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 DRAYTON

Which he neglects the while As from a nation vile, Yet with an angry smile Their fall portending.

And turning to his men, Quoth our brave Henry then, ' Though they to one be ten,

Be not amazed. Yet have we well begun, Battles so bravely won Have ever to the sun

By fame been raised.

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

Lopped the French lilies.'

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