Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
20 Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
[♦] Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
In thy despite shall ’scape mortality.
[♦] O thou, whose wounds become hard-favour’d death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!
[25] Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no;
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.
Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should say,
Had death been French, then death had died to-day.