  This admirable ballad, founded on an old Derbyshire tradition, is by my friend Mr. William Bennett, of whom I have before spoken. The Peverels were, as a part of the immense possessions given to them by William the Conqueror, owners of the tract of country comprising the Honour and Forest of the High Peak. Their stronghold was the castle at Castleton. The "Lord's seat" mentioned in the ballad is a mountain separating Rushop Edge from the valley of Edale. The view from here, where Peverel used to alight from his horse to watch the progress of the chace, says Mr. Bennett, "is magnificent; perhaps one of the finest in north Derbyshire, as from its summit you may see the Pennine chain of Cheshire, 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, And east and west look'd he; And "Holy Cross!" the fierce 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 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 comes o'er the Edge, By Perry dale, or Gautriss side, My knightly spurs I pledge. These outlaws, who now drive my deer, Shall sooth our quarry be; And he who reaches first the hounds Shall win a guerdon free." Each knight and squire soon sat in selle, And urged his horse to speed, And Peverel, first among the rout, Proved his horse good at need. Adown the slope, along the flat, Against the hill they ride, Nor pull a rein 'till every steed Stands fast on Gautriss side. "Hold hard! They're here," the Peverel said, And upward held his hand, While all his meany kept behind, Awaiting their lord's command; And westward, on the Bolt-edge Moor, Beyond the rocky height, Both hounds and hunters, men and horse, Said then the baron, "Who are these Who fear not Peverel's sword Nor forest laws." Outspoke a squire, "Of Bowdon he's the lord; Sir Bruno, hight, a Franklin brave, One of the Saxon swine Who feasts each day on fat fed beef, And guzzles ale, not wine." "What stirs the sodden headed knave To make his pastime here?" Cried Peverel, "and thus dare to brave Him whom the king doth fear? Ride down the villains, horse and man; Would we were armed to-day, No Saxon chine should bear its head Forth from the bloody fray." Up spoke his frere, Payne Peverel, then, Of Whittington lord was he, And said, "Fair Sir, for ruth and grace This slaughter may not be. The Saxon's lands are widely spread, And he holds them in capitÉ, And claims three days with hawk and hound To wind his bugle free." "Beshrew his horn, and beshrew his heart, In my forest he may not ride: If he kills a deer, by the Conqueror's bow Ride on, Sir Payne, and tell the churl He must cease his hunting cheer, And come to the knee of his suzerain lord Awaiting his presence here. Ride with him, sirs, some two or three, And bring him hither straight: 'Twere best for him to come at once Than cause his lord to wait. There are trees in the forest strong enow To bear the madman's corse, And he shall hang on the highest bough If hither he comes perforce." Sir Payne rode swiftly cross the dale, Followed by gentles three, Nor stayed his horse 'till he had reached The hunter's company: And then he said, "Fair sirs, ye ride And drive our deer as free As if the land were all your own And not in forestry. Lord Peverel yonder waits your ease, To know how this may be; Since he is lord of the forest wide, And will no trespass see. He bids you, as your suzerain lord, Forthwith to come to his knee, And as his liegeman humbly stand, "No man of his," cried the Franklin, "then Am I, as he knows full well, Though within the bounds of his forest walk It likes me sooth to dwell. My manor of Bowdon, I hold in chief From good King Harry I trow; And to him alone will I homage pay And make my fealty vow." "Beware, Sir Franklin," cried Sir Payne, "Beware how thou play the fool! To brave the ire of thy suzerain lord Will lead to direful dule. Come on with me, and make thy peace, Better do that than worse; He'll hang thee on the forest tree If we take thee hence perforce." "Take me you can't while I have thews, And these have bows and spears," Cried the brave Franklin. "Threaten him Who the Lord Peverel fears. We've broke no forest law to-day; Our hunting here's my right; And only ye can force me hence If strongest in the fight." Each hunter then upraised his spear, Or twanged his good yew bow, While cloth yard shafts from every sheaf And back Payne Peverel reined his horse, And, as he rode away, Cried, "Fare ye well, this day of sport Will breed a bloody day." Well was it for the Saxons then The Normans rode unarmed, Or they had scantly left that field And homeward gone unharmed. Lord Peverel viewed their bows and spears, And marked their strong array, And grimly smiled, and softly said, "We'll right this wrong some day." But e'er that day, for fearful crime, The Peverel fled the land, And lost his pride of place, and eke His lordship and command. For Ranulph Earl of Chester's death, By him most foully wrought, He fled fair England's realm for aye, And other regions sought. Where, so 'tis writ, a monk he turned, And penance dreed so sore, That all the holy brotherhood Quailed at the pains he bore. And yet the haughty Norman blood No sign of dolour showed; But bore all stoutly to the last, So Heaven receive his soul at last, He was a warrior brave; And Pope and priest were joined in mass His guilty soul to save. For Holy Church and Kingly Crown He was ever a champion true; For chivalry and ladies' grace ChivÁler foiÁl et preux. |
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