Sir Jorg the worthé Lovele, A knyght of great renowen, Sir Raff the ryche Rugbè, With dyntes wear beaten dowene. For Wetharrynton my harte was wo, That ever he slayne shulde be; For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to, Yet he knyled and fought on his kny. Ther was slayne with the doughti Doglas, Sir Hewe the Monggonbyrry, Sir Davy Lwdale that worthè was, His sisters son was he. Sir Charles a Murrè, in that place, That never a foot wolde fle; Sir Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was, With the Doglas dyd he dey. So on the morrowe the mayde them byears Off birch, and hasell so gray; Many wedous, with wepyng tears, Cam to fach ther makys away. Tivydale may carpe off care, Northombarlonde may mayke great mon, For towe such captayns, as slayne wear thear, On the march perti shall never be non. Word ys commyn to Eddenburrowe To Jamy the Skottishe kyng, That dougheti Doglas, lyff tenante of the merches, He lay slean Chyviot within. His handdes dyd he weal and wryng, He says, Alas, and woe ys me! Such another captayn Skotland within, He sayd, yefeth shuld never be. Worde ys commyn to lovly Londone Till the fourth Harry our kyng, That lord Persé, ‘leyff’-tenante of the merchis, He lay slayne Chyviat within. God have merci on his soll, sayd kyng Harry, Good lord, yf thy will it be! I have a hondrith captayns in Ynglonde, he sayd, As good as ever was he: But, Persé, and I brook my lyffe, Thy deth well quyte shall be. As our noble kyng made his avowe, Lyke a noble prince of renowen, For the deth of the lord Persé, He dyde the battel of Hombyll-down:[42] Wher syx and thritté Skottish knyghtes On a day wear beaten down: Glendale glytteryde on ther armor bryght, Over castill, towar, and town. This was the hontynge off the Chyviat; That tear begane this spurn: Old men, that knowen the grownde well yenoughe, Call it the battell of Otterburn. At Otterburn began this spurne Uppon a Monnyn day: Ther was the doughté Doglas slean, The Persé never went away. Ther was never a tym on the march partes, Sen the Doglas and the Persé met, But yt was mervele, and the rede blude ronne not, As the reane doys in the stret. Jhesue Crist our balys bete, And to the blys us brynge! Thus was the hountynge of the Chyviat; God send us all good endyng! [40] The Cheviot, or Tiviot Hills, were formerly the boundary between England and Scotland. [41] The English were the first who took the field, and the last to quit it. They brought only 1500 to the battle; and the Scotch 2000. The English kept the field with 53; the Scotch retiring with 55.