¶The cruel assault of Gods Fort.
By Edward the sixt, of England kyng,
A Fort was made gods truth to shield
In whose lyfe time / by good rulyng,
Both friend and soe to it dyd yelde.
But when for synne of hys owne flocke,
The Lord in wrath tooke him away:
Leauing the Fort to his next stocke /
The enmies then sought out theyr pray.
Then blew vp trūpets of Papists soūde
Souldiers to call / and wages gaue:
Come who so would / was armed rounde,
None they refusde, but drest them braue.
The field was pytcht of Papists part,
With corned caps, tippets, and gownes.
Theyr ordnaunce lay redy in cart,
To beat the fort of gods truth downe.
The generall Gardner / braue and stone
And Captaine Boner, marcht foorth amain,
Bourne with standerd, cryed out,
Al arme / al arme, our shauelinges traine.
The Auncient which that Bourne bare /
Were fierce wolues teeth, wt blood besprent
Fire and Fagot, whych did declare,
Their rauenous hartes to Christians ment.
Then doctour Martin, as clarke of army
With Doctour Story, the master Gonner:
These two in office, were as trusty,
As Gardner, Bourne / or byshop Bonner.
A cry was made, throughout the host:
With fire and hempe, all to destroy:
Where euer they were, in al the cost,
That dyd the Popes power seke to noye.
The Fort thus sieged on euery syde,
With crye so fierce, to kyll them all:
[...]te for feare durst not abyde,
But from Gods Fort to them dyd fall.
Then might ye heare the Canons rore /
Which Bourne and Watson falsely shot:
Yelde, yeld these cryde, from heretickes lore
Or batter we shal / both wall and fort.
No / no (quoth they within the Fort)
We yelde vs not Gods truth to stayne:
Though you destroy vs in this sort /
God shal our Fort / wyth force maintayne.
Wyth that they all the Fort wythin /
Wyth sighes and sobs to God out cryde:
Thou Lord of hostes, way not our synne,
But ayde thy flocke so wo betyde.
For though with sume, we causde this day
That our good king yu shouldst thus take:
Yet Lord with bitternes of soule we pray,
Strength vs against this firye lake.
This done they blowde a chereful blast,
Vnto the souldiers in the Fort:
Arme ye / arme ye, in all the hast,
Our enmies now to Fort resort.
The Auncient which was spred on wall,
Had a white Lambe, with red spots thicke:
And in gold letters were these wordes all,
Why do ye Sauls, against me kicke?
Forth came Rogers, Hooper & Sanders
Vpon the walles the Fort to fende:
We yelde not (said they) to such destroyers,
But fight we will vnto the ende.
To these Steuen Gardner, gaue onset,
And layde on lode, as wolfe on pray:
He tooke them prisoners, with his false net /
And sent them to the fire straightway.
Then Story the maister of the shot /
On Papists rampire braue and proude:
For spilling bloud he cared not,
Assault / assault he cryde aloude.
These were no sooner of the wall,
But vp lept Rydley and Latimer:
To rescue Gods fort, so nere to fall.
And did with force, the foes encounter.
And bishop Cranmer / though with gyle,
The enmies stole him from the Fort:
Yet boldly fought with them a whyle,
And folowed his mates, in lyke sort.
Then doctour Weston, at these out shot,
The pellets of Rome, and them did mayme:
So that away they passed not,
But were destroyed with fire and flame.
But Bradford then on wall vp lept,
And Philpot eke by hym did stand:
Cardmaker and Taylour also vp crept,
And these by truth dyd neytheyr band.
Bishop Boner, on these laide hand,
And to Smithfield sent them in hast:
But to the death / these did withstand,
And would not yeld to enmies blast.
Then blewe the Papists to assault,
And set a watch about the Fort:
Of knightes and yemen to finde some fault /
To make them yelde after this sort.
And sworen men in euery cost,
They did compell to watche and spye:
If any did resist their host /
They must present them for to dye.
The Fort with enmies laid round about,
And al the captaines so cruelly slaine:
The soldiours therof with courage stout,
Kept yet the walles with might and maine.
Now scale the walles (quoth Boner then)
Behold the captaines we haue slaine:
Ransacke the Fort / destroy all men /
Both wemen & children let none remaine,
Then scaling lathers were vp rearde,
And Iohn Auales on them with targe:
His knees had crosses because he fearde,
The steps wold breake and hang him large
Vp came Beard, by Vales his man /
Armed al round as dronkardes vse:
His head was closde, with goodale can /
And in his hand a Tauerners cruse.
But they in Fort / did with them play /
And cast them bribes, which made thē yelde,
They striuing who should haue the pray,
Fought one with other in their owne fielde.
Yet battred was this Fort full sore /
With vehement shot on Papists part:
The walles they bet styl more and more /
But yet the fortmen would not start.
Then pusshed the Papists wt their pikes,
The Hargabusses shot out amayne:
And dyms the ayre and many strikes /
Of them that did the Fort sustayne.
The Holberts and the Bowmen eke,
Came preasing toward the Fort with spede:
These were the rakehels that did seke,
To haue mens goodes playde Cains dede.
There might ye see the Fort about.
Great streames of bloode & bodies slayne.
The handes of al the host throughout,
With blood of Saints they did them staine.
In this assault the infants out cryde,
And eke their mothers as wydowes left,
To see theyr friendes before them dyde /
And al their goodes from them bereft.
Though thus the Fort, was almost gone,
By cruel assault of enmyes bolde:
Yet some within the Fort alone,
To God did crye / Lord keepe thy holde.
Thē God did send his slaue Death down
Into the Papists host among:
Which slew the chiefest in all the towne /
And greatest captaines in the throng.
By thys great stroke of mightie Ioue,
The vehement force of Papists fell:
And sent this Fort (which is hys Loue)
A godly captaine to keepe it well.
Which when in Fort she did appere /
And flag of truce spred in her hand:
Aloud she cried, cease nowe your yre /
And yelde to me right heyre of England:
Then scattred were the Papists host /
Their flags of fire to ground did fall.
Their flaming brandes which oft they tost,
Were clene out quentch at our Quenes call.
Crye was then made to God on hye /
Of al the souldiours in the Fort:
Oh praise the Lorde for victorye,
In helping vs after this sort.
Now yelde (they cried) our brethren dere,
Which haue against Gods truth so stoode:
Behold our Quene doth profer here,
To graunt ye peace to chaūge your moode.
Which if her clemencie you refuse /
And pleade not for your liues graunt:
The law of armes she must nedes vse /
On such as are to her repugnaunt.
Yelde, yelde therefore ye chiefe captaines
Example geue to all your host:
Or els wyll God reuenge with paines /
The bloud of those whom ye haue rost.
And all ye Christians of this England /
Your trumpets sound to Gods hie praise,
On Gods head set a Bay garland /
For your triumphe of all these fraies.
Yeld now your liues after such sort,
As God may not this Fort so plage.
Strength now your selues in this gods fort
That ye yelde no more to enmies rage.
So God wil spare vs our Quene long,
So God will make our land encrease:
So God wyl builde our fort so strong,
That no enmies dare to it prease.
To this say al right Christen men,
God saue our Quene. Amen. Amen.
[...]. [...] I. A.
¶Imprinted at London by Iohn Awdeley, dwelling by great S. Bartelmewes beyonde Aldersgate.