Chapter XX: Part VI (2)

24
‘What news, what news, ye bold beggar?
What news hae ye to gie?’
‘O heavy news,’ the beggar said,
‘I hae to tell to thee.

25
‘There is fyften English sogers,
I heard them in yon inn,
Vowing to kill him Wallace;
I fear the chief is slain.’

26
‘Will ye change apparell wi me, auld man?
Change your apparell for mine?
And when I come this way again,
Ye’ll be my ain poor man.’

27
When he got on the beggar’s coat,
The pike-staff in his hand,
He’s dane him down to yon tavern,
Where they were drinking wine.

28
‘What news, what news, ye staff-beggar?
What news hae ye to gie?’
‘I hae nae news, I heard nae news,
As few I’ll hae frae thee.’

29
‘I think your coat is ragged, auld man;
But woud you wages win,
And tell where William Wallace is,
We’ll lay gold in your hand.’

30
‘Tell down, tell down your good red gold,
Upon the table-head,
And ye sall William Wallace see,
Wi the down-come of Robin Hood.’

31
They had nae tauld the money down,
And laid it on his knee,
When candles, lamps, and candlesticks,
He on the floor gard flee.

32
And he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slew them one by one,
Then sat down at the table-head,
And called for some wine.

33
The goodwife she ran but, ran but,
The goodman he ran ben,
The verra bairns about the fire
Were a’like to gang brain.

34
‘Now if there be a Scotsman here,
He’ll come and drink wi me;
But if there be an English loun,
It is his time to flee.’

35
The goodman was an Englishman,
And to the hills he ran;
The goodwife was a Scots woman,
And she came to his hand.

H

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 226.

1
Wallace wight, upon a night,
Came riding oer the linn,
And he is to his leman’s bower,
And tirld at the pin.

2
‘O sleep ye, wake ye, lady?’ he said,
‘Ye’ll rise, lat me come in.’
‘O wha’s this at my bower-door,
That knocks, and knows my name? ’
‘My name is William Wallace,
Ye may my errand ken.’

3
‘The truth to you I will rehearse,
The secret I’ll unfold;
Into your enmies’ hands this night
I fairly hae you sold.’

4
‘If that be true ye tell to me,
Do ye repent it sair?’
‘O that I do,’ she said, ‘dear Wallace,
And will do evermair!

5
‘The English did surround my house,
And forced me theretill;
But for your sake, my dear Wallace,
I coud burn on a hill.’

6
Then he gae her a loving kiss,
The tear droppd frae his ee;
Says, Fare ye well for evermair,
Your face nae mair I’ll see.

7
She dressd him in her ain claithing,
And frae her house he came;
Which made the Englishmen admire,
To see this stalwart dame.

8
He is to Saint Johnston gane,
And there he playd him well;
For there he saw a well-far’d may,
Was washing at a well.

9
‘What news, what news, ye well-far’d may?
What news hae ye to me?
What news, what news, ye well-far’d may,
All from your north countrie?’

10
‘See ye not yon tavern-house,
That stands on yonder plain?
This very day have landet in it
Full fifteen Englishmen;

11
‘In search of Wallace, our dear champion,
Ordaining that he shoud dee.’
‘Then on my troth,’ said Wallace wight,
‘These Englishmen I’se see.’

* * * * *

#A.#

2^3. was not war. #F# 3 _has_ wasna aware. #B#, #C#, _have the
obviously right reading_.

5^1. Wallace then. _Maidment_, there.

5^4. _Maidment_, ouer good.

10^1. _Maidment_, When come.

10^2. quoth he be here.

12^4. _Maidment_, should we.

#B.#

8^2. oer a stree. Stree _is glossed by Lambe as_ stick, _but this
is impossible: the_ s _was induced by the_ s _in_ staff _above_.

10^3, 12^1. Oh.

11^1. root of his sword _simply from ignorance of the meaning of
the_ rood, _by which the captain swears in #A# 12_; rood of his
sword _is hardly to be thought of_.

12^2. A word _for_ A wat. _See_ #D# 14^4.

16^{3,4}. _Corrupted: the words should be Wallace’s._ _Cf._ #C#
12.

#C.#

9^2. meal: _perhaps_ meat.

#D.#

1^2. _Var._ (_or gloss_), his ain.

2^1. went _changed to_ gaed (_for rhyme?_).

9^4. _Var._ with angry jeer.

#E.#

2^3. gin he. _A. Fisher says that lines are wanting, and has
supplied two after 7^2 (making a stanza of 7^{3,4}, 8^{1,2}, and
leaving 8^{3,4} as a half stanza) and two after 10^2 (leaving
10^{3,4} as the second half of another stanza). The arrangement
here adopted is in conformity with that of the other copies._

#F.#

3^3. wasna.

22^1. Insch.

#G.#

_Buchan’s variations._

2^3. And _for_ Said.

3^4. Christendeen.

9^2, 10^3, 15^2, 27^3. done.

10^4. on a.

12^1. me _wanting_.

20^2. I heard them in yon inn.

21^1. you.

32^2. ane by ane.

158

HUGH SPENCER’S FEATS IN FRANCE

#A.# ‘Hugh Spencer,’ Percy MS., p. 281; Hales and Furnivall, II, 290.

#B.# ‘Hugh Spencer,’ Percy Papers, communicated by the Duchess Dowager
of Portland.

#C.# Dr Joseph Robertson’s Journal of Excursions, No 4.

The king of England, #A#, #B#, sends Hugh Spencer as ambassador to France, to know whether there is to be peace or war between the two lands. Spencer takes with him a hundred men-at-arms, #A#; twenty ships, #B#. The French king, Charles, #A# 30, declares for war, #A#, #C#; says that the last time peace was broken it was not along of him, #B#. The queen, Maude, #B# 9, is indignant that the king should parley with traitors, #A#, with English shepherds, #B#. She proposes to Spencer a joust with one of her knights. The Englishman has no jousting-horse. Three horses are brought out for him, all of which he rejects, #A#, #B#; in #C#, two. In #A# he calls for his old hack which he had brought over sea; in #B#, #C#, he accepts a fourth [third], a fiery-eyed black. Spencer breaks his spear, a French shaft, upon his antagonist; three spears [two] are tied together to make something strong enough for him to wield. He unhorses the Frenchman, then rides through the French camp and kills some thirteen or fourteen score of King Charles’s men, #A#. The king says he will have his head, #A#, with some provocation certainly; the queen says as much in #B#, though Spencer has only killed her champion in fair fight. Spencer has but four true brethren left, #A# 33; we are not told what had become of the rest of his hundred. With these, or, in #B#, with two, he makes a stand against the royal guard, and kills scores of them. The French king begs him to hold his hand, #A# 34, #B# 35. There shall never be war with England while peace may be kept, #A#; he shall take back with him all the ships he brought, #B#.[150]

Hugh is naturally turned into a Scotsman in the Scottish version, #C#. The shepherd’s son that he is matched with, 7, 15, is explained by traditional comment to be the queen’s cousin.

These feats of Hugh Spencer do not outstrip those of the Breton knight Les Aubrays, when dealing with the French, Luzel, I, 286–305, II, 564–581; nor is his _fanfaronnerie_ much beyond that of Harry Fifth. The Breton knight was explicitly helped by St Anne, but then Spencer and Harry have God and St George to borrow.

Liebrecht well remarks, Göttinger Gelehrte Anzeigen, 1868, p. 1900, that Spencer’s rejecting the three French horses and preferring his old hack is a characteristically traditional trait, and like what we read of Walter of Aquitania in the continuation of his story in the chronicle of the cloister of Novalesa. After Walter, in his old age, had entered this monastery, he was deputed to obtain redress for a serious depredation on the property of the brethren. Asking the people of the cloister whether they have a horse serviceable for fight in case of necessity, he is told that there are good strong cart-horses at his disposal. He has these brought out, mounts one and another, and condemns all. He then inquires whether the old steed which he had brought with him is still alive. It is, but very old, and only used to carry corn to the mill. “Let me see him,” says Walter, and, mounting, cries, “Oh, this horse has not forgotten what I taught him in my younger days.” Grimm u. Schmeller, Lateinische Gedichte des X. u. XI. Jahrhunderts, p. 109. See ‘Tom Potts,’ II, 441.[151]

Of the many Hugh Spensers if we select the younger of the favorites of Edward II, his exploits, had they any foundation in reality, would necessarily fall between 1322, when Charles IV came to the French throne, and 1326, when the Spensers, father and son, ended their career. The French king says in #B# 8 that Spenser had sunk his ships and slain his men. Hugh Spenser the younger (both, according to Knyghton, col. 2539, but the father was a very old man) was engaged in piracy in 1321. The quarrel between Edward II and Charles IV, touching the English possessions in France, was temporarily arranged in 1325, but not through the mediation of the younger Spenser, who never was sent on an embassy to France. Another Sir Hugh Spenser was a commander in the Earl of Arundel’s fleet in the operations against the French in Charles VI’s time, 1387, and was taken prisoner in consequence of his ship grounding: Knyghton, col. 2693; Nicolas, History of the Royal Navy, II, 322f. No one of the three queens of Charles IV bore the name of Maude, which is assigned to the French queen in #B#, neither did the queen of Charles VI.

A

Percy MS., p. 281; Hales and Furnivall, II, 290.

1
The court is kept att leeue London,
And euermore shall be itt;
The K_ing_ sent for a bold embassador,
And S_i_r Hugh Spencer _tha_t he hight.

2
‘Come hither, Spencer,’ saith our kinge,
‘And come thou hither vnto mee;
I must make thee an embassadour
Betweene the k_ing_ of Ffrance and mee.

3
‘Thou must comend me to the k_ing_ of Ffrance,
And tell him thus and now ffrom mee,
I wold know whether there shold be peace in his land,
Or open warr kept still must bee.

4
‘Thou’st haue thy shipp at thy comande,
Thou’st neither want for gold nor ffee;
Thou’st haue a hundred armed men,
All att thy bidding ffor to bee.’

5
The wind itt serued, and they sayled,
And towards Ffrance thus they be gone;
The wind did bring them safe to shore,
And safelye landed euerye one.

6
The Ffrenchmen lay on the castle-wall,
The English souldiers to behold:
‘You are welcome, traitors, out of England;
The heads of you are bought and sold.’

7
W_i_th _tha_t spake proud Spencer:
My leege, soe itt may not bee;
I am sent an embassador
Ffrom our English king to yee.

8
The k_ing_ of England greetes you well,
And hath sent this word by mee;
He wold know whether there shold be peace in yo_u_r land,
Or open warres kept still must bee.

9
‘Comend me to the English kinge,
And tell this now ffrom mee;
There shall neuer peace be kept in my land
While open warres kept there may bee.’

10
W_i_th _tha_t came downe the queene of Ffrance,
And an angry woman then was shee;
Saies, Itt had beene as ffitt now for a k_ing_
To be in his chamber w_i_th his ladye,
Then to be pleading w_i_th traitors out of England,
Kneeling low vppon their knee.

11
But then bespake him proud Spencer,
For noe man else durst speake but hee:
You haue not wiped yo_u_r mouth, madam,
Since I heard you tell a lye.

12
‘O hold thy tounge, Spencer!’ shee said,
‘I doe not come to plead with thee;
Darest thou ryde a course of warr
W_i_th a knight _tha_t I shall put to thee?’

13
‘But eu_er_ alacke!’ then Spencer sayd,
‘I thinke I haue deserued Gods cursse;
Ffor I haue not any armour heere,
Nor yett I haue noe iusting-horsse.’

14
‘Thy shankes,’ q_uo_th shee, ‘beneath the knee
Are verry small aboue the shinne
Ffor to doe any such hon_oura_blle deeds
As the Englishmen say thou has done.

15
‘Thy shankes beene small aboue thy shoone,
And soe the beene aboue thy knee;
Thou art to slender euery way
Any good iuster ffor to bee.’

16
‘But euer alacke,’ said Spencer then,
‘For one steed of the English countrye!’
W_i_th _tha_t bespake and one Ffrench knight,
This day thou’st haue the choyce of three.

17
The first steed he ffeiched out,
I-wis he was milke-white;
The ffirst ffoot Spencer in stirropp sett,
His backe did from his belly tyte.

18
The second steed _tha_t he ffeitcht out,
I-wis _tha_t hee was verry browne;
The second ffoot Spencer in stirropp settt,
_Tha_t horsse and man and all ffell downe.

19
The third steed _tha_t hee ffeitched out,
I-wis _tha_t he was verry blacke;
The third ffoote Spencer into the stirropp sett,
He leaped on to the geldings backe.

20
‘But eu_er_ alacke,’ said Spencer then,
‘For one good steed of the English countrye!
Goe ffeitch me hither my old hacneye,
_Tha_t I brought w_i_th me hither beyond the sea.’

21
But when his hackney there was brought,
Spencer a merry man there was hee;
Saies, W_i_th the grace of God and St George of England,
The ffeild this day shall goe w_i_th mee.

22
‘I haue not fforgotten,’ Spencer sayd,
‘Since there was ffeild foughten att Walsingam,
When the horsse did heare the trumpetts sound,
He did beare ore both horsse and man.’

23
The day was sett, and togetther they mett,
W_i_th great mirth and melodye,
W_i_th minstrells playing, and trumpetts soundinge,
W_i_th drumes striking loud and hye.

24
The ffirst race that Spencer run,
I-wis hee run itt wonderous sore;
He [hitt] the knight vpon his brest,
But his speare itt burst, and wold touch noe more.

25
‘But euer alacke,’ said Spencer then,
‘For one staffe of the English countrye!
W_i_thout you’le bind me three together,’
Q_uo_th hee, ‘they’le be to weake ffor mee.’

26
W_i_th _tha_t bespake him the Ffrench knight,
Sayes, Bind him together the whole thirtye,
For I haue more strenght in my to hands
Then is in all Spencers bodye.

27
‘But proue att p_ar_ting,’ Spencer sayes,
‘Ffrench knight, here I tell itt thee;
For I will lay thee five to four
The bigger man I proue to bee.’

28
But the day was sett, and together they mett,
W_i_th great mirth and melodye,
W_i_th minstrells playing, and trumpetts soundinge,
W_i_th drummes strikeing loud and hye.

29
The second race _tha_t Spencer run,
I-wis hee ridd itt in much pride,
And he hitt the knight vpon the brest,
And draue him ore his horsse beside.

30
But he run thorrow the Ffrench campe;
Such a race was neu_e_r run beffore;
He killed of K_ing_ Charles his men
Att hand of thirteen or fourteen score.

31
But he came backe againe to the K[ing],
And kneeled him downe vpon his knee;
Saies, A knight I haue slaine, and a steed I haue woone,
The best _tha_t is in this countrye.

32
‘But nay, by my faith,’ then said the K_ing_,
‘Spencer, soe itt shall not bee;
I’le haue _tha_t traitors head of thine,
To enter plea att my iollye.’

33
But Spencer looket him once about,
He had true bretheren left but four;
He killed ther of the K_ing_s gard
About twelve or thirteen score.

34
‘But hold thy hands,’ the K_ing_ doth say,
‘Spencer, now I doe pray thee;
And I will goe into litle England,
Vnto _tha_t cruell kinge w_i_th thee.’

35
‘Nay, by my ffaith,’ Spencer sayd,
‘My leege, for soe itt shall not bee;
For an you sett ffoot on English ground,
You shall be hanged vpon a tree.’

36
‘Why then, comend [me] to _tha_t Englishe kinge,
And tell him thus now ffrom mee,
_Tha_t there shall neu_er_ be open warres kept in my land
Whilest peace kept _tha_t there may bee.’

B

Percy Papers: communicated by the Duchess Dowager of Portland.

1
Our king lay at Westminst_e_r,
as oft times he had done,
And he sent for Hugh Spencer,
to come to him anon.

2
Then in came Hugh Spencer,
low kneeling on his knee:
‘What’s the matter, my liege,
you sent so speedily for me?’

3
‘Why you must go ambassadour
to France now, to see
Whether peace shall be taken,
aye, or open wars must be.’

4
‘Who shall go with me?’
says Hugh Spencer, he:
‘That shall Hugh Willoughby
and John of Atherly.’
‘O then,’ says Hugh Spencer,
‘we’ll be a merry company.’

5
When they came before the French king,
they kneeled low on the knee:
‘O rise up, and stand up,
whose men soer you be.’

6
The first that made answer
was Hugh Spencer, he:
‘We are English ambassad_ou_rs,
come hither to see
Whether peace shall be taken,
aye, or open wars must be.’

7
Then spoke the French king,
and he spoke courteously:
The last time peace was broken,
it was neer along of me.

8
For you sunk my ships, slew my men,
and thus did ye;
And the last time peace was broken,
it was neer along of me.

9
Then in came Queen Maude,
and full as ill was she:
‘A chamber of presence
is better for thee,
Then amongst English shepherds,
low bending on the knee.’

10
The first that made answer
was Hugh Spencer, he:
‘We are no English shepherds,
Queen Maude, I tell thee,
But we’re knights, and knights fellows,
the worst man in our company.’

11
O then spoke Queen Maude,
and full as ill was she:
Thou shouldst be Hugh Spencer,
thou talkst so boldly.

12
And if thou beest Hugh Spencer,
as well thou seemst to be,
I’ve oft heard of thy justling,
and some of it would fain see.

13
I have a steed in my stable
that thou canst not ride;
I have a spear in my keeping
that thou canst not guide;
And I have a knight in my realm
that thou darest not abide.

14
Then Spencer askd Willoughby
and John of Atherly
Whether he should take this justling in hand,
aye, or let it be.

15
O then spoke Hugh Willoughby
and John of Atherly:
If you won’t take it [in] hand,
why turn it unto we.

16
‘It shall neer be said in England,’
says Hugh Spencer, he,
‘That I refused a good justling
and turned it to ye.

17
‘Alas,’ says Hugh Spencer,
‘full sore may I moan,
I have nought here but an ambler,
my good steed’s at home.’

18
Then spoke a French knight,
and he spoke courteously:
I have thirty steeds in my stables,
the best of them take to thee.

19
‘Gramercy,’ says Spencer,
‘aye, and gramercy;
If eer thou comest to England,
well rewarded shalt thou be.’

20
The first steed they brought him,
he was a milk-white:
‘Take that away,’ says Spencer,
‘for I do not him like.’

21
The next steed they brought him,
he was a good dun:
‘Take that away,’ says Spencer,
‘for he’s not for my turn.’

22
The next steed they brought him,
he was a dapple-grey:
‘Take that away,’ says Spencer,
‘for he is not used to the way.’

23
The next steed they brought him,
he was a coal-black;
His eyes burnt in his head,
as if fire were in flax;
‘Come saddle me that horse,’ says Spencer,
‘for I’ll have none but that.’

24
When that horse was saddled,
and Spencer got on,
With his spear at his foot,
O he was portly man!

25
‘Now I am on that steede-back
that I could not ride,
That spear in my keeping
that I could not guide,
Come shew me that French knight
that I dare not abide.’

26
‘It is a sign by thy sharp shin,
ay, and thy cropped knee,
That you are no fit match
to justle with me:’
‘Why it makes no matter,’ says Spencer,
‘you hear no brags of me.’

27
The first time they rode together,
now Sir Hugh and he,
He turnd him in his saddle
like an apple on a tree.

28
The next time they rode together,
now Sir Hugh and he,
He lit upon his breast-plate,
and he broke his spear in three.

29
‘A spear now,’ says Spencer,
‘a spear now get me:’
‘Thou shalt have one,’ says Willoughby,
‘if in France one there be.’

30
‘O tye two together,
and the stronger they’l be,
For the French is the better,
and the better shall be:’
‘Why it makes no matter,’ says Spencer,
‘you hear no brags of me.’

31
The next time they rode together,
now Sir Hugh and he,
He threw him fifteen foot from his saddle,
and he broke his back in three:
‘Now I have slain thy justler,
Queen Maude, I tell thee.’

32
O then spoke Queen Maude,
and full as ill was she:
If thou’st slain my justler,
by the Kings laws thou’st dye.

33
‘It shall neer be said in England,’
says Hugh Spencer, he;
‘It shall neer be said in England,’
says Hugh Willoughby;

34
‘It shall neer be said in England,’
says John of Atherly,
‘That a queen of another nation
eer had her will of we.’

35
They laid their heads together,
and their backs to the wall;
There were four score of the Queen’s guards,
and they slew them all.

36
Then spoke the French king,
and he spoke courteously:
O hold thy hand, Spencer,
I dearly pray thee.

37
Thou art sharp as thy spear,
and as fierce as thy steed,
And the stour of thy lilly-white hand
makes my heart bleed.

38
Thou hadst twenty ships hither,
thou’st have twenty away;
Then hold thy hand, Spencer,
I dearly thee pray.

C

Dr Joseph Robertson’s Journal of Excursions, No 4; taken down from a
man in the parish of Leochel, Aberdeenshire, 12 February, 1829.

1
It fell about the Martinmas time
The wind blew loud and cauld,
And all the knichts of fair Scotland
They drew them to sum hald.

2
Unless it was him young Sir Hugh,
And he beet to sail the sea,
Wi a letter between twa kings, to see an they
wald lat down the wars,
And live and lat them be.

3
On Friday shipped he, and lang
Ere Wodensday at noon
In fair France landed he,
. . . . . . .

4
He fell down before the King,
On his bare knees:
‘Gude mak ye safe and soun;’
‘Fat news o your contrie?’ he says.

5
‘The news o our countrie,’ he says,
‘Is but news brought over the sea,
To see an ye’ll lat down the wars,
And live and lat them be.’

6
‘Deed no,’ he says;
‘I’m but an auld man indeed,
But I’ll no lat down the wars,
And live and lat them be.’

7
It’s out it spak the Queen hersel: I have a shepherd’s sin
Would fight an hour wi you;
‘And by my seeth,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘That sight fain would I see.’

8
The firsten steed that he drew out,
He was the penny-gray;
He wad hae ridden oer meel or mor
A leve-lang summer’s day.

9
O girths they brak, and great horse lap,
But still sat he on he:
‘A girth, a girth,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘A girth for charity!’
‘O every girth that you shall have,
Its gude lord shall hae three.’

10
The nexten steed that he drew out,
He was the penny-brown;
He wad hae ridden oer meel or mor
As ever the dew drap down.

11
O bridles brak, and great horse lap,
But still sat he on he:
‘A bridle, a bridle,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘A bridle for charitie!’
‘O every bridle that you shall have,
And its gude lord shall have three.’

12
The nexten steed that he drew out
He was the raven-black;
His een was glancin in his head
Like wild-fire in a slack;
‘Get here a boy,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘Cast on the saddle on that.’

13
O brands there brak, and great horse lap,
But still sat he on he:
‘A brand, a brand,’ says young Sir Hugh,
‘A brand for charitie!’
‘O every brand that you sall have,
And its gude lord sall have three.’

14
He gave him a dep unto the heart,
And over the steed fell he:
‘I rather had gane you money,’ she says,
‘And free lands too,
That ye had foughten an hour wi him,
And than had latten him be.’

15
‘If ye hae ony mair shepherd’s sins,’ he says,
‘Or cooks i your kitchie,
Or ony mair dogs to fell,
Ye’ll bring them here to me;
And gin they be a true-hearted Scotsman,
They’ll no be scorned by thee.’

* * * * *

#A.#

4^3. 100.

5^{1,3}. They.

6^1. walls? _There is a tag at the end of this word in the MS.
Furnivall._

16^4. of 3.

17^4. _MS._, tylpe, _with the_ l _crossed at top. Furnivall_.

18^{1,3}. 2[d .].

18^2. _I should read_ berry-browne _were it not for_ verry blacke
_in 19^2_.

19^{1,3}. 3[d .].

25^3. 3.

26^2. 30^{tye}.

27^3. 5 to 4.

29^1. 2[d .].

30^4. 13 or 14.

32^4. _No emendation of this unintelligible line occurs to me._

33^2. 4.

33^3. therof.

33^4. 2 or 3: _cf._ 30^4, _and observe the metre_.

35^3. for on: seitt _or_ settt.

And _for_ & _always_.

#C.#

14^4. too: _pronounced_ tee.

15. The shepherd’s son was the Queen’s own son: _comment of the
reciter_. _I do not understand the last two lines; indeed they
are obviously corrupt._

159

DURHAM FIELD

‘Durham ffeilde,’ Percy MS., p. 245; Hales and Furnivall, II, 190.

While Edward Third was absent in France, and for the time engaged with the siege of Calais, David Bruce, the young king of Scotland, at the instance of Philip of Valois, but also because he “yearned to see fighting,” invaded England with a large army. Having taken by storm the Border castle of Liddel, he was advised by William of Douglas to turn back, which, it was represented by Douglas, he could do with credit after this success. Other lords said that Douglas had filled his bags, but theirs were toom, and that the way lay open to London, for there were no men left in England but souters, skinners, and traders.[152] The Scots moved on to Durham, and encamped in a park not far from the town, in a bad position. In the mean while a powerful force had been collected by the northern nobility and the English churchmen, without the knowledge of the Scots. William of Douglas, going out to forage, rode straight to the ground where his foes lay, and in the attempt to retreat lost five hundred of his men. King David drew up his army in three divisions: one under his own command, another under the Earl of Murray and William Douglas, the third under the Steward of Scotland and the Earl of March. The operations of the Scots were impeded by the ditches and fences that traversed the ground on which they stood, and their situation made them an almost helpless mark for the ten thousand archers of the English army. Murray’s men were completely routed by a charge of cavalry, and their leader killed. The English then fell upon the King’s division, which, after a desperate fight, was “vanquished utterly.” David, who had received two wounds from arrows, was taken prisoner by John Copland, “by force, not yolden,” after knocking out two of the Englishman’s teeth with a knife. Wyntoun’s Chronykil, ed. Laing, II, 470 ff; Scotichronicon, ed. Goodall, II, 339 ff. The battle was fought on the 17th of October, 1346.

According to the English chronicle of Lanercost, John of Douglas, ‘germanus domini Willelmi,’ fought with the Earl of Murray in the first Scottish division, and the Earl of Buchan was associated with King David in the command of the second. The English were also in three bodies. The leaders of the first were the Earl of Angus, ‘inter omnes Angliæ nobilis persona,’ Henry Percy, Ralph Neville, and Henry Scrope; the Archbishop of York led the second; Mowbray, Rokeby, and John of Copland were in the third. Ed. Stevenson, pp. 349–51.

David, in the ballad, proposes to himself nothing less than the conquest of England and the distribution of the territory among his chief men. He is not a youth of twenty-two; William Douglas has served him four and thirty years. Still he will brook no advice, and kills his own squire for warning him of the danger of his enterprise. The Earl of Angus is to lead the van; but Angus, as we have seen, was engaged on the other side. The title of Angus might have deceived the minstrel, but it was hardly to be expected that Neville should be turned into a Scot as he is in st. 17. Angus, and also ‘Vaughan,’ that is Baughan, or Buchan,[153] are to be in the king’s coat-armor, sts 11, 13, imitating Blunt and the rest at Shrewsbury, and the five false Richmonds at Bosworth. James[154] Douglas offers to lead the van, 14; so does William Douglas in 21. An Englishman who does not know a Neville would surely not be very precise about a Douglas, and it must be conceded that the Douglases have not always been kept perfectly distinct by historians. James Douglas, whoever he may be supposed to be, “went before;” that is, he plays the part which belongs historically to the Knight of Liddesdale, loses all his men, and returns, with an arrow in his thigh, to report that one Englishman is worth five Scots: 26–33.[155] But the Scots, even at that rate, have the advantage, for a herald, sent out to reconnoitre, tells their king that they are ten to one.

The commanders on the English side are the Bishop of Durham, Earl Percy, the Archbishop of York, the Bishop of Carlisle, and “Lord Fluwilliams.”[156] The Bishop of Durham orders that no man shall fight before he has ‘served his God,’ and five hundred priests say mass in the field who afterwards take part in the fray. (The monks of Durham, Knyghton tells us, had made terms with the Scots, and were to pay a thousand pounds for ransom-money the next day; and so, when they saw the Scots yielding, they raised their voices in a Te Deum, which sounded to the clouds and quickened the courage of the English.) The king of Scots is wounded by an arrow through his nose, and, stepping aside to bleed, is taken prisoner by John of Copland, whom he first smites angrily. Copland sets the king on a palfrey and leads him to London. King Edward, newly arrived from France, asks him how he likes the shepherds, millers, and priests. There’s not a yeoman in England, says David, but he is worth a Scottish knight. Aye, says King Edward, laughing, that is because you were fighting against the right. Shortly after this the Black Prince brings the king of France captive from the field of Poitiers. Says David to John, Welcome, brother, but I would I had gone to Rome! And I, would I had gone to Jerusalem! replies John. Thus ends the battle of Durham, fought, says the minstrel, on a morning of May, sts 27, 64, and within the same month as the battles of Crécy and Poitiers.[157] Though Poitiers was fought ten years after Durham, the king of Scots and the king of France no doubt met in London, for John was taken thither in April, 1357, and David was not released from his captivity until the following November.

Stanza 18 affords us an upper limit for a date. Lord Hambleton is said to be of the king’s kin full nigh. James Hamilton, the first lord, married the princess Mary, sister of James III, in 1474, and his descendants were the next heirs to the throne after the Stewarts, whose line was for a time but barely kept up.

1
Lordinges, listen, and hold you still;
Hearken to me a litle;
I shall you tell of the fairest battell
_Tha_t eu_er_ in England beffell.

2
For as it befell in Edward the Thirds dayes,
In England, where he ware the crowne,
Then all the cheefe chiualry of England
They busked and made them bowne.

3
They chosen all the best archers
_Tha_t in England might be found,
And all was to fight w_i_th the k_ing_ of Ffrance,
W_i_thin a litle stounde.

4
And when our k_ing_ was ou_er_ the water,
And on the salt sea gone,
Then tydings into Scotland came
_Tha_t all England was gone.

5
Bowes and arrowes they were all forth,
At home was not left a man
But shepards and millers both,
And preists w_i_th shauen crownes.

6
Then the k_ing_ of Scotts in a study stood,
As he was a man of great might;
He sware he wold hold his parlam_ent_ in leeue London,
If he cold ryde there right.

7
Then bespake a squ_ier_, of Scottland borne,
And sayd, My leege, apace,
Before you come to leeue London,
Full sore you’le rue _tha_t race.

8
Ther beene bold yeomen in merry England,
Husbandmen stiffe and strong;
Sharpe swords they done weare,
Bearen bowes and arrowes longe.

9
The K_ing_ was angrye at that word;
A long sword out hee drew,
And there befor his royall companye
His owne squier hee slew.

10
Hard hansell had the Scottes _tha_t day,
_Tha_t wrought them woe enoughe,
For then durst not a Scott speake a word
Ffor hanging att a boughe.

11
‘The Earle of Anguish, where art thou?
In my coate-armor thou shalt bee,
And thou shalt lead the forward
Thorrow the English countrye.

12
‘Take thee Yorke,’ then sayd the K_ing_,
‘In stead wheras it doth stand;
I’le make thy eldest sonne after thee
Heyre of all Northumberland.

13
‘The Earle of Vaughan, where be yee?
In my coate-armor thou shalt bee;
The high Peak and Derbyshire
I giue it thee to thy fee.’

14
Then came in famous Douglas,
Saies, What shall my meede bee?
And I’le lead the vawward, lord,
Thorow the English countrye.

15
‘Take thee Worster,’ sayd the K_ing_,
‘Tuxburye, Killingworth, Burton vpon Trent;
Doe thou not say another day
But I haue giuen thee lands and rent.

16
‘S_i_r Rich_ard_ of Edenborrow, where are yee?
A wise man in this warr!
I’le giue thee Bristow and the shire
The time _tha_t wee come there.

17
‘My lo_rd_ Nevill, where beene yee?
You must in this warres bee;
I’le giue thee Shrewsburye,’ saies the K_ing_,
‘And Couentrye faire and free.

18
‘My lo_rd_ of Hambleton, where art thou?
Thou art of my kin full nye;
I’le giue thee Lincolne and Lincolneshire,
And _tha_t’s enouge for thee.’

19
By then came in W_illia_m Douglas,
As breeme as any bore;
He kneeled him downe vpon his knees,
In his hart he sighed sore.

20
Saies, I haue serued you, my louelye leege,
This thirty winters and four,
And in the Marches betweene England and Scottland
I haue beene wounded and beaten sore.

21
For all the good service _tha_t I haue done,
What shall my meed bee?
And I will lead the vanward
Thorrow the English countrye.

22
‘Aske on, Douglas,’ said the king,
‘And granted it shall bee:’
‘Why then, I aske litle London,’ saies Will_iam_ Douglas,
‘Gotten giff _tha_t it bee.’

23
The K_ing_ was wrath, and rose away,
Saies, Nay, _tha_t cannot bee!
For _tha_t I will keepe for my cheefe chamber,
Gotten if it bee.

24
But take thee North Wales and Weschaster,
The cuntrye all round about,
And rewarded thou shalt bee,
Of _tha_t take thou noe doubt.

25
Fiue score k_nigh_ts he made on a day,
And dubbd them with his hands;
Rewarded them right worthilye
W_i_th the townes in merry England.

26
And when the fresh k_nigh_ts they were made,
To battell the buske them bowne;
Iames Douglas went before,
And he thought to haue wonnen him shoone.

27
But the were mett in a morning of May
W_i_th the com_m_inaltye of litle England;
But there scaped neu_er_ a man away,
Through the might of Christës hand.

28
But all onely Iames Douglas;
In Durham in the ffeild
An arrow stroke him in the thye;
Fast flinge[s he] towards the K_ing_.

29
The K_ing_ looked toward litle Durham,
Saies, All things is not well!
For Iames Dowglas beares an arrow in his thye,
The head of it is of steele.

30
‘How now Iames?’ then said the K_ing_,
‘How now, how may this bee?
And where beene all thy merrymen
That thou tooke hence with thee?’

31
‘But cease, my k_ing_,’ saies Iames Douglas,
‘Aliue is not left a man!’
‘Now by my faith,’ saies the k_ing_ of Scottes,
‘_Tha_t gate was euill gone.

32
‘But I’le reuenge thy quarrell well,
And of _tha_t thou may be faine;
For one Scott will beate fiue Englishmen,
If the meeten them on the plaine.’

33
‘Now hold yo_u_r tounge,’ saies Iames Douglas,
‘For in faith _tha_t is not soe;
For one English man is worth fiue Scotts,
When they meeten together thoe.

34
‘For they are as egar men to fight
As a faulcon vpon a pray;
Alas! if eu_er_ the winne the vanward,
There scapes noe man away.’

35
‘O peace thy talking,’ said the K_ing_,
‘They bee but English knaues,
But shepards and millers both,
And preists w_i_th their staues.’

36
The K_ing_ sent forth one of his heralds of armes
To vew the Englishmen:
‘Be of good cheere,’ the herald said,
‘For against one wee bee ten.’

37
‘Who leades those ladds?’ said the k_ing_ of Scottes,
‘Thou herald, tell thou mee:’
The herald said, The Bishopp of Durham
Is captaine of _tha_t companye.

38
‘For the Bishopp hath spred the K_ing_‘s banner,
And to battell he buskes him bowne:’
‘I sweare by St. Andrewes bones,’ saies the K_ing_,
‘I’le rapp _tha_t preist on the crowne.’

39
The K_ing_ looked towards litle Durham,
And _tha_t hee well beheld,
_Tha_t the Earle Percy was well armed,
W_i_th his battell-axe entred the feild.

40
The K_ing_ looket againe towards litle Durham,
Four ancyents there see hee;
There were to standards, six in a valley,
He cold not see them w_i_th his eye.

41
My Lord of Yorke was one of them,
My Lord of Carlile was the other,
And my Lord Ffluwilliams,
The one came w_i_th the other.

42
The Bishopp of Durham com_m_anded his men,
And shortlye he them bade,
_Tha_t neu_er_ a man shold goe to the feild to fight
Till he had serued his God.

43
Fiue hundred preists said masse _tha_t day
In Durham in the feild,
And afterwards, as I hard say,
They bare both speare and sheeld.

44
The Bishopp of Durham orders himselfe to fight,
W_i_th his battell-axe in his hand;
He said, This day now I will fight
As long as I can stand!

45
‘And soe will I,’ sayd my Lo_rd_ of Carlile,
‘In this faire morning gay;’
‘And soe will I,’ said my Lo_rd_ Ffluwilliams,
‘For Mary, _tha_t myld may.’

46
Our English archers bent their bowes.
Shortlye and anon;
They shott ou_er_ the Scottish oast
And scantlye toucht a man.

47
‘Hold downe yo_u_r hands,’ sayd the Bishopp of Durham,
‘My archers good and true:’
The second shoote _tha_t the shott,
Full sore the Scottes itt rue.

48
The Bishopp of Durham spoke on hye,
_Tha_t both p_ar_tyes might heare:
‘Be of good cheere, my merrymen all,
The Scotts flyen, and changen there cheere.’

49
But as the saidden, soe the didden,
They fell on heapës hye;
Our Englishmen laid on w_i_th their bowes,
As fast as they might dree.

50
The k_ing_ of Scotts in a studye stood
Amongst his companye;
An arrow stoke him thorrow the nose,
And thorrow his armorye.

51
The K_ing_ went to a marsh-side
And light beside his steede;
He leaned him downe on his sword-hilts,
To let his nose bleede.

52
There followed him a yeaman of merry England,
His name was Iohn of Coplande:
‘Yeeld thee, traytor!’ saies Coplande then,
‘Thy liffe lyes in my hand.’

53
‘How shold I yeeld me,’ sayes the K_ing_,
‘And thou art noe gentleman?’
‘Noe, by my troth,’ sayes Copland there,
‘I am but a poore yeaman.

54
‘What art thou better then I, S_i_r K_ing_?
Tell me if that thou can!
What art thou better then I, S_i_r K_ing_,
Now we be but man to man?’

55
The K_ing_ smote angerly at Copland then,
Angerly in that stonde;
And then Copland was a bold yeaman,
And bore the K_ing_ to the ground.

56
He sett the K_ing_ upon a palfrey,
Himselfe upon a steede;
He tooke him by the bridle-rayne,
Towards London he can him lead.

57
And when to London _tha_t he came,
The K_ing_ from Ffrance was new come home,
And there unto the k_ing_ of Scottes
He sayd these words anon.

58
‘How like you my shepards and my millers?
My priests w_i_th shaven crownes?’
‘By my fayth, they are the sorest fighting men
_Tha_t ev_e_r I mett on the ground.

59
‘There was never a yeaman in merry England
But he was worth a Scottish k_nigh_t:’
‘I, by my troth,’ said K_ing_ Edward, and laughe,
‘For you fought all against the right.’

60
But now the prince of merry England,
Worthilye under his sheelde,
Hath taken the k_ing_ of Ffrance,
At Poytiers in the ffeelde.

61
The prince did p_re_sent his father w_i_th _tha_t food,
The louely k_ing_ off Ffrance,
And fforward of his iourney he is gone:
God send us all good chance!

62
‘You are welcome, broth_er_!’ sayd the k_ing_ of Scotts, to _th_e
k_ing_ of Ffrance,
‘For I am come hither to soone;
Christ leeve _tha_t I had taken my way
Unto the court of Roome!’

63
‘And soe wold I,’ said the k_ing_ of Ffrance,
‘When I came over the streame,
_Tha_t I had taken my iourney
Unto Ierusalem!’

64
Thus ends the battell of ffaire Durham,
In one morning of May,
The battell of Cressey, and _th_e battle of Potyers,
All within one monthës day.

65
Then was welthe and welfare in mery England,
Solaces, game, and glee,
And every man loved other well,
And the K_ing_ loved good yeomanrye.

66
But God _tha_t made the grasse to growe,
And leaves on greenwoode tree,
Now save and keepe our noble k_ing_,
And maintaine good yeomanry!

* * * * *

And _for_ & _throughout_.

1^1. _Perhaps_ lesten: yo.

1^2. a litle spell?

2^1. 3^{ds}.

8^3. sharpes.

11^3. forward _has a tag to the_ #d#. _Furnivall._

12^1. thy _for_ thee.

13^1. _in_ Earle _the_ l _is made over an_ e. _Furnivall._

15^2. Tuxburye _doubtful in the MS._

20^2. 30: 4.

25^1. 5 score.

31^1. Janes.

32^3, 33^3. 5.

_After_ 39. 2d part.

40^2. 4.

40^3. 6.

43^1. 500.

44^1. Durhan.

47^3. 2d.

62^1. brothers.

66. _Pencil note in Percy’s late hand._

This and 2 following leaves being unfortunately torn out, in
sending the subsequent piece [‘King Estmere’] to the press, the
conclusion of the preceding ballad has been carefully
transcribed; and indeed the fragments of the other leaves ought
to have been so.

160

THE KNIGHT OF LIDDESDALE

Hume of Godscroft, History of the Houses of Douglas and Angus, 1644,
p. 77.

William Douglas, the Knight of Liddesdale, who figures in the foregoing ballad, was assassinated in 1353, while hunting in Ettrick forest, by his kinsman and godson, Lord William Douglas.

According to the Scotichronicon, the motive was said to be revenge for Alexander Ramsay, one of the first men among the Scots, whom Liddesdale had assaulted while he was holding a court, wounded, carried off, and suffered to die by starving; and for Sir David Berkeley, whom Liddesdale was charged with procuring to be murdered in 1350, in return for the death of his brother, Sir John Douglas, brought to pass by Berkeley. (Scotichronicon, ed. Goodall, II, 348, 335, XIV, 8, XIII, 50, XIV, 7.)

Hume of Godscroft considers the motive assigned to be quite unnatural, and at best a pretence. A ballad known to him gave a different account. “The Lord of Liddesdale, being at his pastime, hunting in Attrick forest, is beset by William Earle of Douglas, and such as hee had ordained for that purpose, and there assailed, wounded, and slain, beside Galsewood, in the yeare 1353; upon a jealousie that the Earle had conceived of him with his lady, as the report goeth, for so sayes the old song.” After citing the stanza which follows, Hume goes on to say: “The song also declareth how shee did write her love-letters to Liddisdale, to disswade him from that hunting. It tells likewise the manner of the taking of his men, and his owne killing at Galsewood, and how hee was carried the first night to Lindin Kirk, a mile from Selkirk, and was buried within the Abbacie of Melrosse.”

“The sole basis for this statement of Hume’s,” says Sir William Fraser, The Douglas Book, I, 223 f, 1885, “seems to be the anonymous Border ballad, part of which he quotes, to which he adds the tradition that the lady wrote to her lover to dissuade him from that hunting. Apart from the fact that this tradition is opposed to contemporary history, which states that Sir William was wholly unsuspicious of danger, the story told by Godscroft is otherwise erroneous. He assumes that Douglas was made earl in 1346, and that he was married to a daughter of the Earl of March, neither of which assumptions is true. Douglas was not created earl until 26th January, 1357–8, and there was therefore no ‘Countess of Douglas’ to wait for the Knight of Liddesdale. Douglas’s only wife was Lady Margaret of Mar, who survived him. The exact date of their marriage has not been ascertained, but it is certain that Douglas had no countess of the family of March in 1353, while it is doubtful if at that date he was married at all. Popular tradition is therefore at fault in assigning matrimonial jealousy as a motive for killing the Knight of Liddesdale.”

“Some fragments of this ballad are still current, and will be found in the ensuing work,” says Scott, Minstrelsy, I, 221, note, ed. 1833. It may be that Sir Walter became convinced that these fragments were not genuine; at any rate, they do not appear in his collection.

The Countesse of Douglas out of her boure she came,
And loudly there that she did call:
‘It is for the Lord of Liddesdale
That I let all these teares downe fall.’

161

THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN

#A. a.# Cotton MS. Cleopatra, C. iv, leaf 24, of about 1550. #b.#
Harleian MS. 293, leaf 52. Both in the British Museum.

#B. a.# Herd’s MSS, I, 149, II, 30; Herd’s Scottish Songs, 1776, I,
153. #b.# Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1802, I, 31.

#C.# Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1833, I, 354.

#D.# Finlay’s Scottish Ballads, I, xviii f., two stanzas.

#E.# Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. lxxi, note 30, one stanza.

#A a# was first printed in the fourth edition of Percy’s Reliques, 1794, I, 18, and #A b# in the first edition, 1765, I, 18.

By far the most circumstantial account of the battle of Otterburn is given by Froissart (Chroniques, Buchon, XI, 362 ff, chap. 115 ff), and his highly felicitous narrative may be briefly summarized as follows.

The quarrels of Richard II with his uncles and a consequent feud between the great northern families of Neville and Percy furnished the Scots an inviting opportunity for an invasion of England on a large scale. Under the pretext of a festive meeting, a preliminary conference of barons and knights was held at Aberdeen, and it was there agreed that they should muster, the middle of August, 1388, at a place on the border near Jedburgh, with such forces as they could command. In all this they took no counsel with the king, who was then past seventy, and was regarded as of no account for their purposes. The result was a larger gathering than had been seen for sixty years, quite twelve hundred lances and forty thousand ordinary fighting-men.

The Earl of Northumberland and his sons, the Seneschal of York, and the Captain of Berwick had heard of the intended meeting at Aberdeen, and had sent heralds and minstrels thither, to get further information. These agents reported that all Scotland was astir, and that there was to be another parley in the forest of Jedburgh. The barons and knights of Northumberland made due preparations, and, the better to keep these secret, remained quiet in their houses, ready to sally as soon as they learned that the Scots were in motion. Feeling themselves incapable of coping with so large a body as had been collected, they decided upon a simultaneous counter-raid, and that from the east or from the west, according as the enemy should take the road from the west or the east. Of this plan of the English the Scots obtained knowledge from a spy whom they had captured, and to foil it they divided their army, directing the main body towards Carlisle, under command of Archibald Douglas, of the Earl of Fife, son of the king, and many other nobles, while a detachment of three or four hundred picked men-at-arms, supported by two thousand stout fellows, partly archers, all well mounted,[158] and commanded by James, Earl of Douglas, the Earl of March and Dunbar, and the Earl of Murray, were to strike for Newcastle, cross the river, and burn and ravage the bishopric of Durham.

The eastern division (with which alone we are concerned) carried out their program to the letter. They advanced at speed, stopping for nothing, and meeting with no resistance, and the burning and pillaging had begun in Durham before the Earl of Northumberland knew of their arrival. Fire and smoke soon showed what was going on. The earl dispatched his sons Henry and Ralph Percy to Newcastle, where the whole country rallied, gentle and simple; he himself remaining at Alnwick, in the hope of being able to enclose the Scots, when they should take the way north, between two bodies of English. The Scots attained to the very gates of Durham; then, having burned every unfortified town between there and Newcastle, they turned northward, with a large booty, repassed the Tyne, and halted at Newcastle. There was skirmishing for two days before the city, and in the course of a long combat between Douglas and Henry Percy the Scot got possession of the Englishman’s pennon. This he told Percy he would raise on the highest point of his castle at Dalkeith; Percy answered that he should never accomplish that vaunt, nor should he carry the pennon out of Northumberland. ‘Come then to-night and win it back,’ said Douglas; ‘I will plant it before my tent.’ It was then late, and the fighting ceased; but the Scots kept good guard, looking for Percy to come that very night for his pennon. Percy, however, was constrained to let that night pass.

The Scots broke up their camp early the next morning and withdrew homewards. Taking and burning the tower and town of Ponteland on their way, they moved on to Otterburn, thirty miles northwest from Newcastle, where there was a strong castle or tower, in marshy ground, which they assailed for a day without success. At the end of the day they held a council, and the greater part were in favor of making for Carlisle in the morning, to rejoin their countrymen. But the Earl of Douglas would not hear of this; Henry Percy had said that he would challenge his pennon; they would stay two or three days more and assault the castle, and see if Percy would be as good as his word. So the Scots encamped at their ease, making themselves huts of trees, and availing themselves of the marshes to fortify their position. At the entrance of the marshes, which was on the Newcastle road, they put their servants and foragers, and they drove their cattle into the bogs.