He set upon the lord Percỳ
A dint[1114] that was full sore;
With a surè spear of a mighty tree
Thro’ the body him he bore,
O’ the t’other side that a man might see
A large cloth-yard and more.
XLI
An archer of Northumberland
Saw slain was the lord Percye:
He bare a bent bow in his hand,
Was made of a trusty tree.
XLII
An arrow that was a cloth-yard long
To the hard steel halèd[1115] he,
A dint that was both sad and sair
He set on Montgomerye.
XLIII
The dint it was both sad and sair
That he on Montgomerye set;
The swan-feathers that his arrow bare
With his heart-blood they were wet.
XLIV
There was never a freykè one foot would flee,
But still in stoure[1116] did stand;
Hewing on each other, while they might dree[1117],
With many a baleful brand.