III defeated 75,000 French under Philip VI.
About 30,000 of the French army were slain.]

[Footnote 7: The great-grandfather of Henry V was Edward III, the hero
of the early part of the Hundred Years' War.]

[Footnote 8: The lily, or fleur-de-lis, is the national flower of
France. _Lopped the French lilies_ is a poetical way of saying _defeated
the French._]

[Illustration: "VICTOR I WILL REMAIN"]

The Duke of York so dread
The eager vaward[9] led;
With the main Henry sped,
Amongst his henchmen.
Excester had the rear,--
A braver man not there:
O Lord! how hot they were
On the false Frenchmen!

[Footnote 9: _Vaward_ is an old word for _vanward_, or _advance-guard._]

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 did the signal aim
To our hid forces;
When, from a meadow by,
Like a storm suddenly,
The English archery
Struck 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[10] 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.

[Footnote 10: _Bilboes_ is a poetical word for _swords_.]

This while our noble king,
His broadsword brandishing,
Down the French host did ding,[11]
As to o'erwhelm it;
And many a deep wound lent,
His arms with blood besprent,
And many a cruel dent
Bruised his helmet.

[Footnote 11: To _ding_ is to _strike_.]

Glo'ster, 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.

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[12