Yet we will spend our dearest blood, Thy chiefest harts to slay.’ Then Douglas swore a solemn oath, And thus in rage did say:
‘Ere thus I will out-bravèd be, One of us two shall dye: I know thee well, an erle thou art; Lord Percy, so am I.
But trust me, Percy, pittye it were, And great offence to kill Any of these our guiltlesse men, For they have done no ill.
Let thou and I the battell trye, And set our men aside.’ ‘Accurst be he,’ Erle Percy said, ‘By whom this is denied.’
Then stept a gallant squier forth, Witherington was his name, Who said, ‘I wold not have it told To Henry our king for shame,
That ere my captaine fought on foote, And I stood looking on. Ye be two erles,’ said Witherington, ‘And I a squier alone:
Ile do the best that do I may, While I have power to stand: While I have power to wield my sword, Ile fight with heart and hand.’
THE BATTLE
Our English archers bent their bowes, Their hearts were good and trew, At the first flight of arrowes sent, Full fourscore Scots they slew.
Yet bides Erle Douglas on the bent, As Chieftain stout and good. As valiant Captain, all unmoved The shock he firmly stood.