Collected Works of Michael Drayton
Page 139
To scourge proud France whẽ now her Cõqueror comes.
117
The King and Daulphine hauing vnderstood,
How on his way this haughty Henry was
Ouer the Soame, which is a dangerous flood;
Pluckt downe the Bridges that might giue him passe;
And eu’ry thing, if fit for humane food,
Caus’d to be forrag’d; (to a wondrous masse)
And more then this, his Iourneyes to fore-slowe,
He scarce one day vnskirmish’d with, doth goe.
118
But on his march, in midst of all his foes;
He like a Lyon keepes them all at bay,
And when they seeme him strictly to enclose;
Yet through the thick’st he hewes him out a way:
Nor the proud Daulphine dare him to oppose;
Though off’ring oft his Army to fore-lay:
Nor all the power the enuious French can make,
Force him one foote, his path (but) to forsake.
119: A ford found in the Riuer of Soame.
And each day as his Army doth remoue,
Marching along vpon Soames Marshy side,
His men at Armes on their tall Horses proue,
To finde some shallow, ouer where to ryde,
But all in vaine against the Streame they stroue,
Till by the helpe of a laborious guide,
A Ford was found to set his Army ore
Which neuer had discouered beene before.
120
The newes divulg’d that he had waded Soame,
And safe to shore his Caridges had brought,
Into the Daulphins bosome strooke so home,
And one the weakenesse of King Charles so wrought;
That like the troubled Sea, when it doth Foame,
As in a rage, to beate the Rocks to nought;
So doe they storme, and curse on curse they heapt
Gainst those which should the passages haue kept.
121: A Counsell held at Roan against the King of England.
And at that time, both resident in Roan,
Thither for this assembling all the Peeres,
Whose Counsailes now must vnderprop their Throne
Against the Foe; which, not a man but feares;
Yet in a moment confident are growne,
When with fresh hopes, each one his fellow cheeres,
That ere the English to their Callis got,
Some for this spoile should pay a bloudy shot.
122
Therfore they both in solemne Counsaile satt,
With Berry and with Britaine their Alies;
Now speake they of this course, and then of that,
As to insnare him how they might diuise;
Something they faine would doe, but know not what,
At length the Duke Alanzon vp doth rise,
And crauing silence of the King and Lords,
Against the English, brake into these words.
123: A speech of the Duke Alanzon against the English.
Had this vnbridled youth an Army led,
That any way were worthy of your feare,
Against our Nation, that durst turne the head,
Such as the former English forces were,
This care of yours, your Countrey then might sted,
To tell you then, who longer can forbeare,
That into question, you our valour bring,
To call a Counsaile for so poore a thing.
124
A Route of tatter’d Rascalls starued so,
As forced through extreamity of need
To rake for scraps on Dunghils as they goe,
And on the Berries of the Shrubs to feed,
Besides with fluxes are enfeebled so,
And other foule diseases that they breed,
That they, there Armes disabled are to sway,
But in their march doe leaue them on the way.
125
And to our people but a handfull are,
Scarse thirtie thousand, when to Land they came,
Of which to England dayly some repayre,
Many from Harflew carried sicke and lame,
Fitter for Spittles, and the Surgions care,
Then with their Swords on vs to winne them fame,
Vnshod, and without stockings are the best,
And those by Winter miserably opprest.
126
To let them dye vpon their march abroad,
And Fowles vpon their Carkases to feed,
The heapes of them vpon the common road
A great infection likely were to breed,
For our owne safeties see them then bestow’d,
And doe for them this charitable deede:
Vnder our Swords together let them fall,
And one that day they dye, be buried all.
127
This bold invectiue forc’d against the Foe,
Although it most of the Assembly seas’d,
Yet those which better did the English know,
Were but a little with his speeches pleas’d,
And that the Duke of Berry meant to showe:
Which when the murmure somewhat was appeas’d,
After a while their listning silence breakes,
And thus in answere of Alanzon speakes.
128: The Duke of Berrys answere to Alanzon.
My Liedge, quoth he, and you my Lords, and Peeres,
Whom this great businesse chiefely doth concerne,
By my experience, now so many yeeres
To know the English I am not to learne;
Nor I more feeling haue of humane feares
Than fitteth Manhood, nor doe hope to earne
Suffrage from any; but by zeale am wonne,
To speake my minde here, as the Duke hath done.
129
Th’euents of Warre are various (as I know)
And say, the losse vpon the English light,
Yet may a dying man giue such a blow,
As much may hinder his proud Conquerours might;
It is enough our puissant power to showe
To the weake English, now vpon their flight,
When want, and winter, strongly spurre them on,
You else but slay them, that would faine be gon.
130
I like our Forces their first course should hold,
To skirmish with them, vpon euery stay,
But fight by no meanes with them, though they would,
Except they finde them forraging for pray,
So still you haue them shut vp in a Fould,
And still to Callis keepe them in their way;
So Fabius wearied Hanibal, so we
May English Henry, pleased if you be.
131
And of the English rid your Countrey cleane,
If on their backs, but Callice walles they win,
Whose Frontier Townes you easly may maintaine,
With a strong Army still to keepe them in;
Then let our Ships make good the mouth of Seyne,
And at your pleasure Harflew you may winne,
Ere with Supplys againe they can inuade,
Spent in the Voyage lately hither made.
132
That day at Poyteers, in that bloudy Field,
The sudaine turne in that great Battell then,
Shall euer teach me, whilest I Armes can weeld,
Neuer to trust to multitudes of men;
Twas the first day that ere I wore a Sheeld,
Oh let me neuer see the like agen!
Where their Blacke Edward such a Battell wonne
As to behold it might amaze the Sunne.
133
There did I see our conquered Fathers fall,
Before the English on that fatall ground,
When as to ours their number was but small,
And with braue Spirits France ne’r did more abound,
Yet oft that Batt
aile into minde I call,
Whereas of ours, one man seemd all one wound,
I instance this; yet humbly here submit
My selfe to fight, if you shall thinke it fit.
134: Young mens counsailes ofttimes proue the vtter subuersion
both of themselues and others.
The Marshall and the Constable about
To second, what this sager Duke had said:
The youthfull Lords into a cry brake out,
Gainst their opinions, so that ouer-sway’d,
Some seeming of their Loyalties to doubt;
Alanzon as an Oracle obay’d,
And not a French then present, but doth sweare
To kill an English if ynow there were.
135: The French King sendeth to dare the King of England to
Battaile.
A Herault posted presently away,
The King of England to the field to dare,
To bid him cease his spoyle, nor to delay
Gainst the French power his forces but prepare:
For that King Charles determin’d to display
His bloody Ensignes, and through France declare
The day, and place, that Henry should set downe,
In which their Battailes, should dispose the Crowne.
136: The King of Englands modest answer.
This newes to Henry by the Herault brought,
As one dispassion’d soberly (quoth he)
Had your King pleas’d, we sooner might haue fought;
For now my Souldiers much enfeebled be:
Nor day, nor place, for Battaile shall be sought
By English Henry: but if he seeke me,
I to my vtmost will my selfe defend,
And to th’Almighties pleasure leaue the end.
137
The brute of this intended Battaile spred,
The coldnesse of each sleeping courage warmes,
And in the French that daring boldnesse bred:
Like casting Bees that they arise in swarmes,
Thinking the English downe so farre to tred,
As past that day ne’r more to rise in Armes,
T’extirpe the name, if possible it were,
At least not after to be heard of there.
138: A Simily of the rising of the French.
As when you see the enuious Crowe espye,
Something that shee doth naturally detest:
With open throat how shee doth squall and crye;
And from the next Groue calleth in the rest,
And they for those beyond them bawling flye,
Till their foule noyse doth all the ayre infest:
Thus French, the French to this great Battaile call,
Vpon their swords to see the English fall.
139: Dauid Gam, a great Captain in that Warr.
And to the King when seriously one tolde,
With what an Host he should encountred be,
Gam noting well, the King did him behold,
In the reporting; Merrily (quoth he)
My Liege I’le tell you if I may be bold,
We will diuide this Army into three:
One part we’ll kill, the second prisoners stay;
And for the third, we’ll leaue to runne away.
140
But for the Foe came hourely in so fast,
Lest they his Army should disordred take:
The King who wisely doth the worst forecast,
His speedy martch doth presently forsake,
Into such forme and his Battalion cast;
That doe their worst they should not eas’ly shake:
For that his scouts which forrag’d had the Coast,
Bad him at hand expect a puissant Host.
141: The Duke of Yorke.
On which ere long the English Vanward light,
Which York, of men the brauest, doth command,
When either of them in the others sight,
He caus’d the Army instantly to stand,
As though preparing for a present Fight,
And rideth forth from his couragious Band,
To view the French, whose numbers ouer spread,
The troubled Country on whose earth they tread.
142
Now were both Armies got vpon that ground,
As on a Stage, where they their strengthes must trye,
Whence from the wydth of many a gaping wound,
There’s many a soule into the Ayre must flye:
Meane while the English that some ease had found;
By the aduantage of a Village nie,
There set them downe the Battell to abide,
Where they the place had strongly fortifide.
143: The French scorning the English, being so fewe in respect
of their mighty power.
Made drunke with pride the haughty French disdaine,
Lesse then their owne, a multitude to view,
Nor aske of God the victory to gaine,
Vpon the English wext so poore and fewe,
To stay their slaughter thinking it a paine,
And lastly to that insolence they grewe,
Quoyts, Lots, and Dice for Englishmen to cast,
And sweare to pay, the Battaile being past.
144
For knots of corde to eu’ry Towne they send,
The Captiu’d English that they caught to binde,
For to perpetuall slau’ry they intend:
Those that aliue they on the Field should finde,
So much as that they fear’d lest they should spend
Too many English, wherefore they assignde
Some to keepe fast those, fayne that would be gon
After the Fight, to try their Armes vpon.
145
One his bright sharpe-eg’d Semiter doth showe,
Off’ring to lay a thousand Crownes (in pride)
That he two naked English at one blowe,
Bound back to back will at the wasts diuide,
Some bett his sword will do’t, some others no,
After the Battaile, and they’ll haue it tride:
Another wafts his Blade about his head,
And shewes them how their hamstrings he will shread.
146
They part their prisoners, passing them for debt,
And in their Ransome ratibly accord
To a Prince of ours, a Page of theirs they set;
And a French Lacky to an English Lord;
As for our Gentry them to hyre they’ll let,
And as good cheape as they can them afford,
Branded for Slaues that if they hapt to stray,
Knowne by the marke, them any one might slay.
147
And cast to make a Chariot for the King,
Painted with Antickes, and ridiculous toyes,
In which they meane to Paris him to bring,
To make sport to their Madames and their Boyes,
And will haue Rascalls, Rymes of him to sing,
Made in his mock’ry; and in all these ioyes,
They bid the Bells to ring, and people crie,
Before the Battaile, France and Victorie.
148
And to the King and Daulphine sent away
(Who at that time residing were in Roane)
To be partakers of that glorious day:
Wherein the English should be ouerthrowne,
Lest that of them ensuing times should say,
That for their safety they forsooke their owne:
When France did that braue victory obtaine,
That shall her lasting’st monument remaine.
149
The poore distressed Englishmen the whiles,
Not dar’d by doubt, and lesse appaul’d with dread
Of their Arm’d Pykes, some sharpning are the pyles,
The Archer grinding his barb’d Arrow head:
Their Bills and Blades, some whetting are with Files:
And some
their Armours strongly Riueted:
Some pointing Stakes to stick into the ground,
To guard the Bow-men, and their Horse to wound.
150: The Ryot in the French Campe the night before the
Battell.
The night fore-running this most dreadfull day:
The French that all to iollity encline:
Some fall to dancing, some againe to play:
And some are drinking to this great Designe:
But all in pleasure spend the night away:
The Tents with lights, the Fields with Boone-fires shine:
The common Souldiers Free-mens Catches sing:
With showtes and laughter all the Campe doth ring.
151
The wearied English watchfull o’r their Foes,
(The depth of night then drawing on so fast)
That fayne a little would themselues repose,
With thanks to God, doe take that small repast
Which that poore Village willingly bestowes:
And hauing plac’d their Sentinels at last,
They fall to Prayer, and in their Cabins blest,
T’refresh their spirits, then tooke them to their rest.
152: Pondering in his thoughts, his Fathers comming to the
Crowne by deposing the rightfull King.
In his Pauillion Princely Henry lay’d,
Whilst all his Army round about him slept,
His restlesse head vpon his Helmet stay’d,
For carefull thoughts his eyes long waking kept:
Great God (quoth he) withdraw not now thy ayde:
Nor let my Father Henries sinnes be heapt
On my transgressions, vp the Summe to make,
For which thou may’st me vtterly forsake.
153: Henry the fift caused the body of King Richard to be taken
vp, where it was meanely buried at Langley, and to be layde in
Westminster by his first Wife Queene Anne.
King Richards wrongs, to minde, Lord doe not call,
Nor how for him my Father did offend,
From vs alone deriue not thou his fall,
Whose odious life caus’d his vntimely end,
That by our Almes be expiated all:
Let not that sinne on me his Sonne desend,
When as his body I translated haue,
And buried in an honourable Graue.
154
These things thus pondring, sorrow-ceasing sleepe,
From cares to rescue his much troubled minde,
Vpon his Eye-lids stealingly doth creepe,
And in soft slumbers euery sense doth binde,
(As vndisturbed euery one to keepe)
When as that Angell to whom God assign’d,
The guiding of the English, gliding downe
The silent Campe doth with fresh courage crowne.
155
His glittering wings he gloriously displaies,
Ouer the Hoste as euery way it lyes
With golden Dreames their trauell, and repaies,