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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.'

"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;

There ane or both maun lose life and breath!”"We'll meet near Waltham,” said Sir James;

"To-morrow, that shall be the day. We'll either take a single man,

And try who bears the bell away.”
Then down together bands they shook,

Without any envious sign;
Then went to Ludgate, where they lay,

And each man drank his pint of wine.
No kind of envy could be seen,

No kind of malice they did betray; But a' was clear and calm as death,

Whatever in their bosoms lay, 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 : The second part shall clearly show,

Both how they meet, and how they die.






It grieveth me to tell you o'

Near London late what did befall, 'Twixt two young gallant gentlemen; It grieveth me,

and ever shall. One of them was Sir George Wharton,

My good Lord Wharton's son and heir; The other, James Stuart, a Scottish knight,

One that a valiant heart did bear. When first to court these nobles came,

One night, a-gaming, fell to words; 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,

"To strike in such unmanly sort? But, that I take it at thy bands,

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 ;

George Wharton was the first ae man,

Came to the appointed place that day, Where he espied our Scots lord coming,

As fast as he could post away. They met, shook hands; their cheeks were pale;

Then to George Wharton James did say, " I didna like your doublet, George,

It stands sae weel on you this day. “Say, have you got no armour on?

Have you no under robe of steel ? I never saw an Englishman

Become his doublet half sae weel.”— Fy no! fy no!” George Wharton said,

“For that's the thing that mauna be,

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 insinualion was not introduced by Scottish reciters, imputations on his temper were not without foundation. See but really founded upon the opinion formed by Stuart's friends. LODGE's Illustrations of English History, vol. iii. p. 350. Lady Sir James Stuart married the Lady Dorothy Hastings; and, in a Moira concludes, that she had seen a copy of the ballad different letter from the late venerable Countess of Moira and Hastings, he from any one hitherto printed, in which the charge of foul play is described, from family tradition, as the most accomplished was directly stated against Wharton. person of the age he lived in, and, in talents and abilities, almost - Sir George Wharton was quarrelsome at cards; a temper enal to what is recorded of the admirable Crichton. Sir George which lie exhibited so disagreeably when playing with the Earl of Wharton is, on the other hand, affirmed to have been a man of a Pembroke, that the Earl told him, “Sir George, I have loved ferce and brutal temper, and to have provoked the quarrel, by you long; but, by your manner in playing, you lay it npon me wapton and intolerable reflections on the Scottish national cha either to leave to love you, or to leave to play with you; whereracter. “In the duel," her ladyship concludes, "family tradi- fore choosing to love you still, I will never play with you any tion does not allow Sir James to have been killed fairly." From more."-LODGE's Illustrations, vol. iii. p. 350. an anecdote respecting Sir George Wharton's conduct in a

That I should come wi' armour on,

And you a naked man truly.”-
“Our men shall search our doublets, George,

And see if one of us do lies
Then will we prove, wi' weapons sharp,

Ourselves true gallants for to be.”-
Then they threw off their doublets both,

And stood up in their sarks of lawn; “Now, take my counsel,” said Sir James,

Wharton, to thee I'll make it knawn : “So as we stand, so will we fight;

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 !”. With that he drew his deadly sword.

The first was drawn on field that day.
Se'en bouts and turns these heroes had,

Or e'er a drop o'blood was drawn;
Our Scotch lord, wond'ring, quickly cry'd,

“Stout Wharton! thou still hauds thy awn!”The first stroke that George Wharton gae,

He struck bim thro' the shoulder-bane; The neist was thro’ the thick o’the thigh ;

He thought our Scotch lord had been slain. “Oh! ever alack !” George Wharton cry'd,

Art thou a living man, tell me? If there's a surgeon living can,

He's cure thy wounds right speedily."“No more of that," James Stuart said ;

“Speak not of curing wounds to ine ! For one of us must yield our breath,

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.

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 :



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, fronı 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.







My love he built me a bonny bower,
And clad it a' wi' lilye flour,
A brawer bower ye ne'er did see,
Than my true love he built for me.
There came a man, by middle day,
He spicd his sport, and went away ;
And brought the King that very night,
Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.

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

He slew my knight, to me sae dear;

or his rival, to the lady; if, indeed, it constituted any He slew my knight, and poin'd' his gear ; portion of the original poem. For the Editor cannot My servants all for life did flee,

help suspecting, tbat these verses have been the proAnd left me in extremitie.

duction of a different and inferior bard, and only I sew'd his sheet,' making my mane ;

adapted to the original measure and tune. But this I watch'd the corpse, myself alane;

suspicion being unwarranted by any copy he has been I watch'd his body, night and day;

able to procure, he does not venture to do more than No living creature came that way.

intimate his own opinion. The second part, by far

the most beautiful, and which is unquestionably oriI took his body on my back,

ginal, forms the lament of Fleming over the grave of And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;

fair Helen. I digg'd a grave, and laid him in,

The ballad is here given, without alteration or imAnd happ'd him with the sod sae green.

provement, from the most accurate copy which could But think na ye my heart was sair,

be recovered. The fate of Helen has not, however, When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair;

remained unsung by modern bards. A lament, of O think na ye my heart was wae,

great poetical merit, by the learned historian, Mr. When I turn'd about, away to gae ?

Pinkerton, with several other poems on this subject,

have been printed in various forms. Nae living man I'll love again,

The grave of the lovers is yet shown in the churchSince that my lovely knight is slain ;

yard of Kirconnell, near Springkell. Upon the tombWi' ae lock of his yellow hair

stone can still be read-Hic jacet Adamus Fleming ; I'll chain my heart for evermair.

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 aven

ging sword of her lover. Sit illis terra levis ! A FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNELL.

heap of stones is raised on the spot where the murder

was committed; a token of abhorrence common to The following very popular ballad has been handed

most nations. 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

FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNELL. 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 fa O! sweetest sweet, and sairest fair, voured suitor was Adam Fleming of Kirkpatrick ;

Of birth and worth beyond compare, that of the other has escaped tradition' : though it

Thou art the causer of my care, has been alleged, that he was a Bell, of Blacket House.

Since first I loved thee. The addresses of the latter were, however, favoured by

Yet God hath given to me a mind, the friends of the lady, and the lovers were therefore

The which to thee shall prove as kind obliged to meet in secret, and by night, in the church

As any one that thou shalt find, yard of Kirconnell, a romantic spot, almost sur

Of high or low degree. rounded by the river Kirtle. During one of these private interviews, the jealous and despised lover sud The shallowest water makes maist din, denly appeared on the opposite bank of the stream, The deadest pool, the deepest linn; and levelled his carabine at the breast of his rival. The richest man least truth within, Helen threw herself before her lover, received in her Though he preferred be. bosom the bullet, and died in his arms. A desperate and mortal combat ensued between Fleming and the

Yet, nevertheless, I am content,

And never a wbit my love repent, murderer, in which the latter was cut to pieces.

But think the time was a' weel spent, Other accounts say, that Fleming pursued his enemy

Though I disdained be. to Spain, and slew him in the streets of Madrid.

The ballad, as now published, consists of two parts. 0! Helen sweet, and maist complete, The first seems to be an address, either by Fleming My captive spirit's at thy feet!


Poin'd-Poinded, attached by lcgal 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 1600, yet Kircongell is termed in old chronicles, The Bell's Tower; and a stone, with the arms of tisat family, has been found among its ruins. Fair Helen's sirname, therefore, depends upon the pe

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.]

Thinks thou still fit thus for to treat

Thy captive cruelly ? O! Helen brave! but this I crave, Of thy poor slave some pity have, And do him save that's near his grave,

And dies for love of thee.

O that I were where Helen lies !
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,

Says, “Haste and come to me!
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste !
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Were thou lies low, and takes thy rest,

On fair Kirconnell Lee.
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!
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,

For ber sake that died for me.”



I wish I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,

On fair Kirconnell Lee!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd' Helen dropt,

And died to succour me!
O think na ye my heart was sair,
When my love dropt down and spak nae mair!
There did she swoon wi' meikle care,

On fair Kirconnell Lee.
As I went down the water side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,

On fair Kirconnell Lee;
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
I hacked him in pieces sma’,

For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare!
I'll make a garland of thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,

Until the day I die.

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 Stratberne. 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


That through bis brain are travelling, And starting up, to Bruce's heart

He launched a deadly javelin !
Fair Elleni saw it when it came,
And, stepping forth to meet the same,
Did with her body cover
The youth, her chosen lover.

1 Burd Helen-Maid Helen.

[The Edinburgh Revicwer for January, 1803, quotes verses 4-8 of the 20 part of this ballad, as “ of exquisite merit." The fate of Fair Helen has since been celebrated by Wordsworth, in these beautiful stanzas :

" Fair Ellen Irwin, when she sat

Upon the Braes of Kirtle,
Was lovely as a Grecian Maid,

Adorned with wreaths of myrtle.
Young Adam Bruce beside ber lay:
And there did they beguile the day
With love and gentle speeches,

Beneath the budding beeches.
" From many Knights and many Squires

The Bruce bad been selected;
And Gordon, foirest of them all,

By Ellen was rejected.
Sad tidings to that noble youth !
For it may be proclaimed with truth,
If Bruce hath loved sincerely,

That Gordon loves as dearly,
* But what is Gordon's beauteous face?

And what are Gordon's crosses,
To them who sit by Kirtle's braes,

Upon tbe verdant mosses ?
Alas that ever he was born!
Tbe Gordon, couched behind a (born,
Sees ibem and their caressing,

Bebolds them blest and blessing.
" Proud Gordon cannot bear the thoughts

* And, falling into Bruce's arms,

Tbus died the beauteous Ellen,
Thus from the heart of her true-love,

The mortal spear repelling.
And Bruce, as soon as be had slain
The Gordon, sailed away to Spain;
And fought with rage incessant

Against the Moorisb Crescent.
“ But many days, and many months,

And many years ensuing,
This wretched Knight did vainly seek

The death ibat he was wooing :
And coming back across the wave,
Without a groan on Helen's grave
His body he extended,
And there his sorrow ended.

"Now ye, who willingly have heard

The tale I have been telling,
May in kirkonnell churchyard view

The grave of lovely Ellen :
By Ellen's side the Bruce is laid;
And, for the stone upon his head,
May no rude band deface it,
And its forlora Dic JACET!" ]

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numbers appear to have exceeded four hundred men. another copy, beginning, “Good Lord John is a hunt- See Introduction to Nicolson's History of Cum- ing gone.” The present edition was procured for berland, p. cviii.

me by my friend Mr. William Laidlaw, in BlackRichard Græme, of the family of Netherby, was house, and has been long current in Selkirkshire; one of the attendants upon Charles I., when Prince but Mr. Ritson's copy has occasionally been resorted of Wales, and accompanied bim upon his romantic to for better readings. journey through France and Spain. The following little anecdote, wbich then occurred, will show that the memory of the Græines’ Border exploits was at

HUGHIE THE GREME. that time still preserved.

“They were now entered into the deep time of Gude Lord Scroope's to the hunting gane, Lent, and could get no flesh in their inns. Where He has ridden o'er moss and muir; upon fell out a pleasant passage, if I may insert it, And he has grippit Hughie the Grame, by the way, among more serious. There was, near For stealing o' the Bishop's mare. Bayonne, a herd of goats, with their young ones;

“Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be! upon the sight whereof, Sir Richard Graham tells the Marquis (of Buckingham), that he would snap

Here hangs a broadsword by my side;

And if that thou canst conquer me, one of the kids, and make some shift to carry him

The matter it may soon be tryed.”snug to their lodging. Which the Prince overhearing, 'Why, Richard,' says he, do you think you may "I ne'er was afraid of a traitor thief; practise here your old tricks upon the Borders?' Although thy name be Hughie the Grame, Upon which words, they, in the first place, gave the I'll make thee repent thee of thy deeds, goat-herd good contentment: and then, while the If God but grant me life and time.”— Marquis and Richard, being both on foot, were chas

“Then do your worst now, good Lord Scroope, ing the kid about the stack, the Prince, from horse

And deal your blows as hard as you can! back, killed him in the head, with a Scottish pistol.

It shall be tried within an hour, -Which circumstance, though trifling, may yet serve Which of us two is the better man.”to show how his Royal Highness, even in such slight and sportful damage, had a noble sense of just deal

But as they were dealing their blows so free, ing."-Sir H. Wotton's Life of the Duke of Buck

And both so bloody at the time,

Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall, ingham. I find no traces of this particular Hughie Grame,

All for to take brave Hughie the Græme. of the ballad; but, from the mention of the Bishop, Then they hae grippit Ilughie the Græme, I suspect he may have been one of about four hun And brought him up through Carlisle town; dred Borderers, against whom bills of complaint The lasses and lads stood on the walls; (down!”were exbibited to Robert Aldridge, Lord Bishop of Crying, “Hughie the Græme, thou's ne'er gae Carlisle, about 1553, for divers incursions, burnings,

Then they hae chosen a jury of men, murders, mutilations, and spoils, by them com

The best that were in Carlisle' town; mitted.-Nicolson's History, Introduction, Ixxxi. And twelve of them cried out at once, There appear a number of Græmes, in the specimen

“ Hughie the Græme, thou must gae down!"sbich we have of that list of delinquents. There occur, in particular,

Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume,'

As he sat by the judge's knee,-
Ritchie Grame of Bailie,

“Twenty white owsen, my gude lord,
Will's Jock Graine,

If you'll grant Hughie the Græme to me.”-
Fargue's Willie Grame,
Muckle Willie Grame,

“O no, o no, my gude Lord Alume!
Will Grame of Rosetrees,

For sooth and sae it mauna be;
Ritchie Grame, younger of Netherby,

For, were there but three Grames of the name,
Wat Grame, called Flaughlail,
Will Grame, Nimble Willie,

They suld be hanged a' for me."--
Will Grame, Mickle Willie,

'Twas up and spake the gude Lady Hume,
with many others.

As she sat by the judge's knee, -
In Mr. Ritson's curious and valuable collection of

“A peck of white pennies, my gude lord judge, legendary poetry, entitled Ancient Songs, he has pub

If you'll grant Hughie the Græme to me.”
lished this Border ditty, from a collation of two old "0

no, O no, my gude Lady Hume!
black-letter copies, one in the collection of the late Forsooth and so it must na be;
John, Duke of Roxburghe, and another in the hands Where he but the one Græme of the name,
of John Bayne, Esq.—The learned Editor mentions He suld be hanged high for me.”—

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