"All men of pleasant Teviotdale,1

Fast by the river Tweed."2

"Then cease your sports,” Earl Percy said,
And take your bows with speed:

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66 And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance;

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For never was their champion yet,
In Scotland or in France,

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"That ever did on horseback come,

But if my hap3 it were,

I durst encounter man for man,
With him to break a spear."

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Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold,

Rode foremost of his company,

Whose armour shone like gold.

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Show me," said he, whose men you be,
That hunt so boldly here,

That, without my consent, do chase

And kill my fallow-deer."

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The first man that did answer make,

Was noble Percy he ;

Who said, "We list not to declare,

Nor show whose men we be :

"Yet will we spend our dearest blood,
Thy chiefest harts" to slay."

1 Teviotdale, the dale or valley of the river Teviot (a tributary of the Tweed), in Roxburghshire.

2 Tweed, the river which forms, in part, the boundary between England and Scotland.

3 Hap, chance, or fortune. 5 Harts, the male deer.

4 List not, incline not, care not.

"But trust me, Percy, pity 't were,

And great offence, to kill

Any of these our guiltless men,

For they have done no ill.

"Let you and me the battle try,

And set our men aside."

"Accursed be he," Earl Percy said,
"By whom this is denied."

Then stepped a gallant squire' forth,
Witherington was his name,
Who said, 66 I would not have it told
To Henry, our King, for shame,

"That e'er my captain fought on foot,
And I stood looking on :

You two be earls," said Witherington,
"And I a squire alone.

"I'll do the best that do I may,

While I have power to stand:

While I have power to wield my sword,
I'll fight with heart and hand."

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Our English archers bent their bows,
Their hearts were good and true;

At the first flight of arrows sent,
Full fourscore Scots they slew.

IC8

And soon his spearmen on their foes
Bore down on every side.

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1 Squire, one who attends on a noble warrior.

2 On the bent, on the field. 3 Ware, wary, cautious.

Throughout the English archery
They dealt full many a wound;
But still our valiant Englishmen
All firmly kept their ground.

And throwing straight their bows away,
They grasped their swords so bright:
And now sharp blows, a heavy shower,
On shields and helmets light.

They closed full fast on every side,

No slackness there was found;
And many a gallant gentleman
Lay gasping on the ground.

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O God! it was a grief to see,
And likewise for to hear,

The cries of men lying in their gore,
And scattered here and there.

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At last these two stout earls did meet,
Like captains of great might :

Like lions wode,' they laid on lode,
And made a cruel fight:

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They fought until they both did sweat,

With swords of tempered steel:

Until the blood, like drops of rain,

They trickling down did feel.

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"Yield thee, Lord Percy," Douglas said;

"In faith I will thee bring,

Where thou shalt high advanced be,

By James, our Scottish king:

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"Thy ransom I will freely give,

And this report of thee,

Thou art the most courageous knight
That ever I did see."

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"No, Douglas," said Earl Percy then,

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Thy proffer I do scorn;

I will not yield to any Scot

That ever yet was born."

1 Lions wode, wild, mad lions. 2 Lode, heavy blow.

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With that there came an arrow keen,

Out of an English bow,

Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart,

And said, "Earl Douglas, for thy life
Would I had lost my land.

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"O God! my very heart doth bleed

With sorrow for thy sake;

For sure a more renownèd knight
Mischance did never take."

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A knight amongst the Scots there was
Who saw Earl Douglas die,

Who straight in wrath did vow revenge

Upon the Earl Percy :

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With such a vehement force and might
He did his body gore,

The staff ran through the other side
A large cloth yard and more.

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So thus did both these nobles die,
Whose courage none could stain:
An English archer then perceived
The noble Earl was slain.

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He had a bow bent in his hand,
Made of a trusty tree;

An arrow of a cloth yard long
To the hard head haled' he.

Against Sir Hugh Mountgomery
So right the shaft he set,

The gray goose wing that was thereon
In his heart's blood was wet.

This fight did last from break of day,
Till setting of the sun :

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For when they rang the evening-bell,
The battle scarce was done.

With stout Earl Percy there were slain

Sir John of Egerton,

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And with Earl Douglas there were slain
Sir Hugh Mountgomery,

Sir Charles Murray, that from the field
One foot would never flee.

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