Oh, when shall English men With such acts fill a pen, Or England breed again Such a King Harry?

Victor I will remain Or on this earth lie slain, Never shall she sustain Loss to redeem me.

Yet have we well begun, Battles so bravely won Have ever to the sun By fame been raised.

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,…