"Methinks I see an English host
Come branking1 us upon!

"Nine wargangs 2 beiring braid and wide,
Seven banners beiring high;

It wad do any living gude,

To see their colours fly!

"If this be true, my little boy,

That thou tells unto me,

The brawest bower 3 o' the Otterburne
Sall be thy morning fee.*

"But I hae dreamed a dreary dream,
Ayont the Isle o' Skye, -

I saw a deid man win a fight,
And I think that man was I."

He belted on his gude braid-sword,
And to the field he ran;

But he forgot the hewmont 5 strong,
That should have kept his brain.

When Percy wi' the Douglas met,
I wot he was fu' fain: 6

They swakkit swords, and they twa swat,
Till the blude ran down like rain.

But Percy wi' his gude braid-sword,
That could sae sharply wound,
Has wounded Douglas on the brow,
That he fell to the ground.

And then he called his little foot-page,
And said "Run speedilie,

And fetch my ae1 dear sister's son,
Sir Hugh Montgomerie.

"My nephew gude!" the Douglas said,
"What recks the death of ane?
Last night I dreamed a dreary dream,
And ken the day's thy ain!1

"My wound is deep; I fain wad sleep!
Tak' thou the vanguard o' the three,
And bury me by the bracken bush,

3

Wi' the saut tear in his e'e;

And he hid him by the bracken bush,
That his merry men might not see.

The moon was clear, the day drew near,
The spears in flinders flew;
And many a gallant Englishman
Ere day the Scotsmen slew.

The Gordons gay, in English blude
They wat their hose and shoon;

1 own.

2 know.

8 salt.

1

1

The Lindsays flew like fire about,
Till a' the fray was dune.

The Percy and Montgomery met,
That either of other was fain;

They swakkit1 swords, and sair they swat,
And the blude ran down between.

"Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy!" he said,
"Or else I will lay thee low!"

"To whom maun I yield," Earl Percy said,
"Since I see that it maun be so?"

“Thou shalt not yield to lord or loun,2
Nor yet shalt thou yield to me;
But yield thee to the bracken bush
That grows on yonder lily lea!"

This deed was done at the Otterburne
About the breaking o' the day;

Earl Douglas was buried at the bracken bush,
And the Percy led captive away.

KING HENRY THE FOURTH

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

ALL the thirteen years of his reign, Henry IV. was occupied with the struggle to maintain himself on the throne. Richard's friends refused to believe that their king was dead, and gave ready credence to an impostor who was harboured at the court of Scotland. The great barons who had taken Henry's part against Richard, the Percys of Northumberland and the Mortimers of the Marches, were dissatisfied

1 smote.

2

a person of low rank.

with the king they had made, and levied war against him. The insurgents were joined by the Welsh and the Scotch, and the usurper seemed likely to be overwhelmed. The battle of Shrewsbury (1403) was a decisive victory for the House of Lancaster.

Ten years later, Henry IV., worn out by the anxieties of his reign, tormented by remorse for the murder of Richard, haunted by doubts as to his title to the crown, jealous and suspicious even of his eldest son, lay dying in the Jerusalem Chamber at Westminster Abbey. This barren fulfilment of a cherished hope seemed the crowning mockery of his troubled life.

(Enter King Henry, Prince John of Lancaster, the Earl of Westmoreland, Sir Walter Blunt, and others.)

King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in strands afar remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this soil

Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood;
No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowerets with the armèd hoofs
Of hostile paces: those opposèd eyes,
Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
And furious close of civil butchery,

Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:

The edge of war, like an ill-sheathèd knife,

No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,

Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressèd and engag'd to fight,
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy;
Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb
To chase these pagans in those holy fields
Over whose acres walk'd those blessèd feet
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd
For our advantage on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is a twelve month old,
And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go;
Therefore 1 we meet not now.

Then let me hear

Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,

What yesternight our council did decree
In forwarding this dear expedience.2

Westmoreland. My liege, this haste was hot in question,3

And many limits of the charge 4 set down
But yesternight: when all athwart there came
A post from Wales loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butcherèd;

Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse,

1 for that purpose.

2

expedition.

3 under earnest discussion.

4 estimates of the cost.