Classic Poem

Ye buds of Brutus' land, couragious youths, now play your parts;
Unto your tackle stand, abide the brunt with valiant hearts.
For newes is carried to and fro, that we must forth to warfare goe:
Men muster now in euery place, and souldiers are prest forth apace,
Faynt not, spend bloud, to doe your Queen and countrey good:
Fayre words, good pay, will make men cast al care away.

The time of Warre is come, prepare your corslet, speare, and shield,
Methinks I heare the drumme, strike doleful marches to the field;
Tantara, tantara, the trumpets sound, which makes our hearts with joy abound.
The roring guns are heard afar, and everything denounceth Warre.
Serve God, stand stoute, bold courage brings this geare about;
Feare not, forth run; faint heart, faire lady never wonne.

Yee curious carpet knights, that spende the time in sport and play;
Abrode, and see new sights, your countrie's cause cals you away;
Doe not to make your ladies game, bring blemish to your worthy name,
Away to field and win renoune, with courage beat your enimies down:
Stoute hearts gain praise, when dastards sayle in Slaunder's seas;
Hap what hap shal, we sure shal die but once for all.

Alarme methinkes they cry. Be packing, mates; begone with speed;
Our foes are very nigh; shame haue that man that shrinks at need;
Unto it boldly let vs stand, God wil geue right the vpper hand.
Our cause is good, we need not doubt; in signe of courage geue a showt.
March forth, be strong, good hap wil come ere it be long.
Shrinke not, fight well, for lusty lads must beare the bell.

All you that wil shun euil, must dwell in warfare euery day;
The world, the flesh, and diuil, alwayes doe seeke our soules decay,
Striue with these foes with all your might, so shal you fight a worthy fight.
That conquest doth deserue most praise, wher vice do yeeld to vertue's wayes.
Beat down foule sin, a worthy crown then shal ye win;
If ye liue wel, in heauen with Christ our soules shal dwell.