2

Then out and spoke the Laird's saft Wat,

The greatest coward in the cumpanie "Now halt, now halt! we need na try't

The day is come we a' maun die!"

"Puir faint-hearted thief!" cried the Laird's ain Jock,
"There'l nae man die but him that's fie ;'

I'll guide ye a' right safely thro';

Lift ye the pris❜ner on ahint me.”.

Wi' that the water they hae ta'en,

By ane's and twa's they a' swam thro';
"Here are we a' safe," quo' the Laird's Jock,
"And, puir faint Wat, what think ye now ?"-
They scarce the other brae had won,

When twenty men they saw pursue;
Frae Newcastle toun they had been sent,
A' English lads baith stout and true.
But when the land-serjeant the water saw,
"It winna ride, my lads," says he;
Then cried aloud-" The prisoner take,
But leave the fetters, I pray, to me."-

"I wat weel no," quo' the Laird's ain Jock,

"I'll keep them a'; shoon to my mare they'll be:

My gude bay mare-for I am sure,

She has bought them a' right dear frae thee,"-

Sae now they are on to Liddesdale,

E'en as fast as they could them hie;
The prisoner is brought to's ain fire-side,
And there o's airns they make him free.
"Now, Jock, my billie," quo' a' the three,
"The day is com'd thou was to die;
But thou's as weel at thy ain ingle-side,
Now sitting, I think, 'twixt thee and me."

1 Fie-Predestined.

The land-serjeant was an officer under the warden, to whom was committed the appreending of delinquents, and the care of the public peace.

G

"THE FALSE HEARTED HA"."

LITTLE to the north of Otterburn, and on the east side of the Otter, on a spot of rich green sward, stood GIRSONFIELD a farm house, which since the time of Queen Elizabeth, had belonged to the proprietors of Otterburn castle. Some parts of its walls still remain; and a new house of the same name has been built on the hill side to the east of it, in a much more exposed, poor, and inconvenient situation.

There it was that "the false hearted Ha'" resided, whose treachery breda long and bitter feud between the clans of Hall and Reed. The occupier of Girsonfield had been enjoying the confidence, and friendship of Percival Reed; but when the latter, as keeper at Redesdale, was leading out a party of his neighbours against an inroad of the clan of Crozier from the opposite border, Hall betrayed him into the hands of the enemy, who slew him at Batenshope, on the Whitelee ground. Some say, that Hall secretly damped the inside of Mr. Reed's musket, after it was loaded; and that it burst at the first fire and killed him. All agree that he came to his death by the circumvention of Hall, whose clan were privy to his plot, and ever after holden in the greatest detestation. They say, too, that the spirit of Reed, ever after it was disembodied, could find no rest; but was seen wandering far and near, in trouble, and in various forms, till one gifted with words to lay it to rest, summoned it to his presence, and offered it the place and form it might wish to have. It chose the banks of the Rede, between Todlawhaugh and Pringlehaugh and there ("Trained forward to his bloody fall,

"By Girsonfield the treacherous Hall;)
"Oft by the Pringle's haunted side

"The shepherd sees his spectre glide."-Rokeby.

It had five miles of river-side scenery to range among, in which it flitted about by night, and roosted on some stone or tree by day. One of its favourite haunts was about the Todlaw mill, now in ruins, where the people, as they went to the meeting house at Birdhope Cragg, often saw it, uncovered their heads as they passed, and bowed, and the courteous phantom bowed again, till its "certain time" was expired; on the last day of which, as the conjurer who laid him was following his ordinary occupation of a thatcher at the Woollaw, he felt something touch him like the wing of a bird whisking by, came down the ladder, was seized with a cold trembling, shivered, and died.-Hodgson's Northd.

66

THE RISING IN THE NORTH.

FROM THE RELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY."

HE subject of this ballad is the great northern insurrection in the 12th year of Elizabeth, 1569; which proved so fatal to Thomas Percy, the seventh earl of Northumberland.

There had not long before been a secret negociation entered into between some of the Scottish and English nobility, to bring about a marriage between Mary Queen of Scots, at that time a prisoner in England, and the Duke of Norfolk, a nobleman of excellent character and firmly attached to the protestant religion. This match was proposed to all the most considerable of the English nobility, and among the rest to the earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, two noblemen very powerful in the north. As it seemed to promise a speedy and safe conclusion of the troubles in Scotland, with many advantages to the crown of England, they all consented to it, provided it should prove agreeable to Queen Elizabeth. The earl of Leicester (Elizabeth's favourite) undertook to break the matter to her; but before he could find an opportunity, the affair had come to her ears by other hands, and she was thrown into a violent flame. The duke of Norfolk, with several of his friends, was committed to the tower, and summonses were sent to the northern earls instantly to make their appearance at court. It is said that the earl of Northumberland, who was a man of a mild and gentle nature, was deliberating with himself whether he should not obey the message, and rely on the queen's candour and clemency, when he was forced into desperate measures by a sudden report at midnight, November 14, that a party of his enemies were come to seize on his person*. The earl was then at his house at Topcliffe in Yorkshire. When rising hastily out of bed, he withdrew to the earl of Westmoreland, at Brancepeth, where the country came in to them, and pressed them to take arms in their own defence. They accordingly set up their standards, declaring their intent was to restore the ancient religion, to get the succession to the crown firmly settled, and to prevent the destruction of the ancient nobility, &c. Their common banner + (on which was displayed the cross, together

* This circumstance is overlooked in the ballad.

† Besides this, the ballad mentions the separate banners of the two noblemen.

with the five wounds of Christ,) was borne by an ancient gentleman, Richard Norton, esq. of Norton-Conyers: who with his sons (among whom Christopher, Marmaduke, and Thomas, are expressly named by Camden,) distinguished himself on this occasion. Having entered Durham, they tore the bible, &c., and caused a mass to be said there: they then marched on to Clifford moor near Wetherby, where they mustered their men. Their intention was to have proceeded to York; but, altering their minds, they fell upon Barnard's castle, which Sir George Bowes held out against them for eleven days. The two earls, who spent their large estates in hospitality, and were extremely beloved on that account, were masters of little ready money; the earl of Northumberland bringing with him only eight thousand crowns, and the earl of Westmoreland nothing at all for the subsistence of their forces, they were not able to march to London, as they at first intended. In these circumstances, Westmoreland began so visibly to despond, that many of his men slunk away, though Northumberland still kept up his resolution, and was master of the field till December 13, when the earl of Sussex, accompanied with Lord Hunsdon and others, having marched out of York at the head of a large body of forces, and being followed by a still larger army under command of Ambrose Dudley, earl of Warwick, the insurgents retreated northward towards the borders, and there dismissing their followers, made their escape into Scotland. Though this insurrection had been suppressed with so little bloodshed, the earl of Sussex and Sir George Bowes, marshal of the army, put vast numbers to death by martial law, without any regular trial. The former of these caused at Durham sixty-three constables to be hanged at once. And the latter made his boast, that for sixty miles in length, and forty in breadth, betwixt Newcastle and Wetherby, there was hardly a town or village wherein he had not executed some of the inhabitants. This exceeds the cruelties practised in the west after Monmouth's rebellion but that was not the age of tenderness and humanity.

Such is the account collected from Stow, Speed, Camden, Guthrie, Carte, and Rapin; it agrees in most particulars with the following ballad, which was apparently the production of some northern minstrel, who was well affected to the two noblemen. It is here printed from two manuscript copies, one of them in the Editor's folio collection. They contained considerable variations, out of which such readings were chosen as seemed most poetical and consonant to history.

THE RISING IN THE NORTH.

ISTEN, lively lordings all,

Lithe and listen unto mee,

And I will sing of a noble earle,

The noblest earle in the north countrie.

Earle Percy is into his garden gone,

And after him walkes his faire ladìe';

I heard a bird sing in mine eare,

That I must either fight, or flee.

Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord,

That ever such harm should hap to thee:

But goe to London to the court,

And faire fall truth and honestìe.

Now nay, now nay, my ladye gay,
Alas! thy counsell suits not mee;
Mine enemies prevail so fast,

That at the court I may not bee.
O goe to the court yet, good my lord,
And take thy gallant men with thee:
If any dare to doe you wrong,

Then your warrant they may bee.

Now nay, now nay, thou lady faire,
The court is full of subtiltìe;
And if I goe to the court, ladye,
Never more I may thee see.

Yet goe to the court, my lord, she sayes,
And I myselfe will ryde wi' thee:
At court then for my dearest lord,
His faithfull borrowe I will bee.

Now nay, now nay, my lady deare;
Far lever had 1 lose my life,
Than leave among my cruell foes

My love in jeopardy and strife.

This lady was Anne, daughter of Henry Somerset, Earl of Worcester.