en," said the king laughing,
"and that pleases me more than to wish us one more. God be with you
all."

[Sidenote: A.D. 1415.]

So they went into battle tired as they were. The brave English let loose
such a shower of arrows that, as at Crecy, the white feathers of the
arrows filled the air like snow, and the French fled before them.

The Earl of Suffolk was wounded, and as he lay dying, the Duke of York,
his great friend, wounded to death, dragged himself to Suffolk's side
and took him by the beard and kissed his wounds, and cried aloud--

"Tarry, dear Cousin Suffolk,
My soul shall keep thine company to heaven.
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in our chivalry."

[Illustration]

Then he turned to the king's uncle, the Duke of Exeter, and took his
hand and said: "Dear my lord, commend my service to my sovereign."

Then he put his two arms round Suffolk's neck, and the two friends died
together. But the battle was won.

Peace was made with France, and to seal the peace Henry married the
French princess, Katherine. A little son was born to them at Windsor,
and was called Henry of Windsor, Prince of Wales; he was afterwards
Henry the Sixth. When Henry the Fifth knew he was going to die, he
called his brothers together and gave them good advice about ruling
England and France, and begged them to take great care of his little
son. Henry the Sixth was not a year old when his father died, and he was
crowned at once.

One of the finest English poems we have, was written about the Battle of
Agincourt.

I.

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.

II.

And turning to his men,
Quoth our brave Harry then,
Though they be one to ten,
Be not amazed.
Yet have we well begun;
Battles so bravely won
Have ever to the sun
By fame been raised.

III.

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 thi