Until the blood, like drops of rain,
They trickling downe did feele.

Yeeld thee, Lord Percy, Douglas sayd;
In faith I will thee bringe,
Where thou shalt high advanced bee
By James our Scottish king:

Thy ransome I will freely give,

And this report of thee, Thou art the most couragious knight, That ever I did see.

Noe, Douglas, quoth Erle Percy then,
Thy proffer I doe scorne;

I will not yeelde to any Scott,
That ever yett was borne.

With that, there came an arrow keene

Out of an English bow,
Which struck Erle Douglas to the heart,
A deepe and deadlye blow:

Who never spake more words than these,
Fight on, my merry men all;
For why, my life is at an end;

Lord Percy sees my fall.

Then leaving liffe, Erle Percy tooke

The dead man by the hand ;* And said, Erle Douglas, for thy life Wold I had lost my land.

O Christ! my verry hart doth bleed
With sorrow for thy sake;
For sure, a more redoubted knight
Mischance cold never take.

A knight amongst the Scots there was,
Which saw Erle Douglas dye,
Who streight in wrath did vow revenge
Upon the Lord Percye:

Sir Hugh Mountgomery was he call'd,
Who, with a spere most bright,
Well-mounted on a gallant steed,
Ran fiercely through the fight;

* Addison praises this line as wonderfully beautiful and pathetic.

And past the English archers all,
Without all dread or feare;
And through Earl Percyes body then
He thrust his hatefull spere ;

With such a vehement force and might
He did his body gore,

The staff ran through the other side
A large cloth-yard, and more.
So thus did both these nobles dye,
Whose courage none could staine:
An English archer then perceiv'd
The noble erle was slaine;

He had a bow bent in his hand,
Made of a trusty tree;
An arrow of a cloth-yard long
Up to the head drew hee:

Against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye,
So right the shaft he sett,

The grey goose-winge that was thereon,
In his harts bloode was wett.

This fight did last from breake of day,
Till setting of the sun;

For when they rung the evening-bell,*
The battel scarce was done.

With stout Erle Percy, there was slaine
Sir John of Egerton,

Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John,

Sir James that bold barròn:

And with Sir George and stout Sir James,
Both knights of good account,
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slaine,
Whose prowesse did surmount.

For Witherington needs must I wayle,
As one in doleful dumpes;†

*Sc. the Curfew bell, usually rung at 8 o'clock, to which the modernizer apparently alludes, instead of the "Evensong bell," a bell for vespers of the original author, before the Reformation.

tie. "I, as one in deep concern, must lament." The construction here has generally been misunderstood. The old MS. reads "wofull dumpes."

For when his leggs were smitten off,

He fought upon his stumpes.

And with Erle Douglas, there was slaine Sir Hugh Mountgomerye,

Sir Charles Murray, that from the feeld One foote wold never flee.

Sir Charles Murray, of Ratcliff, too,
His sisters sonne was hee;
Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd,
Yet saved cold not bee.

And the Lord Maxwell in like case
Did with Erle Douglas dye:
Of twenty hundred Scottish speres,
Scarce fifty-five did flye.

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen,
Went home but fifty-three;
The rest were slaine in Chevy-Chase,
Under the greene woode tree.

Next day did many widowes come,

Their husbands to bewayle; They washt their wounds in brinish teares, But all wold not prevayle.

Theyr bodyes, bathed in purple gore,

They bare with them away: They kist them dead a thousand times, Ere they were cladd in clay.*

*"What can be more natural or more moving than the circumstances in which the author describes the behaviour of those women who had lost their husbands on the fatal day?"— ADDISON.

The newes was brought to Eddenborrow,

Where Scottlands king did raigne,
That brave Erle Douglas suddenlye
Was with an arrow slaine:

O heavy newes, King James did say,
Scottland may witnesse bee,

I have not any captaine more
Of such account as hee.

Like tydings to King Henry came,
Within as short a space,

That Percy of Northumberland
Was slaine in Chevy-Chase :

Now God be with him, said our king,
Sith it will noe better bee;

I trust I have, within my realme,
Five hundred as good as hee:

Yett shall not Scotts nor Scotland say,
But I will vengeance take:
I'll be revenged on them all,

For brave Erle Percyes sake.

This vow full well the king perform'd
After, at Humbledowne;
In one day, fifty knights were slayne,

With lords of great renowne :

LISTEN, lively lordings all,

Lithe and listen unto mee, And I will sing of a noble earle,

The noblest earle in the north countrie.

Earle Percy is into his garden gone,

And after him walkes his faire ladie :* I heard a bird sing in mine eare,

That I must either fight, or flee.

Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord, That ever such harm should hap to thee:

But goe to London to the court,

And faire fall truth and honestie.

Now nay, now nay, my ladye gay, Alas! thy counsell suits not mee; Mine enemies prevail so fast,

That at the court I may not bee.

O goe to the court yet, good my lord,
And take thy gallant men with thee :
If any dare to doe you wrong,
Then your warrant they may bee.

Now nay, now nay, thou lady faire,
The court is full of subtiltle;
And if I goe to the court, lady,

Never more I may thee see.

Yet goe to the court, my lord, she sayes,
And I myselfe will ryde wi' thee:
At court then for my dearest lord,
His faithfull borrowe I will bee.

Now nay, now nay, my lady deare;
Far lever had I lose my life,
Than leave among my cruell foes

My love in jeopardy and strife.

But come thou hither, my little foot-page, Come thou hither unto mee,

*This lady was Anne, daughter of Henry Somerset, Earl of Worcester.

To maister Norton* thou must goe In all the haste that ever may bee. Commend me to that gentleman,

And beare this letter here fro mee; And say that earnestly I praye,

He will ryde in my companie.

One while the little foot-page went,
And another while he ran ;
Untill he came to his journeys end,
The little foot-page never blan.

When to that gentleman he came,
Down he kneeled on his knee;
And tooke the letter betwixt his hands,
And lett the gentleman it see.

And when the letter it was redd

Affore that goodlye companye, I wis, if you the truthe wold know, There was many a weeping eye.

He sayd, Come thither, Christopher Norton,

A gallant youth thou seemst to bee; What doest thou counsell me, my sonne, Now that good erle's in jeopardy?

Father, my counselle's fair and free;
That erle he is a noble lord,
And whatsoever to him you hight,
I wold not have you breake your word,
Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne,
Thy counsell well it liketh mec;
And if we speed and scape with life,
Well advanced shalt thou bee.

Come you hither, my nine good sonnes,
Gallant men I trowe you bee:
How many of you, my children deare,
Will stand by that good erle and mee?

Richard Norton of Norton Conyers, ho with his sons Francis, Christopher, Marmiduke, and Thomas, specially distinguished himself. There were five other sons whose names are not given.