And set our men aside.
Accurst be he, Erle Percy sayd,
By whom 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 foot
And I stood looking on.
You be two erles, sayd Witherington,
And I a squier alone:
Ile doe the best that doe I may,
While I have power to stand:
While I have power to wield my sword,
Ile fight with hart and hand.
Our English archers bent their bowes
Their harts were good and trew;
At the first flight of arrowes sent,
Full fourscore Scots they slew.
Yet bides Erle Douglas on the bent,
As cheeftain stout and good,
As valiant captain, all unmoved,
The shock he firmly stood.
His host he parted had in three,
As leader ware and tryd,
And soon his spearmen on his 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 speares 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 straight their bowes away,
They grasped their swords so bright:
And now sharp blows, a heavy shower,
On shields and helmets light.
They closed full fast on every side,
No 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 until they both did sweat,
With swords of tempered steele;
Until the blood, like drops of rain,
They trickling down did feele.
Yield thee, Lord Percy, Douglas sayd;
In faith I will thee bringe,
Where thou shalt high advanced be
By James our Scottish king:
Thy ransome I will freely give,
And this report of thee:
Thou art the most courageous knight
That ever I did see.
Noe, Douglas, quoth Erle Percy then,
Thy proffer I do scorne;
I will not yield to any Scott,
That ever yet was borne.
With that there came an arrow keene,
Out of an English bow,
Which struck Erle Douglas to the heart,
A deepe and deadly 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, Erle Percy tooke
The dead man by the hand;
And said, Erle Douglas, for thy life
Wold I have lost my land.
O Christ, my very hart doth bleed
With sorrow for thy sake;
For sure a more redoubted knight
Mischance cold never take.
A knight among the Scotts there was
Who saw Erle Douglas dye,
Who streight in wrath did vow revenge
Upon the Lord Percy.
Sir Hugh Montgomery was he called,
Who, with a spear most bright,
Well mounted on a gallant steed,
Ran fiercely through the fight;
And past the English archers all,
Without all dread and feare;
And through Earl Percy's body then
He thrust his hatefull speare;
With such a vehement force and might
He did his body gore,
The staff ran through the other side
A large cloth- yard or more.
So thus did both these nobles dye,
Whose courage none could staine:
An English archer then perceived
