At the wedding-feast, so unexpectedly interrupted by news of the Danes, the following pretty stanzas are sung by minstrels representing a young man and woman. "_Man_.--Turn thee to thy shepherd swain; Bright sun has not drunk the dew From the flowers of yellow hue; Turn thee, Alice, back again. _Woman_.--No, deceiver, I will go, Softly tripping o'er the mees, Like the silver-footed doe Seeking shelter in green trees. _Man_.--See the moss-grown daisied bank Peering in the stream below; Here we'll sit in dewy dank, Turn thee, Alice: do not go. _Woman_.--I've heard erst my grandam say That young damsels should not be, In the balmy month of May, With young men by the greenwood tree. _Man_.--Sit thee, Alice, sit and hark How the blackbird chants his note, The goldfinch and the gray-morn lark, Shrilling from their little throat. _Woman_.--I hear them from each greenwood tree Chanting out so lustily, Telling lectures unto me, Mischief is when you are nigh. _Man_.--See, along the mends so green Pièd daisies, kingcups sweet, All we see; by none are seen; None but sheep set here their feet. _Woman_.--Shepherd swain, you tear my sleeve; Out upon you! let me go; Keep your distance, by your leave, Till Sir Priest make one of two. _Man_.--By our lady and her bairn, To-morrow, soon as it is day, I'll make thee wife, nor be forsworn, So may I live or die for aye. _Woman_.--What doth hinder but that now We at once, thus hand in hand, Unto a divine do go, And be link'd in wedlock-band? (Sensible woman!) _Man_.--I agree, and thus I plight Hand and heart and all that's mine. Good Sir Herbert do us right, Make us one at Cuthbert's shrine. _Both_.--We will in a cottage live, Happy though of no estate; Every hour more love shall give; We in goodness will be great." The two Danish generals, Hurra and Magnus, warm their blood to the fighting temperature before the battle by quarreling with and abusing each other, like Grecian heroes. They are both bullies, but Hurra is brave and Magnus a craven. Chatterton's sarcastic humour plays them off admirably. The result of the struggle between the two armies is pithily announced by one of the fugitives:-- "Fly, fly, ye Danes! Magnus the chief is slain; The Saxons come with Ella at their head: Fly, fly, _this is the kingdom of the dead_."