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He was your chefteyne, your fhelde, your chef defence,
Redy to affift you in every time of nede :
Your worshyp depended of his excellence :
Alas! ye mad men, to far ye did excede :
Your hap was unhappy, to ill was your spede:
What moved you againe him to war or to fyght?
What aylde you to fle your lord agayn all ryght?

The ground of his quarel was for his foverain lord,
The well concerning of all the hole lande,
Demandyng fuche duties as nedes most acord

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Totheright of his prince which shold not be withiland; For whofe caufe ye flew him with your owne hand : But had his noble men done wel that day

Ye had not been able to have fayd hym nay.

But ther was fals packing, or els I am begylde;

How be it the mater was evydent and playne, For if they had occupied their spere and their fhilde, This noble man doutles had not bene flayne.

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But men fay they wer lynked with a double chaine, 75 And held with the comones under a cloke,

Which kindeled the wild fyr that made al this fmoke.

The commons renyed ther taxes to pay.

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Of them demaunded and asked by the kynge; With one voice importune, they plainly fayd nay: Theybuskt them on a bushment themfelfe in baile to bring: Agayne the kyngs plefure to wrestle or to wring, Bluntly as beftis with boste and with crye They fayd, they forfed not, nor carede not to dy.

The

The nobelnes of the north this valiant lord and knight, 85 As man that was innocent of trechery or traine, Prefed forth boldly to withstand the myght,

And, lyke marciall Hector, he faught them agayne, Vygorously upon them with might and with maine, Truftyng in noble men that were with him there: But al they fled from hym for falshode or fere.

Barones, knyghtes, fquiers and all,

Together with servauntes of his famuly, Turned their backe, and let their mafter fal, Of whome they counted not a flye;

Take up whose wold for them, they let him ly.

Alas! his gold, his fee, his annual rent

Upon fuche a fort was ille bestowd and spent.

He was environd aboute on every syde

go

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With his enemyes, that were starke mad and wode; 100
Yet while he stode he gave them woundes wyde:
Alas for ruth! what thoughe his mynd were gode,
His corage manly, yet ther he shed his blode!
Al left alone, alas! he foughte in vayne ;
For cruelly among them ther he was flayne.

Alas for pite! that Percy thus was spylt
The famous erle of Northumberland:
Of knyghtly prowès the fword pomel and hylt,
The myghty lyon doutted by fe and lande!
O dolorous chaunce of fortunes froward hande!
What man remembryng howe shamfully he was flaine,
From bitter weping himself can restrain ?

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O cruell

O cruell Mars, thou dedly god of war!

O dolorous tewisday, dedicate to thy name,

When thou fhoke thy fworde fo noble a man to mar! 115
O ground ungracious, unhappy be thy fame,
Which wert endyed with rede bloud of the fame!
Moft noble erle! O foule myfuryd ground

Where on he gat his finall dedely wounde!

O Atropos, of the fatall fyfters thre

Goddes moft cruel unto the lyfe of man,
All merciles in the is no pitè!

O homicide, which fleeft all that thou can,
So forcibly upon this erle thou ran,

That with thy fword enharpit of mortall drede,
Thou kit afonder his perfight vitall threde!

My wordes unpullyfht be nakide and playne,
Of aureat poems they want ellumynynge.;
But by them to knowlege ye may attayne

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·125·

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Of this lordes dethe and of his murdrynge.
Which whils he lyved had fuyfon of every thing, 1
Of knights, of fquyers, chyf lord of toure and towne
Tyl fykkell fortune began on hym to frowne.

Paregall to dukes, with kynges he might compare,
Surmountinge in honor all erles he did excede,
To all countries aboute hym reporte me I dare.
Lyke to Eneas benigne in worde and dede,
Valiant as Hector in every marciall nede,

Prudent, discrete, circumfpect and wyse,

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Tyll the chaunce ran agayne hym of fortunes duble dyse.'

VOL. III.

I

What

What nedeth me for to extoll his fame

With my rude pen enkankered all with ruft? Whose noble actes fhow worshiply his name, Tranfendyngfar' myne homely mufe, that muste Yet fomewhat wright fupprifed with herty luft, Truly reportyng his right noble eftate, Immortally whiche is immaculate.

His noble blode never deftayned was,

Trew to his prince for to defend his ryght,
Dobleness hatyng, fals maters to compas,

Treytory and trefon he banyfht out of fyght,
With truth to medle was al his holl delyght,
As all his countrey can teftyfy the fame :
To fle fuche a lorde, alas, it was great fhame.

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If the hole quere of the mufis nyne.

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In me all onely wer fet and compryfed, Enbrethed with the blast of influence devyne,

As perfytly as could be thought or devised;

To me alfo all though it were promised

Of laureat Phebus holy the eloquence,
All were to lytell for his magnificence.

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O yonge lyon, but tender yet of age,

Grow, and encrease, remembre thyn eftate,

God the affyft unto thyn herytage,

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And geve the grace to be more fortunate, Agayn rebellyones arme to make debate, And, as the lyone, whiche, is of beftes kynge, Unto thy fubjectes be curteis and benynge.

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I pray God fende the profperous lyfe and long,
Stable thy mynde conftant to be and faft,
Ryght to mayntayn, and to refyft all wronge,
All flatteryng faytors abhor and from the caft,
Of foule detraction God kepe the from the blast,
Let double delyng in the have no place,
And be not lyght of credence in no cafe.

With hevy chere, with dolorous hart and mynd,
Eche man may forow in his inward thought,
This lords death, whofe pere is hard to fynd

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Al gife Englond and Fraunce were thorow faught. Al kynges, all princes, al dukes, well they ought 180 Both temporall and fpiritual for to complayne

This noble man, that crewelly was flayne.

More fpecially barons, and those knygtes bold,
And all other gentilmen with him entert yned

In fee, as menyall men of his houfold,

Whom he as lord worthyply mainteyned:

To forowful weping they ought to be conftreined,
As oft as they call to theyr remembraunce,
Of ther good lord the fate and dedely chaunce.

Perlefe prince of heven emperyall,

That with one worde formed al thing of noughte; Heven, hell, and erthe obey unto thy call;

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Which to thy resemblance wondersly hast wrought All mankynd, whom thou full dere haft bought, With thy bloud precious our finaunce thou did pay 195 And us redemed, from the fendys pray:

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