The wear twenty hondrith spear-men good, The wear borne a-long be the watter a Twyde, 50 "Leave off the brytlyng of the dear," he sayde, "And to your bowys tayk good heed; For never sithe ye wear on your mothars borne 55 The dougheti Dogglas on a stede “Tell me 'what' 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 'what' men we ar," he says, 65 "Nor whos men that we be; 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, A-las! it wear great pittè. 75 "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." V. 48, withowte. . . feale. P.C. V. 54, ned. P.C. V. 52, boys look ye tayk. P.C. V. 59, whos. P.C. V. 71, agay. P.C. 80 "Nowe Cristes cors on his crowne," sayd the Lord Persè, Be my troth, doughtè Doglas," he says, "Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France, But, and fortune be my chance, I dar met him, on man for on." Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde, 7 Ric. Wytharynton was his nam; "It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde," he says, "I wat youe byn great lordes twa, I am a poor squyar of lande; I wyll never se my captayne fyght on a fylde, But whyll I may my weppone welde, I wyll not 'fayl' both harte and hande." That day, that day, that dredfull day: The first FIT 8 here I fynde. And you wyll here any mor a' the hountyng a' the Chyviat, Yet ys ther mor behynde. 85 90 95 100 THE SECOND FIT. THE Yngglishe men hade ther bowys yebent, The first of arros that the shote off, V. 81, sayd the the. P. C. V. 88, on, i.e. one. This is probably corrupted in the MS. for Rog. Widdrington, who was at the head of the family in the reign of K. Edw. III. successively of the names of Roger and Ralph, but none of the name of Richard, as appears from the genealogies in the Herald's office. FIT.-Vide Gloss. Yet bydys the Yerle Doglas uppon the bent, And that was sene verament, For he wrought hom both woo and wouche. The Dogglas pertyd his ost in thre, Thrughe our Yngglishe archery 5. 10 15 The Yngglishe 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 Thorowe ryche male and myne-ye-ple, Many sterne the stroke downe streght; At last the Duglas and the Persè met, Lyk to captayns of myght and mayne; Thes worthè freckys for to fyght, 25 30 Tyll the bloode owte off thear basnetes sprente “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." "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, 9 Hit hathe strekene the Yerle Duglas Thoroue lyvar and longs bathe The sharp arrowe ys gane, That never after in all his lyffe-days He spayke mo wordes but ane : 40 45 50 That was, "Fyghte ye, my merry men, whyllys ye may, For my lyff-days ben gan." The Persè leanyde on his brande, And sawe the Duglas de; He tooke the dede man be the hande, And sayd, "Wo ys me for the! "To have savyde thy lyffe, I wold have pertyd with My landes for years thre, 55 60 For a better man, of hart nare of hande, Was not in all the north countrè." Off all that se a Skottishe knyght, Was callyd Sir Hewe the Mongon-byrry; He sawe the Duglas to the deth was dyght, 65 He rod uppon a corsiare Throughe a hondrith archery; He never styntyde, nar never blane, Tyll he came to the good Lord Persè. V. 49, throroue. P.C. 70 9 Wane, i.e. ane, one, sc. man; an arrow came from a mighty one: from a mighty man. 1 This seems to have been a gloss added. He set uppone the Lord Persè A dynte that was full soare; With a suar spear of a myghtè tre Clean thorow the body he the Persè bore, A' the tothar syde that a man myght se 75 A large cloth yard and mare: Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Cristiantè, An archar off Northomberlonde An arow, that a cloth yarde was lang, To th' hard stele halyde he; A dynt that was both sad and soar, He sat on Sir Hewe the Mongon-byrry. 80 85 The dynt yt was both sad and 'soar,' The swane-fethars, that his arrowe bar, 90 Ther was never a freake wone foot wolde fle, Heawyng on yche othar, whyll the myght dre, This battell begane in Chyviat An owar 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; V. 74, ber. P.C. V. 84, haylde. P.C. V. 78, ther. P.C. V. 87, sar. P.C. V. 80, Say, i.e. sawe. 2 This incident is taken from the battle of Otterbourn; in which Sir Hugh Montgomery, Knt. (son of John Lord Montgomery), was slain with an arrow.-Vide Crawfurd's Peerage. |