"Poitiers and Cressy tell,

When most their pride did swell,
Under our swords they fell.
No less our skill is,

Than when our Grandsire great,
Claiming the regal seat,

By many a warlike feat

Lopped the French lilies."

The Duke of York so dread
The eager vanward led;
With the main, Henry sped
Amongst his henchmen:

Exeter had the rear,

A braver man not there!

O Lord, how hot they were
On the false Frenchmen!

They now to fight are gone;
Armor on armor shone;

Drum now to drum did groan:

To hear, was wonder; That, with the cries they make, The very earth did shake; Trumpet to trumpet spake; Thunder to thunder.

Well it thine age became,
O noble Erpingham,

Which didst the signal aim
To our hid forces!
When, from a meadow by,
Like a storm suddenly,

The English archery

Stuck the French horses.

With Spanish yew so strong;
Arrows a cloth-yard long,
That like to serpents stung,
Piercing the weather.

None from his fellow starts;
But, playing manly parts,
And like true English hearts,
Stuck close together.

When down their bows they threw,
And forth their bilboes 3 drew,
And on the French they flew:
Not one was tardy.

Arms were from shoulders sent,
Scalps to the teeth were rent,
Down the French peasants went:
Our men were hardy.

This while our noble King,
His broad sword brandishing,
Down the French host did ding,
As to o'erwhelm it;

And many a deep wound lent;
His arms with blood besprent,
And many a cruel dent
Bruised his helmet.

Gloucester, that duke so good,
Next of the royal blood,
For famous England stood

With his brave brother;
Clarence, in steel so bright,
Though but a maiden knight,
Yet in that furious fight

Scarce such another!

3. Bilboes. Swords made in Bilboa, Spain.

Warwick in blood did wade,
Oxford, the foe invade,
And cruel slaughter made,
Still as they ran up.
Suffolk his axe did ply;
Beaumont and Willoughby
Bare them right doughtily;
Ferrers and Fanhope.

Upon Saint Crispin's Day 4
Fought was this noble Fray;
Which Fame did not delay
To England to carry.
O when shall English men
With such acts fill a pen?
Or England breed again
Such a King Harry?

51

THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM

ROBERT SOUTHEY

I

It was a summer evening,

Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun,

And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

4. Crispin's Day. October 25.

1. In the war of the Spanish Succession, the English under Marl borough, assisted by Prince Eugene, of Savoy, on a celebrated victory over the French and Bavarians at Blenheim, August 13, 1704. Point is added to the poem when one remembers that when peace was made, the origin aim of the war was practically forgotten.

II

She saw her brother Peterkin

Roll something large and round, Which he beside the rivulet

In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found, That was so large, and smooth, and round.

III

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;

And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh,

"'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
"Who fell in the great victory.

IV

"I find them in the garden,
For there's many hereabout;
And often when I go to plow,
The plowshare turns them out!
For many thousand men," said he,
"Were slain in that great victory."

V

"Now tell us what 't was all about,"
Young Peterkin, he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looks up

With wonder-waiting eyes;

"Now tell us all about the war,

And what they fought each other for."

VI

"It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout;
But what they fought each other for,
I could not well make out;
But every body said," quoth he,
"That 'twas a famous victory.

VII

"My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;

So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.

VIII

"With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide,

And many a childing mother then

And new-born baby died;

But things like that, you know, must be

At every famous victory.

IX

"They say it was a shocking sight

After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here

Lay rotting in the sun;

But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory.