Down in yonder greenè field
There lies a knight slain under his shield.

His hounds they lie down at his feet:
So well they their master keep.

His hawks they fly so eagerly,
There’s no fowl dare him come nigh.

Down there comes a fallow doe,
Great with young as she might go.

She lift up his bloody head,
And kist his wounds that were so red.

She gat him upon her back
And carried him to earthen lake.

She buried him before the prime;
She was dead ere even-time.

God send every gentleman
Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman!
With a down, derry.

[18] Old ed. “mate”; but “make,” which is required for the rhyme, was a recognised form of “mate.”

From Robert Jones’ Ultimum Vale or Third Book of Airs (1608).