Of vigil, march, and combat rude,
Valour, and toil, and fortitude!
E’en while youth’s earliest blushes threw
Warm o’er that cheek their vivid hue,
His gallant soul, his stripling form,
Had braved the battle’s rudest storm;
When England’s conquering archers stood,
And dyed thy plain, Poitiers! with blood,
When shiver’d axe, and cloven shield,
And shatter’d helmet, strew’d the field,