"And whoo's yon youthe, yon youthe I see, A galloping o'er the moore? Hys troopes that followe soe gallantelye Proclayme hym a youthe of pow're." "Young Roger de Mowbray[7] is that youthe, And hee's sprang of the royal line; Hys wealthe and hys followers, oh kyng, Are allemost as greate as thyne." "And who's yon aged chiefe I see All yclad in purple veste?" "Oh that's the Bishoppe o' th' Orkney isles,[8] And hee alle the hoste hath bleste. "And alle the reste are noblemen, Of fortune and fame ech one: From Nottingham and from Derbyeshyre Those valiante chiefetaynes com."[9] "But what's yon glitt'ring tow're I see I' the centre o' the hoste?" "Oh that's the hallow'd _Standarde_ of whyche The Englishe make suche boaste. "A maste of a shipp it is so hie, Alle bedect with golde soe gaye; And on the topp is a holye crosse, That shynes as brighte as the daye. "Around it hang the holye banners Of manye a blessed saynte; Saynte Peter, and John of Beverlye, And Saynte Wilfred there they paynte. "The aged folke arounde it throng, With their old hayres alle so greye; And manye a chiefetayne there bows ydowne, And so heart'lye dothe hee praye." Oh then bespake the kyng of Scotts, And soe heavylie spake hee: "And had I but yon holye _Standarde_, Right gladsom sholde I bee. "And had I but yon holye _Standarde_, That there so his doth tow're, I would not care for yon Englishe hoste, Nor alle yon chieftaynes pow're. "Oh had I but yon holie roode, That there soe brighte doth showe; I wolde not care for yon Englishe hoste, Nor the worste that theye colde doe." Oh then bespake prince Henrye, And like a brave prince spake hee: "Ah let us but fighte like valiante men, And wee'l make yon hostes to flee. "Oh let us but fighte like valiante men, And to Christe's wyll ybowe, And yon hallow'd _Standarde_ shall bee ours, And the victorie alsoe." Prince Henrye was as brave a youthe As ever fought in fielde; Full many a warrioure that dreade day To hym hys lyfe dyd yeilde. Prince Henrye was as fayre a youthe As the sunne dyd e're espye; Full manye a ladye in Scottishe lande For that young prince dyd sighe. Prince Henrye call'd his young foot page, And thus to hym spake hee: "Oh heede my wordes, and serve mee true, And thou sall have golde and fee. "Stande thou on yonder rising hylle, Fulle safe I weene the syte: And from thence oh marke thee well my creste In all the thickeste fighte. "And if, o'ercome with woundes, I falle, Then take thee a swifte swifte steede, And from thys moore to Dumfries towne, Oh ryde thee awaye with speede. "There to the ladye Alice wende; (You'll knowe that lovelye fayre, For the fayreste mayde in all that towne, Cannot with her compare;)