A Bundle of Ballads | Page 7

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 Percy,
"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