"Yield thee,Percy,"said the Douglas,"and in faith I shall thee bring Where thou shalt have an earl's wagis of Jamy our Scottish king.
Thou shalt have thy ransom free,I hight thee here this thing,For the manfullest man yet art thou that ever I conquered in field fighting."
"Nay,"said the Lord Percy,"I told it thee beforn,That I would never yielded be to no man of a woman born."
With that there came an arrow hastily forth of a mighty wone;
It hath stricken the Earl Douglas in at the breastbone.
Through liver and lung-es both the sharp arrow is gone,That never after in all his life-days he spake mo word-es but one,That was,"Fight ye,my merry men,whilis ye may,for my life-days ben gone!"
The Percy lean-ed on his brand and saw the Douglas dee;
He took the dead man by the hand,and said,"Wo is me for thee!
To have saved thy life I would have parted with my lands for years three,For a better man of heart nor of hand was not in all the north countree."
Of all that see,a Scottish knight,was called Sir Hugh the Montgomer-y,He saw the Douglas to the death was dight,he spended a spear a trusty tree,He rode upon a coursiere through a hundred archer-y,He never stinted nor never blane till he came to the good Lord Perc-y.
He set upon the Lord Percy a dint that was full sore;
With a suar spear of a mighty tree clean thorough the body he the Percy bore On the tother side that a man might see a large cloth yard and more.
Two better captains were not in Christiant-e than that day slain were there.
An archer of Northumberland saw slain was the Lord Perc-y,He bare a bent bow in his hand was made of trusty tree,An arrow that a cloth yard was long to the hard steel hal-ed he,A dint that was both sad and sore he sat on Sir Hugh the Montgomer-y.
The dint it was both sad and sore that he on Montgomery set,The swan-feathers that his arrow bare,with his heart-blood they were wet.
There was never a freke one foot would flee,but still in stour did stand,Hewing on each other while they might dree with many a baleful brand.
This battle began in Cheviot an hour before the noon,And when evensong bell was rang the battle was not half done.
They took on either hand by the light of the moon,Many had no strength for to stand in Cheviot the hillis aboon.
Of fifteen hundred archers of England went away but seventy and three,Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland but even five and fift-y;
But all were slain Cheviot within,they had no strength to stand on hy:
The child may rue that is unborn,it was the more pity.
There was slain with the Lord Percy Sir John of Agerstone,Sir Roger the hinde Hartley,Sir William the bold Herone,Sir George the worthy Lumley,a knight of great renown,Sir Ralph the rich Rugby,with dints were beaten down;
For Witherington my heart was wo,that ever he slain should be,For when both his leggis were hewen in two,yet he kneeled and fought on his knee.
There was slain with the doughty Douglas Sir Hugh the Montgomer-y;
Sir Davy Lewdale,that worthy was,his sister's son was he;
Sir Charles of Murray in that place that never a foot would flee;
Sir Hugh Maxwell,a lord he was,with the Douglas did he dee.
So on the morrow they made them biers of birch and hazel so gay;
Many widows with weeping tears came to fetch their makis away.
Tivydale may carp of care,Northumberland may make great moan,For two such captains as slain were there on the March parti shall never be none.
Word is comen to Edinborough to Jamy the Scottish king,That doughty Douglas,lieutenant of the Marches,he lay slain Cheviot within.
His hand-es did he weal and wring;he said,"Alas!and woe is me:
Such another captain Scotland within,"he said,"yea faith should never be."
Word is comen to lovely London,to the fourth Harry our king,That Lord Perc-y,lieutenant of the Marches,he lay slain Cheviot within.
"God have mercy on his soul,"said King Harry,"good Lord,if thy will it be,I have a hundred captains in England,"he said,"as good as ever was he;
But Percy,an I brook my life,thy death well quite shall be."
As our noble king made his avow,like a noble prince of renown,For the death of the Lord Perc-y he did the battle of Homildoun,Where six and thirty Scottish knights on a day were beaten down;
Glendale glittered on their armour bright,over castle,tower,and town.
This was the hunting of the Cheviot;that tear began this spurn;
Old men that knowen the ground well enough call it the battle of Otterburn.
At Otterburn began this spurn upon a Monenday;
There was the doughty Douglas slain,the Percy never went away.
There was never a time on the March part-es sen the Douglas and the Percy met,But it is marvel an the red blood run not as the rain does in the stret.
Jesu Christ our balis bete,and to the bliss us bring!
Thus was the hunting of the Cheviot.God send us all good ending!
