BOOK VI_The Oxford Book of Ballads

_126. Durham Field_

Lordings, listen, and hold you still;

Hearken to me a spell;

I shall you tell of the fairest battell

That ever in England befell.

It befell in Edward the Third’s dayes,

When in England he ware the crowne,

That all the chief chivalry of England

They buskèd[1023] and made them bowne[1024].

III

They have chosen all the best archers

That in England might be found,

And all was to fight with the King of France,

Within a litle stounde[1025].

And when our King was over the water,

And on the salt sea gone,

Then tydings into Scotland came

That all England was gone.

Bowes and arrowes they all were forth;

At home was not left a man

But shepards and millers both,

And preists with shaven crownes.

Then the King of Scotts in a study stood,

As he was a man of great might;

He sware he would hold his parlament in leeve[1026] London,

If he cold ryde there right.

VII

Then bespake a Squire, of Scottland borne,

And sayd, ‘My leege, ha’ peace,

Before you come to leeve London,

Full sore you’le rue that race.

VIII

‘Ther beene bold yeomen in merry England,

Husbandmen stiffe and strong;

Sharpè swords they done weare,

Bearen bowes and arrowes longe.’

The King was angrye at that word;

A long sword out he drew,

And there before his royall companye

His ownè Squire hee slew.

Hard hansell[1027] had the Scottes that day,

That wrought them woe enoughe,

For a Scott then durst not speake a word

Ffor hanging att a boughe.

‘The Earle of Anguish[1028], where art thou?

In my coate-armour thou shalt bee,

And thou shalt lead the forward

Thorow the English countrye.

XII

‘Take thee Yorke,’ then sayd the King,

‘In stead wheras it doth stand;

I’le make thy eldest sonne after thee

Heyre of all Northumberland.

XIII

‘The Earle of Buchan, where be yee?

In my coate-armour thou shalt bee;

The high Peak and all Darbyshire

I give it thee to thy fee.’

XIV

The famous Douglas then came in,

Saies, ‘What shall my meede bee?

And I will lead the vanward, lord,

Thorow the English countrye.’

‘Take thee Worster,’ sayd the King,

‘Tuxburye, Killingworth, Burton on Trent;

Doe thou not say another day

But I gave thee lands and rent.

XVI

‘Sir Richard of Edenborrow, where are yee?

A wise man in this warr!

I’le give thee Bristow and the shire

The time that wee come there.

XVII

‘Thou, my lord Nevill, where art thou?

Thou must in this warres bee;

I’le give thee Shrewsburye,’ saies the King,

‘And Coventrye faire and free.

XVIII

‘My lord of Hambleton[1029], where art thou?

Thou art of my kin full nye;

I’le give thee Lincolne and Lincolneshire,

And that’s enoughe for thee.’

XIX

By then came in William Douglas,

As breeme[1030] as any bore;

He kneelèd him downe upon his knees,

In his heart he sighèd sore.

‘I have servèd you, my lovelye liege,

This thirty winters and four,

And in the Scottish Marches

Have beene wounded and beaten sore.

XXI

‘For all the good service that I have done,

What now shall my meed bee?

And I will lead the vanward

Thorow the English countrye.’

XXII

‘Now aske on, Douglas,’ said the King,

‘And granted it shall bee.’--

‘Why then, I aske litle London,’ saies Douglas,

‘Gotten gif that it bee.’

XXIII

The King was wroth, and rose away,

Saies, ‘Nay, that cannot bee!

For that I will keepe for my cheefe chamber,

Gotten gif that it bee.

XXIV

‘But take thee North Wales and Weschester,

The countrye all round about,

And rewarded thou shalt bee,

Of that take thou noe doubt.’

XXV

Five score knights he made on a day,

And dubb’d them with his hands;

Rewarded them right worthilye

With the townes in merry England.

XXVI

And when the fresh knights they were made,

To battell they buske[1031] them bowne[1032];

Jamès Douglas he went before,

And he thought to have wonnen him shoone.

XXVII

But they were mett in a morning of May

With the comminaltye of litle England;

But there scapèd never a man away,

Through the might of Christès hand.

XXVIII

But all onely Jamès Douglas;

In Durham in the ffeild

An arrow stroke him in the thye;

Fast flinges he towards the King.

XXIX

The King looked toward litle Durham,

Saies, ‘All things is not weel!

For James Douglas beares an arrow in his thye,

The head of it is of steele.

XXX

‘How now, James?’ then said the King,

‘How now, how may this bee?

And where beene all thy merrymen

That thou tooke hence with thee?’

XXXI

‘But cease, my King,’ saies James Douglas,

‘Alive is not left a man!’

‘Now by my faith,’ saies the King of Scotts,

‘That gate was evil gone.

XXXII

‘But I’le revenge thy quarrell well,

And of that thou may be fain;

For one Scott will beate five Englishmen,

If they meeten them on the plaine.’

XXXIII

‘Now hold your tongue,’ saies James Douglas,

‘For in faith that is not soe;

For one English man is worth five Scotts,

When they meeten together thoe[1033].

XXXIV

‘For they are as eager men to fight

As a faulcon upon a prey;

Alas! if ever they winne the vanward,

There scapes noe man away.’

XXXV

‘O peace thy talking,’ said the King,

‘They bee but English knaves,

But shepards and millers both,

And priestès with their staves.’

XXXVI

The King sent forth one of his heralds of armes

To vew the Englishmen:

‘Be of good cheere,’ the herald said,

‘For against one we be ten.’

XXXVII

‘Who leads those lads?’ said the King of Scotts,

‘Thou herald, tell thou mee’:

The herald said, ‘The Bishop of Durham

Is captaine of that companye.

XXXVIII

‘For the Bishop hath spred the King’s banner,

And to battell he buskes him bowne’;

‘I sweare by St Andrewes bones,’ saies the King,

‘I’le rapp that priest on the crowne!’

XXXIX

The King look’d towards litle Durham,

And that hee well beheld,

That the Earle Percy was well arm’d,

With his battell-axe entred the feild.

The King look’d again towards litle Durham,

Four ancyents[1034] there saw he;

There were two standards, six in a valley,

He cold not see them with his eye.

XLI

My Lord of Yorke was one of them,

My Lord of Carlile was the other,

And my Lord Fitzwilliams,

The Bishop came with the other.

XLII

The Bishop of Durham commanded his men,

And shortlye he them bade,

That never a man shold goe to fight

Till he had served his God.

XLIII

Five hundred priests said mass that day

In Durham in the field,

And afterwards, as I hard say,

They bare both spear and shield.

XLIV

The Bishop orders himselfe to fight,

With his battell-axe in his hand;

He said, ‘This day now I will fight

As long as I can stand!’

XLV

‘And soe will I,’ sayd my Lord of Carlile,

‘In this faire morning gay’;

‘And soe will I,’ said my Lord Fitzwilliams,

‘For Mary, that mild may[1035].’

XLVI

Our English archers bent their bowes

Shortly and anon;

They shot over the Scottish oast

And scantly toucht a man.

XLVII

‘Hold downe your hands,’ sayd the Bishop of Durham,

‘My archers good and true’!

The second shootè that they shott,

Full sore the Scots it rue.

XLVIII

The Bishop of Durham spoke on hie,

That both partyes might heare:

‘Be of good cheere, my merrymen all,

They flyen and changen their cheere!’

XLIX

But as they saidden, see they didden,

They fell on heapès hie;

Our Englishmen laid on with their bowes,

As fast as they might drie.

The King of Scotts in a study stood

Amongst his companye;

An arrow stoke him thoro’ the nose,

And thoro’ his armorye.

The King went to a marsh-side

And light beside his steede;

He leanèd him downe on his swordhilts,

To let his nosè bleede.

LII

There follow’d him a yeaman of merry England,

His name was John of Coplande:

‘Yeeld thee, traytor!’ saies Coplande then,

‘Thy life lies in my hand.’

LIII

‘How shold I yeeld me,’ sayes the King,

‘And thou art noe gentleman?’--

‘Noe, by my troth,’ sayes Copland there,

‘I am but a poore yeaman.

LIV

‘What art thou better then I, Sir King?

Tell me if that thou can!

What art thou better then I, Sir King,

Now we be but man to man?’

The King smote angerly at Copland,

Angerly in that stonde;

Then Copland was a bold yeaman,

And bore the King to the ground.

LVI

He sett the King on a palfrey,

Himselfe upon a steede;

He tooke him by the bridle-rayne,

Towards London he can him lead.

LVII

And when to London that he came,

The King from Ffrance was come home,

And there unto the King of Scotts

He sayd these words anon.--

LVIII

‘How like you my shepards and my millers?

My priests with shaven crownes?’--

‘By my fayth, they are the sorest fighters

That ever I mett on the ground.

LIX

‘There was never a yeaman in merry England

But was worth a Scottish knight.’--

‘Ay, by my troth,’ said King Edward, and laughe,

‘For you fought all against the right.’

But now the prince of merry England,

Worthilye under his sheelde,

Hath taken captive the King of France,

At Poytiers in the field.

LXI

The prince did present his father

With the lovely King of France,

And forward of his journey he is gone:

God send us all good chance!

LXII

Sayd the King of Scots to the King of France,

‘Well met, brother, too soone!

Christ leeve that I had taken my way

Unto the court of Roome!’

LXIII

‘And soe wold I,’ said the King of France,

‘When I came over the streame,

That I had taken my journey

Unto Jerusalem!’

LXIV

Thus ends the battell of fair Durham,

In one morning of May;

The battells of Cressey and of Poytiers,

All within one monthes day.

LXV

Then was wealthe and welfare in merry England,

Solaces, game, and glee,

And every man loved other well,

And the King loved good yeomanrye.

LXVI

But God that made the grasse to growe,

And leaves on greenwoode tree,

Now save and keepe our noble King,

And maintaine good yeomanrye!

FOOTNOTES:

[1023] buskèd = dressed.

[1024] bowne = ready.

[1025] stounde = time.

[1026] leeve = dear, pleasant.

[1027] hansell = foretaste.

[1028] Anguish = Angus.

[1029] Hambleton = Hamilton.

[1030] breeme = fierce.

[1031] buske = addressed.

[1032] bowne = ready.

[1033] thoe = those.

[1034] ancyents = ensigns.

[1035] may = maiden.

_127. The Battle of Otterburn_

It fell about the Lammas tide

When husbands[1036] win their hay,

The doughty Douglas bound him to ride

In England to take a prey.

He has chosen the Graemes, and the Lindsays light,

And the gallant Gordons gay;

And the Earl of Fyfe withouten strife,

He’s bound him over Solwày.

III

They come in over Ottercap Hill,

So down by Rodeley Cragge;

Upon Green Leyton they lighted down

Styrande[1037] many a stagge.

And they have brent[1038] the dales of Tyne,

And harryed Bamborowe shire,

And the Otter Dale they have brent it hale[1039]

And left it a’ on fire.

Then spake a berne[1040] upon the bent[1041],

Of comfort that was not cold,

And said, ‘We have brent Northumberland,

We have all wealth in hold.

‘Now we have harryed all Bamborowe shire,

All the wealth in the world have we:

I rede[1042] we ryde to Newcastell

So still and stalworthlye.’

VII

Upon the morrow, when it was day,

The standards shone full bright;

To Newcastell they took the way,

And thither they came full right.

VIII

To Newcastell when that they came,

The Douglas cry’d on hyght:

‘Harry Percy, an thou bidest within,

Come to the field, and fight!--

‘For we have brent Northumberland,

Thy herytage good and right;

And syne my lodging I have ta’en,

With my brand dubb’d many a knight.’

Sir Harry Percy came to the walls

The Scottish host for to see,

Sayd, ‘An thou hast brent Northumberland,

Full sore it rueth me.

‘If thou hast haryed all Bamborowe shire,

Thou hast done me great envye;

For this trespasse thou hast me done

The tone[1043] of us shall die.’

XII

‘Where shall I bide thee?’ sayd the Douglas,

‘Or where wilt thou come to me?’--

‘But gae ye up to Otterbourne,

And wait there dayès three.

XIII

‘The roe full rekeles[1044] there she rins,

To make the game and glee;

The falcon and the phesant both,

To fend[1045] thy men and thee.

XIV

‘There may’st thou have thy wealth at will,

Well lodg’d thou there may’st be:

It shall not be long ere I come thee till[1046],’

Sayd Sir Harry Percy.

‘There shall I bide thee,’ sayd the Douglas,

‘By the faith of my bodye.’--

‘There shall I come,’ said Sir Harry Percy,

‘My troth I plight to thee.’

XVI

A pipe of wine over the wall,

He gave them [to their pay[1047]],

There he made the Douglas drinke,

And all his host that day.

XVII

The Douglas turn’d him homeward again,

[And rode withouten stay];

He pyght[1048] his standard at Otterbourne

Upon a Wedensday.

XVIII

And syne he warned his men to go

To choose their geldings grass;

[And he that had no man to send]

His own servant he was.

XIX

A Scottish knight hoved[1049] on the bent[1050]

At watch, I dare well say,

So was he ware of the noble Percy

In the dawning of the day.

He pryck’d to his pavilion[1051] door

As fast as he might run:

‘Awaken, Douglas!’ cried the knight,

‘For his sake that sits in throne!

XXI

‘Awaken, Douglas!’ cried the knight,

‘For thou mayst wake with wynne[1052]!

Yonder have I spied the proud Percy,

And seven standards with him.’

XXII

‘Now by my troth,’ the Douglas sayd,

‘It is but a faynèd[1053] tale!

He durst not look on my broad banner

[Were all England in] hail!

XXIII

‘Was I not yesterday at Newcastell

That stands so fair on Tyne?

For all the men the Percy had

He could not gar me to dine[1054].’

XXIV

He stepp’d out at his pavilion-door

To look an it were lease[1055]:

‘Array you, lordings, one and all!

For here begins no peace.

XXV

‘The Earl of Menteith, thou art my eme[1056],

The vaward[1057] I give to thee:

The Earl of Huntley, cante[1058] and keen,

Take him to go with thee.

XXVI

‘The Lord of Buchan, in armure bright,

On the other side he shall be;

Lord Johnstone and Lord Maxwell

They two shall go with me.

XXVII

‘Swynton, fair fall upon your pride!

To battle make you bowne[1059].--

Sir Davy Scott, Sir Walter Steward,

Sir John of Agerstone!’

XXVIII

The Percy came before his host,

He was ever a gentil knight:

Upon the Douglas loud can he cry

‘I will hold that I have hyght[1060].’

XXIX

‘For thou hast brent Northumberland,

And done me great envye,

For this trespasse thou hast me done

The tone of us shall die.’

XXX

The Douglas answer’d him again

With great words upon hie,

And sayd, ‘I have twenty against thy one:

Behold, and thou mayst see!’

XXXI

With that the Percy was grievèd sore,

Forsooth as I you say:

He lighted down upon his foot

And schoote[1061] his horse away.

XXXII

Every man saw that he did so,

That ryal was ever in rowghte[1062]:

Every man schoote his horse him fro

And lighted him round about.

XXXIII

Sir Harry Percy took the field

Even thus, as I you say;

Jesus Christe in hevyn on height

Did help him well that day.

XXXIV

But nine thousand, there was no more--

The chronicle will not layne[1063]--

Forty thousand of Scots and four

That day fought them again[1064].

XXXV

But when the battel began to join,

In haste there came a knight;

And letters fair forth hath he ta’en,

And thus he sayd full right:

XXXVI

‘My lord your father greets you well,

With many a noble knight;

He doth desire you now to bide,

That he may see this fight.

XXXVII

‘The Baron of Graystoke is out of the west

With a noble companye:

All they lodge at your father’s this night,

And the battel fayn would they see.’

XXXVIII

‘For Jesus’ love,’ sayd Sir Harry Percy,

‘That died for you and me,

Wend to my lord my father agayn,

Say thou saw me not with thee.

XXXIX

‘My troth is plight to yon Scottish knight,

--It nede’s me not to layne--

That I should bide him upon this bent,

And I have his troth agayn.

‘And if that I wend off this growende[1065],

Forsooth, unfoughten away,

He would call me but a coward knight

In his land another day.

XLI

‘Yet had I liefer be rynde[1066] and rent,

--By Mary, that mickle may[1067]!--

Than ever my manhood be reproved

With a Scot another day.

XLII

‘Wherefore shoot, archers, for my sake!

And let sharp arrows flee.

Minstrels, play up for your waryson[1068]!

And well quit it shall be.

XLIII

‘Every man thynke on his true-love,

And mark him to the Trinitye:

For unto God I make mine avowe

This day will I not flee.’

XLIV

The blodye herte in the Douglas arms

His standard stood on hie,

That every man might full wel knowe;

Bysyde stood starrès three.

XLV

The white lion on the English part,

Forsooth as I you sayn,

The lucettes[1069] and the cressants both

The Scot fought them again.

XLVI

Upon Seynt Andrewe loud can they crye,

And thrice they showt on hyght,

Syne mark’d them on our English men,

As I have told you right.

XLVII

Seynt George the bryght, Our Ladye’s knyght,

To name they were full fayne;

Our English men they cry’d on hyght,

And thrice they shot agayne.

XLVIII

With that sharp arrows began to flee,

I tell you in certayne:

Men of arms began to joyne,

Many a doughty man was slayne.

XLIX

The Percy and the Douglas met

That either of other was fayne;

They swapp’d[1070] together while they swet[1071]

With swords of fyne Collayne[1072]:

Until the blood from their bassonets[1073] ran

As the roke[1074] doth in the rayne;

‘Yield thou to me,’ sayd the Douglas,

‘Or elles thou shall be slayne.

‘For I see by thy bryght bassonet

Thou art some man of myght:

And so I do by thy burnysh’d brand,

Thou’rt an earl or elles a knyght.’

LII

‘By my good faith,’ said the noble Percye,

‘Now hast thou rede full ryght;

Yet will I never yield me to thee,

While I may stand and fyght.’

LIII

They swapp’d together, while that they swet,

With swordès sharp and long;

Each on other so fast they bette[1075],

Their helms came in pieces down.

LIV

The Percy was a man of strength,

I tell you in this stounde[1076]:

He smote the Douglas at the sword’s length

That he fell to the grounde.

The Douglas call’d to his little foot-page,

And sayd, ‘Run speedilye,

And fetch my ain dear sister’s son,

Sir Hugh Montgomery.

LVI

‘My nephew good,’ the Douglas sayd,

‘What recks the death of ane?

Last night I dream’d a dreary dream,

And I ken the day’s thy ain.

LVII

‘My wound is deep: I am fayn to sleep,

Take thou the vaward of me,

And hide me by the bracken bush

Grows on yon lilye-lee.’

LVIII

He has lifted up that noble lord

With the saut tears in his e’e;

He has hidden him in the bracken bush

That his merry men might not see.

LIX

The standards stood still on eke side;

With many a grievous groan

They fought that day, and all the night;

Many a doughtye man was slone.

The morn was clear, the day drew nie,

--Yet stiffly in stowre[1077] they stood;

Echone hewing another while they might drie,

Till aye ran down the blood.

LXI

The Percy and Montgomery met

That either of other was fayn:

They swappèd swords, and they two met

Till the blood ran down between.

LXII

‘Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy,’ he said,

‘Or I vow I’le lay thee low!’

‘To whom shall I yield?’ said Earl Percy,

‘Now I see it maun be so.’--

LXIII

‘Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun,

Nor yet shalt thou to me;

But yield thee to the bracken bush

Grows on yon lilye-lee.’--

LXIV

‘I winna yield to a bracken bush,

Nor yet I will to a brere[1078];

But I would yield to Earl Douglas,

Or Montgomery if he was here.’

LXV

As soon as he knew Montgomery,

He stuck his sword’s point in ground;

The Montgomery was a courteous knight,

And quickly took him by the hand.

LXVI

There was slayne upon the Scottès’ side,

For sooth and certaynlye,

Sir James a Douglas there was slayne,

That day that he cou’d dye.

LXVII

The Earl of Menteith he was slayne,

And gryselye[1079] groan’d on the groun’;

Sir Davy Scott, Sir Walter Steward,

Sir John of Agerstone.

LXVIII

Sir Charlès Murray in that place

That never a foot would flee;

Sir Hew Maxwell, a lord he was,

With the Douglas did he dee.

LXIX

There was slayne upon the Scottès’ side

For sooth as I you say,

Of four and fifty thousand Scottes

Went but eighteen away.

LXX

There was slayne upon the English side

For sooth and certaynlye,

A gentle Knight, Sir John Fitzhughe,

It was the more pitye.

LXXI

Sir James Hardbotell there was slayne,

For him their heartes were sore;

The gentle Lovell there was slayne,

That the Percy’s standard bore.

LXXII

There was slayne upon the English part

For sooth as I you say,

Of ninè thousand English men

Five hundred came away.

LXXIII

The others slayne were in the field;

Christ keep their souls from woe!

Seeing there was so fewè friends

Against so many a foe.

LXXIV

Then on the morn they made them bieres

Of birch and hazell gray:

Many a widow with weeping teares

Their makes[1080] they fette[1081] away.

LXXV

This fray was fought at Otterbourne,

Between the night and the day;

Earl Douglas was buried at the bracken bush,

And the Percy led captive away.

LXXVI

Now let us all for the Percy pray

To Jesu most of might,

To bring his soul to the bliss of heaven,

For he was a gentle knight.

FOOTNOTES:

[1036] husbands = husbandmen.

[1037] Styrande = stirring, rousing.

[1038] brent = burned.

[1039] hale = whole.

[1040] berne = fighting-man.

[1041] bent = coarse grass.

[1042] rede = counsel.

[1043] tone = one of two.

[1044] rekeles = reckless, wild.

[1045] fend = provide for.

[1046] till = to.

[1047] pay = satisfaction.

[1048] pyght = pitched.

[1049] hoved = abode.

[1050] bent = grass.

[1051] pavilion = tent.

[1052] wynne = joy.

[1053] faynèd = feigned.

[1054] gar me to dine = give me my fill, entertain me (at fighting).

[1055] lease = leasing, falsehood.

[1056] eme = uncle.

[1057] vaward = vanguard.

[1058] cante = spirited.

[1059] bowne = ready.

[1060] that I have hyght = what I have promised.

[1061] schoote = thrust, sent quickly.

[1062] ryal in rowghte = royal in rout, a king amongst men.

[1063] layne = conceal.

[1064] them again = against them.

[1065] growende = ground.

[1066] rynde = riven, or flayed.

[1067] mickle may = mighty maid.

[1068] waryson = reward.

[1069] lucettes = luces, pikes (heraldic).

[1070] swapp’d = smote.

[1071] swet = sweated.

[1072] Collayne = Cologne steel.

[1073] bassonets = steel skull-caps.

[1074] roke = reek, mist.

[1075] bette = beat.

[1076] stounde = time.

[1077] stowre = press of battle.

[1078] brere = briar.

[1079] gryselye = in a grisly manner, terribly.

[1080] makes = mates.

[1081] fette = fetched.

_128. Chevy Chase_

_Fytte I_

The Percy out of Northumberland,

An avow to God made he

That he would hunt in the mountains

Of Cheviot within days three,

In the maugre[1082] of doughty Douglas,

And all that e’er with him be.

The fattest harts in all Cheviot

He would kill and carry away.--

‘By my faith,’ said the doughty Douglas again,

‘I will let[1083] that hunting if I may!’

III

Then the Percy out of Banborowe came,

With him a mighty meinye[1084],

With fifteen hundred archers bold

Chosen out of shirès three.

This began on a Monday at morn,

In Cheviot the hills so hye;

The child may rue that is unborn,

It was the more pitye.

The drivers through the woodès went

[All] for to raise the deer,

Bowmen bicker’d[1085] upon the bent[1086]

With their broad arrows clear.

Then the wild[1087] thoro’ the woodès went

On every sidè shear[1088];

Greyhounds thoro’ the grevès[1089] glent[1090]

For to kill their deer.

VII

This began on Cheviot the hills abune

Early on a Monenday;

By that it drew to the hour of noon

A hundred fat harts dead there lay.

VIII

They blew a mort[1091] upon the bent,

They ’sembled on sidès shear;

To the quarry[1092] then the Percy went

To the brittling[1093] 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

Lookèd at his hand full nigh;

He was ware o’ the doughty Douglas coming,

With him a great meinye.

Both with speär, bill and brand,--

’Twas a mighty sight to see;

Hardier men both of heart nor hand

Were not in Christiantè.

XII

They were twenty hundred spearmen good,

Withouten any fail:

They were born along by the water o’ Tweed

I’ the boun’s[1094] o’ Teviotdale.

XIII

‘Leave off the brittling of deer,’ he said;

‘To your bows look ye take good heed,

For sith ye were on your mothers born

Had ye never so mickle need.’

XIV

The doughty Douglas on a steed

Rode all his men beforn,

His armour glitter’d as did a gleed[1095],

Bolder bairn[1096] was never born.

‘Tell me whose men ye are,’ he says,

‘Or whose men that ye be;

Who gave you leave in this Cheviot chase

In the spite of mine and of me?’

XVI

The first man that him answer made

It was the good Lord Percye:

‘We will not tell thee whose men we are,

Nor whose men that we be;

But we will hunt here in this chase

In the spite of thine and of thee.

XVII

‘The fattest harts in all Cheviot

We have kill’d, to carry away.’--

‘By my troth,’ said the doughty Douglas again,

‘The one of us dies this day.

XVIII

‘[Yet] to kill allè these guiltless men

Alas, it were great pitye!

But, Percy, thou art a lord of land,

I an earl in my countrye--

Let all our men on a party[1097] stand,

And do battle of thee and me!’

XIX

‘Christ’s curse on his crown,’ said the lord Percye,

‘Whosoever thereto says nay!

By my troth, thou doughty Douglas,’ he says,

‘Thou shalt never see that day--

--‘Neither in England, Scotland nor France,

Nor for no man of woman born,

But, that (and fortune be my chance)

I dare meet him, one man for one.’

XXI

Then bespake a squire of Northumberland,

Richard Witherington was his name;

‘It shall never be told in South England

To King Harry the Fourth for shame.

XXII

‘I wot you bin great lordès two,

I am a poor squire of land;

[Yet] I’ll ne’er see my captain fight on a field

And stand myself and look on.

But while that I may my weapon wield

I’ll not fail, both heart and hand.’

XXIII

That day, that day, that dreadful day!--

The first fytte[1098] here I find:

An you’ll hear any more o’ the hunting of Cheviot,

Yet there is more behind.

_Fytte II_

XXIV

The Englishmen had their bows y-bent,

Their hearts were good enow;

The first of arrows that they shot off

Seven score spearmen they slew.

XXV

Yet bides the Earl Douglas upon the bent,

A captain good enoghe;

And that was seenè verament,

For he wrought them both woe and wouche[1099].

XXVI

The Douglas parted his host in three,

Like a chief chieftain of pride;

With surè spears of mighty tree[1100]

They came in on every side;

XXVII

--Throughè our English archery

Gave many a woond full wide;

Many a doughty[1101] they gar’d to dye,

Which gainèd them no pride.

XXVIII

The Englishmen let their bowès be,

And pull’d out brands that were bright;

It was a heavy sight to see

Bright swords on basnets[1102] light.

XXIX

Thoro’ rich mail and manoplie[1103]

Many stern[1104] they struck down straight;

Many a freyke[1105] that was full free

There under foot did light.

XXX

At last the Douglas and the Percy met,

Like to captains of might and of main;

They swapt[1106] together till they both swat[1107]

With swordès of fine Milan.

XXXI

These worthy freykès for to fight

Thereto they were full fain,

Till the blood out of their basnets sprent[1108]

As ever did hail or rain.

XXXII

‘Yield thee, Percy,’ said the Douglas,

‘And i’ faith I shall thee bring

Where thou shalt have an Earl’s wages

Of Jamie our Scottish king.

XXXIII

‘Thou shaltè have thy ransom free,

--I hight[1109] thee here this thing;

For the manfullest man thou art that e’er

I conquer’d in field fighting.’

XXXIV

But ‘Nay’, then said the lord Percye,

‘I told it thee beforn

That I would never yielded be

To man of a woman born.’

XXXV

With that an arrow came hastily

Forth of a mighty wane[1110];

And it hath stricken the Earl Douglas

In at the breastè-bane.

XXXVI

Thoro’ liver and lungès both

The sharp arròw is gone,

That never after in his life-days

He spake mo words but one:

’Twas, ‘Fight ye, my merry men, whiles ye may,

For my life-days bin gone!’

XXXVII

The Percy leanèd on his brand

And saw the Douglas dee;

He took the dead man by the hand,

And said, ‘Woe is me for thee!

XXXVIII

‘To have sav’d thy life I’d have parted with

My lands for yearès three,

For a better man of heart nor of hand

Was not in the north countrye.’

XXXIX

[All this there saw] a Scottish knight,

Sir Hugh the Montgomerye:

When he saw Douglas to the death was dight[1111],

Through a hundred archerye

He never stint[1112] nor he never blint[1113]

Till he came to the lord Percye.

He set upon the lord Percỳ

A dint[1114] that was full sore;

With a surè spear of a mighty tree

Thro’ the body him he bore,

O’ the t’other side that a man might see

A large cloth-yard and more.

XLI

An archer of Northumberland

Saw slain was the lord Percye:

He bare a bent bow in his hand,

Was made of a trusty tree.

XLII

An arrow that was a cloth-yard long

To the hard steel halèd[1115] he,

A dint that was both sad and sair

He set on Montgomerye.

XLIII

The dint it was both sad and sair

That he on Montgomerye set;

The swan-feathers that his arrow bare

With his heart-blood they were wet.

XLIV

There was never a freykè one foot would flee,

But still in stoure[1116] did stand;

Hewing on each other, while they might dree[1117],

With many a baleful brand.

XLV

This battle began in Cheviot

An hour before the noon,

And when the even-song bell was rung

The battle was not half done.

XLVI

They took [their stand] on either hand

By the [lee][1118] light of the moon;

Many had no strength for to stand

In Cheviot the hills abune.

XLVII

Of fifteen hundred archers of England

Went away but seventy-and-three;

Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland

But even five-and-fiftỳ.

XLVIII

There was slain with the bold Percye

Sir John of Agerstoune,

Sir Roger, the hendè[1119] Hartley,

Sir William, the bold Herone.

XLIX

Sir George, the worthy Loumlye,

A knight of great renown,

Sir Ralph, the richè Rabye,

With dints were beaten down.

For Witherington my heart was woe

That ever he slain should be:

For when both his legs were hewn in two

Yet he kneel’d and fought on his knee.

There was slayn with the doughty Douglas

Sir Hugh the Montgomerye,

Sir Davy Lambwell, that worthy was,

His sister’s son was he.

LII

Sir Charles a Murray in that place,

That never a foot would flee:

Sir Hew Maxwell, a lord he was,

With the Douglas did he dee.

LIII

So on the morrow they made them biers

Of birch and hazel so gray;

Many widows with weeping tears

Came to fetch their makes[1120] away.

LIV

Teviotdale may carp[1121] of care,

Northumberland may make moan,

For two such captains as slain were there

On the March-parts shall never be none.

Word is come to Edinboro’,

To Jamie the Scottish King,

Earl Douglas, lieutenant of the Marches,

Lay slain Cheviot within.

LVI

His hands the King did weal[1122] and wring,

Said, ‘Alas! and woe is me!

Such another captain Scotland within

I’ faith shall never be!’

LVII

Word is come to lovely London,

To the fourth Harry, our King,

Lord Percy, lieutenant of the Marches,

Lay slain Cheviot within.

LVIII

‘God have mercy on his soul,’ said King Harry,

‘Good Lord, if thy will it be!

I’ve a hundred captains in England,’ he said,

‘As good as ever was he:

But Percy, an I brook[1123] my life,

Thy death well quit shall be.’

LIX

And as our King made his avow

Like a noble prince of renown,

For Percy he did it well perform

After, on Homble-down;

Where six-and-thirty Scottish knights

On a day were beaten down;

Glendale[1124] glitter’d on their armour bright

Over castle, tower and town.

LXI

This was the Hunting of the Cheviot;

That e’er began this spurn[1125]!

Old men, that knowen the ground well,

Call it of Otterburn.

LXII

There was never a time on the Marche-partès

Since the Douglas and Percy met,

But ’tis marvel an the red blood run not

As the reane[1126] does in the street.

LXIII

Jesu Christ! our balès[1127] bete[1128],

And to the bliss us bring!

This was the Hunting of the Cheviot:

God send us all good endìng!

FOOTNOTES:

[1082] maugre = despite.

[1083] let = hinder.

[1084] meinye = company.

[1085] bicker’d = attacked, skirmished.

[1086] bent = rough grass.

[1087] wild = game, deer.

[1088] shear = several.

[1089] grevès = groves.

[1090] glent = glanced, darted.

[1091] mort = death of the deer.

[1092] quarry = dead game.

[1093] brittling = cutting up.

[1094] boun’s = boundaries.

[1095] gleed = live coal.

[1096] bairn = fighting man.

[1097] on a party = apart.

[1098] fytte = division of a ballad.

[1099] wouche = evil.

[1100] tree = timber.

[1101] doughty = doughty man.

[1102] basnets = steel caps.

[1103] manoplie = long gauntlet.

[1104] stern = stern men, warriors.

[1105] freyke = bold fellow.

[1106] swapt = smote.

[1107] swat = sweated.

[1108] sprent = spurted.

[1109] hight = promise.

[1110] wane = host, multitude.

[1111] dight = done, doomed.

[1112] stint = stayed.

[1113] blint = stopped.

[1114] dint = stroke, lunge.

[1115] halèd = pulled.

[1116] stoure = press of battle.

[1117] dree = endure.

[1118] lee = fair, bright.

[1119] hendè = courteous, gentle.

[1120] makes = mates.

[1121] carp = talk.

[1122] weal = clench.

[1123] brook = retain.

[1124] Glendale = one of the six ‘wards’ of Northumberland. Homildon

was here.

[1125] spurn = fray(?).

[1126] reane = gutter.

[1127] balès = woes.

[1128] bete = better, relieve.

_129. Northumberland Betrayed by Douglas_

Now list and lithe, you gentlemen,

And I’st tell you the veretye,

How they have dealt with a banish’d man,

Driven out of his owne countrye.

When as he came on Scottish ground,

As woe and wonder be them amonge!

Full much was there traitorye

They wrought the Erle of Northumberland.

III

When they were at the supper set,

Before many goodly gentlemen,

They fell a flouting and mocking both,

And said to the Erle of Northumberland:

‘What makes you be soe sad, my lord,

And in your mind soe sorrowfullye?

In the north to-morrow there is a shooting,

And thither thou’st goe, my Lord Percye.

‘The buttes are sett, and the shooting is made,

And there is like to be great royaltye,

And I am sworne into my bill[1129]

Thither to bring my Lord Percye.’

‘I’le give thee my hand, Douglas,’ he says,

‘And by the faith in my bodye,

If that thou wilt ryde to the worldis end,

Then I’le ryde in thy companye.’

VII

And then bespake the good ladye,

Mary a Douglas was her name:

‘You shall byde here, good English lord;

My brother is a traitorous man.

VIII

‘He is a traitor stout and stronge,

As I’st tell you the veretye;

For he hath ta’en ’liverance of the Erle,

And into England he will ‘liver thee.’--

‘Now hold thy tongue, thou goodly ladye,

Now all this talking let a-bee;

For all the gold that’s in Lough Leven,

William wo’ld not ’liver mee.

‘It wo’ld breake truce betweene England and Scottland,

And freinds againe they wo’ld never bee,

If he sho’ld ‘liver a banisht erle,

Was driven out of his owne countrye.’--

‘Hold your tounge, my lord,’ she sayes,

‘There is much falsehood them amonge;

Soone they will part them freinds againe,

When you are dead, then they are done.

XII

‘If you will give me any trust, my lord,

I’le tell you how you best may bee;

You’st let my brother ryde his wayes,

And tell those English lords, trulye,

XIII

‘How that you cannot with them ryde,

Because you are in an isle of the sea;

Then, ere my brother come againe,

To Edenborrow castle I’le carry thee.

XIV

‘I’le ’liver you unto the Lord Hume,

And you know a trew Scothe lord is hee,

For he hath lost both land and goods

In ayding of your good bodye.’--

‘Marry, I am woe, woman,’ he sayes,

‘That any friend fares worse for me;

For where one saith it is a true tale,

Then two will say it is a lee.

XVI

‘When that I was at home in my realme,

Amonge my tennants all trulye,

In my time of losse, wherin my need stoode,

They came to ayd me honestlye.

XVII

‘Therefore I left a many a child fatherlese,

And many a widdow to looke wanne;

Therefore do thou blame nothing, ladye,

But the woeffull warres which I began.’--

XVIII

‘If you will give me noe trust, my lord,

Nor noe credence you will give mee,

An you’le come hither to my right hand,

Indeed, my lord, I’le let you see,’--

XIX

Says, ‘I never loved noe witchcraft,

Nor never dealt with treacherye,

But evermore held the hye way;

Alas, that may be seene by mee!’--

‘If you will not come your selfe, my lord,

You’le lett your chamberlaine goe with me,

Three words that I may to him speake,

And soone he shall come againe to thee.’

XXI

When James Swynard came that lady before,

She let him see thro’ the weme[1130] of her ring

How many there was of English lords

To wayte[1131] there for his master and him.

XXII

‘But who beene yonder, my good ladye,

That walkes soe royallye on yond greene?’--

‘Yond is Lord Hunsden, Jamye,’ she sayd,

‘Alas, he’le doe you both tree and teene[1132]!’--

XXIII

‘And who beene yonder, thou gay ladye,

That walkes soe royallye him beside?’--

‘Yond’s Sir William Drurye, Jamye,’ she sayd,

‘And a keene captain he is, and tryde.’--

XXIV

‘How many miles is’t, thou good ladye,

Betwixt yond English lord and mee?’--

‘Marry, thrice fifty mile, Jamye,’ she sayd,

‘And even to sayle and by the sea.

XXV

‘I never was on English ground,

Nor never see it with mine eye,

But as my wit and wisedome serves,

And as the booke it telleth mee.

XXVI

‘My mother, she was a witch woman,

And part of it she learnèd mee;

She wo’ld let me see out of Lough Leven

What they dyd in London citye.’--

XXVII

‘But who is yond, thou good ladye,

Comes yonder with an osterne[1133] face?’

‘Yond’s Sir John Forster, Jamye,’ she sayd;

‘Alas! he’ll do ye sore disgrace.’

XXVIII

He pulled his hat downe over his eyes,

And, Lord, he wept soe tenderlye!

He is gone unto his master againe,

And even to tell him the veretye.

XXIX

‘Now hast thou beene with Mary,’ he sayd,

‘Even as thy tounge will tell to mee;

But if thou trust any woman’s words,

Thou must refraine good companye.’

XXX

‘It is noe words, my lord,’ he sayes;

‘Yonder the men she lets me see,

How many English lords there is

Is wayting there for you and mee.

XXXI

‘Yonder I see the Lord Hunsden,

And he and you is of third degree[1134];

A greater enemye, indeed, my Lord,

In England never a one have yee.’--

XXXII

‘And I have beene in Lough Leven

The most part of these yeerès three:

Yet had I never noe out-rake[1135],

Nor good gamès that I co’ld see.

XXXIII

‘And I am thus bidden to yonder shooting

By William Douglas all trulye;

Therfore speake never a word of thy mouth

That thou thinkès will hinder me.’

XXXIV

Then he writhe the gold ring of his fingar

And gave it to that gay ladye;

Sayes, ‘That was a legacye left unto mee

In Harley woods where I co’ld bee.’--

XXXV

‘Then ffarewell hart, and farewell hand,

And ffarwell all good companye!

That woman shall never beare a sonne

Shall know soe much of your privitye.’--

XXXVI

‘Now hold thy tongue, ladye,’ he sayde,

‘And make not all this dole for me,

For I may well drinke, but I’st never eate,

Till ance againe in Lough Leven I bee.’

XXXVII

He tooke his boate at the Lough Leven,

For to sayle now over the sea,

And he hath cast up a silver wand,

Says, ‘Fare thou well, my good ladye!’

The ladye looked owre her left sholder;

In a dead swoone there down fell she.

XXXVIII

‘Goe backe againe, Douglas!’ he sayd,

‘And I will goe in thy companye;

For sudden sicknesse yonder lady has tane,

And ever, alas, she will but dye!

XXXIX

‘If ought come to yonder ladye but good,

Then blamèd sore that I shall bee,

Because a banish’d man I am,

And driven out of my owne countrye.’--

‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes,

‘And all such talking let a-bee;

There’s ladyes enow left in Lough Leven

For to cheere yonder gay ladye.’

XLI

‘An you will not goe your selfe, my lord,

You will lett my chamberlaine go with mee;

We shall now take our boate againe,

And soone wee shall overtake thee.’--

XLII

‘Come on, come on, my lord,’ he sayes,

‘And all this talking now let a-bee;

For my sister is craftye enoughe

For to beguile thousands such as you and mee.’

XLIII

When they had saylèd fifty myle,

Now fifty myle upon the sea,

Hee asked, ‘How ffarr is it to that shooting

That William Douglas promised me?’--

XLIV

‘Now faire words makès foolès faine,

And that may be seene by thy master and thee;

For happen you’ll think it soone enoughe

Whenever you that shooting see.’

XLV

Jamye pulled his hat now over his browe,

I wot the teares fell in his e’e;

And he is to his master againe,

And for to tell him the veretye.

XLVI

‘He says fayre words makes foolès faine,

And that may be seene by you and mee,

For happen we’ll thinke it soone enoughe

Whenever we that shooting see.’

XLVII

‘Hold upp thy head, Jamye,’ the Erle sayd,

‘And never let thy hart fayle thee;

He did it but to prove thee with,

And see how thow wo’ld take with death trulye.’

XLVIII

When they had sayl’d other fifty mile,

Other fifty mile upon the sea,

Lord Percye called to him, himselfe,

Sayd, ‘Douglas, what wilt thou doe with mee?’

XLIX

‘Looke that your brydle be wight[1136], my lord,

That you may goe as a shipp at sea;

Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe,

That you may pricke her while she’le awaye.’

‘What needeth this, Douglas,’ he sayth,

‘That thou needest to ffloutè mee?

For I was counted a horsseman good

Before that ever I met with thee.

‘A ffalsè Hector hath my horsse,

And ever an evill death may hee dye!

And Willye Armestronge hath my spurres

And all the geere belongs to mee.’

LII

When they had sayled other fifty mile,

Other fifty mile upon the sea,

They landed low by Berwicke-side;

[Soe Douglas betray’d the] Lord Percye.

FOOTNOTES:

[1129] into my bill = on paper, in writing.

[1130] weme = inward.

[1131] wayte = wait in ambush.

[1132] tree and teene = injury and grief.

[1133] osterne = austere.

[1134] of third degree = third cousins.

[1135] out-rake = holiday.

[1136] wight = strong.

_130. Sir Andrew Barton_

As it befel in midsummer-time,

When birds singe sweetlye on every tree,

Our noble king, King Henry the Eighth,

Over the river of Thames pass’d he.

He was no sooner over the river,

Downe in a forrest to take the ayre,

But eighty merchants of London citye

Came kneeling before King Henry there.

III

‘O ye are welcome, rich merchànts,

Good saylers, welcome unto me!’

They swore by the rood they were saylers good,

But rich merchànts they co’ld not be.

‘To France nor Flanders dare we not passe,

Nor Bourdeaux voyage we dare not fare,

All for a false robber that lyes on the seas,

And robbs us of our merchants-ware.’

King Henry was stout, and he turned him about,

And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might

‘I thought he’d not been in the world throughout

That durst have wrought England such unright.’

But ever they sighèd, and said, alas!

Unto King Harry this answer againe:

‘He is a proud Scott that will robb us all

Were we twenty shipps and he but one.’

VII

The King looket over his left shouldèr,

Amongst his lords and barrons so free:

‘Have I never a lord in all my realme

Will fetch yond traitor unto me?’

VIII

‘Yes, that dare I!’ says my lord Charles Howard,

Neere to the King wheras he did stand,

‘If that Your Grace will give me leave,

My self will perform what you command.’

‘Thou shalt have six hundred men,’ saith our King,

‘And chuse them out of my realme so free;

[Moreover] mariners and ship boyes,

To guide the great ship on the sea.’

‘I’le goe speake with Sir Andrew,’ says my Lord Howard;

‘Upon the sea, if he be there;

I will bring him and his ship to shore,

Or before my prince I will ne’er come neere.’

The first of all my Lord did call,

A noble gunner he was one;

This man was three score yeares and ten,

And Peter Simon was his name.

XII

‘Peter,’ says he, ‘I must sayle to the sea,

To seek out an enemy; God be my speed!

Before all others I have chosen thee;

Of a hundred gunners thou’st be my head.’

XIII

‘My lord,’ says he, ‘if you’ve chosen me

Of a hundred gunners to be the head,

You may hang me at your maine-mast tree

If I miss my mark past three pence bread[1137].’

XIV

The next of all my lord he did call,

A noble bowman he was one;

In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne,

And William Horsley was his name.

‘Horsley,’ says he, ‘I must sayle to the sea,

To seek out an enemy; God be my speede!

Before all others I have chosen thee;

Of a hundred bowemen thou’st be my head.’

XVI

‘My lord,’ says he, ‘if you’ve chosen me

Of a hundred bowemen to be the head,

Hang me at your main-mast tree

If I miss my mark past twelve pence bread.’

XVII

With pikes, and gunnes, and bowmen bold,

This noble Howard is gone to the sea

On the day before Midsummer-even,

And out at Thames’ mouth saylèd they.

XVIII

They had not saylèd dayès three

Upon their journey they took in hand,

But there they met with a noble ship,

And stoutely made it both stay and stand.

XIX

‘Thou must tell me thy name,’ says Charles my lord Howard,

‘Or who thou art, or from whence thou came,

Yea, and where thy dwelling is,

To whom and where thy ship does belong.’

‘My name,’ says he, ‘is Henery Hunt,

With a pure hart and a penitent mind;

I and my ship they doe belong

Unto the New-castle that stands upon Tyne.’--

XXI

‘Now thou must tell me, Henery Hunt,

As thou hast saylèd by day and by night,

Hast thou not heard of a stout robbèr?

Men calls him Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.’

XXII

But ever he sighèd, and said, ‘Alas!

Full well, my lord, I know that wight;

He has robb’d me of my merchants-ware,

And I was his pris’ner but yesternight.

XXIII

‘As I was sayling upon the sea,

And a Bourdeaux voyage as I did fare,

He claspèd me to his archèborde[1138],

And robb’d me of all my merchants-ware.

XXIV

‘And I am a man both poor and bare,

Every man will have his own of me;

And I am bound towards London to fare,

To complain unto my prince Henrye.

XXV

‘That shall not need,’ says my Lord Howard;

‘If thou canst let me this robber see,

For every penny he hath taken thee fro’

Thou shall be rewarded a shilling,’ quoth he.

XXVI

‘Now God forfend,’ says Henery Hunt,

‘My lord, you sho’ld work so far amisse!

God keep you out of that traitor’s hands!

For you wot full little what man he is.

XXVII

‘He is brasse within, and steele without,

And beams he bears in his topcastle stronge;

His ship hath ordinance clean round about;

Besides, my lord, he is very well mann’d.

XXVIII

‘He hath a pinnace is dearlye dight[1139],

Saint Andrew’s cross, that is his guide[1140];

His pinnace bears nine-score men and more,

With fifteen cannons on every side.

XXIX

‘Were you twenty ships, and he but one,

Either in archbord or in hall[1141],

He wo’ld overcome you everye one,

An if his beams they doe down fall.’

XXX

‘This is cold comfort,’ says my Lord Howard,

‘To welcome a stranger thus to the sea;

I’le bring him and his ship to shore,

Or else into Scotland he shall carry me.’

XXXI

‘Then, my lord, you must get a noble gunner;

One that can set well with his e’e,

And sink his pinnace into the sea,

And soon then overcome will he be.

XXXII

‘And when that you have done all this,

If you chance Sir Andrew for to board,

Let no man to his topcastle go;

And I will give you a glass[1142], my lord,

XXXIII

‘And then you need to fear no Scot,

Whether you sayle by day or by night;

And to-morrow, by seven of the clocke,

You shall meete with Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.’

XXXIV

The merchant set Lord Howard a glass

So well apparent in his sight

That on the morrow by seven of the clock

He spy’d Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.

XXXV

Lord Howard he swore a mighty oath

When he saw his hache-bords dearly dight;

‘Now by my faith and by my troth,

Yonder proud Scott is a worthy wight.

XXXVI

‘Take in your ancients[1143] and your standards,

Yea, that no man shall them see,

And put me forth a white willow wand,

As merchants use to sayle the sea.’

XXXVII

But they stirr’d[1144] neither top nor mast,

But Sir Andrew they passèd by.--

‘What English are yonder,’ said Sir Andrew,

‘That can[1145] so little curtesye?

XXXVIII

‘I have been admiral over the sea

[Methinketh] more then these yeeres three;

There is never an English nor Portingall dog,

Can pass this way without leave of me.

XXXIX

‘But now yonder pedlars, they are pass’d,

Which is no little grief to me:

Fetch them backe,’ sayes Sir Andrew Barton,

‘They shall all hang at my maine-mast tree.’

With that the pinnace it shot off,

That my Lord Howard might it well ken;

It strokè down my lord’s fore-màst,

And kill’d fourteen of my lord his men.

XLI

‘Come hither, Simon!’ says my Lord Howard,

‘Look that thy words be true thou said;

I’le hang thee at my maine-mast tree

If thou miss thy mark past three pence bread.’

XLII

Simon was old, but his hart it was bold;

He tooke downe a piece, and laid it full low;

Chaine yeards nine he put therein,

Besides other great shot less and moe.

XLIII

With that he let his gun-shot go;

So well he settled it with his e’e,

The first sight that Sir Andrew saw,

He saw his pinnace sunk in the sea.

XLIV

When Sir Andrew saw his pinnace sunk,

Lord! in his heart he was not well!

‘Cut my ropes! it is time to be gone!

I’le goe fetch yond pedlars back mysell!’

XLV

When my Lord Howard saw Sir Andrew loose,

Lord! in his heart that he was faine!

‘Strike on your drums! spread out your ancients!

Sound out your trumpets! sound out amain!’

XLVI

‘Fight on, my men!’ says Sir Andrew Barton;

‘Weate[1146], howsoever this geare[1147] will sway[1148],

It is my Lord Admiral of England

Is come to seek me on the sea.’

XLVII

Simon had a sone; with shot of a gun--

Well Sir Andrew might it ken--

He shot it in at the middle deck,

And killed sixty more of Sir Andrew’s men.

XLVIII

[Bold] Hunt came in at the other side,

And at Sir Andrew he shot then;

He drove down his fore-mast tree,

And kill’d eighty more of Sir Andrew’s men.

XLIX

‘I have done a good turne,’ sayes Henery Hunt;

‘Sir Andrew is not our King’s friend;

He hoped t’ have undone me yesternight,

But I hope I have quit him well in the end.’

‘Ever alas!’ sayd Sir Andrew Barton,

‘What sho’ld a man either thinke or say?

Yonder false thief is my strongest enemy,

Who was my prisoner but yesterday.

‘Come hither to me, thou Gourden good,

And be thou ready at my call,

And I will give thee three hundred pound

If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.’

LII

With that hee swarm’d[1149] the main-mast tree,

Soe did he it with might and maine;

But Horsley, with a bearing arrow[1150],

Stroke the Gourden through the braine.

LIII

And he fell into the hatches againe,

And sore of his wound that he did bleed;

Then word went through Sir Andrew’s men,

How that the Gourden he was dead.

LIV

‘Come hither to me, James Hamilton,

Thou’rt my sister’s son, I have no more;

I will give thee six hundred pound

If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.’

With that he swarm’d the main-mast tree,

Soe did he it with might and main:

Horsley, with another broad arrow,

Strake the yeaman thoro’ the brain.

LVI

That he fell downe to the hatches againe;

Sore of his wound that hee did bleed,

_Covetousness gets no gaine,

It is very true_, as the Welshman said.

LVII

But when he saw his nephew slaine,

Lord! in his heart he was not well!

‘Go fetch me downe my armour of proof,

For I will to the topcastle mysell.

LVIII

‘Go fetch me downe my armour of proof,

For it is gilded with gold so cleere;

God be with my brother, John of Barton!

Amongst the Portingalls he did it weare.’

LIX

But when he had his armour of proof,

And on his body he had it on,

Every man that lookèd at him

Said, Gun nor arrow he need fear none.

‘Come hither, Horsley!’ says my Lord Howard,

‘And look your shaft that it goe right;

Shoot a good shoote in the time of need,

And for thy shooting thou’st be made knight.’

LXI

‘I’le do my best,’ sayes Horsley then,

‘Your Honour shall see before I goe;

If I sho’ld be hang’d at your maine-mast tree,

I have in my ship but arrows two.’

LXII

But at Sir Andrew he shot then;

He made so sure to hit his mark;

Under the spole[1151] of his right arme

He smote Sir Andrew quite thro’ the heart.

LXIII

Yet from the tree he wo’ld not start,

But he cling’d to it with might and main;

Under the collar then of his jacke[1152],

He stroke Sir Andrew thoro’ the brain.

LXIV

‘Fight on, my men!’ says Sir Andrew Barton,

‘I am hurt, but I am not slain;

I’le lay me downe and bleed a-while,

And then I’le rise and fight again.

LXV

‘Fight on, my men!’ says Sir Andrew Barton,

‘These English dogs they bite so lowe;

Fight on for Scotland and Saint Andrew

While that you hear my whistle blowe!’

LXVI

But when they co’ld not hear his whistle,

Says Henery Hunt, ‘I’le lay my head

You may board yonder noble ship, my lord,

For I know Sir Andrew he is dead.’

LXVII

With that they boarded this noble ship,

So did they it with might and main;

They found eighteen score Scots alive,

Besides the rest were maim’d and slaine.

LXVIII

Lord Howard took a sword in his hand,

And so smote off Sir Andrew’s head;

The Scots stood by did weepe and mourne,

But never a word they spoke or sayd.

LXIX

He caused his body to be taken downe,

And over the hatch-bord cast into the sea,

And about his middle three hundred crownes:

‘Wheresoever thou lands, it will bury thee!’

LXX

With his head they sayl’d into England againe,

With right good will and force and main,

And on the day before New-Year’s Even

Into Thames’ mouth they came againe.

LXXI

Lord Howard wrote to King Henry’s grace,

With all the newes hee co’ld him bring:

‘Such a New Year’s gift I have brought to your Grace

As never did subject to any King.

LXXII

‘For merchandise, yea and manhood,

The like is nowhere to be found;

The sight of these wo’ld do you good,

For you have not the like in your English ground.’

LXXIII

When the King heard tell that they were come,

Full royally he welcomed them home;

Sir Andrew’s ship was his New-Year’s gift;

A braver ship you never saw none.

LXXIV

Now hath our King Sir Andrew’s ship,

Beset with pearles and precyous stones;

And now hath England two ships of war,

Two ships of war, before but one.

LXXV

‘Who holpe to this?’ says King Henrye,

‘That I may reward him for his paine.’--

‘Henery Hunt, and Peter Simon,

William Horsley, and I the same.’--

LXXVI

‘Harry Hunt shall have his whistle and chaine,

And all his jewels whatsoe’er they be,

And other rich gifts that I will not name,

For his good service he hath done me.

LXXVII

‘Horsley, right thou’st be a knight,

Lands and livings thou shalt have store;

Howard shall be Earl of Nottingham,

And so was never Howard before.

LXXVIII

‘Now, Peter Simon, thou art old;

I will maintaine thee and thy son;

Thou shalt have five hundred pound all in gold

For the good service that thou hast done.’

LXXIX

With that King Henrye shifted his room[1153];

In came the Queene and ladyes bright;

Other arrands they had none

But to see Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.

LXXX

But when they saw his deadly face,

His eyes were hollow in his head;

‘I wo’ld give a hundred pound,’ says his Grace,

‘The man were alive as he is dead!

LXXXI

‘Yet for the manful part he hath play’d,

Both here at home and beyond the sea,

His men shall have half-a-crowne a day

Till they come to my brother, King Jamie.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1137] three pence bread = the breadth of a threepenny piece.

[1138] archèborde = hatch-board.

[1139] dearlye dight = expensively fitted or ornamented.

[1140] guide = guidon, signal flag.

[1141] hall = hull.

[1142] glass = a lantern to guide the man-of-war’s course by the

merchantman’s.

[1143] ancients = ensigns.

[1144] stirr’d = moved, lowered.

[1145] can = ken, know.

[1146] Weate = wit ye, know.

[1147] geare = business, fighting.

[1148] sway = go, turn out.

[1149] swarm’d = climbed.

[1150] bearing arrow = a long arrow for distant shooting.

[1151] spole = shoulder, _épaule_.

[1152] jacke = jacket, short coat of mail.

[1153] shifted his room = made place.

_131. The ‘George-Aloe’_

The _George-Aloe_, and the _Sweepstake_, too,

_With hey, with hoe, for and a nony no,_

O, there were two Merchant-men, a sailing for Safee

_And alongst the Coast of Barbarye_.

The _George-Aloe_ came to anchor in the bay,

_With hey, &c._

But the jolly _Sweepstake_ kept on her way,

_And alongst, &c._

III

They had not sayl’d but leagues two or three,

_With hey, &c._

But they met with a French Man-of-War upon the Sea,

_And alongst, &c._

‘All haile, all haile, you lusty Gallants all!

_With hey, &c._

Of whence is your fair Ship, and whither do ye call?’

_And alongst, &c._

‘We are Englishmen, and bound for Safee,’--

_With hey, &c._

‘Ay, and we are Frenchmen, and war upon the sea,

_And alongst, &c._

‘Amaine, Amaine, you English dogs, hail!’--

_With, hey, &c._

‘Come aboard you French swads[1154], and strike down your sayle,’

_And alongst, &c._

VII

They laid us aboard on the Starboard side,

_With hey, &c._

And they threw us into the Sea so wide,

_And alongst, &c._

VIII

When tidings to the _George-Aloe_ came,

_With hey, &c._

That the jolly _Sweepstake_ by a Frenchman was ta’en,

_And alongst, &c._

‘To top, to top, thou little Cabin-boy,

_With hey, &c._

And see if this French Man-of-War thou canst descry,’--

_And alongst, &c._

‘A Sayle, a Sayle, under our lee!

_With hey, &c._

Yea, and another that is under her obey!’

_And alongst, &c._

‘Weigh anchor, weigh anchor, O jolly Boat-swain!

_With hey, &c._

We will take this Frenchman, if we can,’

_And alongst, &c._

XII

We had not sayl’d leagues two or three,

_With hey, &c._

But we met the French Man-of-War upon the Sea,

_And alongst, &c._

XIII

‘All haile, All haile, you lusty Gallants hail!

_With hey, &c._

Of whence is your faire Ship, and whither do ye sayl?’

_And alongst, &c._

XIV

‘O, we are Merchant-men and bound for Safee,’--

_With hey, &c._

‘Ay, and we are Frenchmen, and war upon the sea,

_And alongst, &c._

‘Amaine, Amaine, you English Dogges, hail!’--

_With hey, &c._

‘Come aboard, you French rogues, and strike down your sayl!’

_And alongst, &c._

XVI

The first good shot that the _George-Aloe_ shot,

_With hey, &c._

He made the Frenchman’s heart sore afraid,

_And alongst, &c._

XVII

The second shot the _George-Aloe_ did afford,

_With hey, &c._

He struck their main-mast over the board,

_And alongst, &c._

XVIII

‘Have mercy, have mercy, you brave English Men!’--

_With hey, &c._

‘O, what have you done with our merry Brethren?’--

_As they sayl’d in Barbarye?_

XIX

‘We laid them aboard the starboard side,

_With hey, &c._

And we threw them into the Sea so wide,’--

_And alongst, &c._

‘Such mercy as you have shewed unto them,

_With hey, &c._

Then the like mercy shall you have again,’--

_And alongst, &c._

XXI

We laid them aboard the larboard side,

_With hey, &c._

And we threw them into the Sea so wide,

_And alongst, &c._

XXII

Lord, how it grieved our hearts full Sore,

_With hey, &c._

To see the drowned Frenchmen to swim along the shore!

_And alongst, &c._

XXIII

Now gallant Seamen I bid you all adieu,

_With hey, &c._

This is the last Newes I can write to you,

_To England’s Coast from Barbarye._

FOOTNOTES:

[1154] swads = peascods, a cant term for soldiers.

_132. The ‘Golden Vanity’_

A ship I have got in the North Country

And she goes by the name of the _Golden Vanity_,

O I fear she’ll be taken by a Spanish Ga-la-lee,

As she sails by the Low-lands low.

To the Captain then upspake the little Cabin-boy,

He said, ‘What is my fee, if the galley I destroy?

The Spanish Ga-la-lee, if no more it shall anoy,

As you sail by the Low-lands low.’

III

‘Of silver and of gold I will give to you a store;

And my pretty little daughter that dwelleth on the shore,

Of treasure and of fee as well, I’ll give to thee galore,

As we sail by the Low-lands low.’

Then they row’d him up tight in a black bull’s skin,

And he held all in his hand an augur sharp and thin,

And he swam until he came to the Spanish Gal-a-lin,

As she lay by the Low-lands low.

He bored with his augur, he bored once and twice,

And some were playing cards, and some were playing dice,

When the water flowèd in it dazzled their eyes,

And she sank by the Low-lands low.

So the Cabin-boy did swim all to the larboard side,

Saying ‘Captain! take me in, I am drifting with the tide!’

‘I will shoot you! I will kill you!’ the cruel Captain cried,

‘You may sink by the Low-lands low.’

VII

Then the Cabin-boy did swim all to the starboard side,

Saying,‘Messmates, take me in, I am drifting with the tide!’

Then they laid him on the deck, and he closed his eyes and died,

As they sailed by the Low-lands low.

VIII

They sew’d his body tight in an old cow’s hide,

And they cast the gallant cabin-boy out over the ship side,

And left him without more ado to drift with the tide,

And to sink by the Low-lands low.

_133. John Dory_

As it fell on a holy-day,

And upon a holy-tide-a,

John Dory bought him an ambling nag,

To Paris for to ride-a.

And when John Dory to Paris was come,

A little before the gate-a,

John Dory was fitted, the porter was witted

To let him in thereat-a.

III

The first man that John Dory did meet

Was good King John of France-a;

John Dory could well of his courtesie,

But fell downe in a trance-a.

‘A pardon, a pardon, my liege and my king,

For my merry men and for me-a,

And all the churls in merry England,

I’le bring them all bound to thee-a.’

And Nichol was then a Cornish man,

A little beside Bohyde-a,

He mann’d him forth a good black barke,

With fifty good oars of a side-a.

‘Run up, my boy, unto the maine top,

And look what thou canst spy-a:’

‘Who ho! who ho! a good ship I do see,

I trow it be John Dory-a.’

VII

They hoist their sailes, both top and top,

The mizzen and all was tride-a,

And every man stood to his lot,

Whatever should betide-a.

VIII

The roring cannons then were plied,

And dub-a-dub went the drum-a;

The braying trumpets loud they cried

To courage both all and some-a.

The grappling-hooks were brought at length,

The brown bill and the sword-a,

John Dory at length, for all his strength,

Was clapt fast under board-a.

_134. Willie Macintosh_

‘Turn, Willie Macintosh,

Turn, I bid you;

Gin ye burn Auchindown,

Huntly will head you.’--

‘Head me or hang me,

That canna fley me;

I’ll burn Auchindown

Ere the life lea’ me.’

III

Coming down Deeside,

In a clear morning,

Auchindown was in flame,

Ere the cock-crawing.

But coming o’er Cairn Croom,

And looking down, man,

I saw Willie Macintosh

Burn Auchindown, man.

‘Bonnie Willie Macintosh,

Whare left ye your men?’--

‘I left them in the Stapler,

But they’ll never come hame.’

‘Bonny Willie Macintosh,

Whare now is your men?’--

‘I left them in the Stapler,

Sleeping in their sheen[1155].’

FOOTNOTES:

[1155] sheen = shoes.

_135. The Bonnie House o’ Airlie_

It fell on a day, and a bonnie simmer day,

When green grew aits[1156] and barley,

That there fell out a great dispute

Between Argyll and Airlie.

Argyll has raised an hunder men,

An hunder harness’d rarely,

And he’s awa’ by the back of Dunkell,

To plunder the castle of Airlie.

III

Lady Ogilvie looks o’er her bower-window,

And O but she looks warely!

And there she spied the great Argyll,

Come to plunder the bonnie house of Airlie.

‘Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie,

Come down and kiss me fairly.’--

‘O I winna kiss the fause Argyll,

If he shouldna leave a standing stane in Airlie.’

He hath taken her by the left shoulder,

Says, ‘Dame, where lies thy dowry?’--

‘O it’s east and west yon wan water side,

And it’s down by the banks of the Airlie.’

They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down,

They hae sought it maist severely,

Till they fand it in the fair plum-tree

That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie.

VII

He hath taken her by the middle sae small,

And O but she grat[1157] sairly!

And laid her down by the bonnie burn-side,

Till they plunder’d the castle of Airlie.

VIII

‘Gif my gude lord war here this night,

As he is with King Charlie,

Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish lord,

Durst avow to the plundering of Airlie.

‘Gif my gude lord war now at hame,

And he is with his king,

There durst nae a Campbell in a’ Argyll

Set fit[1158] on Airlie green.

‘Ten bonnie sons I have borne unto him,

The eleventh ne’er saw his daddy;

But though I had an hunder mair,

I’d gie them a’ to King Charlie!’

FOOTNOTES:

[1156] aits = oats.

[1157] grat = cried.

[1158] fit = foot.

_136. Johnnie of Cockerslee_

Johnnie rose up in a May morning,

Call’d for water to wash his hands;

‘Gar loose to me the gude gray dogs,

That are bound wi’ iron bands.’

When Johnnie’s mother gat word o’ that,

Her hands for dule she wrang;

‘O Johnnie, for my benison,

To the greenwood dinna gang!

III

‘Eneugh ye hae o’ gude wheat bread,

And eneugh o’ the blude-red wine;

And therefore for nae venison, Johnnie,

I pray ye, stir frae hame.

‘There are Seven For’sters at Hislinton side,

At Hislinton where they dwell,

And for ae drap o’ thy heart’s blude

They wad ride the fords o’ hell.’

But Johnnie has buskit his gude bend-bow,

His arrows, ane by ane,

And he has gane to Durrisdeer

To ding the dun deer down.

He’s lookit east, and he’s lookit west,

And a little below the sun;

And there he spied the dun deer lying

Aneath a buss[1159] o’ broom.

VII

Johnnie he shot and the dun deer lap[1160],

And he wounded her on the side;

But atween the wood and the wan water

His hounds they laid her pride.

VIII

And Johnnie has brittled[1161] the deer sae well,

Had out her liver and lungs;

And wi’ these he has feasted his bluidy hounds

As if they had been Earl’s sons.

They ate sae much o’ the venison,

And drank sae much o’ the blude,

That Johnnie and his gude gray hounds

Fell asleep by yonder wood.

By there came a silly auld carle,

An ill death mote he die!

And he’s awa’ to Hislinton,

Where the Seven Foresters did lie.

‘What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle?

What news? come tell to me.’--

‘I bring nae news,’ said the gray-headed carle,

‘But what these eyes did see.

XII

‘High up in Braidislee, low down in Braidislee,

And under a buss o’ scroggs[1162],

The bonniest childe that ever I saw

Lay sleeping atween his dogs.

XIII

‘The sark he had upon his back

It was o’ the holland fine,

The doublet he had over that

It was o’ the Lincoln twine[1163].

XIV

‘The buttons that were on his sleeve

Were o’ the gowd sae gude;

The twa gray dogs he lay atween,

Their mouths were dyed wi’ blude.’

Then out and spak’ the First Forester,

The head man owre them a’;

‘If this be Johnnie o’ Cockerslee

Nae nearer will we draw.’

XVI

But up and spak’ the Sixth Forester,

(His sister’s son was he,)

‘If this be Johnnie o’ Cockerslee,

We soon shall gar him dee!’

XVII

The first flight of arrows the Foresters shot,

They wounded him on the knee;

And out and spak’ the Seventh Forester,

‘The next will gar him dee.’

XVIII

‘O some they count ye well-wight[1164] men,

But I do count ye nane;

For you might well ha’ waken’d me,

And ask’d gin I wad be ta’en.

XIX

‘The wildest wolf in a’ this wood

Wad no ha’ done sae by me;

She ha’ wet her foot i’ the wan water,

And sprinkled it owre my bree[1165],

And if that wad not ha’ waken’d me,

Wad ha’ gone an’ let me be.

‘O bows of yew, if ye be true,

In London where ye were bought;

And, silver strings, value me sma’ things

Till I get this vengeance wrought!

And, fingers five, get up belive[1166]:

And Manhood fail me nought!

XXI

‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs,

Stand stout and dinna flee!

Stand fast, stand fast, my good gray hounds,

And we will gar them dee!’

XXII

Johnnie has set his back to an aik,

His foot against a stane,

And he has slain the Seven Foresters,

He has slain them a’ but ane.

XXIII

He has broke three ribs in that ane’s side,

But and his collar bane;

He’s flung him twa-fald owre his steed,

Bade him carry the tidings hame....

XXIV

‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest

Will do as mickle for me

As dip its wing in the wan water

And straik it on my e’e-bree?

XXV

‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest

Can sing as I can say,--

Can flee away to my mother’s bower

And tell to fetch Johnnie away?’

XXVI

The starling flew to her window-stane,

It whistled and it sang;

And aye the owre-word o’ the tune

Was, _Johnnie tarries lang!_

XXVII

They made a rod o’ the hazel-bush,

Another o’ the slae-thorn tree,

And mony, mony were the men

At the fetching our Johnnie.

XXVIII

Then out and spak’ his auld mother,

And fast her tears did fa’:

‘Ye wadna be warn’d, my son Johnnie,

Frae the hunting to bide awa’!’

XXIX

Now Johnnie’s gude bend-bow is broke,

And his gude gray dogs are slain;

And his body lies dead in Durrisdeer,

And his hunting it is done.

FOOTNOTES:

[1159] buss = bush, clump.

[1160] lap = leapt.

[1161] brittled = ‘broken’, cut up venison.

[1162] scroggs = stunted, or scraggy, trees.

[1163] twine = thread, texture.

[1164] well-wight = sturdy, here brave.

[1165] bree = brow.

[1166] belive = nimbly, at once.

_137. Kinmont Willie_

O have ye na heard o’ the fause Sakelde?

O have ye na heard o’ the keen Lord Scroope?

How they hae ta’en bauld Kinmont Willie,

On Haribee to hang him up?

Had Willie had but twenty men,

But twenty men as stout as he,

Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta’en,

Wi’ eight score in his companie.

III

They band his legs beneath the steed,

They tied his hands behind his back;

They guarded him, fivesome on each side,

And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack[1167].

They led him thro’ the Liddel-rack,

And also thro’ the Carlisle sands;

They brought him in to Carlisle castell,

To be at my Lord Scroope’s commands.

‘My hands are tied, but my tongue is free,

And whae will dare this deed avow?

Or answer by the Border law?

Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?’--

‘Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver!

There’s never a Scot shall set thee free:

Before ye cross my castle yate,

I trow ye shall take farewell o’ me.’

VII

‘Fear na ye that, my lord,’ quo’ Willie:

‘By the faith o’ my body, Lord Scroope,’ he said,

‘I never yet lodged in a hostelrie

But I paid my lawing[1168] before I gaed.’

VIII

Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper,

In Branksome Ha’, where that he lay,

That Lord Scroope has ta’en the Kinmont Willie,

Between the hours of night and day.

He has ta’en the table wi’ his hand,

He garr’d the red wine spring on hie--

‘Now Christ’s curse on my head,’ he said,

‘But avengèd of Lord Scroope I’ll be!

‘O is my basnet a widow’s curch[1169]?

Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree?

Or my arm a ladye’s lilye hand,

That an English lord should lightly[1170] me!

‘And have they ta’en him, Kinmont Willie,

Against the truce of Border tide?

And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch

Is Keeper here on the Scottish side?

XII

‘And have they e’en ta’en him, Kinmont Willie,

Withouten either dread or fear?

And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch

Can back a steed, or shake a spear?

XIII

‘O were there war between the lands,

As well I wot that there is nane,

I would slight Carlisle castell high,

Though it were builded of marble stane.

XIV

‘I would set that castell in a low[1171],

And sloken it with English blood!

There’s never a man in Cumberland

Should ken where Carlisle castell stood.

‘But since nae war’s between the lands,

And there is peace, and peace should be;

I’ll neither harm English lad or lass,

And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!’

XVI

He has call’d him forty Marchmen bauld,

I trow they were of his ain name,

Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, call’d

The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.

XVII

He has call’d him forty Marchmen bauld,

Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch;

With spur on heel, and splent[1172] on spauld[1173],

And gleuves of green, and feathers blue.

XVIII

There were five and five before them a’,

Wi’ hunting-horns and bugles bright:

And five and five came wi’ Buccleuch,

Like Warden’s men, array’d for fight.

XIX

And five and five, like a mason-gang,

That carried the ladders lang and hie;

And five and five, like broken men;

And so they reach’d the Woodhouselee.

And as we cross’d the Bateable Land[1174],

When to the English side we held,

The first o’ men that we met wi’,

Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde?

XXI

‘Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?’

Quo’ fause Sakelde; ‘come tell to me!’--

‘We go to hunt an English stag,

Has trespass’d on the Scots countrie.’

XXII

‘Where be ye gaun, ye marshal men?’

Quo’ fause Sakelde; ‘come tell me true!’--

‘We go to catch a rank reiver,

Has broken faith wi’ the bauld Buccleuch.’

XXIII

‘Where be ye gaun, ye mason lads,

Wi’ a’ your ladders, lang and hie?’--

‘We gang to herry a corbie’s nest,

That wons not far frae Woodhouselee.’--

XXIV

‘Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?’

Quo’ fause Sakelde; ‘come tell to me!’--

Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band,

And the never a word of lear[1175] had he.

XXV

‘Why trespass ye on the English side?

Row-footed[1176] outlaws, stand!’ quo’ he;

The never a word had Dickie to say,

Sae he thrust the lance through his fause bodie.

XXVI

Then on we held for Carlisle toun,

And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we cross’d;

The water was great and meikle of spate,

But the never a horse nor man we lost.

XXVII

And when we reach’d the Staneshaw-bank,

The wind was rising loud and hie;

And there the Laird gar’d leave our steeds,

For fear that they should stamp and neigh.

XXVIII

And when we left the Staneshaw-bank,

The wind began fu’ loud to blaw;

But ’twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet,

When we came beneath the castle wa’.

XXIX