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LYRA HISTORICA POEMS OF BRITISH HISTORY
M. E. WINDSOR & J. TURRAL
PART I (A.D. 61-1381). Eightpence.
II (1388–1641). Eightpence.
III (1644-1910). One Shilling. THE THREE PARTS TOGETHER, Two SHILLINGS.
Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou
The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers
Thanks for permission to include poems and extracts are due to the following :
Mr. T. Fisher Unwin for A. M. F. Robinson's A Ballad of Orleans.
Mr. Henry Newbolt for Drake's Drum, from 'The Island Race', published by Elkin Mathews.
Mr. T. Watts-Dunton for extracts from Swinburne's Mary Stuart and The Armada.
The Scots under Douglas invaded England as far as Newcastle, where they met Henry Percy (Hotspur), who swore to redeem in three days his lance, which Douglas had taken in a skirmish. The English came upon the Scots by moonlight at Otterburn, and gave battle at once. Douglas rushed into the middle of their army and was killed, though the battle went on till morning, when Percy was taken prisoner. The result of the battle is a matter of dispute. This version, taken from Scott's Minstrelsy of the Border, naturally relates the event with a Scottish bias. The English versions tell the story just as much in favour of the English. Froissart says that despite the disasters on both sides the Scotch remained masters of the field ; but he gives both armies great credit for their desperate valour.
The Douglas was not buried at a bracken bush', but in Melrose Abbey.
It fell about the Lammas tide,
When the muir-men win their hay,
Into England, to catch a prey.
With them the Lindesays, light and gay ;
And they rue it to this day.
And part of Bambrough shire;
And he march'd up to Newcastle,
And rode it round about ;
Or wha 's the lady o't?'
And o but he spake hie!
My wife's the lady gay.'
Sae weel it pleases me!
The tane of us shall die.'
Shod with the metal free,
He rode right furiouslie.
Frae aff the castle wa',
She saw proud Percy fa'.
green, And never an eye to see, I wad hae had you, flesh and fell;
But your sword sall gae wi' me.' *But gae ye up to Otterbourne,
And wait there dayis three;
A fause knight ca' ye me.'
'Tis pleasant there to be;
To feed my men and me.
The birds fly wild from tree to tree;