Page:The white doe of Rylstone - or, The fate of the Nortons. A poem (IA whitedoeofrylsto00wordrich).pdf/166

Somewhat lies brooding in thy breast;
  Whatever it bee, to mee declare.

Father, you are an aged man,
  Your head is white, your beard is gray;
It were a shame at these your years
  For you to ryse in such a fray.

Now fye upon thee, coward Francis,
  Thou never learned’st this of mee;
When thou wert young and tender of age,
  Why did I make soe much of thee?

But, father, I will wend with you,
  Unarm’d and naked will I bee;
And he that strikes against the crowne,
  Ever an ill death may he dee.

Then rose that reverend gentleman,
  And with him came a goodlye band
To join with the brave Earle Percy,
  And all the flower o’ Northumberland.

With them the noble Nevill came,
  The erle of Westmoreland was hee;
At Wetherbye they mustered their host,
  Thirteen thousand fair to see.

Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde,
  The Dun Bull he rays’d on hye,
And three Dogs with golden collars
  Were there set out most royallye.