In conclusion, let me say that of the modern verse every example is from the pen of a Northumbrian. CHEVY CHASE I. It fell about the Lammas tide, When muir-men win their hay, The doughty Douglas bound him to ride Into England to drive a prey. He chose the Gordons and the Graemes, With them the Lindsays, light and gay; But the Jardines would not with them ride, And they rue it to this day. And he has burned the dales o’ Tyne, And part o’ Bamburghshire; And three good towers on Reidswire fells He left them all on fire. And he marched up to New Castel, And rode it round about; “O wha’s the lord of this castel? Or wha’s the lady o’t?” And up spake proud Lord Percy then, And O! but he spake hie! “O I’m the lord of this castel, My wife’s the lady gay.” “If thou art the lord of this castel, Sae weel it pleases me! For ere I cross the Border fells, The tane of us sall die.” He took a lang spere in his hand Shod wi’ the metal free, And for to meet the Douglas there He rode right furiouslie! But oh! how pale his lady looked Frae off the castle wa’, When down before the Scottish speare She saw proud Percy fa’! “Had we twa been upon the green, And never an eye to see, I wad hae had you, flesh and fell, But your sword shall gae wi’ me.” “But gae ye up to Otterbourne And wait there dayis three, And if I come not ere three dayis end, A fause knight ca’ ye me.” “The Otterbourne’s a bonnie burn, ’Tis pleasant there to be; But there is naught at Otterbourne To feed my men and me. “The deer rins wild on hill and dale, The birds fly wild frae tree to tree, But there is neither bread nor kale To feed my men and me. “Yet I will stay at Otterbourne Where you sall welcome be; And if ye come not at three dayis end A fause lord I’ll call thee.” “Thither will I come,” proud Percy said, “By the might of Our Ladye!” “Thither will I bide thee,” said the Douglas, “My troth I plight to thee.” They lighted high on Otterbourne, Upon the bent sae brown; They lighted high on Otterbourne And threw their pallions down. And he that had a bonnie boy, Sent out his horse to grass; And he that had not a bonnie boy, His ain servant he was. And up then spake a little foot-page, Before the peep o’ dawn— “O waken, waken ye, my good lord, The Percy is hard at hand!” “Ye lee, ye lee, ye leear loud! Sae loud I hear ye lee! For Percy had not men yestreen To dight my men and me!” “But I hae dreamed a dreary dream, Beyond the Isle of Skye; I saw a dead man win a fight, An’ I think that man was I.” He belted on his gude braid-sword, And to the field he ran; But he forgot his helmet good, That should have kept his brain. When Percy wi’ the Douglas met I wat he was fu’ fain! They swakked their swords till sair they swat, The blude ran down like rain. But Percy, with his gude braid-sword, That could sae sharply wound, Has stricken Douglas on the brow, Till he fell to the ground.