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morass, now called Milton Bog, from its He counselled the king to make a feint of vicinity to a small village of that name. retreating with the whole army, behind Much of this bog is still undrained, and the tents; which would tempt the Scots a part of it is at present a mill-dam. As to break their ranks, in order to pluuder it was then the middle of summer, it was the camp, when the English might sudalmost dry; but, to prevent attack from denly face about and fall upon them. that quarter, Robert resorted to stratagem. This advice was rejected; Edward deemHe had some time before ordered many ed that there was no need of stratagem ditches and pits to be digged in the mo- in order to defeat a force so inferior. rass, and in the fields upon the left, and When the two armies were upon the these to be covered over again with green point of engaging, the abbot of Inchchanturs, supported by stakes driven into the fry, having posted hiinself, with a crucifix bottom of them, so that the ground had in his hand, before the Scots, the ranks still the appearance being firm. He dropped upon their knees in devotion. also caused calthrops, or sharp-pointed The English concluded that by kneeling, irons, to be scattered through the morass, when they should have been ready to some of which have been found there, in fight, they meant to surrender at discretion, the memory of people yet alive. By and begged their lives. The Scots rose means of the natural strength of the posi- again, and resuming their arms with steady tion, and these devices, his army stood countenances, the English began the action within an intrenchment, fortified by in- by a vigorous charge upon the left wing visible pits and ditches, answering to the of the Scuts, under Randolph, near the concealed batteries of modern times. spot where the bridge is now thrown over

The Scottish force was drawn up in the river, at the small village of Chartresthree divisions. Their front extended hall, which was the only place where the nearly a mile in length along the brink of river could be crossed in any sort of the river. The right, which was upon order. A large body of cavalry advanced the highest grounds, was commanded by to attack in front. Meanwhile another Edward Bruce, brother to the king; the compassed about to fall upon the flank left was posted on the low grounds, near and rear, and fell into the snare prepared the morass, under the direction of Ran- for them. Many of their horses were dolph ; the king himself took the charge disabled by sharp irons rushing into their of the centre. A fourth division was feet; others tumbled into concealed pits, commanded by Walter, lord high steward, and could not disentangle themselves. and James Douglas, both of whom had In this situation Randolph vigorously that morning received knighthood from charged upon them. the king. While in this posture, waiting While this was passing upon the left for the English, the trumpets, clarions, and wing of the Scottish army, the battle was horns, continued to blow with so hideous spreading and raging along the front. It a noise as made the neighbouring rocks was commenced by the impetuous courage and woods to echo.

of an Englishman. The Scottish king The English army was fast approach- was mounted upon a little palfry, carrying, in three great divisions, led on by the ing a battle-ax in his hand, and upon his monarch in person, and the earls of Here- helmet he wore a purple bat in form of a ford and Glocester. The centre was crown. This dress, with his activity, as formed of infantry, and the wings of he rode in front of the lines, observing cavalry, many of whom were armed cap- their order, and cheering the men, rena-pee. Squadrons of archers were upon dered him very conspicuous. Henry the wings, and at certain distances along Bohun, an English knight, cousin to the the front. The king was attended by earl of Hereford, and ranked amongst the two knights, sir Giles de Argentine, and bravest in Edward's army, galloped furisir Aymer de Vallance, who rode “at his ously up to engage with Robert in single bridle,” one upon each side of him. When combat, and, by so eminent an act of Edward beheld the order in which the chivalry, end the contest. Bohun missed Scots were drawn up, and their deter- his first blow, and Robert immediately mined resolution to give battle to his struck bim dead with his battle-ax, which formidable host, he expressed surprise broke in the handle, from the violence of to those about him. Sir Ingram Umfra- the stroke. This bold attack upon their ville suggested a plan which was likely king, in the face of the whole army, to ensure a cheap and bloodless victory. roused the Scots to instant onset, and

they rushed furiously upon their foes havoc among the English, especially at The ardor of one of their divisions car- the passage of the river, where order in ried it too far, and it was sorely galled by retreat could not be kept, because of the a large body of English archers, who irregularity of the ground. Within a charged it in flank; these were soon dis- short mile from the field of battle is a persed by Edward Bruce, who came plot of ground, called the “ Bloody behind them with a party of spearmen; Field;" it is said to take its name from or, according to other accounts, by sir a party of the English having there faced Robert Keith, whom the king despatched about, and sustained a dreadful slaughter. to its relief, with a company of five hun- This tradition corresponds with a relation dred horse. Edward Bruce, however, in several historians concerning Gilbert soon needed similar relief himself. A de Clare, earl of Glocester, and nephew strong body of English cavalry charged to Edward II. Seeing the general rout, the right wing, which he commanded, he made an effort to renew the battle at with such fury, that he had been quite the head of his military tenants; and, overpowered, if Randolph, who appears after having done much execution with to have been at that time disengaged, had his own hand, was, with most of his not marched to his assistance. The battle party, cut in pieces. With this martial was now at the hottest, and the fortune prince perished Robert de Clifford, first of the day uncertain. The English con- lord of the honor of Skipton: they tinued to charge with unabated vigor; fought side by side. Their heroism had the Scots received them with inflexible excited the admiration of Bruce; they intrepidity, and fought as if victory de- had been companions in the field, and, pended upon each man's single arm. A that they might not be separated after singular scene suddenly altered the face death, he sent thier bodies to Edward II. of affairs, and contributed greatly to decide at Berwick, to be interred with the honors the contest. All the servants and attend- due unto their valor. ants of the Scottish army, amounting, it At the battle of Bannockburn there fell, is said, to above fifteen thousand, had on the side of the English, one hundred been ordered, before the battle, to retire and fifty-four earls, barons, and knights, with the baggage behind Gillies-hill. seven hundred gentlemen, and more than During the engagement they arranged ten thousand common soldiers. A few themselves in a martial form, some on stanzas, from one of the oldest effufoot, and others mounted upon baggage- sions on this subject, will show the horses. Marching to the top of the hill, fiery and taunting tone of exultation raised they there displayed white sheets upon by Scottish minstrelsy upon the victory. long poles, in the form of banners, and

Song of the Scottish Maidens, moved towards the field of battle with

Here comes your lordly chivalry frightful shouts.

The English, taking All charging in a row; them for a fresh reinforcement to the

And there your gallant bowmen Scots, were seized with panic, and gave Let fly their shafts like snow. way in great confusion. Buchanan says Look how yon old man clasps his hands, that the king of England was the first that And hearken to his cryfled; but in this he contradicts all other “ Alas, alas, for Scotland, historians, who affirm that the English When England's arrows fly!” monarch was among the last in the field. Yet weep, ye dames of England, According to some accounts, he would For twenty summers past not be persuaded to retire, till sir Aymer Ye danced and sang while Scotland weptde Vallance, seeing the day lost, seized

Such mirth can never last. his horse's bridle, and forced him off.

And how can I do less than laugh, The king's other knight, sir Giles de

When England's lords are nigh?

It is the maids of Scotland Argentine, would not leave the field.

Must learn to wail and sigh; Throwing himself at the head of a battalion, he animated it to prodigious efforts,

For here spurs princely Hereford-

Hark to his clashing steel ! but was soon overpowered and slain. Sir

And there's sir Philip Musgrave, Giles was a champion of great renown;

All gore from helm to heel; he had signalized himself in several bat

And yonder is stout d'Argentine ; tles with the Saracens, and was reckoned And here comes, with a sweep, the third knight for valor in his day. The fiery speed of Gloucester

The Scots pursued and made deadly Say wherefore should I weep!


Weep, all ye English maidens,

unmarried resident in Church-street, let Lo, Bannockbrook's in food!

their rank in life be what it may, to be Not with its own sweet waters,

given on Farthing Loaf Day" and But England's nublest blood.

also the sum of two guineas to be paid to For see, your arrow shower has ceased, a householder in the said street, as remuThe thrilling bow-string's mute;

neration for providing a supper of bread And where rides fiery Gloucester ?

and cheese and ale, to which every houseAll trodden' under foot,

holder in the street should be invited, Wail, all ye dames of England,

poor and rich. The householders each Nor more shall Musgrave know

to take their turn in being bost, but with The sound of the shrill trumpet

a proviso, that none except the occupiers And Argentine is low.

of front houses should enjoy this digThy chivalry, proud England, Have turn's the rein to fly;

nity. The toast directed to be drunk And on them rushes Randolpb

after supper is “ Peace and good neighHark! Edward Bruce's cry.

bourhood.” The money required arises

from a sum which is lent at interest, an'Mid reeking blood the Douglas rides, As one rides in a river ;

nually, to any competent inhabitant of And here the good king Robert comes

this favored street, upon his producing And Scotland's free for over. ''

two good sureties for the repayment at Now weep, ye dames of England,,

the end of the year. And let your sons prolong

H, M. The Bruce-the Bruce of Bannockburn- May, 1831. In many a sorrowing song.


Clare preserves some of the old cus

toms and present usages at sheep shearing. [For the Year Book.]

After the fines quoted beneath the engrav

ing at the beginning of this month, he A very curious practice is observed on Midsummer-eve, at Kidderminster, aris

speaks of the shepherd, with his sheep fresh ing from the testamentary dispositions of from the washing, in the clipping-pen. two individuals, once residents there.

There with the scraps of songs, and laugh, A farthing loaf is given, on Midsum

and tale,

He lightens annual toil, while merry ale mer-eve, to every person born in Churchstreet, Kidderminster, who chooses to

Goes round, and glads some old man's heart

to praise claim it, whether they be rich or poor, The threadbare customs of his early days : child or adult. And let not the reader

How the high bowl was in the middle set contemn the smallness of the boon. The

At breakfast time, when clippers yearly met, bequest is of very ancient standing; and Fill'd full of furmety, where dainty swum the farthing loaf, at the time of its date, The streaking sugar and the spotting plum. was of jolly proportions, far different to 'The maids could never to the table bring the minims which are prepared expressly The bowl, without one rising from the ring for this occasion at the present time. The To lend a hand; who, if ’ewere ta'en amiss, donor was a benevolent old maid, who,

Would sell his kindness for a stolen kiss. no doubt, intended to confer a benefit on

The large stone-pitcher in its homely trim, the denizens of Church-street, Kidder

And clouded pint-horn with its copper rim, minster, and had she lived in these days,

Were there ; from which were drunk, with and had understood the subtleties of the

spirits high,

Healths of the best the cellar could supply; currency question, would doubtless have While sung the ancient swains, in uncouth bestowed it in a less ludicrous shape. rhymes, The day is called Farthing Loaf Day, and Songs that were pictures of the good old times. the bakers' shops are amply furnished Thus will the old man ancient ways bewail, with these diminutives, as it is the prac- Till toiling shears gain ground upon the tale, tice of the inhabitants throughout the

And break it off for now the timid sheep, town to purchase them.

His fleece shorn off, starts with a fearful leap, Superadded to this bequest is another.

Shaking his naked skin with wond'ring joys, About fifty years ago an old bachelor,

While others are brought in by sturdy boys. emulous of good works, left a sum for

Then follows a lively account of exthe purchase of a twopenny cake for every isting usages at a sheep-shearing

h, m.

blue ;

Though fashion's haughty frown hath All this is past, and soon will pass away
thrown aside

The lime-torn remnant of the holiday.
Half the old forms simplicity supplied,
Yet there are some pride's winter deigns to

June 24. Sun rises

3 43 Left like green ivy when the trees are bare.


8 17 And now, when shearing of the flocks is done, St. John's torch flowers. Some ancient customs, mix'd with harmless fun,

Grass fully ready for the scythe. Crown the swain's merry toils. The timid

maid, Pleased to he praised, and yet of praise

June 25. afraid,

The BLACKBIRD. Seeks the best flowers ; not those of woods and fields,

This is the largest of our song birds, But such as every farmer's garden yields- and is called the harbinger of nature, from Fine cabbage-roses, painted like her face ; building its nest, and producing young The shining pansy, trimm'd with golden lace; in the spring, sooner than others. The tall topp'd larkheels, feather'd thick with

The male, when kept in a cage, carols flowers;

delightfully all the spring and summerThe woodbine, climbing o'er the door in

time. Besides his pleasant natural note, bowers; The London tufts, of many a mottled hue;

be may be taught to whistle, or play a The pale pink pea, and monkshood darkly

tune. When wild in the fields, he seeds

promiscuously upon berries and insects, The white and purple gilliflowers, that stay

and, for the most part, flies singly: Ling'ring, in blossom, summer half away;

The male is of a darker black than the The single blood-walls, of a luscious smell, female. The hen, and young

male-birds, Old fashion'd flowers which housewives love are rather brown, or dark russet, than so well ;

black, and their bellies of an ash-color; The culumbines, stone-blue, or deep night. but, after mewing the chicken feathers, brown,

the male becomes coal-black. Their honeycomb-like biossoms hanging down,

The female builds her nest very's fond adopted child, Though heaths still claim them, where they bents, and fibres of roots, all strongly

cially; the outside of moss, slender twigs, yet grow wild ; With marjoram knots, sweet brier, and ribbon- cemented with clay, the inside lined with grass,

small straws, bents, hair, or other soft And lavender, the choice of ev'ry lass, matter. She lays four or five eggs, seldom And sprigs of lad's-love-all familiar names, more, of a bluish-green color, full of Which every garden through the village dusky spots; and she builds near the claims.

ground, generally in a hedge, before there These the maid gathers with a cny delight,

are many leaves upon the bushes. And ties them up, in readiness for night;

Young birds of twelve days old, or Then gives to ev'ry swain, 'tween love and

less, may be raised with little trouble, by shame, Her “clipping posies” as his yearly claim.

taking care to keep them clean, and feedHe rises, to obtain the custom'd kiss :

ing them with sheep's heart, or other lean, With stified smiles, half hankering after bliss,

unsalted meat, cut very small, and mixed She shrinks away, and, blushing, calls it rude ;

with a little bread. While young, give Yet turns to smile, and hopes to be pursued ; them their meat moist, and feed them

to whom the hint may be applied about every two hours. At full growth, Follows to gain it, and is not denied.

they thrive on any sort of fresh meat, The rest the loud laugh raise, to make it mixed with a little bread. When sick, known,

or drooping, a house spider or two will She blushes silent, and will not disown!

help the bird. A little cochineal in his Thus ale and song, and healths, and merry

water is very cheering and good. They ways,

love to wash and preen their feathers; Keep up a shadow still of former days; But the old beecben bowl, that once supplied therefore, when fully grown, set water in The feast of furmety, is thrown aside;

their cages for that purpose. And the old freedom that was living then,

The blackbird is always brought up When masters made them merry with their from the nest; the old ones cannot be men;

tamed. When all their coats alike were russet brown, And his rude speech was vulgar as their own :

• Albin.

While one,

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Many a maid

A bird hath laid All under the greenwood tree;

And many a rhyme

Hath mark'd the time From Prior down to me.

Many a girl,

As I can tell, Hath fondled many an ousel ;

And many's the muse

That's told the news Death did the girl bamboozle,

To every lass

It comes to pass, That nine pets out of ten die

All in the night,

As if in spite, They give her care the go-bye.

The bird was fed,

And put to bed, To sleep the live-long night;

Chirping with glee

It arose at three, It being then broad day-light.

It wish'd to eat,

It call'd for meat, For food the bird did pine :

Its heart grew big

It hopt the twig, Bre breakfast came at nine.

Upon my word

The taste of a bird Has nothing to do with the ton;

They ne'er sit up late

To dirty a plate,
But they sleep in the clothes they have on.

They want no bell

The hours to tell,
No maiden to help to dress them;

At earliest dawn

They salute the morn, And rather you'd feed than caress them.

To be teased with a kiss

They think much amiss, When a worm would be more grateful :

And then to be fed

With sour milk and bread Is to every bird as hateful.

When you've kisses to spare

Let men be your care, But give birds what nature intended

Good air and day-light,

And freedom of Aight,
And they'll hold their condition much mended.

June 26.
On the 26th of June, 1715, William
Tunstall, a gentleman who espoused the
Stuart interest, received sentence of death
for high treason.

His residence was in the north of England, where the family had flourished many centuries. He was taken prisoner at Preston, and led through Highgate in triumph, with Messrs. Tildesley, Dalton, Townley, Hodgeson, Hes. keths, Walton, and Leybourne, who were afterwards indicted with him, when they all pleaded not guilty. Mr. Tunstall, o'i being brought to the bar again, on Ma 20, withdrew his former plea, and pleaded guilty. After sentence was passed upon him he lay in prison, uncertain of his fate, and daily hearing of numbers implicated in the same cause being led to execution. In April, 1716, he was conveyed from the Marshalsea to the custody of messengers. He obtained a pardon: not from any circumstances that could weigh with a jury, but because he sung to his harp some“ droll" verses upon the occasion, which moved the minister more than the misery of Tun stall's manyassociates in the same desperate cause. It is said that eight hundred unfortunate persons died by the hands of the executioner. The number may have been exaggerated, but, with all allowances, it leaves a catalogue which exbibits want of just policy and recklessness of life in the government of the day. Most of these unhappy persons suffered for what they judged their duty. Had more mercy been shown in 1716, ihere would not, probably have been a rebellion in 1745 *


Survives, for worthy mention, of a pair
Who, from the pressure of their several fates,
Meeting as strangers, in a petty town
Whose blue roofs ornament a distant reach
Of this far-winding vale, remained as friends
True to their choice ; and gave their bones in

To this loved cemetery, here to lodge,
With unescutcheoned privacy interred
Far from the family-vault.-A chieftain one

J. M. of M. H.

* Noble.

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