The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir Edited by Thomas Aird: With A Memoir of the Author |
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THE FIELD OF PINKIE.
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![]() | The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir | ![]() |
THE FIELD OF PINKIE.
WRITTEN ON THE TRI-CENTENARY OF THE BATTLE,
I
A lovely eve! as loath to quit a sceneSo beautiful, the parting sun smiles back
From western Pentland's summits, all between
Bearing the impress of his glorious track;
His last, long, level ray fond Earth retains;
The Forth a sheet of gold from shore to shore;
Gold on the Esk, and on the ripened plains,
And on the boughs of yon broad sycamore.
II
Long shadows fall from turret and from tree;Homeward the labourer thro' the radiance goes;
Calmly the mew floats downward to the sea;
And inland flock the rooks to their repose:
Over the ancient farmstead wreathes the smoke,
Melting in silence 'mid the pure blue sky;
And sings the blackbird, cloistered in the oak,
His anthem to the eve, how solemnly!
III
On this green hill—yon grove—the placid flowOf Esk—and on the Links that skirt the town—
How differently, three hundred years ago,
The same sun o'er this self-same spot went down!
Instead of harvest wealth, the gory dead
In many a mangled heap lay scattered round;
Where all is tranquil, anguish reigned and dread,
And for the blackbird wailed the bugle's sound.
IV
Mirror'd by fancy's power, my sight beforeThe past revives with panoramic glow;
Scotland resumes the cold rough front of yore,
And England, now her sister, scowls her foe:
Two mighty armaments, for conflict met,
Darken the hollows and the heights afar—
Horse, cannon, standard, spear, and burgonet,
The leaders, and the legions, mad for war.
In 1544, great part of the town of Musselburgh, including the Town-House and the celebrated “Chapelle of Lauret,” was destroyed by the English army under the Earl of Hertford; and, three years after that event, it became the mustering-place for the Scottish forces — news having arrived of the approach of the Duke of Somerset to Newcastle, at the head of an army of sixteen thousand men, including two thousand horse. To oppose this well-appointed force, “the fiery cross” was sent through the country; and, in an incredibly short time, not less than thirty-six thousand men were congregated at Edmonstone Edge, between the capital and Dalkeith. The English were ultimately drawn up on Falside Brae, in the parish of Tranent, their right extending over the grounds of Walliford and Drummore towards the sea; but, on reconnoitring the position of the Scotch, the Protector found it so very strong — the steep banks of the Esk defending them in front, the morass of the Shirehaugh on the left, and the village of Inveresk, the mounds of the churchyard of St Michael's, and the bridge over the river protected with cannon on the right— that he declined to attack them.
This caution was fatal to his enemies; for, leaving their intrenched position on the morning of the 9th September, Lord Hume, with fifteen hundred light horse, appeared on Edgebricklin Brae, immediately beneath the English, and rushed forward with such impetuosity that Somerset, in the belief that they must be supported by some much more considerable force, gave strict orders to his men to keep their ranks. Impatient of such provocation, Lord Grey extorted leave to oppose them; and, when within a stone's cast, charged them down the hill at full speed with a thousand men-at-arms. The onset was terrible; but the demi-lances and barbed steeds of their opponents were more than a match for the slight hackneys of the Borderers, added to a fearful disadvantage of ground; and, after an unremitting conflict of three hours, the greater part of them were cut to pieces, thirteen hundred men being slain in sight of the Scottish camp, Lord Hume himself severely wounded, and his son taken prisoner.
For very interesting and circumstantial details of this illomened preface to the great battle of Pinkie, vide Patten's Account, p. 46-7; Hayward in Kennet, vol. ii. p. 282; Tytler's History, vol. vi. p. 26-7, edit. first.
V
Shrilly uprises Warwick's battle-cry,As from Falsyde his glittering columns wheel;
Hark to the rasp of Grey's fierce cavalry
Against the bristling hedge of Scotland's steel!
As bursts the billow foaming on the rock,
That onset is repelled, that charge is met;
Flaunting, the banner'd thistle braves the shock,
And backward bears the might of Somerset.
VI
Horseman and horse, dash'd backwards without hope,Vainly that wall of serried steel oppose.
Subsequent to this preliminary action, the English made overtures to be allowed to retire unmolested back to England, which, being unfortunately mistaken by the Scotch for a proof of weakness, were rejected by them; and, voluntarily abandoning their strong position, they crossed the Esk to meet the English, whose fleet, consisting of thirty-five ships of war, was anchored in the bay, and continued pouring cannon-shot among them as they crossed the bridge—by which the Master of Graham, son of the Earl of Montrose, with many others, was slain. It were superfluous to give an account of the well-known battle which followed. It is sufficient to remind the reader that, after five hours' tremendous fighting, during which the English cavalry had repeatedly, but in vain, attempted to break through the foot battalions commanded by the Earl of Angus, the Highlanders, mistaking a partial success on their own part for complete victory, prematurely gave way to their plundering propensities. At this time a retrograde movement was regarded by them as flight; the same panic seized the borough troops, who also threw down their arms. The Scots fled by three different ways—some towards Edinburgh, some towards the coast, and some towards Dalkeith; and on each route the carnage was dreadful, as a subsequent note from Patten—an eye-witness—testifies.
But now the musketeers rush down the slope,
And thrice five hundred archers twang their bows.
The iron shower descends—they reel—they turn—
Doth Arran flinch! can Douglas but deplore?
Hushed are the cheers that rang thro' Otterburn,
Blunted the blades that crimson'd Ancrum-Moor!
The fame of the Douglas of Otterburn was well supported by his descendant, the Earl of Angus—the hero of the battle of Ancrum-Moor, which was fought only two years preceding that of Pinkie, on which field also he exhibited his wonted gallantry. On the former occasion, he is said to have uttered an exclamation which is exceedingly characteristic. When the Scots began to charge, seeing a heron arise out of the marsh, Angus cried out—“O that I had my white hawk here, that we might all join battle at once!”
VII
They bend—they break—they flee—a panic routEnsues; with dying and with dead the plain
Is cumber'd; England whoops her victor shout,
And Scotland's bravest fight, to fall in vain.
And Esk from Roslin famed, and Hawthornden,
Gliding in peace by rock and spreading tree,
Checked by the mass of horses and of men,
Dashed o'er them red and reeking to the sea.
VIII
A fearful day was that! since Flodden's day,Like storm of blood hath darkened not the north;
By thousands sword and shield were thrown away,
Up on the hills, and down beside the Forth:
Through Musselburg, and past St Michael's fane,
Westward the ravage and the rout was sped;
And, thick as cattle pasture on a plain,
Lay round Loretto's hermitage the dead.
“With blode and slaughter of ye enemie,” says old Patten, “this chase was continued v miles in length westward fro the place of their standinge, which was in ye fallow feldes of Undreske, untille Edinborowe parke, and well nigh to the gates of the toune itself, and into Lyeth; and in breadth nie iiii myle, from the fryth sandes up unto Daketh southwarde. In all whiche space the dead bodies lay as thik as a man may notte cattel grasing in a full-plenished pasture. The ryvere ran al rede with blode, soo that in the same chase wear counted as well by some of our men that sumwhat diligently did maike it, as by sum of them take prisoners, that very much did lament it, to have been slayne above xiii thousande. In all thys cumpos of grounde, what with weapons, armes, handes, legges, heddes, blood, and dead bodyes, their flight mought have easily been tracted to every of their iii refuges.”
—The Expedicion into Scotlāde of the Most Woortheley Fortunate Prince, Edward Duke of Soomerset, &c. By W. Patten, Londoner, ap. Dalzell's Fragments of Scottish History. 4to, Edinburgh, 1798.
The celebrated chapel dedicated to Our Lady of Loretto stood beyond the eastern gate of Musselburgh, and on the margin of the Links; and pilgrimages from all parts of the country were performed to this shrine. According to Keith, (280,) it was connected with the nunnery of Sciennes, in the south wing of Edinburgh; and Gough the antiquarian says regarding it (Camden's Britannica, vol. iii. 316) that ladies sent handsome presents to it with their baby-linens, which latter were consecrated to promote their safe recovery. Lesley relates (442) that, in August 1530, James V. performed a pilgrimage to it on foot from Stirling, before setting sail for France to woo and win a partner for his throne. The celebrity of the place was upheld by the residence of a hermit, who inhabited a cell adjoining the chapel, and by the pretended performance of miracles. That the hermit was a notable man in his day, is evident from the circumstance of his having a satire addressed to him by Alexander, earl of Glencairn, exposing the hypocrisy of the Roman Catholic clergy. It is entitled Ane Epistill direct fra the Halie Hermeit of Alareit, to his Brethren, the Gray Friars, and thus begins—
“I, Thomas Hermeit in Lauret,Sanct Francis' ordour do heartily greet,” &c.
(Vide as quoted in Knox's History of Reformation, fol. xxiv.-v. Edin. 1732.)
For an account of the miracles, the curious reader is referred to a very remarkable passage in Row's History of the Kirk of Scotland, 1558 to 1639, p. 448 et seq. Wodrow Society's edition, 1842.
IX
And thou, sweet burn of Pinkie, darkly clear,Wimpling where water-flags and wild-flowers weave,
'Tween hoof-indented banks, with slaughter drear,
Curdled with blood, beneath the shades of eve—
Local tradition reports that the rivulet or burn of Pinkie— which was principally fed from the marsh of the Howmire, which lies almost in the centre of the battle-field, and around which the carnage was greatest — ran tinged with blood for three days after the fatal conflict.
Thus was literally fulfilled the prophecy attributed to Thomas the Rhymer, (vide Hart's Collection:)
“At Pinken Clugh there shall be spiltMuch gentle blood that day;
There shall the bear lose the guilt,
And the eagle bear it away.”
Whether we agree with the accurate Lord Hailes or not regarding the antiquity of the above as relating to Thomas of Ercildoune, (see dissertation annexed to Remarks on the History of Scotland,) there can be no doubt of the genuineness of another rhyme on the same subject, as it is quoted in Patten's contemporary account:
“Between Seton and the sea,Mony a man shall die that day.”
“This battell and felde,” says Patten, “the Scottes and we are not yet agreed how it shall be named. We cal it Muskel-borough felde, because that it is the best towne (and yet bad enough) nigh the place of our meeting. Sum of them call it Seton felde, (a toune thear nie too,) by means of a blinde prophecy of theirs, which is this or sume suche saye,—“Betwene Seton and the say, many a man shall die that day.”
Oh! from this scene how many a maiden fair
Looked—languished for her warrior-love in vain,
Till Beauty's roses, blighted by despair,
Paled on the cheeks that ne'er knew bloom again!
X
And oh! the breaking hearts of widowed wife,Of sire and sister, as with dirgeful moan,
Passing like whirlwind from that field of strife,
From shire to shire, the news went wailing on—
Went wailing on—and wrapped alike in woe
Cottage and castle—and, by every hearth,
Saddened the cheer—bade Woman's tears to flow,
And crushed the patriot's towering hopes to earth!
XI
Three hundred years have passed—three centuries,Even to the reckoning of a single night—
Where stood the hosts I stand: there Pinkie lies
Beneath, and yon is Falsyde on the height.
Victors and vanquished—where are either now
Who shone that day in plume and steel arrayed?
Ask of the white bones scattered by the plough—
Read in the sculptures on grey tombs decayed!
XII
Sated with blood, and glad his prey to leave,Five hours in hot pursuit and carnage spent,
In yon green clump, by Inveresk, at eve,
Proud Somerset, the victor, pitched his tent:
There, 'mid its circle grey of mossy stone,
A time-worn fleur-de-lis still marks the spot,
In the centre of a circle of trees, at the eastern extremity of the grounds of Eskgrove, and opposite to Pinkie Burn, a square pillar, surmounted by an antique stone representing a fleur-de-lis, marks the spot where the royal tent was pitched on the eve of the battle, and bears the following inscription—
The Protector, Duke of Somerset, Encamped here, 10th September, 1547.
The pillar was erected by the late Lord Eskgrove.
Which else had to the searcher been unknown;
For of that field one other trace is not.
XIII
Oh, Nature! when abroad we look at thee,In beauty aye revolving, yet the same,
In sun, moon, stars, the air, the earth, the sea,
Of God's great universe the goodly frame,—
Why is it thus we set His laws at nought,
Eschew the truth, and crouch in Error's den,
Forgetting Him, that died and lives, who brought
The message—“Peace on earth, goodwill to men!”
XIV
Speed Heaven the time, tho' distant still it be,When each his pleasure shall in duty find,
When knowledge shall from prejudice set free,
Hearts throb to hearts, and mind respond to mind!
O! for the dawning of that purer day,
Only as yet to Aspiration given,
When clouds no more shall darken o'er our way,
And all shall walk in light—the light from Heaven!
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