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#Post#: 19495--------------------------------------------------
Re: Hermitage Castle: dark legends
By: Exotic One Date: March 15, 2015, 11:05 am
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Good
#Post#: 21106--------------------------------------------------
Re: Hermitage Castle: dark legends
By: Divine Metamorphoses Date: April 12, 2015, 11:19 pm
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Lady Lace would love to read more from you
#Post#: 22564--------------------------------------------------
Re: Hermitage Castle: dark legends
By: Swordsman Date: May 10, 2015, 2:44 am
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I live only 35 miles from Hermitage and it is a magnificent
place.Sitting in the Scottish borders its easy to see
how,especialy on dark wild days how mysterious it is.
#Post#: 22609--------------------------------------------------
Re: Hermitage Castle: dark legends
By: Divine Metamorphoses Date: May 11, 2015, 1:27 am
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Wonderful pictures thank you!
I love reading Lady Laces history
This is an exciting thread
Awesome
#Post#: 22645--------------------------------------------------
Re: Hermitage Castle: dark legends
By: Exotic One Date: May 11, 2015, 3:07 am
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Good
#Post#: 23972--------------------------------------------------
Re: Scottish Borders: dark legends
By: Lace Date: June 13, 2015, 10:44 am
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Lament of the Border Widow
MY love he built me a bonny bower,
And clad it a' wi' a lilye flower,
A brawer bower ye ne'er did see,
Than my true love he built for me.
There came a man, by middle day,
He spied his sport and went away,
And brought the king that very night,
Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.
He slew my knight, to me so dear;
He slew my knight, and poined his gear;
My servants all for life did flee,
And left me in extremitie.
I sewed his sheet, making my mane;
I watched the corpse, myself alane;
I watched his body, night and day;
No living creature came that way.
I took his body on my back,
And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat,
I digged a grave, and laid him in,
And happed him with the sod so green.
But think na ye my heart was sair,
When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair;
Think na ye my heart was wae,
When I turned about, away to gae?
Nae living man I'll love again,
Since that my lovely knight is slain;
W? ae lock of his yellow hair
I'll chain my heart for evermair.
#Post#: 23973--------------------------------------------------
Re: Scottish Borders: dark legends
By: Lace Date: June 13, 2015, 10:56 am
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The Battle of Otterburn
THE FIRST FYTTE
IT fell about the Lammas tide,
When husbands winn their hay,
The doughty Douglas bound him to ride
Into England to take a prey.
The Earl of Fife, withouten strife,
He bound him over Solway;
The great would ever together ride
That race they may rue for aye.
Over Ottercap hill they came in,
And so down by Rotheley crag,
Upon Green Leighton they lighted down,
Styrande many a stag;
And boldly brente Northumberland,
And harried many a town;
They did our Englishmen great wrong
To battle that were not bown.
Then spake a berne upon the bent,
Of comfort that was not cold,
And said, "We have brente Northumberland,
We have all wealth in holde.
"Now we have harried all Bamborough shire
All the wealth in the world have we;
I rede we ride to Newcastle,
So still and stalworthlye."
Upon the morrow, when it was day,
The standards shone full bright;
To the Newcastle they took the way,
And thither they came full right.
Sir Henry Percy lay at the Newcastle,
I tell you, withouten dread;
He has been a March-man all his days,
And kept Berwick upon Tweed.
To the Newcastle when they came,
The Scots they cried on hyght:
"Sir Harry Percy, an thou bist within,
Come to the field and fight:
"For we have brente Northumberland,
Thy heritage good and right;
And syne my lodging I have take,
With my brand dubbed many a knight."
Sir Harry Percy came to the walls,
The Scottish host for to see:
"And thou hast brente Northumberland,
Full sore it rueth me.
"If thou hast harried all Bamborough shire,
Thou hast done me great envy;
For the trespàss thou hast me done,
The one of us shall die."
"Where shall I bide thee?" said the Douglas;
"Or where wilt thou come to me?
"At Otterburn in the high way,
There mayst thou well lodged be.
The roe full reckless there she runs,
To make thee game and glee;
The falcon and the pheasant both,
Among the holtes on hee.
"There mayst thou have thy wealth at will,
Well lodged there mayst thou be;
It shall not be long ere I come thee till,"
Said Sir Harry Percyè.
There shall I bide thee," said the Douglas,
"By the faith of my bodỳ."
"Thither shall I come," said Sir Harry Percỳ,
"My troth I plight to thee."
A pipe of wine he gave them over the walls,
For sooth, as I you say;
There he made the Douglas drink,
And all his host that day.
The Douglas turned him homeward again,
For sooth withouten nay;
He took his lodging at Otterburn
Upon a Wednèsday;
And there he pyght his standard down.
His getting more and less;
And syne he warned his men to go
And get their geldings gress.
A Scottish knight hoved upon the bent,
A watch I dare well say;
So was he ware on the noble Percỳ
In the dawning of the day.
He pricked to his pavilion door,
As fast as he might ronne;
"Awaken, Douglas!" cried the knight,
"For His love that sits in throne.
"Awaken, Douglas!" cried the knight,
"For thou mayst waken with wynne;
Yonder have I spied the proud Percỳ,
And seven standàrds with him."
Nay, by my troth," the Douglas said,
"It is but a feignèd tale;
He durst not look on my broad bannèr,
For all Englànd so hayle
"Was I not yesterday at the Newcastle,
That stands so fair on Tyne?
For all the men the Percy had,
He could not garre me once to dyne."
He stepped out at his pavilion door,
To look, and it were less;
"Array you, lordyngs, one and all,
For here begins no peace.
"The Earl of Menteith, thou art my eme,
The forward I give to thee;
The Earl of Huntley cawte and keen,
He shall with thee be.
"The Lord of Buchan, in armour bright,
On the other hand he shall be;
Lord Johnstone, and Lord Maxwell,
They two shall be with me.
"Swynton fair field upon your pride
To battle make you bowen;
Sir Davy Scot, Sir Walter Steward,
Sir John of Agerstone."
THE SECOND FYTTE
The Percy came before his host,
Which ever was a gentle knight,
Upon the Douglas loud did he cry,
"I will hold that I have hight;
"For thou hast brente Northumberland,
And done me great envỳ;
For this trespàss thou hast me done
The one of us shall die."
The Douglas answered him again,
With great words up on hee,
And said, "I have twenty against thy one,
Behold, and thou mayst see."
With that the Percy was grievèd sore,
For sooth as I you say;
He lighted down upon his foot,
And shot his horse clean away
Every man saw that he did so,
That ryall was ever in rout;
Every man shot his horse him fro,
And light him round about.
Thus Sir Harry Percy took the field,
For sooth as I you say,
Jesu Christ in heaven on high,
Did help him well that day.
But nine thousand, there was no more,
If chronicle will not layne;
Forty thousand Scots and four
That day fought them again,
But when the battle began to join,
In haste there came a knight,
Then letters fair forth hath he ta'en,
And thus he said full right:
"My lord, your father he greets you well,
With many a noble knight;
He desires you to bide,
That he may see this fight.
"The baron of Grastock is come out of the west,
With him a noble company;
All they lodge at your father's this night,
And the battle fain would they see."
For Jesu's love," said Sir Harry Percỳ,
"That died for you and me,
Wend to my lord, my father, again,
And say thou saw me not with ee;
"My troth is plight to yon Scottish knight,
It needs me not to layne,
That I should bide him upon this bent,
And I have his troth again;
"And if that I wend off this ground,
For sooth unfoughten away,
He would me call but a coward knight,
In his land another day.
"Yet had I lever to be rynde and rent,
By Mary that mykel may,
Than ever my manhood should be reproved
With a Scot another day.
"Wherefore shoot, archers, for my sake,
And let sharp arrows flee;
Minstrels, play up for your warison,
And well quit it shall be.
"Every man think on his true love,
And mark him to the Trinitỳ;
For to God I make mine a-vow
This day will I not flee."
The bloody heart in the Douglas' arms,
His standard stood on high,
That every man might full well know;
Beside stood starrès three.
The white Liòn on the English part,
For sooth as I you sayne,
The luces and the crescents both
The Scots fought them again.
Upon Saint Andrew loud did they cry,
And thrice they shout on hyght,
And syne marked them on our Englishmen,
As I have told you right.
Saint George the bright, our Lady's knight,
To name they were full fain,
Our Englishmen they cried on hyght,
And thrice they shout again.
With that sharp arrows began to flee,
I tell you in certain;
Men of arms began to join;
Many a doughty man was there slain.
The Percy and the Douglas met,
That either of them was fain;
They schapped together, while that they sweat,
With swords of fine Collayne;
Till the blood from their basenets ran
As the roke doth in the rain.
"Yield thee to me," said the Douglas,
"Or else thou shalt be slain;
"For I see by thy bright basenet,
Thou art some man of might;
And so I do by thy burnished brand,
Thou art an earl, or else a knight."
"By my good faith," said the noble Percỳ,
"Now hast thou rede full right;
Yet will I never yield me to thee,
While I may stand and fight."
They swapped together, while that they sweat,
With swordès sharp and long;
Each on other so fast they beat,
Till their helms came in pieces down.
The Percy was a man of strength,
I tell you in this stound
He smote the Douglas at the sword's length,
That he felled him to the ground.
The sword was sharp, and sore did byte,
I tell you in certàin;
To the heart he did him smite,
Thus was the Douglas slain.
The standards stood still on each side;
With many a grievous groan,
There they fought the day, and all the night,
And many a doughty man was slone.
There was no freyke that there would fly,
But stiffly in stour did stand,
Echone hewing on other while they might dry,
With many a baleful brand.
There was slain upon the Scottes side,
For sooth and certainlỳ,
Sir James of Douglas there was slain,
That day that he did die.
The Earl of Menteith he was slain.
Grysely groaned upon the ground;
Sir Davy Scot, Sir Walter Steward,
Sir John of Agerstone.
Sir Charles Murray in that place,
That never a foot would fly;
Sir Hugh Maxwèll, a lord he was,
With the Douglas did he die.
There was slain upon the Scottes side,
For sooth as I you say,
Of four and forty thousand Scots,
Went but eighteen away.
There was slain upon the English side,
For sooth and certainlỳ,
A gentle knight, Sir John Fitzhugh,
It was the more pitỳ.
Sir James Harebotell there was slain,
For him their hearts were sore
The gentle Lovel there was slain,
That the Percy's standard bore.
There was slain upon the English side,
For sooth as I you say,
Of nine thousand Englishmen,
Five hundred came away;
The others were slaynè in the field,
Christ keep their souls from woe,
Seeing there were so few friends
Against so many a foe!
Then on the morn they made them biers
Of birch and hazel gray;
Many a widow with weeping tears
Their makes they fetch away.
This fray began at Otterburn,
Between the night and the day;
There the Douglas lost his life,
And the Percy was led away.
Then was there a Scottish prisoner ta'en,
Sir Hugh Montgomery was his name,
For sooth as I you say,
He borrowed the Percy home again.
Now let us all for the Percy pray,
To Jesu most of might,
To bring his soul to the bliss of heaven,
For he was a gentle knight.
#Post#: 23974--------------------------------------------------
Re: Scottish Borders: dark legends
By: Lace Date: June 13, 2015, 10:58 am
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Flodden Field
KING JAMIE hath made a vow,
Keepe it well if he may:
That he will be at lovely London
Upon Saint James his day.
Upon Saint James his day at noone,
At faire London will I be,
And all the lords in merrie Scotland,
They shall dine there with me.
"March out, march out, my merry men,
Of hie or low degree;
I'le weare the crowne in London towne,
And that you soon shall be."
Then bespake good Queene Margaret,
The teares fell from her eye:
"Leave off these warres, most noble King,
Keepe your fidelitie.
"The water runnes swift, and wondrous deepe,
From bottome unto the brimme;
My brother Henry hath men good enough;
England is hard to winne."
"Away" quoth he "with this silly foole!
In prison fast let her lie:
For she is come of the English bloud,
And for these words she shall dye."
With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard,
The Queenes chamberlaine that day:
If that you put Queene Margaret to death,
Scotland shall rue it alway."
Then in a rage King Jamie did say,
"Away with this foolish mome;
He shall be hanged, and the other be burned,
So soone as I come home."
At Flodden Field the Scots came in,
Which made our English men faine;
At Bramstone Greene this battaile was seene,
There was King Jamie slaine.
His bodie never could be found,
When he was over throwne,
And he that wore faire Scotland's crowne
That day could not be knowne.
Then presently the Scot did flie,
Their cannons they left behind;
Their ensignes gay were won all away,
Our souldiers did beate them blinde.
To tell you plaine, twelve thousand were slaine,
That to the fight did stand,
And many prisoners tooke that day,
The best in all Scotland.
That day made many [a] fatherlesse child,
And many a widow poore,
And many a Scottish gay lady
Sate weeping in her bower.
Jack with a feather was lapt all in leather,
His boastings were all in vaine;
He had such a chance, with a new morrice-dance
He never went home againe.
_______________
This was written to adapt the ballad to the seventeenth century.
Now heaven we laude that never more
Such biding shall come to hand;
Our King, by othe, is King of both
England and faire Scotland.
#Post#: 23975--------------------------------------------------
Re: Scottish Borders: dark legends
By: Lace Date: June 13, 2015, 11:02 am
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Barbara Allen's Cruelty
ALL in the merry month of May,
When green buds they were swelling,
Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay
For love o' Barbara Allen.
He sent his man unto her then,
To the town where she was dwelling:
"O haste and come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen."
Slowly, slowly rase she up,
And she cam' where he was lying;
And when she drew the curtain by,
Says, "Young man, I think you're dying."
"O it's I am sick, and very, very sick,
And it's a' for Barbara Allen."
"O the better for me ye'se never be,
Tho' your heart's blude were a-spilling!
"O dinna ye min', young man," she says,
"When the red wine ye were filling,
That ye made the healths gae round and round
And ye slighted Barbara Allen?"
He turn'd his face unto the wa',
And death was wi' him dealing:
"Adieu, adieu, my dear friends a';
Be kind to Barbara Allen."
As she was walking o'er the fields,
She heard the dead-bell knelling;
And every jow the dead-bell gave,
It cried, "Woe to Barbara Allen!"
"O mother, mother, mak' my bed,
To lay me down in sorrow.
My love has died for me to-day,
I'll die for him to-morrow."
#Post#: 23976--------------------------------------------------
Re: Scottish Borders: dark legends
By: Lace Date: June 13, 2015, 11:03 am
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Barbara Allen by Blackmores Night
HTML http://youtu.be/OZPf8DYy-8E
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