"During this time Sir Walter Manny, with his company, issued out privily by the postern, and, making a circuit, came upon the rear of the enemy's camp. They were not perceived by any one, for all were gone to the skirmish upon the ditch. Sir Walter made straight for the tent of Lord Charles, where he found the two knights, Sir John Boteler and Sir Mw. Trelawney, whom he immediately mounted on two coursers which he had ordered to be brought for them, and retiring as fast as possible, entered Hennebon by the same way as he sallied forth. The Countess of Montfort came to see them, and received them with great joy."--_Froissart_, by Col. Johnes, vol. ii. p. 9. The Butlers continued to occupy Bewsey till the year 1603, when Edward Butler sold this estate to the Irelands of Hale. It then passed from the Irelands to the Athertons, and is now enjoyed by Thomas Powis, Lord Lilford, of Lilford, Northamptonshire, in virtue of the marriage of his father, in the year 1797, with Henrietta Maria, daughter and heiress of Robert Vernon Atherton, of Atherton Hall, Esq.--_Vide_ Baines's _Lancashire_. Oh listen to my roundelay, Oh listen a while to me, And I'll tell ye of a deadly feud That fell out in the north countrie. The summer leaves were fresh and green When Earl Derby forth would ride; For King Henry and his company To Lathom briskly hied. A bridge he had builded fair and strong, With wondrous cost and pain, O'er Mersey's stream, by Warrington, For to meet that royal train.[6] And lord, and knight, and baron bold, That dwelt in this fair countrie, With the Derby train a-riding were, Save Sir John of proud Bewsey. "Now foul befa' that scornfu' knight," Cried Stanley in his pride; "For he hath my just and honest suit Discourteously denied: "Such hatred of our high estate, This traitor sore shall rue; I'll be avenged, or this good sword Shall rot the scabbard through!" He swore a furious oath, I trow, And clenched his iron hand, As he rode forth to meet his son, The monarch of merry England. * * * * * The summer leaves were over and gone, But the ivy and yew were green, When to Bewsey hall came a jovial crew On the merry Christmas e'en. It was mirth and feasting in hall and bower On that blessed and holy tide, But ere the morning light arose, There was darkness on all their pride! Dark wonne the night, and the revellers gay From the laughing halls are gone; The clock from the turret, old and grey, With solemn tongue tolled one. The blast was moaning down the glen, Through the pitch-like gloom it came, Like a spirit borne upon demon wings To the pit of gnawing flame!