Yet have we well begun;
Battles so bravely won
Have ever to the sun
By fame been raisèd.
'And for myself (quoth he)
This my full rest shall be:
England ne'er mourn for me
Nor more esteem me:
Victor I will remain
Or on this earth lie slain,
Never shall she sustain
Loss to redeem me.
'Poitiers and Cressy tell,
When most their pride did swell,
Under our swords they fell:
No less our skill is
Than when our grandsire great,
Claiming the regal seat,
By many a warlike feat
Lopp'd the French lilies.'
The Duke of York so dread
The eager vaward led;
With the main Henry sped
Among his henchmen.
Excester had the rear,
A braver man not there;
O Lord, how hot they were
On the false Frenchmen!
They now to fight are gone,
Armour on armour shone,
Drum now to drum did groan,
To hear was wonder;
Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/194
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikisource/en/thumb/6/63/Oxford_Book_of_English_Verse_1250-1900.djvu/page194-1024px-Oxford_Book_of_English_Verse_1250-1900.djvu.jpg)