"Nowe Cristes corse1 on his crowne, " 115 Thrughe our Yngglishe archery1 sayd the lord Persè, "Who-soever ther-to says nay. Be my troth, doughtè Doglas," he says, "Thow shalt never se that day; 85 Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nar 90 France, Nor for no man of a woman born, But and fortune be my chance,2 I dar met him on3 man for on." 120 Gave many a wounde full wyde; The Yngglyshe men let thear bowys be, Bryght swordes on basnites lyght. Thorowe ryche male, and myneyeple, Then bespayke a squyar off Northombar- 125 Many a freyke,s that was full free, londe, 130 135 140 Ther undar foot dyd lyght. 155 That was, "Fyghte ye, my merry men, 195 Heawing on yche othar, whyll the myght 160 whyllys ye may, For my lyff days ben gan.' The Persè leanyde on his brande, He tooke the dede man be the hande, "To have savyde thy lyffe, I wold have pertyd with My landes for years thre, For a better man of hart, nare of hande Was not in all the north countrè." 165 Off all that se1 a Skottishe knyght, 170 Was callyd Sir Hewe the Mongon-byrry, He sawe the Duglas to the deth was dyght;2 He spendyd a spear a trusti tre:3 He rod uppon a corsiare Throughe a hondrith archery; He set uppone the lord Persè A dynte, that was full soare; 175 With a suar spear of a myghtè tre Clean thorow the body he the Persè bore, Athe tothar syde, that a man myght se, Towe bettar captayns wear nat in Chris- 180 Then that day slain wear thare. An archer off Northomberlonde 185 An arow, that a cloth yarde was lang, 200 dre,1 With many a bal-ful brande. This battell begane in Chyviat 230 |