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 him smyte,
Thus was the Dowglas slayne.
The stonderdes stode styll on ‘elke’ asyde,
Wyth many a grevous grone;
Ther the fowght the daye, and all the nyght,