ONE THOUSAND FAMOUS THINGS
O, When Shall We Tell
Such a Tale Again ?
T?AIR stood the wind for France
JT When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry ;
But putting to the main
At Caux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train,
Landed King Harry.
And taking many a fort,
Furnished in warlike sort,
Marched toward Agincourt
In happy hour;
Skirmishing day by day
With those that stopped his way
Where the French General lay
With all his power.
Which in his height of pride,
King Henry to deride,
His ransom to provide
To the king sending ;
Which he neglects the while,
As from a nation vile.
Yet, with an angry smile,
Their fall portending.
And, turning to his men,
Quoth our brave Henry then :
Though they to one be ten,
Be not amazed ;
Yet have we well begun,
Battles so bravely won
Have ever to the sun
By fame been raised.
And for myself, quoth he,
This my full rest shall be :
England ne'er mourn for me,
Nor more esteem me .*
Victor I will remain,
Or on this earth lie slain ;
Never shall she sustain
Loss to redeem me.
They now to fight are gone ;
Armour on armour shone ;