"According to _tradition_," says Mr. Stenhouse, "Robert Aldridge, Bishop of Carlisle, about the year 1560, seduced the wife of Hugh Graham, one of those bold and predatory chiefs who so long inhabited what was called the Debatable Land, on the English and Scottish border. Graham, being unable to bring so powerful a prelate to justice, in revenge made an excursion into Cumberland, and carried off _inter alia_, a fine mare belonging to the bishop (!) but being closely pursued by Sir John Scroope, warden of Carlisle, with a party on horseback, was apprehended near Solway Moss, and carried to Carlisle, where he was tried and convicted of felony. Great intercessions were made to save his life; but the bishop, it is said, being determined to remove the chief obstacle to his guilty passions, remained inexorable, and poor Graham fell a victim to his own indiscretion and his wife's infidelity. Anthony Wood observes that there were many changes in this prelate's time, both in church and state, but that he retained his offices and preferments during them all."--_Musical Museum_, iv. 297. Our lords are to the mountains gane, A hunting o' the fallow deer, And they hae gripet Hughie Graham, For stealing o' the Bishop's mare. And they hae tied him hand and foot, 5 And led him up thro' Stirling town; The lads and lasses met him there, Cried, "Hughie Graham, thou art a loun." "O lowse my right hand free," he says, "And put my braid sword in the same, 10 He's no in Stirling town this day, Daur tell the tale to Hughie Graham." Up then bespake the brave Whitefoord, As he sat by the bishop's knee, "Five hundred white stots I'll gie you, 15 If ye'll let Hughie Graham gae free." "O haud your tongue," the bishop says, "And wi' your pleading let me be; For tho' ten Grahams were in his coat, Hughie Graham this day shall die." 20 Up then bespake the fair Whitefoord, As she sat by the bishop's knee; "Five hundred white pence I'll gie you, If ye'll gie Hughie Graham to me." "O haud your tongue now, lady fair, 25 And wi' your pleading let it be; Altho' ten Grahams were in his coat, It's for my honour he maun die." They've taen him to the gallows knowe, He looked to the gallows tree, 30 Yet never colour left his cheek, Nor ever did he blin' his e'e. At length he looked round about, To see whatever he could spy, And there he saw his auld father, 35 And he was weeping bitterly. "O haud your tongue, my father dear. And wi' your weeping let it be; Thy weeping's sairer on my heart, 40 Than a' that they can do to me.