Analysis of Ode to the Cambro-Britons and their Harp, His Ballad of Agi

Michael Drayton 1563 (Hartshill) – 1631 (London)



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 Caux, the mouth of Seine,
   With all his martial train
       Landed King Harry.

And taking many a fort,
  Furnish'd in warlike sort,
  Marcheth towards Agincourt
      In happy hour;
  Skirmishing day by day
  With those that stopp'd his way,
  Where the French gen'ral lay
      With all his power.

Which, in his height of pride,
  King Henry to deride,
  His ransom to provide
      To the King sending;
  Which he neglects the while,
  As from a nation vile
  Yet with an angry smile
      Their fall portending.

And turning to his men
  Quoth our brave Henry then:
  "Though they to one be ten
      Be not amazed.
  Yet have we well begun:
  Battles so bravely won
  Have ever to the sun
      By Fame been raised!

"And for myself," quoth he,
  "This my full rest shall be:
  England ne'er mourn for me,
      Nor more esteem me;
  Victor I will remain,
  Or on this earth lie slain;
  Never shall she sustain
      Loss to redeem me!

"Poitiers and Cressy tell
  When most their pride did swell
  Under our swords they fell;
      No less our skill is
  Than when our grandsire great,
  Claiming the regal seat,
  By many a warlike feat
      Lopp'd the French lilies."

The Duke of York so dread
  The eager vaward led;
  With the main Henry sped
      Amongst his henchmen:
  Excester had the rear,
  A braver man not there
  O Lord, how hot they were
      On the false Frenchmen!

They now to fight are gone;
  Armour on armour shone;
  Drum now to drum did groan:
       To hear, was wonder;
  That, with cries they make,
  The very earth did shake;
  Trumpet to trumpet spake,
      Thunder to thunder.

Well it thine age became,
  O noble Erpingham,
  Which didst the signal aim
      To our hid forces;
  When, from a meadow by,
  Like a storm suddenly,
  The English archery
      Stuck the French horses

With Spanish yew so strong,
  Arrows a cloth-yard long,
  That like to serpents stung,
      Piercing the weather.
  None from his fellow starts,
  But playing manly parts,
  And like true English hearts
      Stuck close together.

When down their bows they threw,
  And forth their bilboes drew,
  And on the French they flew,
      Not one was tardy;
  Arms were from shoulders sent,
  Scalps to the teeth were rent,
  Down the French peasants went:
      Our men were hardy.

This while our noble King,
  His broad sword brandishing,
  Down the French host did ding,
      As to o'erwhelm it.
  And many a deep wound lent,
  His arms with blood besprent,
  And many a cruel dent
      Bruised his helmet.

Gloster, that duke so good,
  Next of the royal blood,
  For famous England stood
    With his brave brother.
 Clarence, in steel so bright,
 Though but a maiden knight,
 Yet in that furious fight
    Scarce such another!

Warwick in blood did wade,
 Oxford the foe invade,
 And cruel slaughter made,
    Still as they ran up.
 Suffolk his axe did ply;
 Beaumont and Willoughby
 Bare them right doughtily;
    Ferrers and Fanhope.

Upon Saint Crispin's Day
 Fought was this noble fray,
 Which fame did not delay
    To England to carry.
 O when shall English men
 With such acts fill a pen,
 Or England breed again
    Such a King Harry?


Scheme AAABCBCB DDDEFFFE GGGHIIIH JJJKLLLK BBBBCCCB MMMNXOOX PPPLXXEJ XQQERRRE SSSNTBBX UUXEVVVE WWWBXXXB HHHXXDXX YXYEZZZE 1 1 1 2 TBI2 FFFBJJJB
Poetic Form Tetractys  (26%)
Etheree  (25%)
Metre 110111 1110101 1111101 10110 110101 1101110 111101 10110 0101001 10011 10110 01010 100111 111111 10111 11110 101111 110101 110101 10110 110101 110101 111101 11010 010111 1101101 111111 1101 111101 101101 110101 1111 01111 111111 101111 11011 101101 111111 101101 11011 10101 111111 1010111 111011 111011 100101 110011 10110 011111 01011 101101 01110 1101 010111 111110 10110 111111 101101 111111 11110 11111 010111 101101 10110 111101 1101 110101 110110 11011 101100 010100 10110 110111 100111 111101 10010 111101 110101 011101 11010 111111 01111 010111 11110 101101 110101 101101 101010 1110101 111100 101111 1111 0100111 11111 0100101 1110 101111 110101 110101 11110 100111 110101 1011001 11010 100111 100101 010101 11111 101111 100100 1111 101 01111 111101 111101 110110 111101 111101 110101 10110
Closest metre Iambic trimeter
Characters 3,229
Words 552
Sentences 21
Stanzas 15
Stanza Lengths 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8
Lines Amount 120
Letters per line (avg) 20
Words per line (avg) 5
Letters per stanza (avg) 156
Words per stanza (avg) 37
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 21, 2023

2:47 min read
93

Michael Drayton

Michael Drayton was an English poet who came to prominence in the Elizabethan era. more…

All Michael Drayton poems | Michael Drayton Books

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    "Ode to the Cambro-Britons and their Harp, His Ballad of Agi" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Mar. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/28106/ode-to-the-cambro-britons-and-their-harp%2C-his-ballad-of-agi>.

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