1311

The Battle of Otterburn.*

(NEAR 400 YEARS OLD.)

FROM RITSON'S "NORTHUMBERLAND GARLAND."

T fell abowght the Lamasse tyde,
When husbondes wynne ther haye,

The dowghtye Dowglasse bowynd him to ryde,
In Ynglond to take a praye:

The yerlle of Fyffe, withowghten stryffe,
He bowynd him over Sulway:

The grete wolde ever together ryde,

That raysse they may rewe for aye.

6

Upon Grene Leyton' they lyghted dowyn,
'Styrande many a' stage:

And boldely brente Northomberlond,
And haryed many a towyn;

They dyd owr Ynglyssh men grete wrange,
To battell that were not bowyn.

Then spake a berne upon the bent,
Of comforte that was not colde,

And sayd, we have brent Northomberlond,
We have all welth in holde.

Now we have haryed all Bamboroweschyre,
All the welth in the worlde have wee,
I rede we ryde to Newe Castell,
So styll and stalwurthlye.

To the Newe Castell the toke the waye,
And thether they cam fulle ryght.

Sir Henry Perssy laye at the New Castell,
I tell yow withowtten drede ;

He had byn a march-man all hys dayes,
And kept Barwyke upon Twede.

To the Newe Castell when they cam,
The Skottes they cryde on hyght,
Syr Hary Perssy, and thow byste within,
Com to the fylde, and fyght:

For we have brente Northomberlonde,
The erytage good and ryght;
Aud syne my logeyng I have take,

With my brande dubbyd many a knyght.

Sir Harry Perssy cam to the walles,

The Skottyssh oste for to se;

And sayd, And thou hast brent Northomberlond,
Full sore it rewyth me.

Yf thow hast haryed all Bamboroweschyre,
Thow hast done me grete envye;

For the trespasse thow hast me done,
The tone of us schall dye.

Where schall I byde the, sayd the Dowglas,

Or where wylte thow com to me?

"At Otterborne in the hygh way,

Ther mast thow well logeed be.

The roo full rekeless ther sche runnes,
To make the game and glee:
The fawken and the fesaunt both,
Among the holtes on hye.

Ther mast thow have thy welth at wyll,

Well looged ther mast be;

Yt schall not be long, or I com the tyll,"
Sayd syr Harry Perssye.

Ther schall I byde the, sayd the Dowglas,
By the fayth of my bodye.

Thether schall I com, sayd syr Harry Perssy My trowth I plyght to the.

A pype of wyne he gave them over the walles
For soth, as I yow saye:

Ther he mayd the Dowglasse drynke,
And all hys ost that daye.

The Dowglas turnyd hym homewarde agayne,

For soth withowghten naye,

He took his logeynge at Oterborne

Upon a Wedynsday:

And ther he pyght his standerd dowyn,
Hys gettyng more and lesse,
And syne he warned his men to goo
To chose ther geldynges gresse.

A Skottysshe knyght hoved upon the bent,
A wache I dare well saye:

So was he ware on the noble Perssy,
In the dawnyng of the daye.

He prycked to his pavyleon dore,
As fast as he might ronne,
Awaken, Dowglas, cryed the knyght,
For hys love that fyttes in trone.

Awaken, Dowglas, cryed the knyght,
For thow maste waken wyth wynne;
Yender have I spyed the prowde Perssye,
And seven standardes wyth hym.

Nay, by my trowth, the Dowglas sayed,
It ys but a fayned taylle:

He durst not loke on my brede banner,
For all Ynglonde so haylle.

Was I not yesterdaye at the Newe Castell,

That stondes so fayre on Tyne ?

For all the men the Perssy had,

He cowde not garre me ones to dyne.

He stepped owt at his pavelyon dore,
To loke and it were lesse e;

"Araye yow, lordynges, one and all,
For here bygynnes no peysse..

The yerle of Mentaye, thow art my eme,
The fowarde I gyve to the:

The yerlle of Huntlay cawte and kene,
He schallwyth the be.'

The lord of Bowghan in armure bryght.
On the other hand he schall be:
Lorde Jhonstone, and lorde Maxwell,
They to schall be with me.

Swynton fayre fylde upon your pryde
To batell make yow bowen:

Syr Davy Skotte, syr Water Stewarde,
Syr Jhon of Agurstone."

a Fytte

VOL .III.

HE Perssy came byfore hys oste,
Whych was ever a gentyll knyght,
Upon the Dowglas lowde can he crye,
I wyll holde that I have hyght:

For thow haste brente Northomberlonde,

And done me grete envye;

For thys trespasse thow hast me done,

'The tone of us schall dye.

The Dowglas answerde hym agayne,
With grete wurdes upon hye,

And sayd, I have twenty agaynst 'thy' one,
Byholde and thow maste see.

With that the Perssye was grevyd sore,
For soth as I yow saye:

He lyghted dowyn upon hys foote,
And schoote his horsse clene away.

3 D

Every man sawe that he dyd soo,

That rall was ever in rowght,
Every man schoote hys horsse hym froo,
And lyght him rowynde abowght.

Thus syr Hary Perssye toke the fylde,
For soth, as I yow saye:

Jesu Cryste in heven on hyght
Dyd helpe hym well that daye.

But nyne thowzand, ther was no moo;
The cronykle wyll not layne:
Forty thowsande Skottes and fowre
That day fowght them agayne.

But when the batell byganne to joyne,
In hast ther cam a knyght,

The letters fayr furth hath he tayne,
And thus he sayd full ryght:

My lorde, your father he gretes yow well,

With many a noble knyght:

He desyres yow to byde

That he may see thys fyght.

The baron of Grastoke ys com owt of the we
Wyth hym a noble companye;

All they loge at your fathers thys nyght,
And the battel fayne wolde they see.

For Jesus love, sayd syr Harye Perssy, 'That dyed for yow and me,

Wende to my lorde my father agayne,

And saye thou sawe me not with yee'

My trowth ys plyght to yonne Skottysh knyght,
It nedes me not to layne,

That I schulde byde hym upon thys bent,
And I have hys trowth agayne:

And if that I wynde off thys growende,
For soth onfowghten awaye,

He wolde me call but a kowarde knyght
In hys londe another daye.