And thro' at Fargy Grame's gap."

"But I hae another wile for that:

For I hae little Will, and stalwart Wat,
And lang Aicky, in the Souter moor,

Wi' his sleuth dog sits in his watch right sure;
Shou'd the dog gie a bark,

He'll be out in his sark,

And die or won.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',

My gear's a' ta'en.

Ha! boys-I see a party appearing-wha's yon! Methinks it's the captain of Bewcastle, and Jeph

tha's John,

Coming down by the foul steps of Catlowdie's loan:

They'll make a sicker, come which way they will.
Ha lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',
My gear's a' ta'en.

Captain Musgrave, and a' his band,

Are coming down by the Siller-strand,

And the muckle toun-bell o' Carlisle is rung:

My gear was a' weel won,

And before it's carried o'er the border, mony a man's

gae down.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a',

My gear's a gane.

NOTES

ON

THE FRAY OF SUPORT.

And there toom thy brock-skin bag.-P. 254. v. 1. The badger-skin pouch was used for carrying ammunition.

In the Nicol forest woods.-P. 254. v. 3.

A wood in Cumberland, in which Suport is situated.

For I hae a' the fords o' Liddel set.—P. 255. v. 1. Watching fords was a ready mode of intercepting the marauders; the names of the most noted fords upon the Liddel are recited in this verse.

And thro' at Furgy Grame's gap.-P. 256. v. 1.

Fergus Grame of Sowport, as one of the chief men of that clan, became security to Lord Scroope for the good behaviour of his friends and dependants, 8th January, 1602.— Introduction to History of Westmoreland and Cumberland, p. 111.

Wi' his sleuth dog sits in his watch right sure.-P 256. v. 1. The centinels, who, by the march laws, were planted upon the border each night, had usually sleuth-dogs, or blood-hounds,

along with them.-See Nicolson's Border Laws, and Lord Wharton's Regulations, in the 6th of Edward VI.

Of the blood-hound we have said something in the notes on Hobbie Noble; but we may, in addition, refer to the following poetical description of the qualities and uses of that singular animal:

Upon the banks

Of Tweed, slow winding thro' the vale, the seat

Of war and rapine once, ere Britons knew
The sweets of peace, or Anna's dread commands

To lasting leagues the haughty rivals awed,

There dwelt a pilfering race; well trained and skill'd

In all the mysteries of theft, the spoil

Their only substance, feuds and war their sport.

Not more expert in every fraudful art

The arch felon was of old, who by the tail

Drew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles,
In vain the shelter of the covering rock,
In vain the sooty cloud, and ruddy flames,
That issued from his mouth; for soon he paid
His forfeit life: a debt how justly due
To wronged Alcides, and avenging Heaven!

Veil'd in the shades of night, they ford the stream;
Then, prowling far and near, whate'er they seize
Becomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are safe,
Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong barr'd doors
Secure the favourite horse. Soon as the morn
Reveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan
The plunder'd owner stands, and from his lips
A thousand thronging curses burst their way.
He calls his stout allies, and in a line
His faithful hound he leads; then, with a voice
That utters loud his rage, attentive cheers.
Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tail
Flourish'd in air, low bending, plies around
His busy nose, the steaming vapour snuffs
Inquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried;

Till, conscious of the recent stains, his heart
Beats quick, his snuffling nose, his active tail,
Attest his joy. then, with deep-opening mouth
That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims
The audacious felon ! foot by foot he marks
His winding way, while all the listening crowd
Applaud his reasonings. O'er the watery ford,
Dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hills,

O'er beaten tracks, with men and beast distain'd,
Unerring he pursues; till, at the cot

Arrived, and seizing by his guilty throat
The caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey :
So exquisitely delicate his sense!

SOMERVILLE'S Chase.

Methinks it's the Captain of Bewcastle, &c. Coming down by the foul steps of Cat lowdie's loan.-P. 256. v. 2. According to the late Glenriddell's notes on this ballad, the office of captain of Bewcastle was held by the chief of the Nixons.

Catlowdie is a small village in Cumberland, near the junction of the Esk and Liddel.

Captain Musgrave and a' his band.-P. 256. v. 3.

This was probably the famous Captain Jack Musgrave, who had charge of the watch along the Cryssop, or Kershope, as appears from the order of the watches appointed by Lord Wharton, when deputy-warden-general, in 6th Edward VI.

LORD MAXWELL'S GOODNIGHT.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

THIS beautiful ballad is published from a copy in Glenriddel's MSS., with some slight variations from tradition. It alludes to one of the most remarkable feuds upon the west marches.

A. D. 1585, John, Lord Maxwell, or, as he styled himself, Earl of Morton, having quarrelled with the Earl of Arran, reigning favourite of James VI., and fallen, of course, under the displeasure of the court, was denounced rebel. A commission was also given to the laird of Johnstone, then warden of the west-marches, to pursue and apprehend the ancient rival and enemy of his house. Two bands of mercenaries, commanded by Captains Cranstoun and Lammie, who were sent from Edinburgh to support Johnstone, were attacked and cut to pieces at Crawford-muir, by Robert Maxwell, natural brother to the