Page:Lancashire Legends, Traditions, Pageants, Sports, Etc., with an Appendix Containing a Rare Tract.djvu/67



To fight for England's weal, I trow,
 * And good King Harry's right;

His loyal heart was warm and true,
 * His sword and buckler bright.

"That sword, once felt the craven foe,
 * Its hilt was black with gore;

And many a mother's son did rue
 * His might at Agincourt.

"And now he stately steps his hall—
 * 'A summons from the King?

My armour bright, my casque and plume,
 * My sword and buckler bring.

"'Blow, warder, blow; thy horn is shrill;
 * My liegemen hither call;

For I must away to the south countrie,
 * And spears and lances all.'

"'Oh, go not to the south countrie!'
 * His lady weeping said;

'0h, go not to the battle-field,
 * For I dreamed of the waters red!'

"'Oh, go not to the south countrie,'
 * Cried out his daughter dear;

'Oh, go not to the bloody fight,
 * For I dreamed of the waters clear!'

"Sir Bertine raised his dark vizor,
 * And he kissed his fond lady;

'I must away to the wars and fight,
 * For our King in jeopardy!'

"The lady gat her to the tower,
 * She clomb the battlement;

She watched and greet, while thro' the woods
 * The glittering falchions went.

"The wind was high, the storm grew loud,
 * Fierce rose the billowy sea;

When from Sir Bertine's lordly tower
 * The bell boomed heavily.