by Homer
“Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver!
There’s never a Scot shall set ye free;
Before ye cross my castle-yate,
I trow ye shall take farewell o me.”
“Fear na ye that, my lord,” quo Willie; 25
“By the faith o my bodie, Lord Scroop,” he said,
“I never yet lodged in a hostelrie
But I paid my lawing before I gaed.”
Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper,
In Branksome Ha where that he lay, 30
That Lord Scroope has taen the Kinmont Willie
Between the hours of night and day.
He has taen the table wi his hand,
He garrd the red wine spring on hie;
“Now Christ’s curse on my head,” he said, 35
“But avenged of Lord Scroop I’ll be!
“O is my basnet a widow’s curch?
Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree?
Or my arm a ladye’s lilye hand?
That an English lord should lightly me. 40
“And have they taen him Kinmont Willie,
Against the truce of Border tide,
And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch
Is keeper here on the Scottish side?
“And have they een taen him Kinmont Willie, 45
Withouten either dread or fear,
And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch
Can back a steed, or shake a spear?
“O were there war between the lands,
As well I wot that there is none, 50
I would slight Carlisle castell high,
Tho it were builded of marble-stone.
“I would set that castell in a low,
And sloken it with English blood;
There’s nevir a man in Cumberland 55
Should ken where Carlisle castell stood.
“But since nae war’s between the lands,
And there is peace, and peace should be,
I’ll neither harm English lad or lass,
And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!” 60
He has calld him forty marchmen bauld,
I trow they were of his ain name,
Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, calld
The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.
He has calld him forty marchmen bauld, 65
Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch,
With spur on heel, and splent on spauld,
And gleuves of green, and feathers blue.
There were five and five before them a’,
Wi hunting-horns and bugles bright; 70
And five and five came wi Buccleuch,
Like Warden’s men, arrayed for fight.
And five and five like a mason-gang,
That carried the ladders lang and hie;
And five and five like broken men; 75
And so they reached the Woodhouselee.
And as we crossed the Bateable Land,
When to the English side we held,
The first o men that we met wi,
Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde! 80
“Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?”
Quo fause Sakelde; “come tell to me!”
“We go to hunt an English stag,
Has trespassed on the Scots countrie.”
“Where be ye gaun, ye marshal-men?” 85
Quo fause Sakelde; “come tell to me true!”
“We go to catch a rank reiver,
Has broken faith wi the bauld Buccleuch.”
“Where are ye gaun, ye mason-lads,
Wi a’ your ladders lang and hie?” 90
“We gang to herry a corbie’s nest,
That wons not far frae Woodhouselee.”
“Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?”
Quo fause Sakelde; “come tell to me!”
Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, 95
And the never a word o lear had he.
“Why trespass ye on the English side
Row-footed outlaws, stand!” quo he;
The neer a word had Dickie to say,
Sae he thrust the lance thro his fause bodie. 100
Then on we held for Carlisle toun,
And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we crossd;
The water was great, and meikle of spait,
But the nevir a horse nor man we lost.
And when we reached the Stanshaw-bank, 105
The wind was rising loud and hie;
And there the laird garrd leave our steeds,
For fear that they should stamp and nie.
And when we left the Staneshaw-bank,
The wind began full loud to blaw; 110
But ’twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet
When we came beneath the castel-wa.
We crept on knees, and held our breath,
Till we placed the ladders against the wa;
And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell 115
To mount the first before us a’.
He has taen the watchman by the throat,
He flung him down upon the lead:
“Had there not been peace between our lands,
Upon the other side thou hadst gaed. 120
“Now sound out, trumpets!” quo Buccleuch;
“Let’s waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!”
Then loud the Warden’s trumpets blew
“O whae dare meddle wi me?”
Then speedilie to wark we gaed, 125
And raised the slogan ane and a’,
And cut a hole thro a sheet of lead,
And so we wan to the castel-ha.
They thought King James and a’ his men
Had won the house wi bow and speir: 130
It was but twenty Scots and ten
That put a thousand in sic a stear!
Wi coutlers and wi forehammers,
We garrd the bars bang merrilie,
Untill we came to the inner prison, 135
Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie.
And when we cam to the lower prison,
Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie,
“O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie,
Upon the morn that thou’s to die?” 140
“O I sleep saft, and I wake aft,
It’s lang since sleeping was fleyd frae me;
Gie my service back to my wyfe and bairns,
And a’ gude fellows that speer for me.”
Then Red Rowan has hente him up, 145
The starkest men in Teviotdale:
“Abide, abide now, Red Rowan,
Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.
“Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope!
My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!” he cried; 150
“I’ll pay you for my lodging-maill
When first we meet on the border-side.”
Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,
We bore him down the ladder lang;
At every stride Red Rowan made, 155
I wot the Kinmont’s airns playd clang.
“O mony a time,” quo Kinmont Willie,
“I have ridden horse baith wild and wood;
But a rougher beast than Red Rowan
I ween my legs have neer bestrode. 160
“And mony a time,” quo Kinmont Willie,
“I’ ve pricked a horse out oure the furs;
But since the day I backed a steed
I nevir wore sic cumbrous spurs.”
We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank, 165
When a’ the Carlisle bells were rung,
And a thousand men, in horse and foot,
Cam wi the keen Lord Scroope along.
Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water,
Even where it flowd frae bank to brim, 170
And he has plunged in wi a’ his band,
And safely swam them thro the stream.
He turned him on the other side,
And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he:
“If ye like na my visi
t in merry England, 175
In fair Scotland come visit me!”
All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,
He stood as still as rock of stane;
He scarcely dared to trew his eyes
When thro the water they had gane. 180
“He is either himsell a devil frae hell,
Or else his mother a witch maun be;
I wad na have ridden that wan water
For a’ the gowd in Christentie.”
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Bonnie George Campbell
Traditional Ballads
HIE upon Hielands,
and laigh upon Tay,
Bonnie George Campbell
rode out on a day.
He saddled, he bridled, 5
and gallant rode he,
And hame cam his guid horse,
but never cam he.
Out cam his mother dear,
greeting fu sair, 10
And out cam his bonnie bryde,
riving her hair.
“The meadow lies green,
the corn is unshorn,
But bonnie George Campbell 15
will never return,”
Saddled and bridled
and booted rode he,
A plume in his helmet,
A sword at his knee. 20
But toom cam his saddle,
all bloody to see,
Oh, hame cam his guid horse,
but never cam he!
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
The Dowy Houms o Yarrow
Traditional Ballads
LATE at een, drinkin the wine,
Or early in a mornin,
The set a combat them between,
To fight it in the dawnin.
“O stay at hame, my noble lord! 5
O stay at hame, my marrow!
My cruel brother will you betray,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow.”
“O fare ye weel, my lady gaye!
O fare ye weel, my Sarah! 10
For I maun gae, tho I neer return
Frae the dowy banks o Yarrow.”
She kissed his cheek, she kaimd his hair,
As she had done before, O;
She belted on his noble brand, 15
An he’s awa to Yarrow.
O he’s gane up yon high, high hill —
I wat he gaed wi sorrow —
And in a den spied nine armd men,
I the dowy houms o Yarrow. 20
“O ir ye come to drink the wine,
As ye hae doon before, O?
Or ir ye come to wield the brand,
On the bonny banks o Yarrow?”
“I im no come to drink the wine, 25
As I hae don before, O,
But I im come to wield the brand,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow.”
Four he hurt, and five he slew,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow, 30
Till that stubborn knight came him behind.
An ran his body thorrow.
“Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John,
And tell your sister Sarah
To come and lift her noble lord, 35
Who’s sleepin sound on Yarrow.”
“Yestreen I dreamed a dolefu dream;
I kend there wad be sorrow;
I dreamd I pu’d the heather green,
On the dowy banks o Yarrow.” 40
She gaed up yon high, high hill —
I wat she gaed wi sorrow —
An in a den spy’d nine dead men,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow.
She kissed his cheek, she kaimd his hair, 45
As oft she did before, O;
She drank the red blood frae him ran,
On the dowy houms o Yarrow.
“O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,
For what needs a’ this sorrow? 50
I’ll wed you on a better lord
Than him you lost on Yarrow.”
“O haud your tongue, my father dear,
An dinna grieve your Sarah;
A better lord was never born 55
Than him I lost on Yarrow.
“Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,
For they hae bred our sorrow;
I wiss that they had a’ gane mad
Whan they cam first to Yarrow.” 60
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Mary Hamilton
Traditional Ballads
WORD’S gane to the kitchen,
And word’s gane to the ha,
That Marie Hamilton has born a bairn
To the hichest Stewart of a’.
She’s tyed it in her apron 5
And she’s thrown it in the sea;
Says, ‘Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe,
You’ll ne’er get mair o me.’
Down then cam the auld Queen,
Goud tassels tying her hair: 10
‘O Marie, where’s the bonny wee babe
That I heard greet sae sair?’
‘There was never a babe intill my room,
As little designs to be;
It was but a touch o my sair side, 15
Came o’er my fair bodie.’
‘O Marie, put on your robes o black,
Or else your robes o brown,
For ye maun gang wi me the night,
To see fair Edinbro town.’ 20
‘I winna put on my robes o black,
Nor yet my robes o brown;
But I’ll put on my robes o white,
To shine through Edinbro town.’
When she gaed up the Cannogate, 25
She laughd loud laughters three;
But when she cam down the Cannogate
The tear blinded her ee.
When she gaed up the Parliament stair,
The heel cam aff her shee; 30
And lang or she cam down again
She was condemnd to dee.
When she came down the Cannogate,
The Cannogate sae free,
Many a ladie lookd o’er her window, 35
Weeping for this ladie.
‘Make never meen for me,’ she says,
‘Make never meen for me;
Seek never grace frae a graceless face,
For that ye’ll never see. 40
‘Bring me a bottle of wine,’ she says,
‘The best that eer ye hae,’
That I may drink to my weil-wishers,
And they may drink to me.
‘And here’s to the jolly sailor lad 45
That sails upon the faem;
And let not my father nor mother get wit
But that I shall come again.
‘And here’s to the jolly sailor lad
That sails upon the sea; 50
But let not my father nor mother get wit
O the death that I maun dee.
‘O little did my mother think,
The day she cradled me,
What lands I was to travel through, 55
What death I was to dee.
‘O little did my father think,
The day he held up me,
What lands I was to travel through,
What death I was to dee. 60
‘Last nicht I washd the Queen’s feet,
And gently laid her down;
And a’ the thanks I’ve gotten the nicht
To be hangd in Edinbro town!
‘Last nicht there was four Maries, 65
The nicht there’ll be but three;
There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton,
And Marie Carmichael, and me.’
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
The Baron of Brackley
Traditional Ballads
INVEREY cam doun Deeside,
whistlin and playin,
He was at brave Braikley’s yett ere it was dawin.
He rappit fu loudly an wi a great roar,
Cried, ‘Cum doun, cum doun, Braikley, and open the door.
‘Are ye sleepin, Baronne, or are ye wakin? 5
Ther’s sharpe swords at your yett, will gar your blood spin.
‘Open the yett, Braikley, and lat us within,
Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin.’
Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she lay,
‘Get up, get up, Braikley, an be not afraid; 10
The’r but young hir’d widifus wi belted plaids.’
‘Cum kiss me, mi Peggy, I’le nae langer stay,
For I will go out and meet Inverey.
‘But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din,
For yon same hir’d widifus will prove themselves men.’ 15
She called on her marys, they cam to her hand;
Cries, ‘Bring me your rocks, lassies, we will them command.
‘Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky.
Or me an mi women will them defy.
‘Cum forth then, mi maidens, and show them some play; 20
We’ll ficht them, and shortly the cowards will fly.
‘Gin I had a husband, whereas I hae nane,
He woud nae ly i his bed and see his ky taen.
‘Ther’s four-and-twenty milk-whit calves, twal o them ky,