Thou hast made thy way And flight about the Ile, well neare, by this, In thy admired Periégesis, Or vniuersall circumduction Of all that reade thy Poly-Olbyon. That reade it? that are rauish’d! such was I With euery song, I sweare, and so would dye: But that I heare, againe, thy Drum to beate A better cause, and strike the brauest heate That euer yet did fire the English blood! Our right in France! if ritely vnderstood. There, thou art Homer! Pray thee vse the stile Thou hast deseru’d: And let me reade the while Thy Catalogue of Ships, exceeding his, Thy list of aydes, and force, for so it is: The Poets act! and for his Country’s sake Braue are the Musters, that the Muse will make. And when he ships them where to vse their Armes, How do his trumpets breath! What loud alarmes! Looke, how we read the Spartans were inflam’d With bold Tyrtæus verse, when thou art nam’d, So shall our English Youth vrge on, and cry An Agincourt, an Agincourt, or dye. This booke! it is a Catechisme to fight, And will be bought of euery Lord, and Knight, That can but reade; who cannot, may in prose Get broken peeces, and fight well by those. The miseries of Margaret the Queene Of tender eyes will more be wept, then seene: I feele it by mine owne, that ouer flow, And stop my sight, in euery line I goe. But then refreshed, with thy Fayerie Court, I looke on Cynthia, and Sirenas sport, As, on two flowry Carpets, that did rise, And with their grassie greene restor’d mine eyes. Yet giue mee leaue, to wonder at the birth Of thy strange Moon-Calfe, both thy straine of mirth, And Gossip-got acquaintance, as, to vs Thou hadst brought Lapland, or old Cobalus, Empusa, Lamia, or some Monster, more Then Affricke knew, or the full Grecian shore! I gratulate it to thee, and thy Ends, To all thy vertuous, and well chosen Friends, Onely my losse is, that I am not there: And, till I worthy am to wish I were, I call the world, that enuies mee, to see If I can be a Friend, and Friend to thee. THE BATTAILE OF AGINCOVRT. [Stanza 1: _The law Salique was, that women should not inherite; which law, Edward the third, by his right to the Crowne by his mother, cancelled with his sword: for so much as at that time made way to his clayme, though in France that law bee inuiolable._] Ceas’d was the Thunder, of those Drummes which wak’d Th’affrighted French their miseries to view, At Edwards name, which to that houre still quak’d, Their Salique Tables to the ground that threw, Yet were the English courages not slak’d, But the same Bowes, and the same Blades they drew, With the same Armes, those weapons to aduance, Which lately lopt the Flower de liz of France. [Stanza 2: _Henry the 4. so named of a Town in Lincolne Shiere, where he was borne._]