Come take the rings off my finger, the skin it is so white, And give them to my mother dear, for she was all the ‘weight;’ Come take the rings off my fingers, the veins are so red, Give them to sir William Fenwick, I’m sure his heart will bleed. She took out a razor, that was sharp and fine, And out of her left side she has taken the heir of Wallington, There is a race in Wallington, and that I rue full sare, Tho’ the cradle it be full spread up, the bride-bed is left bare. [Illustration] VERSES _On a View of Roadley Castle, not far from Wallington, in Northumberland, built by the late worthy Sir Walter Blackett, Bart, with a small Description of its Situation, comprehending Codgy Fort, the Lake, the noted Greenlighton Hill, &c. by Thomas Oliver, of Hallington, Northumberland, taken before the Deer were destroyed in the Park, wherein the Castle stands, soon after the Death of Sir Walter Blackett._ Hutchinson, in his History of Northumberland, appears not to have liked Roadley or Rothley Castle: he finishes his description of it by saying, it would be “pretty enough for the reception of Thomas of Hick-a-thrift, or Jack the Giant Killer.” There’s Roadley’s ‘cloud capt’ lofty hill, With humble dales below; The mighty crags its front do fill, White as if flect with snow. These rugged rocks rough Boreas scorn, Nor blust’ring Æolus dread: Some as by Noah’s deluge torn, From their huge massy bed. Upon its airy summit high, An antique tower appears, Who to the stranger passing by, Seems ag’d a thousand years. Thus in its melancholy state, A Windsor’s view commands; And to defend the brazen gate, Cæsar and Pompey stands. Within the compass of an eye, Sweet rising scenes appear: There fleecy flocks a feeding by, With stately herds of deer. But when with more extended rays, Your circling eyes you guide: Nature fresh beauties still displays, From Blyth to Symmon Side.[43] Nor far from hence stands Codgy Fort, Built on a craggy hill; Where hawks, and daws, and owls resort, And wild blue pigeons bill. Bordering, a sloping raggy brake, Spreading, appears in sight; A deep extensive, warping lake,[44] With water birds on flight. While numbers on the surface float, Down diving o’er and o’er: With bumpkins in the pleasure boat, Launching from shore to shore. Grey game, and Grouse in num’rous broods, About Greenlighton Hill; Where piping Pan his flocks he feeds, Around that humble vill. By dawn of day, Mary and Bett, Hies to the birney knows; Where blithsome many a morn we’ve met, At milking of the ewes. By Maria’s mean courtesy taught, When flocks did chance to roam; I wore them to the milking Bought, And bore her leglin home. [43] The view is extensive, from here may be seen the Symon Side Hills on one side, to the town of Blyth on the other.