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“Nor forged steel, nor hempen band,

Shall e’er thy limbs confine,
Till threefold ropes of sifted sand

Around thy body twine. " “If danger press fast, knock thrice on the chest,

With rusty padlocks bound;
Turn away your eyes, when the lid shall rise,

And listen to the sound.”
Lord Soulis he sat in Hermitage Castle,

And Redcap was not by;
And he call’d on a page, who was witty and sage,

To go to the barmkin high.
* And look thou east, and look thou west,

And quickly come tell to me,
What troopers haste along the waste,

And what may their livery be.”
He look'd over fell, and he look'd o'er flat,

But nothing, I wist, be saw,
Save a pyot on a turret that sat

Beside a corby craw.
The page he look at the skrieh' of day,

But nothing, I wist, he saw,
Till a horseman gray, in the royal array,

Rode down the Hazel-shaw. “Say, why do you cross o'er moor and moss?”

So loudly cried the page; “I tidings bring, from Scotland's King,

To Soulis of Hermitage.
“ He bids me tell that bloody warden,

Oppressor of low and high,
If ever again his lieges complain,

The cruel Soulis shall die."
By traitorous sleight they seized the knight,

Before he rode or ran,
And through the key-stone of the vault,

They plunged him, horse and man.

She sigh'd the name of Branxholm's heir,

The youth that loved her dear.
“Now, be content, my bonny May,

And take it for your hame;
Or ever and aye shall ye rue the day

You heard young Branxholm's name. “O’er Branxholm tower, ere the morning hour,

When the lift’ is like lead sae blue, The smoke shall roll white on the weary night,

And the flame shall shine dimly through."
Syne he's ca'd on bim Ringan Red,

A sturdy kemp was he;
From friend, or foe, in Border feid,

Who never a foot would flee.
Red Ringan sped, and the spearmen led

Up Goranberry slack;
Ay, many a wight, unmatch'd in fight,

Who never more came back.
And bloody set the westering sun,

And bloody rose he up;
But little thought young Branxholm's heir

Where he that night should sup.
He shot the roebuck on the lee,

The dun-deer on the law;
The glamour 3 sure was in his ee

When Ringan nigh did draw.
O'er heathy edge, through rustling sedge,

He sped till day was set ;
And he thought it was his merry-men true,

When he the spearmen met.
Far from relief, they seized the chief;

His men were far away;
Through Hermitage slack they sent him back,

To Soulis's castle gray ;
Syne onward fure for Branxholm tower,

Where all his merry-men lay.
“Now, welcome, noble Branxholm's heir !

Thrice welcome,” quoth Soulis, to me!
Say, dost thou repair to my castle fair,

My wedding guest to be ?
And lovely May deserves, per fay,

A brideman such as thee!
And broad and bloody rose the sun,

And on the barmkin shone;
When the page was aware of Red Ringan there,

Who came riding all alone. To the gate of the tower Lord Soulis he speeds,

As he lighted at the wall, Says—“Where did ye stable my stalwart steeds,

And where do they tarry all?”— “We stabled them sure, on the Tarras Muir;

We stabled them sure,” quoth he : “Before we could cross the quaking moss,

They all were lost but me.”

O May she came, and May she gaed,

By Goranberry green;
And May she was the fairest maid,

That ever yet was seen.
O May she came, and May she gaed,

By Goranberry tower;
And who was it but cruel Lord Soulis,

That carried her from her bower?
He brought her to his castle gray,

By Hermitage's side;
Says-"Be content, my lovely May,

For thou shalt be my bride.”
With her yellow hair, that glitter'd fair,

She dried the trickling tear;

i skrieh-Peep.



3 Glamour-Magical delusion.

He clench'd his fist, and he knock'd on the chest,

And he heard a stilled groan ;
And at the third knock each rusty lock

Did open one by one.
He turn'd away his eyes as the lid did rise,

- And he listen'd silentlie;
And he heard breathed slow, in murmurs low,

“Beware of a coming tree !”
In muttering sound the rest was drown'd;

No other word heard he;
But slow as it rose, the lid did close,

With the rusty padlocks three.

He threw them o'er his left shoulder,

With meikle care and pain ; a
And he bade it keep them fathoms deep,

Till he return'd again.
And still, when seven years are o'er,

Is heard the jarring sound;
When slowly opes the charm'd door

Of the chamber under ground.
And some within the chamber door

Have cast a curious eye:
But none dare tell, for the spirits in hell,

The fearful sights they spy.


Now rose with Branxholm's ae brother

The Teviot, high and low;
Bauld Walter by name, of meikle fame,

For none could bend his bow.
O'er glen and glade, to Soulis there sped

The fame of his array,
And that Teviotdale would soon assail

His towers and castle gray.
With clenched fist, he knock'd on the chest,

And again he heard a groan;
And he raised his eyes as the lid did rise,

But answer heard he none.
The charm was broke, when the spirit spoke,

And it murmur'd sullenlie, -
“Shut fast the door, and for evermore,

Commit to me the key.
" Alas! that ever thou raised'st thine eyes,

Thine eyes to look on me!'
Till seven years are o'er, return no more,

For here thou must not be.”
Think not but Soulis was wae to yield

His warlock chamber o'er;
He took the keys from the rusty lock,

That never were ta'en before.

When Soulis thought on his merry-men now,

A woful wight was he;
Says—" Vengeance is mine, and I will not repine!

But Branxholm's heir shall die!”.
Says—“What would you do, young Branxholm,

ye had me, as I have thee?"-
“I would take you to the good greenwood,

And gar your ain hand wale’ the tree.”-
“ Now shall thine ain hand wale the tree,

For all thy mirth and meikle pride ;
And May shall choose, if my love she refuse,

A scrog bush thee beside.”
They carried him to the good greenwood,

Where the green pines grew in a row;
And they heard the cry, from the branches high,

Of the hungry carrion crow.
They carried him on from tree to tree,

The spiry boughs below;
Say, shall it be thine, on the tapering pine,

To feed the hooded crow?"
"The fir-tops fall by Branxholm wall,

When the night-blast stirs the tree,
And it shall not be mine to die on the pine,

I loved in infancie.”

(See Note A., (by Sir Walter Scott,) at the end of this In the summer of 1805, another discovery was made in the Ballad.]

haunted ruins of Hermitage. In a recess of the wall of the castle, The circumstance of Lord Soulis having thrown the key over intended apparently for receiving the end of a beam or joist, a his left shoulder, and bid the fiend keep it till his return, is noted boy, seeking for birds' nests, found a very curious antique silver in the introduction, as a part of his traditionary history. In the ring, embossed with hearts, the well-known cognizance of the course of this autumn, the Earl of Dalkeith being eacamped near Douglas family, placed interchangeably with quatre-foils all round The Hermitage Castle, for the amusement of shooting, direcled the circle. The workmanship has an uncommonly rude and ansome workmen to clear away the rubbish from the door of the cient appearance, and warrants our believing that it may have dungeon, in order to ascertain its ancient dimensions and archi- belonged to one of the Earls of Angus, who carried the heart and tecture. To the great astonishment of the labourers, and of the quatre-foils in their arms. Some heralds say, that they carried country people who were watching their proceedings, a rusty iron cinque-foils, others tre-foils; but all agree they bore some such key, of considerable size, was found among the ruins, a little way distinction to mark their cadency from the elder branch of Douglas. from the dungeon door. The well-known tradition instantly They parted with the castle and lordship of Liddesdale, in exchange passed from one to another; and it was generally agreed, that the for that of Bothwell, in the beginning of the 16th century. This malevolent demon, who had so long relained possession of the ring is now in the Editor's possession, by the obliging gift of Mr. key of the castle, now found himself obliged to resign it to the John Baliantyne, of the house of Ballantyne and Company, so heir-apparent of the domain. In the course of their researches, distinguished for typography.—1806. a large iron ladle, somewhat resembling that used by plumbers, 3 Wale-Choose. was also discovered; and both the relics are now in Lord Dalkeith's possession.

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Young Branxholm turn’d him, and oft look'd back,

And aye he pass'd from tree to tree; Young Branxholm peep'd, and puirly' spake,

* O sic a death is no for me!” And next they pass’d the aspin gray,

Its leaves were rustling mournfullie ; “Now, choose thee, choose thee, Branxholm gay!

Say, wilt thou never choose the tree?”. More dear to me is the aspin gray,

'More dear than any other tree; For beneath the shade that its branches made,

Have pass’d the vows of my love and me.”
Young Branxholm peep'd, and puirly spake,

Until he did his ain men see,
With witches' hazel in each steel cap,

In scorn of Soulis' gramarye;
Then shoulder-height for glee he lap,

Methinks I spye a coming tree !”-
Ay, many may come, but few return,”

Quo' Soulis, the lord of gramarye; "No warrior's hand in fair Scotland

Shall ever dint a wound on me!” "Now, by my sooth,” quo' bold Walter,

“ If that be true we soon shall see.”His bent bow he drew, and his arrow was true,

But never a wound or scar had he. Then up bespake him true Thomas,

He was the lord of Ersyltoun ; “ The wizard's spell no steel can quell,

Till once your lances bear him down.".
They bore him down with lances bright,

But never a wound or scar had he ;
With hempen bands they bound bim tight,

Both hands and feet, on the Nine-stane lee.
That wizard accurst, the bands he burst;

They moulder'd at his magic spell; And neck and heel, in the forged steel,

They bound him against the charms of hell. That wizard accurst, the bands he burst;

No forged steel his charms could bide; Then up bespake him true Thomas,

“We'll bind him yet, whate'er betide.” The black spae-book from his breast he took,

Impress'd with many a warlock spell ;
And the book it was wrote by Michael Scott,

Who held in awe the fiends of hell.
They buried it deep, where his bones they sleep,

That mortal man might never it see:
But Thomas did save it from the grave,

When he return'd from Faërie.
The black spae-book from his breast he took,

And turn'd the leaves with curious hand;

No ropes, did he find, the wizard could bind,

But threefold ropes of sifted sand.
They sisted the sand from the Nine-stane burn,

And shaped the ropes sae curiouslie; .
But the ropes would neither twist nor twine,

For Thomas true and his gramarye.*
The black spae-book from bis breast he took,

And again he turn'd it with liis hand;
And he bade each lad of Teviot add

The barley chaff to the sifted sand. The barley chaff to the sisted sand

They added still by handfuls nine; But Redcap sly unseen was by,

And the ropes would neither twist nor twine. And still beside the Nine-stane burn,

Ribb'd like the sand at mark of sea,
The ropes that would not twist nor turn,

Shaped of the sifted sand you see.
The black spae-book true Thomas he took,

Again its magic leaves he spread;
And he found that to quell the powerful spell,

The wizard must be boil'd in lead.
On a circle of stones they placed the pot,

On a circle of stones but barely nine;
They heated it red and fiery hot,

Till the burnish'd brass did glimmer and shine. They roll'd him up in a sheet of lead,

A sheet of lead for a funeral pall; They plunged him in the cauldron red,

And melted him, lead, and bones and all.3
At the Skelf-hill, the cauldron still

The men of Liddesdale can show;
And on the spot, where they boil'd the pot,

The spreat 4 and the deer-hair 5 ne'er shall grow.



Alas I that e'er tbou raised'st thine eyes,

Thine eyes to look on me.

The idea of Lord Soulis's familiar seems to be derived from the curious story of the spirit Orthone and the Lord of Corasse, which, I think, the reader will be pleased lo see in all its Gothic simplicity, as translated from Froissart, by the Lord of Berners.

“Il is great marveyle to consyder one thynge, the whiche was shewed to me in the Earl of Foiz house at Ortayse, of hym that enfourmed me of the busynesse al Juberothe, ( Adjubarota, where the Spaniards, with their French allies, were defeated by the Portugueze, A. D. 4385.) He shewed me one thyng that I have oftentymes thought on sithe, and shall do as long as I live. As this squyer told me that of trouthe the next day after the battayl was thus fought, al Juberoth, the Erle of Foiz knewe it, whereof I had great marveyle ; for the said sonday, Monday, and Tuesday, the

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erle was very pensyf, and so sadde of chere, tha: no man could on a nyght a-bedde in his castelle of Corasse, with the lady, there have a worde of hym. And all the said three days he wold nat came to hym messangers invisible, and made a marvellous tempest issue out of his chambre, nor speke to any man, though they were and noise in the castell, that it seemned as thougbe the castell shulde never so nere about hym. And, on the Tuesday night, he called have fallen downe, and strak gret strokes at his chambre dore, to him his brother Arnault Guyilyam, and sayd to him, with a that the goode ladye, his wise, was soore afrayde. The knight soft voice, 'Our men hath had to do, whereof I am sorrie ; for it herd alle, but he spoke no worde thereof; bycanse he wolde is come of them by their voyage, as I sayd or they departed.' | shewe no abassbed corage, for he was hardy to abyde all advenArnault Guyllyam, who was a sage knight, and knewe right well tures. Thys noyse and tempest was in sundry places of the castell, his brother's condicions (i. e. temper, ) słode still, and gave none and dured a long space, and al length cessed for that nyght. Than answere. And than the Erle, who thought to declare his mind the nexte mornynge, all the servants of the house came to the more plainlye, for long he had borne the trouble thereof in his lord, whan he was risen, and sayd, 'Sir, have you nat herde this herte, spake agayn more higher than he dyd before, and sayd, night that we have done?' The lord dissembled, and sayd, “No!

By God, Sir Arnault, it is as I saye, and shortely ye shall here 1 herd nothing-what have you herde?' Than they shewed him tidynges thereof; but the countrey of Byerne, this hundred yere, what noyse they hadde herde, and how alle the vessel in the never lost suche a losse al no journey, as they have done now kychen was overlowrned. Than the lord began to laugh, and in Portugal.'—Dyvers knights and squyers, that were there pre- sayd, · Yea, sirs! ye dremed; it was nothynge but the wynde.'sent, and herde hym say so, stnde styll, and durst nat speke, but In the name of God!' quod the ladye, 'I herde it well.' The they remembered his wordes. And within a ten days after, they next nyght there was as great noyse and greatter, and suche strokes knewe lhe trouthe thereof, by such as had been at the busynesse, gyven at his chambre dore and windows, as alle shulde have and there they shewed every thinge as it was fortuned at Juberoth. broken in pieces. The knyghle starte up out of his bedde, and Than the erle renewed agayn his dolor, and all the countreye wolde not lette, to demaunde who was at his chambre dore that were in sorrowe, for they had lost their parentes, brethren, tyme of the nyght; and anone he was answered by a voyce ihat chyldren, and frendes. 'Saint Mary!' quod i'to the squyer that sayd, 'I am here.' Quod the knyght, 'Who sent thee hyder?' shewed me thys tale, how is it that the Earl of Foiz could know, - The clerk of Catalogne sent me hyder,' quod the voice, “to on one daye, what was done within a day or two before, beyng whom thou dost gret wronge, for thou hast taken from hym the so farre oft?'- By my faythe, sir,' quod he, 'as it appeared well, ryghtes of his benefyce; I will nat leave thee ia rest tylle thou be knewe it.'— Than he is a diviner,: quod I, 'or els he hath haste made hym a good accompte, so that he be pleased.' Quod messangers, that flyethe with the wynde, or he must needs have the knight, 'What is thy name, that thou art so good a messansome craft.' The squyer began to laugh, and sayd • Surely he gere?' Quod he. 'I am called Orthone.'— Orthone!' quod the must know it by some art of negromansye or otherwyse. To say knight,' the servyce of a clerke is lytell profyte for thee. He wille the trouthe, we cannot tell how it is, but by our ymaginacions.' putte thee to moche payne if thou beleve hym. I pray thee leave -Sir,' quod I, 'suche ymaginacions as ye have therein, if it bym, and come and serve me; and I shall give thee goode lhanke. plase you to shew me, I wolde be gladde thereof; and if it bee Orthone was redy to aunswere, for he was inamours with the suche a thynge as ought to be secrete, I shall not pablysshe it, knyghte, and sayde, ' Woldest thou fayne have my servyce? – nor as long as I am in thys countrey I shall never speke word ‘Yea, Iruly,' quod the knyghte, .so thou do no hurte to any perthereof.'— I praye you thereof,' quod the squyer, 'for I wolde sone in this house.'—*No more I will do,' quod Orthone, .for I nat it shulde be knowen, that I shulde spoke thereof. But I shall have no power to do any other yvell, but to awake thee out of shewe you, as dyvers men spekelh secretelye, whan they be togyder thy slepe, or some other.'—'Well,' quod the knyght, do as I as frendes.' Than he drew me aparle into a corner of the chap tell thre, and we shall soone agree, and leave the yvill clerke, pell at Ortayse, and then began his tale, and sayd :

for there is no good thyng in him, but to put thee to payne; there“ 'It is well a twenty yeares paste, that there was, in this coun fore, come and serve me.'—'Well,' quod Orthone, and sythe trey, a Barone, called Raymond, Lord of Corasse, whyche is a

thou wilt have me, we are agreed.' sevyn leagnes from this towne of Ortayse. Thys Lorde of Corasse "So this spyrite Orihone loved so the knight, that oftentyines had that same tyme, a plee at Avignon before the Pope, for the he wold come and vysyte him, while he lay in his bedde aslepe, dysmes ( i. e. tithes ) of his churche, against a clerk, curate there; and outher pull him by the eare, or els stryke at his chambre dore the whiche priest was of Catelogne. He was a grete clerk, and or windowe. And, whan the knyght awoke, than he would saye, claymed to have ryghte of the dysmes, in the towne of Corasse, 1 • Orihone, lat me slepe.'—' Nay,' quod Orthone, that I will not which was valued to an hundred florens by the yere, and the do, tyll I have showed thee such tydinges as are fallen a-late. The ryghte that he had, he shewed and proved it; and, by sentence ladye, the knyghies wife, wolde be sore afrayed, that her heer wald disfynitive, Popc Urbane the Fylthe, in consistory generall, con stand up, and byde herself under the clothes. Than the knyght dempned the knighte, and gave judgement wyth the preest, and wolde saye, • Why, what lidynges hast thou brought me?'—Quod of this last judgment he had letters of the Pope, for his possession, Orthene, “I am come out of England, or out of Hungry, or some and so rude tyll he came into Berne, and there shewed his letters and other place, and yesterday I came hens, and such things are fallen, or bulles of the Popes for his possession of his dysmes. The Lord of such other.' So thus the Lord of Corasse knewe, by Orthone, every Corasse had gret indignacion at this preest, and came to hym, and thing that was done in any part of ibe worlde. And in this case he said, 'Maister Pers, or Maister Mairlin, (as his name was,) thinkest contynued a syve yere, and could not kepe his own counsayle, but thou, that by reason of thy letters I will lose mine herytage-be at last discovered it to the Earl of Foiz. I shall shewe you howe. not so hardy, that thou take any thynge that is myne; is thou do, " • The firste yere, the Lord of Corasse came on a day to Orit shall cost thee thy life. Go thy waye into some other place to tayse, lo the Erle of Foiz, and sayd 10 bim, 'Sir, such things are get thee a benefyce, for of myne herylage thou geltest no parte, done in England, or in Scotland, or in Almange, or in any other and ones for alwayes, I defy thee.' The clerk douted the knight, for countrey.' And ever the Erle of Foiz found his sayeing true, and he was a cruell man, therefore he dorst nat parceyver.-Then he had great marveyle how he shulde know suche things so shortly. thought to return to Avign n, as he dyde; but, whan he deparled, And, on a tyme, the Earl of Foiz examined him so straitly, that he came to the knight, the Lord of Corasse, and said, “Sir, by the Lord of Corasse shewed hym alle toguyder howe he knewe it, force, and nat by ryght, ye take away from me the ryght of my and howe he came to hym firste. When the Erle of Foiz hard that, churche, wherein you greatly hurt your conscience. I am not he was joyfull, and said, “Sir of Corasse, kepe hit: well in your so strong in this countrey as ye be; but, sir, knowe for trouthe, love; I wolde I hadd suche an messanger; he costeth you nothyng, that as soon as I may, I shall sende to you suche a champyon, and ye knowe by him every thynge that is done in the worlde.' whom ye shall double more than me.' The knight, who doubted The knyght answered, and sayd, 'Sir, ibat is true.' Thus, the Lord norhyng his threlynges, said, 'God be with thee; do what thou of Corasse was served with Orthone a long season.

I can nat sayo mayst; I doute no more dethe than lyfe; for all thy wordes, I if this Orthone hadde any more masters or nat; but every weke, will not lese mine herytage.' Thus, the clerk departed from the twise or thrise, be wolde come and vysite the Lord of Corasse, Lord of Corasse, and went I cannot tell whether into Avygnon or and wolde sbewe hym such tidynges of any thing that was fallen into Catalogne, and forgat nat the promise that lie had made to fro whens he came. And ever the Lord of Corasse, when he the Lord of Corasse or he departed. For when the kniglit thoughte knewe any thynge, he wrote thereof 10 the Earl of Foiz, who had leest on hym, about a three monethes after, as the knyght laye / great joy thereof; for he was the lord, of all the worlde, that

most desyred to here news out of straunge places. And, on a wyste howe. Than the Lord of Corasse entred into his chambre, tyme, the Lord of Corasse was with the Erle of Foiz, and the erle right pensyve, and than he remembered hym of Orthone, his demaunded of hym, and sayd, “Sir of Corasse, dyd ye ever as yet messangere, and sayd, 'I repent me that I set my houndes on se your messangere?'- Nay, surely, sir,' quod the knyghte, 'nor him. It is an adventure an I here any more of hym; for he sayd I never desyred it.' – That is marveyle,' quod the erle; if I to me ostenlymes, that if I displeased hym, I shulde lose hym.' were as well acquainted with him as ye be, I wolde have desyred The lord said trouthe, for never after he cam into the castell of to have seen hym; wherefore, I pray you, desyre it of him, and Corasse, and also the knyght dyed the same yere next followinge. then telle me what form and facyon be is of. I have herd you “• So, sir,' said the synger, 'thus have I sbewed you the lyse say how he speaketh as good Gascon as outher you or I.'—'Truely, of Orthone, and howe, for a season, he served the Lord of Corasse sir,' quod the knyght, so it is : he speketh as well, and as fayr, with newe tidynges.'— It is true, sir,' sayd I, but nowe, as lo as any of us both do. And, surely, sir, sithe ye counsayle me, I your firste purpose : Is the Earl of Foiz served with suche an mes. shall do my payne to see him as I can.' And so, on a night, as sangere?,-. Surely,' quod the squyer, it is the ymagination of he lay in his bedde, with the ladye his wife, who was so inured many, that he hath such messengers, for ther is nothynge done in to here Orthone, that she was no longer asrayd of hym; than cam any place, but and he selle his myne thereto, he will knowe it, Orthone, and pulled the lord by the eare, who was fast asleep, and and whan men (hynke leest thereof. And so dyd he, when the therewith he awoke, and asked who was there? I am liere,' goode knyghtes and squyers of this country were slayne in Porquod Orthone. Then he demanded, “From whens cumest thou tugale at Guberothe. Some saythe, the knowledge of such thynges nowe?'—'I come,' quod Orthone, ‘from Prague, in Boesme!' hatli done bim moche profyle, for and there be but the value of a - How farre is that hens ?' quod the knyght. 'A threescore spone lost in his house, anone he will know where it is.' So thus, days journey,' quod Orthone. "And art thou come hens so soon? then, I toke leave of the squyer, and went to other company; but quod the knyght. “Yea trucly,' quod Orthone, ‘I come as fast I bare well away his tale."-BOURCHIER'S Translation of Froisas the wynde, or faster.'—'Hast thou than winges?' quod the sart's Chronycle, vol. ii. chap. 37. koyght. "Nay, truely,' quod he. How canst thou than flye so fast?' quod the knyght, 'Ye have nothing to do to knowe that,' quod Orthone. 'No?' quod the knyght, “I would gladly se thee.

NOTE B. to know what forme thou art of.'--'Well,' quod Orthone, 'ye have nothing lo do to knowe: it sufficeth you to here me, and to

And melted him, etc. shewe you tidynges.'—' In faythe,' quod the knyght. • I wolde love thee moche better an I myght se thee ones.'— Well.' quod The tradition regarding the death of Lord Soulis, however Orthone, ósir, sithe you have so grel desyre to se me, the first singular, is not without a parallel in the real history of Scotland. thyoge that ye se tomorrowe, when ye ryse out of your bedde, The same extraordinary mode of cookery was actually practised the same shall be 1.'— That is sufficient,' quod the lorde. 'Go (horresco referens !) upon the body of a sheriff of the Mearns. thy way; I gyve thee leave to departe for this nyght.' And This person, whose name was Melvill of Glenbervie, bore his the next mornynge the lord rose, and the ladie his wife was so faculties so harshly, that he became detested by the barons of the asrayd, that she durst not ryse, but fayned herself sicke, and country. Reiterated complaints of his conduct having been made sayd she woldc not ryse. Her husband wold have had her to to James I. (or, as others say, to the Duke of Albany,) the mohave rysen. “Sir,' quod sbe, 'than I shall se Orthone, and I narch answered, in a moment of unguarded impatience, “Sorrow wolde not se him by my gode wille,'—'Well,' qnod the knyght, gin the sheriff were sodden, and supped in broo!" The com‘I wolde gladly se him.' And so he arose. fayre and easily, out plainers retired, perfectly satisfied. Shortly after, the Lairds of of his bedde, and sat down on his bedde-syde, wenying to have Arbulhot, Mather, Laureston, and Pittaraw, decoyed Melville to seen Orthone in his own proper form; but he sawe nothynge the top of the hill of Garvock, above Lawrencekirk, under prewherbye he myghte say, 'Lo, yonder is Orthone.' So that day tence of a grand hunting party. Upon this place, ( still called the past, and the next night came, and when the knyght was in his Sheriff's Pot,) the barons had prepared a fire and a boiling caulbedde, Orthone came, and began to speke, as he was accustomed. dron, into which they plunged the unlucky sheriff. After he was 'Go thy waye,' qnod the knyght, thou arte but a lyer; thou pro sodden (as the King termed it) for a susticient time, the savages, mysest thal I shuld have sene The, and it was not so.'-'No?' that they might literally observe the royal mandate, concluded quod he,' and I shewed myself to the.'—That is not so,' quod the scene of abomination by actually partaking of the hell-broth. the lord. 'Why,' quod Orthone, 'whan ye rose out of your The three lairds were outlawed for this offence; and Barclay, bedde, sawe ye nothyoge?' Than the lorde studyed a lytell, and one of their number, to screen himself from justice, erected the advysed himself well. 'Yes, truely,' quod the knyght, * now I kaim (i. e. the camp, or fortress) of Mathers, which stands upon remember me, as I stale on my bedde-syde, thynking on thee, I a rocky and almost inaccessible peninsula, overhanging the Gersawe two strawes upon the pavement, tumblynge one upon ano man Ocean. The laird of Arbuthnot is said to have eluded the ther.'— “That same was 1,' quod Orthone, 'into that fourme I royal vengeance, by claiming the benefit of the law of clan dyd putte myself as than.'—. That is not enough to me,' quod the Macdoll, concerning which the curious reader will find some lord; “I pray thee putte thyselse into some other fourme, that I particulars subjoined. A pardon, or perhaps a deed of replegiamay better se and knowe thee.'— Well,' quod Orthone, .ye will tion, lounded upon that law, is said to be still exlant among the do so muche, that ye will lose me, and I to go fro you, for records of the Viscount of Arbuthnot. desyre to much of me.'— Nay,' quod the kryght, thou shalt Pellow narrates a similar instance of atrocity, perpetrated after not go fro me; let me se the ones, and I will desyre no more.: the death of Muley Ismael, Emperor of Morocco, io 1727, when "Well,' quod Orthone, 'ye shall se me to-morrowe; take hede, the inhabitants of Old Fez, throwing off all allegiance to his sucthe first thyng that ye se after ye be out of your chamber, it shall cessor, slew “ Alchyde Boel le Roeea, their old governor, boiling be I.'— Well,' quod the knyght, “I am than content. Go thy his flesh, and many, through spite, eating thereof, and throwing way, lette me slepe.' And so Orthone departed, and the next what they could not eat of it to the dogs,“-See Pellow's Truvrls mornyng the lord arose, and yssued oule of his chambre, and in South Barbary. And we may add, to such tales, the Oriental went to a windowe, and looked downe into the courle of the lyranny of Zenghis Khan, who immersed seventy Tartar Kans in castell, and cast about his eyen. And the firste thing he sawe was as many boiling cauldrons. a sowe, the greattest that ever he sawe; and she seemed to be The punishment of boiling seems to have been in use among the so leane and yvell-favoured, that there was nothyng on her but English at a very late period, as appears from the following pasthe skynne and the bones, with loug eares, and a long leane snout. sage in Stowe's Chronicle :-" The 17th March (1524). Margaret The Lord of Corasse had marveyle of that leane sowe, and was Davy, a maid, was boiled at Smithfield, for poisoning of three wery of the sighte of her, and commanded his men to fetch bis households that she had dwelled in." But unquestionably the houndes, and sayd, Let the dogges hunt her to deth, and devour usual practice of Smithfield cookery, about that period, was by a her.' llis servants opened the kenells, and lette oute his houndes, different application of fire. and dyd sette them on this sowe. And, at the last, the sowe made a great crye, and looked up to the Lord of Corasse as he looked

LAW OF CLAN MACDUFF. out at a windowe, and so sodaynely yanyshed awaye, no man Though it is rather foreign to the proper subject of this work,


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