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To drive the deer with hound and horn Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed, Earl Percy took his way;

Most like a baron bold, The child may rue that is unborn

Rode foremost of the company, The hunting of that day.

Whose armour shone like gold : The stout Earl of Northumberland

Show me, said he, whose men you be, A vow to God did make,

That hunt so boldly here; His pleasure in the Scottish woods

That, without my consent, do chase Three summer's days to take;

And kill my fallow-deer? The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase

The man that first did answer make, To kill and bear away.

Was noble Percy he : The tidings to Earl Douglas came

Who said, We list not to declare, In Scotland, where he lay;

Nor show whose men we be: Who sent Earl Percy present word

Yet will we spend our dearest blood, He would prevent his sport.

Thy chiefest harts to slay. The English earl, not fearing this,

Then Douglas swore a solemn oath, Did to the woods resort,

And thus in rage did say: With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,

Ere thus I will out-braved be, All chosen men of might;

One of us two shall die: Who knew full well, in time of need,

I know thee well; an earl thou art, To aim their shafts aright.

Lord Percy: so am I. The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,

But trust me, Percy, pity it were, To chase the fallow deer;

And great offence, to kill On Monday they began to hunt,

Any of these our harmless men, When day-light did appear;

For they have done no ill. And, long before high noon, they had

Let thou and I the battle try, A hundred fat bucks slain;

And set our men aside. Then, having din'd, the drovers went

Accurs'd be he, Lord Percy said, To rouse them up again.

By whom this is denied. The bowmen muster'd on the hills,

Then stepp'd a gallant squire forth, Well able to endure;

Witherington was his name, Their back-sides all, with special care, Who said, I would not have it told That day were guarded sure.

To Henry our king, for shame, The hounds ran swiftly through the woods, That e'er my captain fought on foot, The nimble deer to take;

And I stood looking on: And with their cries the hills and dales You be two earls, said Witherington, An echo shrill did make.

And I a squire alone : Lord Percy to the quarry went,

I'll do the best that do I may, To view the slaughter'd deer;

While I have strength to stand : Quoth he, Earl Douglas promised

While I have pow'r to wield my sword, This day to meet me here :

I'll fight with heart and hand. If that I thought he would not come,

Our English archers bent their bows, No longer would I stay.

Their hearts were good and true; With that a brave young gentleman

At the first Aight of arrows sent, Thus to the earl did say:

Full threescore Scots they slew. Lo! yonder doth Earl Douglas come,

To drive the deer with hound and horn, His men in armour bright;

Earl Douglas had the bent; Full twenty hundred Scottish spears

A captain mov'd with mickle pride, All marching in our sight;

The spears to shivers sent. All men of pleasant Tividale,

They clos'd full fast on ev'ry side, Fast by the river Tweed.

No slackness there was found; Then cease your sport, Earl Percy said, And many a gallant gentleman And take your bows with speed:

Lay gasping on the ground. And now with me, my countrymen,

O Christ ! it was a grief to see, Your courage forth advance;

And likewise for to hear For never was there champion yet,

The cries of men lying in their gore, In Scotland or in France,

And scatter'd here and there. That ever did on horseback come,

At last these two stout earls did meet, But, if my hap it were,

Like captains of great might; I durst encounter man for man,

Like lions mov’d, they laid on load, With him to break a spear.

And made a cruel fight.

They fought until they both did sweat, This fight did last from break of day
With swords of temper'd steel;

Till setting of the sun;
Until the blood, like drops of rain,

For when they rung the evening-bell They trickling down did feel.

The battle scarce was done. Yield thee, Lord Percy, Douglas said ;

With the Earl Percy there was slain In faith I will thee bring,

Sir John of Overton, Where thou shalt high advanced be,

Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John,

Sir James that bold baron:
By James our Scottish king.
Thy ransom I will freely give,

And with Sir George, and good Sir James, And thus report of thee:

Both knights of good account, Thou art the most courageous knight

Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain, That ever I did see.

Whose prowess did surmount. No, Douglas, quoth Earl Percy then,

For Witherington needs must I wail, Thy proffer I do scorn;

As one in doleful dumps ; I will not yield to any Scot

For, when his legs were smitten off, That ever yet was born.

He fought upon his stumps. With that there came an arrow keen

And with Earl Douglas there was slain Out of an English bow,

Sir Hugh Montgomery,
Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, Sir Charles Currel, that from the field
A deep and deadly blow :

One foot would never fly;
Who nerer spoke more words than these: Sir Charles Murrel of Ratcliffe too,

His sister's son was he :
Fight on, my merry men all;
For why? my life is at an end :

Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd,
Lord Percy sees my fall.

Yet saved could not be. Then leaving life, Earl Percy took

And the Lord Maxwell, in like wise, The dead man by the hand:

Did with Earl Douglas die; And said, Earl Douglas, for thy life

Of twenty bundred Scottish spears, Would I have lost my land!

Scarce fifty-five did fly. O Christ! my very heart doth bleed

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen With sorrow for thy sake;

Went home but fifty-three; For sure a more renowned knight

The rest were slain in Chevy Chase,
Mischance did never take.

Under the greenwood-tree.
A knight amongst the Scots there was, Next day did many widows come,
Which saw Earl Douglas die,

Their husbands to bewail;
Who straight in wrath did vow revenge

They wash'd their wounds in brinish tears, Upon the Earl Percy.

But all would not prevail. Sir Hugh Montgomery he was call'd; Their bodies, bath'd in purple blood, Who, with a spear most bright,

They bore with them away ; Well mounted on a gallant steed,

They kiss'd them dead a thousand times Ran fiercely through the fight :

When they were clad in clay. And pass'd the English archers all,

This news was brought to Edinburgh, Without all dread or fear;

Where Scotland's king did reign, And through Earl Percy's body then

That brave Earl Douglas suddenly
He thrust his hateful spear.

Was with an arrow slain.
With such a vehement force and might O heavy news! king James did say;
He did his body gore,

Scotland can witness be,
The spear went through the other side I have not any captain more
A large cloth-yard, and more.

Of such account as he. So thus did both these nobles die,

Like tidings to King Henry came, Whose courage none could stain.

Within as short a space, An English archer then perceiv’d

That Percy of Northumberland The noble earl was slain;

Was slain in Chevy Chase. He had a bow bent in his hand,

Now God be with him, said our king, Made of a trusty tree;

Sith 'twill no better be ; An arrow of a cloth-yard long

I trust I have within my realm Up to the head drew he:

Five hundred good as he. Against Sir Hugh Montgomery

Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say, So right the shaft he set,

But I will vengeance take; The grey-goose wing that was thereon And be revenged on them all In his heart-blood was wet.

For brave Lord Percy's sake.

This vow full well the king perform’d, Till on a daye it so beffell,
After, on Humbledown.

Great dill to him was dight;
In one day fifty knights were slain,

The maydens love removde his mind, With lords of great renown:

To care-bed went the knighte. And of the rest, of small account,

One while he spred his arms him fro, Did many hundreds die.

One while he spred them nye ;
Thus ended the hunting of Chevy Chase, And aye! but I wione that ladyes love,
Made by the Earl Percy.

For dole now I mun dye.
God save the king, and bless the land And when our parish-masse was done,
In plenty, joy, and peace;

Qur kinge was bowne to dyne:
And grant henceforth, that foul debate He says, Where is Syr Cauline,
'Twixt noblemeu may cease.

That is wont to serve the wyne?
Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte,

And fast his handes gan wringe :
§ 103. Song. Sir Cauline.
There is something peculiar in the metre of this old Syr Cauline is sick and like to dye

Without a good leechinge. ballad; it is unusual to meet with redundant stanzas of six lines; but the occasional insertion of a double Fetche me downe my daughter deere, third or fourth line, as ver, 31, 44, &c. is an irregu- She is a leeche fulle fine :

larity I do not remember to have seen elsewhere. Goe take him doughe, and the baken bread, It may be proper to inform the reader before he comes to and serve him with the wyne soe red; Pt.2, ver. 110, 111, that the round table was not pe

Lothe I were him to tine. culiar to the reign of king Arthur, but was common in all the ages of chivalry. The proclaiming a great Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes, tournament (probably with some peculiar solemnities) Her maydens followyng nye: was called “holding a Round Table.” Dugdale tells | O well, she sayth, how doth my lord ? us, that the great baron Roger de Mortimer, “ having sicke, thou fayre ladyè. procured the honor of knighthood to be conferred on his three sons' by king Edward I. he, at his own costs,

Now ryse up wightlye, man, for shame, caused a tournament to be held at Kenilworth, where Never lye soc cowardlee; he sumptuously entertained an hundred knights and For it is told in my father's halle, as many ladies, for three days; the like whereof was You dye for love of mee. never before in England ; and there began the round Fayre ladye, it is for your love table, (so called by reason that the place wherein they practised those feats was environed with a strong

wall

That all this dill I drye : inade in a round form :) and upon the fourth day, the For if you wold comfort me with a kisse, golden lion, in sign of triumph, being yielded to him, Then were I brought from bale to blisse, he carried it (with all the company) to Warwick." No longer would I lye. It may further be added that Matthew Paris frequently Syr knighte, my father is a kinge, calls justs and tournaments Hastiludia Mensa Ro

I am his only heire; tundæ. As to what will be observed in this ballad, of the art of Alas! and well you knowe, syr Knighte, healing being practised by a young princess ; it is no

I never can be your feere. more than what is usual in all the old romances, and O ladye, thou art a kinges daughtér, was conformable to real manners; it being a practice And I am not thy peere, derived from the earliest times among all the Gothic But let me doe some deedes of armes, and Celtic nations, for women, even of the highest rank, to exercise the art of surgery. In the Northern

To be youre bacheleere. Chronicles we also find the young damsels stanching Some deeds of armes if thou wilt doe, the wounds of their lovers, and the wives those of My bacheleere to be, their husbands. And even so late as the time of (But ever and aye my heart would rue, queen Elizabeth, it is mentioned among the accom

Giff harm should happe to thee,) plishments of the ladies of her court, that “ the eldest of them are skilful in surgery." See Harrison's Upon Eldridge hill there groweth a thorne, Description of England, prefixed to Hollingshed's Upon the mores brodínge; Chronicle, &c.

And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all nighte, The First Part.

Untill the fair morninge ? In Ireland, ferr over the sea,

For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle of mighte, There dwelleth a bonnye kinge ;

Will examine you beforne; And with him a yong and comlye knighte, And never man bare life away, Men call him Syr Cauline.

But he did him scath and scorne.
The kinge had a lady to his daughter, That knighte he is a foul paynim,
In fashyon she hath no peere;

And large of limb and bone;
And princely wightes that ladye wooed, And but it heaven may be thy speede,
To be theyr wedded feere.

Thy life it is but gone.
Syr Cauline loveth her best of all,

Nowe on the Eldridge bills Ile walke, But nothing durst he saye ;

For thy sake, fair ladie; Ne descreeve his counsayl to no man

And lle either bring you a ready tokén, But dearlye he lovde this may.

Or Ile never more you see.

The ladye is gone to her own chaumbère, The Eldridge knighte gave up his armes Her maydens following bright:

With many a sorrowfulle sighe; Syr Cauline lop'd from care-bed soone,

And sware to obey syr Caulines hest, And to the Eldridge hilis is gone,

Till the time that he shold dye. For to wake there all night.

And he then up, and the Eldridge knighte

Sett him in his saddle annone, Unto midnight, that the moone did rise,

And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye
He walked up and downe;

To theyr casile they are gone.
Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe
Over the bents soe browne.

Then he tooke up the bloudy hand,
Quoth hee, If cryance come till my heart, That was so large of bone,
I am ffar from any good towne.

And on it he founde five ringes of gold

Of knightes that had been slone.
And soon he spyde on the mores so broad
A furyous wight and fell;

Then he tooke up the Eldridge sworde,

As hard as any A ladye bright his brydle led,

Aint; Clad in a fayre kyrtèll :

And he took off those ringès five

As bright as fire and brent. And soe fast he called on syr Cauline,

Home then pricked syr Cauline Oman, I reede thee flye,

As light as leafe on tree : For but if cryance come till thy heart,

I wys he neither stint ne blanne, I weene but thou mur dye.

Till he his ladye see. He sayth, No cryance comes till my heart, Then downe he knelt

upon

his knee Nor, in fayth, I will not flee;

Before that Jadye gay : For, cause thou minged not Christ before,

O ladye, I have been on the Eldridge hills : The less me dreadeth thee.

These tokens I bring way.
The Eldridge knighte he pricked his steed; Now welcome, welcome, syr Cauline,
Syr Cauline bold abode:

Thrice welcome unto mee,
Then either shooke his trustye speare, For now I perceive thou art a true knighte,
And the timber these two children * bare Of valor bold and free.
So soon in sunder slode.

O ladye, I am thy own true knighte,
Then took they out theyr two good swordes, Thy hests for to obaye;
And layden on full faste,

And mought I hope to winne thy love! -
Till helme and hawkbere, mail and sheelde, Ne more his tonge colde say.
They all were well-nye brast.

The ladye blushed scarlette redde,

And fette a gentill sighe : The Eldridge knight was mickle of might,

Alas! sir knighte, how may this bee,
And stifle in stower did stand;

For my degree's soe highe?
But syr Cauline with a backward stroke
He smote off his right hand;

But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth,
That soone he with paine and lacke of bloud To be my batchilere,
Fell downe on that lay-land.

Ile promise if thee I may not wedde

I will have none other fere.
Then up syr Cauline lift his brande
All over his head so hye:

Then shee held forthe her lily-white hand And here I sweare by the holy roode,

Towards that knighte so free : Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye.

He gave to it one gentill kisse,

His heart was brought from bale to blisse, Then up and came that ladye brighte,

The teares sterte from his ee. Faste wringing of her hande :

But keep my counsayl, syr Cauline, For the maydens love, that most you love,

Ne let no man it knowe;
Withhold that deadly brande:

For an ever my father sholde it ken,
For the maydens love, that most you love, I wot he wolde us sloe.
Now smyte no more I
praye;

From that day forthe that ladye fayre
And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord, Lovde syr Cauline the knighte:
He shall thy hests obaye.

From that daye forthe he only joyde
Now swear to mee, thou Eldridge knighte, Whan shee was in his sight.

And here on this lay-land,
That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye,

Part the Second.
And thereto plight thy hand :
And that thou never on Eldridge come EVERYE white will have its blacke,
To sporte, gamon, or playe;

And every sweete its sowre:
And that thou here give up thy armes

This found the ladye Christabelle Until thy dying day.

In an untiinely howre. • Knights.

For so it befelle, as

syr
Cauline

His acton it was all of blacke,
Was with that ladye faire,

His hewberke and his sheelde, The king her father walked forthe

Ne noe man wist whence he did come, To take the evenyng aire:

Ne noe man knew where he did gone And into the arboure as he went

When they came out the feelde. To rest his wearye feet,

And now three days were prestlye past He found his daughter and syr

Cauline

In feats of chivalrye, There sette in daliaunce sweet.

When lo, upon the fourth morninge The kinge hee sterted forth, iwys,

A sorrowfulle sight they ste. And an angrye man was hee:

A hugye giaunt stiff and starke, Now, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe, All foule of limbe and lere; And rewe shall thy ladie.

Two goggling eyen like fire farden,

A mouthe from eare to eare.
Then forth syr Cauline he was ledde,
And throwne in dungeon deepe;

Before him came a dwarffe full lowe,
And the ladye into a towre so hye,

That waited on his knee; There left to wayle and weepe.

And at his backe five heads he bare,

All wau and pale of blee.
The queene she was syr Caulines friend,
And to the kinge said she :

Sir, quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe,

Behold that bend soldain ! I pray you save syr Caulines life, 'And let him bavisht bee.

Behold these heads I bear with me!

They are kings which he hath slain.
Now, dame, that traitor shall be sent
Across the salt sea fome:

The Eldridge knighte is his own cousine, But here I will make with thee a band,

Whom a knighte of thine hath shent :

And hee is come to avenge his wrong; If ever he come within this land,

And to thee, all thy knightes among,
A foule deathe is his doome.

Defiance here hath sent.
All woe-begone was that gentill knight But yette he will appease his wrath
To parte from his ladyè;

Thy daughters love to winne:
And many a time he sighed sore,

And but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd, And caste a wistfulle eye:

Thy halls and towers must brenne.
Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte,
Farre lever had I dye.

Thy head, syr king, must go with mee;

Or else thy daughter deere ;
Faire Christabelle, that ladye brighte, Or else within these lists soe broad
Was had forthe of the towre:

Thou must find him a peere.
But ever shee droopeth in her minde,
As, nipt by an ungentle winde,

The king he turned him round aboute,

And in his heart was woe; Doth some faire lillye flowre.

Is there never a knighte of my round table, And ever shee doth lanient and weepe

This matter will undergo ? To tint her lover soe;

Is there never a knighte amongst yee all Syr Cauline, thou little think'st on mee, Will fight for my daughter and mee? But I will still be true.

Whoever will fight yon grimme soldàn, Manye a kinge, and manye a duke,

Right faire his meede shall be; And lords of high degree,

For he shall have my broad lay-lands, Did sue to that fayre ladye of love;

And of my crowne be heyre ; But never she wolde them nee.

And he shall winne fayre Christabelle, When many a daye was past and gone,

To be his wedded fere. Ne comforte she colde finde,

But every knighte of his round table The kinge proclaimed a tourneament,

Did stand both still and pale; To cheere his daughters mind:

For whenever they lookt on the grim soldàn,

It made their hearts to quail.
And there came lords, and there came knightes, all woe-begone was that sayre ladyè,

Fro manye a farre countryè
To break a spere for theyr ladyes love,

When she saw no helpe was nye:
Before thai faire ladye.

She cast her thought on her own true-love,

And the teares gusht from her eye.
And many a ladye there was sette

Up then sterte the stranger knighte,
In purple and in palle;
But faire Christabelle soe woe-begone

Said, Ladye, be not affray’d;

Ile fight for ihee with this grimme soldàn, Was the fayrest of them all.

Thoughe he be unmacklye made. Then many a knighte was mickle of might And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde, Before his ladye gaye:

That lyeth within thy bowre, But a stranger wight, whom no man knewe, I trust in Christe for to slay this fiende, He wan the prize eche daye.

Thoughe he be stiffe in stowre.

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