Grea-hondes thorowe the grèves glent
For to kyll thear dear.

Hour

The begane in Chyviat the hyls abɔve
Yerly on a monnyn day;

Be that it drewe to the oware' off none
A hondrith fat hartes ded ther lay.

The blewe a mort uppone the bent,
The semblyd on sydis shear;
To the quyrry then the Persè went
To se the bryttlynge off the deare.

8

He sayd, It was the Duglas promys
This day to meet me hear;
But I wyste he wold faylle verament:
A gret oth the Persè swear.

At the laste a squyar of Northombelond
Lokyde at his hand full ny,

9

He was war ath the doughetie Doglas comynge:
With him a mightè meany.

The wear borne a-long be the watter a Twyde,
Yth 12 bowndes of Tividale.

Leave off the brytlyng of the dear, he sayde,
And to your bowys look ye tayk good heed;
For never sithe ye wear on your mothars borne
Had ye never so mickle need.

The first mane that ever him an answear mayd,
Yt was the good lord Persè:

We wyll not tell the 'what' men we ar, he says,
Nor whos men that we be;

But we wyll hount hear in this chays

In the spyte of thyne, and of the.

M Mean.

The fattiste hartes in all Chyviat

We have kyld, and cas: 14 to carry them a-way.
Be my troth, sayd the doughtè Dogglas agayn,
Ther-for the ton 15 of us shall de this day.

Then sayd the doughtè Doglas
Unto the lord Persè:

To kyll all thes giltless men,
A-las! it wear great pittè.

But, Persè, thowe art a lord of lande,
I am a yerle 16 callyd within my contre;
Let all our men uppone a parti stande;

And do the battell off the and of me.

Now Cristes cors on his crowne, sayd the lord Persè,
Who-soever ther-to says nay.

Be my troth, doughtè Doglas, he says,
Thow shalt never se that day;

Nethar in Ynglonde. Skottlonde, nar France,
Nor for no man of a woman born,
But and fortune be my chance,

I dar met him on man for on.

Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde,
Ric. Wytharynton was him nam;
It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde,
To kyng Herry the fourth for sham.

17

1 wat " youe byn 18 great lordes twaw,
I am a poor squyar of lande;

I will never se my captayne fyght on a fylde,
And stande my-selffe, and looke on,
But whyll I may my weppone welde,

I wyll not 'fayl' both harte and hande.

That day, that day, that dredfull day;
The first fit here I fynde.

And youe wyll here any mor athe hountyng athe Chyviat
Yet ys thet mor behynde.

15 One.

18 Earl.

17 Know.

18 Are.

flew.

THE SECOND FIT.

The Yngglishe men hade ther bowys yebent,
The hartes were good yenoughe;

The first of arros that the shote off,
Seven skore spear-men the sloughe."

Yet bydys the yerle Doglas uppon the bent
A captayne good yenoughe,

And that was sene verament,

For he wrought hom both woo and wouche."

The Dogglas pertyd his ost in thre,

Like a cheffe cheften " off pryde,
With suar 22
speares of myghttè tre
The cum in on every syde.

Thrughe our Yngglishe archery

Gave many a wounde full wyde;
Many a doughete the garde to dy,
Which ganyde 23 them no pryde.

24

The Yngglishe men let thear bowys be,
And pulde owt brandes that wer bright;
It was a hevy syght to se

Bryght swordes on basnites 25 lyght.

Thorowe ryche male, and myne-ye-ple

Many sterne the stroke downe streight:
Many a freyke 26 that was full free,
That undar foot dyd lyght.

At last the Duglas and the Persè met,
Lyk to captayns of myght and mayne.
The swapte togethar tyll the both swat

With swordes, that wear of fyn myllàn.

Thes worthè freckys for to fyght
Ther-to the wear full fayne,

Tyll the bloode owte off their basnites sprente,"
As ever dyd heal 28 or rayne.

Holde the, Persè, sayd the Doglas,
And i' feth I shall the brynge
Wher thowe shalte have a yerls wagis

Of Jamy our Scottish kynge.

20 Mischief. 5 Helmets.

Thoue shalte have thy ransoin fre,
I hight 29 the hear this thinge,

For the manfullyste man yet art thowe,
That ever I conqueryd in filde fightyng.

Nay then' sayd the lord Persè,

I tolde it the beforne,
That I wolde never yeldyde be
To no man of a woman born.

Entreat.

With that ther cam an arrowe hastely
Forthe off a mightie wane,30
Hit hathe strekene the yerle Duglas
In at the brest bane.

Thoroue lyvar and longs bathe3
The sharp arrowe ys gane,

That never after in all his lyffe days,

He spayke mo wordes but ane,

That was, Fyghte ye, my merry men whyllys" ye may,
For my lyff days ben 33 gan.

The Persè leanyde 34 on his brande,
And sawe the Duglas de;

35

He tooke the dede man be the hande,

And sayd, Wo ys me for the!

To have sayvde thy lyffe I wold have pertyd” with
My landes for years thre,

For a better man of hart, nare of hande
Was not in all the north countrè.

Of all that se 37 a Skottishe knyght,

Was callyd Sir Hewe the Mongonbyrry,
He sawe the Duglas to the deth was dyght;
He spendyd 39 a spear a trusti tre:

He rod uppon a corsiare

Throughe a hondrith archery;
He never styntyde 40 nar never blane,"
Tyll he cam to the good lord Persè.

30 Ane, one, sc. man. 86 Parted. * Saw.

He set uppone the lord Persè

A dynte that was full soare;
With a suar spear of a myghtè tre

Clean thorow the body he the Persè bore,

31 Both. 32 Whilst. 38 Put. 39 Grasped.

Athe 42 tothar syde, that a man myght se,
A large cloth yard and mare:
Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Christiantè,
Then that day slain were ther.

An archar off Northomberlonde
Say slean was the lord Persè,
He bar a bende-bow in his hande,
Was made off trusti tre:

An arow, that a cloth yarde was lang,
To th' hard stele haylde 43 he;

A dynt, that was both sad and sore,
He sat on Sir Hewe the Mongon-byrry.

The dynt yt was both sad and sar,
That he of Mongon-byrry sete;
The swane-fethars, that his arrowe bar,"
With his hart blood the wear wete.

Ther was never a freake wone foot wolde fie,
But still in stour 45 dyd stand,

Heawying on yche othar, whyll the myght dre,
With many a bal-ful brande.