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39. “For Jhesus love," sayd Syr Harye Perssy,
“That dyed for yow and me, Wende to my lorde my father agayne,
And saye thow sawe me not with yee. 40. "My trowth ys plyght to yonne Skottysh
knyght, It nedes me not to layne, That I schulde byde hym upon thys bent,
And I have hys trowth agayne. 160 41. “And if that I weynde of 5 thys growende,
For soth, onfowghten awaye,
In hys londe another daye.
49. Wyth that scharpe arowes bygan to flee,
I tell yow in sertayne;
Many a dowghty man was ther slayne. 50. The Perssy and the Dowglas mette,
That ether of other was fayne;
Wyth swordes of fyne collayne: ' 200 51. Tyll the bloode from ther bassonnettes 8
ranne, As the roke' doth in the rayne; “Yelde the to me," sayd the Dowglas,
“Or elles thow schalt be slayne.
42. “Yet had I lever to be rynde and rente,
By Mary, that mykkel maye,
Wyth a Skotte another daye.
5 count from played and drawn powerful maid
53. “By my good faythe,” sayd the noble Of fowre and forty thowsande Scottes Perssye,
Went but eyghtene awaye. “Now haste thou rede 1 full ryght; 210 Yet wyll I never yelde me to the,
63. Ther was slayne upon the Ynglysshe syde, Whyll I may stonde and fyght.”
For soth and sertenlye,
A gentell knyght, Syr Jhon Fechewe, 54. They swapped together whyll that they
Yt was the more pety.
For hym ther hartes were sore;
That the Perssys standerd bore.
65. Ther was slayne upon the Ynglyssh perte, He smote the Dowglas at the swordes
For soth as I yow saye,
Of nyne thowsand Ynglyssh men
Fyve hondert cam awaye.
260 56. The sworde was scharpe, and sore can byte, 66. The other were slayne in the fylde; I tell yow in sertayne;
Cryste kepe ther sowlles from wo!
Seyng 'ther was so fewe fryndes
Agaynst so many a foo. 57. The stonderdes stode styll on eke a * syde, 67. Then on the morne they mayde them Wyth many a grevous grone;
beerys Ther they fowght the day, and all the Of byrch and haysell graye; nyght,
Many a wydowe, wyth wepyng teyres, And many a dowghty man was slayne. Ther makes they fette 2 awaye. 58. Ther was no freke 5 that ther wolde flye, 68. Thys fraye bygan at Otterborne,
But styffely in stowre 6 can stond, 230 Bytwene the nyght and the day; 270 Ychone hewyng on other whyll they Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyffe, myght drye,
And the Perssy was lede awaye.
69. Then was ther a Scottysh prisoner tayne, 59. Ther was slayne upon the Skottës syde, Syr Hewe Mongomery was hys name; For soth and sertenly,
For soth as I yow saye, Syr James a Dowglas ther was slayne,
He borowed 3 the Perssy home agayne. That day that he cowde 3 dye.
70. Now let us all for the Perssy praye 60. The yerlle of Mentaye he was slayne,
To Jhesu most of myght, Grysely 8 groned upon the growynd; To bryng hys sowlle to the blysse of heven, Syr Davy Skotte, Syr Water Stewarde,
For he was a gentyll knyght. 280 Syr Jhon of Agurstoune.
SIR PATRICK SPENS 61. Syr Charllës Morrey in that place, That never a fote wold flee;
The king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
“O whar will I get guid sailor,
To sail this schip of mine?" 62. Ther was slayne upon the Skottës syde, For soth as I yow saye,
Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the kings richt kne: discerned ? time 3 did - every 5 man
6 battle 7 endure 8 fearfully
I seeing 2 fetched 3 ransomed
5. “Se yow, my meri men all,
And se yow what I see? Yonder I see an host of men,
I muse who they shold bee."
6. She thought he had ben her wed lord,
As he comd riding home;
The lord of Ester-towne.
“Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi the auld moone in hir arme,
That we will cum to harme."
To weet their cork-heild schoone; 30 Bot lang owre 3 a’ the play wer playd,
Thair hats they swam aboone. O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi thair fans into their hand, Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.
CAPTAIN CAR, OR, EDOM O GORDON 1. It befell at Martynmas,
When wether waxed colde,
“We must go take a holde.” 6