Classic Poem

A conference among ourselves we called,
Of officers and captains all yfere,
For truth (to tell) the soldiers were appalled,
And when we asked, "Now mates, what merry cheer?'
Their answer was: "It is no biding here.'
So that perforce we must from thence be gone,
Unless we meant to keep the place alone.

Herewith we thought that if in time we went,
Before all straits were stopped and taken up,
We might perhaps our enemies prevent,
And teach them eke to taste of sorrow's cup:
At Maesland Sluyse, we hopèd for to sup,
A place whereas we might good service do,
To keep them out which took it after too.

Whiles thus we talk, a messenger behold,
From Alphen came, and told us heavy news.
"Captains,' quoth he, "Hereof you may be bold,
Not one poor soul of all your fellows' crews
Can scape alive, they have no choice to choose:
They sent me thus to bid you shift in time,
Else look like them to stick in Spanish lime.'

This tale once told, none other speech prevailed,
But pack and trudge, all leisure was too long,
To mend the mart, our watch (which never failed)
Descried our foes which marchèd all along,
And towards us began in haste to throng,
So that before our last could pass the port,
The foremost foes were now within the Fort.

I promised once and did perform it too,
To bide therein as long as any would,
What booted that? or what could captains do,
When common sort would tarry for no good?
To speak a truth, the good did what they could,
To keep the bad in ranks and good array,
But labour lost to hold that will away.

It needless were to tell what deeds were done,
Nor who did best, nor who did worst that day,
Nor who made head, nor who began to run,
Nor in retreat what chief was last alway,
But soldier-like we held our enemies' play:
And every captain strove to do his best,
To stay his own and so to stay the rest.

In this retire three English miles we trod,
With face to foes and shot as thick as hail,
Of whose choice men full fifty souls and odd,
We laid on ground, this is withouten fail,
Yet of our own, we lost but three by tale:
Our foes themselves confessed they bought full dear
The hot pursuit which they attempted there.

Thus came we late at last to Leyden walls,
Too late, too soon, and so may we well say,
For notwithstanding all our cries and calls,
They shut their gates and turned their ears away:
In fine they did forsake us every way,
And bade us shift to save ourselves apace,
For unto them were fond to trust for grace.

They neither gave us meat to feed upon,
Nor drink, nor powder, pickaxe, tool, nor spade,
So might we starve, like misers woebegone,
And fend our foes, with blows of English blade,
For shot was shrunk, and shift could none be made:
Yea more than this, we stood in open field,
Without defence from shot ourselves to shield.

This thus well weighed, when weary night was past,
And day gan peep, we heard the Spanish drums,
Which struck a march about us round to cast,
And forth withall their ensigns quickly comes,
At sight whereof, our soldiers but their thumbs:
For well they wist it was no boot to fly,
And biding there, there was no boot but die.

So that we sent a drum to summon talk,
And came to parley middle way between.
Monsieur de Licques and Mario did walk
From foemen's side, and from our side were seen
Myself, that match for Mario might been,
And Captain Sheffield born of noble race,
To match de Licques, which there was chief in place.

Thus met we talked, and stood upon our toes,
With great demands whom little might content,
We craved not only freedom from our foes,
But shipping eke with sails and all full bent,
To come again from whence we first were went:
I mean to come, into our English coast,
Which soil was sure, and might content us most.

An old-said saw, and oft seen, that whereas
Thou comest to crave, and doubts for to obtain,
Iniquum pete (then) ut aequum feras,
This had I heard, and sure I was full fain
To prove what profit we thereby might gain:
But at the last when time was stolen away,
We were full glad to play another play.

We rendered then with safety for our lives,
Our ensigns 'splayed, and managing our arms,
With further faith, that from all kinds of gives,
Our soldiers should remain withouten harms:
And sooth to say, these were no false alarms,
For why? they were within twelve days discharged,
And sent away from prison quite enlarged.

They were sent home, and we remainèd still,
In prison pent, but yet right gently used,
To take our lives, it was not Licques' will,
(That noble blood, which never man abused,)
Nor ever yet was for his faith accused.
Would God I had the skill to write his praise,
Which lent me comfort in my doleful days.

We bode behind, four months or little less,
But whereupon that God he knows not I,
Yet if I might be bold to give a guess,
Then would I say it was for to espy
What ransom we would pay contentedly;
Or else to know how much we were esteemed,
In England here, and for what men ydeemed.

Howso it were, at last we were despatched,
And home we came as children come from school,
As glad as fish which were but lately catched,
And straight again were cast into the pool;
For by my fay I count him but a fool,
Which would not rather poorly live at large,
Than rest in prison fed with costly charge.

Now I have told a tedious tale in rhyme,
Of my mishaps, and what ill luck I had,
Yet some may say, that all too loud I chime,
Since that in wars my fortune was not bad,
And many a man in prison would be glad
To fare no worse, and lodge no worse than we,
And eke at last to scape and go so free.