Of fifteen hondrith archers of Ynglonde Of twenty hondrith spear-men of Skotlonde, But all wear slayne Cheviat within: The hade no strengthe to stande on he: Thear was slayne with the lord Persè Sir Roger the hinde Hartly, Sir Wyllyam the bolde Hearone. Sir Jorg the worthè Lovele A knyght of great renowen, Sir Raff the riche Rugbè With dyntes wear beaten dowene. For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to, Ther was slayne with the dougheti Douglas Sir Davye Lwdale, that worthè was, Sir Charles a Murrè, in that place, Sir Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was, So on the morrowe the mayde them byears, Many wedous with wepyng tears, Cam to fach ther makys a-way. Tivydale may carpe off care, Northombarlond may mayk grat mone, Word ys commen to Edden-burrowe To Jamy the Skottishe kyng, That dougheti Duglas, lyff-tenant of the Merches He lay slean Chyviot with-in. His handdes dyd he weal and wryng, Word ys commyn to lovly Londone That lord Persè, leyff-tennante of the Merchis, God have merci on his soll, sayd kyng Harry, I have a hondrith captayns in Yynglonde, he sayd, But Persè, and I brook my lyffe, As our noble kyng made his a-vowe, He dyd the battel of Hombyll-down: Wher syx and thritte Skottish knyghtes This was the hontynge off the Cheviat; Old men that knowen the grownde well yenoughe, At Otterburn began this spurne: Ther was the dougghtè Doglas slean, The Persè never went away. Ther was never a tym on the march partes Sen the Doglas, and the Persè met, But yt was marvele, and the rede blude ronne not, As the reane doys in the stret. Jhesue Crist our balys bete, And to the blys us brynge! Thus was the hountynge of the Chevyat: God send us all good ending! To drive the deere with hound and horne, The child may rue that is unborne The stout Erle of Northumberland The cheefest harts in Chevy-Chase These tydings to Erle Douglas came, Who sent Erle Percy present word, With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, Who knew full well in time of neede The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran And long before high noone they had Then having dined, the drovyers went The bowmen mustered on the hills, Their backsides all, with speciall care, That day were guarded sure. The hounds ran swiftly through the woods, That with their cryes the hills and dales Lord Percy to the quarry went, To view the slaughterd deere; Quoth he, Erle Douglas promised This day to meet me heere: But if I thought he wold not come, With that a brave young gentleman Loe, yonder doth Erle Douglas come, All men of pleasant Tivydale, And now with me, my countrymen, That ever did on horsebacke come, I durst encounter man for man, Erle Douglas on his milke-white steede, Rode foremost of his company, Whose armour shone like gold. Show me, sayd hee, whose men you bee, That hunt so boldly heere, That, without my consent, doe chase And kill my fallow deere. The first man that did answer make, Who sayd, Wee list not to declare, Yet will wee spend our deerest blood, Ere thus I will out-braved bee, I know thee well, an erle thou art, Lord Percy, soe am I. |