Michael Drayton (1563 – 1631)
English poet who came to prominence in the Elizabethan era.
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Oh, when shall English men
With such acts fill a pen,
Or England breed again
Such a King Harry?
Yet have we well begun,
Battles so bravely won
Have ever to the sun
By fame been raisëd.
For that fine madness still he did retain
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.
Fair stood the wind for France,
When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance,
Longer will tarry;
But putting to the main
At Kaux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train,
Landed King Harry.
Had in him those brave translunary things
That the first poets had.
Victor I will remain
Or on this earth lie slain,
Never shall she sustain
Loss to redeem me.
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou might’st him yet recover.
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part.
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