{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch161.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch161.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch161.htm","text":"161A.1 YT fell abowght the Lamasse tyde,\nWhan husbondes wynnes ther haye,\nThe dowghtye Dowglasse bowynd hym to ryde,\nIn Ynglond to take a praye.\n161A.2 The yerlle of Fyffe, wythowghten stryffe,\nHe bowynd hym over Sulway;\nThe grete wolde ever to-gether ryde;\nThat raysse they may rewe for aye.\n161A.3 Over Hoppertope hyll they cam in,\nAnd so down by Rodclyffe crage:\nVpon Grene Lynton they lyghted dowyn,\nStyrande many a stage.\n161A.4 And boldely brente Northomberlond,\nAnd haryed many a towyn;\nThey dyd owr Ynglyssh men grete wrange,\nTo batell that were not bowyn.\n161A.5 Than spake a berne vpon the bent,\nOf comforte that was not colde,\nAnd sayd, We haue brente Northomberlond,\nWe haue all welth in holde.\n161A.6 Now we haue haryed all Bamborowe schyre,\nAll the welth in the worlde haue wee,\nI rede we ryde to Newe Castell,\nSo styll and stalworthlye.\n161A.7 Vpon the morowe, when it was day,\nThe standerds schone full bryght;\nTo the Newe Castell the toke the waye,\nAnd thether they cam full ryght.\n161A.8 Syr Henry Perssy laye at the New Castell,\nI tell yow wythowtten drede;\nHe had byn a march-man all hys dayes,\nAnd kepte Barwyke vpon Twede.\n161A.9 To the Newe Castell when they cam,\nThe Skottes they cryde on hyght,\n\u2018Syr Hary Perssy, and thou byste within,\nCom to the fylde, and fyght.\n161A.10 \u2018For we haue brente Northomberlonde,\nThy erytage good and ryght,\nAnd syne my logeyng I haue take\nWyth my brande dubbyd many a knyght.\u2019\n161A.11 Syr Harry Perssy cam to the walles,\nThe Skottyssch oste for to se,\nAnd sayd, And thou hast brente Northomberlond,\nFull sore it rewyth me.\n161A.12 Yf thou hast haryed all Bamborowe schyre,\nThow hast done me grete envye;\nFor the trespasse thow hast me done,\nThe tone of vs schall dye.\n161A.13 \u2018Where schall I byde the?\u2019 sayd the Dowglas,\n\u2018Or where wylte thow com to me?\u2019\n\u2018At Otterborne, in the hygh way,\n[T]her mast thow well logeed be.\n161A.14 \u2018[T]he roo full rekeles ther sche rinnes,\n[T]o make the game a[nd] glee;\n\u2018T]he fawken and the fesaunt both,\nAmong the holtes on hye.\n161A.15 \u2018Ther mast thow haue thy welth at wyll,\nWell looged ther mast be;\nYt schall not be long or I com the tyll,\u2019\nSayd Syr Harry Perssye.\n161A.16 \u2018Ther schall I byde the,\u2019 sayd the Dowglas,\n\u2018By the fayth of my bodye:\u2019\n\u2018Thether schall I com,\u2019 sayd Syr Harry Perssy,\n\u2018My trowth I plyght to the.\u2019\n161A.17 A pype of wyne he gaue them over the walles,\nFor soth as I yow saye;\nTher he mayd the Dowglasse drynke,\nAnd all hys ost that daye.\n161A.18 The Dowglas turnyd hym homewarde agayne,\nFor soth withowghten naye;\nHe toke hys logeyng at Oterborne,\nVpon a Wedynsday.\n161A.19 And ther he pyght hys standerd dowyn,\nHys getting more and lesse,\nAnd syne he warned hys men to goo\nTo chose ther geldynges gresse.\n161A.20 A Skottysshe knyght hoved vpon the bent,\nA wache I dare well saye;\nSo was he ware on the noble Perssy,\nIn the dawnyng of the daye.\n161A.21 He prycked to hys pavyleon-dore,\nAs faste as he myght ronne;\n\u2018Awaken, Dowglas,\u2019 cryed the knyght,\n\u2018For hys love that syttes in trone.\n161A.22 \u2018Awaken, Dowglas,\u2019 cryed the knyght,\n\u2018For thow maste waken wyth wynne;\nYender haue I spyed the prowde Perssye,\nAnd seven stondardes wyth hym.\u2019\n161A.23 \u2018Nay by my trowth,\u2019 the Dowglas sayed,\n\u2018It ys but a fayned taylle;\nHe durst not loke on my brede banner\nFor all Ynglonde so haylle.\n161A.24 \u2018Was I not yesterdaye at the Newe Castell,\nThat stondes so fayre on Tyne?\nFor all the men the Perssy had,\nHe coude not garre me ones to dyne.\u2019\n161A.25 He stepped owt at his pavelyon-dore,\nTo loke and it were lesse:\n\u2018Araye yow, lordynges, one and all,\nFor here bygynnes no peysse.\n161A.26 \u2018The yerle of Mentaye, thow arte my eme,\nThe fowarde I gyve to the:\nThe yerlle of Huntlay, cawte and kene,\nHe schall be wyth the.\n161A.27 \u2018The lorde of Bowghan, in armure bryght,\nOn the other hand he schall be;\nLord Jhonstoune and Lorde Maxwell,\nThey to schall be wyth me.\n161A.28 \u2018Swynton, fayre fylde vpon your pryde!\nTo batell make yow bowen\nSyr Davy Skotte, Syr Water Stewarde,\nSyr Jhon of Agurstone!\u2019\n161A.29 The Perssy cam byfore hys oste,\nWych was ever a gentyll knyght;\nVpon the Dowglas lowde can he crye,\n\u2018I wyll holde that I haue hyght.\n161A.30 \u2018For thou haste brente Northomberlonde,\nAnd done me grete envye;\nFor thys trespasse thou hast me done,\nThe tone of vs schall dye.\u2019\n161A.31 The Dowglas answerde hym agayne,\nWyth grett wurdes vpon hye,\nAnd sayd, I haue twenty agaynst thy one,\nByholde, and thou maste see.\n161A.32 Wyth that the Perssy was grevyd sore,\nFor soth as I yow saye;\nHe lyghted dowyn vpon his foote,\nAnd schoote hys horsse clene awaye.\n161A.33 Euery man sawe that he dyd soo,\nThat ryall was euer in rowght;\nEuery man schoote hys horsse hym froo,\nAnd lyght hym rowynde abowght.\n161A.34 Thus Syr Hary Perssye toke the fylde,\nFor soth as I yow saye;\nJhesu Cryste in hevyn on hyght\nDyd helpe hym well that daye.\n161A.35 But nyne thowzand, ther was no moo,\nThe cronykle wyll not layne;\nForty thowsande of Skottes and fowre\nThat day fowght them agayne.\n161A.36 But when the batell byganne to ioyne,\nIn hast ther cam a knyght;\nThe letters fayre furth hath he tayne,\nAnd thus he sayd full ryght:\n161A.37 \u2018My lorde your father he gretes yow well,\nWyth many a noble knyght;\nHe desyres yow to byde\nThat he may see thys fyght.\n161A.38 \u2018The Baron of Grastoke ys com out of the west,\nWyth hym a noble companye;\nAll they loge at your fathers thys nyght,\nAnd the batell fayne wolde they see.\u2019\n161A.39 \u2018For Jhesus love,\u2019 sayd Syr Harye Perssy,\n\u2018That dyed for yow and me,\nWende to my lorde my father agayne,\nAnd saye thow sawe me not wyth yee.\n161A.40 \u2018My trowth ys plyght to yonne Skottysh knyght,\nIt nedes me not to layne,\nThat I schulde byde hym vpon thys bent,\nAnd I haue hys trowth agayne.\n161A.41 \u2018And if that I w[e]ynde of thys growende,\nFor soth, onfowghten awaye,\nHe wolde me call but a kowarde knyght\nIn hys londe another daye.\n161A.42 \u2018Yet had I lever to be rynde and rente,\nBy Mary, that mykkel maye,\nThen ever my manhood schulde be reprovyd\nWyth a Skotte another day.\n161A.43 \u2018Wherfore schote, archars, for my sake,\nAnd let scharpe arowes flee;\nMynstrells, playe vp for your waryson,\nAnd well quyt it schall bee.\n161A.44 \u2018Euery man thynke on hys trewe-love,\nAnd marke hym to the Trenite;\nFor to God I make myne avowe\nThys day wyll I not flee.\u2019\n161A.45 The blodye harte in the Dowglas armes,\nHys standerde stode on hye,\nThat euery man myght full well knowe;\nBy syde stode starr s thre.\n161A.46 The whyte lyon on the Ynglyssh perte,\nFor soth as I yow sayne,\nThe lucettes and the cressawntes both;\nThe Skottes favght them agayne.\n161A.47 Vpon Sent Androwe lowde can they crye,\nAnd thrysse they schowte on hyght,\nAnd syne merked them one owr Ynglysshe men,\nAs I haue tolde yow ryght.\n161A.48 Sent George the bryght, owr ladyes knyght,\nTo name they were full fayne;\nOwr Ynglyssh men they cryde on hyght,\nAnd thrysse the schowtte agayne.\n161A.49 Wyth that scharpe arowes bygan to flee,\nI tell yow in sertayne;\nMen of armes byganne to joyne,\nMany a dowghty man was ther slayne.\n161A.50 The Perssy and the Dowglas mette,\nThat ether of other was fayne;\nThey swapped together whyll that the swette,\nWyth swordes of fyne collayne:\n161A.51 Tyll the bloode from ther bassonnettes ranne,\nAs the roke doth in the rayne;\n\u2018Yelde the to me,\u2019 sayd the Dowglas,\n\u2018Or elles thow schalt be slayne.\n161A.52 \u2018For I see by thy bryght bassonet,\nThow arte sum man of myght;\nAnd so I do by thy burnysshed brande;\nThow arte an yerle, or elles a knyght.\u2019\n161A.53 \u2018By my good faythe,\u2019 sayd the noble Perssye,\n\u2018Now haste thow rede full ryght;\nYet wyll I never yelde me to the,\nWhyll I may stonde and fyght.\u2019\n161A.54 They swapped together whyll that they swette,\nWyth sword s scharpe and long;\nYch on other so faste thee beette,\nTyll ther helmes cam in peyses dowyn.\n161A.55 The Perssy was a man of strenghth,\nI tell yow in thys stounde;\nHe smote the Dowglas at the sword s length\nThat he felle to the growynde.\n161A.56 The sworde was scharpe, and sore can byte,\nI tell yow in sertayne;\nTo the harte he cowde hym smyte,\nThus was the Dowglas slayne.\n161A.57 The stonderdes stode styll on eke a syde,\nWyth many a grevous grone;\nTher the fowght the day, and all the nyght,\nAnd many a dowghty man was slayne.\n161A.58 Ther was no freke that ther wolde flye,\nBut styffely in stowre can stond,\nYchone hewyng on other whyll they myght drye,\nWyth many a bayllefull bronde.\n161A.59 Ther was slayne vpon the Skott s syde,\nFor soth and sertenly,\nSyr James a Dowglas ther was slayne,\nThat day that he cowde dye.\n161A.60 The yerlle of Mentaye he was slayne,\nGrysely groned vpon the growynd;\nSyr Davy Skotte, Syr Water Stewarde,\nSyr Jhon of Agurstoune.\n161A.61 Syr Charll s Morrey in that place,\nThat never a fote wold flee;\nSyr Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was,\nWyth the Dowglas dyd he dye.\n161A.62 Ther was slayne vpon the Skott s syde,\nFor soth as I yow saye,\nOf fowre and forty thowsande Scottes\nWent but eyghtene awaye.\n161A.63 Ther was slayne vpon the Ynglysshe syde,\nFor soth and sertenlye,\nA gentell knight, Syr Jhon Fechewe,\nYt was the more pety.\n161A.64 Syr James Hardbotell ther was slayne,\nFor hym ther hartes were sore;\nThe gentyll Lovell ther was slayne,\nThat the Perssys standerd bore.\n161A.65 Ther was slayne vpon the Ynglyssh perte,\nFor soth as I yow saye,\nOf nyne thowsand Ynglyssh men\nFyve hondert cam awaye.\n161A.66 The other were slayne in the fylde;\nCryste kepe ther sowlles from wo!\nSeyng ther was so fewe fryndes\nAgaynst so many a foo.\n161A.67 Then on the morne they mayde them beerys\nOf byrch and haysell graye;\nMany a wydowe, wyth wepyng teyres,\nTher makes they fette awaye.\n161A.68 Thys fraye bygan at Otterborne,\nBytwene the nyght and the day;\nTher the Dowglas lost hys lyffe,\nAnd the Perssy was lede awaye.\n161A.69 Then was ther a Scottysh prisoner tayne,\nSyr Hewe Mongomery was hys name;\nFor soth as I yow saye,\nHe borowed the Perssy home agayne.\n161A.70 Now let vs all for the Perssy praye\nTo Jhesu most of myght,\nTo bryng hys sowlle to the blysse of heven,\nFor he was a gentyll knyght.\n161B: The Battle of Otterburn\n161B.1 IT fell and about the Lammas time,\nWhen husbandmen do win their hay,\nEarl Douglass is to the English woods,\nAnd a\u2019 with him to fetch a prey.\n161B.2 He has chosen the Lindsays light,\nWith them the gallant Gordons gay,\nAnd the Earl of Fyfe, withouten strife,\nAnd Sir Hugh Montgomery upon a grey.\n161B.3 They have taken Northumberland,\nAnd sae hae they the north shire,\nAnd the Otter Dale, they hae burnt it hale,\nAnd set it a\u2019 into fire.\n161B.4 Out then spake a bonny boy,\nThat servd ane o Earl Douglass kin;\nMethinks I see an English host,\nA-coming branken us upon.\n161B.5 \u2018If this be true, my little boy,\nAnd it be troth that thou tells me,\nThe brawest bower in Otterburn\nThis day shall be thy morning-fee.\n161B.6 \u2018But if it be fase, my little boy,\nBut and a lie that thou tells me,\nOn the highest tree that\u2019s in Otterburn\nWith my ain hands I\u2019ll hing thee high.\u2019\n161B.7 The boy\u2019s taen out his little penknife,\nThat hanget low down by his gare,\nAnd he gaed Earl Douglass a deadly wound,\nAlack! a deep wound and a sare.\n161B.8 Earl Douglas said to Sir Hugh Montgomery,\nTake thou the vanguard o the three,\nAnd bury me at yon braken-bush,\nThat stands upon yon lilly lee.\n161B.9 Then Percy and Montgomery met,\nAnd weel a wot they warna fain;\nThey swaped swords, and they twa swat,\nAnd ay the blood ran down between.\n161B.10 \u2018O yield thee, yield thee, Percy,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Or else I vow I\u2019ll lay thee low;\u2019\n\u2018Whom to shall I yield,\u2019 said Earl Percy,\n\u2018Now I see it maun be so?\u2019\n161B.11 \u2018O yield thee to yon braken-bush,\nThat grows upon yon lilly lee;\n. . . .\n. . . .\n161B.12 \u2018I winna yield to a braken-bush,\nNor yet will I unto a brier;\nBut I would yield to Earl Douglass,\nOr Sir Hugh Montgomery, if he was here.\u2019\n161B.13 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery,\nHe stuck his sword\u2019s point in the ground,\nAnd Sir Hugh Montgomery was a courteous knight,\nAnd he quickly broght him by the hand.\n161B.14 This deed was done at Otterburn,\nAbout the breaking of the day;\nEarl Douglass was buried at the braken-bush,\nAnd Percy led captive away.\n161C: The Battle of Otterburn\n161C.1 IT fell about the Lammas tide,\nWhen the muir-men win their hay,\nThe doughty Douglas bound him to ride\nInto England, to drive a prey.\n161C.2 He chose the Gordons and the Gra+emes,\nWith them the Lindesays, light and gay;\nBut the Jardines wald not with him ride,\nAnd they rue it to this day.\n161C.3 And he has burnd the dales of Tyne,\nAnd part of Bambrough shire,\nAnd three good towers on Reidswire fells,\nHe left them all on fire.\n161C.4 And he marchd up to Newcastle,\nAnd rode it round about:\n\u2018O wha\u2019s the lord of this castle?\nOr wha\u2019s the lady o\u2019t?\u2019\n161C.5 But up spake proud Lord Percy then,\nAnd O but he spake hie!\nI am the lord of this castle,\nMy wife\u2019s the lady gay.\n161C.6 \u2018If thou\u2019rt the lord of this castle,\nSae weel it pleases me,\nFor, ere I cross the Border fells,\nThe tane of us shall die.\u2019\n161C.7 He took a lang spear in his hand,\nShod with the metal free,\nAnd for to meet the Douglas there\nHe rode right furiouslie.\n161C.8 But O how pale his lady lookd,\nFrae aff the castle-wa,\nWhen down before the Scottish spear\nShe saw proud Percy fa.\n161C.9 \u2018Had we twa been upon the green,\nAnd never an eye to see,\nI wad hae had you, flesh and fell;\nBut your sword sall gae wi me.\u2019\n161C.10 \u2018But gae ye up to Otterbourne,\nAnd, wait there dayis three,\nAnd, if I come not ere three dayis end,\nA fause knight ca ye me.\u2019\n161C.11 \u2018The Otterbourne\u2019s a bonnie burn;\n\u2019Tis pleasant there to be;\nBut there is nought at Otterbourne\nTo feed my men and me.\n161C.12 \u2018The deer rins wild on hill and dale,\nThe birds fly wild from tree to tree;\nBut there is neither bread nor kale\nTo fend my men and me.\n161C.13 \u2018Yet I will stay at Otterbourne,\nWhere you shall welcome be;\nAnd, if ye come not at three dayis end,\nA fause lord I\u2019ll ca thee.\u2019\n161C.14 \u2018Thither will I come,\u2019 proud Percy said,\n\u2018By the might of Our Ladye;\u2019\n\u2018There will I bide thee,\u2019 said the Douglas,\n\u2018My troth I plight to thee.\u2019\n161C.15 They lighted high on Otterbourne,\nUpon the bent sae brown;\nThey lighted high on Otterbourne,\nAnd threw their pallions down.\n161C.16 And he that had a bonnie boy,\nSent out his horse to grass;\nAnd he that had not a bonnie boy,\nHis ain servant he was.\n161C.17 But up then spake a little page,\nBefore the peep of dawn:\n\u2018O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,\nFor Percy\u2019s hard at hand.\u2019\n161C.18 \u2018Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud!\nSae loud I hear ye lie:\nFor Percy had not men yestreen\nTo dight my men and me.\n161C.19 \u2018But I have dreamd a dreary dream,\nBeyond the Isle of Sky;\nI saw a dead man win a fight,\nAnd I think that man was I.\u2019\n161C.20 He belted on his guid braid sword,\nAnd to the field he ran,\nBut he forgot the helmet good,\nThat should have kept his brain.\n161C.21 When Percy with the Douglas met,\nI wat he was fu fain;\nThey swakked their swords, till sair they swat,\nAnd the blood ran down like rain.\n161C.22 But Percy with his good broad sword,\nThat could so sharply wound,\nHas wounded Douglas on the brow,\nTill he fell to the ground.\n161C.23 Then he calld on his little foot-page,\nAnd said, Run speedilie,\nAnd fetch my ain dear sister\u2019s son,\nSir Hugh Montgomery.\n161C.24 \u2018My nephew good,\u2019 the Douglas said,\n\u2018What recks the death of ane!\nLast night I dreamd a dreary dream,\nAnd I ken the day\u2019s thy ain.\n161C.25 \u2018My wound is deep; I fain would sleep;\nTake thou the vanguard of the three,\nAnd hide me by the braken-bush,\nThat grows on yonder lilye lee.\n161C.26 \u2018O bury me by the braken-bush,\nBeneath the blooming brier;\nLet never living mortal ken\nThat ere a kindly Scot lies here.\u2019\n161C.27 He lifted up that noble lord,\nWi the saut tear in his ee;\nHe hid him in the braken-bush,\nThat his merrie men might not see.\n161C.28 The moon was clear, the day drew near,\nThe spears in flinders flew,\nBut mony a gallant Englishman\nEre day the Scotsmen slew.\n161C.29 The Gordons good, in English blood\nThey steepd their hose and shoon;\nThe Lindsays flew like fire about,\nTill all the fray was done.\n161C.30 The Percy and Montgomery met,\nThat either of other were fain;\nThey swapped swords, and they twa swat,\nAnd aye the blood ran down between.\n161C.31 \u2018Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Or else I vow I\u2019ll lay thee low!\u2019\n\u2018To whom must I yield,\u2019 quoth Earl Percy,\n\u2018Now that I see that it must be so?\u2019\n161C.32 \u2018Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun,\nNor yet shalt thou yield to me;\nBut yield thee to the braken-bush,\nThat grows upon yon lilye lee.\u2019\n161C.33 \u2018I will not yield to a braken-bush,\nNor yet will I yield to a brier;\nBut I would yield to Earl Douglas,\nOr Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here.\u2019\n161C.34 As soon as he knew it was Montgomery,\nHe struck his sword\u2019s point in the gronde;\nThe Montgomery was a courteous knight,\nAnd quickly took him by the honde.\n161C.35 This deed was done at the Otterbourne,\nAbout the breaking of the day;\nEarl Douglas was buried at the braken-bush,\nAnd the Percy led captive away.\n161D: The Battle of Otterburn\n161D.1 THEN out an spak a little wee boy,\nAnd he was near o Percy\u2019s kin:\nMethinks I see the English host\nA coming branking us upon.\n161D.2 Wi nine waggons scaling wide,\nAnd seven banners bearing high;\nIt was do any living gude\nTo see their bonny colours fly.\n161E: The Battle of Otterburn\n161E.1 \u2018O YIELD thee to yon braken-bush,\nThat grows upon yon lilly lie;\nFor there lies aneth yon braken-bush\nWhat aft has conquered mae than thee.\u2019","title":"The Child Ballads: 161. The Battle of Otterburn","type":"page"}