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accessible only from the west, by a steep and rocky path. The apartments, as is usual in a Border keep, or fortress, are placed one above another, and communicate by a narrow stair; on the roof are two bartizans, or platforms, for defence or pleasure. The inner door of the tower is wood, the outer an iron gate; the distance between them being nine feet, the thickness, namely, of the wall. From the elevated situation of Smaylho'me Tower, it is seen many miles in every direction. Among the crags by which it is surrounded, one, more eminent, is called the Watch fold, and is said to have been the station of a beacon, in the times of war with England. Without the tower-court is a ruined chapel. Brotherstone is a heath, in the neighbourhood of Smaylho'me Tower.

This ballad was first printed in Mr. LEWIS's Tales of Wonder. It is here published, with some additional illustrations, particularly an account of the battle of Ancram Moor; which seemed proper in a work upon Border antiquities. The catastrophe of the tale is founded upon a well-known Irish tradition. This ancient fortress and its vicinity formed the scene of the Editor's infancy, and seemed to claim from him this attempt to celebrate them in a Border

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The following passage, in Dr. HENRY MORE'S Appendix to the Antidote against Atheism, relates to a similar phenomenon :"I confess, that the bodies of devils may not be only warm, but sindgingly hot, as it was in him that took one of Melancthon's relations by the hand, and so scorched her, that she bare the "mark of it to her dying day. But the examples of cold are more frequent; as in that famous story of Cuntius, when he touched the arm of a certain woman of Pentoch, as she lay in her bed, he felt as cold as ice; and so did the spirit's claw to Anne Styles." -Ed. 1662, p. 135.

His acton pierced and tore,

His axe and his dagger with blood imbrued,-
But it was not English gore.
He lighted at the Chapellage,
He held him close and still;
And he whistled thrice for his little foot-page,
His name was English Will.

"Come thou hither, my little foot-page,
Come hither to my knee;

Though thou art young, and tender of age,

66

I think thou art true to me.

Come, tell me all that thou hast seen,
And look thou tell me true!

Since I from Smaylho'me tower have been,
What did thy lady do?"-

"My lady, each night, sought the lonely light,
That burns on the wild Watchfold;
For, from height to height, the beacons bright
Of the English foemen told.

"The bittern clamour'd from the moss,
The wind blew loud and shrill ;
Yet the craggy pathway she did cross,
To the eiry Beacon Hill.

"I watch'd her steps, and silent came
Where she sat her on a stone;-
No watchman stood by the dreary flame,
It burned all alone.

"The second night I kept her in sight,

Till to the fire she came,

And, by Mary's might! an Armed Knight
Stood by the lonely flame.

"And many a word that warlike lord

Did speak to my lady there;

But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, And I heard not what they were.

"The third night there the sky was fair,

And the mountain-blast was still,

As again I watch'd the secret pair,

On the lonesome Beacon Hill.

"And I heard her name the midnight hour, And name this holy eve;

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"I cannot come; I must not come;

I dare not come to thee;

On the eve of St. John I must wander alone:

In thy bower I may not be.'

"Now, out on thee, fainthearted knight!
Thou shouldst not say me nay;

For the eve is sweet, and when lovers meet,
Is worth the whole summer's day.

"And I'll chain the blood-hound, and the warder
shall not sound,

And rushes shall be strew'd on the stair;
So, by the black rood stone,' and by holy St. John,
I conjure thee, my love, to be there!'-

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Though the blood-hound be mute, and the rush
beneath my foot,

And the warder his bugle should not blow,
Yet there sleepeth a priest in the chamber to the east,
And my footstep he would know.'-

2

"O fear not the priest, who sleepeth to the east!
For to Dryburgh the way he has ta'en ;
And there to say mass, till three days do pass,
For the soul of a knight that is slayne.'-

"He turn'd him around, and grimly he frown'd;
Then he laugh'd right scornfully-

'He who says the mass-rite for the soul of that knight, May as well say mass for me:

"At the lone midnight hour when bad spirits have
In thy chamber will I be.'-

With that he was gone, and my lady left alone,
And no more did I see."

[power,

Then changed, I trow, was that bold Baron's brow,
From the dark to the blood-red high.

"Now, tell me the mien of the knight thou hast seen,
For, by Mary, he shall die!"-

"The grave is deep and dark-and the corpse is stiff and stark

So I may not trust thy tale.

"Where fair Tweed flows round holy Melrose,

And Eildon slopes to the plain,

Full three nights ago, by some secret foe,
That gay gallant was slain.

"The varying light deceived thy sight,

And the wild winds drown'd the name;
For the Dryburgh bells ring, and the white monks
For Sir Richard of Coldinghame!" [do sing,

He pass'd the court-gate, and he oped the tower-gate,
And he mounted the narrow stair,

To the bartizan seat, where, with maids that on her
He found his lady fair.
[wait,

That lady sat in mournful mood;
Look'd over hill and vale;

Over Tweed's fair flood, and Mertoun's wood,
And all down Teviotdale.

"Now hail, now hail, thou lady bright!"—
"Now hail, thou Baron true!

What news, what news, from Ancram fight?
What news from the bold Buccleuch?"-
"The Ancram Moor is red with gore,

For many a southern fell;
And Buccleuch has charged us, evermore,
To watch our beacons well."-

The lady blush'd red, but nothing she said:
Nor added the Baron a word :

Then she stepp'd down the stair to her chamber fair,
And so did her moody lord.

In sleep the lady mourn'd, and the Baron toss'd and
And oft to himself he said,-
[turn'd,
"The worms around him creep, and his bloody grave
It cannot give up the dead!".
[is deep.....

"His arms shone full bright, in the beacon's red light; It was near the ringing of matin-bell,
His plume it was scarlet and blue;

On his vield was a hound, in a silver leash bound,
And his crest was a branch of the yew."-

"Thou liest, thou liest, thou little foot-page,
Loud dost thou lie to me !

For that knight is cold, and low laid in the mould,
All under the Eildon-tree." 3

"Yet hear but my word, my noble lord!
For I heard her name his name;
And that lady bright, she called the knight
Sir Richard of Coldinghame."-

The bold Baron's brow then changed, I trow,
From high blood-red to pale-

The night was wellnigh done,
When a heavy sleep on that Baron fell,
On the eve of good St. John.

The lady look'd through the chamber fair,
By the light of a dying flame;

And she was aware of a knight stood there-
Sir Richard of Coldinghame!

"Alas! away, away!" she cried,

"For the holy Virgin's sake!
"Lady, I know who sleeps by thy side;
But, lady, he will not awake.
"By Eildon-tree, for long nights three,
In bloody grave have I lain;

The black-rood of Melrose was a crucifix of black marble, and of superior sanctity.

• Dryburgh Abbey is beautifully situated on the banks of the Tweed. After its dissolution, it became the property of the Halliburtons of Newmains, and is now the seat of the Right Honourable the Earl of Buchan. It belonged to the order of Premonstratenses. [The ancient Barons of Newmains were ultimately

represented by Sir Walter Scott, whose remains now repose in their cemetery at Dryburgh.-ED.]

3 Eildon is a high hill, terminating in three conical summits, immediately above the town of Melrose, where are the admired ruins of a magnificent monastery. Eildon-tree is said to be the spot where Thomas the Rhymer uttered his prophecies. See p. 248.

4 Mertoun is the beautiful seat of Hugh Scott, Esq. of Harden.

The mass and the death-prayer are said for me, But, lady, they are said in vain.

"By the Baron's brand, near Tweed's fair strand, Most foully slain, I fell;

And my restless sprite on the beacon's height,
For a space is doom'd to dwell.

"At our trysting-place,' for a certain space,
I must wander to and fro;

But I had not had power to come to thy bower,
Had'st thou not conjured me so."-
Love master'd fear-her brow she cross'd;
"How, Richard, hast thou sped?
And art thou saved, or art thou lost?"-
The vision shook his head!

"Who spilleth life, shall forfeit life;
So bid thy lord believe :
That lawless love is guilt above,
This awful sign receive."

He laid his left palm on an oaken beam;
His right upon her hand;

The lady shrunk, and fainting sunk,
For it scorch'd like a fiery brand.

The sable score, of fingers four,

Remains on that board impress'd;
And for evermore that lady wore
A covering on her wrist.
There is a nun in Dryburgh bower,

Ne'er looks upon the sun;
There is a monk in Melrose tower,
He speaketh word to none.
That nun, who ne'er beholds the day,"
That monk, who speaks to none--
That nun was Smaylho'me's Lady gay,
That monk the bold Baron.

APPENDIX

TO THE EVE OF ST. JOHN.

BATTLE OF ANCRAM MOOR.

Lord Evers, and Sir Brian Latoun, during the year 1514, committed the most dreadful ravages upon the Scottish frontiers,

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Trysting-place-Place of rendezvous. The circumstance of the nun, who never saw the day," is not entirely imaginary. About fifty years ago, an unfortunate female wanderer took up her residence in a dark vault, among the ruins of Dryburgh Abbey, which, during the day, she never quitted. When night fell, she issued from this miserable habitation, and went to the house of Mr. Haliburton of Newmains, the Editor's great-grandfather, or to that of Mr. Erskine of Sheilfield, two gentlemen of the neighbourhood. From their charity, she obtained such necessaries as she could be prevailed upon to accept. At twelve, each night, she lighted her candle, and returned to her vault, assuring her friendly neighbours, that, during her absence, her habitation was arranged by a spirit, to whom she gave the uncouth name of Fatlips; describing him as a little man, wearing heavy iron shoes, with which he trampled the clay floor of the vault, to dispel the damps. This circumstance caused her to be

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For these services Sir Ralph Evers was made a Lord of Parliament. See a strain of exulting congratulation upon his promotion, poured forth by some contemporary minstrel, ante, p. 73.

The King of England had promised to these two barons a feudal grant of the country, which they had thus reduced to a desert; upon hearing which, Archibald Douglas, the seventh Earl of Angus, is said to have sworn to write the deed of investiture upon their skins, with sharp pens and bloody ink, in resentment for their having defaced the tombs of his ancestors, at Melrose.-Godscroft. In 1545, Lord Evers and Latoun again entered Scotland, with an army consisting of 3000 mercenaries, 1500 English Borderers, and 700 assured Scottish-men, chiefly Armstrongs, Turnbulls, and other broken clans. In this second incursion, the English generals even exceeded their former cruelty. Evers burned the tower of Broomhouse, with its lady, (a noble and aged woman, says Lesley,) and her whole family. The English penetrated as far as Melrose, which they had destroyed last year, and which they now again pillaged. As they returned towards Jedburgh, they were followed by Angus, at the head of 1000 horse, who was shortly after joined by the famous Norman Lesley, with a body of Fife-men. The English, being probably unwilling to cross the Teviot, while the Scots hung upon their rear, halted upon Ancram Moor; above the village of that name; and the Scottish general was deliberating whether to advance or retire, when Sir Walter Scott,3 of Buccleuch, came up at full speed, with a small but chosen body of his retainers, the rest of whom were near at hand. By the advice of this experienced warrior, (to whose conduct Pitscottie and Buchanan ascribe the success of the engagement,) Angus withdrew from the height which he occupied, and drew up his forces behind it, upon a piece of low flat ground, called Panier-heugh, or Paniel-heugh. The spare horses being sent to an eminence in their rear, appeared to the English to be the main body of the Scots, in the act of flight. Under this persuasion, Evers and Latoun hurried precipitately forward, and, having ascended the hill, which their foes had abandoned, were no less dismayed than astonished, to find the phalanx of Scottish spearmen drawn up, in firm array, upon the flat ground below. The Scots in their turn became the assailants. A heron, roused from the marshes by the tumult, soared away betwixt the encountering armies: "O!" exclaimed Angus, "that I had here my white goss-hawk, that we might all yoke at once!"—Godscroft. The English, breathless and fatigued, having the setting sun and wind full in their faces, were unable to withstand the resolute and

regarded, by the well-informed, with compassion, as deranged in her understanding; and by the vulgar, with some degree of terror. The cause of her adopting this extraordinary mode of life she would never explain. It was, however, believed to have been occasioned by a vow, that, during the absence of a man to whom she was attached, she would never look upon the sun. Her lover never returned. He fell during the civil war of 1745-6, and she never more would behold the light of day.

The vault, or rather dungeon, in which this unfortunate woman lived and died, passes still by the name of the supernatural being, with which its gloom was tenanted by her disturbed imagination, and few of the neighbouring peasants dare enter it by night.— 1803.

3 The Editor has found no instance upon record, of this family having taken assurance with England. Hence, they usually suffered dreadfully from the English forays. In August, 1544. (the

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