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To back and guard the archer band,
Lord Dacre's bill-men were at hand;
A hardy race, on Irthing bred,
With kirtles white, and crosses red,
Arrayed beneath the banner tall,
That streamed o'er Acre's conquered wall;
And minstrels, as they marched in order,
Played "Noble Lord Dacre, he dwells on the Border."

XV.
Behind the English bill and bow,
The mercenaries, firm and slow,
 Moved on to fight, in dark array,
By Conrad led of Wolfenstein,
Who brought the band from distant Rhine,
 And sold their blood for foreign pay.
The camp their home, their law the sword,
They knew no country, owned no lord;
They were not armed like England's sons,
But bore the levin-darting guns;