by several old people; but all of them with this tradition, that Wharton bribed Stuart's second, and actually fought in armour. I acknowledge, that, from some dark hints in the song, this appears not impossible; but that you may not judge too rashly, I must remind you, that the old people, inhabiting the headlands (high ground) hereabouts, although possessed of many original songs, traditions, and anecdotes, are most unreasonably partial when the valour or honour of a Scotsman is called in question." I retain this note, because it is characteristic; but I agree with my correspondent, there can be no foundation for the tradition, except in national partiality.' THE DUEL OF WHARTON AND STUART. PART FIRST. It grieveth me to tell you o' Near London late what did befall, My good Lord Wharton's son and heir; When first to court these nobles came, One night, a-gaming, fell to words; 2 And in their fury grew so hot, That they did both try their keen swords. No manner of treating, nor advice, Could hold from striking in that place; For, in the height and heat of blood, James struck George Wharton on the face. "What doth this mean," George Wharton said, The tongue of man shall ne'er report!" "But do thy worst, then," said Sir James, "Now do thy worst, appoint a day! There's not a lord in England breathes Shall gar me give an inch of way."— "Ye brag right weel," George Wharton said; "Let our brave lords at large alane, And speak of me, that am thy foe, For you shall find enough o' ane! "I'll interchange my glove wi' thine; I'll show it on the bed of death; I mean the place, where we shall fight; And try who bears the bell away." Then went to Ludgate, where they lay, No kind of envy could be seen, No kind of malice they did betray; Till parting time; and then, indeed, They show'd some rancour in their heart; "Next time we meet," says George Wharton, "Not half sae soundly we shall part!” So they have parted, firmly bent Their valiant minds equal to try: imputations on his temper were not without foundation. See LODGE'S Illustrations of English History, vol. iii. p. 330. Lady Moira concludes, that she had seen a copy of the ballad different from any one hitherto printed, in which the charge of foul play was directly stated against Wharton. Since the first publication of this work, I have seen cause to | quarrel with the Earl of Pembroke, there is room to suppose the think that this insinuation was not introduced by Scottish reciters, but really founded upon the opinion formed by Stuart's friends. Sir James Stuart married the Lady Dorothy Hastings; and, in a letter from the late venerable Countess of Moira and Hastings, he is described, from family tradition, as the most accomplished person of the age he lived in, and, in talents and abilities, almost equal to what is recorded of the Admirable Crichton. Sir George Wharton is, on the other hand, affirmed to have been a man of a fierce and brutal temper, and to have provoked the quarrel, by wanton and intolerable reflections on the Scottish national character. “In the duel," her ladyship concludes, "family tradition does not allow Sir James to have been killed fairly." From an anecdote respecting Sir George Wharton's conduct in a 2 Sir George Wharton was quarrelsome at cards; a temper which he exhibited so disagreeably when playing with the Earl of Pembroke, that the Earl told him, "Sir George, I have loved you long; but, by your manner in playing, you lay it upon me either to leave to love you, or to leave to play with you; wherefore choosing to love you still, I will never play with you any more."-LODGE's Illustrations, vol. iii. p. 350. That I should come wi' armour on, And you a naked man truly." "Our men shall search our doublets, George, Then they threw off their doublets both, Thus naked in our sarks," said he; "Fy no! fy no! George Wharton says, "That is the thing that must not be. "We're neither drinkers, quarrellers, Nor men that cares na for oursell, Nor minds na what we're gaun about, Or if we're gaun to heaven or hell. "Let us to God bequeath our souls, Our bodies to the dust and clay!" Se'en bouts and turns these heroes had, Our Scotch lord, wond'ring, quickly cry'd, แ "Stout Wharton! thou still hauds thy awn!" The first stroke that George Wharton gae, He's cure thy wounds right speedily."- 66 Ere off the field one foot we flee."They looked oure their shoulders both, To see what company was there: They both had grievous marks of death, But frae the other nane wad steer. George Wharton was the first that fell; Our Scotch lord fell immediately: They both did cry to Him above, To save their souls, for they boud die. THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW. This fragment, obtained from recitation in the Forest of Ettrick, is said to relate to the execution of Cockburne of Henderland, a Border freebooter, hanged over the gate of his own tower, by James V., in the course of that memorable expedition, in 1529, which was fatal to Johnie Armstrang, Adam Scott of Tushielaw, and many other marauders. The vestiges of the castle of Henderland are still to be traced upon the farm of that name, belonging to Mr. Murray of Henderland. They are situated near the mouth of the river Meggat, which falls into the lake of St. Mary, in Selkirkshire. The adjacent country, which now hardly bears a single tree, is celebrated by Lesly, as, in his time, affording shelter to the largest stags in Scotland. A mountain torrent, called Henderland Burn, rushes impetuously from the hills, through a rocky chasm, named the Dowglen, and passes near the site of the tower. To the recesses of this glen, the wife of Cockburne is said to have retreated, during the execution of her husband; and a place, called the Lady's Seat, is still shown, where she is said to have striven to drown, amid the roar of a foaming cataract, the tumultuous noise, which announced the close of his existence. In a deserted burial-place, which once surrounded the chapel of the castle, the monument of Cockburne and his lady is still shown. It is a large stone, broken in three parts; but some armorial bearings may yet be traced, and the following inscription is still legible, though defaced : HERE LYES PERYS OF COKBURNE AND HIS WYFE MARJORY. Tradition says, that Cockburn was surprised by the king, while sitting at dinner. After the execution, James marched rapidly forward, to surprise Adam Scott of Tushielaw, called the King of the Border, and sometimes the King of Thieves. A path through the mountains, which separate the vale of Ettrick from the head of Yarrow, is still called the King's Road, and seems to have been the route which he followed. The remains of the tower of Tushielaw are yet visible, overhanging the wild banks of the Ettrick; and are an object of terror to the benighted peasant, from an idea of their being haunted by spectres. From these heights, and through the adjacent county of Peebles, passes a wild path, called still the Thief's Road, from having been used chiefly by the marauders of the Border. THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW. My love he built me a bonny bower, There came a man, by middle day, He slew my knight, to me sae dear; I sew'd his sheet, making my mane; 2 n; FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNELL. The following very popular ballad has been handed down by tradition in its present imperfect state. The affecting incident, on which it is founded, is well known. A lady, of the name of Helen Irving, or Bell, (for this is disputed by the two clans,) daughter of the Laird of Kirconnell, in Dumfries-shire, and celebrated for her beauty, was beloved by two gentlemen in the neighbourhood. The name of the favoured suitor was Adam Fleming of Kirkpatrick; that of the other has escaped tradition: though it has been alleged, that he was a Bell, of Blacket House. The addresses of the latter were, however, favoured by the friends of the lady, and the lovers were therefore obliged to meet in secret, and by night, in the churchyard of Kirconnell, a romantic spot, almost surrounded by the river Kirtle. During one of these private interviews, the jealous and despised lover suddenly appeared on the opposite bank of the stream, and levelled his carabine at the breast of his rival. Helen threw herself before her lover, received in her bosom the bullet, and died in his arms. A desperate and mortal combat ensued between Fleming and the murderer, in which the latter was cut to pieces. Other accounts say, that Fleming pursued his enemy to Spain, and slew him in the streets of Madrid. The ballad, as now published, consists of two parts. The first seems to be an address, either by Fleming 1 Poin'd-Poinded, attached by legal distress. This dispute is owing to the uncertain date of the ballad; for, although the last proprietors of Kirconnell were Irvings, when deprived of their possessions by Robert Maxwell in 1609, yet Kirconnell is termed in old chronicles, The Bell's Tower; and a stone, with the arms of that family, has been found among its ruins. Fair Helen's sirname, therefore, depends upon the pe or his rival, to the lady; if, indeed, it constituted any portion of the original poem. For the Editor cannot help suspecting, that these verses have been the production of a different and inferior bard, and only adapted to the original measure and tune. But this suspicion being unwarranted by any copy he has been able to procure, he does not venture to do more than intimate his own opinion. The second part, by far the most beautiful, and which is unquestionably original, forms the lament of Fleming over the grave of fair Helen. The ballad is here given, without alteration or improvement, from the most accurate copy which could be recovered. The fate of Helen has not, however, remained unsung by modern bards. A lament, of great poetical merit, by the learned historian, Mr. Pinkerton, with several other poems on this subject, have been printed in various forms. The grave of the lovers is yet shown in the churchyard of Kirconnell, near Springkell. Upon the tombstone can still be read-Hic jacet Adamus Fleming ; a cross and sword are sculptured on the stone. The former is called by the country people, the gun with which Helen was murdered; and the latter, the avenging sword of her lover. Sit illis terra levis! A heap of stones is raised on the spot where the murder was committed; a token of abhorrence common to most nations. FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNELL. PART FIRST. O! sweetest sweet, and fairest fair, Of birth and worth beyond compare, Thou art the causer of my care, Since first I loved thee. Yet God hath given to me a mind, The which to thee shall prove as kind As any one that thou shalt find, Of high or low degree. The shallowest water makes maist din, The deadest pool, the deepest linn ; The richest man least truth within, Though he preferred be. Yet, nevertheless, I am content, O! Helen sweet, and maist complete, riod at which she lived, which it is now impossible to ascertain. 3 This practice has only very lately become obsolete in Scotland. But a few years ago, a cairn was pointed out to me in the King's Park of Edinburgh, which had been raised in detestation of a cruel murder, perpetrated by one Nicol Muschat, on the body of his wife, in that place, in the year 1720. [This is the Muschai's cairn of the Heart of Mid-Lothian.-ED.] O that I were where Helen lies! Says, "Haste and come to me!' I wish my grave were growing green, A winding-sheet drawn over my een, And I in Helen's arms lying, On fair Kirconnell Lee. I wish I were where Helen lies! HUGHIE THE GRÆME. The Græmes, as we have had frequent occasion to notice, were a powerful and numerous clan, who chiefly inhabited the Debateable Land. They were said to be of Scottish extraction; and their chief claimed his descent from Malice, Earl of Stratherne. In military service they were more attached to England than to Scotland; but in their depredations on both countries, they appear to have been very impartial; for, in the year 1600, the gentlemen of Cumberland alleged to Lord Scroope, "that the Græmes, and their clans, with their children, tenants, and servants, were the chieftest actors in the spoil and decay of the country." Accordingly, they were, at that time, obliged to give a bond of surety for each other's peaceable demeanour; from which bond, their "Fair Ellen Irwin, when she sat Upon the Braes of Kirtle, Was lovely as a Grecian Maid, "From many Knights and many Squires Sad tidings to that noble youth! For it may be proclaimed with truth, If Bruce hath loved sincerely, "But what is Gordon's beauteous face? The Gordon, couched behind a thorn, "Proud Gordon cannot bear the thoughts That through his brain are travelling,And starting up, to Bruce's heart He launched a deadly javelin! Fair Ellen saw it when it came, And, stepping forth to meet the same, Did with her body cover The youth, her chosen lover. "And, falling into Bruce's arms, "But many days, and many months, And there his sorrow ended. "Now ye, who willingly have heard By Ellen's side the Bruce is laid; numbers appear to have exceeded four hundred men. -See Introduction to NICOLSON'S History of Cumberland, p. cviii. Richard Græme, of the family of Netherby, was one of the attendants upon Charles I., when Prince of Wales, and accompanied him upon his romantic journey through France and Spain. The following little anecdote, which then occurred, will show that the memory of the Græines' Border exploits was at that time still preserved. "They were now entered into the deep time of Lent, and could get no flesh in their inns. Whereupon fell out a pleasant passage, if I may insert it, by the way, among more serious. There was, near Bayonne, a herd of goats, with their young ones; upon the sight whereof, Sir Richard Graham tells the Marquis (of Buckingham), that he would snap one of the kids, and make some shift to carry him snug to their lodging. Which the Prince overhearing, 'Why, Richard,' says he, ‘do you think you may practise here your old tricks upon the Borders?' Upon which words, they, in the first place, gave the goat-herd good contentment: and then, while the Marquis and Richard, being both on foot, were chasing the kid about the stack, the Prince, from horseback, killed him in the head, with a Scottish pistol. -Which circumstance, though trifling, may yet serve to show how his Royal Highness, even in such slight and sportful damage, had a noble sense of just dealing.”—Sir H. WOTTON's Life of the Duke of Buckingham. I find no traces of this particular Hughie Græme, of the ballad; but, from the mention of the Bishop, I suspect he may have been one of about four hundred Borderers, against whom bills of complaint were exhibited to Robert Aldridge, Lord Bishop of Carlisle, about 1553, for divers incursions, burnings, murders, mutilations, and spoils, by them committed.-NICOLSON'S History, Introduction, lxxxi. There appear a number of Græmes, in the specimen which we have of that list of delinquents. There occur, in particular, Ritchie Grame of Bailie, Will's Jock Graine, Fargue's Willie Grame, Muckle Willie Grame, Will Grame of Rosetrees, Ritchie Grame, younger of Netherby, Wat Grame, called Flaughtail, Will Grame, Nimble Willie, Will Grame, Mickle Willie, with many others. In Mr. Ritson's curious and valuable collection of legendary poetry, entitled Ancient Songs, he has published this Border ditty, from a collation of two old black-letter copies, one in the collection of the late John, Duke of Roxburghe, and another in the hands of John Bayne, Esq.-The learned Editor mentions another copy, beginning, "Good Lord John is a hunting gone.' The present edition was procured for me by my friend Mr. William Laidlaw, in Blackhouse, and has been long current in Selkirkshire; but Mr. Ritson's copy has occasionally been resorted to for better readings. HUGHIE THE GREME. Gude Lord Scroope's to the hunting gane, Here hangs a broadsword by my side; The matter it may soon be tryed."— "I ne'er was afraid of a traitor thief; Although thy name be Hughie the Græme, If God but grant me life and time."- Which of us two is the better man."- All for to take brave Hughie the Græme. Then they hae grippit Hughie the Græme, And brought him up through Carlisle town; The lasses and lads stood on the walls; [down!"Crying, "Hughie the Græme, thou's ne'er gae Then they hae chosen a jury of men, The best that were in Carlisle town; And twelve of them cried out at once, "Hughie the Græme, thou must gae down!"Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume,' As he sat by the judge's knee,"Twenty white owsen, my gude lord, 66 If you'll grant Hughie the Græme to me." ‘O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume! For sooth and sae it mauna be; For, were there but three Græmes of the name, They suld be hanged a' for me." 'Twas up and spake the gude Lady Hume, Forsooth and so it must na be; |