When first we meet on the border-side."
Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,
We bore him down the
ladder lang;
At every
stride Red Rowan made,
I wot the Kinmont's airms playd clang!
"O mony a time," quo Kinmont Willie.
"I have
ridden horse baith wild and wood;
But a rougher beast than Red Rowan,
I ween my legs have neer bestrode.
"And mony a time," quo Kinmont Willie,
"I've pricked a horse out oure the furs;
But since the day I backed a steed
I nevir wore sic cumbrous spurs!"
We
scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank,
When a' the Carlisle bells were rung,
And a thousand men, in horse and foot,
Cam wi the keen Lord Scroope along.
Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water,
Even where it flowd frae bank to brim,
And he has plunged in wi a' his band,
And
safely swam them thro the stream.
He turned him on the other side,
And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he:
"If ye like na my visit in merry England,
In fair Scotland come visit me!"
All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,
He stood as still as rock of stane;
He
scarcely dared to trew his eyes,
When thro the water they had gane.
"He is either himsell a devil frae hell,
Or else his mother a witch maun be;
I wad na have
ridden that wan water
For a' the gowd in Christentie."
Ballad: Jamie Telfer
(Child, vol. vi. Early Edition.)
It fell about the Martinmas tyde,
When our Border steeds get corn and hay
The captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde,
And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey.
The first ae guide that they met wi',
It was high up Hardhaughswire;
The second guide that we met wi',
It was laigh down in Borthwick water.
"What
tidings, what
tidings, my
trusty guide?"
"Nae
tidings, nae
tidings, I hae to thee;
But, gin ye'll gae to the fair Dodhead,
Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see."
And whan they cam to the fair Dodhead,
Right
hastily they clam the peel;
They loosed the kye out, ane and a',
And ranshackled the house right weel.
Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair,
The tear aye rowing in his e'e;
He pled wi' the captain to hae his gear,
Or else revenged he wad be.
The captain turned him round and leugh;
Said - "Man, there's naething in thy house,
But ae auld sword without a sheath,
That hardly now wad fell a mouse!"
The sun was na up, but the moon was down,
It was the gryming o' a new fa'n snaw,
Jamie Telfer has run three myles a-foot,
Between the Dodhead and the Stobs's Ha'
And whan he cam to the fair tower yate,
He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,
Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot -
"Wha's this that brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be!
There's naething left at the fair Dodhead,
But a waefu' wife and bairnies three.
"Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha'.
For succour ye'se get nane frae me!
Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail,
For, man! ye ne'er paid money to me."
Jamie has turned him round about,
I wat the tear blinded his e'e -
"I'll ne'er pay mail to Elliot again,
And the fair Dodhead I'll never see!
"My hounds may a' rin masterless,
My hawks may fly frae tree to tree;
My lord may grip my
vassal lands,
For there again maun I never be."
He has turned him to the Tiviot side,
E'en as fast as he could drie,
Till he came to the Coultart Cleugh
And there he shouted baith loud and hie.
Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve -
"Wha's this that brings the fray to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
A harried man I trow I be.
"There's naething left in the fair Dodhead,
But a greeting wife and bairnies three,
And sax poor ca's stand in the sta',
A' routing loud for their minnie."
"Alack a wae!" quo' auld Jock Grieve,
"Alack! my heart is sair for thee!
For I was married on the elder sister,
And you on the youngest of a' the three."
Then he has ta'en out a bonny black,
Was right weel fed wi' corn and hay,
And he's set Jamie Telfer on his back,
To the Catslockhill to tak' the fray.
And whan he cam to the Catslockhill,
He shouted loud and weel cried he,
Till out and spak him William's Wat -
"O wha's this brings the fraye to me?"
"It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
A harried man I think I be!
The captain of Bewcastle has
driven my gear;
For God's sake rise, and succour me!"
"Alas for wae!" quo' William's Wat,
"Alack, for thee my heart is sair!
I never cam by the fair Dodhead,
That ever I fand thy basket bare."
He's set his twa sons on coal-black steeds,
Himsel' upon a
freckled gray,
And they are on wi, Jamie Telfer,
To Branksome Ha to tak the fray.
And whan they cam to Branksome Ha',
They shouted a' baith loud and hie,
Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch,
Said - "Wha's this brings the fray to me?
"It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be!
There's
nought left in the fair Dodhead,
But a greeting wife and bairnies three."
"Alack for wae!" quoth the gude auld lord,
"And ever my heart is wae for thee!
But fye gar cry on Willie, my son,
And see that he come to me speedilie!
"Gar warn the water, braid and wide,
Gar warn it soon and
hastily!
They that winna ride for Telfer's kye,
Let them never look in the face o' me!
"Warn Wat o' Harden, and his sons,
Wi' them will Borthwick water ride;
Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh,
And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside.
"Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire,
And warn the Currors o' the Lee;
As ye come down the Hermitage Slack,
Warn doughty Willie o' Gorrinbery."
The Scots they rade, the Scots they ran,
Sae starkly and sae steadilie!
And aye the ower-word o' the thrang,
Was - "Rise for Branksome readilie!"
The gear was
driven the Frostylee up,
Frae the Frostylee unto the plain,
Whan Willie has looked his men before,
And saw the kye right fast driving.
"Wha drives thir kye?" 'gan Willie say,
"To mak an outspeckle o' me?"
"It's I, the captain o' Bewcastle, Willie;
I winna layne my name for thee."
"O will ye let Telfer's kye gae back,
Or will ye do aught for regard o' me?
Or, by the faith o' my body," quo' Willie Scott,
"I se ware my dame's cauf's-skin on thee!"
"I winna let the kye gae back,
Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear,
But I will drive Jamie Telfer's kye,
In spite of every Scot that's here."
"Set on them, lads!" quo' Willie than,
"Fye, lads, set on them cruellie!
For ere they win to the Ritterford,
Mony a toom
saddle there sall be!
But Willie was
stricken ower the head,
And through the knapscap the sword has gane;
And Harden grat for very rage,
Whan Willie on the ground lay slain.
But he's ta'en aff his gude steel-cap,
And
thrice he's waved it in the air -
The Dinlay snaw was ne'er mair white,
Nor the lyart locks of Harden's hair.
"Revenge! revenge!" auld Wat 'gan cry;
"Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie!
We'll ne'er see Tiviotside again,
Or Willie's death revenged shall be."
O mony a horse ran masterless,
The splintered lances flew on hie;
But or they wan to the Kershope ford,
The Scots had
gotten the victory.
John o' Brigham there was slain,
And John o' Barlow, as I hear say;
And thirty mae o' the captain's men,
Lay bleeding on the grund that day.
The captain was run thro' the thick of the thigh -
And broken was his right leg bane;
If he had lived this hundred year,
He had never been loved by woman again.
"Hae back thy kye!" the captain said;
"Dear kye, I trow, to some they be!
For gin I suld live a hundred years,
There will ne'er fair lady smile on me."
Then word is gane to the captain's bride,
Even in the bower where that she lay,
That her lord was prisoner in enemy's land,
Since into Tividale he had led the way.
"I wad lourd have had a winding-sheet,
And helped to put it ower his head,