I
The Percy out of Northumberland,
An avow to God made he
That he would hunt in the mountains
Of Cheviot within days three,
In the maugre[1082] of doughty Douglas,
And all that e’er with him be.
II
The fattest harts in all Cheviot
He would kill and carry away.—
‘By my faith,’ said the doughty Douglas again,
‘I will let[1083] that hunting if I may!’
III
Then the Percy out of Banborowe came,
With him a mighty meinye[1084],
With fifteen hundred archers bold
Chosen out of shirès three.
IV
This began on a Monday at morn,
In Cheviot the hills so hye;
The child may rue that is unborn,
It was the more pitye.
V
The drivers through the woodès went
[All] for to raise the deer,
Bowmen bicker’d[1085] upon the bent[1086]
With their broad arrows clear.