The Driving of the Deer

Lord Peverel stood on the Lordis Seat,
 And an angry man was he
 For he heard the sound of a hunter's horn
 Slow winding up the lea
 He look'd to north, he look'd to south,
 East and west looked he
 "Oh Holy Cross" the Norman cried,
 "Who hunts in my country?"
 "Belike they think the Peverel dead,
 Or far from forest walk.
 Woe worth their hunting, they shall find
 Abroad is still the Hawk"
 Again he looked where Helldon Hill
 Joins with the Konying's Dale
 And then once more the bugle blast
 Came swelling along the gale.
 "Mount, mount and ride" the baron cried
 "The sound come's o'er the lea,
 These outlaws, who now drive my deer
 Shall soon our quarry be"
 All down the slope, along the flat
 Against the hill they ride,
 Non pull the rein till every steed
 Stands fast at Gautriss side.
 "Hold hard! They're here" the Peverel said
 And upward held his hand
 While all his many kept behind
 To wait their Lords command
 And westwards, on the Bolt-edge Moor
 Beyond the rocky height,
 Both hounds and hunters, men and horse,
 And deer were all in sight.
 Who are these who break forest law?
 Who fear not Peverel's sword?
 Up spoke Sir Payne Peverel, and said
 "Of Bowdon he's the Lord,
 Sir Bruno, hight, a Franklin brave
 One of the Saxon swine
 Who feast each day on fat fed beef
 And guzzle ale not wine"
 "Beshrew his horn and beshrew his heart,
 This land he may not ride.
 If he kills a deer, by the conquerors bow
 By forest law he'll bide."
 "Ride on, Sir Payne, and tell the churl
 to cease his hunting cheer,
 And come before his surzerain lord
 Who waits his presence here"
 Sir Payne rode swiftly across the dale
 followed by his gentle's three,
 Nor stayed his horse 'till he had reached
 The hunters company.
 And then he said "Fair sirs, you ride
 And drive our deer as free,
 As if this land were all your own
 And not in forestry"
 Sir Franklin cried "I'm not his man,
 And Peverel knows full well,
 Though within the bounds of his forest walk
 It likes me sooth to dwell."
 "My manor of Bowden I hold in chief
 For good king Harry's might
 And you can only force me hence
 If strongest in the fight"
 Each Saxon then upraised his spear
 Or twanged his good yew bow
 And the Normans who rode out unarmed
 Couldn't match this threatening show
 Lord Peverel viewed their bows and spears
 And marked their strong array,
 And so grim he smiled, and softly said
 "We'll right this wrong someday"