Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/206

 MICHAEL DRAYTON

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 faLe Frenchmen'

7"hey now to fight arc gone, Armour on armour s>hone, Drum now to drum did groan,

To hear was wonder; That with the cries they make The very earth did shake Trumpet to trumpet spake,

Thunder to thunder.

Well it thine age became, O noble Erpingham, Which didst the signal aim

To our hid forces' When from a meadow by, Like a storm suddenly The English archery

Stuck the French horses.

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