The dreadfull Charge the Drummes & Trumpets sound, With hearts exalted, though with humbled eyes, When as the English kneeling on the ground, Extend their hands vp to the glorious skyes; Then from the earth as though they did rebound, Actiue as fire immediatly they rise: And such a shrill showt from their throats they sent, As made the French to stagger as they went. [Stanza 181: _Sir Thomas Erpingham gaue the Signall to the English._] Wherewith they stopt, when Erpingham which led The Armie, sawe, the showt had made them stand, Wafting his Warder thrice about his head, He cast it vp with his auspicious hand, Which was the signall through the English spread, That they should Charge: which as a dread command Made them rush on, yet with a second rore, Frighting the French worse then they did before. [Stanza 182] But when they sawe the Enemie so slowe, Which they expected faster to come on, Some scattering Shot they sent out as to showe, That their approach they onely stood vpon; Which with more feruour made their rage to glowe, So much disgrace that they had vnder-gone. Which to amend with Ensignes let at large, Vpon the English furiously they Charge. [Stanza 183: _A Simily of the French charging the English._] At the full Moone looke how th’vnweldy Tide, Shou’d by some Tempest that from Sea doth rise At the full height, against the ragged side Of so me rough Cliffe (of a Gigantick sise) Foming with rage impetuously doth ride; The angry French (in no lesse furious wise) Of men at Armes vpon their ready Horse, Assayle the English to dispierce their force. [Stanza 184: _The three hundred Archers layd in ambush, disorder the French men at Armes at the first encounter._] When as those Archers there in Ambush layde, Hauing their Broad side as they came along, With their barb’d Arrowes the French Horses payde: And in their flankes like cruell Hornets stong: They kick and crie, of late that proudly nayde: And from their seats their Armed Riders flong: They ranne together flying from the Dike, And make their Riders one another strike. [Stanza 185] And whilst the Front of the French Vanguard makes, Vpon the English thinking them to Route, Their Horses runne vpon the Armed stakes, And being wounded, turne themselues about: The Bit into his teeth the Courser takes, And from his Rank flyes with his Master out, Who either hurts or is hurt of his owne, If in the throng not both together throwne. [Stanza 186] Tumbling on heapes, some of their Horses cast With their foure feete all vp into the ayre: Vnder whose backs their Masters breath their last: Some breake their Raynes, and thence their Riders beare: Some with their feete stick in the Stirups fast, By their fierce Iades, are trayled here and there: Entangled in their Bridles, one back drawes, And pluckes the Bit out of anothers iawes. [Stanza 187]