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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 ^t^M peP^J^- 
 
 EDWARD HUNTER.
 
 POEMS 
 
 AND 
 
 LEGENDARY BALLADS. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 The verse adorn again, 
 
 Fierce War, and faithful Love, 
 And truth severe, 
 
 GIIAY. 
 
 ALNWICK: 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY J. GRAHAM, FENKLE-STREET, 
 And Sold hy him and other Booksellers. 
 
 1827.
 
 TO 
 
 PR. 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, 
 CHARLESj, 
 
 EARL GREY, 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 The respect and admiration I 
 feel, in common with the great mass of the British 
 People, for your Lordship's incorruptible Integrity 
 and genuine Patriotism, as a Statesman, and friend 
 of Civil and Religious Liberty, having long ago set- 
 tled into that reverence, which Virtue inspires, 
 render it unnecessary, even for a Poet in his first 
 Dedication, to extol a name, consecrated in the His- 
 tory of the Country as synonymous with every thing 
 that is noble, dignified, and amiable, in the public 
 and private character of life ! 
 
 It may be deemed, however, by many, the height 
 of presumption, in an obscure individual, — whose 
 pretensions to the propriety of giving a public opi- 
 nion are founded on a few Rhymes, which he has had 
 the vanity to publish, — to speak such language, — 
 but vanity, as has often been observed, and Poets 
 are inseparable. To have offered a silent Dedication 
 would have been unworthy of Ambition : — to say 
 more might throw a suspicion over the sincerity of the 
 heart, without which, the offering, however humble, 
 could not be acceptable. I have no learning. My 
 Lord, to grace the address with classical allusions. 
 I offer these trifles to your notice, on their merit 
 alone, embracing the privilege, Minstrels, in all ages. 
 
 857448
 
 IV DEDICATION. 
 
 have enjoyed, of seeking Patrons in the exalted cha- 
 racters of their Nation. 
 
 But Public opinion is the correct standard of all 
 human pretensions to excellence; and excellence in 
 Poetry is only by comparison. It is superfluous to 
 remind your Lordship, that the sketches of a student 
 in the art ought not to be tried by the severer rules 
 of criticism ; and I admit, with humility, that in the 
 prosecution of it, where great promise is not exhi- 
 bited, encourai2:emcnt ou^ht to be withheld. But to 
 challenge a hearing at the awful bar of the Public, 
 is in the choice of Genius, and can never be dis- 
 graceful, even although attended with failure. To 
 create a book of Poetry is no great achievement. 
 But your Lordship's goodness and condescension in 
 permitting me to grace the * first attemipt' with a 
 Name, which, the proudest Bard of the age would 
 be ])roud to acknowledge, is an honour beyond my 
 most sanguine expectation, and which, whatever be 
 the fate of the verses, will cheer that prospective 
 dependence which Fortune ever spreads on the path 
 of the ' lower orders' who become Pilgrims to Par- 
 nassus — after she has, by the fascination of the * Light 
 from Heaven,' enticed them on the perilous adven- 
 ture. 
 
 I liave tlie Honour to be. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Your Lordship's much obliged, 
 
 And most Humble Servant, 
 
 WHJJAM STUART.
 
 CONTENTS OF PART FIRST. 
 
 I. 
 
 II. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
 XI. 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 XX. 
 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 
 Edward St. Albine. A Romaunt. Canto I. 3 
 
 Hymn to Gratitude 23 
 
 Song, ' O'er cherish'd Love and Friendship dear' 30 
 Lumley Castle ; or. The Grave of Emma. A Ballad 33 
 Song, ' Blythe is the Sang that the Spring Lark is 
 
 singin', O' 44 
 
 Lines, ' To the Memory of Burns' 45 
 
 Song, ' In Leader's haughs sweet buds the Briar' 49 
 Ode, ' Flodden Field' 51 
 
 Song, ' Flowers of the Forest' 55 
 
 The Outlaws of Warkworth. A Ballad. 57 
 
 Song, * Sweet Coquet-side, Good-night' 74 
 
 Haydon Chace. A Fragment 77 
 
 Ode to Hope 86 
 
 Elegy in a Church-yard 88 
 
 A Sermon on Life 90 
 
 Battle of Hedgley Moor. A Ballad 98 
 
 Song, ' Hope follows each Season to drive awa' Care' 106 
 Song, ' I ha'e a Sweetheart that says she lo'es me' 107 
 Song, 'When Life's young dream with flowers was clad' 108 
 Song, ' The gowan and primrose were out on the lea' 109 
 Ode to the Evening Star 110 
 
 Song, ' Now Summer is wean'd from the bosom of 
 
 Spring' 112 
 
 The Weavers' Petition on the Corn Laws 113 
 
 Song, * In Summer when Hope, from her wild forest 
 
 grove' 125 
 
 Song, ' When on thy slumber stealing' 126 
 
 Creation. A Paraphrase of Genesis I. 127
 
 PREFACE 
 
 When the Critic first opens a new volume of Poems, he throws a 
 glance over the Title-page and table of Contents, and knows from 
 professional experience, by the peculiar structure of the mass, whe- 
 ther by submitting it to the wheel of Criticism, he can obtain any 
 portion, without a flaw, worthy of being set as an ornament of 
 taste. If the inspection is favourable, he next peruses the Preface, 
 to observe who the Author is, — what are his pretensions in life, — 
 and the extent of his expectations, on his getting admittance into 
 the Hall of Literature, and after having satisfied his curiosity, com- 
 mences his dissection for the good of the Public. 
 
 Impressed with a sense of the truth of this, after I had sent the 
 last MS. to the Press, and felt relieved, for the first time, during 
 two long months, from the horror and fear of the * Devil,'* who had 
 daily invaded the precincts of my humble dwelling, with the omi- 
 nous cry of ' more Copy,' a memento more awful than the warning 
 of Saladin. I sat down to write something that might entice the 
 Learned to peruse my lucubrations before they condemned them, 
 which, in provincial simplicity, I thought to be the easiest part of 
 my labours ; but what was the mortification, after numerous efforts, 
 to find, that to be a graceful egotist, — to propitiate the Reader,— 
 and deceive Criticism, in a few sentences, is, perhaps, one of the 
 most difficult tasks in the whole art of composition. 
 
 Truth, indeed, held up her Mirror of Reason, and shewed by 
 its reflection, that to be impressive and authoritative, without 
 learning,— concise and elegant without taste, — humble and artless 
 without affectation, are next to impossible, in a Poet. 
 
 * Typo-diabolus.— P/'wto's Devil.
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 I'rudence therefore suggested, tliat the better way would be to 
 offbf tlie following sketches to the Public, relying on notice being 
 taken of them if they were found worthy of it, and to return thanks 
 to the Subscribers and general Readers for a perusal, which is the 
 liest method to ascertain whether the compositions deserve en- 
 couragement.
 
 EDWARD ST. ALBINE ; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF GRATITUDE, 
 
 A ROMAUNT. 
 
 CANTO FIRST.
 
 tht: 
 
 PLEASURES OF GRATITUDE, 
 
 A ROMAUNT. 
 
 T. 
 
 O THOU ! whose doric lyre, so wild and sweet. 
 Hangs sacred o'er the Muse's willowed spring, 
 By Genius crown'd immortal ! is it meet, 
 The chord thou whilom struck, no more shall ring ^ 
 Shall Scotia's maidens now forget to sing 
 Thy Melodies, in Nature's artless flow ? 
 Shall native flow'rets wither on the string 
 Of Coila's fav'rite Bard, now mould'ring low. 
 Which taught the lover's strain with fire divine to 
 glow.
 
 THE PLEASURES 
 
 II. 
 
 When aged Spring, her progeny to bless. 
 Calls Love and Gratitude her throne around ; 
 And Health and Hope, in Summer's flow'ry dress, 
 Welcome fair May with beltane garland crown'd ; 
 Then, who shall dcfly blow the heavenly sound 
 That oft has thrill'd to Pleasure's inmost core : 
 When thy wild Harp, loved Bard ! Neglect has 
 
 bound. 
 Shall Saxon measures boast the wreathe it wore — 
 But not till ilicji thv sono shall cease on Scotia's shore. 
 
 m O 
 
 HI. 
 
 When modest Summer roams tlie fragrant wild, 
 To pull the firstling rose-bud from the briar ; 
 And deck her breast with Love's fair emblem child. 
 And kiss from off its bloom the morning's tear ; 
 How sweet the shepherd's liaulboy, soft and clear. 
 Awakens Echo ; low in Yarrow's dell ! 
 Enraptured still ! she, lingering, stops to hear 
 Thy song; though all unclassic, rude, the spell 
 Was never sweeter heard in Learning's gloomy cell.
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 5 
 
 IV 
 
 See mellow Autumn, busy 'midst her spoil. 
 Health in her cheek, and Pleasure in her eye ! 
 Labour is led a captive by her smile ; 
 From rig to rig the laugh and banter fly ; 
 Her soul inspired by Plenty beams with joy ; 
 Life's currents dance with youth's extatic glow. 
 To Home returned, she throws her single by, 
 x\nd hastes to revelry in barns arow. 
 Toil springs up light of heart when music draws her 
 bow. 
 
 V. 
 
 But chief when Winter steers his social bowl, 
 And round flies wit divine on wing of fire; 
 When social Friendship opens out the soul. 
 What sweeter melody would ye aspire. 
 Than that which chastely fetters young Desire, 
 Waken'd to life by light of woman's e'e ? 
 O then, should Beauty wale from Scotia's quire. 
 In vain may snow's deep drift and tempests flee, 
 When rises sweetly wild thy song of love and lea.
 
 THE PLEASURES 
 
 VT. 
 
 Ah me ! unknown, alas ! and poor and rude, 
 To strike with daring hand the sacred string t 
 And yet, 'tis but a throb of Gratitude 
 The humble Minstrel now essays to sing. 
 When peeps the little hare-bell forth on Spring, 
 Hard would he be who'd crush the simple flower 
 Just opening out its blossom. — Many a wing 
 Beside the eagle's Nature prompts to soar ! — 
 Wliat Bard, though strong his flight, can Nature's 
 realms explore. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The mountain torrent through lowglensmust glide; 
 The hart on hill regain his native lair ; 
 The lordly eagle, towering in his pride. 
 Must stoop to lowest earth his prey to bear; 
 So poortith's sons tlie Muse's garb who wear, — 
 Shut out, alas ! from Learning's lioly fane, — 
 Must grub wild freedom's haunts for humbler fare, 
 And bravely dree the weird as fates ordain. 
 And drudge and moil, through life, in penury and 
 pain.
 
 or GRATITUDE. 
 
 viri. 
 
 But ye, whose hearts a brother-feeling share ! 
 Souls wrapt in song, though cored in vulgar clay, 
 Doom'd the vain worlding's scoff and scorn to bear. 
 Perhaps the social tax on sin to pay, 
 Hight labour ! as ye plod through life's short day. 
 Be Independence still your beacon star ! 
 Let Pride go by, let Fashion glitter gay, — 
 Pomp's not ay happiest in her splendid car, — 
 The honest heart, though poor, I ween, is better far. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Though deep's the hatred shewn the low-born 
 
 wight, 
 Who strives, in Envy's spite, nor fears his fate. 
 But rises o'er the crowd by " heavenly light." 
 That wight, if worthy such, should scorn such hate. 
 Slander, with Envy, still will generate. 
 And Falsehood's progeny in swarms uprear : 
 Truth scorns them all, — sink World, — Hope, — 
 
 Fame, elate ! 
 Withouten pride who'd dare ambition's sphere ? 
 Who runs a course of wit should tilt with honour's 
 
 spear.
 
 8 THE PLEASURES 
 
 X. 
 
 Happy the JNIan, who basks in sacred light, 
 Whom Fortune crowns with Mammon's golden 
 
 wreathe : 
 The rich, — the great, — tlio learned, — tlie critic wit. 
 Smile on his labours, smootli his pilgrim path. 
 And fill o'erflowing cup. But he who hath 
 Once tasted poortith's draught, hath swallow'd woe, 
 Howe'er endow'd. Want dogs his heel till death. 
 In vain the meteor blaze, — the heavenly glow ; — 
 For Genius, Learning weeps ; — but not till cold and 
 
 low. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Life's but a fever'd dream, — where Virtue, Crime, 
 Hate, Jealousy, Revenge, Love, Hope, Despair, 
 Ambition, Glory, Greatness, Tliought sublime. 
 Are diblied up in the banquet-room of Care. 
 Each, as he wills, may wisely choose tlie share 
 That, conscience whispers, feeds the soul divine. 
 The Fool may choose to sty in Slavery's lair : 
 But wliat avails it? Death will cut his line. 
 Unfitted to behold the sun of Freedom shine.
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Well ! — be it so. Let meanness clothe her soul f"^ 
 
 With smile's, and cheat on till death scorns the cheat. '^^ 
 Let 'new born gauds,' the multitude controul : 
 It has been — ay, and shall be, till the set 
 Of Time's great dance breaks up, — but I forget 
 
 My little boat floats on opinion's sea, "^ 
 
 Driven from the shore, like him who pays the debt ^ 
 
 Nature demands, urged on by destiny ^ 
 
 To win Hope's heavenly coast at last ! or nothing be. *^ 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The * Love of Fame' so deeply fills the mind. 
 That genius, once iUumin'd, scorns controul ; 
 Like fire in ^Etna's bosom, long confin'd, 
 It bursts to life. The world's dread laugh may roll 
 In vain. What bound can keep the glowing soul ? 
 The sacred spark. Heaven lights on Earth, must 
 
 shine ! 
 But when— how—where! it matters not,— the whole 
 Creation is a mystery divine : 
 And time's the test of Truth — and Gratitude of time.
 
 10 THE PLEASURES 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Life's deepest riddle is the proud Divine 
 Of earthly -wisdom, nibbling at the bait — 
 Even at God's Altar — trim'd on falsehood's line. 
 Life's bitterest draught is that unmeasured hate 
 Which vile Ingratitude secure, elate, 
 Throws back the Patriot in retirement's bowers. 
 Life's greatest folly is, for Bards t' inflate 
 Language which Time before their eyes devours. 
 After the world has scorn'd them — as bees wither'd 
 flowers. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Butdcem not, Ye! bright gilt with learning's beams, 
 The doric sphere to beauty ne'er gave birth. 
 Within the rural hamlet. Nature teems 
 W^ith wisdom, virtue, courage, honest worth ! 
 The Palace oft has brought a villain forth ; 
 The Porch in Slavery's realm has foremost shone. 
 While all unheeded, low, the Cotter's hearth 
 Has reared in Freedom many a gallant son. 
 And forms of loveliness that Grace herself might own.
 
 OF GRATITUDE. H 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Ye children of the Great ! — ye highly born, 
 Or nobly bred — or nursed and trained by pride ; 
 Ah ! never look on humbler clay with scorn. 
 Nor the rough-cast of vulgar life deride. 
 Lo ! in yon cottage, by the greenwood side, 
 Whose white smoke hangs so lovely in the vale, 
 As if it meant in Virtue's sphere to bide. 
 On labour's cheek I've seen the tear prevail 
 At sufferings of the rich ! — in Revolution's tale. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Forgive the Bard, if ere his humble Lay 
 In knightly hall or gilded doom should sound ; 
 Who sends a pilgrim o er the world to stray. 
 Led by the charms of Gratitude, and bound 
 By Minstrel's vow. Not his the will to wound 
 Fame — Feeling — aught that mortals cherish here. 
 His is the path, where Fancy strews around 
 Hope's flowers, to deck the lyre he loves to bear. 
 And sound that lyre to love, romance, devotion dear.
 
 12 THE PLEASURES 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 On old Nortluimbria's rock-bound dreary coast, 
 Where gentle * * * * joins her parent tide, 
 Stands ******** on the headland, like the ghost 
 Of Solitude ! There hate, or bankrupt pride, 
 Frowning on a lost world, might long reside, 
 With few to * probe their better day' by stealth ; 
 There vanity, purse-sick, awhile may hide 
 Her meanness ; rail at pride, and pomp, and wealth; 
 And still maintain her caste by pleading want — of 
 health. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Whether dame Prudence, beating wisdom's road, 
 Had stumbled on this village unaware. 
 It little recks ; but once to this abode. 
 She brought a Stranger from the ^\■orld of care, 
 And seated him in nine days' wonder's chair; 
 And to incurious eye his form displayed ; 
 Polished his manner, and genteel his air. 
 Interest his virtues soon in light arrayed ; 
 Great store of gold had he ; and generous all he paid.
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 18 
 
 XX. 
 
 He brought with him a son, a lovely boy, 
 Too young to know if on its cheek, so fair. 
 The drop of sweet unutterable joy, 
 From mother's heart, had ever fallen there. 
 For now a homely nurse supplied the care 
 A mother only knows. But she supplied 
 Nature's first wants. The ' Bird alane' she bare. 
 Him the fond father oft with sadness eyed. 
 And oft would turn away, a tear, or sigh, to hide. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 AVho was the stranger ? What his pedigree ? 
 Kindred and Fortune ? Scandal burn'd to know. 
 His language told him of the North Countre : 
 His name St. Albine ! Worth had stampt a glow 
 Of conscious independence on his brow. 
 Which, sentinel'd by Pride, threw back the gaze 
 That loved to scan, if Fortune's pen of woe 
 Had written ' Poverty' upon his face, 
 And sent him from high life to such a lonely place.
 
 1-i THE PLEASURES 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But time and tide roll on. St. Albine's pride 
 Was cent'red in his offspring, Edward, hight. 
 He was to him a father, teacher, guide, — 
 Training youth's flower to turn to Honour's light ; 
 To bud and blossom fair in Virtue's sight ; 
 Fixing each moral principle of thought ; 
 Revealing Man's creation — fall — and right 
 Of Heaven, through Him, whose blood salvation 
 bought : — 
 Fair spreads the tree of Life that springs from Wis- 
 dom's root. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 But time and tide roll on, and will not stay ; 
 And Edward grew to man's estate apace. 
 Like other youths, Enthusiast in spring's day. 
 He long'd to start in Life's ambitious race. 
 Health now had set her seal upon his face. 
 Which strangers oft would stop awhile to scan : 
 And old St. Albine, sometimes too, would trace 
 His bud of youth again bloom into man ! 
 And then some happy scheme of life for Edward plan !
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 15 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Ah ! Time and Tide no human license crave : 
 Roll Day, Month, Year ; Fate still her web 's re- 
 newing, 
 Sinking frail wrecks of life into the Grave : 
 Or o'er this fleeting world fresh flow'rets strewing ; 
 Garlands, which deathless Hope is ever throwing 
 Round Love, to guide him in his mazes blind ; 
 While She, relentless, still goes on pursuing 
 The will of Him ! whose everlasting mind 
 Upholds and governs all in realms of space confin'd ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But who can Fate at all on earth controul ! 
 When Hope blooms in affection's inmost core, 
 Joy's fruit soon forms and ripens in the soul. 
 It grew in Edward's heart. He felt Love's power 
 Resistless steal upon him ; more and more 
 It bloom'd withouten art, or fraud, or guile. 
 Desire so lov'd and guarded the fair flower. 
 In vain he struggled to break through her toil. 
 The more he tried, she bound him firmer in her coil.
 
 16 THE PLEASURES 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 O Love ! Earth's sceptre thou wast born to wield ! 
 Save thee, sliall never prince that right enjoy. 
 Pure is thy heart, as flower in summer field ; 
 Budding and blooming'neathheaven'sguardian eye; 
 Who would not at thine altar bow the knee, 
 To prosper in thy blessing ! — Care may blight 
 Life's fairest bud ; but oh ! inspir'd by thee. 
 Who dreams of woe ! Before thy presence bright, 
 Hope, like May morning comes, breathing delight ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The maid that won St. Albino's youthful heart 
 Was made a wonder even for Beauty's queen 
 To gaze and wonder at. Earth, Ocean, Art, 
 Imagination — all that Poets feign. 
 Ne'er imaged such a form ! It was a screen. 
 Through wiiich the graces of a Heavenly mind 
 Shone lovely ! Loveliest still on earth, I ween, 
 Is she, a tender mother has refined 
 By true Religion's charms — to love all human kind.
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 17 
 
 XXVI H. 
 
 But she was in ' low life,' and Edward's sire, 
 Grew dark and sullen, as the midnight steep ; 
 He reason'd not, nor raged, nor shewed his ire, 
 But hid the secret in his bosom, deep. 
 Thoughts now of nobler life began to creep 
 Like ivy round his heart ; now all the past 
 Flashed o'er his soul, like him who starts from sleep. 
 And shakes off a wild dream. The die is cast ! — 
 His bark again must drive before dame Fortune's blast. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 What was the world's opinion, troubled not: 
 He calmly heard it and withheld his own, 
 Sold off his household gear — gave up his cot, 
 And orders gave to leave the lonely Town. 
 None knew, for none inquired, where he wasboun*: 
 Not even young Edward, with imploring tear. 
 Aught learn'd. — His will was law ; his word alone. 
 Sacred. — All Edward knew, the day was near. 
 When he should bid farewell to scenes of youth so 
 deal'. 
 
 D
 
 18 THE PLEASURES 
 
 XXX. 
 
 It was upon a lovely summer's eve. 
 Such as in fairy-land the Minstrels feign, 
 That Edward went to take a farewell leave 
 Of her, he ne'er might see, on earth again. 
 But who can paint the lover's parting scene : 
 Th' unalterable vow, the heart's hot tear ; 
 The bitter agony of mental pain ; 
 The long last fond embrace, the oath sincere ; 
 Ah ! none but passionate hearts can feel as lovers dear ' 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Where Brislee's beetling Tower looks o'er the vale, 
 St. Albinc lean'd him on the * lang stane' cross, 
 Set up in yore, a monumental tale 
 Of battle-field, or warrior-chieftain's loss : 
 Both perished ! — " And is Fame, then, but a gloss," 
 He said, — " this shaft, so simple, could not save ? 
 ,* Like morning's beams, that o'er yon ocean pass ! 
 And oh ! as fleeting as its faithless wave 
 Art thou ' * immortal Fame' ! for Time itself 's thy 
 grave."
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 19 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 If sicken thought ere crossed his ardent mind, 
 As now he hecht in foreign climes to stray, 
 It recks not ; free as Cheviot's mountain wind. 
 His guileless heart was honest as the day ; 
 But when he gazed where, in the north-west lay 
 Fair Scotland's hills, retiring in the blue 
 Bright zone of Heav'n, perhaps a tear did stray 
 Adown his blooming cheek ; for Edward knew 
 His mother lived — although, her smile he never knew. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Now, ere he bade a long and last good-night 
 To bold Northumbria's fields of pride or shame, 
 He tuned his harp, I trow as well 's he might. 
 To give his wayward pilgrimage a name ; 
 For meikle he had learned of Minstrel fame, 
 From that wild lyre o'er Fillan's willow hung. 
 O ! that the dreary ceaseless tide of time 
 Should e'er have wreck'd the Bard who fondly rung 
 His harp in hall of pride, and Border garlands sung.
 
 20 TH^ 
 
 PLEASURES 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But deem not, ne within old Honour's hall. 
 Did Nobless worthy eilden day reside ! 
 Hearts that still throb aright at Virtue's call, 
 And warm in minstrel lore ! — INIay noble j)ride 
 With condescension ever be allied ; 
 Where Gratitude sweet flow'rets loves to strew : 
 'Tis thus the social band of life is tied; 
 'Tis thus respect prevails among the crew, 
 That man. Earth's floating ship, Time's voyage to 
 pursue. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 And Edward scanned each loved scene o'er and o'er, 
 That placid lay around him : still his eye 
 Rested upon the Cottage in the Moor, 
 Where now reposed his hope — his life, and joy : 
 He marked its white smoke lov'lier wreathe on 
 
 high ; 
 He heard the bandog's ' honest bark' below ; 
 He loved them for they rose where she was nigh; 
 Then seized his harp with all a Minstrel's glow. 
 And waked this idle song of love to soothe his woe.
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 21 
 
 THE COTTAGE ON THE MOOR. 
 
 1. 
 
 " When on the rose-bud moist wi* dew, 
 
 That blooms so bonnie on the briar, 
 I gaze, oh, then ! I think of you. 
 And wish your rosy lip was there ; 
 Then I would prove there's not a flow'r 
 So sweetly buds in greenwood bower. 
 
 2. 
 
 " When night, on Flora's bosom dear, 
 
 Her tear of parting love has shed ! 
 How pure the gem in morning, clear. 
 Thrills glitt'ring on the modest blade ; 
 But O ! when beams thine eye of love. 
 Where is the diamond of the grove ! 
 
 3. 
 
 " Green Cheviot oft, by virgin Spring, 
 
 Is veil'd with April's wreath of snow. 
 Still to each native height will cling 
 The early flower of crimson glow : 
 But purer 'neath thy bosom's veil. 
 On hills of snow Hope's blossoms smile.
 
 22 THE PLEASURES 
 
 4. 
 
 *' How sweet the mavis sings her joys, 
 
 Ere Gloamin' westward speeds her flight ; 
 But sweeter far my true love's voice ! 
 It sounds like music of the night, 
 When angels come, of Heavenly birth, 
 Breathing their melodies on earth ! 
 
 5. 
 
 " O, fare thee well ! my only love ! 
 
 A long adieu to joy and thee ; 
 Be witness, sacred powers above ! 
 My vows shall true and faithful be 
 Till life's last throbbing pulse is o'er. 
 Farewell ! thou Cottage on the Moor."
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 2 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 ci 
 
 Earth lay below him fair in Gloamin's reign ; 
 Heaven smiled above him, pure as pm'e can be; 
 Then Gratitude awoke the Minstrel's strain ! 
 His mind was pious — and his heart was free : 
 For now the planets 'gan to blaze on high. 
 And love, and wonder, o'er his reason stole. 
 Ah ! who ere mused upon that World, which He, 
 The God of all has made; nor felt his soul 
 A part, a humble part, of that mysterious whole. 
 
 HYMN TO GRATITUDE. 
 
 1. 
 
 " Hail, meek-eyed Gratitude! in heaven first born ! 
 On this fair earth O where mav'st thou be found ? 
 Or on the breezy hill to breath the morn ; 
 Or in the vale by hawthorn blossom crown'd, 
 List'ning the streamlets wimpling, gushing sound. 
 Sweetest when Gloamin' hymns her evening strain ; 
 Or pensive led, — where Ocean's billows, bound 
 By nature's bulwarks, foaming, rage in vain, — 
 Thou eye'st the labouring ship brave the wild storm 
 again !
 
 24 THE PLEASURES 
 
 2. 
 
 " 'Tis not where, on the silent mountain's side, 
 We view the kmdskip stretching far below ; 
 The cloud fleet, sailing on the welkin tide. 
 Where listeth zephyr's gentlest breath to blow ; 
 The distant forest ting'd with golden glow ; 
 Rich field, and tufted brake, and bank between ; 
 The silv'ry mist that turbans Cheviot's brow ; 
 The river's azure belt that binds the scene, 
 Throwing a contrast rich to earth's refreshing green. 
 
 3. 
 
 " 'Tis not where holy contcmphition strays. 
 When wakes the breeze of evening in the dale. 
 And with a mother's tenderness surveys 
 The gentle violet woo the balmy gale ; 
 The glancing trout his insect prey assail, 
 Scatt'ring the mimic mirror world below ; 
 The murm'ring pine grove, luU'd by cushat's wail ; 
 Or by the river's margin, lingering, slow, 
 Forget so fair a world is doom'd to care and 'Woe.
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 25 
 
 4. 
 
 (( 
 
 'Tis not by mighty ocean's boundless tide, 
 Rolling past human ken, — immense ! sublime ! — 
 'Tis not by mead or mountain, fell or flood. 
 Thou, Gratitude ! shalt mark the scope of time ! 
 Thy home on earth's the mind — the moral clime 
 Where mercy's sunshine, all who will, may share. 
 O led by thee ! still let us kneel to Him 
 Whose mighty power, night's clust'ring worlds 
 declare. 
 Whose name the contrite heart adores in silent prayer. 
 
 5. 
 
 " And yet, to leave the busy haunts of life. 
 And muse on scenes like this, so fair and sweet ; 
 To shun awhile the din of vulgar strife. 
 And roam, where day and night so loving meet. 
 May teach, that nature's works are all complete, 
 Design'd and govern'd in perfection's sphere ; 
 That poverty, though doom'd to lowly cot. 
 In virtue's paths may moral beings rear. 
 Worthy, in sight of heaven, the crown of life to wear !" 
 
 E
 
 26 THE PLEASURES 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Ceased his wild measure, — in tliat lovely scene, 
 Wood, breeze, and stream, how placid, calm, and 
 
 pure, 
 And not a sound invades Night's gentle reign, 
 Save the wild cushat, wailing in her bower : 
 There breathed a balmy freshness on each flower, 
 Which day, with all his glory, could not give ; 
 There was a holy feeling in the hour. 
 That whisper'd, Man must pass away, to live 
 In Heaven's immortal sphere! and nature's wreck 
 survive. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Throbs there a heart but gladdens at the truth 
 Revealed ! unto the poor the Gospel's given ! 
 No idle legend this of Minstrel growth. 
 It stands a record in the book of Heaven, 
 And blessed are they, by true repentance driven. 
 To shelter 'neath salvation's holy wing ; 
 To drink, without a price, the waters living. 
 Around whose margin blooms eternal Spring, 
 Where Charity and Love their sacred anthems sing !
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 27 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Now, slowly blend, wild wood, and ruin grey, 
 In Night : — Now vanish distant tower and tree ! 
 Each little bird is silent on the spray. 
 Till Day returning opes his gate of joy ; 
 Each flow'ret folds its blossom o'er its eye. 
 Save where some fairy holds a revel bright ; 
 The ship has vanish'd from the dark blue sea. 
 Far murmuring heard. Fair on the brow of Night 
 Shines out the Evening star, so dear to lover's sight 
 
 XL. 
 
 And homeward, 'neath its beam, St. Albine hies : 
 He now was happy, for he was beloved. 
 And loved the fairest form beneath the skies. 
 His vow was plighted and her truth was proved, 
 At least to him — though soon to be removed 
 From where life only could true bliss afford, — 
 His father*s peace was staked ! — Ah ! though it 
 
 grieved 
 Him now to part, that father he adored : 
 For Edward's heart was bound by duty's stronger cord.
 
 28 THE PLEASURES 
 
 XLI. 
 
 He passed wliere Filberthaugh's seqiiester'd bowers 
 Slept in the arms of night. He saw, on high, 
 The Percy's ancient Norman Gothic towers 
 Shoot their bold warlike pinnets to the sky : 
 Then o'er the Cowslip Hills, with curious eye. 
 He passed, where many a Fairy raid has been. 
 What time, when in the moonlight revelry 
 In circling bands they danced upon the green, 
 And paid thek kane to hell, to reign on earth, I ween. 
 
 XLH. 
 
 Now in the east, the Goddess of the night 
 Lighted her silver lamp, to view the world ! 
 Around her ample brow, so fair and bright, 
 A fleecy cloud in shining ringlets curl'd. 
 Like a white sail, alar at sea, unfurl'd, 
 Lov'lier in loneliness, — and the deep blue 
 (Jf Heaven 'gan to grow pale, as if it quarrel'd 
 With beaming Star and Planet, that shone through. 
 And almost hid the Earth fVoni Luna's jealous view.
 
 OF GRATITUDE. 29 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 O ! in the silent, solemn midnight hour. 
 Who has not gazed on such a peaceful scene ! 
 When the Earth sleeps, and spirits have a power 
 To visit sphere of early love again ! 
 When Silence, cloud-enthroned, delights to reign. 
 And muse on that bright universe, around. 
 Infinite and perfect all ! but cease loved strain. 
 Too awful is that theme for Bard to sound, 
 Whom, coil of mortal clay still to the Earth has 
 bound. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Where, mocking time, old Ratcheugh rears her 
 
 crest, 
 St. Albine turned and once more bade adieu ! 
 And bless'd whate'er on earth could make him blest. 
 And vow'd, once more, his truth to her so true ; 
 And then, his hand across his Lyre he drew, — 
 A parting song he'd venture for her sake, — 
 While all around Old Ratcheugh's fairy crew 
 Lay list'ning in the neighb'ring moonlit brake, 
 Nor harm'd the mortal wight that bade such harp 
 
 awake.
 
 30 THE PLEASURES, kc, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 " O'er cherished love and friendship dear, 
 
 And Life's spring bud of joy, 
 How bitter is the parting tear, — 
 How keen the agony. 
 Ah ! none but those who feel can tell 
 The sorrows of the last tare well." 
 
 '* But if I go, at Honour's call. 
 
 Far o'er the dark blue sea ; 
 And if a parting tear will fall, 
 'Tis only shed for thee ! 
 The day I leave my native shore, 
 No friend shall grieve, no kin deplore. " 
 
 *' Farewell, thou River ! winding clear, 
 
 Farewell, baith town and tower ; 
 Farewell the maid, that I'll lo'e dear, 
 Till life's last throb is o'er ! 
 Come weal or woe, where'er I roam, 
 111 ne'er forget my youthful home." 
 
 END OF CANTO FIRST.
 
 LUMLEY CASTLE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE GRAVE OF EMMA.
 
 LUMLEY CASTLE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE GRAVE OF EMMA. 
 
 A TALE OF OTTERBURN. 
 
 LuMLEY Castle stands on the banks of the Wear, about half a 
 mile from Chester-le-Street, in the County of Durham, and is unin- 
 habited. When crossing the river, in the Autumn of 1826, I 
 was struck with its appearance, and being detained in the Evening, 
 by the accidental absence of the Boatman, walked up to view the 
 structure, and, while contemplating the scenery, designed the fol- 
 lowing Ballad. 
 
 " Past ancient Durham's lioly aisle. 
 Flows sullen. Wear ! thy classic tide ! 
 
 As if it silent scorned the smile 
 
 Of bigot Learning throned on pride.'* 
 
 " But purer than their cloister'd prayer, 
 Thy murm'ring music rises wild ! 
 
 Where Freedom, nursed by Lambton's Heir, 
 Awaits to bless her mountain child."
 
 / 
 
 34 LU]\rLEY CASTLE. 
 
 ** And sweeter than their Organ's strain^ 
 Thy greenwood chorus warbles free, 
 
 Wlien, dawning o'er the Eastern main, 
 Young Morning spreads his flood of joy." 
 
 " And softer than their vesper bell, 
 That calls unwilling Monks to prayer, 
 C.^ The mavis chaunts her w^ood-note spell, 
 
 Where blooms thy banks so Avild and fair/ 
 
 Thus wand'ring on the banks of Wear, 
 In Autumn's eve, the Minstrel sung, 
 
 Where Lumley Castle, vast and drear. 
 In gloomy grandeur o'er him hung. 
 
 Glimmer'd no light in knightly bower; 
 
 Nor song of love, nor forest cheer 
 Was heard, — but Silence ruled each tower, 
 ' As if no living \\\\wf dwelt there. 
 
 'JD """a 
 
 NoAv, o'er the hills Day's car had roU'd : 
 The flame yet tracked each western height. 
 
 While, all around, in shady fold. 
 Fell the grey mantle of the night.
 
 LUMLEY CASTLE. 35 
 
 Then from the sky, slow deep'ning blue. 
 Each twinklin' star sent down a ring. 
 
 Whose diamond sparkled in the dew. 
 While Gloamin', westward, plied her wing. 
 
 A thousand worlds in Heaven's blue sea. 
 
 In silent glory sailed along : 
 Earth humbly joined the revelry, 
 
 And followed in the countless throng ! | 
 
 Oh ! there is still a sacred tone 
 
 Of Joy that tunes each soul to love ; 
 
 When, standing on this Earth alone, 
 We gaze on ail these stars above ! 
 
 But, gentle Lady, from thy sight 
 
 Now veil that Heavenly scene sublime ! 
 
 Earth's garden yields the flower * delight' ! 
 When Love and Virtue guard the clime 
 
 Now listen to the Harper's lay. 
 
 While Fancy s meteor wing sweeps by, — 
 A tale of Lumley*s warlike day. 
 
 Visions the wand'ring Minstrel's eye.
 
 36 LUMLEY CASTLE. 
 
 Romantic Wear ! thy sylvan strand 
 Now graced with many a fair domain, 
 
 Once own'd a feudal Chief's command, 
 Where gothic Lumley ruled the scene. 
 
 Lord Oswald, still at camp or court. 
 Shone foremost in the List of Fame ; 
 
 And Scotland's borders, war's resort. 
 Oft rung with gallant Lumley's name. 
 
 At Whitsuntide the feast was pight: 
 And high-born Dames in silken pall. 
 
 And red-cross Knights, in armour dight, 
 Kept wassel in Lord Oswald's Hall. 
 
 'Neath Eanner'd scroll and Herald lore, 
 Hung corslet, hauberk, helm, and spear ; 
 
 And brand in baldric bound, a store. 
 By torch and taper glitter'd clear. 
 
 * Ready, ay ready', — bound to bide 
 Honour's fair field, or hatred's feud ; 
 
 The sons of Knighthood, arm'd, must ride 
 To court and camp, and good greenwood.
 
 LUMLEY CASTLE. 37 
 
 In golden cups the wine went round, 
 
 To geste of Love, and lover vain : 
 Then, carping to the wild Harp's sound, 
 
 Our Minstrels pour'd the battle strain. p^ 
 
 High deeds of warlike RoUa's race, 
 In war's emprise, their measures rung : 
 
 Of Harold's fate — and Hastings' chase, — 
 
 And Saxon Maid, by valour won ! p. 
 
 Then pledged they foaming goblets round ! 
 
 To Emma, Oswald's peerless dame, — 
 Sound Minstrels ! Harp and Gyt-horn, sound 
 
 Responsive to the loud acclaim ! p^ 
 
 'Twas not her eye, where pure delight. 
 From out Love's window, captive gazed ; 
 
 'Twas not the grace of angel bright 
 That round her every action blazed ! 
 
 It was the soul of love that spoke 
 
 In every look and thrilling tone : 
 Like Morning on the world she broke, 
 
 And hid each light around that shone.
 
 38 LUMLEY CASTLE. 
 
 She hears Lord Oswald's festive call. 
 
 And rose like Pleasure's Beam of Spring, — 
 
 With knighthood shouts,—*' a hall !— a hall !"— 
 The vaulted turrets echoing ring. 
 
 Up sprung each gallant from the Board ; 
 
 Up rose each dame and damsel bright ; 
 With courtly phrase, and whisperd word. 
 
 Each ranged her by her fav'rite knight. 
 
 The Bards had struck the cord of joy, 
 
 The measure had one step gone round, 
 When, sudden, 'midst the revelry, 
 \;l Lord Oswald hears a bugle sound. 
 
 " Hark ! 'tis ! — 'tis fiery Hotspur's blast. 
 
 Arm ! — Arm, brave warriors," Oswald cries: 
 ^ Maiden and Minstrel look aghast. 
 
 While shouts and mingling clamour rise. 
 
 Louder the bugle swells, — tlie steed 
 
 Is clatt'ring near, — the drawbridge falls, — 
 
 One signal blast, — one bound of speed. 
 And Hotspur stood in Lumlcys halls !
 
 LUMLEY CASTLE. 39 
 
 Says, glancing keen his eagle eye, 
 " Gallants ! no time *tis now to chide : 
 
 Our march is won ! the northern sky. 
 Beacons where Scotland's Borderers ride." 
 
 " When haughty Douglas drives a prey. 
 
 No laggard he in bower to pine ! 
 To keep the bleeding hart at bay. 
 
 Warriors we hold the key of Tyne." 
 
 Then turning round, in courteous mood. 
 
 The gallant Percy bent his knee : 
 '* Emma ! the reiver Scot subdued, 
 
 A Galliard Hall we'll hold with thee !" 
 
 " Thanks, Percy," peerless Emma said : 
 
 " Our Country's guard, from faithless foes !" 
 
 He kissed her hand. She leaves the tide 
 Of warriors — towering, Hotspur rose. 
 
 " Oswald ! a goblet of your wine. 
 Our wearied prickers now require, 
 
 Then forward — ^forward to the Tyne, 
 With spur of hate, and speed of fire !
 
 40 LUMLEY CASTLE. 
 
 Fair Melrose, in thy sacred aisle, 
 A southron banner once did wave : 
 
 The proudest in old Warkworth's Hall, 
 Trophied a Scottish Borderer's grave ! 
 
 I^et Minstrels raise their Harps of fame, 
 And o'er the wreck of Freedom mourn ! 
 
 But valour's self shall guard thy name, 
 Thou gallant chief of Otterburn ! 
 
 Stretched on the gory moonlit heath, 
 Where Douglas in the battle died. 
 
 A Saxon warrior sunk in death ! 
 
 The stout Lord Oswald, Durham's pride. 
 
 His broken lance he grasps in death : — 
 No foeman lived his fate to tell ; 
 
 'Twas Douglas barr'd Lord Oswald's path, 
 And by his arm the Borderer fell. 
 
 From out tlie Castle's highest tower, 
 The lady Emma looks in vain, 
 
 Ocr dale and down, — to Lumley's bower. 
 Her TiOrd sliall never sound again.
 
 LUMLEY CASTLE. 41 
 
 But mournful Lumley's dead-bell toU'd 
 The solemn peal that speeds the blest, 
 
 When holy Monks, in sacred mold, 
 Lower'd the warrior to his rest. iL, 
 
 They led her where, o'er 'scutcheon clear, 
 His unstained banner waveless hung ! — 
 
 But not from Emma's breast, one tear 
 Of woe unutterable sprung. 
 
 They led her to the bridal bower. 
 
 Nor sigh escaped — nor grief awoke ; 
 But ere the dreary midnight hour 
 
 Had fled, her very heart it broke. 
 
 O'er Lumley's towers there sounds a wail. 
 
 As if they mourned a mortal's doom : f^- 
 
 The Monks of Durham's holy aisle 
 Sung requiems o'er these Lovers' tomb. 
 
 • 
 
 The sternest warrior turned to hide 
 The tear that never shames the brave, 
 
 When by the gallant Oswald's side 
 They laid his Emma in the grave !
 
 ^ LUMLEY CASTLE. 
 
 O, Lady bright ! in bower or hall;, 
 
 If ever pity filled thine eye ! 
 If ever Love, in sorrow's thrall, 
 
 Within thy gentle breast did lie ! 
 
 Then roam when Autumn's moonlight, clear 
 O'er Lumley shines with silv'ry glow ; 
 
 And silent shed the tender tear. 
 
 O'er faith and valour mould'ring low. 
 
 Loud, Huntsman, blow thy boastful pryse,^ 
 Deep wind thy note in greenwood free. 
 
 The clay beneath the turf that lies, 
 
 Once, fearless, ranged the wold like thee 
 
 A braver Knight ne'er couched a spear ! — 
 
 Loud let thy sylvan bugles swell ; 
 Twill glad his spirit now to hear, 
 f\ The song, on Earth he loved so well. 
 
 When jocund Morning rises glad. 
 
 And flowers, with dew, their bosoms lave. 
 
 Let village swains here lightly tread, 
 Respectful o'er Lord Oswald's grave.
 
 LUMLEY CASTLE. 
 
 n 
 
 And, O ! when Gloamin' gilds the steep. 
 Let village maids their offerings bring : i 
 
 O'er lovely Emma's fate to weep, 
 
 And strew her grave with flowers of Spring. 
 
 t 
 
 His wild Harp ceased ! slow died the strain 
 
 Afar in Echo's fairy cell : 
 And silence once more ruled the scene. 
 
 And night in darker shadows fell. 
 
 Farewell, loved scene ! the Minstrel cried ; — 
 Now glanced the Cottage signal light ; 
 
 The boat glides slowly o'er the tide. 
 And Lumley's turrets fade in night 
 
 OBSOLETE WORDS« 
 
 TIGHT, pitched. Sir Gaivin. 
 DioHT, dressed. Spencer. 
 FALL, garment of nobility. Gaitiin. 
 HAUBEHK, a coat of mail, haubehg. 
 
 French. 
 GESTE, a romance, a noble action. 
 
 Cliaucer. 
 CARPING, relatingverbally. Wintoune. 
 EMPKiSE, enterprise. Barbour. 
 CHASE, retreat or pursuit from battle. 
 
 Knox. 
 GYX-HORN, a guitar. Hotdate. 
 LAGGARD, encumbered, irresolute. 
 
 Scottish Poems. 
 
 REIVER, a pirate. 
 
 GALLiARD, festive, sprightly. 
 
 PINE, to be subject to pain or controul, 
 
 SOUTHRON, Englishman. 
 
 PRYSE, death-note of the huntsman. 
 Scott. 
 
 WASSEL, an ancient custom of the 
 Saxons, of drinking ale in com- 
 pany, wishing health over drink, 
 and listening to the songs of the 
 Minstrels. Percy.
 
 SONG. 
 
 Ain, — " Btj/lhe tvas the time when he fee' d tvi' 7uy Father, 0." 
 
 Blythe is the sang that the spring lark is singin', O 
 Sweet is the wild rose in green forest hingin', O 
 But dearer the wing o' Gloamin' glancing bonnie, O 
 For then was the hour o' my trystin' wi' Nannie, O 
 
 Like sun-shine in April that Nature lo es dearly, O 
 Her een beamed ay welcome so loving and cheerly, O 
 Ripe was her lip, like summer buds so bonnie, O 
 And soft was the sigh in the bosom of Nannie, O 
 
 love's like the flower in the gay beam of mornin', O 
 And joy's like the dew the fair blossom adornin', O 
 Lang ere noon-day they're fled, ere they're gather'd, O 
 Which leaves us to sigh o'er the hope that has 
 
 wither'd, O. 
 
 Farewell ye banks of the clear winding Aln, O 
 Farewell ye Town where so lang I've been d wellin', O 
 Farewell ye wild woods sac pleasant and sac bonnie, O 
 
 1 still lo'c thcc dear for the sake of my Nannie, O
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMORY OF BURNS. 
 
 When Scotia formed her Doric choir, 
 And tun'd to Love old Freedom's lyre ; 
 She sought a Bard, who'd proudly dare, 
 
 Her praises sound ; 
 And, wandering on the banks of Ayr, 
 
 Her fav'rite found ! 
 
 ' And wear thou this /' she solemn said. 
 
 And bound the Holly round his head ; |^ 
 
 The polish'd leaves and berries red. 
 
 Did rustling play. 
 And, like a passing thought, she fled 
 
 In light away.
 
 46 TO THE MEMORY 
 
 Witli wild enthusiast feeling, strong, 
 Fair Coila's Minstrel fondly rung 
 That magic Harp ! by Freedom strung 
 
 In Learning's spite :— 
 The light around his footstep flung, 
 
 Was Heaven's own light ! 
 
 And first he sang the charms of Spring, 
 Sweet as the note love's warblers sing 
 Upon the boughs, — when dew-drops hing 
 
 On morning flow'rs, — 
 And murm'ring streams sweet music fling, 
 
 Through greenwood bow'rs. 
 
 When rosv Simmer, like a bride. 
 Voluptuous, ripe in youthful pride, 
 Bless'd wood and field, then by her side 
 
 Would Coila roam ! 
 Inspired by love and gratitude. 
 
 And charms of home !
 
 OF BURNS. 47 
 
 When, from the uplands, Lammas' flood 
 Came pom-ing, thund'ring, wrathful red. 
 O'er tumbling rock, and crashing wood ! — 
 
 At midnight chime. 
 Nature would oft the Minstrel lead, 
 
 'Mang scenes sublime 1 
 
 When * mellow Autumn' rul'd the scene. 
 And rais'd her flag of golden sheen, 
 Her village vassals to convene. 
 
 And mirth invite ; 
 How sweet his wild-lyre, on the green, 
 
 Echo'd delight. 
 
 But, chief, when savage Winter's howl 
 Rung echoing wild, from pole to pole. 
 Thou, Friendship, round the social bowl. 
 
 The * wee short hour' 
 Would twine, — to witness, from his soul, 
 
 Wit's treasures pour.
 
 48 TO THE MEMORY 
 
 Lov'd Hope ! inspir d by Joy and thee. 
 When rose his wild-harp, bold and free, 
 To angel-woman's witchery ; — 
 
 In social glow ; 
 How rich the stream of melody 
 
 Would sparkling flow. 
 
 But, struck by Fate, — even in th* abode 
 Of Hope — on Fortune's slipp'ry road, 
 By many a bitter woe subdued. 
 
 The Minstrel fell ; 
 When Want and dark Ingratitude — 
 
 Rung out his knell. 
 
 Sacred he sleeps. But Freedom's charm, 
 Tliat framed his soul, tliat nerved his arm ; 
 Proud Independence, ardent, warm ! 
 
 His name shall save. 
 When tliosc, who shunn'd him in the storm, 
 
 Are in the grave !
 
 OF BURNS. 49 
 
 Let Learning, gorgeous marbles raise. 
 To deck her pedant's obsequies : 
 Thy Genius ! Coila, never dies : 
 
 Eternal fame 
 Hallows the spot where low thou lies, 
 
 And guards thy name. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Air,—" Oer the muir amang the Heather." 
 
 Chorus. 
 Oer the muir amang the heather. 
 O'er the muir amang the heather. 
 The fairest flower in Freedom's bower, 
 Un/aulds its bloom amang the heather. 
 
 In Leader's haughs sweet buds the briar ; 
 
 On Yarrow's braes gay flowers yell gather ; 
 But ne'er wi' her, they'll e'er compare, 
 
 That bonny blooms amang the heather. 
 O'er the muir, &c. 
 
 H
 
 50 SONG. 
 
 Let Fashion flaunt, sae gaudy gay ; 
 
 And vainly brag o' lands an' siller ; 
 But were she 'side my bonny INIay, 
 
 How dim wad be her painted colour ! 
 O'er the muir, &c. 
 
 But what care I for Fashion gay. 
 Or warld's wealth, or glory either : 
 
 Give me the lass that I lo'e dear. 
 Content I'd live amang the heather. 
 O'er the muir, &c. 
 
 O'er life's wide sea, in Fortune's storms, 
 Let Fate steer on, I care na whether ; 
 
 If that she steers me to the arms 
 Of her I won amang the heather. 
 O'er the muir, &c.
 
 FLODDEN FIELD. 
 
 The two following Poems were composed, on a visit to Flodden, 
 in 1824. The last of which is an attempt to make an addition to 
 the Melody printed in Sir Walter Scott's Border Minstrelsy. 
 
 The readers of poetry are aware that only three lines remain 
 of the original Ballad of ' Flowers of the Forest' : — the Ballads 
 beginning, ' I've heard them lilting at the ewes milking', and ' I've 
 seen the smiling of fortune beguiling,' being the production of 
 Ladies of rank, on the Borders of Scotland, within the last century. 
 In the first Song two lines of the Old Ballad are preserved :^ 
 
 I've heard them lilting at the ewes milking, 
 
 ******** 
 The flowers of the forest are a' wede away. 
 
 But Sir Walter Scott, after his authentic publication of the imi- 
 tation, discovered another line, conveying a most affecting image 
 of the desolation occasioned by the Battle of Flodden : — 
 
 I ride single on my saddle. 
 
 For the flowers of the forest are a' wede away.
 
 52 FLODDEN FIELD. 
 
 This image I have presumed to incorporate with my verses. 
 For the sake of the Subscribers, I have printed the two Ballads, 
 already mentioned, with Dr. Leyden's beautiful Stanzas on Flod- 
 den Field, as some of them may not have seen these Poems, lament- 
 ing a Battle, the most fatal to Scotland that occurs in her annals ; 
 the name of which, indeed, is heard with a feeling of sorrow to 
 this day. (Sec Notes.)
 
 FLODDEN. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 Alas ! that Scottish maid should sing 
 
 The combat where her lover fell ! 
 That Scottish Bard should wake the string, 
 
 The triumph of our foes to tell ! 
 
 Leyden. 
 
 In Flodden vale, where sleep the brave ! 
 
 Their pillow. Honor's sacred shield, 
 I stood, — as on the peaceful grave 
 Of kindred, — and survey'd the field, 
 Where Scotland's Lion died at bay. 
 And all her pride were wede away !
 
 54 FLODDEN. 
 
 And, lo! on Glory's fatal path. 
 
 Where Fate had weaved a monarch's doom ! 
 A lily graced the bed of death ; — 
 
 Meet emblem o'er the brave to bloom, — 
 And, as it sighed, methought a tear 
 Fell from its heart, on Valor's bier. 
 
 * Why dost thou weep on Vict'rys lea !' 
 
 I said, ' Did he who sleeps below 
 Forsake his home, in forest free, 
 To die at Flodden's overthrow? 
 And where his heart's last tide did pour. 
 Didst thou spring up — his guardian flower ! 
 
 Flodden ! though o'er thy 'vantage steeps. 
 
 Nor cairn appears, nor banners wave ; 
 This wilding flower, that lonely weeps. 
 Is Freedom's offering to the brave ! 
 What purer emblem, there ! can tell. 
 Where Scotland's King and Nobles fell.
 
 FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. 
 
 The verse adorn again. 
 Fierce War, and faithful Love, 
 
 And Truth severe. 
 
 Gray. 
 
 I've heard them lilting at the ewes milking, 
 Bly the as the lark, at the dawning of day ; 
 
 Now, mornin' and e'enin', they're sobbing an' sighing. 
 The flowers of the forest are a' wede away. 
 
 Nae mair a-wooing when Gloamin' is falling. 
 Love beaming welcome to youth smiling gay ; 
 
 Nae mair in greenwood their bugles are calling ; 
 The flowers of the forest are a' wede away.
 
 56 
 
 FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. 
 
 Nae lovers scorning, — nae bridals adorning ; 
 
 Kirkin' an' beltane come dowie and wae ; 
 I ride single on my saddle. 
 
 For the flowers of the forest are a' wede away. 
 
 The gloom of our sorrow hope cannot brighten. 
 Nor mirth cheat despair with joy's winsome ray, 
 
 The heart then is sairest — for those we lo'ed dearest. 
 The flowers of the forest are a' wede away. 
 
 OBSOLETE WORDS. 
 
 LILTING, singing cheerfully. 
 
 WEDE-AWAY, Weeded out. 
 
 gloamin', twilight. 
 
 scORNiJfo, rallying. 
 
 KinKiN', church-time. 
 
 BELTANE, the name of a Festival, ob- 
 
 served on the first of May, O. S. 
 
 in Scotland and Ireland. 
 DOWIE, dreary. 
 WAE, sad, or sorrowfuL 
 WINSOME, chcerfuL 
 SAIREST, sorest. 
 lo'ed, loved.
 
 WARKWORTH. 
 
 Warkworth, the scene of the following Ballad, is of Saxon origin, 
 and was built to repel the predatory descents of the Danes, on that 
 part of the coast of Northumberland. The name puts the matter 
 beyond a doubt of the most fastidious antiquary. It is derived 
 from Warke, a work, — Waere, caution, — and Wourthe, to become 
 necessary. Warkcwaerewourth, or Warhvorth, therefore means, a 
 work of caution become necessary. 
 
 This hypothesis is new, but is consistent with history ; for, al- 
 though there is no mention of Warkworth before the Conquest, 
 we may easily conceive that this admirable position would soon be 
 chosen as a strong-hold by the Saxons, to secure them from the de- 
 vastations of the Danish pirates, hovering on their coasts. 
 
 The first Norman Baron possessed of this Township, after the 
 Conquest, was Roger de Fitz Richard, who held it of the Crown, 
 by the service of one Knight's fee. In the reign of Edward I. the 
 Fitz Richards assumed the name of de Clavering. In the reign of 
 Edward III. the family, holding Warkworth, became extinct, and 
 the reversion of the Barony was purchased by Henry de Percy, 
 Erie of Northumberland — or rather granted to him in lieu of 500 
 Merk, agreed to be paid to him, as Governor of Berwick. In the 
 possession of his descendants, this Township and Barony has re- 
 mained ever since. 
 
 It is probable the Castle was rebuilt by that Baron, and the 
 Hermitage, celebrated by the learned Dr. Percy, excavated about 
 the same period. This romantic place has been so well described, 
 that I shall pass on to the subject of the present Ballad. 
 
 I
 
 58 WARKWORTH. 
 
 In the reign of John, (who, it is said, punished the Free- 
 men of Ahnvick, by instituting the ducking-well, as a memento 
 for leading him into a bog, in Hay don Forest, when hunting,) 
 Erie Richard of Warkworth, having proclaimed a Pass or Tourna- 
 ment, to be holden at Martinmas, ' Brown Adam,' the celebrated 
 Outlaw of Ettricke Forest, with two of his followers, go in the dis- 
 guise of Knights to the Feast, and bear off the honours of the day 
 from all competitors. On this plot the Ballad is founded. I have 
 endeavoured to preserve the simplicity of the Ballad style, with 
 many obsolete phrases and words, which are explained at the end 
 of the Poem, so that the English reader will find no difficulty 
 in mastering these antiquated expressions, without which the com- 
 position would be insipid. 
 
 The name of Brown Adam occurs in Sir Walter Scott's Border 
 Minstrelsy. The names of Graeme, and Jock of the Syde, are fa- 
 miliar on the Borders. 
 
 He is weel kend, Johne of the syde, 
 A greater thief did never ryde, 
 He never tyris 
 For to brek byris. 
 Our muir and myris, 
 Ouir gude an guide. 
 
 This Freebooter was an Armstrong, and nephew to the celebrated 
 Laird of Mangerton. He is supposed, by the great Border Min- 
 strel, to be brother to Chrystie of the Sydde, mentioned in the list 
 of Border Clans, in 1597- 
 
 To answer the purposes of the Ballad, I have made this ' gude 
 an guide,' flourish four centuries before his time. His name, in- 
 deed, is mentioned in Northumbrian traditions, which trace the 
 exploits of the Freebooter to a much more distant period than that 
 mentioned in the Border Minstrelsy.
 
 WARKWORTH. 59 
 
 Warkworth Castle, when entire, was one of the finest speci- 
 mens of Gothic architecture in the kingdom. In the year 1672, 
 the estates and honours of the ancient family of de Percy, being 
 inherited by Elizabeth, (afterwards married to the Duke of Somer- 
 set) a Goth of the name of Clarke, one of the auditors of the 
 Countess, pillaged Warkworth of its leaden roof and principal tim- 
 bers, and left the neglected warrior to perish, in his old age. 
 
 The diplomatic dispatch, sent by this barbarian, to dilapidate 
 Warkworth Castle, is unique in its kind, — it ran as follows : — 
 
 William Millbourne, 
 
 Being to take downe the materials of Warkworth 
 Castle which are given me by the Countess of Nor- 
 thumberland to build a house at Clieuton I doe 
 desire you to speake to all her ladishipps tenants in 
 Warkworth, Birlinge, Buston, Aclington, Shilbottle, 
 Lesbury, Longhouton, And Bilton, that they assist 
 me with their draughts as soone as conveniently they 
 can to remove the lead and tymber which shall be 
 taken downe, and such other materials as shall be 
 fit to be removed And bring it to Cheuton, which 
 will be an obligation to theire and youre friend. 
 
 Jo. Clarke. 
 
 In regard they are like to be out three days ere they gett 
 home I shall be content to allowe every wayne half a 
 
 crowne and let me know who refuse to do me 
 
 they 
 
 To my lovinge friend 
 
 at my house at Birlinge 
 
 William Milbourne. 
 
 Newcastle 27 April 1672.
 
 60 WARKWOllTH. 
 
 Since that period, the strength of the buttresses has kept the 
 main towers and walls erect ; but they have been so shattered, by 
 exposure to the elements, as to have been past re2Jair, in 1746, 
 when the first Duke of Northumberland, of the present line, re- 
 built Alnwick Caslle. 
 
 It is a fact, beyond controversy, that Warkworth Castle was the 
 favourite residence of the Earls of Northumberland, in the North. 
 
 It was in Warkworth that the great Northern conspiracy was 
 matured, that had nearly given a new Dynasty to England. It 
 was there — waiting the * hazard of the Die,' that the Earl of Nor- 
 thumberland received intelligence of the battle of Shrewsbury, 
 which ended at once his ambition and the life of his son, the gal- 
 lant Hotspur. 
 
 The scenery of Warkworth is of the most interesting descrip- 
 tion ; but it is only by early youthful associations that such scenery 
 can be enjoyed. Burns visited these places in 17S7, but contri- 
 buted nothing to their celebrity. The scene was either below the 
 expectation formed of it, or he had still that national feeling lurk- 
 ing within him (which even inclined Dr. Percy to partiality in 
 giving his Edition of the Ancient Reliques) which strangled 
 the rising wish to do justice to the fair fame of an enemy, or to 
 sing the beauties of the Country that he had been taught in in- 
 fancy to hate. 
 
 These feelings are quickly vanishing. The Northumbrians are 
 naturally credulous — prone to believe whatever is marvellous or 
 absurd ; but they are generous and hospitable, and maintain to a 
 degree worthy their warlike ancestors — all that quick tact of cha- 
 racter, and boastful independence, which distinguished the Border- 
 ers for six centuries. 
 
 In giving the following Ballad, therefore, to the public, I have 
 little to (h-cad from the liberal. The scenery and antiquities of 
 Northumberland are subjects, at all times, worthy of elucidation. 
 If my feeble efforts to draw the Antiquarian again into inqui- 
 ries, of which many think nothing more can be made, I shall think 
 my labours have not been vain.
 
 THE 
 
 OUTLAWS OF WARKWORTH. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 And they ha'e banish'd him, Brown Adam, 
 
 The flower o' a' his kin : 
 And he's bigged a bower in gude greenwood, 
 
 Atween his ladye and him. 
 
 Border Minstrelsy. — Vol. II. 
 
 In Ettricke woods the leaves were sear, 
 
 And scant on boughs aboon ; 
 That, ever as sighed November drear. 
 
 Came silent, wheeling down. 
 
 Each wither'd leaf, that softly fell. 
 
 But shewed the year's decay : 
 " Now, by the Rood," quoth Brown Adam, 
 
 " 'Tis time we were away.
 
 62 THE OUTLAWS 
 
 " At Warkwortli, stout Erie Richard holds 
 
 A Pass at Martin-tide, 
 And, by God's blessing, for a space, 
 
 His * Table Round' "we'll ride. 
 
 " Its I shall brank a belted Knight ; 
 
 Thou Willy Graeme, squire so free. 
 And Johne of the syde, sae gude at need, 
 ^ Our wight yeoman shall be. 
 
 " Then lang ere prison'd chanticleer 
 
 Sings out, this night is gane. 
 Its we shall ride on the English side, 
 
 And o'er by Keeldar's stane." 
 
 O'er dreary mountain, moss, and muir. 
 These bold Outlaws have gone ; 
 
 Till over Coquet, Warkworth's tower 
 In Gothic splendour shone. 
 
 The Garritor stood on the tower. 
 
 To see what he could see ; 
 And he's aware of a banner'd Knight, 
 
 Come riding o'er the lea.
 
 OF WARKWORTH. 63 
 
 The first blast that Brown Adam gied. 
 
 Old Alnwick quailed with fear. 
 As if ten thousand Border reifs, 
 
 To herry the town were near. 
 
 The second blast that the Outlaw blew. 
 
 The Warder he spoke on high, 
 That into Warkworth's town and tower. 
 
 Might pass the Knight's menyie. 
 
 Our bogsklent Knight was mense o' bulk, 
 
 And bravely couth he ride : 
 I warrant him, quoth the Garritor, 
 
 He is an warrior tried. v^ 
 
 'Tis merry to ligg in gude greenwood. 
 
 When the bud is on the tree ; 
 When the gowan and gentle primrose pale. 
 
 Spring up on th' em'rald lea. 
 
 'Tis merry to ligg in gude greenwood. 
 
 And brush the beltane dew. 
 When the fleet dun Deer, from his nightly lair, 
 
 Glances the forest through. ^^" 
 
 *&'
 
 c_ 
 
 64 THE OUTI.A^VS 
 
 'Tis merry to ligg in gude greenwood, 
 
 Amanff the scroij^js to dree : 
 With Brand and BoJt your cheer provide. 
 
 And keep the forest free. 
 
 But ye shall hear how Brown Adam 
 
 In Knightly lists did prove : 
 And for his leman Lily-flower 
 
 Obtained the prize of love. 
 
 In pallions pitched, on AVarkworth green. 
 
 Was many a gallant dight ; 
 And Ladies, prinkt in silken sheen, 
 
 Smil'd on each fav'rite Knight. 
 
 When guards were set, and umpires met, 
 
 All at the * Table Round !' 
 Then Brown Adam, that bold Outlaw, 
 
 He rode unto the ground. 
 
 First, slowly round the I^ists he bare, 
 As Knighthood's law decreed, 
 
 Lower'd his lance to Ladies fair. 
 Then backward rein'd his steed.
 
 OF WARKWORTH. 65 
 
 The Knight he look'd o'er his left shouther. 
 
 These blooming Dames to see ; 
 Says, " faker than all is Lily-flower, 
 
 Beneath the greenwood tree." 
 
 And, down the warlike gage he throws, 
 
 Brown Adam, void of fear, 
 " The fairest flower on earth that grows. 
 
 Gallants, it blooms not here !" 
 
 Merry and free, his bugle blast 
 O'er Warkworth's towers is borne : 
 
 Then up and spak' young Widdrington, 
 " That is an Outlaw's horn. 
 
 I've heard it sound in Tarras moss, — 
 
 By Tiviot winding clear," — 
 Quoth stoht Erie Richard, " by the Cross, 
 
 With me he breaks a spear." 
 
 Then, loud, Erie Richard's bugle rings. 
 
 Afar o'er town and tower, — 
 
 " The fairest Dame in Christian land, 
 
 She liggs in Warkworth's bower !" 
 
 K 
 
 '^.
 
 &6 THE OUTLAWS 
 
 Now keen Impatience holds her breath : — 
 Ilk Kniffht wheels round his steed ; 
 
 And calmly waits the signal blast, 
 To run the course with speed. 
 
 Haught dame, and maid, and crested chief. 
 
 Are set in proud array : 
 The Herald cries, •' Tilt, warriors brave ! 
 
 For love of Lady gay '" 
 
 Then, starting on the desperate course. 
 Like thund'ring clouds they come ; 
 
 It seem'd as if destruction fierce 
 Wad be each gallant's doom. 
 
 So strong the dint, so true the stroke. 
 
 Their spears in flinders flee : 
 Knight, horse, and graith, in fearful shock. 
 
 Roll on the trembling lea. 
 
 Erie Richard sprung light to his foot. 
 And drew his whinger keen : 
 
 As quick the Outlaw's scheerin brand 
 Is glancing in his e'en
 
 OF WARKWORTH. 67 
 
 The Erie then with a sicker stroke, 
 
 Brought Adam to his knee ; ' ^ 
 
 Now, Christ, me save, thought the bold Outlaw, 
 
 This game goes hard with me. '^ 
 
 But, fierce as libbart, close beset. 
 
 He sprung with sudden bound : ^^ 
 
 By desperate strain, an' strength, o'ercomc. 
 
 The Erie is on the ground. 
 
 The Outlaw's left hand grasps his throat ; 
 
 On high he waves his right ; 
 An' mercy's dirk o' burnish'd steel. 
 
 Must gain or end the fight. 
 
 (( 
 
 M 
 
 Now, yield. Sir Knight, for life or death !' 
 " Sythins mot better be," 
 To whom," quoth he, — " to Lady mine. 
 All under the greenwood tree !" 
 
 Amang the yeomen, Willy Graeme, 
 With a bende-bow in his hand. 
 
 Has gane to prieve the Bowmens' fame. 
 Bred in Northumberland.
 
 68 THE OUTLAWS 
 
 Its they've shot in, and they've shot out. 
 
 The doughty archer train : 
 Quotli Willy, he is an Bowman gude, 
 
 That cleaves the wand in twain ! 
 
 He brent his bow, o' trusty yew, 
 
 With silken cord sae small ; 
 An' shaft then from his belt he drew, 
 
 Sae proud before them all ! 
 
 Sae stout our stalwarth Borderer drew. 
 
 Swift went the bolt him fro' ; 
 The willow-wand he cleft in two, 
 
 Might no man there do so. 
 
 " Now, by God's might," quoth Erie Richard, 
 
 " Thou art a fellow gude. 
 Thou art outher Willy, o' Ettrickc side. 
 
 Or an Outlaw o' English wood." 
 
 Quoth Willy, " the Scot is fair an fase," 
 
 It sair'd him now to lee, 
 Many a bow of gude mairt ky, 
 
 Ha'e they driven o'er Tiviot free !
 
 OF WARKWORTH. 69 
 
 « A hundred merk," Erie Richard said, 
 
 " For Willy o' Ettricke's head." — 
 Willy said nought, but smiled and passed, — 
 
 With him gaed Jock o' the syde. 
 
 Syne on they passed, when dalesmen stout 
 
 For sport o' strength ha'e gone. 
 And there the wiryest o' them all, 
 
 By Jock o' the syde war thrown ! 
 
 Jock peer'd about, and prim'd about. 
 
 To see what he could see. 
 " Its ere Yule-Baby here is drest, 
 
 I'll be again with ye." 
 
 The Bar, the putting Stane, — sax ell. 
 
 Beyond them all he past. 
 And dalesmen still, o' vale and hiU, 
 
 Brag o' the Warkworth cast. 
 
 A feast they hold in Warkworth Hall, 
 There were fifty Knights and three ; 
 
 And Dames gay buskt and prinkt in pall. 
 With Harp and Carp so free.
 
 70 THE OUTLAWS 
 
 " A health unto your Lady-flower, 
 Sir Knight,'" Eric Richard says, — 
 
 "As thou art brave, gif she is fair ! 
 Thou weil has won the prys. 
 
 " Now, ere thou bears the ring away, 
 Shew us what Knight you be, 
 
 If thou'rt a belted Knight, by whom 
 Ware the spurs hesped on thee?" 
 
 Its up then rose him. Brown Adam, 
 
 *' I scorn this day to lee. 
 An Earl me got, and a Lady me bore, 
 
 As great of kith as thee ! 
 
 " And when at Court and Camp I ride, 
 
 A Knight is my degree ; 
 But when I dwell in gude greenwood, 
 
 Its " Whae dar meddle wi' me." 
 
 Then up him sprung, Earl Richard bold, 
 
 And an angry man was^ie ; 
 " Thou wendest not from Wark worth hold. 
 
 Thou Outlaw o' forest free ! '
 
 OF WARKWOllTH. 71 
 
 He's ta'en the table with his foot, 
 
 That stout Outlaw sae brave ! 
 Then ilk man puU'd his whinger out, — 
 
 Speir'd not Erie Richard's leave. 
 
 Willy Graeme at the door he stood 
 With a brown bright burnist brand : 
 
 " Gramercie, then/' whisper'd Jock o' the syde, 
 " Our horse is ready at hand !" 
 
 It's they've brest in, and they've brest out. 
 With swords sae true at need ; 
 
 He never may fear to stand his clute. 
 Whose hand can keep his head. 
 
 Then backward bent these bold Outlaws, 
 Might no man them withstan' ; 
 
 But ne'er a word spak' Jock o' the syde. 
 Till o'er Coquet stream they wan. 
 
 The Southron cried, " to horse, to horse,'* 
 
 And to their stables gat ; 
 But ilk horse in old Warkworth's Keep 
 
 Was tied wi' Saint Mary's knot.
 
 72 THE OUTLAWS 
 
 Then, loud the bold moss-trooper cried, — 
 And laughed loud laughters three ; 
 
 " Frae Horse that St. INIary's knot has tied, 
 I scorn sae fast to flee !" 
 
 Brown Adam his gauntlet shook on high, 
 
 " For this your courtesy — 
 Erie Richard, neist time in Hall we meet, 
 
 I shall drink Bonaillie wi' thee." 
 
 They've roused the game, they've held the chase. 
 
 O'er muir and mountain wide ; 
 But fleet and Strang maun be the trod 
 
 That follows Jock o' the syde. 
 
 They've held the chase o'er moss and muir. 
 Till the sun i' the west gaed down. 
 
 Till Brown Adam, and his followers twain. 
 Passed into Scottish groun'. 
 
 And Lily-flower in greenwood bower 
 
 Has spread them forest cheer. 
 This is the first fytt of the bold Outlaw, 
 
 But another you shall hear.
 
 OBSOLETE AND PROVINCIAL WORDS. 
 
 ABOOK, above. 
 auoTH, said. 
 PASS, tournament. 
 WIGHT, strong. 
 BHANK, to dress proudly. 
 GARRiTOR, a watchman. 
 KEIFS, theives. 
 
 HERHY, to rob. 
 
 MENYiE, train, followers. 
 BOG-SKLENT, to Strike off into a bog, 
 
 to avoid being taken. 
 COUTH, could knowingly. 
 LIGG, to dwell. 
 LAIR, a place for lying down. 
 DREE, to endure. 
 LEMAN, sweetheart. 
 PALLioNS, tents made of cloth. 
 PRiNKT, dressed. 
 SHEEN, dress. 
 
 ILK, each. 
 
 FLINDERS, shivers. 
 
 GRAiTH, horse accoutrements. 
 
 WHINGER, sword. 
 
 SCHEERIN, dividing. 
 
 SICKER, cunning, secure. 
 
 LiBBART, tyger, or leopard. 
 
 DIRK, dagger. 
 
 SYTHiNS, although. 
 
 GANE TO PREivE, gone to provc. 
 
 BRENT, up-raised, elevated. 
 
 STALWORTH, Strong. 
 
 OUTHER, either. 
 
 FASE, false. 
 
 BOW OF KY, herd of kine. 
 
 GAED, went. 
 
 SYNE, then. 
 
 wiKYEST, toughest. 
 
 YULE-BABY, a small figure drest to 
 represent our Saviour, at Christ- 
 mas. The nothern nations for- 
 merly held this festival in honour 
 of Odin, who was called Julvater, 
 or Father of Yule. 
 
 PUTTING STANE, this amuscment 
 is common throughout the low- 
 lands. 
 
 BRAG, boast. 
 
 BUSKT, dressed in gayest attire. 
 
 HARP AND CARP, a term of minstrel- 
 sy, meaning, playing, and relating. 
 
 PRYS, praise. 
 
 HESPED, fastened. 
 
 KITH, kindred. 
 
 LEE, lie. 
 
 WHA DAR MEDDLE Wl' ME, Who 
 
 dare interfere with me. The name 
 of an ancient border tune. 
 
 WENDST, goest. 
 
 speib'd, asked. 
 
 BURNIST, burnished. 
 
 SPAK, spoke. 
 
 TO TIE ST. MARY'S KNOT, to ham- 
 String cattle. 
 
 NEIST, next. 
 
 MAUN, must. 
 
 TROD, hot-trod, to track with blood- 
 hounds. 
 
 FYTT, division of a song. 
 
 BONAiLLiE, a drink of friendship at 
 parting. 
 
 BREST, forcibly breaking away, re- 
 moving, with violence. 
 
 TO STAND CLUTE, to keep one's 
 own ground.
 
 WARKWORTH. 
 
 Next to the Castle, the Hermitage claims the notice of visitors to 
 Warkworth. 
 
 When Henry VHI. pushed the Reformation of Religion to the 
 length of extirpating the Catholic faith, in England, a furious per- 
 secution was the means of accomplishing his designs : and while 
 the King pillaged the Monasteries of their treasures and effects, the 
 people were gratified by a license to destroy them. 
 
 By pretended or real discoveries of the tricks of the priests, who 
 had worked on the credulity of the multitude by miraculous 
 reliques, the people were everywhere excited to the work of de- 
 struction ; and even Warkworth Hermitage fell a sacrifice. The 
 last patent granted by the Earl of Northumberland is dated 1532, 
 constituting Sir George Lancaster, keeper of the ' Armytage.' 
 Since 156? it has continued in Ruins, a monument of the downfal of 
 superstition, and of the vanity of fame ; for neither the Founder, 
 nor the age in which he flourished are known. 
 
 From the style of the decoration, and the formation of the mo- 
 nument in the Chapel of the Hermitage, the date of its origin can- 
 not be carried farther back than the reign of Edward HI. After 
 the Battle of Hallidoune, in 1333, the Earl of Northumberland 
 acquired the Barony of Warkworth, and it probably was about this 
 period that the Hermitage was founded. 
 
 The Town consists of 150 Houses, contains COO Inhabitants, 
 and possesses excellent Inns for the accommodation of the numer- 
 ous visitors who visit the place in the months of Summer.
 
 SWEET COQUET SIDE, 
 
 GOOD-NIGHT ! 
 
 October's sun went cloudless down 
 
 On Warkworth's mould'ring Halls ; 
 And the last swallows of the year 
 
 Were gathered on the walls : 
 But ere the star of evening rose 
 
 To guide them in their flight, 
 Methought I heard them say, or sing, 
 
 Sweet Coquet side, good-night ! 
 
 Then twilight came, on fairy wing. 
 
 In robes of silv'ry hue. 
 And sighed to hear the gathering song. 
 
 As o'er the towers she flew ; 
 In vain, around the twitt'ring crew. 
 
 Their leaders wheel'd in flight : 
 Methought they stopp'd, once more to sing, 
 
 Sweet Coquet side, good-night !
 
 76 SWEET COQUET SIDE, GOOD-NIGHT. 
 
 Farewell ! the sainted Hermitage : 
 
 Farewell the Castle green ; 
 Farewell ! old Morwick's blooming banks, 
 
 And bonny Hazon dean ! 
 Farewell the Coquet's silver stream, 
 
 Past Warkworth, rolling bright ! 
 Farewell each haunt of native home ! 
 
 Sweet Coquet side, good-night ! 
 
 From nature's touch, the sympathy 
 
 Of kindred feelings spring ; 
 And tears will often flood the eye, 
 
 When Hope is on the wing ; 
 And sadness oft will cloud the soul. 
 
 Though Fortune's sun is bright, — 
 When launch'd upon the world's wide sea. 
 
 We bid sweet Home ! good-night !
 
 HAYDON CHACE. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Haydon Forest is an extensive tract of Moorland, lying to the 
 West of Alnwick, and is said to contain nearly 4000 acres. 
 
 By a Deed of settlement, dated in 1762, the respective titles, 
 rights, privileges, and immunities of Haydon, claimed by the Earl 
 and Countess of Northumberland, as Lord and Lady of the Manor 
 and Borough of Alnwick, on the one part, and on the other by the 
 Common Council of Freemen, were finally adjusted and declared. 
 
 By this agreement, the Forest is acknowledged to be part of the 
 Manorship : and the Freemen confirmed in the right of pasturing 
 their cattle on the Moor, and deriving a revenue from the lands 
 inclosed, then in a state of cultivation, with other benefits set forth 
 in the declaration, on a small yearly quit-rent or acknowledgment, 
 to be paid to the Lord or Lady of the Manor. 
 
 This Deed of settlement may now be considered as the legal 
 constitution of the Borough. 
 
 The antiquity of Alnwick is proved from the name. It is a 
 Saxon word, signifying the Town of the Temple appropriation, be- 
 ing derived from the word Alh, a Temple, An, to appropriate as 
 one's own, and Wic, a termination in the Anglo-Saxon language, 
 applied to Townships situated in a certain kind of Bay, within the 
 sea-shore.
 
 78 IlAYJ)ON CHACE. 
 
 At the Norman Conquest, 1066", the Township of A hi wick was 
 conferred on de Vesci, one of WilHam's Barons, who, tradition 
 says, married the Saxon Heiress of the name of Tyson. The first 
 Earl of Northumberland was the brother of Harold, slain at the 
 Battle of Hastings. The Earldom was afterwards conferred by the 
 Conqueror, on the celebrated Corspatrick, (Earl of March) who, 
 rising in rebellion against his benefactor, was defeated, and took 
 refuge in Scotland. In 1309, the family of the de Vescis having 
 become extinct, the Barony of Alnwick was purchased by Lord 
 Henri de Percy, whose ancestor had come over with William, and 
 acquired large possessions in Yorkshire, as his share of the Conquest. 
 
 Hay don Forest, the scene of the following Ballad, was, accord- 
 ing to tradition, subject to the Brown Man of the Muirs, who ruled 
 the Muirlands of Northumberland. Several stories of this person- 
 age are still extant in the remote districts of the County. Dr. Ley- 
 den has introduced him in his Romantic Ballad of the Cout (Colt) 
 of Keeldar, a Northumbrian Chieftain, who, in a Hunting expe- 
 dition, is killed by Soulis of Liddesdale, on the banks of the Her- 
 mitage. 
 
 And when he reached the Iledswire high. 
 
 His bugle, Keeldar blew ; 
 And round did float, in clamorous note. 
 
 And scream, the hoarse curlew. 
 
 The next blast that young Keeldar blew, 
 
 The wind grew deadly still. 
 But the sleek fern, wi' fingcry leaves. 
 
 Waved wildly on the hill. 
 
 The third blast that young Keeldar blew, 
 
 Still stood the limber fern ; 
 And a wee man, of swarthy hue. 
 
 Up started by a Cairn.
 
 HAYDON CHACE. 7^ 
 
 His russet weeds were brown as heath. 
 
 That clothes the upland fell ; 
 And the hair of his head was frizzly red. 
 
 As the purple heather bell. 
 
 An urchin,* clad in prickles red. 
 
 Clung couring to his arm ; 
 The hounds they howl'd and backward fled. 
 
 As struck by fairy charm. 
 
 " Why rises high the Stag-hound's cry. 
 Where Stag-hounds ne'er should be ? 
 
 Why wakes that horn, the silent morn. 
 Without the leave of me?" 
 
 " Brown dwarf, that o'er the muirland strays. 
 
 Thy name to Keeldar tell !" — 
 " The Brown Man of the Muirs, who strays 
 
 Beneath the heather-bell. 
 
 " 'Tis sweet, beneath the heather-bell. 
 
 To live in Autumn brown ; 
 And sweet to hear the lav'rocks swell. 
 
 Far, far from tower and town. 
 
 " But woe betide the shrilling horn. 
 
 The Chace's surly cheer J 
 And ever that hunter is forlorn 
 
 Whom first at morn I hear." 
 
 Says, " Weal nor woe, nor friend nor foe. 
 
 In thee we hope or dread." 
 But ere the bugles green could blow. 
 
 The wee Brown Man had fled. 
 
 * Hedgehog-.
 
 80 HAYDON CHACE. 
 
 Keeldar and his train despise the warning. They are unwarily 
 entrapped into the Hall of the Lord Soulis, and enchanted by a 
 Fairy-spell, while seated at the feast. 
 
 Each hunter bold of Keeldar's train. 
 
 Sat an enchanted man ; 
 For cold as ice, through every vein. 
 
 The freezing life-blood ran. 
 
 Each rigid hand the whinger rung, 
 
 Each gaz'd with glaring eye ; 
 But Keeldar from the table sprung. 
 
 Unharmed by gramarye. 
 
 He escaped the enchantment, by having the leaf of ' Rowan-tree' 
 in his plume ; but he could not cross the running stream, and hav- 
 ing stumbled, while fording the river, the Borderers held him down 
 with their lances till he died. 
 
 The Holly floated to the side. 
 
 And the leaf of the Rowan pale; 
 Alas ! no spell could charm the tide. 
 
 Nor the lance of Liddisdale. 
 
 The grave of Keeldar, who was celebrated for his valour and 
 activity, on the Borders, is still shewn on the banks of the Hermi- 
 tage. Keeldar Castle now belongs to the Duke of Northumberland. 
 
 There are various traditions of the King of the ^fuirs, in the 
 western parts of the County. His enmity appears chiefly di- 
 rected against those who sport on his dominions, without per- 
 mission, as in the case of Keeldar; or without leaving him share of 
 the spoil, as in that of two young men of Elsdon, who, being out 
 sporting, on the Fells, met this malignant Spirit, on their return, 
 and, not having offered him share of the game, died shortly after.
 
 HAYDON CHACE. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 It was in and about the harvest tide, 
 That stout Sir Henry boun to ride, 
 
 A hunt on Haydon Muir ; 
 And when uprose the welcome morn. 
 The echoes of his bugle horn 
 
 Rung blythe o'er town and tower. 
 
 By porch and cullis all unbarr'd. 
 Gay issuing from the outer ward, 
 
 Throng'd out the hunter train : 
 Well might de Percy's eagle eye. 
 Keen, brighten with a warrior's joy. 
 
 To lead such gallant men. 
 
 M
 
 82 HAYDON CHACE. 
 
 By Heaven ! it was a stirring sight, 
 The bearing bold of Lord and Knight, 
 
 And 'Squire of high degree ; 
 And Yeomen wight, who throng'd around. 
 Their warlike Chief, with hawk and liound. 
 
 And gear of forest free ! 
 
 He rode upon a proud war-steed. 
 That oft had prov'd right good at need. 
 
 In foray, field, and feid : 
 From baldric of the tough Boar hide, 
 A falchion shoggled at his side. 
 
 In many a battle tried. 
 
 His cleading was of Lincoln blan*. 
 And all bespoke the gallant man, 
 
 * Weel bodin birth and mak' : 
 St. George's Cross flamed on his breast ; 
 A falcon sat upon his wrist ; 
 
 His bow and bolts at back. 
 
 " Weel bodin birth and mak', means every way provided, both by high- 
 birth and gracefulness of person, to make a gallant Knight.
 
 HAYDON CHACE. 83 
 
 And blooming at Sir Henrys side, 
 Came linkin' out liis bonny bride. 
 
 That late had wedded been : 
 There breathes not in Heaven's purest air 
 Ane flower with her that may compare, 
 
 Save P^leanor our queen. 
 
 On palfreys gay her Maries four * 
 Came prinkit out from Maiden bower, 
 
 With meikle game and glee : 
 The wilding rose-buds on the briar. 
 Moist with the Summer morning's tear, 
 Were ne'er so sweet to see. 
 
 And as the train rode gaily by, 
 Sir Eustace from the alryne high. 
 
 Beheld their bright array ; 
 " Gallants, God speed," the warrior cried. 
 The Scottish Borderers oursyle ride. 
 
 And weel can catch a prey." 
 
 " The Queen yestreen had four Maries, 
 The night she'll ha'e but three ; 
 There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton, 
 And INIarie Carmachael, and me. 
 
 Ballad of the Queen's Marie. 
 
 Ladies of high distinction, in ancient times, generally had the daugh- 
 ters of nobility as their bower maidens.
 
 84 HAYDON CHACE. 
 
 Lord Henry smiled, — " He bodes aright •," — 
 ** But, by the holy Rood, Sir Knight, 
 
 Wer't not this Lady mine. 
 Though stout Sir Eustace does not ride 
 To-day, my banneret of pride 
 
 On Scottish ground should shine !" 
 
 " Then spread the feast in slothful hall ! 
 Let Minstrel, harp, and Galliard call 
 
 The song of love, to cheer ! 
 Be mine, a space in good greenwood. 
 With spears arowe, and bow-men good, 
 
 To drive the Fallow-deer !" 
 
 " The feast, too oft, mulde-mete has been ; 
 The fairest sky o'ercast, bedeen," 
 
 Quoth Eustace from the tower, 
 Then speaking low a jest of pride, 
 * " Your Pennon gay, the Scottish side. 
 
 Perchance may grace once more !" 
 
 • This alludes to the capture of Hotspur's Pennon, at Newcastle, by 
 Earl Douglas, whose taunt of tarrying it in triumph to Scotland, led to 
 the Battle of Otlerburn.
 
 HAYDON CHACE. 
 
 85 
 
 But onward, by King William's stone, 
 The merry hunter train have gone, 
 
 So gaily swept they by ; 
 Their craft is keen, their steeds are fleet. 
 Their beagles answer, with delight. 
 
 The huntsman's echoing cry. 
 
 On Haydon wold how sweet to roam ! 
 When blooms the heath and bonnie broom. 
 
 And hawthorn's fragrant flowers ; 
 But woe to him, the wight forlorn. 
 Who meets, unsained, at early morn, 
 
 The Brown Man of the Muirs. 
 
 T(f tJc l(f ^ ^ vfv 9K ^ ^ 
 
 PROVINCIAL WORDS. 
 
 CNSAiVED, unblessed. 
 
 GEAB, FOREST-GEAR, Hunting accou- 
 trements. 
 
 SHOGGLED, dangled. 
 
 LINCOLN blan', a drcss or garment, 
 worn by nobility. 
 
 PRINKIT, dressed gaily. 
 
 alryne, a watch-tower. 
 
 OURSYLE, cunningly, with skill. 
 BODES ARIGHT, what he says is right, 
 
 although it is said ia constraint. 
 MULDE-METE, is the last meat before 
 
 death. 
 BEDEEN, quickly, forthwith. 
 FEiD, quarrel. 
 BO UN' to prepare, to make ready.
 
 ODE TO HOPE. 
 
 Scene,—.) Field of Battle, 1815. 
 
 Celestial Hope ! where'er our lines are cast, 
 Whether in peaceful vale, or field of war ; 
 O'er time's dommions shines thy Beacon star, 
 
 Benign and pure, and lovely to the last. 
 
 The Seaman hails thee on wild ocean's wave, 
 Far from the home he loves. To cheer his way, 
 Thou strew'st the pilgrim's path with flow'rets gay : 
 
 Thou rock'd his cradle, — and thou'lt smooth his grave. 
 
 And here ! where murder whets her cruel brand, 
 For deeds of woe, — the soldiers guard to be. 
 From heaven thou comcst, — then, inspired by thee. 
 
 He dreams of Home ! far from his native land. 
 
 Even on Spain's mountains, where the war- wolf's cry, 
 Hovvl'd mournful through the watches of the night; 
 Where helplesscomradesshriek'd in death's affright, 
 
 Appalling stoutest hearts, thou still wer't nigh !
 
 ODE TO HOPE. 87 
 
 Great God of mercy ! O, what urges man 
 To yoke Death's coursers to Ambition's car ; 
 To glory in the panoply of war. 
 
 And raze good-will from thine all-righteous plan ! 
 
 But, lo ! day's ensigns o'er the east aspire : 
 
 Hark ! Glory's bugles sound, to arms ! and brave 
 Men form in phalanx deep ; and banners wave ; 
 
 And thund'ring squadrons reel in British fire. 
 
 Destruction's voice is heard afar ! around 
 
 Our ranks death rides, with murder-glaring eye, 
 In vain, — the closing gaps his frown defy. 
 
 And desperate Valour, raging, bites the ground. 
 
 Now Horror leads the helhsh revelry. 
 
 While Fate adj ustsher beam ! — Now Mercy's shield 
 Is wrench'd from Pity's arm ; and o'er the field, 
 
 Carnage, her victims eyes with savage joy ! 
 
 But, thou, lov'd Hope ! exulting in the might 
 Of Britain, to the combat cheers the brave! 
 Hark ! Vict'ry shouts at last o'er Gallia's grave ! 
 
 Throbbing surviving hearts with stern delight
 
 ELEGY, 
 
 IN A CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 Slow o'er the valley, sinks the blessed light 
 Of Heaven ! another course of life is run : 
 
 For death shall fix, in everlasting night. 
 
 Full many an eye, ere dawns to-morrow's sun. 
 
 Heaven's messenger, invisible ! thy breath 
 
 Steals o'er us, — even as Winter's viewless blast 
 
 Bares field and forest, — scatt'ring on Time's path 
 Life's wither'd leaves, to moulder * dust to dust !' 
 
 To thy dominions all must voyage down : 
 Beauty's bright eye before thee closes dim : 
 
 Youth, like the mountain pine, to vigour grown. 
 Boasts ! — lo ! thy touch to pieces breakest him. 
 
 Where is our fathers smile ! — our mother's tear ! 
 
 The fond advice our gentle sister gave ! 
 Our brother's voice, in youth, we lov'd to hear ! 
 
 All — all are buried in the silent grave.
 
 ELEGY, IN A CHURCH-YARD. 89 
 
 And yet what mariner, on Ocean's track. 
 His bark careering homeward, on the main, 
 
 To shores he left would idly voyage back, 
 
 And steer the same dull, tedious, course again ? 
 
 How solemn ! yet how peaceful is the look 
 Of Death's dread prison-house : lo ! it appears. 
 
 With all its letter'd monuments, a book, 
 Whose every page a sacred record bears. 
 
 O thou ! whoe'er thou art, that wand'rest here. 
 To muse o'er mould'ring ashes of thy kind ; 
 
 Sigh over Friendship, — shed Affection's tear. 
 Grave this one moral deeply on thy mind ! 
 
 Whate'er in Life is mean, ignoble, base. 
 At once abhor, and ever sternly shun ! 
 
 And kindred hearts, that live in honour's blaze, 
 Will hail thy course, and bless thy setting sun. 
 
 Hatred may scatter, from vile Slander's urn. 
 Falsehood's dark scroll across thy pilgrim path : 
 
 Time laughs the liar and the lie to scorn : — 
 Hypocrisy ne'er pass'd the gates of death ! 
 
 * M
 
 90 A SERMON ON Lll-E. 
 
 O, then ! be Virtue still your heavenly guide, 
 To lead thy soul resigned through death's abode ; 
 
 Eternal Truth o'er all must still preside, 
 " Wisdom's beginning is thejear of God*^ 
 
 SERMON ON LIFE, 
 
 IN 
 
 AN EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND 
 
 GOING ABROAD. 
 
 Does Friendship, like day's heavenly light. 
 Sink often down in cheerless night ! 
 Lo ! Morning comes, reviving bright 
 
 The sacred beam : 
 My Frere, as welcome to the sight 
 
 Your Letter came.
 
 A SERMON ON LIFE. 91 
 
 It made me glad, — ^'twas news indeed, 
 To learn ye gang wi' hope abroad : 
 God grant your plans may a' succeed ! 
 
 In Fortune's battle, 
 Heaven scatters mankind far and wide. 
 
 To try their mettle. 
 
 Ye ask me for Life's good advice. 
 In practice and Religion's choice ! 
 Your Father's faith if ye be wise, 
 
 'Till death, baud fast: 
 Fear God ! and ye shall sure rejoice 
 
 Amang the just ! 
 
 My Friend ! Earth's like a Lottery wheel, 
 Fate draws each ticket — and, the De'il 
 Comes with the scroll to many a chiel' 
 
 In Wisdom's rank, 
 And spite of Worth and Honour leal. 
 
 Opens a Blank !
 
 92 A SERMON ON LIFE. 
 
 But oh ! how blest ! how happy, they ! 
 Who, cautious, plod the prudent way, 
 And, a' the cunning paths survey, 
 
 O' gude an' ill ! 
 But never venture ance to strav 
 
 On Honour's hill. 
 
 With sober face, demurely glad, 
 They'll tell ye, *' God is gracious," gude ! 
 But whoe'er met them on the road, 
 
 The humble keep ; 
 Or in poor misery's abode. 
 
 E'er saw them weep. 
 
 Let's turn to Life ! in every Ian', 
 Money's the household God o' man ; 
 Self-interest lurks in every plan. 
 
 We follow here : 
 There's ne'er a river seaward ran, 
 
 That ay ran clear.
 
 A SERMON ON LIFE. 93 
 
 For Gold, the Priest will sell his God ; 
 The wily Statesman change his side ; 
 The Judge in doubt and place abide, 
 
 Till life's last hold. 
 Love! Hope! Ambition! Glory! Pride! 
 
 All smile on Gold ! 
 
 But O ! my friend, on Fortune's sea, 
 
 Let Honour still your pilot be. 
 
 To steer to Wealth's abode. Life's tree. 
 
 Let Virtue nourish. 
 And by Heav'n's blessing bonnilie 
 
 Each branch shall flourish. 
 
 Discharge the bonds ye justly owe. 
 That thou, unshamed, past foes may go 
 In fearless Independence ; Woe, 
 
 And want, and hate ! 
 Pursue the wretch, that mankind know 
 
 S o'er lugs in debt.
 
 94 A SERMON ON LIFE. 
 
 Nor spend the gear, thoust honest won, 
 
 In idle pleasures, — sternly shun 
 
 The paths even where vice walks, — undone. 
 
 Without remeed. 
 Are they, who braving vengeance, con 
 
 Her hellish creed. 
 
 And ne'er forget, the Power aboon. 
 
 That keeps the universe in tune : 
 
 Six thousand years, the world's spun roun', 
 
 An' never reists. 
 Mercy, on a' mankind, looks down 
 
 In spite o' priests ! 
 
 In Wisdom's presence often be, 
 And store the lessons she will gi'e, 
 That so respect may honour thee. 
 
 And love thy name : 
 In paths of peace, walk carefully. 
 
 And ne'er defame.
 
 A SERMON ON LIFE. 95 
 
 In shape of Virtue, Falsehood prowls. 
 Worming detraction to the souls 
 Of family circles, — O this fouls 
 
 A Christian's walk. 
 Detest, as Sin in hell that howls. 
 
 The Slanderer's talk. 
 
 With knee o'ercross'd, demure yet meek, 
 I've seen her, at some ingle cheek 
 Challenge low-pride, self-righteous, sleek. 
 
 To lend an ear 
 To poison'd talk, as vile to speak. 
 
 As 'twas to hear. 
 
 And, whiles she stabb'd the name she hated ; 
 And, whiles some holy text she quoted ; 
 And, whiles wi' fiendish eye she noted. 
 
 The list'ning throng L 
 To mark, if those so basely cheated. 
 
 E'er thought 'twas wrong !
 
 96 A SERMON ON LIFE. 
 
 Ne'er cant against the world ! the ways 
 
 Of God, on earth, are mysteries : 
 
 By Reason's torch, what priestcraft says 
 
 'Gainst Life, examine ; 
 However dark their text, — the blaze 
 
 Will truth illumine ! 
 
 Curs'd be the wretch, who grumbling owns. 
 The gifts of God with sighs and groans : 
 This Earth, a pleasant palace, stan's, 
 
 O' matchless skill, 
 T' enjoy its blessings Heaven comman's — 
 
 But, leaves the will. 
 
 If Sorrow knocks — or Care, within 
 
 Your door stalks, thrcat'ning, think't na sin, 
 
 To take Mirth's fiddle frae the pin, 
 
 Be't late or air : 
 Mirth gars life's heart's-blood glibly rin. 
 
 In spite o' Care.
 
 A SERMON ON LIFE. 97 
 
 Then fare ye well ! my youthful crony. 
 If Life has cares, there's pleasures many ! 
 Lov'd Home ! dear Friends — an income canny 
 
 To bruik the storm ! 
 And, last and best, a Wifie bonny. 
 
 Life's dearest charm ! 
 
 And then yell ha'e by Heav'n's ain blessing 
 Some bairns, — now, " Father dear" caressing ; 
 Now, round their cog o' crowdy, messing, 
 
 Wi' greedy e'e ; 
 Now, gew-gaw, doll, or playkin, dressing 
 
 At Mother's knee ! 
 
 Be these your lot, where'er ye bide ; *-' 
 
 Wherever Fate and Fortune lead ; 
 Whatever shore your shanks may tread. 
 
 As sure's I penn'd 
 These Rhymes, till snug in death's neuk laid, 
 
 I am your Friend ! 
 
 N
 
 BATTLE OF 
 
 HEDGLEY MOOR 
 
 1464. 
 
 In the first great Civil War of England, between the Houses of 
 York and Lancaster, the Earl of Northumberland espoused the 
 cause of his Sovereign Henry VI, and was slain at the first Battle 
 of St. Alban's, 22d. May, 1455. His successor was firmly attached 
 to the amiable and unfortunate Monarch. After the King was 
 taken by the victorious Yorkists, at Northampton, the Earl of Nor- 
 thumberland levied forces, and joining with other warlike Barons 
 of the North, — who, according to Hume, " were moved by indigna- 
 tion to find the Southern Bai'ons pretend to dispose of the Crown, 
 and settle the Government,"— obtained a victory over the Duke of 
 York, at Wakefield, 24th. December, 146"0, in which that Prince 
 and his Son, the Earl of Rutland, were killed. But notwithstand- 
 ing this success, and the succeeding defeat of the Earl of War- 
 wick at the second fight of St. Alban's, the cause of the Yorkists 
 prevailed, and Edward, the eldest Son of the Duke of York, was 
 proclaimed King, at London, on the 5th. March, 14Gl. The great 
 body of the people seem to have favoured his pretensions to the 
 Throne. 
 
 Henry was a prince of a mild and inoffensive disposition, and 
 thougli much regarded for his piety and meekness, was altogether
 
 BATTLE OF HEDGLEY MOOR. 99 
 
 "itTcapable of swaying the sceptre over a fierce and warlike people. 
 But his Queen, Margaret, possessed a mind of no ordinary cast. 
 Perhaps it would be difficult to find her equal in History. She 
 had the misfortune, however, of being unpopular in the South 
 of England, and it was in this quarter that the opposing faction of 
 York had their chief support. The Queen, therefore, hurried to 
 the North, where she soon assembled a numerous army, accord- 
 ing to Historians, amounting to sixty thousand men. Young 
 Edward, and the Earl of Warwick, hastened by forced marches 
 to Yorkshire, and at Touton, 29th. March, 146l, was fought the 
 greatest Battle that has occurred in England, since the Conquest. 
 The Yorkists had forty thousand men in the field. After a des- 
 perate and sanguinary struggle, victory declared on their side. 
 The Earls of Northumberland and Westmorland, the Lords Dacres 
 and Wells, Sir John Neville, and many other gentlemen of the Nor- 
 thern Counties, with thirty thousand men, were slain in the Battle 
 and pursuit. 
 
 Henry and Margaret fled into Scotland, accompanied by the 
 Duke of Exeter, Brother-in-law to Edward, and by the Duke of 
 Somerset, whose Father had fallen in the first Battle of St, Alban's. 
 Scotland at that period was governed by a Regency, during the 
 minority of James HI. and the kingdom was torn by factions. On 
 the promise of Margaret to deliver the fortress of Berwick, and con- 
 tract her Son in marriage to the Sister of their King, the Scottish 
 Council agreed to assist her in her attempt to recover the Crown. 
 
 In the meantime Edward IV. took every step that precaution 
 and a warlike genius dictated to secure himself on the Throne. 
 He summoned a Parliament 4th, November, 1461, which, of course, 
 was subservient to his views, and at once recognised his right and 
 titles to the Crown, and passed an Act of attainder against Henry 
 and Margaret, their Son Prince Edward, and their principal ad- 
 herents ; and organizing the army, he prepared to meet any force 
 v/hich the friends of the deposed Monarch could bring against hira.
 
 100 BATTLE OF HEDGLEY MOOR. 
 
 Lewis, the King of France, was induced to assist Margaret by 
 a promise, similar to that she employed at the Scottish Court, She 
 agreed to deliver up Calais, the last stronghold the English pos- 
 sessed in France, provided his assistance restored her family to 
 the Throne; and obtained, in consequence, about 2000 men at arms, 
 which were landed in Scotland, 1463, and being joined by a nu- 
 merous body of assured Scottish Borderers, and adherents of the 
 Lord Percy, in Northumberland, she made an irruption into Eng- 
 land, 1464, to try once more the chance of Battle. The Castles of 
 Bambrough and Alnwick were quickly recovered; the garrisons 
 were either made prisoners, or joined her standard. But Lord 
 Montague, Brother to the Earl of Warwick, Warden of the Marches, 
 having collected all his disposable force, hastened to crush tlie in- 
 vaders before they gathered to a head, and attacked a part of the 
 Queen's army, at Hedgley Moor, under the command of Ralph de 
 Percy, Brother to the Earl of Northumberland, killed at Towton. 
 After a fierce encounter, the forces of Margaret were cut to pieces, 
 and their leader, with many of his followers, left dead on the Field. 
 This Fight took place 25th. April, 1464. 
 
 Ralph de Percy, tradition says, had sworn fidelity to Henry VL 
 and when dying, his last words were, " / have kept the Bird in my 
 bosom," which meant, that he had been faithful to his vow of alle- 
 giance. It is also said that the Lords Ross and Hungerford, de- 
 serted him in the Battle, and were the cause of the defeat. But 
 this treachery is not probable, as these noblemen were beheaded 
 shortly after at Hexham. After the affair at Hedgley Moor, Queen 
 Margaret assembled her forces at Hexham, where she was attacked 
 by Montague, with an inferior body of troops, 15th. May, 1464, 
 and suffered a total defeat, her surviving adherents dispersed, and 
 many suffered on the scaffold, among the latter were the Duke 
 of Somerset, Lords Ross and Hungerford, Sir Humphrey Ne- 
 ville, and many gentlemen of distinction. 
 
 Margaret, after the Battle, fled with her young Son, Prince Ed-
 
 BATTLE OF HEDGLEY MOOR. 101 
 
 ward, to a neighbouring forest, to escape the pursuit of the enemy, 
 and during the night, fell into the hands of a party of robbers, by 
 whom she was despoiled of her rings and jewels. While they 
 were quarrelling and dividing the booty, she escaped, — but after- 
 wards making herself known to one of the robbers, was, by the 
 man's generosity, protected until she finally escaped into France. 
 In 1470, the great Earl of Warwick, and his Son-in-law the 
 Duke of Clarence, raised the standard of Rebellion, in England. 
 But their project being defeated, they fled to the Court of 
 France, and matured, in conjunction with the indefatigable Mar- 
 garet, a powerful conspiracy against Edward. In September, 
 Warwick, after eluding the Flemish fleet, landed at Dartmouth, 
 and was soon at the head of a large army. Edward advanced 
 against him, and at Nottingham, the two armies came in sight ; 
 but the battle was prevented by the treachery of the Marquis 
 of Montague, Brother to Warwick, holding a command in the 
 King's army. Edward escaped from his mutinous troops, and 
 throwing himself, with a small retinue, on board a Ship, at Lynn, 
 in Norfolk, landed at Alkmaer, in Holland, and left the Lancas- 
 trians Masters of the Kingdom. 
 
 Henry VL was thus restored to the Throne to be again deposed. 
 Edward returned to England 25th. March, 1471, and the follow- 
 ing month defeated Warwick, at Barnet. Having, as usual, issued 
 orders to give no quarter, a terrible slaughter ensued. War- 
 wick and his Brother Montague was killed, and with them perish- 
 ed the hope of the House of Lancaster. When Queen Margaret 
 received intelligence of the death of Warwick, and the defeat of 
 his army, she took refuge in Beaulieu Abbey, in despair ; but be- 
 ing afterward encouraged by many powerful noblemen, once more 
 took the field, and had collected a considerable army when she was 
 overtaken by Edward, at Tewksbury, on the River Severn, and 
 totally defeated, 4th. May, 1471. On the 21st. May, the young 
 Prince Edward, her Son, was murdered, and she herself thrown into 
 the Tower, where in a few days, the unfortunate Henry VI. ex-
 
 102 BATTLE OF HEDGLEY MOOR. 
 
 pired, but whether he died a natural or violent death is unknown. 
 Common report alleged, that the Duke of Gloucester, afterwards 
 Richard III. killed him with his own hands. 
 
 Such are the most remarkable occurrences which happened in 
 England, according to the best Historians, from the first Battle of 
 St. Alban's, in the year 1455, to the Battle of 13oswoi-th, in 1485, 
 which latter terminated a quarrel, the most fiital that occurs in 
 her History, which, in the words of Hume, " was not finished in 
 less than a course of thirty years, which was signalized by twelve 
 pitched Battles, which opened a scene of extraordinary fierceness 
 and cruelty, is computed to have cost the lives of eighty princes of 
 the blood, and almost entirely annihilated the ancient nobility of 
 England." 
 
 Many of these events appear, at first sight, rather the dreams of 
 Romance than the narration of Truth: they exhibit the most inter- 
 esting scenes of military exploit, daring adventure, and human vi- 
 cissitude, that the warlike age, in which they happened, presents 
 to our notice ; and demonstrate too, — if that was necessary, after 
 the experience of the last thirty years of our own time, — that it 
 is dangerous for Sovereigns to outrage public opinion, and dare 
 its controul; that it is ruinous to them to be unmindful of the 
 cultivation of peace, the establishment of law, and security in 
 the state, for the splendour of a Crown and the love of Martial 
 fame; and that the best reward, as well as the chief security of a 
 king, is the love of his people, and the moral influence of their 
 united opinions in his favour. During these wars, there is calcu- 
 lated to have fallen upwards of one hundred and twenty thousand 
 men, a large number, considering the population of England, at 
 that period. During the twenty years of the wars which Britain 
 waged against the Emperor Napoleon, it is said to have cost her 
 half a million of the flower of her population, and one thousand 
 millions of pounds sterling, a sum apparently incredible, were it 
 not borne out by the oflicial documcjits of the state.
 
 BATTLE OF HEDGLEY MOOR. 103 
 
 ^ I have been led into these remarks in prefacing the little Ballad 
 of ' Hedgley Moor,' rather from the singular incidents connected 
 with the story, — than from any wish to take up time by mention- 
 ing facts which are already familiar to every one who has studied 
 the history of his country, — and the opportunity of bringing be- 
 fore the notice of the local reader, a period constituting a remark- 
 able feature in the History of Northumberland, which, at some 
 future time, may engage the pen of the Novelist and Poet, to do 
 justice to events fitter for the page of Romance than the chronicle 
 of History. 
 
 The share that the Earls of Northumberland had in these wars 
 I have already mentioned, Edward IV. restored the heir of the 
 de Percies, the only Son of the Earl, slain at the Battle of Towton, 
 to the ancient possessions and titles of his family, and which were 
 confirmed by the usurper, Richard III. who saw the policy of 
 securing so powerful a Baron, not only to back him with his war- 
 like retainers, but to guard the Marches of Scotland. But he is 
 said by tradition to have held back his levies from Richard, pre- 
 vious to the Battle of Bosworth, and mainly contributed, with Sir 
 William Stanley, in replacing the Lancastrian succession on the 
 Throne of England. 
 
 Hedgley Moor, the scene of the following Ballad, is crossed by 
 the central Road which leads from Newcastle to Edinburgh, and 
 is about eight miles to the south of Wooler. Percy's Cross, where 
 Sir Ralph de Percy fell, stands by the road side, and is in tolerable 
 preservation. Perhaps not the least curious occurrence during that 
 period is, that Alnwick, in a few years, changed occupiers four 
 times, being garrisoned alternately, with Lancastrians, Yorkists, 
 Frenchmen, and Scottish Moss-troopers. The family residence of 
 the Earls of Northumberland was generally in Yorkshire .-—When 
 in Northumberland, the Chief resided either in garrison at Berwick, 
 Alnwick, or in the Romantic Castle of Warkworth.
 
 BATTLE OF 
 
 HEDGLEY MOOR. 
 
 ylpril 25th. 1464. 
 
 To quell the Royal Margaret's power. 
 
 Stout Neville he is boun'. 
 And all by Hedgley on the Moor, 
 
 He threw his pallions down. 
 
 But soon O'er Hairup's Hill so drear. 
 
 Float Percy's pennons gay ; 
 Gleam Scotland's dreaded Border spear ; 
 
 Shout, Gallia's chivalry. 
 
 " 'Tis Beanlcy Heights," Queen JNIargaret said, 
 " You'll keep, my Lord, this day, 
 
 And ere to-morrow's sun has set. 
 We'll give yon folk a fray."
 
 BATTI-E OF HEDGLEY MOOR. 105 
 
 It's up then spak' false Hungerford, 
 
 An ill death may he die, — 
 ** Give me the Douglas Border spears, 
 
 And th' onset I shall gi'e !" 
 
 Like Summer sun, by cloud o'ercast. 
 
 Lord Percy's visage fell. 
 He scorn'd the taunt — and fierce in pride, 
 
 Rush'd from the vantage hill. 
 
 'Tis Brumage streams ran rowing clear, 
 
 And glitter'd in the sun ; 
 But red red was the Brumage stream, 
 
 Lang ere that day was done. 
 
 No record now in painted hall, 
 
 His faith of knighthood keeps, 
 Nor 'scutcheon in the proud chapell 
 
 The fate of valour weeps. 
 But neath the cross on Hedgley Moor, 
 
 Sir Ralph de Percy sleeps.
 
 106 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Air, — Last May a brarv Wooer cam' dorvn the Lang Glen. 
 
 Hope comes with each Season to drive awa' care,. 
 Then, never, ill luck ! be forebodin' ; 
 
 But thankfu' enjoy what has fa'en to your share ! 
 And pleasure will dance at your weddin'. 
 
 Your weddin', &c. 
 
 Yon bright sun that shines on the bonny green hills. 
 
 When clouded, 'tis folly repining ; 
 The clouds that fly past are like Life's fleeting ills. 
 
 They prove the delight of his shining ! 
 
 His shining, &c. 
 
 Content is the key-stane of pleasure on earth ; 
 
 And Love's the best flower in the mailin : 
 And Hope's the best maiden to beauty and worth. 
 
 When swains are both faithful and willing. 
 
 And willing, Acc.
 
 107 
 
 FRAGMENT OF AN OLD SONG. 
 
 Air, — ' / ha'e a roke art a wee pickle tow.' 
 
 I ha'e a sweetheart that says she lo'es me. 
 The deil's i' the kimmer for thinkin' o't ; 
 The lass that I buckle, a tocher maun ha'e, 
 To haud at our bridal a drinkin' ot. 
 For siller, until her 
 
 I'd bing fu' la ; 
 I'd flatter an' daut her, 
 Gude luck be the fa' : 
 O love is but cauld when the tocher is snia', 
 It makes the heart merry the clinkin' o't. 
 
 A cog o' gude ale and an auld Scottish sang, 
 And a weel-tocher'd beauty beside ye, O, 
 Let these be your luck an' ye'er no that far wrang. 
 Whatever in life should betide ye, O. 
 O love's like the rose-bud 
 
 In simmer sae gay, 
 You pu' the sweet gem 
 And its blossoms decay, 
 But a lump o' gude land winna melt in a day. 
 Then here's to the lass wi' the gowdie, O.
 
 lOS 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Air, — * Whistle o'er the lave o'l.' 
 
 When Life's young dream with flowers was clad, 
 And Hope, with fairy frohc tread, 
 O'er Pleasure's field her mazes led ! 
 
 I lov'd a Highland Laddie. 
 
 So true his faith — his heart so free. 
 Was ne'er his match on hill or lea. 
 Who vow'd his ardent love to me. 
 
 The gallant Highland Laddie. 
 
 But loud War's rousing bugles blew ! 
 To love and home he bade adieu, 
 And to his Prince's battle, flew 
 
 The faithful Highland Laddie. 
 
 On dark CuUoden's bloody heath, 
 Amang the brave he sleeps in death ; 
 But to my latest, latest breath, 
 
 I'll love that Highland Laddie.
 
 109 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Am,—' The Yellorv-haifd Laddie.' 
 
 The go wan and primrose were out on the lea, 
 The Mavis had caroll'd her first hymn of joy. 
 
 When down by the Carron's sweet hawthorn grove, 
 I heard a fair Maid, sing the sorrows of love. 
 
 " Rejoice, ye wild birds, on your iove-trysted thorn, 
 Hope lulls thee to rest and shall wake thee at morn ! 
 
 Shall wake thee to pleasure, but wake me to pain. 
 From the dream of the days I shall ne'er see again. 
 
 " In vain they entice me with kindness, and say. 
 The Summer shall come and chase sorrow away ; 
 
 O could they but guess how this heart throbs with 
 pain. 
 As I sigh for the Lad I shall ne'er see again !" 
 
 Sweet Carron ! the wild lark shall sing o'er thy lea. 
 And Summer shall bring her gay treasures to thee ; 
 
 But never again, in that sweet hawthorn grove, 
 Thou'lt hear the fair Maid sing the sorrows of love.
 
 110 
 
 THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 In Life's May morn, when joy is young, 
 
 And drinks the heavenly dew of love ; 
 When Hope leads out her fairy throng, 
 
 To revel in the grove ; 
 And Gratitude on high aspires, 
 
 In Meditation's seraph Car, 
 How sweet, as Twilight slow retires. 
 
 To hail the Evening Star ! 
 
 Now modest Summer blushing comes. 
 
 Surrounded by her followers vain. 
 The pirate Bee, that fearless roams ; 
 
 The gilded insect train ; 
 The violet pure, the wilding rose ; 
 
 The bleating flock that strays afar : 
 Then, O ! how sweet, at Twilight's close, 
 
 To hail the Evening Star !
 
 THE EVENING STAR. Ill 
 
 When proud abundance gaily spreads 
 
 Her camp in Autumn's rich domain ; 
 And Mirth, her witching influence sheds 
 
 O'er blithe contentment's reign : 
 To healthful sport, and keen delight, 
 
 Returning from the sylvan war. 
 How lovely on the brow of night 
 
 Shines out the Evening Star ! 
 
 But O ! when Winter's tempests break 
 
 Resistless from the icy pole. 
 And Worth and Friendship covert seek. 
 
 Where Welcome steers the bowl ; 
 When Mirth and Wit divide the hour, 
 
 And Care is left with winds to war ; 
 How sweetly then, on Pleasure's bower. 
 
 Beams Evening's genial Star !
 
 112 
 
 SONG. 
 
 SUPPOSED TO BE SUNG BY 
 
 A SCOTTISH EMIGRANT, 
 
 IN AMERICA. 
 AiR,^' The Woodpecker.' 
 
 Now Summer is wean'd from the bosom of Spring ! 
 
 The wild birds prodaim that their season is o'er; 
 The Eagle, loud screaming, is seen on the wing. 
 
 And lowins: herds seek the cool breeze of the shore : 
 The hunters' canoe swiftly shoots o'er the tide, 
 
 But their song o* delight fills my bosom wi' pain. 
 It tells of that land, — which I left in my pride, — 
 
 Fate whispers, I ne'er shall re-visit again ! 
 
 When roaming the forest, or plying the oar, 
 
 I gaze on the clouds gliding eastward away, — 
 Perhaps they may flee to my ain native shore, — 
 
 And with them wild fancy delighteth to stray ! 
 Though dear is this country, which Nature adorns 
 
 With soul-stirring grandeur, and freedom divine, 
 To the land of my Fathers, Hope ever returns. 
 
 And the friends of my youth in the days o' langsyne.
 
 UNTO 
 
 His 3iost Excellent Majesty, 
 THE KING, IN COUNCIL. 
 
 THE 
 
 WEAVERS' PETITION, 
 
 ON THE CORN LAWS. 
 
 O, THOU ! our Faith's defender strong, 
 Whom Lawty says, can do no wrong ; 
 Whose name's a tower of strength among 
 
 Earth's mighty Lords ! 
 Accept of this our humble song, 
 
 In hamely words. 
 
 * Our rudeness. Sovereign Liege, forgi'e, 
 Little we're used to bend the knee, 
 Or bow the head to Majesty, 
 
 In earthly state ! 
 Save him who sways Eternity 
 
 And governs fate ! 
 
 " This honest apology of the British Operatives reminds us of the 
 compliment paid to Fayette by the Americans. 
 
 We bow not the head. 
 
 We bend not the knee ; 
 But we offer the heart, 
 
 Fayette unto thee. 
 
 P
 
 114 WEAVERS' PETIT lOK. 
 
 But want, than which no plea is stronger. 
 Has on us set her cruel finger : 
 We cannot bide the brattle longer, 
 
 But fairly beat, 
 Before thy throne, impelled by hunger, 
 
 Implore our right. 
 
 *'Tis not for us, whose want is bread. 
 Lectures on right and wrong to read ; 
 Or what state measure will remeed 
 
 The Nation's bank ! 
 Than ours, far wiser heads maun red 
 
 The ravell'd hank. 
 
 f But this, dread Sire ! we understan*. 
 Freedom's the sacred right o' Man ; 
 That Heaven once fram'd a social plan 
 
 Of moral worth. 
 And gave it with a bounteous ban' 
 
 To all on earth. 
 
   Of all Rebellions, those of the belly arc the worst. The first remedy 
 or prevention is to remove, by all possible means, that material cause 
 of sedition of which we speak, which is want and poverty in the 
 estate. — Bacon. 
 
 f This is the genuine Cresd of Magna Charta.
 
 WEAVERS' PETITION. 115 
 
 * Knowledge is Power ! when Britain, rude, 
 Felt every want, but want of food, 
 To drive a prey, or hunt the wood, 
 
 Were her'Sj and life 
 Was passed in savage hardihood, 
 
 And Battle strife. 
 
 But, when Improvement's genial Star 
 Arose o'er Feudal scenes of War, 
 Invention, in her magic car. 
 
 From Heaven came down, 
 And man ! from hill and glen afar. 
 
 Built tower and town. 
 
 Thus arts increas'd, as Interest charm'd ; 
 New lands were till'd and cities swarm'd : 
 And Man redeem'd ! by Freedom warm'd 
 
 In heavenly light. 
 For Nature's charter boldly arm'd, 
 
 f And forc'd his right. 
 
   Knowledge is Power, is an axiom of Bacon's. It is only true in 
 the political sense. 
 
 •f- See History of England, — Magna Charta, was forced from John, 
 and Edward I. and in modern times the expatriation of the Stuarts, 
 and elevation of the Family of Hanover lo the British throne ! attest 
 the sacred doctrines of the Constitution of 1688.
 
 116 WEAVERS' PETITION. 
 
 * At last Ambition drew his blade 
 
 To rule the world, — vain impious raid ! — 
 
 But Europe join'd and broke his trade, 
 
 And crush'd his name ; 
 Ah then ! although we had the lead. 
 
 We lost the Game ! 
 
 f When British thunder quell'd the seas ; 
 When Britons elear'd the Frenchmen's leas. 
 And made their Marshals skip like fleas, 
 
 From Spain to Paris, 
 What was our fa* ! — Fame's empty rays ! — 
 
 Nae mair would sair us. 
 
 I Our Time was lost in foreign shews, 
 At Russ levees in Prussian hose ! 
 In cobweb plots and civil rows. 
 
 And courtly dafiing : 
 While all the Powers were makin' mou'hs 
 
 And at us laughing. 
 
 • The Emperor Napoleon frankly acknowledged that his ohject 
 was universal ascendency, throuj^h ihc humiliation of llrilain — Sec 
 It'Mcarat Voice from St. Jfcktia. 
 
 ■f The neglect of the Commercial treaty which wc miglit have formed 
 at thiR time, is here alluded to. 
 
 J The nltrration of British policy since that period is ascribed to 
 the firmnvss of his present Majesty; and, injustice to History, to the 
 libvral policy of Mr. Canning and his Coadjutors in the Ministry.
 
 WEAVEllS' PETITION. 117 
 
 Sire ! 'tis our honest leal opinion, 
 
 Tory and Whig should act in union 
 
 To save the state ! from debt and ruin ! — 
 
 Your Holy Allies 
 Hatch plots, with whilk, nor your dominion. 
 
 Nor Interest tallies. 
 
 * Sire ! ha'e nae fear of foreign Priests ; — 
 The time's gone by of Saints and Ghosts ; — 
 Britons reck neither Bulls nor feasts 
 
 Of lordly Rome, 
 But nourish Freedom in their breasts, 
 
 Till crack of doom. 
 
 Our Fathers gave yours Britain's throne ! 
 f Hand sicker what by Law's your own ; 
 The sacred gift, by Valour won, 
 
 Long may ye grace, 
 Long may the princely Brunswick line 
 
 In honour blaze ! 
 
 • The security of the present Dynasty being now, under the blessing 
 of Providence, established. The Great Act, which will hand down our 
 Sovereign's name with honour to posterity is the emancipation of his 
 Catholic subjects. 
 
 ■\ Haud sicker,— -Hold with firmness.
 
 118 WEAVERS' PETITION. 
 
 * Her fearful day of triumph past, 
 France, struck by Britain, licks the dust : 
 But, O ! beware, her best blood's crust 
 
 Is on your sword ! 
 Revenge is s^veet — she's no to trust- 
 On sacred word ! 
 
 f Regarding Ireland ! what is meant 
 
 By creeds of Constance ! Nice ! and Trent ! 
 
 We little know ; but 'tis in print. 
 
 Faith's rule to guide 'em ! 
 Screen not the light that Heaven has sent : 
 
 Give them their freedom ! 
 
 I Six Million Freemen's guardian swords 
 
 To jump the scabbard at two words, 
 
 " BE FREE !" is worth a king's regards, 
 
 Who rules for fame ! 
 Bless'd is the king whom love rewards 
 
 With Father's name. 
 
 " Neither France, nor Spain, nor Sicily, nor Belgium, nor 
 America, will ever heartily forgive the occupation of their (Capitals 
 during the War, by British Armies ! Canning's glorious Oration on 
 Portuguese affairs proves it. 
 
 •}• The obnoxious tenet in these Creeds, so alarming to Protestants, 
 is given up by all liberal Catholics. 
 
 X Ireland mutt lie Free tooncr or later, because it is her sacred right, — 
 Querc ? ought we not to surrender with grace, what we cannot keep 
 without violation of our honour and safety as a Nation.
 
 weavers' petition. 119 
 
 O, thou ! who rules this mighty realm, 
 * Gar speak the Skipper at the helm ; 
 Skeely although he steers, O ! tell him 
 
 To mind the Poor, 
 That's stow'd below — ere want o'erwhelm 
 
 Them far from shore. 
 
 O ! haste and open safety's hatches 
 
 Once more, for love of heaven to wretches, 
 
 Starv'd and despairing, fed on catches 
 
 From morn to morn ! 
 Reduc'd to live on Parish hutches, 
 
 f For want of Corn. 
 
 ^ Take tent, take tent we humbly pray. 
 These import prices will not do ; 
 Better the average prices gae 
 
 Down to what's just. 
 Then Britain's pride and honour lie 
 
 Low in the dust. 
 
 " Gar speak the Skipper — command the Master of the Vessel. 
 
 •}• Not from scarcity of Corn, but from want of money to buy it. 
 Farmers are too often abused by the ignorant, not distinguishing be- 
 twixt want of Corn and want of Money. During the two years of the 
 greatest distress remembered for a long period, 1825, 1826, the Aver- 
 age price of Wheat did not exceed 61s. 8d. per Quarter. 
 
 $ Take tent,— Be on your guard ; exercise concern.
 
 120 WEAVERS' PETITION, 
 
 * Our Shipping interest's gone to ruin ! 
 Our Bankers broken bubbles strewing ! 
 Our Trade to Foreign hands a-going, 
 
 And what is worst, 
 Mischanter black in Ireland's brewing, 
 
 By Party curst. 
 
 Let greedy Priests and Landlord's rack us ; 
 Let pamper'd City-lobsters mock us ; 
 On Poortith's wheel let Fortune break us, 
 
 These ills we'll bear, — 
 'Twill break our hearts, if thou forsake us, 
 
 Our Sovereign dear. 
 
 Trade fairly balanced a' weel thrives ; 
 'Tis not on Credit Labour lives ; 
 Employment, honest payment craves, 
 
 Not Parish right ; 
 I A gi'cn bits gvde eneuch, hut leaves 
 
 A moral blight. 
 
 • This is rather over-coloured like most Petitions, but the state of 
 the Nation re(iuircs our shipping interest to receive every protection 
 and encouragement at present. 
 
 •f This is a lamentable truth, and must be obvious to all who have 
 any pretensions to sagacity. The Poor Laws have a dreadful tendency 
 to destroy the morals and indc])endencc of the people, — meanness and 
 vice ore over inscparahle companions of want and idleness.
 
 WEAVERS' PETITION. 121 
 
 To reign with glory. Sire ! protect 
 Each class that walk thy Vessel's deck ; 
 Respect them, and they will respect 
 
 Thy chief command ! 
 And firm as adamantine rock 
 
 Your throne shall stand. 
 
 But Eighty Shillings for a quarter, 
 Is neither fair nor honest barter ! 
 O make it less, or make a Martyr 
 
 Of these Corn Laws ! 
 And give the gallows, or the garter. 
 
 To whom ye please. 
 
 And your Petitioners, 
 
 As in duty bound, 
 
 Will ever Pray, 
 
 POSTSCllIPT. 
 
 'Tis done ! hark, round St. Stephen's chair ! 
 Canning pours out his wit and lair ; 
 Spite o' the Lawyer's premunire : 
 
 Hope, speak for me. 
 Reform's begun ! — the Corn is lower ! * 
 
 And Ireland's free ! 
 
 " The Average is here meant, being now assumed at 60s. per Quarter 
 for Wheat, and other gruin in proportion. 
 
 Q
 
 THE 
 
 WEAVERS' PETITION 
 
 Since the preceding Poem was put to the Press, the great national 
 questions, the ' Corn Laws,' and ' Catholic Emancipation', have 
 been discussed in the House of Commons. A plan to regulate the 
 price of Corn, in Britain, has been laid before Parliament, by the 
 Ministry, which has yet to go through the House of Peers, and re- 
 ceive his Majesty's sanction, before it becomes the law of the land. 
 That it may have the effect of giving a fresh impetus to Commerce 
 and Manufactures, is devoutly to be wished. To the Author, who 
 can only reason on the knoAvlcdge of those who have visited the 
 Continent, and have made strict inquiry into the cost of rearing 
 grain in Foreign States, it is plain that the assumed valuation of 
 Foreign produce is below prime cost, and must, as a matter of 
 course, be a barrier to the reciprocal benefit which Foreigners ex- 
 pect from the alteration of our Corn Laws, or in plain language, 
 they will neither be ready to take our money nor our goods for 
 their Agricultural produce, at so low a price ! That British Agri- 
 culture should be protected is admitted on all sides. The serious 
 question is, what is a fair protecting price for British produce? so 
 as neither to impede the pi'ogress of our Commerce, nor entice 
 land-owners to sink the capital of the Nation, in cultivating poor 
 soils, from the expectation of getting a protected price for what 
 is thus forced from Poverty ! — My humble opinion is, — That Free 
 Trade in the Food of Life, being consisteiit with the decrees of Pro- 
 vidence and the general government of Society, the nearer this na- 
 tion approximates the ' Universal Law' the better. Stripping the 
 British Corn Laws from the mysticism of politics, and the preju- 
 dice of s€lf-intercst, truth still tippcars — that their operation has had
 
 WEAVERS' PETITION. 123 
 
 a bad effect on the condition of the Country. The safest and su- 
 rest remedy is, to save the wealth of the Nation, totally lost yearly 
 by the forcing of poor soils. To throw that wealth into Foreign 
 Trade to preserve the balance in our favour — to protect and che- 
 rish Ships, Colonies, and Commerce, and remove the distress of the 
 People ! for if that distress is not removed, the land-owners must 
 be injured — from the want of money to pay for their Corn! ! for 
 how can the people get money without employment, and employ- 
 ment is impossible without Manufactures and Commerce. 
 
 With regard to the Catholic question ! it is lost for the present 
 Session, by a majority o^ four ! in the Commons, and, of course, 
 has been abandoned in the upper House. The general impressson 
 is, that the violent and most ungrateful conduct of some of the 
 leading Catholics, both in England and Ireland, has led to this 
 failure, which every lover of his Country — every friend to Free- 
 dom — every supporter of liberal principle, must deplore. Do the 
 Alarmists of Ireland really think that the British Protestants arc 
 to be bullied into concession ? — and do they never reflect that their 
 political views have always been a matter of suspicion to the high 
 €hurch party of their opponents ! — They must be emancipated by 
 public opinion in England, not by threats in Ireland, and common 
 sense might dictate, that in time of general pacification, and while 
 Europe is slowly recovering strength from the murderous conflict 
 of Power, — The war of opinion must be carried on, not by threats 
 and inflammatory harangues, but by the progress of Knowledge — 
 the blessings of Education, and Christian Charity, all which, in- 
 deed, they must acknowledge to be the main pillars of true Religion. 
 
 The conduct of some of the English Catholics, during 1826, 
 while a General Election of Parliament was pending and in opera- 
 tion has been, to say the least of it, ' impolitic' Political incon- 
 sistency is never forgiven by the British People, except accom- 
 panied by the most satisfactory and heartfelt conviction of the 
 error, which has hitherto misled the mind— neither talent, nor
 
 124 WEAVERS' PETITION. 
 
 station, nor popularity, can screen the changeling in politics ! Now 
 what has their policy ended in ? — The conduct, I say, of the 
 English Catholics, in supporting * Parly favottritcs,' or rather in di- 
 viding their friendship betwixt the Court Party and their old 
 friends, the Whigs, — has, as might easily have been foreseen, weak- 
 ened their ranks in Parliament, and been, — but it is a mere con- 
 jecture — the cause of the Minority. 
 
 But the folly or mistaken zeal of individuals, can never change 
 the nature of the Catholic claims, and that Constitution, in which, 
 they indubitably have a right to participate, as Freemen, and as 
 
 such, must one day enjoy! ! their best security, being loyalty 
 
 to the Throne, and a constitutional regard and protection to the 
 rights of the Universal British Nation.
 
 125 
 
 SONG. 
 
 THE FLOWER OF HOPE. 
 
 In Summer when Hope, from her wild forest grove. 
 O'er green waving fields went a voyage of love ; 
 
 By chance a fair maiden found out her sweet bower. 
 Which Pleasure had deck'd with a Rose-tree in 
 flower. 
 
 She gather'd the fairest that bloom'd on the thorn. 
 And ran to her lover, his breast to adorn : 
 
 He gave her a kiss for the gem of the grove, 
 What could he do less for her offer of love ! 
 
 The rose-bud of Hope, and the dew-drop of joy, 
 Shone bright on her cheek, and stood pure in her eye, 
 
 And' the blush of delight, to hersel' maist unknown, 
 Awaken'd a sigh, which an angel might own ! 
 
 And ever sinsyne there's a joy in her smile, 
 A sigh in her bosom, so free from all guile, 
 
 A hope in her love-speaking eye, that disclose 
 Her heart longs to throb, where she plac'd the 
 wild Rose !
 
 126 
 
 FAREWELL! SWEET HOME! 
 
 Air, — ' A Bose-iree full in hearing' 
 
 " When on thy slumbers stealing, 
 
 I saw a heavin<j sisfli o' care ; 
 And tears thy grief revealing. 
 
 Was on your rosy cheek so fan- : 
 Ah ! why let sadness tarry, 
 
 Where pleasure now should only be ; 
 Ah ! w^hy thus hide your sorrow 
 
 From him who is so dear to thee !" 
 
 She, on his bosom falling. 
 
 Says, " O ! it was a blissful scene ! 
 Within my Father's dwelling, 
 
 He clasp'd me to his heart again ; 
 My mother kiss'd her JNIarion, 
 
 And said, from her I ne'er should roam : 
 Thus joy, my soul o'erpowerin'. 
 
 Awoke me from this dream of Home !" 
 
 "But, farewell! Caledonie! 
 
 A long and last adieu to thee ! 
 Farewell ! ye hills sae bonie, 
 
 And winsome plains sae dear to me : 
 Farewell ! Forth's winding river ! 
 
 My Father and my Mother dear ! 
 Farewell ! farewell for ever : 
 
 Sweet Home ! I'll never see thee mair !'*
 
 CREATION. 
 
 A PARAPHRASE OF GENESIS I. 
 
 The bold and sophistical doctrine of the Atheists, — for they can- 
 not with any propriety be called either Moralists or Metaphysicians, 
 that " Reason cannot demonstrate the existence of a God, apart foam 
 the Universe, and that, therefore, the existence of God or a Divinity y 
 is not an object of Knoivledge," has been confuted by the disco- 
 veries of one of the greatest men the world has, as yet, produc- 
 ed — La Place — who concentrating the theories of the Geome- 
 tricians and Algebi'aists, of every age and country, has clearly 
 proved that the Universe does not exist from necessity, because it 
 is governed by Laws, exhibiting by their operation a design which 
 might have been different. God, therefore, must have existed be- 
 fore he designed the Universe, and Reason dictates, that he must 
 exist apart from that which He, in his infinite wisdom, created. 
 This is a truth requiring no other demonstration. The existence 
 of God, therefore, is an awfid and im7nutable fact, demonstrated by 
 Reason, indepefident of Revelation. But the utmost possible per- 
 fection to which the human mind is destined to arrive, can only be 
 a limited knowledge of his works. 
 
 At first 'twas chaos all ! and o'er the waste, 
 Jehovah, God, the Almighty Spirit pass'd : 
 Fix'd by his will, the appointed time was nigh. 
 When the vast realm of space should glorify 
 The power of the Eternal, and the light 
 Of perfect Wisdom shine for ever bright !
 
 1^8 CREATION. 
 
 He came ! tlie voice of Heaven's Almighty Lord, 
 
 Creation, slumbering in dark chaos, heard : 
 
 " Let Heaven on high arise, and Earth disclose !' 
 
 And, lo ! the Earth appear'd, as Heaven arose. 
 
 " Let there be light," he said, and there was light. 
 
 The glory of his presence, and the night 
 
 Fled from before him, and he saw 'twas good. 
 
 And Time, the universe, in silence view'd. 
 
 But now with herbs and trees the Earth was crown'd. 
 
 Ere rain had bless'd, or sim had warm'd the ground ; 
 
 When, lo ! the Sun along th' etherial arch. 
 
 To rule the day, began his steady march. 
 
 And when in setting glory sunk his light. 
 
 The lovely Moon appear'd and rul'd the night ; 
 
 Now Oceans' heaving deep, in fear, divides, 
 
 And to Earth's new-form'd bulwarks roll the tides. 
 
 While the dense clouds confess'd th' electric power, 
 
 And blooming Nature drank the genial shower. 
 
 Next from the elements, the Almighty King, 
 
 Did vital beings to existence bring. 
 
 With wond'rous skill each kind receiv'd a frame. 
 
 Fowls of the air, and Fish of every name : 
 
 Lo ! all the various varied tribes of Earth 
 
 He form'd, and suited to their clime and birth,
 
 CREATION. 129 
 
 And bless'd them! Heaven, Earth, Ocean's wide 
 
 domain 
 At once rejoic'd in God, and Nature's reign ; 
 Then last, but chief o'er all this wondrous plan, 
 God, after his own image, fashion'd man. 
 And bless'd him, and Creation in his sight 
 Was finish'd, and his glory fill'd it,— bright 
 RolPd the vast spheres. The system perfect stood, 
 And God, the Almighty Spirit, saw 'twas good ! * 
 
 O, Thou ! the universal God ! above 
 Our knowledge are thy varied works of love ! 
 Before thy word had form'd us, or had given 
 Laws to the countless worlds, that move in Heaven, 
 Glorious and just on Time's eternal throne 
 Thou reign'd supreme ! Omnipotent, alone ! 
 'Twas for thy glory space a semblance wore. 
 Thy will hath form'd us, and we know no more — 
 'Tis thine to rule thy works, ours humbly to adore ! 
 
 * Part of the above lines are borrowed from the first hymn of the Paraphrases 
 and Translations of Sacred Scripture, used in the Presbyterian Churches. 
 
 S
 
 NOTE 
 
 ON THE WEAVERS' PETITION. 
 
 The plain, but loyal and constitutional lancjuage which the Author 
 uses in this little Poem, he trusts the reader will not construe as 
 having a disrespectful tendency. Nothing can be farther from the 
 meaning of the verses. Within these few years, knowledge has 
 made such rapid progress, that what would be almost deemed 
 seditious principles twenty years ago, are now held as necessary 
 to be understood by every person who has the smallest pretension 
 to a knowledge of the laws and privileges of his Country. Both 
 the Tories and Whigs have declared that, in the present day, 
 there is a moral energy in public opinion, that laughs to scorn 
 all internal sedition ; and it is hij acting on this incontrovertible 
 truth, Ministers have acquired the general confidence of the 
 Public. The generous sympathy of his Majesty to his people, 
 on the other hand, and the magnificent contributions to their 
 relief, afforded from his own private purse, backed too, with the 
 goodness of heart which he is known to possess, have rendered 
 him so deservedly popular, that the least attempt to introduce 
 disloyal sentiments into any publication, would be scouted as im- 
 pertinent. In British politics, the established Civil and Religious 
 Constitution ought to be the rallying point of every lover of 
 his Country, and no person can be far wrong who, while he is 
 faithful and loyal to his king, is true to the commonwealth, and 
 obedient to the laws established. All reform whatever, whether in 
 the economy of the state, or in concession to parties, can only origi- 
 nate in Parliament. When any party opinion is attempted, out of 
 doors, to influence the rights of the Crown, or intimidate the 
 great Councils of the Nation, public opinion is too well informed 
 not to support the general interests of the State. The Irish 
 Catholics have often been libelled by foreigners, asserting that, in 
 the event of a fresh war, Ireland would rise against Britain, — no- 
 thing can be more absurd. The Irish are naturally brave and 
 loyal, — at the two words, he free, as stated in the Poem, the whole 
 of her Catholic population, amounting to Six Millions, would 
 rally round the British Constitution, which would then be their 
 dearest interest and rigid to maintain. No })erson doubts this 
 who has any knowledge of Ireland and the spirit of her People !
 
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