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 |  |
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But now in case for to return again;
With the Name of Scot she's minded to contain,
Because they are her worthy Noble Friends,
The year of Grace sixteen hundred and twenty nine,
Carlaverock was a Garison in that time,
Collonel Monro a German Souldier he,
Blockt up the Castle both by Land and Sea,
Into that Leigure I did remain,
In Cockburns Company, I was a Souldier then;
And my chance was with my Command to pass,
To the English-side call'd Burgh under Bowness,
By fortune I fell in a Gentlemans companie,
Call'd Lancelot Scot, who was most kind to me;
He shew'd me his Ancestors hail,
Did live into that Spot;
Since Carlisle Walls were re-built
By David King of Scots;
A Book he gave to me, call'd Mr. Michaels Creed,
But never a word at that time I could read,
What he read to me, I have it not forgot:
It was th'original of our South-countrey Scots,
He said, that Book which he gave me,
Was of Mr. Michael Scots Historie,
Which History was never yet read through,
Nor never will, for no Man dare it do;
Young Scholars have pickt out some thing,
From the Contents, that dare not read within,
He carried me along into the Castle then,
And shew his written Book hanging on an Iron-pin;
His writing Pen did seem to me to be,
Of harden'd Mettal, like Steil, or Accumie;
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As the Book of Martyrs and Turks Historie;
Then in the Church he let me see,
A Stone where Mr. Michael Scot did ly.
I ask'd at him how that could appear,
Mr. Michael had been dead above five hundred year,
He shew'd me none durst bury under that Stone,
More than he had been dead few years agone,
For Mr. Michaels name does terrifie each one,
That vulgar people dare scarce look on the Stone,
And more it us'd to pay the Saxons a Fee,
For Strangers are desirous that Stone to see;
That Lancelot Scot he wearied not,
To shew me every thing,
And then incontinent to the Ale-house did return,
Where we had the other Cup and the other Can,
There was no cause of Feed,
Lancelot he said, I was not a Gentleman,
That was not bred to read;
But to proceed, he wearied not,
To shew the Original of the Border Scot,
He said that Book did let him understand,
How the Scots of Buckcleugh gain'd both Name and Land,
He said, Gentlemen in Galloway by fate,
Had fallen at odds, and a Riot did commit,
For in these days, as he did say,
It was call'd Brigants that's now call'd Galloway,
Two valiant Lads of these Brigants
Were censured to be gone,
Then to the South they took their way,
And arrived at Rankelburn,
At Rankelburn where they did come,
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They humbly then did him intreat,
For Meat, Drink, and Lodging;
The Keeper stood and then did look,
And saw them pretty men,
Immediatly grants their Request,
And to his House they came:
To wind a Horn they did not scorn,
In the loftiest degree,
Which made the Forrester conceive,
They were better Keepers than he;
In Ettrick-forrest, Meggets-head,
Meucra and Rankelburn-grain,
There was no Keepers in the South,
That could compare with them;
These Gentlemen were Brethren born,
If Histories be not amiss;
The one of them called John Scot,
And the other of them call'd Wat English.
| A True History Of several Honourable Families of the Right Honourable Name of Scot | |