This Herault from the Rector of the skies,
In Vision warnes them not to vse delayes,
But to the Battell cheerefully to rise,
And be victorious, for that day at hand,
He would amongst them for the English stand.
156
The dawne scarse drewe the curtaines of the East,
But the late wearied Englishmen awake,
And much refreshed with a little rest
Themselues soone ready for the Battaile make,
Not any one but feeleth in his breast,
That sprightly fire which Courage bids him take,
For ere the Sunne next rising went to bed,
The French by them in triumph should be led.
157: The great care of a wise and politike Captaine.
And from their Cabins, ere the French arose,
(Drown’d in the pleasure of the passed night,)
The English cast their Battailes to dispose,
Fit for the ground whereon they were to fight:
Foorth that braue King couragious Henry goes,
An hower before that it was fully light,
To see if there might any place be found,
To giue his Hoste aduantage by the ground.
158
Where twas his hap a Quicksett hedge to view,
Well growne in height; and for his purpose thin,
Yet by the Ditch vpon whose banke it grew,
He found it to be difficult to winne,
Especially if those of his were true,
Amongst the shrubbs that he should set within,
By which he knew their strength of Horse must come,
If they would euer charge his Vanguard home.
159: This Stratagem the ouerthrow of the French.
And of three hundred Archers maketh choice,
Some to be taken out of euery Band,
The strongest Bowmen, by the generall voyce,
Such as beside were valient of their hand,
And to be so imployed, as would reioyce,
Appointing them behinde the hedge to stand,
To shrowde themselues from sight, and to be mute,
Vntill a signall freely bad them shute.
160
The gamesome Larke now got vpon her Wing,
As twere the English earely to awake,
And to wide heauen her cheerefull notes doth sing,
As shee for them would intercession make,
Nor all the noyse that from below doth spring,
Her ayrie walke can force her to forsake,
Of some much noted, and of others lesse,
But yet of all presaging good successe.
161
The lazie French their leisure seem to take,
And in their Cabins keepe themselues so long,
Till flocks of Rauens them with noyse awake,
Ouer the Army like a Cloud that hong,
Which greater haste inforceth them to make,
When with their croaking all the Countrey rong,
Which boaded slaughter as the most doe say,
But by the French it turned was this way.
162: The French mis-interpret the flight of Rauens houering
ouer their owne Campe.
That this diuyning Foule well vnderstood,
Vpon that place much gore was to be spill’d,
And as those Birds doe much delight in blood,
With humane flesh would haue their gorges fill’d,
So waited they vpon their Swords for food,
To feast vpon the English being kill’d,
Then little thinking that these came in deed
On their owne mangled Carkases to feed.
163
When soone the French preparing for the Field,
Their armed troops are setting in array,
Whose wondrous numbers they can hardly weeld,
The place too little wherevpon they lay,
They therefore to necessitie must yeeld,
And into Order put them as they may,
Whose motion sounded like to Nilus fall,
That the vaste ayre was deafned therewithall.
164: The Marshalling of the French Army, containing three
stanzas.
The Constable, and Admirall of France,
With the grand Marshall, men of great command:
The Dukes of Burbon, and of Orleance,
Some for their place, some for their birth-right stand,
The Daulphine of Averney (to aduance
His worth and honour) of a puissant hand:
The Earle of Ewe in Warre that had beene bred,
These mighty men the mighty Vanward led.
165
The mayne brought forward by the Duke of Barre,
Neuers, and Beamont, men of speciall name:
Alanzon thought, not equall’d in this Warre,
With them Salines, Rous, and Grandpre came,
Their long experience, who had fetcht from farre,
Whom this expected Conquest doth enflame,
Consisting most of Crosbowes, and so great,
As France her selfe it well might seeme to threat.
166
The Duke of Brabant of high valour knowne,
The Earles of Marle, and Faconbridge the Reare,
To Arthur Earle of Richmount’s selfe alone,
They leaue the Right wing to be guided there:
Lewes of Burbon, second yet to none,
Led on the left; with him that mighty Peere
The Earle of Vandome, who of all her men
Large France entytled, her great Master then.
167: The Marshalling of the English Army cõtaining fiue
stanzas.
The Duke of Yorke the English Vanward guides,
Of our strong Archers, that consisted most;
Which with our Horse was wing’d on both the sides:
T’affront so great and terrible an Host;
There valiant Fanhope, and there Beamount rides,
With Willoughby which scowred had the Coast,
That morning early, and had seene at large,
How the Foe came, that then they were to charge.
168
Henry himselfe, on the mayne Battell brings,
Nor can these Legions of the French affright
This Mars of men, this King of earthly Kings:
Who seem’d to be much pleased with the sight,
As one ordayn’d t’accomplish mighty things;
Who to the Field came in such brau’ry dight:
As to the English boades succesfull luck
Before one stroke, on either side was struck.
169: The brauery of King Henryes owne person.
In Warlike state the Royall Standard borne
Before him, as in splendrous Armes he road,
Whilst his coruetting Courser seem’d in scorne
To touch the earth whereon he proudly troad,
Lillyes, and Lyons quarterly adorne;
His Shield, and his Caparison doe load:
Vpon his Helme a Crowne with Diamonds deckt,
Which through the Field their Radient fiers reflect.
170
The Duke of Gloster neere to him agen,
T’assist his Brother in that dreadfull day,
Oxford and Suffolke both true Marshiall men,
Ready to keepe the Battell in Array,
To Excester there was appointed then
The Reare; on which their second succours lay:
Which were the youth, most of the Noblest blood,
Vnder the Ensignes of their names that stood.
171
Then of the stakes he doth the care commend,
To certaine troupes that actiue were and strong,
Onely diuis’d the Archers to defend,
Pointed with Iron and of fiue foote long;
To be remou’d still which way they should bend,
W
here the French Horse should thick’st vpon them throng
Which when the Host to charge each other went,
Show’d his great wit that first did them inuent.
172: The scornfull message of the French to the King of
England.
[The Kings answer to the French.]
Both Armies sit, and at the point to fight,
The French themselues assuring of the day;
Send to the King of England (as in spight)
To know what he would for his Ransome pay,
Who with this answere doth their scorne requite:
I pray thee Herault wish the French to stay,
And e’r the day be past, I hope to see,
That for their Ransomes they shall send to me.
173: The Constables Oration to the French.
The French which found how little Henry makes,
Of their vaine boasts, as set therewith on fire,
Whilst each one to his Ensigne him betakes;
The Constable to raise their spleene the hyer,
Thus speakes: Braue friends now for your Grandsires sakes,
Your Country, Honours, or what may inspire
Your soules with courage, straine vp all your powers,
To make this day victoriously ours.
174
Forward stout French, your valours and aduance,
By taking vengeance for our Fathers slaine,
And strongly fixe the Diadem of France,
Which to this day vnsteady doth remaine:
Now with your swords their Traytours bosomes lance,
And with their bloods wash out that ancient staine,
And make our earth drunke with the English gore,
Which hath of ours oft surfited before.
175
Let not one liue in England once to tell,
What of their King, or of the rest became:
Nor to the English, what in France befell:
But what is bruted by the generall fame:
But now the Drummes began so lowd to yell,
As cut off further what he would declame:
And Henry seeing them on so fast to make,
Thus to his Souldiers comfortably spake.
176: The King of Englands Oration to the English.
Thinke but vpon the iustnesse of our cause,
And he’s no man their number that will wey;
Thus our great Grandsire purchas’d his applause,
The more they are, the greater is our prey,
We’ll hand in hand wade into dangers iawes,
And let report to England this Conuey
That it for me no Ransome e’r shall rayse,
Either I’le Conquer, or here end my dayes.
177
It were no glory for vs to subdue
Them, then our number, were the French no more;
When in one Battaile twice our Fathers slue,
Three times so many as themselues before,
But to doe something that were strange and new:
Wherefore (I aske you) Came we to this shore;
Vpon these French our Fathers wan renowne,
And with their swords we’ll hewe yan Forrest downe.
178
The meanest Souldier if in Fight he take,
The greatest Prince in yonder Army knowne,
Without controule shall him his prisoner make,
And haue his Ransome freely as his owne:
Now English lyes our Honour at the stake,
And now or neuer be our Valour showne:
God and our Cause, Saint George for England stands,
Now Charge them English, fortune guide your hands.
179
When hearing one wish all the valiant men
At home in England, with them present were;
The King makes answere instantly agen,
I would not haue one man more then is here:
If we subdue, lesse should our praise be then:
If ouercome, lesse losse shall England beare:
And to our numbers we should giue that deede,
Which must from Gods owne powerfull hand proceede.
180: The high valour of the King of England.
The dreadfull Charge the Drummes & Trumpets sound,
With hearts exalted, though with humbled eyes,
When as the English kneeling on the ground,
Extend their hands vp to the glorious skyes;
Then from the earth as though they did rebound,
Actiue as fire immediatly they rise:
And such a shrill showt from their throats they sent,
As made the French to stagger as they went.
181: Sir Thomas Erpingham gaue the Signall to the English.
Wherewith they stopt, when Erpingham which led
The Armie, sawe, the showt had made them stand,
Wafting his Warder thrice about his head,
He cast it vp with his auspicious hand,
Which was the signall through the English spread,
That they should Charge: which as a dread command
Made them rush on, yet with a second rore,
Frighting the French worse then they did before.
182
But when they sawe the Enemie so slowe,
Which they expected faster to come on,
Some scattering Shot they sent out as to showe,
That their approach they onely stood vpon;
Which with more feruour made their rage to glowe,
So much disgrace that they had vnder-gone.
Which to amend with Ensignes let at large,
Vpon the English furiously they Charge.
183: A Simily of the French charging the English.
At the full Moone looke how th’vnweldy Tide,
Shou’d by some Tempest that from Sea doth rise
At the full height, against the ragged side
Of so me rough Cliffe (of a Gigantick sise)
Foming with rage impetuously doth ride;
The angry French (in no lesse furious wise)
Of men at Armes vpon their ready Horse,
Assayle the English to dispierce their force.
184: The three hundred Archers layd in ambush, disorder the
French men at Armes at the first encounter.
When as those Archers there in Ambush layde,
Hauing their Broad side as they came along,
With their barb’d Arrowes the French Horses payde:
And in their flankes like cruell Hornets stong:
They kick and crie, of late that proudly nayde:
And from their seats their Armed Riders flong:
They ranne together flying from the Dike,
And make their Riders one another strike.
185
And whilst the Front of the French Vanguard makes,
Vpon the English thinking them to Route,
Their Horses runne vpon the Armed stakes,
And being wounded, turne themselues about:
The Bit into his teeth the Courser takes,
And from his Rank flyes with his Master out,
Who either hurts or is hurt of his owne,
If in the throng not both together throwne.
186
Tumbling on heapes, some of their Horses cast
With their foure feete all vp into the ayre:
Vnder whose backs their Masters breath their last:
Some breake their Raynes, and thence their Riders beare:
Some with their feete stick in the Stirups fast,
By their fierce Iades, are trayled here and there:
Entangled in their Bridles, one back drawes,
And pluckes the Bit out of anothers iawes.
187
With showers of Shafts yet still the English ply
The French so fast, vpon the point of flight:
With the mayne Battell yet stood Henry by,
Not all this while had medled in the Fight,
Vpon the Horses as in Chase they flye,
Arrowes so thick, in such aboundance light,
That their broad buttocks men like Butts might see,
Whereat for pastime Bow-men shooting be.
188: Two wings of French horse defeated.
When soone De Linnies and Sureres hast,
To ayde their friends put to this shamefull foyle,
With two light wings of Horse which had beene plac’t,
Still to supply where any should recoyle:
But yet their Forces they but vainely waste,
For being light, into the generall spoyle.
Great losse De Linnies shortly doth sustaine,
Yet scapes himselfe; but braue Sureres slaine.
189
The King who sees how well his Vanguard sped,
Sends his command that instantly it stay,
Desiring Yorke so brauely that had led,
To hold his Souldiers in their first array,
For it the Conflict very much might sted,
Somewhat to fall aside, and giue him way,
Till full vp to him he might bring his power,
And make the Conquest compleate in an hower.
190: The English Vaward and maine Battaile charge the French
both at once.
Which Yorke obayes, and vp King Henry comes,
When for his guidance he had got him roome.
The dreadfull bellowing of whose strait-brac’d Drummes,
To the French sounded like the dreadfull doome,
And them with such stupidity benummes,
As though the earth had groaned from her wombe,
For the grand slaughter ne’r began till then,
Couering the earth with multitudes of men.
191
Vpon the French what Englishman not falls,
(By the strong Bowmen beaten from their Steeds)
With Battle-axes, Halberts, Bills, and Maules,
Where, in the slaughter euery one exceedes,
Where euery man, his fellow forward calls,
And shows him where some great-born Frenchman bleeds
Whilst Scalps about like broken pot sherds fly,
And kill, kill, kill, the Conquering English cry.
192
Now wexed horror to the very height,
And scarse a man but wet-shod went in gore,
As two together are in deadly fight,
And to death wounded, as one tumbleth ore,
This Frenchman falling, with his very weight
Doth kill another strucken downe before,
As he againe so falling, likewise feeles
His last breath hastned by anothers heeles.
193
And whilst the English eagerly pursue
The fearefull French before them still that fly,
The points of Bills and Halbers they imbrue
In their sicke Bowels, beaten downe that lye,
No man respects how, or what blood he drew,
Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works Page 140