Oh then bespake that noble kyng, And with griefe hys hearte was woo'd: "And ever I mourne that yon fayre streame Shoulde be swell'd with human bloode!" Kynge Davyd hee sawe the verdante moore, With wilde flow'res all bestrow'de: "And ever I'm griev'd that soe greene a moore Sholde be stayn'd with human bloode! "But more am I griev'd, alas!" he cry'd, "And more my hearte is woo'd, That soe manye warriours young and brave Muste thys daye shed theyr bloode!" As princely a hoste that kyng dyd leade As ever march'd on playne: Alas! that soe manye a warriour brave Should be soe soone yslayne! And firste march'd forthe the Galloway men, Of the antiente Picts they sprange; Theyr speares all soe brighte and bucklers strong For manye myles yrang. And then cam on the Norman troopes, With Englishe them amonge: For the empresse Maud they cam to fighte, To righte that ladye's wronge. And then march'd forthe the Scottish foote, And then march'd forthe the horse; In armoure stronge, all those warriours came, A greate and warlike force. Kynge Davyd look'd athawart the moore, And prince Henry hys brave sonne, And they were aware of the Englishe hoste, Com merrilye marching on. Oh then call'd forthe kynge Davyd, And loudelye called hee, "And whoo is heare in alle mye campe, Can descrybe yon hoste to mee?" Then came a bearne, besyde the tente, An Englisheman was hee; 'Twas not long since from the Englishe hoste, That traiterous wighte dyd flee. "Nowe tell mee yon hostes," the kyng hee cry'd, "And thou shalte have golde and fee-- And whoo is yon chiefe that rydes along With hys lockes soe aged greye?" "Oh that is Walter de Gaunte[3] you see, And hee hath beene greye full long, But manye's the troope that hee dothe leade, And they are stoute and stronge." "And whoo is yon chiefe soe brighte of blee, With hys troopes that beate the playne?" "Oh that's the younge earle of Albermarle,[4] Yleading hys gallante trayne. "A more gallante warrioure than that lorde Is not yon hostes among; And the gallante troopes that hee doth leade, Like hym, are stoute and younge." "And who yon shynny warriours twoo, With theyre troopes yclade the same?" "Oh they're the Bruces,[5] that in thys fighte Have com t'acquire them fame." Oh then call'd oute kynge Davyd, And fulle of woe spake hee: "And ever I hold those Bruces false, For muche they owe to mee. "And who's yon chiefe of giante heighte, And of bulke so huge to see?" "Walter Espec[6] is that chiefe's name, And a potente chiefe is hee. "Hys stature's large as the mountaine oake, And eke as strong hys mighte: There's ne'ere a chiefe in alle the northe Can dare with hym to fighte."