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Excester had the rear,
For the false Frenchman,
And ready to be gone,
To hear was wonder;
Thunder to thunder.
Well it thine age became,
Unto the forces;
Stuck the French horses.
The Spanish yew so strong,
Piercing the wether;
Stuck close together.
When down their bows they threw,
No man was tardy;
Arms from the shoulders sent, Scalps to the teeth were rent, Down the French peasants went,
These were men hardy.
When now that noble king,
As to o'erwhelm it;
Bruised his helmet.
Gloster, that duke so good,
With his brave brother,
Scarce such another.
Warwick in blood did wade,
Still as they ran up;
Ferrers and Fanhope.
On happy Crispin day
To England to carry ;
Such a King Harry?
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY SONGS
AN ELEGY UPON THE DEATH OF THE LADY
(First published 1633)
Man is the world, and death the ocean
As men of China, after an age's stay,
too; If carnal Death, the younger brother, do Usurp the body; our soul, which subject is To th’ elder Death by sin, is free by this; They perish both, when they attempt the just; For graves our trophies are, and both Death's
dust. So, unobnoxious now, she hath buried both; For none to death sins, that to sin is loath, Nor do they die, which are not loath to die; So she hath this and that virginity. Grace was in her extremely diligent, That kept her from sin, yet made her repent. Of what small spots pure white complains!
Alas! How little poison cracks a crystal glass ! She sinn'd, but just enough to let us see That God's word must be true,-all sinners be. So much did zeal her conscience rarify, That extreme truth lack'd little of a lie, Making omissions acts; laying the touch Of sin on things, that sometimes may be such. As Moses' cherubims, whose natures do Surpass all speed, by him are winged too, So would her soul, already in heaven, seem then To climb by tears the common stairs of men. How fit she was for God, I am content
To speak, that Death his vain haste may repent;
A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING
(Sometimes called “ Upon Parting from his Mistris,”
As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
“Now his breath goes, and some say, 'No;' So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move; 'Twere profanation of our joys,
To tell the laity our love.
Men reckon what it did, and meant;
Though greater far, are innocent. Dull sublunary Lovers' love,
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence; for that it doth remove
Those things which elemented it. But we, by a love so far refin'd
That ourselves know not what it is, Inter-assured of the mind
Careless eyes, lips, and hands, to miss.