Wi' his great bull's pizzle,

That supp'd up the broo', and syne--in the piggin."

HOBBIE NOBLE.

We have seen the hero of this ballad act a distinguished part in the deliverance of Jock o' the Side, and are now to learn the ungrateful return which the Armstrongs made him for his faithful services. Halbert, or Hobbie Noble, appears to have been one of those numerous English outlaws, who, being forced to fly their own country, had established themselves on the Scottish Borders. As Hobbie continued his depredations upon the English, they bribed some of his hosts, the Armstrongs, to decoy him into England under pretence of a predatory expedition. He was there delivered, by his treacherous companions, into the hands of the officers of justice, by whom he was conducted to Carlisle, and executed next morning. The Laird of Mangertoun, with whom Hobbie was in high favour, is said to have taken a severe revenge upon the traitors who betrayed him. The principal contriver of the scheme, called here Sim o' the Maynes, fled into England from the resentment of his chief; but experienced there the common fate of a traitor, being himself executed at Carlisle, about two months after Hobbie's death. Such is, at least, the tradition of Liddesdale. Sim o' the Maynes appears among the Armstrongs of Whitauch, in Liddesdale, in the list of Clans so often alluded to.

HOBBIE NOBLE.

Foul fa' the breast first Treason bred in! That Liddesdale may safely say ;

For in it there was baith meat and drink,
And corn unto our geldings gay.

And we were a' stout-hearted men,
As England she might often say;

But now we may turn our backs and flee,
Since brave Noble is sold away.
Now Hobbie was an English man,

And born into Bewcastle dale;
But his misdeeds they were so great,
They banish'd him to Liddesdale.

At Kershope foot the tryste was set,
Kershope of the lilye lee; 3

And there was traitour Sim o' the Mains, 4
And with him a private companie.
Then Hobbie has graithed his body fair,
Baith wi' the iron and wi' the steel;
And he has ta'en out his fringed grey,

And there, brave Hobbie, he rade him weel.
Then Hobbie is down the water gane,
E'en as fast as he could hie;

Tho' a' should hae bursten and broken their hearts
Frae that riding-tryst he wad na be.

"Well be ye met, my feres five!

And now, what is your will wi' me?”—Then they cried a', wi' ae consent, "Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me. "Wilt thou with us into England ride,

And thy safe warrand we will be?
If we get a horse worth a hundred pound,
Upon his back thou sune sall be.”-
"I dare not by day into England ride;
The Land-Sergeant has me at feid:
And I know not what evil may betide,

For Peter of Whitfield, his brother, is dead.

"And Anton Shiel he loves not me,

For I gat twa drifts o' his sheep;
The great Earl of Whitfield 7 loves me not,

For nae gear frae me he e'er could keep.

"But will ye stay till the day gae down,

Until the night come o'er the grund,
And I'll be a guide worth ony twa
That may in Liddesdale be found?

An iron-pot with two ears.

The original editor of the Reliques of Ancient Poetry has noticed the perfidy of this clan in another instance; the delivery of the banished Earl of Northumberland into the hands of the Scottish regent, by Hector of Harelaw, an Armstrong, with whom he had taken refuge.—Percy, vol. i. p. 283.-This Hector of Harelaw seems to have been an Englishman, or under English assurance; for he is one of those, against whom bilis were exhibited by the Scottish commissioners, to the Lord Bishop of Carlisle.Introduction to the History of Westmoreland and Cumberland. p. 84. In the list of Borderers, 1597, Hector of Harelaw, with the Griefs and Cuts of Harelaw, also figures as an inhabitant of the Debateable Land. It would appear, from a spirited invective in the Maitland MS. against the regent, and those who delivered up

this treachery, to redeem the pledge which had been exacted from him for his peaceable demeanour. The poet says, that the perfidy

You nothing can but covatice allege."

PINKERTON'S Maitland Poems, vol. i. p. 290.

Eckie is the contraction of Hector among the vulgar. These little memoranda may serve still farther to illustrate th beautiful ballads, upon that subject, published in the Reliques.

3 Kershope-burn, where Hobbie met his treacherous comp nions, falls into the Liddel, from the English side, at a pla called Turnersholm, where, according to tradition, tourneys a games of chivalry were often solemnized.

4 The Mains was anciently a Border-keep, near Castletown, the north side of the Liddel, but is now totally demolished. 5 Graithed-Clad. 6 Feres-Companions.

7 Whitfield is explained by Mr. Ellis of Otterbourne to be

I suspe

of Morton and Lochlevin was worse than even that of

-"the traitour Eckie of Harelaw,

That says he sould bim to redeem his pledge: Your deed is war, as all the world does know

"Though the night be black as pick and tar,

I'll guide ye o'er yon hill sae hie;

And bring ye a' in safety back,

If ye'll be true and follow me."

He has guided them o'er moss and muir,
O'er hill and hope, and mony a down;
Until they came to the Foulbogshiel,

And there, brave Noble, he lighted down.
But word is gane to the Land-Sergeant,
In Askerton where that he lay-
"The deer, that ye hae hunted sae lang,
Is seen into the Waste this day."-
"The Hobbie Noble is that deer!

I wat he carries the style fu' hie;
Aft has he driven our bluidhounds back,"
And set ourselves at little lee.

"Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,
See they sharp their arrows on the wa'!
Warn Willeva and Speir Edom, 3

And see the morn they meet me a'.
"Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh, 4
And see it be by break o' day;
And we will on to Conscouthart-green,
For there, I think, we'll get our prey."-
Then Hobbie Noble has dreimit a dreim,

In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay;
He dreimit his horse was aneath him shot,
And he himself got hard away.

The cocks 'goud craw, the day 'goud daw,
And I wot sae even fell down the rain;
Had Hobbie na wakened at that time

In the Foulbogshiel, he had been ta'en or slain.

"Awake, awake, my feres five!

I trow here makes a fu' ill day;
Yet the worst cloak o' this company,

I hope shall cross the Waste this day."-
Now Hobbie thought the gates were clear;
But, ever alas! it was na sae:
They were beset by cruel men and keen,

That away brave Hobbie might na gae.

Askerton is an old castle, now ruinous, situated in the wilds of Cumberland, about seventeen miles north-east of Carlisle, amidst that mountainous and desolate tract of country bordering upon Liddesdale, emphatically termed the Waste of Bewcastle. "The russet bloodhound, wont, near Annand's stream, To trace the sly thief with avenging foot, Close as an evil conscience still at hand."

Our ancient statutes inform us, that the blood-hound, or sluith. hound (so called from its quality of tracing the slot, or track, of men and animals) was early used in the pursuit and detection of marauders. Nullus perturbet aut impediat canem trassantem, aut homines trassantes cum ipso, ad sequendum latrones.Regiam Majestatem, lib. 4tus, cap. 32. And, so late as 1616, there was an order from the king's commissioners of the northern counties, that a certain number of slough-hounds should be maintained in every district of Cumberland, bordering upon Scotland. They were of great value, being sometimes sold for a hundred crowns.-Exposition of Bleau's Atlas, voce Nithsdale. The breed of this sagacious animal, which could trace the human footstep with the most unerring accuracy, is now nearly extinct.

"Yet follow me, my feres five,

And see ye keep of me gude ray;

And the worst cloak o' this company

Even yet may cross the Waste this day."

But the Land-Sergeant's men cam Hobbie before,
The traitor Sim cam Hobbie behin',

So had Noble been wight as Wallace was,
Away, alas! he might na win.

Then Hobbie had but a laddie's sword;

But he did mair than a laddie's deed;
For that sword had clear'd Conscouthart-green,
Had it not broke o'er Jerswigham's head.

Then they hae ta'en brave Hobbie Noble,
Wi's ain bowstring they band him sae;
But his gentle heart was ne'er sae sair,

As when his ain five bound him on the brae.
They hae ta'en him on for west Carlisle ;
They ask'd him, if he kend the way?
Though much he thought, yet little he said;
He knew the gate as weel as they.

They hae ta'en him up the Ricker-gate;
The wives they cast their windows wide;
And every wife to another can say,

"That's the man loosed Jock o' the Side!"— "Fy on ye, women! why ca' ye me man? For it's nae man that I'm used like;

I am but like a forfoughen hound,
Has been fighting in a dirty syke." 8
They hae had him up through Carlisle town,
And set him by the chimney fire;
They gave brave Noble a loaf to eat,
And that was little his desire.
They gave him a wheaten loaf to eat,
And after that a can of beer;
And they a' cried, with one consent,

"Eat, brave Noble, and make gude cheir. "Confess my lord's horse, Hobbie," they said, "And to-morrow in Carlisle thou's na' dee.""How can I confess them," Hobbie says,

"When I never saw them with my ee?"

3 Willeva and Speir Edom are small districts in Bewcastledale, through which also the Hartlie-burn takes its course.

4 Conscouthart-Green, and Rodric-haugh, and the Foulbogshiel. are the names of places in the same wilds, through which the Scottish plunderers generally made their raids upon England; as appears from the following passage in a letter from William, Lord Dacre, to Cardinal Wolsey, 18th July, 1528; Appendix to PINKERTON'S Scotland, v. 12, No. XIX. "Like it also your grace, seeing the disordour within Scotlaund, that all the mysguyded men, Borderers of the same, inhabiting within Eskdale, Ewsdale, Walghopedale, Liddesdale, and a part of Tividale, foranempt Bewcastelldale, and a part of the Middle Marches of this the King's Bordours, entres not this West and Middle Marches, to do any attemptate to the King our said soveraine's subjects: but thaye come thorow Bewcastelldale, and retornes, for the most parte, the same waye agayne."

5 Goud-i. e. begoud-began.

6 A street in Carlisle.

7 Forfoughen-Quite fatigued. 8 Syke-Ditch.

ROOKHOPE RYDE.

Then Hobbie has sworn a fu' great aith,
By the day that he was gotten and born,
He never had onything o' my lord's,

That either eat him grass or corn.
"Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton!'
For I think again I'll ne'er thee see:
I wad hae betray'd nae lad alive,

For a' the gowd o' Christentie.
"And fare thee weel, sweet Liddesdale!
Baith the hie land and the law;
Keep ye weel frae the traitor Mains!
For goud and gear he'll sell ye a’.
"Yet wad I rather be ca'd Hobbie Noble,

In Carlisle, where he suffers for his fau't, Than I'd be ca'd the traitor Mains,

That eats and drinks o' the meal and maut."

ROOKHOPE RYDE.

This is a Bishopric Border song, composed in 1569, taken down from the chanting of George Collingwood the elder, late of Boltsburn, in the neighbourhood of Ryhope, who was interred at Stanhope, the 16th December, 1785.

Rookhope is the name of a valley about five miles in length; at the termination of which, Rookhope burn empties itself into the river Wear: the dale lies in the north part of the parish of Stanhope, in Weardale. Rookhope-head is the top of the vale. The ballad derives some additional interest, from the date of the event being so precisely ascertained to be the 6th December, 1572, when the Tynedale robbers, taking advantage of the public confusion occasioned by the rebellion of Westmoreland and Northumberland, and which particularly affected the bishopric of Durham, determined to make this foray into Weardale.

The late eminent antiquary, Joseph Ritson, took down this ballad from the mouth of the reciter, and printed it as part of an intended collection of Border Ballads, which was never published. His nephew, Mr. Frank, was so good as to favour me with the copy from which it is here given. To the illustrations of Mr. Ritson, I have been enabled to add those of my friend Mr. Surtees, of Mainsforth.

Rookhope stands in a pleasant place,
If the false thieves wad let it be,

But away they steal our goods apace,
And ever an ill death may they dee!

And so is the men of Thirlwall' and Willie-haver, 3
And all their companies thereabout,

That is minded to do mischief,

And at their stealing stands not out.

But yet we will not slander them all,
For there is of them good enow;

It is a sore consumed tree

That on it bears not one fresh bough.

Lord God! is not this a pitiful case,

That men dare not drive their goods to the fell, But limmer thieves drives them away,

That fears neither heaven nor hell?

Lord, send us peace into the realm,

That every man may live on his own!

I trust to God, if it be his will,

That Weardale men may never be overthrown.

For great troubles they've had in hand,
With Borderers pricking hither and thither,
But the greatest fray that e'er they had,

Was with the men of Thirlwall and Willie-haver. They gather'd together so royally,

The stoutest men and the best in gear; And he that rade not on a horse,

I wat he rade on a weel-fed mear.

So in the morning, before they came out,
So weel I wot they broke their fast;
In the forenoon they came into a bye fell,
Where some of them did eat their last. 4
When they had eaten aye and done,
They say'd some captains here needs must be
Then they choosed forth Harry Corbyl,
And "Symon Fell," and Martin Ridley.
Then o'er the moss, where as they came,
With many a brank and whew,
One of them could to another say,
"I think this day we are men enew.

Of the Castle of Mangertoun, so often mentioned in these ballads, there are very few vestiges. It was situated on the banks of the Liddell, below Castletoun. In the wall of a neighbouring mill, which has been entirely built from the ruins of the tower, there is a remarkable stone, bearing the arms of the Lairds of Mangertoun, and a long broadsword, with the figures 1583; probably the date of building, or repairing, the castle. On each side of the shield are the letters S. A. and E. E., standing probably for Symon Armstrong and Elizabeth Elliott. Such is the only memorial of the Lairds of Mangertoun, except those rude ballads, which the Editor now offers to the public.

Thirlwall, or Thirlitwall, is said by Fordun, the Scottish historian, to be a name given to the Picts' or Roman wall, from its having been thirled, or perforated, in ancient times, by the Scots and Picts. Wyntown also, who most probably copied Fordun,

calls it Thirlwall.

Thirlwall castle. though in a very ruinous condition, is still standing by the site of this famous wall, upon the river Tippal. It gave name to the ancient family, De Thirlwall. [Sir John Thirlwall, of this family, is mentioned in Sir Walter Scott's last novel as English Governor of Douglas Castle in the time of Robert Bruce.-ED.]

3 Willie-haver, or Willeva, is a small district or township in the parish of Lanercost, near Bewcastledale, in Cumberland, mentioned in the preceding ballad of Hobbie Noble :

"Warn Willeva, and Speir Edom,

And see the morn they meet them a'."

4 This would be about eleven o'clock, the usual dinner-hour in that period.