The Boy's Percy: Being Old Ballads of War, Adventure and Love from Bishop Thomas Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. Together with an Appendix Containing Two Ballads from the Original Percy Folio MS.

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Charles Scribner's Sons, 1882 - Ballads, English - 441 pages

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Page 84 - The noble earl was slain. 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 Montgomery 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; For when they rung the evening-bell The battle scarce was done.
Page 82 - With that there came an arrow keen Out of an English bow, Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, A deep and deadly blow ; Who never spoke more words than these : Fight on, my merry men all ; For why, my life is at an end, Lord Percy sees my fall.
Page 212 - With enemies day or night, I would withstand, with bow in hand, -. To grieve them as I might, /And you to save ; as women have / From death men many one ; For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone.
Page 79 - By whom this is denied." Then stepped a gallant squire forth, Witherington was his name, Who said, "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...
Page 307 - O these are hard questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet : But if you will give me but three weekes space, He do my endeavour to answer your grace."
Page 211 - I think not nay but as ye say; It is no maiden's lore; But love may make me for your sake, As...
Page 308 - I must give : That I have but three days more to live; For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my bodie.
Page 97 - The dougheti Dogglas on a stede He rode att his men beforne ; His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede ; A bolder barne was never born.
Page 85 - Rabby there was slain, Whose prowess did surmount. For Witherington needs must I wail, As one in doleful dumps ; For when his legs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumps.
Page 78 - And take your bows with speed: " And now with me, my countrymen, Your courage forth advance; For never was there champion yet, In Scotland or in France, " That ever did on horseback come, But if my hap it were, I durst encounter man for man, With him to break a spear.

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