William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Restoration Verse. 1910.
The Battle of OtterbourneAnonymous
I
When the muir-men win their hay,
The doughty Douglas bound him to ride
Into England, to drive a prey.
With them the Lindsays, light and gay;
But the Jardines wad not with him ride,
And they rue it to this day.
And part of Bambroughshire:
And three good towers on Reidswire fells,
He left them all on fire.
And rode it round about:
‘O wha’s the lord of this castle?
Or wha’s the lady o’t?’
And O but he spake hie!
‘I am the lord of this castle,
My wife’s the lady gaye.’
Sae weel it pleases me!
For, ere I cross the Border fells,
The tane of us sall die.’
Shod with the metal free,
And for to meet the Douglas there,
He rode right furiouslie.
Frae aff the castle wa’,
When down, before the Scottish spear,
She saw proud Percy fa’.
And never an eye to see,
I wad hae had you, flesh and fell;
But your sword sall gae wi’ mee.’
And wait there dayis three;
And, if I come not ere three dayis end,
A fause knight ca’ ye me.’
’Tis pleasant there to be;
But there is nought at Otterbourne,
To feed my men and me.
The birds fly wild from tree to tree;
But there is neither bread nor kale,
To fend my men and me.
Where you shall welcome be;
And, if ye come not at three dayis end,
A fause lord I’ll ca’ thee.’
‘By the might of Our Ladye!’
‘There will I bide thee,’ said the Douglas,
‘My troth I plight to thee.’
Upon the bent sae brown;
They lighted high on Otterbourne,
And threw their pallions down.
Sent out his horse to grass,
And he that had not a bonnie boy,
His ain servant he was.
Before the peep of dawn:
‘O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
For Percy’s hard at hand.’
Sae loud I hear ye lie;
For Percy had not men yestreen,
To dight my men and me.
Beyond the Isle of Sky;
I saw a dead man win a fight,
And I think that man was I.’
And to the field he ran;
But he forgot the helmet good,
That should have kept his brain.
I wat he was fu’ fain!
They swakked their swords, till sair they swat,
And the blood ran down like rain.
That could so sharply wound,
Has wounded Douglas on the brow,
Till he fell to the ground.
And said—‘Run speedilie,
And fetch my ain dear sister’s son,
Sir Hugh Montgomery.
‘What recks the death of ane!
Last night I dream’d a dreary dream,
And I ken the day’s thy ain.
Take thou the vanguard of the three,
And hide me by the braken bush,
That grows on yonder lilye lee.
Beneath the blooming brier;
Let never living mortal ken
That ere a kindly Scot lies here.’
Wi’ the saut tear in his e’e;
He hid him in the braken bush,
That his merry men might not see.
The spears in flinders flew,
But mony a gallant Englishman
Ere day the Scotsmen slew.
They steep’d their hose and shoon;
The Lindsays flew like fire about,
Till all the fray was done.
That either of other were fain;
They swapped swords, and they twa swat,
And aye the blood ran down between.
‘Or else I vow I’ll lay thee low!’
‘To whom must I yield,’ quoth Earl Percy,
‘Now that I see it must be so?’
Nor yet shalt thou yield to me;
But yield thee to the braken-bush,
That grows upon yon lilye lee!’
Nor yet will I yield to a brier;
But I would yield to Earl Douglas,
Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here.’
He struck his sword’s point in the gronde;
The Montgomery was a courteous knight,
And quickly took him by the honde.
About the breaking of the day;
Earl Douglas was buried at the braken bush,
And the Percy led captive away.