GEORGE WHARTON was the first ae man,
Came to the appointed place that day,
Where he espyed 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 dinna 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,
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 lie;
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:

46

'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 him through the shoulder-bane;
The neist was through 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 me! 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 ateer.

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 Cockburne 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,
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 spied his sport, and went away;
And brought the King that very night,
Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.

He slew my knight to me sae dear;
He slew my knight, and poin'd* his gear ;
My servants all for life did flee,
And left me in extremitie.

I sew'd his sheet, making my mane;
I watch'd the corpse, myself alane;
I watch'd his body, night and day;
No living creature came that way.

I took his body on my back,
And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat;
I digg'd a grave and laid him in,
And happ'd him with the sod sae green.
Poin'd-Poinded, attached by legal distress.

But think na ye my heart was sair,
When I laid the moul on his yellow hair;
O think na ye my heart was wae,
When I turn'd about, away to gae?

Nae living man I'll love again,

Since that my lovely knight was slain;
Wi' ae lock of his yellow hair
I'll chain my heart for evermair.

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 Dumfriesshire, 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, 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 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. t

FAIR HELEN.

PART FIRST.

O! SWEETEST sweet, and fairest fair,
Of birth and worth beyond compare

* 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 Kir connell is termed in old chronicles, The Bell's Tower; and a stone, with the arms of that family, has been found among its rains Fair Helen's surname, therefore, depends upon the period which she lived, which it is now impossible to ascertain.

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,
And never a whit my love repent,
But think the time was a' weel spent,
Though I disdained be.

O! Helen sweet, and maist complete,
My captive spirit's at thy feet!
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.

FAIR HELEN.

PART SECOND.

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 ever mair,
Until the day I die.

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,
Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell Lee.

I wish my grave were growing green, A winding-sheet drawn ower 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 her sake that died for me.§

land. 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 Mus char's Cairn of the Heart of Mid-Lothian.-ED.) : Burd Helen-Maid Helen.

$ (The Edinburgh Review for January, 1803, quotes verses

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 chiefest 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 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 Græmes' Border exploits was at that time still preserved.

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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 fate of Fair Helén 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 her 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 had been selected;

And Gordon, fairest 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 the verdant mosses ?

Alas that ever he was born 1

The Gordon, couched behind a thorn,
Sees them and their caressing.
Beholds them blest and blessing.

"Proud Gordon cannot bear the thoughts-
That through his brain are travelling,
And starting up to Bruce's heart
He launched a deadly javelin!

with many others.

legendary poetry, entitled Ancient Songs, he has In Mr. Ritson's curious and valuable collection of 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. procured for me by my friend Mr. William Laidlaw, The present edition was kirkshire; but Mr. Ritson's copy has occasionally in Blackhouse, and has been long current in Selbeen resorted to for better readings.

"I ne'er was afraid of a traitor thief;
Although thy name be Hughie the Graeme,
I'll make thee repent thee of thy deeds,
If God but grant me life and time."-

"Then do your worst now, good Lord Scroope,
And deal your blows as hard as you can!
It shall be tried within an hour,

Which of us two is the better man."

But as they were dealing their blows so free,
And both so bloody at the time,

Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall,

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, Crying, "Hughie the Græme, thou'se ne'er gåe down!"

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!"

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,
Thus died the beauteous Ellen,
Thus from the heart of her true-love,
The mortal spear repelling.
And Bruce, as soon as he had slain
The Gordon, sailed away to Spain;
And fought with rage incessant
Against the Moorish Crescent.

"But many days, and many months,
And many years ensuing,
This wretched Knight did vainly seek
The death that he was wooing:
And coming back across the wave,
Without a groan on Ellen'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 Kirconnell 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 hand deface it, And its forlorn HIC JACET!"

Garlard-Anc. Songs.

Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume,*
As he sat by the judge's knee,
"Twenty white owsen, my gude lord,

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, As she sat by the judge's knee,

A peck of white pennies, my gude lord judge, If you'll grant Hughie the Græme to me.'

"O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume!

Forsooth and so it must na be;
Were he but the one Græme of the name,
He suld be hanged high for me."-

"If I be guilty," said Hughie the Græme,
"Of me my friends shall have small talk;"
And he has louped fifteen feet and three,
Though his hands they were tied behind his back.

He looked over his left shoulder,

And for to see what he might see; There was he aware of his auld father, Came tearing his hair most piteouslie.

"O hald your tongue, my father," he says, And see that ye dinna weep for me!

46

For they may ravish me o' my life,

14

But they canna banish me fro' Heaven hie.

Fair ye weel, fair Maggie, my wife! The last time we came ower the muir, 'Twas thou bereft me of my life,

And wi' the Bishop thou play'd the whore.t "Here, Johnie Armstrang, take thou my sword, That is made o' the metal sae fine; And when thou comest to the English + side, Remember the death of Hughie the Græme."

JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE.

AN ANCIENT NITHSDALE BALLAD.

THE hero of this ballad appears to have been an outlaw and deer-stealer-probably one of the broken men residing upon the Border. There are several different copies, in one of which the principal personage is called Johnie of Cockielaw. The stanzas of greatest merit have been selected from each copy. It is sometimes said, that this outlaw possessed the old Castle of Morton, in Dumfries-shire, now ruinous: Near to this castle there was a park, built by Sir Thomas Randolph, on the face of a very great and high hill; so artificially, that, by the advantage of the hill, all wild beasts, such as deers, harts, and roes, and hares, did easily leap in, but could not get out again; and if any other cattle, such as cows, sheep, or goats, did voluntarily leap in, or were forced to do it, it is doubted if their owners were permitted to get them out again." Account of Presbytery of Penpont, apud Macfar lane's MSS. Such a park would form a convenient domain to an outlaw's castle, and the mention of Durrisdeer, a neighbouring parish, adds weight to the tradition. I have seen on a mountain near Callendar, a sort of pinfold, composed of immense rocks, piled upon each other, which, I was told, was anciently constructed for the above-mentioned purpose. The mountain is thence called Uah var, or the Cove of the Giant.

"Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs, That are bound wi' iron bands."When Johnie's mother gat word o' that, Her hands for dule she wrang"O Johnie! for my benison,

To the greenwood dinna gang!

Eneugh ye hae o' gude wheat bread,
And eneugh o' the blood-red wine;
And, therefore, for nae venison, Johnie,
I pray ye, stir frae hame."-

But Johnie's busk't up his gude bend bow,
His arrows ane by ane;
And he has gane to Durrisdeer,
To hunt the dun deer down.

As he came down by Merriemass,
And in by the benty line,
There has he espied a deer lying
Aneath a bush of ling.§

Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap,
And he wounded her on the side;
But, atween the water and the brae,
His hounds they laid her pride.

And Johnie has bryttled the deer sae weel,
That he's had out her liver and lungs;
And wi' these he has feasted his bluidy hounds,
As if they had been earl's sons.

They eat sae much o' the venison,
And drank sae much o' the blude,
That Johnie and a' his bluidy hounds,
Fell asleep as they had been dead.
And by there came a silly auld carle,
An ill death mote he die!

For he's awa' to Hislinton,

Where the Seven Foresters did lie.

"What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle, What news bring ye to me?"-

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I bring nae news," said the gray-headed carle, "Save what these eyes did see.

"As I came down by Merriemass,
And down among the scroggs, T
The bonniest childe that ever I saw
Lay sleeping amang his dogs.
"The shirt that was upon his back
Was o' the Holland fine;
The doublet which was over that
Was o' the lincome twine.**
"The buttons that were on his sleeve
Were o' the goud sae gude:
The gude graie hounds he lay amang,
Their mouths were dyed wi' blude.'

Then out and spak the First Forester,
The heid man ower them a'
"If this be Johnie o' Breadislee,

Nae nearer will we draw."

But up and spak the Sixth Forester, (His sister's son was he,).

"If this be Johnie o' Breadislee
We soon shall gar him die!"—

The first flight of arrows the Foresters shot,
They wounded him on the knee;
And out and spak the Seventh Forester,
The next will gar him die."

Johnie's set his back against an aik,
His fute against a stane;

And he has slain the Seven Foresters,
He has slain them a' but ane.

He has broke three ribs in that ane's side;
But and his collar bane;

He's laid him twa-fald ower his steed,
Bade him carry the tidings hame.