And there he pyght hys standerd dowyn,
Hys gettyng more and lesse,
And syne he warned hys men to goo75
To chose ther geldyngs gresse.
A Skottysshe knyght hoved upon [the bent,]
A wache I dare well saye;
So was he ware on the noble Percy
In the dawnynge of the daye.80
He prycked to his pavyleon dore,
As faste as he myght ronne;
"Awaken, Dowglas," cryed the knyght,
"For hys love, that syttes yn trone.
"Awaken, Dowglas," cryed the knyght,85
"For thow maiste waken wyth wynne;
Yender have I spyed the prowde Percy,
And seven standardes wyth hym."
"Nay by my trowth," the Douglas sayed,
"It ys but a fayned taylle;90
He durste not loke on my bred banner,
For all Ynglonde so haylle.
"Was I not yesterdaye at the Newe Castell,
That stonds so fayre on Tyne?
For all the men the Percy hade,95
He cowde not garre me ones to dyne."
He stepped owt at hys pavelyon dore,
To loke and it were lesse;
"Araye yow, lordyngs, one and all,
For here bygynnes no peysse.100
"[The yerle of Mentayne], thow art my eme,
The forwarde I gyve to the:
[The yerlle of Huntlay] cawte and kene,
He schall wyth the be.
"[The lorde of Bowghan], in armure bryght,105
On the other hand he schall be;