The envious queen replied, at last,
You might have excepted me;
In a few hours, I will her bring
Down to a low degree.

I will her liken to a Laidley worm,
That warps about the stone,

And not, till Childy Wynd' comes back,
Shall she again be won.

The princess stood at the bower door
Laughing, who could her blame?
But e'er the next day's sun went down,
A long worm she became.

For seven miles east, and seven miles west,
And seven miles north, and south,
No blade of grass or corn could grow,

So venomous was her mouth.

The milk of seven stately cows,
It was costly her to keep,

Was brought her daily, which she drank
Before she went to sleep.

At this day may be seen the cave,

Which held her folded up,

And the stone trough, the very same

Out of which she did sup.

Word went east, and word went west,
And word is gone over the sea,

That a Laidley worm in Spindleston-Heughs
Would ruin the North Country.

Word went east, and word went west,

And over the sea did go;

The Child of Wynd got wit of it,

Which filled his heart with woe.

He called straight his merry men all,
They thirty were and three:

I wish I were at Spindleston,

This desperate worm to see.

We have no time now here to waste,

Hence quickly let us sail :

There is now a street called the Wynd, at Bamborough.

My only sister Margaret,

Something, I fear, doth ail. They built a ship without delay, With masts of the rown tree,1 With fluttring sails of silk so fine, And set her on the sea.

They went on board. The wind with speed Blew them along the deep,

At length they spied an huge square tower On a rock high and steep.

Crying that witches have no power
Where there is rown-tree wood.

Her last effort, she sent a boat,
Which in the haven lay,

With armed men to board the ship,
But they were driven away.

The worm lept up, the worm lept down,
She plaited round the stone;

And ay as the ship came to the land
She banged it off again.

The Child then ran out of her reach

The ship on Budle-sand;'

1

And jumping into the shallow sea,
Securely got to land.

And now he drew his berry-broad sword,

And laid it on her head;

And swore if she did harm to him

That he would strike her dead.

O! quit thy sword and bend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;

For though I am a poisonous worm,
No hurt I'll do to thee.

Oh! quit thy sword, and bend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;

If I'm not won, e'er the sun go down,
Won I shall never be.

He quitted his sword and bent his bow,
He gave her kisses three;

She crept into a hole a worm,
But out stept a lady.

No clothing had this lady fine,

To keep her from the cold;
He took his mantle from him about,
And round her did it fold.

He has taken his mantle from him about,
And in it he wrapt her in,

And they are up to Bambrough castle,

As fast as they can win.

1 Budle is a small village and port at a little distance from Bamborough.

His absence and her serpent shape,

The King had long deplored,

He now rejoyced to see them both
Again to him restored.

The queen they wanted, whom they found
All pale, and sore afraid;

Because she knew her power must yield

To Childy Wynd's, who said,

Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch,
An ill death mayst thou dee;
As thou my sister hast lik'ned,
So lik'ned shalt thou be.

I will turn you into a toad,

That on the ground doth wend;
And won, won, shalt thou never be,
Till this world hath an end.

Now on the sand near Ida's tower,
She crawls a loathsome toad,
And venom spits on every maid
She meets upon her road.

The virgins all of Bambrough town
Will swear that they have seen
This spiteful toad, of monstrous size,
Whilst walking they have been.
All folks believe within the shire
This story to be true,

And they all run to Spindleston,
The cave and trough to view.

This fact now Duncan Frasier

Of Cheviot, sings in rhime;

Lest Bambrough-shire-men should forget
Some part of it in time.

This Ballad was printed in Hutchinson's History of Northumberland, from a communication by the Rev. Robt. Lambe, of Norham, (editor of the old Poem, entitled Flodden Field), who pretended to have transcribed it from a very ancient Manuscript.

C

THE MAN-STEALER BAFFLED:

An incident of Tynedale.

N the early part of the last century, the law, in several cases, was very feebly administered throughout the northern Counties of England. In Northumberland, for instance, so much were the rights of the lower part of the population overlooked, that a family or clan, of the name of Widdrington, were in the habit of seizing by force, able bodied young men, and sending them, as slaves, to the sugar plantations in the West India Islands. They contrived, for the purpose of shielding themselves from popular outrage, to have it generally understood that they were invested by government, with authority for such proceedings, and being universally dreaded, wherever they were known, not an individual had the hardihood to enquire into the legality of their conduct. The very last of their acts was thus related by the late Henry Atkinson, teacher in Newcastle, a gentleman who, to a general knowledge of science and an intimate acquaintance with mathematical analysis, united an excellent taste for the higher departments of British literature, and was endowed with a memory uncommonly retentive of legendary lore.

On the day preceding a Stagshaw Bank fair, John Hall, Esq.† of Otterburne, gave directions to a young man in his service to meet him at the Bank at a certain hour next day, and proceeding onward himself to Corbridge, slept there during the night. Riding up to the fair

*Not of the same stock, we would hope, as the brave race of Northumbrian Heroes!

+ This gentleman was a Magistrate of the County, and proprietor of the beautiful estate of Otterburne in Redesdale, a great part of which he himself managed with considerable jndgment and ability. He, however, had the misfortune to sustain some severe losses; for a destructive fire consumed the house in which he lived, his offices, and the better part of his farming stock; and the Reed, swelling into a high flood, swept away the whole of the produce of his extensive haughs. at the time when it was almost ready to be conveyed into the barn yard. These calamities were, by his superstitious neighbours, accounted as a judgment upon him for being concerned in, and not preventing an affray which in 1701 took place near the white Cross, in Newgate Street, Newcastle, between J. Fenwick of Rock, and F. Forster of Bamborough Abbey, in which the former killed the latter, and was, in the following month, executed for the murder on the spot where it was committed. Unhappily, in 1715, with other gallant and brave spirits, he espoused the Jacobite cause, was taken prisoner at Preston, condemned, and, after being five several times reprieved, was at last executed at Tyburn 13th July, 1716. He was a generous man and beloved by his dependants, but of a fiery and energetic temper, which procured him the name of "Mad Jack Hall of Otterburne."