He saw the Douglas to the death was dight;
He spended a spear, a trusty tree.

He rode upon a courser

Through a hundred archery,

He never stinted, nor never blane,,

Till he came to the good Lord Percy.

T

He set upon the Lord Percy

A dint that was full sore;

With a sure spear of a mighty tree

Clean thorough the body he the Percy bore,

O'the tother side that a man might see

A large cloth-yard and mair:

Two better captains were not in Christianty
Then that day slain were there.

An archer of Northumberland

Saw slain was the Lord Percy;

175

180

He bare a bend-bow in his hand,

That he of Montgomery set;

The swan-feathers that his arrow bare
With his heart-blood they were wet.

190

There was never a freke one foot would flee,
But still in stour did stand, 1 21 1.
Hewing on each other, while they might

dree,

co rojas' orse amb hi! 195

With many a baleful brand.

This battle began in Cheviot

An hour before the noon,

And when even-song bell was rang,
The battle was not half done.

They took [the way?] on either hand?

By the light of the moon;

Many had no strength for to stand

In Cheviot the hills aboon. !

Of fifteen hundred archers of England
Went away but seventy and three;
Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland,
But even five and fifty.

But all were slain Cheviot within;

200

205

They had no streng [th] to stand on hie; 210

The child may rue that is unborn,

It was the more pity,...

There was slain with the Lord Percy,

Sir George, the worthy Lumley,

A knight of great renown, Sir Raff, the rich Rugby,

With dints were beaten down.

For Witherington my heart was woe,
That ever he slain should be;

For when both his legs were hewn in two,
Yet he kneeled and fought on his knee.

220

There was slain with the doughty Douglas, 225
Sir Hugh the Montgomery;

Sir Davy Liddale, that worthy was,
His sister's son was he;

Sir Charles o' Murray in that place,
That never a foot would flee;
Sir Hugh Maxwell, a lord he was,
With the Douglas did he die.

230

So on the morrow they made them biers
Of birch and hazel so g[ra]y;

Many widows, with weeping tears,
Came to fetch their makes away.

Tivydale may carp of care,

235

Northumberland may make great moan, For two such captains as slain were there On the March-party shall never be none. 240

Word is comen to Edinborough,

To Jamie, the Scottish king,

That doughty Douglas, lieutenant of the

Marches,

He lay slain Cheviot within.

His hands did he weal and wring:
He said, “Alas, and woe is me!"
Such another captain Scotland within,
He said, i' faith should never be.

Word is comen to lovely London,
Till the fourth Harry our king,

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250

That Lord Percy, 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 quit shall be."

As our noble king made his avow,
Like a noble prince of renown,
For the death of the Lord Percy
He did the battle of Humbledown;

Where six-and-thirty Scottish knights
On a day were beaten down;

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260

Glendale glittered on their armor bright,

265

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.

270

There was never a time on the March-parties 275
Sin the Douglas and the Percy met,,
But it is marvel an the red blood run not

As the rain does in the street.

Jesu Christ our bales bete,

And to the bliss us bring!

280

Thus was the hunting of the Cheviot:

God send us all good ending!

Child, Pop. Bal., 162A (modernized).

THE SKELETON IN ARMOR

"SPEAK! speak! thou fearful guest!.
Who, with thy hollow breast
Still in rude armor drest,

Comest to daunt me!
Wrapt not in Eastern balms,
But with thy fleshless palms
Stretched, as if asking alms,
Why dost thou haunt me?"