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The Percy out of Northumberland, and avow to God made he

That he would hunt in the mountains of Cheviot within days three,

In the maugre of doughty Douglas and all that ever with him be,

The fattest harts in all Cheviot he said he would kill and carry them

away.

"By my faith," said the doughty Douglas again, "I will let that

hunting if that I may!"

Then the Percy out of Bamborough came, with him a mighty mean-y;

With fifteen hundred archers, bold of blood and bone, they were chosen

out of shires three.

This began on a Monday, at morn, in Cheviot, the hillis so hie,

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

The drivers thorough the wood-es went for to raise the deer;

Bowmen bickered upon the bent with their broad arrows clear,

Then the wild thorough the wood-es went on every sid-e shear;

Greyhounds thorough the grov-es glent for to kill their deer.

This began in Cheviot, the hills abone, early on a Monnynday;

By that it drew to the hour of noon a hundred fat harts dead there

lay.

They blew a mort upon the bent; they sembled on sidis shear,

To the quarry then the Percy went, to see the brittling of the deer.

He said, "It was the Douglas' promise this day to meet me here;

But I wist he would fail, verament"—a great oath the Percy sware.

At the last a squire of Northumberland looked, at his hand full nigh

He was ware of the doughty Douglas coming, with him a mighty mean-y,

Both with spear, bill, and brand, it was a mighty sight to see.

Hardier men both of heart nor hand were not in Christiant-e.

They were twenty hundred spearmen good without any fail;

They were borne along by the water of Tweed, i'th' bounds of Tividale.

"Leave off the brittling of the deer," he said, "and to your bows look

ye take good heed,

For never sith ye were of your mothers born had ye never so mickle

need."

The doughty Douglas on a steed he rode all his men beforn,

His armour glittered as did a glede, a bolder barn was never born.

"Tell me whose men ye are," he says, "or whose men that ye be;

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,

Sir George the worthy Lumley, a knight of great renown,

Sir Ralph the rich Rugby, with dints were beaten down;

For Witherington my heart was wo, that ever he slain should be,

For when both his leggis were hewen in two, yet he kneeled and fought

on his knee.

There was slain with the doughty Douglas Sir Hugh the Montgomer-y;

Sir Davy Lewdale, that worthy was, his sister's son was he;

Sir Charles of Murray in that place that never a foot would flee;

Sir Hugh Maxwell, a lord he was, with the Douglas did he dee.

So on the morrow they made them biers of birch and hazel so gay;

Many widows with weeping tears came to fetch their makis away.

Tivydale may carp of care, Northumberland may make great moan,

For two such captains as slain were there on the March parti shall

never be none.

Word is comen to Edinborough to Jamy the Scottish king,

That doughty Douglas, lieutenant of the Marches, he lay slain Cheviot

within.

His hand-es did he weal and wring; he said, "Alas! and woe is me:

Such another captain Scotland within," he said, "yea faith should

never be."

Word is comen to lovely London, to the fourth Harry our king,

That Lord Perc-y, lieutenant of the Marches, he lay slain Cheviot

within.

"God have mercy on his soul," said King Harry, "good Lord, if thy will

it be,

I have a hundred captains in England," he said, "as good as ever was

he;

But Percy, an I brook my life, thy death well quite shall be."

As our noble king made his avow, like a noble prince of renown,

For the death of the Lord Perc-y he did the battle of Homildoun,

Where six and thirty Scottish knights on a day were beaten down;

Glendale glittered on their armour bright, over castle, tower, and

town.

This was the hunting of the Cheviot; that tear began this spurn;

Old men that knowen the ground well enough call it the battle of

Otterburn.

At Otterburn began this spurn upon a Monenday;

There was the doughty Douglas slain, the Percy never went away.

There was never a time on the March part-es sen the Douglas and the

Percy met,

But it is marvel an the red blood run not as the rain does in the

stret.

Jesu Christ our balis bete, and to the bliss us bring!

Thus was the hunting of the Cheviot. God send us all good ending!