The tooke 'on' on ethar hand Of fifteen hondrith archars of Ynglonde 100 Of twenty hondrith fpear-men of Skotlonde, 105 1 Tivvdale may carpe off care, Northombarlond may mayk grat mone, Word ys commen to Edden-burrowe To Jamy the Skottishe kyng, 135 140 That dougheti Duglas, lyff tenant of the Merches, Good Lord, yf thy will it be! I have a hondrith captayns in Ynglonde, he fayd, As good as ever was he: But Perfe, and I brook my lyffe, 155 Old men that knowen the grownde well yenoughe, Call it the Battell of Otterburn. At Otterburn began this fpurne Upon a monnyn day: There was the dougghtè Doglas flean, The Perfé never went away. 170 V. 136. mon. MS. V. 138. non. MS. V. 146. ye feth. MS. V. 149. cheyfftennante. MS. Ther Ther was never a tym on the march partes Sen the Doglas and the Perfé met, But yet was marvele, and the rede blude runne not, 175 Jhefue Chrift our bayls bete, And to the blys us brynge! Thus was the hountynge of the Chevyat: God fend us all good endyng. 180 The ftyle of this ballad is uncommonly rugged and uncouth, owing to its being writ in the very coarseft and broadeft northern dialect. Moft of the furnames in this poem, as well as in the modern fong of Chery Chace, will be found either in the lifts belonging to the northern counties in Fuller's Worthies, or fubfcribed to treaties preferved in Nicholson's Laws of the Borders. See also Crawford's Peerage. The battle of Hombyll-doron, or Hameldon, was fought Sept. 14, 1402. fanno 3 Henry IV.) wherein the English, under the command of the E. of Northumberland, and his fon Hotspur, gained a complete victory over the Scots. ODE for the NEW YEAR, Jan. 1, 1765. By WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, Efq; Poet Laureat, When Spain's proud pendants wav'd in western skies, And the fame truths in the fame numbers fung: These vain purfuits? forbear, forbear! Know, ye rash adventurous bands, To crush your high-blown pride, Nor Tagus with his golden gleam, The dear bought treasures of these worlds unknown. Untaught to injure, as to fear, By me conducted, fhall exert their claims, Shall glut my great revenge, and roll them all to Thames." ODE for his MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, H By WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, Efq; Poet Laureat: I. AIL to the rofy morn, whofe ray II. And II. And fhall the British lyre be mute, Nor thrill through all its trembling ftrings, Writhing Pain, and pale Difeafe; The fun-beams mingle with the breeze, And his own month, which Health's gay livery wears, ODE for his Majefty's Birth day; written by Benjamin Victor, Efq; and performed at the Caftle of Dublin. Ε RECITATIVE. YE pow'rs, that on the virtuous wait, Ye guardians of the good and great; Be the day for ever fung, Hark! already they proclaim In welcome shouts great George's name. Martial transport, public zeal; VOL. VIII. SONG. Bleflings with unfparing hand |