None from his fellows starts,
But playing manly parts,
And like true English hearts,
Stuck close together.

When down their bows they threw
And forth their bilboes drew
And on the French they flew,
Not one was tardy;

Arms were from shoulders sent,
Scalps to the teeth were rent,
Down the French peasants went,
Our men were hardy.

This while our noble king,
His broad-sword brandishing,
Down the French host did ding,
As to o'erwhelm it;

And many a deep wound lent,
His arms with blood besprent,
And many a cruel dent
Bruised his helmet.

Gloster, that duke so good,
Next of the royal blood,
For famous England stood

With his brave brother;
Clarence, in steel so bright,
Though but a maiden knight,
Yet in that furious fight
Scarce such another.

Warwick in blood did wade,

Oxford the foe invade,

And cruel slaughter made

Still as they ran up:

Suffolk his axe did ply,
Beaumont and Willoughby
Bare them right doughtily,
Ferrers and Fanhope.

Upon Saint Crispin's day
Fought was this noble fray
Which fame did not delay
To England to carry:
O when shall English men
With such acts fill a pen,
Or England breed again
Such a King Harry!

Drayton.

331

What pleasure have great princes
More dainty to their choice
Than herdsmen wild, who careless,
In quiet life rejoice,

And fortune's fate not fearing

Sing sweet in summer morning?

Their dealings plain and rightful,
Are void of all deceit;
They never know how spiteful
It is to kneel and wait
On favourite presumptuous

Whose pride is vain and sumptuous.

All day their flocks each tendeth;
At night they take their rest;

More quiet than who sendeth
His ship into the East,
Where gold and pearl are plenty;
But getting, very dainty.

For lawyers and their pleading,
They 'steem it not a straw;
They think that honest meaning
Is of itself a law:

Whence conscience judgeth plainly,
They spend no money vainly.

O happy who thus liveth!
Not caring much for gold;
With clothing which sufficeth
To keep him from the cold.
Though poor and plain his diet,
Yet merry it is, and quiet.

Anonymous.

332

To the Virginian Voyage

You brave heroic minds,
Worthy your country's name,
That honour still pursue;

Go and subdue,

Whilst loitering hinds

Lurk here at home with shame.

Your course securely steer,
West and by south forth keep;
Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals,
When Eolus scowls,

You need not fear;
So absolute the deep.

To whom the golden age
Still nature's laws doth give,
No other cares attend

But them to defend
From winter's rage,

That long there doth not live.

When as the luscious smell
Of that delicious land,

Above the seas that flows,
The clear wind throws
Your hearts to swell
Approaching the dear strand;

In kenning of the shore
(Thanks to God first given),
O you, the happiest men,
Be frolic then;

Let cannons roar,

Frighting the wide heaven.

And in regions far,

Such heroes bring ye forth,

As those from whom we came;

And plant our name

Under that star

Not known unto our North

And as there plenty grows

Of laurel everywhere,
Apollo's sacred tree,

You it may see,

A poet's brows

To crown, that may sing there.