'Teach them to run the noble race That I their father run. Florence, should death thee take--adieu! Ye officers, lead on.' Then Florence raved as any mad, And did her tresses tear; 'O stay, my husband, lord, and life!'-- Sir Charles then dropped a tear. Till tirèd out with raving loud, She fell upon the floor; Sir Charles exerted all his might, And marchèd from out the door. Upon a sledge he mounted then, With looks full brave and sweet; Looks that enshone no more concern Than any in the street. Before him went the council-men, In scarlet robes and gold, And tassels spangling in the sun, Much glorious to behold: The friars of Saint Augustine next Appearèd to the sight, All clad in homely russet weeds, Of godly monkish plight: In different parts a godly psalm Most sweetly they did chant; Behind their back six minstrels came, Who tuned the strange bataunt. Then five-and-twenty archers came; Each one the bow did bend, From rescue of King Henry's friends Sir Charles for to defend. Bold as a lion came Sir Charles, Drawn on a cloth-laid sledde, By two black steeds in trappings white, With plumes upon their head. Behind him five-and-twenty more Of archers strong and stout, With bended bow each one in hand, Marchèd in goodly rout. Saint James's friars marched next, Each one his part did chant; Behind their backs six minstrels came, Who tuned the strange bataunt. Then came the mayor and aldermen, In cloth of scarlet decked; And their attending men each one, Like eastern princes tricked. And after them a multitude Of citizens did throng; The windows were all full of heads, As he did pass along. And when he came to the high cross, Sir Charles did turn and say: 'O Thou that savest man from sin, Wash my soul clean this day.' At the great minster window sat The king in mickle state, To see Charles Bawdin go along To his most welcome fate. Soon as the sledde drew nigh enough, That Edward he might hear, The brave Sir Charles he did stand up, And thus his words declare: 'Thou seest me, Edward! traitor vile! Exposed to infamy; But be assurèd, disloyal man, I'm greater now than thee. 'By foul proceedings, murder, blood, Thou wearest now a crown; And hast appointed me to die By power not thine own. 'Thou thinkest I shall die to-day; I have been dead till now, And soon shall live to wear a crown For aye upon my brow; 'Whilst thou, perhaps, for some few years, Shalt rule this fickle land, To let them know how wide the rule 'Twixt king and tyrant hand. 'Thy power unjust, thou traitor slave! Shall fall on thy own head'-- From out of hearing of the king Departed then the sledde.