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Sir Hugh Montgomery was he called,
Who, with a spear most bright,
Well mounted on a gallant steed,
Ran fiercely through the fight,

And past the English archers all,
Without all dread and fear;
And through Earl Percy's body then
He thrust his hateful spear;

With such vehement force and might He did his body gore,

The staff went through the other side A large cloth-yard, and more!

So thus did both these nobles die,
Whose courage none could stain.
An English archer then perceived
The noble earl was slain :

He had a bow bent in his hand,
Made of a trusty tree:
An arrow of a cloth-yard long
Up to the head drew he :

Against Sir Hugh Montgomery
So right the shaft he set,
The gray-goose wing that was thereon
In his heart's blood was wet!

This fight did last from break of day Till setting of the sun;

For when they rang the evening bell The battle scarce was done.

With brave Earl Percy there was slain

Sir John of Egerton,

Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John,

Sir James, that bold baròn:

And with Sir George and stout Sir James,
Both knights of good account,
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain,
Whose prowess did surmount.

For Witherington my heart is sore
That ever he slain should be;
For when his legs were hewn in two,
He knelt and fought on his knee!

And with Earl Douglas there was slain
Sir Hugh Montgomery;

Sir Charles Murray, that from the field
One foot would never flee.

Sir Charles Murray, of Ratcliff, too,
His sister's son was he;

Sir David Lamb, so well esteemed,
Yet saved could not be.

And the Lord Maxwell in like case
Did with Earl Douglas die :
Of twenty hundred Scottish spears,
Scarce fifty-five did fly.

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen,
Went home but fifty-three;

The rest were slain in Chevy Chase,
Under the greenwood tree.

Next day did many widows come,
Their husbands to bewail;

They washed their wounds in brinish tears,
But all would not prevail.

Their bodies, bathed in purple gore,

They bare with them away;

They kissed them dead a thousand times, Ere they were clad in clay.

This news was brought to Edinburgh,
Where Scotland's king did reign,
That brave Earl Douglas suddenly
Was with an arrow slain.

"Oh, heavy news!" King James did say : "Scotland can witness be,

I have not any captain more
Of such account as he."-

Like tidings to King Henry came
Within as short a space,
That Percy of Northumberland
Was slain in Chevy Chase.

"Now God be with him," said our king,
"Since it will no better be;

I trust I have, within my realm,
Five hundred as good as he:

Yet shall not Scots nor Scotland say
But I will vengeance take:

I'll be revengèd on them all

For brave Earl Percy's sake."

This vow full well the king performed,
After, at Humbledown:

In one day fifty knights were slain,
With lords of great renown;

And of the rest, of small account,
Did many hundreds die :

Thus ending the hunting of Chevy Chase,

Made by the Earl Percy.

God save our king, and bless this land,
In plenty, joy, and peace;

And grant henceforth that foul debate
'Twixt noblemen may cease.

Old Ballad.

A TALE.

[This tale is founded on an article which appeared in the Buckinghamshire Herald for Saturday, June 1, 1793:-"Glasgow, May 23. In a block, or pulley, near the head of the mast of a gabert, now lying at the Broomielaw, there is a chaffinch's nest and four eggs. The nest was built while the vessel lay at Greenock, and was followed hither by both birds. Though the block is occasionally lowered for the inspection of the curious, the birds have not forsaken the nest. The cock, however, visits the nest but seldom, while the ben never leaves it but when she descends to the hull for food."]

IN Scotland's realm, where trees are few
Nor even shrubs abound;

But where, however bleak the view,
Some better things are found;

In Scotland's realm, forlorn and bare,
The history chanced of late-
This history of a wedded pair,
A chaffinch and his mate.

The spring drew near, each felt a breast
With genial instinct filled;

They paired, and would have built a nest,
But found not where to build.

The heaths uncovered and the moors,
Except with snow and sleet,
Sea-beaten rocks and naked shores
Could yield them no retreat.

Long time a breeding-place they sought,
Till both grew vexed and tired;
At length a ship arriving brought
The good so long desired.

A ship!-could such a restless thing
Afford them place of rest;
Or was the merchant charged to bring
The homeless birds a nest?

Hush-silent hearers profit most;

This racer of the sea

Proved kinder to them than the coast-
It served them with a tree.

But such a tree! 'Twas shaven deal, The tree they call a mast,

And had a hollow with a wheel, Through which the tackle passed.

Within that cavity aloft

Their roofless home they fixed, Formed with materials neat and soft, Bents, wool, and feathers mixed.

Four ivory eggs soon pave its floor,
With russet specks bedight-
The vessel weighs, forsakes the shore,
And lessens to the sight.

The mother-bird is gone to sea,
As she had changed her kind;
But goes the male? Far wiser, he
Is doubtless left behind.

No;-soon as from ashore he saw
The winged mansion move,
He flew to reach it, by a law
Of never-failing love.

Then, perching at his consort's side,
Was briskly borne along,
The billows and the blast defied,
And cheered her with a song.

The seaman with sincere delight
His feathered shipmates eyes,
Scarce less exulting in the sight
Than when he tows a prize.

For seamen much believe in signs,
And from a chance so new
Each some approaching good divines;
And may his hopes be true!

Hail, honoured land! a desert where

Not even birds can hide,

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