[Shellweb-main] his their late Defeate, A
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From: Terres R. <tre...@sy...> - 2009-12-29 23:24:08
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And so tow'rds Callice brauely marching on, Leaueth sad France her losses to bemoane. FINIS. TO MY FRINDS THE CAMBER- BRITANS AND THEYR HARP. TO MY FRINDS THE CAMBER-BRITANS AND THEYR HARP. Fayre stood the winde for France, When we our sailes aduance, Nor now to proue our chance Longer not tarry, But put vnto the mayne: At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his warlike trayne Landed King Harry. And taking many a forte, Furnish'd in warlike sorte, Comming toward Agincourte (In happy houre) Skermishing day by day With those oppose his way, Whereas the Genrall laye With all his powre. Which in his height of pride, As Henry to deride, His ransome to prouide Vnto him sending; Which he neglects the while, As from a nation vyle, Yet with an angry smile Their fall portending. And turning to his men, Quoth famous Henry then, Though they to one be ten, Be not amazed: Yet haue we well begun; Battailes so brauely wonne Euermore to the sonne By fame are raysed. And for my selfe, (quoth hee) This my full rest shall bee, England nere mourne for me, Nor more esteeme me: Victor I will remaine, Or on this earth be slaine; Neuer shall she sustaine Losse to redeeme me. Poiters and Cressy tell, When moste their pride did swell, Vnder our swords they fell: Ne lesse our skill is, Then when our grandsyre greate, Claiming the regall seate, In many |