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.