A Legend of Poictiers

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated.1876 Excerpt: ... But England's sons are well repaid The toilsome hours they've borne. Down through the lane with vines begirt Dashed the assault of France, And bore upon their waiting ranks With many a pennoned lance. But on the Frenchmen's van and flanks From 'midst the vines flew forth In barbed terror, on their ranks, The shower of England's wrath. Undauntedly the foe came on A hundred times and more, A hundred times Old England's arm Drove back their weary war; And cheerily the bowmen true Their bloody pastime plied, Till Edward saw the time was ripe, And with loud voice he cried: Advance the banners of St. George, The leopards and their might, Now all good Saints be with the cause, And God defend the right I For God with King and Country! then From earnest lips resounded; St. George for merry England! back In glad re-echo bounded. Then as December's ice-heaps crush The skiff that stops their way, As in the Archer's chilly month Hounds dash upon their prey, So on King Jean's disordered throng The avalanche came down, That swept away the hosts of France, And France's monarch's crown. The eldest son of France was first To turn and leave the field, And blot his father's royal name With his own sullied shield. But his young brother by the flag Beside his father dared The terrors of that stubborn fiyht, And with his father shared The captive's fate that eventide Brought, when the fainting King, Fainting in body, not in heart, Fell in the bloody ring That, ever since the noontide heat Glared o'er the panting field, Had closed around the fleurs-de-lys, And fought, and scorned to yield. De Veulle all through th' impatient morn Had waited with the Prince, and borne Unloved restraint. But when at last, In answer to the trumpets' blast, The men-at-arms moved towards the fron...