Close ×

Search EBBA

Advanced Search

EBBA 32440

Huntington Library - Miscellaneous
Ballad XSLT Template
A memorable Song on the unhappy Hunting in Chevy-Chase, betweene Earle Piercy of England, and
Earle Dowglas of Scotland. To the Tune of, Flying Fame

GOd prosper long our Noble King,
our lives and safeties all,
A wofull Hunting once there did
in Chevy Chase befall:
To drive the Deere with hound and horne
Earle Piercy tooke his way,
The Child may rue that is unborne,
the Hunting of that day.

The stout Earle of Northumberland,
a vow to God hid make,
His pleasure in the Scottish Woods,
three Summers days to take,
The chiefest Harts in Chevy Chase,
to kill and beare away:
These tydings to Earle Dowglas came,
in Scotland where he lay,

Who sent Earle Piercy present word,
he would prevent his sport,
The English Earle not fearing this,
did to the Woods resort,
With fifteene hundred Bow-men bold
all chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of warre,
to aime there shafts aright.

The gallant Grayhounds swiftly ran,
to chase the Fallow Deere,
On Munday they began to hunt,
when day-light did appeare,
And long before high noone they had,
an hundred fat Bucks slaine,
Then having dind the Drovers went,
to rowse them up againe.

The Bow-men mustred on the hills,
well able to endure,
Their back-sides all with speciall care
that day was guarded sure.
The Hounds ran swiftly through the woods
the nimble Deere to take,
That with their cryes the Hils and Dales
an Eccho shrill did maky.

Lord Piercy to the Quarry went,
to view the tender Deere,
Quoth he, Earle 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 Earle did say,

Loe, yonder doth Earle Dowglas come,
his men in Armour bright,
Full fifteene hundred Scottish Speares,
all marching in our sight,
All pleasant men of Tevidale,
fast by the River Tweed:

Then cease your sport Earle Piercy said,
and take your Bowes with speed.

And now with me my Countreymen
your courage foorth advance;
For never was there Champion yet,
in Scotland or in France,
That ever did on horse-back come,
and if my hap it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
with him to breake a Speare,

Earle Dowglas on a milke white Steed,
most like a Baron bold,
Rode foremost of the companie,
whose Armour shone like Gold:
Shew me said he whose men you be,
that hunt so boldly here,
That without my consent doe chase,
and kill my Fallow Deere,

The man that first did answer make,
was Noble Piercy he,
Who said we list not to declare,
nor tell whose men we be,
Yet we will spend our dearest blood,
thy chiefest Harts to slay:
Then Dowglas swore a solemne Oath,
and thus inrage did say;

Ere thus I will out braved be,
one of us two shall die,
I know thee well an Earle thou art,
Lord Piercy so am I:
But trust me, Piercy, pitty twere,
and great offence to kill:
Any of these our harmelesse 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 whome it is denyd.
Then stept a gallant Squire foorth,
Witherington was his name,
Who said, he would not have it told,
to Henry our King for shame.

That ere my Captaine fought one foot,
and I stood looking on;
You two be Earles, quoth Witherington,
and I a Squire 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 heart and hand,

Our English Archers bent there Bowes
there hearts were good and true,

At the first flight of Arrowes sent,
full fourescore Scots they slew.
To drive the Deere with hound and horne
Dowglas bad on the bent.
A Captaine movd with mickle pride
the Speares to shivers went.

They closd full fast on every side,
no slacknesse there was found,
And many a gallant Gentleman,
lay gasping on the ground:
O Christ it were a griefe to see,
and likewise for to heare,
The cryes of men lying in there gore,
and scattered here and there.

At last the two stout Earles did meet,
like Captaines of great might,
Like Lyons movd they laid on load
and made a cruell fight:
They fought untill they both did sweat,
with swords of tempered steele,
Untill the blood like drops of raine,
they trickling downe did feele.

Yield thee Lord Piercy, Dowglas said,
in faith I will thee bring,
Where thou shalt high advanced be:
by James our Scottish King;
Thy ransome will I freely give.
and this report of thee,
Thou art the most couragious Knight,
as ever I did see.

No Dowglas, quoth Earle Piercy then,
thy proffers I doe scorne,
I will not yield to any Scot,
that ever yet was borne.
With that there came an arrow keene,
out of an English Bow,
And struck Earle Dowglas 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,
Earle Piercy sees me fall:
Then leaving life, Earle Piercy tooke,
the dead man by the hand,
And said, Earle Dowglas for thy life,
would I had lost my Land.

O Christ, my very heart doth bleed,
with sorrow [for t]hy sake.
For sure [a more redoubted] Knight
mischa[nce did never take.]
A Knigh[t amongst the Scots there was,]
which sa[w Earle Dowglas dye]
Who strai[ght in wrath did vow revenge]
upon the E[arle Piercy]

The Second part, to the same tune.

SIr Hugh Montgomery was he cald
who with a Speare full 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 Earle Piercies body then,
he thrust his hatefull Speare,

With such a vehement force and might,
his body he did gore,
The staff ran through the other side
a large Cloth yard or more:
Thus did both these stout Nobles dye,
whose courage none could staine:
An English Archer then perceivd
the Noble Earle was slaine.

He had a good Bow in his hand,
made of a trusty Tree:
An Arrow of a Cloth-yard long,
unto the head drew he,
Against Sir Hugh Montgomery,
so right his shaft he set,
The Gray-goose wing that was thereon
in his heart blood was wet

The fight did last from breake of day,
till setting of the Sun.
For when they wrung the evening Bell
the Battle scarce was done:
With stout Earle Piercy there was slaine
Sir John of Ogerton,
Sir Robert Rateliffe and sir John,
Sir James that bold Baron.

And with Sir George and good sir James.
both Knights of good account,
Good sir Ralph Rebby there was slaine
whose prowesse did surmount:
For Witherington needs must I waile,
as one in dolefull dumps,
For when his Leggs were smitten off
he fought upon his stumps.

And with Earle Dowglas there was slaine
Sir Hugh Montgomery,
Sir Charles Morrell that from the field,
one foot would never fly,
Sir Charles Morrell of Ratcliffe too;
his Sisters Sonne was he,
Sir David Lamb so well esteemd,
but savd he could not be.

And the Lord Markewel in like case,
did with Earle Dowglas die,
Of twenty hundred Scotish Speares,
scarce fifty five did flie:

Of fifteene hundred English-men,
went home but fiifty three,
The rest were slaine in Chevy-Chase,
under the Greene-wood Tree.

Next day did many Widowes come,
there husbands to bewaile
They washt their wounds in brinish teares
but all would not prevaile,
There bodies bathd in purple blood,
they bore with them away,
They kist them dead a thousand times,
when they were clad in clay.

This newes was brought to Edenburg,
where Scotlands King did reigne,
That brave Earle Dowglas suddently,
was with an Arrow slaine:
O heavy news King James did say,
Scotland can witnesse be,
I have not any Captaine more,
of such account as he.

Like tydings to King Henery came,
within a short a space,
That Piercy of Northumberland,
was slaine in Chevy-Chase,
Now God be with him said our King,
sith twill no better be,
I trust I have within my Realme,
fiive hundred as good as he,

Yet shall not Scots nor Scotland say,
but I will vengance take,
And be revenged one them all,
for brave Earle Piercies sake,
This vow the King did well performe,
after at Humble Downe
In one day fifty Knights were slaine
with Lords of high renowne.

And of the rest of small account,
did many hundred die,
Thus ended the hunting in Chevy Chase
made by the Lord Piercy,
God save the King and blesse the Land,
with plentie Joy and peace,
And grant hencefoorth that fowle debate,
twixt Noble-men may cease.


FINIS.
London Printed for J. Wright
in the old-Bayly,

View Raw XML