Chapter 7

"Away with that stake, away with those brands, And loose our comelye queene: I am come to fight with Sir Aldingar, And prove him a traitor keene."

Forthe then stood Sir Aldingar, But when he saw the chylde, He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe, And weened he had been beguylde.

"Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar, And eyther fighte or flee; I trust that I shall avenge the wronge, Thoughe I am so small to see."

The boy pulld forth a well good sworde So gilt it dazzled the ee; The first stroke stricken at Aldingar, Smote off his leggs by the knee.

"Stand up, stand up, thou false traitòr, And fight upon thy feete, For and thou thrive, as thou begin'st, Of height wee shall be meete."

A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingàr, While I am a man alive. A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingàr, Me for to houzle and shrive.

I wolde have laine by our comlie queene, Bot shee wolde never consent; Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge In a fyer to have her brent.

There came a lazar to the kings gates, A lazar both blind and lame: I tooke the lazar upon my backe, And on her bedd had him layne.

Then ranne I to our comlye king, These tidings sore to tell. But ever alacke! sayes Aldingar, Falsing never doth well.

Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame, The short time I must live. "Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar, As freely I forgive."

Here take thy queene, our king Harryè, And love her as thy life, For never had a king in Christentye. A truer and fairer wife.

King Henrye ran to claspe his queene, And loosed her full sone: Then turned to look for the tinye boye; --The boye was vanisht and gone.

But first he had touched the lazar man, And stroakt him with his hand: The lazar under the gallowes tree All whole and sounde did stand.

The lazar under the gallowes tree Was comelye, straight and tall; King Henrye made him his head stewàrde To wayte withinn his hall.

EDOM O' GORDON

It fell about the Martinmas, Quhen the wind blew shril and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, We maun draw till a hauld.

And quhat a hauld sall we draw till, My mirry men and me? We wul gae to the house o' the Rodes, To see that fair ladie.

The lady stude on her castle wa', Beheld baith dale and down: There she was ware of a host of men Cum ryding towards the toun.

O see ze nat, my mirry men a'? O see za nat quhat I see? Methinks I see a host of men: I marveil quha they be.

She weend it had been hir luvely lord, As he cam ryding hame; It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon, Quha reckt nae sin nor shame.

She had nae sooner buskit hirsel, And putten on hir goun, But Edom o' Gordon and his men Were round about the toun.

They had nae sooner supper sett, Nae sooner said the grace, But Edom o' Gordon and his men Were light about the place.

The lady ran up to hir towir head, Sa fast as she could hie, To see if by hir fair speechès She could wi' him agree.

But quhan he see this lady saif, And hir yates all locked fast, He fell into a rage of wrath, And his look was all aghast.

Cum doun to me, ze lady gay, Cum doun, cum doun to me: This night sall ye lig within mine armes, To-morrow my bride sall be.

I winnae cum doun ze fals Gordòn, I winnae cum doun to thee; I winna forsake my ain dear lord, That is sae far frae me.

Give owre zour house, ze lady fair, Give owre zour house to me, Or I sall brenn yoursel therein, Bot and zour babies three.

I winnae give owre, ze false Gordòn, To nae sik traitor as zee; And if ze brenn my ain dear babes, My lord sall make ze drie.

But reach my pistoll, Glaud my man, And charge ze weil my gun: For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher, My babes we been undone.

She stude upon hir castle wa', And let twa bullets flee: She mist that bluidy butchers hart, And only raz'd his knee.

Set fire to the house, quo' fals Gordòn, All wood wi' dule and ire: Fals lady, ze sall rue this deid, As ze bren in the fire.

Wae worth, wae worth ze, Jock my man, I paid ze weil zour fee; Quhy pu' ze out the ground-wa' stane, Lets in the reek to me?

And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man, I paid ze weil zour hire; Quhy pu' ze out the ground-wa' stane, To me lets in the fire?

Ze paid me weil my hire, lady; Ze paid me weil my fee: But now I'm Edom o' Gordons man, Maun either doe or die.

O than bespaik hir little son, Sate on the nurses knee: Sayes, Mither deare, gi' owre this house, For the reek it smithers me.

I wad gie a' my gowd, my childe, Say wald I a' my fee, For ane blast o' the western wind, To blaw the reek frae thee.

O then bespaik hir dochter dear, She was baith jimp and sma; O row me in a pair o' sheits, And tow me owre the wa.

They rowd hir in a pair o' sheits, And towd hir owre the wa: But on the point of Gordons spear She gat a deadly fa.

O bonnie bonnie was hir mouth, And cherry were her cheiks, And clear clear was hir zellow hair, Whereon the reid bluid dreips.

Then wi' his spear he turnd hir owre, O gin hir face was wan! He sayd, Ze are the first that eir I wisht alive again.

He turnd hir owre and owre againe, O gin hir skin was whyte! I might ha spared that bonnie face To hae been sum mans delyte.

Busk and boun, my merry men a', For ill dooms I doe guess; I cannae luik in that bonnie face, As it lyes on the grass.

Thame, luiks to freits, my master deir, Then freits wil follow thame: Let neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon Was daunted by a dame.

But quhen the ladye see the fire Cum flaming owre hir head, She wept and kist her children twain, Sayd, Bairns, we been but dead.

The Gordon then his bougill blew, And said, Awa', awa'; This house o' the Rodes is a' in flame, I hauld it time to ga'.

O then bespyed hir ain dear lord, As hee cam owr the lee; He sied his castle all in blaze Sa far as he could see.

Then sair, O sair his mind misgave, And all his hart was wae; Put on, put on, my wighty men, So fast as ze can gae.

Put on, put on, my wighty men, Sa fast as ze can drie; For he that is hindmost of the thrang Sall neir get guid o' me.

Than sum they rade, and sum they rin, Fou fast out-owr the bent; But eir the foremost could get up, Baith lady and babes were brent.

He wrang his hands, he rent his hair, And wept in teenefu' muid: O traitors, for this cruel deid Ze sall weep tiers o' bluid.

And after the Gordon he is gane, Sa fast as he might drie. And soon i' the Gordon's foul hartis bluid He's wroken his dear ladie.

CHEVY CHASE

God prosper long our noble king, Our lives and safetyes all; A woefull hunting once there did In Chevy-Chace befall;

To drive the deere with hound and horne, Erle Percy took his way, The child may rue that is unborne, The hunting of that day.

The stout Erle of Northumberland A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summers days to take;

The cheefest harts in Chevy-chace To kill and beare away. These tydings to Erle Douglas came, In Scotland where he lay:

Who sent Erle Percy present word, He wold prevent his sport. The English erle, not fearing that, Did to the woods resort

With fifteen hundred bow-men bold; All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of neede To ayme their shafts arright.

The galland greyhounds swiftly ran, To chase the fallow deere: On munday they began to hunt, Ere day-light did appeare;

And long before high noone they had An hundred fat buckes slaine; Then having dined, the drovyers went To rouze the deare againe.

The bow-men mustered on the hills, Well able to endure; Theire backsides all, with speciall care, That day were guarded sure.

The hounds ran swiftly through the woods, The nimble deere to take, That with their cryes the hills and dales An eccho shrill did make.

Lord Percy to the quarry went, To view the slaughter'd deere; Quoth he, Erle Douglas promised This day to meet me heere:

But if I thought he wold not come, Noe longer wold I stay. With that, a brave younge gentleman Thus to the Erle did say:

Loe, yonder doth Erle Douglas come, His men in armour bright; Full twenty hundred Scottish speres All marching in our sight;

All men of pleasant Tivydale, Fast by the river Tweede: O cease your sports, Erle Percy said, And take your bowes with speede:

And now with me, my countrymen, Your courage forth advance; For there was never champion yett, In Scotland nor in France,

That ever did on horsebacke come, But if my hap it were, I durst encounter man for man, With him to break a spere.

Erle Douglas on his milke-white steede, Most like a baron bolde, Rode foremost of his company, Whose armour shone like gold.

Show me, sayd hee, whose men you bee, That hunt soe boldly heere, That, without my consent, doe chase And kill my fallow-deere.

The first man that did answer make Was noble Percy hee; Who sayd, Wee list not to declare, Nor shew whose men wee bee: Yet wee will spend our deerest blood, Thy cheefest harts to slay. Then Douglas swore a solempne oathe, And thus in rage did say,

Ere thus I will out-braved bee, One of us two shall dye: I know thee well, an erle thou art; Lord Percy, soe am I.

But trust me, Percy, pittye it were, And great offence to kill Any of these our guiltlesse men, For they have done no ill.

Let thou and I the battell trye, And set our men aside. Accurst bee he, Erle Percy sayd, By whome this is denyed.

Then stept a gallant squier forth, Witherington was his name, Who said, I wold not have it told To Henry our king for shame,

That ere my captaine fought on foote, And I stood looking on. You be two erles, sayd Witherington, And I a squier alone:

He doe the best that doe I may, While I have power to stand: While I have power to weeld my sword He fight with hart and hand.

Our English archers bent their bowes, Their harts were good and trew; Att the first flight of arrowes sent, Full four-score Scots they slew.

Yet bides Earl Douglas on the bent, As Chieftain stout and good. As valiant Captain, all unmov'd The shock he firmly stood.

His host he parted had in three, As Leader ware and try'd, And soon his spearmen on their foes Bare down on every side.

To drive the deere with hound and horne, Douglas bade on the bent Two captaines moved with mickle might Their speres to shivers went.

Throughout the English archery They dealt full many a wound: But still our valiant Englishmen All firmly kept their ground:

And throwing strait their bows away, They grasp'd their swords so bright: And now sharp blows, a heavy shower, On shields and helmets light.

They closed full fast on every side, Noe slackness there was found: And many a gallant gentleman Lay gasping on the ground.

O Christ! it was a griefe to see; And likewise for to heare, The cries of men lying in their gore, And scattered here and there.

At last these two stout erles did meet, Like captaines of great might: Like lyons wood, they layd on lode, And made a cruell fight:

They fought untill they both did sweat, With swords of tempered steele; Untill the blood, like drops of rain, They tricklin downe did feele.

Yeeld thee, Lord Percy, Douglas sayd In faith I will thee bringe, Where thou shalt high advanced bee By James our Scottish king:

Thy ransome I will freely give, And this report of thee, Thou art the most couragious knight, That ever I did see.

Noe, Douglas, quoth Erle Percy then, Thy proffer I doe scorne; I will not yeelde to any Scott, That ever yett was borne.

With that, there came an arrow keene Out of an English bow, Which struck Erle Douglas to the heart, A deepe and deadlye blow:

Who never spake more words than these, Fight on, my merry men all; For why, my life is at an end; Lord Percy sees my fall.

Then leaving liffe, Erie Percy tooke The dead man by the hand; And said, Erle Douglas, for thy life Wold I had lost my land.

O Christ! my verry hart doth bleed With sorrow for thy sake; For sure, a more redoubted knight Mischance cold never take.

A knight amongst the Scotts there was Which saw Erle Douglas dye, Who streight in wrath did vow revenge Upon the Lord Percye:

Sir Hugh Mountgomery was he call'd, Who, with a spere most bright, Well-mounted on a gallant steed, Ran fiercely through the fight;

And past the English archers all, Without all dread or feare; And through Earl Percyes body then He thrust his hatefull spere;

With such a vehement force and might He did his body gore, The staff ran through the other side A large cloth-yard and more.

So thus did both these nobles dye, Whose courage none could staine: An English archer then perceiv'd The noble erle was slaine;

He had a bow bent in his hand, Made of a trusty tree; An arrow of a cloth-yard long Up to the head drew hee:

Against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, So right the shaft he sett, The grey goose-winge that was thereon, In his harts bloode was wette.

This fight did last from breake of day, Till setting of the sun; For when they rang the evening-bell, The battel scarce was done.

With stout Erle Percy there was slaine Sir John of Egerton, Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John, Sir James that bold barròn:

And with Sir George and stout Sir James, Both knights of good account, Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slaine, Whose prowesse did surmount.

For Witherington needs must I wayle, As one in doleful dumpes; For when his leggs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumpes.

And with Erle Douglas, there was slaine Sir Hugh Montgomerye, Sir Charles Murray, that from the feeld One foote wold never flee.

Sir Charles Murray, of Ratcliff, too, His sisters sonne was hee; Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd, Yet saved cold not bee.

And the Lord Maxwell in like case Did with Erle Douglas dye: Of twenty hundred Scottish speres, Scarce fifty-five did flye.

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen, Went home but fifty-three; The rest were slaine in Chevy-Chace, Under the greene woode tree.

Next day did many widowes come, Their husbands to bewayle; They washt their wounds in brinish teares, But all wold not prevayle.

Theyr bodyes, bathed in purple gore, They bare with them away: They kist them dead a thousand times, Ere they were cladd in clay.

The news was brought to Eddenborrow, Where Scottlands king did raigne, That brave Erle Douglas suddenlye Was with an arrow slaine:

O heavy newes, King James did say, Scotland may witnesse bee, I have not any captaine more Of such account as hee.

Like tydings to King Henry came, Within as short a space, That Percy of Northumberland Was slaine in Chevy-Chace:

Now God be with him, said our king, Sith it will noe better bee; I trust I have, within my realme, Five hundred as good as hee:

Yett shall not Scotts nor Scotland say, But I will vengeance take: I'll be revenged on them all, For brave Erle Percyes sake.

This vow full well the king perform'd After, at Humbledowne; In one day, fifty knights were slayne, With lords of great renowne:

And of the rest, of small acount, Did many thousands dye: Thus endeth the hunting of Chevy-Chase, Made by the Erle Percy.

God save our king, and bless this land With plenty, joy, and peace; And grant henceforth, that foule debate 'Twixt noblemen may cease.

SIR LANCELOT DU LAKE

When Arthur first in court began, And was approved king, By force of armes great victorys wanne, And conquest home did bring,

Then into England straight he came With fifty good and able Knights, that resorted unto him, And were of his round table:

And he had justs and turnaments, Whereto were many prest, Wherein some knights did far excell And eke surmount the rest.

But one Sir Lancelot du Lake, Who was approved well, He for his deeds and feats of armes All others did excell.

When he had rested him a while, In play, and game, and sportt, He said he wold goe prove himselfe In some adventurous sort.

He armed rode in a forrest wide, And met a damsell faire, Who told him of adventures great, Whereto he gave great eare.

Such wold I find, quoth Lancelott: For that cause came I hither. Thou seemest, quoth shee, a knight full good, And I will bring thee thither.

Wheras a mighty knight doth dwell, That now is of great fame: Therefore tell me what wight thou art, And what may be thy name.

"My name is Lancelot du Lake." Quoth she, it likes me than: Here dwelles a knight who never was Yet matcht with any man:

Who has in prison threescore knights And four, that he did wound; Knights of King Arthurs court they be, And of his table round.

She brought him to a river side, And also to a tree, Whereon a copper bason hung, And many shields to see.

He struck soe hard, the bason broke; And Tarquin soon he spyed: Who drove a horse before him fast, Whereon a knight lay tyed.

Sir knight, then sayd Sir Lancelett, Bring me that horse-load hither, And lay him downe, and let him rest; Weel try our force together:

For, as I understand, thou hast, So far as thou art able, Done great despite and shame unto The knights of the Round Table.

If thou be of the Table Round, Quoth Tarquin speedilye, Both thee and all thy fellowship I utterly defye.

That's over much, quoth Lancelott tho, Defend thee by and by. They sett their speares unto their steeds, And eache att other flie.

They coucht theire speares (their horses ran, As though there had beene thunder), And strucke them each immidst their shields, Wherewith they broke in sunder.

Their horsses backes brake under them, The knights were both astound: To avoyd their horsses they made haste And light upon the ground.

They tooke them to their shields full fast, Their swords they drewe out than, With mighty strokes most eagerlye Each at the other ran.

They wounded were, and bled full sore, They both for breath did stand, And leaning on their swords awhile, Quoth Tarquine, Hold thy hand,

And tell to me what I shall aske. Say on, quoth Lancelot tho. Thou art, quoth Tarquine, the best knight That ever I did know:

And like a knight, that I did hate: Soe that thou be not hee, I will deliver all the rest, And eke accord with thee.

That is well said, quoth Lancelott; But sith it must be soe, What knight is that thou hatest thus I pray thee to me show.

His name is Lancelot du Lake, He slew my brother deere; Him I suspect of all the rest: I would I had him here.

Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknowne, I am Lancelot du Lake, Now knight of Arthurs Table Round; King Hauds son of Schuwake;

And I desire thee to do thy worst. Ho, ho, quoth Tarquin tho' One of us two shall ende our lives Before that we do go.

If thou be Lancelot du Lake, Then welcome shalt thou bee: Wherfore see thou thyself defend, For now defye I thee.

They buckled them together so, Like unto wild boares rashing; And with their swords and shields they ran At one another slashing:

The ground besprinkled was with blood: Tarquin began to yield; For he gave backe for wearinesse, And lowe did beare his shield.

This soone Sir Lancelot espyde, He leapt upon him then, He pull'd him downe upon his knee, And rushing off his helm,

Forthwith he strucke his necke in two, And, when he had soe done, From prison threescore knights and four Delivered everye one.

GIL MORRICE

Gil Morrice was an erles son, His name it waxed wide; It was nae for his great riches, Nor zet his mickle pride; Bot it was for a lady gay, That livd on Carron side.

Quhair sail I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoen; That will gae to Lord Barnards ha', And bid his lady cum? And ze maun rin my errand, Willie; And ze may rin wi' pride; Quhen other boys gae on their foot On horse-back ze sail ride.

O no! Oh no! my master dear! I dare nae for my life; I'll no gae to the bauld baròns, For to triest furth his wife. My bird Willie, my boy Willie; My dear Willie, he sayd: How can ze strive against the stream? For I sall be obeyd.

Bot, O my master dear! he cryd, In grene wod ze're zour lain; Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ze rede, For fear ze should be tain. Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha', Bid hir cum here wi speid: If ze refuse my heigh command, Ill gar zour body bleid.

Gae bid hir take this gay mantel, 'Tis a' gowd hot the hem; Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode, And bring nane bot hir lain: And there it is a silken sarke, Hir ain hand sewd the sleive; And bid hir cum to Gill Morice, Speir nae bauld barons leave.

Yes, I will gae zour black errand, Though it be to zour cost; Sen ze by me will nae be warn'd, In it ze sail find frost. The baron he is a man of might, He neir could bide to taunt, As ze will see before its nicht, How sma' ze hae to vaunt.

And sen I maun zour errand rin Sae sair against my will, I'se mak a vow and keip it trow, It sall be done for ill. And quhen he came to broken brigue, He bent his bow and swam; And quhen he came to grass growing, Set down his feet and ran.

And quhen he came to Barnards ha', Would neither chap nor ca': Bot set his bent bow to his breist, And lichtly lap the wa'. He wauld nae tell the man his errand, Though he stude at the gait; Bot straiht into the ha' he cam, Quhair they were set at meit.

Hail! hail! my gentle sire and dame! My message winna waite; Dame, ze maun to the gude grene wod Before that it be late. Ze're bidden tak this gay mantèl, Tis a' gowd bot the hem: Zou maun gae to the gude grene wode, Ev'n by your sel alane.

And there it is, a silken sarke, Your ain hand sewd the sleive; Ze maun gae speik to Gill Morice: Speir nae bauld barons leave. The lady stamped wi' hir foot, And winked wi' hir ee; Bot a' that she coud say or do, Forbidden he wad nae bee.

Its surely to my bow'r-womàn; It neir could be to me. I brocht it to Lord Barnards lady; I trow that ze be she. Then up and spack the wylie nurse, (The bairn upon hir knee) If it be cum frae Gill Morice, It's deir welcum to mee.

Ze leid, ze leid, ze filthy nurse, Sae loud I heird zee lee; I brocht it to Lord Barnards lady; I trow ze be nae shee. Then up and spack the bauld baròn, An angry man was hee; He's tain the table wi' his foot, Sae has he wi' his knee; Till siller cup and 'mazer' dish In flinders he gard flee.

Gae bring a robe of zour clidìng, That hings upon the pin; And I'll gae to the gude grene wode, And speik wi' zour lemmàn. O bide at hame, now Lord Barnàrd, I warde ze bide at hame; Neir wyte a man for violence, That neir wate ze wi' nane.