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Athe 42 tothar syde, that a man myght se,
A large cloth yard and mare : Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Christiantė,
Then that day slain were 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;
He sat on Sir Hewe the Mongon-byrry.
The dynt yt was both sad and sar,
That he of Mongon-byrry sete;
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 Chyviat
An owar 46 befor the none,
The battell was nat half done.
The tooke 'on' on ethar hand
Be the lyght off the mone;
In Chyviat the hyllys aboun.47
Went away but fifti and thre;
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 Perse
Sir John of Agerstone, Sir Roge the hinde Hartly,
Sir Wyllyam the bolde Hearone.
2 At the
Sir Jorg the worthè Lovele
A knight of great renowen, Sir Raff the rych Rugbè
With dyntes wear beaten dowene.
For Wetharryngton my harte was wo,
That ever he slayne shulde be;
Yet he knyled and fought on hys kne.
Ther was slayne with the dougheti Douglas
Sir Hewe the Mongon-byrry,
His sistars son was he:
Sir Charles a Murrè, in that place,
That never a foot wolde fle;
With the Duglas dyd he dey.
So on the morrowe the mayde them byears
Off byrch, and hasell so ‘gray;' Many wedous with wepyng tears
Cam to fach 48 ther makys a-way..
49 off care,
Tivydale may carpe
Northombarlond may mayk grat mone,
On the march perti shall never be none.
Wordeys commen to Edden burrowe,
To Jamy the Skottishe kyng, That dougheti Duglas, lyff-tenant of the Merches,
He lay slean Chyviot with-in.
His handdes did he weal 50 and wryng,
He sayd, Alas, and woe ys me!
He sayd, y-feth shud never be.
Worde ys commyn to lovly Londone
Till the fourth Harry our kyng,
He lay slayne Chyviat within.
God have merci on his soll, sayd kyng Harry,
Good lord, yf thy will it be!
I have a hondrith captayns in Ynglonde,
As good as ever was hee:
Thy deth well quyte 52 shall be.
As our noble kyng made his a-vowe,
Lyke a noble prince of renowen,
He dyd the battel of Hombyll-down:
Wher syx and thritte 53 Skottish knyghtes
On a day wear beaten down :
Over castill, towar, and town.
This was the hontynge off the Cheviat;
That tear begane this spurn:
Call it the Battell of Otterburn.
At Otterburn began this spurne
Uppon a monnyn day:
The Persè never went away
Ther was never a tym on the march partes
Sen 54 the Doglas and the Persè met,
As the reane doys in the stret.
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,
Our lives and safetyes all;
In Chevy-Chace befall;
To drive the deere with hound and horne,
Erle Percy took his way;
The hunting of that day.
The stout Erle of Northumberland
A vow to God did make,
Three summers days to take;
The cheefest harts in Chevy-Chace
To kill and beare away.
In Scottland where he lay:
Who sent Erle Percy present word,
He wold prevent his sport.
Did to the woods resort
With fifteen hundred bow-men bold;
All chosen men of might,
To ayme their shafts arright.
The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,
To chase the fallow deere :
Ere day-light did appeare;
And long before high noone they had
An hundred fat buckes slaine;
To rouze the deare againe.
The bow-men mustered on the hills,
Well able to endure;
That day were guarded sure.
The hounds ran swiftly through the woods,
The nimble deere to take,
An eccho shrill did make.
Lord Percy to the quarry went,
To view the slaughter'd deere: Quoth he, “ Erle Douglas promised
This day to meet me heere :
But if I thought he wold not come,
Noe longer wold I stay."
Thus to the Erle did say:
“Loe, yonder doth Erle Douglas come,
His men in armour bright;
All marching in our sight;
Fast by the river Tweede:” “O, cease your sports,” Erle Percy said,
“And take your bowes with speede:
And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance;
In Scotland or in France,
That ever did on horsebacke come,
But if my hap it were,
With him to break a spere.”
Erle Douglas on his milke-white steede,
Most like a baron bold, Rode formost of his company,
Whose armour shone like gold.
"Show me,” sayd hee, “whose men you bee,
That hunt soe boldly heere,
And kill my fallow-deere."
The first man that did answer make,
Was noble Percy hee;
Nor shew whose men wee bee :
Yet wee will spend our deerest blood,
Thy cheefest harts to slay.”
And thus in rage did say,
" Ere thus I will out-braved bee,
One of us two shall dye:
Lord Percy, soe am I.