead the rest !" 
 
 The priest look'd down in soften'd mood, 
 And soon the happy couple blest.
 
 AND THE HEIRESS OF SETON. 223 
 
 This chequer'd scene again we change ; 
 
 Now o'er the waves the lovers 1 fly, 
 While heard in Preston's fertile grange, 
 
 Newbottle's lusty oxen cry. 
 
 The moon is up the crew prolong 
 
 The notes, as o'er the waters clear 
 Is heard the fisher's oyster-song 
 
 Like water-spirits hovering near. 
 
 They pass the Inch's beacon fires, 
 
 St Ninian bless for favouring gale, 
 As high Dunedin's dusky spires 
 
 Amidst the chequer'd lights they hail. 
 
 And soon in Murray's friendly bower, 
 
 The weary day had joyful night, 
 And Alan kiss'd the sweetest flower 
 
 That ever blest the morning light. 
 
 Morn saw the feudal standard raised, 
 The shepherd left his mountain fold, 
 
 Unyoked six hundred oxen grazed, 
 A second Sabbath glad to hold-
 
 224 ALAN OF WIN TON, 
 
 vOne hundred ploughs unharnessed lie, 
 The dusky collier leaves his mines, 
 
 " A Seton r is the gathering cry, 
 And far the fiery dragon shines. 
 
 With sound of horn and bloodhound near 
 
 The angry slogan rises far, 
 Smoke brindles every pointed spear, 
 
 Portentous of the coming war. 
 
 The gloomy minions of the wood, 
 Rush down impatient for the spoil, 
 
 But back return like ocean's flood, 
 That leaves it wreck to feed the soil. 
 
 Proud Salton's baron thundering comes, 
 (The parrot shining on his crest,) 
 
 Till Keith bears down on ostrich plumes, 
 And drives the popinjay to nest ; 
 
 But not till Winton's lofty spires 
 
 Are veil'd in smoke and gilt with flame ; 
 
 Not till Revenge has lit her fires, 
 And curses pour'd on Bruce's name !
 
 AND THE HEIRESS OF SETON. 
 
 Meanwhile on Preston's fertile shore 
 The feudal war is fiercely borne ; 
 
 New bottle's monks will long deplore 
 
 Their oxen maim'd, their trampled corn. 
 
 Destruction broods o'er Seton's fane, 
 Her gold-embroider'd altars spoil'd ; 
 
 Her aged priests down cast and slain, 
 Her temples pilfer'd and defiled. 
 
 Her silver-blazon'd sachristy, 
 
 Was stolen by sacrilegious hand ; 
 
 Her silken-woven tapistry 
 
 Shrunk shrivell'd from the burning brand. 
 
 The priest's right arm was stretch'd to curse, 
 When generous Saltcoats forward came ; 
 
 The robbers cry, " To horse, to horse !" 
 But ere they mount a host is slain. 
 
 Now Baliol's liegemen thread the Moor, 
 From dark Tranent, Fawside, and Myles, 
 
 Investing Elphingston's high tower, 
 As warm for strife each bosom boils.
 
 226 ALAN OF WINTON, 
 
 They mount the breach, while in the shade 
 Sir Alan's page, in dread despair, 
 
 The nitrous train so nicely laid, 
 HurPd foes and battlements in air. 
 
 An adept in that dangerous art, 
 
 In latter times, ah ! known too well, 
 
 This faery page could point the dart, 
 Or spring the mine with deadly yell. 
 
 As round the parting fragments fall, 
 The urchin flew like bird on wing, 
 
 Scaled Winton's castellated wall, 
 
 And loosed the cauldron's pitchy spring. 
 
 Unnumbered cisterns rivers pour, 
 Which boiling, hissing falls around ; 
 
 Th 1 assailants shun the burning shower, 
 Rush to the Tyne, or bite the ground. 
 
 While rings the loud alarum-bell, 
 Echoed by rock and birken dale : 
 
 It sounds her foes' departing knell, 
 And brings her chief to Winton's vale.
 
 AND THE HEIRESS OF SETON. 227 
 
 Afar the steel-clad warriors shine, 
 Like silver mists on green Fawside, 
 
 While to the primrose banks of Tyne 
 A chosen band of warriors ride. 
 
 The Winton's starry shield is seen, 
 
 And Moray's lion's red array, 
 While Seton, like a Roman queen, 
 
 Sits throned in phalanx firm, but gay. 
 
 Must sorrow cloud these shouts that rise, 
 
 And raise in bridal eye the tear ? 
 A knight, dark mask'd, claims Winton's prize, 
 
 With strength of arm and just of spear. 
 
 The bidding Alan did not bide, 
 
 But met his rival as a rock ; 
 The spear which pass'd his steel-laced side, 
 
 Unhorsed his foeman with the shock. 
 
 " On vantage-ground I will not stand," 
 Brave Winton cried; on foot he sprung, 
 
 Attack'd his foe with sword in hand, 
 Aside his trusty spear he flung.
 
 ALAN OF WINTON, &c. 
 
 One blow the haughty youth laid low, 
 The shiver'd helmet burst in twain ; 
 
 Winton stood o'er his fallen foe, 
 
 Whose blood bedew'd the emerald plain. 
 
 " O Heaven ! that visor quick undo, 
 
 " Bring balm to sooth the sdldier's groan ;" 
 
 But ere that close-mask'd face they view, 
 Expired the gallant Elphingston. 
 
 " Now maidens raise the funeral wail, 
 " To chivalry award its meed : 
 
 " There's not in Lothian's primrose vale 
 " A braver knight that mounts a steed."" 
 
 " Thrice welcome to these lordly halls ! 
 
 " Joy, joy to Winton's lovely bride ;" 
 Is echo'd from the castle walls, 
 
 As through the gates the warriors ride. 
 
 " Thrice welcome," gifted seer has said, 
 " From thee and thine a race shall spring, 
 
 " Like Winton's chaplet, ne'er to fade 
 " While ancient Scotland has a kinsr."
 
 NOTES TO ALAN OF WINTON. 
 
 Page 211, line 9. 
 
 We spoke of that enchanting maid, 
 
 Who now, in Seton's ancient towers. 
 
 THE palace of Seton was demolished about thirty years ago, and a 
 modern heavy-looking chateau built near its site. Two views are 
 preserved in Grose's Scottish Antiquities. The family at different 
 times entertained royalty : Mary, on her return from France, held 
 her court here ; the apartments of state were on the second floor, 
 and were very spacious, nearly forty feet high, superbly furnished, 
 and covered with crimson velvet, laced with gold. Here also 
 Charles I. and his court reposed, when on their progress through 
 Scotland. The palace had two large galleries filled with pictures, 
 which, on Lord Winton's attainder for adhering to the interests 
 of Charles Stuart, were sold, by the commissioners of inquiry, or 
 stolen by the servants. Journey to Scot. 1723. 
 
 Page 214, line 9. 
 / cannot ride in Winton loan, 
 Her castle's walks no views afford. 
 
 The old baronial castle of Winton probably stood on the site of 
 the present edifice, where a house was built by George Lord Seton 
 in 1493, about the time the collegiate church of Seton was erected. 
 To this he added a garden, the wonder of the times, " erecting 
 " about the knots of flowers five score tores of timber, two cubits 
 " high, with two knops on their heads, the one above the other, 
 " each of them as great as a rouch bouel, over-gilt with gold, and 
 <( their shanks painted with divers oiled colours." MS. Harl. 
 See Pinkertons Scot. vol. ii. 
 
 The present house is situated on a gentle eminence, rising from 
 the Tyne, and was erected for Lady Winton in 1619, at the ad-
 
 230 NOTES TO ALAN OF WINTON. 
 
 vice of a favourite of hers, an architect, when, on the earl propos- 
 ing to her the alternative of an addition to her house or a jointure, 
 she chose the former. Statist. Acct. Scot. 
 
 In consequence of George, fifth Earl of Win ton, taking part in 
 the rebellion of 1715, the whole of his estates were forfeited to the 
 crown. The house was permitted to fall into decay till the be- 
 ginning of the present century, when two additional wings were 
 added by Colonel Hamilton of Pencaitland, who had purchased the 
 estate. 
 
 Page 217, line 11. 
 
 Till, like some forest-fashion d queen, 
 S fie faced dread Saltcoats' ravenous boar. 
 
 The exploit of destroying the Boar of Saltcoats was reserved for 
 a youth of the name of Livington ; for which, it is said, he ac- 
 quired an ample grant of lands as a reward, extending from Gullan 
 Point to North Berwick Law. It must have happened consider- 
 ably before the middle of the fifteenth century; for, about 1459, 
 Livington of Saltcoats had a daughter, Sophia, married to Walter 
 Lindsay, third son of Alexander, second Earl of Crawford, which 
 shews that at that period the family had arrived to some degree of 
 consequence. Douglas' Peer. vol. i. This formidable monster is 
 said to have been slain by Livington's thrusting his arm, which 
 was protected by a glove of a peculiar construction, down the ani- 
 mal's throat, while he despatched it with a sword or spear. Tra- 
 dition says the glove was as long as his arm, and was stuffed, or 
 quilted, with feathers from the wrist upwards. It was sold for a 
 mere trifle at the roup of the last Lady Saltcoats. About thirty- 
 five years ago the helmet, said to have been worn on the occasion, 
 hung in the aisle belonging to the Saltcoats family in the church 
 of Dirleton. It was removed while the church underwent repair, 
 when, like the enchanted visors, it disappeared. About the be- 
 ginning of the last century the estate was acquired by John Ha- 
 milton of Pencaitland, who married Margaret Menzies, heiress of 
 Saltcoats. 
 
 At the mouth of the Peffer, a small rivulet goes by the name of 
 Livington's ford, where it is said the boar was slain.
 
 NOTES TO ALAN OF WINTON. 231 
 
 The story of the boar has no connection with the historical part 
 of the poem farther, than at that period an intimacy existed be- 
 tween the lords of Dirleton and the rising family of Seton, which 
 I thought a good opportunity for introducing the brindled monster 
 to the reader, when my heroine was on a fanciful visit to Dirleton's 
 towers. 
 
 A story similar to the above in some circumstances, is related 
 of the ancestors of Lord Somerville, in the Border Minstrelsy, 
 vol. iii. p. 22 ; but the champion took a more cautious way of de- 
 stroying the serpent or dragon, by affixing a wheel bedaubed with 
 pitch, rosin, and burning peats, on the point of his lance, which 
 at a full gallop he thrust down the monster's throat, and killed it 
 on the spot. He was knighted by King William for the exploit, 
 and afterwards carried for a crest a wheel and a dragon. In like 
 manner, the family of Saltcoats carried a boar's head ; which shews 
 the importance of such services in those times, when brindled 
 " monsters roamed the gloomy wild." 
 
 Page 220, line 9. 
 
 / cannot sleep in Gosford's shade, 
 Where many a chosen archer dwells. 
 
 James I. was particularly anxious to establish the use of the 
 bow, and ordered frequent assemblies near the parish-churches for 
 the exercise of archery: but after his death the national pro- 
 pensity for the spear prevailed ; and among a hundred attendants 
 of a baron, hardly six archers could be found. Pinkerton's Hist. 
 Scot. vol. i. p. 163. James V., who was also fond of this warlike 
 pastime, frequently visited Gosford, for the purposes of golfing and 
 archery ; but it was supposed, that three favourite ladies, Sandi- 
 lands, Weir, and Oliphant, (one of whom resided at Gosford, and 
 the others in the neighbourhood,) were the secret magnet of the 
 royal visitor, which occasioned the following satirical, but witty 
 advice to his Majesty, from Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, 
 Lyon Herald : 
 
 Sow not your seed on Sandylands, 
 
 Spend not your strength in Weir, 
 And ride not on an Elephant, 
 
 For spoiling o' your gear. 
 
 Trans. Scot. }Ant. voL i. p. 517.
 
 232 NOTES TO ALAN OF WINTON. 
 
 Page 222, line 5. 
 
 Landed on Preston's fertile strand, 
 They hear the organ's dying strain ; 
 
 As Alan takes his Margaret's hand, 
 And leads to Seton's holy fane. 
 
 Seton church still remains in a very entire state. It stands east 
 from the mansion, and seems to have been an elegant building. 
 The roof is arched and covered with flag stones. The spire appears 
 not to have been finished. Part of the present edifice probably 
 existed before the time of Sir Alexander Seton, who figured at 
 Berwick in 1333, as he was buried in the parish church of Seton. 
 George, second Lord Seton, made it collegiate. 
 
 Katherine Sinclair, the wife of William, first Lord Seton, 
 " biggit ane aisle on the south side of the paroch kirk of Seton, of 
 " fine estlar, pendit and theiket it with stane with ane sepulchar, 
 " thairin where she lies, and founded ane priest to serve thair per- 
 " petually." Matt. MS. 
 
 George, third Lord Seton, who was slain at Flodden in 1513, 
 was buried in the choir. Besides paving and embellishing the 
 church he gave it a complete suit of cloth of gold. 
 
 Jane, daughter of Patrick, Lord Hepburn, his widow, " biggit 
 " the northern aisle of the college kirk, and took down that built 
 " by dame Katherine Sinclair on the south side." This lady gave 
 an eucharist of silver, a chalice over-gilt, fine woven arras to the 
 altar, a stand of purple velvet flowered with gold, and many other 
 suitable ornaments, to the church. 
 
 In 1544 the English burnt and destroyed the castle of Seton 
 and the timber work of the church, and carried away the bells, 
 organs, and other moveables. 
 
 After the battle of Pinky, it is said the English also destroyed 
 the church, and carried off the fine choir of bells to Durham. The 
 present bell of Tranent church belonged to the parish church of 
 Seton. Their own being broken, this was brought to supply its 
 place, which is large, and of fine workmanship. It was cast in 
 Holland, 1587, with the name of George Lord Seton inscribed on 
 both sides.
 
 THE 
 
 VISION OF HUNGUS. 
 
 THE King of the Saxons, with wrath in his hand, 
 Gives the land of the Pict to the sword and the brand ; 
 He seizes their horsemen encumber'd with spoil, 
 And gives horse and rider to manure the soil. 
 
 " O wo to King Hungus !" he swore in his wrath, 
 " His foot-marks have left us a desolate path ; 
 " But while a true Saxon remains in the land, 
 " He shall weep that he trod upon Mercians strand. 
 
 " Remember your altars, down cast and profaned ! 
 " Remember your virgins, their purity stainM ! 
 " Then onward, ye sons of the field and the flood', 
 " Till Vengeance be drunk with your enemies' blood !"
 
 THE VISION OF HUNGUS. 
 
 Thus spake the fierce chief, as to Heaven he vow'd, 
 While around him his warriors hung grim as a cloud ; 
 " Go, glut your red sabres, till pyramids piled 
 " Arise on these plains, built with women and child ! 
 
 " Already the bards of your country prepare 
 " To waken their harps to the conqueror's air ; 
 " Already their chords vibrate bold in the hall 
 " To Athelstane's glory and Hungus's fall !" 
 
 Meanwhile, in his tent, Hungus courted repose, 
 Sleep came to his couch, though surrounded by foes ; 
 As sunk on his mattress, all silent and lone, 
 On his slumbers a vision celestial shone. 
 
 St Andrew, the patron of Picta, appeared, 
 His cross, sheathed in glory, triumphantly rear'd ; 
 His star-studded band did a motto display, 
 Where " iu'ftOflj" shone in a red golden ray. 
 
 O bright was that token ! it set in despair ; 
 For the shouts of the Saxons are rending the air ; 
 The soldiers of Hungus are scattered and broke, 
 And leave him alone, as the tide leaves the rock.
 
 THE VISION OF HUNGUS. 235 
 
 He shewed them his vision it was but a dream ! 
 The souls of the bravest did wavering seem ; 
 When, lo ! in the firmament blazing on high, 
 The cross of St Andrew illumined the sky. 
 
 Each arm now was nerved that was feeble before, 
 They rush like the torrent that bursts on the shore ; 
 As the scythe of the reaper the stubble lays low, 
 So the lances of Hungus are sweeping the foe. 
 
 As the proud hosts of Pharaoh aghast did recede, 
 When the ocean divided, closed over their head, 
 So the soul of the Saxon was palsied with fear 
 When he saw the red sign in the heavens appear.* 
 
 * At the siege of Bayonne, by the Counts de Foix and de Dunois, 
 in 1450, there was a similar vision seen, or imagined to have been 
 seen, to serve a similar purpose. " On Friday, the 20th August, 
 " a little before sunrise, the sky, bright and clear, a white cross 
 " was seen in the heavens by the king's army, and even by the 
 " English in fiayonne, for half an hour. Those in the town, who 
 " were desirous of returning to the French, took the red crosses 
 " from their banners and pennons, saying, that since it pleased 
 " God they should become Frenchmen, they would all wear white 
 " crosses!" Montstreltt's French Chron. byJohnes, vol. ix. p. 188.
 
 236 THE VISION OF HUNGUS. 
 
 " King Athelstane, yield ; for thou shall not depart !" 
 Said a voice, as the Pict pierced the prince to the heart ; 
 And the spot, where the chief fell, 'neath Alpine's broad 
 
 sword, 
 Is still in our annals call'd Athelstane-ford. 
 
 Kneeling low in the dust, princely Hungus was laid, 
 While vows to his patron were reverently paid ; 
 To the church he bequeathed a fair service of gold, 
 As we read in the chronicle Holinshed told. 
 
 " Now joy to the Pict, and defeat to the foe ! 
 " In his banner triumphant St Andrew shall glow ; 
 " While the bards and the sanachies tell in the hall 
 tf Of Hungus's glory and Athelstane's fall. 1 '
 
 NOTES TO THE VISION OF HUNGUS. 
 
 Page 236, line 5. 
 
 Kneeling low in the dust, princely Hungus was laid, 
 While vows to his patron were reverently paid ; 
 To the church he bequeathed a fair service of gold, fa. 
 
 IN gratitude to St Andrew, Hungus rebuilt the church of that 
 name, in St Andrews, in a magnificent style ; and, besides many 
 valuable gifts in commemoration of his success, gave the tithes of 
 his domains in support of the clergy, and ordained that the cross 
 should be adopted as the Pictish ensign armorial, which the Scots 
 assumed as theirs, when, by right of conquest, they succeeded to 
 the Pictish kingdom. See Maitland's Hist. Scot. It is worthy of 
 remark, that part of the lands of Markle, on the estate of Gil- 
 merton, still belongs to the church. These lands were transferred 
 from the monks of St Andrews to the abbey of Holyrood-house, 
 and from their rental the stipends of the three deans of the chapel 
 royal are still paid. Tradition says, that the cross was seen imme- 
 diately above Markle, from whence the place has its etymology 
 from miracle. This is absurd. The name, as spelt in old charters, 
 is Merkhill ; even as places which formerly paid duty to the 
 sovereign or superior were called Merk-lands. The situation, 
 however, is in the vicinity of the conflict, which must have ex- 
 tended over many miles. In 1782, the head of a hatchet of po- 
 lished yellow marble was turned up by the ploughshare in a field 
 of Gilmerton. It was in length about nine inches, and sharpened 
 at both ends. Now it is well known that missiles of stone carry 
 us back to a very barbarous period. 
 
 About a mile northward, on the farm of Muirhouses, a rude 
 monumental whinstone is erected ; and at Dingleton, a few fur- 
 longs farther, are the fragments of a large pillar, which some idle
 
 238 NOTES TO THE VISION OF HUNGUS. 
 
 Goth has splintered Both of these are supposed to mark the scene 
 of Hungus's conflict. Still a few furlongs westward, there is a 
 pillar of white freestone, called the Boar Stane,* seemingly of 
 more recent erection, (though not in the memory of man) situated 
 in a field on the farm of Prora, called Bluidy Side. In the names 
 of many places in this district we may trace their Celtic or Gaelic 
 origin. A spot called Fingal-street shews where stood Fingal-ton ; 
 Dingleton is a corruption for Dongal-ton ; and Congal-ton is still 
 the name of a mansion and of an estate. 
 
 But the most remarkable thing in this neighbourhood is the 
 seeming remains of a Pictish town or fortlet, in the barony of 
 Drem. The zealous antiquary has traced the separate foundations 
 of at least forty houses, which are of a circular form, in the man- 
 ner of the Danes or Scandinavians. The camp is surrounded by 
 three strong circumvallations, called the Rings the stones of which 
 have been partly removed for building agricultural enclosures. 
 The space occupied consists of at least four acres. There appears 
 to have been only one chief entrance, which is in the east. An 
 eminent antiquary, who lately visited the spot, declared, that the 
 remains of Berigonium in Lorn, the ancient capital of Scotland, 
 do not present so valuable a picture of antiquity as those of Drem. 
 
 These circumvallations are situated at Drem-hills, and go by the 
 name of the Chesters (from Anglo-Saxon Ceaster, a fort or castle.) 
 In Forest's map this name is applied to a hill that lies immediate- 
 ly above this ancient fortification. Besides numerous circular en- 
 campments, which are seen on the skirts of Lammermoor, the 
 parishes of Oldhamstocks, Innerwick, Spott, Bara, and Bolton, 
 each have their Chesters. From the etymology of these places, we 
 may conclude that they are nearly as old as the end of the sixth 
 century, when the Saxons formed an alliance with the Picts to aid 
 them against the Scots and Britons. 
 
 * The stone in which the English standard was fixed at Bannockburu was called the 
 Bore Stane ; but this appears in nowise applicable to the present subject, except by 
 name. The epithet Boar was often applied to those who carried the emblem of this 
 animal on their shield ; hence, in the poem on the Battle of Floddenfield, Richard III. 
 is distinguished as " the raging Boar, who, at Bosworth, with all his host, was over- 
 thrown." We must conclude, that the person who fell here either went by this un- 
 couth epitliet, or had a boar for his device.
 
 THE 
 
 ABBESS OF ST ABB. 
 
 Is yon a swan before the gale, 
 
 O'er winds and waves prevailing ? 
 
 O, no ! it is a shallop's sail, 
 I hear its inmates wailing ! 
 
 The monks are crowding to the beach, 
 Where lofty rocks are towering ; 
 
 On high the bishop's arms stretch, 
 A benison imploring. 
 
 Beneath them spreads a sea of foam, 
 Save where the rock's dividing, 
 
 A gentle lady, all alone, 
 A shallop's helm is guiding. 
 
 She stretches forth her snowy arms, 
 The aid of man imploring ; 
 
 While rising waves involve her charms, 
 Her little boat devouring.
 
 240 THE ABBESS OF ST ABB. 
 
 The little bark, far from the shore, 
 Sinks down with rolling motion ; 
 
 Its shattered sail, and splinter'd oar, 
 Now feed the stormy ocean. 
 
 " Tis foolish, monks, to stoop and pray, 
 " Unrobe ! and breast the billow ; 
 
 " And rescue from the stormy spray 
 " The maid on briny pillow." 
 
 The lady floats towards the land 
 Now in their arms they bear her ; 
 
 A fire is lighted on the strand, 
 With cordials they cheer her. 
 
 The spark of life again returns, 
 Her eyes look up in wildness ; 
 
 Her arching forehead madly burns, 
 Then gains its native mildness. 
 
 " O who art thou, so young and fair, 
 " That brav'st the stormy ocean ?" 
 
 She backward threw her silken hair, 
 And answered with emotion :
 
 THE ABBESS OF ST ABB. 241 
 
 " The Princess of Northumberland, 
 
 " Edelfrid's only daughter ! 
 " O wo to Redwald's bloody hand, 
 
 " Red with my father's slaughter. 
 
 " I see his vulture legions riven, 
 " When Oswald's warriors gather ; 
 
 " For know, that I have brothers seven 
 " Who sleep on Scottish heather ! 
 
 " I saw the Anglian banners float, 
 
 " Their host was thrice our number ! 
 
 " A foeman's chain my hapless lot, 
 " I sought the flowing Humber. 
 
 " A father fallen my brothers fled ! 
 
 " My mind lost and divided ; 
 " When, lo ! beside the river's bed 
 
 " Yon shallop Heaven provided. 
 
 " My frail bark met the stormy gale, 
 
 " No human aid to guide me, 
 " I gave to Heaven my little sail-* 
 
 " A spirit sat beside me.
 
 THE ABBESS OF ST ABB. 
 
 (< And aye as near some rocky isle 
 " My soul began to shudder, 
 
 " It cheer'd me with celestial smile, 
 " And sway'd the wayward rudder." 
 
 ^ Sweet lady, to our pious care 
 " Intrust your youth and beauty ; 
 
 " To one in mind and form so fair 
 " Protection is a duty." 
 
 The bishop kiss'd her snowy hand, 
 
 And led her to his palace ; 
 The Princess of Northumberland 
 
 Might made a matron jealous. 
 
 O fair as she of Eden's bowers, 
 When innocence array 'd her ! 
 
 Before the serpent 'mongst the flowers 
 To thorny paths betray 'd her. 
 
 '* Ebba ! when I behold that face, 
 " And eye so softly beaming, 
 
 *' Devotion's every charm I trace 
 
 '* Through fairest features streaming.
 
 THE ABBESS OF ST ABB. 243 
 
 u When I behold thy pious air, 
 " Thou favoured child of Heaven, 
 
 " To one so faultless, yet so fair, 
 " I think that grace is given. 
 
 " Thy bosom's like a glassy lake, 
 " Wherein that heaven's reflected ; 
 
 *' And when the storms of life awake, 
 " Thou still wilt be protected. 
 
 " Around thee in eternal spring 
 " Will grace and beauty blossom, 
 
 " Till heaven on its angel wing, 
 " Shall call thee to its bosom. 
 
 " Then sigh not for the world's parade, 
 
 " With all its guilty splendour, 
 " But seek the cloister's holy shade 
 
 " To God your charms surrender !" 
 
 I scarce need say, the bishop's tale 
 
 O'er female heart prevailing, 
 That Princess Ebba took the veil, 
 
 Her former life bewailing.
 
 THE ABBESS OF ST ABB. 
 
 Then there was not beneath the sun 
 
 In his diurnal glory, 
 A purer or a prettier nun 
 
 To grace a poet's story. 
 
 When her novitiate had sped, 
 So well she'd done her duty, 
 
 They haiFd her Abbess of St Abb,* 
 Renown'd for worth and beauty. 
 
 St Abb's-head, a well-known promontory on the coast of Ber- 
 wickshire, where are the remains of a chapel, is said to have 
 derived its designation from Ebba, only daughter to Edelfrid, King 
 of Northumberland, who, on her father being slain in battle by 
 the East Angles, made her escape in an open boat, as narrated in 
 the poem, and landed on that point of land to which she gave her 
 name. See Holinshed's Chron.
 
 WALTER OF CONGALTON 
 
 LIKE glow-worm on the robe of night 
 
 Haddina's church is gleaming,* 
 Her painted windows glitter bright, 
 
 The tapers wide are streaming ; 
 While, shining in the river's bed, 
 Her awful form is shadowed. 
 Before the altar, richly spread, 
 
 The Minorites are kneeling, 
 Chanting lone masses for the dead, 
 
 While through the aisles are stealing 
 Those sounds so soft and holy, 
 So fraught with melancholy 
 
 And pious pleasure, 
 
 That heaven seems echoing back the strain, 
 From her invisible domain, 
 
 In sweeter measure. 
 It is the anniversary 
 
 Of Walter of Congalton : 
 He sleeps beside his lady fair 
 
 Under a polished stone. 
 
 * The old Franciscan church of Haddington.
 
 246 WALTER OF CONGALTON. 
 
 The altar of St Duthacus 
 
 Stands in the church's nave, 
 And near the altar, side by side. 
 
 They moulder in their grave, 
 While, sculptured o'er the mighty dead, 
 His crest and arms are blazoned. 
 Walter of Congalton was brave, 
 But his single arm could not save 
 His country from its subject state, 
 The English king was at his gate, 
 And all his lands were desolate ! 
 While to the victor of the war 
 Had struck the banners of Dunbar, 
 
 A woe-portending token ! 
 And patriot-chiefs had broke their word. 
 Ere Congalton had sheathed his sword ; 
 
 For then his heart was broken ! 
 Within that church's roofless shed, 
 
 A solitary guest f 
 The bat will make her drowsy bed, 
 
 The owl will build her nest ! 
 But while within that glorious fane 
 Three lonely Minorites remain, 
 
 The mass will be said, 
 
 And the rites be paid, 
 For the gallant Walter of Congalton, 
 His lady Mabilla, and his son Sir John
 
 THE 
 
 LOST DRAVE- OF DUNBAR 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE WITCH OF KEITH
 
 THE LOST DRAVE. 
 
 THIS poem is founded on the following calamity, recorded 
 in the Session Minutes of Dunbar : 
 
 July 27th, 1712, the minister (Thomas Wood) had been 
 ordaining elders, when, says the minute, " The elders are 
 exhorted to walk exampelary in their good behaviour be- 
 fore the people, and to be carefull to delete scandallous 
 persons, or such as break the Sabbath-day. Morover he 
 (the minister) read to them a minute left be his predeces- 
 sors, mentioning how dreadful a disaster had fallen upon 
 the people of this place for breaking the Lord's day ; or- 
 dains the same to be Regarat. Qch is as followeth : 
 
 " Mr Simpson, minister at Dalkeith,* son to Mr AN- 
 
 * Playfair, a notable warlock, on being taken prisoner in Dalkeith 
 steeple, whither he had fled for refuge, made several confessions to Mr 
 Archibald Simpson, minister there ; amongst others, a remarkable story 
 respecting the family of Newbattle must not be omitted : " Mark, the 
 commendator of Newbottle, had by his wife, the Lord Herries's daugh- 
 ter, thirty-one children. His lady always kept in her company wise 
 women or witches, and especially one Margaret Nues (F. Innes), who 
 fostered his daughter the Lady Borthwick, who was, long after his death, 
 burnt in Edinburgh for that crime ; and my Lady Lothian's son-in-law, 
 Sir Alexander Hamilton, told one of his friends, how one night lying in 
 Preston -grange, pertaining to the said abbey of Newbottle, he was pulled
 
 250 THE LOST DRAVE. 
 
 DREW SIMPSON, minister at Dumbar, in his exposition of 
 the XXXIId. Psalm, hath these words : ( A fearfull judge- 
 ment of God fell furth at Dumbar about the year of God 
 1577> qrof I was an eyewitness. My father, Mr ANDREW 
 SIMPSON, of good memory, being minister thereof, qho, 
 going to the church, saw a thousand boatts setting their 
 netts on the Sabbath. He weeped, and feared that God 
 would not suffer such contempt. It being a most calm 
 day as ever was seen at that season ; at midnight, when 
 they went furth to draw their netts, the wind arose so fear- 
 fully, that it drowned eight score and ten boatts, so that 
 there was reckoned in the coast side fourteen score of nnd- 
 dows !" 
 
 From another account of the same calamity, found writ- 
 ten on the leaf of an old Bible, and said to have been copied 
 from the Armenian Magazine, it appears, that at this period 
 Dunbar was the station for the Dutch as well as for the 
 Scotch fishery. 
 
 out of his bed by the said witches and sore beaten ; of which injury, 
 when he complained to his mother-in-law, and assured her he would 
 complain thereof to the council, she pacified him by giving him a purse 
 full of gold. That lady thereafter, being vexed with a cancer in her 
 breast, implored the help of the notable warlock before-mentioned, who 
 condescended to heal her, but with condition, that the sore should fall 
 on them which she loved best ; whereunto she agreeing, did convalesce ; 
 but the earl, her husband, found the boil in his throat, of which he died 
 shortly thereafter ; and the said Playfair, being soon apprehended, was 
 made prisoner as above." Scot of Scotstarvefs Staggering State uftlic 
 Scots Statesmen.
 
 THE 
 
 LOST DRAVE OF DUNBAR, 
 
 SOFT blew the gales of autumn on thy cliffs, 
 Dunbar ! and fanned the beauteous glowing Forth, 
 While vessels bounded o'er the spangled waves, 
 And shoals of herrings skimm'd below the keels, 
 Like silver fishes 'neath the crystal floor 
 Of eastern palaces, when prosperous years 
 Had brought a vast assemblage to thy shores 
 From Holland and the Isles : a greedy race, 
 Who riches sought despite of God and man, 
 And lured thy sons to death with tenfold horror ! 
 
 On Sabbath morn, the church's early bell 
 CalPd pious men to solemn deeds of prayer, 
 When the ungodly fishers launched their drave 
 Upon the shining sea. A thousand boats 
 Spread their brown oars, and darkened all the strand-r 
 As when the Indian chiefs, in fierce canoes, 
 Come forth to battle ; and 'twas sad to see 
 The fishers cast their black nets in the brine,
 
 252 THE LOST DRAVE OF DUNBAR; 
 
 While godly men were journeying to church. 
 Out spake the zealous priest, with warning voice, 
 Against such mark'd and foul contempt of God, 
 And his most blessed holy ordinances ; 
 But, mocking the old man, they turned away 
 Their ears from his rebuke, while some exclaim'd, 
 " Delays are dangerous," others: " We make hay 
 " In sunshine ;" thus, in vulgar witticisms, 
 They sneer'd at the good man's prophetic words. 
 
 That morning's calm was like the meteor's glare, 
 That dazzles to destroy its wareless victim ; 
 For when the boatmen, at night's lonely hour, 
 Return'd to draw their nets, loud roar'd the gale, 
 As if from Greenland's cold unfathom'd caves 
 Winter had come with all his host of storms. 
 The seaman's face turn'd pale, as boats on boats 
 Rush'd fearfully o'er yawning vortices ; 
 While, like a monster, lash'd the sea around, 
 Now gorging and next vomiting her prey, 
 And shoals of scaly fry, sheer upward thrown, 
 Came down like sheeted hail upon the decks ! 
 Prows split on prows the splinter'd oars were slipt ; 
 And shiver'd sails flew from the shatter'd masts 
 In dread confusion, as when horror stalks 
 Amid the thunder of the British line ! 
 Despairing groans and bursting hearts were there,
 
 OR, THE WITCH OF KEITH. 253 
 
 And parting spirits spoke most horrid things, 
 Lisping the name of Jesus ! others plunged, 
 Breasting the roaring wave, and swearing sank 
 Into the dark abyss, while shadowy forms 
 Rung words of dreadful import in their ears ! 
 But, chief amid the demons of the storm, 
 High soar'd, pre-eminent, the Witch of Keith, 
 Clear seen by her own lightnings, as she strode 
 The quivering mast, and trill'd this wayward song : 
 
 Cummer, go ye before, cummer, go ye ; 
 If ye will not go before, cummer, let me ! 
 The child fed on milk like a floweret on dew, 
 In the dread hour of trial its purpose may rue ; 
 While through the red levin we wrestle the storm, 
 And give the lost drave to the fish and the worm ! 
 
 The tempest has thicken'd, since merrily we flew 
 O'er the deep glens of Humbie, ere chanticleer crew, 
 By the green skirts of Lammer we rallied our host, 
 And dug the morass where the pedlar was lost : 
 A charm we found hid, in the pit's central cell, 
 'Twill conjure a legion of devils from hell !
 
 THE LOST DRAVE OF DUNBAR ; 
 
 Haste ! haste ! where yon skipper is laboring in vain, 
 In his crazy old shallop the helm to regain, 
 Take Rutterkin, mewing, and plunge her below, 
 Where the mermaid is rinsing her visage of snow ; 
 Then a shout will be heard, rising slowly and loud, 
 That will make the bones rattle that rot in the shroud. 
 
 There's fire in his bosom that never will drown ; 
 For the baby is strangled that no one will own ; 
 There's cattle a-hungering though pasture be near ; 
 There's hypocrites praying in fervour and fear ! 
 Cummer, go ye before, cummer, go ye ; 
 If ye will not go before, cummer, let me ! 
 
 Thus sung the Witch of Keith ; anon she sat 
 Revelling with Satan ; and, with eldriche glee, 
 Laugh'd loud to see the drowner's agony ! 
 There shone the Sorcerer, Fein of potent power, 
 (The key-keeper of the air's artillery,) 
 With the accursed crew, that ofttimes held 
 Unhallow'd meetings in North Berwick's fane, 
 Plotting destruction 'gainst the royal James ; 
 Wretches that pilfer'd church-yards, and would cut 
 The wedding-ring from off the putrid finger ! 
 
 O heavens ! it was a soul-subduing sight, 
 Where those of nearest kin were doom'd to perish !
 
 OR, THE WITCH OF KEITH. 255 
 
 The father spurn'd the son brother the brother 
 
 Each push'd the other down, as wild he strove 
 
 To catch the floating wreck, while the stout youth 
 
 Triumphed above his old grey-headed sire ! 
 
 Amid these fearful scenes some seamen gain'd 
 
 That ridge of rocks that stretch 'neath March's Dyke 
 
 Short was their respite headlong on the rocks 
 
 The coming wave dashM out their dizzy brains ! 
 
 While hollow groans came echoing to the shore. 
 
 At these appalling sounds, the deer was roused 
 
 In Broxmouth's shades : thence, bounding up the hill, 
 
 He dripping stood in Thurston's lonely glen. 
 
 Wo to the hapless beast ; for from their lair 
 
 He roused a gang of witches, in revenge 
 
 A fearless hag assumed the greyhound's form, 
 
 And chased the frighten'd stag o'er hill and glen, 
 
 Till, ere he wist, in Bransley's fatal moss 
 
 He found a sepulchre, watery and deep ! 
 
 Returning thence, for safety, the elf took 
 
 The colley's shape ; and singling from the herd, 
 
 That clad the hills, the sleekest milk-white ox, 
 
 Drove the astounded creature passive on 
 
 To where the sisters held their rites profane. 
 
 Muttering a spell, they took the lusty steer, 
 
 And bound him limb to limb, and then baptised 
 
 A brindled cat ; which done, they buried both
 
 256 THE LOST DRAVE OF DUNBAR ; 
 
 Deep in the earth alive : a sovereign charm 
 'Gainst rank disease : then mincing signs they tore 
 Three shrivell'd fragments from a dead man's hand, 
 And pounded them to powder ! precious stuff ! 
 To work the hest of Satan. Noxious clouds 
 Rose from the cauldron as the faggots blazed, 
 When gathering, roundand round, "Aroynt!" they cried 
 Sweeping the welkin with their winged brooms, 
 Oceanward, bent on hell-imagined deeds. 
 
 Amongst this train, there was a youthful quean, 
 Comely, dark-featured, called Isobel Young, 
 Who vow'd revenge on one, whose scandalous tongue 
 Had done her injury, named " Crazy George !" 
 Bell, lighting on his boat, grasp'd firm the helm, 
 And dash'd him pellmell through the broken waves : 
 Then, with a grin, she leer'd in George's face, 
 And mutter'd " Grist !" next onward reckless steer 'd 
 Towards the shore, nor stopt, till, grazing, shook 
 The little shallop on the rutted rocks ; 
 When, smarting, like a living thing it veer'd, 
 And sought once more the bosom of the storm : 
 But when the shattered mast fell overboard 
 With its torn drapery, the poor man roar'd ! 
 Clasping the gunwale. Bell, again, cried " Grist !" 
 George gnash'd his teeth, and pray'd that Christ would 
 save
 
 OR, THE WITCH OF KEITH. 257 
 
 His soul from Satan ! sovereign talisman 
 Was in these words ; for 'mediately the fiend 
 Vanish'd in flame, still muttering, " Grist, grist, grist!" 
 
 Now 'midst the dismal pauses of the storm 
 The seaman's wail was heard, echoing among 
 The Castle's caverns, (like the hopeless groan 
 Of wretch in its lone dungeons,) as he call'd 
 On God to bless his wife and helpless boys ! 
 But still these awful words rung in his ear, 
 Darkening portending fate : " Ye would not come 
 " When mercy waited on thee ; now, when floods 
 " Of mighty waters rush upon thy soul, 
 
 " The Lord forsakes thee !" 
 
 The beacon blazes high on Trowness Point, 
 Tinging the ruins of St Dennis' church, 
 That seem in flames, while gleaming wide and far, 
 Like thickening stars upon the robe of night ; 
 The lights are gathering, and the sea-fowl's scream, 
 (Roused from her aerie nest on lone St Abbs,) 
 With noisy flapping wings, and mazy flight, 
 Deepens the mournful music of the storm ! 
 Matrons and maids and lovers crowd the strand ! 
 And hands are wrung, and silken tresses tore ; 
 And swollen hearts choke up the power of speech ; 
 And children seek their fathers who have none ! - 
 
 R
 
 258 THE LOST DRAVE OF DUNBAR ; 
 
 And wives their husbands who are husbandless I- 
 And sires their sons who now must beg their bread ! 
 And maids their lovers wed away to death ! 
 The Angel of Destruction stalks abroad, 
 And who can stay his arm, or bound his course ? 
 
 When morning shone upon the troubled sea, 
 Like gleams of gladness on the face of horror, 
 Unnumber'd images of death appear'd 
 To catch the aching eye. A firm-built boat, 
 That braved the stormy night, drew near the harbour, 
 With two lorn men on board, (the rest had died 
 Through dire fatigue, worn at the faithless oar ;) 
 But Hope, alas ! smiled only to betray ; 
 For a voracious wave, with ruthless fury, 
 Shiver'd their skiff on that lone rock, where now 
 An Iron Pole the sailor's beacon stands ! 
 A vessel, laden, drifted to the shore, 
 Below the Washing Rocks, and met the waves, 
 As vaulting up, in clouds of foam, they lash'd 
 The weeping heavens. O, it was pitiful 
 To see the trembling Dutchmen how they raved 
 In terror at the gale, and inly sigh'd 
 For the cold breeze that fans the Zuyder Zee ; 
 As evermore the rock-chafed breakers fell 
 With roaring deafening noise. Forth on the deck
 
 OR, THE WITCH OF KEITH. 259 
 
 A gallant youth appear'd, and wound a rope 
 
 Around his manly waist, then fearless plunged 
 
 Amidst the boiling surf, and sought the shore. 
 
 Long, long, he buffeted the waves, and sunk ; 
 
 Till, like a sea-bird, rising from the depths 
 
 Of ocean's coral beds, again he held 
 
 His fearless course, and near exhausted landed 
 
 Amidst glad shouts, upon the pebbly strand ; 
 
 When, from his panting sides, a rope unwove, 
 
 Was firmly braced upon the strand, and form'd 
 
 A smooth-declining angle from the vessel, 
 
 Whereon a cott was slung, which glided soft 
 
 Piloted to the shore, and from its bosom 
 
 Leap'd forth a lady, veil'd in silvery foam, 
 
 Like Agenor's royal daughter when she stood 
 
 On the Dictean coast. None ever knew 
 
 For what, or whence, these sea-beat wanderers came, 
 
 (Perchance some Danish princess, tempest-tost !) 
 
 The seamen answer'd all interrogatories 
 
 Forbiddingly. The strangers went away 
 
 In mystery, and their secret went with them ! 
 
 Pale Desolation sat upon the beach 
 Weeping o^er human woe a gloomy picture ! 
 Like the grim after-scenery of a battle, 
 (Where fiends joy o*er the havoc fools have made.)
 
 260 THE LOST DRAVE OF DUNBAR ; 
 
 Boats lay keel up, beating among the rocks, 
 'And splinter'd spars lay thick as harvest stubble ; 
 While ghastly corpses drifted to the shore, 
 Clench'd in the sand, or 'tangled in the weeds ; 
 And many push'd to gain the ocean's edge, 
 Gazing, knee-deep, in silent breathless horror, 
 Trembling lest the next wave should waft a friend ; 
 And wretched women, with their screaming babes, 
 Delirious sought their husbands' lifeless forms ! 
 
 There stood an old man by the sea and wept, 
 And tore his hoary locks, and raved, and swore 
 His sole support, his only son was drown'd ! 
 And by yon Castle's cliffs, a virgin bride 
 Beheld her lover's bloated carcass floating ; 
 She spoke not, but, wild gazing, madly sprung, 
 And made her bridal-bed on the green billow ! 
 
 How various are the hues that tinge the mind, 
 So nicely shaded, that philosophy 
 Might spend eternities and never trace them, 
 A novice in the school of vain conjecture ! 
 Cold, cold, and gentle was the icy grief 
 That chill'd the bosom of forsaken Mary ! 
 Losing itself in settled melancholy. 
 Long on that rock, where art, with curious skill, 
 Has scoop'd a cave, and wells a crystal spring,
 
 OR, THE WITCH OF KEITH. 261 
 
 She sat on that dread day in musing sorrow ; 
 And oft, in after times, she sought that spot, 
 Where, robed in many colours, she would braid 
 Her hair with sea-weed, and with varied shells 
 Picture the perish'd drave and sob and sing. 
 
 A buxom matron had six gallant sons 
 In this sad enterprise. She slumbering lay 
 In morning dreams, and saw them all return 
 Laden with treasures from the gorgeous deep ; 
 Each held a foaming jar in his glad hand, 
 Filling a silver cup with rosy wine, 
 To pledge their mother's health. With joyous face 
 They bade her drink. She raised herself in bed, 
 Stretch'd forth her hand to grasp the proffered cup- 
 It fell she woke ! when, horrors ! one by one 
 Their death-cold forms were brought into her cottage : 
 Henceforth her senses in wild mazes wander'd, 
 And she was seen, a broken-hearted woman, 
 Singing for evermore these plaintive rhymes. 
 
 My heart is on the faithless wave, 
 That bore my love away: 
 
 The sun that gilds both tree and tower, 
 Brings me no happy day !
 
 262 THE LOST DRAVE OF DUNBAR ; 
 
 The ways of life are dimly seen, 
 They shine through sorrow's tear ; 
 
 When all is bright with pleasure's beam, 
 Misfortune's shades appear. 
 
 My creel hangs in a corner now, 
 
 That leapt with silver fry ; 
 And I, whose maurlain aye was full, 
 
 In poverty must sigh ! 
 O friendship's a deceitful gleam, 
 
 That gilds our happy years ; 
 But, like the sunshine of a dream, 
 
 It leaves us in our tears. 
 
 Yon castle bows its lofty head, 
 
 Where gilded turrets shone ; 
 Now that it lies in ruin's bed, 
 
 Its fate is like my own ! 
 The lads who'd bleed to save it still 
 
 Are pillow'd on the deep ; 
 Their winding sheet the ocean's brine ! 
 
 Their monument its steep ! 
 
 The violin's mute in Jeanie's cot, 
 Its master's now at rest !
 
 OR, THE WITCH OF KEITH. 263 
 
 The wave, when dewy evening falls, 
 
 Is curling o'er his breast. 
 My cheerful hearth is desolate ; 
 
 My children all are gone ! 
 And in a weary world I'm left , 
 
 To struggle through alone. 
 
 Some say, there's joy in weeping long, 
 
 That gladness springs from grief; 
 To me, nor weary day, nor night, 
 
 Can ever bring relief ! 
 The ways of life are dimly seen, 
 
 They shine through sorrow's tear ; 
 When all is bright with pleasure's beam 
 
 Misfortune's shades appear. 
 
 From dark Northumbria to the Orcades, 
 Echo'd in Scotland's bays the voice of wo, 
 Like that wild yell that rises when th' Hindoo 
 Ascends the funeral pile. Lost mothers mourn'd 
 Like Nibbe for their children ; pining maids 
 Wander'd like Suilmatha on the beach, 
 In search of the dear lonely bark that bore 
 Their absent lovers, who must ne'er return J 
 The bud, unblossom'd then, was doom'd to shed 
 Its earliest tears while listening to this tale ;
 
 264 
 
 THE LOST DRAVE OF DUNBAR, &c. 
 
 And the cold Dutchman, leaning on his oar, 
 Would smooth his rugged brow, distend his soul, 
 Then bless his dank canals, and dqff'his pipe, 
 When he was told his kinsman's fearful fate 
 On thy rough shores, Dunbar ! And princes too 
 Might weep the fate of those whose toils obscure 
 Enrich'd a nation ; even as Charles wept 
 Beside the'fisher's tomb where Beuckel slept ! 
 
 END OF THE LOST DRAVE.
 
 NOTES 
 
 TO THE LOST DRAVE; 
 
 WITH AN 
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES OF EAST LOTHIAN. 
 
 " If any of you have a sheep sick of the giddies, or a hog of the mumps, or a horse of 
 the staggers, or a knavish boy of the school, or an idle girl of the wheel, or a young 
 drab of the sullens, and hath not fat enough for her porrage, or butter enough for her 
 bread, and she hath a little help of the epilepsy, or cramp, to teach her to roll her eyes, 
 wry her mouth, gnash her teeth, startle with her body, hold her arms and hands stiff, 
 &c. And then with an Old Mother Nobs hath by chance called her Idle Young House- 
 wife, or bid the Devil scratch her; then no doubt but Mother Nobs is the Witch, and 
 the young girl is owl-blasted.'" Harsenet's Declar. p. 131. 
 
 Page 251, line 13. 
 
 When the ungodly fishers launched their drove 
 
 Upon the shining sea. 
 
 THE manner in which this fishery is carried on is similar to the 
 plan of the old Dutch fishery, which renders it extremely benefi- 
 cial to the country. The boats belong partly to fishermen, (who 
 employ the rest of the year in catching white fish,) and partly to 
 landsmen, who build and equip them in the way of adventurers. 
 An adventure of this kind is called a DKAVE. 
 
 In ancient times a certain quantity of herrings was taken for 
 the king's kitchen. This was afterwards commuted into a tax of 
 ten shillings upon every sizeable boat. There was also a duty paid 
 to the High Admiral's deputy, who presided over the fishery. 
 Camp. Sur. vol. i. p. 419. This has fallen into desuetude. The 
 fishers, however, appoint one of their number, whom they style 
 Admiral, to arrange the order of sailing, &c. and two chancellors, 
 to whom all their disputes are referred.
 
 266 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, 
 
 A CONCISE ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES OF EAST LOTHIAN. 
 
 To avoid crowding so small a poem with a mass of notes, which 
 might be multiplied ad infinitum, I shall, as briefly as possible, 
 notice those mysterious personages, whose deeds once formed the 
 evening's tale and the morning's debate of our ancestors. 
 
 The first apparently belonging to this county is the Gyre Car- 
 ling, queen of the fairies, the Great Hag or Mother Witch of the 
 Scottish peasantry. The subjoined fragment, copied from the 
 Bannatyne MS. into the Border Minstrelsy by Sir Walter Scott, 
 and more recently transcribed by Mr David Laing into his Select 
 Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, is presented to 
 the reader, as descriptive of the abode and other properties of that 
 monstrous lady. 
 
 C|w <&$n Carltng. 
 
 In Tiberius tyme, the trew Imperiour, 
 
 Quhen Tinto hills fra skraiping of toun-henis was keipit, 
 
 Thair dwelt ane grit Gyre Carling in awld Betokis hour, 
 
 That levit upoun Christiane menis flesche and rewt heids unleipit ; 
 
 Thair wynit ane hir by, on the west syde, callit Blasour, 
 
 For luve of hir lauchane lippis, he walit and he weipit ; 
 
 He gadderit ane menzie of modwartis to warp doun the Tour ; 
 
 The Carling with ane yren club, quhen that Blasour sleipit, 
 
 Behind the heill scho halt him sic ane blaw, 
 
 Quhil Blasour bled ane quart 
 
 Of milk pottage inwart, 
 
 The Carling luche, and lut a fart, 
 North Berwick Law. 
 
 The king of Fary than come with elfis mony ane, 
 And sett ane sege, and ane salt, with grit pensallis of pryd ; 
 And all the Doggiifra Dumber was thair to Dumblane, 
 With all the tykis of Tervey, come to thame that tyd, 
 They gnewdoune with thair gomes mony grit stane: 
 The Carling schup her on ane sow, and is her gaitis gane, 
 Grunting our the Greik sie, and durst na langer byd, 
 For hniklyng of bargane, and breiking of browis : 
 
 The Carling now for dispyte, 
 
 Is mareit with Mahomyte, 
 
 And will the doggis interdyte, 
 For scho is Queue of Jowis.
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES, &c. 267 
 
 Sensyne the Coekis of Crawmound crew nevir a day, 
 For dule of that devillisch dem wes vrith Mahoun mareit, 
 And the Htnis of Hadingtoun sensyne wald not lay, 
 For this wyld wilroun witch thame widlit sa and wareit ; 
 And the same North Berwick Law, as I heir wyvis say, 
 This Carling, with a fals cast, wald away carat 
 For to luk on quha sa lykis, na langer scho tareit ; 
 All this langour for luve before tymes fell, 
 
 Lang or Betok was born, 
 
 Scho bred of ane accorne; 
 
 The laif of the story to morne, 
 To you I sail telle. 
 
 In another burlesque poem, entitled, Ane Interlude on the Laying 
 nf Lord Fergus's Gaist, Bettokis Bower again occurs : 
 
 " Listen, lordis, I sail you tell, 
 Off ane very grit mervell, 
 Off Lord Fergussis gaist, 
 How mekle Sir Andro it chest 
 Unto Btittokit hour, 
 The silly sawle to succour. 
 
 The " little gaist," besides committing other misdemeanors, 
 
 " It ran to Pencatelane, 
 
 And wirreit ane awld chaplane." 
 
 Another of the Gyre Carling's popular appellations was Nicnevin. 
 Montgomery, in his Flyting, describes her array and her elriche 
 company on All-hallow even : 
 
 " Nicneven with her nymphes, in number anew, 
 With charms from Caitness and Chanrie of Ross, 
 Whose cunning consists in casting of a clew. 
 
 These " venerable virgins, whom the world call witches/ con- 
 tinues he, 
 
 " Backward raid on brod sows, and some on black bitches ; 
 Some, on steid of a staig, oure a starke Monke straide. 
 Fra tht how to the hight, some nobles, some hatches ; 
 With their mouthes to the moone, murgeons they maid. 
 Some, be force, in effect, the four windes fetches; 
 And, nyne times, withershins, about the thorne raid. 
 
 Montgomery's Poems, p. 117. Edit 1821. 8vo. 
 
 Sir David Lindsay, in his Introductory Epistle to his " Dream," 
 tells the Kingis Grace, how he had " fenyit mony fabill" to com- 
 fort him when he was sorry ; 
 
 " And of mony uther plesand history, 
 Of the reid Ettiu, and the Gyre Catling.'
 
 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, 
 
 From such a character the transition is easy to the 
 
 - Accursed crew, that oft times held 
 Unhallow'd meetings in North Berwick's fane, 
 Plotting destruction 'gainst the royal James. P. 254. 
 Agnes Sampson, or Symson, called the Wise Wife of Keith, (in 
 Humbie parish,) was one of those who confessed having dealings 
 with his satanic majesty, before King James VI., in the winter of 
 1590. She is characterized by Archbishop Spotswood, as " a wo- 
 man not of the base and ignorant sort of witches, but matron-like, 
 grave and settled in her answers, which were all to some purpose ;" 
 and Sir James Melville informs us, that she was a renowned mid- 
 wife. 
 
 Agnes was accused by the Holyrood-house tribunal of having 
 renounced her baptism, and of having received the devil's mark ; of 
 raising storms to prevent the queen's coming from Denmark ; of 
 being at the famous meeting of witches at North Berwick church, 
 &c. where the devil presided, not " in the shape of beast," but, 
 most uncourteously, in the habit of a priest ! Arnot's Crim. 
 Trials. 
 
 At first Agnes denied the accusations brought against her by the 
 king's majesty and the lords assembled, but being ordered to , 
 prison to undergo the torture, she returned to her judges in a 
 frame of mind suitable to make the following confession, which I 
 shall give in the words of Glanvil : 
 
 tfonfa&um of &gne$ Jrampsion to l^ing 
 fytn of fye 
 
 " Item, Fyled and convict for sameckle as she confessed before 
 his majesty, that the devil in man's likeness met her going out 
 in the fields from her own house at Keith, betwixt five and six at 
 even, being alone, and commandit her to be at North Berwick 
 kirk the next night. And she past then on horseback, conveyed 
 by her good-son, called John Cooper, and lighted at the kirk-yard, 
 or a little before she came to it, about eleven hours at even. They 
 danced along the kirk-yard ; Geilie Duncan plaid to them on a 
 trump ; John Fien mussiled led all the rest ; the said Agnes and
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES, &c. 269 
 
 her daughter followed next. Besides, there were Kate Grey, 
 George Moilis's wife, Robert Greirson, Katherine Duncan Buch- 
 anan, Thomas Barnhil and his wife, Gilbert Macgil, Job. Macgil, 
 Katherine Macgil, with the rest of their complices, above an hun- 
 dred persons, whereof there were six men, and all the rest women. 
 The women made first their homage and then the men. The 
 men were turned nine times widdershins about, and the women 
 six times. John Fien blew up the doors, and blew in the lights, 
 which were like mickle black candles sticking round about the 
 pulpit. The devil startit up himself in the pulpit like a mickle 
 black man, and every one answered " Here." Mr Robert Grier- 
 son being named, they all ran hirdie girdie, and were angry : for 
 it was promised he should be called Robert the Comptroller, alias 
 Rob the Rower, for expriming of his name. The first thing he 
 demandit was as they kept all promise, and been good servants, 
 and what they had done since the last time they had convened. 
 At his command they opened up three graves, two within, and ane 
 without the kirk, and took off the joints of their fingers, toes, and 
 neise, and parted them amongst them : and the said Agnes Symp- 
 son got for her part a winding-sheet and two joints. The devil 
 commandit them to keep the joints upon them while they were 
 dry, and then to make a powder of them to do evil withal. Then 
 he commandit them to keep his commandments, which were to 
 do all the evil they could. Before they departed they kissed his 
 breech ; the record speaks more broad, as I noted before. He 
 had on him ane gown and ane hat, which were both black ; and 
 they that were assembled, part stood and part sate : John Fien 
 was ever nearest the devil, at his left elbock ; Graymaical keeped 
 the door." Glanvil's Sadducismus Triumphatus, p. 399. 
 
 Agnes having confessed many miraculous and strange things to 
 his majesty, he branded her and her gang as a body of " extreme 
 liars," when, taking him a little aside, " she declared the very 
 " words which passed between the king's majesty and the queen 
 " at Upslo, in Norway, on the night of their marriage ; whereat 
 " the king wondered greatly, and swore by the living God that 
 " he believed all the devils in hell could not have discovered the 
 " same, and gave the more credit to what she afterwards declar- 
 " ed." Newes from Scotland.
 
 270 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, 
 
 The above confession had its natural effect upon a weak mind. 
 James, who before wavered in his belief, now became an advocate 
 for the truth of the damnable doctrine of witchcraft ; and in the 
 third chapter of the second book of his Dwmonologie, has made a 
 kind of paraphrase on the above deposition. 
 
 Cummer, go ye before ; cummer, go yc ; 
 
 If ye will not go before, cummer, let me ! P. 253. 
 
 These are the words said to have been sung by Agnes Sampson 
 and two hundred of her associates, when they landed from their 
 riddles or cives, and danced a reel on the shore of North Berwick, 
 when on their way to hold their unhallowed meetings in the church. 
 
 Take Rutterkin, mewing, and plunge her below 
 
 Where the mermaid is rinsing her visage of snow. P. 254. 
 
 " Moreover, Agnes confessed, that at the time his majesty was 
 in Denmarke, shee being accompanied with the parties before spe- 
 cially named, tooke a cat and christened it, and afterward bound 
 to each part of that cat the cheefest part of a dead man, and several 
 joyntes of his bodie ; and that in the night following the said cat 
 was convayed into the middest of the sea by all these witches, say- 
 ling in their riddles or cives, as is aforesaid, and so left the said 
 cat right before the town of Leith, in Scotland; this doone, there 
 did arise such a tempest in the sea, as a greater hath not bene scene. 
 At another time John Fien, attempting to catch a cat for that pur- 
 pose, she proving too nimble, he was carried about in the air after 
 her in a wonderful manner." Newesfrom Scotland. 
 
 Thus sung the Witch of Keith ; anon she sat 
 Revelling with Satan. P. 254. 
 
 Glanvil thus continues his relation. Agnes sailed " with her 
 fellow- witches in a boat to a ship, where the devil caused her to 
 drink good wine, she neither seeing the mariners nor the mariners 
 her. But after all, the devil raised a wind whereby the ship per- 
 ished. Her baptizing, and using other ceremonies upon a cat, 
 with other witches, to hinder the queen's coming into Scotland. 
 Her raising of a spirit to conjure a picture of wax for the destroy- 
 ing of Mr John Moscrope."
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES, &c. 271 
 
 There shone Ihe sorcerer Fien, of potent power, 
 The key-keeper of the air's artillery. P. 254. 
 
 John Fien (alias Cunningham, alias Doctor Fian,) master of the 
 school of Saltpans in Lothian, belonged to the aforesaid company. 
 " That which is observable in John Fien," says Glanvil, " is, 
 that the devil appeared to him not in black, but in white raiment ; 
 but proposed as hellish a covenant to him as those fiends that ap- 
 pear in black. As also lying dead two or three hours, and his spirt 
 tane (as the phrase in the record is) ; his being carried, or trans- 
 ported to many mountains, and, as he thought, through the world, 
 according to his own depositions. His hearing the devil preach 
 in a kirk in the pulpit, in the night by candle-light, the candle 
 burning blue. That in a conventicle, raising winds with the rest, 
 at the king's passage into Denmark, by casting a cat into the sea, 
 which the devil delivered to them, and taught them to cry Hola 
 when they first cast it in. His raising a mist at the king's return 
 from Denmark, by getting Satan to cast a thing like a foot-ball (it 
 appearing to John like a wisp) into the sea, which made a vapour 
 or reek to arise, whereby the king's majesty might be cast upon 
 the coast of England. His hearing the devil again preach in a 
 pulpit in black, who after pointed them to graves, to open and dis- 
 member the corps therein ; which done, incontinently they were 
 transported without words. His opening locks by sorcery, as one 
 by mere blowing into a woman's hand while he sate by the fire. 
 His raising four candles on the luggs of an horse, and another on 
 the top of the staff of his rider in the night, that he made it as 
 light as day ; and how the man fell down dead at the entering 
 within his return home," with several other charges similar to those 
 mentioned in Agnes Simpson's indictment. 
 
 Geillies Duncan, who was his accuser, confessed that he was their 
 clerk or register, and that no man was allowed to come to the 
 devil's readings but he. " After thrawing of the doctor's head 
 with a rope, whereat he would confess nothing, he was persuaded 
 by faire means to confesse his follies, but that would prevail as 
 little," till, at length, by dint of exquisite torture, he was com-
 
 272 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, 
 
 felled to confess any thing ; and was then strangled and burned 
 on the Castle-hill of Edinburgh, Jan. 1591. 
 
 " Most of the winter of 1591," says Spotswood, " was spent in 
 the discovery and examination of witches and sorcerers. Amongst 
 these Agnes Samson, commonly called the Wise Wife of Keith, 
 was the most remarkable." She confessed that the Earl of Both- 
 well had moved her to inquire what should become of the king, &c. 
 Richard Graham, another notorious sorcerer, who was apprehended 
 at the same time, made the like accusation against Bothwell. 
 Spotswood, p. 383. 
 
 Barbara Napier was convicted, May 8, 1591, for consulting 
 Agnes Simpson, to give help to Dame Jean Lyon, Lady Angus ; 
 for which she was worried at a stake, and burned to ashes.' MS. 
 Just. Rec. 
 
 " The tricks and tragedies the devil played then among so many 
 men and women in this country (says Sir James Melville.) will 
 hardly get credit by posterity ! the history whereof, with the whole 
 depositions, was written by Mr James Carmichael, minister of 
 Haddington.* Among other things, some of them did shew, that 
 there was a westlandman, called Richard Graham, who had a fa- 
 miliar spirit, the which Richard (Graham,) they said, could both 
 do and tell many things, chiefly against the Earl of Bothwell. 
 Whereupon the said Richard Graham was apprehended and brought 
 to Edinburgh ; and, being examined before his majesty, I being 
 present, he granted that he had a familiar spirit, which shewed 
 him sundry things ; but he denied that he was a witch, or had 
 any frequentation with them. But when it was answered again, 
 how that Amy Simson had declared, that he caused the Earl of 
 
 * Carmichael was the second presbyterian minister of Haddington, and held his pas' 
 toral charge betwixt the years 1568 and 1628. The Presbytery Minutes are preserved so 
 early as 1587 ; but, as it was not their province, contain no reference to these depositions. 
 In the Civil Records, which are preserved anterior to thi* date, I have not been able to 
 discover any reference to the arrest or imprisonment of Agnes Sampson, as in the case of 
 Elizabeth Moodie and others in 1677- 
 
 The wood cut, p. 264, represents the old church of North Berwick ; and is copied from 
 a design prefixed to a black-letter pamphlet, entitled " Newes from Scotland," which, I 
 presume, contains the depositions written by the minister of Haddington. 
 
 6
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES, &c. 273 
 
 Bothwell address him to her, he granted that to be true, and that 
 the Earl of Bothwell had knowledge of him by Effie Machalloun 
 and Barbary Napier, Edinburgh women. Whereupon he was sent 
 for by the Earl of Bothwell, who required his help to cause the 
 king's majesty his master to like well of him. And to that effect 
 he gave the said Earl some drug or herb, willing him at some con- 
 venient time to touch therewith his majesty's face. Which being 
 done by the earl ineffectually, he dealt again with the said Richard 
 to get his majesty wrecked, as Richard alleged; who said he could 
 not do such things himself; but that a notable midwife who was 
 a witch, called Amy Simson, could bring any such purpose to pass. 
 Thus far the said Richard Graham affirmed divers times before 
 the council ; nevertheless he was burnt, with the said Simson, and 
 many other witches. This Richard alleged, that it was certain 
 what is reported of the fairies ; and that spirits may take a form, 
 and be seen, though not felt." Melville's Memoirs, p. 388. 
 Edit. 1752. 
 
 Amongst this train, there was a youthful quean, 
 Comely, dark-featured, called Isabel Young, 
 Who vow'd revenge on one, whose scandalous tongue 
 Had done her injury, named " Crazy George !" P. 256. 
 
 The next to be introduced to the reader is Isobel Young, spouse 
 to George Smith, portioner in East Barns, (near Dunbar,) who 
 was tried for witchcraft in 1629. She was accused of having 
 stopped by enchantment George Sandie's mill,* twenty -nine years 
 before ; of having prevented his boat from catching fish, while all 
 the other boats at the HERRING DRAVE, or herring-fishery, were 
 successful ; and that she was the cause of his failing in his circum- 
 stances, and of nothing prospering with him in the world ; that she 
 threatened mischief against one Kerse, who thereupon lost the 
 power of his leg and arm ; that she had the Devil's mark, &c. 
 
 Some articles of the indictment are curious : " Item, she went 
 in a very tempestuous night, when the milne horses were scarcely 
 
 * An old malt-barn and kiln stood upon the site of the Antiburgher meeting-house in 
 East Barns, 1820.
 
 274 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, 
 
 able to ride it, over the water to her house, and fra her house back 
 againe to the milne, when there was no bridge neither of stone 
 nor timber over the water, unwet. Item, she destroyed the cattle 
 of William Meslet, in great suddainty, and that by taking off her 
 curch at the barne-door, and running about thrice within the barne 
 widdershins. Item, she resett Christian Grinton, a witch, in her 
 house, whom the pannel's husband saw one night to come out at 
 ane hole in the roof, in the likeness of a cat, and theirafter trans- 
 form herself in her own likeness ; whereupon the pannel told her 
 husband, that it should not faire weill with him, which fell out 
 accordingly ; for next day he fell down dead at the pleuch, and 
 was brought hame by the pannel in William Meslet's chair. Item, 
 she took a sickness off her husband, and laid it on his brother's son, 
 who came to the barne, and saw the firlott running about, and the 
 stuff popling on the floor ; and he ran upon the pannel with a sword 
 to kill her for bewitching him, and strak the lintell of the door in 
 following ; the mark whereof is to be seen yet, and that he died 
 thereof. Item, her apparition was seen in John Bryson's stable, 
 under night, riding on ane meir, seen by David Nisbet, servand ; 
 and since, by her sorcerie, the meir cast her foal, and died. Item, 
 for thir forty years, for curing of hir bestiall, she has been in use 
 to take a quick ox, with a cat, and a great quantity of salt, and to 
 burie the ox and cat quick with the salt, in a deep hole, as a sacri- 
 fice to the devil." " The truth of this article," observes the abridger 
 of the Criminal Record, " was, that their bestiall being diseased of 
 the routting evil, the pannel's husband was going to the Laird of 
 Lee to borrow his curing-stane ; whereupon their servant, James 
 Nisbet, told them that he had seen bestiall cured by taking a quick 
 ox, and burying him in a pitt, and by calling the rest of the besti- 
 all over that place ; whereupon they practised it once or twice, and 
 were not the better ; on which they went to the said Laird of Lee's. 
 The ladie refused the stone, but gave flaggons of water wherein it 
 was steiped, which giving the bestiall to drink, in their apprehen- 
 sion it cured them. And for using the foresaid remedy, her hus- 
 band, (but never the pannel,) was ordained by the Presbytery of 
 Dunbar to make satisfaction for the scandalous fact, and to divest 
 others theirfra. It is the ordinar practice of husbandmen of the
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES, &c. 275 
 
 best sort, who were never suspect nor dilated of witchcraft, in many 
 parts of the kingdom." See Sharpes Pref. to Laiv's Memorialls. 
 
 " Mr Laurence Macgill and Mr David Primrose appeared as 
 counsel for the prisoner. They pleaded, that the mill might have 
 stopped, the boat catched no fish, and the man not prospered in 
 the world, from natural causes, &c. ; but the counsel for the prose- 
 cution replied, that these defences ought to be repelled, and no 
 proof allowed of them, because contrary to the libel. The prisoner 
 in her defences contradicted what was charged by the public pro- 
 secutor in the indictment. Her defences were, therefore, over- 
 ruled, and she was convicted, strangled, and burnt !" See Arnot's 
 Crim. Trials, p. 396. 
 
 I must now introduce a different personage into this unsanctified 
 company, who appeared in our horizon about 1653. When Crom- 
 well's " iron brigade of disciplined independents" passed through 
 Dunbar, conquering and to conquer, a prophetess appeared in the 
 person of Hannah Trapnall, as we learn from the following docu- 
 ment : 
 
 " Jan. 16. A Brevate qfHanndti, whom some call a Prophetess, 
 in Whitehall. 
 
 " There is one Hannah, a maid that lives at Hackney, near the 
 city of London, the same that was formerly at Dunbar, a member 
 of Mr John Simpson's church (as is said) who li ves at one Mr 
 Robert's, an ordinary in Whitehall, to whom many hundreds do 
 daily come to see and hear, who hath now been there about a fort- 
 night. Those that look to her, and use to be with her, say she 
 neither eateth nor drinketh, save only sometimes a toast and drink, 
 and that she is in a trance, and some say that which she doth is 
 by a mighty inspiration, others say they suppose her to be of a 
 troubled mind, and people flocking to her so as they do causeth her 
 to continue this way, and some say worse, as every one gives their 
 opinions as they please, but this is visible to those that see and hear 
 her. Her custom is to pray sometimes an hour, and sometimes two 
 hours, and then sings two hymns, in two several tunes, and then 
 prays again, &c. Her matter is various, full of variety, for the 
 Lord Protector, that God would keep him close to himself, as he 
 hath hitherto, so still to have his heart set upon the things of the
 
 276 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, 
 
 Lord, not to be vain, nor regard earthly pomp and pleasure, and 
 things below, but the things of God and his people; that he may 
 be delivered from carnal councils, and being seduced to please the 
 men of the world, and those that seek unrighteousness ; that he 
 may not leave the council of the godly, to hearken to them who 
 are worldly wise, and earthly politicians, but wise in the wisdom 
 of God." 
 
 " Hannah, the maid that prayed at Whitehall, of whom you 
 have the particulars before, this day (Jan. 16.) rose and went from 
 Whitehall home, speedily and lustily." See Several Pro. in State 
 Affairs in Cromwelliana. 
 
 About this time a warlock drove a lucrative trade, called Sandie 
 Hunter (alias Hamilton,) whom it is said the devil nicknamed 
 Hattaraick. He was originally a knolt herd in East Lothian, and 
 was famous for curing diseases both in man and in beast, by words 
 and charms. Wherever Hattaraick went, none durst refuse him 
 an alms. One day he came to the gate of Samuelston, when some 
 friends after dinner were taking to horse. A young gentleman, 
 brother to the lady, switched him about the ears, saying, " You 
 warlock carle, what have you to do here ?" whereupon the fellow 
 went away grumbling, and was heard to say, " You dear buy this 
 ere it be long." After supper the gentleman took horse and de- 
 parted, and crossing Tyne water to go home, he passed through a 
 shaddy piece of a haugh called the Allers. What he saw there he 
 would never reveal ; but next day he was in a high state of deli- 
 rium, and had to be bound. The Lady Samuelston hearing of this 
 said, " Surely the knave Hattaraick is the cause of this trouble ; 
 call for him in all haste." When the warlock came, " Sandie," 
 says she, " What is this you have done to my brother William?" 
 - " I told him," replied he, " I should make him repent his 
 striking of me at the yait lately." She giving the rogue fair words, 
 and promising him his sack full of meal, with beef and cheese, per- 
 suaded the fellow to cure him, which was speedily effected. When 
 Hattaraick came to receive his wages, he told the lady her brother 
 would shortly leave the country never to return ; upon which, she 
 caused him make a disposition of his property to the defrauding of 
 his brother George. After the warlock had pursued his lucrative
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES, &c. 277 
 
 calling for some time, he was apprehended at Dunbar, taken to 
 Edinburgh, and burnt on the Castlehill. Satan's Invisible World. 
 Sinclair, from whom the substance of the above is copied, says, 
 that he had the information from the gentleman's brother. 
 
 The lands of Samuelston were so much infested by the " weird 
 sisters" in 1661, that John, Earl of Haddington, to appease his 
 tenants, was under the necessity of presenting a petition to his 
 majesty's commissioner for the purpose of getting them tried by 
 a court of judicature. The following extract from this commission 
 shews, that the arts of darkness continued to be practised by nu- 
 merous bodies, to the no small terror of the lieges : 
 
 Edr. 3d Apryll, 1661. 
 
 COMMISSION FOR JUDGEING OF WITCHES, &c. IN 
 SAMUELSTON. 
 
 To the Right Hon. His Maties Commissioner, his Grace, and the 
 Lordis, and Others of the Parliament appoyntitfor the Articles. 
 The humble petitioun of JOHNE EARL of HADINTOUN, 
 
 SHEWETH, That upon severall malefices committit of late with- 
 in and about my landis of Samuelstoune, thair being severall per- 
 sones suspect of the abominable sin of witchcraft, apprehendit and 
 searched, the markes of witches wer found on thame in the ordi- 
 narie way. Severallis of thame haif made confessioun, and half 
 dilatit sundrie others within the saidis boundes, and haif acknow- 
 ledged pactioun with the devile. Thair names are these, Elspet 
 Tailyeor in Samuelstoune, Margaret Bartilman, Mareoun Quheitt, 
 Jonet Carfrae. These haif maid confessioun alreadie. Otheris 
 they haif dilatit as partakeris of the same cryme with thame, viz.. 
 Christiane Deanes, Agnes Williamsone. Thes are dilatit be the 
 former, and the markes ar found on thame, quha ar lykwayes ap- 
 prehendit, otheris ar lykwayes dilatit by thame, namelie, Helene 
 Deanes, George Milnetowne, Patrik Cathie, Anna Pilmure, Eli- 
 zabeth Sinclair, Margaret Baptie, Jonet Maissone, and Margaret 
 Avgyile, Elspeth Crawfurd. Thes ar dilatit be the former con-
 
 278 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, 
 
 fessing, hot ar not as yet apprehendit nor searched. And trew it 
 is, that throw the frequencie of the said sin of witchcraft, in the 
 saidis boundes, my haill tenentes there threatnes to leave my 
 ground without justice be done on thes persones. And becaus 
 the lawes ar now silent, this sin becomes day lie more frequent. 
 Also, thair (ar) two otheris persones apprehendit for thift in the 
 foresaide boundes, quhom I haif intertained in prisone, within the 
 tolbuith of Hadingtoun, upon my awin chairges thes ten weikis 
 bygane ; and other two ar apprehendit for robberie committit be 
 thame within my boundes and landes of Byres thes twentie weikes 
 bygane, within the tolbuith of Edinburgh, upon my own chairges." 
 
 The Lord Commissioner and Lords of the Articles, after hear- 
 ing the petition, granted a commission for putting to death such 
 of the above persons as were found guilty of witchcraft by con- 
 fession, and for trying the others, which, if we may credit tradi- 
 tion, was put into execution. The field in Samuelston where they 
 were burnt was called the Birlie Knowe, and was situated on the 
 south side of the village, between the Tyne and the mill-dam, 
 where, within these few years (it being now ploughed up,) kim- 
 mers bleached their linens clean, and found it a very useful spot, 
 unhallowed as it was. 
 
 A few years had only elapsed, when, to appease the ravings of 
 superstition, another race of ill-fated women were doomed to the 
 faggots. In 1677, Elizabeth Moodie, a poor hypochondriac ser- 
 vant-woman, in Haddington, was imprisoned as a witch, and 
 (as usual) made confessions, and accused others. The account of 
 her imprisonment is mentioned in the council records of the 
 burgh. 20th April, J677. " The whilk day, John Sleich, 
 younr. being commissionat to consult with my , Lord Advocat 
 anent Elizabeth Moodie, imprisoned as a witch, judged it conve- 
 nient that the prisoner should confess before a fenced court, and 
 to subscribe before two notars and four witnesses, whilk accordr 
 ingly is done, and she having delated oyrs, the councill ordaines 
 them to be apprehended and (examined,) and refers the way there- 
 of to the magistrates. 
 
 " The counsell appoints John Sleich, younr. to be their com- 
 missioner to go to Edinburgh with the confessions and delations of
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES, &c. 279 
 
 the witches, and obtain from the secret councill commissions for 
 trial and assisse. 
 
 The concluding part of these barbarous proceedings are detailed 
 in Lord Fountainhilf s MS. " There is one Margaret Kirkwood, 
 " (says he) in Haddington, that hangs hirselfe ; some say she was 
 " so strangled by the devill and witches. The same happened on 
 " a Sunday, in the afternoon : shee hes a serving woman in the 
 " church, called Elizabeth Moodie, who makes some disturbance 
 " and noise during the sermon, and numbers till shee reach fifty- 
 " nine, which was her mistresse's age, and then cryes, the turne 
 " was done, which was found to be the very instant in which her 
 " mistresse was making away hirselfe ; upon this being appre- 
 " hended and examined, shee denied till shee was searched and 
 " pricked ; and after the alledged marques were found upon hir, 
 " shee confessed hirself to be a witch, (shee was burnt for it in the 
 " beginning of June, 1677 !) and the particular circumstances of 
 " it, as I heard her acknowledge them. The said Margaret Kirk- 
 " wood, who hanged herselfe, being wealthie, there were severalls 
 " who put in for the gift of her escheat, amongs others the toune 
 " of Hadington," &c. Lord Fountainhall' s MS. In Satan's In- 
 visible World there is a further account of Elizabeth Moodie, 
 agreeing in most particulars with the preceding. 
 
 The year following, (Sept. 1678) eight or ten miserable-looking 
 women were brought before the criminal court from Sir Robert 
 Hepburn of Keith's lands, and from the parishes of Ormiston, 
 Crichton, and Pencaitland. They were accused by two witches 
 who had suffered at Salt-Preston in the month of May. These 
 miscreants (probably with a view to avoid exquisite torture) 
 " were ready to file, by their delation, sundry gentlewomen and 
 " others of fashion ; but the justices discharged them, thinking it 
 " either the product of malice or melancholy, or the devil's de- 
 " ception, in representing such persons as present at their field- 
 " meetings, who truly were not there." Fountainhall' s Decisions, 
 vol. i. p. 15. They also affirmed that Mr Gideon Penman, curate 
 of Crighton, was present at their unhallowed meetings. KIRK- 
 TON, in his secret and true History of the Church of Scotland, p. 
 190, gravely says, " Mr Giden Penman, curat at Creighton, was 
 " well known to be a witch ; divers eye-witnesses deponed they
 
 280 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, 
 
 " had many times seen him at the witches' meetings, and that the 
 " devil called him ordinarily, Penman, my chaplane. Also upon 
 " a time, when Satan administered communion to his congrega- 
 " tion, Penman sat next his elbow; and that when their deacon 
 " had served the table with wafers in the popish fashion, when 
 " their remained two wafers more than served the company, the 
 " deacon laid down his two wafers before the devil, which two the 
 " devil gave to Penman, and bid him goe carrie these to the pa- 
 " pists in Winton." Penman narrowly escaped punishment, and 
 lost his kirk. 
 
 " Sept. llth, 1678. Catharine Liddel exhibited a complaint 
 " against one Rutherford, baron bailie to M orison of Preston- 
 " grange, and against David Cowan in Tranent, bearing that they 
 " had seized upon her an innocent woman, and had defamed her 
 " as a witch, and detained her under restraint as a prisoner ; and 
 " that the said Cowan had pricked her with long pins in sundry 
 " places of her body, and bled her and tortured her most cruelly. 
 " The defences were, that she was delated by other witches, and 
 " was therefore apprehended ; that she was kindly used and kept 
 " in a private house ; that she and her son-in-law consented that 
 " she might be searched for the vindication of her innocence, &c. ; 
 " that the pricker learned his trade from Kincaid, a famed pricker ; 
 " 2d, That he never came unsent for, because he was either called 
 " by sheriffs, magistrates of burghs, ministers, or bailies of ba- 
 " ronies ; 3d, The trade was not improbat or condemned by any 
 " law ; 4th, All divines or lawyers who write on witchcraft, as 
 " Perkins, Delrio, &c. acknowledge there are such marks, called 
 " by them stigma sagarum. In the defence it was urged, that 
 " consent was denied; that the pricker was a cheat, who abused 
 " the people for gain ; and the Chancellor remembered that he had 
 " incarcerated Kincaid the pricker at Kinross, for abusing the 
 " country there. The Lords of Privy Council declared the wo- 
 " man innocent, and ordained it to be publicly intimated in her 
 " parish church the Sunday following. They reproved Ruther- 
 " ford, the baron-bailie, for his rashness, and ordered the pricker 
 " to prison to remain during their pleasure. Prohibited in future 
 " any inferior judge or baron-bailie from incarcerating the lieges 
 " on suspicion of witchcraft, without a warrant from Lords of
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE WITCHES, &c. 281 
 
 " Privy Council or Justiciary ; as also found they might not use 
 " any torture by pricking, as by withholding them from sleep, &c. 
 " but reserved all that to themselves and the justices, and those 
 " who acted by their commission." See Fountainhall's Decis. 
 vol. i. p. 16. 
 
 A more salutary decree could not have been issued by the Privy 
 Council. It appears from the deposition, that Kincaid had abused the 
 innocent for gain, under the sanction of the clergy and magistracy; 
 and here, though we, must make allowance for prejudice and igno- 
 rance, yet he imposed on the candid Fountainhall himself, as we 
 have seen in the trial of Elizabeth Moodie. 
 
 In 1698 we find the following notice in the session records of 
 Spott. " The session, after a long examination of witnesses, refer 
 " the case of Marion Lillie, for imprecations and supposed witch- 
 " craft to the presbytery, who refer her for trial to the civil magis- 
 " trate. Said Marion, generally called the Rigwoody Witch ;" 
 and, in 1705, we learn from the same register, that many witches 
 were burnt on the top of Spott Loan, which was probably the last 
 execution for this imputed crime in East Lothian. 
 
 In a MS. volume of sermons, preached in the parish of Stenton, 
 at a communion in 1 702, during the incumbency of the Rev. Mr 
 Stark, the following passage occurs in debarring unworthy com- 
 municants: " I debar all witches and warlocks ; all who have re- 
 " nounced their baptism, and w r ho are in compact or contract with 
 " the devil." 
 
 The very name of witch was now regarded with so much abhor- 
 rence and dread, that Dec. 21st, 1707, Margaret Rankine was cited 
 before the kirk-session of Pencaitland, merely for calling Margaret 
 Nicolson witch ! This Rankine stoutly denied ; but as she had 
 been frequently before the same tribunal for other offences, she 
 was considered a person incapable of church discipline, and re- 
 mitted to the civil magistrate, with a request, that " the minister 
 " and elders of Winton may inform Bailie Smith, the Earl of 
 " Win ton's bailie, thereof, that he may take a course with her." 
 Sess. Rec. Pencait. 
 
 I may close these remarks with an anecdote of Helen Sharpe, 
 who lived in Haddington about fifty years ago. My informant, 
 when a girl at the school, remembers the terror she spread among
 
 282 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, 
 
 old and young. Helen was seen stalking about, decked in her 
 linsey-wolsey gown, checked worsted apron, blue hood and cloak, 
 with her crooked headed staff. One dark winter night the mid- 
 wife was sent for to one of the wives of Clerkington. After vault- 
 ing with howdie suppleness behind Ralph at the Custom-stone, 
 she knew not where she was, till she and her companion stood at 
 the miller's door. It appeared as if they had been whirled rapidly 
 through the air in a wonderful manner. Helen's next exploit was 
 bewitching Provost Dudgeon's kye, in consequence of having been 
 refused sour milk by his lady. Next morning not a drop of milk 
 would come from the witch-struck udders. In future they took 
 care to be more bountiful. When Helen died, several candles 
 were found in her chest, supposed to be kept for midnight meet- 
 ings, and no hallowed purpose. 
 
 The ages are happily now passed, when a convent of pretty nuns 
 run the risk of being metamorphosed into a bevy of squirrels ; and 
 perhaps the finest apology for witchcraft on record, and that which 
 is most applicable to modern times, is that of Furius Crcsinus, 
 who, when accused of magic, because he had better crops of corn 
 than his neighbours, brought before them for his defence his heavy 
 ploughs and spades, and sun-burnt daughters, and said, These 
 were the charms that he made use of! Pliny's Nat. Hist. 
 
 Nearly allied to witchcraft is the theory of ghosts and appari- 
 tions. There are few who have not read " The Wonderful and 
 True Account of the Laird of Cool's Ghost," which appeared to 
 Mr Ogilvie, minister of Innerwick, about a hundred years ago. 
 Mr Maxwell, the laird of Cool, had been a very wicked man ; and 
 as he could not get rest in his grave, till some reparation was made 
 to those whom he had wronged upon earth, sundry conversations 
 took place between his apparition and Mr Ogilvie, near Brandslee, 
 for this very proper purpose. The ghost came commonly mounted 
 on horseback, which horse, gentle reader, was the redoubtable 
 Andrew Johnston, one of his tenants, who had departed this life 
 forty-eight hours before his master ! The conversations that 
 took place, which are mixed up with more arguments than these 
 spiritual visitants are commonly understood to use, were found 
 amongst Mr Ogilvie's papers after his decease, and were too valua- 
 ble to be withheld from the world. We can scarcely conceive
 
 ACCOUNT OF AN APPARITION, &c. 283 
 
 that they were dictated by malice, but rather that they were flesh 
 and blood confessions and opinions, thrown into a ghostly form. 
 
 The next and last story of this kind which I shall intrude upon 
 the reader, is one which I picked up when in search of matter of 
 a different nature ; and which, but for its remarkable termination, 
 might be easily explained away. 
 
 %. Cale of (Sarleton. 
 
 Rather more than fifty years ago, an old maiden lady, * of good 
 family, was the tenant of one of the now decayed wings of the 
 mansion-house of Garleton. She is described as a tall thin figure, 
 who wore a black silk cloak and bonnet, and walked with a large 
 cane, ornamented with a gold chain and tassel. She had also a 
 great deal of eccentricity in her conduct ; for she often walked at 
 dead of night and early dawn, till she was so wetted by the dews 
 and the long dank grass, that, on her return home, she had to 
 shift her clothes or go to bed. Add to this, that she had the mis- 
 fortune to be a papist, and was very ostensible in her devotions ; 
 so that we need not wonder that she was regarded by the supersti- 
 tious of the neighbourhood with no small degree of terror and 
 aversion. 
 
 Having sauntered out one morning till near sunrise, she sat 
 down on the Craggy Hill, when " an odd-looking man," as she 
 termed him, approached her. She waved her cane to keep off the 
 intruder, who, after muttering something, went away. The lady 
 immediately returned home ; but, during the day, could not banish 
 the unwelcome visitor from her thoughts. At night, after lock- 
 ing the outer door, and placing the key below her pillow, she went 
 to bed, as usual, at a late hour. In vain she endeavoured to com- 
 pose herself to sleep, and to dissipate the troublous thoughts that 
 rose in her mind ; at length she heard the outer door open, and a 
 heavy foot come tramping up the creaking stairs ; something open- 
 ed the door, and entered the room adjoining to her bed-closet; the 
 door of the latter next opened, and she again beheld the unwel- 
 come visitor the spectre of the morning. 
 
 She was only able to articulate, " Who comes there ?" when 
 
 Miss Janet Hepburn, sister to Colonel Hepburn of Luffncss and Congalton.
 
 NOTES TO THE LOST DRAVE, &c. 
 
 the stranger replied, " This is my native place, and I have a long 
 history to tell you .'" The lady, thinking the intruder was a rob- 
 ber, pointed to a small box containing her keys, and bade him 
 take what he wanted, and begone. The mysterious personage 
 still wished to speak ; but as she waved her hand, and inclined 
 not to listen, he disappeared. As he retired, she again heard the 
 heavy foot tramping down the creaking stairs, till the slashing of 
 the outer door announced his exit. 
 
 Although the lady passed a sleepless night, she was unwilling 
 to disturb the inmates of her house, which consisted only of a 
 maiden lady and a domestic. Next morning, when the servant 
 came for the key of the outer door, she told her what had hap- 
 pened, and that she imagined robbers had been in the house. 
 The maid had also the imperfect recollection of some noise ; but 
 it was like the noise of a dream. At her lady's desire she imme- 
 diately went to the press where the family plate was deposited, but 
 found it unmolested; the silver wine-cup stood on the mantle- 
 piece, below the crucifix, untouched, and the outer door remained 
 fast : in short, every thing stood in its place, as on the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 It was the impression of the less superstitious part of the neigh- 
 bourhood, that the old maiden lady was superannuated, and that 
 the ghastly visitant was the creature of a dream. Be this as it 
 may, on that very day twelvemonth, the Lady of Garlcton was 
 seized with a convulsive fit in the evening, and expired about the 
 same hour at midnight that she hud had an interview with the 
 unwelcome visitor. I have only to add, that the person from 
 whom I had the preceding story is of unquestionable veracity ; 
 and that she had often heard it from the lady's own lips. 
 
 The ruins of the mansion-house stand at the foot of Garleton 
 hills, a fine miniature specimen of Highland scenery. Amidst 
 scenes like these, the author of Douglas poured forth his immortal 
 strains to the midnight air. Upon a sequestered dell, nearly op- 
 posite Kilduff, called Ravensdale, or, more familiarly, Watty's 
 Howe, Mr Home pursued his declamatory studies, to the no small 
 terror of the benighted traveller, who hence conjectured that the 
 place was haunted.
 
 THE 
 
 VICAR OF GOLYN, 
 
 Oif evir my fortune wes to be a freir, 
 The dait thereof is past full mony a yeir ; 
 For into every lusty toun and place, 
 Off all Yngland, from Berwick to Calice, 
 I haif into thy habeit maid gud cheir. 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR.
 
 TH ruins of the ancient church of Golyn (now called Gullane) still 
 remain, which served that place and Dirleton till 1C12, when the church 
 was translated to the latter parish, of which Gullane now forms a part. 
 The last Vicar of Golyn is said to have been deposed by King James VI. 
 for the high crime of smoking tobacco a weed which his majesty deem- 
 ed only fit for diabolical fumigations. See Grate's Scot*. Ant. vol. i. p. 
 71, where there is a fine view of the chitrch.
 
 THE 
 
 VICAR OF GOLYN. 
 
 IN James's pedant reign, so famed for schooling, 
 There dwelt a Vicar at the church of Golyn ; 
 
 In friar's weed, like Will Dunbar, he'd preach'd ; 
 
 In friar's weed the ladies he had fleech'd, 
 For he was fond of amatory fooling. 
 
 At golf, or archery, or football match, 
 Like Indian juggler, he the game would catch ; 
 At cards, or dice, or chess, he had no equal, 
 With other items, noted in the sequel 
 A motley priest as e'er the church did hatch. 
 
 His cheeks were reddish brown, like coloured brandy ; 
 
 His neck look'd stiff and starch'd, like modern dandy ; 
 His belly round and full : this oily glutton 
 Would gobble at one meal a leg of mutton 
 
 A man that's overfed is most unhandy !
 
 288 THE VICAR OF GOLYN. 
 
 His lips were parch'd with an eternal drouth ; 
 
 His lusty tongue was larger than his mouth ; 
 So, when he minced tobacco's scented quid, 
 The noxious slaver down his bosom slid : 
 
 He was a man in figure most uncouth ! 
 
 To crown his face he had a bottle nose, 
 Which with his chin was like to come to blows, 
 They look'd as if they'd eat up one another : 
 His eye was round and red unlike its brother ; 
 His face shaped as full moon we may suppose. 
 
 His knees against each other idly knockit, 
 As if they long'd to burst their clumsy socket ; 
 Beneath his heavy carcass, worn and spent, 
 His shins were like twin cross-bows when they're bent ; 
 His arms were like a hat when it is cocked. 
 
 Now I've described his person ; for his mind 
 
 It show'd the very dregs of humankind ; 
 
 Debauch'd with endless round of fraud and folly, 
 His private hours were spent in haunts unholy, 
 
 His parallel on earth I scarce may find. 
 
 6
 
 THE VICAR OF GOLYN. 
 
 His lying tongue was veil'd in eloquence, 
 Which preach'd up sophistry for common sense ; 
 
 His smile satanic mask'd a wicked heart ; 
 
 His manners shew'd the polished man of art, 
 That wins too often the world's recompense. 
 
 His name became a by-word, disrespected 
 
 His flock by Satan worried, were neglected ! 
 
 He was, indeed, a very sinful Vicar, 
 
 Who bartered holy water for his liquor ; 
 
 Yet he look'd merry aye, and ne'er dejected. 
 
 At Beltane-time he made the riggings ring, 
 And songs profane for holy lilts would sing ; 
 At Lenten-time a perfect Epicurean, 
 In secret capons with his fish devouring ; 
 While his liege paramour did aqua bring. 
 
 Indeed, so many ways he tortured fish, 
 Each Lent supplied him with a favourite dish ; 
 On Fridays he had pickled salmon ready, 
 And mack'rel from the wives of Aberlady 
 Our Vicar never went about the bush.
 
 290 THE VICAR OF GOLYN. 
 
 And much he loved to guzzle precious wine, 
 That once had blush'd in vineyards on the Rhine ; 
 
 Fresh fragrant claret too from joyous France ; 
 
 That which he prized was Angiers and Orlance 
 Liquor on which the gods of Greece might dine. 
 
 How the lean curate crouch'd to his command, 
 
 When like the bust of famine he would stand ! 
 
 With tatter'd gown, and under-raiment rent, 
 
 Thin jaws, that pictured an eternal Lent, 
 
 Stretching, to catch a crumb, his skinny hand. 
 
 The Vicar too, of tithes and cattle greedy, 
 Would fix his ugly talons in the needy ; 
 
 When the poor cottar sought his humble grave, 
 His fattest cow, for prayers, the priest must have, 
 While of her raploch gray he robb'd the widow. 
 
 Ash Wednesday has seen the Vicar meet 
 With drouthy cummers to Malvasie treat, 
 
 Where he would sit carousing till the Monday, 
 Then go to preach, thinking the day was Sunday, 
 When he could scarcely stand upon his feet.
 
 THE VICAR OF GOLYN. 291 
 
 He pitter-patter'd o'er his rusty rosary, 
 To know his creed one must have had a glossary ; 
 He mumbled things divine with so much bawling, 
 His hearers liken'd it to caterwauling 
 He was a man unworthy shoes or hosiery ! 
 
 Yet he was deeply read in Aristotle, 
 And might have soax'd, but. for the aqua bottle ; 
 He knew Jerome, Ambrose, and Augustine, 
 Benedict, Bernard, Clement, Cleit, and Lyne ;* 
 But, then, he went too often to the hoteL 
 
 He'd studied history, barbarous and civil ; 
 
 He knew when stars denoted good or evil ; 
 Versed in alchymy, he went plodding on, 
 Yet never lit on the philosopher's stone, 
 
 While some surmised he'd dealings with the devil. 
 
 I've said, for sports athletic he was keen, 
 
 Footing the mazy ball on Golyn-green ; 
 At weapon-shaws a regular looker-on, 
 But ere the broil began, our priest was gone 
 
 To join the gallant's mask at Christmas e'en. 
 
 * Sir David Lindsay's Papingo.
 
 292 THE VICAR OF GOLYN. 
 
 A man that's light of head is light of heel, 
 Our Vicar loved to join the Beltane reel, 
 
 Where he would skipper in the Dirry-duntoun, 
 And hop about just like a pillar wanton ; 
 Threading his body spiral as an eel. 
 
 He loved, like Will Dunbar, the courtly dance, 
 Where Mistress Musgrave's smiles did all enhance, 
 Shading with garlands gay her yellow hair : 
 Her kirtle red, with belt and brooch so fair ; 
 For such a lady, who'd not break a lance ? 
 
 When age the giddy heat of youth is cooling, 
 'Tis time our wayward passions to be ruling ; 
 
 So thinks the major part of humankind ; 
 
 But to his failings ever darkly blind 
 Remam'd the Vicar of the church of Golyn. 
 
 He hated merchants hated tailors trim ; 
 He hated souters, baxters, fleshers grim ; 
 
 He hated brewers but not tavern-keepers ; 
 
 He hated all his hearers but the sleepers; 
 And so he might, because they hated him !
 
 THE VICAR OF GOLYN. 293 
 
 In Mary's reign he turned Episcopalian, 
 Changing his church and creed to serve his calling ; 
 
 Like weathercock, that waver'd with the wind, 
 
 To all but pettifogging interest blind, 
 He sneak'd wherever fortune's rays were falling. 
 
 Then came that vice of great abomination, 
 
 As ever visited a sinful nation ; 
 
 Which set our prince's pendant pen a-railing : 
 Our Vicar, most unlucky, caught the failing, 
 
 And to the devil smoked his congregation. 
 
 Our Vicar having learn'd this art of smoking j 
 Which (as I've said) the parish set a choking. 
 The king, still mindful of his people's weal, 
 Wrote Tracts against Tobacco and the De'il ! 
 Swearing the vice was sinful and provoking. 
 
 Then swore the monarch, " This same fumigation 
 " Will, doubtless, bring a curse upon the nation ; 
 
 " I'll send for Tycho Brahe from Copenhagen ; 
 
 " I'll send my smoking clergy to the begging 
 " Those tickle-snouts must mind their flock's salvation!"
 
 294 THE VICAR OF GOLYN. 
 
 O ye who love to feed your nasal ducts ! 
 
 Chewing tobacco till your stomach pukes, 
 I beg you'll take a lesson from the Vicar, 
 Behind the door you'd better bend the bicker ! 
 
 What think you of this case, my pretty bucks ? 
 
 For now-a-days there's not a little dandy, 
 
 But wears a box so fanciful and handy, 
 Brimful of Maccaba or Princes Mixture, 
 Tickling his lady, when he's sitting next her ; 
 
 And then his bridge-like organ looks so sandy. 
 
 Ye fools ! when Christmas brings the huge sirloin, 
 And tables groan ere knives in carnage join, 
 Ye do not feel that kitchen-scented flavour, 
 That makes the impatient mouthful sweeter savour- 
 O fy ! that for such plant you sport your coin ! 
 
 Digressions we must- leave, and seek the Vicar, 
 
 Who's seated snugly o'er his favourite liquor ; 
 
 For once his Holiness has studied deep, 
 
 For o'er the Litany he's gone to sleep, 
 
 With reverence, I do think he's getting sicker.
 
 THE VICAR OF OOLYN. 295 
 
 Our hero now, in secret, fed his nose, 
 
 An ounce of snuff he gobbled at a dose, 
 Till tired, his evil genius took to smoking, 
 And set the neighbourhood again a-choking, 
 
 Who forthwith sallied like a host of foes. 
 
 This deed his frousy neighbours wish'd to hush up, 
 But for a saint who wish'd to nibble fish up, 
 Yclept in prose, assistant and successor, 
 A brainless fellow, but a great professor, 
 Who went post-speed, and told it to the bishop. 
 
 The bishop told the king to curry grace, 
 Which pleased so well his heaven-anointed face, 
 He gave a puff as fierce as the sirrocco, 
 Issued his Counterblast against Tobacco ; 
 And called the Vicar up with little space. 
 
 " Item, our pleasure is, on heavy grounds 
 " To purge the church of fumigating hounds ; 
 " Therefore, that this said Vicar may not fool us, 
 " In other words, with quirks and quibbling gull us, 
 " We banish him beyond our church's bounds.""
 
 296 THE VICAR OF GOLYN. 
 
 The Vicar heard his sentence, and was wroth. 
 
 He did not value much the Lutheran cloth ; 
 But, O ! to leave the Links and football match, 
 The Golyn cummer's glee, and merry catch ; 
 
 At leaving these he tarried, and was loth. 
 
 Raising his voice to an obstreperous pitch, 
 
 " Go tell !" cried he, " that ugly Lutheran bitch ! 
 
 " That I will snuff while I have got a nose ; 
 
 " That I will smoke while my stout windpipe blows; 
 " And when I fail, go brand me for a witch !" 
 
 The Vicar took a trip beyond the sea, 
 
 To Calais first, and next to Italie ; 
 Again became a servant to the Pope, 
 Yet never gain'd preferment's dizzy top, 
 
 But died, despised, among the Lazzaroni. 
 
 ""Twas said a shape unearthly oft was seen, 
 Playing at football match on Golyn green ; 
 'Twas said, at dead of night, on Golyn steeple, 
 The Vicar smoked, and hallo'd to the people ; 
 Such sights were strange but yet such sights have been.
 
 THE 
 
 GUDEWIFE OF TULLOSHILL, 
 
 LORD OF LAUDERDALE. 
 
 " Every bannock had its maik, but the bannock o' Tulloshill." 
 
 Old Proverb.
 
 THIS ballad is founded on a traditional story, which I have ga- 
 thered from different sources, and put into a connected form. The 
 hero was John the second Earl, and afterwards Duke of Lauder- 
 dale, a nobleman as famous for his loyalty to the wavering in- 
 terests of Charles II. during the sway of the " immortal rebel," 
 Cromwell, as he was afterwards notorious for his political power 
 and rapacity. The heroine was Margaret Lylestone, wife to Thomas 
 Hardie, tenant in Tulloshill. There were anciently three farms 
 of Tullos in Lammermoor, and from her abode, by way of dis- 
 tinction, she was called Midside Maggy. The adventure noticed 
 in the following Ballad, must have occurred after the battle of 
 Worcester, in 1651, where the Duke of Lauderdale was taken 
 prisoner, and suffered a confinement in the Tower for nine years, 
 till liberated by General Monk in 1660; when repairing to the 
 Hague, he returned with the king at the Restoration.
 
 THE 
 
 GUDEWIFE OF TULLOSHILL, 
 
 LORD OF LAUDERDALE. 
 
 THERE dwelt in pastoral Tulloshill, 
 Where waves the mountain broom, 
 
 A fair gudewife, and a leal auld man, 
 As ye*d found in land wart toun. 
 
 Her cheeks were dyed wi' health's bright glow, 
 
 That spake in her eyes o' blue ; 
 And wantonly the dimpling smile 
 
 Play'd round her cherry mou'. 
 
 The rustic swains jeer'd merrily, 
 
 While seated o'er the cann, 
 And wonder'd why so young a dame, 
 
 Had wed so auld a man !
 
 300 THE GUDEWIFE OF TULLOSHILL, AND 
 
 The gudewife went to Lauder Tower, 
 
 And made a loud lament ; 
 And told the Lord of Lauderdale 
 
 She coudna pay her rent. 
 
 Perished the firstlings of their flocks, 
 
 The winters were sae chill, 
 The April snaw lay on the ground 
 
 When it fell at Tulloshill. 
 
 Upspake the Lord of Lauderdale, 
 
 " Gudewife, I grant a boon, 
 " Ye'se sit rent-free at Martinmas 
 
 " If ye bring me snaw in June." 
 
 And he toy'd wi' the gudewife's sunny locks, 
 And chuck'd her under the chin ; 
 
 And compared her skin to the creamy flocks, 
 That o'er the Scenes-law rin. 
 
 " Now haud ye there, Sir Knight," she said, 
 And away like a fawn she ran ; 
 
 But he did nae mair to the merry wife 
 Than became an honest man.
 
 THE LORD OF LAUDERDALE. 301 
 
 She made a ba' of drifted snaw, 
 
 Which she gather'd by Criblaw shiel ; 
 
 And she laid it in a rocky dean, 
 And cover 'd it wi' grey meal. 
 
 And she brought it in the end of June 
 
 To ancient Thirlestane ; 
 And my lord received her graciously 
 
 In his state chamber alane. 
 
 " Now spare your speech, gudewife," he cried, 
 
 " And make no foolish mane ; 
 " For one kiss o 1 your hinny mou 
 
 " Were worth a' Thirlestane." 
 
 " Now, fare thee weel ! Sir Knight," she said, 
 
 (As her Ladyship cam ben,) 
 " Ye'se get the best at Tulloshill, 
 
 " When ye shoot the mountain hen," 
 
 Deep lay the snaw in Lammermoor, 
 
 On mountain height and glen, 
 And cauld, cauld blew the sleety shower 
 
 O'er Greenlaw's mossy fen.
 
 302 THE GUDEWIFE OF TULLOSHILL, AND 
 
 And deep lay the snaw in Leader-haughs, 
 
 And drifted o'er the plain, 
 When at the rack-rent o' the year 
 
 She thought o 1 her Lord again. 
 
 " The spring returns to Whalplaw burn, 
 " The birds to Langhope shaw ; 
 
 " But when will Lauderdale return ? 
 " O, he's been lang aw a ! 
 
 " When Charlie gets his rightftT crown, 
 " Which Cromwell fain wad wear ; 
 
 " When the democratic parliament 
 " To the depths of hell shall stear. 
 
 " Alas ! for the battle of Worcester, 
 " Where Lauderdale was ta'en, 
 
 " And the gallant Duke of Hamilton 
 " Lay dead amang the slain. 
 
 " My silken snood. I'd gladly sell, 
 
 " And crimson kirtle gay, 
 " To ransom him, laid in the Tower 
 
 " For aiding royalty.
 
 303 
 
 " My siller brooch I'd gladly sell, 
 
 " And eke my golden kaim ; 
 " And surely I'd gang daft wi' joy, 
 
 " Were my good lord come hame !" 
 
 Her Culross girdle from the shelf 
 
 She took, sae large and clean ; 
 For eighteen cakes o' the Merse's make 
 
 This girdle held I ween. 
 
 She baked a bannock, large and round, 
 
 Wi' flour frae Carfrae mill ; 
 And there ne'er was a cake but had its niaik, 
 
 Save that o' Tulloshill. 
 
 For aye as she kneaded it o'er and o'er, 
 
 She fill'd it fou o' gold, 
 Then doubled it up like a honeycomb, 
 
 Wi' treasures in its fold. 
 
 She plaited up her yellow hair 
 
 In an artful sunny braid ; 
 Then cover'd her locks wi' the bonnet blue, 
 
 And her bosom wi' the plaid.
 
 304 THE GUDEWIFE OF TULLOSHILL, AND 
 
 She laced her velvet milk-white limbs 
 In the tartan trews sae rough, 
 
 And buried her well-turned ancles in 
 The folds of homespun stuff. 
 
 Thus fashion'd, in a herdsman's dress, 
 She padded her shelty's back ; 
 
 And rode behind her leal auld man 
 When wearied wi' her walk. 
 
 Like drovers from the north countrie, 
 
 They travell'd on together ; 
 And gallop'd away to London town, 
 
 O'er mountain, glen, and heather. 
 
 And as the Borders wide they pass'd, 
 The southron dames wou'd say, 
 
 " Beshrew me ! that's a bonny lad, 
 " Led by his father grey." 
 
 The gudewife came to London town, 
 
 And went into Rag Fair, 
 And drest herself like a beggar- wife, 
 
 Wi' wallets scant and bare.
 
 THE LORD OF LAUDERDALE. 305 
 
 And when she came to London Tower 
 
 She feign'd herself insane, 
 And aye the burden of her song 
 
 Was, " Harry, back again !" 
 
 And, " Carle, now the king has come !" 
 
 She sung wi' Scottish voice ; 
 But when she chanted Leaderhaughs, 
 
 His lordship did rejoice. 
 
 And aye she leugh and aye she lap, 
 
 And foolish words let pass ; 
 While the sentinels stood by and jeer'd 
 
 The silly Scottish lass. 
 
 And they have sworn to take her up, 
 
 And fling her in the moat ; 
 When up came the keeper of the Tower, 
 
 Who made them change their note. 
 
 " Know ye the Lord of Lauderdale ?" 
 
 Said the officer of the Tower ; 
 " O I wad kiss him lug frae lug f 
 
 Quoth she, " within this hour ;
 
 306 THE GUDEWIFE OF TULLOSHILL, AND 
 
 " And garland him with go wans rare, 
 " Frae Mid-side Maggy's bower ; 
 
 " Gif ye wad let a silly lass 
 " Your draw-brig wander o'er." 
 
 They let her pass the castle-gates, 
 Although her looks were wild ; 
 
 For she gambol'd on so harmlessly, 
 Like a lamb or a little child. 
 
 Beneath her ragged arm she bore 
 The bannock doubled o'er 
 
 " Is such your Scottish bread, daft lass ?" 
 Quoth the keeper of the Tower. 
 
 " O sweet is Scotia's aiten-cakes, 
 ' And pure her siller springs ; 
 
 " And the food we cull from Scotia's hills 
 " Might banquet English kings." 
 
 Forth came the EarTs waiting-man, 
 When he heard the gudewife sing ; 
 
 For Leaderhaughs and Cowdenknowes 
 Made his very heart-strings ring.
 
 THE LORD OF LAUDERDALE. 307 
 
 " Go, speed, and your lordly master tell, 
 
 " But take it good or ill, 
 " That Mid-side Maggy greets him here, 
 
 " From broomy Tulloshill." 
 
 She went into Lord Lauderdale, 
 
 Who sat in chains array'd ; 
 But as she pass'd the steel-laced gates, 
 
 She felt her heart dismay'd. 
 
 And she felt a woman's natural fears 
 
 Rush o'er her fainting soul, 
 When she pass'd beneath the Traitor's Gate, 
 
 And heard the lions growl. 
 
 When she pass'd beneath the Traitor's Gate, 
 
 And saw Lord Derby's head, 
 She thought her velvet thighs wad shake 
 
 Away frae the knee-pan lid. 
 
 She sat her down at his lordship's feet, 
 
 And comb'd her yellow hair ; 
 And the gold fell down like diamond heaps 
 
 In shining goupins there.
 
 308 THE GUDEWIFE OF TULLOSHILL, AND 
 
 She took the bannock in her hand, 
 And brake it o'er her knee ; 
 
 And on the floor, in yellow showers, 
 The golden guineas flee. 
 
 " Now take thee these, my worthy lord, 
 
 " 'Tis all I have to gi'e ! 
 " And seek in Holland's princely towers 
 
 " For safety o'er the sea." 
 
 " A friend in need's a friend indeed !" 
 
 He took her by the hand ; 
 " For such a dame as thee, gudewife, 
 
 " I'd part wi' hauf my land .' 
 
 " But fare thee weel ! my bonny dow ! 
 
 " Oh ! fare thee weel a while ; 
 " Ye'se sit rent free till I return 
 
 " To broomy Tulloshill. 
 
 " Frae Leader-side to rocky Esk 
 " The lands ye see are mine, 
 
 " Yet fate decrees, in a foreign land, 
 " That I these fields maun tine."
 
 THE LORD OF LAUDERDALE. 309 
 
 " Now, fare thee wee! ! my generous lord," 
 
 Was all that she could say, 
 " I'll pray for you on my bare, bare knees 
 
 " Till your returning day." 
 
 They durst nae harm Lord Lauderdale, 
 
 Nor they durst nae set him free, 
 Till nine lang years pass'd o'er his head 
 
 In the Tower sae drearilie. 
 
 When Cromwell low in the dust was laid, 
 
 And that parliament in its wane, 
 Which he long had rein'd wi' a master-hand, 
 
 Our lord got free again. 
 
 Away he sail'd o'er the snowy foam, 
 
 To the Prince of Holland's towers, 
 And met his king right gladsomely 
 
 In Hague's canal-lined bowers. 
 
 And aye he blest the leal gudewife 
 
 That won'd at Tulloshill ; 
 For he found her goud of use to him 
 
 When his ain was nae in his will.
 
 310 THE GUDEWIFE OF TULLOSHILL, &c. 
 
 And, O ! but she was a proud gudewife, 
 When she hail'd the king's return ; 
 
 For again she saw Lord Lauderdale 
 Restored to Leader-burn. 
 
 No more like tenant, scant o* cash, 
 
 Rent-time did her dismay ; 
 For she got free lease of Tulloshill 
 
 Her life-lang and a day. 
 
 My lord gi'ed her a silver belt, 
 
 Sprinkled wi" 1 diamonds fine ;* 
 And she walk'd in a star-like galaxy, 
 
 Dug from the Indian mine. 
 
 The muse's finest flights maun fail, 
 
 So drops my downy quill ; 
 For John is Duke of Lauderdale 
 
 Meg Queen of Tulloshill. 
 
 * When on a pilgrimage lately to the scenery of this Ballad, I saw 
 the far-famed silver belt or chain, now in the possession of a respectable 
 farmer in Berwickshire, a maternal descendant of the gudewife. It does 
 not appear, however, to have been a female ornament, but rather the 
 band for girding the sacerdotal robes of a portly bishop. The chain is 
 four feet eight inches long, and capable of being contracted, with a cir- 
 cular plate in the middle, marked with the initials B. C.
 
 YOUNG ARGYLE ; 
 
 OH, 
 
 STANZAS TO LETHINGTON CASTLE. 
 
 Argyle, the state's whole thunder born to wield, 
 And shake alike the senate or the field. POPE. 
 
 Nor less the palm of peace enwreathes thy brow ; 
 
 For, powerful as thy sword, from thy rich tongue 
 
 Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate ; 
 
 While mix'd in thee combine the charm of youth, 
 
 The force of manhood, and the depth of age. THOMSON.
 
 LETHINGTON HOUSE is situated on the south banks of the Tyne, 
 rather more than a mile from Haddington. This fortalice was built by 
 the Giffords, and was purchased from Sir John Gifford by Sir Richard 
 Maitland, about the end of the fourteenth century. It was in this " for- 
 tress, large and lang," in its " arbour, and orchard green," where Lord 
 Lethington, the blind baron, dictated his poetical pieces, after he had re- 
 tired from public business, at an advanced age, to his daughter Mary, 
 the partner of his studies, and herself a writer of verses, who was cele- 
 brated for her " fleing fame," and her " trew virginitie,'' by the " un- 
 knawin makars" of that period. See Pirikerton's Ant. Scot. Poems. 
 In process of time Lethington became the jointure house of the Duchess 
 of Lauderdale, formerly Countess of Dysart. Her daughter, Lady Lom, 
 afterwards Duchess of Argyle, resided here during the time of her father- 
 in-law's forfeiture. It was from a window in the uppermost storey of 
 the house that John, Duke of Argyle, fell when an infant, and escaped 
 unhurt Dr Barclay, Trans. Ant. Scot. I have only to add, on the 
 authority of Sir Walter Scott, that this happened on the very day on 
 which the duke's grandfather was beheaded at Edinburgh.
 
 YOUNG ARGYLE ; 
 
 OR 
 
 STANZAS TO LETHINGTON CASTLE. 
 
 I. 
 
 OLD LETHINGTON ! wert thou by Gifford rear'd 
 With magic art, like Yester's goblin cave,* 
 What time the Night her course to morning steer'd 
 And the owl whoop'd upon the virgin's grave ; 
 Say, did thy master-builder Heaven brave, 
 And with unearthly craftsmen overnight 
 From Garvald's quarry drag, by hook and knave, 
 Those massy battlements ere morning's light 
 To strike the early swain with wonder and affright ? 
 
 * The old tower of Lethington, we have observed, was built by the Gif- 
 fords. Hugh Giffbrd de Yester, who died in 1267, was esteemed a not- 
 able magician, and formed by magic art, a capacious cavern in his castle 
 of Yester, called in the country Bohall, (i. e. Hobgoblin Hall.) Fordun, 
 vol. ii. p. 105. This spacious room, with a vaulted roof, still remains 
 entire.
 
 YOUNG ARGYLE. 
 
 II. 
 
 It matters not to tell but o'er the pines 
 I love to view thy turrets towering grey, 
 Which braved the fiery blast of feudal times, 
 And still unbroke their lofty front display. 
 Though thou hast seen thy lordlings pass away, 
 And castled towers and abbeys fall around, 
 Yet here thy veteran face appears as gay 
 As when the warrior's horn at morn did sound, 
 
 And gallant Lindsay paced thy spacious pleasure- 
 ground.* 
 
 III. 
 
 And, hark ! resounds the clashing din of war, 
 On adamantine walls the arrows play ; 
 Against thy gates, strong laced with iron bar, 
 The battering-ram rolls on in fierce array ; 
 Now high thy famish'd garrison display 
 The skin of beasts, to mock what most they need, 
 While shakes thy tower from vault to turret gray, 
 As on the invader's head the pointed reed 
 
 From cunning crevice pours the boiling molten lead. 
 
 " " On Thursday, in the night, the 13th of March 15?2, was the 
 place of Lethington taken by them of Edinburgh, (some men of Captain 
 Home's having the charge of it ;) but upon the Sunday, early in the 
 morning, before they got provision, the Lord Lindsay took it again.'' 
 Bannatync* s Journal, by Dalycll, p. 333.
 
 YOUNG ARGYLE. 315 
 
 IV. 
 
 How oft by innate strength and stratagem 
 Did Scotia^s ancient fortlets brave the foe, 
 Whether when feudal chiefs chivalrous came, 
 Or civil discord wrapt the land in woe ; 
 Or when the robber's torch at night did glow, 
 And shrieks of murdered men came on the gale, 
 The chiefs of Lethington were never slow, 
 To draw the sword, or brace the glitt'ring mail, 
 And chase the bold outlaw o'er farthest Lauderdale. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then Lauder's forest to the bugle rung, 
 Startling marauders from their mountain prey, 
 As morning rose, deplored by old and young, 
 Where ravaged round the burning farm-yards lay ; 
 These were fierce men, the scourges of their day, 
 Who on the sea of venture did embark, 
 And, as we're told in Maitland's doleful lay, 
 Spared neither house nor stable, church nor ark, 
 And loved the midnight ride, because their deeds were 
 dajk.
 
 316 YOUNG ARGYLE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Lo ! crown'd with laurel, in his oaken chair, 
 I see the ancient knight of Thirlestane, 
 Attended by Maria, chaste and fair, 
 Amanuensis to his tuneful strain, 
 Like Milton's daughter, copying the rich vein 
 Of inspiration, as her father woke 
 The harp : Then humorous Lindsay breathed again, 
 While moral saws, and satire's flashes broke, 
 As erst by Greece's bard in optic darkness spoke. 
 
 VII. 
 
 O Lethington ! thy woodlands are sublime, 
 Where everlasting trees their green arms wave, 
 Like giant-shadows beautified by time, 
 Shaking their shaggy locks when tempests rave ; 
 Here walk'd the politician plotting grave;* 
 Here sighs from icy bosoms beauty wrung ; 
 Here, young Argyle the generous and the brave 
 First woke to eloquence his artless tongue, 
 Where beauteous Lennox smiled, and old Sir Richard 
 sung. 
 
 * An old pathway, skirted by a holly hedge, east from the castle, is 
 still called the Politician's Walk.
 
 YOUNG ARGYLE. 317 
 
 VIII. 
 
 'Tis sweet, at summer's noon, on thy high tower, 
 When half obscured the sun looks softly bright, 
 To view the amber heights of Lammermoor, 
 Bathed in a misty veil of living light, 
 While hill and dale alternate charm the sight, 
 And hum of birds, and distant murmuring stream, 
 Sound in the ear like music in the night, 
 While, through the copsewood, Coalston's turrets 
 
 gleam, 
 And still remind us of her Margaret's ominous dream. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The Lady lay upon her marriage-bed, 
 And saw the Enchanted Pear of Coalston ; fair 
 As Eden's tree, it rear'd its lovely head 
 That look'd more sweet, as whispers said, Beware ! 
 For while the magic cornac flourish'd there, 
 So spread and flourish'd Coalston's rich estate ; 
 But the young bride long'd for a fruit so rare, 
 Now touch 'd it tasted the enchantment ate 
 Awoke it was a dream ! but big with future fate.
 
 318 YOUNG ARGYLE. 
 
 X. 
 
 If Coalston had its pear., fair Lethington ! 
 Thou hadst thy apples, with which none may vie ; 
 As Jove's own fruit, thy boughs beneath them groan, 
 Like aromatic sweets dropt from the sky- 
 Beneath their shades the archers oft would try 
 Their strength of arm ; and, at the day's decline, 
 They tasted Maitland's hospitality 
 In draughts of Angiers that gleam'd divine, 
 And fed their hearts with joy, as erst it fed the vine. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Thy walks were spacious once, fair Lethington ! 
 When Charles the Witty made his progress here, 
 What time the Duke, who reign'd above the throne, 
 Thy many parks stored full of stately deer,* 
 That venison-loving kings might not want cheer, 
 Nor the fat cook be taken by surprise ; 
 Happy to leave the state the spit to steer, 
 And look an epicure in royal eyes, 
 Who ne'er spoke nonsense, yet, ne'er acted wise ! 
 
 * The park of Lethington, which contained nearly 400 acres, sur- 
 rounded by a wall twelve feet high, was built by John, Duke of Lauder- 
 dale, on the Duke of York's telling him, before his first journey to Scot- 
 land, that he heard there was not a park in the country !
 
 YOUNG ARGYLE. 319 
 
 XII. 
 
 With Charles fair Lennox might have shared the 
 
 throne ; 
 
 For o'er his heart she held despotic sway : 
 Amidst the loveliest of the court she shone, 
 As Venus shines amidst the starry way, 
 Dimming each lesser planet with her ray, 
 She walk'd in beauty like the sylphs above, 
 The diamond stone of nature's galaxy- 
 Girdled with cestus by the graces wove, 
 Like her who from the waves uprose the Queen of Love ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Francis Teresa ! on thy fine-arch'd brow, 
 Minerva's conquering aspect we descry, 
 While in that face where smiles through roses glow, 
 And in the lustre of that dark-blue eye, 
 Shaded by auburn ringlets, we espy 
 The Cyprian queen, while on thy breast of snow 
 Perfection leans, and claims the heart's soft sigh ; 
 Before such form a monarch well might bow, 
 Admiring nature's works, as we the canvass now.
 
 320 YOUNG ARGYLE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Farewell, fair Lennox ! for severer themes 
 Than Beauty now demand the muse's care ; 
 The patriot's brow the deathless laurel claims, 
 While rosy chaplets best become the fair ; 
 Though gems grow dim in thy luxuriant hair, 
 I seek the couch where lone Eliza lies 
 Alas ! that hope should waken to despair, 
 That tears should cloud affection's doting eyes : 
 " Come, lady, fair, awake ! the sun is in the skies. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Lady of Lorn ! the morning bids thee wake, 
 Her purple beams gild Lammerlaw's high steep ; 
 The lark is springing from the dewy brake, 
 Rousing the minstrels of the air to keep 
 Their woodland concert. 'Tis not meet to sleep 
 While on the battlements thy baby fair 
 Forth from his vagrant nurse has dared to creep 
 To sip alone the balmy-breathing air ; 
 Lady of Lorn, awake ! or waken in despair !"
 
 YOUNG ARGYLE. 321 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Thus spake the warning spirit of a dream, 
 When lovely from her couch, dishevelled, wild, 
 Uprose the Flower of Dysart with a scream, 
 As she beheld a writhing serpent coil'd 
 Around her child, while each swollen artery boiFd ; 
 And as with shrieks far Coalston's echoes rung, 
 The emerald turf with infant's blood was soil'd ; 
 She heard the death-notes freeze upon his tongue 
 When, reckless where she went, away the lady sprung. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 She sought her boy in castle-tower and wood ; 
 But he was not in nursery nor in hall 
 When 'neath the casement's lofty sash she stood, 
 And heard his gentle voice upon her call. 
 Sprung from his nurse's arms in gamesome brawl, 
 Next moment on the ground he bit the soil, 
 Roll'd up, then to his little limbs 'gan crawl, 
 Look'd in his mother's face with playful smile, 
 And rose a miracle ! unhurt the Young Argyle ! 
 
 x
 
 322 YOUNG ARGYLE. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 It was a dreadful omen, at that hour, 
 Which nearly a long line of glory broke, 
 When Young Argyle fell from the lofty tower 
 On the green-turf unscath'd upon the block 
 His grandsire laid his head ; alas ! the shock 
 Was felt by Freedom ; it severely shew'd 
 The gratitude of kings, and did provoke 
 That slumbering justice which so fiercely glow'd, 
 When man at last " appealed from tyranny to God." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Soon Campbell rose, renpwn'd for arts and arms, 
 Free in the senate bold in battle-field ; 
 Now awed with Roman fire and personal charms ; 
 Now freedom's champion now his sovereign's shield ; 
 His country's thunders early taught to wield, 
 Witness Ramillies, Oudenarde, Ghent, and Lisle. 
 Tournay, Minorca, to his prowess yield ; 
 While spake the master-spirits of the Isle, 
 And Pope and Thomson strove to laud the Young 
 Argyle !
 
 NOTES TO YOUNG ARGYLE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 STANZAS TO LETHINGTON 
 
 Stanza ii. page 314. 
 
 / love to view thy turrets towering grey, 
 Which braved the fiery blast of feudal times, 
 And still unbroke their lofty front display. 
 
 THE following verses, addressed to Lethington, which are so de- 
 scriptive of an ancient chateau of that period, were copied from 
 the Maitland MS. (preserved at Cambridge,) by Mr Pinkerton, 
 and published in his collection of Ancient Scottish Poems. The 
 poem appears to have been written by an " unknawin makar," 
 who, in gratitude for the " treitting and gud cheir" which he met 
 with at Lethington, could " nae mair silence hauld, but put forth 
 his mynd to rehers the joy" which he found in the castle. We 
 shall confine ourselves to the descriptive parts, as being most in- 
 teresting to posterity, leaving out the introductory similes respect- 
 ing Virgil's Mantua and Catullus's Verone. 
 
 IN PRAYSE OF LETHINGTOUN. 
 
 To speik of thee, O Lethingtoun ! 
 
 Quhilk standis fair on Tyne ; 
 Quhais worthie praysis and renown 
 
 Transcendis my ingync. 
 Thou merits Homer and Virgil, 
 
 Thy worschip till advance, 
 And put thy name, digne and nobill, 
 
 In dew rememberance. 
 
 Thy tour and fortres lairge and lang, 
 
 Thy nychbours dois excell ; 
 And for thy wallis, thik and strang, 
 
 Thou justly beirs the bell.
 
 324 NOTES TO YOUNG ARGVLE ; OB, 
 
 < * ' 
 
 . 
 
 Thy groundis deip, and toppis hie 
 
 Uprising in the air ; 
 Thy vaultis plesand ar to sie, 
 
 Thay ar so greit and fair. 
 
 Thy work to luik on is delyite,' 
 
 So clein, so sound, so evin ; 
 Thy airy ne * is a niarvull greit, 
 
 Upreiching to the hevin. 
 
 quhat plesour is to be thair, 
 As Phoebus dois upryise, 
 
 To sie the wood and feildis fair, ' 
 Quhilk round about thee lyis ! 
 . 
 
 Greit was the work to houke the ground, 
 
 And thy foundatioun cast ; 
 Bot greater it was thee to found, 
 
 And end thee at the last. 
 
 1 nierveill that he did not feir, 
 Quha rasit thee on hicht, 
 
 That na foundatioun sould thee beir 
 Bot thou sould sink for wecht. 
 
 Bot the to plenisch and fulfill, 
 
 And mak thy worke compleit, 
 Quhoso it richt considder will, 
 
 Wes worke of no les spreit. 
 Thy beddis soft, and tapeis fair, 
 
 Thy treitting and gud cheir ; 
 Gif I the treuth wald now declair, 
 
 1 wait thow hes no peir. 
 
 
 Thy arbour and thy orchard grene, 
 
 I cannot pass it by, 
 A thing maist semelie to be sene 
 
 Under thy wall dois ly ; 
 
 * The top of a turret, or watch- to WIT.
 
 STANZAS TO LETHINGTON. 325 
 
 Maist plesand place to mak repair, 
 
 Thairin to sit or gang ; 
 Thy knottis ; and thy alleis fair, 
 
 Quhilk are bayth braid and lang. 
 
 Thy buttis, biggit neir thame by, 
 
 Sa suire, but sone or wind, 
 Maist plesand place of archerie 
 
 That e'er I yit could find. 
 Thow hes a thousand plesoures ma, 
 
 That my toung cannot tell, 
 O happie war he that rnieht ay 
 
 Bot troubill in thee dwell ! 
 
 And happie art thou, sic a place, 
 
 That few thy mak are sene ; 
 Bot yit mair happie far that race 
 
 To quhome thou dois pertene. 
 Quha dois not knaw the Maitland bluid, 
 
 The best in all this land ; 
 In quhilk sumtyme the honour stuid 
 
 And worship of Scotland ? 
 
 Stanza viii. page 317. 
 
 While, through the copsewood, Coalston s turrets gleam, 
 And still remind us of her Margaret's ominous dream. 
 
 The Enchanted Pear of Coalston, which was considered a sufficient 
 dowry for a lady, was the gift, it is supposed, of Hugh Gifford, the 
 magician of Tester. " The heiress of his family," says Sharpe, 
 " married Sir William Hay of Locharret, ancestor of John, third 
 Lord Hay of Yester, whose daughter Jean became the wife of Mr 
 Brown of Coalston. This lady's dowry consisted of a single pear, 
 probably enchanted by her ancestor, which her father declared to 
 be invaluable; assuring the Laird of Coalston, that while the 
 pear was preserved in the family, it would certainly continue to 
 flourish. This palladium is still carefully treasured up ; but there 
 is a mark on one side, made by the eager teeth of a lady of Coal- 
 ston, who, while breeding, longed for the forbidden fruit, and was
 
 326 NOTES TO STANZAS TO LETHINGTON. 
 
 permitted to take one bite by her too-indulgent husband ; in con- 
 sequence, some of the best farms on the estate very speedily came 
 to market. Crawford, the peerage- writer, thus mentions the su- 
 perstition in his MS. account of the Browns of Coalston : ' They 
 had a pear in their family, which they esteemed yer palladium ; 
 it's reported, that Betty Mackenzie, when she married George 
 Brown of Colstoun, the first night she came to the house of Col- 
 stoun, dreamed that she had eat the pear, which her father-in-law 
 looked on as a bad omen, and expressed great fears that she should 
 be an instrument in the destruction of the house of Colstoun.' " 
 See Sharpe's Prefatory Notice to Law's Hfemoriallis, p. 14. Not- 
 withstanding these predictions, the house of Coalston still flourishes 
 in the female line, in the person of Lady Dalhousie. 
 
 Stanza xii. page 319. 
 
 With Charles fair Lennox might have shared the throne; 
 For o'er his heart she held despotic sway. 
 
 Frances Teresa, Duchess of Lennox, was daughter to the Hon. 
 Walter Stuart, M.D., son of Walter, first Lord Blantyre. This lady 
 was of exquisite beauty, which, if justly represented in a puncheon 
 made by Rottiere, engraver of the Mint, exhibits the finest face that 
 perhaps ever appeared. Mem. Gramont, vol. i. p. 272. Charles II. 
 was desperately enamoured of her, and it was said there was a design 
 on foot to get him divorced from the queen, that he might marry 
 this lady ; but to his great indignation, and to her honour, she 
 espoused Charles, sixth Duke of Richmond and Lennox. Bishop 
 Burnet says, the king disgraced Lord Clarendon for not preventing 
 this marriage. Charles's romantic regard is evident from his or- 
 dering a coinage, as mentioned above, whereon her portrait was re- 
 presented as Britannia on the reverse. See Fenton's Notes to 
 Waller. There is a portrait of this celebrated beauty in the Me- 
 moires de Gramont, and in Pinkerton's Iconographia Scotica ; as 
 also a fine full-length painting in Lethington-house. The latter 
 likewise contains, among many other fine family-likenesses, ex- 
 cellent portraits of Queen Mary, the Marquis of Montrose, Lord 
 Belhaven, and the Admirable Crichton.
 
 THE 
 
 MURDER 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD, 
 
 Blood will have blood : 
 
 Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak ; 
 
 Augurs, and understood relations, have 
 
 By maggot pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth 
 
 The secret'st man of blood. 
 
 SHAKSFEARE.
 
 SIB. JAMES STANFIELD, the subject of the following ballad, held the 
 rank of Colonel in the parliamentary army. After Cromwell's victory at 
 Dunbar, he came to Scotland, and established a woollen manufactory at 
 "Newmills (now Amisfield,) in the neighbourhood of Haddington, under 
 the immediate patronage of the protectorate. At the Restoration, Par- 
 liament granted certain immunities and privileges to Colonel Stanfield, 
 on whom Charles II. conferred the honour of knighthood. Sir G. B. 
 Hepburn's View Agri. His prospects were, however, soon blasted ; for, 
 in 1687, he was found murdered, as was supposed, by his eldest son 
 Philip, whom he had disinherited for his debauchery. This unfortunate 
 person was tried, condemned, and executed for the murder 24th February 
 1688. Fountainlialfs Dec. vol. L p. 484.
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 SIR JAMES has to the greenwood gone, 
 
 And he has gone alone ; 
 Sir James will walk the live-long day, 
 
 And tell his mind to none. 
 
 He has not ta'en his dappled steed, 
 
 Nor yet his spotted hound ; 
 But wildly, with his grey head bare, 
 
 He treads the dewy ground. 
 
 Now books and board have ceased to charm, 
 
 He walks like one deranged, 
 Or troubled ghost, at dead of night, 
 
 From earth and Heaven estranged.
 
 330 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 The kimmer sat behind the thorn, 
 
 Bleaching her linens clean, 
 When she beheld a leal old man, 
 
 Come pacing o'er the green. 
 
 " O woes me ! on my wicked son," 
 She heard the old man say ; 
 
 " O woes me ! on my wicked son, 
 " That kills me day by day. 
 
 " He spends his days in folly's haunts, 
 " His nights in courts obscene ; 
 
 " And, oh ! ere life's meridian day, 
 " A begging he'll be seen. 
 
 " O woes me ! on my lady proud, 
 " She's leagured with my son; 
 
 " They wish my head in a clay-cold bed- 
 " I feel their curse begun. 
 
 " O woman's love is light and vain, 
 
 " It's easy aye to bear ; 
 " It blossoms like the flower in June, 
 
 " To fade at the fall o' the year.
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 331 
 
 " Time was, with heart elate with joy, 
 
 " Cheer'd by my sovereign's smile, 
 " When self-applause and honour's meed 
 
 " Did all my cares beguile ; 
 
 " But as some pine, that braves the storm 
 
 " And rears on high its head, 
 " Of all its vernal worth is shorn 
 
 " By reptiles which it fed : 
 
 " So by the inmates of my house 
 
 " I'm wearied and undone ; 
 " My wife's unfaithful to my bed, 
 
 " I'm hated by my son. 
 
 " His crimes, conspicuous as yon orb, 
 
 " Are blazing far abroad, 
 " Denouncing wrath, he strikes the priest 
 
 " Even in the house of God. 
 
 " He curses church he curses king 
 
 " His curses fall on me ! 
 " But, Heaven ! hear a father's prayer; 
 
 " For vengeance dwells with thee P'
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 The kimmer sobb'd, then straight arose 
 
 To comfort the lorn knight ; 
 She loosed her loud loquacious tongue, 
 
 But he was out of tfght. 
 
 " O leeze me on this world's care, 
 " 'Tis true as tongue can tell, 
 
 " The great anes o' the earth,"" quo 1 she, 
 " They just are like oursel. 
 
 " O whither has the auld man gane ? 
 
 " I trow he's no himsel' ; 
 " And much I dread he's ta'en the road 
 
 " Down bie the haunted well ! 
 
 " From yonder bush a voice of wo 
 " Comes mournful on the breeze, 
 
 " The accents, as they meet my ear, 
 " My very soul doth freeze." 
 
 4 O spare a father's life !' it says, 
 
 ' Avert the fatal blow ; 
 ' O let these hoary hairs repose 
 
 ' Till time shall lay them low P
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 333 
 
 As springs a tiger from the brake, 
 
 Two ruffians fiercely sprung, 
 And with a 'kerchief close comprest, 
 
 Soon gagg'd the old man's tongue. 
 
 They tied his throat with hempen cord, 
 
 Then foot and arm they wheel, 
 Till crash'd his windpipe like the ice 
 
 Beneath the courser's heel: 
 
 The kimmer thrice assay'd to speak ; 
 
 She thrice assay'd to fly ; 
 But kimmer's blood forsook her heart, 
 
 Her palsied veins ran dry. 
 
 Sunk, motionless, upon the turf, 
 
 She lay like marble stone ; 
 A mortal image but remain'd, 
 
 With all sensation gone. 
 
 Sir James comes not at breakfast hour, 
 
 He does not come to dine ; 
 For him they search both house and bower 
 
 Upon the verdant Tyne.
 
 334 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 There is a gloom on every face, 
 
 And every heart is sore ; 
 There is a sadness on the earth, 
 
 And rural mirth is o'er. 
 
 Now all is silent in the hall, 
 Where all was noise before ; 
 
 The menials tremble as they list 
 Each grating, opening door. 
 
 The lady to her chamber hied, 
 
 And made her silent moan, 
 And wondered much within herself 
 
 Where her true knight had gone. 
 
 Her heart swelTd big with dread remorse ; 
 
 Her brain boiFd as with fire ; 
 And much she mourned that she took part 
 
 With son against his sire. 
 
 " O wo betide the cruel youth ! 
 
 " And leman's treach'rous smile, 
 " That e'er seduced my foolish heart 
 
 " To work my husband guile."
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 335 
 
 She laid her head on pillow soft, 
 
 But, ah ! "'twas not to sleep ; 
 She paced her chamber o'er and o'er, 
 
 And waken'd but to weep ; 
 
 For when those aching eyes were closed, 
 
 Unused to the salt tear, 
 As oft the lady, starting, thought 
 
 Tyne gurgled in her ear. 
 
 Why does the house-dog bay so loud ? 
 
 He's growl'd since depth of noon, 
 And now he hunts his own foot-sound, 
 
 And shadow by the moon. 
 
 Why does the howlet whoop so bold 
 
 At the lone hour of night ? 
 Why dances on the river's marge 
 
 The meteor's blue dead-light ? 
 
 Why do the grating hinges crash, 
 
 The windows rise and fall ? 
 And that unearthly melody 
 
 Come sighing from the hall ?
 
 336 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 Alas ! 'tis wayward phantasy 
 That's working in the brain ; 
 
 For silent is that mansion now 
 As death's most drear domain. 
 
 When the cock clapp'd his speckled wing, 
 
 And day began to shine, 
 O there were nought but drowsy eyes 
 
 Upon the banks of Tyne ! 
 
 The woods and glens were peopled o'er 
 With matron, youth, and maid, 
 
 Who search'd from Linton's rocky linn 
 To Morham's mossy shade. 
 
 Sir James's steed stands by the pool, 
 It thirsts but will not drink ; 
 
 Nor bridle rein, nor gentle hand, 
 Will urge him by the brink. 
 
 'Tis merry in the greenwood now, 
 
 The bugles sound afar, 
 The trees upwave their dark-green locks 
 
 Above the sylvan war.
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 337 
 
 The beagles plunge into the pool, 
 
 The horses shake their manes, 
 A corpse is dragg'd towards the shore, 
 
 O God ! it is Sir James ! 
 
 O why does vengeance sleep in Heaven ! 
 
 Or does it only fall 
 On guiltless heads, that daring crime 
 
 Still rules this earthly ball ? 
 
 Or does it smoulder but to strike, 
 
 Like Etna's bowels to burst, 
 And with a tenfold vengeance hurl 
 
 Her bolts on the accurst ? 
 
 END OF FIT THE FIRST.
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 Let's briefly put on manly readiness, 
 And meet i' the hall together, 
 And question this most bloody piece of work, 
 To know it further. SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 THE lady shrieked, and aye she sobb'd, 
 
 As she wou'd burst in twain ; 
 " O peace," quoth she, " I'll ne'er know more, 
 
 " Since my loved knight is slain ! 
 
 " O pale, pale are those cheeks that flush'd 
 
 " With manhood's ruddy hue ; 
 " And glazed those sparkling eyes in death, 
 
 " That spake a soul so true !"
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 339 
 
 " Go saddle ye the swiftest steed 
 
 " That's snorting in the sta', 
 " And ride, go ride, my trusty serf, 
 
 " As fast as ye can ca\ 
 
 " Ride by Edina's lofty towers, 
 
 " My Philip bring to me ; 
 " For much I dread a natural death 
 
 " His father didna dee. 11 
 
 They search'd the city through and through 
 
 From night till dawn of day ; 
 But the wicked youth they could not find 
 
 Till his sire was in the clay. 
 
 O then he made a loud lament ! 
 
 And swore himself he'd kill ; 
 But ere a night and day elapsed 
 
 He did not look so ill. 
 
 And soon Newmills's mansion fair 
 
 With merriment did shake, 
 As if the burial bread had been 
 
 Bewitched to bridal cake.
 
 340 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 And lightly grew the lady's heart, 
 
 And, O ! she busked proud ; 
 And in her sable weeds appeared 
 
 Like beauty in a cloud. 
 
 Alas ! that aged men should e'et 
 
 The youthful virgin wed ; 
 Alas ! that youthful wife should e'er 
 
 Forsake the marriage bed. 
 
 'Twas whispered, and perchance 'twas true, 
 
 The lady oft was seen 
 A dallying with her lemane vile 
 
 Among the breckans green. 
 
 'Tis merry in the greenwood now, 
 The beagles blithe are running, 
 
 And children ramble in the woods 
 Their golden tresses sunning. 
 
 In search of nature's feathery quire 
 Two youths had heedless run, 
 
 When they o'erheard a villain say 
 " The hard-won turn is done !"
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 " He'd borne the brunt of flood and field ; 
 
 " Had stood knee-deep in gore ! 
 " But never saw a soul so stout 
 
 " As that the young Knight bore. 
 
 " While in the agonies of death 
 " The old man's heart did bleed, 
 
 " With taunts, reproach, and fiend-like scorn 
 " He urged the hellish deed." 
 
 O why comes the king's messenger 
 
 With warrant in his hand ? 
 And why do these grim officers 
 
 Bid Philip Stanfield stand ? 
 
 By yonder stream they've ta'en a turn 
 
 Beneath the willow's shade, 
 Where, shelter'd by the rush-grown bank, 
 
 The suicide was laid. 
 
 O why do the physicians come, 
 
 Muffled in cloak and cowl ? 
 Their business is to save the living, 
 
 Sure death they cannot fool.
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 Why comes the sexton with his spade ? 
 
 Another foolish man ! 
 Who daily haps mortality, 
 
 Yet's mortal o'er his cann. 
 
 The spade upturned the wormy earth, 
 
 And grazed the coffin's coom, 
 When forth they dragged the lifeless knight, 
 
 Like prisoner to his doom. 
 
 Then to Newmills they solemn wend, 
 
 Each mourner grim and tall ; 
 And dread amazement paints each face 
 
 That crowds into the hall. 
 
 Now, " Stanfield, lift thy father's head; 1 
 
 The doctors straight did say, 
 " That we may view his mangled form, 
 
 " For here has been foul play !" 
 
 Young Stanfield touch'd his father's corpse, 
 
 When 'rose a fearful wail ; 
 For blood gush'd from the winding-sheet, 
 
 And every face grew pale.
 
 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 348 
 
 And aye the dead clothes redder grew 
 
 The youth fell on the floor ; 
 Thus suddenly remorse will smite, 
 
 And guilty heart o'erpower. 
 
 " Thou art the murderer ! alas !" 
 
 The pale chirurgeon said ; 
 " Beadles, your stoutest bonds prepare, 
 
 " And bind the parricide. 1 " 
 
 Then swore the youth by God and heaven, 
 
 Overcome with seeming wo, 
 " My heart and hand are pure from blood, 
 
 " As Lapland's spotless snow." 
 
 " 'Tis false !" they bound him where he stood, 
 
 Nor listed to his tale ; 
 They marched him hand and limb in chains 
 
 To fair Edina's jail. 
 
 Soon sentenced by his country's laws, 
 
 He met a shameful death ; 
 But hardened guilt the crime denied 
 
 With his expiring breath.
 
 344 SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 Yet retribution came, though late, 
 Even to the gallows tree ; 
 
 The cord unclasping, down he slipt 
 Upon his bended knee. 
 
 The hangman finished, with a grin, 
 What seem'd so ill begun, 
 
 And strangled, in the pangs of death, 
 As sire, so died the son. 
 
 The headsman plied his horrid art, 
 When with unerring stroke 
 
 The youth's devoted head, laid low, 
 RolPd bloody from the block. 
 
 Then high in air his clotted locks 
 To rabble's gaze was spread, 
 
 As loud the executor cried, 
 " Behold the parricide !" 
 
 On Haddingtons eastern portal high 
 His hand and head were placed ; 
 
 For near that fatal field did lie, 
 This horrid crime disgraced.
 
 NOTES TO SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 Page 331, line 15. 
 
 Denouncing wrath, he strikes the priest 
 Even in the house of God. 
 
 OF Philip Stanfield, Wodrow observes, " This profligate youth 
 being at the university of St Andrews, a good many years 
 before he committed this barbarous murder, came to a sermon in 
 Kinkel-close, about a mile from St Andrews, where Mr John 
 Welch was preaching, and in his spite and mockery in time of 
 sermon, threw somewhat or other at the minister, which hit him. 
 The minister stopped, and said, ' He did not know who had put 
 ' that public affront on a servant of Christ ; but be who he would, 
 ' he was persuaded there would be more present at his death than 
 ' were hearing him preach that day, and the multitude was not 
 ' small.' This was accomplished, and Mr Stanfield acknowledged 
 this in prison after he was condemned, and that God was about to 
 accomplish what he had been warned of." 
 
 Page 333, line 1. 
 
 A springs a tiger from the brake, 
 
 Two ruffians fiercely sprung, 
 And with a 'kerchief close comprest, 
 
 Soon gagged the old man's tongue. 
 
 The account of this dreadful case is thus given by Lord Foun- 
 tainhall, a contemporary judge. " 1687, 14th Dec. Sir James 
 Stanfield being found dead some few days before, beside his own 
 house of Xewmills, some thinking he had drowned himself in some 
 melancholy fit, to which he was incident ; the fame of the country 
 did run that he was strangled by his sons or servants ; for he had 
 disinherited his eldest son for his debauchery, and disponed his for- 
 tune to his second son, and failzieing of him to Commissar Dalrym- 
 ple. On this suspicion there was an order directed from the Privy
 
 346 NOTES TO SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 
 
 Council to Muirhead and Crawford, chirurgeons in Edinburgh, to 
 visit his body and report ; for they had very hastily buried him, 
 pretending that they would not have his body to be gazed upon 
 and viewed by all comers : And they having reported that they 
 saw signs of strangulation, and that his head bled when Philip his 
 eldest son touched it, he was apprehended and imprisoned, as like- 
 wise two of Sir James's servants, and a woman, which three last 
 were brought in, 8th December, before the Privy Council, and 
 tortured with the thumbikins, but confessed nothing. Yet the pre- 
 sumptions were verypregnant against Philip. He had attempted on 
 his father formerly, which his father had declared to several ; and 
 he declined to concur with the King's Advocate in a pursuit against 
 the murderers ; and was found to have much money, (though he 
 gave in a bill seeking an aliment,) and did hastily bury him ; and 
 bruised blood was found about his throat ; and the mother had 
 the dead clothes all ready; and the minister, (Mr John Bell,) 
 heard great noise that night. And now to get favour, he had de- 
 clared himself Papist ; upon which grounds a criminal indictment 
 being raised against him, as also for drinking the King's confusion, 
 and for cursing his father, &c." 
 
 In his defence, it was urged that he was intoxicated when he drank 
 the king's confusion, with whom he linked the pope's, the chan- 
 cellor's, and the devil's ; yet the justices found it treason ! 2do, 
 That with respect to cursing his father, that they were afterwards 
 reconciled the justices also repelled this defence. 3tio, That 
 the presumptions libelled against the parricide were not relevant. 
 His lordship goes on to state " the chirurgeon's attest, that he was 
 not drowned but strangled ; the miraculous providence of the two 
 children discovering the truth against their parents, the one a boy 
 of 13, and the other a girl of 11 years, who were not sworn, not 
 knowing the importance of an oath ; but only declared that they 
 heard their parents telling one to the other that the turn was done ; 
 and that Philip carried very stoutly, and that they should have 
 put a stone about his neck to make him sink." 
 
 It was also proved, in extenuation, that Sir James was once 
 mad, and thereafter hypocondriac. " That he used to tell, him- 
 self, that in one of these fits he rode towards England with a de-
 
 NOTES TO SIR JAMES STANFIELD. 347 
 
 sign never to have returned, but that his horse stopped at , 
 
 and would not go forward, which he looked upon as the finger of 
 God ; and that once he was throwing himself out at a window at 
 the Netherhow, if Thomas Lendall had not pulled him in by the 
 feet ; and that the very week before his death, he desired George 
 Stirling to let blood of him, because his head was light," &c. 
 
 The following circumstance, mentioned in the indictment, seems 
 to have had great weight with the jury : " That (the deceased's) 
 " nearest relations being required to lift the corpse into the coffin, 
 " after it had been inspected, upon the said Philip Stanfield 
 " touching of it, (according to God's usual mode of discovering 
 " murder,) it bled afresh upon the said Philip ; and that there- 
 " upon he let the body fall, and fled from it in the greatest con- 
 " sternation, crying, Lord have mercy upon me !" The assize 
 finding him guilty, " the Lords of Justiciary decerned him to be 
 " hanged on the 1 5th February, at the cross of Edinburgh, and 
 " his tongue to be cut out for cursing his father, and his right 
 " hand to be cut off for the parricide ; and his head to be put upon 
 " the East Port of Haddington, as nearest to the place of murder; 
 " and his body to be hung up in chains betwixt Leith and Edin- 
 " burgh, and his lands and goods to be confiscated for the treason." 
 
 All this was rigorously put in execution. " Some thought," 
 continues his lordship, " if not a miraculous, yet an extraordinary 
 " return of his imprecations, the accident of the slipping of the 
 " knots on the rope, whereby his feet and knees were on the 
 " scaffold, which necessitated them to strangle him, bearing there- 
 " in a near resemblance to his father's death : and a new applica- 
 " tion having been made, that they might be allowed to bury 
 " him, Duke Hamilton was for it, but the Chancellor would not 
 " consent, because he had mocked his religion ; so his body was 
 " hung up, and after some days being stolen down, it was found 
 " lying in a ditch among some water, as his father's was ; and by 
 " order was hung up again, and then a second time was taken 
 " down. This is a dark case of divination, to be remitted to the 
 " great day, whether he was guilty or innocent. Only it is cer- 
 " tain he was a bad youth, and may serve as a beacon to all pro- 
 " fligate persons.'' Fountain/Mil's Dec. Lords Sex. vol. i. p. 481.
 
 348 SONNET. 
 
 SONNET 
 
 ON VISITING BARRA CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 DEEM not the spot unblest, though the church pile 
 
 Be mould er'd to decay ; three mossy stones 
 Mark cells as hallowed as the sculptured aisle, 
 
 Where villagers repose their weary bones ; 
 The winds of heaven sigh moaning o'er their graves, 
 Where the long grass in mournful billows waves ; 
 And when the moonlight sleeps upon yon knoll 
 The swain will pause, and think upon his soul ! 
 But most I love the blue-flower gleaming there, 
 
 Sprung from the ashes of some village maid, 
 Who blossomed in life's spring, chaste, young, and fair, 
 
 Till in Death's arms she shrunk into a shade. 
 I'll take a seedling from this lonely flower, 
 To be the moralist of my summer-bower.
 
 VERSES 
 
 IN MEMORY 
 
 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 There is a Temple in ruin stands, 
 Fashion'd by long-forgotten hands. 
 Out upon Time ! it will leave no more 
 Of the things to come than the things before ! 
 
 What we have seen our sons shall see, 
 
 Remnants of things that have pass'd away, 
 Fragments of stone, rear'd by creatures of clay ! 
 
 BTRON.
 
 THE first notice we have of the church of Dunbar is in the Taxatio 
 of Lothian, in 1 1 76, where Ecclesia de Dunbar cum capella de Why- 
 tingeham is assessed at 180 merks. Chalmers' Cal. From the earliest 
 times, the Earls of Dunbar appear to have been proprietors of the whole 
 parish, and patrons of the church and its subordinate chapels. In 1342, 
 during the reign of David II., Patrick, fifth of that name, and tenth Earl 
 of Dunbar and March, converted the parochial church into a collegiate 
 form. It was confirmed by William, bishop of St Andrew's, and be- 
 sides being the first establishment of that kind known in Scotland, was 
 anciently the richest in the deanry of Lothian. With its subordinate 
 chapels, it was valued at 180 merks, a greater valuation than any other 
 could bear at the same period. At the Reformation, when the church 
 ceased to be collegiate, the archpriestry of Dunbar was stated at 80. 
 
 On the forfeiture of the earldom of March, in 1434-5, the patronage 
 of the church fell to the crown. During the reign of James III., it was 
 enjoyed, with the earldom of Dunbar, by the Duke of Albany. It again 
 fell to the king, on the forfeiture of his traitorous brother in 1483 ; and 
 now belongs to the Duke of Roxburgh, as principal heritor of the parish. 
 The interior of churches, as well as of domestic buildings, having been 
 much improved within the present century, the collegiate church had 
 long been found inconvenient for a modern audience, accordingly this 
 venerable fabric was condemned, and a handsome new church, from a 
 plan of Gillespie, erected on its site, in 1819.
 
 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH.
 
 VERSES. 
 
 THOU tempest-stricken veteran ! must thou fall 
 Beneath the weight of years ? Time long has smoothed 
 His scythe on thy grey front ; and thou hast braved 
 The gusty whirlwind, and the thunder-crash, 
 Through many a stormy hour ; and thou hast seen 
 The sons of men come forth like flowers, and fade, 
 Four sluggish centuries ; yet thou must fall, 
 And, like the Architect who plann'd thy fane, 
 Be gulf d and lost in the Lethean stream. 
 
 O thou ! who in thy ample arms enfold'st 
 The unnumber'd charters of the human race, 
 Come from thy mountain-heap of chronicles, 
 Thou meditative goddess ! and declare 
 To thy devoted son, whatever thou knowest 
 Of this fallen fabric, that, by thee inspired, 
 My song may be. most mournful, yet most true :
 
 354 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 Then will I weave a wreath of evergreens, 
 And place it on the lofty brow of Fame, 
 To mock the spoiler Time, and tell the world 
 The faded glories of this ancient church. 
 
 First the proud Catholic, with his pompous forms, 
 Worshipped within these walls. For ages rung 
 The lofty aisles to the deep organ-peal, 
 While from the silver censers incense blazed 
 Before the altar, and the mass was sung : 
 
 Peace to the souls of that noble race, 
 
 Who form'd this fair and goodly place ; 
 
 The Holy Spirit will gild their path, 
 
 While wandering through the caves of Death ; 
 
 And the Mother of God, like EthanTs fire, 
 
 Will lead them to the heavenly choir. 
 
 This life is but a passing dream, 
 Where all is false, but the things unseen 
 Those glorious visions of the sky 
 That wake Devotion's midnight sigh, 
 When the heart communing with its God, 
 Longs for its last its blest abode ! 
 
 This life is like a story told, 
 That in the telling waxes old;
 
 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 355 
 
 A breath a bubble on the stream, 
 Verily life is but a dream ! 
 Peace to the souls of that noble race, 
 Who formed this fair and goodly place. 
 
 Illustrious March ! who reared this ancient fane 
 A gift to heaven it has outlived thee long ! 
 Where are thy honours now ? They only swell 
 The herald's chronicle ! Thy wide domains 
 Are in the hands of strangers ; and thy church 
 Moulders beneath the giant-crush of Time ! 
 
 But long ere Time had wrought this church's fall, 
 Its worshippers had changed the despot-creed 
 That bound their fathers ; for alearned race, 
 Nursed in the polemics of Germany, 
 Had caught a ray from Heaven, and boldly launched 
 Their legal thunders 'gainst the papal throne ; 
 And then, Dunbar, within thine ancient walls, 
 The Presbyter, in sober vestments stood, 
 Best fitted for his office, and declared 
 The simple doctrines of the Man of Grief ! 
 
 Ere England's naval arm had smote the Dutch, 
 Swarm'd with a pirate horde these fertile shores : 
 Then sigh'd the matron o'er her infant charge, 
 Lest the war-whoop at midnight roused his sire, 
 While on the turrets of thine ancient pile,
 
 356 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 The drowsy sentinel held his weary watch, 
 And as the morning broke, with searching eye 
 Scann'd the horizon, fearful lest the shades 
 
 Of night had veil'd a foe. 
 
 Nor be thy pulpit-dignities forgot, 
 Though differing in their creeds, one common lot 
 Awaits them now before their awful Judge. 
 I see them rise, in sacerdotal robes, 
 With meditative eye " that loves the ground." 
 First sage Dunbar, of Moray's noble house, 
 Deck'd in his gaudy Romish garb appears, 
 Avowedly zealous; next walks Manderston, 
 The advocate of Mary's hapless cause ; 
 And next, in humbler weeds and solemn state, 
 The presbyterian Simpson, whose keen eye 
 Glanced deep into the murderer's wounded soul, 
 And dragg'd the horrid secret from its den. 
 His mighty mind read deep that mystic page 
 Graved with the characters of future fate ; 
 Foretold the sabbath-breaker's fearful end, 
 Saw the mad mother raving o'er her child, 
 And the lost drave strew'd on the stormy shore. 
 Then follow Stevenson, the wise and good, 
 Edina's ornament, and learning's pride ; 
 And Wood, his prince's favourite, he who won 
 The mitre of the Isles, and preach'd the cross
 
 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 357 
 
 To the lone dwellers of the western main ; 
 And last, Carfrae, whose native eloquence 
 Has never been surpassed within these walls. 
 
 But, lo ! a Spirit rises from yon towers, 
 (Whose ruins tremble on the wave-worn cliff;) 
 VeiPd in the mist of years, it stretches forth 
 Its viewless arm, and strikes the solemn pile. 
 The temple trembles to its deepest base, 
 And its rent fragments strew the hallowed ground. 
 
 And, see ! the work of ruin has begun 
 Within the sanctuary, a motley crew 
 Have ta'en possession of the sacred place. 
 The house of prayer is now an antic stage, 
 Where boys delight to sport the idle hour ; 
 And, lo ! exalted ""midst his mad compeers, 
 An urchin mounts the rostrum, while the crowd 
 Pick up the fragments of the broken pews, 
 And pelt their comrade in his pulpit chair.. 
 
 How changed, since, in the sunny morn of life, 
 I sat amidst these dear-remember'd pews, 
 Nor thought the service long ! The Roman youth 
 Hung not with more delight when Cicero spoke, 
 Than I have listened to the holy man. 
 Returning to these scenes, but late I saw 
 A crowd of stranger-faces worship there, 
 And I was left alone. Where have ye fled,
 
 358 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 Ye dear companions of those pleasant days, 
 When hope was young like you, fair as the blooms 
 Before the wintery wind has sear'd their bud ? 
 Ye rosy-cheeked host, where have ye fled ? 
 
 There, in that corner pew, demurely sat, 
 With scented 'kerchief and a sprig of thyme, 
 A Frigid Maid, in antiquated state. 
 Wo to the luckless youth, whom woman's smile 
 Had lured astray ; wo to the hapless maid 
 Whom man's seductive voice had won to vice, 
 And blighted the red roses on her face ; 
 It was this Gorgon's food to feed upon 
 The strife of others ; in her gossip chair 
 She sat a demon in a woman's form ; 
 And though 'twas said, that fifty circling years 
 Had shed a natural whiteness on her head, 
 With artificial curls and deep-laid rouge, 
 Still with the changing dresses of the times 
 Most awkwardly she mimicked the young. 
 
 Beneath the middle arches of the church 
 I've seen the Superannuated Fop, 
 With plaited ruffle and huge periwig, 
 Smart spectacles and golden-headed cane, 
 The pleasant dandy of an earlier school, 
 Sit pompously. 'Twas said, and it was true, 
 Cards, chess, and draughts, at intervals amused
 
 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 359 
 
 The heavy burden of his useful life. 
 He roll'd in plenty, but his wines were sour, 
 His viands tasteless. When he would enjoy, 
 Avarice was scowling by, foreboding want. 
 Thus Providence, all-righteous, balances 
 The fate of mortals, and the man who seeks 
 To hoard up human comforts, hath a blight 
 Within that blasts enjoyment, and amidst 
 The bowers of paradise he pines a slave. 
 
 There sat, with lengthening phiz, The Hypocrite; 
 " All things to all men," was his favourite text. 
 He scofFd at the profane, yet never shunn'd 
 Their company when a foaming bowl went round : 
 He vilified the lecherous, yet would " lip 
 A wanton" in the dark. He was your friend 
 Sat at your board ; but if on slight occasion 
 His interest clashed with thine, then 'mediately 
 He stood estranged. He was a backbiter, 
 The old man's contumely the maiden's curse ! 
 Religion, politics, were still his theme ; 
 While pliant as the ash that shades the stream, 
 Grew his opinion, wavering with the times 
 The basest were anointed while they ruled, 
 But out of place, detested by this wretch ! 
 
 Yet deem not that within these sacred walls 
 None bore the image of their Maker's face.
 
 360 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 Because amidst a bed of flowers upsprings 
 A host of weeds O, yes ! a multitude 
 Of innocent, honest, upright characters, 
 Worshipp'd within these walls, that practised all 
 The shining virtues of a Christian life. 
 There might be seen the Honest-hearted Man, 
 Whose tongue was still the echo of his mind, 
 In sober vestments, listening earnestly 
 To hear the word of life. He was not free 
 From early prejudices, cherish'd long, 
 That look'd like bigotry. New psalmody 
 Was his abhorrence, tinkling itching ears 
 With its vain sounds ; and innovations all 
 He could not brook ; yet still he was a man 
 That loved his God, and sought to serve mankind. 
 
 Near to the pulpit sat the Simpering Maid, 
 Wafting her soul in pleasant sounds to heaven, 
 The toast of half the parish. She, alas ! 
 Long since eclipsed, has hung her beauteous head, 
 Like flowers that wither in the noontide ray; 
 For Beauty, like the hues that colour life, 
 Has but its passing tribute. Novelty 
 Delights the soul, and yonder blue expanse 
 Seems not so fair as evening's changing clouds, 
 That shape their varied colours in the sky. 
 
 Now, armM, destruction's satellites advance,
 
 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 361 
 
 And like a stream long pent, at once bursts forth, 
 O'erwhelming all. The lofty rafters fall, 
 And roofs, in crashing masses, tumble down, 
 While the foundation shakes as if the ground 
 Was struggling with an earthquake's hot embrace. 
 
 Spare, vandal ! spare, that splendid monument, 
 Where lie the ashes of illustrious Home ! 
 Else shall each mailed warrior start to life, 
 And with his stony gauntlet strike thee down. 
 Yes ! thou shalt spare that honoured sepulchre, 
 And it will stand a princely ornament 
 To grace the new-born church, that, Phrenix-like, 
 Shall spring forth from the ashes of its sire. 
 And spare ! O spare ! that tablet in the wall, 
 That marks where Stevenson all lowly lies. 
 It is too late ! the massy pickaxe falls, 
 And the stone, graved with letters of renown, 
 In splinters mixes with ignoble heaps. 
 
 And, see ! the busy workmen have begun 
 To clear the old foundations of the church. 
 Now in its dark and secret sepulchres 
 The spade makes devastation, and turns up 
 The bones of those who long have slept in state. 
 Go tell Nobility, that he's a fool, 
 And wastes his wealth in vain ! I'd rather sleep 
 In yonder green-arch'd cell, with nature's shroud
 
 362 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 Above my breast, where morning's smiles might fall, 
 
 Or evening's tears bedew my lonely bed, 
 
 Than be twice-buried in these graves of stone, 
 
 To prop the basis of some future church. 
 
 See, where the labourer turns a precious load 
 
 Uncourteously. That little heap of earth, 
 
 Once thought and breathed and lived and felt like 
 
 me ! 
 
 'Tis the last relic of an only child, 
 A doting mother fondled at her breast. 
 The miniature, image of herself. 
 His morn was cloudless Spring's delicious breath 
 Was deem'd too keen to kiss his baby face, 
 His walks were in the garden's shades at noon ; 
 His food was fruits and cream, and choicest sweets ; 
 His bed was roses, like the Stagyrite's, 
 Music and Painting cheer'd his leisure hours, 
 While Poetry's soft voice beguiled his youth, 
 And his fond parents only lived for him. 
 Alas ! how would the foolish woman weep 
 To see her darling's ashes toss'd aside 
 Beside some beggar's brat, some untamed boy 
 Who fed on charity, to whom, at eve, 
 A barn or byre was choicest luxury. 
 
 Now myriads crowd, like pilgrims on a march, 
 To take a last look of their early Friend !
 
 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 363 
 
 Yes ! midst the many chequer'd scenes of life 
 
 The church was still their Friend. When blithe and 
 
 young, 
 
 The lessons taught within her hallow'd walls 
 Reformed their manners and improved their heart. 
 In active manhood, when love's gentle thrill 
 Beat in the bosom, and the stripling paid 
 His marriage-tithes, and to the altar led 
 The lovely object of his youthful choice, 
 (Blushing like virtue at her own applause,) 
 This church then hail'd him as a worthy Friend. 
 And when the circling months had blest the bed 
 With fruit in season, sponsor-like it gave 
 The child a name. Nor less in grief, than joy, 
 Has this fallen fabric acted friendly part ; 
 Administering consolation in distress, 
 And wafting prayers for thee when hope was gone. 
 
 No more the sailor, homeward bound, will hail 
 Thy well-known turrets, shining on the steep, 
 A blessed sea-mark. Oft at sight of thee, 
 How nimbly slipt the cordage through his hands, 
 For he was near his home ; and wife, and friends, 
 And social canns of grog were flowing fast, 
 In fond anticipation ere they came. 
 
 Upon thy towers, it was a pleasant sight 
 To view the varied landscape, hill and dale
 
 364 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Promiscuous mingling, stretching far away. 
 Eastward St Abbs his promontory dips 
 In the blue wave. Behind the dusky lines 
 Of Lammermoor extend in mountain-pride, 
 While Doon Hill, sloping, bares its reddening sides 
 To meet the ploughshare, glittering on the steep. 
 Beneath it lies the haunted glens of Spot, 
 Where Hecate's children held unhallow'd feats 
 Around the rowan-tree, the cauldron smoked, 
 While the Rigwoody Witch, with horrid oaths, 
 Startled the bird of night. But sweeter spread 
 The glen of Ossydean, at morn or eve, 
 Where patient angler, by the winding stream 
 Secures his prey ; and Broxmouth's tufted woods, 
 Fann'd by the sea-breeze, stretching to the sea, 
 Where the Protector, with his fierce brigade, 
 Subdued the Covenanters. Peaceful now 
 Sails on her gentle lake, among the trees, 
 The downy cygnet, gazftig at herself 
 In the clear waters. Nearer, through the shades, 
 Rural Lochend, in pensive beauty stands ; 
 There spreads the Latch, a pleasant rendezvous, 
 Where it was sweet, at Sabbath's morn, to hear 
 The church bell's melody, as through the copse 
 We saunter'd to the Common's daisied walk ; 
 
 Southward Dunpender rears his verdant head ; 
 6
 
 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 365 
 
 Far west the Pentlands hide their pointed tops 
 In the ethereal sky ; and Fife's dark shores 
 Bound the wide-swelling Forth ; the hermit May 
 Stands with his torch ; and Berwick's lofty Law 
 Shines isolated ; and the craggy Bass 
 Shows its white cliffs ; while, underneath, is seen 
 Dunbar's grey towers, that tremble on the steep ; 
 Her harbour snug her battery, picturesque ; 
 Her rocky caverns, and her pebbly shores ! 
 
 Yon setting sun, that gilds the watery west, 
 Sheds on the glories of that fallen church 
 His farewell rays. Another morn, and then 
 There's not a sculptured fragment left to tell 
 Where stood a temple. I will stand and gaze 
 A last adieu ! and then return, and gaze, 
 'Tis parting with a loved familiar friend, 
 Endear'd by early, long, and sweet acquaintance ; 
 For every stone of hers is chronicled 
 Deep in my memory, there to bloom for ever ; 
 More lovely in the shade of future years, 
 When mellowed by the softening hues of time. 
 
 Poor pilgrim of a day ! thou too must fall, 
 Like art's strong works, amidst the waste of years ; 
 But the Great Architect who planned thee first, 
 Will model thee again more beauteously, 
 When his own Zion he builds and repairs.
 
 366 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 YE sepulchres, and sculptured monuments ! 
 
 Whose uncouth rhythmes often wake a smile 
 
 Where Pity's tear should fall, I come to muse 
 
 Upon the silent tenants you enshrine ; 
 
 And, lo ! like peopled mists in highland glens, 
 
 They live before me in their earthly shapes. 
 
 Whose is that cherub-form ? Pale roseate hues 
 
 Bloom on her faded cheek. Her little hands 
 
 Are stretch'd toward me. Ha ! she flies she flies ! 
 
 I start entranced, as from a waking dream, 
 
 And kneel upon my sister's viewless grave. 
 
 She died in infancy, and I have wish'd 
 
 That we had closed our pilgrimage together ; 
 
 Then had I 'scaped a world of guile and wo, 
 
 And fallen, like her, upon the lap of heaven, 
 
 Pure as a snowdrop on a virgin's breast. 
 
 Ah ! little did I think, when late I dew'd 
 
 Thy mossy dwelling with a brother's tears, 
 
 That my poor heart should feel a deeper sting ; 
 
 That with a father's feelings I should weep 
 
 A darling child, nipt in the bud of life, 
 
 Gone, ah ! too soon, to mix his dust with thine !
 
 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 367 
 
 Unnumbered figures float, in dim review, 
 That wear the form of images forgot, 
 Wash'd from the mind's eye by the flood of time 
 Like lines upon the sand ; yet I have seen 
 These forms and faces breathe and act like me, 
 Smile at a jest, or melt at tales of wo ; 
 Warm with the glow of hope, exult in joy ; 
 Grow pale with rank disease, and waste with sorrow ; 
 Now they have paid life's ruthless creditor, 
 Nor left a trace to mark their path behind. 
 
 There walks the bridegroom with his pensive bride, 
 Whom I saw church'd in yon dismantled pew, 
 In all the dazzling glow of health and beauty, 
 Blushing with roses. Ah ! how faded now 
 Her nameless beauties and bewitching smiles ; 
 No ringlets wanton on that horrid face, 
 Those cheeks are sunk, that swell'd with sweet ex- 
 pression ; 
 
 Those eyes are dim, that beam'd like shining stars 
 Before heaven's gates, and tenantless their sockets ; 
 While on that breast, where Love delighted dwelt, 
 The loathsome worm has made a gorgeous feast ! 
 
 Death strikes the coward swain ; the warrior bold 
 He smites amidst his bright career of honour ! 
 So Ramsay fell, the noble and the brave, 
 When life was big with promise ; here, behold !
 
 368 DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 Maternal love has reared a monument, 
 And the green turf becomes a hallow'd spot, 
 When watered by a mother's holiest tears. 
 
 And, haply, in these burial solitudes, 
 Some wo-struck youth, at eve, may meditate, 
 What time the moon, in pensive loveliness, 
 Leads forth her blue r eyed sisters, and from heaven 
 Chases the dusky Queen : Then as he mourns 
 A brother's loss, or weeps the death of friends, 
 He sees that last and lonely green-arch 'd cell, 
 Where he will also find a quiet home. 
 
 And does there slumber in forgotten dust, 
 Some earlier bard, who hail'd this ancient church 
 With heavenly melody ? Alas ! such fate 
 Awaits the framer of this lowly lay ! 
 A few short years, and nameless is the spot 
 Where the lone thistle blossoms on his grave.
 
 NOTES 
 
 VERSES ON DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH, 
 
 Page 335, line 21. 
 
 Ere England's naval arm had smote the Dutch, 
 Swarm d with a pirate horde these fertile shores. 
 THESE lines allude to a visit paid to the Forth by that noted 
 marine-adventurer, Paul Jones, in September, 1779. His squadron 
 lay at anchor for some days off Dunbar, during which period the 
 town was inundated with soldiers, and the people were busily em- 
 ployed throwing up batteries on the kirk hill, &c. In consequence 
 of a vessel called the Rodney, (afterwards one of the Greenland 
 ships belonging to the port) running into Dunbar harbour for 
 shelter, a brig of the enemy's weighed anchor, and nearly run on 
 shore in pursuit of her. The squadron, having stood up the 
 Forth, were seen nearly opposite Leith on the 17th, when a vio- 
 lent south-west wind arising (aided, as was said, by the prayers of 
 a goodly minister of Kirkcaldy,) fortunately drove them rapidly 
 back again, and laid them alongside his Majesty's ships the Serapis 
 and Countess of Scarborough, near Flamborough-head, which 
 Jones captured after a desperate engagement. They had the Baltic 
 fleet in convoy, which luckily escaped during the conflict. The 
 enemy carried their prizes to the Texel, having on board 300 
 prisoners, whom they had taken during their cruise in the North 
 seas. For these exploits the king of France rewarded Paul Jones 
 with the military order of merit, and a gold-hiked sword. 
 
 In May, 1781, Captain Fall, another, but less noted adventurer, 
 appeared off Dunbar, under peculiar circumstances. A small 
 privateer had been fitted out from that port, which, after a long 
 absence, appeared one morning, to the indescribable astonishment 
 
 2 A
 
 370 NOTES TO DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 of the inhabitants, not with a prize, but followed by a huge pri- 
 vateer in chase ! Having run snugly on shore, under shelter of the 
 haven, she opened her broadside on the enemy, whom she provok- 
 ed to send a few shots into the town, one of which struck a log of 
 wood near the castle. It is even said that the volunteers of those 
 days pelted her with musquetry from the pier ! This insufficient 
 mode of warfare against so formidable an enemy might have been 
 attended with serious consequences to the town, had not a veteran 
 seaman sent a well-directed shot from a heavy carronnade which 
 lay on the island, and nearly carried away the pirate's mast. 
 This had the desired effect of making him sheer off. 
 
 Page 356, line 10. 
 
 First, sage Dunbar, of Moray' 's noble house, 
 Deck'd in his gaudy Romish garb appears. 
 
 Columba Dunbar, descended from the Earls of Moray, was dean 
 of the church of Dunbar in 1411, whence he was promoted to 
 the see of Moray. 
 
 Page 356, line 12. 
 
 '" Next, walks Manderston, 
 The advocate of Mary's hapless cause. 
 
 John Manderston was canon of the college church of Dunbar 
 in 1567, and was one of those appointed by the Archbishop of St 
 Andrews to attend the court on a divorce sued for by Lady Jean 
 Gordon against the Earl of Bothwell, while Queen Mary was de- 
 tained at Dunbar. 
 
 Page 356, line 15. 
 
 The presbyterian Simpson, whose keen eye 
 Glanced deep into the murderer's wounded soul, 
 And dragg'd the horrid secret from its den. 
 
 Andrew Simpson was master of the school of Perth, and taught 
 Latin with much success. He had sometimes under his charge 300 
 boys, many of them sons of the principal nobility. He left Perth at 
 the Reformation, 1560, and became minister of Dunning and Car- 
 gill, from which he was translated, in 15C4, to Dunbar, where he
 
 NOTES TO DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 371 
 
 sustained the double office of master of the grammar school and 
 minister of the parish. 
 
 In 1570, Mr Simpson was called to attend the Rev. John Kello, 
 minister of Spot, in his sickness, who was shortly after convicted, 
 and executed for the unnatural murder of his wife. This unhappy 
 man having related a remarkable dream he had had to Mr Simpson, 
 the latter had no hesitation in retorting upon him, as Nathan said 
 unto David, Thou art the man ! This struck so deep into the 
 culprit's heart, that he made instant confession, and, when after- 
 wards on the scaffold, he ascribed the disclosure of this horrible 
 deed to the soul-piercing discernment of this pious priest, in these 
 memorable words : 
 
 " Ther was not small support in the mouth of some faythfull 
 brethren, to bring me to this confessione of my awin offence. Bot, 
 above all, Mr Andro Symsone, minister of Dumbar, did so lyvlie 
 rype foorth the inward cogitationes of my hert, and discover my 
 mynd so pknelie, that I persuaded myself God spak in him ; and 
 besydis vtheris notable coniecturies which he trulie dedvced befoir 
 my eyes, he remembrit me of ane dreame, which in my grit seik- 
 
 ness did appearandlie present the self. at this tyme did God 
 
 move my hart to acknowledge the horror of my awiii offence, and 
 how far Sathan had obteinit victorie ower me." Bannatyne's 
 Trans, Scot. p. 47. 
 
 Page 356, line 25. 
 
 And Wood, his prince's favourite. He who won 
 The Mitre of the Isles, and preach' d the cross 
 To the lone dwellers of the western main. 
 
 Andrew Wood, Bishop of the Isles, was son to David Wood, a 
 minister, by Miss Guthrie, sister to John Guthrie of Guthrie. He 
 was first minister of Spot, and then of Dunbar, and was created 
 Bishop of the Isles in 1678. He received a dispensation from the 
 king to hold the benefice of Dunbar together with the said bishop- 
 rick. He was translated to the see of Caithness in 1680, where 
 he continued till the revolution in 1688. He died at Dunbar in 
 1695, aged 76 years. Keith's Cat. p. 129.
 
 NOTES TO DUNBAR COLLEGIATE CHURCH. 
 
 Page 361, line 6. 
 
 Spare, vandal ! spare, that splendid monument, 
 Where lie the ashes of illustrious Home. 
 
 Sir George Home was created Earl of Dunbar * by James VI., 
 and died at Whitehall, Jan. 29, 1611. " His body/' says Craw- 
 furd, " being embalmed, and put into a coffin of lead, was sent 
 " down to Scotland, and with great solemnity interred in the col- 
 " legiate church of Dunbar, where his executors erected a very 
 " noble and magnificent monument of various- coloured marble, 
 " with a statue as large as life." Crawfurfs Officers of State, 
 vol. i. p. 399. This superb monument was situated in the east 
 aisle of the collegiate church, and as that part of the old wall 
 against which it stood was incorporated with the modern building, 
 it still retains its original situation in the new edifice. 
 
 Page 361, line 41. 
 
 And spare, O spare ! that tablet in the wall, 
 That marks where Stevenson all lowly lies. 
 This tablet was situated on the right of the door, leading into the 
 south-east aisle. Of the elaborate inscription, the name of Steven- 
 son alone was legible ; but it may be seen in full in " Monteith's 
 Theatre of Mortality." He was 30 years professor of philology 
 and philosophy in Edinburgh, and 25 years minister of Dunbar. 
 
 Page 364, line 16- 
 
 Where the Protector with his fierce brigade 
 Subdued the Covenanters. 
 
 Cromwell entered Dunbar on Sunday, 1st September, ] 650, the 
 day preceding the battle of Dunbar, and encamped in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the church, taking up his quarters in Broxmouth-house. 
 Tradition says, that he fortified the church-yard. 
 
 " Sir George Home was in great credit with king James, after his going to England, 
 and by him was created first Lord of Berwick, then Earl of Dumbar. He got all these 
 offices erected in his person, and was made treasurer, comptroller, and collector, and 
 was sent many times to Scotland, as the king's commissioner, to execute justice on the 
 Borders, which he did with great rigour ; but, by the hatred of some of the courtiers 
 there, he was not suffered long to enjoy that extraordinary favour ; for with some tablets 
 of sugar, given him for expelling the cold by Secretary Cecil, he was poisoned ; which 
 was well known by the death of Martin Sougir, a doctor, who, by laying his finger on 
 his heart, and touching it with his tongue, died within a few days thereafter ; and by the 
 relation of his sen-ant of his chamber, Sir James Bailie, who saw him get the tawets 
 from the said secretary, and who having eaten a small parcel of them himself, struck all 
 out in blisters; but by strength of body he escaped death." Sir John Scot ofScotstar- 
 i-it's Staggering State, p. 34.
 
 ORMISTON YEW TREE; 
 
 LAMENT FOR THE EARL OF HOPETOUN. 
 
 HAIL ! monarch of the garden's bed, 
 
 That gleams like Druids' grove afar ; 
 May lightnings never blast thy head, 
 
 Nor blighting dews thy glories mar ; 
 And, should Destruction's arm abhorr'd, 
 
 E'er smite thee in thy noon of fame, 
 Thy trunk shall deck the festive board, 
 
 Like Shakspeare's tree, and save thy name. 
 
 Beneath thy dark umbrageous shade 
 
 The village swain delights to rove, 
 To tell his kind-consenting maid 
 
 The soft voluptuous tale of love; 
 While blushes tinge her rosy cheeks, 
 
 As crimson rays o'er snow-wreaths steal, 
 The silent sigh too well bespeaks 
 
 What maiden lips may not reveal.
 
 374 ORMISTON YEW TREE. 
 
 How oft thy branches, spreading wide, 
 
 Have canopied the children's ring, 
 From merry morn till eventide, 
 
 Disporting like the birds in spring ; 
 While chasing from their dewy nest 
 
 The covey o'er the liUed lea ; 
 Or, climbing high, with fearless breast, 
 
 To rob the rook on yonder tree. 
 
 Years speed awaythe rustic core 
 
 Again beneath thy foliage meet, 
 But not so blest as when of yore 
 
 They tripp'd on music-loving feet. 
 Now manhood's sterner cares engage, 
 
 As Mammon's paths they keen explore ; 
 Or, haply, read the patriarch's page, 
 
 Or turn unmeaning thesis o'er. 
 
 When sultry Sol is flaming high, 
 
 At summer's noon the swains repair 
 'Neath thy impervious canopy 
 
 The frugal fare of health to share. 
 The cup goes round at pleasure's call, 
 
 The kiss is stolen from buxom maid ; 
 While, catching fragments as they fall, 
 
 The fawning dog is couchant laid.
 
 ORMISTON YEW TREE. 375 
 
 But when the clouds in darkness roam, 
 
 Thick scattered by the murmuring wind, 
 The moralist loves thy solemn gloom, 
 
 That suits his meditative mind : 
 Dull tree ! thou lov'st the burial-ground, 
 
 With evergreens thou mock'st decay ; 
 For where the woodmen moulder round, 
 
 Thou gather'st moisture from their clay- 
 
 Canst thou, like old Dodona's oak, 
 
 Thy silent leaves to language wake, 
 Where sacred doves responsive spoke ? 
 
 The tree this answer deign'd to make : 
 " Here Wishart shewed prophetic powers, 
 
 " Before that vial of wrath was given, 
 " When in St Andrew's dungeon towers 
 
 " His vengeance-blood uprose to heaven ! 
 
 " Here Cockburn, in my solitude, 
 
 " Forgot the bench and wrangling bar, 
 " With Science in her gentler mood 
 
 " To wage the literary war : 
 " Alike the senate or the plough, 
 
 " The olive branch or patriot's steel, 
 " To him who with undaunted brow 
 
 " Still advocated Scotia's weel.
 
 376 ORMISTON YEW TREE. 
 
 " Haply, beneath my verdant spray, 
 
 " You tread the muse's path divine, 
 " Where lovely Fairnalie would stray, 
 
 " The gentle votress of the nine. 
 " She struck the lyre amongst these bowers, 
 
 " And breathed that sweetly plaintive lay, 
 " That weeps the forest's withered flowers, 
 
 " To fatal Flodden wede away." 
 
 The tree was silent as before, 
 
 It's voice like summer breezes died, 
 When the lone stranger rests his oar 
 
 Upon Loch Lomond's shelter'd side. 
 Perhaps thy earlier shoots might form 
 
 The trusty bow on Flodden's plain, 
 Where fell, amidst the arrowy storm, 
 
 Thy warrior lord 'midst heaps of slain ! 
 
 But now thy vernal boughs must mourn, 
 
 The archer weep beneath thy shade ; 
 For Hopetoun never shall return, 
 
 In Gallia's fields all lowly laid. 
 He loved to prune thy dark-green plumes, 
 
 Which rising beauties still display ; 
 Nor deem'd thy never-fading blooms 
 
 The emblem of his laurel bay.
 
 ORMISTON YEW TREE. 377 
 
 When on Corunna's fatal shore 
 
 Afar the Gallic ensigns waved, 
 When fell in Victory's arms, brave Moore, 
 
 Hopetoun retiring legions saved ; 
 Then, 'midst the din of doubtful war, 
 
 Ere British ships came o'er the sea, 
 His pensive thoughts might wander far, 
 
 And sigh for home, and think on thee ! 
 
 Thy chieftain fought on Egypt's sands, 
 
 And turn'd the battle's reddening tide ; 
 Broke vaunting Gallia's veteran bands, 
 
 Unconquer'd by the world beside : 
 His monument, his country's page, 
 
 In burning characters shall live ; 
 'Twill gather lustre age by age, 
 
 The lustre worth alone can give. 
 
 This though his public acts may earn, 
 
 Yet private tears will also flow, 
 The splendid tower, the mountain cairn, 
 
 A country's weeping love will shew. 
 These domes shall warm the patriot's breast 
 
 To deeds of glory undesign'd, 
 While at the base the swain shall rest, 
 
 And mourn a benefactor kind.
 
 NOTES TO ORMISTON YEW TREE. 
 
 Page 373, line 1. 
 
 Hail ! monarch of the gardens bed, 
 That gleams like Druids' grove afar. 
 
 THIS luxuriant tree ornaments the Earl of Hopetoun's garden at 
 Ormiston-hall. Dr Walker, in his Essays on Natural History, 
 says, that on the 10th May, 1762, the yew measured ten feet three 
 inches in circumference ; in 1799, the trunk measured eleven feet, 
 and twenty-five in height ; and now (1824) it measures thirteen 
 feet in circumference, and twenty-eight in height : the diameter 
 of the ground covered by its branches being about 64 feet, or 190 
 in circumference. The tree flourishes in full vigour without any 
 symptoms of decay ; and in the autumnal months, when covered 
 with its red berries, has a magnificent appearance. The author 
 of the Statistical Account of the Parish ascertained that the yew 
 had existed for at least two centuries. 
 
 Page 375, line 13. 
 
 Here Wishart shew'd prophetic powers, 
 Before that vial of wrath was given. 
 
 In the north-west side of the garden wall, part of the gable re- 
 mains of one of the wings of the old family mansion of the Cock- 
 burns, which contains the grated window of a chamber from 
 whence, it is said, the unfortunate George Wishart was taken in 
 1546, previous to his suffering martyrdom at St Andrews. 
 
 Tradition says that Wishart frequently preached beneath the 
 yew tree, when on a visit to the hospitable Laird of Ormiston. 
 
 Page 375, line 17. 
 
 Here Cockburn, in my solitude, 
 Forgot the bench and wrangling bar. 
 
 John Cockburn, of Ormiston, was celebrated both as a states- 
 man and a patriotic representative of his country in the Union-
 
 NOTES TO ORMISTON YEW TREE. 379 
 
 parliament. He contributed to erect the first bleachfield in Scot- 
 land, and it was by his example and influence that improvements 
 were made on the high-roads in the neigbourhood. For some 
 time he was one of the Lords of the Admiralty. 
 
 The family burial vault of the Cockburns is situated a few yards 
 from the present garden, and marks the site of the old church, 
 which was dedicated to St Giles, and was granted, with its perti- 
 nents, to the hospital of Soltre, in the 13th century. 
 
 Page 376, line 3. 
 
 Where lovely Faimalie would stray, 
 The gentle votress of the nine. 
 
 The late Mrs Cockburn of Ormiston, relict of John Cockburn, 
 whose father was Lord Justice Clerk, was daughter to Mr Ruther- 
 ford of Fairnalie, in Selkirkshire, and wrote the second part of the 
 beautiful song entitled the Flowers of the Forest 
 
 Page 376, line 17. 
 
 But now thy vernal boughs must mourn, 
 The archer weep beneath thy shade ; 
 
 For Hopetoun never shall return, 
 In Gallid' s fields all lowly laid. 
 
 John, fourth earl of Hopetoun, who, after a life devoted to the 
 service of his country, died at Paris in August, 1823, whither he 
 had gone for the benefit of his health. Our limits will not permit 
 us to detail the many public acts of his lordship ; suffice to say, 
 that he accompanied Sir Ralph Abercrombie as brigadier-general 
 in the Egyptian expedition, in 1800 ; and was wounded in the 
 hand at the battle of Alexandria, which deprived the army a 
 while of his services. In consequence of the death of Sir John 
 Moore, and the wounds of Sir David Baird, at the fatal battle of 
 Corunna, the command devolved on Lord Hopetoun, then Lieu- 
 tenant-general Hope, " to whose zeal and valour was attributed 
 the success of the day,, when the enemy were repulsed at every 
 point of attack." A handsome monument to his memory is pre- 
 sently erecting at Byershill, East Lothian, by his tenantry.
 
 380 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 SONNET 
 
 TO DIRLETON CASTLE. 
 
 TIME'S giant-arm has laid thy turrets low, 
 No more the archers crowd thy broken wall, 
 
 Thou ancient castle of the great De Vaux ; 
 But thou art fair and mighty in thy fall, 
 
 Shrouded with ivy, like the chequer'd plaid 
 Of some grim warrior, resting on his shield, 
 Stricken, but not subdued, in battle-field, 
 
 Above the trees thou rear'st thy lofty head. 
 
 Where gilded banners stream'd, and bugles sung, 
 
 Nature, her yellow drapery has flung, 
 
 And, with the wall-flower, sheds an eastern grace 
 
 O'er the dark features of thy rugged face. 
 
 Stern Time ! whose touch is sharper than the spear, 
 O spare these turrets 'midst thy endless waste ! 
 
 That long this tower, like monument, may grace 
 The lands that shine with Nisbet's chasten'd taste, 
 
 And charm th' admiring wanderer lingering near.
 
 THE WRECK 
 
 OP 
 
 THE JOHN AND AGNES SLOOP 
 
 OF NEWCASTLE, 
 
 AT TYNE SANDS, NEAR DUNBAR, ON THE NIGHT OP SATUR- 
 DAY THE 9TH NOVEMBER, 1816. 
 
 THE moon has reached her midnight watch in heaven, 
 And veils her pensive face, afraid to view 
 The gathering tempest, while upon my couch, 
 Listening the hollow cadence of the storm, 
 I count the lazy hours ; and meditate 
 Upon the sailor's dark and wayward lot. 
 
 O 'tis a fearful night for those whose friends 
 Rock on the stormy wave. Winds howl seas roar ! 
 And the lone maid, in weeping solitude, 
 Pines for her lost Palemon on the deep ; 
 Who, 'numb'd with cold, hangs on the pulpy shrouds, 
 And thinks how grateful were his Anna's arms 
 In such an hour. Then musing Fancy strays 
 To some drear mansion, tott'ring near the beach, 
 Where the wind, howling through the gaping chinks, 
 Startles the babe upon its mother's breast ! 
 The mother wakes and closer clasps her husband !
 
 382 WRECK OF THE JOHN AND AGNES. 
 
 Then lisps a prayer of silent thankfulness 
 
 That he is not a sailor. 'Tis a night 
 
 Might freeze the stoutest heart. Such was the gale 
 
 When gallant Beaver, on these iron shores, 
 
 Beheld his warriors perish, as the day 
 
 Closed fearful o'er them, and the rough rocks sawed 
 
 The Fox's* keel asunder ; she who braved 
 
 The fire and triple vengeance of La Hogue, 
 
 Less dreadful than the storm. Alas ! for him 
 
 Whose bark careers amidst the pathless seas, 
 
 The sport of winds and waves ! The helmsman bends 
 
 To shun the spray, sent by the shooting wave, 
 
 That skims athwart the deck. But hark ! loud shouts 
 
 Come echoing through the streets ; and now I hear 
 
 The car, deep laden, rattling on the causeway ; 
 
 List ! was the sound deceitful, fancy- fonn'd, 
 
 To agonize the ear ? O, gracious God ! 
 
 Again the shout is heard, again again ! 
 
 " A ship's ashore !" each hoarse loud voice proclaims. 
 
 And, lo ! majestically, along the streets, 
 
 The life-boat thunders on the trembling wain : 
 
 " In a storm on the 14th November, the Fox man-of-war, Captain 
 " Beaver, was cast away near Dunbar, and all on board perished." 
 Scott Mag. 1746. The last time the ship was discovered was to the 
 eastward of the May. It is probable that she struck on the rocks west 
 from the castle, as most of the corpses were found there. The wreck af- 
 terwards drifted and moored in Tyne Sands, where part of the rigging 
 has at times been seen by aged persons.
 
 WRECK OF THE JOHN AND AGNE8. 383 
 
 Heaven's delegate ! to snatch the mariner 
 
 From death's wide-yawning gulf. A hardy tar, 
 
 (Who Pythias-like, had nearly barter'd life 
 
 To save his friend,) had brought the dreadful news 
 
 Of their disaster. The small vessel lay 
 
 Grounded upon the spacious sands of Tyne, 
 
 Near where the river meets the Forth's embrace 
 
 Westward of old Dunbar. With bilged stern 
 
 She, broadside, met the seas, that sounding swept 
 
 The groaning deck. Her lost sails flutter'd wide 
 
 In idle rage : so have we often spied 
 
 The sea-bird dallying on the ocean's foam. 
 
 The boatmen gain'd the strand. A shout of joy 
 
 Came from the fainting crew. The treach'rous sands 
 
 Awhile had staid their progress, but not long ; 
 
 For all impediments were swept away 
 
 Before advent'rous Laing, the seaman's friend ! 
 
 The hero of these shores ! How oft, Dunbar ! 
 
 Thy sons have seen him, in the darkest hour 
 
 Of danger, snatch the victim from the wave.* 
 
 And now the life-boat beat the chafing surf 
 
 Like some tall swan, in sweeping majesty, 
 
 * Witness that part of the crew of the Pallas and Nymph frigates, 
 who were saved by his exertions, and those acting under him, on the 18th 
 December, 1810, when the Pallas was stranded on the rocks a little east 
 from Broxmouth, near Dunbar ; and the Nymph below Skateraw, both 
 in the same night.
 
 384 WRECK OF THE JOHN AND AGNES. 
 
 Then rested by the ship, when, one by one, 
 
 The solitary remnants of the crew 
 
 Came leaping in. One hapless sailor hung 
 
 Suspended from the shrouds, where he was lash'd, 
 
 In frozen speechlessness that must not break ! 
 
 For all the surgeon's skill was tried in vain. 
 
 Another tar, the second in command, 
 
 Had sought to gain the beach, and luckless sank 
 
 Into a briny grave. But where are they 
 
 For whom our Pythias braved the stormy surge ? 
 
 A brother and a sister he had left 
 
 Wild clinging to the mast ; and bartered life 
 
 To save them from destruction. Now, alas ! 
 
 Those lip's are mute for ever that had blest him ! 
 
 Those hands are cold that waved a last adieu ! 
 
 For 'midst despairing moments, one dread wave, 
 
 That swelling rose, burst thundering on the deck, 
 
 And sent them shrieking to the depths below 
 
 Ere they could say farewell ! O God ! that sight 
 
 Had mov'd cold apathy. But do not weep, 
 
 Ye fond relations of this fated crew ; 
 
 For life's dim page is darkly character'd, 
 
 And could we with prescient eye divine 
 
 The wars we have to wage the storms to buffet ! 
 
 We'd heave an envious sigh o'er those who rest, 
 
 Whom death has ransom'd from the ills to come I
 
 THE 
 
 SHEPHERD OF LAMMERMOOR. 
 
 HA ! Winter comes ! on rein-deer car, 
 
 Like hunter to the chase ; 
 And Summer's smiles he drives afar, 
 
 To give his horrors place. 
 Earth withers 'neath his blasting tread, 
 The tuneful tenants leave the mead ; 
 Dunpender's sides are shining hoar ; 
 Pressminnen's lake is frozen o'er, 
 
 And Heartrim wood is bare. 
 The squirrel leaves his nutty bower ; 
 The hawthorn bush has lost its flower, 
 
 So solitary fair ! 
 Yon ancient Tower is capt with snow, 
 
 And trembles to the ground, 
 Threatening the passenger below, 
 
 Who lists the gathering sound 
 Of streamlet, in its windings lost, 
 Where, bursting through its chains of frost, 
 
 It crisps and foams around. 
 Far on the distant mountain's head 
 The tyrant rears his pyramid ;
 
 386 THE SHEPHERD OF LAMMERMOOR. 
 
 While from his nostrils, wildly driven, 
 Clouds darken all the face of heaven ! 
 It makes my warmest vein run chill ! 
 
 To view the distant wold, 
 Where, hastening from the mossy hill, 
 
 The shepherd seeks his fold, 
 And sinks upon the drifted heath 
 Into the freezing arms of death, 
 To be in snowy coffin hid 
 Till thaws dissolve the frozen lid. 
 Thus, o'er the heights of Lammermoor, 
 
 The wanderer held his way, 
 When night, in clouds, began to lower, 
 
 Deceitful as the day ; 
 
 Then, through the foliage glimmering bright, 
 Like sunshine on the face of night, 
 His cottage-light by fits he spied 
 Upon his native mountain's side ; 
 And heard the sheep-bell's tinkling sound, 
 Now in the tempest lost and drown'd. 
 Within that cottage Ellen wept, 
 And watch'd her baby as it slept ; 
 But while she mourn'd the luckless hour 
 
 Her husband with his flocks departed, 
 A glow of gladness mantled o'er 
 
 Her cheeks when nearly broken-hearted ;
 
 THE SHEPHERD OF LAMMERMOOR. 387 
 
 For Edmund oft had traced the road 
 When fiercer storms had been abroad ; 
 Led by the smile of wedded bliss, 
 He tarried not for hour like this ; 
 For, oh ! he knew his Ellen's breast 
 Would prove a charming place of rest, 
 And he would sleep more soft and sound 
 
 Where joy and welcome ?till were found. 
 / 
 
 But who, in this mysterious state, 
 
 Can read thy page, futurity ? 
 Or knows until he knows too late 
 
 Whether 'tis best to smile or sigh ? 
 For Ellen deem'd not, when array'd 
 She saw her husband in his plaid, 
 Wending along the mountains blue, 
 He bade them all a last adieu ! 
 She deem'd not, that the morn's embrace, 
 Affection beaming in each face, 
 As her and the sweet babe he prest 
 Transported to his manly breast ; 
 She deem'd not that embrace the last, 
 Else still she'd fondly held him fast, 
 And warn'd him never to depart, 
 In pity to her breaking heart. 
 But, hark ! she hears the dog's long howl ; 
 ('Twas but the tempest's passing scowl,)
 
 388 THE SHEPHERD Ot LAMMERMOOR. 
 
 She raised the latch, unbarr'd the door, 
 Yet all was silent as before. 
 
 As when the sailor, tempest-toss'd, 
 At midnight, on a shoally coast, 
 Drops his toil'd arm upon the billow, 
 And thinks each wave will be his pillow, 
 Sees, bursting 'midst the storm's dismay, 
 The light-house tower's revolving ray, 
 Then wakes to sorrow and despair, 
 Deluded by the meteor's glare : 
 So gleam'd the shepherd's lattice-light, 
 Deceitful on that stormy night ; 
 And now his sunk heart warmer glow'd, 
 For he had reach'd the wish'd-for road ; 
 His Ellen's fond embrace, and smile, 
 Repaid his long and weary toil ; 
 Sprung to his knee his favourite boy, 
 Playful, demands the promised toy ; 
 While the small infant, at the breast, 
 Smiles too to see the welcome guest. 
 O deepest wo to mortal given, 
 To perish at the gates of heaven ! 
 Benumb'd the shepherd sunk to rest, 
 With nature's shroud upon his breast !
 
 DUNPENDER LAW. 
 
 FANN'D by the balmy breathing west, 
 On green Dunpenders * brow I rest, 
 Musing on cliffs and towers below, 
 Where forests wave and rivulets flow ; 
 Far, in the gold-emblazon'd sky, 
 The Pentland-hills in grandeur lie, 
 Where erst the gentle shepherd stray'd, 
 Fond lilting to his pastoral maid ; 
 While Arthur Seat his shadow shews 
 Like lion couchant, in repose ; 
 
 And the tower-crowned Gallon gleams, 
 
 _ 
 Bathed in day's departing beams ; 
 
 And mingled with the hues of even, 
 The Fifean shores seem propping heaven. 
 Oft through the opening shades between 
 The silvery Forth is winding seen, 
 Where vessels with their white sails glide, 
 Like insects sporting on the tide, 
 
 * Dunpender Law, now called Trapren Law, is a rocky isolated 
 hill of an oval form, situated in East Lothian, which rises about 700 
 feet above the level of the sea.
 
 390 DUNPENDER LAW. 
 
 That glisten in the noontide ray, 
 And with the evening fade away. 
 
 As the blithe lark that long has stray'd 
 Through distant woodland's mazy shade, 
 Bewildered turns on wearied wing, 
 To thickets where her nestlings sing, 
 So fondly turns my partial eye 
 To dearer scenes that nearer lie, 
 Where plantings fair and hawthorn hedge 
 Shadow Garleton's sloping edge, 
 And through shades of softer green 
 Beanston's modest face is seen, 
 While in yonder flowery lawn, 
 So calm at eve, so bright at dawn, 
 Shooting from the leafy bowers 
 Amisfield's massy palace towers ; 
 And farther on, in misty clouds, 
 The church her solemn figure shrouds, 
 Haddina's fane sublimely hoar, 
 Where good St Francis reign'd of yore. 
 The organ's voice no longer steals 
 Through her aisles in solemn peals, 
 Dimm'd her lamp, whose glowworm ray 
 Cheer'd lonely pilgrim's midnight way. 
 The mass has ceased the monks are gone ; 
 For time has sapp'd the papal throne.
 
 DUNPENDER LAW. 391 
 
 O Edwin ! them wilt ne'er forget 
 How lagg'd the hours before we met 
 To muse within that hallow'd fane. 
 Tired of the world's bustling scene, 
 We gladly hail'd the close of day, 
 In peaceful star-light shades to stray, 
 When moonlight shed enchantment round 
 O'er all the church's holy ground, 
 While echo'd to thy flute's deep thrill 
 The Gothic arch, the murmuring rill ; 
 Then thought we of mysterious sounds, 
 While pacing the dark echoing grounds : 
 Such sounds as startle with affright 
 The waylaid swain at dead of night ; 
 And though our cares were never few, 
 Still Fancy brighten'd all she drew, 
 And Hope those flowery visions wrought, 
 That perish'd with maturer thought. 
 
 Fair Tyne ! thy river smoothly glides 
 To mingle with the ocean's tides, 
 And though thy windings may not boast 
 The rushing stream in cataracts lost, 
 O'erhung with ivied rocks and woods, 
 Like Clyde or Esk's romantic floods, 
 Yet Sol, in all his flaming chase, 
 Beholds no river's crystal face,
 
 392 DUNPENDER LAW. 
 
 That waters meads more rich with grain 
 Than those he meets on Lothian's plain ; 
 Whether by Crichton's lordly towers 
 Thy rivulet winds 'neath lofty bowers ; 
 Whether by Salton's coverts gay, 
 Where patriot Fletcher loved to stray ; 
 Or where, near Preston's ancient fane, 
 Thy waters mingle with the main. 
 
 Next wandering down thy stream I spy 
 Stevenson's woods that sombre lie, 
 Spreading thick their branches dun, 
 Bronzed with the setting sun ; 
 Clouds of rooks are sailing near, 
 Stunning Meditation's ear, 
 As she sits with sober look, 
 Gazing on the running brook. 
 Is there aught can sooth the mind, 
 Like the meanings of the wind ? 
 Is there aught that can recall 
 Our thoughts, like water's constant fall ? 
 
 Beneath me, Hailes delights to trace 
 In shady Tyne his furrow'd face : 
 Though there the peasant rears his shed 
 Where Valour sleeps in gory bed, 
 Yet Tyne has seen that castle's crest 
 More brightly gleaming on her breast,
 
 DUNPENDER LAW. 398 
 
 When, in a dark and stormy hour, 
 His arms received the regal flower ; 
 I give, forgetting Mary's crimes, 
 (In pity for those faithless times,) 
 The tear the generous heart bestows 
 When weeping over beauty's woes ; 
 For all that birth and beauty gave 
 Was to betray and not to save : 
 Thus, in some lone sequester'd cot, 
 Contented with her humble lot, 
 Far from Ambition's giddy steeps 
 The peasant girl on roses sleeps, 
 While she whom fawning courts caress 
 Must drink the dregs of bitterness. 
 
 The lofty Law * on yonder lands 
 In towering Alpine grandeur stands, 
 Where, as tradition says, were seen 
 A fairy host in garbs of green, 
 Who, when the housewife barr'd the door, 
 Would curse the dairy's mantling store, 
 And snatch the stolen child, and free 
 Its form from dull mortality. 
 
 Gleaming, where birds of snowy hue 
 Their jubilee spend, the Bass I view ; 
 
 * North Berwick Law, a beautiful isolated conical hill, on the shore 
 of East Lothian.
 
 394 DUNPENDER LAW. 
 
 And dimly frowns Tantallon's holde, 
 Where Douglas reigned, too rashly bold ; 
 While Tyningham's delicious woods 
 Luxuriant rush to ocean's floods ; 
 And soon my rapt eye rests afar 
 Where shadows mantle old Dunbar. 
 
 But now the thrush with plaintive lay 
 Charms the soft closing ear of day ; 
 The sinking sun with blushing fires 
 Crimsons heaven, and fast retires, 
 Bathing in hues of browner light 
 Linton's hamlets gleaming bright ; 
 A thousand birds their vespers pour, 
 And droops its head the drowsy flower, 
 As like yon star, that rises slow, 
 The May's pale light begins to glow, 
 Revolving o'er the waters hoary, 
 Now lost like beams of joy in sorrow ; 
 While down the mountain's side I wind, 
 I often pause to gaze behind, 
 As lovers linger to survey 
 Their parting shadows steal away.
 
 THE MOON AND THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 THOU Moon, with thine attendant Star, 
 That gilds the dusky brow of night, 
 
 Thy spangled path thou'st held afar, 
 Since from the ocean glancing bright 
 Thou burst upon the seaman's sight ; 
 
 And long o'er mountain, wood, and dale, 
 Thou'st held thy lofty aerial flight, 
 
 Firm as the rock free as the gale ! 
 
 Now, from his dark and lonely cell, 
 
 The weeping captive sees thee rise, 
 While Memory bids his bosom swell 
 
 With Recollection's fondest ties ; 
 
 For now beneath thy splendour lies, 
 In all its joy, his native land, 
 
 Where he has traced, in brighter skies, 
 Thy spangled course, on Scotia's strand.
 
 396 * TO THE MOON AND EVENING STAR. 
 
 The maiden hails thy shining face 
 
 Come blithely peeping o'er the hill, 
 As if her walks thou sought to trace 
 
 In shady bower by winding rill. 
 
 O when to love's delightful thrill ! 
 Hearts meet beneath thy pensive beam, 
 
 The hours flow on so soft and still, 
 That life appears a fairy dream. 
 
 The pilgrim, worn with want and toil, 
 Had slept 'midst India's deadly dew, 
 
 And on the stranger's arid soil, 
 
 To friends and foes had breathed adieu, 
 Had not thy crescent's splendid hue 
 
 Illumed the shades that hung around, 
 And brought the Creole's hut to view, 
 
 Where friends and soft repose were found. 
 
 The sailor, in his nightly rounds, 
 
 Encircled by the sea and sky, 
 Beholds thee, as his watch he sounds, 
 
 A distant friend yet ever nigh ! 
 
 To other climes though fast he fly, 
 Yet still thou lov'st to meet him there, 
 
 As when upon the banks of Eye 
 He breathed to Jean the parting prayer.
 
 SONGS. 
 
 THE FALSE ALARM. 
 
 1803. 
 
 ON the crest of Dunselaw the red beacon is blazing, 
 
 That startles the swan as she sails in Henpoo' ! 
 Home Castle and Hounam the signals are raising, 
 
 And far gleams St Abb o'er the waves curling blue. 
 Arm, arm ! gallant yeomen ! to meet the fierce foeman, 
 
 His eagles are planted on Lothian's fair shore ; 
 Your cities are burning, your maidens are mourning, 
 
 To victory march, as your fathers of yore. 
 
 Come from the Ettrick, the Tweed, and the Teviot ; 
 
 Come from where Leader and Whitadder gleams ; 
 Come from the sylvan Jed ; come from the Cheviot, 
 
 Fierce as the thunder-cloud, pure as your streams. 
 Swear by the cairns of your hills ere you leave them 
 
 Swear by the heroes in Freedom's cause slain, 
 That your swords will be bared until victory sheathe 
 them, 
 
 If e'er you return to your mountains again.
 
 398 THE FALSE ALARM. 
 
 On the dark heights of Cheviot her sabres are glancing, 
 
 With Hagerston's horsemen in battle array, 
 While Berwickshire's legions are blithely advancing, 
 
 And Selkirk and Roxburgh rush to the fray. 
 From Lammermoor's heather the warriors gather, 
 
 Their swords though a thousand, their hearts are but 
 
 one; 
 While Dunse and Dunbar send their sons to the war, 
 
 To join British veterans led on by brave Don. 
 
 Return to your revels and beauty's fair charms ; 
 
 Return, gallant yeomen ! where peace beams serene ; 
 Those signals were but patriotic alarms,* 
 
 The foes whom you seek now repose by the Seine. 
 But should foreign ranks ever tread the Tweed's banks, 
 
 Or a hostile Flotilla in Forth ever lie, 
 You will rush to the shore as your fathers of yore, 
 
 And like patriots conquer, or patriots die ! 
 
 The False Alarm is supposed to have arisen from what is called 
 a house-heating, which stood in a conspicuous situation in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Dunse. Hounamlaw, in Roxburghshire, mistook the 
 lights for the beacon of Dunselaw, and she in her turn lighted up when 
 she saw the former in a blaze. Owing to some delay or negligence, 
 Blackcastle did not give the alarm, otherwise the whole of the Lothians 
 would have poured forth their patriot steel. The Berwickshire yeo- 
 manry came to Dunbar, and the Dunse volunteers to Haddington. The 
 emphatic prayer of an old woman, when the yeomanry were on their 
 march through Dunse, shews the spirit of a country when threatened by 
 invasion : " Lord, grant that ye may return victorious, or return no 
 more !"
 
 SONGS. 399 
 
 GEORGE THE FOURTH'S WELCOME. 
 
 AUGUST, 1822. 
 
 Sweet, Sir, for your courtesie, 
 
 When ye come by the Bass, then ; 
 
 For the love ye bear to me, 
 
 Buy me a keeking glass, then. OLD BALLAD. 
 
 COME, list the pibroch's martial strain, 
 That ca's the clans to Lothian's plain ; 
 For Scotland's got her king again, 
 She welcomes royal Geordie ! 
 
 CHORU*. 
 
 0, ye've been lang o coming; 
 
 Lang, lang, lang o' coming- , 
 
 0, ye've been lang o' coming, 
 
 Welcome, royal Geordie ! 
 
 O blaw, ye breezes ! favouring blaw 
 Around North Berwick's lofty Law, 
 And gently on the squadron fa', 
 
 That brings us royal Geordie !
 
 400 GEORGE THE FOURTH'S WELCOME. 
 
 The king has pass'd St Abb's rough head, 
 Now loyal laird of Spott mak' speed, 
 Your guns and bonfire quickly feed, 
 And welcome royal Geordie. 
 
 Dunbar, your ancient fort prepare, 
 (In a' that's guid you tak' a share,) 
 Your burghers to the beach repair, 
 And welcome royal Geordie. 
 
 The cannon's voice is heard afar, 
 The royal fleet has pass'd Dunbar ; 
 Upon his breast he wears a star, 
 A stately lad is Geordie ! 
 
 Thou ancient crag, romantic Bass ! 
 Salute the squadron as they pass : 
 Let Janet get her keeking glass, 
 
 And busk her braw for Geordie. 
 
 
 North Berwick's lads your sweethearts bring, 
 
 Your idle violins blithely string, 
 Till Fidra's isle and Craig Leith ring 
 
 A blithe salute to Geordie. 
 6
 
 GEORGE THE FOURTH'S WELCOME. 401 
 
 He leaves his royal rich domains, 
 That stand so beauteous by the Thames, 
 To see our blooming nymphs and swains, 
 A courteous lad is Geordie. 
 
 And, O ! amang our mountains blue, 
 Dwell loyal chiefs, to valour true ; 
 And beauteous dames, may wind a clue 
 Around the heart d 1 Geordie. 
 
 Thrice welcome to green Albyn's shore, 
 As Bruce and Wallace were of yore ; 
 Our ancient kings the lion bore, 
 And sae does royal Geordie ! 
 
 Auld Holyrood again looks gay, 
 Her martial files, in bright array, 
 Are glittering in the gouden ray, 
 To welcome royal Geordie. 
 
 And Calton's terrace-walks so green 
 Are fringed with tents and culverin ; 
 On Salisbury's craigs the same is seen, 
 To welcome royal Geordie.
 
 402 GEORGE THE FOURTH'S WELCOME. 
 
 From hill to hill the tidings fly, 
 Proud Arthur's crest is blazing high, 
 Trapren glowers up, and lights the sky, 
 To welcome royal Geordie. 
 
 Dunedin's streets are in a blaze, 
 As when great Nelson ruled the seas ! 
 Is Wellington upon the breeze ? 
 O, no ! it's royal Geordie ! 
 
 Come, Scotia ! tune your aiken reed, 
 Sir Walter's blithely ta'en the lead ; 
 And blaw your chanters till they screed 
 To welcome royal Geordie ! 
 
 The wine-cup, flowing, pass around, 
 A flourish let the trumpets sound, 
 While ships and castle's cliffs resound 
 A blithe salute to Geordie !
 
 SONGS. 403 
 
 SONG, 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THK OCCASION, AND SUNG AT A DINNER GIVEN 
 IN THE ASSEMBLY ROOM, ON THE HADDINGTON ST JOHN'S 
 KILWINNING LODGE LAYING THE FOUNDATION STONE 
 OF THE EARL OF HOPETOUN's MONUMENT ON BYRES-HILL, 
 3D MAY, 1824. 
 
 WHILE nations enjoy the glad blessings of peace, 
 
 We meet in the hall to remember the brave, 
 Who bought with their blood bonded Europe's release, 
 
 And fought for their country's repose or a grave. 
 Then charge, brethren, charge, a full bumper is due 
 To Abercrombie's name 
 And his comrade in fame, 
 Great Hopetoun, in battle so vaVrous and true. 
 
 O bright were the laurels they won on that strand, 
 Where Gallia's tricolour'd flag was unfurPd ; 
 
 T hey conquered Napoleon's Egyptian band, 
 Invincible deenVd by the rest of the world.
 
 404 SONGS. 
 
 With Hope and Abercrombie, O ne'er be forgot 
 
 Our Ramsay and Hay,* 
 
 Both worthy the bay, 
 Where the battle is raging Amongst sabres and shot. 
 
 While Scotia weeps on Corunna's sad shore 
 The fate of her warriors, Iberia mourns, 
 And hallows the memory of glorious Moore, 
 Who died like a soldier in victory's arms ! 
 As lone on the field her Baird wounded lay, 
 Great Hopetoun when crost, 
 Of himself was a host, 
 And led his brave comrades triumphant away. 
 
 Then high raise the cairn upon the green hill, 
 
 To valour 'twill rouse as we gaze on the pile, 
 Though the eyes of the veteran with tears it may fill, 
 And cloud as she passes young beauty's fair smile. 
 Now peace be to Hopetoun, who rests with the brave, 
 While Ramsay and Hay 
 Must contend for the bay, 
 Should the tempest of war in our valleys e'er rave. 
 
 * Hay, Marquis of Tweeddale, and Ramsay, Earl of Dalhousie, both 
 officers, also engaged in the peninsular war.
 
 SONGS. 
 
 MASONIC SONG. 
 
 WRITTEN AND SUNG ON OCCASION OP MR WILLIAM FERME's 
 PORTRAIT (PAINTED BY WATSON) BEING PLACED IN THE 
 MASONIC LODGE OF HADDINGTON, 1823. 
 
 O WILLIE is a canty chiel ! 
 
 The mason-art he kens sae weel, 
 
 To raise a laugh or raise the de'il 
 
 It's just the same to Willie, O ! 
 We've had him lang, we'll haud him fast, 
 This night auld Fame shall blaw a blast, 
 While far away our cares we cast, 
 
 And drink success to Willie, O ! 
 
 Our sacred art, by Heav'n refined, 
 That joins and blesses all mankind, 
 For such as Willie was designed, 
 
 Wha counts each man his brither, O ! 
 Wi' mystic lore, and humorous art, 
 He steals sae o'er the craftsmen's heart, 
 That when we meet we scarce can part 
 
 Sae blest wi' ane anither, O !
 
 406 MASONIC SONG. 
 
 Immortal be great Hiram's name, 
 And Solomon's undying fame ! 
 We hail their bright united flame, 
 
 Reflected in our Willie, O ! 
 The rule and square is still his badge ; 
 Nor orient seer, nor Tyrian sage, 
 Could ever handle plumb or gauge 
 
 Like our great master, Willie, O ! 
 
 How oft our little social band 
 
 Has met beneath his high command, 
 
 While beauteous order round did stand, 
 
 Supported aye by Willie, O ! 
 No faction e'er our lodge divides, 
 Where truth and friendship still abides ; 
 Nor ever shall, while here presides 
 
 Our gude auld master, Willie, O !
 
 SONGS. 40? 
 
 THE GARDENER'S SONG. 
 
 A GARDEN was the blest retreat 
 
 Where love at first began, 
 When Eve was queen of womankind, 
 
 And Adam, king of man ; 
 And ever since the garden's been 
 
 The sacred bower of love, 
 Where youth and innocence convene, 
 
 In friendship's paths to rove. 
 Then, brethren, round the goblet crown 
 
 With draughts of rosy wine, 
 And drink the memory of our sire, 
 
 Who rear'd the purple vine. 
 
 To Noah, that aquatic lord, 
 
 A bumper next be given ; 
 The second gard'ner on record, 
 
 The favoured child of heaven ; 
 'Twas he at first distilPd those sweets 
 
 That cheer our social hours, 
 And strew'd the darker paths of life 
 
 With artificial flowers.
 
 408 THE GARDENER'S SONG. 
 
 Then, brethren, round the goblet crown 
 With draughts of rosy wine, 
 
 And drink the patriarch's memory 
 Who first distuTd the vine. 
 
 And, lastly, toast the Hebrew sage, 
 
 Who sat on Judah's throne, 
 Surrounded by his harem fair, 
 
 So blest to look upon. 
 Oh, when he sought the garden's walk ! 
 
 Its flowery pomp to see, 
 The virgin lily, on its stalk, 
 
 Was richer far than he ! , 
 Then, sons of flowers, the goblet crown, 
 
 And toast our art divine ! 
 'Tis meet that we should quaft' the grape, 
 
 Who rear the purple vine. 
 
 The world, since creation's dawn, 
 
 Has own'd the gardener's skill ; 
 We paint with flowers the sunny lawn, 
 
 And shade with groves the hill. 
 Physicians borrow from our stores 
 
 The glory of their art ; 
 We feed the hungry, deed the bare, 
 
 And balm to life impart.
 
 THE GARDENER'S SONG. 409 
 
 And woman, Nature's darling child, 
 
 Looks never half so fair, 
 As when the rose-bud decks her breast, 
 
 And garlands crown her hair. 
 
 Our friendship like the ivy spreads, 
 
 But, grafted as the oak, 
 Secure it stands in sun and storm, 
 
 Against each random shock. 
 Our hearts are as the snowdrop pure, 
 
 That dips in crystal wave, 
 But, like the thistle of the hill, 
 
 Oppression's blast we brave ; , 
 And he that's false in heart or hand, 
 
 Oblivious may he sink, 
 May hemlock be his laurel-crown, 
 
 And wormwood be his drink ! 
 
 O ! may the flowery paths of youth, 
 
 Where weeds too often glow, 
 Conduct us to those green retreats 
 
 Where fruits autumnal grow ; 
 And when the blighting dews of age 
 
 Have chilPd our drooping wing, 
 May HE, who heavenly Eden keeps, . 
 
 Give us a second spring.
 
 410 SONGS. 
 
 Then, brethren, round the goblet crown 
 With draughts of rosy wine, 
 
 'Tis meet that we should quaff' the grape, 
 Who rear the purple vine. 
 
 THE 
 
 HAMMERMAN'S SONG. 
 
 WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A HADDINGTON 
 HAMMERMAN. 
 
 You may talk of your gardeners and masons so fine, 
 Their craft is so ancient, 'tis all but divine ; 
 But where were their tools or their implements made 
 Till old Tubal Cain the grand hammer displayed ? 
 Like barbarous nations, with wood and with stone 
 They worked in the dark till the hammerman shone, 
 Then the plough and the trowel on the anvil had birth, 
 And fair Cultivation descended to earth. 
 Descended to earth descended to earth 
 Then fair Cultivation descended to earth.
 
 THE HAMMERMAN'S SONG. 411 
 
 He curbs the fierce steed in its fiery career, 
 
 Gives the bit to the bridle the point to the spear ; 
 
 When the thunder-charged leven terrific doth play, 
 
 His magnetic rod leads it harmless away. 
 
 The hammerman's art is both nice and sublime, 
 
 He tells to a moment the marches of Time ; 
 
 Yes : the hour-telling watch, let them match it who will, 
 
 We owe to the hammerman's glorious skill. 
 
 When Bell and her tabby sit down by the fire, 
 And a cup of Souchong is her pleasant desire, 
 As the nice-shining kettle its melody hums, 
 In fancy her sweetheart, the hammerman, comes ! 
 May the sons of the anvil, the vice, and the file, 
 Have hearts pure as gold, and untainted with guile. 
 Whether on the earth's surface, or deep in its mines, 
 Success to the hammer wherever it shines !
 
 412 SONGS. 
 
 THE 
 
 COUNTRY LAIRD'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 O FAR hae I wandered through frost and through snaw, 
 My mither aye tauld me that I was to blame 
 
 In courting the lasses sae flirtish and braw, 
 
 So 111 just tak 1 my staff and I'll haud awa 1 hame. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 And ifs hooly, liooly, up the brae side ; 
 
 And ifs hooly, liooly, haud awa 1 hame ; 
 My neighbours wad think that I was nae John Rue, 
 
 Kenrfd they the errand that I had gane. 
 
 This morning I met the sun high in the muirs, 
 But now in the wave he has dipt his red chin, 
 
 While I've waited on Janet, and counted the hours, 
 Exposed to the sneers o 1 the hale o' her kin. 
 
 To buy a new cledin 1 I said my auld cow, 
 In the eyes of the lassie to mak" me look fine, 
 
 While I've just got ae kiss, hauf an inch frae her mou, 
 Though I bribed her auld dad wi" the wale o' my swine.
 
 THE COUNTRY LAIRD'S COURTSHIP. 413 
 
 He took up his staff, made a bow wi' his bannet, 
 (Thinks he we'll no meet in a hurry again :) 
 
 He gave a bit sigh when he thought upon Janet, 
 He dighted his een, and was better again. 
 
 As down the fir plantin' he gaed to the mill, 
 O wha did he see but young Jenny, I ween ? 
 
 Wha lean'd on the auld doitit laird o' the hill, 
 A body that weel might her grandfather been. 
 
 " Now deil tak' the lassie, an' deil tak' the laird !" 
 John jumped and roared as he was na himsel ; 
 
 He crossed like a maukin down Lizzy's kail-yard, 
 Nor stopt till he plunged in the baker's draw-well. 
 
 O, love it is warm but water is cool ! 
 
 And a frost-bitten body is ill to endure : 
 The lasses had led Johnny Rue like a fool, 
 
 Yet for ance in his life he has met wi' his cure. 
 
 But, waes me ! wee Johnnie's been couthie of late, 
 Which maks the auld wife shake her head by the fire ; 
 
 For he casts a sheep' s-ee on his young cousin Kate, 
 And goud often warms up a lassie's desire.
 
 414 SONGS. 
 
 MY AULD MAIDEN AUNTY 
 
 I'VE naething to do but to sit and to spin, 
 
 And crack wi' my auld maiden aunty ; 
 Our gossiping neighbours come dribbling in, 
 
 And aye keep a body fu' canty, fu' canty, 
 
 And aye keep a body fu' canty. 
 
 But our thoughts, like the weather, are given to change, 
 I sigh'd day and night to get married ; 
 
 And I'm sure gif there aught like a man had made love, 
 His suit wi' me soon he had carried had carried 
 His suit wi' me soon he had carried. 
 
 My aunty's sae peevish, her temper's sae sour, 
 
 She wearies us a' wi' inspection ; 
 She frowns at the mark o' a prin on the floor, 
 
 Our neighbours a' ca' her Perfection Perfection 
 
 Our neighbours a' ca' her Perfection. 
 
 The hale o' her pleasure is snuff and green tea, 
 And her auld-fashion'd satins to number ; 
 
 Ae day she wad try how her hoops fitted me, 
 
 And ne'er squeezed my body asunder asunder 
 And ne'er squeezed my body asunder.
 
 MY AULD MAIDEN AUNTY. "*15 
 
 She sneers like the fox when I speak about men, 
 
 I wonder what she makes a wark at 
 For I'm sure if her mother's example she'd ta'en, 
 
 She never had stood in the market the market 
 
 She never had stood in the market. 
 
 But wha but our neighbour's son Johnny's come hame 
 
 Since the wars were so happily ended ? 
 He tells me my beauty has kindled a flame 
 
 My aunt wad gang daft if she kenn'd it, she kenn'd 
 it 
 
 My aunt wad gang daft if she kenn'd it. 
 
 'Twas only yestreen like a statue I sat, 
 When to hand me the kettle he hurried, 
 
 He trod on the tail o' my aunt's tabby cat, 
 
 She raved sae, I wish'd the brute worried brute 
 
 worried 
 She raved sae, I wish'd the brute worried. 
 
 To-morrow she'll scandal the hale o' the sex, 
 And ca' me the vilest o' ony ; 
 
 For I'll bid her guid day ere the sun's in the east, 
 And aff to the Highlands wi' Johnny wi' Johnny- 
 And aff to the Highlands wi' Johnny.
 
 416 
 
 SONGS. 
 
 TO 
 
 GIVE me, sweet Maid ! before we part, 
 
 One beauteous curl of thine ; 
 And I will wear it next my heart, 
 
 Twined in a wreath of mine ; 
 And should the gaudy world e'er wring 
 
 A moment's sigh from thee, 
 That gentle ringlet, love, will bring 
 
 Thy memory back to me. 
 
 When gazing on that amulet dear, 
 
 Thou'lt bless my raptured sight, 
 As when thou beauteous did'st appear 
 
 In hours of soft delight. 
 Though homage only is thy due, 
 
 Thou first of womankind, 
 Thou n lt never meet a heart so true 
 
 As his thou leav'st behind. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BY OLIVER 4 BOYD.

 
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