HUMBLEDOWN HILL.

IR Swinton was a doughty knight

As ever Scotland bred;

Than Gordon none more brave in fight Did ever cross the Tweed.

But deidly feuds subsisted long
Between these valiant twain,

They never met-but straight they fought
With all their martial train.

At last they hied with ilk his band.
To Bræ of Humbledoun,
Where Douglas and his army lay
Wi' Knights of great renown.

Now baith afore the Douglas stood,
And glowr'd wi' hatefu' spite,
And half unsheath'd their shining blades,
And quak'd and burn'd to fight.

Then mighty Donglas leap'd between

To redd the foul debate,

"O Sirs!" he cries, "thrust in your glaives "And quell this rising state.

"For, look you! where the English lies

"On yonder tented field,

"To morrow's morn, if right I ween,

"We'll need both sword and shield.

"Gin we to Scotland mean to go,
“Our road lies thro' yon host;
"First spend your fury on the foe,
"Then fight-if fight ye must."

He spake-in sullens baith withdrew,
Now all prepare for fight,

And arms and armour clattering brake
The silence of the night.

VOL. II.

In bluid red clouds the Sun arose,
Which saw that fatal day

Where bretheless on the green hill side
Fu' many a bra' Scot lay.

For sair-the English bowmen gall'd
The van that ungear'd stood,
Nae thirsty shaft e'er reach'd the earth
Unstain'd wi' Scottish bluid.

Then Sir John Swinton loudly cries
"Bra' lads! gif we must die,
"Follow your chief, and syne your foes
"Shall bear us companie."

These words when Adam Gordon heard,
He hastens to the place,

"When our dear country claims our aid
"Let all our quarrels cease.

"For mine are gone-most valiant Knight!
"And now a boon I crave-
"That frae thy noble arm-the meed
"Of Knighthood I must have."

"And mine for aye!"-replies Sir John,
And to his breast him drew;

Then dubb'd him Knight, while deidly flight
Of arrows round them flew.

Then wi' their men, these valiant twain
Rush'd down the green hill's side,
And 'mongst their foes, wi' mortal blows
Their hands in bluid they dy'd.

Like two huge rocks on Bramor's brow,
When loossen'd fra' their bed,

That thunder down and overthrow
The pines which crown the glade.

Thus they, thro' ranks, the Earl of March
And the bold Percies fought,

And bluid and carnage mark'd their path
Where'er they step'd and fought.

2 x

At length they're wi' their gallant train
By numbers compass'd round,

And fighting fall on heaps of slain,
And stain with gore the ground.

Thus did these valiant chieftains fall
Who liv'd in mortal strife,
But lock'd in one another's arms,
Dear friendship clos'd their life.

And now the Scottish lines were broke
Wi' rout and disarray,

And many a man was lost in Tyne
That strove to flee that day.

The mighty Douglas too was ta'en
For ne'er a foot he'd flee,

But first five greevous wounds he got
And also lost an eye.

With Gordon and with Swinton fell

Sir John of Callender,

Sir Ramsay of Dalhousie too,
And Sir Walter Sinclair.

And Roger Gordon likewise died,
Wi' Walter Scot sae brave,
And many more of note beside
Whom valour could not save.

But past all count, the pris'ners were
Wi' doughty Douglas ta'en,
Fife, Murray, Angus, Orkney Earls,
Lord Graham and Erskine.

With eighty Knights and many more
Than can ee' now be told,

All captives led, for ransome sett
By Harry Hotspur bold.

Fra' forth to Tweed, a swankie blade

Was then a sight to see,

The cou'ter left in half plough'd ridge Lay rusting in the lee.

God prosper Scotland, let us say,
And grant our wars be done,
And may we ne'er see sic a day
As that of Humbledoun.

DURHAM MUSTARD.

FROM "THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE."

RIOR to the year 1720, there was no such luxury as mustard in its present form at our tables. At that time, the seed was coarsely pounded in a mortar, as coarsely separated from the integument, and in that rough state prepared for use. In the year mentioned, it occurred to an old woman of the name of Clements, residing in Durham, to grind the seed in a mill, and pass it through the several processes which are resorted to in making flour from wheat. The secret she kept for many years to herself, and in the period of her exclusive possession of it, supplied the principal parts of the kingdom, and in particular the metropolis with this article. George I. stamped it with fashion by his approval. Mrs. Clements as regularly twice a-year travelled to London, and the principal towns throughout England, for orders, as any tradesman's rider of the present day; and the old lady contrived to pick up, not only a decent pittance, but what was then thought a tolerable competence. From this woman's residing in Durham, it acquired the name of Durham Mustard.

REMARKABLE STORY.

FROM AN OLD BOOK CALLED "THE WONDERS OF NATURE IN ALL PARTS OF THE WORLD."

THERE is a remarkable story from credible persons near Sherburn, hard by Durham.-A poor man's swarm settled in a rich man's garden, who challenged it as his own. The poor man wished it might appear to whom the swarm of right belonged.

The swarm followed him, and hung upon his beard, by which he carried them to his own hive.

Lines by a Lady,

ON SEEING THE COFFINS OF THE EARLS OF DERWENTWATER IN THEIR VAULT AT DILSTON.

ENEATH yon ancient, sacred pile,
Through chinks which Time has made,
I saw, in dim sepulchral aisle,

The chiefs of Dilston laid.

Once lords of all these wide domains,
Now cered in narrow lead,

They rest from cares, from woes, and pains,
Till Earth gives up her dead.

O'er one, conflicting feelings woke,
The noble youth who fell

Beneath the headsman's fatal stroke:
Sad story his to tell!

In exiled Stuart's desperate cause,
He bade his banner wave;
And, forfeit to his country's laws,
Rank, wealth, and life he gave.

And yet, why weep for him? when all
Man's honours, and his joys,
Illusions are, that only pall,

Like childhood's banish'd toys.

As snow-flakes falling on the stream,
That, melting, fade away-
As bright creations of a dream,
That flit ere morning's ray.-

So perish quickly, all things here!
Let us, then, seek our home,
In that eternal, changeless sphere,
Where Death can never come!

M. J. in Gateshead Obs.