Page:The white doe of Rylstone - or, The fate of the Nortons. A poem (IA whitedoeofrylsto00wordrich).pdf/165

 He sayd, Come thither, Christopher Norton, A gallant youth thou seem’st to bee; What dost thou counsell me, my sonne, Now that good earle’s in jeopardy?

Father, my counselle’s fair and free; That erle he is a noble lord, And whatsoever to him you hight, I would not have you breake your word.

Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne, Thy counsell well it liketh mee, And if we speed and ’scape with life, Well advanced shalt thou bee.

Come you hither, my nine good sonnes, Gallant men I trowe you bee: How many of you, my children deare, Will stand by that good erle and mee?

Eight of them did answer make, Eight of them spake hastilie, O Father, till the day we dye We’ll stand by that good erle and thee.

Gramercy, now, my children deare, You show yourselves right bold and brave, And whethersoe’er I live or dye, A father’s blessing you shall have.

But what say’st thiou, O Francis Norton, Thou art mine eldest sonne and heire: