Gilmanscleuch

" Whaie hae ye laid the goud, Peggye,
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 bae 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."

" 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 ?"

" 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.

" 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."

" 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."

" 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.

" He lifted up his languid eye,
Whilk better days had seen ;
An' aye he heaved the mornfu' 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 ;
' ' An' may ye never feel the waes
That lang hae folio wit 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.

" ' Ilk petty robber through the lands
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 !

" ' I had ane brother lithe an' stronge,
But fro ward, 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 hunt in' 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 browe nae blink of scorninge wore,
Her teeth were ivorie,
Her lips the little purple floure
That blumes on Bailley-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.

" ' My brother Adam stormed in wrathe,
An' swore in aungry 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.

" ' 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 ;
" ' A shepherd frae our mountains hied,
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.

" ' 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.

" ' 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.

" ' 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.

" ' Gae saddel me my milk-white steed,
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.

' Was't not enough, thou traytor strong,
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.'

" 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.'

" 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.

' 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.

" ' He sett a buglet to his mouth,
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 haughtye 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.'

" ' He sprang frae aff his coal-black steed,
An' tied him to a wande ;
Then threw his bonnet aff his head,
An' drew his deadlye 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.

" ' 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.

" ' Though Adam was baith stark an' gude,
Nae langer could he stande :
His hand claive to his hiwye sword,
His knees plett lyke the wande.

" He learnt himsel agenst ane aek,
Nae inair 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 ha twaine ;
Then calmlye laid him on the grene,
Never to rise againe.

" ' I raide owre heicht, I raide through ho we,
An' ferr outstrippit the wynde,
An' sent my voyce the forest through,
But naething could I fynde.

" ' Whan I cam there, the dysmal sychte
Mochte melte 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.

' Be kind unto thy sister Jean,
Whatever may betide :
This nycht I meant, at Gilmanscleuch,
To maik of hir 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.'

" ' The wudman sleips in Sundhope broom,
Into a lowly e grave:
Young Jock they bure to Harden's tombe,
An' laide him wi' the lave.

" ' 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.

" ' It's now full three-an'-thirty zeirs
Syn that unhappye 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 fake 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.

" ' But Harden was a weirdly man,
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.

" ' His coat was of the forest grene,
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 ;
" ' His hose were braced wi' chains o' aim,
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.

" ' The courtlye nobles of the north
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.

" ' Ane grant of all our lands sae fayre,
The lung to him has gien ;
An' a' the Scotts of Gilmanscleuch
Were outlawed ilka ane.

" ' The tune I missit, an' never wissit
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 preye !
While yet my brother weaklye was,
An' scarce could bruik the way.

" ' Now I hae foucht hi foreign fields,
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.

" ' That sqp, now a,' my earthly care
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'/ —
" t 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."

" 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.

" Auld Gilmanscleuch shall share wi' me
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.

" 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'.

" A Scott must aye support ane Scott,
When as he synketh low ;
But he that proudlye lifts his heide
Muste learne his place to knowe."