Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,

And we are graced with wreaths of victory.

But in the midst of this bright-shining day,

I spy a black, suspicious, threat’ning cloud

That will encounter with our glorious sun

Ere he attain his easeful western bed.

I mean, my lords, those powers that the Queen

Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast

And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

A little gale will soon disperse that cloud

And blow it to the source from whence it came;

Thy very beams will dry those vapours up,

For every cloud engenders not a storm.

The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong,

And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her.

If she have time to breathe, be well assured

Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

We are advertised by our loving friends

That they do hold their course toward Tewkesbury.

We, having now the best at Barnet field,

Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;

And, as we march, our strength will be augmented

In every county as we go along.

Strike up the drum! cry “Courage!” and away.