I cannot dismiss the subject of the Battle of Otterbourne, without stating (with all the deference due to the father of this species of literature) a doubt, which occurs to me, as to the account given of “Sir John of Agurstone,” one of the Scottish warriors, in the learned and excellent notes subjoined to the ballad, in the Reliques of Ancient Poetry.  This personage is there supposed to have been one of the Haggerstons of Haggerston, a Northumbrian family, who, according to the fate of war, were sometimes subjects of Scotland.  I cannot, however, think, that at this period, while the English were in possession both of Berwick and Roxburgh, with the intermediate fortresses of Wark, Cornwall, and Norham, the Scots possessed any part of Northumberland, much less a manor which lay within that strong chain of castles.  I should presume the person alluded to rather to have been one of the Rutherfords, barons of Edgerstane, or Adgerston, a warlike family, which has long flourished on the Scottish borders, and who were, at this very period, retainers of the house of Douglas.  The same notes contain an account of the other Scottish warriors of distinction, who were present at the battle.  These were, the earls of Monteith, Buchan, and Huntley; the barons of Maxwell and Johnston; Swinton of that ilk, an ancient family which, about that period, produced several distinguished warriors; Sir David (or rather, as the learned editor well remarks, Sir Walter) Scott of Buccleuch, Stewart of Garlies, and Murray of Cockpool.

Regibus et legibus Scotici constantes, Vos clypeis et gladiis pro patria pugnantes, Vestra est victoria, vestra est et gloria, In cantu et historia, perpes est memoria!

BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE.

* * * * *

  It fell about the Lammas tide,
  When the muir-men win their hay,
  The doughty earl of Douglas rode
  Into England, to catch a prey.

  He chose the Gordons and the Graemes,
  With them the Lindesays, light and gay;
  But the Jardines wald not with him ride,
  And they rue it to this day.

  And he has burn’d the dales of Tyne,
  And part of Bambrough shire;
  And three good towers on Roxburgh fells,
  He left them all on fire.

  And he march’d up to Newcastle,
  And rode it round about;
  “O wha’s the lord of this castle,
  “Or wha’s the lady o’t?”

  But up spake proud Lord Percy, then,
  And O but he spake hie! 
  “I am the lord of this castle,
  “My wife’s the lady gay.”

  “If thou’rt the lord of this castle,
  “Sae weel it pleases me! 
  “For, ere I cross the border fells,
  “The tane of us shall die.”

  He took a lang spear in his hand. 
  Shod with the metal free,
  And for to meet the Douglas there,
  He rode right furiouslie.

  But O how pale his lady look’d,
  Frae aff the castle wa’,
  When down, before the Scottish spear,
  She saw proud Percy fa’,