Ye men that will of aunters[59] winne, That late within this land hath beene, Of one I will you tell; And of a sew that was sea strang, Alas! that ever she lived sae lang, For fell[60] folk did she whell.[61] She was mare than other three, The grisliest beast that ere might be, Her head was great and gray: She was bred in Rokeby wood, There were few that thither goed, That came on live[62] away. Her walk was endlong[63] Greta side; There was no bren that durst her bide, That was froe heaven or hell; Nor never man that had that might, That ever durst come in her sight, Her force it was so fell. Ralph[64] of Rokeby, with good will, The fryers of Richmond gave her till,[65] Full well to garre[66] them fare Fryer Middleton by his name, He was sent to fetch her hame, That rued him sine full sare. With him tooke he wicht men two, Peter Dale was one of thoe, That ever was brim as beare,[67] And well durst strike with sword and knife, And fight full manly for his life, What time as mister ware.[68] These three men went at God's will, This wicked sew while they came till, Liggan under a tree; Rugg and rusty was her haire; She raise up with a felon fare,[69] To fight against the three. She was so grisley for to meete, She rave the earth up with her feete, And bark came fro the tree; When fryer Middleton her saugh, Weet ye well he might not laugh, Full earnestly look'd hee. These men of aunters that was so wight,[70] They bound them bauldly for to fight, And strike at her full sare: Until a kiln they garred her flee, Wold God send them the victory, The wold ask him noa mare. The sew was in the kiln hole down, As they were on the balke aboon, For hurting of their feet; They were so saulted with this sew, That among them was a stalworth stew, The kiln began to reeke. Durst noe man neigh her with his hand, But put a rape down with his wand, And haltered her full meete; They hurled her forth against her will, Whiles they came into a hill, A little fro the street.[71] And there she made them such a fray, If they should live to doomes-day, They tharrow[72] it ne'er forgett; She braded[73] upon every side, And ran on them gaping full wide, For nothing would she lett.[74] She gave such brades[75] at the band, That Peter Dale had in his hand, He might not hold his feet. She chafed them to and fro, The wight men was never soe woe, Their measure was not so meete. She bound her boldly to abide; To Peter Dale she came aside, With many a hideous yell; She gaped soe wide, and cried soe hee, The fryer said, "I conjure thee,[76] Thou art a feind of hell!