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] |
Lord Derwent.
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The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | ||
Lord Derwent.
A FRAGMENT.
And why look ye so wan?
And why stand mounted at your gate
So early in the dawn?”
For how can I look gay,
When I have fought the live-long night,
And fled at break of day?”
And have they won the day?
It must have been a bloody field,
Ere Derwent fled away.
So stable and so good?
And where got ye that gilded sword,
So dyed with purple blood?”
Last night on Eden downe;
I got the horse and harness too,
Where mortal ne'er got one.”
God mot you save and see;
For never till this hour was I
Afraid to look on thee.”
That stained both tower and tree:
“Prepare, prepare, my lady fair,
Prepare to go with me.
A deed shall here be done,
That men unborn shall shrink to hear,
And dames the tale shall shun.
The foul intent to see:
Prepare, prepare, my lady fair,
Prepare to follow me.”
I'll live or die with thee;
I see a wound deep in your side
And hence you cannot flee.”
To list a heavy groan;
But when she turned her round again,
Her noble lord was gone.
And all around the tower
Through house and hall; but man nor horse
She never could see more.
All in a doleful state;
And there she saw her little foot-page
Alighting at the gate.
And let your servant in;
Our furious foes are hard at hand,
The castle fair to win.”
Or whither is he bound?
He's gone just now, and in his side
A deep and deadly wound.”
And look so wild on me?
Your lord lies on the bloody field,
And him you'll never see.
He fought most valiantlye,
Put him to flight, and broke his men,
With shouts of victory.
And charged us fierce as hell;
Yet ne'er could pierce the English troops
Till my brave master fell.
Bore down our flying band;
And now they waste with fire and sword
The Links of Cumberland.
With Jardine hastilye,
And young Kilpatrick and Glencairn
Are come in search of thee.”
Whom I pay meat and fee?
The cock has never crowed but once
Since Derwent was with me.
And sings so loud and clear,
Has only three times changed his note
Since my good lord was here.”
I'm sure it was not he;
I saw him dead on Eden plain,
I saw him with my ee.
While heaps before him fell;
I saw them pierce his manly side,
And bring the last farewell.
And bear the fray before;
Tell her I died for England's right.’—
Then word spake never more.
For here you cannot stay;
Short be thy shrift, our steeds are swift,
And well I know the way.”
My heart is wonder sore;
My brain it turns, my blood it burns,
And I dare not look before.”
Her heart grew chill with dread;—
For there she saw the Scottish bands,
Kilpatrick at their head.
On Skiddaw there were three;
The warder's horn o'er muir and fell
Was heard continually.
The sun in blood arose;
But oh! how many a gallant man
Ne'er saw that evening close!
This ballad relates to an engagement which took place betwixt the Scots and English, in Cumberland, A.D. 1524; for a particular account of which, see the historians of that period.
The page's account of this action seems not to be wide of the truth: “On the 17th of Julie, the Lord Maxwell, and Sir Alexander Jardein, with diverse other Scottishmen, in great numbers entered England by the west marches, and Caerleill, with displayed banners, and began to harrie the country, and burn diverse places. The Englishmen assembled on every side, so that they were far more in number than the Scottishmen, and thereupon set feircelie upon their enemies; insomuch that, for the space of an hour, there was a sore fight continued betwixt them. But the Lord Maxwell, like a true politike captain, as of all that knew him he was no less reputed, ceased not to encourage his people; and after that, by the taking of Sir Alexander Jardein and others, they had beene put backe, he brought them in arraie again, and beginning a new skirmish, recovered in manner all the prisoners; took and slew diverse Englishmen; so that he returned with victorie, and led above 300 prisoners with him into Scotland.” —Holinshed.
The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | ||