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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| 6. | PART THE SIXTH.
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 | A Metrical History of England |  |
6. PART THE SIXTH.
From the Death of Richard II. to the Accession of the House of York.
CONTENTS.
Henry IV.—Henry V.—Battle of Agincourt, and Conquest of France—Henry VI.—The Maid of Orleans—Red and Wkite Roses—Jack Cade—Accession of the House of York.
HOUSE of LANCASTER.
“Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head.”
“The banished Bolingbroke repeal'd himself;
“Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
“Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,
“With slow but stately pace kept on his course,
“While all tongues cried, God save thee, Bolingbroke,
“Jesu preserve thee, welcome Bolingbroke;
“Whilst he from the one side to the other turning,
“Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck.”
“I dress'd myself in such humility
“That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
“Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
“Even as the presence of the crowned king.”
“—Heaven knows
“By what paths and crooked ways
“I met this crown; and I myself know well
“How troublesome it sat upon my head.
“And I had many living to upbraid
“My gain of it, by their assistance,
“And by whose power I well might lodge or fear
“To be again displaced: which to avoid,
“I cut them off.”
Shakespeare.
HENRY THE FOURTH.
SURNAMED OF BOLINGBROKE.
Q.Under what colour, or pretended claim,
Did Bolingbroke aspire to Richard's Throne?
A.
Edward the third's fourth son, who bore the name
Of John of Gaunt, as Henry's sire was known.
Q.
What claimant else look'd upward to the crown?
A.
One whose more just pretensions were put down
By Henry's friends,—young Mortimer the heir
Of Clarence, Edward's second son,—more fair
His title: but in Henry's hand was power,
Which brow beats Justice to this very hour.
Q.
What troubles shaded Henry's prosp'rous star?
A.
A scene of foreign and of civil war;
And tho' he conquered each domestic foe,
'Twas Henry's lot to find new troubles grow;
From these o'ercome, as poets sing of yore,
That Hydra Heads, when crop'd, encreas'd the more.
Whose tyranny but grew with his success.
Religion too excites mistaken ire,
And martyr'd Lollards feed the bigots fire;
“Henry the Cruel” was the name obtain'd
From blood of subjects almost daily drain'd.
Q.
What foreign powers join with mighty foes,
The right and reign of Henry to oppose?
A.
The Scotch; bold Douglas leads a hardy band,
To aid young Percy of Northumberland
In Mortimer's behalf,—their efforts meet
In frequent fields, succession of defeat.
The Douglas yields , the Percy breathless lies:
And Scotland's Prince becomes the Victor's prize.
What nations else co-operation bring,
To join with those who hate the reigning king?
A.
The French assist the fiery chiefs of Wales,
Whose enterprize, like that related, fails;
Glen dower's fortune seems at first to soar,
Aided by stormy blasts, and thunder's roar,
So strangely that the lustre of his arms
Is dimm'd by a belief that magic charms
Enabled him to lull his foes to sleep,
And “conjure spirits from the vasty deep.”
Q.
Against the King what else attempted France?
A.
In Guienne with some success their arms advance,
At Calais too the chance of war they tried;
But Henry's arts the gallic chiefs divide,
Distract their councils, keep their force at bay,
'Till “Divide and Imp'ra” wins the day.
Was he not with paternal cares opprest?
A.
The conduct of his son disturbed his rest;
The Prince forgetful of his rank and worth,
Associates with men of slightest worth,
Unblushing leads their vulgar sports by day,
And, rendered by their nightly revels gay,
“Hot with the Tuscan grape and high in blood,”
'Tis said with robbers leagued he rashly stood,
And here might we “in jocund strains recite,
The prurient “humours of the braggart knight; ”
But one Will Shakespeare having told the tale,
We should but make a shrimp of Billy's whale.
The Prince who thus his dignity could stain,
Had power lost reputation to regain;
And “revocare gradus” firmly tried,
'Till, from its scorn, he shone a nation's pride;
“Redeeming time” he'd let too long stand still.
Q
Or did the Monarch feel, or seem to feel,
Against the infidels “most christian” zeal?
A.
Yes, and no more of foes at home afraid,
He meant to undertake a grand crusade;
For some false prophet ventured to divine,
He should expire in holy Palestine,
And expiating sins and folly's past,
Jerusalem should see him breathe his last.
Q.
And did it?
A.
Yes; and yet the prophet err'd,
For this Jerusalem, as we have heard,
Was but a room so called, where Henry's breath,
Cut short by leprosy, was closed in death.
Q.
What men of eminence his reign adorn?
A.
With English science 'twas but early morn;
William of Wickham, Chaucer, Master Gower,
Sir Robert Knolles, of valiant knights the flower;
The famed Sir Richard Whittington, Lord Mayor,
Of whom each 'prentice has the story pat,
Of London bells, cross cook maids, and a cat.
Q.
Did not the King, who ow'd it most protection,
Oft' violate the freedom of election?
A.
Most shamefully, and Sheriffs were required
But to return what men the Court desired;
Who, acquiescing with obsequious bow,
Projected taxes, high as they are now.
The rich the taxes wou'd'nt pay,
The poor the taxes cou'd'nt pay;
And middle ranks might rightly say,
(As sang a poet of that day):
“Est igitur notum, Cater-tray solvere totum.”
We add James Petit Andrew's imitation:
“Says Size Cinque I sha'n't:
“So poor Cater-tray
“The whole sum must pay.”
Thomas Badby, a Worcestershire tailor, burnt in Smithfield for denying the corporeal presence in the sacramental bread, was one of the first English martyrs. The young Prince Henry twice ordered him to be taken from the stake, and a pardon and a pension were offered him; but he persisted, and died in the maintenance of his opinion.
Earl Douglas had before been taken prisoner, at the battle of Holmedon, where, enraged at the havoc made by the English archers, (according to Walsingham) he rushed forward, accompanied by eighty men of rank, to disperse that formidable corps; but was wounded in five places, and made prisoner. After his liberation, he again led the Scots at the battle of Worcester, where he broke through the English ranks, and slew three persons dress'd like Henry. At length he fled, and having fallen down and wounded himself in a strange manner, was taken. The Prince of Wales, hitherto not an estimable character, fought bravely, and though wounded in the face, would not quit the field: the King, too, is said to have performed prodigies of valour, and to have slain thirty-six rebels with his own hand.
The Prince had the imprudence to appear in Court, to countenance one of his offending associates, and actually struck the Judge on the Bench: but, as instantly ashamed of his conduct, submitted to go to prison. The King was equally pleased with the firmness of the Judge, (Gascoigne) and the obedience of his Son; who afterwards hearing his Father suspected him of measures to disturb the public peace, went to Court to acquit himself, in a kind of allegorical habit, which has never been accounted for.—“He was apparelled in a gown of blue satin, full of oilet holes; at every hole, the needle hanging by a silk thread with which it was sewed.”
Gower; a specimen from whom is given under Richard II. died in 1402.
Chaucer addresses him, “O! moral Gower! &c, &c.”
James I. of Scotland thus speaks of him and Chaucer;
“Unto Impnis of my maisteris dere“Gower and Chaucer, on the steps they sate
“Of rhetorike, whyle they were lyvande here,
“Superlative as Poets-Laureatte.
“In moralitie and eloquence ornate.”
Whittington founded an Hospital, made many charitable bequests, and rebuilt Newgate, where the statue of his Cat, according to Pennant, accompanied his own.
Mrs. Brookes.
Nor took himself, but gave to Heav'n, the praise!
Tickel.
“Soon did he shake his head, and say that all was wrong!
“Then, streams of radiance mark'd his destin'd way;
“Where'er he trod the magic gleams appear;
“His burnish'd breast-plate sparkled on the day,
“And glory's harp still roll'd along his ear.”
Leigh Hunt's Palace of Pleasure.
“Oh! not to-day! Think not upon the fault
“My father made in compassing the crown.
“I Richard's body have interred new,
“And on it have bestowed more contrite tears,
“Than from it issued forced drops of blood.
“Five hundred poor have I in yearly pay,
“Who, twice a day, their wither'd hands hold up
“To Heav'n, to pardon blood!—And I have built
“Two chauntries, where the sad and solemn priests
“Sing still for Richard's soul!
Shakespeare.
“To thump the French, poor creatures, to excess,
“Tho' Britons now-a-day show more compassion,
“And thump them, certainly, a great deal less.
“Of York's pale blossoms had usurp'd the right,
“As wine drives nature out of drunkards' noses,
“'Till red, triumphantly, eclipses white
“In Harry's reign.—But let me to my song,
“Or, good King Harry's reign may seem too long.”
George Colman, the Younger.
HENRY V. surnamed of MONMOUTH.
E're the succeeding Prince with ardour burn'd
To pay obedience to a sire's behest,
And keep the nobles from reflective rest.
To stigmatise the life he lately led,
Young Henry bade his former friends draw near,
And on his own, as on their faults severe;
Taking an ample share of serious blame,
Pointed the better path to honest fame,
Admonish'd, gave the means, their lives to mend—
Yet promised only further to befriend,
When merit justly claiming his regard,
By reformation led, should seek reward.
And served his father with unyielding truth,
But found his thoughtless race of error run;
Advancement on their former zeal attends,
And all are hailed as counsellors and friends.
But chiefly him whose bold and upright mind
(To all distinction, in his duty, blind,)
Maintain'd the honor of his master's place,
Nor would permit a prince the law disgrace
Without reproof; his ancient sovereign then
Proclaim'd himself most blest of royal men.
In such a son who feared to disobey,
Or rather, who, for disobedience shown,
Submitted gracefully his fault to own,
Confess'd himself inferior to the laws,
And turn'd past censure to deserv'd applause.
Proposing France and England should be friends,
A league of lasting amity might bind;
But then, for dowry, 'tis demanded, France
Two million crowns, prompt payment, should advance;
With an old debt of near two million more,
As King John's ransom, bargained for before.
Then Normandy and other lands beside,
Were woo'd with much more ardor than the bride.
France offers Harry, and I think no slight,
A wife, eight hundred thousand crowns, with right
Of Sovereignty in Guienne, and to be Lord
Of Rouerne, Saintongue, Aug'more, Perigord;
But Henry ready with a numerous fleet,
Refused, for less than what he ask'd to treat.
There be some cunning folks to think inclined,
The King had pretty well made up his mind,
From terms on purpose framed to be refused;
Whether such policy suit ill or well
With honest dealing, is not mine to tell,
My task but gives in brief the Sovereign's acts,
'Tis your's to make due inference from facts.
That Charles the Dauphin, slighting Henry's youth,
A tun of tennis balls in gibe sent o'er,
As suited to the life Hal led before;
But all historians of respected name
The verity of such an act disclaim;
France at all time, from circumstances, was far
From wishing ought that might provoke a war.
And France is threaten'd with our hottest ire;
When treason midst an host of knightly peers,
Close to the King's her felon banner rears,
Lord Scrope, Earl Cambridge, and Sir Thomas Grey,
Conspire (supposed with March,) to take away
As sudden as unlook'd for, steps between
The plot and execution, treason fails,
The traitors fall, and gallant Henry sails.
Give note our English hero comes.
Prepares for Calais, when 'tis found
That France, collecting all her boast
Of rank and valour, line the coast,
And with proud threat the British band surround.
And to retrace his steps; the French deny;
The English Chief has but one project more,
To beat his four-fold enemy or die.
And Poictiers too.—Shades of the slain ne'er scoff,
Let your bright blades assist to mend my pen,
Or Agincourt will come most tamely off.
Had sold the English as they did before,
Lost ev'ry purchase, cou'dn't save their bacon,
And got, to clench the nail, one drubbing more.
Their gilded herald asked our iron King
His army's safety, and his own to buy;
Harry thrice answer'd he'd do no such thing,
And his applauding troops with shouts reply.
On any terms, so pitied us the beating
Intended for us, they'd no heart to give it,
And (Memory of the deed will long out-live it!)
The kind compassionating well-bred elves,
Were good enough to take it on themselves;
In two words, never was a day so dashing,
Nor ever did Mounseer get such a thrashing.
Or, a-la-modern French, the dust did bite;
Archbishop Sens, and Constable of France,
Fall also victims to the English lance.
With Boucicaut, and Richemonte on the field,
Of fourteen thousand captives swell the train,
Who mourn at least ten thousand comrades slain!
The Duke of York, brave Suffolk, and as few
As thirty more, if chronicles speak true,
Were all who fell on conquering Harry's side;
Among them Davy Gam, of Wales the pride,
Who being ask'd how many were the foe?
Answered, “Hur did not quite exactly know:
“But this hur poldly wou'd peg leave to say,
“There wou'd pe found enough upon that day,
“To die, be taken, or to run away.”
Yet this great victory, like those of yore,
At Cressy and Poictiers, produced no more
Than reputation,—Henry made a pause,
In which his foes recruit their sinking cause.
Gaining alone the honor of that day;
While in succession to dissentions rude,
A two years truce the adverse Kings conclude.
And “civil dudgeon” foreign wars succeeds;
Henry returns and joins King Charles—poor elf,
To fight against the Dauphin for himself;
Wins lower Normandy, each claim renews
That France erst did, but dare not now refuse,
Proving our sacred Master's lesson good,
“No kingdom self-divided ever stood.”
Thus Henry strength from Charles's weakness gains,
And each ambitious wish with ease obtains;
Kate's hand endowed with treasure, province, town,
And the reversion of the Gallic crown,
(Which came in time, for he had pawn'd his own.)
When England is of France decreed the heir;
The Dauphin, scorning to resign his right,
Subdues and is subdued, in frequent fight.
Henry to reinforce his troops comes over,
And levies bands which rendezvous at Dover;
Mean time the Scots, by gallant Buchan led,
Against us in the Dauphin's cause make head;
For England royal Clarence heads the strife,
And loses, in a brother's cause, his life.
Dorset and Somerset, of English lords,
With Huntingdon, resign their captive swords,
When Henry with his new-raised force arrives,
To 'venge his brother's and his warriors' lives,
And well retrieved what late our arms disgraced.
Scarce had his conquering sword this laurel won,
'Ere Catherine presents him with a son;
His glory and success attain their height,
When death converts his brilliant day to night.
Were doom'd the fires of bigotry to feel;
And good Lord Cobham, for opinion's sake,
With other martyrs suffered at the stake.
Few other incidents to tell remain,
The visit of an Emp'ror graced this reign;
Three Popes at once assume St. Peter's Chair,
And-Seven Dolphins swam to Greenwich fair!!!
Somewhat of Chaucer “doth in him appear;”
And it were well, perhaps, you think for me,
To take good note by “hys humiletie;”
Thro' which fair veil a spark of genius shines,
As is “set forth” in these “his pythie lines.”
“Of Bury, call'd John Lydgate by my name,
“And wear a habit of perfection,
“Altho' my life agree not with the same;
“That meddle should with things spiritual,
“As I must needs confess unto you all.”
“At his commands whom I could not refuse,
“I humbly do beseech all those that read,
“Or leisure have this story to peruse,
“If any fault therein they find to be,
“Or error that committed is by me,
“The rather to correct, and mend the same,
“Than rashly to condemn it with disdain;
“For well I wot, it is not without blame,
“Because I know the verse therein is wrong,
“As being some too short, and some too long.”
Who for his “mayster” Chaucer's loss doth grieve:
“But well awaye so is myne hert'e wo',
“That the honour of English tongue is dede,
“Of which I wont was han cousel rede!
“O, mayster dere, and fader reverent!
“My mayster Chaucer, flowre of eloquence!
“What eyled Deth? alas! why wode he sle' the?
“O Deth thou didst no harm singuliere,
“In slaughter of him, both all the land it smarteth;
“But nathless yt hast thou no power,
“His name to sle,” &c, &c.
“He was not only anxious to repair his own misconduct. but also to make amends for those iniquities into which his father had been betrayed. He expressed the deepest sorrow at the fate of the unhappy Richard; performed his funeral obsequies with pomp and solemnity; and cherished all who had been attached to him.” Hume.
He was, perhaps, the first English Monarch who had ships of his own; two were called the King's Chamber, and the King's Hall; they had purple sails, and were large and beautiful; there were also the Trinitie, the Grace de Dieu, the Holy Ghost, and many more which now be lost. Vide J. P. Andrews.
With the English Army there was only one Surgeon, who, says Rymer's Fædera, had engaged to find fifteen more; three of whom were to act as Archers.
“The King had been rescued by Davy Gam, and two others, right valiant Welchmen, Roger Vaughan and Walter Lloyd, of Brecknock, who were knighted as they lay bleeding to death.” Monstrelet.
The revenues of the Government, and the grants of Parliament, were so inadequate to Henry's expensive armies and expeditions, that he was forced to pawn his crown to his uncle, Cardinal Beaufort, for a large sum; and certain jewels to the Lord Mayor of London, for ten thousand marks; he was also obliged to pledge two gold chased basons, weighing together 28lb. 80z. to two Canons of Saint Paul's, for six hundred marks; and two golden shells to the Dean of Lincoln, for one hundred more.—The cost of his army was great: each Knight received 20s. per diem; a 'Squire, 10s. and each Archer, 5s—Besides which, he had a costly band of music, among which were ten clarions, which played an hour, night and morning, before his tent. Bertrand De Moleville, J.P. Andrews, Rymer's Fædera, Monstrelet, &c.
In the battle of Bareges, where a Knight, wounded the Duke of Clarence in the face, and the mace of Lord Buchan deprived him of his life.
“Benedict, Gregory, and John, the Council of Constance, sate to terminate this schism. Henry sent nine English prelates thither; one of whom, Richard Clifford, Bishop of London, was the first nominated by the Council to be Pope, and the first nominated him that succeeded, which was Otho Colonna, by the name of Martin the Fifth.” Medulla Historiæ Anclicanæ.
In the third year of Henry's Reign, four of them were taken; they made their appearance in the Thames on Candlemas day, but author finding that date no rhyme to “St. Peter's Chair,” took the liberty of treating the said Dolphins with an Easter or Whitsuntide peep at the grand gala of the London 'prentices.
Shakespeare.
“They hate to mingle in the filthy fray,
“Where the soul sours, and gradual rancour grows
“Imbittered more from peevish day to day.”
Thomson.
“Doom'd for his grandsire's guilt, poor Henry falls
“In civil jars, avenging judgment blows
“And royal wrongs, entail a people's woes;
“Henry unversed in wiles, more good than great,
“Drew on by meekness his disastrous fate.”
Savage.
Shakespeare.
Lee.
HENRY VI. surnamed OF WINDSOR.
Whose baby sceptre ruled a brace of thrones;
At Westminster and Paris, crown'd in both,
His subjects take the customary oath.
Sits loose, his English sceptre beaten down
By party and rebellious civil war,
He proves the splendor of a falling star!
During the infant Sovereign's tender years;
Bedford in France not destin'd long to stay,
In Henry's name supports the English sway.
The Dauphin, (who when meaning to be merry,
The English styled “the little King of Berry,”)
Still of his birthright kept encreasing hold,
Nor let his, surely just, pretence take cold.
And now to help him with most wond'rous aid,
From fields obscure, darts forth a village maid;
A shepherdess—her story you may mark,
Told wond'rously in “Southey's Joan of Arc;”
So well indeed—the Imp of Envy fetch it!
That I'm afraid in outline but to sketch it.
Has an historian now, who cannot write;
She's to be pitied, but unless I err,
The loss is more to me, than 'twas to her:
Well, be it so, whether I win or lose,
The tale I'll tell, and tell it how I chuse.
“About this time, at the siege of Orleans, fell the Earl of Salisbury by a cannon shot, being the first English gentleman ever slain thereby.” Camden.
JOAN of ARC.
A Tragedye fulle of Merrie Conceites.
Some a conjuror misname her;
And swear she by the Dauphin had
A little—but why here defame her?
Enemies I dare assure ye;
And she's no subject well I wis,
For trial by an English Jury.
At men of France,—could kill and eat 'em;
Yet contrived, I can't tell how,
To let a French young woman beat 'em.
Had nor learning, name, nor riches;
Yet did wonders, to be sure,
As ladies will who wear the breeches.
She by the Dauphin's friends was taught
To play her pretty patriotic part;
Well, if she was,
She own'd, that's poz,
Uncommon skill, and most consummate art.
Yet nightly visited, she said,
By visions, and by angel sights;
Which told her where, if she'd a mind,
A rare and rusty sword to find,
With power to put the English folks to rights.
She sent to William De la Pole,
Or, by the guardian pow'rs of France,
She swore to make his people dance,
And bang his body like a sack.
But Joan would speak her mind you know;
And, I know too, a shepherd wench is,
(Whether she English girl or French is),
Not sheepish when conversing with a foe.
Something she must have said, which form derides,
For De la pole
Thought it so droll,
He laugh'd enough to split his Suffolk sides.
But when his armour she began to batter,
The chief declared 'twas no such laughing matter;
Nor knew by what ill-natured names to christen her,
When, spite of his broad sword, she took him pris'ner.
Talbot, and Hungerford, Rampstone, and Scales,
Fretted like hottest gentlemen of Wales
The French ascribed the power of a God
To sturdy Joan, while Englishmen less civil,
Declared such treatment was the very Devil.
And thro' her valour Charles, it seems,
Was crown'd the Sovereign of France at Rheims
When by her brilliant star forsook,
A knight of Burgundy o'ercame poor Joan,
Sent her in irons to be tried at Roan.
Where can I without shame relate it?
Wicked transaction! how I hate it!
Soldiers and nobles, gentlemen of note,
Prelates,—the story's sticking in my throat,
A mean trap laid,
To catch the maid
And, foul befal the chiefs that so could harm her!
To all their everlasting shames,
(I burst to call them fifty names,)
Condemn'd the gallant damsel to the flames.
And was this most unmanly action done
Merely for putting martial harness on?
No, 'twas mere spite, one sees it in a minute,
Because she had most soundly thrash'd 'em in it.
French authors say she never slept in camp without two of her brothers to guard her; nor in a town without some female, of exemplary character, to bear her company.
Suffolk was taken by Renaud, a French gentleman, whom he first knighted before he would surrender to him.
The Regent, in his letter to the King and Council, speaks of Joan as a Disciple and Lymme of the Fiende that used fals Enchauntments and Sorcerie, the which strocke and discomfiture not onlie lessed in grete Pertie the nombre of youre people there, bote as well withdrowe the courage of the reminant in mervellous wyse.” Rymer's Fædera.
After the coronation, she embraced the King's knees, and with tears extorted by pleasure and tenderness, congratulated him in this singular and marvellous event.” Hume.
Each day we gain'd a foe or lost a friend;
Each day our gallic fortune met reverse,
And bad news only came to herald worse.
King Henry some time after this got married,
A match which gave his subjects little pleasure,
For all his wishes, save the Queen, miscarried,
And folks grew discontented out of measure.
The people laid the good Duke Humphrey's death;
His nephew Beaufort 'twere as just to deem
An agent too,—his constant wrangling strife,
Embitter'd the deceased protector's life.
Beaufort not long survived, at it should seem
And left, sans sign of grace, this world's unequal dream.
Affairs in France proceed as ill as ever,
Normandy, Gascony, their interests sever;
While Somerset in France is losing ground,
At home dissentions and distrust abound.
The Duke of York that flame 'gins light,
Which, fed by Roses red and white,
Produced to hundreds, then unborn,
Many a sharp and burning thorn;
Suffolk is banished; on his way a friend
Of York's, turn'd pirate, as 'tis said,
Makes Suffolk shorter by the head.
When the Dauphin, after being crowned, was advised to demolish the Regent's decent monument of black marble, “Let him repose”, said the generous monarch, “in peace, and be thankful that he does repose; were he awake, he would make the stoutest among us tremble.”
Cardinal Beaufort had been a Bishop fifty years; he left an illegitimate daughter, and founded the Abbey of Saint Cross, at Winton; as Legate from Rome, and as an ambitious meddling Priest, he was universally dreaded. He survived his uncle, the good Duke, whom he had greatly persecuted, but a few days.
Soon after having been seized by the Queen's party on a charge of treason, he was found dead in his bed. His wife Eleanor had been ignominiously punished on a charge of sorcery, and was not permitted to enjoy her jointure after her husband's death. The Duke has the credit of having founded the Bodliean Library.
“Lord of Misrule,” comes famed Jack Cade;
And thus the essence of his doctrine ran,
And, thus inscribed, his standard graced the van:
“When Adam delv'd,
“And Eve span,
“Who was then
“A Gentleman?”
With Johnny decent dress or education
Were 'clep'd high treason 'gainst the nation;
And every mortal that could read or spell,
By axe or halter swang or fell.
For taking peoples nobs off, Jack took pride in:
Yet changed his tone,
Just as his own
Was going to be cropp'd by Mister Iden;
Was, by King Henry, dubb'd Sir Alexander.
“Now am I master of London.” said Cade, striking his staff upon London-stone. He had been a dependant on Sir Thomas Dacre, in Sussex, and lately returned from France, whither he had fled in consequence of having murdered a woman and her child. Rymer.
And we lose Talbot and the valiant Lisle:
Now York and Lancaster with fury glow,
And Roses, red and white, alternate blow.
York heads St. Alban's battle, and the King,
Wounded, defeated, and in rebel hands,
Begins, as Avon's swan doth sweetly sing,
To envy peasants on his humblest lands.
The Duke of York protector they create,
And on a thread depends King Henry's fate;
Next year the new protector is displaced,
And Henry, once more, with dominion graced:
Now mark a strange reverse, the Frenchmen land
At Sandwich, fifteen thousand from their band
In Devonshire and Cornwal too, to make
Reprisals on old England they begin,
And unprotected spoil they burn or take;
Thus have we war without, and war within.
York, at Bloreheath, in sanguinary fight,
Depress'd the red rose, to exalt the white;
At Ludlow battle Henry's fortune led,
To crush the white and elevate the red;
A fatal field to Harry and his reign.
When treacherous Ruthyn, most disloyal Grey,
Deserting, changed the fortune of the day,
The King again is prisoner, and the crown
Decreed to pass to York's descendants down;
But martial Margaret, on Wakefield's plains,
Her husband's honor manfully regains;
York, late triumphant, fierce defeat appals,
And crimsoned o'er, “the white rose leader falls.”
Edward his son his better fortune tries,
And fickle vict'ry from Henry flies;
The Queen again essays the doubtful field,
And now once more the white rose banners yield.
This second battle of St. Alban's fought,
Redeem'd the captive King, but still it brought
No true advantage:—London chose to name
Edward of York their Sovereign, he came:
The shadow only of poor Hal remain'd,
Who from this time in substance never reigned.
After events which Edward's life will tell,
By crooked Gloucester's sword King Henry fell.
Foil'd by his friends, and governed by his wife;
The last a foible you may often see
In other folks besides him, you, or me.
Eaton and Cambridge each a College owe
To Henry's bounty. Of no man the foe,
Unless it were himself, He deemed each woe
He suffered here, correction kindly sent
From Heaven, in lieu of future punishment,
A gracious earnest given to insure
Him bliss, where bliss can only long endure.
Queen Margaret founded Queen's College, Cambridge; Archbishop Chicheley, All Souls and Bernard's College, Oxon; and Wainfleet, Bishop of Winchester, founded Magdalen College there.
To a Ruffian who struck him in the face, while prisoner, he only said, “Forsooth you do wrong to strike your anointed King;” and when some ladies appeared at a masque with their necks apparelled too much like our modern fashion, he exclaimed with characteristic simplicity, “Fie, fie, for shame—in sooth you are to blame.”
| A Metrical History of England | |