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The begane in Chyviat the hyls above
Yerly on a monnyn day;
A hondrith fat hartes ded there lay.
The blewe a mort uppone the bent,
The semblyd on sydis shear;
To se the bryttlynge off the deare.
He sayd, It was the Duglas promys
This day to meet me hear;
A gret oth the Persè swear.
At the laste a squyar of Northombelonde
40 He was war ath the doughetie Doglas comynge:
With him a myghtè meany,
Both with spear, byll,' and brande:
Yt was a myghti sight to se. Hardyar men both off hart nar hande
Wear not in Christiantè.
The wear twenty hondrith spear-men good
Withouten any fayle;
V. 31, blwe a mot. P.C. V. 42, myghtte, P.C. passim. V. 43, brylly. P.c. V. 48, withowte ... feale. P.C.
The wear borne a-long be the watter a Twyde,
Yth bowndes of Tividale.
Leave off the brytlyng of the dear, he sayde,
And to your bowys tayk good heed;
Had ye never so mickle need.
The dougheti Dogglas on a stede
He rode att his men beforne;
A bolder barne was never born.
Tell me what’ men ye ar, he
says, Or whos men that ye be: Who gave youe
leave to hunte in this Chyviat chays in the spyt of me?
The first mane that ever him an answear mayd,
Yt was the good lord Persè :
Nor whos men that we be;
In the spyte of thyne, and of the.
The fattiste hartes in all Chyviat
70 Be my troth, sayd the doughtè Dogglas agayn,
Ther-for the ton of us shall de this day,
V. 65, whoys. P.C. V. 71, agay. P.C.
Then sayd the doughtè Doglas
Unto the lord Persè:
A-las! it wear great pittè.
But, Persè, thowe art a lord of lande,
my contre; Let all our men uppone a parti stande;
And do the battell off the and of me.
Nowe Cristes cors on his crowne, sayd the lord Persè,
Who-soever ther-to says nay.
Thow shalt never se that day;
Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France,
Nor for no man of a woman born, But and fortune be my chance,
I dar met him on man for on.
Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde,
90 It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde, he says,
To kyng Herry the fourth for sham.
V. 81, says the the. P.C. V. 88, on i, e. one. * This is probably corrupted in the MS. for Rog. Widdrington, who was at the head of the family in the reign of K. Edw. III. There were several successively of the names of Roger and Ralph, but none of the name of Richard, as appears from the genealogies in the Herald's office.
I wat youe byn great lordes twa,
I am a poor squyar of lande;
And stande my-selffe, and looke on,
I wyll not · fayl’ both harte and hande.
That day, that day, that dredfull day:
100 And you wyll here any mor athe hountyng
THE SECOND FIT. Paso
THE Yngglishe men hade ther bowys yebent,
Ther hartes were good yenoughe;
Seven skore spear-men the sloughe.
Yet bydys the yerle Doglas uppon the bent,
A captayne good yenoughe,
For he wrought hom both woo and wouche.
The Dogglas pertyd his ost in thre,
10 V. 93, twaw. PC.
V. 101, youe. . . . hountyng. PC. V. 3, first, i.e. flight. V. 5, byddys. Pc.
FIT, vide Gloss.
With suar speares off myghttè tre
The cum in on every syde.
Thrughe our Yngglishe archery
Gave many a wounde full wyde;
Which ganyde them no pryde.
The Yngglyshe men let thear bowys be,
And pulde owt brandes that wer bright;
Bryght swordes on basnites lyght.
Thorowe ryche male, and myne-ye-ple
Many sterne the stroke downe streght:
Ther undar foot dyd lyght.
At last the Duglas and the Persè met,
Lyk to captayns of myght and mayne;
With swordes, that wear of fyn myllàn.
Thes worthè freckys for to fyght
30 Tyll the bloode owte off thear basnetes sprente,
As ever dyd heal or rayne.
V. 17, boys. PC.
V. 18, briggt. Pc.
V. 21, throrowe. PC.