And there vpon an hill, Anne Beame by name,
I downe did pight my standerd, and fast by
My campe in martiall order I did frame:
Richmond fast by vs on the plaine did lie,
Next morne the chance of battell for to trie:
For it was euening ere we could attaine
To meete each other vpon Bosworth plaine.
67.
The sad night’s cold forerunner Vesper faire,
Dispreades her golden lockes in easterne skie: