A Metrical History of England Or, Recollections, in Rhyme, Of some of the most prominent Features in our National Chronology, from the Landing of Julius Caesar to the Commencement of the Regency, in 1812. In Two Volumes ... By Thomas Dibdin |
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HENRY THE THIRD. |
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 | A Metrical History of England |  |
HENRY THE THIRD.
Howe'er historians may our Henry blame,
Mercy was ever blended with his name,
Nor should his foibles in our memory live,
Who knew his worst opposers to forgive;
Humane, indulgent, (haply to a fault,)
Tho' wanting energy when cares assault,
Henry of Winchester, an instance brings,
Of “Mercy throned in the hearts of Kings.”
Mercy was ever blended with his name,
Nor should his foibles in our memory live,
Who knew his worst opposers to forgive;
Humane, indulgent, (haply to a fault,)
Tho' wanting energy when cares assault,
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Of “Mercy throned in the hearts of Kings.”
Eleven years, no more, the Prince had known,
When Pembroke's aid secured him England's throne:
The gallant Regent, Lord of Lincoln fight,
Asserted Henry's, and the kingdom's right;
Compell'd French Louis to depart the land,
And held 'till death, the reins with equal hand.
When Pembroke's aid secured him England's throne:
The gallant Regent, Lord of Lincoln fight,
Asserted Henry's, and the kingdom's right;
Compell'd French Louis to depart the land,
And held 'till death, the reins with equal hand.
Hubert de Burgh and Winchester combined,
Rule Albion, one in pow'r, but two in mind;
Each Regent disapproves the other's act,
And jarring counsels the young Prince distract:
The Prelate Winchester is first displaced,
Restored, and Hubert in his turn disgraced.
Successless war with France the state alarms,
And a new Pembroke calls the land to arms;
Against the King, his rebel sword he tries,
Fortune first smiles, deserts him, and he dies;
And, Winchester a second time expell'd,
The people's discontents are somewhat quell'd.
Rule Albion, one in pow'r, but two in mind;
Each Regent disapproves the other's act,
And jarring counsels the young Prince distract:
The Prelate Winchester is first displaced,
Restored, and Hubert in his turn disgraced.
Successless war with France the state alarms,
And a new Pembroke calls the land to arms;
Against the King, his rebel sword he tries,
Fortune first smiles, deserts him, and he dies;
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The people's discontents are somewhat quell'd.
Not long in quiet did the realm remain,
The flames of evil warfare rage again;
The Sov'reign, whether wisely, or misled,
Fair Eleanor of Provence having wed,
The Barons, jealous of her former friends,
Relume the brand, which far and wide extends;
Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, heads
The martial Nobles, and their army leads;
Aw'd by their active union, Henry signs
The Oxford statutes, and his pow'r resigns
To a Conservative Commission; framed
One half by him, the rest the Barons named;
Again, ill reconciled, the crown and Peers
Are foes, and Civil Broil her standard rears
At Lewes; Henry and each haughty Lord
“Refer decision to the sharpest sword.”
The King, his brother, son, and nephew, ta'en,
Submit to Montfort, and his Barons reign;
We know not if the end what means they tried
May sanction, but it cannot be denied,
To Leicester and his friends, our nation owes
The source whence all her independence flows,
The Commons' Senate, and the People's Voice.
Long may it's fabric rest upon their choice,
And by it's Freedom tell the nations round,
Safety alone with Liberty is found.
The fate of war, capricious, now ordains
That Edward, Henry's son, shall break his chains;
A third intestine feud at E'sham vale,
Sees Montfort fall, and Henry's son prevail;
Young Leicester's and De Gourdon's prompt defeat,
And Gloucester's fall, submission now compleat
The fame of Edward; and his father's life
Closes unchecquer'd by succeeding strife;
Yet not a Chief of those subdued,
With blood the vengeful axe imbued;
Nor scarce a subject died, as records tell,
Save those who in the sanguine contest fell.
The flames of evil warfare rage again;
The Sov'reign, whether wisely, or misled,
Fair Eleanor of Provence having wed,
The Barons, jealous of her former friends,
Relume the brand, which far and wide extends;
Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, heads
The martial Nobles, and their army leads;
Aw'd by their active union, Henry signs
The Oxford statutes, and his pow'r resigns
To a Conservative Commission; framed
One half by him, the rest the Barons named;
Again, ill reconciled, the crown and Peers
Are foes, and Civil Broil her standard rears
At Lewes; Henry and each haughty Lord
“Refer decision to the sharpest sword.”
The King, his brother, son, and nephew, ta'en,
Submit to Montfort, and his Barons reign;
We know not if the end what means they tried
May sanction, but it cannot be denied,
To Leicester and his friends, our nation owes
The source whence all her independence flows,
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Long may it's fabric rest upon their choice,
And by it's Freedom tell the nations round,
Safety alone with Liberty is found.
The fate of war, capricious, now ordains
That Edward, Henry's son, shall break his chains;
A third intestine feud at E'sham vale,
Sees Montfort fall, and Henry's son prevail;
Young Leicester's and De Gourdon's prompt defeat,
And Gloucester's fall, submission now compleat
The fame of Edward; and his father's life
Closes unchecquer'd by succeeding strife;
Yet not a Chief of those subdued,
With blood the vengeful axe imbued;
Nor scarce a subject died, as records tell,
Save those who in the sanguine contest fell.
The kingdom in peace, we're by chronicles told,
With the fame that young Edward acquired
“To Palestine hasten'd the hero so bold,”
In whose absence King Henry expired.
And thus the longest reign in Britain ended—
The present cou'd our warmth of wish extend it
In length, as glory should exceed it far,
And peace, and plenty, cure the ills of war.
These times, 'tis said, old Mathew Paris graced,
Among respectable historians placed,
And those who love worn out poetic lays,
May read two specimens of Henry's days.
With the fame that young Edward acquired
“To Palestine hasten'd the hero so bold,”
In whose absence King Henry expired.
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The present cou'd our warmth of wish extend it
In length, as glory should exceed it far,
And peace, and plenty, cure the ills of war.
These times, 'tis said, old Mathew Paris graced,
Among respectable historians placed,
And those who love worn out poetic lays,
May read two specimens of Henry's days.
| A Metrical History of England | |