Excellent old ballad describing the woeful hunting and famous battle on Chevy-Chace

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AN EXCELLENT OLD BALLAD

DESCRIBING,

THE WOEFUL HUNTING

AND FAMOUS BATTLE ON

CHEVY-CHACE,

Fought between Earl Piercy with 2000
⁠Engliſh: and Earl Douglas with 1500
Scots: in which both theſe Earls and
moſt of their men were flain.

STIRLING:

Printed and Sold by M. Randall.

CHEVY-CHACE.

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God proſper long our noble king,
⁠our lives and ſafeties all,
A woeful hunting once there did
⁠In Chevy-Chace befal.
To drive the deer with hound and horn,
⁠Earl Piercy took his way,
The child may rue that is unborn,
⁠the hunting of that day.
The Earl of Northumberland,
⁠a vow to God did make.
His pleaſure in the Scottiſh woods,
⁠three ſummers days to take,
The chiefeſt harts in Chevy-chace,
⁠to kill and bear away;
The tidings to Earl Douglas came,
⁠in Scotland where he lay,
Who sent Earl Piercy preſent word,
⁠he would prevent his ſport:
The Engliſh earl not fearing this,
⁠did to the woods reſort.
With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
⁠all choſen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of need
⁠to aim their ſhafts aright,
The greyhounds they full ſwiftly ran,
⁠to chace the fallow deer:
On Monday they began to hunt,
⁠when daylight did appear.
And long before high noon they had,
⁠a hundred fat bucks ſlain;
They having din'd the rover's went,

⁠to rouſe them up again.
The bowmen muſter'd on the hill,
⁠well able to endure,
Their backſides all with ſpecial care,
⁠that day were guarded ſure.
The hounds ran ſwiftly thro' the woods
⁠the nimble deer to take
And with their cries the hills and dales
⁠an echo ſhrill did make.
Lord Piercy to the quarry went,
⁠to view the tender deer,
Quoth he Earl Douglas promiſed
⁠this day to meet me here;
Iſ that I thought he would not come,
⁠no longer would I ſtay,
Then ſtept a brave young gentleman,
⁠and to the Earl did ſay,
Lo! yonder cometh Earl Douglas,
⁠his men of armour bright;
Full fifteen hundred Scottiſh ſpears,
⁠all marching in our fight,
All men of pleaſant Tiviotdale,
⁠faſt by the river Tweed
Then ceaſe your ſport, Earl Piercy ſaid,
⁠and take your bows with ſpeed.
And now with me, my countrymen,
⁠your courage forth advance,
For never was there a champion yet,
⁠in Scotland or in France.
That ever did on horſeback come,
⁠but if my hap it were,
I durſt encounter man for man,
⁠with him to break a ſpear.

Earl Douglas on a milk white ſteed,
⁠much like a baron bold,
Rode foremoſt of his company,
⁠whoſe armour ſhone like gold:
Shew me, ſaid he, whoſe men you be,
⁠that hunt ſo boldly here
And without my conſent do chace
⁠and kill my fallow deer?
The firſt that did an anſwer make,
⁠was Earl Piercy, he
Did ſay we liſt not to declare,
⁠or ſhew whoſe men we be,
Yet will we spend our deareſt blood,
⁠the chiefeſt harts to ſlay.
Then Douglas ſwore a ſolemn oath,
⁠and in a rage did ſay,
Before I will out-braved be,
⁠one of us two ſhall die,
I know thee well, an Earl thou art,
⁠Lord Piercy, ſo am I;
But truſt me Piercy, I think it were,
⁠a great offence to kill
Any of theſe our harmleſs men,
⁠for they have done no ill;
Let thou and I the battle try,
⁠and ſet our men aſide,
Accurſt be he, Lord Piercy ſaid,
⁠by whom this is deny'd.
Then ſtept a gallant ſquire forth,
⁠Witherington by name,
Who ſaid, I would not have it told,
⁠to Henry our king for ſhame.
That e'er my captain fought on foot,

⁠and I ſtood looking on,
You are two earls, ſaid Witherington,
⁠and I a ſquire alone,
I'll do the beſt that do I may,
⁠while I have power to ſtand,
While I have ſtrength to wield my ſword
⁠I'll fight with heart and hand,
The Engliſh archer bent their bows,
⁠their hearts were good and true:
At the firſt flight of arrows ſent,
⁠full threeſcore Scots they ſlew,
To drive the deer with hound and horn
⁠earl Douglas had been bent.
The captains mov'd with muckle pride,
⁠their ſpears in ſhivers ſent.
They clos'd full faſt on every side,
⁠no ſlackneſs could be found,
Whilſt many a gallant gentlemen,
⁠lay gaſping on the ground.
Oh, Chrift! it was a grief to ſee,
⁠and likewiſe for to hear,
The groans of men lying in their gore,
⁠and ſcatter'd here and there,
At laſt theſe two bold earls did meet,
⁠like captains of great might,
Like lions mov'd they laid on blows,
⁠and made a bloody fight.
They fought until they both did ſweat,
⁠with ſwords of temper'd ſteel,
Until the blood like drops of rain,
⁠they tickling down did feel;
Yield thee, Earl Piercy, Douglas ſaid,
⁠in faith I will thee bring,

Where thou ſhalt high advanced be,
⁠by James our Scottiſh king,
Thy ranſom I will freely give,
⁠and thus report of thee,
Thou art the moſt courageous knight,
⁠that ever I did ſee
To the earl Douglas Piercy ſaid,
⁠thy proffers I do ſcorn,
I will not vield to any Scot,
⁠that ever yet was born.
With that there came an arrow keen
⁠out of an Engliſh bow,
Which ſtruck Earl Douglas to the heart
⁠a deep and deadly blow.
Who never ſpoke words more than theſe
⁠fight on my merry men all,
For now my life is at an end,
⁠Lord Piercy ſees me fall.
Then leaving life, earl Piercy took
⁠the dead man by the hand,
And ſaid, earl Douglas for thy ſake,
⁠would I had loſt my land.
Oh Chriſt! my very heart doth bleed,
⁠with ſorrow for thy ſake,
For ſure a more renowned knight,
⁠miſchance did never take.
A knight among the Scots there was,
⁠who ſaw brave Douglas die,
And ſtraight in wrath did vow revenge,
⁠upon the Lord Piercy.
Sir Hugh Montgomery he was call'd,
⁠who with a ſpear moſt bright,
Well mounted on a gallant ſteed,

⁠rode fiercely through the fight;
He paſs'd the Engliſh archers all,
⁠without e'er dread or fear,
And through earl Piercy's body then,
⁠be thruſt the hateful ſpear,
With ſuch vehement force and might,
⁠he did his body gore,
The ſpear went through the other ſide,
⁠a full cloth yard and more:
So did both theſe brave nobles die,
⁠whoſe courage none could ſtain;
An Engliſh archer then perceiv'd
⁠the noble earl was ſlain,
He had a bow bent in his hand,
⁠made of a truſty yew,
An arrow of a cloth yard long,
⁠unto his head he drew,
Against Sir Hugh Montgomery,
⁠aright and ſhaft he ſet;
The grey gooſe wing that was thereon
⁠in his heart's blood was wet:
The fighting did laſt from break of day,
⁠till ſetting of the ſun,
For when they rung the evening bell,
⁠the battle ſcarce was done.
With earl Piercy there was ſlain,
⁠Sir John of Orgetoa;
Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John,
⁠Sir James that bold barron.
With good Sir John, and good Sir James
⁠both knights of good account,
Good Sir Ralph Rabbin there was ſlain,
⁠whoſe powers did ſurmount;

For Witherington needs muſt I wail,
⁠as one of doleful dumps;
For when his legs were ſmitten off,
⁠he fought upon his ſtumps,
And with earl Douglas there was ſlain,
⁠Sir Hugh Montgomery,
Sir Charles Currel that from the field
⁠one foot would never flee.
Sir Charles Currel of Ratcliff too,
⁠his ſiſter's ſon was he,
Sir David Lamb tho ſo eſteem'd,
⁠they ſaved could not be.
Of fifteen hundred Scottiſh Peers,
⁠went home but fifty-three;
The reſt were ſlain in Chevy-Chace,
⁠under the greenwood tree.
Next day did many widows come,
⁠their husbands to bewail,
They waſh'd their wounds in briny tears
⁠yet all would not prevail
Their bodies bath'd in purple gore,
⁠with them they bore away,
And kiſs'd them dead a thouiand times,
⁠when they were cold as clay.
God ſave the King, and bleſs his land,
⁠in plenty joy and peace.
And grant henceforth that foul debates
⁠'twixt noblemen may ceaſe.

FINIS.