A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot In the Shires of Roxburgh and Selkirk, and others adjacent. Gathered out of Ancient Chronicles, Histories, and Traditions of our Fathers. By Capt. Walter Scot, An old Souldier, and no Scholler, And one that can Write nane, But just the Letters of his Name |
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 | A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot |  |
King Kenneth then a Hunting came,
To the Cacra-cross did resort,
And all the Nobles of his Court,
They hither came to see the sport;
Of Ettrick's hew he took a view,
Then to the left hand did turn,
Where he did see that Forrest hie,
Which then was called Rankelburn;
The Keepers and the Strouse-men came,
With Shouts from Hill to Hill,
With Hound and Horn they rais'd the Deer,
But little Blood did spill,
A Buck did come that was so run,
Hard by the Cacra-cross,
He mean'd to be at Rankelburn,
Finding himself at loss,
The Hill was steep, the Bogs were deep,
With Woods and Heather strong,
By a Mile of Ground there none came near it,
But Footmen that did run,
Then one of these two Gentlemen
Which from Galloway did come,
Both Hounds and Deer he keeped near
To the Water in Rankelburn:
And then the Buck being spent and gone,
He on the Hounds did turn
That Gentleman came first along,
And catch'd him by the Horn,
Alive he cast him on his back,
Or any man came there,
And to the Cacra-cross did trot,
Against the Hill a Mile and mair,
The King saw him a pretty man,
And ask'd his Name from whence he came,
He said from Galloway he came,
If't please your Grace my Name is John;
The Deer being curied in that place
At his Majesties demand,
Then John of Galloway ran apace
And fetch'd Water to his Hands,
The King did wash into a Dish,
And Galloway John he wot,
He said thy Name now after this,
Shall e're be call'd John Scot;
The Forrest and the Deer therein,
We commit to thy hand,
For thou shalt sure the Ranger be,
If thou obey Command,
And for the Buck thou stoutly brought,
To Us up that steep Heugh:
Thy Designation ever shall
By John Scot in Buckscleugh.
By strength of Limb and youthful Spring,
Fortune may favour still,
And if thou prove obedient,
We'll mend thee when We will;
John humbly then thanked the King,
And promis'd to be Loyal,
And earnestly beg'd His Majestie,
That he would make a tryal,
My name is John, and I'm alone,
Into this strange Countrie,
Except one Brother with me came,
To bear me Companie;
What is his name then said the King,
He answer'd his name is Wat,
Ye are very well met, then said the King,
He shall be English, and ye are Scot;
At Bellanden let him remain
Fast by the Forrest side,
Where he may do Us Service too,
And assist you with his Aid;
I do believe as my Author did declare,
How the original of Buckcleugh was a valiant Forrester,
It's most like to be true which I have plainly shown,
The old Families of Buckcleugh did carry a Hunting-horn,
Buckcleugh, if that my Author doth speak truth,
It's long since he began,
In the third King Kenneth's Reign,
He to the Forrest came.
The first of their Genealogie,
Though Chronicles be rent and torn,
And made their ends upon the Sea;
Of late into the Usurper's time,
Our Registers away were tane,
Many of them perish'd in the Main,
And never came ashore again.
In Queen Maries Reign they had bad handling,
Sometimes Fortune favour'd, and sometimes frown'd,
'Twixt Stools, if men do miss their mark,
Then their Bottom sure goes to the Ground.
In Edward Longshank's time, king of England,
Our Monuments were lost and gone,
Our Chronicles and Registers to London went,
Yet not returned again.
In the Reign of the third Constantine,
All Substance from this Land was tane
By that Saxon King Edward sirnamed Cinar,
And Edleston his Bastard son;
Since these Hurli-burlies tops-a-turvies,
So oft this Land they have undone,
That a Native durst not show himself,
Except on the tops of the Mountains;
When our Records were sent away,
The Vulgar sort they were not free,
Therefore there was particular acts,
For to be Cloaks to their Knavery;
The Chronicle may err, some men may be preferr'd,
In every Science there is some Cheatry;
For if an Inferior man to a Clerk shall come,
And possess him of such Gallantry,
Then he'l take a word alone,
And so reward him with his Coyn;
Which will cause the Clerk blaze him to the sky,
Within two hundred year may be it do appear,
If the World shall stand so long,
That the late made Purves Act,
Which he obtained to cover his fact,
Will raise his needy Friends to be Gentlemen;
That bold Buckcleugh was none of them,
That ever bought his honor with Coyn;
His Valour did it gain, in Holland and in Swain,
And against the Saxons Seed, they oft did honour gain.
From the Family of Buckcleugh,
There has sprung many a Man,
Four hundred years ago;
Hassinden he was one,
Descended of that Line, and still he doth remain,
And Evident's speaks truth, the same the truth proclaims,
Though Chronicles be lost from many a Familie,
These Characters that remains, the truth they let us see,
Sir Alexander Scot of Hassinden was Knight,
With good King James the fourth, he was kill'd at Flowdon fight,
From Hassinden did spring before that time
The Families of Wall, Delorian and Haining,
The South-countrey Gentry is known for truth,
VVas exercised in Arms into their youth,
None other Education they did apply,
But Jack and Spear against their Enemy;
And because it was their dayly exercise;
They never sought to be Chronicliz'd:
But when a Courtier did any valiant fate;
He was cry'd up to th'stars, and made Lord of State.
But now advance my Muse, and declare the truth,
Of brave John Scot the Original of Buckcleugh;
And because thou art weary, as I suppose,
I'le refrain Verse, and turn my self to Prose;
Good Lancelot Scot, I think his Book be true,
Old Rankelburn is design'd Buckcleugh now,
Yet in his Book no Balls read he,
It was Buckscleugh he read to me;
He told me the Name, the Place, the Coat,
Came all by the hunting of the Buck:
In Scotland no Buckcleugh was then,
Before the Buck in the Cleugh was slain,
Nights-men at first they did appear,
Because Moon and Stars to their Arms they bear,
Their Crest, supporters, and hunting-horn,
Showes their beginning from hunting came;
Their Name and Stile the Book did say,
John gain'd them both into one day:
The very place where that the Buck was slain,
He built a Stone-house, and there he did remain;
He built a Church into that Forrest hie,
There was no man to come to it, but his own Familie,
The Houses Ground-work yet is to be seen;
And at that Church, I many times have been,
A burial place it yet keeps out,
For any poor folk that lyes round about;
To the Paroch Church it's long six mile,
Therefore they bury yet to save travel;
My Guid-sir Satchells, I heard him declare,
There was nine Lairds of Buckcleugh buried there;
But now with rubish and earth it's fill'd up so high,
That no man can the Through-stones see,
But nine Tomb-stones he saw with both his eyne,
But knew not who was buried under them;
Also they built a Miln on that same burn,
To grind Dogs-bran, though there there grew no Corn,
For in my own time Corn little there hath been,
There was neither Rig nor Fur for to be seen,
But Hills and Mountains on every side,
The Haugh below, scarce a hundred foot wide;
Yet there's a Miln-steed in that Brook,
And the Church-walls I have seen them all up,
It is two reasonable myle,
Between the Miln-steed and the Kirk-style,
My Guid-sir told me there he had seen,
A holy Cross, and a Font-stone;
The Paroch being twenty myle about,
But hardly sixteen folks remain in it,
All the Corn I have seen there in a year,
Was scarce the sowing of six Firlots of Bear;
And for Neighbours to come with good will,
There was no Corn to grind into that Mill,
If Heather-tops had been Meal of the best,
Then Buckcleugh-mill had gotten a noble grist
Now wearied Muse to rest thou may resort,
Whilst I alitle Prose report.
To the Cacra-cross did resort,
And all the Nobles of his Court,
They hither came to see the sport;
Of Ettrick's hew he took a view,
Then to the left hand did turn,
Where he did see that Forrest hie,
Which then was called Rankelburn;
The Keepers and the Strouse-men came,
With Shouts from Hill to Hill,
With Hound and Horn they rais'd the Deer,
But little Blood did spill,
37
Hard by the Cacra-cross,
He mean'd to be at Rankelburn,
Finding himself at loss,
The Hill was steep, the Bogs were deep,
With Woods and Heather strong,
By a Mile of Ground there none came near it,
But Footmen that did run,
Then one of these two Gentlemen
Which from Galloway did come,
Both Hounds and Deer he keeped near
To the Water in Rankelburn:
And then the Buck being spent and gone,
He on the Hounds did turn
That Gentleman came first along,
And catch'd him by the Horn,
Alive he cast him on his back,
Or any man came there,
And to the Cacra-cross did trot,
Against the Hill a Mile and mair,
The King saw him a pretty man,
And ask'd his Name from whence he came,
He said from Galloway he came,
If't please your Grace my Name is John;
The Deer being curied in that place
At his Majesties demand,
Then John of Galloway ran apace
And fetch'd Water to his Hands,
The King did wash into a Dish,
And Galloway John he wot,
He said thy Name now after this,
Shall e're be call'd John Scot;
38
We commit to thy hand,
For thou shalt sure the Ranger be,
If thou obey Command,
And for the Buck thou stoutly brought,
To Us up that steep Heugh:
Thy Designation ever shall
By John Scot in Buckscleugh.
By strength of Limb and youthful Spring,
Fortune may favour still,
And if thou prove obedient,
We'll mend thee when We will;
John humbly then thanked the King,
And promis'd to be Loyal,
And earnestly beg'd His Majestie,
That he would make a tryal,
My name is John, and I'm alone,
Into this strange Countrie,
Except one Brother with me came,
To bear me Companie;
What is his name then said the King,
He answer'd his name is Wat,
Ye are very well met, then said the King,
He shall be English, and ye are Scot;
At Bellanden let him remain
Fast by the Forrest side,
Where he may do Us Service too,
And assist you with his Aid;
I do believe as my Author did declare,
How the original of Buckcleugh was a valiant Forrester,
It's most like to be true which I have plainly shown,
The old Families of Buckcleugh did carry a Hunting-horn,
39
It's long since he began,
In the third King Kenneth's Reign,
He to the Forrest came.
The first of their Genealogie,
Though Chronicles be rent and torn,
And made their ends upon the Sea;
Of late into the Usurper's time,
Our Registers away were tane,
Many of them perish'd in the Main,
And never came ashore again.
In Queen Maries Reign they had bad handling,
Sometimes Fortune favour'd, and sometimes frown'd,
'Twixt Stools, if men do miss their mark,
Then their Bottom sure goes to the Ground.
In Edward Longshank's time, king of England,
Our Monuments were lost and gone,
Our Chronicles and Registers to London went,
Yet not returned again.
In the Reign of the third Constantine,
All Substance from this Land was tane
By that Saxon King Edward sirnamed Cinar,
And Edleston his Bastard son;
Since these Hurli-burlies tops-a-turvies,
So oft this Land they have undone,
That a Native durst not show himself,
Except on the tops of the Mountains;
When our Records were sent away,
The Vulgar sort they were not free,
Therefore there was particular acts,
For to be Cloaks to their Knavery;
40
In every Science there is some Cheatry;
For if an Inferior man to a Clerk shall come,
And possess him of such Gallantry,
Then he'l take a word alone,
And so reward him with his Coyn;
Which will cause the Clerk blaze him to the sky,
Within two hundred year may be it do appear,
If the World shall stand so long,
That the late made Purves Act,
Which he obtained to cover his fact,
Will raise his needy Friends to be Gentlemen;
That bold Buckcleugh was none of them,
That ever bought his honor with Coyn;
His Valour did it gain, in Holland and in Swain,
And against the Saxons Seed, they oft did honour gain.
From the Family of Buckcleugh,
There has sprung many a Man,
Four hundred years ago;
Hassinden he was one,
Descended of that Line, and still he doth remain,
And Evident's speaks truth, the same the truth proclaims,
Though Chronicles be lost from many a Familie,
These Characters that remains, the truth they let us see,
Sir Alexander Scot of Hassinden was Knight,
With good King James the fourth, he was kill'd at Flowdon fight,
From Hassinden did spring before that time
The Families of Wall, Delorian and Haining,
The South-countrey Gentry is known for truth,
VVas exercised in Arms into their youth,
None other Education they did apply,
But Jack and Spear against their Enemy;
41
They never sought to be Chronicliz'd:
But when a Courtier did any valiant fate;
He was cry'd up to th'stars, and made Lord of State.
But now advance my Muse, and declare the truth,
Of brave John Scot the Original of Buckcleugh;
And because thou art weary, as I suppose,
I'le refrain Verse, and turn my self to Prose;
Good Lancelot Scot, I think his Book be true,
Old Rankelburn is design'd Buckcleugh now,
Yet in his Book no Balls read he,
It was Buckscleugh he read to me;
He told me the Name, the Place, the Coat,
Came all by the hunting of the Buck:
In Scotland no Buckcleugh was then,
Before the Buck in the Cleugh was slain,
Nights-men at first they did appear,
Because Moon and Stars to their Arms they bear,
Their Crest, supporters, and hunting-horn,
Showes their beginning from hunting came;
Their Name and Stile the Book did say,
John gain'd them both into one day:
The very place where that the Buck was slain,
He built a Stone-house, and there he did remain;
He built a Church into that Forrest hie,
There was no man to come to it, but his own Familie,
The Houses Ground-work yet is to be seen;
And at that Church, I many times have been,
A burial place it yet keeps out,
For any poor folk that lyes round about;
To the Paroch Church it's long six mile,
Therefore they bury yet to save travel;
42
There was nine Lairds of Buckcleugh buried there;
But now with rubish and earth it's fill'd up so high,
That no man can the Through-stones see,
But nine Tomb-stones he saw with both his eyne,
But knew not who was buried under them;
Also they built a Miln on that same burn,
To grind Dogs-bran, though there there grew no Corn,
For in my own time Corn little there hath been,
There was neither Rig nor Fur for to be seen,
But Hills and Mountains on every side,
The Haugh below, scarce a hundred foot wide;
Yet there's a Miln-steed in that Brook,
And the Church-walls I have seen them all up,
It is two reasonable myle,
Between the Miln-steed and the Kirk-style,
My Guid-sir told me there he had seen,
A holy Cross, and a Font-stone;
The Paroch being twenty myle about,
But hardly sixteen folks remain in it,
All the Corn I have seen there in a year,
Was scarce the sowing of six Firlots of Bear;
And for Neighbours to come with good will,
There was no Corn to grind into that Mill,
If Heather-tops had been Meal of the best,
Then Buckcleugh-mill had gotten a noble grist
Now wearied Muse to rest thou may resort,
Whilst I alitle Prose report.
| A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot | |