The Book of Old English Ballads Part 13

The smile upon her bonnie cheek Was sweeter than the bee; Her voice excelled the birdie's sang Upon the birchen tree.

Sae couthie, couthie did she look, And meikle had she fleeched; Out shot his hand--alas! alas!

Fast in the swirl he screeched.

The mermaid leuch, her brief was gane, And kelpie's blast was blawin', Fu' low she duked, ne'er raise again, For deep, deep was the fawin'.

Aboon the stream his wraith was seen, Warlochs tirled lang at gloamin'; That e'en was coa.r.s.e, the blast blew hoa.r.s.e, Ere lang the waves war foamin'.

The Battle of Otterburn

THE FIRST FYTTE

It fell about the Lammas tide, When husbands winn their hay, The doughty Douglas bound him to ride Into England to take a prey.

The Earl of Fife, withouten strife, He bound him over Solway; The great would ever together ride That race they may rue for aye.

Over Ottercap hill they came in, And so down by Rotheley crag, Upon Green Leighton they lighted down, Styrande many a stag;

And boldly brente Northumberland, And harried many a town; They did our Englishmen great wrong To battle that were not bown.

Then spake a berne upon the bent, Of comfort that was not cold, And said, "We have brente Northumberland, We have all wealth in holde.

"Now we have harried all Bamborough s.h.i.+re All the wealth in the world have we; I rede we ride to Newcastle, So still and stalworthlye."

Upon the morrow, when it was day, The standards shone full bright; To the Newcastle they took the way, And thither they came full right.

Sir Henry Percy lay at the Newcastle, I tell you, withouten dread; He has been a March-man all his days, And kept Berwick upon Tweed.

To the Newcastle when they came, The Scots they cried on hyght: "Sir Harry Percy, an thou bist within, Come to the field and fight:

"For we have brente Northumberland, Thy heritage good and right; And syne my lodging I have take, With my brand dubbed many a knight."

Sir Harry Percy came to the walls, The Scottish host for to see: "And thou hast brente Northumberland, Full sore it rueth me.

"If thou hast harried all Bamborough s.h.i.+re, Thou hast done me great envy; For the trespa.s.s thou hast me done, The one of us shall die."

"Where shall I bide thee?" said the Douglas; "Or where wilt thou come to me?"

"At Otterburn in the high way, There mayst thou well lodged be.

"The roe full reckless there she runs, To make thee game and glee; The falcon and the pheasant both, Among the holtes on hee.

"There mayst thou have thy wealth at will, Well lodged there mayst thou be; It shall not be long ere I come thee till,"

Said Sir Harry Percye.

"There shall I bide thee," said the Douglas, "By the faith of my body."

"Thither shall I come," said Sir Harry Percy, "My troth I plight to thee."

A pipe of wine he gave them over the walls, For sooth, as I you say; There he made the Douglas drink, And all his host that day.

The Douglas turned him homeward again, For sooth withouten nay; He took his lodging at Otterburn Upon a Wednesday;

And there he pyght his standard down.

His getting more and less; And syne he warned his men to go And get their geldings gress.

A Scottish knight hoved upon the bent, A watch I dare well say; So was he ware on the n.o.ble Percy In the dawning of the day.

He p.r.i.c.ked to his pavilion door, As fast as he might ronne; "Awaken, Douglas!" cried the knight, "For His love that sits in throne.

"Awaken, Douglas!" cried the knight, "For thou mayst waken with wynne; Yonder have I spied the proud Percy, And seven standards with him."

"Nay, by my troth," the Douglas said, "It is but a feigned tale; He durst not look on my broad banner, For all England so hayle.

"Was I not yesterday at the Newcastle, That stands so fair on Tyne?

For all the men the Percy had, He could not garre me once to dyne."

He stepped out at his pavilion door, To look, and it were less; "Array you, lordyngs, one and all, For here begins no peace.

"The Earl of Menteith, thou art my eme, The forward I give to thee; The Earl of Huntley cawte and keen, He shall with thee be.

"The Lord of Buchan, in armour bright, On the other hand he shall be; Lord Johnstone, and Lord Maxwell, They two shall be with me.

"Swynton fair field upon your pride To battle make you bowen; Sir Davy Scot, Sir Walter Steward, Sir John of Agerstone."

THE SECOND FYTTE

The Percy came before his host, Which ever was a gentle knight, Upon the Douglas loud did he cry, "I will hold that I have hight;

"For thou hast brente Northumberland, And done me great envy; For this trespa.s.s thou hast me done The one of us shall die."

The Douglas answered him again, With great words up on hee, And said, "I have twenty against thy one, Behold, and thou mayst see."

With that the Percy was grieved sore, For sooth as I you say; He lighted down upon his foot, And shot his horse clean away.

Every man saw that he did so, That ryall was ever in rout; Every man shot his horse him fro, And light him round about.

Thus Sir Harry Percy took the field, For sooth as I you say, Jesu Christ in heaven on high, Did help him well that day.

But nine thousand, there was no more, If chronicle will not layne; Forty thousand Scots and four That day fought them again,