Tyll the bloode from their bassonetts ranne,
As the roke doth in the rayne.
"Yelde the to me, sayd the Dowglas,
Or ells thow schalt be slayne:"
"For I see, by thy bryght bassonet,
Thow arte sum man of myght;
And so I do by thy burnysshed brande,
Thow art an yerle, or ells a knyght.[27]"
"By my good faythe," sayd the noble Percy,
Now haste thou rede full ryght,
Yet wyll I never yelde me to the,
Whyll I may stonde and fyght."
They swapped together, whyll that they swette,
Wyth swordes scharpe and long;
Ych on other so faste they beette,
Tyll ther helmes cam in peyses dowyn.
The Percy was a man of strenghth,
I tell yow in thys stounde,
He smote the Dowglas at the swordes length,
That he felle to the growynde.
The sworde was scharpe and sore can byte,
I tell yow in sertayne;
To the harte, he cowde hym smyte,
Thus was the Dowglas slayne.
The stonderds stode styll on eke syde,
With many a grevous grone;
Ther the fowght the day, and all the nyght,
And many a dowghty man was slone.
Ther was no freke, that ther wolde flye,
But styffly in stowre can stond,
Ychone hewyng on other whyll they myght drye,
Wyth many a bayllefull bronde.
Ther was slayne upon the Skottes syde,
For soth and sertenly,
Syr James a Dowglas[29] ther was slayne,
That daye that he cowde dye.[30]
The yerlle of Mentaye he was slayne,
Grysely groned uppon the growynd
Syr Davy Scotte, Syr Walter Steward,
Syr John of Agurstonne.
Syr Charlles Morrey in that place,
That never a fote wold flye
Sir Hughe Maxwell, a lorde he was,
With the Dowglas dyd he dye.