Chapter XXIX: Appendix: Flodden Field (4)

9–14. A large quantity of powder was fired in the room below that in which “the worthy king” slept, but the body of Darnley and that of his servant were found lying at a considerable distance from the house, without any marks of having been subject to the explosion. One theory of the circumstances was that the two had been strangled in their beds, and removed before the train was lighted; another account is that Darnley, who would naturally hear some stir in the house, made his escape with his page, but “was intercepted and strangled after a desperate resistance, his cries for mercy being heard by some women in the nearest house.”[254] Bothwell, though the author of all these proceedings and personally superintending the execution of them, did not openly appear.

It will be observed that King James says that his father [MS. mother] was hanged on a tree, in ‘King James and Brown,’ No 180, 8^2.

Bothwell and Huntly, who by virtue of their offices had apartments in the palace, not being in sympathy with the conspirators, are said in the Diurnal of Occurrents, p. 90, to have broken through a window, in fear of their lives, and to have let themselves down by a cord. Bothwell, as the champion of the queen against the confederate lords, might naturally be supposed by the minstrel to take a personal interest in revenging Riccio.

15, 16. The Regent Murray is here described as ‘bitterly banishing’ Mary, wherefore she durst not remain in Scotland, but fled to England. The queen escaped from Lochleven Castle on the second of May, 1568, and took refuge in England on the sixteenth. We must suppose the ballad to have been made not long after.

Translated by Bodmer, II, 51, from Percy’s Reliques.

1
Woe worth thee, woe worth thee, false Scottlande!
Ffor thou hast eu_er_ wrought by a sleight;
For the worthyest prince _tha_t euer was borne,
You hanged vnder a cloud by night.

2
The Queene of France a letter wrote,
And sealed itt w_i_th hart and ringe,
And bade him come Scottland w_i_thin,
And shee wold marry him and crowne him k_ing_.

3
To be a k_ing_, itt is a pleasant thing,
To bee a prince vnto a peere;
But you haue heard, and so haue I too,
A man may well by gold to deere.

4
There was an Italyan in that place,
Was as wel beloued as euer was hee;
Lo_rd_ David was his name,
Chamberlaine vnto the queene was hee.

5
Ffor if the king had risen forth of his place,
He wold haue sitt him downe in the cheare,
And tho itt beseemed him not soe well,
Altho the king had beene p_re_sent there.

6
Some lords in Scottland waxed wonderous wroth,
And quarrelld w_i_th him for the nonce;
I shall you tell how itt beffell,
Twelue daggers were in him all att once.

7
When this queene see the chamberlaine was slaine,
For him her cheeks shee did weete,
And made a vow for a twelue month and a day
The k_ing_ and shee wold not come in one sheete.

8
Then some of the lo_rd_s of Scottland waxed wrothe,
And made their vow vehementlye,
‘For death of the queenes chamberlaine
The k_ing_ himselfe he shall dye.’

9
They strowed his chamber ou_er_ w_i_th gunpowder,
And layd greene rushes in his way;
Ffor the traitors thought _tha_t night
The worthy king for to betray.

10
To bedd the worthy k_ing_ made him bowne,
To take his rest, _tha_t was his desire;
He was noe sooner cast on sleepe,
But his chamber was on a blasing fyer.

11
Vp he lope, and a glasse window broke,
He had thirty foote for to ffall;
Lo_rd_ Bodwell kept a priuy wach
Vnderneath his castle-wall:
‘Who haue wee heere?’ sayd Lo_rd_ Bodwell;
‘Answer me, now I doe call.’

12
‘K_ing_ Henery the Eighth my vnckle was;
Some pitty show for his sweet sake!
Ah, Lo_rd_ Bodwell, I know thee well;
Some pitty on me I pray thee take!’

13
‘I’le pitty thee as much,’ he sayd,
‘And as much favor I’le show to thee
As thou had on the queene’s chamberlaine
_Tha_t day thou deemedst him to dye.’

14
Through halls and towers this k_ing_ they ledd,
Through castles and towers _tha_t were hye,
Through an arbor into an orchard,
And there hanged him in a peare tree.

15
When the gou_er_nor of Scottland he heard tell
_Tha_t the worthye king he was slaine,
He hath banished the queene soe bitterlye
_Tha_t in Scottland shee dare not remaine.

16
But shee is ffled into merry England,
And Scottland to a side hath laine,
And through the Queene of Englands good grace
Now in England shee doth remaine.

* * * * *

6^2. noncett, _with_ tt _blotted out. (?) Furnivall_.

6^4, 7^3. 12. 10^3. sleepee.

11^2. 30.

12^1. 8[th .].

13^1. _Partly pared away. Furnivall._

16^2. to aside.

175

THE RISING IN THE NORTH

‘Risinge in the Northe,’ Percy MS., p. 256; Hales and Furnivall, II,
210.

Printed in Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 250, “from two MS. 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.” Bearing in mind Percy’s express avowal that he “must plead guilty to the charge of concealing his own share in amendments under some such general title as a modern copy, or the like,” one would conclude without hesitation that there was but a single authentic text in this case, as in others. Percy notes on the margin of his manuscript: “N.B. To correct this by my other copy, which seems more modern. The other copy in many parts preferable to this.” But this note would seem to be a private memorandum. Or are we to suppose that Percy might employ, from habit perhaps, the same formula, not to say artifice, with himself as with the public? In notes in the Folio to ‘Northumberland betrayed by Douglas’ (No 176), Percy speaks of a second copy of that ballad also as being in his possession, and describes it as containing much which is omitted in the other, and as beginning like ‘The Earl of Westmoreland,’ (No 177). Of the beginning of this last he says, in a note in the Folio, “these lines are given in one of my _old_ copies to Lord Northumberland.” “Old copies” is staggering; for any one who examines the variations of the texts in the Reliques from the texts in the Folio will find them of the same character and style as Percy’s acknowledged improvements of other ballads, and will be compelled to impute them to the editor or his double.[255]

The earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, having for a time succeeded, by exuberant professions, in allaying very sufficiently grounded suspicions of their loyal dealing, at last, upon receiving the Queen’s summons to London, found compliance unsafe, and went into rebellion. They took this step with but half a heart and against their judgment, overcome by the clamor and urgency of a portion of their fellow-conspirators. The intent of the insurgents was, in Northumberland’s own words, “the reformation of religion, and the preservation of the Queen of Scots, whom they accounted by God’s law and man’s law to be right heir, if want should be of issue of the Queen’s Majesty’s body.” These two causes, they were confident, were favored by the larger number of noblemen within the realm.[256] Protestantism had no hold in the north, and the Queen’s officers in those parts were, for the moment, not strong enough to make opposition. With leaders of energy and military skill, and a good chest to draw upon,[257] the rising would have been highly dangerous. As things were, it collapsed in five weeks without the shedding of a drop of blood; but hundreds of simple people were subsequently hanged.

The earls, with others, among whom Richard Norton, then sheriff of York, was the most conspicuous, entered Durham in arms on Sunday, the fourteenth of November (1569). They went to the minster, overthrew the communion-table, tore the Bible and service-books, replaced the old altar (which had been thrown into a rubbish-heap), and had mass said. The next day they turned southwards, with nobody to molest or stop them in their rear or in front. The Earl of Sussex was collecting a force at York, but it came in slowly, and it could not be trusted. “To get the more credit among the favorers of the old Romish religion, they had a cross, with a banner of the five wounds, borne after them, sometime by old Norton, sometime by others” (Holinshed). They proceeded to Ripon, Wetherby, and Clifford Moor (Bramham Moor) near Tadcaster. “Their main body was at Wetherby and Tadcaster, their advanced horse were far down across the Ouse.” Their numbers, according to Holinshed, never exceeded about two thousand horse and five thousand foot. Tutbury, where Mary Stuart was confined, was but a little more than fifty miles from their advance; they proposed to release the Queen of Scots, and then to move on London, or wait for a rising in the south. Mary Stuart, at the nick of time, was removed to Coventry. On the twenty-fourth we hear that the rebels were drawn back to Knaresborough and Boroughbridge; on the thirtieth, that they are returned into the Bishopric. There they laid siege to Barnard Castle, which Sir George Bowes was obliged to surrender on December twelfth; on the fifteenth the earls were still at Durham. On the thirteenth the earls of Warwick and Clinton, commanders of the Army of the South, met at Wetherby with a combined force of eleven thousand foot and above twelve hundred horse, “eager to encounter the rebels, if they would abide.” But on the sixteenth the “lords rebels” warned their footmen to shift for themselves, and fled with such horse as they had left into Northumberland. The twenty-second of December, the Earl of Sussex, qui cunctando restituit rem, Lord Hunsdon, who had been joined with him in command, and Sir Ralph Sadler, who had been deputed to watch him, write to the Queen: “The earls rebels, with their principal confederates and the Countess of Northumberland, did the twentieth of this present in the night, flee into Liddesdale with about a hundred horse; and there remain under the conduction of Black Ormiston, one of the murtherers of the Lord Darnley, and John of the Side and the Lord’s Jock, two notable thieves of Liddesdale, and the rest of the rebels be utterly scaled.”[258]

The ballad, which is the work of a loyal but not unsympathetic minstrel, gives but a cursory and imperfect account of “this geere.” Earl Percy has come to the conclusion that he must fight or flee; his lady urges him thrice over to go to the court, and right himself, but he tells her that his treason is known well enough; if he follows her advice she will never see him again. He sends a letter to Master Norton, urging that gentleman to ride with him. Norton asks counsel of his son Christopher, who advises him not to go back from the word he has spoken, and much pleases his father thereby. He asks his nine sons how many of them will take part with him. All but the eldest at once answer that they will stand by him till death: Francis Norton, the eldest, will not advise acting against the crown. Coward Francis, thou never tookest that of me! says the father. Francis will go with his father, but unarmed, and he wishes an ill death to them that strike the first stroke against the crown. There is a muster at Wetherby, and Westmoreland and Northumberland are there with their proper banners,[259] and with another setting forth the Lord on the cross. Sir George Bowes “rising to make a spoil,” they besiege him in a castle to which he retires, easily win the outer walls, but cannot win the inner. Word comes to the Queen of the rebels in the north; she sends thirty thousand men against them, under the “false” Earl of Warwick, and they never stop till they reach York. (A gap occurs here, which need not be a large one, considering the leaps taken already.) Northumberland is gone, Westmoreland vanished, and Norton and his eight sons fled.

5–10. The Countess of Northumberland would have been the last person to give such advice as is attributed to her. “His wife, being the stouter of the two, doth encourage him to persevere, and rideth up and down with the army, so as the grey mare is the better horse.” Hunsdon to Cecil, November twenty-sixth, MS. cited by Froude.

11–27. Richard Norton, miscalled Francis in 40, was a man of seventy-one when he engaged in the rising, and the father of eleven sons and eight daughters. Seven of the sons were involved in the rebellion. Francis, the eldest son, so far from standing out, took a prominent part with his father. But what is said of Francis is true of William, the fourth son. Sir George Bowes says of him: “I neither heard or could perceive William Norton to deal with any office or charge amongst the rebels, but, as I have heard it affirmed, he both refused the taking charge of horsemen when it was offered unto him, and also _would wear no armor_. Farther, upon my departure from the castle [Barnard Castle], he came to me, and in the way as he rode with me, he entered to declare that he greatly misliked of all their doings and practices, saying that he was there amongst them for his father’s sake, and to accompany him, and otherways he never had been with them,” etc. MS. cited by Sharp, p. 284.

Christopher Norton deserves the distinction accorded him in the ballad. “Christopher had been among the first to enroll himself a knight of Mary Stuart. His religion had taught him to combine subtlety with courage, and through carelessness or treachery, or his own address, he had been admitted into Lord Scrope’s guard at Bolton Castle. There he was allowed to assist his lady’s escape, should escape prove possible; there he was able to receive messages and carry them; there, to throw the castellan off his guard, he pretended to flirt with her attendants, and twice at least, by his own confession, closely as the prisoner was watched, he contrived to hold private communications with her.” (Froude, Reign of Elizabeth, III, 505, where follow lively particulars of these two encounters.) Christopher was the only one of the Nortons who is known to have suffered the death-penalty of treason; it was “after he had beheld the death of his uncle, as well his quartering as otherwise, knowing and being well assured that he himself must follow the same way.” (Sharp, p. 286.) Richard Norton, the father, fled to Flanders with his sons Francis and Sampson, and all three seem to have died there.

33 f. Sussex to Cecil: Dec. 6. “The rebels have shot three days together at the wall of the outer ward, but they have done no hurt.” Dec. 8. “The rebels have won the first ward.” Sir George Bowes’ men leaped the walls, one day some eighty at a time, and the next day seven or eight score of the best disposed, who had been appointed to guard the gates, suddenly set them open, and went to the rebels; whereupon Sir George was driven to composition, and there was no need to take the inner walls.[260]

A considerable number of “balletts” were called forth by the northern rebellion, and a few of these have been preserved. See Arber, Stationers’ Registers, I, 404–6, 407–9, 413–15; A Collection of Seventy-Nine Blackletter Ballads, etc., 1870, pp. xxv, 1, 56, 231, 239.

The copy in the Reliques is translated by Seckendorf, Musenalmanach, 1807, p. 103; by Doenniges, p. 102.

1
Listen, liuely lordings all,
And all _tha_t beene this place within:
If you’le giue eare vnto my songe,
I will tell you how this geere did begin.

2
It was the good Erle of Westmorlande,
A noble erle was callëd hee,
And he wrought treason against the crowne;
Alas, itt was the more pittye!

3
And soe itt was the Erle of Northumberland,
Another good noble erle was hee;
They tooken both vpon one p_ar_t,
Against the crowne they wolden bee.

4
Earle Pearcy is into his garden gone,
And after walkes his awne ladye:
‘I heare a bird sing in my eare
_Tha_t I must either ffight or fflee.’

5
‘God fforbidd,’ shee sayd, ‘good my lord,
_Tha_t euer soe _tha_t it shalbee!
But goe to London to the court,
And faire ffall truth and honestye!’

6
‘But nay, now nay, my ladye gay,
_Tha_t eu_er_ it shold soe bee;
My treason is knowen well enoughe;
Att the court I must not bee.’

7
‘But goe to the court yet, good my lo_rd_,
Take men enowe w_i_th thee;
If any man will doe you wronge,
Yo_u_r warrant they may bee.’

8
‘But nay, now nay, my lady gay,
For soe itt must not bee;
If I goe to the court, ladye,
Death will strike me, and I must dye.’

9
‘But goe to the court yett, [good] my lord,
I my-selfe will ryde w_i_th thee;
If any man will doe you wronge,
Yo_u_r borrow I shalbee.’

10
‘But nay, now nay, my lady gay,
For soe it must not bee;
For if I goe to the court, ladye,
Thou must me neuer see.

11
‘But come hither, thou litle foot-page,
Come thou hither vnto mee,
For thou shalt goe a message to M_aster_ Norton,
In all the hast _tha_t eu_er_ may bee.

12
‘Comend me to _tha_t gentleman;
Bring him here this letter from mee,
And say, I pray him earnestlye
_Tha_t hee will ryde in my companye.’

13
But one while the foote-page went,
Another while he rann;
Vntill he came to M_aster_ Norton,
The ffoot-page neuer blanne.

14
And when he came to M_aster_ Nortton,
He kneeled on his knee,
And tooke the letter betwixt his hands,
And lett the gentleman it see.

15
And when the letter itt was reade,
Affore all his companye,
I-wis, if you wold know the truth,
There was many a weeping eye.

16
He said, Come hither, Kester Nortton,
A ffine ffellow thou seemes to bee;
Some good councell, Kester Nortton,
This day doe thou giue to mee.

17
‘Marry, I’le giue you councell, ffather,
If you’le take councell att me,
_Tha_t if you haue spoken the word, father,
_Tha_t backe againe you doe not flee.’

18
‘God a mercy! Christopher Nortton,
I say, God a mercye!
If I doe liue and scape w_i_th liffe,
Well advanced shalt thou bee.

19
‘But come you hither, my nine good sonnes,
In mens estate I thinke you bee;
How many of you, my children deare,
On my p_ar_t _tha_t wilbe?’

20
But eight of them did answer soone,
And spake ffull hastilye;
Sayes, We wilbe on yo_u_r p_ar_t, ffather,
Till the day _tha_t we doe dye.

21
‘But God a mercy! my children deare,
And eu_er_ I say God a mercy!
And yett my blessing you shall haue,
Whether-soeuer I liue or dye.

22
‘But what sayst thou, thou Ffrancis Nortton,
Mine eldest sonne and mine heyre trulye?
Some good councell, Ffrancis Nortton,
This day thou giue to me.’

23
‘But I will giue you councell, ffather,
If you will take councell att mee;
For if you wold take my councell, father,
Against the crowne you shold not bee.’

24
‘But ffye vpon thee, Ffrancis Nortton!
I say ffye vpon thee!
When thou was younge and tender of age
I made ffull much of thee.’

25
‘But yo_u_r head is white, ffather,’ he sayes,
‘And yo_u_r beard is wonderous gray;
Itt were shame ffor yo_u_r countrye
If you shold rise and fflee away.’

26
‘But ffye vpon thee, thou coward Ffrancis!
Thou neu_er_ tookest _tha_t of mee!
When thou was younge and tender of age
I made too much of thee.’

27
‘But I will goe w_i_th you, father,’ q_uo_th hee;
‘Like a naked man will I bee;
He _tha_t strikes the first stroake against the crowne,
An ill death may hee dye!’

28
But then rose vpp M_aster_ Nortton, _tha_t esq_uier_,
W_i_th him a ffull great companye;
And then the erles they comen downe
To ryde in his companye.

29
Att Whethersbye the mustered their men,
Vpon a ffull fayre day;
Thirteen thousand there were seene
To stand in battel ray.

30
The Erle of Westmoreland, he had in his ancyent
The dunn bull in sight most hye,
And three doggs w_i_th golden collers
Were sett out royallye.

31
The Erle of Northumberland, he had in his ancyent
The halfe moone in sight soe hye,
As the Lo_rd_ was crucifyed on the crosse,
And set forthe pleasantlye.

32
And after them did rise good S_i_r George Bowes,
After them a spoyle to make;
The erles returned backe againe,
Thought eu_er_ _tha_t k_nigh_t to take.

33
This barron did take a castle then,
Was made of lime and stone;
The vttermost walls were ese to be woon;
The erles haue woon them anon.

34
But tho they woone the vttermost walls,
Quickly and anon,
The innermust walles the cold not winn;
The were made of a rocke of stone.

35
But newes itt came to leeue London,
In all the speede _tha_t eu_er_ might bee;
And word it came to our royall queene
Of all the rebells in the north countrye.

36
Shee turned her grace then once about,
And like a royall queene shee sware;
Sayes, I will ordaine them such a breake-fast
As was not in the north this thousand yeere!

37
Shee caused thirty thousand men to be made,
W_i_th horsse and harneis all quicklye;
And shee caused thirty thousand men to be made,
To take the rebells in the north countrye.

38
They tooke w_i_th them the false Erle of Warwicke,
Soe did they many another man;
Vntill they came to Yorke castle,
I-wis they neu_er_ stinted nor blan.

* * * * *

39
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
‘Spread thy ancyent, Erle of Westmoreland!
The halfe-moone ffaine wold wee see!’

40
But the halfe-moone is fled and gone,
And the dun bull vanished awaye;
And Ffrancis Nortton and his eight sonnes
Are ffled away most cowardlye.

41
Ladds w_i_th mony are counted men,
Men w_i_thout mony are counted none;
But hold yo_u_r tounge! why say you soe?
Men wilbe men when mony is gone.

* * * * *

3^4. their _for_ the.

7^4. they _altered in MS. from_ them.

18^1. amercy: _and afterwards_.

19^1. 9.

20^1. 8^{th}.

21^2. godamercy.

29^3. 13000.

30^2. Dum̄: m _for_ nn. _Furnivall._

30^3. 3.

34^3. imermust.

35^2. all they.

36^4. 1000.

37^{1,3}. 30000.

38^2. _Only half the_ n _in many. Furnivall_.

And _for_ & _throughout_.

_Variations of the copy in_ Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 250.

1^{2–4}.
Lithe and listen unto mee,
And I will sing of a noble earle,
The noblest earle in the north countrie.

2, 3 _wanting._

4^2. after him walkes his faire.

4^3. mine.

5^{1,2}.
Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord,
That eer such harm should hap to thee.

6^1, 8^1, 10^1, 24^1. Now _for_ But.

6^{2,3}.
Alas thy counsell suits not mee;
Mine enemies prevail so fast.

6^4. That at: I may.

7^1. O goe.

7^2. And take thy gallant men.

7^3. any dare to doe.

7^4. Then your warrant.

8^1. thou lady faire.

8^2. The court is full of subtiltie.

8^3. And if.

8^4. Never more I may thee see.

9^1. Yet goe to the court, my lord, she sayes.

9^2. And I: will goe wi. ryde _in ed._ 1794.

9^3. At court then for my dearest lord.

9^4. His faithfull borrowe I will.

10^1. lady deare.

10^{2–4}.
Far lever had I lose my life,
Than leave among my cruell foes
My love in jeopardy and strife.

11^1. come thou: my little.

11^3. To maister Norton thou must goe.

12^2. And beare this letter here fro mee.

12^3. And say that earnestly I praye.

12^4. That _wanting_.

13^1. But _wanting_: little footpage.

13^2. And another.

13^3. to his journeys end.

13^4. little footpage.

14^1. When to that gentleman he came.

14^2. Down he knelt upon.

14^{3,4}.
Quoth he, My lord commendeth him,
And sends this letter unto thee.

_The reading of the Folio is restored in ed. 1794._

15^2. Affore that goodlye.

15^3. you the truthe wold know.

16^1. thither, Christopher.

16^2. A gallant youth thou seemst.

16^{3,4}.
What doest thou counsell me, my sonne,
Now that good earle’s in jeopardy.

17.
Father, my counselle’s fair and free;
That earle he is a noble lord,
And whatsoever to him you hight,
I wold not have you breake your word.

18^{1–3}.
Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne,
Thy counsell well it liketh mee,
And if we speed, and

18^4. thou shalt.

19^1. But _wanting_.

19^2. Gallant men I trowe.

19^4. Will stand by that good earle and mee.

20^1. But _wanting_: answer make.

20^2. Eight of them spake hastilie.

20^{3,4}.
O father, till the daye we dye,
We’ll stand by that good earle and thee.

21^1.
Gramercy now, my children deare,
You showe yourselves right bold and brave;
And whethersoeer I live or dye,
A fathers blessing you shal have.

22^1. O Francis.

22^{2–4}.
Thou art mine eldest sonn and heire;
Somewhat lyes brooding in thy breast,
Whatever it bee, to mee declare.

23 _wanting, and instead, this stanza, like_ 25:
Father, you are an aged man,
Your head is white, your bearde is gray;
It were a shame, at these your yeares,
For you to ryse in such a fray.

24, 26. _For these_:
Now fye upon thee, coward Francis,
Thou never learnedst this of mee;
When thou wert yong and tender of age,
Why did I make soe much of thee?

27^{1,2}.
But, father, I will wend with you,
Unarmd and naked will I bee.

27^3. And he: the first stroake _wanting_.

27^4. Ever an.

28.
Then rose that reverend gentleman,
And with him came a goodlye band,
To join with the brave Earl Percy,
And all the flower o Northumberland.

29.
With them the noble Nevill came,
The earle of Westmorland was hee;
At Wetherbye they mustred their host,
Thirteen thousand faire to see.

30^{1,2}.
Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde,
The dun bull he raysd on hye.

30^3. And _wanting_: collars brave.

30^4. Were there sett out most.

31.
Earl Percy there his ancyent spred,
The half moone shining all soe faire;
The Nortons ancyent had the crosse,
And the five wounds our Lord did beare.

32^1. Then Sir George Bowes he straitwaye rose.

32^2. some spoyle.

32^3. Those noble earles turnd.

32^4. And aye they vowed that.

33.
That baron he to his castle fled,
To Barnard castle then fled hee;
The uttermost walles were eathe to win,
The earles have wonne them presentlie.

34.
The uttermost walles were lime and bricke;
But thoughe they won them soon anone,
Long eer they wan the innermost walles,
For they were cut in rocke of stone.

35^1. Then newes unto leeve London came.

35^2. ever may.

35^3. word is brought.

35^4. Of the rysing in.

36^1. Her grace she turned her round about.

36^2. swore.

36^3. Sayes _wanting_.

36^4. As never was in the North before.

37^1. be raysd.

37^2. harneis faire to see.

37^3. And _wanting_: be raised.

37^4. the earles i th’.

38^{1,2}.
Wi them the false Earle Warwick went,
Th’ earle Sussex and the lord Hunsdèn.

38^3. to Yorke castle came.

38^4. stint ne.

39.
Now spread thy ancyent, Westmorland,
Thy dun bull faine would we spye;
And thou, the Earl o Northumberland,
Now rayse thy half moone up on hye.

40^1. the dun bulle is.

40^2. the half moone vanished.

40^{3,4}.
The Earles, though they were brave and bold,
Against soe many could not stay.

41.
Thee, Norton, wi thine eight good sonnes,
They doomd to dye, alas! for ruth!
Thy reverend lockes thee could not save,
Nor them their faire and blooming youthe.

Wi them full many a gallant wight
They cruellye bereavd of life,
And many a childe made fatherlesse,
And widowed many a tender wife.

176

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS

‘Northumberland betrayd by Dowglas,’ Percy MS., p. 259; Hales and
Furnivall, II, 217.

Printed in Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 257, “from two copies [which contained great variations, 1794, I, 297], one of them in the Editor’s folio MS.” In this manuscript Percy makes these notes. “N. B. My other copy is more correct than this, and contains much which is omitted here. N. B. The other copy begins with lines the same as that in page 112 [that is, the ‘Earl of Westmoreland’]. The minstrels often made such changes.”

See the preface to the foregoing ballad as to the probable character of the copy, which “contains much that is omitted here.”

The Earl of Sussex writes on December 22d that, the next morning after Northumberland and Westmorland took refuge in Liddesdale, Martin Eliot and others of the principal men of the dale raised a force against the earls, Black Ormiston, and the rest of their company, and offered fight; but in the end, Eliot, wishing to avoid a feud, said to Ormiston that “he would charge him and the rest before the Regent for keeping of the rebels of England, if he did not put them out of the country, and that if they [the earls] were in the country after the next day, he would do his worst against them and all that maintained them.” Whereupon the earls were driven to quit Liddesdale and to fly to one of the Armstrongs in the Debateable Land, leaving the Countess of Northumberland “at John of the Sydes house, a cottage not to be compared to any dog-kennel in England.” Three days later Sussex and Sadler write that “the Earl of Northumberland was yesterday [the 24th], at one in the afternoon, delivered by one Hector, of Harlaw wood, of the surname of the Armstrongs, to Alexander Hume, to be carried to the Regent.”[261] The Regent took Northumberland to Edinburgh, and on the second of January, 1570, committed him to the castle of Lochleven, attended by two servants.[262]

The sentiment of Scotsmen, and especially of borderers, was outraged by this proceeding: “for generally, all sorts, both men and women, cry out for the liberty of their country; which is, to succor banisht men, as themselves have been received in England not long since, and is the freedom of all countries, as they allege.”[263]

Northumberland remained in confinement at Lochleven until June, 1572. Meanwhile the Countess of Northumberland, who had escaped to Flanders, had been begging money to buy her husband of the Scots, and had been negotiating with Douglas of Lochleven to that effect. She was ready to give the sum demanded, which seems to have been two thousand pounds, as soon as sufficient assurance could be had that her husband would be liberated upon payment of the money. Lord Hunsdon discussed the surrender of Northumberland with the Earl of Morton and the Commendator of Dunfermling, on the occasion of their coming to Berwick to treat about the pacification of the troubles in Scotland. “They made recital of the charges that the lord of Lochleven hath been at with the said earl, and how the earl hath offered the lord of Lochleven four thousand marks sterling, to be paid presently to him in hand, to let him go. Notwithstanding, both he and the rest shall be delivered to her Majesty upon reasonable consideration of their charges.” (November 22, 1571.) Political considerations turned the scale, and on the seventh of June Lord Hunsdon paid the two thousand pounds which the countess had offered, and Northumberland was put into his hands. Hunsdon had the earl in custody at Berwick until the following August. He was then made over to Sir John Forster, Warden of the Middle Marches, taken to York and there beheaded (August 27th, 1572).[264]

The ballad-minstrel acquaints us with circumstances concerning the surrender of Northumberland which are not known to any of the historians. One night, when many gentlemen are supping at Lochleven Castle, William Douglas, the laird of the castle, rallies the earl on account of his sadness; there is to be a shooting in the north of Scotland the next day, and to this Douglas has engaged his word that Percy shall go. Percy is ready to ride to the world’s end in Douglas’s company. Mary Douglas, William’s sister, interposes: her brother is a traitor, and has taken money from the Earl [Morton?] to deliver Percy to England. Northumberland will not believe this; the surrender of a banisht man would break friendship forever between England and Scotland. Mary Douglas persists; he had best let her brother ride his own way, and he can tell the English lords that he cannot be of the party because he is in an isle of the sea (an obstacle which must appear to us not greater for one than for the other); and while her brother is away she will carry Percy to Edinburgh Castle, and deliver him to Lord Hume, who has already suffered loss in his behalf. But if he will not give credence to her, let him come on her right hand, and she will shew him something. Percy never loved witchcraft, but permits his chamberlain to go with the lady. Mary Douglas’s mother was a witch-woman, and had taught her daughter something of her art. She shows the chamberlain through the belly of a ring many Englishmen who are on the await for his master, among them Lord Hunsdon, Sir William Drury, and Sir John Forster, though at that moment they are thrice fifty mile distant. The chamberlain goes back to his lord weeping, but the relation of what he has seen produces no effect. Percy says he has been in Lochleven almost three years and has never had an ‘outrake’ (outing); he will not hear a word to hinder him from going to the shooting. He twists from his finger a gold ring—left him when he was in Harlaw wood—and gives it to Mary Douglas, with an assurance that, though he may drink, he will never eat, till he is in Lochleven again. Mary faints when she sees him in the boat, and Percy once and again proposes to go back to see how she fares; but William Douglas treats the fainting very lightly; his sister is crafty enough to beguile thousands like them. When they have sailed the first fifty mile (it will be borne in mind that the Douglas castle is described as being on an isle of the sea), James Swynard, the chamberlain,[265] asks how far it is to the shooting, and gets an alarming answer: fair words make fools fain; whenever they come to the shooting, they will think they have come soon enough! Jamie carries this answer to his master, who finds nothing discouraging in it; it was meant only to try his mettle. But after sailing fifty miles more, Percy himself calls to Douglas and asks what his purpose is. “Look that your bridle be strong and your spurs be sharp,” says Douglas (but 49^1 is probably corrupted). “This is mere flouting,” replies Percy; “one Armstrong has my horse, another my spurs and all my gear.” Fifty miles more of the sea, and they land Lord Percy at Berwick, a deported, “extradited” man!

14. The Countess of Northumberland was sheltered for some time at Hume Castle (Sir C. Sharp’s Memorials, pp. 143, 146, 150, 344, ff). The castle was invested, and by direction of Lord Hume, then absent in Edinburgh, was surrendered without resistance, in the course of Sussex’s destructive raid in April, 1570. Cabala, ed. 1663, p. 175. See also Diurnal of Occurrents, p. 170.

19. Witchcraft was rife at the epoch of this ballad, nor was the imputation of it confined to hags of humble life. The Lady Buccleuch, the Countess of Athole, and the Lady Foullis were all accused of practising the black art. Nothing in that way was charged upon Lady Douglas of Lochleven, the mother of William Douglas and of the Regent Murray; but Lady Janet Douglas, sister of the Earl of Angus, had been burnt in 1537 for meditating the death of James V by poison or witchcraft, and it is possible, as Percy has suggested, that this occurrence may have led to the attribution of sorcery to Lady Douglas of Lochleven.[266]

Mary Douglas shows Northumberland’s chamberlain, through the hollow of her ring, the English lords who are waiting for his master “thrice fifty mile” distant, at Berwick. In a Swiss popular song the infidelity of a lover is revealed by a look through a finger-ring. People on the Odenberg hear a drum-beat, but see nothing. A wizard makes one after another look through a ring made by bowing the arm against the side; they see armed men going into and coming out of the hill. So Biarco is enabled to see Odin on his white horse by looking through Ruta’s bent arm.[267]

32, 33. The day after Northumberland was put into his hands, Hunsdon writes to Burghley: “For the earl, I have had no great talk with him; but truly he seems to follow his old humours, readier to talk of hawks and hounds than anything else.” (Sharp, p. 330.)

51. It was their old manner, as Robin Hood says, to leave but little behind; but what is recorded is that, when “the earls were driven to leave Liddesdale and to fly to one of the Armstrongs upon the Bateable, ... the Liddesdale men stole my lady of Northumberland’s horse, and her two women’s horses, and ten other horses.” Sussex to Cecil, Sharp, p. 114 f.

52. Percy “left Lochleven with joy, under the assurance that he should be conveyed in a Scottish vessel to Antwerp. To his surprise and dismay he found himself, after a short voyage, at Coldingham.” Lingard’s History, VI, 137, London, 1854.

The copy in the Reliques is translated by Doenniges, p. 111.

1
Now list and lithe, you gentlemen,
And I’st tell you the veretye,
How they haue dealt w_i_th a banished man,
Driuen out of his countrye.

2
When as hee came on Scottish ground,
As woe and wonder be them amonge!
Ffull much was there traitorye
The wrought the Erle of Northumberland.

3
When they were att the supp_er_ sett,
Beffore many goodly gentlemen,
The ffell a fflouting and mocking both,
And said to the Erle of Northumberland:

4
‘What makes you be soe sad, my lord,
And in yo_u_r mind soe sorrowffullye?
In the north of Scottland to-morrow there’s a shooting,
And thither thou’st goe, my Lo_rd_ Percye.

5
‘The buttes are sett, and the shooting is made,
And there is like to be great royaltye,
And I am sworne into my bill
Thither to bring my Lord Pearcy.’

6
‘I’le giue thee my hand, Douglas,’ he sayes,
‘And be the faith in my bodye,
If _tha_t thou wilt ryde to the worlds end,
I’le ryde in thy companye.’

7
And then bespake the good ladye,
Marry a Douglas was her name:
‘You shall byde here, good English lo_rd_;
My brother is a traiterous man.

8
‘He is a traitor stout and stronge,
As I’st tell you the veretye;
For he hath tane liuerance of the Erle,
And into England he will liuor thee.’

9
‘Now hold thy tounge, thou goodlye ladye,
And let all this talking bee;
Ffor all the gold _tha_t’s in Loug Leuen,
William wold not liuor mee.

10
‘It wold breake truce betweene England and Scottland,
And freinds againe they wold neu_er_ bee,
If he shold liuor a bani[s]ht erle,
Was driuen out of his owne countrye.’

11
‘Hold yo_u_r tounge, my lo_rd_,’ shee sayes,
‘There is much ffalsehood them amonge;
When you are dead, then they are done,
Soone they will part them freinds againe.

12
‘If you will giue me any trust, my lord,
I’le tell you how you best may bee;
You’st lett my brother ryde his wayes,
And tell those English lords, trulye,

13
‘How _tha_t you cannot w_i_th them ryde,
Because you are in an ile of the sea;
Then, ere my brother come againe,
To Edenborrow castle I’le carry thee.

14
‘I’le liuor you vnto the Lo_rd_ Hume,
And you know a trew Scothe lo_rd_ is hee,
For he hath lost both land and goods
In ayding of yo_u_r good bodye,’

15
‘Marry, I am woe, woman,’ he sayes,
‘_Tha_t any freind fares worse for mee;
For where one saith it is a true tale,
Then two will say it is a lye.

16
‘When I was att home in my [realme],
Amonge my tennants all trulye,
In my time of losse, wherin my need stoode,
They came to ayd me honestlye.

17
‘Therfore I left a many a child ffatherlese,
And many a widdow to looke wanne;
And therfore blame nothing, ladye,
But the woeffull warres w_hi_ch I began.’

18
‘If you will giue me noe trust, my lo_rd_,
Nor noe credence you will give mee,
And you’le come hither to my right hand,
Indeed, my lorid, I’le lett you see.’

19
Saies, I neuer loued noe witchcraft,
Nor neu_er_ dealt w_i_th treacherye,
But euermore held the hye way;
Alas, _tha_t may be seene by mee!

20
‘If you will not come yo_u_r selfe, my lo_rd_,
You’le lett yo_u_r chamberlaine goe w_i_th mee,
Three words _tha_t I may to him speake,
And soone he shall come againe to thee.’

21
When Iames Swynard came _tha_t lady before,
Shee let him see thorrow the weme of her ring
How many there was of English lords
To wayte there for his m_aster_ and him.

22
‘But who beene yonder, my good ladye,
_Tha_t walkes soe royallye on yonder greene?’
‘Yonder is Lo_rd_ Hunsden, Iamye,’ she saye[d],
‘Alas, hee’le doe you both tree and teene!’

23
‘And who beene yonder, thou gay ladye,
_Tha_t walkes soe royallye him beside?’
‘Yond is S_i_r W_illia_m Drurye, Iamy,’ shee sayd,
‘And a keene capt_ain_ hee is, and tryde.’

24
‘How many miles is itt, thou good ladye,
Betwixt yond English lord and mee?’
‘Marry, thrise fifty mile, Iamy,’ shee sayd,
‘And euen to seale and by the sea.

25
‘I neu_er_ was on English ground,
Nor neu_er_ see itt w_i_th mine eye,
But as my witt and wisedome serues,
And as [the] booke it telleth mee.

26
‘My mother, shee was a witch woman,
And p_ar_t of itt shee learned mee;
Shee wold let me see out of Lough Leuen
What they dyd in London cytye.’

27
‘But who is yonde, thou good laydye,
_Tha_t comes yonder w_i_th an osterne fface?’
‘Yond’s S_i_r Iohn Forster, Ia_m_ye,’ shee sayd;
‘Methinkes thou sholdest better know him then I.’
‘Euen soe I doe, my goodlye ladye,
And eu_er_ alas, soe woe am I!’

28
He pulled his hatt ouer his eyes,
And, Lord, he wept soe tenderlye!
He is gone to his m_aster_ againe,
And euen to tell him the veretye.

29
‘Now hast thou beene w_i_th Marry, Iamy,’ he sayd,
‘Euen as thy tounge will tell to mee;
But if thou trust in any womans words,
Thou must refraine good companye.’

30
‘It is noe words, my lord,’ he sayes;
‘Yonder the men shee letts me see,
How many English lords there is
Is wayting there for you and mee.

31
‘Yonder I see the Lo_rd_ Hunsden,
And hee and you is of the third degree;
A greater enemye, indeed, my Lord,
In England none haue yee.’

32
‘And I haue beene in Lough Leven
The most p_ar_t of these yeeres three:
Yett had I neuer noe out-rake,
Nor good games _tha_t I cold see.

33
‘And I am thus bidden to yonder shooting
By William Douglas all trulye;
Therfore speake neu_er_ a word out of thy mouth
That thou thinkes will hinder mee.’

34
Then he writhe the gold ring of his ffingar
And gaue itt to _tha_t ladye gay;
Sayes, _Tha_t was a legacye left vnto mee
In Harley woods where I cold bee.

35
‘Then ffarewell hart, and farewell hand,
And ffarwell all good companye!
_Tha_t woman shall neuer beare a sonne
Shall know soe much of yo_u_r priuitye.’

36
‘Now hold thy tounge, ladye,’ hee sayde,
‘And make not all this dole for mee,
For I may well drinke, but I’st neu_er_ eate,
Till againe in Lough Leuen I bee.’

37
He tooke his boate att the Lough Leuen,
For to sayle now ou_er_ the sea,
And he hath cast vpp a siluer wand,
Saies, Fare thou well, my good ladye!
The ladye looked ouer her left sholder;
In a dead swoone there fell shee.

38
‘Goe backe againe, Douglas!’ he sayd,
‘And I will goe in thy companye,
For sudden sicknesse yonder lady has tane,
And euer, alas, shee will but dye!

39
‘If ought come to yonder ladye but good,
Then blamed sore _tha_t I shall bee,
Because a banished man I am,
And driuen out of my owne countrye.’

40
‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes,
‘And lett all such talking bee;
There’s ladyes enow in Lough Leuen
And for to cheere yonder gay ladye.’

41
‘And you will not goe yo_u_r selfe, my lord,
You will lett my chamberlaine go w_i_th mee;
Wee shall now take our boate againe,
And soone wee shall ou_er_take thee.’

42
‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes,
‘And lett now all this talking bee;
Ffor my sister is craftye enoughe
For to beguile thousands such as you and mee.’

43
When they had sayled fifty myle,
Now fifty mile vpon the sea,
Hee had fforgotten a message _tha_t hee
Shold doe in Lough Leuen trulye:
Hee asked, how ffarr it was to _tha_t shooting
_Tha_t W_illia_m Douglas p_ro_mised mee.

44
‘Now faire words makes fooles faine,
And _tha_t may be seene by thy m_aster_ and thee;
Ffor you may happen think itt soone enoughe
When-eu_er_ you _tha_t shooting see.’

45
Iamye pulled his hatt now ou_er_ his browe,
I wott the teares fell in his eye;
And he is to his m_aster_ againe,
And ffor to tell him the veretye.

46
‘He sayes fayre words makes fooles faine,
And _tha_t may be seene by you and mee,
Ffor wee may happen thinke itt soone enoughe
When-eu_er_ wee _tha_t shooting see.

47
‘Hold vpp thy head, Iamye,’ the erle sayd,
‘And neu_er_ lett thy hart fayle thee;
He did itt but to proue thee w_i_t_h_,
And see how thow wold take w_i_th death trulye.’

48
When they had sayled other fifty mile,
Other fifty mile vpon the sea,
Lo_rd_ Peercy called to him, himselfe,
And sayd, Douglas, what wilt thou doe w_i_th mee?

49
‘Looke _tha_t yo_u_r brydle be wight, my lord,
_Tha_t you may goe as a shipp att sea;
Looke _tha_t yo_u_r spurres be bright and sharpe,
_Tha_t you may pricke her while shee’le awaye.’

50
‘What needeth this, Douglas,’ he sayth,
‘_Tha_t thou needest to ffloute mee?
For I was counted a horsseman good
Before _tha_t eu_er_ I mett w_i_th thee.

51
‘A ffalse Hector hath my horsse,
And eu_er_ an euill death may hee dye!
And Willye Armestronge hath my spurres
And all the geere belongs to mee.’

52
When the had sayled other fifty mile,
Other fifty mile vpon the sea,
The landed low by Barwicke-side;
A deputed lord landed Lo_rd_ Percye.

* * * * *

6^1. my Land.

15^4. 2.

16^1. _This line is partly pared away. Furnivall._

18^4. Lorid, _or_ Lou_e_rd; _or_ Lord, _with one stroke too many_.
_Furnivall._

20^3. 3.

22^1. ny _for_ my.

24^3. 3^{se} 50.

31^2. 3^d.

32^2. 3.

33^4. _Partly cut away by the binder. Furnivall._

43^{1,2}, 48^{1,2}, 52^{1,2}. 50.

52^4. land _for_ lord.

And _for_ & _throughout_.

* * * * *

_Variations of_ Percy’s Reliques, 1765, I, 258.

1–3. _Cf. the next ballad_, 1–3.
How long shall fortune faile me nowe,
And harrowe me with fear 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 dealt 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 courteouslie;
Sayd, 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 bannisht 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.

4^{3 4}.
To-morrow a shootinge will bee held
Among the lords of the North countrye.

5^1. sett, the shooting’s.

5^2. there will be.

6^1. hand, thou gentle Douglas: he sayes _wanting_.

6^2. And here by my true faith, quoth hee.

6^3. If thou: worldes.

6^4. I will.

7^1. bespake a lady faire.

8^2. As I tell you in privitie.

8^3. he has. hath, 1794.

8^4. Into England nowe to ‘liver.

9.
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.

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.

10^1. Tween England and Scotland ‘twold break truce. Betweene: it,
1794.

10^3. If they.

11, 12.
Alas! alas! my lord, she sayes,
Nowe mickle is their traitorìe;
Then let my brother ride his ways,
And tell those English lords from thee.

13^1. with him.

14–17.
‘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
Then thinke a Douglas can be false,
Or ever will his guest betray.’ he will, 1794.

18.
‘If you’ll give me no trust, my lord,
Nor unto mee no credence yield,
Yet step one moment here aside,
Ile showe you all your foes in field.’

19^{1,2}.
Lady, I never loved witchcraft,
Never dealt in privy wyle.

19^4. Of truth and honoure, free from guile.

20^1. If you’ll.

20^2. Yet send your chamberlaine with.

20^3. Let me but speak three words with him.

20^4. And he.

21^1. James Swynard with that lady went.

21^3. She showed him through.

21^3. many English lords there were.

21^4. Waiting for.

22^1. And who walkes yonder.

22^2. That walkes _wanting_.

22^3. O yonder is the lord Hunsdèn.

22^4. you drie and teene.

23^1. who beth.

23^2. so proudly.

23^3. That is: Iamy _wanting_.

23^4. And _wanting_.

24^1. itt, madàme.

24^2. lords.

24^{3,4}.
Marry, it is thrice fifty miles,
To sayl to them upon the sea.

25^2. Ne never sawe.

25^{3,4}.
But as my book it sheweth mee,
And through my ring I may descrye.

26^1. witch ladye.

26^2. And of her skille she.

27^1. thou lady faire.

27^2. That looketh with sic an.

27^{3,4}.
Yonder is Sir John Foster, quoth shee,
Alas! he’ll do ye sore disgrace.

27^{5,6} _wanting_.

28^1. downe over his browe.

28^2. And in his heart he was full woe. He wept; his heart he was
full of woe, 1794.

28^{3,4}.
And he is gone to his noble lord,
Those sorrowfull tidings him to show.

29.
Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd,
I may not believe that witch ladìe;
The Douglasses were ever true,
And they can neer prove false to mee.

30, 31 _wanting._

32^1. I have now in Lough-leven been.

32^3. And I have never had. Yett have I never had, 1794.

32^4. Ne no good.

33.
Therefore I’ll to yond shooting wend,
As to the Douglas I have hight;
Betide me weale, betide me woe,
He neer shall find my promise light.

34^1. He writhe a gold ring from.

34^2. that faire ladìe. that gay ladìe, 1794.

34^3. Sayes, It was all that I cold save.

35.
And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord?
Then farewell truth and honestìe!
And farewell heart, and farewell hand!
For never more I shall thee see.

36 _wanting._