That was, "Fyghte ye, my merry men, whyllys ye may, For my lyff-days ben gan." The PersA" leanyde on his brande, And sawe the Duglas de; He tooke the dede man be the hande, And sayd, "Wo ys me for the! "To have savyde thy lyffe I wolde have pertyde with My landes for years thre, For a better man, of hart nare of hande, Was not in all the north contrA"." Off all that se a Skottishe knyght, Was callyd Sir Hewe the Mongonbyrry; He sawe the Duglas to the deth was dyght, He spendyd a spear, a trust! tre:-- He rod uppon a corsiare Throughe a hondrith archery: He never styntyde, nar never blane, Tyll he cam to the good lord PersA". He set uppone the lord PersA" A dynte that was full soare; With a suar spear of a myghttA" tre Clean thorow the body he the PersA" bore, A' the tother syde that a man myght se A large cloth yard and mare: Towe bettar captayns wear nat in ChristiantA", Then that day slain wear ther. An archar off Northomberlonde Say slean was the lord PersA"; He bar a bende-bowe in his hande, Was made off trusti tre. An arow, that a cloth yarde was lang, To th' hard stele halyde he; A dynt that was both sad and soar, He sat on Sir Hewe the Mongonbyrry. The dynt yt was both sad and sar, That he on Mongonberry sete; The swane-fethars, that his arrowe bar, With his hart-blood the wear wete. Ther was never a freake wone foot wolde fle, But still in stour dyd stand, Heawyng on yche othar, whyll the myght dre,