A Bundle of Ballads. Various

Who gave you leave to hunt in this Cheviot Chase in the spite of mine

       and of me?"

       The first man that ever him an answer made, it was the good Lord Perc-

       y,

       "We will not tell thee whose men we are," he says, "nor whose men that

       we be;

       But we will hunt here in this Chase in the spite of thine and of thee.

       The fattest harts in all Cheviot we have killed, and cast to carry

       them away."

       "By my troth," said the doughty Douglas again, "therefore the tone of

       us shall die this day."

       Then said the doughty Douglas unto the Lord Perc-y,

       "To kill all these guiltless men, alas! it were great pit-y.

       But, Percy, thou art a lord of land, I am an earl called within my

       countr-y.

       Let all our men upon a parti stand, and do the battle of thee and of

       me."

       "Now Christ's curse on his crown," said the Lord Percy, "whosoever

       thereto says nay!

       By my troth, doughty Douglas," he says, "thou shalt never see that

       day!

       Neither in England, Scotland, nor France, nor for no man of a woman

       born,

       But and fortune be my chance, I dare meet him, one man for one."

       Then bespake a squire of Northumberland, Richard Witherington was his

       name,

       "It shall never be told in South England," he says, "to King Harry the

       Fourth, for shame.

       I wot you ben great lord-es two, I am a poor squire of land;

       I will never see my captain fight on a field, and stand myself and

       look on;

       But while I may my weapon wield I will fight both heart and hand."

       That day, that day, that dreadful day: the first fytte here I find,

       An you will hear any more of the hunting of the Cheviot, yet is there

       more behind.

      SECOND FYTTE.

      The English men had their bows ybent, their hearts were good enow;

       The first of arrows that they shot off, sevenscore spearmen they

       slowe.

       Yet bides the Earl Douglas upon the bent, a captain good enow,

       And that was seene verament, for he wrought them both wo and wough.

       The Douglas parted his host in three like a chief chieftain of pride,

       With suar spears of mighty tree they come in on every side,

       Through our English archery gave many a wound full wide;

       Many a doughty they gard to die, which gain-ed them no pride.

       The Englishmen let their bows be, and pulled out brands that were

       bright;

       It was a heavy sight to see bright swords on basnets light.

       Thorough rich mail and manople many stern they struck down straight,

       Many a freke that was full free there under foot did light.

       At last the Douglas and the Percy met, like to captains of might and

       of main;

       They swapt together till they both swat, with swords that were of fine

       Milan.

       These worthy frekis for to fight thereto they were full fain,

       Till the blood out of their basnets sprent as ever did hail or rain.

       "Yield thee, Percy," said the Douglas, "and in faith I shall thee

       bring

       Where thou shalt have an earl's wagis of Jamy our Scottish king.

       Thou shalt have thy ransom free, I hight thee here this thing,

       For the manfullest man yet art thou that ever I conquered in field

       fighting."

       "Nay," said the Lord Percy, "I told it thee beforn,

       That I would never yielded be to no man of a woman born."

       With that there came an arrow hastily forth of a mighty wone;

       It hath stricken the Earl Douglas in at the breastbone.

       Through liver and lung-es both the sharp arrow is gone,

       That never after in all his life-days he spake mo word-es but one,

       That was, "Fight ye, my merry men, whilis ye may, for my life-days ben

       gone!"

       The Percy lean-ed on his brand and saw the Douglas dee;

       He took the dead man by the hand, and said, "Wo is me for thee!

       To have saved thy life I would have parted with my lands for years

       three,

       For a better man of heart nor of hand was not in all the north

       countree."

       Of all that see, a Scottish knight, was called Sir Hugh the Montgomer-

       y,

       He saw the Douglas to the death was dight, he spended a spear a trusty

       tree,

       He rode upon a coursiere through a hundred archer-y,

       He never stinted nor never blane till he came to the good Lord Perc-y.

       He set upon the Lord Percy a dint that was full sore;

       With a suar spear of a mighty tree clean thorough the body he the

       Percy bore

       On the tother side that a man might see a large cloth yard and more.

       Two better captains were not in Christiant-e than that day slain were

       there.

       An archer of Northumberland saw slain was the Lord Perc-y,

       He bare a bent bow in his hand was made of trusty tree,

       An arrow that a cloth yard was long to the hard steel hal-ed he,

       A dint that was both sad and sore he sat on Sir Hugh the Montgomer-y.

       The dint it was both sad and sore that he on Montgomery set,

       The swan-feathers that his arrow bare, with his heart-blood they were

       wet.

       There was never a freke one foot would flee, but still in stour did

       stand,

       Hewing on each other while they might dree with many a baleful brand.

       This battle began in Cheviot an hour before the noon,

       And when evensong bell was rang the battle was not half done.

       They took on either hand by the light of the moon,

       Many had no strength for to stand in Cheviot the hillis aboon.

       Of fifteen hundred archers of England went away but seventy and three,

       Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland but even five and fift-y;

       But all were slain Cheviot within, they had no strength to stand on

       hy:

       The child may rue that is unborn, it was the more pity.

       There was slain with the Lord Percy Sir John of Agerstone,

       Sir Roger the hinde Hartley, Sir William the bold Herone,