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”