A Memorable Song on the unhappy hunting in Chevy-Chase, between Earl
Piercy of England, and Earl Dowglas of Scotland. Tune of, Flying Fame.
|
GOd prosper long our Noble King,
|
our lives and safties all,
|
A woful hunting once there did
|
in Chevy Chase befall:
|
To drive the Deer with hound & horn
|
Earl Piercy took his way,
|
The child may rue that is unborn,
|
the hunting of that day.
|
The stout Earl of Nurthumberland
|
a vow to God did make,
|
His pleasure in the Scottish Woods
|
three summers days to take.
|
The chiefest hearts in Chevy Chase
|
to kill and bear away,
|
These tydings to Earl Dowglas came,
|
in Scotland where he lay.
|
Who sent Earl Piercy present word,
|
he would prevent his sport,
|
The English Earl not fearing this,
|
did to the woods resort,
|
With fifteen hundred Bowmen bold,
|
all chosen men of might,
|
Who knew full well in time of need,
|
to aim their shafts aright.
|
The gallant gray-hounds swiftly ran
|
to chase the Fallow Deer.
|
On Munday they began to hunt,
|
when day light did appear,
|
And long before high noon they had
|
an hundred fat bucks slain,
|
Then having dind the Drovers went
|
to rouze them up again.
|
The Bow-men mustred on the hills
|
well able to endure,
|
Their backsides all with special care
|
that day were guarded sure,
|
The hounds ran swiftly through the woods
|
the nimble Deer to take,
|
And with their cries the hills & dails
|
an Eccho shrill did make.
|
Lord Piercy to the Quarry went,
|
to view the tender Deer,
|
Quoth he, Earl Dowglas promised
|
this day to meet me here,
|
But if I thought he would not come,
|
no longer would I stay,
|
With that a brave young Gentleman
|
thus to the Earl did say.
|
Lo yonder doth Earl Dowglas come,
|
his men in armour bright,
|
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
|
all marching in our sight.
|
All men of pleasant Tividale
|
fast by the River Tweed,
|
Then cease your sport Earl Piercy said,
|
and take your bows with speed.
|
And now with me my Countrymen,
|
your courage forth advance,
|
For never was their Champion yet,
|
in Scotland or in France,
|
That ever did on horse-back come
|
but if my hap it were,
|
I durst encounter man for man,
|
with him to break a spear.
|
Earl Dowglas on a milk-white steed
|
most like a Baron bold,
|
Rode foremost of the company,
|
whose armour shone like gold,
|
Shew me (he said) whose men you be
|
that hunt so boldly here,
|
That without my consent do chase
|
and kill my fallow Deer.
|
The man that first did answer make
|
was noble Piercy he,
|
Who said we list not to declare,
|
nor shew whose men we be:
|
Yet will we spend our dearest blood,
|
thy chiefest Harts to slay,
|
Then Dowglas swore a solemn oath
|
and thus in rage did say.
|
Ere thus I will outbraved be,
|
one of us two shall dye,
|
I know the well, an Earl thou art,
|
Lord Piercy, so am I;
|
But trust me Piercy pitty it were,
|
and great offence to kill,
|
Any of these our harmless men,
|
for they have done no ill.
|
Let thou and I the battel try.
|
and set our men aside,
|
Accurst be he Lord Piercy said,
|
by whom this is denyd.
|
Then stept a gallant Squire forth,
|
Witherington was his name,
|
Who said he would not have it told
|
to Henry our King for shame.
|
That ere my Captain fought on foot
|
and I stood looking on;
|
you be two Earls; said Witherington
|
and I a Squire alone.
|
Ile do the best that do I may,
|
while I have power to stand,
|
While I have power to weild my sword
|
ile fight with heart & hand.
|
|
|
|
|
The Second Part, to the same Tune.
|
Our english archers bent their bows
|
their hearts were good & true,
|
At the first flight of Arrows sent,
|
full threescore Scots they slew,
|
To drive the Deer with hound & horn
|
Earl Dowglas bad the bent
|
A Captain movd with mickle pride
|
the Spears to shivers went.
|
They closd full fast on every side
|
no slackness there was found,
|
And many a gallant Gentleman
|
lay gasping on the ground.
|
O Christ it was great grief to see,
|
and likewise for to hear,
|
The cries of men lying in their gore
|
and scattered here and there.
|
At last these 2 stout Earls did meet,
|
like Captains of great might,
|
Like Lions movd they laid on load,
|
and made a cruel fight.
|
Th[e]y fought until they both did sweat
|
with swords of tempered steel,
|
Until the blood like drops of rain,
|
they trickling down did feel.
|
Yeild the Lord Piercy, Dowglas said
|
in faith I will thee bring,
|
Where thou shalt high advanced be
|
by James our Scottish King,
|
Thy ransome I will freely give,
|
and thus report of thee,
|
Thou art the most couragious Knight
|
that ever I did see.
|
No Dowglas, quod 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 O Dowglas to the heart
|
a deep and deadly blow,
|
Who never spoke more words then 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.
|
And said, Earl Dowglas for thy life,
|
would I had lost my Land.
|
O Christ my very heart doth bleed,
|
with sorrow for thy sake,
|
For sure a more renowned Knight,
|
mischance did never take.
|
A Knight amongst the Scots there was,
|
which saw Earl Dowglas dye,
|
Who straight in wrath did vow re-venge,
|
upon the Earl Piercy.
|
Sir Hugh Montgomery was he cald
|
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 or fear,
|
And through Earl Piercies body then
|
he thrust his hateful Spear.
|
With such a vehement force & might
|
he did his body gore,
|
The spear went through the other side,
|
a large cloth yard and more.
|
So thus did both these nobles dye,
|
whose courage none could stain,
|
An English archer then perceivd
|
the Noble Earl was slain.
|
He had a Bow bent in his hand,
|
made of a trusty tree,
|
An arrow of a cloath yard long,
|
unto the head drew he.
|
Against Sir Hugh Montgomerie,
|
so right his Shaft he set,
|
the grey-goose wing that was thereon
|
in his heart blood was wet.
|
This fight did last from break of day
|
till setting of the Sun.
|
For when they rung the evening bell,
|
the battle scarce was done.
|
With that Earl Piercy there was slain
|
Sir John of Ogerton.
|
Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John,
|
Sir James that bold Baron.
|
And with sir George & good sir James
|
both Knights of good account,
|
Good sir Ralph Rabby 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 Dowglas there was slain
|
Sir Hugh Montgomery,
|
Sir Charles Currel that from the field
|
one foot would never flye.
|
Sir Charles Murrel of Ratcliff too
|
his sisters Son was he,
|
Sir David Lamb so well esteemd
|
yet saved could not be.
|
And the Lord Markwel in likewise,
|
did with Earl Dowglas dye,
|
Of twenty hundred Scottish spears
|
scarce fifty five did flye.
|
Of fifteen hundred English men
|
went home but fifty three,
|
The rest were slain in Chevy-Chase
|
under the Green-Wood tree.
|
Next Day did many Widdows come
|
their Husbands to bewail,
|
They washt their wounds in brinish tears
|
but all would not prevail.
|
Their bodies bathd in purple blood,
|
they bore with them away,
|
They kist them dead a thousand times
|
when they were clad in clay.
|
This news was brought to Edenburg,
|
where Scotlands King did reign.
|
That brave Earl Dowglas suddenly
|
was with an arrow slain.
|
O heavy news King James did say,
|
Scotland can witness be,
|
I have not any Captain more,
|
of such account as he.
|
Like tydings to King Henry came,
|
within as short a space,
|
That Piercy of Northumberland
|
was slain in Chevy-Chase:
|
Now God be with him, said our King,
|
sith twill no better be,
|
I trust I have within my Realm,
|
five hundred as good as he.
|
Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say
|
but I will vengeance take,
|
And be revenged on them all,
|
for brave Earl Piercies sake.
|
This vow full well the King performd,
|
after on Humble Down,
|
In one day fifty Knights were slain,
|
with Lords of great renown.
|
And of the rest of small account
|
did many hundreds dye,
|
Thus ended the hunting of Chevy-Chase
|
made by the Earl piercie.
|
God save the King and bless the land
|
in plenty, joy, and peace,
|
And grant henceforth that foul debate
|
twixt Noble men may cease.
|
|
|
|
|