"If thou 'rt the lord of this castle,

Sae weel it pleases me!

For, ere I cross the Border fells,

The tane of us shall die."

He took a lang spear in his hand,

Shod with the metal free,

And for to meet the Douglas there,

He rode right furiouslie.

25

Frae aff the castle wa',

But O how pale his lady looked,

30

When down before the Scottish spear

She saw proud Percy fa'.

"Had we twa been upon the green,

And never an eye to see,

I wad hae had you, flesh and fell;
But your sword sall gae wi' me."

35

“But gae ye up to Otterburn,

And wait there dayis three;

And if I come not ere three dayis end,
A fause knight ca' ye me."

"The Otterburn's a bonny burn;
'T is pleasant there to be;
But there is nought at Otterburn,
To feed my men and me.

"The deer rins wild on hill and dale, The birds fly wild from tree to tree;

40

43

But there is neither bread nor kale,

To fend my men and me.

"Yet I will stay at Otterburn, Where you shall welcome be;

And, if ye come not at three dayis end,

A fause lord I'll ca' thee."

"Thither will I come," proud Percy said, "By the might of Our Ladie!"

"There will I bide thee," said the Douglas, "My trowth I plight to thee."

55

They lighted high on Otterburn
Upon the bent sae brown;
They lighted high on Otterburn,
And threw their pallions down.

And he that had a bonny boy,

Sent out his horse to grass;

And he that had not a bonny boy,

His ain servant he was.

But up then spake a little page,

Before the peep of dawn:

“O waken ye, wåken ye, my good lord, For Percy's hard at hand.”

"Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar: loud!

Sae loud I hear ye lie:
For Percy had not men yestreen
To dight my men and me.

60

65

70

"But I hae dreamed a dreary dream,

Beyond the Isle of Sky;

I saw a dead man win a fight,
And I think that man was I."

He belted on his guid braid sword,
And to the field he ran;

But he forgot the helmet good,

75

That should have kept his brain.

80

When Percy wi' the Douglas met,

I wat he was fu' fain!

They swakked their swords, till sair they swat, And the blood ran down like rain,

But Percy with his guid braid sword,
That could so sharply wound,

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Has wounded Douglas on the brow,
Till he fell to the ground.

Then he called on his little foot-page,
And said, "Run speedily,

And fetch my ain dear sister's son,
Sir Hugh Montgomery.

"My nephew good," the Douglas said,
"What recks the death of ane!
Last night I dreamed a dreary dream,
And I ken the day's thy ain.

"My wound is deep; I fain would sleep; Take thou the vanguard of the three,

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95

And hide me by the braken bush,

That grows on yonder lily lee.

"O bury me by the braken bush, Beneath the blooming brier, Let never living mortal ken,

That ere a kindly Scot lies here."

He lifted up that noble lord,

Wi' the saut tear in his e'e;

He hid him in the braken bush,

That his merry men might not see.

The moon was clear, the day drew near,
The spears in flinders flew,

But mony a gallant Englishman
Ere day the Scotsmen slew.

The Gordons good, in English blood,
They steeped their hose and shoon;
The Lindesays flew like fire about,
Till all the fray was done.

The Percy and Montgomery met;
That either of other were fain;
They swapped swords, and they twa swat,
And aye the blood ran down between.

"Yield thee, O yield thee, Percy," he said,
"Or else I vow I'll lay thee low!"
*Whom to shall I yield," said Earl Percy,
"Now that I see it must be so?"

"Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun,

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Nor yet shalt thou yield to me;

But yield thee to the braken bush,

That grows upon yon lily lee!"

“I will not yield to a braken bush,

Nor yet will I yield to a brier;
But I would yield to Earl Douglas,

Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were
here."

As soon as he knew it was Montgomery,

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He struck his sword's point in the grond; The Montgomery was a courteous knight, 135 And quickly took him by the hond.

This deed was done at Otterburn

About the breaking of the day;

Earl Douglas was buried at the braken bush,

And the Percy led captive away.

Scott, Minst, Scot. Bord

142

AGINCOURT

To the Cambro-Britains and
their Harp, his Ballad
of Agincourt

FAIR stood the wind for France

When we our sails advance.

Nor now to prove our chance

Longer will tarry;