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Thy ransome I will freely give,

And this report of thee,
Thou art the most couragious knight

That ever I did see.”

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Noe, Douglas," quoth Erle Percy then,

Thy proffer I doe scorne; I will not yeeld to any Scott

That ever yett was borne.”

With that, there came an arrow keene

Out of an English bow, Which struck Erle Douglas to the heart,

A deepe and deadlye 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 life, Erle Percy tooke

The dead man by the hand;
And said, “ Erle Douglas, for thy life

Wold I have lost my land.

Ah me! my verry heart doth bleed

With sorrow for thy sake;
For sure a more redoubted knight

Mischance did never take."

A knight amongst the Scotts there was

Which saw Erle Douglas dye,
Who streight in wrath did vow revenge

Upon the Erle Percy :
Sir Hugh Mountgomery was he call'd,

Who, with a spere full bright,
Well mounted on a gallant steed,

Ran fiercely through the fight,



And past the English archers all,

Without a dread or feare;
And through Earl Percy's body then

He thrust his hateful spere ;
With such vehement force and might

He did his body gore,
The staff ran through the other side

A large cloth-yard and more.
So thus did both these nobles dye,

Whose courage none could staine.
An English archer then perceived

The noble erle was slaine :

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Against Sir Hugh Mountgomery

So right the shaft he sett,
The grey goose-wing that was thereon

In his heart's bloode was wett.

This fight did last from breake of day

Till setting of the sunne ;
For when they rung the evening-bell,

The battell scarce was done.
With stout Erle Percy, there was slaine

Sir John of Egerton,
Sir Robert Ratcliffe, and Sir John,

Sir James the bold barròn.
And with Sir George and stout Sir James,

Both knights of good account,
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slaine,
Whose prowesse did surmount.



For Witherington my heart is woe,

That ever he slaine should be:
For when his legs were hewn in two,

He knelt and fought on his knee.

And with Erle Douglas there was slaine

Sir Hugh Mountgomery;
Sir Charles Murray, that from the feeld

One foot wold never flee.

Sir Charles Murray of Ratcliffe too,

His sister's sonne was hee;
Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd,

But saved he cold not bee.

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And the Lord Maxwell in like case

'Did with Erle Douglas dye ;
Of twenty hundred Scottish speres,

Scarce fifty-five did flye.
Of fifteen hundred Englishmen,

Went home but fifty-three;
The rest in Chevy Chace were slaine,

Under the greene woode tree.

Next day did many widdowes come

Their husbands to bewayle ;
They washt their wounds in brinish teares,

But all wold not prevayle.

Their bodyes, bathed in purple blood,

They bore with them away;
They kist them dead a thousand times,

Ere they were cladd in clay.


The news was brought to Eddenborrow,

Where Scottland's king did raigne, That brave Erle Douglas suddenlye

Was with an arrow slaine :



“O heavye news !" King James did say;

“Scottland can witness bee, I have not any captaine more

Of such account as hee."

Like tydings to King Henry came

Within as short a space, That Percy of Northumberland

Was slaine in Chevy Chace.

“Now God bee with him," sayd our king,

“Sith 'twill noe better bee; I trust I have within my realme

Five hundred as good as hee.

Yet shall not Scotts nor Scottland say,

But I will vengeance take; Ile bee revenged on them all,

For brave Erle Percie's sake.”

This vow full well the king perform’d,

After, at Humbledown;
In one day fifty knights were slaine,

With lords of high renowne;

And of the rest, of small account,

Did many hundreds dye.
I thus ended the hunting of Chevy Chace,

Made by the Erle Percy.
God save the king! and bless this lande

With plenty, joy, and peace ;
And grant henceforth that foule debate

'Twixt noblemen may cease.

1 The battle of Humbledown, or Homildon Hill, was fought in 1402. On this occasion the Earl of Northumberland and his son Hotspur gained a victory over the Scots.


Born A.D. 1608, died A.D. 1674.

From the Paradise Lost.

Address to Light. Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heav'n first-born, Or of th’ Eternal co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblamed ? since God is Light,

I And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate. Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream, Whose fountain who shall tell ? Before the sun, Before the heav'ns thou wert; and at the voice Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite. Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detain'd In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight Through utter and through middle darkness borne, With other notes than to th' Orphean lyre, I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to re-ascend, Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe, And feel thy sov'reign vital lamp ; but thou Revisit’st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs, Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt, Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,

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