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The wear twenty hondrith spear-men Then bespayke a squyar off Northomgood

barlonde, Withouten any fayle ;

Ric. Wytharynton was him nam ; The wear borne a-long be the watter a It shall never be told in Sothe-YngTwyde,

londe, Yth 12 bowndes of Tividale.

To kyng Herry the fourth for sham. Leave off the brytlyng of the dear, he I wat

17

youe byn 18 great lordes twaw, sayde,

[heed ; I am a poor squyar of lande ; And to your bowys look ye tayk good I will never se my captayne fyght on a For never sithe ye wear on your mothars fylde, borne

And stande my-selffe, and looke on, Had ye never so mickle need.

But whyll I may my weppone welde, The dougheti Dogglas on a stede

I wyll not ‘fayl' both harte and

hande. He rode att his men beforne; His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede ; 13 That day, that day, that dredfull day ; A bolder barne was never born.

The first fit here I fynde.

And youe wyll here any mor athe Tell me what' men ye ar, he says,

hountyng athe Chyviat, Or whos men that ye be :

Yet ys ther mor behynde.
Who gave youe leave to hunte in this
Chyviat chays in the spyt of me?

THE SECOND FIT.
The first mane that ever him an answear
mayd,

The Yngglishe men hade ther bowys Yt was the good lord Persè :

yebent, We wyll not tell the 'what' men we

The hartes were good yenoughe;

The first of arros that the shote off, ar, he says, Nor whos men that we be;

Seven skore spear-inen the sloughe. 19 But we wyll hount hear in this chays Yet bydys the yerle Doglas uppon the In the spyte of thyne, and of the.

bent The fattiste hartes in all Chyviat

A captayne good yenoughe, We have kyld, and cast 14 to carry

And that was sene verament, them a-way.

For he wrought hom both woo andi

wouche.20 Be my troth, sayd the doughtè Dogglas agayn,

The Dogglas pertyd his ost in thre, Ther-for the ton 15 of us shall de this Lyk a cheffe cheften 21 off pryde, day.

With suar22 speares off myghttè tre Then sayd the doughtè Doglas

The cum in on every syde. Unto the lord Persè :

Thrughe our Yngglishe archery To kyll all thes giltless men,

Gave many a wounde full wyde ; A-las! it wear great pittè.

Many a doughete the garde to dy, But, Persè, thowe art a lord of lande,

Which ganyde 23 them no pryde. I am

a yerle 16 callyd within my The Yngglishe men let thear bowys contre;

be, Let all our men uppone a parti stande; And pulde 24 owt brandes that wer

And do the battell off the and of me. bright; Now Cristes cors on his crowne, sayd It was a hevy syght to se the lord Persè,

Bryght swordes on basnites 25 lyght. Who-soever ther-to says nay.

Thorowe ryche male, and myne-ye-ple Be my troth, doughtè Doglas, he says, Many sterne the stroke downe streight: Thow shalt never se that day ;

Many a freyke 26 that was full free,
Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar

That undar foot dyd lyght.
France,

At last the Duglas and the Persè met, Nor for no man of a woman born, Lyk to captayns of myght and mayne; But and fortune be my chance,

The swapte togethar tyll the both swat I dar met him on man for on.

With swordes, that wear of fyn myllàn.

12 In the. 13 A red hot coal.

20 Mi chic. 21 Chieftain.

14 Mean.
22 Heavy.

15 One.
23 Gained.

:6 Earl. 17 Know. 18 Are.

19 Slew. 24 Pulled. 23 Helmets. 25 Fellow,

Thes worthè freckys for to fyght

Ther-to the wear full fayne, Tyll the bloode owte off their basnites

sprente, 27
As ever dyd heal 28 or rayne.
Holde the, Persè, sayd the Doglas,

And i' feth I shall the brynge
Wher tbowe shalte have a yerls wagis

Of Jamy our Scottish kynge.
Thoue sbalte have thy ransom fre,

I hight 29 the hear this thinge, For the manfullyste man yet art thowe,

Thatever I conqueryd in filde fightyng. Nay 'then' sayd the lord Persè,

I tolde it the beforne,
That I wolde never yeldyde be

To no man of a woman born.
With that ther cam an arrowe hastely

Forthe off a mightie wane, 30
Hit hathe strekene the yerle Duglas

In at the brest bane.
Thoroue lyvar and longs bathe 31

The sharp arrowe ys gane,
That never after in all his lyffe days,

He spayke mo wordes but ane,
That was, Fyghte ye, my merry men

whyllys 32 ye may,
For my lyff days ben 33 gan.
The Persè leanyde 34 on his brande,

And sawe the Duglas de ; 35
He tooke the dede man be the hande,

And sayd, Wo ys me for the!
To have sayvde thy lyffe I wold have

pertyd 36 with My landes for years thre, For a better man of hart, nare of hande

Was not in all the north countré. Off all that se 37 a Skottishe knyght, Was callyd Sir Hewe the Mongon

byrry, He sawe the Duglas to the deth was desht;

38 He spendyd 39 a spear a trusti tre : He rod uppon a corsiare

Throughe a hondrith archery ; He never styntyde 40 nar never blane, 4)

Tyll he cam to the good lord Persè. He set uppone the lord Perse

A dynte that was full soare; With a suar spear of a myghtë tre Clean thorow the body he the Persè

bore,

Athe 42 tothar syde, that a man myght se,

A large cloth yard and mare : Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Chris

tiante, Then that day slain wear ther. An archar off Northomberlonde

Say slean was the lord Persè,
He bar a bende-bow in his hande,

Was made off trusti tre :
An arow, that a cloth yarde was lang,

To th' hard stele haylde 43 he;
A dynt, that was both sad and sore,
He sat on Sir Hewe the Mongon-

byrry. The dynt yt was both sad and sar,

That he of Mongon-byrry sete ; The swane-fethars, that his arrowe

bar, 44 With his hart blood the wear wete. Ther was never a freake wone foot

wolde fle, But still in stour 45 dyd stand, Heawying on yche othar, whyll the

myght dre,
With many a bal-ful brande.
This battell begane in Chyriat

An owar 46 befor the none,
And when even song bell was rang

The battell was nat half done.
The tooke 'on' on ethar hand

Be the lyght off the mone ;
Many hade no strength for to stande,

In Chyviat the hyllys aboun.47 of fifteen hondrith archars of Yng

londe Went away but fifti and thre; Of twenty hondrith spear-men of Skot

londe, But even five and fifti : But all wear slayne Cheviat within :

The hade no strengthe to stand on

hie;

The chylde may rue that ys un-borne,

It was the mor pittè. Thear was slayne with the lord Persè

Sir John of Agerstone, Sir Roge the hinde Hartly,

Sir Wyllyam the bolde Hearone. Sir Jorg the worthè Lovele

A knight of great renowen, Sir Raff the rych Rugbè

With dyntes wear beaten dowent.

2. Sprang.
28 Hail. 29 Entreat.

31 Both.

30 Ane, one, ac. man. 35 Die. 34 Leaned.

36 Parted.

37 Saw. 38 Put. 39 Grasped. <? At the. 43 Hauled. 44 Bore. 45 Fight

46 Hour, 47 Above.

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in to,

For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, God have merci on his soll, sayd kyng
That ever he slayne shulde be;

Harry,
For when both his leggis wear hewyne Good lord, yf thy will it be !

I have a hondrith captayns in Yng. Yet he knyled and fought on hys kne.

londe,
Ther was slayne with the dougheti But Perse, and I brook 51 my lyffe,

As good as ever was hee :
Douglas
Sir Hewe the Mongon-byrry,

Thy deth well quyte 52 shall be.
Sir Davye Lwdale, that worthè was, As our noble kyng made his a-vowe,
His sistars son was he:

Lyke a noble prince of renowen, Sir Charles a Murrè, in that place,

For the deth of the lord Persè, That never a foot wolde fle;

He dyd the battel of Hombyll-down : Sir Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was, Wher syx and thritte 53 Skottish knyghtes With the Duglas dyd he dey.

On a day wear beaten down : So on the morrowe the mayde them

Glendale glytteryde on ther armor byears

bryght, Of byrch, and hasell so 'gray;'

Over castill, towar, and town. Many wedous with wepyng tears This was the hontynge off the Cheviat; Cam to fach 48 ther makys a-way.

That tear begane this spurn : Tivydale may carpe 49 off care,

Old men that knowen the grownde well Northombarlond may mayk grat mone,

yenoughe, For towe such captayns, as slayne wear

Call it the Battell of Otterburn. thear,

At Otterburn began this spurne On the march perti shall never be none.

Uppon a monnyn day : Wordeys commen to Edden burrowe, Ther was the dougghtè Doglas slean, To Jamy the Skottishe kyng,

The Persè never went away. That dougheti Duglas, lyff-tenant of the

Ther was never a tym on the march Merches,

partes He lay slean Chyviot with-in.

Sen 54 the Doglas and the Persè met, His handdes did he weal 50 and wryng, But yt was marvele, and the redde blude He sayd, Alas, and woe ys me!

ronne not, Such another captayn Skotland within, As the reane doys in the stret. He sayd, y-feth shud never be.

Jhesue Christ our balys bete, Worde ys commyn to lovly Londone And to the blys us bryuge !

Till the fourth Harry our kyng, Thus was the hountynge of the CheThat lord Persè, leyff-tennante of the

vyat : Merchis,

God send us all good ending ! He lay slayne Chyviat within.

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33. The more modern Ballad of Chevy Chase. This form of the Ballad was probably written not much later than the time of Queen Elizabeth. It is the one criticised by Addison in the ‘Spectator,' Nos. 70 and 74.

God prosper long our noble king,

The stout Erle of Northumberland
Our lives and safetyes all ;

A vow to God did make,
A woefull hunting once there did His pleasure in the Scottish woods
In Chevy-Chace befall;

Three summers days to take;
To drive the deere with hound and horne, The cheefest harts in Chevy-Chace
Erle Percy took his way;

To kill and beare away.
Tbe child may rue that is unborne, These tydings to Erle Douglas came,
The hunting of that day.

In Scottland where he lay :

you bee,

Who sent Erle Percy present word, Erle Douglas on his milke-white steede, He wold prevent his sport.

Most like a baron bold, The English Erle, not fearing that, Rode formost of his company, Did to the woods resort

Whose armour shone like gold.
With fifteen hundred bow-men bold; “ Show me,” sayd hee, “whose men

All chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of neede

That hunt soe boldly heere,
To ayme their shafts arright.

That, without my consent, doe chase
And kill

my

fallow-deere." The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran, To chase the fallow deere :

The first man that did answer make, On munday they began to hunt,

Was noble Percy hee; Ere day-light did appeare ;

Who sayd, “Wee list not to declare,

Nor shew whose men wee bee :
And long before high noone they had
An hundred fat buckes slaine ;

Yet wee will spend our deerest blood,
Then having dined, the drovyers went Thy cheefest harts to slay.”
To rouze the deare againe.

Then Douglas swore a solempne oathe,

And thus in rage did say,
The bow-men mustered on the hills,
Well able to endure;

“ Ere thus I will out-braved bee,
Theire backsides all, with speciall care, One of us two shall dye :
That day were guarded sure.

I know thee well, an erle thou art ;

Lord Percy, soe am I. The hounds ran swiftly through the woods,

But trust me, Percy, pittye it were
The nimble deere to take,

And great offence to kill
That with their cryes the hills and dales Any of these our guiltlesse men,
An eccho shrill did make.

For they have done no ill.
Lord Percy to the quarry went,

Let thou and I the battell trye, To view the slaughter'd deere ;

And set our men aside." Quoth he, “Erle Douglas promised “ Accurst bee he,” Erle Percy sayd, This day to meet me heere :

“ By whome this is denyed.” But if I thought he wold not come, Then stept a gallant squier forth, Noe longer wold I stay."

Witherington was his name, With that, a brave younge gentleman Who said, “I wold not have it told Thus to the Erle did say:

To Henry our king for shame, “Loe, yonder doth Erle Douglas come, That ere my captaine fought on foote, His men in armour bright;

And I stood looking on, Full twenty hundred Scottish speres You bee two erles,” sayd Witherington, All marching in our sight;

“And I, a squier alone : All men of pleasant Tivydale,

Ile doe the best that doe I may, Fast by the river Tweede :"

While I have power to stand : “0, cease your sports," Erle Percy said, While I have power to weeld my sword,

And take your bowes with speede : Ile fight with hart and hand.” And now with me, my countrymen, Our English archers bent their bowes, Your courage forth advance ;

Their harts were good and trew; For there was never champion yett, Att the first flight of arrowes sent, In Scotland or in France,

Full four-score Scots they slew. That ever did on horsebacke come, [Yet bides Earl Douglas on the bent, But if my hap it were,

As Chieftain stout and good. I durst encounter man for man,

As valiant Captain, all unmov'd With him to break a spere.”

The shock he firmly stood.

| The 4 stanzas here inclosed in Brackets, which are borrowed chiefly from the ancient Copy are offered to the Reader instead of the following lines, which occur in the Editor's folio MS.:

To drive the deere with hound and horne,

Douglas bade on the bent;
Two captaines moved with mickle might

Their speres to shivers went.

His host he parted had in three,

O Christ ! my verry hart doth bleed As Leader ware and try'd,

With sorrow for thy sake;
And soon his spearmen on their foes For sure, a more redoubted knight
Bare down on every side.

Mischance cold never take.” Throughout the English archery A knight amongst the Scotts there was, They dealt full many a wound :

Which saw Erle Douglas dye, But still our valiant Englishmen

Who streight in wrath did vow reAll firmly kept their ground:

venge Ard throwing strait their bows away,

Upon the Lord Percye : They grasp'd their swords so bright: Sir Hugh Mountgomery was he call'd, And now sharp blows, a heavy shower, Who, with a spere most bright, On shields and helmets light.)

Well-mounted on a gallant steed, They closed full fast on everye side,

Ran fiercely through the fight; Noe slacknes there was found; And past the English archers all, And many a gallant gentleman

Without all dread or feare; Lay gasping on the ground.

And through Earl Percyes body then

He thrust his hatefull spere ; o Christ ! it was a griefe to see, And likewise for to heare,

With such a vehement force and might The cries of men lying in their gore,

He did his body gore, And scattered here and there.

The staff ran through the other side At last these two stout erles did meet,

A large cloth-yard, and more. Like captaines of great might : So thus did both these nobles dye, Like lyons wood, they layd on lode, Whose courage none could staine : And made a cruell fight :

An English archer then perceiv'd They fought untill they both did sweat,

The noble erle was slaine ; With swords of tempered steele ; He had a bow bent in his hand, Until the blood, like drops of rain,

Made of a trusty tree ; They trickling downe did feele. An arrow of a cloth-yard long “ Yeeld thee, Lord Percy," Douglas

Up to the head drew hee : sayd ;

Against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, “ In faith I will thee bringe,

So right the shaft he sett, Where thou shalt high advanced bee The grey goose-winge that was thereoni, By James our Scottish king :

In his harts bloode was wett. Thy ransome I will freely give,

This fight did last from breake of day, And this report of thee,

Till setting of the sun ; Thou art the most couragious knight, For when they rung the evening-bell, That ever I did see.”

The battel scarce was done. Noe, Douglas," quoth Erle Percy With stout Erle Percy, there was slaine then,

Sir John of Egerton, “Thy proffer I doe scorne ;

Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John, I will not yeelde to any Scott,

Sir James that bold barròn : That ever yett was borne.”

And with Sir George and stout Sir With that, there came an arrow keene

James, • Out of an English bow,

Both knights of good account, Which struck Erle Douglas to the heart, Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slaine A deepe and deadlye blow :

Whose prowesse did surmount. Who never spake more words than For Witherington needs must I wayle, these,

As one in doleful dumpes ; “Fight on, my merry men all ; For when his leggs were smitten off, For why, my life is at an end;

He fought upon his stumpes. Lord Percy sees my fall.”

And with Erle Douglas, there was slaine Then leaving liffe, Erle Percy tooke Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, The dead man by the hand;

Sir Charles Murray, that from the And said, “Erle Douglas, for thy life

feeld Wold I had lost my land.

One foote wold never flee.

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