The Home Treasury of British Poetry. Hausschatz der britischen Dichtkunst ... Herausgegeben von L. G

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I I OF Msly $mt0fd)at* THE HOME TREASURY OF BRITISH POETRY. $mt0fd)a^ ber liritifdjett Sidjtfunft von §ljaucer Bis auf bie nene(ie |eif. $erau«gegebeit oon (Sautter, sJ?rofef(ot am ffi. <PoIt)tecfjni(um ju Stuttgart ;7orref)>ortbierenbem SD?ttgfieb ber ©efellfifiaft fiir ba« Stubium ber neueren ©pracfjen in Berlin. Stuttgart. A. jHfcher's Eerlag (©uflau Hoffmann). 1864. TO WILLIAM BENNETT ESQ. THE POET OF THE HOME AFFECTIONS AND THE PROMOTER OF SOCIAL ENGLIGHTENMENT, THIS TRIBUTE TO THE TERCENTENARY FESTIVAL OF SHAKESPEARE'S BIRTHDAY IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BT HIS SINCERE AND FAITHFUL FRIEND I.I i*\\ H- KAMTTEH. APRIL XXIII. MDCCCLXIV. SERIES THE FIRST. OLD BRITISH POETRY. OLD BRITISH BALLADS. < 111 * 1 CHICK. Got! prosper long our noble king, Our lives and safetyes all; A woefull hunting once there did In Chevy-Chace befall; The bow-men mustered on the hills.

Well able to endure; Theire backsides all, with speciall care. That day were guarded sure. To drive the deere with hound and home, Erie Percy took his way, The child may rue that is unborne, The hunting of that day. . The hounds ran swiftlythroughthe woods. The nimble deere to take, That with their cryes the hills and dales An eccho shrill did make. The stout Erie of Northumberland A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summers clays to take ; Lord Percy to the quarry went, To view the slaughter'd deere; Quoth he, Erie Douglas promised This day to meet me heere : The cheefest harts in Chevy-Chace To kill and beare away. These tydings to Erie Douglas came, In Scottland where he lay : But if I thought he wold not come, Noe longer wold 1 stay. With that, a brave younge gentleman Thus to the" Erie did say: Who sent Erie Percy present word, He would prevent his sport.

The English Erie, not fearing that, Did to the woods resort. Loe, yonder doth Erie Douglas come, His men in armour bright ; Full twenty hundred Scottish soeres All marching in our sight ; With fifteen hundred bow-men bold; All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of neede All men of pleasant Tivydale, Fast by the river Tweede: O cease your sports, Erie Percy said, And take your bowes with speede: To ayme their shafts aright. The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran, To chace the fallow deere: And now with me, my countrymen, Your courage forth advance; For there was never champion yett In Scottland or in France, On munday they began to hunt, Ere day-light did appeare; And long before high noone they had An hundred fat buckes slaine; Then having dined, the drovyers went To rouze the cleare againe.