Highways and Byways in the Border: IllustratedLang, Andrew
History
Highways and Byways in the Border: Illustrated
Lang, Andrew
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Description and travel
It seems always to me that these old broken bridges--there are two in
Yarrow--strike a note fittingly attuned to the dirge murmured by the
water as it wanders through the vale, strikingly in keeping with its
mournful traditions and with the inexplicable sadness that for ever
broods here. This is the very heart of the Dowie Dens of Yarrow. Here
is the scene of the so-called "duel" between John Scott of Tushielaw
and his brother-in-law, Walter Scott, third son of Robert Scott of
Thirlestane.
"Late at e'en, drinking the wine,
And ere they paid the lawing
They set a combat them between,
To fecht it in the dawing."
Assassination, however, rather than duel, seems to have been the word
applicable to the combat.
"As he gaed up the Tinnies Bank,
I wot he gaed wi' sorrow,
Till, down in a den he spied nine armed men,
On the dowie houms of Yarrow.
"'Oh, come ye here to part your land.
The bonnie Forest thorough?
Or come ye here to wield your brand
On the dowie houms of Yarrow?'
'I come not here to part my land,
And neither to beg nor borrow;
I come to wield my noble brand
On the bonnie banks of Yarrow.'
'If I see all, ye're nine to ane,
And that's an unequal marrow;
Yet will I fight while lasts my brand,
On the bonnie banks of Yarrow.'
Four has he hurt, and five has slain,
On the bludie braes of Yarrow;
Till that stubborn knight came him behind
And ran his body thorough.
'Yestreen I dreamed a doleful dream;
I fear there will be sorrow!
I dreamed I pu'd the heather green,
Wi my true love on Yarrow.
'O gentle wind that bloweth south,
From where my Love repaireth,
Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth,
And tell me how he faireth!'
* But in the glen strove armed men;
They've wrought me dule and sorrow;
They've slain--the comeliest knight they've slain--
He bleeding lies on Yarrow.'
As she sped down yon high, high hill,
She gaed wi' dule and sorrow,
And in the glen spied ten slain men
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.
She kissed his cheek, she kaimed his hair,
She searched his wounds all thorough;
She kissed them till her lips grew red,
On the dowie houms of Yarrow."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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