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We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank,

When a' the Carlisle bells were rung, And a thousand men, on horse and foot, Cam wi' the keen Lord Scroope along.

Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water,

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Even where it flowed frae bank to brim, 170 And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,

And safely swam them through the stream.

He turned him on the other side,

And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he; "If ye like na my visit in merry England, In fair Scotland come visit me!"

All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,
He stood as still as rock of stane;

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He scarcely dared to trew his eyes,

When through the water they had gane,

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'He is either himseľ a devil frae hell,
Or else his mother a witch maun be;
I wad na have ridden that wan water
For a' the gowd in Christentie."

Scott, Minst. Scot. Bord.

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THE Percy out of Northumberland,
An avow to God made' he,

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That he would hunt in the mountains

Of Cheviot within days three,

In the maugre of doughty Douglas,

And all that ever with him be. #

The fattest harts in all Cheviot,

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He said he would kill, and carry them away: "By my faith," said the doughty Douglas again, "I will let that hunting if that I may.”

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Then the Percy out of Bamborough came,
With him a mighty meany,

With fifteen hundred archers bold, of blood and bone,

They were chosen out of shires three.

This began on a Monday at morn,'
In Cheviot the hills so hie;
The child may rue that is unborn,

It was the more pity.

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The drivers thorough the woodes went,

For to raise the deer;

Bowmen bickered upon the bent

With their broad arrows clear.

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Then the wild thorough the woodes went,
On every side shear;
Greyhounds thorough the greves glent
For to kill their deer.

This began in Cheviot the hills aboon,
Early on a Monenday;

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By that it drew to the hour of noon,

A hundred fat harts dead there lay.

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They blew a mort upon the bent,

They sembled on sides shear;
To the quarry then the Percy went,
To see the brittling of the deer.

He said, "It was the Douglas' promise

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But I wist he would fail, verament,"

This day to meet me here;

A great oath the Percy sware.

At the last a squire of Northumberland

Looked at his hand full nigh;

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He was 'ware o' the doughty Douglas coming,

With him a mighty meany;

Both with spear, bill, and brand;

It was a mighty sight to see;

Hardier men, both of heart nor hand,
Were not in Christianty.

They were twenty hundred spearmen good,
Without any fail;

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They were born along by the water o' Tweed, I' the bounds of Tivydale.

"Leave off the brittling of the deer," he said, “And to your bows look ye take good heed; For never sith ye were on your mothers born Had ye never so mickle need."

The doughty Douglas on a steed
He rode all his men beforn;
His armor glittered as did a glede ;

A bolder bairn was never born.

"Tell me whose men ye are," he says,

"Or whose men that ye be:

Who gave you leave to hunt in this Cheviot

chase,

In the spite of mine and of me?"

The first man that ever him an answer made, It was the good Lord Percy:

"We will not tell thee whose men we are," he

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"Nor whose men that we be;

But we will hunt here in this chase,

In the spite of thine and of thee.

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The fattest harts in all Cheviot

We have killed and cast to carry them, /!

away."

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"By my troth," said the doughty Douglas again, Therefor the ton of us shall die this day,"

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Then said the doughty Douglas.

Unto the Lord Percy,

"To kill all these guiltless men,

Alas, it were great pity!

"But, Percy, thou art a lord of land,

I am an earl called within my country; Let all our men upon a party stand,

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And do the battle of thee and of me."

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"

"Now Christ's curse on his crown," said the

Lord Percy,

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Whosoever thereto says nay!

By my troth, doughty Douglas," he says, "Thou shalt never see that day.

"Neither in England, Scotland, nor France, Nor for no man of a woman born,— But, an fortune be my chance,

I dare meet him, one man for one."

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Then bespake a squire of Northumberland,
Richard Witherington was his name;

"It shall never be told in South England," he

says,

"To King Harry the Fourth for shame.

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