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• O Christ! my very heart doih bleed

With sorrow for thy sake;
For sure a more renowned knight

Mischance did never take.'

A knight amongst the Scots there was,

Which saw earl Douglas die, Who straight in wrath did vow revenge

Upon the earl Percy.

Sir Hugh Montgomery he was call'd;

Who, with a spear most bright, Well mounted on a gallant steed,

Ran fiercely through the fight :

And pass'd the English archers all,

Without all dread or fear;
And through earl Percy's body then

He thrust his hateful spear.

With such a vehement force and might

He did his body gore, The spear went through the other side

A large cloth-yard, and more.

So thus did both these nobles die,

Whose courage none could stain. An English archer then perceiv'd

The noble earl was slain;

He had a bow bent in his hand,

Made of a trusty tree;
An arrow of a cloth-yard long

Up to the head drew he:

Against Sir Hugh Montgomery

So right the shaft he set,
The grey-goose wing that was thereon

In his heart-blood was wet..

This fight did last from break of day

Till setting of the sun ;
For when they rung the evening-bell,

The battle scarce was done.

With the earl Percy there was slain

Sir John of Ogerton,
Sir Robert Ratcliff, and sir John,

Sir James that bold baron:

And with sir George, and good sir James,

Both knights of good account, Good sir Ralph Raby there was slain,

Whose prowess did surmount.

For Witherington needs must I wail,

As one in doleful dumps ;
For, when his legs were smitten off,

He fought upon his stumps.

And with earl Douglas there was slain

Sir Hugh Montgomery;
Sir Charles Currèl, that from the field.

One foot would never fly;

Sir Charles Murrél of Ratcliffe too,

His sister's son was he :
Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd,

Yet saved could not be.

And the lord Maxwell, in like wise,

Did with earl Douglas die :
Of twenty hundred Scottish spears,

Scarce fifty-five did fly.

of fifteen hundred Englishmen

Went home but fifty-three;
The rest were slain in Chevy Chase,

Under the greenwood-tree.

Next day did many widows come,

Their husbands to bewail; They wash'd their wounds in brinish tears,

But all would not prevail.

Their bodies, bathed in purple blood,

They bore with them away; They kiss'd them dead a thousand times,

When they were clad in clay.

This news was brought to Edinburgh,

Where Scotland's king did reign, That brave earl Douglas suddenly

Was with an arrow slain.

O heavy news!' king James did say ;

Scotland can witness be, I have not any captain more

Of such account as he.'

Like tidings to king Henry came,

Within as short a space,
That Percy of Northumberland

Was slain in Chevy Chase.

Now God be with him," said our king,

Sith 'twill no better be;
I trust I have within my realm

Five hundred good as he.
“Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say,

But I will vengeance take;
And be revenged on them all

For brave lord Percy's sake.'
This vow full well the king perform’d,

After, on Humbledown,
In one day fifty knights were slain,

With lords of great renown:
And of the rest, of small account,

Did many hundreds die.
Thus ended the hunting of Chevy Chase,

Made by the earl Percy.
God save the king, and bless the laud

In plenty, joy, and peace;
And grant henceforth that foul debate
'Twixt noblemen may cease.

Richard Sheale.

RICHARD PLANTAGENET. * The work is done, the structure is complete.

Long may this produce of my humble toil Uninjur'd stand : and echo long repeat,

Round the dear walls, Benevolence and Moyle*!!

* Sir Thomas Moyle, possessor of Eastwell-place, in the county of Kent, in the year 1546, gave Richard Plantagenet, who for many years had been his chief bricklayer, a piece of

So Richard spake, as he survey'd

The dwelling he had rais'd; And, in the fullness of his heart,

His generous patron prais'd.

Him Moyle o’erheard, whose wand'ring step

Chance guided had that way;
The workman's mien he ey'd intent,

Then earnest thus did say:

‘My mind, I see, misgave me not,

My doubtings now are clear, Thou oughtest not, in poor attire,

Have dwelt a menial here,

• To drudgery and servile toil,

Thou couldst not be decreed
By birth and blood, but thereto wrought

By hard o'er-ruling need.

• Is it not so ? That crimson glow,

That flushes o'er thy cheek,
And down-cast eye, true answer give,

And thy tongue need not speak.

Oft bave I mark'd thee, when unseen

Thou thought'st thyself by all, What time the workman from his task

The evening bell did call ;

ground, and permission to build himself a house thereon. The poem opens, just when Richard is supposed to have finished this task. Eastwell-place bath since been in the possession of the earls of Winchelsea.

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