Well it thine age became, Oh noble Erpingham, Which didst the signal aim To our hid forces; When from a meadow by, Like a storm suddenly, The English archery Struck the French horses. With Spanish yew so strong, Arrows a cloth-yard long, That like to serpents stung, Piercing the weather; – 摘自迈克尔·德雷顿 阿金库尔战役叙事诗
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