And stab’d him to the heart: thus the Lancastrians raigne,
The Yorkist in the field on heaps together slaine.
The Battell at that Crosse, which to this day doth beare
The great and ancient name of th’English Mortimer,
The next shall heare haue place, betwixt that Edward fought,
Entitled Earle of March, (reuengefully that sought
To wreake his fathers blood, at Wakefield lately shed
But then he Duke of Yorke, his father being dead)
And Iasper Tudor Earle of Pembroke, in this warre,
That stood to vnderprop the House of Lancaster,
Halfe brother to the King, that stroue to hold his Crowne,
With Wiltshire, whose high prowesse had brauely beaten downe
The Yorkists swelling pride in that successefull warre
At Wakefield, whose greatst power of Welsh and Irish are.
The Dukes were Marchers most, which still stucke to him close,
And meeting on the plaine, by that forenamed Crosse;
As either Generall there for his aduantage found,
(For wisely they surueyd the fashion of the ground)
They into one maine sight their either Forces make,
When to the Duke of Yorke (his spirits as to awake)
Three sonnes at once appear’d, all seuerally that shone,
Which in a little space were ioyned all in one.
Auspicious to the Duke, as after it fell out,
Who with the weaker power, (of which he seem’d to doubt)
The proud Lancastrian part had quickly put to chase,
Where plainly it should seeme, the Genius of the place,
The very name of March should greatly fauour there,
A Title to this Prince deriu’d from Mortimer:
To whom this Trophy rear’d, much honored had the soyle.
The Yorkists here enrich’d with the Lancastrian spoyle,
Are Masters of the day; foure thousand being slaine,
The most of which were those, there standing to maintaine
The title of the King. Where Owen Tudors lot
Was to be taken then; who this young Earle begot
On Katherin the bright Queene, the fift King Henries Bride,
Who too vntimely dead, this Owen had affide.
But he a Prisoner then, his sonne and Ormond fled,
At Hereford was made the shorter by the head;
When this most warlike Duke, in honour of that signe,
Which of his good successe so rightly did diuine,
And thankfull to high heauen, which of his cause had care,
Three Sunnes for his deuice still in his Ensigne bare.
Thy second Battell now, Saint Albans I record,
Struck twixt Queene Margrets power, to ransome backe her Lord,
Ta’n prisoner at that towne, when there those factions fought,
Whom now the part of Yorke had thither with them brought,
Whose force consisted most of Southerne men, being led
By Thomas Howard Duke of Norfolke, and the head
Of that proud faction then, stout Warwicke still that swayd,
In euery bloody field (the Yorkists onely ayd)
When eithers power approch’d, and they themselues had fixt,
Vpon the South and North, the towne them both betwixt,
Which first of all to take, the Yorkists had forecast,
Putting their Vaward on, and their best Archers plac’d
The Market-sted about, and them so fitly layd,
That when the foe camevp, they with such terror playd
Vpon them in the Front, as forc’d them to retreit.
The Northerne mad with rage vpon the first defeat,
Yet put for it againe, to enter from the North,
Which when great Warwicke heard, he sent his Vaward forth,
T’oppose them in what place so ere they made their stand,
Where in too fit a ground, a Heath too neere at hand,
Adioyning to the towne, vnluckily they light,
Where presenly began a fierce and deadly fight.
But those of Warwicks part, which scarce foure thousand were,
To th’Vaward of the Queenes, that stood so stoutly there,
Though still with fresh supplies from her maine Battell fed;
When they their courage saw so little them to sted,
Deluded by the long expectance of their ayd,
By passages too straight, and close ambushments stayd:
Their succours that forslow’d, to flight themselues betake,
When after them againe, such speed the Northerne make,
Being followed with the force of their maine Battell strong,
That this disordred Rout, these breathlesse men among,
They entred Warwicks Hoste, which with such horrour strooke
The Southerne, that each man began about to looke
A way how to escape, that when great Norfolke cri’d,
Now as you fauour Yorke, and his iust cause, abide.
And Warwicke in the Front euen offred to haue stood,
Yet neither of them both, should they haue spent their blood,
Could make a man to stay, or looke vpon a foe:
Where Fortune it should seeme, to Warwicke meant to show,
That shee this tide of his could turne, when ere she would.
Thus when they saw the day was for so little sould;
The King, which (for their ends) they to the field had brought,
Behind them there they leaue, but as a thing of naught,
Which seru’d them to no vse: who when his Queene and sonne,
There found in Norfolkes tent, the Battell being done,
With many a ioyfull teare, each other they imbrace;
And whilst blind Fortune look’d with so well pleas’d a face:
Their swords with the warme blood of Yorkists so inbrude,
Their foes but lately fled, couragiously pursude.
Now followeth that blacke Sceane, borne vp so wondrous hie,
That but a poore dumbe shew before a Tragedie,
The former Battels fought, haue seem’d to this to be;
O Towton, let the blood Palme-Sunday spent on thee,
Affright the future times, when they the Muse shall heare,
Deliuer it so to them; and let the ashes there
Of fortie thousand men, in that long quarrell slaine,
Arise out of the earth, as they would liue againe,
To tell the manlike doeds, that bloody day were wrought
In that most fatall field, (with various fortunes fought)
Twixt Edward Duke of Yorke, then late proclaimed King,
Fourth of that royall name, and him accompanying,
The Nevills, (of that warre maintaining still the streame)
Great Warwicke, and with him his most couragious Eame,
Stout Falconbridge, the third, a firebrand like the other,
Of Salisbury surnam’d, that Warwicks bastard brother.
Lord Fitzwater, who still the Yorkists power assists,
Blount, Wenlock, Dinham, Knights approued Martialists.
And Henry the late King, to whom they still durst stand,
His true as powerfull friend, the great Northumberland,
With Westmerland, his claime who euer did preferre
His kinsman Somerset, his cosen Excester,
Dukes of the Royall line, his faithfull friends that were,
And little lesse then those, the Earle of Deuonshire,
Th’Lord Dacres, and Lord Wels, both wise and warlike wights,
With him of great command, Neuill and Trolop, Knights.
Both armies then on foot, and on their way set forth,
King Edward from the South, King Henry from the North.
The later crowned King doth preparation make,
From Pomfret (where he lay) the passage first to take
O’r A
ier at Ferybridge, and for that seruice sends
A most selected troupe of his well-chosen friends,
To make that passage good, when instantly began
The dire and ominous signes, the slaughter that foreran.
For valiant Clifford there, himselfe so brauely quit,
That comming to the Bridge (ere they could strengthen it)
From the Lancastrian power, with his light troupe of Horse,
And early in the morne defeating of their force,
The Lord Fitzmater slew, and that braue Bastard sonne
Of Salsbury, themselues who into danger runne:
For being in their beds, suspecting nought at all;
But hearing sudden noyse, suppos’d some broyle to fall
Mongst their misgouern’d troups, vnarmed rushing out,
By Cliffords Souldiers soone incompassed about,
Were miserably slaine: which when great Warwicke heares,
As he had felt his heart transpersed through his eares,
To Edward mad with rage, imediatly he goes,
And with distracted eyes, in most sterne manner showes
The slaughter of those Lords; this day alone, quoth he,
Our vtter ruine shall, or our sure rising be.
When soone before the Host, his glittering sword he drew,
And with relentlesse hands his springly Courser slew.
Then stand to me (quoth he) who meaneth not to flie;
This day shall Edward winne, or here shall Warwicke die.
Which words by Warwicke spoke, so deeply seem’d to sting
The much distempered breast of that couragious King,
That straight he made proclaim’d, that euery fainting heart,
From his resolued host had licence to depart:
And those that would abide the hazard of the fight,
Rewards and titles due to their deserued right:
And that no man, that day, a prisoner there should take;
For this the vpshot was, that all must marre or make.
A hundred thousand men in both the Armies stood,
That natiue English were: O worthy of your Blood
What conquest had there been? But Ensignes flie at large,
And trumpets euery way sound to the dreadfull charge.
Vpon the Yorkists part, there flew the irefull Beare:
On the Lancastrian side, the Cressant wauing there.
The Southerne on this side, for Yorke a Warwicke crie,
A Percy for the right, the Northerne men reply.
The two maine Battels ioyne, the foure large Wings doe meet;
What with the shouts of men, and noyse of horses feet,
Hell through the troubled earth, her horrour seem’d to breath;
A thunder heard aboue, an earth-quake felt beneath:
As when the Euening is with darknesse ouerspread,
Her Star-befreckled face with Clouds inuelloped,
You oftentimes behold, the trembling lightning flie,
Which suddenly againe, but turning of your eye,
Is vanished away, or doth so swiftly glide,
That with a trice it touch t’Horizons either side;
So through the smoke of dust, from wayes, and fallowes raisd,
And breath of horse and men, that both together ceasd
The ayre one euery part, sent by the glimmering Sunne,
The splendor of their Armes doth by reflection runne:
Till heapes of dying men, and those already dead,
Much hindred them would charge, and letted them that fled.
Beyond all wonted bounds, their rage so farre extends,
That sullen night begins, before their fury ends.
Ten howers this fight endur’d, whilst still with murthering hands,
Expecting the next morne, the weak’st vnconquered stands;
Which was no sooner come, but both begin againe
To wrecke their friends deare blood, the former euening slaine.
New Battels are begun, new fights that newly wound,
Till the Lancastrian part, by their much lesning found
Their long expected hopes were vtterly forlorne,
When lastly to the foe, their recreant backs they turne.
Thy Channell then, O Cock, was fild vp with the dead,
Of the Lancastrian side, that from the Yorkists fled,
That those of Edwards part, that had the Reare in chase,
As though vpon a Bridge, did on their bodies passe.
That Wharfe to whose large banks thou contribut’st thy store,
Had her more Christall face discoloured with the gore
Of fortie thousand men, that vp the number made,
Northumberland the great, and Westmerland there layd
Their bodies: valiant Wels, and Dacres there doe leaue
Their carkases, (whose hope too long) did them deceiue.
Trolop and Neuill found massacred in the field,
The Earle of Wiltshire forc’d to the sterne foe to yeeld.
King Henry from fayre Yorke, vpon this sad mischance
To Scotland fled, the Queene sayld ouer into France,
The Duke of Somerset, and Excester doe flie,
The rest vpon the earth together breathlesse lie.
Muse, turne thee now to tell the Field at Hexam struck,
Vpon the Yorkists part, with the most prosp’rous luck
Of any yet before, where to themselues they gain’d
Most safetie, yet their powers least damage there sustain’d,
Twixt Iohn Lord Mountacute, that Neuill, who to stand
For Edward, gathered had out of Northumber land
A sort of valiant men, consisting most of Horse,
Which were againe suppli’d with a most puisant force,
Sent thither from the South, and by King Edward brought
In person downe to Yorke, to ayd if that in ought
His Generall should haue need, for that he durst not trust
The Northerne, which so oft to him had been vniust:
Whilst he himselfe at Yorke, a second power doth hold,
To heare in this rough warre, what the Lancastrians would.
And Henry with his Queene, who to their powers had got,
The liuely daring French, and the light hardy Scot,
To enter with them here, and to their part doe get,
Their faithfull lou’d Allie, the Duke of Somerset,
And Sir Ralfe Percie, then most powerfull in those parts,
Who had beene reconcil’d to Edward, but their hearts
Still with King Henry stay’d, to him and euer true,
To whom by this reuolt, they many Northerne drew:
Sir William T aylboys, (cald of most) the Earle of Kime,
With Hungerford, and Rosse, and Mullins, of that time
Barons of high account, with Neuill, T unstall, Gray,
Hussy, and Finderne, Knights, men bearing mighty sway.
As forward with his force, braue Mountacute was set,
It hap’d vpon his way at Hegly More he met
With Hungerford, and Rosse, and Sir Ralph Percy, where,
In signe of good successe (as certainly it were)
They and their vtmost force were quickly put to slight;
Yet Percy as he was a most couragious Knight,
Ne’r boudg’d till his last breath, but in the field was slaine.
Proud of this first defeat, then marching forth againe,
Towards Liuells, a large Waste, which other plaines out-braues,
Whose Verge fresh Dowell still is watring with her waues,
Whereas his posting Scouts, King Henries power discri’d,
Tow’rds whom with speedy march, this valiant Generall hied,
Whose haste there likewise had such prosperous euent,
That lucklesse Henry yet, had scarcely cleer’d his Tent,
His Captaines hardly set his Battels, nor enlarg’d
Their
Squadrons on the field, but this great Neuill charg’d:
Long was this doubtfull fight on either side maintain’d,
That rising whilst this falls, this loosing whilst that gain’d:
The ground which this part got, and there as Conquerors stood,
The other quickly gaine, and firmely make it good,
To either as blind Chance, her fauors will dispose;
So to this part it eb’d, and to that side it flowes.
At last, till whether ‘twere that sad and horrid sight,
At Saxton that yet did their fainting spirits affright,
With doubt of second losse, and slaughter, or the ayd
That Mountacute receau’d; King Henries power dismayd:
And giuing vp the day, dishonourably fled,
Whom with so violent speed the Yorkists followed,
That had not Henry spur’d, and had a Courser swift,
Besides a skilfull guide, through woods and hilles to shift,
He sure had been surpriz’d, as they his Hench-men tooke,
With whom they found his Helme; with most disastrous lucke,
To saue themselues by flight, ne’r more did any striue,
And yet so many men ne’r taken were aliue.
Now Banbury we come thy Battell to report,
And show th’efficient cause, as in what wondrous sort
Great Warmicke was wrought in to the Lancastrian part,
When as that wanton King so vex’d his mightie heart:
Whilst in the Court of France, that Warriour he bestow’d,
(As potent here at home, as powerfull else abroad)
A marriage to intreat with Bona bright and sheene,
Of the Sauoyan Blood, and sister to the Queene,
Which whilst this noble Earle negotiated there,
The widdow Lady Gray, the King espoused here.
By which the noble Earle in France who was disgrac’d,
(In England his reuenge doth but too quickly hast)
T’excite the Northerne men doth secretly begin,
(With whom he powerfull was) to rile, that comming in,
He might put in his hand, (which onely he desir’d)
Which rising before Yorke were likely to haue fierd
The Citie, but repuls’d, and Holdorn them that led,
Being taken, for the cause made shorter by the head.
Yet would not they disist, but to their Captaines drew
Henry the valiant sonne of Iohn the Lord Fitz-Hugh,
With Coniers that braue Knight, whose valour they preferre,
With Henry Neuill, sonne to the Lord Latimer,
By whose Allies and friends, they euery day grew strong,
And so in proud aray tow’rds London march along.
Which when King Edward saw the world began to side
Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works Page 113