A Bundle of Ballads. Various
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list not to declare,
Nor show whose men we be;
"Yet we will spend our dearest blood
Thy chiefest harts to slay."
Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,
And thus in rage did say,
"Ere thus I will outbrav-ed be,
One of us two shall die!
I know thee well! an earl thou art,
Lord Piercy! so am I.
"But trust me, Piercy, pity it were,
And great offence, to kill
Any of these our guiltless men
For they have done no ill;
"Let thou and I the battle try,
And set our men aside."
"Accurst be he," Earl Piercy said,
"By whom it is denied."
Then stepped a gallant squire forth—
Witherington was his name—
Who said, "I would not have it told
To Henry our king, for shame,
"That e'er my captain fought on foot,
And I stand looking on:
You be two Earls," quoth Witherington,
"And I a Squire alone.
"I'll do the best that do I may,
While I have power to stand!
While I have power to wield my sword,
I'll fight with heart and hand!"
Our English archers bent their bows—
Their hearts were good and true—
At the first flight of arrows sent,
Full fourscore Scots they slew.
To drive the deer with hound and horn,
Douglas bade on the bent;
Two captains moved with mickle might,
Their spears to shivers went.
They closed full fast on every side,
No slackness there was found,
But many a gallant gentleman
Lay gasping on the ground.
O Christ! it was great grief to see
How each man chose his spear,
And how the blood out of their breasts
Did gush like water clear!
At last these two stout Earls did meet
Like captains of great might;
Like lions wood they laid on load,
They made a cruel fight.
They fought, until they both did sweat,
With swords of tempered steel,
Till blood adown their cheeks like rain
They trickling down did feel.
"O yield thee, Piercy!" Douglas said,
"And in faith I will thee bring
Where thou shalt high advanc-ed be
By James our Scottish king;
"Thy ransom I will freely give,
And this report of thee,
Thou art the most courageous knight
That ever I did see."
"No, Douglas!" quoth Earl Piercy then,
"Thy proffer I do scorn;
I will not yield to any Scot
That ever yet was born!"
With that there came an arrow keen
Out of an English bow,
Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart
A deep and deadly blow;
Who never said more words than these,
"Fight on; my merry men all!
For why? my life is at an end,
Lord Piercy sees my fall."
Then leaving life, Earl Piercy took
The dead man by the hand;
Who said, "Earl Douglas! for thy life
Would I had lost my land!
"O Christ! my very heart doth bleed
For sorrow for thy sake!
For sure, a more redoubted knight
Mischance could never take!"
A knight amongst the Scots there was,
Which saw Earl Douglas die,
Who straight in heart did vow revenge
Upon the Lord Pierc-y;
Sir Hugh Montgomery he was called,
Who, with a spear full bright,
Well mounted on a gallant steed,
Ran fiercely through the fight,
And past the English archers all
Without all dread or fear,
And through Earl Piercy's body then
He thrust his hateful spear.
With such a vehement force and might
His body he did gore,
The staff ran through the other side
A large cloth yard and more.
So thus did both those nobles die,
Whose courage none could stain.
An English archer then perceived
The noble Earl was slain;
He had a good bow in his hand
Made of a trusty tree;
An arrow of a cloth yard long
To the hard head hal-ed he,
Against Sir Hugh Montgomery
His shaft full right he set;
The grey goose-wing that was thereon,
In his heart's blood was wet.
This fight from break of day did last
Till setting of the sun;
For when they rung the evening bell,
The battle scarce was done.
With stout Earl Piercy there was slain
Sir John of Egerton,
Sir Robert Harcliffe and Sir William,
Sir James that bold bar-on;
And with Sir George and Sir James,
Both knights of good account,
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain,
Whose prowess did surmount.
For Witherington needs must I wail
As one in doleful dumps,
For when his legs were smitten off,
He fought upon his stumps.
And with Earl Douglas there was slain
Sir Hugh Montgomery,
And Sir Charles Morrel that from the field
One foot would never fly;
Sir Roger Hever of Harcliffe too—
His sister's son was he—
Sir David Lambwell, well esteemed,