Northumberland Yesterday And To Day by Jean F. Terry (read aloud books .txt) 📖

Would Be With Henry In Flanders. There Were

Bowmen And Billmen From Cheshire And Lancashire Under The Stanley

Banner; And James Stanley, Bishop Of Ely, Brought The Banner Of St.

Etheldreda, The Northumbrian Queen Who Founded The Monastery Of Ely.

Admiral Sir Thomas Howard Brought A Band Of Sailors To Join His Father

At Alnwick. Dacre Came With A Strong Contingent From The Western

Marches, Men From Alston Moor, Gilsland, And Eskdale, And Also Some From

Tynemouth And Bamburgh; And Sir Brian Tunstall With Sir William Bulmer

Led The Men Of The Bishopric Under The Banner Of St. Cuthbert.

 

From Alnwick Surrey Sent A Letter Pledging Himself To Meet James By

September 9th, And Challenging Him To Battle, A Challenge Which Was

Promptly Accepted By The Scottish King. Marching From Alnwick Towards

The Scottish Army, Surrey Encamped On September 6th On Wooler Haughs.

James Had Formed His Camp On Flodden Hill, And All Surrey's Devices

Could Not Induce Him Abandon This Strong Position. Many Of His Own

Nobles Advised Him Not To Risk A Battle, But To Withdraw While There Was

Yet Time; And Some Were Ready To Leave The Camp And Return Home, Which

Thousands Of The More Undisciplined In His Army Had Done Already, Being

More Anxious To Carry Off Their Plunder Safely Than To Stay And Fight.

But James Was Eager For The Contest, And Felt Himself Bound In Honour To

Give Battle To Surrey; He Answered Haughtily Those Who Counselled

Retreat, And Scornfully Told Archibald Douglas, Earl Of Angus, That He

Might Go Home If He Were Afraid. The Old Man Sorrowfully Left The Field,

But His Two Sons Remained With Their Rash But Gallant King, And Were

Both Slain.

 

On The Day Before The Battle Took Place, Surrey, That "Auld Crooked

Carle," As James Called Him, Marched His Men Northward Across The Till

And Encamped For The Night Near Barmoor Wood. To The Scots This Looked

As Though They Had Gone Off Towards Berwick, To Repeat James' Own

Manoeuvre, And Invade The Country In The Absence Of Its King; And They

Must Have Thought That There Would Be Little Chance Of The Battle For

Which James Had Punctiliously Waited Taking Place On The Morrow. But

Surrey's Purpose Proved To Be Quite Otherwise. On The Following Morning

He Sent The Vanguard Of His Army, With The Artillery, To Make A Detour

Of Several Miles Round By Twizell Bridge, Where They Re-Crossed To The

South Bank Of The Till; And Coming South-Eastward Towards Flodden, They

Were Joined By The Rest Of The Army, Which Had Plunged Through The

Stream, Swollen By Continuous Rains, At Two Points Near Crookham. The

Two Divisions Met At Branxton, After Having Waded Through A Marsh Which

Extended From Branxton Nearly To The Till, And Which The Scots Had

Thought Impassable.

 

Seeing That The English Were About To Occupy Branxton Hill, Which Would

Entirely Cut Him Off From Communication With Scotland, James Was Forced

To Abandon His Advantageous Position; He Gave Orders For The Camp-Refuse

To Be Fired, And Under Cover Of The Dense Clouds Of Smoke Marched Down

To Forestall Surrey And Occupy Branxton Ridge. The Two Armies Suddenly

Found Themselves Within A Few Spears' Length Of Each Other, And The

Battle Was Begun By The Artillery On Both Sides.

 

      Sudden, As He Spoke,

  From The Sharp Ridges Of The Hill,

  All Downward To The Banks Of Till

      Was Wreathed In Sable Smoke.

  Volumed, And Vast, And Rolling Far,

  The Cloud Enveloped Scotland's War

      As Down The Hill They Broke;

  Nor Martial Shout, Nor Minstrel Tone

  Announced Their March; Their Tread Alone,

  At Times One Warning Trumpet Blown,

      At Times A Stifled Hum.

  Told England, From His Mountain Throne

      King James Did Rushing Come.

  Scarce Could They Hear Or See Their Foes

  Until At Weapon-Point They Close.

 

Many Of The Raw Levies On The English Side Fled At The First Sound Of

The Scottish Cannon; But The Master Of The Ordnance, Lord Sinclair, Was

Killed, And His Guns Silenced. Then The Battle Joined, And The First

Result Was That The English Right Wing Under Sir Edmund Howard Was

Scattered And Broken Before The Impetuous Charge Of The Gordons And

Highlanders Under The Earl Of Huntley And Lord Home. Sir Edmund Narrowly

Escaped With His Life; But Lord Dacre Bringing Up His Reserve Of

Horsemen At That Moment Checked The Further Advance Of The Scots. The

Two Central Divisions Of The Armies Engaged Each Other Fiercely, The

Earl Of Surrey, With His Son Sir Thomas Howard Commanding The English

Centre, And King James, With The Earls Of Crawford And Montrose That Of

The Scots. Sir Thomas, After Having Been So Hard Pressed As To Send The

_Agnus Dei_ He Wore To His Father As A Signal For Help, Afterwards With

Sir Marmaduke Constable Defeated The Earl Of Crawford, Whose Division

Was Opposed To Him. Dacre And Sir Thomas Now Charged Lord Home And

Drove Him Some Little Way Back, But Could Not Dislodge His Men Entirely

From Their Position. The Earl Of Bothwell, Who Commanded The Scottish

Reserves, Now Came Up To The Help Of The King, And The Day Seemed About

To Be Decided In Favour Of The Scots, When Lord Stanley, On The English

Left, Exactly Reversed The Fortunes Of The Right Wing, And Scattered And

Routed The Highlanders Led By The Earls Of Lennox And Argyle. Then With

His Lancashire Lads He Attacked The Rear Of The Scottish Position, As

Did Also Dacre And Sir Thomas Howard.

 

  "They Saw Lord Marmion's Falcon Fly,

  And Stainless Tunstall's Banner White

  And Edmund Howard's Lion Bright

  All Bear Them Bravely In The Fight,

    Although Against Them Come

  Of Gallant Gordons Many A One,

  And Many A Stubborn Highlandman,

  And Many A Rugged Border Clan

    With Huntly And With Home.

  Far On The Left, Unseen The While,

  Stanley Broke Lennox And Argyle."

 

Nothing Now Remained For The Scottish Centre, Hemmed In On All Sides,

But To Make A Stubborn Last Stand; And Gallantly Did They Do It. The

Flower Of Scotland's Chivalry Surrounded Their Brave Monarch, And In The

Falling Dusk Fought Desperately To Guard Their King.

 

  "No Thought Was There Of Dastard Flight;

  Linked In That Serried Phalanx Tight,

  Groom Fought Like Noble, Squire Like Knight,

    As Fearlessly And Well.

  The Stubborn Spearmen Still Made Good

  Their Dark Impenetrable Wood,

  Each Stepping Where His Comrade Stood

    The Instant That He Fell."

 

As Night Fell, The Fierce Struggle Continued Until The Darkness Made It

Impossible To See Friend Or Foe, But The Fate Of Scotland's Bravest Was

Sealed. The King Lay Dead, Covered With Wounds, And Around Him A Heap Of

Slain; Those Who Were Able Made Their Way In Haste From The Field, While

The English Host Encamped Where It Stood. The More Lawless In Each Army

Plundered Both Sides Impartially, And When The King's Body Was Found

Next Day, It Too Was Stripped Like Many Others Around It.

 

  "Then Did Their Loss His Foemen Know,

  Their King, Their Lords, Their Mightiest Low,

  They Melted From The Field As Snow

    Dissolves In Silent Dew.

  Tweed's Echoes Heard The Ceaseless Plash

    While Many A Broken Band,

  Disordered, Through Its Currents Dash

    To Gain The Scottish Land;

  To Town And Tower, To Down And Dale,

  To Tell Red Flodden's Dismal Tale,

  And Raise The Universal Wail."

 

The Tragic Effects Of That Terrible Day Were Long Felt In Scotland.

Every Family Of Note In The Land Lost One Or More Of Its Members On The

Fatal Field, Besides The Thousands Of Humbler Beings Who Fell At The

Same Time. Scotland Did Not Recover From The Crushing Blow For More Than

A Hundred Years; And For Many A Day The People Could Not Believe That

Their Gallant King Was Really Slain, But Continued To Hope That He Had

Escaped In The Darkness, And Would One Day Return.

 

There Has Recently Been Erected On Flodden Field A Simple Cross Of Stone

As A Memorial Of That Tragic Day. It Was Unveiled On September 27th,

1910, By Sir George Douglas, Bart. The Inscription On The Stone Is "To

The Brave Of Both Nations."

 

 

 

 

  The Flowers Of The Forest.

 

 

  A Lament For Flodden.

 

  I've Heard The Liltin' At Our Ewe-Milking,

  Lasses A' Liltin' Before Dawn O' Day;

  But Now They Are Moaning On Ilka Green Loaning--

  The Flowers Of The Forest Are A' Wede Away.

 

  At Bughts,[12] In The Mornin', Nae Blythe Lads Are Scornin',

  Lasses Are Lonely And Dowie And Wae;

  Nae Daffin', Nae Jabbin', But Sighin' And Sabbin',

  Ilk Ane Lifts Her Leglin [13] And Hies Her Away.

 

  In Harst, At The Shearing, Nae Youths Now Are Jeering,

  Bandsters Are Lyart,[14] And Runkled, And Gray;

  At Fair Or At Preaching, Nae Wooing, Nae Fleeching [15]--

  The Flowers Of The Forest Are A' Wede Away.

 

  At E'en, In The Gloaming, Nae Younkers Are Roaming

  'Bout Stacks, With The Lasses At "Bogle" To Play;

  But Ilk Ane Sits Drearie, Lamenting Her Dearie--

  The Flowers Of The Forest Are Weded Away.

 

  Dool And Wae For The Order Sent Our Lads To The Border!

  The English For Ance By Guile Wan The Day;

  The Flowers Of The Forest, That Fought Aye The Foremost,

  The Prime Of Our Land, Are Cauld In The Clay.

 

  We'll Hear Nae Mair Liltin' At Our Ewe-Milkin';

  Women And Bairns Are Heartless And Wae;

  Sighing And Moaning On Ilka Green Loaning--

  The Flowers Of The Forest Are A' Wede Away.

 

  [Footnote 12: Bughts = Sheep-Pens.]

  [Footnote 13: Leglin = Milk-Pail.]

  [Footnote 14 Lyart = Grizzled.]

  [Footnote 15: Fleeching = Coaxing.]

 

Chapter 10 (Tales And Legends)

 

Northumberland, As Might Be Guessed From Its Wild History, Is Rich In

Tales Of Daring And Stories Of Gallant Deeds; There Are True Tales, As

Well As Legendary Ones, Which Latter, After All, May Be True In

Substance Though Not In Detail, In Spirit And Possibility Though Not In

A Certain Sequence Of Facts. Now-A-Days We Look Upon Dragons As Fabulous

Animals, And Stories Of The Destruction They Wrought, Their Fierceness

And Their Might Are Dismissed With A Smile, And Mentally Relegated To A

Place Amongst The Fairy Tales That Delighted Our Childhood's Days, When

The Idea Of Belief Or Disbelief Simply Did Not Enter The Question. Yet

What Are The Dragon Stories But Faint Memories Of Those Gigantic And

Fearsome Beasts Which Roamed The Earth In The "Dim, Red Dawn Of

Man"--Their Names, As We Read The Labels On Their Skeletons In Our

Museums, Being Now The Most Fearsome Things About Them! No One Can Deny

That The Ichthyosaurus, Plesiosaurus, And All The Rest Of Their Tribe

Did Exist; And Were They To Be Encountered In These Days Would Spread

The Same Terror Around, And Find Man Almost As Helpless Before Them As

Did Any Fierce Dragon Of The Fairy Tales. That Part Of The Legends,

Therefore, Has Its Foundation In Fact; Though From The Nature Of The

Case, We Certainly Do Not Possess An Authenticated Account Of Any

Particular Contest Between Primitive Man And One Of These Gigantic

Creatures. That Oldest Northumbrian Poem, However, The "Beowulf,"

Chants The Praises Of Its Hero's Prowess In Encounters Of The Kind; And

The North-Country Still Has Its Legends Of The Sockburn Worm, The

Lambton Worm, And The "Laidly" Worm Of Spindleston Heugh, The Two First

Having Their _Venue_ In Durham, And The Last In Northumberland. The

Spindlestone, A High Crag Not Far From Bamburgh, And Bamburgh Castle

Itself, Form The Scene Of This Well-Known Legend. The Fair Princess

Margaret, Daughter Of The King Of Bamburgh Was Turned Into A "Laidly

Worm" (Loathly Or Loathsome Serpent) By Her Wicked Stepmother, Who Was

Jealous Of The Lovely Maid. The Whole District Was In Terror Of This

Dreadful Monster, Which Desolated The Country-Side In Its Search For

Food.

 

  "For Seven Miles East And Seven Miles West

  And Seven Miles North And South,

  No Blade Of Grass Or Corn Would Grow,

  So Deadly Was Her Mouth.

 

  The Milk Of Seven Streakit Cows

  It Was Her Cost To Kepe,