Tlie lady blush'd red, but nothing she said;

Nor added the haron a word; Then she «tcpp'd down the stair to her chamber fair,

And so did her moody lord.

In sleep the lady mourn'd, and the baron toss'd and tunn'd, And oft to himself he said— « The worms around him creep, and his bloody grave is deep — Tt cannot give up the dead. >»

It was near the ringing of miiin-bell,

The night was well nigh done,
When a heavy sleep on that baron fell,

On the eve of good St John.

The ladv look'd through the chamber fair,
By the light of a dying 111 me;

And she was aware of a knight stood there-
Sir Richard of Coldingharoe!

n Alas! away, away !» she cried,
« For the holy Virgin's sake !»
■- I. uly, I know wtio sleeps by thy side:
Rut, lady, he will not awake.

«By Eildon-trec. for long nights three,

In bloody grave have I lain;
The mass and the death-prayer are said for me,

Rut, lady, they are said in vain.

« Ry the baron's brand, near Tweed's fair strand,

Most foully slain I fell;
And my restless sprite on the beacon's height.

For u space is doom'd to dwell.

« At our trysting-plnce,1 for a certain space,

I must wander to and fro;
Rut I had not had power to come to thy bower,

Hudst thou not conjured me so.»

Lore master'd fear—her brow she cross'd;

« How, Richard, hast thou sped? And art thou saved, or art thou lost?*—

The Vision shook his head!

« Who spilleih life shall forfeit life;

So hid thy lord believe:
That lawless love is guilt above,

This awful sign receive.»

lie laid his left palm on an oaken beam;

His right upon* her h <nd:
The lady shrunk, and fainting sunk,

For it scorch'd like a fiery brand.

The sable score of fingers four,,

Remains on that boird imprcss'd; ind for evermore that lady wore**

A covering on her wrist.

There is a nun in Dry burgh bower,

Ne'er looks upou ihe sun: "here is a monk in Melrose tower,

He speaketh word to uoue.

1 Tr4ittuj-pUce—Pine* of reodeiToat.

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BATTLE OF ANCRAM MOOR Lord Evers, and Sir Brian I/ttnun, during thr v-rr 1544. rommitted ihe most dreadful ravages upon t Scottish frontiers, compelling most of the iohabit<n and especially the men of Liddcsdsle, to take assunaai iiuder the King of England. I'pon the 17th NovemWn in that year, the sum total of their depredation-.'U 4 thus, in the bloody ledger of Lord Evers.

Towns, towers, barnckyncs, parysbe
churches, bastill houses, burned

and destroyed

Scots slain

Prisoners taken

Nolt (cattle)


Nags ancLgeldings 1,196

Gayt 'aoo

Bolls of corn 55o

Insight gear, etc. (furniture) an incalculable

Murdin's State Papers, vol. i, p. Si.

The King of England had promised to these two barons a feudal grant of the country, which tucvhailtii-s reduced to a desert; upon hearing which, Architatt Douglas, the seventh earl of Angus, is said to Lit 1 sworn to write the deed of investiture upon their Ai* with sharp pens and bloody ink, in resentment f* their having defaced the tombs of his ancestors*! ^ rose.— Godicmft. In 15^5, Lord Even and Ijhwi! again eutered Scotland with an army, conMttiof «F 3ooo mercenaries, i5oo English Borderers, aod -onsured ScottUhmeu, chicflv Armstrongs, Turolmll*, *»■ other broken claus. In this second iucurston, tbe E»-; lish generals even exceeded llieir former cruelty. £• *• burned the lower of Broom house with its laily '1 wbiit and aged woman, says Lesley), and her whole fjtni'y. The English penetrated as f.ir as Melrose, which tkw-i had destroyed last year, and which they now again p ■ I aged As they returned towards Jedburgh, thry wt?e followed by Angus, at the head of 1000 horse, »bo»* shortly after joined by the famous Norman lister. * a body of Fife-men. The English, being probably itwilling lo cross the Teviot while the Scots hiuif urtheir rear, halted upon Ancram M*>or. above dieviliap of that name; and the Scottish general was deliberate' whether to advance or retire, wheu Sir Walter Scott'

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~~~~Ieucli came up, at full speed, with a small but
body of his retainers, the rest of whom were
hand. My the advice of this experienced war-
> whose conduct Pilscotlie and Buchanan ascribe
cess of the engagement), Angus withdrew from
.glit which he occupied, and drew up his forces
it, upon a piece of low Oat ground, called Fa-
ugh, or Pcmd-heugh. The spare horses, beiug
an eminence in their rear, appeared to the Eng-
be the main body of the Scots, in the act of
Coder this persuasion, Evers and Latoun hur-
rccipilately forward, and, having ascended the
Inch their foes had abandoned, were no lessdis-
taan astonished, to find the phalanx of Scottish
icn drawn up, in firm array, upon the Hat ground
The Scots in their turn became the assailants.
to, roused from the marshes by the tumult, soar-
ly betwixt the encountering armies: « O !» ex-
d Angus, « that I had here my white goss hawk,
<e might all yoke at once!» — Godicroft. The
b, breathless and fatigued, having the setting sun
indfiiU in their faces, were unable to withstand
volute and desperate charge of the Scottish lances,
iner had they begun to waver, than their own al-
he assured Borderers, who had been waiting the
threw aside their red crosses, and, joining their
nfmen, made a most merciless slaughter among
oglish fugitives, the pursuers calling upon each
to «i remember Broomhouscl»—Lesley, p. 47$
. battle fell Lord Evers, and his son, together with
ian Latoun, and 8oo Englishmen, many of whom
persons of rank. A thousand prisoner* were
i. Among these was a patriotic alderman of lon-
Re.td by name, who, having contumaciously re-
I to pay his portion of a benevolence, demanded
the city by Henry VIII., was sent by royal autho-
to serve against the Scots. These, at settling his
im, he found still more exorbitant in their cxac-
. tli in the monarch.—Rkdpath's Border History,
i3. Evers -was much regretted by King Henry,
swore to avenge his death upon Angus; against
m he conceived himself to have particular grounds
evntment, on account of favours received by the
at his hands. The answer of Angus was worthy
Douglas. « Is our brother-in-law offended,*1 said
« that I, as a good Scotsman, have avenged my ra-
.•d country, and the defaced tombs of my ancestors,
ii Ralph Evers? They were better men than he,
I was bound to do no less—and will he take my
for that? Little knows King Henry the skirls of
netahle:2 1 can beep myself there against alibis
;UvU host.H—Godscroft.

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It appears, from a passage in Stowc, that an ancestor of Lord Evers held also a grant of Scottish lands from an English monarch. « I have scen.» wys the historian, n under the broad sealc of the said King Edward I., a manor called Ketties, in the countic of Ferfarc, in; Scotland, and necre the furthest part of the same nation northward, given to John Eure and his heirs, ancestor to the Lord Eure that now ist and for his service done in these partes, with market, etc. dated at Laucrcost, the aolli day of October, anno regis, 34-MStowe's Annals, p. 210. This grant, like that of Henry, must liave been dangerous to the.receiver.

Stanza xlviii. There it a nun In Drvburgh bower-. The circumstance of the nun, « who never saw the d*y,» is not entirely imaginary. About fifty yearsago, an unfortunate female wanderer took up her residence in a dark vault, among the ruins of Dryburgh-Abbey, which, during the day, she never quitted. When night fell, she* issued from this miserable habitation, and went to the house of MrHaliburton, of New mains, the editor's great-grandfather, or to that of Mr Erskiur, of Shielfield, two gentlemen of the neighbourhood. From their charity she obtained such necessaries as she could be prevailed upon to accept. At twelve, each night, she lighted her candle, and returned to her vault; assuring her friendly neighbours that, during her absence, her habitation irns arranged by a spirit,to whom she gave the uncouth name of Ftttlips; describing him as a little man, wearing heavy iron shoes, villi which he trampled the clay lloor of the vault, to dispel the damps. This circumstance caused her to he regarded, by the well-informed, with compassion, as deranged in her understanding; and by the vulgar, with some degree of terror. The cause of her adopting this extraordinary mode of life she would never explain. It was, however, believed to have been occasioned by a vow, that, during the absence of a man, to whom she was attached, she would never look upon the sun. Her lover never returned. He fell during the civil war of 1-45-6, and she never more would behold the light of day.

The vault, or rather dungeon, in winch this unfortunate woman lived and died, passes still by the name of the supernatural being, with which its gloom was tenanted by her disturbed imagination, and few of the neighbouring peasants dare enter it by night.

such was the noted battle of Ancram Moor. The .1 on which it was fought is called Lyliard's Edge, .m an Amazonian Scottish woman of that name, M> is reported, by tradition, to have distinguished herf in the same manner as Squire Witheringlou. The d people point out her monument, now broken and -faced. The inscription is said to have been legible ithin this century, and to have run thus:

1 Aojjna bad married the widow of Jamci IV., lister 10 king •3rT VIM.

» Eirnciable. now called Cairmable, it a mountainous iroct at ilio •a of I>o«elm«iale.




The ruins of Cadyow, or Cadzow Castle, the ancient baronial residence of the family of Hamilton, are situated upon the precipitous banks of the river Evan, about two miles above its junction with the Clyde. It wns dismantled in the conclusion of the civil wars,

during the reign of the unfortunate Mary, to whose cause the house of Hamilton devoted themselves with a generous zeal, which occasioned their temporary obsenrity, and, very nearly, their total ruin. The situation of the ruins, embosomed in wood, darkened by ivy and creeping shrubs, and overhanging the brawling torrent, is romantic in the highest degree. In the immediate vicinity of Cadyow is a grove of immense oaks, the remains of the Caledonian Forest, which anciently extended through the south of Scotland, from the Eastern to the Atlantic Ocean. Some of these trees measure tweuty-tivc feet, and upwards, in circumference, and the slate of decay, in which they now appear, shows, that they may have witnessed the rites of the druids. The whole scenery is included in the magnificent and extensive park of the Duke of Hamilton. There was long preserved in this forest the breed of the ScoltUh wild cattle, until their ferocity occasioned their being extirpated, about forty years ago. Their appearance was beautiful, being milk-white, with black muzzles, horns, and hoofs. The bulls are described by ancient authors, as having white manes; but those of latter days had lost that peculiarity, perhaps by intermixture with the tame breed.'

In detailing the death of the Regent Murrfy, which is made the subject of the following ballad, it would be injustice to my reader tw use other words than those of I>r Robertson, whose account of that memorable event forms a beautiful piece of historical painting.

« Hamilton of Roihwcllhaiigh was the person who committed this barbarous action. He had been condemned to death soon after the battle of Langside, as we have already related, and owed his life to the regents

I clemency. Hut part of his estate had been bestowed upon one of the regent's favourites,1 who seized his house, and turned out bis wife, naked, in a cold night, into the open fields, where, before next morning, she became furiously mad. This injury made a deeper impression on him than the benefit he had received, and from that moment he vowed to be revenged of the

! regent. Party rage strengthened and inflamed his private resentment. His kinsmen, the Hamilton*,applauded the enterprise. The maxims of that age justified die most desperate course he could lake to obtain vengeance. He followed the regent for some time, and watched for an opportunity to strike the blow. He resolved, at last, I" wail till his enemy should arrive at Linlithgow, through which he was to pass, in his way from Stirling to Edinburgh. He took his stand in a wooden gallery,3 which had a window towards the street; spread a feather-bed on the floor, to hinder the noise of his feet from being heard; hung up a black cloth behind him, that his shadow might not be observed from without; and, after all this preparation, calmly expected the regent's approach, who had lodged,

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during the night, in a house not far distant. Soar m distinct information of the danger which tbreiuii- i him had been conveyed to the regent, and he jv»s-J ■* much regard to it, that he resolved to return by ! * same gate through which he had entered, and to fori a compass round the town. But. as ttie crowd aboa the gate was great, and he himself unacquainted v> fear, he proceeded directly along the street; sod 0.* throng of people obliging him to move very Sm, gave the assassin lime to take so true an aim, that _t shot him, with a single bullet, through the k»*rr pji of his belly, and killed the horse of a gentleman, %\ti rode on his other side. His followers instantly ndr> voured to break into the house whence the bio* Licome; but they found the door strougly baniac*. and, before it could be forced open, llrimiltot mounted a fleet horse,' which stood ready fur himtti back-passage, and was got far beyond their reach, "fa regent died (he same night of his wound-*—flutrr Scotland, book v.

Rothwcllhaugh rode straight to Hamilton, «bm was received in triumph; for the wishes of the hot-* iu Clydesdale, which had been burned by Mur army, were yet smoking; and party prejudice. iir bits of the age, and the enormity of the proaou:.*-. seemed to his kinsmen to justify his deed. Afcr short abode at Hamilton, this fierce aud intnum. man left Scotland, and served in France, uotlrrbVu tronage of the family of Guise, to whom be was drt less recommended by havingavenged tlie cauv of i niece, ^>ueen Mary, upon her ungrateful brother. fV Thou has recorded, that an attempt was made la-» gage him to assassinate Caspar de Coligni, the far% admiral of France, and the buckler of the Hupr^cause. But the character of Kothwellhaugh »a* r.taken. He was no mercenary trader in blood, xa: jeeted the offer with contempt aud indignation, had no authority, he said, from Scotland, to coca' murders in France; he had avenged his own jioi carcl, but he would neither, for price nor praver, a*-* that of another man —Tltuanus, cap. 46.

The regent's death happened a 3d January, i5o*. I is applauded, or stigmatized, by contemporary L»rians, according lo their religious or party prejtti The triumph of Mack wood is unbounded. He not extols the pious feat of Rothwe Ilia ugh, ■ wlio,> ftr» serves, « satisfied, with a single ounce of lead. ■ whose sacrilegious avarice had stripped thetnrtroco*. church of Saint Andrews of its covering.* bat br*crihes it lo immediate divine inspiration, and Uv * cape of Hamilton to little less than the ninni •*interference of the Deity.—/eto, vol. ii, p. ib3. **"equal injustice it was, by others, made the grouad af general national reflection; for, when Satber arr Berney to assassinate Rurlcigh, and quoted theft' pies of Poltrot and Rothwcllhaugh, the oilier eoev» tor answered, « that neither Polirot nor HambVtoa attempt their enterpryse, without some rriioa or .. » sideration to lead them to it: as the one, by byrr &* promise of preferment or rewarde; the other, apdesperatc uiiiid of revenge, for a lylJe wrong donet* him, as the report goethe, according* 10 the rjlr trr* terous disposysyon of the hoole natyon of the Scot--* • —Murjun's State Papers, vol. i, p. 197.

1 The Rift of Lord John Ha nil ton, <■

Wim princely Hamilton's abode
Ennobled Cadyow's Gothic towers.

The song went round, the goblet flow'd,
And revel sped the laughing hours.

Then, thrilling to the harp's gay sound,
So sweetly rung each vaulted wall,

And echoed light the dancer's bound,
As mirth and music cheer'd the hall.

But Cadyow's towers, in ruins laid,
And vaults, by ivy mantled o'er,

Thrill to the music of the shade,
Or echo Evan's hoarser roar.

Tet still, of Cadyow's faded fame,

You bid me tell a minstrel tale, And tune my harp, of Border frame,

On the wild banks of Evandale.

For thou, from scenes of county pride.
From pleasure's lighter scenes, canst turn,

To draw oblivion's pall aside,
And mark the long-forgotten urn.

Then, noble maid! at thy command.
Again the crumbled halls shall rise;

Lo! as on Evan's banks we stand.
The past returns—the present flies.—

Where with the rock's wood-covefd side
Were blended late the ruins green,

Rise turrets in fantastic pride,
And feudal banners flaunt between.

Where the rude torrent's brawling course
Was shagg'd with thorn and tangling sloe,

Tbe ashler buttress braves its force,
And ramparts frown in battled row.

T is night—the shade of keep and spire
Obscurely dance on Evan's stream,

And on the wave the warder's fire,
Is chequering the moon-light beam.

Fades slow their light; the east is gray;

The weary warder leaves his lower; Steeds snort; uncoupled stag-hounds bay,

And merry hunters quit the bower.

The draw-bridge falls—they hurry out— Clatters each plank and swinging chain,

As, dashing o'er, the jovial rout

Urge the shy steed, and slack the rein.

First of his troop, the chief rode on; (1)
Ilk shouting merry-men throng behind;

Tbe steed of princely Hamilton

Was fleeter than the mountain wind.

From the thick copse the roe-bucks bound,
The startling red-deer scuds the plain;

For the hoarse bugle's warrior sound
Has roused their mountain haunts again.

Through the huge oaks of Evandale,
W'hose limbs a thousand years have worn,

What sullen roar comes down the gale.
And drowns the hunter's pealing horn?

Mightiest of all the beasts of chace,

That roam in woody Galcdon, Crashing the forest in his race,

The mountain bull comes thundering on. (2)

Fierce, on the hunter's quiver'd band,

He rolls his eye of swarthy glow,
Spurns, with black hoof and horn, the sand,

And tosses high his mane of snow.

Aim'd well, the chieftain's lance has flown;

Struggling in blood the savage Kes; His roar is sunk in hollow groan—

Sound, merry huntsmen! sound the pryse!'

'T is noon—against the knotted oak

The hunters rest the idle spear;
Curls through the trees the slender smoke.

Where yeomen dight the woodland cheer.

Proudly the chieftain mark'd his clan,
On green-wood lap all careless thrown,

Yet miss'd his eye the boldest man,
That bore the name of Hamilton.

« Why fills not Bothwcllhaugh his place,
Still wont our weal and woo lo share 7

Why comes he not our sport to grace?
Why shares he not our hunter's fare?»

Stern Claud replied, with darkening face
(Gray Pasley's haughty lord was he), (3)

« At merry feast, or buxom chase,
No more the warrior shall thou see.

« Few suns have set, since Woodhouselee (4)
Saw Botbwcllhaugh's bright goblets foam,

When to his hearths, in social glee.

The war-worn soldier turn'd him home.

« There, wan from her maternal throes,

His Margaret, beautiful and mild. Sate in her bower, a pallid rose,

And peaceful nursed her new-born child.

«0 change accursed! past are those days;

False Murray's ruthless spoilers came, And, for the hearth's domestic blaze,

Ascends destruction's volumed flame.

«What sheeted phantom wanders wild.

Where mountain Eske through woodland flows.

Her arms enfold a shadowy child—
Oh is it she, the pallid rose?

«The wilder'd traveller sees her glide,
And hears her feeble voice with awe—

'Revenge,'she cries, 'on Murray's pride!
And woe for injured Bothwcllhaugh !**

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He ceased—and cries of rage and grief
Burst mingling from ihe kindred band,

And half arose the kindling chief,
And half unsheathed, his Arran brand.

But who, o'er bush, o'er stream, and rock,
Rides headlong, with resistless speed,

Whose bloody poulard's franlic stroke
Drives to the leap his jaded steed? (5)

Whose check is pale, whose eye-balls glare,
As one some vision'd sight that saw,

Whose hands are bloody, loose his hair?—
—'T is he! 't is he! "4 is Bothwcllhaugh!

From gory sellc,1 and reeling steed,
Sprung the fierce horseman with a bound,

And, reeking from the recent deed.
He dash'd his carbine on the ground.

Sternly he spoke—«T is sweet to hear,
In good green-wood, the bugle blown;

But sweeter to Revenge's ear,
To drink a tyrants dying groan.

« Your slaughtcr'd quarry proudly trod,
At dawning morn, o'er dale and down,

But prouder base-born Murray rode
Through old Liulithgow's crowded town.

« From the wild Border's humbled side,

In haughty triumph marched he, (6)
While Knox relaxed his bigot pride,

And smiled, the traitorous pomp to see.

■ But can stern Power, with all his vaunt,

Or Pomp, with all her courtly glare,
The settled heart of Vengeance daunt,

Or change the purpose of Despair?

« With hackbut bent," my secret stand, (7)
Dark as the purposed deed, I chose,

And mark'd, where, miugling in his band,
Troop'd Scottish pikes and English bows.

«Dark Morton, girt with many a spear, (S)
Murder's foul minion, led the van;

And clash'd their broadswords in the rear,
The wild Macfarlanc 5 plaided clan. (9)

uGlencairn and stout Parkhead were nigh,
Obsequious at their regent's rein, (10)

And Inggard Lindsay's iron eye,
That saw fair Mary weep iu vain, (11)

« Mid pennon'd spears, a steely grove,
Proud Murray's plumage floated high;

Scarce could his trampling charger move,
So close the miuious crowded nigh. ([2)

«From the raised vizor's shade, his eye,
Dark-rolling, glanced the ranks along,

And his steel truncheon, waved on high,
Secm'd marshalling the iron throng.

* SV/.V—Saddle. A word used by Spoocor, and other ancient illi art.

* Unckbut bent—Gnu cocked. .

« But yet his sadden'd brow confess d A passing shade of doubt and awe;

Some fiend was whispering in his breast, 'Beware of injured Bothwellhaugb'.'

« The death-shot parts—the charger springsWild rises tumult's startling roar!

And Murray's plumy helmet rings—
—Rings on the ground, to rise 00 more.

« What joy the raptured youth can feel,
To hear her love the loved one tell,

Or he, who broaches on his steel
The wolf, by whom his infant fell!

M But dearer to my iojured eye,
To see in dust proud Murray roll;

And mine was leu times trebled joy,
To hear him groan his felon soul.

« My Margaret's spectre glided near;

With pride her bleeding victim saw; And shriek'd in his death-deafeu'd ear,

1 Remember injured Bothwcllhaugh!'

« Then speed thee, noble Chatlerault!

Spread to the wind thy b-uiner'd tree! Each warrior bend his Clydesdale bow!—

Murray is fall'n, and Scot laud free !»

Vaults every warrior to his steed;

Loud bugles join their wild accldim— « Murray is fall'n and Scotland frct-d!

Couch, Arran ! touch thy spear of flame!*

But, sec! the minstrel vision fails—

The glimmering spears, are seen no more,

The shouts of war die ou the yales,
Or sink in Evan's lonely roar.

For the loud bugle, pealing high,

The blackbird whistles down die vale,

And sunk in ivied ruins lie

The banncr'd towers of Evaodale.

For chiefs intent on bloody deed.

And Vengeance shouting o'er the slain,

Lo! high-born Beauty rules the steed,
Or graceful guides the silken rein.

And long may Peace and Pleasure own

The maids, who list the minstrels tile, Nor e'er a ruder guest be known

On the fair banks of Evandale!


Note 1. Stan/a lii.

Fim of his troop, the chief rode o*

The head of the family of Hamilton, at this per.xi. was James, Earl of Arran, Duke of Chair I he rW 1France, and first peer of the Scottish realm. In i56i» he was appointed by Queen Mary, her lieutenantfror'

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