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Summoning

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Summoning

Night Fell Behind

Then mounte! Then mounte, brave gallants, all,
And don your helmes amaine：
Deathes couriers, fame and honor, call
Us to the field again.

No shrewish tears shall fill our eye
When the sword hilts in our hand,
Heart-whole well part and no white sighe
For the fairest of the land;

Let piping swaine, and craven wight,
Thus wheepe and puling crye
Our business is life men to fight,
And hero life to die!