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“ * She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, “ That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled Mate,
+ From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs “ The scourge of Heav'n. What Terrors round him
" wait! “ Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, “ And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
II. 2. Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, “ Low on his funeral couch he lies! “ No pitying heart, no eye, afford “A te ar to grace his obsequies. “ Is the sable & Warrior fled?
Thy son is gone. He rests among the Dead. “ The Swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born: “ Gone to salute the rising Morn. “ Fair || laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, “While proudly riding o'er the azure realm “ In gallant trim the gilded Vessel goes; “ Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
* Isabel of France, Edward the Second's adulterous Queen. + Triumphs of Edward the Third in France.
| Death of that King, abandoned by his Children, and even robbed in his last moments by his Courtiers and his Mistress.
$ Edward, the Black Prince, dead sometime before his Father.
|| Magnificence of Richard the Second's reign. See Froissard, and other contemporary Writers.
Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway,
“ * Fill high the sparkling bowl,
* Richard the Second, (as we are told by Archbishop Scroop and the confederate Lords in their manifesto, by Thomas of Walsingham, and all the older Writers) was starved to death. The story of his assassination by Sir Piers, of Exon, is of much later date. + Ruinous civil wars of York and Lancaster.
Henry the Sixth, George Duke of Clarence, Edward the Fifth, Richard Duke of York, &c. believed to be murdered secretly in the Tower of London, The oldest part of that structure is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar.
§ Margaret of Anjou, a woman of heroic spirit, who struggled hard to save her Husband and her Crown.
|| Henry the Firth,
“ And spare the meek * Usurper's holy head. “ Above, below, the rose of snow, “ Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread: “ The bristled Boar in infant-gore “ Wallows beneath the thorny shade. “Now, Brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom,
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
“ Edward, lo! to sudden fate
Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
They melt, they vanish from my eyes. • But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
* Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the Crown.
+ The white and red roses, devices of York and Lancaster.
1 The silver Boar was the badge of Richard the Third; whence he was usually known, in his own time, by the name of the Boar.
$ Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her Lord is well known. The monuments of his regret, and sorrow for the loss of her, are still to be seen at Northampton, Geddington, Waltham, and other places.
• Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll? • Visions of glory, spare my aching'sight, • Ye unborn Ages, crowd not on my soul! No more our long-lost * Arthur we bewail. All-hail, tye genuine Kings, Britannia's Issue, hail.
• Girt with many a Baron bold
Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.
It was the common belief of the Welch nation, that King Arthur was still alive in Fairy-Land, and should return again to reign over Britain.
† Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied, that the Welch should regain their sovereignty over this island; which seemed to be accomplished in the House of Tudor.
Speed, relating an audience given by Queen Elizabeth to Paul Dzialinski, Ambassador of Poland, says, “ And thus she, lionlike rising, daunted the malapert Orator no less with her stately port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princelie checkes.”
• Hear from the grave, great Taliessin *, hear; • They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. • Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.
The verse adorn again • Fierce war, and faithful Love, * And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest. • In + buskin’d measures move * Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, With Horror, Tyrant of the throbbing breast. A Ivoice as of the Cherub-Choir, Gales from blooming Eden bear;
And distant warblings lessen on my ear, • That lost in long futurity expire. * Fond impious Man, think’st thou yon sanguine cloud, * Rais’d by thy breath, has quench'd the Orb of day? • To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,
And warms the nations with redoubled ray. • Enough for me: With joy I see
* Taliessin, Chief of the Bards, flourished in the sixth Century. His works are still preserved, and his memory held in high veneration among his Countrymen.
+ Shakespeare. | Milton.