Deo gracias, Anglia, Redde pro victoria
Oure kinge went forth to Normandy With grace and might of chivalry. Ther God for him wrought mervelusly: Wherefore Englonde may calle and cry.
Deo gracias, Anglia, Redde pro victoria
He sette a sege, the soothe for to say, To Harflu towne with ryal array. That towne he wan and made affray That Fraunce shall riwe till Domesday.
Deo gracias, Anglia, Redde pro victoria
Than went oure kinge with all ehis hoste Thorwe Fraunce, for alle the Frenshe boste: He spared, no dred, of lest ne moste, Till he came to Agincourt coste.
Deo gracias, Anglia, Redde pro victoria
Than, forsoth, that knight comely In Agincourt feld he faught manly. Thorw grace of God most mighty He had bothe the felde and the victory.
Deo gracias, Anglia, Redde pro victoria
There dukis and earlis, lorde and barone, Where take and slaine, and that well sone, And summe were ladde into Lundone With joye and merthe and grete renone.
Deo gracias, Anglia, Redde pro victoria
Now gracious God he save oure kinge, His peple and alle his well-willinge: Yef him gode life and gode ending, That we with merthe mowe safely singe,
Deo gracias, Anglia, Redde pro victoria
From pages 69-70, The Norton anthology of poetry.
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