With many a baleful brand. (_bend-bow,_ bent bow. _freyke_, warrior. _stour_, fight. _dree_, endure.) This battle began in Cheviot An hour befor the noon, And when even-song bell was rang, The battle was not half done. They took... on eithar hand By the light of the moon; Many had no strength for to stand, In Cheviot the hills aboun. Of fifteen hundrith archers of England Went away but seventy and three; Of twenty hundrith spear-men of Scotland, But even five and fifty: But all were slain Cheviot within; They had no strength to stand on high; The child may rue that is unborn, It was the more pity. There was slain with the lord Perse, Sir John of Agerstone, Sir Roger, the hind Hartly, Sir William, the bold Hearone. Sir Jorg, the worthè Loumle, A knight of great renown, Sir Raff, the rich Rugbè, With dints were beaten down. For Wetharryngton my heart was woe, That ever he slain should be; For when both his legs were hewn in two, Yet he kneeled and fought on his knee. There was slain with the doughty Douglas, Sir Hew the Monggomberry, Sir Davy Lydale, that worthy was, His sisters son was he: Sir Charls o' Murrè in that place, That never a foot would flee; Sir Hew Maxwell, a lord he was, With the Douglas did he dee. So on the morrow they made them biers Of birch and hazel so gray; Many widows with weepng tears Came to fetch their makes away. Tivydale may carp of care, Northumberland may make great moan, For two such captains as slain were there, On the March-party shall never be none. Word is commen to Eddenburrow, To Jamy the Scottish king, That doughty Douglas, lieu-tenant of the Merches He lay slain Cheviot with-in. (_makes_, husband. _carp_, talk.) His handes did he weal and wring, He said, "Alas, and woe is me!" Such an other captain Scotland within, He said, i-faith should never be. Word is commen to lovely London, Till the fourth Harry our king, That Lord Persè, lieu-tenant of the Marches He lay slain Cheviot within. "God have mercy on his soul," said king Harry, "Good lord, if thy will it be! I have a hundrith captains in England," he said, "As good as ever was he: But Persè, and I brook my life, Thy death well quit shall be." As our noble king made his a-vow, Like a noble prince of renown, For the death of the lord Persè He did the battle of Hombyll-down: Where six and thirty Scottish knights On a day were beaten down: Glendale glittered on their armour bright, Over castle, tower, and town. (_weal,_ wring (?). _brook_, preserve. _quit_, requited.) This was the Hunting of the Cheviot; That tear began this spurn: Old men that knowen the ground well enough, Call it the battle of Otterburn. At Otterburn began this spurn