Volume 7 / Book 7 — BOOK VII.

Yt felle abowght the Lamasse tyde, Whan husbonds wynn ther haye, The dowghtye Dowglasse bowynd hym to ryde, In Ynglond to take a praye. The yerlle of Fyffe, withowghten stryffe,5 He bowynd hym over Sulway: The grete wolde ever together ryde; That race they may rue for aye. Over Ottercap hyll they came in, And so dowyn by Rodelyffe cragge,10 Upon Grene Leyton they lyghted dowyn, Styrande many a stagge; And boldely brent Northomberlonde, And haryed many a towyn; They dyd owr Ynglyssh men grete wrange,15 To battell that were not bowyn. Than spake a berne upon the bent, Of comforte that was not colde, And sayd, "We have brent Northomberlond, We have all welth in holde.20 "Now we have haryed all Bamboroweshyre, All the welth in the worlde have wee; I rede we ryde to Newe Castell, So styll and stalwurthlye." Uppon the morowe, when it was daye,25 The standards schone fulle bryght; To the Newe Castelle the toke the waye, And thether they cam fulle ryght. Sir Henry Percy laye at the Newe Castelle, I telle yow withowtten drede;30 He had byn a march-man all hys dayes, And kepte Barwyke upon Twede. To the Newe Castell when they cam, The Skottes they cryde on hyght, "Syr Harye Percy, and thow byste within,35 Com to the fylde, and fyght: "For we have brente Northomberlonde, Thy eritage good and ryght; And syne my logeyng I have take, With my brande dubbyd many a knyght."40 Sir Harry Percy cam to the walles, The Skottyssh oste for to se; "And thow hast brente Northomberlond, Full sore it rewyth me. "Yf thou hast haryed all Bambarowe shyre,45 Thow hast done me grete envye; For the trespasse thow hast me done, The tone of us schall dye." "Where schall I byde the?" sayd the Dowglas, "Or where wylte thow come to me?"50 "At Otterborne in the hygh way, Ther maist thow well logeed be. "The roo full rekeles ther sche rinnes, To make the game and glee; The fawkon and the fesaunt both,55 Amonge the holtes on hye. "Ther maist thow have thy welth at wyll, "Well looged ther maist be; Yt schall not be long or I com the tyll," Sayd Syr Harry Percye.60 "Ther schall I byde the," sayd the Dowglas, "By the fayth of my bodye:" "Thether schall I com," sayd Syr Harry Percy "My trowth I plyght to the." A pype of wyne he gave them over the walles,65 For soth, as I yow saye; Ther he mayd the Douglas drynke, And all hys oste that daye. The Dowglas turnyd hym homewarde agayne, For soth withowghten naye;70 He tooke his logeyng at Oterborne Uppon a Wedynsday. And there he pyght hys standerd dowyn, Hys gettyng more and lesse, And syne he warned hys men to goo75 To chose ther geldyngs gresse. A Skottysshe knyght hoved upon the bent, A wache I dare well saye; So was he ware on the noble Percy In the dawnynge of the daye.80 He prycked to his pavyleon dore, As faste as he myght ronne; "Awaken, Dowglas," cryed the knyght, "For hys love, that syttes yn trone. "Awaken, Dowglas," cryed the knyght,85 "For thow maiste waken wyth wynne; Yender have I spyed the prowde Percy, And seven standardes wyth hym." "Nay by my trowth," the Douglas sayed, "It ys but a fayned taylle;90 He durste not loke on my bred banner, For all Ynglonde so haylle. "Was I not yesterdaye at the Newe Castell, That stonds so fayre on Tyne? For all the men the Percy hade,95 He cowde not garre me ones to dyne." He stepped owt at hys pavelyon dore, To loke and it were lesse; "Araye yow, lordyngs, one and all, For here bygynnes no peysse.100 "The yerle of Mentayne, thow art my eme, The forwarde I gyve to the: The yerlle of Huntlay cawte and kene, He schall wyth the be. "The lorde of Bowghan, in armure bryght,105 On the other hand he schall be; Lord Jhonstone and Lorde Maxwell, They to schall be wyth me. "Swynton, fayre fylde upon your pryde! To batell make yow bowen,110 Syr Davy Scotte, Syr Walter Stewarde, Syr Jhon of Agurstone!"

The Perssy came byfore hys oste, Wych was ever a gentyll knyght; Upon the Dowglas lowde can he crye, "I wyll holde that I have hyght. "For thow haste brente Northumberlonde,5 And done me grete envye; For thys trespasse thou hast me done, The tone of us schall dye." The Dowglas answerde hym agayne With grete wurds up on hye,10 And sayd, "I have twenty agaynst the one, Byholde, and thow maiste see." Wyth that the Percye was grevyd sore, For sothe as I yow saye; He lyghted dowyn upon his fote,15 And schoote his horsse clene away. Every man sawe that he dyd soo, That ryall was ever in rowght; Every man schoote hys horsse him froo, And lyght hym rowynde abowght.20 Thus Syr Hary Percye toke the fylde, For soth, as I yow saye; Jesu Cryste in hevyn on hyght Dyd helpe hym well that daye. But nyne thowzand, ther was no moo,25 The cronykle wyll not layne; Forty thowsande Skottes and fowre That day fowght them agayne. But when the batell byganne to joyne, In hast ther came a knyght;30 'Then' letters fayre furth hath he tayne, And thus he sayd full ryght: "My lorde, your father he gretes yow well, Wyth many a noble knyght; He desyres yow to byde35 That he may see thys fyght. "The Baron of Grastoke ys com owt of the west, With him a noble companye; All they loge at your fathers thys nyght, And the battell fayne wold they see.40 "For Jesus love," sayd Syr Harye Percy, "That dyed for yow and me, Wende to my lorde my father agayne, And saye thou saw me not with yee. "My trowth ys plyght to yonne Skottysh knyght,45 It nedes me not to layne, That I schulde byde hym upon thys bent, And I have hys trowth agayne. "And if that I wende off thys grownde, For soth, unfoughten awaye,50 He wolde me call but a kowarde knyght In hys londe another daye. "Yet had I lever to be rynde and rente, By Mary, that mykel maye, Then ever my manhod schulde be reprovyd55 Wyth a Skotte another daye. "Wherefore schote, archars, for my sake, And let scharpe arowes flee; Mynstrells, play up for your waryson, And well quyt it schall be.60 "Every man thynke on hys trewe love, And marke hym to the Trenite; For to God I make myne avowe Thys day wyll I not fle." The blodye harte in the Dowglas armes,65 Hys standerde stode on hye; That every man myght full well knowe; By syde stode starres thre. The whyte lyon on the Ynglysh parte, Forsoth, as I yow sayne,70 The lucetts and the cressawnts both; The Skotts faught them agayne. Uppon Sent Andrewe lowde cane they crye, And thrysse they schowte on hyght, And syne marked them one owr Ynglysshe men,75 As I have tolde yow ryght. Sent George the bryght, owr ladyes knyght, To name they were full fayne; Owr Ynglysshe men they cryde on hyght, And thrysse the schowtte agayne.80 Wyth that, scharpe arowes bygan to flee, I tell yow in sertayne; Men of armes byganne to joyne, Many a dowghty man was ther slayne. The Percy and the Dowglas mette,85 That ether of other was fayne; They schapped together, whyll that the swette, With swords of fyne collayne; Tyll the bloode from ther bassonnetts ranne, As the roke doth in the rayne;90 "Yelde the to me," sayd the Dowglas, "Or ells thow schalt be slayne. "For I see by thy bryght bassonet, Thow art sum man of myght; And so I do by thy burnysshed brande;95 "Thow art an yerle, or ells a knyght. "By my good faythe," sayd the noble Percy, "Now haste thou rede full ryght; Yet wyll I never yelde me to the, Whyll I may stonde and fyght."100 They swapped together, whyll that they swette, Wyth swordes scharpe and long; Ych on other so faste they beette, Tyll ther helmes cam in peyses dowyn. The Percy was a man of strenghth,105 I tell yow in thys stounde; He smote the Dowglas at the swordes length, That he felle to the growynde. The sworde was scharpe, and sore can byte, I tell yow in sertayne;110 To the harte he cowde hym smyte, Thus was the Dowglas slayne. The stonderds stode styll on eke syde, With many a grevous grone; Ther the fowght the day, and all the nyght,115 And many a dowghty man was slayne. Ther was no freke that ther wolde flye, But styffly in stowre can stond, Ychone hewyng on other whyll they myght drye, Wyth many a bayllefull bronde.120 Ther was slayne upon the Skottes syde, For soth and sertenly, Syr James a Dowglas ther was slayne, That daye that he cowde dye. The yerle of Mentaye he was slayne,125 Grysely groned uppon the growynd; Syr Davy Scotte, Syr Walter Steward, Syr John of Agurstonne. Syr Charlles Morrey in that place, That never a fote wold flye;130 Sir Hughe Maxwelle, a lorde he was, With the Dowglas dyd he dye. Ther was slayne upon the Skottes syde, For soth as I yow saye, Of fowre and forty thowsande Scotts135 Went but eyghtene awaye. Ther was slayne upon the Ynglysshe syde, For soth and sertenlye, A gentell knyght, Sir John Fitz-hughe, Yt was the more petye.140 Syr James Harebotell ther was slayne, For hym ther hartes were sore; The gentyll Lovelle ther was slayne, That the Percyes standerd bore. Ther was slayne uppon the Ynglyssh perte,145 For soth as I yow saye, Of nyne thowsand Ynglyssh men Fyve hondert cam awaye. The other were slayne in the fylde; Cryste kepe their sowles from wo!150 Seying ther was so few fryndes Agaynst so many a foo. Then one the morne they mayd them beeres Of byrch, and haysell graye; Many a wydowe with wepyng teyres155 Ther makes they fette awaye. Thys fraye bygan at Otterborne, Bytwene the nyghte and the day: Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyfe, And the Percy was lede awaye.160 Then was ther a Scottyshe prisoner tayne, Syr Hughe Mongomery was hys name; For soth as I yow saye, He borowed the Percy home agayne. Now let us all for the Percy praye165 To Jesu most of myght, To bryng hys sowle to the blysse of heven, For he was a gentyll knyght.

It fell about the Lammas tide, When the muir-men win their hay, The doughty Douglas bound him to ride Into England, to drive a prey. He chose the Gordons and the Græmes,5 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 Bambroughshire;10 And three good towers on Reidswire 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,15 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."20 "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,25 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',30 When down before the Scottish spear She saw proud Percy fa'. "Had we twa been upon the green, And never an eye to see, I wad hae had you, flesh and fell;35 But your sword sall gae wi' me." "But gae ye up to Otterbourne, And wait there dayis three; And if I come not ere three dayis end, A fause knight ca' ye me."40 "The Otterbourne's a bonnie burn; 'Tis pleasant there to be; But there is nought at Otterbourne, To feed my men and me. "The deer rins wild on hill and dale,45 The birds fly wild from tree to tree; But there is neither bread nor kale, To fend my men and me. "Yet I will stay at Otterbourne, Where you shall welcome be;50 And if ye come not at three dayis end, A fause lord I'll ca' thee." "Thither will I come," proud Percy said, "By the might of Our Ladye!" "There will I bide thee," said the Douglas,55 "My troth I plight to thee." They lighted high on Otterbourne, Upon the bent sae brown; They lighted high on Otterbourne, And threw their pallions down.60 And he that had a bonnie boy, Sent out his horse to grass; And he that had not a bonnie boy, His ain servant he was. But up then spake a little page,65 Before the peep of dawn— "O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, For Percy's hard at hand." "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud! Sae loud I hear ye lie:70 For Percy had not men yestreen To dight my men and me. "But I have dream'd a dreary dream, Beyond the Isle of Sky; I saw a dead man win a fight,75 And I think that man was I." He belted on his guid braid sword, And to the field he ran; But he forgot the helmet good, That should have kept his brain.80 When Percy wi' the Douglas met, I wat he was fu' fain; They swakked their swords, till sair they swat, And the blood ran down like rain. But Percy with his good broad sword,85 That could so sharply wound, Has wounded Douglas on the brow, Till he fell to the ground. Then he call'd on his little foot-page, And said—"Run speedilie,90 And fetch my ain dear sister's son, Sir Hugh Montgomery. "My nephew good," the Douglas said, "What recks the death of ane! Last night I dream'd a dreary dream,95 And I ken the day's thy ain. "My wound is deep; I fain would sleep; Take thou the vanguard of the three, And hide me by the braken bush, That grows on yonder lilye lee.100 "O bury me by the braken bush, Beneath the blooming brier, Let never living mortal ken That ere a kindly Scot lies here." He lifted up that noble lord,105 Wi' the saut tear in his ee; He hid him in the braken bush, That his merrie-men might not see. The moon was clear, the day drew near, The spears in flinders flew,110 But mony a gallant Englishman Ere day the Scotsmen slew. The Gordons good, in English blood They steep'd their hose and shoon; The Lindsays flew like fire about,115 Till all the fray was done. The Percy and Montgomery met, That either of other were fain; They swapped swords, and they twa swat, And aye the blood ran down between.120 "Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy," he said, "Or else I vow I'll lay thee low!" "To whom must I yield," quoth Earl Percy, "Now that I see it must be so?" "Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun,125 Nor yet shalt thou yield to me; But yield thee to the braken bush, That grows upon yon lilye lee." "I will not yield to a braken bush, Nor yet will I yield to a brier;130 But I would yield to Earl Douglas, Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here." As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, He struck his sword's point in the gronde; The Montgomery was a courteous knight,135 And quickly took him by the honde. This deed was done at the Otterbourne, About the breaking of the day; Earl Douglas was buried at the braken bush, And the Percy led captive away.140

The Persè owt off Northombarlande, And a vowe to God mayd he, That he wold hunte in the mountayns Off Chyviat within days thre, In the mauger of doughtè Dogles,5 And all that ever with him be. The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat He sayd he wold kill, and cary them away: "Be my feth," sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn, "I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may."10 Then the Persè owt of Banborowe cam, With him a myghtee meany; With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and bone, The wear chosen owt of shyars thre. This begane on a Monday at morn,15 In Cheviat the hillys so he; The chyld may rue that ys un-born, It was the mor pittè. The dryvars throrowe the woodès went, For to reas the dear;20 Bomen byckarte uppone the bent With ther browd aras cleare. Then the wyld thorowe the woodès went, On every sydè shear; Grea-hondes thorowe the grevis glent,25 For to kyll thear dear. The begane in Chyviat the hyls above, Yerly on a Monnyn day; Be that it drewe to the oware off none, A hondrith fat hartes ded ther lay.30 The blewe a mort uppone the bent, The semblyd on sydis shear; To the quyrry then the Persè went, To se the bryttlynge off the deare. He sayd, "It was the Duglas promys35 This day to met me hear; But I wyste he wold faylle, verament:" A great oth the Persè swear. At the laste a squyar of Northombelonde Lokyde at his hand full ny;40 He was war a' the doughetie Doglas comynge, With him a myghttè meany; Both with spear, byll, and brande; Yt was a myghti sight to se; Hardyar men, both off hart nar hande,45 Wear not in Christiantè. The wear twenty hondrith spear-men good, Withowtè any feale; The wear borne along be the watter a Twyde, Yth' bowndes of Tividale.50 "Leave of the brytlyng of the dear," he sayde, "And to your bowys lock ye tayk good heed; For never sithe ye wear on your mothars borne Had ye never so mickle ned." The dougheti Dogglas on a stede55 He rode att his men beforne; His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede; A bolder barne was never born. "Tell me whos men ye ar," he says, "Or whos men that ye be:60 Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Chyviat chays, In the spyt of me?" The first mane that ever him an answear mayd, Yt was the good lord Persè: "We wyll not tell the whoys men we ar," he says,65 "Nor whos men that we be; But we wyll hount hear in this chays, In the spyt of thyne and of the. "The fattiste hartes in all Chyviat We have kyld, and cast to carry them a-way:"70 "Be my troth," sayd the doughtè Dogglas agayn, "Ther-for the ton of us shall de this day." Then sayd the doughtè Doglas Unto the lord Persè: "To kyll all thes giltles men,75 Alas, it wear great pittè! "But, Persè, thowe art a lord of lande, I am a yerle callyd within my contrè; Let all our men uppone a parti stande, And do the battell off the and of me."80 "Nowe Cristes cors on his crowne," sayd the lord Persè, "Whosoever ther-to says nay; Be my troth, doughttè Doglas," he says, "Thow shalt never se that day. "Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France,85 Nor for no man of a woman born, But, and fortune be my chance, I dar met him, on man for on." Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde, Richard Wytharyngton was him nam;90 "It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde," he says, "To kyng Herry the fourth for sham. "I wat youe byn great lordes twaw, I am a poor squyar of lande; I wyll never se my captayne fyght on a fylde,95 And stande myselffe, and loocke on, But whyll I may my weppone welde, I wyll not [fayl] both hart and hande." That day, that day, that dredfull day! The first fit here I fynde;100 And youe wyll here any mor a' the hountyng a' the Chyviat, Yet ys ther mor behynd.

The Yngglyshe men hade ther bowys yebent, Ther hartes were good yenoughe; The first off arros that the shote off, Seven skore spear-men the sloughe. Yet byddys the yerle Doglas uppon the bent,5 A captayne good yenoughe, And that was sene verament, For he wrought hom both woo and wouche. The Dogglas pertyd his ost or thre, Lyk a cheffe cheften off pryde,10 With suar spears off myghttè tre, The cum in on every syde: Thrughe our Yngglyshe archery Gave many a wounde full wyde; Many a doughete the garde to dy,15 Which ganyde them no pryde. The Ynglyshe men let thear bowys be, And pulde owt brandes that wer bright; It was a hevy syght to se Bryght swordes on basnites lyght.20 Throrowe ryche male and myneyeple, Many sterne the stroke downe streght; Many a freyke that was full fre, Ther undar foot dyd lyght. At last the Duglas and the Persè met,25 Lyk to captayns of myght and of mayne; The swapte togethar tyll the both swat, With swordes that wear of fyn myllàn. Thes worthè freckys for to fyght, Ther-to the wear full fayne,30 Tyll the bloode owte off thear basnetes sprente, As ever dyd heal or rayne. "Holde the, Persè," sayde the Doglas, "And i' feth I shall the brynge Wher thowe shalte have a yerls wagis35 Of Jamy our Scottish kynge. "Thoue shalte have thy ransom fre, I hight the hear this thinge, For the manfullyste man yet art thowe, That ever I conqueryd in filde fightyng."40 "Nay," 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,45 Forthe off a myghttè wane; Hit hathe strekene the yerle Duglas In at the brest bane. Throroue lyvar and longs, bathe The sharp arrowe ys gane,50 That never after in all his lyffe-days, He spayke mo wordes but ane: That was, "Fyghte ye, my myrry men, whyllys ye may, For my lyff-days ben gan." The Persè leanyde on his brande,55 And sawe the Duglas de; He tooke the dede mane be the hande, And sayd, "Wo ys me for the! "To have savyde thy lyffe, I wolde have pertyde with My landes for years thre,60 For a better man, of hart nare of hande, Was not in all the north contrè." Off all that se a Skottishe knyght, Was callyd Sir Hewe the Monggonbyrry; He sawe the Duglas to the deth was dyght,65 He spendyd a spear, a trusti tre:— He rod uppon a corsiare Throughe a hondrith archery: He never stynttyde, nar never blane, Tyll he cam to the good lord Persè.70 He set uppone the lord Persè A dynte that was full soare; With a suar spear of a myghttè tre Clean thorow the body he the Persè ber, A' the tothar syde that a man myght se75 A large cloth yard and mare: Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Cristiantè, Then that day slain wear ther. An archar off Northomberlonde Say slean was the lord Persè;80 He bar a bende-bowe in his hand, Was made off trusti tre. An arow, that a cloth yarde was lang, To th' harde stele haylde he; A dynt that was both sad and soar,85 He sat on Sir Hewe the Monggonbyrry. The dynt yt was both sad and soar, That he on Monggonberry sete; The swane-fethars, that his arrowe bar, With his hart-blood the wear wete.90 Ther was never a freak wone foot wolde fle, But still in stour dyd stand, Heawyng on yche othar, whyll the myght dre, With many a balfull brande. This battell begane in Chyviat95 An owar befor the none, And when even-song bell was rang, The battell was nat half done. The tooke on ethar hand Be the lyght off the mone;100 Many hade no strength for to stande, In Chyviat the hillys aboun. Of fifteen hondrith archars of Ynglonde Went away but fifti and thre; Of twenty hondrith spear-men of Skotlonde,105 But even five and fifti: But all wear slayne Cheviat within; The hade no strenge to stand on hy; The chylde may rue that ys unborne, It was the mor pittè.110 Thear was slayne withe the lord Persè, Sir John of Agerstone, Sir Rogar, the hinde Hartly, Sir Wyllyam, the bolde Hearone. Sir Jorg, the worthè Lovele,115 A knyght of great renowen, Sir Raff, the ryche Rugbè, With dyntes wear beaten dowene. For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, That ever he slayne shulde be;120 For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to, Yet he knyled and fought on hys kny. Ther was slayne with the dougheti Duglas, Sir Hewe the Monggonbyrry, Sir Davy Lwdale, that worthè was,125 His sistars son was he: His Charls a Murrè in that place, That never a foot wolde fle; Sir Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was, With the Doglas dyd he dey.130 So on the morrowe the mayde them byears Off birch and hasell so gray; Many wedous with wepyng tears Cam to fach ther makys away. Tivydale may carpe off care,135 Northombarlond may mayk grat mon, For towe such captayns as slayne wear thear, On the March-perti shall never be non. Word ys commen to Eddenburrowe, To Jamy the Skottishe kyng,140 That dougheti Duglas, lyff-tenant of the Merches, He lay slean Chyviot with-in. His handdes dyd he weal and wryng, He sayd, "Alas, and woe ys me!" Such an othar captayn Skotland within,145 He sayd, ye-feth shuld never be. Worde ys commyn to lovly Londone, Till the fourth Harry our kyng, That lord Persè, leyff-tenante of the Merchis, He lay slayne Chyviat within.150 "God have merci on his soll," sayd kyng Harry, "Good lord, yf thy will it be! I have a hondrith captayns in Ynglonde," he sayd, "As good as ever was he: But Persè, and I brook my lyffe,155 Thy deth well quyte shall be." As our noble kyng mayd his a-vowe, Lyke a noble prince of renowen, For the deth of the lord Persè He dyde the battell of Hombyll-down:160 Wher syx and thritté Skottishe knyghtes On a day wear beaten down: Glendale glytteryde on ther armor bryght, Over castill, towar, and town. This was the Hontynge off the Cheviat;165 That tear begane this spurn: Old men that knowen the grownde well yenoughe, Call it the Battell of Otterburn. At Otterburn began this spurne Uppon a Monnyn day:170 Ther was the dougghtè Doglas slean, The Persè never went away. Ther was never a tym on the March-partes Sen the Doglas and the Persè met, But yt was marvele, and the rede blude ronne not,175 As the reane doys in the stret. Jhesue Christ our ballys bete, And to the blys us brynge! Thus was the Hountynge of the Chivyat: God send us all good endyng!180

God prosper long our noble king, Our lives and safeties all; A woful hunting once there did In Chevy-Chace befall. To drive the deer with hound and horn,5 Erle Piercy took his way; The child may rue that is unborn, The hunting of that day. The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make,10 His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer's days to take; The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chace To kill and bear away: The tidings to Earl Douglas came,15 In Scotland where he lay. Who sent Earl Piercy present word, He would prevent his sport; The English earl not fearing this, Did to the woods resort,20 With fifteen hundred bow-men bold All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of need To aim their shafts aright. The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,25 To chase the fallow deer; On Monday they began to hunt, When day-light did appear. And long before high noon they had An hundred fat bucks slain;30 Then having din'd, the drovers went To rouze them up again. The bow-men muster'd on the hills, Well able to endure; Their backsides all, with special care,35 That day were guarded sure. The hounds ran swiftly thro' the woods, The nimble deer to take, And with their cries the hills and dales An eccho shrill did make.40 Lord Piercy to the quarry went, To view the tender deere; Quoth he, "Earl Douglas promised This day to meet me heer. "If that I thought he would not come,45 No longer would I stay." With that, a brave young gentleman Thus to the Earl did say: "Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come, His men in armour bright;50 Full twenty hundred Scottish spears, All marching in our sight. "All men of pleasant Tividale, Fast by the river Tweed:" "Then cease your sport," Erle Piercy said,55 "And take your bows with speed. "And now with me, my countrymen, Your courage forth advance; For there was never champion yet In Scotland or in France,60 "That ever did on horseback come, But, if my hap it were, I durst encounter man for man, With him to break a spear." Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed,65 Most like a baron bold, Rode foremost of the company, Whose armour shone like gold. "Show me," he said, "whose men you be, That hunt so boldly here,70 That, without my consent, do chase And kill my fallow-deer." The man that first did answer make Was noble Piercy he; Who said, "We list not to declare,75 Nor show whose men we be. "Yet we will spend our dearest blood, Thy chiefest hart to slay;" Then Douglas swore a solemn oath, And thus in rage did say;80 "Ere thus I will out-braved be, One of us two shall dye: I know thee well, an earl thou art; Lord Piercy, so am I. "But trust me, Piercy, pity it were,85 And great offence, to kill Any of these our harmless men, For they have done no ill. "Let thou and I the battel try, And set our men aside:90 "Accurs'd be he," Lord Piercy said, "By whom this is deny'd." Then stept a gallant squire forth, (Witherington was his name) Who said, "I would not have it told95 To Henry our king for shame, "That ere my captaine fought on foot, And I stood looking on: You be two earls," said Witherington, "And I a squire alone.100 "I'll do the best that do I may, While I have power to stand; While I have power to wield my sword, I'll fight with heart and hand." Our English archers bent their bows,105 Their hearts were good and true; At the first flight of arrows sent, Full three score Scots they slew. To drive the deer with hound and horn, Earl Douglas had the bent;110 A captain mov'd with mickle pride The spears to shivers sent. They clos'd full fast on every side, No slacknes there was found; And many a gallant gentleman115 Lay gasping on the ground. O Christ! it was a grief to see, And likewise for to hear, The cries of men lying in their gore, And scatter'd here and there.120 At last these two stout earls did meet, Like captains of great might; Like lions mov'd they laid on load, And made a cruel fight. They fought until they both did sweat,125 With swords of temper'd steel; Until the blood, like drops of rain, They trickling down did feel. "Yield thee, Lord Piercy," Douglas said; "In faith I will thee bring,130 Where thou shalt high advanced be By James, our Scottish king. "Thy ransom I will freely give, And thus report of thee, Thou art the most couragious knight135 That ever I did see. "No, Douglas," quoth Earl Piercy then, "Thy proffer I do scorn; I will not yield to any Scot That ever yet was born."140 With that, there came an arrow keen Out of an English bow, Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, A deep and deadly blow: Who never spoke more words than these,145 "Fight on, my merry men all; For why, my life is at an end, Lord Piercy sees my fall." Then leaving life, Earl Piercy took The dead man by the hand;150 And said, "Earl Douglas, for thy life Would I had lost my land! "O Christ! my very heart doth bleed With sorrow for thy sake; For sure, a more renowned knight155 Mischance did never take." A knight amongst the Scots there was, Which saw Earl Douglas dye, Who straight in wrath did vow revenge Upon the Earl Piercy.160 Sir Hugh Montgomery was he call'd, Who, with a spear most bright, Well-mounted on a gallant steed, Ran fiercely thro' the fight; And pass'd the English archers all,165 Without all dread or fear, And through Earl Piercy's body then He thrust his hateful spear. With such a veh'ment force and might He did his body gore,170 The spear ran through the other side A large cloth-yard, and more. So thus did both these nobles dye, Whose courage none could stain; An English archer then perceiv'd175 The noble earl was slain. He had a bow bent in his hand, Made of a trusty tree; An arrow of a cloth-yard long Up to the head drew he.180 Against Sir Hugh Montgomery So right his shaft he set, The grey goose-wing that was thereon In his heart's blood was wet. This fight did last from break of day185 Till setting of the sun; For when they rung the evening-bell, The battel scarce was done. With the Earl Piercy, there was slain Sir John of Ogerton,190 Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John, Sir James, that bold baron. And with Sir George and good Sir James, Both knights of good account, Good Sir Ralph Rabby there was slain,195 Whose prowess did surmount. For Witherington needs must I wail, As one in doleful dumps; For when his legs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumps.200 And with Earl Douglas, there was slain Sir Hugh Montgomery, Sir Charles Currel, that from the field One foot would never fly. Sir Charles Murrel, of Ratcliff, too,205 His sister's son was he; Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd, Yet saved could not bee. And the Lord Maxwell in like wise Did with Earl Douglas dye;210 Of twenty hundred Scottish spears Scarce fifty-five did fly. Of fifteen hundred Englishmen, Went home but fifty-three; The rest were slain in Chevy-Chace,215 Under the green-wood tree. Next day did many widows come, Their husbands to bewail; They wash'd their wounds in brinish tears, But all would not prevail.220 Their bodies, bath'd in purple blood, They bore with them away: They kiss'd them dead a thousand times, When they were clad in clay. This news was brought to Edinburgh,225 Where Scotland's king did reign, That brave Earl Douglas suddenly Was with an arrow slain. "O heavy news," King James did say; "Scotland can witness be,230 I have not any captain more Of such account as he." Like tidings to King Henry came, Within as short a space, That Piercy of Northumberland235 Was slaine in Chevy-Chace. "Now God be with him," said our king, "Sith 't will no better be; I trust I have within my realm Five hundred as good as he.240 "Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say, But I will vengeance take, And be revenged on them all, For brave Earl Piercy's sake." This vow full well the king perform'd,245 After, on Humbledown; In one day, fifty knights were slain, With lords of great renown. And of the rest, of small account, Did many thousands dye:250 Thus endeth the hunting of Chevy-Chace, Made by the Earl Piercy. God save the king, and bless the land In plenty, joy, and peace; And grant henceforth, that foul debate255 'Twixt noblemen may cease!

When Flora with her fragrant flowers Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye, And Neptune with his daintye showers Came to present the monthe of Maye, King Henrye rode to take the ayre,5 Over the river of Thames past hee; When eighty merchants of London came, And downe they knelt upon their knee. "O yee are welcome, rich merchànts, Good saylors, welcome unto mee:"10 They swore by the rood, they were saylors good, But rich merchànts they cold not bee. "To France nor Flanders dare we pass, Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare; And all for a robber that lyes on the seas,15 Who robbs us of our merchant ware." King Henrye frownd, and turned him rounde, And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might, "I thought he had not beene in the world, Durst have wrought England such unright."20 The merchants sighed, and said, "Alas!" And thus they did their answer frame; "He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas, And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name." The king lookt over his left shoulder,25 And an angrye look then looked hee; "Have I never a lorde in all my realme, Will feitch yond traytor unto mee?" "Yea, that dare I," Lord Charles Howard sayes; "Yea, that dare I, with heart and hand;30 If it please your grace to give me leave, Myselfe will be the only man." "Thou art but yong," the kyng replyed, "Yond Scott hath numbred manye a yeare:" "Trust me, my liege, Ile make him quail,35 Or before my prince I will never appeare." "Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have, And chuse them over my realme so free; Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes, To guide the great shipp on the sea."40 The first man that Lord Howard chose, Was the ablest gunner in all the realm, Thoughe he was threescore yeeres and ten; Good Peter Simon was his name. "Peter," sais hee, "I must to the sea,45 To bring home a traytor live or dead; Before all others I have chosen thee, Of a hundred gunners to be the head." "If you, my lord, have chosen mee Of a hundred gunners to be the head,50 Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree, If I misse my marke one shilling bread." My lord then chose a boweman rare, Whose active hands had gained fame; In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne,55 And William Horseley was his name. "Horsley," sayd he, "I must with speede Go seeke a traytor on the sea, And now of a hundred bowemen brave To be the head I have chosen thee."60 "If you," quoth hee, "have chosen mee Of a hundred bowemen to be the head, On your main-mast Ile hanged bee, If I miss twelvescore one penny bread." With pikes, and gunnes, and bowemen bold,65 This noble Howard is gone to the sea; With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare, Out at Thames mouth sayled he. And days he scant had sayled three, Upon the journey he tooke in hand,70 But there he mett with a noble shipp, And stoutely made itt stay and stand. "Thou must tell me," Lord Howard said, "Now who thou art, and what's thy name; And shewe me where thy dwelling is,75 And whither bound, and whence thou came." "My name is Henry Hunt," quoth hee, With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind; "I and my shipp doe both belong To the Newcastle that stands upon Tyne."80 "Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt, As thou hast sayled by daye and by night, Of a Scottish robber on the seas; Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight?" Then ever he sighed, and sayd "Alas!"85 With a grieved mind, and well-away, "But over-well I knowe that wight; I was his prisoner yesterday. "As I was sayling uppon the sea, A Burdeaux voyage for to fare,90 To his hach-borde he clasped me, And robd me of all my merchant ware. And mickle debts, God wot, I owe, And every man will have his owne, And I am nowe to London bounde,95 Of our gracious king to beg a boone." "That shall not need," Lord Howard sais; "Lett me but once that robber see, For every penny tane thee froe It shall be doubled shillings three."100 "Nowe Gode forefend," the merchant said, "That you shold seek soe far amisse! God keepe you out of that traitors hands! Full litle ye wott what a man hee is. "Hee is brasse within, and steele without,105 With beames on his topcastle stronge; And eighteen pieces of ordinance He carries on each side along. And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight, St. Andrewes crosse, that is his guide;110 His pinnace beareth ninescore men, And fifteen canons on each side. "Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one, I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall, He wold overcome them everye one,115 If once his beames they doe downe fall." "This is cold comfort," sais my lord, "To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea: Yet Ile bring him and his shipp to shore, Or to Scotland hee shall carrye mee."120 "Then a noble gunner you must have, And he must aim well with his ee, And sinke his pinnace into the sea, Or else hee never orecome will bee. And if you chance his shipp to borde,125 This counsel I must give withall, Let no man to his topcastle goe To strive to let his beams downe fall. "And seven pieces of ordinance, I pray your honour lend to mee,130 On each side of my shipp along, And I will lead you on the sea. A glasse Ile sett, that may be seene, Whether you sayle by day or night; And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke, You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton, knight."135

The merchant sett my lorde a glasse, Soe well apparent in his sight, And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke, He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton, knight. His hachebord it was hached with gold,5 Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee; "Nowe by my faith," Lord Howarde sais, "This is a gallant sight to see. "Take in your ancyents, standards eke, So close that no man may them see;10 And put me forth a white willowe wand, As merchants use to sayle the sea." But they stirred neither top nor mast; Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by; "What English churles are yonder," he sayd,15 "That can soe litle curtesye? "Now by the roode, three yeares and more I have been admirall over the sea, And never an English nor Portingall Without my leave can passe this way."20 Then called he forth his stout pinnàce; "Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee: I sweare by the masse, yon English churles Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree." With that the pinnace itt shott off;25 Full well Lord Howard might it ken; For itt stroke down my lord's fore-mast, And killed fourteen of his men. "Come hither, Simon," sayes my lord, "Looke that thy word be true, thou said;30 For at my main-mast thou shalt hang, If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread." Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold; His ordinance he laid right lowe, He put in chaine full nine yardes long,35 With other great shott, lesse and moe, And he lette goe his great gunnes shott; Soe well he settled itt with his ee, The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe, He see his pinnace sunke in the sea.40 And when he saw his pinnace sunke, Lord, how his heart with rage did swell! "Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon; Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell." When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose,45 Within his heart hee was full faine; "Nowe spread your ancyents, strike up drummes, Sound all your trumpetts out amaine." "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrewe sais, "Weale, howsoever this geere will sway;50 Itt is my lord admirall of Englànd, Is come to seeke mee on the sea." Simon had a sonne, who shott right well, That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare; In att his decke he gave a shott,55 Killed threescore of his men of warre. Then Henrye Hunt, with rigour hott, Came bravely on the other side; Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree, And killed fourscore men beside.60 "Nowe, out alas!" Sir Andrewe cryed, "What may a man now thinke or say? Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee, He was my prisoner yesterday. "Come hither to me, thou Gordon good,65 That aye wast readye att my call; I will give thee three hundred pounds, If thou wilt let my beames downe fall." Lord Howard hee then calld in haste, "Horselye, see thou be true in stead;70 For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang, If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread." Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree, He swarved it with might and maine; But Horseley with a bearing arrowe,75 Stroke the Gordon through the braine; And he fell unto the haches again, And sore his deadlye wounde did bleede: Then word went through Sir Andrews men, How that the Gordon hee was dead.80 "Come hither to mee, James Hambilton, Thou art my only sisters sonne; If thou wilt let my beames downe fall, Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne." With that he swarved the main-mast tree,85 He swarved it with nimble art; But Horseley with a broad arrowe Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart. And downe he fell upon the deck, That with his blood did streame amaine:90 Then every Scott cryed, "Well-away! Alas a comelye youth is slaine!" All woe begone was Sir Andrew then, With griefe and rage his heart did swell; "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe,95 For I will to the topcastle mysell. "Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe, That gilded is with gold soe cleare; God be with my brother John of Barton! Against the Portingalls hee it ware.100 And when he had on this armour of proofe, He was a gallant sight to see; Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight, My deere brothèr, could cope with thee." "Come hither, Horseley," sayes my lord,105 "And looke your shaft that itt goe right; Shoot a good shoote in time of need, And for it thou shalt be made a knight." "Ile shoot my best," quoth Horseley then,109 "Your honour shall see, with might and maine; But if I were hanged at your maine-mast, I have now left but arrowes twaine." Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, With right good will he swarved then, Upon his breast did Horseley hitt,115 But the arrow bounded back agen. Then Horseley spyed a privye place, With a perfect eye, in a secrette part; Under the spole of his right arme He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.120 "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine; Ile but lye downe and bleede a while, And then Ile rise and fight againe. Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,125 "And never flinche before the foe; And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse, Untill you heare my whistle blowe." They never heard his whistle blow, Which made their hearts waxe sore adread:130 Then Horseley sayd, "Aboard, my lord, For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead." They boarded then his noble shipp, They boarded it with might and maine; Eighteen score Scots alive they found,135 The rest were either maimed or slaine. Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand, And off he smote Sir Andrewes head; "I must have left England many a daye, If thou wert alive as thou art dead."140 He caused his body to be cast Over the hatchbord into the sea, And about his middle three hundred crownes: "Wherever thou land, this will bury thee." Thus from the warres Lord Howard came,145 And backe he sayled ore the maine; With mickle joy and triumphìng Into Thames mouth he came againe. Lord Howard then a letter wrote, And sealed it with seale and ring;150 "Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace As never did subject to a king. "Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee, A braver shipp was never none; Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr,155 Before in England was but one." King Henryes grace with royall cheere Welcomed the noble Howard home; "And where," said he, "is this rover stout, That I myselfe may give the doome?"160 "The rover, he is safe, my leige, Full many a fadom in the sea; If he were alive as he is dead, I must have left England many a day. And your grace may thank four men i' the ship165 For the victory wee have wonne; These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt, And Peter Simon, and his sonne." "To Henry Hunt," the king then sayd, "In lieu of what was from thee tane,170 A noble a day now thou shalt have, Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne. And Horseley thou shalt be a knight, And lands and livings shalt have store; Howard shall be Erle Surrye hight,175 As Howards erst have beene before. "Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old, I will maintaine thee and thy sonne; And the men shall have five hundred markes For the good service they have done."180 Then in came the queene with ladyes fair, To see Sir Andrewe Barton, knight; They weend that hee were brought on shore, And thought to have seen a gallant sight. But when they see his deadlye face,185 And eyes soe hollow in his head, "I wold give," quoth the king, "a thousand markes, This man were alive as hee is dead. Yett for the manfull part hee playd, Which fought soe well with heart and hand,190 His men shall have twelvepence a day, Till they come to my brother kings high land."

"I've heard them lilting at the ewes milking ......... ......... The flowers of the forest are a' wede away."

"I ride single on my saddle, For the flowers of the forest are a' wede away."

King Jamie hath made a vow, Keep it well if he may! That he will be at lovely London Upon Saint James his day. "Upon Saint James his day at noon,5 At fair London will I be, And all the lords in merry Scotland, They shall dine there with me." Then bespake good Queen Margaret, The tears fell from her eye:10 "Leave off these wars, most noble king, Keep your fidelity. "The water runs swift and wondrous deep From bottom unto the brim; My brother Henry hath men good enough,15 England is hard to win." "Away," quoth he, "with this silly fool! In prison fast let her lye: For she is come of the English blood, And for these words she shall die."20 With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard, The Queens chamberlain that day; "If that you put Queen Margaret to death, Scotland shall rue it alway." Then in a rage King Jamie did say,25 "Away with this foolish mome! He shall be hang'd, and the other burn'd, So soon as I come home." At Flodden-field the Scots came in, Which made our Englishmen fain;30 At Bramstone-green this battel was seen, There was King Jamie slain. Then presently the Scots did fly, Their cannons they left behind; Their ensigns gay were won all away,35 Our souldiers did beat them blind. To tell you plain, twelve thousand were slain That to the fight did stand, And many a prisoner took that day, The best in all Scotland.40 That day made many a fatherless child, And many a widow poor, And many a Scottish gay lady Sate weeping in her bower. Jack with a fether was lapt all in lether,45 His boastings were all in vain; He had such a chance with [a] new morrice-dance, He never went home again.

Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, travel'd six weeks and more, Till women and midwives had quite gi'en her o'er; "O if ye were women as women should be, Ye would send for a doctor, a doctor to me!" The doctor was called for and set by her bedside,5 "What aileth thee, my ladie, thine eyes seem so red?" "O doctor, O doctor, will ye do this for me, To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?" "Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's the thing I'll ne'er do, To rip up your two sides to save your babie:"10 Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, travel'd six weeks and more, Till midwives and doctors had quite gi'en her o'er. "O if ye were doctors as doctors should be, Ye would send for King Henry, King Henry to me:" King Henry was called for, and sat by her bedside,15 "What aileth thee, Jeanie, what aileth my bride?" "King Henry, King Henry, will ye do this for me, To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?" "Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's what I'll never do, To rip up your two sides to save your babie."20 But with sighing and sobbing she's fallen in a swoon, Her side it was ript up, and her babie was found; At this bonie babie's christ'ning there was meikle joy and mirth, But bonnie Queen Jeanie lies cold in the earth. Six and six coaches, and six and six more,25 And royal King Henry went mourning before; O two and two gentlemen carried her away, But royal King Henry went weeping away. O black were their stockings, and black were their bands, And black were the weapons they held in their hands;30 O black were their mufflers, and black were their shoes, And black were the cheverons they drew on their luves. They mourned in the kitchen, and they mourn'd in the ha', But royal King Henry mourn'd langest of a'. Farewell to fair England, farewell for evermore,35 For the fair flower of England will never shine more!

Queen Jane was in travail for six weeks or more, Till the women grew tired and fain would give o'er, "O women, O women, good wives if ye be, Go send for King Henrie, and bring him to me!" King Henrie was sent for, he came with all speed,5 In a gownd of green velvet from heel to the head; "King Henrie, King Henrie, if kind Henrie you be, Send for a surgeon, and bring him to me!" The surgeon was sent for, he came with all speed, In a gownd of black velvet from heel to the head;10 He gave her rich caudle, but the death-sleep slept she, Then her right side was opened, and the babe was set free. The babe it was christened, and put out and nursed, While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the dust. So black was the mourning, and white were the wands,15 Yellow, yellow the torches they bore in their hands; The bells they were muffled, and mournful did play, While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the clay. Six knights and six lords bore her corpse through the grounds, Six dukes followed after, in black mourning gownds,20 The flower of Old England was laid in cold clay, Whilst the royal King Henrie came weeping away.

Woe worth, woe worth thee, false Scotlànde! For thou hast ever wrought by sleight; The worthyest prince that ever was borne, You hanged under a cloud by night. The Queene of France a letter wrote,5 And sealed itt with harte and ringe; And bade him come Scotland within, And shee wold marry and crowne him kinge. To be a king is a pleasant thing, To bee a prince unto a peere:10 But you have heard, and soe have I too, A man may well buy gold too deare. There was an Italyan in that place, Was as well beloved as ever was hee, Lord David [Rizzio] was his name,15 Chamberlaine to the queene was hee. If the king had risen forth of his place, He wold have sate him downe in the cheare, And tho itt beseemed him not so well, Altho the kinge had beene present there.20 Some lords in Scotlande waxed wrothe, And quarrelled with him for the nonce; I shall you tell how it befell, Twelve daggers were in him att once. When the queene saw her chamberlaine was slaine,25 For him her faire cheeks shee did weete, And made a vowe, for a yeare and a day The king and shee wold not come in one sheete. Then some of the lords they waxed wrothe, And made their vow all vehementlye,30 For the death of the queenes chamberlaine, The king himselfe, how he shall dye. With gun-powder they strewed his roome, And layd greene rushes in his way; For the traitors thought that very night35 This worthye king for to betray. To bedd the king he made him bowne; To take his rest was his desire; He was noe sooner cast on sleepe, But his chamber was on a blasing fire.40 Up he lope, and the window brake, And hee had thirtye foote to fall; Lord Bodwell kept a privy watch, Underneath his castle wall. "Who have wee here?" Lord Bodwell sayd;45 "Now answer me, that I may know." "King Henry the eighth my uncle was; For his sweete sake some pitty show." "Who have we here?" Lord Bodwell sayd; "Now answer me when I doe speake."50 "Ah, Lord Bodwell, I know thee well; Some pitty on me I pray thee take." "Ile pitty thee as much," he sayd, "And as much favor show to thee, As thou didst to the queenes chamberlaine,55 That day thou deemedst him to die." Through halls and towers the king they ledd, Through towers and castles that were nye, Through an arbor into an orchàrd, There on a peare-tree hanged him hye.60 When the governor of Scotland heard How that the worthye king was slaine, He persued the queen so bitterlye, That in Scotland shee dare not remaine. But shee is fledd into merry England,65 And here her residence hath taine, And through the Queene of Englands grace, In England now shee doth remaine.

Listen, lively lordlings all, Lithe and listen unto mee, And I will sing of a noble earle, The noblest earle in the north countrìe. Earle Percy is into his garden gone,5 And after him walkes his faire ladìe: "I heard a bird sing in mine eare, That I must either fight or flee." "Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord, That ever such harm should hap to thee;10 But goe to London to the court, And faire fall truth and honestìe." "Now nay, now nay, my ladye gay, Alas! thy counsell suits not mee; Mine enemies prevail so fast,15 That at the court I may not bee." "O goe to the court yet, good my lord, And take thy gallant men with thee; If any dare to doe you wrong, Then your warrant they may bee."20 "Now nay, now nay, thou lady faire, The court is full of subtiltie; And if I goe to the court, lady, Never more I may thee see." "Yet goe to the court, my lord," she sayes,25 "And I myselfe will ride wi' thee: At court then for my dearest lord, His faithfull borrowe I will bee." Now nay, now nay, my lady deare; Far lever had I lose my life,30 Than leave among my cruell foes My love in jeopardy and strife. "But come thou hither, my little foot-page, Come thou hither unto mee; To maister Norton thou must goe35 In all the haste that ever may bee. "Commend me to that gentleman, And beare this letter here fro mee; And say that earnestly I praye, He will ryde in my companie."40 One while the little foot-page went, And another while he ran; Untill he came to his journeys end The little foot-page never blan. When to that gentleman he came,45 Down he kneeled on his knee, And tooke the letter betwixt his hands, And lett the gentleman it see. And when the letter it was redd Affore that goodlye companye,50 I-wis, if you the truthe wold know, There was many a weepynge eye. He sayd, "Come hither, Christopher Norton, A gallant youth thou seemst to bee; What doest thou counsell me, my sonne, Now that good erle's in jeopardy?"55 "Father, my counselle's fair and free; That erle he is a noble lord, And whatsoever to him you hight, I wold not have you breake your word."60 "Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne, Thy counsell well it liketh mee, And if we speed and scape with life, Well advanced shalt thou bee." "Come you hither, mine nine good sonnes,65 Gallant men I trowe you bee: How many of you, my children deare, Will stand by that good erle and mee?" Eight of them did answer make, Eight of them spake hastilie,70 "O father, till the daye we dye We'll stand by that good erle and thee." "Gramercy now, my children deare, You showe yourselves right bold and brave; And whethersoe'er I live or dye,75 A fathers blessing you shal have." "But what sayst thou, O Francis Norton? Thou art mine oldest sonn and heire; Somewhat lyes brooding in thy breast; Whatever it bee, to mee declare."80 "Father, you are an aged man; Your head is white, your bearde is gray; It were a shame at these your yeares For you to ryse in such a fray." "Now fye upon thee, coward Francis,85 Thou never learnedst this of mee; When thou wert yong and tender of age, Why did I make soe much of thee?" "But, father, I will wend with you, Unarm'd and naked will I bee;90 And he that strikes against the crowne, Ever an ill death may he dee." Then rose that reverend gentleman, And with him came a goodlye band, To join with the brave Erle Percy,95 And all the flower o' Northumberland. With them the noble Nevill came, The erle of Westmorland was hee: At Wetherbye they mustred their host, Thirteen thousand faire to see.100 Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde, The Dun Bull he rays'd on hye, And three Dogs with golden collars Were there sett out most royallye. Erie Percy there his ancyent spred,105 The Halfe-Moone shining all soe faire: The Nortons ancyent had the crosse, And the five wounds our Lord did beare. Then Sir George Bowes he straitwaye rose, After them some spoyle to make;110 Those noble erles turn'd backe againe, And aye they vowed that knight to take. That baron he to his castle fled To Barnard castle then fled hee; The uttermost walles were eathe to win,115 The earles have won them presentlìe. The uttermost walles were lime and bricke, But thoughe they won them soon anone, Long e'er they wan the innermost walles, For they were cut in rocke of stone.120 Then newes unto leeve London came, In all the speede that ever might bee, And word is brought to our royall queene Of the rysing in the North countrie. Her grace she turned her round about,125 And like a royall queene shee swore, "I will ordayne them such a breakfast, As never was in the North before." Shee caus'd thirty thousand men be rays'd, With horse and harneis faire to see;130 She caused thirty thousand men be raised, To take the earles i' th' North countrie. Wi' them the false Erle Warwick went, Th' Erle Sussex and the Lord Hunsden; Untill they to Yorke castle came, I-wiss they never stint ne blan.135 Now spred thy ancyent, Westmorland, Thy dun bull faine would we spye: And thou, the Erle o' Northumberland, Now rayse thy half moone up on hye.140 But the dun bulle is fled and gone, And the halfe moone vanished away: The erles, though they were brave and bold, Against soe many could not stay. Thee, Norton, wi' thine eight good sonnes,145 They doom'd to dye, alas for ruth! Thy reverend lockes thee could not save, Nor them their faire and blooming youthe. Wi' them full many a gallant wight They cruellye bereav'd of life:150 And many a childe made fatherlesse, And widowed many a tender wife.

"How long shall fortune faile me nowe, And harrowe me with fear and dread? How long shall I in bale abide, In misery my life to lead? "To fall from my bliss, alas the while!5 It was my sore and heavye lott; And I must leave my native land, And I must live a man forgot. "One gentle Armstrong I doe ken, A Scot he is, much bound to mee;10 He dwelleth on the Border side, To him I'll goe right privilie." Thus did the noble Percy 'plaine, With a heavy heart and wel-away, When he with all his gallant men15 On Bramham moor had lost the day. But when he to the Armstrongs came, They dealt with him all treacherouslye; For they did strip that noble earle, And ever an ill death may they dye!20 False Hector to Earl Murray sent, To shew him where his guest did hide, Who sent him to the Lough-levèn, With William Douglas to abide. And when he to the Douglas came,25 He halched him right courteouslie; Say'd, "Welcome, welcome, noble earle, Here thou shalt safelye bide with mee." When he had in Lough-leven been Many a month and many a day,30 To the regent the lord warden sent, That bannisht earle for to betray. He offered him great store of gold, And wrote a letter fair to see, Saying, "Good my lord, grant me my boon,35 And yield that banisht man to mee." Earle Percy at the supper sate, With many a goodly gentleman; The wylie Douglas then bespake, And thus to flyte with him began.40 "What makes you be so sad, my lord, And in your mind so sorrowfullye? To-morrow a shootinge will bee held Among the lords of the North countrye. "The butts are sett, the shooting's made,45 And there will be great royaltye; And I am sworne into my bille, Thither to bring my Lord Percye." "I'll give thee my hand, thou gentle Douglas, And here by my true faith," quoth hee,50 "If thou wilt ryde to the worldes end I will ryde in thy companye." And then bespake a lady faire, Mary à Douglas was her name; "You shall byde here, good English lord,55 My brother is a traiterous man. "He is a traitor stout and stronge, As I tell you in privitie; For he hath tane liverance of the erle, Into England nowe to 'liver thee."60 "Now nay, now nay, thou goodly lady, The regent is a noble lord: Ne for the gold in all Englànd The Douglas wold not break his word. "When the regent was a banisht man,65 With me he did faire welcome find; And whether weal or woe betide, I still shall find him true and kind. "Between England and Scotland it wold breake truce, And friends againe they wold never bee,70 If they shold 'liver a banisht erle, Was driven out of his own countrie." "Alas! alas! my lord," she sayes, "Nowe mickle is their traitorie; Then lett my brother ryde his wayes,75 And tell those English lords from thee, "How that you cannot with him ryde, Because you are in an ile of the sea, Then ere my brother come againe, To Edenborow castle Ile carry thee.80 "To the Lord Hume I will thee bring; He is well knowne a true Scots lord, And he will lose both land and life, Ere he with thee will break his word." "Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd,85 "When I thinke on my own countrìe, When I thinke on the heavye happe My friends have suffered there for mee. "Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd, "And sore those wars my minde distresse;90 Where many a widow lost her mate, And many a child was fatherlesse. "And now that I a banisht man Shold bring such evil happe with mee, To cause my faire and noble friends95 To be suspect of treacherie, "This rives my heart with double woe; And lever had I dye this day, Than thinke a Douglas can be false, Or ever he will his guest betray."100 "If you'll give me no trust, my lord, Nor unto mee no credence yield, Yet step one moment here aside, Ile showe you all your foes in field." "Lady, I never loved witchcraft,105 Never dealt in privy wyle; But evermore held the high-waye Of truth and honour, free from guile." "If you'll not come yourselfe, my lorde, Yet send your chamberlaine with mee,110 Let me but speak three words with him, And he shall come again to thee." James Swynard with that lady went, She showed him through the weme of her ring How many English lords there were115 Waiting for his master and him. "And who walkes yonder, my good lady, So royallye on yonder greene?" "O yonder is the Lord Hunsden: Alas! he'll doe you drie and teene."120 "And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye, That walkes so proudly him beside?" "That is Sir William Drury," shee sayd, "A keene captaine hee is and tryde." "How many miles is itt, madàme,125 Betwixt yond English lords and mee?" "Marry, it is thrice fifty miles, To saile to them upon the sea. "I never was on English ground, Ne never sawe it with mine eye,130 But as my book it sheweth mee, And through my ring I may descrye. "My mother shee was a witch ladye, And of her skille she learned mee; She wold let me see out of Lough-leven135 What they did in London citìe." "But who is yond, thou lady faire, That looketh with sic an austerne face?" "Yonder is Sir John Foster," quoth shee, "Alas! he'll do ye sore disgrace."140 He pulled his hatt downe over his browe; He wept, in his heart he was full of woe; And he is gone to his noble lord, Those sorrowful tidings him to show. "Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd,145 I may not believe that witch ladìe; The Douglasses were ever true, And they can ne'er prove false to mee. "I have now in Lough-leven been The most part of these years three,150 Yett have I never had noe outrake, Ne no good games that I cold see. "Therefore I'll to yond shooting wend, As to the Douglas I have hight: Betide me weale, betide me woe,155 He ne'er shall find my promise light." He writhe a gold ring from his finger, And gave itt to that gay ladìe: Sayes, "It was all that I cold save, In Harley woods where I cold bee."160 "And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord? Then farewell truth and honestìe, And farewell heart, and farewell hand, For never more I shall thee see." The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd,165 And all the saylors were on borde; Then William Douglas took to his boat, And with him went that noble lord. Then he cast up a silver wand, Says, "Gentle lady, fare thee well!"170 The lady fett a sigh soe deep, And in a dead swoone down shee fell. "Now let us goe back, Douglas," he sayd, "A sickness hath taken yond faire ladìe; If ought befall yond lady but good,175 Then blamed for ever I shall bee." "Come on, come on, my lord," he sayes, "Come on, come on, and let her bee; There's ladyes enow in Lough-leven For to cheere that gay ladìe."180 "If you'll not turne yourself, my lord, Let me goe with my chamberlaine; We will but comfort that faire lady, And wee will return to you againe." "Come on, come on, my lord," he sayes,185 "Come on, come on, and let her bee; My sister is craftye, and wold beguile A thousand such as you and mee." "When they had sayled fifty myle, Now fifty mile upon the sea,190 Hee sent his man to ask the Douglas, When they shold that shooting see." "Faire words," quoth he, "they make fooles faine, And that by thee and thy lord is seen; You may hap to thinke itt soone enough,195 Ere you that shooting reach, I ween." Jamye his hatt pulled over his browe, He thought his lord then was betray'd; And he is to Erle Percy againe, To tell him what the Douglas sayd.200 "Hold upp thy head, man," quoth his lord, "Nor therefore lett thy courage fayle; He did it but to prove thy heart, To see if he cold make it quail." When they had other fifty sayld,205 Other fifty mile upon the sea, Lord Percy called to Douglas himselfe, Sayd, "What wilt thou nowe doe with mee?" "Looke that your brydle be wight, my lord, And your horse goe swift as shipp att sea;210 Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe, That you may pricke her while shee'll away." "What needeth this, Douglas?" he sayth; "What needest thou to flyte with mee? For I was counted a horseman good215 Before that ever I mett with thee. "A false Hector hath my horse, Who dealt with mee so treacherouslìe; A false Armstrong hath my spurres, And all the geere belongs to mee."220 When they had sayled other fifty mile, Other fifty mile upon the sea, They landed low by Berwicke side, A deputed laird landed Lord Percye. Then he at Yorke was doomde to die,225 It was, alas! a sorrowful sight; Thus they betrayed that noble earle, Who ever was a gallant wight.