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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 | A Metrical History of England |  |
8. PART THE EIGHTH.
From the Accession of Henry VIII. to the Union of England and Scotland, under the title of Great Britain.
CONTENTS.
Henry VIII.—Cardinal Wolsey.—Edward VI.—Mary I— Religious Persecutions.—Elizabeth.—Defeat of the Spanisk Armada.—Accession of James I.
Collins's Chapter of Kings.
“For the dignity of the whole body.”
Shakespeare.
“That carnal minds strive but vainly
“Aboon this lower world to mount,
“While slaves to Satan.”
Allan Ramsay.
“When royal favour, as an ebbing sea,
“Like a leviathan, his grandeur left,
“His gasping grandeur—naked on the sand!”
Young.
HENRY THE EIGHTH.
Insatiable licentiousness and guilt,
So share this monarch, we can ne'er decide
On what one vice his ruling wish was built.
The treasure of those minions doomed to die,
Who found, as sings the bard we most admire,
“It is but squeezing sponges and they dry”
At Guisnes, where France and England met
In dazzling panoply of gold,
Three days of pleasure cost whole years of debt.
Two made good women, losing each a head;
One happier, tho' unhappy wife,
Died, giving our sixth Edward life.
And Harry meant, no doubt, his last
Should share the fate of consorts past;
But that the arrogantly cruel elf,
Met with a little accident between
His plan and execution,—for I ween—
He died himself.
Fool, like myself, his highness wrote a book;
And when Pope Leo read it, no one knew
Which most was to be pitied of the two.
Leo, who for a critic, was quite tender,
Dubb'd Henry, for his work, the “faith's defender;”
Hal in return, which was not quite so civil,
Defied alike the Popedom and the Devil.
(Who, that knows aught of genius, knows him not?)
Feel ye not yet the exquisite delight,
With which ye read his tale of Flodden fight?
Where Surrey triumph'd in bluff Harry's reign,
Then who shall dare attempt the theme again?
“Like the flowers of the forest wou'd wither away.”
What sounds of merriment assail the ear?
What glitt'ring mass of mingled church and state?
And see, the master of the feast appear,—
'Tis Wolsey, thoughtless of his future fate!
Like a red meteor we behold him soar,
Extinguish'd now he falls to rise no more.
Of Dunstan, Becket, Wolsey, having read,
I think it may with safety thus be said:—
Their masters and the people have misled;
The first in monkish cruelty surpast,
The next in arrogance, in both the last;
To make a third she joined the other two.
Foe to idolatry, religion's friend;
By your command the cloister'd coffers drain'd;
With ingrate bitterness you turn your back,
And leave poor Cromwell to his foes attack.
How more than fleeting, popular acclaim;
The nation's idol and the King's delight,
A felon's death resigns to endless night.
Dares friendship with the virtuous fall'n own
Cromwell had clung to Wolsey 'till his end,
And Heaven repays him with as fast a friend.
Fed twice each day two hundred at his gate,
Was branded with imaginary crimes;
And learn, ye too secure, from genuine rhymes,
That fickle minds will change as change the times.
The place where Henry, and Francis I. of France met, was, from the unexampled and prodigal splendor of the two Courts, called “The Field of Cloth of Gold.”
The Reformation was said to be owing to a jest made by Sir Thomas Wyatt, who, when Henry was waiting for the Pope's assent to his divorce, said “Lord! that a man cannot repent him of his sins without leave from the Pope.” Thus Wyatt hinted, Cranmer opened, and the Universities made, the way to the Reformation. Vide “An Englishman's History of England.”
At this period an account was kept of the diabolical mischiefs perpetrated by the armies invading Scotland, with all the regulatity of a tradesman's ledger. The following was the sum total of the ravages from July to November, in 1544, as delivered in by the warden of the marches:—
Towns, towers, steeds, barnekyns, parish churches, bastel houses, cast down or burnt ......................... 192 Scots slain, ...................... 403 Prisoners taken, .................. 816 Nolt (horned cattle) taken, .......10,389 Sheep, ............................12,492 Nags and geldings, ................ 1,296 Goats, ............................ 200 Bolls of corn, .................... 850 By Lord Hertford's invasion into the counties of Berwick and Roxburgh only, and between the 8th and 23d of September, 1545, there were destroyed,— Monasteries and friar-houses, 7 Castles, towers, and piles, ....... 16 Market towns, ..................... 5 Villages, ......................... 243 Milnes, ........................... 13 Hospitals, ........................ 3
Haynes's State Papers apud Robertson.John Skelton, Poet Laureat to King Henry VIII. attacked Cardinal Wolsey without mercy, for his upstart insolence, and in his uncouth, but nervous doggrel, did his utmost to render him ridiculous, thus—
Of this gentile Jacke-breche;
Of what estate he be,
Of sp'ritual dignitie—
Nor duke of hye degree.
Nor marquis, earle, or lorde,
Which shrewdly doth accord:
That he, borne so base—
All nobles should outface;
His count'nance like a cayser,
My lord is not at layser.
Sir, ye must tarry astounde,
'Till better layser be founde;
Sir, ye must dance attendaunce,
And take pacient sufferaunce;
For my lorde's grace,
Has now, nor time, nor place,
To speak with you as yet.
And so they may sit, or flit,
Sit, or walk, or ride,
And his layser abide;
Perchance, half-a-yere,—
And yet be never the nere, &c.
Vide J. P. Andrew.
164 suppress'd monasteries, 90 colleges, 2374 chauntrys and chapels, and 110 hospitals produced a revenue of £161,100 to the crown: from which fund some additional colleges and professorships were given to the universities, and 6 new bishopricks were erected. The common people were much displeased with the stoppage of that hospitality the monks were used to exercise: there is an old ballad called “Truth and Ignorance,” the latter, who is represented as a rustic, says—
“Before the vriars went hence,
“A bushel of the best wheate,
“Was zold for vourteen-pence.
“And vorty egges a penny.
“That were both good and newe;
“And this, che say, myselfe have seene,
“And yet I am no Jewe.”
A newe Balade made of Thomas Crumwel, called, Trolle on Away.
Syng heaue and howe rombelowe trolle on awaye.
Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwel
Nowe that he is set to spell
Thou haddyst fayre tyme but thou lackydyst grace
Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace,
Thou lockyst them vp where no man wyst
Tyll in the Kynges treasoure suche thinges were myst
Thy marchaundyse sayled ouer the sands
Therefore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes
Perceyued myschefe kyndle in thy face
Then it was tyme to purchase the a place.
Mouyd with petye and made the hys seruyture
But thou as a wretche suche things dyd procure.
One God, one fayth, and one Kynge catholyke
For thou hast bene so longe a scysmatyke
But euer was full of iniquite
Wherefore all this lande hathe ben troubled with the
Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke
Wherfore nowe thou haste touchyd the quycke.
Thou woldest not suffre within thy walles
Nor let vs praye for chrysten soules.
Whyther of Chayme or Syschemell
Or else sente vs from the deuyll of hell
But couetyd euer to clymme to hye
And nowe haste thou trodden thy shoo awrye
Wherfore al Englande doth hate the as I suppose
Bycause thou wast false to the redolent rose
Upon thy gresy fullers stocke
Wherefore lay downe thy heade vpon this blocke
And for thy carcas care thou nought.
Let it suffre payne as hit hath wrought.
And Prynce Edwarde that goodly flowre.
With all hys Lordes of great honoure.
Heyue and how rombelowe trolle on awaye.
[“Blow, blow thou winter's wind]
“Thou art not so unkind
“As man's ingratitude.”
But they do honor to Sir Thomas More:
“When More some years had Chanc'lor been,
“No more suits did remain;
“The same shall never there be seen,
“'Till More be there again.
[Old probity, I mean Sir Thomas More]
Of manners artless, simple, yet not rude,
With Fisher, adds to victims named before.
Sir Thomas at the block with firmness spoke,
And dying virtue shrunk not from a joke.
For Henry's military power ne'er slept;
For which both Protestants and Romans bleed.
Barton, the visionary maid of Kent,
With many followers to the scaffold went.
At Cambridge, Trinity the monarch founded;
Wolsey gave Oxford Christchurch College,
And England's Court by learning was surrounded.
Well, dulce est desipere in loco.
And if you'll but allow nunc est ridendum,
I'll take my graver muscles and unbend 'em.
Suppose the fubsy monarch in his chair,
On former wives and sweethearts much intent,
On future wives and sweethearts sadly bent;
A retrospective amatory ditty;
Anachronasm marks the tune, 'tis true,
But if I find no fault, pray why should you?
He desired the Lieutenant of the Tower to see him safe up to the scaffold, and leave him, at coming down, to shift for himself.
“The King's persecution of the Lutherans was savage and inexorable:—at Coventry, six men and a woman were burnt for teaching their children the Lord's Prayer, Commandments, &c. in the vulgar tongue.” J.P. Andrews.
Chansonette de la Cour de Henri VIIIme.
REX CANIT.O dear what shall I do?
There's nobody coming to marry me,
There's nobody coming to woo.
I would'nt have minded a pin,
In wedlock with her to have tarried,
But she was too nearly a kin.
O dear what will become of me? &c.
She fixed it one night at a ball,
If you ask why I kill'd my poor Nancy,
'Twas because she was no kin at all.
O dear what will become of me? &c.
But a moment we scarcely were wed;
When Kate Howard another new flame,
By winning my heart lost her head.
O dear what will become of me? &c.
Is so very discreet yet so free;
That unless I can bury her first,
I'm afraid she'll live longer than me.
O dear what shall I do?
There's nobody coming to marry me,
Nobody coming to woo.
This Lady, whose “beauty raised her to a throne, and whose merit deserved two better husbands,” wrote and published many Psalms, Prayers, Pious Discourses, &c. “wherein,” says the Title page, “the mynde is stirred patiently to suffer all afflictions here, to set at nought the vaine prosperitee of this worlde, and always to long for the everlastynge felicitee.”—She also published several Letters; was not only learned, but a patroness of learning— interceding for, and saving, the University of Cambridge, when an Act passed to throw all Colleges into the King's disposal. Nicholas Udal, Master of Eton, in his time says “it was then a common thyng to see young virgins so nouzled and trained in the studie of letters, that they willingly set all other pastymes at nought for learning's sake.” Vide Catalogue of Royal Authors.
We do not imagine the following description could apply to any of the Wives of Henry: but it is given by Andrews as “an Example of the Quaint turn of the Times,” with respect to the Poetry of this Reign,
The Attentive Spouse .
Twelve sortes of mete my wife provides,And bates me not a dyshe;
Foure are of flesh, of fruite are foure,
The other foure of fyshe.
Wythe birds that daynties are,
And fyrst a quail, and next a rayle,
A bytterne, and a jarre.
With fyshe she makes it sharpe;
And brings me next a lampe, a poute,
A gugeon and a carpe.
Fyttinge well the seson;
A medlar and a hartichoke,
A crab and a smale reson.
Upon hir sholde not dote;
Who every day provides him fare,
That costes hym never a grote.
[“From Tuscane came my ladie's worthy race]
The following Sonnet and Ode are by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey an “Almost Classic Author,” celebrated by Drayton, Dryden, Fenton, and Pope, illustrated by his own muse, and lamented for his unhappy and unmerited death. Catalogue of Noble Authors
“Fair Florence was sometyme her auncient state;
“The western yle, whose pleasant shore doth face
“Wild Camber's cliffs, did geve her lively heate;
“Her sire an Earl; the dame of Prince's blood.
“From tender yeres in Britaine she doth rest,
“With Kinges childe, where she tasteth costly foode,
“Honsdon did first present her to mine yien,
“Bright is her hewe, and Geraldine she hight;
“Hampton me taught to wishe her first for mine,
“And Windsor, alas! doth chase me from her sight;
“Her beauty of kinde, her virtue from above,
“Happy is he that can obtain her love.
He was brought to the block in 1547, on pretence of using the Royal Arms, and proposing to marry the Lady Mary, Daughter of the King.
[“The soote]
“With grene hath clad the hill and eke the vale;
“The nightingale, with feathers new she sings,
“The turtle to her mate hath told her tale.
“The hart has hung his old hed on the pale;
“The buck, in brake, his winter coate he flings;
“The fishes flete with new repayred scale.
“The swallow swift pursueth the flies smale;
“The busy bee, her honey now she mings,
“Winter is worne, that was the flower's bale.
“Should set 'ere noon!
“To man, why, Stepdame Nature, so severe,
“Why thrown aside thy master-piece half wrought?”
Young.
EDWARD THE SIXTH.
Protector Somerset the power maintainedOf Sov'reign, when at first young Edward reigned;
The Scots, defeated on their native plains,
Of Pinkey House in sweetly plaintive strains,
Still sing and celbrate with patriot pride,
Their valiant chiefs who fought, and, fighting, died.
And, mourned by many, the Protector falls;
Now, with Northumbria's coronet elate,
Warwick, unconscious of approaching fate,
Rules the young monarch.—Edward's early doom,
Changes his crown already for a tomb.
Christchurch, Bartholomew, and Bridewell bear
A liberal witness of his fostering care;
Religion too began to own reform,
When the bright prospect, black'ning to a storm,
With Edward vanish'd quite; —and Mary came,
Mary, a blemish to the regal name,
Heir to her father's vice, without one jot
Of good, she came to cast a dark red blot
On British story ne'er to be forgot.
The war with the Scotch was intended to enforce a match between Edward and the young Queen Mary. On this occasion the Earl of Huntley said to Somerset, that “he disliked not the match, but hated the manner of wooing.”
The King compleated the endowments of these Hospitals a few days before his death, with £600 per Annum from the Savoy. Holingshed.
Edward was an Author; Holingshed says he wrote a most elegant Comedy, called the Whore of Babylon; of which, as of several other of his productions, Horace Walpole avers, “All the subjects were religious, all the conduct farcical.” Catalogue of Royal Authors.
The cost of his Household was, the first year, £49,187; the second, £46,902; the third, £46,100; the fourth, £100,578; the fifth, £62,863; the sixth, £65,923. Strype.
“The Poet wooes along sequestered grove.”
Leigh Hunt.
“Dejected pity by her side,
“Her soul-subduing voice applied,
“Yet still she kept her wild unaltered mien.”
Collins.
“Cælo invisa, meæ pestis atrox patriæ;
“Nulla aberat labes, nisi quod fuit addita custos
“Fida pudicitiæ, forma maligna meæ.”
Buchanan.
MARY THE FIRST.
Recoiling, closes quick its trembling leaves:
So shrinks the muse to sing her native land
Sway'd by remorseless bigotry.—It grieves
My inmost heart to read a mind so fell,
Found room in any British form to dwell;
And more it irks me still to think,
A sex which forms the intermediate link
'Twixt men and angels, e'er shou'd own
The blood-stain'd animal, whose throne,
For six disgraceful and polluted years,
Saw Superstition's fires, unquench'd by Virtue's tears.
Lo! where above your narrow, murd'rous pride,
Spirits ætherial soar, whose worth you dared despise;
See white-rob'd Latimer, by Cranmer's side,
Hooper and Ridley, leading martyrs blest,
Who feel, (could angels ever feel distrest,)
Sorrow that this our much-lov'd parent earth,
To souls so very mean as your's gave birth.
How senseless they in such an age of crimes?
We start to tumult at a patriot word,
And draw, and dare, for liberty, the sword.
They, for their God, saw dearest friends expire,
And trembling crouch'd around the impious fire;
Had modern souls illum'd their coward clay,
And turn'd their firelight into reason's day,
Goodness the flame of guilt had never fed,
But injured innocence, by justice led,
Had hurl'd each brand on the oppressor's head.
The wolf, sheep clad, by vengeance brought to quake,
Had found a gibbet where he placed a stake.
Tumult I hate, licentiousness detest;
Yet sure that nation which so much delights
In Magna Charta, and the Bill of Rights;
Who taught by sad experience Charles and James,
That Law and Freedom are no empty names;
Ought to have risen with the purest zeal,
And made unfeeling Superstition feel;
Driven Bigotry to native holes and caves,
Prevented Martyrs from untimely graves;
And thundered in the crosier'd butcher's ear,
That Mary and her Philip both might hear,
Britons are free, and never will be slaves!
Jane Grey, unfortunate, (and less to blame
Than they who, tempted by Ambition's shene,
O'erruled her to assume the regal name);
For their default who taught her to aspire,
Fell victim with her husband and his sire.
Saying he wish'd for such a wife,
Swearing he lov'd her more than life:
Not mentioning he loved—the English crown much better.
When landed on our coast, we're told,
He drew his sword with action bold;
Nor sheath'd it, even when Southampton's Mayor
At meeting knelt, and made an humble prayer,
That Philip wou'd assume the township's keys,
Who, without speaking, stood at ease;
Like a tired soldier after a review,
As if our condescension was his due.
Ah! little did the great Eliza think,
(Who then was peeping thro' some cloister'd chink),
How, at a future time, she'd give a banging
To that same Philip, who so proud,
Stood sword in hand among the crowd,
And heard with nonchalance the Mayor's haranging.
How Britain's wou'd, in days now come,
Oppose of Spain's worst foe the usurpation,
And list their patriots with an English drum.
By way of respite from my own humdrumming,
I'll give in couplets written at the time;
By which you'll know,
That years ago,
Politic reasons were express'd in rhyme.
The Duke of Northumberland was beheaded on Tower-hill, with Palmer and Gates, his associates. “The executioner,” writes a French Priest, “wore a white apron, and little children gathered up the blood which fell through the slits of the scaffold.” Voyages de Perlin.—Vide Andrews.
SAMPLES OF CLERICAL POETRY IN QUEEN MARY's REIGN.
Verses on the Marriage of Philip and Mary . BY WHITE, BISHOP OF LINCOLN.
The devil, that old enemy to mankind,Strives to prevent, tho' to it God's inclined,
That Mary, England's Queen, should join her hands,
To Spanish Philip, in hymeneal bands.
Against the match, with the dark prince of night,
The helpless Scots and timrous French unite,
Eight married fathers, void of heavenly grace,
John Dudley, Wyatt, and rebellious Kent,
With Gray conspired the marriage to prevent.
But that the nuptials should performed be,
Cæsar and Flanders vow'd, and Italy,
Catholic bishops, and with these comply
Five holy fathers, for their sanctity
In fetters bound; the senate of the nation,
And all true Catholics in ev'ry station;
Lords, Commons, learned, ignorant, and we,
'Cause God himself doth thereunto agree.
When Philip and Queen Mary shall be joined,
Their blood its wonted course shall run refined.
PARODY ON THE ABOVE, BY WAY OF ANSWER.
And England's glory be extirpated;
The devil wills, jointly with him agree
All Flanders, Italy, and Germany.
Of popish bishops,—five for impiety
In prison cast.—But God's extended arm
Kindly supports us, and averts the harm,
He nills the match, gives England liberty.
With him the warlike Scots and French agree,
Eight married in the Lord; and Dudley, you
Foreboding dismal things, the marriage view,
The sanate nills.—Brave Wyatt doth espoue,
With pious zeal, his country's injured cause;
With him Grey and the Kentish folks comply,
Either to gain their liberty or die!
Then say, what profits will the Spanish King,
Having wedded Mary, to the English bring?
[Altho' I am not tired of my task]
Yet you may be of reading, then take breath;
And suffer me with due respect to ask,
Wou'd'nt you rather quit this reign,
Of credit lost and tyrant gain,
To read the golden days of great Elizabeth.
That Mary chanced to die one day;
Who at her funeral did sigh and sob,
Not for the Queen whose breath did then forsake her,
But, for a brother tradesman got the job.
“By any other name” would charm the nose:
But Bonner's memory, I fear,
By no means e'er will charm the ear;
His name avails not tho' he turn it
To more appropriate Bishop Burnet;
Or should the badness of the pun amaze,
To make it worse let's call him Bishop Blaze.
“And fate itself her sov'reign pow'r obeyed,
“The wise Eliza, whose directing hand
“Had the great scale of Europe at command;
“And ruled a people that alike disdain,
“Or freedom's ease, or slav'ry's iron chain.”
Smollet's Voltaire.
Collins's Evening Brush.
“Et roseo Veneris fulget in ore decor;
“Adfuit Elizabeth—Juno perculsa refugit,
“Obstupuit Pallas, erubuitque Venus.
Poetry of the Times.
“In wit; tho' Venus vaunt her charms divine;—
“Behold Eliza comes—shamed Juno fled,
“For envy Venus blush'd, and Pallas hung her head.”
Imitated. Vide J. P. Andrews:
“Set out to invade a,
“Quite sure, if they ever came nigh land,
“They cou'd'nt do less
“Than hang up Queen Bess,
“And take their full swing in the Island.”
“Thought to make ducks and drakes
“Of our wealth, but they scarcely cou'd spy land
“Ere our Drake had the luck
“To make their pride duck,
“And stoop to the lads of the Island.”
ELIZABETH.
And bade the merry bells ring round,
While thousands shout to see her crowned?
Eliza.
And gain'd a name, with which to chime,
Perhaps you'll find a better rhyme
Than I, sir?
And cut his head off, (tho' with tears),
Of which, alive, she box'd the ears,
O fie, sir.
Whose suits, however back'd, miscarried;
And yet who doubts a maid she tarried?
Not I, sir.
On beef and beer, not toast and tea,
Whenever hungry they might be,
Or dry, sir?
Said Spain should seal cursed England's doom,
Cried, bless you, let their donships come
And try, sir?
Infusing valour in that host,
Which gave the proud Armada's boast
The lie, sir.
Swore that by G—she wou'd unfrock
A bishop,—and then give his flock
A wiser.
Or any terms too harsh to use,
(And here it costs my flippant muse
A sigh, sir).
Whose malice, cruelty, and spleen,
Doom'd Scotia's dear devoted Queen
To die, sir?
None but most able servants had,
For twice she'd never trust a bad
Adviser?
Could speak in Greek and Latin too,
More than at college ever knew
A sizer?
Who gave to merit power's staff?
(And merit she could see with half
An eye, sir.)
That blaze of art (which arms protect),
By Sidney, Raleigh, Cecil, deck't,
Might vie, sir?
Who first saw Shakespeare's genuine page,
Give truth and nature to the stage?
Eliza.
This mode of question here I drop;
And some of what my muse wou'd sing,
Shall be supplied by Dr. King,
Achieved, this reign, by navigation:—
“Eliza first the sable scene withdrew,
“And to the antient world displayed the new;
“When Burleigh at the helm of state was seen,
“The truest subject to the greatest Queen.
“The Indians, from the Spanish yoke made free,
“Blest the effects of English liberty;
“Drake round the world his sov'reign's honor spread,
“Thro' straits and gulphs immense her fame conveyed.
“Raleigh, with hopes of new discov'ries fir'd,
“And all the depths of human wit inspir'd,
“Mov'd o'er the western world in search of fame,
“Adding fresh glory to Eliza's name;
“Subdu'd new empires, that will records be,
“Immortal, of a Queen's Virginity.”
Britain's Palladuim.
When her Majesty was moved, she swore heartily, and was by no means sparing of her blows;—the history of the chastisements bestowed by her hand, from the first recorded when entering the Tower to certain death as she thought, she dashed her conductors offered cloak from her; to the last bitter shake she bestowed on the malicious Nottingham, including her menacing Sir James Nevil with her fist, when he surprised her playing on the virginals; the blows lavished on her maids of honour, and the box on the ear received by Essex, might afford amusement.—Mary Queen of Scots also accuses her of having beaten a Lady named Scudamore, so violently as to break her finger; and cutting another across the hand with a knife. Civil and Military History of England.
There is a curious letter of the Queen's written to a Bishop of Ely, and preserved in the register of that See; it is in these words:—“Proud Prelate, I understand you are backward in complying “with your agreement: but I would have you know, that “I who made you what you are can unmake you, and if you do “not forthwith fulfil your engagements, by God I will unfrock “you. Your, as you demean yourself, Elizabeth.”—The Bishop had promised to exchange some part of the land belonging to the See, for a pretended equivalent, and did so, but it was in consequence of the above letter. Annual Register, 1761.
SPECIMENS of POETRY, WRITTEN BY QUEEN ELIZABETH.
[“Fain would I climb, yet fear to fall.”]
Sir Walter Raleigh having written in a window, in sight of the Queen,—
“Fain would I climb, yet fear to fall.”[Oh Fortune! how thy restless wavering state]
The following lines she wrote with charcoal on a window-shutter, while under severe restraint at Woodstock:—
Has fraught with cares my troubled wit;
Witness this present prison, whither fate
Has borne me, and the joys I quit.
From bonds, wherein are innocent's inclosed;
Causing the guiltless to be strait reserved,
And freeing those that death had well-deserved;
But by her envy nothing can be wrought,
So God send to my foes all they have thought.
[I grieve, yet dare not shew my discontent]
The succeeding Stanzas, from the Ashmolean Museum, signed “Eliza Regina, upon Mount Zeurs departure,” may serve to show the state of Elizabeth's heart, and the strength of her passions at fifty-two, when, it is supposed, she entertained “an uncontrolable passion, which carried her very absurd lengths,” for the Duke of Anjou, between whom and herself a treaty of marriage had been nearly concluded. Civil and Military History of Great Britain.
I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate;
I seem stark mute, but inwardly do prate.
I am, and not,—I freeze, and am yet burned;
Since from myself my otherself I turned.
Follows me flying; flies when I pursue it;
Stands, and lies by me; does what I have done;
This too familiar care doth make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it be supprest.
(For I am soft and made of melting snow);
Or be more cruel, love, or be more kind;
Let me, or float or sink, be high or low.
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die, and so forget what love e'er meant.
She published a Comment on Plato: several Translations from Greek to Latin; part of Sallust into English; and many devotional Tracts, Letters, &c.
| A Metrical History of England | |