Otterbourne

"To horse! to horse!" Lord Percy cried,

"And quick brace on your armour gleaming,

My merry men; on yon hill side

I see the Douglas' banner streaming;

And many a Scottish wife shall mourn

Her husband's fate at Otterbourne."

Then loud o'er hill and glen remote

The brazen trumpet's clang resounded;

And as he caught the well-known note

Each trembling war-horse proudly bounded:

For well he knew no hunter's horn

Waken'd thy echoes, Otterbourne.

And now the charging squadrons meet,

Their falchions in the moonbeams glancing;

And swiftly flew the arrowy sleet,

Midst plumes and pennons gaily dancing:

And many a knight, with corslet torn,

Bow'd his proud crest at Otterbourne.

'Tis o'er! -- the chief who oft has led

The battle-tide lies in his glory:

The lowly mound that marks his bed

Too plainly tells the fatal story.

The house of Douglas long shall mourn

The bloody field of Otterbourne.