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Arms were from shoulders sent;
Our men were hardy.
This while our noble king,
As to o'erwhelm it;
Bruised his helmet.
Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it,
Glo'ster, that duke so good,
With his brave brother,
Scarce such another.
yeomen, y alem
Warwick in blood did wade;
Still as they ran up.
Ferrers and Fanhope.
Whose limbs were made in England, show us
doubt not ;
FROM "EPIGRAMS," BOOK IV. EP. 6.
Upon St. Crispin's day
OF THE WARRES IN IRELAND.
I PRAISED the speech, but cannot now abide it,
That warre is sweet to those that have not try'd it;
For I have proved it now and plainly see 't,
Here milk is nectar, water tasteth toothsome. THE KING TO HIS SOLDIERS BEFORE There without baked, rost, boyl’d, it is no cheere ; HARFLEUR.
Bisket we like, and Bonny Clabo here.
Here meat worse cookt ne're makes us sick. ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends, At home in silken sparrers, beds of Down, 10 once more ;
We scant can rest, but still tosse up and down ; close the wall up with our English dead ! Here we can sleep, a saddle to our pillow, In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, A hedge the Curtaine, Canopy a Willow. As modest stillness, and humility :
There if a child but cry, O what a spite ! But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Here we can brook three larums in one night. Then imitate the action of the tiger ;
There homely rooms must be perfumed with Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Roses ; Disguise fair pature with hard-favored rage : Here match and powder ne're offend our noses. Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ;
There from a storm of rain we run like Pullets ; Let it pry through the portage of the head, Here we stand fast against a showre of bullets.
FROM "KING HENRY V.," ACT 111. SC. 1.
“Now praised be God, the day is won !
They fly, o'er flood and fell, Why dost thou draw the rein so hard,
Good knight, that fought so well ?”
We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk,
The heart in fair Melrose ;
WILLIAM EDMUNDSTONE AYTOUN.
“O, ride ye on, Lord King!" he said,
" And leave the dead to me, For I must keep the dreariest watch
That ever I shall dree !
HOTSPUR'S DESCRIPTION OF A FOP,
FROM " KING HENRY IV.," PART I, ACT I. SC. 3.
“There lies, above his master's heart,
The Douglas, stark and grim ; And woe is me I should be here,
Not side by side with him !
“The world grows cold, my arm is old,
And thin my lyart hair,
Is stretched before me there.
“O Bothwell banks, that bloom so bright
Beneath the sun of May !
Is bound for you this day.
“And Scotland! thou mayst veil thy head
In sorrow and in pain
Hath fallen this day in Spain !
But I remember, when the fight was done,
guus, He would himself have been a soldier.
“We 'll bear them back unto our ship,
We 'll bear them o'er the sea,
Within our own countrie.
“And be thou strong of heart, Lord King,
For this I tell thee sure,
Shall never bear the Moor !"
The King he lighted from his horse,
He flung his brand away, And took the Douglas by the hand,
So stately as he lay.
“God yive thee rest, thou valiant soul !
That fought so well for Spain ; I'd rather half my land were gone,
So thou wert here again !”
We bore the good Lord James away,
And the priceless heart we bore, And heavily we steered our ship
Towards the Scottish shore.
HUDIBRAS' SWORD AND DAGGER.
FROM "HUDIBRAS," PART I.
No welcome greeted our return,
Nor claug of martial tread, But all were dumb and hushed as death
Before the mighty dead.
Mount, Juan, mount; 'whate'er betide, away the
brille fling, And plunge the rowels in his side. - My horse
shall save my King!
To whom he bore so fell a grutch
“Nay, never speak; my sires, Lord King, re
ceived their land from yours, And joyfully their blood shall spring, so be it
thine secuiresı; '. If I should fly, and thot, my King, be found ainong the.dead,
i How could I stayı 'mong gentlemen, such scorn
on my' gray head ?
This sword a dagger had, his page,
DR. SAMUEL BUTLER,
FROM THE SPANISH.
THE LORD OF BUTRAGO.
FLODDEN FIELD. “Your horse is faint, my King, my Lord ! your
FROM " MARMION,” CANTO Vi. gallant horse is sick,
(The battle was fought in September, 1513, between the forces of His limbs are torn, his breast is gored, on his England and Scotland. The latter were worsted, and King James
slain with eight thousand of his inen. Lord Surrey commanded the eye the film is thick ;
thee, mount and fly!
Then forward moved his band; ,'
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won, "My King, my King ! you 're wounded sore,
He halted by a cross of stone, the blood runs from your feet ;
That, on a hillock'standing lone, But only lay a hand before, and I'll list you to
Did all the field command. your seat ; Mount, Juan, for they gather fast -I hear Hence might they see the full array their coming cry,
Of either host for'deadly fray ; Mount, mount, and ride for jeopardy, — I'll save Their marshalled lines stretched east and west, you though I die !
And fronted north and south,',
And distant salutation past “Stand, noble steed! this hour of need, – be From the loud cannon-mouth ; gentle as a lamb ;
Not in the close successive rattle I'll kiss the foam from off thy mouth, — thy That breathės the voice of modern battle, master dear I am,
But slow and far between.