Stanza 253

The soyle with slaughter eu'ry where they load, Whilst the French stoutly to the English stood, The drops from eithers emptied veynes that flow'd, Where it was lately firme had made a flood: But heau'n that day to the braue English ow'd; The Sunne that rose in water, set in blood: Nothing but horrour to be look'd for there, And the stout Marshall vainely doth but feare.

[Stanza 254: The Marshall of France slaine.]

His Horse sore wounded whilst he went aside, To take another still that doth attend, A shaft which some too-lucky hand doth guide, Peircing his Gorget brought him to his end; Which when the proud Lord Falkonbridge espide, Thinking from thence to beare away his friend, Strucke from his Horse, with many a mortall wound, Is by the English nayled to the ground.