The Percy leaned on his brand,
And saw the Douglas die,

He took the dead man by the hand,
And said, "Woe is me for thee;

"To have saved thy life I would have parted wit My lands for years three,

For a better man of heart, nor of hand,

Was not in all the north countree."

All that saw a Scottish knight,

Was called Sir Hugh Montgomery;

He saw the Douglas to the death was dight;

6

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;

He set upon the lord Percy

A dint that was full sore;

With a sure spear, of a mighty tree,

Clean through the body he the Percy bore,

At the other side that a man might see

A large cloth yard and mair:

Two better captains were not in Christianté,
Than that day slain were there.

• Grasped.

7 Stopped.

An archer of Northumberland

Saw slain was the lord Percy,

He bear a bent bow in his hand,
Was made of trusty tree;

An arrow, that a cloth-yard was long,
To the hard head haled he;
A dint, that was both sad and sore,
He set on Sir Hugh Montgomery ;

The dint it was both sad and sore,
That he on the Montgomery set,
The swan feathers, that his arrow bare,
With his heart blood they were wet.

There was never a freyke 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 begun in Cheviot
An hour before the noon,

And, when evensong bell was rung,

The battle was not half done.

They took on on either hand

By the light of the moon,

Many had no strength for to stand,

In Cheviot the hills abune.

F

Of fifteen hundred archers of England
Went away but fifty and three ;

Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland,
But even five and fifty;

But all were slain Cheviot within,

They had no strength to stand on high; The child may rue that is unborn, It was the more pity.

*

So on the morrow they made them biers
Of birch and hazel so grey;
Many widows, with weeping tears,
Came to fetch their mates away.

Tividale may carp of care,

Northumberland may make great moan, For two such captains, as slain were there, On the march parts shall never be none.

*

There was never a time on the march parts,
Sin' the Percy and the Douglas met,
But it was marvel, an' the red blood ran not
As the rain does in the street.

8

Jesu Christ our balys bete,

And to the bliss us bring;

This was the hunting of the Cheviot,

God send us all good ending.

8 Better our ills.

(Percy Reliques.)

THE TWA CORBIES.

S I was walking all alane,

I heard twa corbies making a mane; The tane unto the tither did say, "Whar sall we gang and dine the day?” "In behint yon auld fail dyke,

I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

"His hound is to the hunting gane,

His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame,

His lady's ta'en anither mate,

Sae we may mak' our dinner sweet.

"Ye'll sit on his white hausebane,

And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en,
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair,

We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.

Mony's the one for him makes mane,

But nane sall ken whar he is gone;

O'er his white banes, when they are bare,

The wind sall blaw for evermair."

(Ballad Book.)