"Come you hither, mine nine good sonnes,[L65] 65 Gallant men I trowe you bee: How many of you, my children deare, Will stand by that good erle and mee?" Eight of them did answer make, Eight of them spake hastilie, 70 "O father, till the daye we dye We'll stand by that good erle and thee." "Gramercy now, my children deare, You showe yourselves right bold and brave; And whethersoe'er I live or dye, 75 A fathers blessing you shal have." "But what sayst thou, O Francis Norton? Thou art mine oldest sonn and heire; Somewhat lyes brooding in thy breast; Whatever it bee, to mee declare." 80 "Father, you are an aged man; Your head is white, your bearde is gray; It were a shame at these your yeares For you to ryse in such a fray." "Now fye upon thee, coward Francis, 85 Thou never learnedst this of mee; When thou wert yong and tender of age, Why did I make soe much of thee?" "But, father, I will wend with you, Unarm'd and naked will I bee; 90 And he that strikes against the crowne, Ever an ill death may he dee." Then rose that reverend gentleman, And with him came a goodlye band, To join with the brave Erle Percy, 95 And all the flower o' Northumberland. With them the noble Nevill came, The erle of Westmorland was hee: At Wetherbye they mustred their host, Thirteen thousand faire to see. 100 Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde, The Dun Bull he rays'd on hye,[L102] And three Dogs with golden collars Were there sett out most royallye. Erie Percy there his ancyent spred, 105 The Halfe-Moone shining all soe faire:[L106] The Nortons ancyent had the crosse, And the five wounds our Lord did beare. Then Sir George Bowes he straitwaye rose, After them some spoyle to make; 110 Those noble erles turn'd backe againe, And aye they vowed that knight to take. That baron he to his castle fled To Barnard castle then fled hee; The uttermost walles were eathe to win, 115 The earles have won them presentlìe. The uttermost walles were lime and bricke, But thoughe they won them soon anone, Long e'er they wan the innermost walles, For they were cut in rocke of stone. 120 Then newes unto leeve London came, In all the speede that ever might bee, And word is brought to our royall queene Of the rysing in the North countrie.