"Wishing, therefore, in our province to spread an increase of divine worship, and especially to extol further the praise of so great a patron, with the wills, counsel, and assent of our brethren and the clergy in the said convocation, and no less at the special instance of the said most Christian Prince, we have determined that the memory of that most holy confessor everywhere throughout our province should be exalted with feelings of prayers and devotions [votivis et devotis affectibus]." * * * * * Then follows the decree above mentioned. This mass of extravagant folly and blind superstition, this presumptuous sharing of God's omnipotence and sovereign might with the power of such poor erring fellow-mortals as the corrupt ministers of a corrupt church had presumptuously ranked among the inhabitants of heaven,--thus daring to forestal the judgment of Christ at the last day, and to pronounce on the glory of a man whose spiritual state Omniscience alone can know,--it is impossible to contemplate without feelings of gratitude that Heaven's mercy has released us from such perverted use of the Gospel of the Saviour; nor without a prayer that the Spirit of light and truth would guide those of our fellow-creatures who are still walking in the same land of darkness and error, into the clear light of Christian truth. The Author, to whom the following "Song of Agincourt" has been (p. 197) familiar from his childhood, cannot refrain from inserting it here. This is that ancient, and, as it is believed, contemporary ballad, which has preserved to our times that golden stanza which appears in the title page of these volumes; and every word of which reflects the character of Henry as a hero and a merciful man. The quotation, also, from Burnet's History of Music, and the contemporary song to which he refers, will, it is presumed, be generally acceptable. SONG OF AGINCOURT. As our King lay on his bed, All musing at the hour of prime,[148] He bethought him of the King of France, And tribute due for so long a time. He called unto him his lovely page, His lovely page then called he; Saying, You must go to the King in France, To the King in France right speedily. Tell him to send me my tribute home, Ten ton of gold that is due to me; Unless he send me my tribute home, Soon in French land I will him see. Away then goes this lovely page (p. 198) As fast, as fast as he could hie; And, when he came to the King in France, He fell all down on his bended knee. My master greets you, sir, and says, Ten ton of gold is due to me; Unless you send me my tribute home, You in French land soon shall see me. Your master is young, and of tender age, Not fit to come into my degree; I'll send him home some tennis-balls That with them he may learn for to play.