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 RYDE.

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,t
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.

*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.]

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 Spear Edom,

And see the morn they meet them a"." This would be about eleven o'clock, the usual dinner-hour in that period. The two earls were Thomas Percy, Earl of Northumberland, and Charles Nevil, Earl of Westmoreland, who, on the 15th of November, 1569, at the head of their tenantry and others, took arms for the purpose of liberating Mary, Queen of Scots, and restoring the old religion. They besieged Barnard castle, which was, for eleven days, stoutly defended by Sir George Bowes, who, afterward, being appointed the Queen's marshal, hanged the poor constables and peasantry by dozens in a day, to the amount of

800.

The Earl of Northumberland, betrayed by the Scots, with whom he had taken refuge, was beheaded at York, on the 22d of August, 1572; and the Earl of Westmoreland, deprived of the ancient and noble patrimony of the Nevils, and reduced to beg gary, escaped over sea, into Fianders, and died in misery and disgrace, being the last of his family. See two ballads on the subject, in Percy's Collection, (i. 271, 281,) and consider whether they be gonuine.-RITSON.

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.

"For Weardale-men have a journey ta'en,
They are so far out o'er yon fell,
That some of them's with the two earls,§
And others fast in Bernard castell.

"There we shall get gear enough,

For there is nane but women at hame; The sorrowful fend that they can make, Is loudly cries as they were slain."

Then in at Rookhope-head they came,

And there they thought tul a' had their prey, But they were spy'd coming over the Dry-rig. Soon upon Saint Nicholas' day.¶

Then in at Rookhope-head they came,
They ran the forest but a mile;
They gathered together in four hours
Six hundred sheep within a while.

And horses I trow they gat,

But either ane or twa,

And they gat them all but ane

That belang'd to great Rowley.

That Rowley was the first man that did them spy
With that he raised a mighty cry;
The cry it came down Rookhope burn,
And spread through Weardale hasteyly.
Then word came to the bailiff's house
At the east gate,** where he did dwell ;tt
He was walk'd out to the Smale-burns,
Which stands above the Hanging-well.++
His wife was wae when she heard tell,

So weel she wist her husband wanted gear;
She gar'd saddle him his horse in haste,
And neither forget sword, jack, 99 nor spear.
The bailiff got wit before his gear came,
That such news was in the land,
He was sore troubled in his heart,
That on no earth that he could stand.
His brother was hurt three days before,
With limmer thieves that did him prick;
Nineteen bloody wounds lay him upon,
What ferly was't that he lay sick?

**Now a straggling village so called; originally, it would seem, the gate-house, or ranger's lodge, at the east entrance of Stanhope-park. At some distance from this place is West-gate, so called for a similar reason.-RITSON.

The mention of the bailiff's house at the East-gate is (were such a proof wanting) strongly indicative of the authenticity of the ballad. The family of Emerson of East-gath, a fief, if I may so call it, held under the bishop, long exercised the office of bailiff of Wolsingham, the chief town and borough of Weardale, and of Forster, &c., under successive prelates; and the present bishop's gamekeeper and ranger within Weardale, may be said to claim his office by maternal descent, being Emerson Muschamp, (another ancient name,) and, though somewhat shorn of his beams, the lineal heir of the old bailiffs of Weardale. "Rob. Emerson Parcarius de Stanhopp. 13 Aug. 7 Rob. Nevill Epi.-Cuthb. Emerson de Eastgat sub Forestar. Parci de Stanhopp. 1 Wolsey.-Lease of the East-gate to Mr. George Emerson for 30 years, 107. p. ann. 4 Ed. C. Bp. Tunstall.-Rob. Emerson de Eastgat, sede vacante p. depriv. Tunstall parcar. Dne Regine.-Geo. et Ric. Emerson Baliivi de Wolsingham. 12 Sept. 1616, sicut Geo. Rolli vel. Rollands Emerson olim tenuere."-SURTEES.

II A place in the neighbourhood of East-gate, known at present, as well as the Dry-ng, or Smale-burns; being the property of Mr. Robert Richardson, by inheritance, since before 1583.-RIT

SON.

$$ A jacket, or short coat, plated or institched with small pieces of iron, and usually worn by the peasantry of the Border in their journeys from place to place, as well as in their occasional skitmishes with the moss-troopers, who were most probably equipped with the same sort of harness.-RITSON.

But yet the bailiff shrinked nought,
But fast after them he did hye,
And so did all his neighbours near,
That went to bear him company.

But when the bailiff was gathered,

And all his company,

They were numbered to never a man
But forty under fifty.

The thieves was numbered a hundred men,

I wat they were not of the worst;

That could be choosed out of Thirlwall and Willie-haver,

"I trow they were the very first."* But all that was in Rookhope-head,

And all that was i' Nuketon-cleugh,
Where Weardale-men o'ertook the thieves,
And there they gave them fighting eneugh.
So sore they made them fain to flee,
As many was a' out of hand,
And, for tul have been at home again,
They would have been in iron bands.

And for the space of long seven years

As sore they mighten a' had their lives, But there was never one of them

That ever thought to have seen their wives,

About the time the fray began,
I trow it lasted but an hour,
Till many a man lay weaponless,

And was sore wounded in that stour.

Also before that hour was done,

Four of the thieves were slain,
Besides all those that wounded were,
And eleven prisoners there was ta'en.
George Carrick, and his brother Edie,
Them two, I wot they were both slain;
Harry Corbyl, and Lennie Carrick,

Bore them company in their pain.
One of our Weardale-men was slain,
Rowland Emerson his name hight;
I trust to God his soul is well,

Because he fought unto the right.

But thus they say'd, "We'll not depart

While we have one :-Speed back again!'
And when they came amongst the dead men,
There they found George Carrick slain.
And when they found George Carrick slain,
I wot it went well near their heart;
Lord, let them never make a better end,
That comes to play them sicken a part.

I trust to God, no more they shall,
Except it be one for a great chance;

For God will punish all those

With a great heavy pestilence.

Thir limmer thieves, they have good hearts,
They nevir think to be o'erthrown;

Three banners against Weardale-men they bare,
As if the world had been all their own.
Thir Weardale-men, they have good hearts,
They are as stiff as any tree
For, if they'd every one been slain,
Never a foot back man would flee.
And such a storm amongst them fell,
As I think you never heard the like;
For he that bears his head so high,

He oft-tymes falls into the dyke.

And now I do entreat you all,

As many as are present here,

To pray for the singer of this song,

For he sings to make blythe your cheer.

BARTHRAM'S DIRGE.

THE following beautiful fragment was taken down by Mr. Surtees, from the recitation of Anne Douglas, an old woman who weeded in his garden. It is imperfect, and the words within brackets were inserted by my correspondent, to supply such stanzas as the chantress's memory left defective. The hero of the ditty, if the reciter be correct, was shot to death by nine brothers, whose sister he had seduced, but was afterwards buried, at her request, near their usual laid, not in holy ground, but beside the burn. The place of meeting; which may account for his being name of Barthram, or Bertram, would argue a Nortnumbrian origin, and there is, or was, a Headless Cross, among many so named, near Elsdon in Northumberland. But the mention of the Nine-Stane Burn, and Nine-Stane Rig, seems to refer to those places in the vicinity of Hermitage Castle, which is countenanced by the mentioning our Lady's Chapel. Perhaps the hero may have been an Englishman, and the lady a native of Scotland, which renders the catastrophe even more probable. The style of the ballad is rather Scottish than Northumbrian. They certainly did bury in former days near the Nine-Stane Burn; for the Editor remembers finding a small monumental cross, with initials, lying among the heather. It was so small, that, with the assistance of another gentleman, he easily placed it upright.

BARTHRAM'S DIRGE.

THEY shot him dead at the Nine-Stone Rig,
Beside the Headless Cross,

And they left him lying in his blood,
Upon the moor and moss.

They made a bier of the broken bough,
The sauch and the aspin gray,
And they bore him to the Lady Chapel,
And waked him there all day.

A lady came to that lonely bower,
And threw her robes aside,
She tore her ling [long] yellow hair,
And knelt at Barthram's side.

She bathed him in the Lady-Well,

His wounds so deep and sair,
And she plaited a garland for his breast,
And a garland for his hair.

They rowed him in a lily-sheet,

And bare him to his earth,

[And the Gray Friars sung the dead man's mass, As they pass'd the Chapel Garth.]

They buried him at [the mirk] midnight, [When the dew fell cold and still, When the aspen gray forgot to play,

And the mist clung to the hill.]

They dug his grave but a bare foot deep,
By the edge of the Ninestone Burn,

And they covered him [o'er with the heather flower,]
The moss and the [Lady] fern.

A Gray Friar staid upon the grave,
And sang till the morning tide,
And a friar shall sing for Barthram's soul,
While the headless Cross shall bide.#

ARCHIE OF CA'FIELD.

It may perhaps be thought, that, from the near resemblance which this ballad bears to Kinmont Willie, and Jock o' the Side, the Editor might have dispensed with inserting it in this collection. But

* See the Ballad of Lord Soulis, post.

ARCHIE OF CA'FIELD.

As I was a-walking mine alane,

It was by the dawning of the day, I heard twa brithers make their mane, And I listen'd weel to what they did say. The youngest to the eldest said,

Blythe and merrie how can we be? There were three brithren of us born, And ane of us is condemned to die." "An ye wad be merrie, an ye wad be sad, What the better wad billy* Archie be? Unless I had thirty men to mysell,

And a' to ride in my cumpanie.

"Ten to hald the horses' heads,

And other ten the watch to be,
And ten to break up the strong prison,
Where billy Archie he does lie.'

Then up and spak him mettled John Hall,t

·

(The luve of Teviotdale aye was he,)

An I had eleven men to my sell'

It's aye the twalt man I wad be.”—

Then up bespak him coarse Ca'field,

(I wot and little gude worth was he,)
Thirty men is few anew,

And a' to ride in our companie."
There was horsing, horsing in haste,
And there was marching on the lee;
Until they cam to Murraywhate,

And they lighted there right speedilie "A smith! a smith!" Dickie he cries, "A smith, a smith, right speedilie,

To turn back the caukers of our horses' shoon!
For it's unkensome‡ we wad be."
"There lives a smith on the water-side,
Will shoe my little black mare for me;
And I've a crown in my pocket,

And every groat of it I wad gie."

"The night is mirk, and it's very mirk, And by candle light I canna weel see; The night is mirk, and it's very pit mirk, And there will never a nail ca' right for me.""Shame fa' you and your trade baith,

Canna beets a good fellow by your mystery,|| But leeze me on thee, my little black mare, Thou's worth thy weight in gold to me.'

There was horsing, horsing in haste,

And there was marching upon the lee; Until they cam to Dumfries port,

And they lighted there right speedilie.

"There's five of us will hold the horse,
And other five will watchmen be:
But wha's the man among ye a',

Will gae to the Tolbooth door wi' me ?"

O up then spak him mettled John Hall,
(Frae the Laigh Teviotdale was he,),
"If it should cost my life this very night,
I'll gae to the Tolbooth door wi' thee.".
"Be of gude cheir, now, Archie, lad!

Be of gude cheir, now, dear billie!
Work thou within, and we without

And the morn thou'se dine at Ca'field wi' me."
O Jockie Hall stepp'd to the door,

And he bended low back his knee,
And he made the bolts, the door hang on,
Loup frae the wall right wantonlie.

He took the prisoner on his back,

And down the Tolbooth stair cam he: The black mare stood ready at the door, I wot a foot ne'er stirred she.

They laid the links out owre her neck,

And that was her gold twist to be;T
And they cam doun thro' Dumfries toun,
And wow but they cam speedilie.

The live-lang night these twelve men rade,
And aye till they were right wearie,
Until they cam to the Murray whate,
And they lighted there right speedilie.

"A smith! a smith!" then Dickie he cries,
A smith, a smith, right speedilie,
To file the irons frae my dear brither!
For forward, forward we wad be."-
They hadna filed a shackle of iron,

A shackle of iron but barely thrie, When out and spak young Simon brave, "O dinna ye see what I do see?

"Lo! yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon,
Wi' a hundred men in his companie;
This night will be our lyke-wake night,
The morn the day we a' maun die."

O there was mounting, mounting in haste,
And there was marching upon the lee;
Until they cam to Annan water,

And it was flowing like the sea.

"My mare is young and very skeigh,**
And in o' the weiltt she will drown me;
But ye'll take mine, and I'll take thine,
And sune through the water we sall be."-

Then up and spak him, coarse Ca'field,

(I wot and little gude worth was he,)
"We had better lose ane than lose a' the lave;
We'll lose the prisoner, we'll gae free."

"Shame fa' you and your lands baith!
Wad ye e'ent your lands to your born billy?
But hey! bear up, my bonnie black mare,
And yet thro' the water we sall be."-
Now they did swim that wan water,
And wow but they swam bonnilie!

Until they cam to the other side,

And they wrang their cloathes right drunkily.
"Come thro,' come thro', Lieutenant Gordon!
Come thro' and drink some wine wi' me!
For there is an ale-house here hard by,
And it shall not cost thee ae penny.'

"Throw me my irons," quo' Lieutenant Gordon
"I wot they cost me dear eneugh.'

"The shame a ma,"
," quo' mettled John Ha',
"They'll be gude shackles to my pleugh."

The Gold Twist means the small gilded chains drawn across the chest of a war-horse, as a part of his caparison. ** Skeigh-Shy.

* Weil-Eddy. 11 E'en-Even; put into comparison.

who, following up his advantage, burned Johnstone's Castle of Lochwood, observing, with savage glee, that he would give Lady Johnstone light enough by which "to set her hood." In a subsequent conflict, Johnstone himself was defeated, and made prisoner, and is said to have died of grief at the disgrace which he sustained.-See SPOTTISWOODE and JOHNSTONE'S Histories, and Moyse's Memoirs, ad annum 1585.

Coming down by the foul steps of Catlowdie's loan;
They'll make a' sicker, come which way they will.
Ha, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.

Captain Musgrave, T and a' his band,
Are coming down by the Siller-strand,
And the muckle toun-bell o' Carlisle is rung:
My gear was a' weel won,

And before it's carried o'er the Border, mony a man's gae down.

Fy, lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' gane.

LORD MAXWELL'S GOODNIGHT.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

THIS beautiful ballad is published from a copy in Glenriddel's MSS., with some slight variations from tradition. It alludes to one of the most remarkable feuds upon the West Marches.

A. D. 1585, John Lord Maxwell, or, as he styled himself, Earl of Morton, having quarrelled with the Earl of Arran, reigning favourite of James VI., and fallen, of course, under the displeasure of the court, was denounced rebel. A commission was also given to the Laird of Johnstone, then Warden of the West Marches, to pursue and apprehend the ancient rival and enemy of his house. Two bands of mercenaries, commanded by Captains Cranstoun and Lammie, who were sent from Edinburgh to support Johnstone, were attacked and cut to pieces at Crawford-muir, by Robert Maxwell, natural brother to the chieftain ;**

* Fergus Grame of Sowport, as one of the chief men of that elan, became security to Lord Scroope for the good behaviour of his friends and dependents, 8th January 1662.-Introduction to History of Westmoreland and Cumberland, p. 111.

The sentinels, who, by the March laws, were planted upon the Border each night, had usually sleuth-dogs, or blood-hounds, along with them.-See NICHOLSON'S Border Laws, and LORD WHARTON'S Regulations in the 6th of Edward VI.

Of the blood-hound we have said something in the notes on Hobbie Noble; but we may, in addition, refer to the following poetical description of the qualities and uses of that singular animal:

"Upon the banks

Of Tweed, slow winding thro' the vale, the seat
Of war and rapine once, ere Britons knew

The sweets of peace, or Anna's dread commands

To lasting leagues the haughty rivals awed,

There dwelt a pilfering race; well train'd and skill'd

In all the mysteries of theft, the spoil

Their only substance, feuds and war their sport.

Not more expert in every fraudful art
The arch felon was of old, who by the tail
Drew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles,

In vain the shelter of the covering rock,

In vain the sooty cloud and ruddy flames,
That issued from his mouth; for soon he paid
His forfeit life; a debt how justly due
To wrong'd Alcides, and avenging Heaven!
"Veil'd in the shades of night they ford the stream;
Then, prowling far and near, whate'er they seize
Becomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are safe.
Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong barr'd doors
Secure the favourite horse. Soon as the morn
Reveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan
The plunder'd owner stands, and from his lips
A thousand thronging curses burst their way.
He calls his stout allies, and in a line

His faithful hounds he leads; then, with a voice
That utters loud his rage, attentive cheers.

By one of the revolutions, common in those days, Maxwell was soon after restored to the King's favour in his turn, and obtained the wardenry of the West Marches. A bond of alliance was subscribed by him, and by Sir James Johnstone, and for some time the two clans lived in harmony. In the year 1593, howoccasion: A band of marauders, of the clan Johnstone, drove a prey of cattle from the lands belonging to the Lairds of Crichton, Sanquhar, and Drumlanrig; and defeated, with slaughter, the pursuers, who attempted to rescue their property.-[See the Lads of Wamphray, post, p. 89.] The injured parties, being apprehensive that Maxwell would not cordially embrace their cause, on account of his late reconcíliation with the Johnstones, endeavoured to overcome his reluctance, by offering to enter into bonds of manrent, and so to become his followers and liegemen; he, on the other hand, granting to them a bond of maintenance, or protection, by which he bound himself, in usual form, to maintain their quarrel against all mortals, saving his loyalty. Thus, the most powerful and respectable families in Dumfriesshire, became, for a time, the vassals of Lord Maxwell. This secret alliance was discovered to Sir James Johnstone by the Laird of Cummertrees, one of his own clan, though a retainer to Maxwell. Cummertrees even contrived to possess himself of the bonds of manrent, which he delivered to his chief. The petty warfare betwixt the rival barons was instantly renewed. Buccleuch, a near relation of Johnstone, came to his assistance with his clan, "the most renowned freebooters, [says a historian,] the fiercest and bravest warriors among the Border tribes."++ With Buccleuch also came the Elliots, Armstrongs, and Græmes. Thus re-enforced, Johnstone surprised and cut to pieces a party of the Maxwells, stationed at Lochmaben. On the other hand, Lord Maxwell, armed with the royal authority, and numbering among his followers all the barons of Nithsdale, displayed his banner as the King's Lieutenant, and invaded Annandale at the head of 2000 men. In those days, however, the royal auspices seem to have carried as little good fortune as effect

Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tail
Flourish'd in air, low bending, plies around
His busy nose, the steaming vapour snuffs
Inquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried:
Till, conscious of the recent stains, his heart
Beats quick, his snuffling nose, his active tail,
Attest his joy; then, with deep-opening mouth
That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims
The audacious felon! foot by foot he marks
His winding way, while all the listening crowd
Applaud his reasonings. O'er the watery ford,
Dry sandy heaths and stony barren hills,
O'er beaten tracks, with men and beast distain'd,
Unerring he pursues; till, at the cot

Arrived, and seizing by his guilty throat
The caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey;

So exquisitely delicate his sense!"

! Sark-Shirt.

SOMERVILLE'S Chase.

According to the late Glenriddel's notes on this ballad, the office of Captain of Bewcastle was held by the chief of the Nixons.

Catlowdie is a small village in Cumberland, near the junction of the Esk and Liddel.

This was probably the famous Captain Jack Musgrave, who had charge of the watch along the Cryssop, or Kershope, ás apSpears from the order of the watches appointed by Lord Wharton, when Deputy-Warden-General, in the 6th Edward VI.

** It is devoutly to be wished, that this Lammie (who was killed in the skirmish) may have been the same miscreant, who, in the day of Queen Mary's distress, "hes ensign being of quhyt taffitae, had painted one it ye cruell murther of King Henry, and layed down before her Majestie, at quhat time she presented herself as prisoner to ye lordis."-BIRREL's Diary, June, 15, 1567. It would be some satisfaction to know, that the gray hairs of this worthy personage did not go down to the grave in peace.

++"Inter accolas latrociniis famosos, Scotos Buccleuchi clientes-fortissimos tribulíum et ferocissimos.-JOHNSTONI Historia, Ed. Amstæl. p. 189.