Ceas'd was the Thunder, of those Drummes which wak'd

Ceas'd was the Thunder, of those Drummes which wak'd Th'affrighted French their miseries to view, At Edwards name, which to that houre still quak'd, Their Salique Tables to the ground that threw, Yet were the English courages not slak'd, But the same Bowes, and the same Blades they drew, With the same Armes, those weapons to aduance, Which lately lopt the Flower de liz of France.