By ninety-nine gods he swore,
That the bright belt of England
Should grace her sons no more.
By ninety-nine he swore it,
And named the ‘fisting’ day—
‘East and west and south and north,’
Said Richard Mayne, ‘ride forth, ride forth,
‘And summon mine array.’
‘Ride forth by heathy Hampshire,
Of “chalk-stream-studded” dells,