contained great variations; one of them in the Editor's folio manuscript. In the other copy some of the stanzas at the beginning of this ballad are nearly the same with what in that manuscript are made to begin another ballad on the escape of the earl of Westmoreland, who got safe into Flanders, and is feigned in the ballad to have undergone a great variety of adventures.

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS.

OW long shall fortune faile me nowe,

And harrowe me with feare and dread?
How long shall I in bale abide,

In misery my life to lead?

To fall from my bliss, alas the while!

It was my sore and heavye lott:
And I must leave my native land,
And I must live a man forgot.
One gentle Armstrong I doe ken,
A Scot, he is much bound to mee:
He dwelleth on the border side,
To him I'll goe right privilie.

Thus did the noble Percy 'plaine,

With a heavy heart and wel-away,
When he with all his gallant men

On Bramham moor had lost the day.
But when he to the Armstrongs came,
They delt with him all treacherouslye;

For they did strip that noble earle :

And ever an ill death may they dye.

False Hector to Earl Murray sent,

To shew him where his guest did hide:
Who sent him to the Lough-levèn,
With William Douglas to abide.
And when he to the Douglas came,
He halched him right curteouslie:
Say'd, Welcome, welcome, noble earle,
Here thou shalt safelye bide with mee.

When he had in Lough-leven been
Many a month and many a day;
To the regent' the lord warden' sent,
That banisht earle for to betray.
He offered him great store of gold,
And wrote a letter fair to see:
Saying, Good my lord, grant me my boon,
And yield that banisht man to mee.

Earle Percy at the supper sate

With many a goodly gentleman:
The wylie Douglas then bespake,
And thus to flyte with him began:
What makes you be so sad, my lord,
And in your mind so sorrowfullyè?
To-morrow a shooting will be held

Among the lords of the North countryè.

The butts are sett, the shooting's made,
And there will be great royaltye:

And I am sworne into my bille,

Thither to bring my Lord Percye.

I'll give thee my hand, thou gentle Douglas,
And here by my true faith, quoth hee,
If thou wilt ryde to the worldes end,
I will ryde in thy companye.

And then bespake a lady faire,

Mary à Douglas was her name:
You shall byde here, good English lord,

My brother is a traiterous man.

He is a traitor stout and stronge,
As I tell you in privitie;

For he hath tane liverance of the earle3,
Into England nowe to 'liver thee.

Now nay, now nay, thou goodly lady,
The regent is a noble lord:

Ne for the gold in all Englànd

The Douglas wold not break his word.

1 James Douglas Earl of Morton, elected Regent of Scotland, November 24, 1572. 2 Of one of the English Marches. Lord Hunsden.

3 Of the Earl of Morton, the Regent.

When the regent was a banisht man,
With me he did faire welcome find;
And whether weal or woe betide,

I still shall find him true and kind.

Betweene England and Scotland it wold breake truce, And friends againe they wold never bee,

If they shold 'liver a banisht erle

Was driven out of his own countrie.

Alas! alas! my lord, she sayes,
Nowe mickle is their traitorìe;
Then lett my brother ryde his wayes,
And tell these English lords from thee,
How that you cannot with him ryde,
Because you are in an ile of the sea1,
Then ere my brother come againe

To Edenborrow castle Ile carry thee.
To the Lord Hume I will thee bring,

He is well knowne a true Scots lord, And he will lose both land and life,

Ere he with thee will break his word. Much is my woe, Lord Percy sayd

When I thinke on my own countrìe, When I thinke on the heavye happe

My friends have suffered there for mee.

Much is my woe, Lord Percy sayd,

And sore those wars my minde distresse;
Where many a widow lost her mate,
And many a child was fatherlesse.

And now that I a banisht man

Shold bring such evil happe with mee,
To cause my faire and noble friends
To be suspect of treacherie:
This rives my heart with double woe;
And lever had I dye this day,
Than thinke a Douglas can be false,
Or ever he will his guest betray.

If you'll give me no trust, my lord,
Nor unto mee no credence yield;

I i. e. Lake of Leven, which hath communication with the sea. 2 At that time in the hands of the opposite faction.

Yet step one moment here aside,
Ile showe you all your foes in field.
Lady, I never loved witchcraft,
Never dealt in privy wyle;

But evermore held the high-waye

Of truth and honour, free from guile.
If you'll not come yourselfe, my lorde,
Yet send your chamberlaine with mee;
Let me but speak three words with him,
And he shall come again to thee.

James Swynard with that lady went,

She showed him through the weme of her ring How many English lords there were

Waiting for his master and him.

And who walkes yonder, my good lady,
So royallye on yonder greene?

O yonder is the Lord Hunsdèn1:

Alas! he'll doe you drie and teene. And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye, That walkes so proudly him beside ? That is Sir William Drury', shee sayd, A keene captàine hee is and tryde. How many miles is itt, madame, Betwixt yon English lords and mee? Marry it is thrice fifty miles,

To saile to them upon the sea.

I never was on English ground,
Ne never saw it with mine eye,

But as my book it sheweth mee,
And through my ring I may descrye.

My mother shee was a witch ladye,
And of her skille she learned mee;
She wold let me see out of Lough-leven
What they did in London citie.

But who is yond, thou lady faire,

That looketh with sic an austerne face?

I The Lord Warden of the East Marches.

2 Governor of Berwick.

Yonder is Sir John Foster', quoth shee,
Alas! he'll do ye sore disgrace.

He pulled his hatt down over his browe;

He wept; in his heart he was full of woe: And he is gone to his noble Lord,

'Those sorrowful tidings him to show. Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd, I may not believe that witch ladìe; The Douglasses were ever true,

And they can ne'er prove false to mee.

I have now in Lough-leven been

The most part of these years three,
Yett have I never had noe outrake,
Ne no good games that I cold see.
Therefore I'll to yon shooting wend,
As to the Douglas I have hight:
Betide me weale, betide me woe,

He ne'er shall find my promise light.
He writhe a gold ring from his finger,
And gave itt to that gay ladie:
Sayes, It was all that I cold save,
In Harley woods where I cold bee3.

And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord,

;

Then farewell truth and honestie;
And farewell heart and farewell hand
For never more I shall thee see.
The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd,
And all the saylors were on borde;
Then William Douglas took to his boat,
And with him went that noble lord.

Then he cast up a silver wand,
Says, Gentle lady, fare thee well!

That lady fett a sigh soe deep,

And in a dead swoone down shee fell.

Now let us goe back, Douglas, he sayd, A sickness hath taken yond faire ladie;

1 Warden of the Middle March.

2 i. e. where I was. An ancient idiom.