ANONYMOUS - In Fields Abroad


In fields abroad, where Trumpets shrill do sound,

where glaves and shields do give and take the knocks,

where bodies dead do overspread the ground:

and friends to foes, are common butcher’s blocks,

A gallant shot well managing his piece,

in my conceit deserves a golden fleece.

Amid the seas, a gallant ship set out,

wherein nor men nor yet munitions lacks,

in greatest winds that spareth not a cloud,

but cuts the waves in spite of weathers’ wracks,

would force a swain that comes of coward’s kind,

to change himself and be of noble mind.

Who makes his seat a stately stamping stead,

whose neighs and plays are princely to behold,

whose courage stout, whose eyes are fiery red,

whose joints well knit, whose harness all of gold,

doth well deserve to be no meaner thing

than Persian knight whose horse made him a king.

By that beside where sits a gallant Dame,

who casteth of her brave and rich attire,

whose petticoat sets forth as fair a frame,

as mortal men or gods can well desire,

who sits and sees her petticote unlaced,

I say no more, the rest is all disgraced.