The news was brought to Edinborough, Where Scotland's King did reign, That brave Earl Douglas suddenly Was with an arrow slain. 'O, heavy news!' King James did say, 'Scotland may witnèss be, I have not any captain more Of such account as he!' Like tidings to King Henry came, Within as short a space, That Percy of Northumberland, Was slain in Chevy Chase. 'Now, God be with him!' said our king, 'Sith it will no better be; I trust I have, within my realm, Five hundred as good as he! 'Yet shall not Scots, nor Scotland, say But I will vengeance take; And be revengèd on them all, For brave Earl Percy's sake.' This vow the king did well perform After, on Humbledown, In one day fifty knights were slain, With lords of great renown; And of the rest, of small account, Did many thousands die. Thus endeth the hunting in Chevy Chase, Made by the Earl Percy. God save our king; and bless this land With plenty, joy, and peace! And grant henceforth, that foul debate 'Twixt noblemen may cease! THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT MICHAEL DRAYTON Fair stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry. And taking many a fort, Furnish'd in warlike sort March'd towards Agincourt In happy hour; Skirmishing day by day With those that stopp'd his way, Where the French gen'ral lay With all his power. Which in his height of pride, King Henry to deride, His ransom to provide To the King sending; Which he neglects the while, As from a nation vile Yet with an angry smile, Their fall portending. And turning to his men, Quoth our brave Henry then, Though they to one be ten, Be not amazed. Yet, have we well begun, Battles so bravely won Have ever to the sun By fame been raised. And for myself, quoth he, This my full rest shall be, England ne'er mourn for me, Nor more esteem me. Victor I will remain, Or on this earth lie slain, Never shall she sustain Loss to redeem me. Poictiers and Cressy tell, When most their pride did swell, Under our swords they fell, No less our skill is, Than when our grandsire great, Claiming the regal seat, By many a warlike feat, Lop'd the French lilies. The Duke of York so dread, The eager vanward led; With the main Henry sped, Amongst his henchmen. Excester had the rear, A braver man not there, O Lord, how hot they were On the false Frenchmen! They now to fight are gone, Armour on armour shone, Drum now to drum did groan, To hear, was wonder; That with cries they make, The very earth did shake, Trumpet to trumpet spake, Thunder to thunder.