Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border Volume I Part 33

"Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh, And see it be by break o' day; And we will on to Conscouthart-green, For there, I think, we'll get our prey."

Then Hobbie n.o.ble has dreimt a dreim, In the Foulbogshiel, where that he lay; He dreimt his horse was aneath him shot, And he himself got hard away.

The c.o.c.ks could craw, the day could daw, And I wot sae even fell down the rain; Had Hobble na wakened at that time, In the Foulbogshiel he had been ta'en or slain.

"Awake, awake, my feres five!

I trow here makes a fu' ill day; Yet the worst cloak o' this company, I hope, shall cross the Waste this day."

Now Hobbie thought the gates were clear; But, ever alas! it was na sae: They were beset by cruel men and keen, That away brave Hobbie might na gae.

"Yet follow me, my feres five, And see ye kelp of me guid ray; And the worst cloak o' this company Even yet may cross the Waste this day."

But the land-serjeant's men came Hobbie before, The traitor Sim came Hobbie behin', So had n.o.ble been wight as Wallace was, Away, alas! he might na win.

Then Hobbie had but a laddie's sword; But he did mair than a laddie's deed; For that sword had clear'd Conscouthart green, Had it not broke o'er Jerswigham's head.

Then they hae ta'en brave Hobbie n.o.ble, Wi's ain bowstring they band him sae; But his gentle heart was ne'er sae sair, As when his ain five bound him on the brae.

They hae ta'en him on for west Carlisle; They asked him, if he kend the way?

Tho' much he thought, yet little he said; He knew the gate as weel as they.

They hae ta'en him up the Ricker-gate; The wives they cast their windows wide: And every wife to another can say, "That's the man loosed Jock o' the Side!"

"Fy on ye, women! why ca' ye me man?

For it's nae man that I'm used like; I am but like a forfoughen[183] hound, Has been fighting in a dirty syke."[184]

They hae had him up thro' Carlisle toun, And set him by the chimney fire; They gave brave n.o.ble a loaf to eat, And that was little his desire.

They gave him a wheaten loaf to eat, And after that a can of beer; And they a' cried, with one consent, "Eat, brave n.o.ble, and make gude cheir!

"Confess my lord's horse, Hobbie," they said, "And to-morrow in Carlisle thou's na die."

"How can I confess them," Hobbie says, "When I never saw them with my e'e?"

Then Hobbie has sworn a fu' great aith, Bi the day that he was gotten and born, He never had ony thing o' my lord's, That either eat him gra.s.s or corn.

"Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton!

For I think again I'll ne'er thee see: I wad hae betrayed nae lad alive, For a' the gowd o' Christentie.

"And fare thee weel, sweet Liddesdale!

Baith the hie land and the law; Keep ye weel frae the traitor Mains!

For goud and gear he'll sell ye a'.

"Yet wad I rather be ca'd Hobbie n.o.ble, In Carlisle, where he suffers for his fau't, Than I'd be ca'd the traitor Mains, That eats and drinks o' the meal and maut."

[Footnote 181: _Feres_--Companions.]

[Footnote 182: _Earl of Whitfield_--The editor does not know who is here meant.]

[Footnote 183: _Forfoughen_--Quite fatigued.]

[Footnote 184: _Syke_--Ditch.]

NOTES ON HOBBIE n.o.bLE.

_Aft has he driven our bluidhounds back_.--P. 234. v. 2.

"The russet blood-hound wont, near Annand's stream, "To trace the sly thief with avenging foot, "Close as an evil conscience still at hand."

Our ancient statutes inform us, that the blood-hound, or sluith-hound (so called from its quality of tracing the slot, or track, of men and animals), was early used in the pursuit and detection of marauders.

_Nullus perturbet, aut impediat canem tra.s.santem, aut homines tra.s.santes c.u.m ipso, ad sequendum latrones.--Regiam Majestatem_, Lib. 4tus, Cap. 32. And, so late as 1616, there was an order from the king's commissioners of the northern counties, that a certain number of slough-hounds should be maintained in every district of c.u.mberland, bordering upon Scotland. They were of great value, being sometimes sold for a hundred crowns. _Exposition of Bleau's Atlas, voce Nithsdale_. The breed of this sagacious animal, which could trace the human footstep with the most unerring accuracy, is now nearly extinct.

ARCHIE OF CA'FIELD.

It may perhaps be thought, that, from the near resemblance which this ballad bears to Kinmont Willie, and Jock o' the Side, the editor might have dispensed with inserting it in this collection. But, although the incidents in these three ballads are almost the same, yet there is considerable variety in the language; and each contains minute particulars, highly characteristic of border manners, which it is the object of this publication to ill.u.s.trate. Ca'field, or Calfield, is a place in Wauchopdale, belonging of old to the Armstrongs. In the account betwixt the English and Scottish marches, Jock and Geordie of Ca'field, there called Calfhill, are repeatedly marked as delinquents.--_History of Westmoreland and c.u.mberland_, Vol.

I. _Introduction_, p. 33. "_Mettled John Hall, from the laigh Tiviotdale_," is perhaps John Hall of Newbigging, mentioned in the list of border clans, as one of the chief men of name residing on the middle marches in 1597. The editor has been enabled to add several stanzas to this ballad, since publication of the first edition.

They were obtained from recitation; and, as they contrast the brutal indifference of the elder brother with the zeal and spirit of his a.s.sociates, they add considerably to the dramatic effect of the whole.

ARCHIE OF CA'FIELD.

As I was a walking mine alane, It was by the dawning of the day, I heard twa brithers make their mane, And I listened weel to what they did say.

The youngest to the eldest said, "Blythe and merrie how can we be?

There were three brithren of us born, And ane of us is condemned to die."

"An' ye wad be merrie, an' ye wad be sad, What the better wad billie Archie be?

Unless I had thirty men to mysell, And a' to ride in my c.u.mpanie.

"Ten to hald the horses' heads, And other ten the watch to be, And ten to break up the strong prison, Where billy[185] Archie he does lie."

Then up and spak him mettled John Hall, (The luve of Teviotdale aye was he) "An' I had eleven men to mysell, Its aye the twalt man I wad be."