Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works

by Michael Drayton

  Who from the second force, had still expected ayd,

  But frustrated thereof, euen as a man dismaid,

  Scarce shifts to saue himselfe his Battell ouerthrowne;

  But faring as a man that frantique had beene growne,

  With Wenlock hap’d to meet (preparing for his flight)

  Vpbraiding him with tearmes of basenesse and despight,

  That cow’rdly he had faild to succour him with men:

  Whilst Wenlock with like words requiteth him agen,

  The Duke (to his sterne rage, as yeelding vp the raines)

  With his too pondrous Axe pasht out the Barons braines.

  The partie of the Queene in euery place are kild,

  The Ditches with the dead, confusedly are fild,

  And many in the flight, i’th neighbouring Riuers drown’d,

  Which with victorious wreaths, the conquering Yorkists crownd.

  Three thousand of those men, on Henries part that stood,

  For their presumption paid the forfeit of their blood.

  Iohn Marquesse Dorset dead, and Deuonshire that day

  Drew his last vitall breath, as in that bloody fray,

  Delues, Hamden, Whittingham, and Leuknor, who had there,

  Their seuerall braue commands, all valiant men that were,

  Found dead vpon the earth. Now all is Edwards owne,

  And through his enemies tents he march’d into the towne,

  Where quickly he proclaimes, to him that foorth could bring

  Young Edward, a large Fee, and as he was a King,

  His person to be safe. Sir Richard Crofts who thought

  His prisoner to disclose, before the King then brought

  That faire and goodly Youth; whom when proud Yorke demands,

  Why thus he had presum’d by helpe of traytrous hands

  His kingdome to disturbe, and impiously display’d

  His Ensignes: the stout Prince, as not a iot dismay’d,

  With confidence replies, To claime his ancient right,

  Him from his Grandsires left; by tyranny and might,

  By him his foe vsurp’d: with whose so bold reply,

  Whilst Edward throughly vext, doth seeme to thrust him by;

  His second brother George, and Richard neere that stood,

  With many a cruell stab let out his princely blood;

  In whom the Line direct of Lancaster doth cease,

  And Somerset himselfe surprized in the prease;

  With many a worthy man, to Gloster prisoners led,

  There forfeited their liues: Queene Margaret being fled

  To a religious Cell, (to Tewksbury, too neere)

  Discouerd to the King, with sad and heauy cheere,

  A prisoner was conuey’d to London, wofull Queene,

  The last of all her hopes, that buried now had seene.

  But of that outrage here, by that bold Bastard sonne

  Of Thomas Neuill, nam’d Lord Falkonbridge, which wonne

  A rude rebellious Rout in Kent and Essex rais’d,

  Who London here besieg’d, and Southwarke hauing seas’d,

  Set fire vpon the Bridge: but when he not preuaild,

  The Suburbs on the East he furiously assayl’d;

  But by the Cities power was lastly put to flight:

  Which being no set Field, nor yet well ordred fight,

  Amongst our Battels here, may no way reckoned be.

  Then Bosworth here the Muse now lastly bids for thee,

  Thy Battell to describe, the last of that long warre,

  Entit’led by the name of Yorke and Lancaster;

  Twixt Henry Tudor Earle of Richmond onely left

  Of the Lancastian Line, who by the Yorkists reft

  Of libertie at home, a banish’d man abroad,

  In Britany had liu’d; but late at Milford Road,

  Being prosperously ariu’d, though scarce two thousand strong,

  Made out his way through Wales, where as he came along.

  First Griffith great in Blood, then Morgan next doth meet

  Him, with their seuerall powers, as offi ing at his feet

  To lay their Lands, and liues; Sir Rice ap Thomas then,

  With his braue Band of Welsh, most choyce and expert men,

  Comes lastly to his ayd; at Shrewsbury ariu’d,

  (His hopes so faint before, so happily reuiu’d)

  He on for England makes, and neere to Newport towne,

  The next ensuing night setting his Army downe,

  Sir Gilbert Talbot still for Lancaster that stood,

  (To Henry neere Alli’d in friendship as in Blood)

  From th’Earle of Shrewsbury his Nephew (vnder age)

  Came with two thousand men, in warlike Equipage,

  Which much his power increas’d; when easily setting on,

  From Lichfield, as the way leads foorth to Atherston,

  Braue Bourcher and his friend stout Hungerford, whose hopes

  On Henry long had laine, stealing from Richards troups,

  (Wherewith they had been mix’d) to Henry doe appeare,

  Which with a high resolue, most strangely seem’d to cheere,

  His oft-appauled heart, but yet the man which most,

  Gaue sayle to Henries selfe, and fresh life to his host,

  The stout Lord Stanley was, who for he had affide

  The mother of the Earle, to him so neere allide:

  The King who fear’d his truth, (which he to haue, compeld)

  The yong Lord Strange his sonne, in hostage strongly held,

  Which forc’d him to fall off, till he fit place could finde,

  His sonne in law to meet; yet he with him combinde

  Sir William Stanley, knowne to be a valiant Knight,

  T’assure him of his ayd. Thus growing tow’rds his hight,

  A most selected Band of Chesshire Bow-men came,

  By Sir Iohn Sauage led, besides two men of name:

  Sir Brian Sanford, and Sir Simon Digby, who

  Leauing the tyrant King, themselues expresly show

  Fast friends to Henries part, which still his power increast:

  Both Armies well prepar’d, towards Bosworth strongly preast,

  And on a spacious Moore, lying Southward from the towne;

  Indifferent to them both, they set their Armies downe

  Their Souldiers to refresh, preparing for the fight:

  Where to the guiltie King, that black fore-running night,

  Appeare the dreadfull ghosts of Henry and his sonne,

  Of his owne brother George, and his two nephewes done

  Most cruelly to death; and of his wife and friend,

  Lord Hastings, with pale hands prepar’d as they would rend

  Him peece-meale; at which oft he roreth in his sleepe.

  No sooner gan the dawne out of the East to peepe,

  But Drummes and Trumpets chide, the Souldiers to their Armes,

  And all the neighboring fields are couered with the swarmes

  Of those that came to fight, as those that came to see,

  (Contending for a Crowne) whose that great day should be.

  First, Richmond rang’d his fights, on Oxford, and bestowes

  The leading, with a Band of strong and Sinewy Bowes

  Out of the Army pick’d; the Front of all the field,

  Sir Gilbert Talbot next, he wisely tooke to weeld,

  The right Wing, with his strengths, most Northern men that were.

  And Sir Iohn Sauage, with the power of Lancashire,

  And Chesshire (Chiefe of men) was for the left Wing plac’d:

  The Middle Battell he in his faire person grac’d,

  With him the noble Earle of Pembroke, who commands

  Their Countrey-men the Welsh, (of whom it mainly stands,

  For their great numbers found to be of greatest force)

  Which but his guard of Gleaues, consisted all of Horse.

  Into two seuerall fights the King contriu’d
his strength,

  And his first Battell cast into a wondrous length,

  In fashion of a wedge, in poynt of which he set

  His Archery, thereof and to the guidance let

  Of Iohn the noble Duke of Norfolke, and his sonne

  Braue Surrey: he himselfe the second bringing on,

  Which was a perfect square; and on the other side,

  His Horsemen had for wings, which by extending wide,

  The aduerse seem’d to threat, with an vnequall power.

  The vtmost poynt ariu’d of this expected hower,

  He to Lord Stanley sends, to bring away his ayd;

  And him by an Oath, if longer he delayd

  His eldest sonne young Strange imediatly should die,

  To whom stout Stanley thus doth carelessely reply:

  Tell thou the King Ile come, when I fit time shall see,

  I loue the Boy, but yet I haue more sonnes then he.

  The angry Armies meet, when the thin ayre was rent,

  With such re-ecchoing shouts, from eithers Souldiers sent,

  That flying o’r the field the Birds downe trembling dropt.

  As some old building long that hath been vnderpropt,

  When as the Timber fayles, by the vnweldy fall,

  Euen into powder beats, the Roofe, and rotten wall,

  And with confused clouds of smouldring dust doth choke

  The streets and places neere; so through the mistie smoke,

  By Shot and Ordnance made, a thundring noyse was heard.

  When Stanley that this while his succours had deferd,

  Both to the cruell King, and to the Earle his sonne,

  When once he doth perceiue the Battell was begun,

  Brings on his valiant Troups, three thousand fully strong,

  Which like a cloud farre off, that tempest threatned long,

  Falls on the Tyrants host, which him with terrour strooke,

  As also when he sees, he doth but vainly looke

  For succours from the great Northumberland, this while,

  That from the Battell scarce three quarters of a mile,

  Stood with his power of Horse, nor once was seene to stirre:

  When Richard (that th’euent no longer would deferre,

  The two maine Battels mix’d, and that with wearied breath,

  Some laboured to their life, some laboured to their death,

  (There for the better fought) euen with a Spirit elate,

  As one that inly scorn’d the very worst that Fate

  Could possibly impose, his Launce set in his Rest,

  Into the thick’st of Death, through threatning perill prest,

  To where he had perceiu’d the Earle in person drew,

  Whose Standard- he, Sir William Brandon slew,

  The pile of his strong staffe into his arme-pit sent;

  When at a second shocke, downe Sir Iohn Cheney went,

  Which scarce a Launces length before the Earle was plac’d,

  Vntill by Richmonds Guard, inuironed at last,

  With many a cruell wound, was through the body gride.

  Vpon this fatall field, Iohn Duke of Norfolke dide;

  The stout Lord Ferrers fell, and Ratcliffe, that had long

  Of Richards counsels been, found in the field among

  A thousand Souldiers that on both sides were slaine,

  O Red-more, it then seem’d, thy name was not in vaine,

  When with a thousands blood the earth was coloured red.

  Whereas th’Emperiall Crowne was set on Henries head,

  Being found in Richards Tent, as he it there did winne,

  The cruell Tyrant stript to the bare naked skin,

  Behind a Herauld truss’d, was backe to Le’ster sent,

  From whence the day before he to the Battell went.

  The Battell then at Stoke, so fortunatly strucke,

  (Vpon King Henries part, with so successefull lucke,

  As neuer till that day he felt his Crowne to cleaue

  Vnto his temples close, when Mars began to leaue

  His fury, and at last to sit him downe was brought)

  I come at last to sing, twixt that seuenth Henry fought;

  With whom, to this braue Field the Duke of Bedford came,

  With Oxford his great friend, whose praise did him inflame

  To all Atchieuements great, that fortunate had bin

  In euery doubtfull fight, since Henries comming in,

  With th’Earle of Shresbury, a man of great command,

  And his braue sonne Lord George, for him that firmly stand.

  And on the other side, Iohn Duke of Suffolks sonne,

  (Iohn Earle of Lincolne cald) who this sterne warre begun,

  Subborning a lewd Boy, a false Imposter, who

  By Simonds a worse Priest, instructed what to doe;

  Vpon him tooke the name of th’Earle of Warwicke, heire

  To George the murthered Duke of Clarence, who (for feare

  Lest some that fauoured Yorke, might vnder hand maintaine)

  King Henry in the Tower, did at that time detaine.

  Which practise set on foot, this Earle of Lincolne sayld

  To Burgundy, where he with Margaret preuayld,

  Wife to that warlike Charles, and his most loued Aunt,

  Who vexed that a proud Lancastrian should supplant

  The lawfull Line of Yorke, whence she her blood deriu’d;

  Wherefore for Lincolnes sake shee speedily contriu’d,

  And Louell, that braue Lord, before him sent to land

  Vpon the same pretence, to furnish them a Band

  Of Almanes, and to them for their stout Captaine gaue

  The valiant Martin Swart, the man thought scarce to haue

  His match for Martiall feats, and sent them with a Fleet

  For Ireland, where shee had appoynted them to meet,

  With Simonds that lewd Clerke, and Lambert, whom they there

  The Earle of Warwicke cald, and publish’d euery where

  His title to the Crowne, in Diuelin, and proclaime

  Him Englands lawfull King, by the fift Edwards name:

  Then ioyning with the Lord Fitz-Gerald, to their ayd

  Who many Irish brought, they vp their Ankres wayd,

  And at the rocky Pyle of Fowdray put to shore

  In Lancashire; their power increasing more and more,

  By Souldiers sent them in from Broughton (for supply)

  A Knight that long had been of their confederacy;

  Who making thence, direct their marches to the South.

  When Henry saw himselfe to farre in dangers mouth,

  From Couentry he came, still gathering vp his Host,

  Made greater on his way, and doth the Countrey coast,

  Which way he vnderstood his enemies must passe:

  When after some few dayes (as if their Fortunes was)

  At Stoke, a village neere to Newarke vpon Trent,

  Each in the others sight pitcht downe their warlike Tent.

  Into one Battell soone, the Almans had disposd

  Their Army, in a place vpon two parts inclosd

  With Dells, and fenced Dykes, (as they were expert men.)

  And from the open fields King Henries Host agen,

  In three faire seuerall fights came equally deuided;

  The first of which, and fitst, was giuen to be guided

  By Shrewsbury, which most of Souldiers choice consisted:

  The others plac’d as Wings, which euer as they listed,

  Came vp as need requir’d, or fell backe as they found

  Iust cause for their retire; when soone the troubled ground,

  On her black bosome felt the thunder, which awooke

  Her Genius, with the shock that violently shooke

  Her intrayles; this sad day when there ye might haue seene

  Two thousand Almains stand, of which each might haue beene

  A Leader for his skill, which when the char
ge was hot,

  That they could hardly see the very Sunne for shot,

  Yet they that motion kept that perfect Souldiers should;

  That most couragious Swart there might they well behold,

  With most vnvsuall skill, that desperate fight maintaine,

  And valiant De la Poole, most like his princely straine,

  Did all that courage could, or noblesse might befit;

  And Louell that braue Lord, behind him not a whit,

  For martiall deeds that day: stout Broughton that had stood

  With Yorke (euen) from the first, there lastly gaue his blood

  To that well-foughten Field: the poore Trowz’d Irish there,

  Whose Mantles stood for Mayle, whose skinns for Corslets were,

  And for their weapons had but Irish Skaines and Darts,

  Like men that scorned death, with most resolued hearts,

  Giue not an inch of ground, but all in pieces hewen,

  Where first they fought, they fell; with them was ouerthrowne

  The Leader Geralds hope, amidst his men that fought,

  And tooke such part as they, whom he had thither brought.

  This of that field be told, There was not one that fled,

  But where he first was plac’d, there found aliue or dead.

  If in a foughten field, a man his life should loose,

  To dye as these men did, who would not gladly choose,

  Which full foure thousand were. But in this tedious Song,

  The too laborious Muse hath taried all too long.

  As for the Black-Smiths Rout, who did together rise,

  Encamping on Blackheath, t’annull the Subsidies

  By Parliment then giuen, or that of Cornwall call’d,

  Inclosures to cast downe, which ouermuch enthrald

  The Subiect: or proud Kets, who with the same pretence

  In Norfolke rais’d such stirres, as but with great expence

  Of blood was not appeas’d; or that begun in Lent

  By Wyat and his friends, the Mariage to preuent,

  That Mary did intend with Philip King of Spaine:

  Since these but Ryots were, nor fit the others straine,

  Shee here her Battels ends: and as Shee did before,

  So trauelling along vpon her silent shore,

  Waybridge a neighbouring Nymph, the onely remnant left

  Of all that Forrest kind, by Times iniurious theft

  Of all that tract destroy’d, with wood which did abound,

  And former times had seene the goodliest Forrest ground,

  This Iland euer had: but she so left alone,

  The ruine of her kind, and no man to bemoane.

  The deepe intranced Flood, as thinking to awake,

  Thus from her shady Bower shee silently bespake.