He stepp’d out at his pavilion-door To look an it were lease[1055]: ‘Array you, lordings, one and all! For here begins no peace. XXV ‘The Earl of Menteith, thou art my eme[1056], The vaward[1057] I give to thee: The Earl of Huntley, cante[1058] and keen, Take him to go with thee. XXVI ‘The Lord of Buchan, in armure bright, On the other side he shall be; Lord Johnstone and Lord Maxwell They two shall go with me. XXVII ‘Swynton, fair fall upon your pride! To battle make you bowne[1059].-- Sir Davy Scott, Sir Walter Steward, Sir John of Agerstone!’ XXVIII The Percy came before his host, He was ever a gentil knight: Upon the Douglas loud can he cry ‘I will hold that I have hyght[1060].’ XXIX ‘For thou hast brent Northumberland, And done me great envye, For this trespasse thou hast me done The tone of us shall die.’ XXX The Douglas answer’d him again With great words upon hie, And sayd, ‘I have twenty against thy one: Behold, and thou mayst see!’ XXXI With that the Percy was grievèd sore, Forsooth as I you say: He lighted down upon his foot And schoote[1061] his horse away. XXXII Every man saw that he did so, That ryal was ever in rowghte[1062]: Every man schoote his horse him fro And lighted him round about. XXXIII Sir Harry Percy took the field Even thus, as I you say; Jesus Christe in hevyn on height Did help him well that day. XXXIV But nine thousand, there was no more-- The chronicle will not layne[1063]-- Forty thousand of Scots and four That day fought them again[1064]. XXXV But when the battel began to join, In haste there came a knight; And letters fair forth hath he ta’en, And thus he sayd full right: XXXVI ‘My lord your father greets you well, With many a noble knight; He doth desire you now to bide, That he may see this fight. XXXVII ‘The Baron of Graystoke is out of the west With a noble companye: All they lodge at your father’s this night, And the battel fayn would they see.’ XXXVIII ‘For Jesus’ love,’ sayd Sir Harry Percy, ‘That died for you and me, Wend to my lord my father agayn, Say thou saw me not with thee. XXXIX ‘My troth is plight to yon Scottish knight, --It nede’s me not to layne-- That I should bide him upon this bent, And I have his troth agayn. XL ‘And if that I wend off this growende[1065], Forsooth, unfoughten away, He would call me but a coward knight In his land another day. XLI ‘Yet had I liefer be rynde[1066] and rent, --By Mary, that mickle may[1067]!-- Than ever my manhood be reproved With a Scot another day. XLII