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 Correspondence. 193

like his own Antiquary over " chafron " in Elspeth's ballad of the Red Harlaw.

Moreover, the three heroic sons of Auld Maitland, who lived till the wars of Scotland against Edward I. (1296), are mentioned in a poem addressed, about 1575, to Sir Richard Maitland, father of the famous Secretary of Queen Mary, Maitland of Lethington. Again "Auld Maitland upon auld beard gray " is mentioned by the poet Bishop of Dunkeld, Gawain Douglas (circ. 1410). More- over another poem to Lethington's father (circ. 1560- 15 70) actually declares that the three sons of Auld Maitland

" Are sung in monie far countries Albeit in rural rhyme."

These Maitland poems, in iSoi, were unpublished.

Thus there undeniably was a romantic Maitland legend, sung in rural verse, as early as 15 60-1 580. Yet the ballad chanted by Hogg's mother (and, according to Hogg, known to " most of the old people hereabouts ") has a most dubious aspect. Hogg, in 1 80 1, suggested that reciters had modernised it as the language altered. He specially marked such interpolations of his own as were meant to fill up lacunx. Scott backed Hogg's statements, which include the fact that the ballad was known to many old

sonage, sister's son to King Edward, demands 1,500 picked men to ride against the S^ots. His foray is checked at Thirlestane, Maitland's castle, and after besieging it in vain for fifteen days, he takes ship to rejoin the King in France. Here Auld Maitland's three sons, who are "learning at school at Billop-Grace," by a daring rush carry off the English standard to their uncle's castle ; and, hearing that the feat is ascribed to the French, avow themselves the raiders and demand to be matched with three English champions, whom they slay and hang on the drawbridge. Young Edward then attacks the eldest Maitland, who grapples with him, throws him, and, refusing the King's entreaty for his life, stabs him and hangs him beside the other three. The last two stanzas seem to be put into the mouth of the King. They contain a well- known detail of folklore :

" Now take frae me that feather-bed ! Make me a bed o' strae ! I wish I had na lived this day To mak my heart sae wae.

" If I were ance at London tower, Where I was wont to be, I never mair suld gang frae hame

Till borne on a bier-tree." Ed.]

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