The Ballad of Lord Maxwell
Not by
James Hogg, The Ettrick Shepherd

Published in The Royal Lady's Magazine, October, 1831

Earl Maxwell was as brave a lord
As ever mounted battle steed;
But he has ridden a perilous raid,
And a woeful doom for him's decreed.

Alas for good Lord Niddisdale,
For mony a heart for him is sair;
And mony a lord besought the king
The gallant hero's life to spare.

And mony a noble lady kneeled,
With round tears poppling frae the e'e:
"Now for the sake of heaven: my liege,
O grant Lord Maxwell's life to me"

But our good king he smiled a smile
And winkit joyfu' wi' his e'e:
"Give me one kiss, my comely dame,
And a gallant boon I'll grant to thee.

"And now to pleasure thee and me,
I swear by this right hand of mine,
His head thou on a pole shalt see,
Ere I again sit down to dine.

"How likest thou that, my noble dame,
For traitor's life that pleadest so?
If I were in Lord Maxwell's power,
My royal head would soon be low."

But then came good Queen Caroline,
And low she kneeled upon her knee:
"Now for the sake of heaven, my liege,
O grant Lord Maxwell's life to me"

"Get up, get up, Queen Caroline,
You ask what never can be done;
I'll rather yield the British crown
And place it on your dainty son.

That dangerous, daring Border chief,
Must suffer death without remeide;
Had he a hundred popish lives,
I'd snap them like a brittle thread."

Then word's gane to the prison cell,
Where noble prisoners lay forlorn,
That good King George had ta'en his oath,
That all the three should die the morn.

Lord Niddisdale he raised his head,
A scowl hung o'er his dark e'e-bree;
"I care nae mair for your King George,
Than that poor reptile cares for me.

"He weens to him the power is give
 To 'reave my life whene'er he may;
But it is registered in heaven,
And proof against all earthly sway.

"I dream'd a dream this hinder night,
I know ’twas sent to me for good;
I dreamed I was a noble bird,
Of the imperial falcon's brood.

"But flew I east or flew I west,
There was an owl that crossed my path,
A sordid and a hateful bird,
That threatened me with chains and death.

"I soared away into the cloud,
For there was dread my heart within;
But flew I east or flew I west,
From that mean bird I could not win.

"At length be mured me in his den,
From which he left me no retreat;
He pluck’d the feathers from my breast
And all the talons from my feet;

"But down there came a bonny bird,
An eaglet of the mountain gray;
And with one blink of her blue e’e,
She wiled me from the owl away.

"Then though the owl with murky soul
May glory in his base design,
Some angel bird may bring the word
That saves this forfeit life of mine.”

"Alas! my lord, these bounding hopes
Are nothing whereon to rely,
In vain the queen has craved your life,
To-morrow you are doomed to die.

"To-morrow, is as long a look,
As twenty years that are gone by;
But I'm prepared for death or life,
And monarch's malice I defy.

"Jailer, I hear one at the gate,
That calls for you, and names my name;
That is a voice which never yet,
To me with evil tidings came.

"Good jailer, haste, and ope the gate,
For well that cheerful voice I know;
It is my Lady Maxwell come,
From Scotland, through the frost and snow.

"Since last I left the banks of Nith,
Through perils sore, and hopeless strife,
I have not heard one cheering sound,
Till this the last night of my life."

The jailer hastened to the gate,
This late intruder's face to see,
And there stood Lady Niddisdale,
With icicles aboon her bree.

"Let open wide your prison doors,
Good jailer, throw them wide to me;
For at the last the bill hath passed,
And all the prisoners are free."

"To hear those blithe and longed-for news,
Fair lady, I rejoice indeed;
For what so grievous in a land
As knights for loyalty to bleed?

"The brave and just may be misled,
But steadfast loyalty and faith
Who can condemn? I knew our king
Would save the noble lords from death."

"Here's money for thee to drink
King George's health in bumpers deep,
And those who pledd the prisoners' lives,
O blessed and happy be their sleep!"

"Welcome, my own dear Winnifred,
The loveliest flower of Niddisdale!
So sweet a sight ne'er met mine eye—
But why, my love, so deadly pale?

"If at the last the bill hath passed,
That frees my hapless friends and me,
Methinks my lovely lady's cheek
The cheerful news should verify."

"Alas! my lord, 'twas but a blind
To lull the jailer's jealousy;
Tis true, the bill hath passed the peers,
But there's no grace for thine or thee.

"For Kenmure, Derwent, and thyself,
The king treats every suit with scorn,
And he has ta'en his solemn oath
That all the three shall die the morn.

"I waited in his corridor,
With many a sigh and bitter tear;
For oh! what will not woman do
For husband so supremely dear?"

"I threw myself down at his feet;
He spurned me from him with disdain!
I seized his robe—I prayed—I wept,
But, ah, I wept and prayed in vain.

"He dragged me through the corridor,
With many a wince, and kick, and fling,
And aye he cried, 'Cut off her hands,
'Tis treason thus to seize a king.'

"Well, let the tyrant do his worst:
A curse on the usurper's reign:
Estates with him I would not change,
Since thou art in my arms again!

"My wife—my love—excuse this tear,
Not for myself my heart is wrung;
It is for leaving thee forlorn,
And my two helpless children young.

"But for our royal Stuart's race,
As I have hope in heaven above,
I'll welcome death in any guise,
As firmly as my wife—my love"

"Lord Maxwell, I have loved thee well,
And much have dared and done for thee;
Give me thy troth, 'tis all I ask,
That thou'lt be ruled this night by me.

"I have a prayer I oft have prayed,
And at the boon will ne'er repine,
It was that I might have this chance,
And risk this worthless life for thine.

"Two lady suits are on my back,
Two lady hoods upon mine head,
And thou shalt pass the guards for me,
And leave me prisoner in thy stead."

"My noble, my devoted wife!
What heart e'er glowed with love like thine?
No man on earth could take thy life,
For this attempt to rescue mine.

"I'll make the trial—other chance
To save my life cannot remain;
But if in jeopardy thou art set,
I'll come and take thy place again."

"Have thou no dread—the king that could
Possess as little lack of grace,
Could never show his head again,
Nor look a lady in the face."

Behold the lord of Niddisdale
In lady's trim array bedight,
With cork-heeled shoes, and farthingale;
It was, forsooth, a gallant sight!

In silk mantle and riding-hood,
A lady's graceful step he kept,
But hid his face within his arm,
And shook his head, and sobbed, and wept.

The grateful jailer bowed his head,
As slow the stately dame withdrew,
And every guardsman blessed her heart,
And wished the happy tidings true.

Oh, when the lady Niddisdale
Heard all the doors clash, one by one,
She laid her down and wept for joy,
For then she knew the prize was won.

She kneeled, and thanked her Maker dear,
With more delight than tongue can tell,
There never was as blithe a heart
Locked in a prison's lonely cell.

Lord Maxwell's safe in friendly hall,
Where friends around him weep for joy;
But woman's love was all the theme,
Sublime and pure without alloy.

They called "it jewel of the earth,
Since human crime and love began,
The only beam on sorrow's path,
The rainbow of the soul of man."

Next morn the officers of death
Entered the prison's lonely room,
With warrants signed and halberds bright,
To lead Lord Maxwell to his doom.

Behold, there sat a courtly dame,
Lovely as blossom on the tree,
Who welcomed every one by name,
And smiled at their perplexity.

But the poor jailer's cheek grew wan
And o'er it poured the burning brine:
Says he, "My lady, it will stand
Full hard with both your head and mine.

"For good King George hath such despite
Against the lord of Niddisdale,
The very mention of his name
With fury makes the monarch pale."

Lord Harvey's gone before the king,
And low he kneeled upon his knee:
"My gracious liege, I grieve to say
That tidings strange I bring to thee.

"This morn we went unto the Tower,
To bring Lord Maxwell to his doom,
The doors were locked, the traitor gone,
And a fair lady in his room."

The king pulled off his ample wig,
And threw it on the flame at ance,
Then ran to seek his royal hat,
To keep the wig in countenance.

He could not find it, but he found
The Liturgy, a book of fame
He threw it at Lord Harvey's head,
And then upon the burning flame.

"I am betrayed! I am betrayed"
Our good king cried with eldritch howls,
You're traitors all! You're traitors all!
A pack of base intriguing souls!"

"Restrain your rage, my gracious king,
The dame her husband's life hath won;
I only am the messenger,
To crave what next is to be done.

"What's to be done? A tale indeed
Befitting train of treachery;
Cut off her head—that's to be done,
And bring it in an hour to me.

When word was brought unto the lords,
They wist not what to do or say,
The lady's life was forfeited,
And sore perplexed and grieved were they.

But good Lord Holland rose and said,
"My lords, our rights we must retain,
The king can pardon, not condemn,
Such deed must not our annals stain.

"This lovely, this devoted dame,
Hath laid her life in jeopardy,
But 'tis for love—let us, for shame,
Combine and set the lady free."

But good King George was sore displeased,
And to his passion wild gave way,
And not one wig in all the court
Escaped the flames that direful day:

Till Lady Howard's wrath was roused,
And thus she said, right spitefully:
"Well may you fume, for 'twill be long
Ere lady lay her life for thee."

Oh ne'er flew bird out o'er the dale,
So lightsome, free of all alarms,
As flew the lady of Niddisdale
To clasp her husband in her arms;

And say farewell, for straight he sped
o lands that lie beyond the sea,
Weening he left his lady-love
Released from risk or jeopardy.

But wow betide our noble king,
No reason could his wrath reetrain,
For he has sent both horse and foot
To bring the lady back again.

They chased her o'er the Border fair,
They chased her down to Niddisdale,
And then away to bonny Traquair,
But all their wit could not avail.

For friends in need are friends indeed,
And those the Lady Maxwell found,
Who was concealed in tower and field,
And safely shipped to foreign ground.

Few men would die to save their wives,
And fewer wives for boisterous men,
Or trust their fair and precious lives
Deep in a prison's deadly den.

But in that day when Stuart's race
Made their last struggles for the sway,
A chivalry we then can trace,
Which evermore hath paseed away.

But of all wives the top and wale,
For all that could high dame beseem,
The bonny lady of Niddisdale
The highest stands in my esteem.

God prosper long our noble king,
And all his lords of old renown,
And curses on each reptile thing
Would trample ancient honours down.