The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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GILMANSCLEUCH.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
GILMANSCLEUCH.
FOUNDED UPON AN ANCIENT FAMILY TRADITION.
“Whair hae ye laid the goud, Peggye,
Ye gat on New-yeir's-day?
I lookit ilka day to see
Ye drest in fine array;
Ye gat on New-yeir's-day?
I lookit ilka day to see
Ye drest in fine array;
“But nouther kirtle, cap, nor gowne,
To Peggye has come hame:
Whair hae ye stowed the goud, dochter?
I fear ye hae been to blame.”
To Peggye has come hame:
Whair hae ye stowed the goud, dochter?
I fear ye hae been to blame.”
“My goud it was my ain, father;
A gift is ever free;
An' when I need my goud agene,
It winna be tint to me.”
A gift is ever free;
An' when I need my goud agene,
It winna be tint to me.”
“O hae ye sent it to a friend,
Or lent it to a fae?
Or gien it to some fause leman,
To breed ye mickle wae?”
Or lent it to a fae?
Or gien it to some fause leman,
To breed ye mickle wae?”
“I hae na sent it to a friend,
Nor lent it to a fae;
An' never man without your ken,
Sal cause me joy or wae.
Nor lent it to a fae;
An' never man without your ken,
Sal cause me joy or wae.
68
“I gae it to a poor auld man,
Came shivering to the door;
An' when I heard his waesome tale,
I wust my treasure more.”
Came shivering to the door;
An' when I heard his waesome tale,
I wust my treasure more.”
“What was the beggar's tale, Peggye?
I fain wald hear it o'er;
I fain wald hear that wylie tale
That drained thy little store.”
I fain wald hear it o'er;
I fain wald hear that wylie tale
That drained thy little store.”
“His hair was like the thristle doune,
His cheeks were furred wi' tyme,
His beard was like a bush o' lyng,
When silvered o'er wi' ryme.
His cheeks were furred wi' tyme,
His beard was like a bush o' lyng,
When silvered o'er wi' ryme.
“He lifted up his languid eye,
Whilk better days had seen;
An' aye he heaved the mournfu' sigh,
An' the saut teirs fell atween.
Whilk better days had seen;
An' aye he heaved the mournfu' sigh,
An' the saut teirs fell atween.
“He took me by the hands, and saide,
While pleasantly he smiled,
‘O weel to you, my little flower,
That blumes in desart wilde;
While pleasantly he smiled,
‘O weel to you, my little flower,
That blumes in desart wilde;
“‘An' may ye never feel the waes
That lang hae followit me,
Bereavit of a' my gudes and gear,
My friends and familye!
That lang hae followit me,
Bereavit of a' my gudes and gear,
My friends and familye!
“‘In Gilmanscleuch, beneath the heuch,
My fathers lang did dwell;
Aye foremost, under bauld Buccleuch,
A foreign fae to quell.
My fathers lang did dwell;
Aye foremost, under bauld Buccleuch,
A foreign fae to quell.
“‘Ilk petty robber through the lands
They taucht to stand in awe,
An' aften checked the plundering bands
O' their kinsman Tushilaw.
They taucht to stand in awe,
An' aften checked the plundering bands
O' their kinsman Tushilaw.
“‘But when the bush was in the flush,
An' fairer there was nane,
Ae blast did all its honours crush,
An' Gilmanscleuch is gane!
An' fairer there was nane,
Ae blast did all its honours crush,
An' Gilmanscleuch is gane!
“‘I had ane brother lithe an' stronge,
But froward, fierce, an' keen;
Ane only sister, sweet an' young,
Her name was luvely Jean.
But froward, fierce, an' keen;
Ane only sister, sweet an' young,
Her name was luvely Jean.
“‘Her hair was like the threads of goud,
Her cheeks of rosy hue,
Her eyne were like the huntin' hawks,
That owre the cassel flew.
Her cheeks of rosy hue,
Her eyne were like the huntin' hawks,
That owre the cassel flew.
“‘Of fairest fashion was her form,
Her skin the driven snaw
That's drifted by the wintery storm
On lofty Gilman's-law:
Her skin the driven snaw
That's drifted by the wintery storm
On lofty Gilman's-law:
“‘Her browe nae blink of scorninge wore,
Her teeth were ivorie,
Her lips the little purple floure
That blumes on Bailey-lee.
Her teeth were ivorie,
Her lips the little purple floure
That blumes on Bailey-lee.
“‘O true, true was the reade that said
That beauty's but a snare;
Young Jock o' Harden her betrayed,
Whilk grievit us wonder sair.
That beauty's but a snare;
Young Jock o' Harden her betrayed,
Whilk grievit us wonder sair.
“‘My brother Adam stormed in wrathe,
An' swore in angry mood,
Either to rychte his dear sister,
Or shed the traytor's blood.
An' swore in angry mood,
Either to rychte his dear sister,
Or shed the traytor's blood.
“‘I kend his honour fair an' firm,
An' didna doubt his faithe;
But being the youngest o' seven brethren,
To marry he was laithe.
An' didna doubt his faithe;
But being the youngest o' seven brethren,
To marry he was laithe.
“‘When June had decked the braes in grene,
An' flushed the forest tree;
When young deers ranne on ilka hill,
An' lambs on ilka lee;
An' flushed the forest tree;
When young deers ranne on ilka hill,
An' lambs on ilka lee;
“‘A shepherd frae our mountains hied,
Ane ill death mot he dee!
‘O master, master, haste!’ he cried,
‘O haste alang wi' me!
Ane ill death mot he dee!
‘O master, master, haste!’ he cried,
‘O haste alang wi' me!
“‘Our ewes are banished frae the glen,
Their lambs are dri'en away,
The fairest raes on Eldin braes
Are Jock o' Harden's prey.
Their lambs are dri'en away,
The fairest raes on Eldin braes
Are Jock o' Harden's prey.
“‘His hounds are ringing through your woods,
An' manye deere are slaine:
Ane herd is fled to Douglas-craig,
An' ne'er will turn againe.
An' manye deere are slaine:
Ane herd is fled to Douglas-craig,
An' ne'er will turn againe.
“‘Your brother Adam, stalworth still,
I warned on yon hill-side;
An' he's awa to Yarrow's banks
As fast as he can ride.’
I warned on yon hill-side;
An' he's awa to Yarrow's banks
As fast as he can ride.’
“‘O ill betide thy haste, young man!
Thou micht hae tald it me:
Thou kend to hunt on all my lande
The Harden lads were free.
Thou micht hae tald it me:
Thou kend to hunt on all my lande
The Harden lads were free.
“‘Gae saddel me my milk-white steed,
Gae saddel him suddenlye;
To Yarrow banks I'll hie wi' speed,
This bauld hunter to see.’
Gae saddel him suddenlye;
To Yarrow banks I'll hie wi' speed,
This bauld hunter to see.’
“‘But low, low down, on Sundhope broom
My brother Harden spyde,
An' with a stern an' furious look
He up to him did ride.
My brother Harden spyde,
An' with a stern an' furious look
He up to him did ride.
‘Was't not enough, thou traytor strong,
My sister to betray?
That thou shouldst scare my feebil ewes,
An' chase their lambs away?
My sister to betray?
That thou shouldst scare my feebil ewes,
An' chase their lambs away?
‘Thy hounds are ringing through our woods,
Our choizest deers are slaine,
An' hundreds fledd to Stuart's hills
Will ne'er returne againe.’
Our choizest deers are slaine,
An' hundreds fledd to Stuart's hills
Will ne'er returne againe.’
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‘It sets thee weel, thou haughtye youth,
To bend such taunts on me:
Oft hae you hunted Harden's hills,
An' nae man hindered thee.’
To bend such taunts on me:
Oft hae you hunted Harden's hills,
An' nae man hindered thee.’
‘But wilt thou wedd my deare sister?
Now tell me—ay or nay.’
‘Nae question will I answer thee,
That's speerit in sic a way.
Now tell me—ay or nay.’
‘Nae question will I answer thee,
That's speerit in sic a way.
‘Tak this for truth, I ne'er meant ill
To nouther thee nor thine.’
Then spurrit his steed against the hill,
Was fleeter than the hynde.
To nouther thee nor thine.’
Then spurrit his steed against the hill,
Was fleeter than the hynde.
“‘He sett a buglet to his mouth,
An' blew baith loude and clear;
A sign to all his merry men
Their huntin' to forbeir.
An' blew baith loude and clear;
A sign to all his merry men
Their huntin' to forbeir.
“‘O turn thee, turn thee, traytor stronge.’
Cried Adam bitterlie;
‘Nae haughty Scott, of Harden's kin,
Sal proudlye scool on me.
Cried Adam bitterlie;
‘Nae haughty Scott, of Harden's kin,
Sal proudlye scool on me.
‘Now draw thy sword, or gie thy word,
For one of them I'll have,
Or to thy face I'll thee disgrace,
An' ca' thee coward knave.’
For one of them I'll have,
Or to thy face I'll thee disgrace,
An' ca' thee coward knave.’
“‘He sprang frae aff his coal-black steed,
An' tied him to a wande;
Then threw his bonnet aff his head,
An' drew his deadly brande.
An' tied him to a wande;
Then threw his bonnet aff his head,
An' drew his deadly brande.
“‘An' lang they foucht, an' sair they foucht,
Wi' swords of mettyl kene,
Till clotted blude, in mony a spot,
Was sprynkelit on the grene.
Wi' swords of mettyl kene,
Till clotted blude, in mony a spot,
Was sprynkelit on the grene.
“‘An' lang they foucht, an' sair they foucht;
For braiver there were nane:
Braive Adam's thigh was bathit i' blude,
An' Harden's coller-bane.
For braiver there were nane:
Braive Adam's thigh was bathit i' blude,
An' Harden's coller-bane.
“‘Though Adam was baith stark an' gude,
Nae langer could he stande:
His hand claive to his hivvye sword,
His knees plett lyke the wande.
Nae langer could he stande:
His hand claive to his hivvye sword,
His knees plett lyke the wande.
“‘He leanit himsel agenst ane aek,
Nae mair could act his parte.
A wudman then sprang frae the broom,
An' pierced young Harden's hearte.
Nae mair could act his parte.
A wudman then sprang frae the broom,
An' pierced young Harden's hearte.
“‘But word or groane he wheelit him round,
An' kluve his heide in twaine;
Then calmlye laid him on the grene,
Never to rise againe.
An' kluve his heide in twaine;
Then calmlye laid him on the grene,
Never to rise againe.
“‘I raide owre heicht, I raide through howe,
An' ferr outstrippit the wynde,
An' sent my voice the forest through,
But naething could I fynde.
An' ferr outstrippit the wynde,
An' sent my voice the forest through,
But naething could I fynde.
“‘Whan I cam there, the dysmal sychte
Mochte melt ane hearte of stane;
My brother fent an' bleiden lay,
Young Harden neirlye gane.
Mochte melt ane hearte of stane;
My brother fent an' bleiden lay,
Young Harden neirlye gane.
‘An' art thou there, O Gilmanscleuch?’
Wi' faltren tongue he cried;
‘Hadst thou arrivit tyme aneuch,
Thy kinsman hadna died.
Wi' faltren tongue he cried;
‘Hadst thou arrivit tyme aneuch,
Thy kinsman hadna died.
‘Be kind unto thy sister Jean,
Whatever may betide:
This nycht I meant, at Gilmanscleuch,
To maik of her my bryde.
Whatever may betide:
This nycht I meant, at Gilmanscleuch,
To maik of her my bryde.
‘But this sad fray, this fatal daye,
May breid baith dule an payne;
My freckle brethren ne'er will staye,
Till they're avengit or slayne.’
May breid baith dule an payne;
My freckle brethren ne'er will staye,
Till they're avengit or slayne.’
“‘The wudman sleips in Sundhope broom,
Into a lowlye grave:
Young Jock they bure to Harden's tombe,
An' laide him wi' the laive.
Into a lowlye grave:
Young Jock they bure to Harden's tombe,
An' laide him wi' the laive.
“‘Thus fell that braive an' comelye youth,
Whose arm was like the steel,
Whose very look was open truth,
Whose heart was true an' leel.
Whose arm was like the steel,
Whose very look was open truth,
Whose heart was true an' leel.
“‘It's now full three-an'-thirty zeirs
Syn that unhappy daye,
An' late I saw his comelye corpse,
Without the least decaye.
Syn that unhappy daye,
An' late I saw his comelye corpse,
Without the least decaye.
“‘The garland cross his breist aboon
Still held its varied hue;
The roses bloomit upon his shoon,
As faire as if they grew.
Still held its varied hue;
The roses bloomit upon his shoon,
As faire as if they grew.
“‘I raised our vassals ane an' a',
Wi' mickle care an' payne,
Expecting Harden's furious sons,
Wi' a' their father's trayne.
Wi' mickle care an' payne,
Expecting Harden's furious sons,
Wi' a' their father's trayne.
“‘But Harden was a weirdly man,
A cunning tod was he:
He lockit his sons in prison strang,
An' wi' him bure the key.
A cunning tod was he:
He lockit his sons in prison strang,
An' wi' him bure the key.
“‘An' he's awa to Holyrood,
Amang our nobles a',
With bonnet lyke a girdel braid,
An' hayre like Craighope snaw.
Amang our nobles a',
With bonnet lyke a girdel braid,
An' hayre like Craighope snaw.
“‘His coat was of the forest grene,
Wi' buttons lyke the moon;
His breiks were o' the guid buckskyne,
Wi' a' the hayre aboon;
Wi' buttons lyke the moon;
His breiks were o' the guid buckskyne,
Wi' a' the hayre aboon;
“‘His twa-hand sword hang round his neck,
An' rattled at his heel;
The rowels of his silver spurs
Were of the Rippon steel;
An' rattled at his heel;
The rowels of his silver spurs
Were of the Rippon steel;
70
“‘His hose were braced wi' chains o' airn,
An' round wi' tassels hung:
At ilka tramp o' Harden's heel,
The royal arches rung.
An' round wi' tassels hung:
At ilka tramp o' Harden's heel,
The royal arches rung.
“‘Sae braid an' buirdlye was his bouke,
His glance sae gruff to bide,
Whene'er his braid bonnette appearit,
The menialis stepped asyde.
His glance sae gruff to bide,
Whene'er his braid bonnette appearit,
The menialis stepped asyde.
“‘The courtlye nobles of the north
The chief with favour eyed,
For Harden's form an' Harden's look
Were hard to be denied.
The chief with favour eyed,
For Harden's form an' Harden's look
Were hard to be denied.
“‘He made his plaint unto our king,
An' magnified the deed;
An' high Buccleuch, with scarce fayre playe,
Made Harden better speed.
An' magnified the deed;
An' high Buccleuch, with scarce fayre playe,
Made Harden better speed.
“‘Ane grant of all our lands sae fayre,
The king to him has gien;
An' a' the Scotts of Gilmanscleuch
Were outlawed ilka ane.
The king to him has gien;
An' a' the Scotts of Gilmanscleuch
Were outlawed ilka ane.
“‘The time I missit, an' never wissit
Of siccan a weird for me,
Till I got word frae kind Traquair,
The country soon to flee;
Of siccan a weird for me,
Till I got word frae kind Traquair,
The country soon to flee;
“‘Else me an' mine nae friend wad fynd,
But fa' ane easy prey,
While yet my brother weaklye was,
An' scarce could bruik the way.
But fa' ane easy prey,
While yet my brother weaklye was,
An' scarce could bruik the way.
“‘Now I hae foucht in foreign fields,
In mony a bluidy fray,
But langed to see my native hills,
Afore my dying day.
In mony a bluidy fray,
But langed to see my native hills,
Afore my dying day.
“‘My brother fell in Hungarye,
When fighting by my side;
My luckless sister bore ane son,
But broke hir hearte an' died.
When fighting by my side;
My luckless sister bore ane son,
But broke hir hearte an' died.
“‘That son, now a' my earthly care
Of port an' stature fine:
He has thine eye, an' is thy blude,
As weel as he is mine.
Of port an' stature fine:
He has thine eye, an' is thy blude,
As weel as he is mine.
“‘For me, I'm but a puir auld man,
Whom nane regards ava;
The peaceful grave will end my care,
Where I maun shortly fa'.’—
Whom nane regards ava;
The peaceful grave will end my care,
Where I maun shortly fa'.’—
“I ga'e him a' my goud, father,
I gat on New-yeir's-day,
An' welcomed him to Harden-ha',
With us a while to stay.”
I gat on New-yeir's-day,
An' welcomed him to Harden-ha',
With us a while to stay.”
“My sweet Peggye, my kind Peggye,
Ye aye were dear to me:
For ilka bonnet-piece ye ga'e,
My love, ye sal hae three.
Ye aye were dear to me:
For ilka bonnet-piece ye ga'e,
My love, ye sal hae three.
“Auld Gilmanscleuch shall share wi' me
The table an' the ha';
We'll tell of a' our doughty deeds,
At hame an' far awa.
The table an' the ha';
We'll tell of a' our doughty deeds,
At hame an' far awa.
“That youth my hapless brother's son,
Who bears our eye an' name,
Shalle farm the lands of Gilmanscleuch,
While Harden halds the same.
Who bears our eye an' name,
Shalle farm the lands of Gilmanscleuch,
While Harden halds the same.
“Nae rent, nor kane, nor service mean,
I'll ask of him at a';
Only to stand at my ryght hand,
When Branxholm gies the ca'.
I'll ask of him at a';
Only to stand at my ryght hand,
When Branxholm gies the ca'.
“A Scott must aye support ane Scott,
When as he synketh low;
But he that proudlye lifts his heide
Must learne his place to knowe.”
When as he synketh low;
But he that proudlye lifts his heide
Must learne his place to knowe.”
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