Bosworth-field :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Winters storme of Ciuill warre I sing,
Whose end is crown'd with our eternall Spring,
Where Roses ioyn'd, their colours mixe in one,
And armies fight no more for Englands Throne.
Thou gracious Lord, direct my feeble Pen,
Who (from the actions of ambitious men,)
Hast by thy goodnesse drawne our ioyfull good,
And made sweet flowres, & Oliues grow from blood,
While we delighted with this faire release,
May clime Parnassus, in the dayes of peace.

The King (whose eyes were neuer fully clos'd,
Whose minde opprest, with feareful dreames suppos'd,

That he in blood had wallow'd all the night)
Leapes from his restlesse bed, before the light:
Accursed Tirell is the first he spies,
Whom threatning with his dagger, thus he cries;
How darst thou, villaine, so disturbe my sleepe,
Were not the smother'd children buried deepe?
And hath the ground againe been ript by thee,
That I their rotten carkases might see?
The wretch astonisht, hastes away to slide,
(As damned ghosts themselues in darkenesse hide)
And calles vp three, whose counsels could asswage
The sudden swellings of the Princes rage:
Ambitious Louell, who to gaine his grace,
Had stain'd the honour of his Noble race:
Perfidious Catesby, by whose curious skill,
The Law was taught to speake his Masters will:
And Ratcliffe, deepely learn'd in courtly Art,
Who best could search into his Sou'raignes hart;
Affrighted Richard, labours to relate
His hideous dreames, as signes of haplesse Fate:
Alas (said they) such fictions children feare,
These are not terrors, shewing danger neare,
But motiues sent by some propitious power,
To make you watchfull at this early hower;
These proue that your victorious care preuents
Your slouthfull foes, that slumber in their tents,
This precious time must not in vaine be spent,
Which God (your helpe) by heau'nly meanes hath lent.

He (by these false coniectures) much appeas'd,
Contemning fancies, which his minde diseas'd,
Replies: I should haue been asham'd to tell
Fond dreames to wise men: whether Heau'n or Hell,
Or troubled Nature these effects hath wrought:
I know, this day requires another thought,
If some resistlesse strength my cause should crosse,
Feare will increase, and not redeeme the losse;
All dangers clouded with the mist of feare,
Seeme great farre off, but lessen comming neare.
Away, ye blacke illusions of the night,
If ye combin'd with Fortune, haue the might
To hinder my designes: ye shall not barre
My courage seeking glorious death in warre.
Thus being chear'd, he calles aloud for armes,
And bids that all should rise, whō Morpheus charmes.
Bring me (saith he) the harnesse that I wore
At Teuxbury which from that day no more
Hath felt the battries of a ciuill strife,
Nor stood betweene destruction and my life.
Vpon his brest-plate he beholds a dint,
Which in that field young Edwards sword did print:
This stirres remembrance of his heinous guilt,
When he that Princes blood so foulely spilt.
Now fully arm'd, he takes his helmet bright,
Which like a twinkling starre, with trembling light
Sends radiant lustre through the darksome aire;
This maske will make his wrinkled visage faire.

But when his head is couer'd with the steele,
He telles his seruants, that his temples feele
Deepe-piercing stings, which breed vnusuall paines,
And of the heauy burden much complaines.
Some marke his words, as tokens fram'd t'expresse
The sharpe conclusion of a sad successe.
Then going forth, and finding in his way
A souldier of the Watch, who sleeping lay;
Enrag'd to see the wretch neglect his part,
He strikes a sword into his trembling heart,
The hand of death, and iron dulnesse takes
Those leaden eyes, which nat'rall ease forsakes:
The King this morning sacrifice commends,
And for example, thus the fact defends;
I leaue him as I found him, fit to keepe
The silent doores of euerlasting sleepe.

Still Richmond slept: for worldly care and feare
Haue times of pausing, when the soule is cleare,
While Heau'ns Directer, whose reuengefull brow
Would to the guilty head no rest allow,
Lookes on the other part with milder eyes:
At his command an Angell swiftly flies
From sacred truths perspicuous gate, to bring
A crystall vision on his golden wing.
This Lord thus sleeping, thought he saw and knew
His lamblike Vnkle, whom that Tiger slew,
Whose powerfull words encourage him to fight:
Goe on iust scourge of murder, vertues light,

The combate, which thou shalt this day endure,
Makes Englands peace for many ages sure,
Thy strong inuasion cannot be withstood,
The earth assists thee with the cry of blood,
The heau'n shall blesse thy hopes, and crowne thy ioyes,
See how the Fiends with loud and dismall noyse,
(Presaging Uultures, greedy of their prey)
On Richards tent their scaly wings display.
The holy King then offer'd to his view
A liuely tree, on which three branches grew:
But when the hope of fruit had made him glad,
All fell to dust: at which the Earle was sad;
Yet comfort comes againe, when from the roote
He sees a bough into the North to shoote,
Which nourisht there, extends it selfe from thence,
And girds this Iland with a firme defence:
There he beholds a high, and glorious Throne,
Where sits a King by Lawrell Garlands knowne,
Like bright Apollo in the Muses quires,
His radiant eyes are watchfull heauenly fires,
Beneath his feete pale Enuie bites her chaine,
And snaky Discord whets her sting in vaine.
Thou seest (said Henry) wise and potent Iames,
This, this is he, whose happy Vnion tames
The sauage Feudes, and shall those lets deface,
Which keepe the Bordrers from a deare imbrace;
Both Nations shall in Britaines Royall Crowne,
Their diffring names, the signes of faction drowne;

The siluer streames which from this Spring increase,
Bedew all Christian hearts with drops of peace;
Obserue how hopefull Charles is borne t'asswage
The winds, that would disturbe this golden age.
When that great King shall full of glory leaue
The earth as base, then may this Prince receiue
The Diadem, without his Fathers wrong,
May take it late, and may possesse it long;
Aboue all Europes Princes shine thou bright,
O Gods selected care, and mans delight.
Here gentle sleepe forsooke his clouded browes,
And full of holy thoughts, and pious vowes,
He kist the ground assoone as he arose,
When watchfull Digby, who among his foes
Had wanderd vnsuspected all the night,
Reports that Richard is prepar'd to fight.

Long since the King had thought it time to send
For trusty Norfolke, his vndaunted friend,
Who hasting from the place of his abode,
Found at the doore, a world of papers strow'd;
Some would affright him from the Tyrants aide,
Affirming that his Master was betray'd;
Some laid before him all those bloody deeds,
From which a line of sharpe reuenge proceeds
With much compassion, that so braue a Knight
Should serue a Lord, against whom Angels fight,
And others put suspicions in his minde,
That Richard most obseru'd, was most vnkind.

The Duke awhile these cautious words reuolues
With serious thoughts, and thus at last resolues;
If all the Campe proue traytors to my Lord,
Shall spotlesse Norfolke falsifie his word;
Mine oath is past, I swore t'vphold his Crowne,
And that shall swim, or I with it will drowne.
It is too late now to dispute the right;
Dare any tongue, since Yorke spred forth his light,
Northumberland, or Buckingham defame,
Two valiant Cliffords, Roos, or Beaumonts name,
Because they in the weaker quarrell die?
They had the King with them, and so haue I.
But eu'ry eye the face of Richard shunnes,
For that foule murder of his brothers sonnes:
Yet lawes of Knighthood gaue me not a sword
To strike at him, whom all with ioynt accord
Haue made my Prince, to whom I tribute bring:
I hate his vices, but adore the King.
Victorious Edward, if thy soule can beare
Thy seruant Howard, I deuoutly sweare,
That to haue sau'd thy children from that day,
My hopes on earth should willingly decay;
Would Glouster then, my perfect faith had tryed,
And made two graues, when noble Hastings died.
This said, his troopes he into order drawes,
Then doubled haste redeemes his former pause:
So stops the Sayler for a voyage bound,
When on the Sea he heares the tempests sound,

Till pressing hunger to remembrance sends,
That on his course his housholds life depends:
With this he cleares the doubts that vext his minde,
And puts his ship to mercy of the winde.

The Dukes stout presence and couragious lookes,
Were to the King as falls of sliding brookes,
Which bring a gentle and delightfull rest
To weary eyes, with grieuous care opprest:
He bids that Norfolke and his hopefull sonne,
(Whose rising fame in Armes this day begun)
Should leade the vantguard: for so great command,
He dares not trust, in any other hand;
The rest he to his owne aduice referres,
And as the spirit, in that body stirres,
Then putting on his Crowne, a fatall signe,
(So offer'd beasts neere death in Garlands shine,)
He rides about the rankes, and striues t'inspire
Each brest with part of his vnwearied fire,
To those who had his brothers seruants been,
And had the wonders of his valour seene,
He saith: My fellow Souldiers, though your swords
Are sharpe, and need not whetting by my words;
Yet call to minde those many glorious dayes,
In which we treasur'd vp immortall prayse,
If when I seru'd, I euer fled from foe.
Fly ye from mine, let me be punisht so:
But if my Father, when at first he try'd,
How all his sonnes, could shining blades abide,

Found me an Eagle, whose vndazled eyes
Affront the beames, which from the steele arise,
And if I now in action, teach the same,
Know then, ye haue but chang'd your Gen'ralls name,
Be still your selues, ye fight against the drosse
Of those, that oft haue runne from you with losse:
How many Somersets, dissentions brands
Haue felt the force of our reuengefull hands?
From whome this youth, as from a princely floud,
Deriues his best, yet not vntainted bloud;
Haue our assaults made Lancaster to droupe?
And shall this Welshman with his ragged troupe,
Subdue the Norman, and the Saxon line,
That onely Merlin may be thought diuine?
See what a guide, these fugitiues haue chose?
Who bred among the French our ancient foes,
Forgets the English language, and the ground,
And knowes not what our drums, & trumpets sound.
To others minds, their willing othes he drawes,
He tells his iust decrees, and healthfull lawes,
And makes large proffers of his future grace.
Thus hauing ended, with as chearefull face,
As Nature, which his stepdame still was thought,
Could lend to one, without proportion wrought,
Some with loud shouting, make the valleyes ring,
But most with murmur sigh: God saue the King.

Now carefull Henry sends his seruant Bray
To Stanly, who accounts it safe to stay,

And dares not promise, lest his haste should bring
His sonne to death, now pris'ner with the King.
About the same time, Brakenbury came,
And thus, to Stanley saith, in Richards name,
My Lord, the King salutes you, and commands
That to his ayde, you bring your ready bands,
Or else he sweares by him that sits on high,
Before the armies ioyne, your sonne shall die.
At this the Lord stood, like a man that heares
The Iudges voyce, which condemnation beares
Till gath'ring vp his spirits, he replies:
My fellow Hastings death hath made me wise,
More then my dreame could him, for I no more
Will trust the tushes of the angry Bore;
If with my Georges bloud, he staine his throne,
I thanke my God, I haue more sonnes then one:
Yet to secure his life, I quiet stand
Against the King, not lifting up my hand.
The Messenger departs of hope deny'd.
Then noble Stanley, taking Bray aside,
Saith: Let my sonne proceede, without despaire
Assisted by his mothers almes, and prayre,
God will direct both him, and me to take,
Best courses, for that blessed womans sake.
The Earle by this delay, was not inclin'd,
To feare nor anger, knowing Stanleyes mind,
But calling all his chiefe Commanders neare,
He boldly speakes, while they attentiue heare.

Tis in vaine, braue friends, to shew the right
Which we are forc'd to seeke by ciuill fight.
Our swords are brandisht in a noble cause,
To free your Country from a Tyrants iawes.
That angry Planet? What disastrous Signe
Directs Plantagenets afflicted Line?
Ah, was it not enough, that mutuall rage
In deadly battels should this race ingage,
Till by their blowes themselues they fewer make,
And pillers fall, which France could neuer shake?
But must this crooked Monster now be found,
To lay rough hands on that vnclosed wound?
His secret plots haue much increast the flood,
He with his brothers, and his nephewes blood,
Hath stain'd the brightnesse of his Fathers flowres,
And made his owne white Rose as red as ours.
This is the day, whose splendour puts to flight
Obscuring clouds, and brings an age of light.
We see no hindrance of those wished times,
But this Vsurper, whose depressing crimes
Will driue him from the mountaine where he stands,
So that he needs must fall without our hands.
In this we happy are, that by our armes,
Both Yorke and Lancaster reuenge their harmes.
Here Henries seruants ioyne with Edwards friends,
And leaue their priuat griefes for publike ends.
Thus ceasing, he implores th' Almighties grace,
And bids, that euery Captaine take his place.

His speach was answer'd, with a gen'rall noyse
Of acclamations, doubtlesse signes of ioyes
Which souldiers vtterd, as they forward went,
The sure forerunners of a faire euent;
So when the Winter, to the Spring bequeathes
The rule of time, and milde Fauonius breathes,
A quire of Swans, to that sweete Musicke sings,
The Ayre resounds, the motion of their wings,
When ouer plaines, they flie in orderd rankes,
To sport themselues, vpon Caïsters bankes,

Bold Oxford leades the vantguard vp amaine,
Whose valiant offers, heretofore were vaine,
When he his loue to Lancaster exprest,
But now, with more indulgent Fortune blest,
His men he toward Norfolkes quarter drew,
And straight the one, the others Ensignes knew,
For they in seu'rall armies, were display'd,
This oft in Edwards, that in Henries ayde:
The sad remembrance of those bloudy fights,
Incenst new anger, in these noble Knights,
A marish lay betweene, which Oxford leaues
Vpon his right hand, and the Sunne receiues
Behind him, with aduantage of the place,
For Norfolke must endure it on his face,
And yet his men, aduance their speares, and swords,
Against this succour, which the heau'n affords,
His horse, and foote possest the field in length,
While bowmen went before them, for their strength:

Thus marching forth, they set on Oxfords band,
He feares their number, and with strict command,
His souldiers closely, to the standard drawes:
Then Howards troupes amaz'd, begin to pause,
They doubt the slights of battell, and prepare,
To guard their valour, with a trench of care.
This sudden stop, made warlike Vere more bold,
To see their fury, in a moment cold,
His rankes he in a larger forme displayes,
Which all were Archers, counted in those dayes,
The best of English souldiers, for their skill,
Could guide their shafts, according to their will,
The featherd wood, they from their bowes let flie,
No arrow fell, but causd some man to die:
So painefull Bees, with forward gladnesse striue,
To ioyne themselues, in throngs before the hiue,
And with obedience, till that houre attend,
When their commander, shall his watchword send:
Then to the winds, their tender sailes they yield,
Depresse the flowres, depopulate the field:
Wise Norfolke to auoyde these shafts the more,
Contriues his battaile thin, and sharpe before,
He thus attempts to pierce into the hart,
And breake the orders of the aduerse part,
As when the Cranes direct their flight, on high,
To cut their way, they in a Trigon flie,
Which pointed figure, may with ease diuide
Opposing blasts, through which they swiftly glide.

But now the wings make haste to Oxfords ayde,
The left by valiant Sauage was display'd,
His lusty souldiers were attir'd in white,
They moue like drifts of snow, whose sudden fright
Constraines the weary passenger to stay,
And beating on his face, confounds his way.
Braue Talbot led the right, whose Grandsires name
Was his continuall spurre, to purchase fame:
Both these rusht in, while Norfolke like a wall,
Which oft with engines crackt, disdaines to fall,
Maintaines his station by defensiue fight,
Till Surrey pressing forth, with youthfull might,
Sends many shadowes to the gates of death.
When dying mouths had gaspt forth purple breath,
His father followes: Age and former paines
Had made him slower, yet he still retaines
His ancient vigour; and with much delight
To see his sonne do maruailes in his sight,
He seconds him, and from the branches cleaues
Those clusters, which the former Vintage leaues.
Now Oxford flyes (as lightning) through his troupes,
And with his presence cheares the part that droupes:
His braue endeuours, Surreyes force restraine
Like bankes, at which the Ocean stormes in vaine.
The swords and armours shine as sparkling coales,
Their clashing drownes the grones of parting soules;
The peacefull neighbours, who had long desir'd
To find the causes of their feare expir'd,

Are newly grieu'd, to see this scarlet flood,
And English ground bedew'd with English blood.
Stout Rice and Herbert leade the power of Wales,
Their zeale to Henry, moues the hills and dales
To sound their Country-mans beloued name,
Who shall restore the British off-springs fame;
These make such slaughter with their glaues & hooks,
That carefull Bardes may fill their precious bookes
With prayses, which from warlike actions spring,
And take new themes, when to their Harpes they sing.
Besides these souldiers borne within this Ile,
We must not of their part, the French beguile,
Whom Charles for Henries succour did prouide,
A Lord of Scotland, Bernard, was their guide,
A blossome of the Stuarts happy line,
Which is on Brittaines Throne ordain'd to shine:
The Sun, whose rayes, the heau'n with beauty crowne,
From his ascending, to his going downe,
Saw not a brauer Leader, in that age;
And Bosworth field must be the glorious stage,
In which this Northerne Eagle learnes to flie,
And tries those wings, which after rayse him high,
When he beyond the snowy Alpes renown'd,
Shall plant French Lillies in Italian ground;
And cause the craggy Apennine to know,
What fruits on Caledonian mountaines grow.
Now in this ciuill warre, the troupes of France,
Their banners dare on English ayre aduance,

And on their launces points, destruction bring,
To fainting seruants of the guilty King,
When heretofore, they had no powre to stand,
Against our armiees in their natiue land,
But melting fled, as waxe before the flame,
Dismayd with thunder of Saint Georges name.

Now Henry, with his vnkle Pembroke moues,
The rereward on, and Stanley then approues
His loue to Richmonds person, and his cause,
He from his army of three thousand, drawes
A few choyse men, and bids the rest obay
His valiant brother, who shall proue this day,
As famous as great Warwick, in whose hand,
The fate of Englands Crowne, was thought to stand:
With these he closely steales, to helpe his friend,
While his maine forces stirre not, but attend
The younger Stanley, and to Richards eye
Appeare not parties, but as standers by.
Yet Stanleyes words, so much the King incense,
That he exclames: This is a false pretense:
His doubtfull answere, shall not saue his sonne,
Yong Strange shall die: see, Catesby, this be done.
Now like a Lambe, which taken from the folds,
The slaughter-man, with rude embraces holds,
And for his throte, prepares a whetted knife,
So goes this harmelesse Lord, to end his life,
The axe is sharpen'd, and the blocke prepar'd,
But worthy Ferrers, equall portion shar'd,

Of griefe and terrour which the pris'ner felt,
His tender eyes in teares of pitty melt,
And hasting to the King, he boldly said;

My Lord, too many bloody staines are laid
By enuious tongues vpon your peacefull raigne;
O may their malice euer speake in vaine:
Afford not this aduantage to their spite,
None should be kill'd to day, but in the fight:
Your Crowne is strongly fixt, your cause is good,
Cast not vpon it drops of harmelesse blood;
His life is nothing, yet will dearely cost,
If while you seeke it, we perhaps haue lost
Occasions of your conquest, thither flie,
Where Rebels arm'd, with cursed blades shall die,
And yeeld in death to your victorious awe:
Let naked hands be censur'd by the Law.
Such pow'r his speech and seemely action hath,
It mollifies the Tyrants bloody wrath,
And he commands, that Stranges death be stay'd.
The noble Youth (who was before dismay'd
At deaths approching sight) now sweetly cleares
His cloudy sorrowes, and forgets his feares.
As when a Steare to burning Altars led,
Expecting fatall blowes to cleaue his head,
Is by the Priest for some religious cause
Sent backe to liue, and now in quiet drawes
The open ayre, and takes his wonted food,
And neuer thinkes how neere to death he stood:

The King, though ready, yet his march delayd,
To haue Northumberlands expected ayde.
To him, industrious Ratcliffe swiftly hies;
But Percy greetes him thus: My troubled eyes
This night beheld my fathers angry ghost,
Aduising not to ioyne with Richards host:
Wilt thou (said he) so much obscure my shield,
To beare mine azure Lion in the field
With such a Gen'rall? Aske him, on which side
His sword was drawne, when I at Towton died.
When Richard knew that both his hopes were vaine
He forward sets with cursing and disdaine,
And cries: Who would not all these Lords detest?
When Percy changeth, like the Moone his crest.
This speech the heart of noble Ferrers rent:
He answers: Sir though many dare repent,
That which they cannot now without your wrong,
And onely grieue they haue been true too long,
My brest shall neuer beare so foule a staine,
If any ancient blood in me remaine,
Which from the Norman Conqu'rours tooke descent,
It shall be wholly in your seruice spent;
I will obtaine to day aliue or dead,
The Crownes that grace a faithfull souldiers head.
Blest be thy tongue (replies the King,) in thee
The strength of all thine Ancestors I see,
Extending warlike armes for Englands good,
By thee their heire, in valour as in blood.

But here we leaue the King, and must reuiew
Those sonnes of Mars, who cruell blades imbrue
In Riuers sprung from hearts that bloodlesse lie,
And staine their shining armes in sanguine die.
Here valiant Oxford and fierce Norfolke meete,
And with their speares each other rudely greete;
About the ayre the shiuerd pieces play,
Then on their swords their noble hands they lay,
And Norfolke first a blow directly guides
To Oxfords head, which from his helmet slides
Vpon his arme, and biting through the steele,
Inflicts a wound, which Vere disdaines to feele,
He lifts his fauchion with a threatning grace,
And hewes the beuer off from Howards face.
This being done, he with compassion charm'd,
Retires, asham'd to strike a man disarm'd:
But straight a deadly shaft sent from a bow,
VVhose Master, though farre off, the Duke could (know)
Vntimely brought this combat to an end,
And pierc'd the braine of Richards constant friend.
VVhen Oxford saw him sinke, his noble soule
VVas full of griefe, which made him thus condole:
Farewell, true Knight, to whom no costly graue
Can giue due honour: would my teares might saue
Those streames of blood, deseruing to be spilt
In better seruice: had not Richards guilt
Such heauy weight vpon his fortune laid,
Thy glorious vertues had his sinnes outwaigh'd.

Couragious Talbot had with Surrey met,
And after many blowes begins to fret,
That one so young in Armes should thus vnmou'd,
Resist his strength, so oft in warre approu'd.
And now the Earle beholds his father fall;
VVhose death like horri'd darkenesse frighted all:
Some giue themselues as captiues, others flie,
But this young Lion casts his gen'rous eye
On Mowbrdyes Lion, painted in his shield,
And with that King of beasts, repines to yeeld:
The field (saith he) in which the Lion stands,
Is blood, and blood I offer to the hands
Of daring foes; but neuer shall my flight
Die blacke my Lion, which as yet is white.
His enemies (like cunning Huntsmen) striue
In binding snares, to take their prey aliue,
VVhile he desires t'expose his naked brest,
And thinkes the sword that deepest strikes, is best.
Young Howard single with an army fights,
VVhen mou'd with pitie, two renowned Knights,
Strong Clarindon, and valiant Coniers trie
To rescue him, in which attempt they die;
For Sauage red with blood of slaughter'd foes,
Doth them in midst of all his troopes inclose,
VVhere though the Captaine for their safetie striues,
Yet baser hands depriue them of their liues.
Now Surrey fainting, scarce his sword can hold,
VVhich made a common souldier grow so bold,

To lay rude hands vpon that noble flower;
VVhich he disdaigning (anger giues him power)
Erects his weapon with a nimble round,
And sends the Peasants arme to kisse the ground.
This done, to Talbot he presents his blade,
And saith, It is not hope of life hath made
This my submission, but my strength is spent,
And some perhaps, of villaine blood will vent
My weary soule: this fauour I demand,
That I may die by your victorious hand.
Nay, God forbid that any of my name,
Quoth Talbot) should put out so bright a flame,
As burnes in thee (braue Youth) where thou hast err'd,
‘It was thy fathers fault, since he preferr'd
A Tyrants crowne before the iuster side.
The Earle still mindfull of his birth, replied,
‘I wonder (Talbot) that thy noble hart
Insults on ruines of the vanquisht part:
We had the right, if now to you it flow,
The fortune of your swords hath made it so:
I neuer will my lucklesse choyce repent,
Nor can it staine mine honour or descent,
Set Englands Royall Wreath vpon a stake,
There will I fight, and not the place for sake:
And if the will of God hath so dispos'd,
That Richmonds brow be with the Crowne inclos'd,
I shall to him, or his giue doubtlesse signes,
That duty in my thoughts, not faction, shines.

The earnest souldiers still the chase pursue:
But their Commanders grieue they should imbrue
Their swords in blood which springs frō English veins
The peacefull sound of trumpets them restraines
From further slaughter, with a milde retreat
To rest contented in this first defeate.

The King intended at his setting out,
To helpe his Vantguard, but a nimble scout
Runnes crying; Sir, I saw not farre from hence,
Where Richmond houers with a small defence,
And like one guilty of some heynous ill,
Is couer'd with the shade of yonder hill.
The Rauen almost famisht, ioyes not more,
VVhen restlesse billowes tumble to the shore
A heape of bodies shipwrackt in the seas,
Then Richard with these newes himselfe doth please
He now diuerts his course another way,
And with his Army led in faire array,
Ascends the rising ground, and taking view
Of Henries souldiers, sees they are but few:
Imperiall courage fires his noble brest,
He sets a threatning speare within his rest,
Thus saying: All true Knights, on me attend,
I soone will bring this quarrell to an end:
If none will follow, if all faith be gone,
Behold, I goe to try my cause alone.
He strikes his spurres into his horses side,
VVith him stout Louell and bold Ferrers ride;

To them braue Ratcliffe, gen'rous Clifton haste,
Old Brakenbury scornes to be the last:
As borne with wings, all worthy spirits flye,
Resolu'd for safety of their Prince to dye;
And Catesby to this number addes his name,
Though pale with feare, yet ouercomne with shame.
Their boldnesse Richmond dreads not, but admires;
He sees their motion like to rolling fires,
VVhich by the winde along the fields are borne
Amidst the trees, the hedges, and the corne,
VVhere they the hopes of husbandmen consume,
And fill the troubled Ayre with dusky fume.
Now as a carefull Lord of neighb'ring grounds,
He keepes the flame from entring in his bounds,
Each man is warn'd to hold his station sure,
Prepar'd with courage strong assaults t'endure:
But all in vaine, no force, no warlike Art,
From sudden breaking can preserue that part,
VVhere Richard like a dart from thunder falles:
His foes giue way, and stand as brazen walles
On either side of his inforced path,
VVhile he neglects them, and reserues his wrath
For him whose death these threatning clouds would cleare,
Whō now with gladnes he beholdeth neere,
And all those faculties together brings,
VVhich moue the soule to high and noble things.
Eu'n so a Tyger hauing follow'd long
The Hunters steps that robb'd her of her young:

VVhen first she sees him, is by rage inclin'd
Her steps to double, and her teeth to grind.

Now horse to horse, and man is ioyn'd to man
So strictly, that the souldiers hardly can
Their aduersaries from their fellowes know:
Here each braue Champion singles out his foe.
In this confusion Brakenbury meetes
VVith Hungerford, and him thus foulely greetes:
Ah traytor, false in breach of faith and loue,
What discontent could thee and Bourchier moue,
Who had so long my fellowes been in Armes,
To flie to Rebels? What seducing charmes
Could on your clouded minds such darknesse bring,
To serue an Out-law, and neglect the King?
VVith these sharpe speeches Hungerford enrag'd,
T'vphold his honour, thus the battaile wag'd:
Thy doting age (saith he) delights in words,
But this aspersion must be try'd by swords.
Then leauing talke, he by his weapon speakes,
And driues a blow, which Brakenbury breakes,
By lifting vp his left hand, else the steele
Had pierc'd his burgonet, and made him feele
The pangs of death: but now the fury fell
Vpon the hand that did the stroke repell,
And cuts so large a portion of the shield,
That it no more can safe protection yeeld.
Bold Hungerford disdaines his vse to make
Of this aduantage, but doth straight forsake

His massy Target, render'd to his Squire,
And saith: Let cowards such defence desire.
This done, these valiant Knights dispose their blades,
And still the one the others face inuades,
Till Brakenburies helmet giuing way
To those fierce strokes that Hungerford doth lay,
Is brus'd and gapes, which Bourchier fighting neare,
Perceiues and cries: Braue Hungerford, forbeare,
Bring not those siluer haires to timelesse end,
He was, and may be once againe our friend.
But oh too late! the fatall blow was sent
From Hungerford, which he may now repent,
But not recall, and digges a mortall wound
In Brakenburies head, which should be crown'd
VVith precious Metals, and with Bayes adorn'd
For constant truth appearing, when he scorn'd
To staine his hand in those young Princes blood,
And like a rocke amidst the Ocean stood
Against the Tyrants charmes, and threats vnmou'd,
Though death declares how much he Richard lou'd.
Stout Ferrers aimes to fixe his mighty Launce
In Pembrokes heart, which on the steele doth glaunce,
And runnes in vaine the empty ayre to presse:
But Pembrokes speare, obtaining wisht successe,
Through Ferrers brest-plate, and his body sinkes,
And vitall blood from inward vessels drinkes.
Here Stanley, and braue Louel trie their strength,
VVhose equall courage drawes the strife to length,

They thinke not how they may themselues defend
To strike is all their care, to kill, their end.
So meete two Bulls vpon adioyning hills
Of rocky Charnwood, while their murmur fills
The hollow crags, when striuing for their bounds,
They wash their piercing hornes in mutuall wounds

If in the midst of such a bloody fight,
The name of friendship be not thought too light,
Recount my Muse, how Byrons faithfull loue
To dying Clifton did it selfe approue:
For Clifton fighting brauely in the troope,
Receiues a wound, and now begins to droope:
Which Byron seeing, though in armes his foe,
In heart his friend, and hoping that the blow
Had not been mortall, guards him, with his shield
From second hurts, and cries, Deare Clifton, yeeld
Thou hither cam'st, led by sinister fate,
Against my first aduice, yet now, though late,
Take this my counsell. Clifton thus replied:
It is too late, for I must now prouide
To seeke another life: liue thou, sweet friend,
And when thy side obtaines a happy end,
Vpon the fortunes of my children looke,
Remember what a solemne oath we tooke,
That he whose part should proue the best in fight,
Would with the Conqu'rour trie his vtmost might,
To saue the others lands from rau'nous pawes,
Which seaze on fragments of a lucklesse cause.

My fathers fall our house had almost drown'd,
But I by chance aboord in shipwracke found.
May neuer more such danger threaten mine:
Deale thou for them, as I would doe for thine.
This said, his senses faile, and pow'rs decay,
While Byron calles; Stay, worthy Clifton; stay,
And heare my faithfull promise once againe,
Which if I breake, may all my deeds be vaine.
But now he knowes, that vitall breath is fled,
And needlesse words are vtter'd to the dead;
Into the midst of Richards strength he flies,
Presenting glorious acts to Henries eyes,
And for his seruice he expects no more,
Then Cliftons sonne from forfeits to restore.

While Richard bearing downe with eager mind,
The steps by which his passage was confin'd,
Laies hands on Henries Standard as his prey,
Strong Brandon bore it, whom this fatall day
Markes with a blacke note, as the onely Knight,
That on the conqu'ring part forsakes the light.
But Time, whose wheeles with various motion runne,
Repayes this seruice fully to his sonne,
Who marries Richmonds daughter, borne betweene
Two Royall Parents, and endowed a Queene.
When now the King perceiues that Brandon striues
To saue his charge, he sends a blow that riues
His skull in twaine, and by a gaping hole,
Giues ample scope to his departing soule,

And thus insults; Accursed wretch, farewell,
Thine Ensignes now may be display'd in hell:
There thou shalt know, it is an odious thing,
To let thy banner flie against thy King.
VVith scorne he throwes the Standard to the ground
VVhen Cheney for his height and strength renown'd,
Steps forth to couer Richmond, now expos'd
To Richards sword: the King with Cheney clos'd,
And to the earth this mighty Giant fell'd.
Then like a Stag, whom fences long with-held
From meddowes, where the Spring in glory raignes,
Now hauing leuell'd those vnpleasing chaines,
And treading proudly on the vanquisht flowres,
He in his hopes a thousand ioyes deuoures:
For now no pow'r to crosse his end remaines,
But onely Henry, whom he neuer daines
To name his foe, and thinkes he shall not braue
A valiant Champion, but a yeelding slaue.
Alas? how much deceiu'd, when he shall find
An able body and couragious minde:
For Richmond boldly doth himselfe oppose
Against the King, and giues him blowes for blowes,
VVho now confesseth with an angry frowne,
His Riuall, not vnworthy of the Crowne.

The younger Stanley then no longer staid,
The Earle in danger needs his present aide,
VVhich he performes as sudden as the light,
His comming turnes the ballance of the fight.

So threatning clouds, whose fall the ploughmen feare,
Which long vpon the mountaines top appeare,
Dissolue at last, and vapours then distill
To watry showres that all the valleys fill.
The first that saw this dreadfull storme arise,
VVas Catesby, who to Richard loudly cries,
No way but swift retreate your life to saue,
It is no shame with wings t'auiode the graue.
This said, he trembling turnes himselfe to flie,
And dares not stay, to heare the Kings replie,
VVho scorning his aduice, as foule and base,
Returnes this answer with a wrathfull face,
Let cowards trust their horses nimble feete,
And in their course with new destruction meete,
Gaine thou some houres to draw thy fearefull breath:
To me ignoble flight is worse then death.
But at th' approach of Stanleyes fresh supply,
The Kings side droopes: so gen'rous Horses lie
Vnapt to stirre, or make their courage knowne,
Which vnder cruell Masters sinke and grone.
There at his Princes foote stout Ratcliffe dies,
Not fearing, but despairing, Louell flies
For he shall after end his weary life
In not so faire, but yet as bold a strife.
The King maintaines the fight, though left alone:
For Henries life he faine would change his owne,
And as a Lionesse, which compast round
VVith troopes of men, receiues a smarting wound

By some bold hand, though hinder'd and opprest
With other speares, yet slighting all the rest,
Will follow him alone that wrong'd her first:
So Richard pressing with reuengefull thirst,
Admits no shape, but Richmonds to his eye,
And would in triumph on his carcase die:
But that great God, to whom all creatures yeeld,
Protects his seruant with a heau'nly shield,
His pow'r, in which the Earle securely trusts,
Rebates the blowes, and falsifies the thrusts.
The King growes weary, and begins to faint,
It grieues him that his foes perceiue the taint:
Some strike him, that till then durst not come neare,
With weight and number they to ground him beare,
Where trampled down, and hew'd with many sword
He softly vtter'd these his dying words,
Now strength no longer Fortune can withstand,
I perish in the Center of my Land.
His hand he then with wreathes of grasse infolds,
And bites the earth, which he so strictly holds,
As if he would haue borne it with him hence,
So loth he was to lose his rights pretence.

FINIS