The Port of Mars: The Conquests of England

1419

In fields of Agincourt they bled;
The castles fell like harvest wheat.
From Henry's wrath the Frenchmen fled,
And now in Frenchmen's fields they meet!

To Orleans the lions come,
They slash their teeth through flowers gold!
Nothing now holds Henry from
Great Orleans' walled stronghold.

Beauchamp sees the cross of white
In Scottish land, and marches forth.
England's men come out to smite
The Highlanders from the far north.

In Lothian Buchan Douglas stands,
That Scotsman rank and foul!
But Beuchamp's men put sword in hands,
And make those Scottish northmen howl!

In October, when the autumn's come,
The town of Orleans now falls,
Many Frenchmen stand there numb,
But Charles of France for vengance calls!

[English 1, Frenchmen 0. Tomorrow, more bad poetry!]

1420

The fort of Nevers now blockaded
Charles leads his men forward,
'Neath a flag all tattered, faded,
Man and horse with faces marr'd.

See where Henry stands and cries!
See where Gloucester waves his sword!
See where Frenchman, French horse dies!
See the field, Henry's just reward!

But behind, more of French advance,
And threaten fair Orleans town.
Henry shows them the Reaper's dance.
Ten thousand men are beaten down.

In March, more Frenchmen come to fight.
More French to die, is closer right!
King Henry's sword shines in the light,
And cleaves French helm with God-gave might.

As summer heat descends on Gaul,
Nevers falls to Henry's care.
Tremble, France, behold your fall:
For Paris the great now lies bare!


1421

Once again leaves grow full and green,
The spring brings news to France's men:
Woe to you! Have you now seen
That Paris on Seine did Henry win?

To the west now Henry rides,
Picardie claimed for English land.
And still, oh Glory, this long wars tides
Push France into great Henry's hand.


1422

Though siege is long, in winter's snow
Another province Henry takes.
Poor king Charles shall never know
What French victory here makes.

To Champagne Henry goes in force,
To take that rich land for his own,
From France he shall it divorce,
But is that I hear an English moan?

Henry King is wounded there!
And to his death he draws nigh.
Oh, shed your tears, tear out your hair:
For Henry, like all men, must die!

But he could leave to his young son,
Though Henry was but a babe newborn,
Two kingdoms, not merely the elder's one,
A gift I never in my life would scorn!

"August 30, 1422 : Henry V has died."
"September 11, 1422 : We captured the province of Champagne from France"
"September 11, 1422 : France accepted our generous peace offer."
"September 11, 1422 : France are now our vassals."

Zeno: Mine as well. Vive l'Angleterre!
Storey: I am of the same opinion.
legion: O ye of little faith...
Ambassa: Except I'm not English, I'm American.
Gajin: Actually, there was a haiku on Baden, and a poem AAR on the Timurids. Neither of them made it through 1820, either. I hope to make history with this AAR.
Draco: I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Farquharson: My sentiments exactly. Nice poetry there, by the way.

Sorry for all of you expecting an update here, but I'm not in a poetic mood today. I might be later on, though... we'll see.

[I don't know how long I'll be able to keep this up, but by God, I'm going to keep trying!]

1423-1427

Peace comes to Europe West
For the first time in a century.
God has granted the country best
Glorious, wondrous victory!

To the Scots returns their king,
From his prison damp and bare
With his mind set on one thing:
Revenge on those who put him there!

Henry's uncles argue this:
Who shall rule o'er the child?
Thankfully, a fortunate miss
Makes the argument quite mild.
"October 19, 1425 : Political Crisis happened to us."


1428

War comes again in twenty-eight
To Provence Charles' French armies ride.
But Scotland also makes their fate.
They will not from the English hide!

As Beauchamp's men go to Northumberland,
The people of York make displeasure known.
The army must use a rough hand,
To keep the violent peasants down.

The Scots sail to Dublin,
And surround that Irish fort,
While Beauchamp goes to Lothian
And English ships block the port.


1429*

"Who is Joan-of-Arc", you say?
The one who showed Charles the way
To clear France's "tarnished name,"
And here is why he said not "Nay:"

"Why does France still bow and kneel?
Why do we lie 'neath English heel,
Accept our lot like cagéd birds,
Who ne'er the winds of freedom feel?"

Charles, moved, sent Joan along,
With men who could barely hum a song.
She was captured outside Orleans,
and to Hell the English helped her along!

"So end that peasant," Charles said.
"She had wrong thoughts within her head.
Now she goes to where she belongs:
A permanent, well-deservéd bed."**

The war in Scotland continues now.
One or the other to their foe must bow!
Who shall win in this contest?
I shall tell you later; that is my vow!
__________
*Note the change in rhyme scheme. I like AABA better, though it's a bit harder.
**France heeds the advice of Joan of Arc--and remains good vassals. Since the real Charles didn't like Joan either...