Ere I will thus outbraved be, One of us two shall die; I know thou Carr of Etal art, Black Castle’s heir am I.
But trust me, Etal, pity ’twere, And great offence to kill, Doory and Swinburn, harmless youths, For they can do no ill.
Let you and I the battle try, And set our men aside: Accurst be he, bold Etal cried, By whom this is denied.
Then stept a noble baron forth, Lord Linton was his name; Who said, He would not have it told, To Scottish men for shame;
That ere Black Castle fought on foot, And he stood looking on; You are two ’squires, lord Linton cried, And I am an earl’s son.
I’ll do the best that I can do, While I have power to stand; I would not quarrel for a kiss, But Carr, keep back your hand.
Then Swinburn clapp’d his hands and laugh’d, And jeeringly did say, Stick to ’em Carr, and bear ’em off, For me I’ll drink away.
Drinking’s the sport that I like best, So push the glasses round; Kiss you the ladies and I’ll drink, These gallants to the ground.
Oh what a joy it was to see, And likewise for to hear, How Swinburn rattl’d in the van, And Creighton in the rear.
They drank full fast from night ’till morn, No slackness there was found; And Scots and English hats and wigs, Lay drunk upon the ground.
At Callaly, the seat of the Claverings, tradition reports, that while the workmen were engaged in erecting the castle upon a hill, a little distance from the scite of the present edifice, they were surprised every morning to find their former day’s work destroyed, and the whole impeded by supernatural obstacles, which causing them to watch, they heard a voice saying:--
Callaly castle stands on a height, It’s up in the day, and down at night: Build it down on the Shepherd’s Shaw, There it will stand and never fa’.
Upon which the building was transferred to the place mentioned, where it now stands.
[52] Carr, Esq. of Etal, in the county of Northumberland.
In Bedlington there liv’d a fair, (With ruby lips, and auburn hair;) Who dearly priz’d a famous youth, For generous acts and constant truth; But she was heir to store of wealth, No fortune he, but worth himself: This when her parents understood, Hoping it would be for her good, To hinder both their loves intent, To Stokesley, to an uncle sent; At parting, many a sigh and tear, Of love, and truth, thro’ life sincere; Nor death should part; for from the grave Short time should the surviver save: She was not gone a week or more, Until this young man sicken’d sore, He sicken’d sore, and heart-broke died, Which pleas’d her parents’ greedy pride; Who to another would her wed, Forgetful what she’d sworn and said. The eve that he in grave was laid, Thus to his wife the father said, A double feed I’ll give my mare, All other things do thou prepare. Lay out thy hood and safeguard too, Ere light for Stokesley I will go; Before thou seest the morrow night, Thou’lt surely see thy daughter bright; And now no fear, he’s dead and gone, A happy bride we’ll make her soon. It was now that dread midnight hour, When restless ghosts their wrongs deplore. James rode up to her uncle’s door, With her father’s horse they drest before. O who is there? the maiden cries: O it is I, the ghost replies: The horse, hood, safeguard, come and view, You’ll find a messenger most true: Forthwith with me then instant ride, Nor fear nor ill need you betide. When all the uncle understood, Trusting it right and for her good, Help’d her to mount, but made him swear, He’d take her to her father dear. Now when she got him up behind, They travelled faster then the wind; That in two hours, or little more, They came unto her father’s door; And as they did this great haste make, He sore complain’d his head did ache; Her handkerchief she then pull’d out, And tied the same his head about: And as she bound it round his head, My dear, says she, you’re cold as lead; She saw no shadow of her dear, But only of herself and mare. He sets her at her father’s door, And says, your mare has travelled sore; So go you in, and as I’m able, I’ll feed and tend her in your stable. O who is there? the father cries, ’Tis I, the lovely maid replies: Behind young James I’ve hasted here, As order’d by my parents dear. Which made the hair stand on his head, He knowing that the man was dead. Next in the stable then could he No living shape of mankind see; But found his horse all in a sweat, Which put him in a grievous fret.