A Metrical History of England :: :: University of Virginia Library

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

Dibdin, Thomas (1771-1841)

PART THE SECOND.

II.

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2. PART THE SECOND.

From the Union of the Seven Kingdoms to the Death of Edgar, surnamed the Peaceable.

CONTENTS.

Egbert—Ethelwolf—the Danes—Ethelbald and Ethelbert— Ethered, or Ethelred—Alfred the Great—Edward the Elder —Athelstan—Edmund—Edred—St. Dunstan—Edwy— Edgar the Peaceable—Three Love Stories of him—Elfrida.

“—Rules the num'rous band,
“And crowded nations wait his dread command.”
Pope's Homer.

EGBERT.

Egbert o'er Kings subdu'd scarce 'gan to reign,
E're he's invaded by the savage Dane .
Charmouth, in Dorsetshire, supplied the field
Where British chiefs to foreign leaders yield .
Yet, soon avenged, the English blood they spill;
A year not pass'd, when famous Hengsdown-Hill
Proves, to the northern spoilers dear bought cost,
That Egbert cou'd regain what late he lost.
The King in peace lived five succeeding years,
And his best epitaph was England's Tears .

The Danes first landed in 789, and were so little known that a peace officer, at Portland, asked them, in the name of his King, (Brithric,) what they did there? unused to the checks of magistracy, these uncivilized rovers murdered the intruder, plundered the country, and retired unmolested. H. Hunt, Saxon Chronology.

Had it not been for this unfortunate battle, (in which the Bishops Wigfurth and Herefurth, and the Earls Dudda and Osmond were slain,) Egbert would have added North Wales to his dominions, having already over-run the country to the foot of Snowdon. J. P. Andrews.

The following was inscribed on a chest containing his and other royal bones, at Winchester:

Hic Rex Egbertus pausat cum Rege Kenulpho,
Nobis egregia munera uterque tulit,

“The Danes are landed.”
Home.

ETHELWOLF.

The warwhoop echoes still our Island round,
And, as the surge encroaching on the land,
Gives note of mischief by terrific sound,
Like wave on wave, the robbers crowd to land.
The Danes! The Danes! the young and aged cry,
And mothers “press their infants” as they fly.

The pirate parties, spreading far and wide,
Avoid our armies, and our powers deride:
Then to their barks return, like loaded bees,
And, with our ravish'd treasure, cross the seas.

Oh, had but then some tight built ships, and tars,
Like modern Trigges, and Trollopes, round them cruised:
How brief had been their predatory wars,
What trouble had my readers been excused!

O'er Thanet, now the scene of summer mirth,
Where, erst, the world's imperial eagle flew,
Where the white steed on Saxon banners came,
The Danish raven's wing is spread;
And an unsparing and remorseless crew,
By Scandinavian chieftains led,
Demand in Kent to share, with British birth,
“A local habitation and a name.”
While Ethelwolf, who shou'd have made them run,
(As gallic navies since at Nelson's fame),
Gave to Athelstan, as his eldest son,
One half the Kingdom—and ('twas more than shame!)
Instead of watching England's weal at home,
He went on pious pilgrimage to Rome.
To Rome, who having then no arms to rule us,
Deputed Monks to govern and befool us.

And, well I wot, the Pope was glad to see him,
Who paid Priests, Deacons, Choristers and all,
With pockets full of England's gold to fee him,
And purchase lamps for Peter and for Paul .
At home he found affairs had changed their faces;
His first son dead, and Ethelbald, the next,
Usurper of his Sire's and Brother's places,
The former's weakness furnishing pretext.

Scarce do the Son and Sire the land divide,
When the King feed the Monks once more, and died:
To future reigns the people turn their hope,
And Ethelwolf's regretted—by the Pope.

Nothing could be more dreadful than the manner in which these fierce barbarians carried on their incursions; they spared neither age nor sex, and each commander urged the soldiers to inhumanity. Oliver, a celebrated chieftain, gained, from his dislike to the favorite amusement of his soldiers, (that of tossing children on the points of their spears,) the contemptuous surname of Burnakal, or, “the Preserver of Children.” Bartholin.

One of the pious pretences under which the papal see obtained money from bigotted princes was that of selling sacred lamps to burn before figures of the apostles.

“This crown I part between you.”
Shakespeare.

ETHELBALD and ETHELBERT.

Ethelwulph's grants to the Clergy were such,
Let this lesson œconomy teach,
From the State to the Church he had given so much,
His Sons got but half a Crown each.
But, then he'd two younger lads, critics may cry,
Perhaps so, we'll talk about them by and bye.

Prince Ethelbert proved himself worthy his birth,
I can't say as much for his Brother,
Who being the veriest monster on earth,
Was actually wed to his Mother—
In law,—Lady Judith,—not she who so called
Destroy'd Holofernes the big,
But daughter to Emperor Charley, the bald,
So named from the want of a wig.
We can't say that Ethelbald's reign was long lived,
Or happy the period his brother survived;
He was teazed by the Danes, who in England wou'd sway,
But died'ere he'd give the marauders their way.

“Dulce & decorum, est pro patria mori.”
Horace.

ETHERED, or ETHELRED.

Wou'd that past records happier tales could tell
Of Ethered than truth has handed down!
Few years he reign'd, by Alfred's side he fell,
Defending England's honor and his crown.
A taint of Superstition dimm'd, alas!
A mind by nature meant to shine more bright;
Tho' brave, he fear'd to leave unfinish'd mass,
Till Danes near won the day at Aston fight.
This folly almost cost a brother's life;
But Alfred's arm upheld the doubtful strife.
So in our days Iberia's chief, they say,
Lost Spain, and Britain join'd, a glorious day!
And let the Gallic Victor run away.

The following inscription was placed over King Ethered's tomb: “In hoc loco quiescet corpus Sancti Ethelredi, Regis West “Saxonum Martyris, qui A. D. 872, 23 die Aprilis, per manum “ducorum paganorum occubuit.”

Vide Dispatches from Spain in the London Gazette, when Marshal Victor was permitted to escape from a most disadvantageous position, through the Spanish General's horror of fighting on a holy day.

“He was a man, (then boldly dare to say,)
“In whose rich soule the vertues well did sute,
“In whom so mix'd the elements all lay,
“That none to one cou'd sou'raigntre impute,
“As all did governe, yet all did obey;
“He of a temper was so absolute
“As that it seem'd when nature him began
“She meant to shew all that might be in man.”
Drayton.

“A little island boasts his glorious birth,
“His fame for wisdom fills the spacious earth.”
Pope.

ALFRED THE GREAT.

When Guthrum's momentary might
Had taken place of Alfred's right
His fainting friends, dispersing, fled,
While he a life erratic led,
Folding the herdsman's flock for bread.
Condemn'd that bread himself to bake,
And when (his royal thoughts astray,
On projects soon to see the day,)

His mind to nobler tasks awake,
He tended ill the household cake;
A woman's tongue, a woman's blows,
Add to the humbled Monarch's woes.

More watchful for his suff'ring state,
Alive to every turn of fate,
Alfred assumes a temporary throne;
Where stagnate thick the Parret and the Thone.
In Athelney two acres in extent
Scarce hold the British Sov'reign's tent;
Yet here, encircled by a daring few,
The hero's future greatness grew.
From hence, in oft successful sally,
Issue the unexpected warrior band,
And chase o'er forest, mount, and valley,
The Danish spoilers of our native land.
And Oddune, Devon's chief, by Kinwith's towers,
Slew Hubba, and destroy'd his pirate powers.

The great, good, ruler of the little isle,
Who justly balanced fortune's ev'ry smile,

Beholds his projects ripening, and goes,
In harper's guise, among his num'rous foes.
The minstrel's air, and gait, so well he feigns,
The royal tent admits him; he obtains
Knowledge of martial efforts to be made,
And by whose influence each attempt is sway'd:
For of intents and means the chiefs spoke loud,
Nor heeded Alfred in the mingled crowd;
For potent mead, from oft replenish'd shell,
Urg'd the gay tongue each inmost thought to tell,
While well the harper play'd; and listen'd well.
Right skilful was his finger, and right dear
The Danes soon learn'd how accurate his ear.

“When music, heavenly maid! was young,
“When yet in early Greece she sung,”
Tho' vast her powers and sweet her tongue,
They both had fail'd to celebrate his name,
Who, while he struck the antient British lyre,
With all the purity of patriot flame,
That cou'd a parent Monarch's breast inspire,
A meaning drew from ev'ry tone,
To Danes, outwitted, little known;

Who wanted souls to tell them each proud string
Responded to the feelings of a King.

Let not the nicely scrupulous exclaim,
“The subtle spy obscures the soldier's fame!”
By art, as well as arms, his foes succeed,
Through foreign art his native subjects bleed.
And, when to bring the Dane to open strife,
For England's welfare, Alfred risks his life,
The noble issue, and the glorious end.
To which his perilous adventures tend,
Made, in a cause for which he wou'd have died,
The means he used his glory and his pride.

Those means with most deserv'd success were bless'd;
Guthrum, in turn, discomfited, distrest,
At Eddington beholds his army beat,
And sues for mercy at the Minstrel's feet.
Hunted, pursued, by youths whose earlier age
Had seen their parents fall by Danish rage,
The Danes, now suppliant for British grace,
Renounce their Pagan gods, and heathen race;

And humbly seek permission to reside
In peace with those whom lately they defied.

“Ye who have view'd, in pleasure's choicest hour,
“The earth embellished on the banks of Stour;
“Where, with pure love of smiling nature warm'd,
“A second Paradise the founder form'd .”

You've seen (not far from where embower'd round,
The river's source first glides with trilling sound)
On terraced lawn majestically high,
Great Alfred's Tow'r, arrest the wond'ring eye;
Inscribed by truth, a modern race to shew
What solid blessings to his reign we owe.
His first-built Navy taught us how to sweep,
With flag triumphant, the subservient deep;
His English Jury, form'd in happiest hour,
Still guards the innocent from lawless pow'r;
His battles were, as our traditions fix,
(Successful most) in number fifty-six.

Yet let not here our admiration cease,
Tho' fam'd in war, he lov'd and cherish'd peace.
His aim in battle sought no other plan
But to convince, then bless, his fellow man!
Thy venerable turrets, Oxford, rose,
From him, who, unsubdued by fiercest foes,
Was great alike in danger and repose.
Philosophy and Christian worth combined
Their vast effects in one capacious mind.
Replete with soul, the Monarch stood alone,
And built, on freedom's basis, England's throne.
A legislator, parent, warrior, sage,
He died “the light of a benighted age.”
Bede and Orosius, historians grave,
A Saxon dress the studious Sov'reign gave;

Boethius too, our tongue he taught to speak,
And Æsop's morals, from their native Greek.
Of thirty years in which the land he sway'd,
Not one elaps'd but some good laws he made;
And proved, as grateful pens record,
There never yet was Britain's lord
Who better knew to rule, or better was obey'd.

Guthrum was King of the Danes.

Hayley's epitaph on Henry Hoare, Esq. in Stourton church, Wilts.

A very singular circumstance occurs in those laws which the great Alfred formed for the regulation of the English Church. The introduction produces a copy of the Ten Commandments, in which the second has only these words, “Make not thou gods of gold and silver.” This alteration was certainly made to favor the literal adoration of paintings and images. Andrews, from Spelman.

So little was learning attended to by the great, that Asser, the biographer of Alfred, mentions with amazement, the King having taught his youngest son, Ethelward, to read before he made him acquainted with hunting. Elfredi.

He also rendered the Holy Gospels into the Saxon tongue, in which the Lord's Prayer, (which is inserted here as a specimen of the language of Alfred's day,) stands as follows;

Fæder ure thu the earth on heafenum, si thin nama gehalgod, to be cume thin rice, Gewurthe thin willa on eorthan swa swa on heafenum, urne ge dægwanlican hlaf syle us to dæg; and for gyf us ure gyltas, swa swa we forgivath urum gyltendum, and ne gelædde thu us on cosenung ac alyse us of yfle. (Si it swa.)

Medulla Historiæ Anglicanæ.

“For I shall sing of battles, blood, and rage,
“Which princes and their people did engage;
“And haughty souls, that moved with mutual hate,
“In fighting fields, pursued and found their fate.”
Dryden's Virgil.

EDWARD THE ELDER.

Tho' less renown'd for what the learn'd acquire,
Edward in arms was worthy of his sire;
And happy for the realm, great Alfred's son,
Maintain'd with honor, what his father won;
In spite of insurrection, rapine, guilt,
And blood that flow'd for blood unjustly spilt.
First Ethelwald, from Ethelbert derived,
(Tho' two of royal Alfred's sons survived,)
Claim'd England's sceptre, and in frequent fight,
Warr'd against Justice and his Cousin's right;
A Norman and Northumbrian miscreant crew,
With Danes and Mercians to his side he drew,
And led his pupils in rebellion's school
That land to ravage which he might not rule.

Edward, with royal indignation fired,
Obeyed the impulse which his rage inspired,
And peaceful hamlets, towns, and cities mourn
The Monarch's and the Rebel's force in turn;
For civil discord glories in the ills
With which she indiscriminately fills
The royal mansion, or the rebel's hold,
The patriot cot, or den of ruffian bold,
While blood on both sides eagerly she spills.
The Kentish men, long England's warlike boast,
Assail'd at Bury, by the traitor's host,
With Danes maintain'd a most unequal fray,
'Till Ethelwald, his treasons to repay,
Lost, with his life, the honor of the day.
Northumbria, Mercia, and the scatter'd Dane,
Hostile by turns, and unsubdued, remain.
A powerful fleet, the Monarch bids prepare,
He sails, and quickly the rapacious band
Haste to despoil the absent Edward's land;
The King, as briefly of their plans aware,
Returns, with slaughter Stafford's plains to dye,
And see again his flag victorious fly.

Yet, by misfortune unsubdued,
The restless chiefs again unite,
Again their blood the earth imbrued,
At Tunsford, and in Maldon fight.

Thurktill the Dane, invincible esteem'd,
Not so, perdie, by Edward deem'd,
Vanquish'd, retreats before the conqu'ror's lance,
To pillage other lands in France;
At length, by perseverance, toil, and pains,
Edward, in well earn'd peace, with glory reigns.

Ladies, if thus far Somnus lets ye look
In this my nice narcotic book,
It may awake your sex's proper pride,
To recollect that, in each doubtful day,
Edward had oft a sister by his side,
Whose genius pointed to success the way;
Active, yet prudent, masculine, yet fair,
The widow'd Ethelflida, good and great

Ruled Mercia's province with propitious care,
And proved the grand appui of Edward's state.
Let it not from the Monarch derogate,
That he by female wit was sway'd,
Women, when good, are angels, and I wot,
(He who denies it is a senseless sot,)
Good angels may with safety be obeyed.

Edward surviv'd, to grace his sister's urn
With a fraternal tear; nor did he mourn
Her absence long, but sought that awful bourn,
From whence, nor slave nor monarch may return.

He was fortunate not only in military enterprize, but in domestic concerns; he matched four of his nine daughters to the greatest Princes in Europe; and three of his five sons successively mounted their father's throne, Athelstan, Edmund, and Edred.

This patriotic amazon was the wife of Ethered, Duke of Mercia; she is universally said by historians to have been the exact resemblance of her parent Alfred in every quality of the mind, and in many old writings she is actually styled, not Domina, but Rex. J. P. Andrews.

“Thou nature art my goddess!”
Shakespeare.

“Ay, my mother,
“With all my heart, I thank thee for my father.”
Shakespeare.

ATHELSTAN.

Athelstan's birthright (if they say not well,
Blame older tales,) was doubtful.—From his brother,
However born, Athelstan bore the belle,
I. E. the throne
He made his own,
And tho' the chances are, he had a mother,
Her name, not knowing, we forbear to tell:
Where heirs claim interest doubts like these grow double,
And hence the King experienced no small trouble.

One Alfred first conspired, but being seized,
And losing every gleam of hope,
Declared, if so his Liege would be appeas'd,
He'd swear his innocence before the Pope.

The Pope was then a wight of some renown,
“Viceroy o'er Monarchs” he no equal knew,
And, sans façon, wou'd crack the iron crown
Of any Emperor that look'd askew.

Well, Alfred went, and tho' you may despise
My tale, 'tis what my betters 'erst have wrote,
The oath he took, of most tremendous size,
Stuck in his throat.

To bear with patience is my muse's pride,
Not e'en by incredulity provoked,
She asks you'll but believe Lord Alfred died
As soon as he was choked.

Anlaff, the Dane, against the King essay'd,
In minstrel garb, to count his loyal bands;
And failing, proved, however well he play'd,
The part was better when in Alfred's hands .

Discover'd, and compell'd to open fight,
His stratagems and projects end in flight
At Brunsbury, where, man to man,
The Chancellor of England led the van.

And much it grieves the muse to tell,
Among the slain a Bishop fell;
Thus Lawn and Woolsack both upheld the crown,
Not only in the senate, bar, and church,
But 'ere they'd leave the Sov'reign in the lurch,
E'en Bishops from beneath their beavers frown;
While law's great leader, in the place
Of painted, gilded, wooden mace,
With mace of iron knocks invaders down.

And thus in latter days I ween,
England's Lord Chancellor I've seen,
(With dignity and grace no less,
Than when in pride of legal dress. )
In Bloomsbury, at daily drill,
Grasp not the ancient weapon 'clep'd Brown Bill,
But a more modern mischief, call'd Brown Bess.

Guy, Earl of Warwick, now was famed
Colbrand, the Danish Chief, he slew,
And other deeds he did are named,
And many more he did not do.

To foster our commercial school,
Athelstan made a useful rule;
Three voyages for merchants should acquire
The rank and place of gentleman, or squire;
Had all the squires we daily see
So earn'd the right of their assumed degree,
Lord! what a travell'd nation we shou'd be!

At Glocester, after sixteen well spent years,
Athelstan's exit caus'd some genuine tears,
And it bespeaks their mutual worth,
That Edmund of more certain birth,
Against the King his name wou'd never lend,
But, like a brother, liv'd his brother's friend,
And mourn'd with others his lamented end.

Shakespeare.

The pride of Anlaff betrayed him; while he explored the hostile camp as a minstrel, a soldier observing him throw away the reward he had received for his performance, watched him and recognized the Northumbrian leader.

Lord Erskine was a subaltern, or private, in the Bloomsbury Volunteers, and Lord Thurlow was a corporal in the same corps.

“Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.”
Shakespeare.

EDMUND.

Edmund his eighteenth year had not yet known,
When he succeeded to Athelstan's throne,
And, ecce iterum! the Monarch found
The Danes encroaching still on English ground;
Malcolm of Scotland having lent him aid,
With Westmoreland and Cumberland he paid;
And when kind peace was dawning o'er the land,
Or e'er six summers smiled upon his reign,
By Leolf, leader of a lawless band,
The youthful Sov'reign was untimely slain.

The King espied this outlaw presumptuously seated at a royal banquet and, being inflamed with wine, seized him by the hair, when the felon, instigated by despair, plunged his dagger in the body of the King: the intoxication of the nobles and attendants permitted the assassin's escape.

“Priest-ridden by a man
“Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
“Himself with Princes.”
Shakespeare.

“They who possess the Prince, possess the laws.’
Dryden.

EDRED.

The name of Edred we record in vain,
For this was properly Saint Dunstan's reign.
Specious, yet haughty, full of smiling evil,
And more than match, he boasted, for the Devil.
“In friendship false, implacable in hate,
“Resolv'd to ruin or to rule the state.”
The King, whose sword subdu'd a rebel crowd,
Before the supercilious Churchman bow'd!
The Monk, entrusted with supreme command,
Ruled England's Monarch with an iron hand,
Pow'rless the sceptre, yielding Edred sway'd.
Not his but Dunstan's wishes were obeyed;
'Till Death, who spares nor prince nor peasant swain,
Releas'd the master from his servant's chain.

The Monks in England married and supported their families with decency until the reign of Edred, when Dunstan introduced celibacy, and tore their wives and children from the Priests, styling them harlots and bastards. Script. Angl. Passim.

Dryden.

“Yet all was colour'd with a smooth pretence
“Of specious love, and duty to their Prince,
“Religion, and redress of grievances,
“Two names that always cheat, and always please.”

“The next successor whom I fear and hate,
“My arts have made obnoxious to the state;
“Turn'd all his virtues to his overthrow,
“And gained our elders to pronounce a foe.”

Dryden

EDWY.

So Dunstan thought, and so he wou'd have said,
But Dryden wrote not 'till the Monk was dead.
Edwy who knew his predecessor's mind,
(Warp'd by the Priest, infatuated! blind!)
To insignificance had sunk the Throne,
Boldly resolv'd at first to “hold his own,”
But Edwy was, alas! too young by far,
With such a wolf, and fox combined, to war,
Fell Dunstan's wiles revengeful, made him feel
Where vulnerable most: what breast of steel,
What fiend, embodied in a mortal mould,
Cou'd have perform'd what—scarce can it be told—

Elgiva, fair, the youthful Monarch's wife,
Lovely in form, and dear to him as life,
A virtuous, blooming, young and new-made bride,
Torn from her husband, and her mother's side;
By ruffians, whom no human ties cou'd bind,
Tortur'd; her frame to ling'ring death consign'd;
Her sex insulted, and her charms defaced,
By wretches who the forms of men disgraced!

The people too, deluded by the priest,
And Odo, less a bishop than a beast,
Rebel against the crown; Rome too conspires,
And launches all St. Peter's fiercest fires.
With mournful indignation next I sing,
The hapless, widow'd, persecuted King!
His earthly crown he quits, on Heav'n relies,
Invokes the spirit of his wife—and dies.

Many of the earliest Missionaries were hostile to, and dreaded the company of, the fair sex. The unpolished St. Columba prohibited his catechumens the comforts of milch kine, because, “Where there is a cow,” said the brute, “there must be a woman, and where there is a woman there must be mischief.” Vide Pennant.

Odo, successively promoted, through Dunstan's influence, to the sees of Worcester, London, and Canterbury, is handed down to posterity by the Monks, as a man of piety. Hume.

“Pleas'd let me trifle life away,
“And sing of love.”
Hammond's Tibullus.

“None but the brave deserve the fair.”
Dryden.

“Equal to both, and arm'd for either field.”
Rowe.

EDGAR THE PEACEABLE.

Edgar encreas'd our navy—he was right,
Tho', toujours prêt, he'd little cause to fight.
Next, he obliged the Prince of Wales
To pay three hundred wolves a year;
Which, with three amatory tales,
Is all that of his Majesty we hear.
Whether these tales are worthy of perusal,
Or, whether their contents are false or true,
They wait acceptance or refusal,
As may, my readers kind, seem good to you.

LOVE TALE THE FIRST.

Wilfrida was the fairest of the fair;
So thought the King, for lovers think on stilts;
Which made her parents, with most proper care,
Immure her in a Nunnery of Wilts.
(Whether 'twas Amesbury, where ancient Q
Imported Nuns from France, I never knew.)

King Edgar, living in such days as those,
When Dunstan took the Devil by the nose,
Was doubtful in what manner to proceed.
Now Dunstan and the Devil were not foes
(But in appearance) for, tout autre chose,
They help'd each other in the time of need.

To Dunstan quoth Old Nick, “My plans 'twill aid,
“If Edgar from yon abbey force the maid,

“Then, prithee, brother Dunny, don't impede him.”
Quoth Dunstan to Old Nick, “'Tis my design
“To let him take her, then a glorious fine,
“I'll levy first, and next the Pope shall bleed him.”

In short, the Monarch took the Nun away,
There was, in consequence, I scarce need say,
The Devil and the Friar both to pay.

Hume calls this lady Edita; she is, by another author named Wolfchild.

The Monks whom Dunstan and Edgar put in possession of Convents, were so nearly perfect, that they knew nothing of religion but continence and obedience. Ingulphus.

LOVE TALE THE SECOND.

At Andover with great applause
A pair dwelt, sans rebuke;
The wife a Duchess was, because
The husband was a Duke!

A lovely daughter eke had they,
Well-favored, fair, and mild,
They had no other, for folks say,
She was an only child.

King Edgar lov'd, King Edgar woo'd,
You'll all allow, I ween,
'Twas grossierté, 'twas wrong, 'twas rude!
For Edgar had a Queen.

In vain he offered heaps of gold,
In vain to work he went,
More ways than we have yet been told,
To win the maid's consent;

When words, and sighs, and tears had fail'd,
He feign'd him deadly sick,
The Lady, since nought else prevail'd,
Then play'd a King a trick.

All in the dark she made believe,
She'd grace the Monarch's bed,
Then sent, nor did the Prince perceive,
Another in her stead.

At Highgate, I am much afraid.
They ne'er had sworn his Grace,
Else had he never let the Maid,
Assume her Lady's place.

Such shocking things
Prove, modern Kings
Are better than of yore;
Which probably,
Is reason why,
Some folks abuse them more.

LOVE TALE THE THIRD.

Yet how dare I attempt to tell a story,
Which Mason has related con amore?
No matter, whether good or bad, my song,
I'll promise this, shall not be very long.

Elfrida with her father liv'd retired,
Few eyes beheld her, yet, who saw, admired;
And fame, of beauty ever prone to sing,
Proclaim'd her modest merits to the King;
Who, 'ere he credence gave, resolv'd to send,
The truth to ascertain, a fancied friend.
Who read my simple legend, ah, beware!
Those are not always friends who say they are.

When Athelwold beheld the beauteous maid
Too soon his trust from Edgar was betray'd;
With false report his master's ear abus'd,
He weds the fair the cheated King refus'd;
Triumph'd awhile in baseness and deceit,
Nor fear'd the vengeance he was doom'd to meet.
My legend who peruse, on this depend,
Dishonest dealing ne'er meets happy end.

The King by other favorites made wise,
For favorites on fav'rites still are spies,
Views his friend's treason in Elfrida's charms,
Who flies from Athelwold to Edgar's arms:
The faulty Earl is slain, and on the spot,
Another abbey falls to Dunstan's lot.—

So much for love!—the gallant King expires,
And, scarcely he reposes with his sires,
'Ere fell Elfrida (like the Scottish Dame,
Who fann'd Macbeth's ambitions flame,)
Her sex forgot, her soul's repose disdain'd,
With blood of deepest dye the empire stain'd.

By way of Postcript, suffer me to add,
The King his Magistrates with care inspected,
The just rewarded; woe betide the bad!
Whom neither rank, nor friends, nor place, protected.

He taught the Clergy to reform their lives,
Clergy who deem'd it wicked to have wives;
And therefore openly “withouten shame,”
Were kind to Ladies with another name.

Edgar, and it was noble in the Prince,
Made yearly circuits to discover
Where pardon might reform and more convince
Than punishment. Of Peace an ardent lover.
Where more congenially cou'd Mercy rest,
Than thus companion'd in a Monarch's breast?

The usual mode of compensation was resorted to, and a pile was raised in honour of a saint, to expiate the crime of murdering a sinner.

END OF PART THE SECOND.