De Quincey’s Revenge. A Ballad in Three Fittes

De Quincey’s Revenge. A Ballad in Three Fittes. By Delta . I. De Quincey, lord of Travernent, Has from the Syrian wars return’d ; As near’d his train to his own demesne, His heart within him burn’d. Yet heavy was that heart, I ween ; A cloud had o’er him pass’d ; And all of life, that once was green, Had wither’d in the blast. Say, had he sheath’d his trusty brand, Intent no more to roam, Only to find the Scottish strand For him no fitting home,* II. Who stands at hush of eventide Before Newbottle’s sacred walls, While eastward far, in arch and aisle, Its mighty shadow falls ? That steel-clad knight stood at the porch, And loud he knock’d, and long, Till out from the chancel came a Frere, For it was even-song. To an alder stump his steed was tied, And the live wind from the west Stirr’d the blue scarf on his corslet side, And the raven plumes of his crest. III. “ Why knock’st thou here ? no hostel this, And we have mass to say ; Know’st thou, that rises our vesper hymn Duly at close of day ? And in the chantry, even now, The choristers are met ; For lo ! o’er Pentland’s summits blue, The western sun hath set ? But if thou return’st at morning tide, Whatever be thy behest ”— “ Nay,” said the stranger hastily, “ Delay not my request. IV. “ For I have come from foreign lands, And seen the sun of June Set over the holy Jerusalem, And its towers beneath the moon ; And I have stood by the sepulchre Wherein the Lord was laid, And drunk of Siloa’s brook, that flows In the cool of its own palm shade. Yea ! I have battled for the Cross, ’Tis the symbol on my mail— But why, with idle words, should I Prolong a bootless tale ? V. “ The Lady Elena—woe to me Brought the words that tale which told— Was yesternight, by the red torchlight, Left alone in your vaults so cold. ’Tis said, last night by the red torchlight That a burial here hath been ; Now show me, prithee, her tomb, who stood My heart and heaven between. Alas ! Alas ! that a cold damp vault Her resting-place should be, Who, singing, sate among the flowers When I went o’er the sea.” VI. “ ’Tis nay, sir knight,” the Frere re-plied, “ If thou turn’st thy steed again, And hither return’st at matin prime, Thou shalt not knock in vain.” Then ire flash’d o’er that warrior’s brow, Like storm-clouds o’er the sky, And, stamping, he struck his gauntlet glove On the falchion by his thigh. “ Now, by our lady’s holy name, And by the good St John, I must gaze on the features of the dead, Though I shew my path through stone.” VII. The Frere hath lighted his waxen torch, And turn’d the grating key, Down winding steps, through gloomy aisles, The damp, dull way show’d he ; And ever he stood and cross’d himself, As the night-wind smote his ear, For the very carven imageries Spake nought but of death and fear- And sable ’scutcheons flapp’d on high, ’Mid that grim and ghastly shade ; And coffins were ranged on tressels round, And banners lowly laid. * Robert de Quincey, a Northamptonshire baron, acquired the manor of Travernent,(vulgo, Tranent,) which, in the reign of David the First, had been held by Swan, theson of Thor, soon after the accession of William the Lion ; and he served for sometime as justiciary to that monarch. At the end of the twelfth century he was suc-ceeded in his immense estates by his son, Seyer de Quincey, the hero of the followingballad, who set out for Palestine in 1218, where he died in the year following. VIII. From aisle to aisle they pass’d the while, In silence both—the one in dread— So solemn a thing it was to be With darkness and the dead ! At length the innermost vault they gain’d, Last home of a house of fame, And the Knight, looking up with earnest eye, Read the legend round the name— “ Unsullied aye our honours beam,” ’Neath fleur-de-lis and crescent shone ; And o’er the Dragon spouting fire, The battle-word “ Set on !”* IX. “ Yes ! here, good Frere—now, haste thee, ope”— The holy man turn’d the key ; And ere ever he had an “ Ave” said, The Knight was on his knee. He lifted the lawn from her waxen face, And put back the satin soft ; Fled from her cheek was the glowing grace That had thrill’d his heart so oft ! The past came o’er him like a spell, For earth could now no bliss afford, And thus, within that cheerless cell, His bitter plaint he pour’d. X. “ Oh, Elena ! I little dreamt, When I sailed o’er the sea, That, coming back, our meeting next In a charnel-vault should be ! I left thee in thy virgin pride, A living flower of beauty rare, And now I see thee at my side What words may not declare ! Oh ! I have met thee on the waves, On the field have braved thee, Death, But ne’er before so sank my heart Thy withering scowl beneath ! XI. “ How different was the time, alas ! When, in the sunny noon of love, I trysted with thee in the stag coppice, In the centre of the grove ! How different was the time, alas ! When, from the tower of high Fal-syde,† We mark’d along the Bay of Forth The streamer’d galleys glide ! How different was the time, alas ! When the gay gold ring I gave, And thou didst say, when far away, I will bear it in my grave !” XII. The Knight turn’d back the satin fold Where her hand lay by her side, And there, on her slender finger cold, He the token ring espied !

* “ Intaminatis fulget honoribus,” was the proud motto of the Seton family.

The original Seton arms were three crescents with a double tressure, flowered andcounterflowered with fleurs-de-lis. A sword supporting a royal crown was afterwardsgiven by Robert the Bruce, for the bravery and loyalty of the family during the suc-cession wars. At a later period, three garbs azure were quartered with the Setonarms, by George the second lord of that name.

“ This lord George,” saith old Sir Thomas Maitland, “ tuk the armes of Buchan,quhilk ar thrè cumming schevis, quarterlie wyth his awin armes, allegeand himself tobe air of the said erldome, be ressoun of his gudedame.”—Chronicle of the Hous ofSeytoun, p. 37.

The crest was a green dragon spouting fire surmounting a ducal coronet, with thewords over it, “ Set On.” The supporters were two foxes collared and chained.

† Sir Robert Sibbald, in his History of Fife, quotes a charter by the Earl of Win-chester to Adame de Seton, 1246, “ De Maritagio herædis Alani de Fawside,” fromwhich, as well as from some incidental passages in Maitland’s <emph>History of the Hous<lb/>of Seytoun</emph>, it is evident that Falside Castle was a heritage of the youngerbranches of the Seton family. It was first acquired by them from intermarriage withthe De Quinceys.

The date of Falsyde Castle is uncertain. It was burned by the English under theDuke of Somerset, 1547, the day following the fatal battle of Pinkie. The strengthof the mason-work, however—the tower being arched at the top of the building, aswell as at the first story—prevented its entire demolition. Paton, in his “ Diary,” gives a very cool description of the burning to death of its little garrison, and calls it“ a sorry-looking castle.” In 1618, the family of Fawside of that Ilk appear to haveremoved to a more modern mansion in the immediate vicinity, which has the initialsJ. F., J. L., above one of its windows. The dovecot of the ancient fortalice stillremains ; and within it is a curious place of concealment, secured by an antiquegrated door. There is a similar hole of secrecy in the staircase of the oldest partof the castle.

It is now the property of Sir George Grant Suttie of Prestongrange and Balgone,having descended to him through his maternal ancestors the Setons, Earls of Hyndford.

“ Now know I thou wert true to me, Ah ! false thou couldst not prove ; Vain was the hate that strove to mate Thy heart with a stranger love.” And then he kiss’d her clay-cold cheek, And then he kiss’d his sword— “ By this,” he said, “ sweet, injured maid, Thy doom shall be deplored ! XIII. “ Yes ! darkly some shall make remead, And dearly some shall pay For griefs, that broke thy faithful heart, When I was far away !” “ Nay ! dost thou talk of vengeance now,” Quod the Frere, “ on thy bended knee ?” The Knight look’d wildly up in his face, But never a word spake he. “ Now rise, now rise, Sir Knight !" he cried, “ Mary Mother calm thy mind ! ’Twas the fiat of Heaven that she should die, To its will be thou resign’d !” XIV. Uprose De Quincey from his knee In that darksome aisle and drear ; No word he spake, but, with hasty glove, Brush’d off one starting tear ; Then, as he donn’d his helm, he pluck’d The silken scarf from its crest, And upraised it first to his meeting lip, Then hid it within his breast. The scenes—the thoughts of other years Pour’d o’er him like a lava tide ; Her day was done, and set her sun, And all for him was night beside ! XV. The coffin lid was closed ; the Frere Preceded, with his taper wan ; Behind him strode the black-mail’d Knight, A melancholy man ! And oft the Monk, as he upwards clomb From the darksome place of dread, Where the coffin’d clay of fair Elena lay, Did backwards turn his head— Say, holy Frere, can the waves of fear O’er thy calm, pure spirit flow ; Or is it the cold, through these vaults of mould, That makes thee tremble so ? XVI. The porch they gain’d—the Frere he closed The gates behind the Knight, Dim lay the clouds, like giant shrouds, Over the red starlight ; And ever, with low, moaning sound, The soft warm gust wail’d through the trees ; Calm, in slumber bound, lay all around, And the Stream sang “ Hush !” to the Breeze. The Frere put out his torch, and look’d His high-barr’d lattice fro’ ; And he saw, ’mid the dusk, the mounted Knight Down the winding valley go. Fitte Second. I. ’Twas the flush of dawn ; on the dewy lawn Shone out the purpling day ; The lark on high sang down from the sky, The thrush from the chestnut spray ; On the lakelet blue, the water-coot Oar’d forth with her sable young ; While at its edge, from reed and sedge, The fisher-hern upsprung ; In peaceful pride, by Esk’s green side, The shy deer stray’d through Ros-lin glen ; And the hill-fox to the Roman Camp* Stole up from Hawthornden.† * The parish of Newbottle rises from its extremities—Fordel House and NewbyresTower—till it terminates in a ridge of considerable extent, termed the Roman Camp,the elevation of which is 680 feet. The neighbourhood abounding in hares, the Ro-man Camp is a favourite meeting-place of the Mid-Lothian Coursing Club. Fromantlers found in the neighbourhood, and even at Inveresk, no doubt can exist, that,at the era of our ballad, the hart and hind were visitants of at least the Morth-thwaitehills. † The building of Roslin Castle is anterior to the dawn of authentic record. “ Itsorigin,” says Chalmers, (Caledonia, vol. ii. p. 571,) is laid in fable.” According toAdam de Cardonnel, (Picturesque Antiquities,) William de Sancto Claro, son ofWaldernus Compte de St Clare, who came to England with William the Conqueror,obtained from King Malcolm Canmore a grant of the lands and barony of Roslin. II. Where hurries so fast the hench-man ? His steed seems froth’d with spray ; To Newbottle’s shrine, ’mid the dawn-ing lone, He speeds his onward way. From grey Caerbarrin’s walls he came,* By Smeaton Shaw, through Colden Wood, And up thy royal way, Derstrette,† His path he hath pursued— Until, upon its flowery lawn, By murmuring Esk’s enamour’d side, The Abbey’s grand and massive walls, Were ’mid its groves espied.‡ III. “ Awake,” he cries, as loudly he knocks, “ Ho ! arise, and haste with me ; For soon, alas, Caerbarrin’s lord Among the dead must be ! ” Then forth outspake the abbot grey From his couch, as he arose, “ Alack ! thou bring’st us evil news, For thy lord he was of those Who dower’d our church with goodly lands, And his sword hath ever been, For Scotland’s glory and for ours, At the call, unsheath’d and keen. IV. “ But the best are aye the first to die, This sinful earth is not their place ; Sure is the passage of the good— Mary Mother yield them grace ! Then rest thee in our porter’s keep, While our brother Francis will repa repair To the house of woe, and soothe the sou soul Of the dying man with prayer !” Hawthornden and Roslin are associated with many bright names in literature—Drum-mond, Ben Jonson, Ramsay, Macneil, Scott, Wilson, and Wordsworth.

* Chalmers traces back the name “ Caerbairin,”’ to the time of the ancient Bri-tons, and instances the modern one “ Carberry,” to show how English adjuncts havebeen engrafted on British roots.

Every reader of Scottish history will remember that it was on the rising groundabove the fortalice of Carberry, that Mary and Bothwell awaited the approach of theconfederate lords ; and that there they were parted, never to meet again.

† During the Scoto-Saxon period, the king’s highways are often mentioned in char-tularies, as local boundaries. In that of Newbottle we find reference made to a regia via, leading from the village of Ford to the Abbey, in a charter of Hugh Riddel,in the time of Alexander III., (chart, 22.) The king’s highway from the same Abbeyto Edinburgh in 1252, is also there mentioned, (16 ;) and Gervaise, the abbot, in hischarter, (Ib. 163,) alludes to a certain road called Derstrette, near Colden, in thedistrict of Inveresk. Near the same locality there is now a place called D’Arcy,which I have little doubt is a corruption of the ancient appellation.

‡ Newbottle Abbey was beautifully situated on the banks of the South Esk, near-ly on the same site as the modern mansion of the Marquis of Lothian, who is a de-scendant of the last abbot. It was founded by that “ sore saint for the crown,” KingDavid I., in the year 1140. “ The monks,” says Bishop Keith, “ were brought fromMelrose, together with their abbot, Radulphus. Patrick Madort, a learned divine,who is mentioned from the year 1462 until 1470, recovered a great number of original writs and charters belonging to this place, which were transcribed into a chartulary,which is now in the Advocates’ Library,” —Religious Houses, p. 417. Ed. 1824.

The only relics of antiquity now about the place, are the remains of the stone inclo-sure which surrounded the Abbey, still called Monkland Wall—a striking and vener-able gateway, surmounted by its time-worn lions ; a solemn line of yew-trees ; anda doorway, amid the lawn to the east, said to be the entrance of a subterranean pas-sage to the old Abbey.

Many of the trees in the park are beautiful and majestic, especially some of theplanes and elms ; and a beech, in the neigbourhood of the house, measures twenty-twofeet in circumference, at a yard from the ground. It contains nine hundred cubic feetof wood, and its branches cover a circle of thirty-three feet diameter.

The remains of monastic architecture now seen at Newbottle, are said to have beenbrought by the late Marquis from the ruins at Mount Teviot. They are beautiful andinteresting.

We should also state, in referring to the antiquities of the place, that a little belowthe Abbey there is a venerable bridge over the Esk, rudely built, and overspread withivy, which has long survived all accounts of its age and founder.

The present parish of Newbottle consists of the ancient parish of Maisterton, andthe Abbey parish. During the Scoto-Saxon period, the patronage of Maisterton waspossessed by the lord of the manor. Near the end of the thirteenth century this be-longed to Robert de Rossine, knight, whose daughters, Mariot and Ada, resigned itto the monks of Newbottle, with two-thirds of their estates.

The henchman sate him down to rest, And wiped the toil-drops from his brow ; While in hurry and haste, on shrieving quest, The Frere was bourne to ride and go. V. Through the green woodlands spurr’d the monk— The morning sun was shining bright, Upon his bosom lay the Book,* Under his cloak of white ; Before him, in the pleasant prime, The willow’d stream meandering flow’d— From wildflowers by the pathway side, The gallant heathcock crow’d ; Glisten’d the dew on the harebells blue— And, as the west wind murmur’d by, From yellow broom stole forth per-fume, As from gardens of Araby. VI. Now lay his road by beechen groves— Now by daised pastures green, And now, from the vista’d mountain road, The shores of Fife were seen ;— And now Dalcaeth behind him lay ;† And now its castle, whence the Græme Sent forth his clump of Border spears, The vaunting Gael to tame ; Now by coppice and corn he urged his steed Now by dingle wild and by dell, Where down by Cousland’s limestone rocks The living waters well. VII. Then he came to a clump of oak-trees hoar, Half over the steep road hung, When up at once his bridle rein The arm of a warrior sprung ; With sudden jerk, the startled steed Swerved aside with bristling mane : “ Now halt thee, Frere, and rest thee here, Till I hither return again. I know thine errand—dismount, dis-mount— That errand for thee I’ll do ; But, if thou stirrest till I return, Such rashness thou shalt rue ! VIII. “ Then doff to me thy mantle white, And eke thy hood of black ;‡ And crouch thee amid these brakens green, To the left, till I come back.”

* “ Much he marvell’d a knight of pride Like a book-bosom’d priest should ride.” So says Sir Walter Scott, (Lay, canto iii, stanza 8,) and, in annotation, quotes froma MS. Account of Parish of Ewes, apud Macfarlane’s MSS. :— “ At Unthank, twomiles north-east from the church, (of Ewes,) there are the ruins of a chapel for Divine service in time of Popery. There is a tradition that friars were wont to come fromMelrose or Jedburgh, to baptize and marry in this parish ; and, from being in use tocarry the mass-book in their bosoms, they were called by the inhabitants “ Book a-bosomes.”

† Dalcaeth, in the Celtic, means the narrow dale.—Vide Richard and Owen’s Dic-tionary, in voce Caeth. Dalkeith, as a parish, does not appear in the ancient Taxatio.Indeed, as such, it did not then exist ; but as the manor of Dalkeith, as well as thatof Abercorn, was granted by David I. to William de Grahame, it is easily to be sup-posed, that, being an opulent family, they had a chapel to their court. “ No memorialremains of the Grahames, unless the fading traditions of the place, and two curiousbut wasted tombstones, which lie within the circuit of the old church. They representknights in chain armour, lying cross-legged upon their monuments, like those ancientand curious figures on the tombs in the Temple Church, London.” —Provincial Anti-<lb/>quities of Scotland. From Robertson’s Index, 40-44 ; and from the Douglas Peer-<lb/>age, 489, we find, that in the reign of David II., John de Grahame of Dalkeith resignedthe manor, with its pertinents, to William Douglas, the heir of Sir James Douglas ofLothian, in marriage with his daughter Margaret. Dalcaeth is first written Dalkeithin a charter of Robert the Bruce. It is proper to mention, however, that Froissart,who himself visited the Earl of Douglas at his castle of Dalkeith, has tho following pas-sage, in mentioning the single combat between the Earl and Sir Henry Percy, at thebarriers of Newcastle. The former having, by force of arms, won the banner of thelatter, is thus made to say :— “ I shall bear this token of your prowess into Scotland,and shall set it high on my castle of Dalkeith, (D’Alquest) that it may be seen afar off.” —Froissart, Berners’ Reprint, 1812. Vol. ii. p. 893.

‡ The monks of Newbottle were of the Cistertian order. “ They were called Monachi Albi,” says Cardonnel, “ to distinguish them from the Benedictines, whose

“ Oh ! bethink thee, Knight,” the good Frere said, “ I should kneel by his couch and pray ; How awful it is for the soul of man Unanneal’d to pass away ! How awful it is, with sins unshrived, To pass from the bed of pain ! Caerbarrin’s chief may a dead man be, Ere thou comest hither again !" IX. He must needs obey, he durst not say nay, That monk to the warrior stern ; His corslet unlaced, and his helm un-braced, Down rattled among the fern : And he hath mounted the Frere’s good steed, Clad in mantle and cowl he rode, Till ’neath him, on its own green knoll, Caerbarrin’s turrets glow’d.* Caerbarrin ! famed by History’s pen In Scotland’s later day, When Both well fled, and Mary was led In weeping beauty away. X. The warder hail’d him from the keep, As through the forest of oak he hied, Now down the path, by the winding strath, That leads from Chalkyside, “ Speed, speed thee !” cried the por-ter old, As the portals wide he threw ;

habit was entirely black ; whereas the Cistertians wore a black cowl and scapular, andall their other clothes were white. They had the name of Cistertians, from their chiefhouse and monasteries, Cistertium, in Burgundy ; and Bernardines, from St Bernard,who, with a number of his followers, retired to the monastery, and was afterwardscalled Abbot of Clairvoux.”—Picturesque Antiquities, Part I., p. 12-13 ; and Keith’s<lb/>Bishops, p. 415.

There were thirteen monasteries of the Cistertian order in Scotland, among whichwere Melrose, Dundrennan, Culross, Sweetheart, and Glenluce.

* The ancient history of the lands of Carberry is lost in obscurity. The lower roomsof the square tower are strongly arched, and evidently of great age. At the time of theDuke of Somerset’s expedition it was the property of Mr Hugh Rigg, the king’s ad-vocate, who is more than once mentioned in the histories of Knox and Pitscottie. Weobserve also, from the Inquisitiones Speciales, that the property was conveyed to seve-ral subsequent generations of the same family—from whom it passed to the Dicksons—of whom we find that, during the Rebellion of 1745, Sir Robert was chief bailie ofMusselburgh.

The assumption of the lords of this wealthy district having been donators to theAbbey of Newbottle, however unwarranted by record, is far from unlikely, the practicehaving been a common one with the wealthy for very weighty reasons.

In 1184, as we learn from the Chartulary of Newbottle, (71,) Robert de Quincey,the father of our hero, granted to the monks of the Abbey the lands of Preston, wherethey formed an agricultural establishment—hence called Prestongrange—with commonof pasture for ten sheep, and a sufficiency of oxen to cultivate their grange. Seyer deQuincey confirmed to the monks all these privileges gifted by his father, by which con-firmation we learn that their lands of Preston were bounded on the west by the rivu-let of Pinkie, in his manor of Travernent.

A curious fact is also ascertained by these charters of the De Quinceys, which is thedate at which coals were first worked in Scotland ; and, in contradiction to the pre-tensions of Fifeshire, this appears to have taken place on this spot. The charter ofRobert grants to the monks the right of digging peats and of cutting wood for fuelwhereas, in that of his son Seyer, we find the addition of “ carbonarium et quarrarium,” with free access to, and recess from the same by the sea.

“ This charter,” (that of Seyer,) says Chalmers in his erudite Caledonia, Vol. IL., p. 486, “ must necessarily have been granted between the years 1202 and 1218,as it is witnessed by William, who became Bishop of St Andrew’s in 1202, and wasgranted by Seyer de Quincey, who set out for the Holy Land in 1218, where he died inthe subsequent year.”

From Keith’s Scottish Bishops, p. 15, we learn that William Malvoisine was trans- lated from the see of Glasgow to that of St Andrew’s in 1202. It is also added, onthe authority of the Chart. of Dumfermline, that he was “ contemporary with PopeHonorius and Sayerus de Quincey.”

In connexion with the same family, we also find from the Chartulary of Newbottle,that Elena, the youngest daughter of Roger de Quincey, the Constable of Scotland,

“ Speed, speed thee !” cried the sen-tinel, The court as he pass’d through ; And “ Speed thee !” echo’d the sene-schal, As he show’d the way before,— “ For much I fear, most holy Frere, That the struggle shall soon be o’er.” Fitte Third. I. Bright on Caerbarrin shines the sun, But all within is woe and gloom ; For there Sir Malcolm bends in death— Before him yawns the tomb ! Unfolded were the chamber doors, Where moan’d he, stretch’d in prone decay ; And his rattling breath spake of com-ing death, As life’s sands ebb’d away ; But, when the mantled Monk he saw, On his arm he strove to rise, And the light, that erst was waning fast, Flash’d back to his sunken eyes. II. “ Welcome ! holy Father,” he said, In accents fond, but low and weak— “ I would pour my sins in thy pity-ing ear, And absolution seek ; For I have been a sinful man, And repent me of my sin ; Yet, as pass the hopes of life away, The terrors of death begin ; But chiefly would I tell to thee My crime of the blackest dye, Which a sea of tears might scarce wash out, Though I could weep it dry ! III. “ A gentle ladye my kinsman loved, And before he cross’d the sea, To combat afar with the Saracen, He trust reposed in me ; But a demon held my soul in thrall, And evil thoughts within me brew’d ; So, instead of nursing her love for him, Her hand for myself I wood. I threw forth doubts, that only were The coinage of my brain, I praised her high fidelity, Yet mourn’d that her love was vain !” IV. Upstarted the Frere ;—“ Ah ! holy man, Yet the worst I have not told : In me—though sprung from noblest blood— A perjured wretch behold !— For my love that ladye no love re-turn’d, Although, with hellish sleight, We forged a cartel, whose purport show’d That De Quincey had fallen in fight. Yes ! my suit that lofty ladye scorn’d— More distant she look’d and cold ; And for my love no love return’d, Though I woo’d her with gifts and gold !” V. Uprose the Frere ;—“ Nay, sit thee down— Not mine was the guilt alone : Father Francis was the clerke thereof, And his Abbey is your own ! To fair Elena’s hand that scroll he bore, Then she folded her palms, and sigh’d ; And she said, “ Since true he has died to me, I will be no other’s bride !’

married Alan la Zouche, an English baron, and that in the division of his great estatesamong his three daughters, the barony of Heriot fell to her share ; and that, in hergreat liberality, she granted to the monks of Newbottle the church of “ Heryeth,” willthe tithes and other riglts.—(Chart. 270.)

The lands themselves of Heryeth were afterwards acquired by the monks ; but whe-ther from the liberality of Elena, or from her son La Zouche, who lost his estates in thesuccession wars, does not appear.

Such transfers of property to religious houses were of common occurrence. We havealready alluded to the cession of Maisterton, by the daughters of Sir Robert de Rossine—Mariot, who married Neil de Carrick, and Ada, the wife of Gilbert de Ayton—in 1320 ;and from the Chartulary of Newbottle we learn, that the monks had-various lands inClydesdale, in order to have easy access to which, they obtained, from various proprie-tors in Mid and West Lothian, special grants of free passage to these distant granges.—(Chart. 218 to 227, and 240.)

In conclusion we may add, as showing the extensive possessions at this early periodof the De Quincey family, that Roger de Quincey, Earl of Winton, gave also to thecanons of Dryburgh a toft “ in villa de Hadintune.” —(Chart. Dryb. 106.)

Still woo’d I her in her mourning weeds, Till she show’d a poniard bare, And wildly vow’d—if again I vex’d Her heart—to plunge it there ! VI. “ Day after day, ray after ray, She waned like an autumn sun, When droop the flowers, ’mid yellow bowers, And the waters wailing run :— Day after day, like a broken rosebud, She wither’d and she waned, Till, of her beauty and wonted bloom, But feeble trace remain’d :— Then seem’d she, like some saintly form, Too pure for the gazer’s eye, Melting away, from our earthly day, To her element—the sky ! VII. “ She died—and then I felt remorse— But how could I atone ? And I shook, when, by her breathless corse, In silence I stood alone :— Yes ! when I saw my victim lie, Untimely, in her swathing shroud, The weight of my burden’d conscience hung Upon me like a cloud ! There was no light—and all was night, And storm, and darkness drear ; By day ’twas joyless, and my sleep Was haunted by forms of fear ! VIII. “ Lonely I stray’d, until, dismay’d, I sought the feast, where mirth was none, Only to find that man is mind, And form and features dust alone. Yes—of my kinsman oft I dreamt— Of his woe, and his vengeance dire, Till yesternight he cross’d my sight, Like a demon in his ire. I had not heard of his home return— Like a spectre there he stood— Appall’d I sauk, and his falchion drank Deeply my forfeit blood. IX. “ Oh ! grant remission of my sins, A contrite, humbled man I die !” Ere yet the words were out, the monk Beheld his glazing eye ; And vane away from the couch, he said— “ May Heaven forgive my vow !” With horror thrill’d his yielding frame, And he smote his bursting brow : Then pass’d he from the chamber forth, And in silence from the gate, And off to the south, through the steep hill pass, On his steed he journey’d straight. X. A weight of woe is at his heart, Despair’s grey cloud is on his brows, For hope and fear both disappear In that absorbing now ! The world is one vast wilderness, Vain all its pomp, its honours vain ; De Quincey sigh’d, and onwards pass’d Slowly with slacken’d rein ; Thus wound he down through Cous-land glen, O’erhung with willows grey, Until he came to the brackens green Wherein Father Francis lay. XI. “ Ho ! Frere, arise ! Thy cloak and cowl Have done their office meet.” Father Francis sprang from his lurk-ing-place, And stood at the warrior’s feet. “ Now, tell me,” cried De Quincey, fierce, “ For thou art learn’d in lore, What the meaning of this riddle is That a bird unto me bore— A lady in her chamber mourn’d, Her true knight he was abroad, Fighting afar with the Saracen, Under the Cross of God ! XII. “ A false Friend, and a falser Frere, Combined to shake her faith ; They forged—ah ! wherefore dost thou fear ? Base caitiff, take thy death !” The knight he struck him to the heart, Through the branches with a crash ; Down reel’d the corse, and in the swamp Sank with a sullen dash.*

* Cousland-dean, a ravine of considerable depth, which commences where thehighway from Dalkeith branches off towards Pathhead on the right, and towards In-veresk on the left, although now partially drained, shows every indication of havingbeen in the olden time a wide and extensive morass ; and, at its narrowest points, is

“ Thus perish all, who would enthrall The guideless and the true ; Yet on head of mine no more shall shine The sun from his path of blue. XIII. “ No more on me shall pleasure smile— A heartless, hopeless man ; The tempest’s clouds of misery Have darken’d for aye my span. Farewell—farewell ! my native land, Hill, valley stream, and strath ; And thou, who held my heart’s com-mand, And ye who cross’d my path. Blow, blow ye winds ! in fury blow, And waft us from this baleful shore ; Rise, rise ye billows, and bear us along, Who hither return no more !”

still spanned by two bridges, one of considerable antiquity. Indeed, the traces of thewater-course are still evident from behind Chalkyside, on the west, running eastwardsalong the hollow, midway between Elphinstone Tower and Cousland Park, whereit still assumes the form of a rivulet.

* In the grants made by Seyer de Quincey to the Abbey of Newbottle, mention is madeof “ his baronies of Preston and Tranent, bounded on the west by the rivulet of Pinkie.”We find also, that Falsyde and Elphingston were in his possession ; and he is elsewherestyled Earl of Wyntoun, (Caledonia, vol. ii. 486, Note 6,) a proof that the barony ofthat name formed also a part of his immense possessions. It is not a little curious, there-fore, that a charter of King William, the brother of Malcolm, surnamed the Maiden,should be still extant, wherein, in the thirteenth year of that monarch’s reign, he makes confirmation to Phillip de Seytune of the lands of Seytoune, Wintoun, and Winchelburgh,(nunc Winchburgh,) “ quhilk,” as Sir Richard Maitland observes, (Historie, p. 17,)“ was auld heretage of befor, as the said charter testifies.”

“ Willielmus, Dei gra. rex Scotorum, &c. Sciatis presentis et futuri, me concessisse, ethac carta mea confirmasse, Phillipo de Seytune, terram quæ fuit patris sui ; scilicet,Seytune, et Wintune, et Winchilburgh, tenendam sibi et hæredibus suis de me et hæredibusmeis, in fædo et hæreditate,” &c.

Philip de Seytune was succeeded, on his death, by his son Alexander ; and, by an-other singular preservation, we have, in the forty-sixth year of the same King, anotherroyal charter of infeftment of the same lands. It is nearly in the same words ; and,strange to say, two of the witnesses to it are Robert de Quincey and Henry de Quincey.Both of these charters are printed in Dr M‘Kenzie’s Lives of Scottish Writers. Theyhave also been transcribed by the author, or rather compiler of the Diplomata Scotice, whichtranscripts are still preserved, being now, or lately, in the possession of Mr Dillon, amember of the Maitland Club.

In the succession wars, the De Quincey family took side with Baliol, and the Setonswith Bruce. Sir Christopher, or Chrystal Seton saved the life of that great man atthe disastrous battle of Methven ; and afterwards married his sister. On the acces-sion of Bruce to the throne, the estates of the De Quinceys, being declared forfeited,were conferred on the Setons ; and in Sir Richard Maitland’s Chronicle we find, that“ the said King Robert gave to the said Alexander (Seton) the barony of Tranent,with the tenendary thairof for the tyme, viz. Falsyde mylis and Elphinstoune, as the charteris testifiis, geven thairupoun.” The “ landis of Dundas and Cragye ” were alsobestowed upon him, “ for service done by his futher and himself, with the landes andbarony of Barnis, aboue Hadingtoun, with dyuers uther landis, quhilk I omit for schort-nes.” — Glasgow Reprint, 1829, p. 21.

For centuries the name of De Quincey hath perished from out the rich and exten-sive district which owned its sway ; and, in contemplating the destinies of this once greatfamily, how apposite is the exclamation of Claudian— —“ Tolluntur in altum Ut lapsu graviore ruant !”