THE VISTA OF ENGLISH VERSE

PART FIRST

'BALLADS

(OF VARIOUS AND UNCERTAIN DATES)

CHEVY CHASE

(Sometimes called The Hunting of the Cheviot)

THE Perse owt off Northombarlonde,
and avowe to God mayd he
That he wold hunte in the mowntayns
off Chyviat within days thre,

5 In the magger of doughtë Dogles,
and all that ever with him be.

The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat

he sayd he wold kyll, and cary them away: 'Be my feth,' sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn, 'I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.'

Then the Perse owt off Banborowe cam,

with him a myghtee meany,

With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and

bone,

the wear chosen owt of shyars thre.

This begane on a Monday at morn, in Cheviat the hillys so he;

The chylde may rue that ys unborn, it wos the more pittë.

The dryvars thorowe the woodes went,
for to reas the dear;
Bomen byckarte uppone the bent
with ther browd aros cleare.

Then the wyld thorowe the woodës went,
on every sydë shear;
Greahondës thorowe the grevis glent,
for to kyll thear dear.

This begane in Chyviat the hyls abone, yerly on a Monnyn-day;

Be that it drewe to the oware off none, a hondrith fat hartës ded ther lay.

The blewe a mort uppone the bent,
the semblyde on sydis shear;
To the quyrry then the Persë went,
to se the bryttlynge off the deare.

He sayd, 'It was the Duglas promys this day to met me hear;

But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;' a great oth the Persë swear.

At the laste a squyar off Northomberlonde

lokyde at his hand full ny;

He was war a the doughetie Doglas commynge, with him a myghttë meany.

Both with spear, bylle, and brande,
yt was a myghtti sight to se;
Hardyar men, both off hart nor hande,
wear not in Cristiantë.

The wear twenti hondrith spear-men good,
withoute any feale;

The wear borne along be the watter a Twyde,
yth bowndes of Tividale.

'Leave of the brytlyng of the dear,' he sayd,
and to your boys lock ye tayk good hede;
For never sithe ye wear on your mothars borne
had ye never so mickle nede.'

The dougheti Dogglas on a stede,
he rode alle his men beforne;
His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede;
a boldar barne was never born.

'Tell me whos men ye ar', he says,
'or whos men that ye be:

Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Chyviat

chays,

in the spyt of myn and of me.'

The first mane that ever him an answear mayd, yt was the good lord Persë:

'We wyll not tell the whoys men we ar,' he says, 'nor whos men that we be;

But we wyll hounte hear in this chays, in the spyt of thyne and of the.

'The fattiste hartës in all Chyviat

we have kyld, and cast to carry them away:'

'Be my

'ther for the ton of us shall de this day.'

troth,' sayd the doughetë Dogglas agayn,

Then sayd the doughtë Doglas

unto the lord Persë:

To kyll alle thes giltles men, alas, it wear great pittë!

‘But, Persë, thowe art a lord of lande,
I am a yerle callyd within my contrë;
Let all our men uppone a parti stande,
and do the battell off the and of me.'

Nowe Cristes cors on his crowne,' sayd the lord Persë,

'who-so-ever ther-to says nay;

Be my troth, doughttë Doglas,' he says, 'thow shalt never se that day.

'Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar France, nor for no man of a woman born, But, and fortune be my chance, I dar met him, on man for on.'

Then bespayke a squyar off Northombarlonde, Richard Wytharyngton was his nam;

'It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde,' he

says,

'to Kyng Herry the Fourth for sham.

'I wat youe byn great lordës twaw,

I am a poor squyar of lande:

I wylle never se my captayne fyght on a fylde,
and stande my selffe and loocke on,

But whylle I may my weppone welde,
I wylle not fayle both hart and hande.'

That day, that day, that dredfull day!

the first fit here I fynde;

And youe wyll here any mor a the hountyng a the Chyviat,

yet ys ther mor behynde.

The Yngglyshe men hade ther bowys yebent,

ther hartes wer good yenoughe;

The first off arros that the shote off, seven skore spear-men the sloughe.

Yet byddys the yerle Doglas uppon the bent, a captayne good yenoughe,

And that was sene verament,

for he wrought hom both woo and wouche.

The Dogglas partyd his ost in thre, lyk a cheffe cheften off pryde; With suar spears off myghtte tre, the cum in on every syde:

Thrughe our Yngglyshe archery gave many a wounde fulle wyde; Many a doughetë the garde to dy, which ganyde them no pryde.

The Ynglyshe men let ther boys be,
and pulde owt brandes thet wer brighte;
It was a hevy syght to se

bryght swordes on basnites lyght.

Thorowe ryche male and myneyeple,

many sterne the strocke done streght;

Many a freyke that was fulle fre, ther undar foot dyd lyght.