214 BATTLE OF BLACK-EARNSIDE-PURSUIT OF WALLACE.
The day failed through right course worthit short,
To banisht man that is no great comfort :
With their power in paths worthis gang,
Heavy they think when that the night is lang.
Thus good Wallace saw the night's messenger;
Phebus had lost his fiery beams so clear :
Out of the wood thei durst not turn that side
For adversours that in their way would hide1.
The battle of Black-Earnside, shews our author a master in another
Kerlie beheld unto the bold heroun,
Upon Fawdoun as he was looking down,
A subtil stroke upward him took that tide
Under the cheeks the grounden sword gart glide,
By the mail good, both halse and his craig-bane
In sunder strake; thus ended that chiftain,
To ground he feil, fell folk about him throng,
Treason, they cry'd, traitors are us among.
Kerlie, with that, fled out soon at a side,
His fellow Steven then thought no time to bide.
The fray was great, and fast away they yeed,
Both toward Ern; thus scaped they that dread.
Butler for wo of weeping might not stint.
Thus raklesly this good knight have they tint.
They deemed all that it was Wallace men,
Or else himself, though they could not him ken;
He is right near, we shall him have but fail,
This feeble wood may little him avail.
Forty there past again to Saint Johnstoun,
With this dead corps, to burying made it bown.
Parted their men, syne divers ways they rode,
A great power at Doplin still there bode.
To Dalwryeth the Butler past but let,
At sundry fords the gate they unbeset,
To keep the wood while it was day they thought.
As Wallace thus in the thick forest sought,
For his two men in mind he had great pain,
He wist not well, if they were tain or slain,
Or scaped haill by any jeopardy.
Thirteen were left with him, no more had he;
In the Gask-hall their lodging have they tane.
Fire got they soon, but meat then had they nane;
Two sheep they took beside them of a fold,
Ordain'd to sup into that seemly hold :
Graithed in haste some food for them to dight:
So heard they blow rude horns upon hight.
Two sent he forth to look what it might be ;
They bode right long, and no tidings hearde he,
1 L. v. ch. 1, p. 78, v. i.
But bousteous noise so bryvely blowing fast;
So other two into the wood forth past.
None came again, but bousteously can blaw,
Into great ire he sent them forth on raw.
When that alone Wallace was leaved there,
The awful blast abounded meikle mare;
Then trow'd he well they had his lodging seen;
His sword he drew of noble metal keen,
Syne forth he went where at he heard the horn.
Without the door Fawdoun was him beforn,
As to his sight, his own head in his hand;
A cross he made when he saw him so stand.
At Wallace in the head he swakked there,
And he in haste soon hint it by the hair,
Syne out again at him he could it cast,
Into his heart he greatly was agast.
Right well he trow'd that was do sprit of man,
It was some devil, that sic malice began.
He wist no wale there longer for to bide.
Up through the hail thus wight Wallace can glide,
To a close stair, the boards they rave in twin,
Fifteen foot large he lap out of that inn.
Up the water he suddenly could fare,
Again he blink'd what pearance he saw there,
He thought he saw Fawdoun, that ugly sire,
That haiil hall he had set into a fire;
A great rafter he had into his hand.
Wallace as then no longer would he stand.
Of his good men full great marvel had he,
How they were tint through his feil fantasie.
Trust right well that all this was sooth indeed,
Suppose that it no point be of the creed.
Power they had with Lucifer that fell,
The time when he parted from heaven to hell.
By sik mischief if his men might be lost,
Drowned or slain among the English host;
Or what it was in likeness of Fawdoun.
Which brought his men to sudden confusion ;
Or if the man ended in ill intent,
Some wicked sprit again for him present.
I cannot speak of sik divinity,
To clerks I will let all sic matters be:
But of Wallace, now forth I will you tell.
When he was won out of that peril fell,
Right glad was he that he had scaped sa,
But for his men great mourning can he ma.
Flait by himself to the Maker above
Why he suffer'd he should sik paining prove.
He wist not well if that it was God's will;
Right or wrong his fortune to fulfil,
Had he pleas'd God, he trow'd it might not be
He should him thole in sik perplexitie.
PERILS, PROWESS, AND ESCAPE OF WALLACE.
But great courage in his mind ever drawe,
Of Englishmen thinking amends to have.
As he was thus walking by him alone
Upon Ern side, making a piteous moan,
Sir John Butler, to watch the fords right,
Out from his men of Wallace had a sight;
The mist again to the mountains was gone,
To him he rode, where that he made his mone.
On loud he speir'd, What art thou walks that gate?
A true man, Sir, though my voyage be late;
Erands I pass from Down unto my lord,
Sir John Stewart, the right for to record,
In Down is now, newly come from the king.
Then Butler said, this is a selcouth thing,
You lied all out, you have been with Wallace,
I shall thee know, ere you come off this place,
To him he start the courser wonder wight,
Drew out a sword, so made him for to light.
Above the knee good Wallace has him tane,
Through thigh and brawn in sunder strake the bane.
Derfly to dead the knight fell on the land.
Wallace the horse soon seized in his hand,
An ackward stroke syne took him in that stead,
His craig in two; thus was the Butler dead.
An Englishman saw their chiftain was slain,
A spear in rest he cast with all his main,
On Wallace drave, from the horse him to bear;
Warily he wrought, as worthy man in wear.
The spear he wan withouten more abode,
On horse he lap, and through a great rout rode;
To Dalwryeth he knew the ford full well:
Before him came feil stuffed in fine steel.
He strake the first, but bade, on the blasoun,
While horse and man both fleet the water down.
Another soon down from his horse he bare,
Stamped to ground, and drown'd withouten mare.
The third he hit in his harness of steel,
Throughout the cost, the spear it brake some deal.
The great power then after him can ride.
He saw no waill there longer for to bide.
His burnisht brand braithly in hand he bare,
Whom he hit right they followed him na mare.
To stuff the chase feil freiks followed fast,
But Wallace make the gayest ay agast.
The muir he took, and through their power yeed,
The horse was good, but yet he had great dread
For failing ere he wan unto a strength,
The chase was great, skail'd over breadth and length,
Through strong danger they had him ay in sight.
At the Blackford there Wallace down can light,
His horse stuffed, for way was deep and lang,
A large great mile wightly on foot could gang.
Ere he was hors'd riders about him cast,
He saw full well long so he might not last.
Sad men indeed upon him can renew,
With returning that night twenty he slew,
The fiercest ay rudely rebuted he,
Keeped his horse, and right wisely can flee,
While that he came the mickest muir amang.
His horse gave over, and would no further gang1.
I will close these specimens with an instance of our author's allegorical invention.
In that slumber coming him thought he saw,
An aged man fast toward him could draw,
Soon by the hand he hint him hastily,
I am, he said, in voyage charg'd with thee,
A sword him gave of basely burnisht steel,
Good son, he said, this wand you shall bruik weil.
Of topaz stone him thought the plummet was,
Both hilt and hand all glittering like the glass.
Dear son, he said, we tarry here too long,
Thou shalt go see where wrought is meikle wrong;
Then he him led to a mountain on hight,
The world him thought he might see at a sight.
He left him there, syne soon from him he went,
Thereof Wallace studied in his intent,
To see him more he had still great desire,
Therewith he saw begin a fellon fire,
Which braithly burnt in breadth through all the land,
Scotland all over, from Ross to Solway-sand.
Then soon to him there descended a queen,
Illuminate, light, shining full bright and sheen;
In her presence appeared so meikle light,
That all the fire she put out of his sight,
Gave him a wand of colour red and green,
With a sapphire saved his face and eyn,
Welcome, she said, I choose thee for my love.
Thou art granted by the great God above,
To help people that suffer meikle wrong,
With thee as now I may not tarry long,
Thou shalt return to thy own use again,
Thy dearest kin are here in meikle pain;
This right region you must redeem it all,
Thy last reward in earth shall be but small;
Let not therefore, take redress of this miss,
To thy reward thou shalt have lasting bliss.
Of her right hand she beraught him a book,
And humbly thus her leave full soon she took,
Unto the cloud ascended off his sight.
Wallace brake up the book in all his might.
THE VISION OF WALLACE AND ITS INTERPRETATION.
Into three parts the book well written was,
The first writing was gross letters of brass,
The second gold, the third was silver sheen.
Wallace marvell'd what this writing should mean ;
To read the book he busied him so fast,
His spirit again to waking mind is past,
And up he rose, syne soundly forth he went.
This clerk he found, and told him his intent
Of his vision, as I have said before,
Completely through, what needs any words more.
Dear son, he said, my wit unable is
To ransack sik, for dread I say amiss;
Yet I shall deem, though my cunning be small,
God grant no charge after my words may fall.
Saint Andrew was gave thee that sword in hand,
Of saints he is the vower of Scotland;
That mountain is, where he had thee on hight,
Knowledge to have of wrong that thou must right;
The fire shall be fell tidings, ere ye part,
Which shall be told in many fundry airt.
I cannot well wit what queen that should be,
Whether Fortune, or our Lady so free,
Likely it is, by the brightness she brought,
Mother of him that all the world has wrought.
The pretty wand, I trow, by mine intent,
Assigns to you rule and cruel judgment;
The red colour, who graithly understood,
Betokens all to great battle and blood;
The green, courage, that thou art now among,
In trouble and war thou shalt continue long;
The sapphire stone she blessed thee withal,
Is lasting grace, will God, shall to thee fall';
The threefold book is but this broken land,
Thou must redeem by worthiness of hand;
The brass letters betokens but to this,
The great oppress of war and meikle miss,
The which you shall bring to the right again,
But you therefore must suffer meikle pain;
The gold betokens honour and worthiness,
Victory in arms, that thou shalt have by grace;
The silver shews clean life and heaven's bliss,
To thy reward that mirth thou shalt not miss,
Dread not therefore, be out of all despair.
Further as now hereof I can na mare.
About the present period, historical romances of recent events seem to have commenced. Many of these appear to have been written by heralds1. In the library of Worcester college at Oxford, there is a poem in French, reciting the achievements of Edward the Black Prince, who
1 Le Pere Menestrier, Cheval. Ancien. c. v. p. 225. Par. 12mo.
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