"Where cruel Richard charg'd the earl's main | Of the Lancastrian line, which happen'd on that battle, when Proud Somerset therein, with his approved men And Oxford, in command being equal to the other, Itself in human gore, and every one cries Kill.' Until great Warwick found his army had the worst, And where he saw death stern'st, the murder'd Do muffle him again within them, till at length To rescue his belov'd and valiant brother, fell: The duke of Somerset, and th' earl of Oxford fled, This puissant setter-up, and plucker-down of kings, At Barnet's fatal fight, both life and fortune lost. "Now Tewksbury it rests, thy story to relate, Thy sad and dreadful fight, and that most direful fate day Fourth of that fatal month, that still remember'd [filed With whom king Henry's son, young Edward Their fortune yet to try upon a second fight. By Warwick's mighty fall, already faintly reel) The rearward as before by Hastings was supply'd. "The army of the queen, into three battles cast, Behind, hard at their backs, the abbey and the prove By thund'ring cannon-shot, and culverin, to re- The like they sent again, which beat the other sore, And still make good their ground, that whilst the b'rous dikes; [pikes, But beaten down with bills, with pole-axes, and Are forced to fall off; when Richard there that led The vaward, saw their strength so little them to sted, As he a captain was, both politic and good, By his encounter let the desperate duke to know, Of slaughter every where; for scarce their equal | With many a worthy man, to Glo'ster prisoners forces Began the doubtful fight, but that three hundred The first and furious shock not able to abide To hold what they had got; that Somerset below, But frustrated thereof, even as a man dismay'd, men: With his too pond'rous ax dash'd out the baron's The ditches with the dead, confusedly are fill'd, had there Drew his last vital breath, as in that bloody fray, His prisoner to disclose, before the king then His second brother George, and Richard near led, [fled There forfeited their lives: queen Margaret being To a religious cell, (to Tewksbury too near) Discover'd to the king, with sad and heavy cheer, A prisoner was convey'd to London, woful queen, The last of all her hopes, that buried now had bids for thee, Thy battle to describe, the last of that long war, The next ensuing night setting his army down, most Gave sail to Henry's self, and fresh life to his host, His son-in-law to meet; yet he with him combin'd height, A most selected band of Cheshire bowmen came By sir John Savage led, besides two men of name : Sir Brian Sanford, and sir Simon Digby, who Leaving the tyrant king, themselves expressly show Fast friends to Henry's part, which still his power increas'd; [strongly press'd, Both armies well prepar'd, towards Bosworth And on a spacious moor, lying southward from the town, [down, Indifferent to them both, they set their armies Their soldiers to refresh, preparing for the fight; Where to the guilty king, that black fore-running night, [son, Appear the dreadful ghosts of Henry and his Of his own brother George, and his two nephews done Most cruelly to death; and of his wife and friend, Lord Hastings, with pale hands prepar'd as they would rend [sleep. Him piece-meal; at which oft he roareth in his "No sooner 'gan the dawn out of the east to peep, [arms, But drums and trumpets chide the soldiers to their And all the neighbouring fields are cover'd with the swarms [to see, Of those that came to fight, as those that came (Contending for a crown) whose that great day should be. [and bestows "First, Richmond rang'd his fights, on Oxford The leading, with a band of strong and sinewy bows Out of the army pick'd; the front of all the field, Sir Gilbert Talbot next, he wisely took to wield, The right wing, with his strengths, most northern men that were ; [shire, And sir John Savage, with the power of LancaAnd Cheshire (chief of men) was for the left wing plac'd : The middle battle he in his fair person grac'd; With him the noble earl of Pembroke, who commands [stands, Their countrymen the Welch, (of whom it mainly For their great numbers found to be of greatest force) [horse 1 Which but his guard of gleaves, consisted all of "Into two several fights the king contriv'd his strength, And his first battle cast into a wondrous length, [reply: To whom stout Stanley thus doth carelessly 'Tell thou the king I'll come, when I fit time shall When as the timber fails, by the unweildy fall, Even into powder beats, the roof, and rotten wall, And with confused clouds of smouldering dust doth choke [smoke, The streets and places near; so through the misty By shot and ordnance made, a thund'ring noise was heard. [ferr'd, When Stanley that this while his succours had deBoth to the cruel king, and to the earl his son, When once he doth perceive the battle was begun, Brings on his valiant troops three thousand fully strong, [long, Which like a cloud far off, that tempest threaten'd Falls on the tyrant's host, which him with terrour struck, to stir : As also when he sees, he doth but vainly look For succours from the great Northumberland, this while, [mile, That from the battle scarce three quarters of a Stood with his power of horse, nor once was seen [fer) When Richard (that th' event no longer would deThe two main battles mix'd, and that with wearied breath, [death, Some labour'd to their life, some labour'd to their (There for the better fought) even with a spirit elate, As one that inly scorn'd the very worst that fate Could possibly impose, his lance set in his rest, Into the thick'st of death, through threat'ning peril press'd, [drew, To where he had perceiv'd the earl in person Whose standard-bearer he, sir William Brandon, slew, The pile of his strong staff into his arm-pit sent; When at a second shock, down sir John Cheney went, [plac'd, Which scarce a lance's length before the earl was Until by Richmond's guard, environed at last, With many a cruel wound, was through the body gride. Upon this fatal field, John duke of Norfolk dy'd; The stout lord Ferrers fell, and Ratcliff, that had long [among Of Richard's counsels been, found in the field A thousand soldiers that on both sides here were slain, [in vain, O Redmore, it then seem'd, thy name was not When with a thousand's blood the earth was co (Upon king Henry's part, with so successful lack, As never till that day he felt his crown to cleave Unto his temples close, when Mars began to leave His fury, and at last to sit him down was brought) I come at last to sing, 'twixt that seventh Henry fought; [ford came, With whom, to this brave field the duke of RedWith Oxford his great friend,' whose praise did him inflame [been To all achievements great, that fortunate had In every doubtful fight, since Henry's coming in, With th 'earl of Shrewsbury, a man of great command, ffirmly stand. As some old building long that hath been under- [ And his brave son lord George, for him that And on the other side, John duke of Suffolk's | By Shrewsbury, which most of soldiers choice con son, [begun, (John earl of Lincoln call'd) who this stern war Suborning a lewd boy, a false impostor, who By Simonds a worse priest instructed what to do, Upon him took the name of th' earl of Warwick, [for fear To George the murther'd duke of Clarence, who Lest some that favour'd York, might under-hand maintain) heir King Henry in the Tower, did a time detain. Which practise set on foot, this earl of Lincoln sail'd [vail'd, To Burgundy, where he with Margaret preWife to that warlike Charles, and his most loved aunt, [plant Who vexed that a proud Lancastrian should supThe lawful line of York, whence she her blood deriv'd; [triv'd, Wherefore for Lincoln's sake she speedily conAnd Lovel, that brave lord, before him sent to land Upon the same pretence, to furnish them a band Of Almains, and to them for their stout captain [to have gave The valiant Martin Swart, the man thought scarce His match for martial feats, and sent them with a fleet [meet, For Ireland, where she had appointed them to With Simonds that lewd clerk, and Lambert, whom they there [where The earl of Warwick call'd, and publish'd every His title to the crown, in Dublin, and proclaim Him England's lawful king, by the fifth Edward's [aid name: Then joining with the lord Fitzgerald', to their Who many Irish brought, they up their anchors weigh'd, more, south. And at the rocky pile of Fowdray 10 put to shore In Lancashire; their power increasing more and [supply, By soldiers sent them in from Broughton", for A knight that long had been of their confederacy; Who making thence, direct their marches to the [mouth, "When Henry saw himself so far in danger's From Coventry he came, still gathering up his host, [coast, Made greater on his way, and doth the country Which way he understood his enemies must pass : When after some few days (as it their fortune was) At Stoke, a village near to Newark upon Trent, Each in the other's sight pitch'd down their warlike tent. Into one battle soon, the Almains had dispos'd Their army in a place upon two parts enclos'd With dells, and fenced dykes (as they were expert men) And from the open fields king Henry's host again, In three fair several fights came equally divided; The first of which, and fitt'st, was given to be guided "The dutchess of Burgundy was sister to Edward the Fourth, and so was this earl's mother. The lord Francis Lovel. The lord Thomas Geraldine. 10 On the coast of Lancashire. sisted : The others plac'd as wings, which ever as they listed, [found Came up as need requir'd, or fell back as they Just cause for their retire; when soon the troubled ground, On her black bosom felt the thunder, which awoke Her genius, with the sock that violently shook Her entrails, this sad day when there ye might have seen [have been Two thousand Almains stand, of which each might A leader for his skill, which when the charge was hot, That they could hardly see the very Sun for shot, Yet they that motion kept that perfect soldiers should; [well behold, That most courageous Swart there might they With most unusual skill that desperate fight maintain, [strain, Aud valiant De-la-Pole, most like his princely Did all that courage could, or nobless might befit; And Lovell that brave lord, behind him not a whit, For martial deeds that day: stout Broughton that had stood [his blood With York (even) from the first, there lastly gave To that well-foughten field; the poor trowz'd Irish there, [corslets were, Whose mantles stood for mail, whose skins for And for their weapons had but Irish skains and darts, [hearts, Like men that scorned death, with most resolved Give not an inch of ground, but all in pieces hewn, Where first they fought, they fell; with them was overthrown [fought, The leader Gerald's hope, amidst his men that And took such part as they, whom he had thither brought [fled, This of that field be told, There was not one that But where he first was plac'd, there found alive or dead. If in a foughten field a man his life should lose, To die as these men did, who would not gladly choose, [ous song, Which full four thousand were." But in this tedi The too laborious Muse hath tarried all too long. As for the black-smith's rout, who did together rise, Encamping on Black-heath, t' annul the subsidies By parliament then given, or that of Cornwal 12 call'd, [thrall'd Enclosures to cast down, which over-much inThe subject; or proud Ket's, who with the same pretence [pense In Norfolk rais'd such stirs, as but with great exOf blood was not appeas'd; or that begun in Lent By Wyat" and his friends, the marriage to pre vent, That Mary did intend with Philip king of Spain: Since these but riots were, nor fit the other's strain, She here her battles ends: and as she did before, So travelling along upon her silent shore, Waybridge a neighbouring nymph, the only remnaut left Of all that forest kind, by time's injurions theft Of all that tract destroy'd, with wood which did abound, [ground, And former times had seen the goodliest for st 12 Michael Joseph with the Cornish rebels. 13 Sir Thomas Wyat. This island ever had: but she so left alone, The ruin of her kind, and no man to bemoan. The deep entranced flood, as thinking to awake, Thus from her shady bower she silently bespake: "O flood in happy plight, which to this time remain'st, [strain'st; As still along in state to Neptune's court thou Revive thee with the thought of those forepassed hours, [lightful bowers When the rough wood-gods kept, in their deOn thy embroider'd banks, when now this country [till'd, With villages, and by the labouring ploughman Was forest, where the fir and spreading poplar [new, O let me yet the thought of those past times reWhen as that woody kind, in our umbrageous fill'd grew. wild, Whence every living thing save only they exil'd, In this their world of waste, the sovereign empire sway'd. [have decay'd O who would e'er have thought, that time could Those trees whose bodies seen'd by their so massy weight, [height To press the solid earth, and with their wond'rous To climb into the clouds, their arms so far to shoot, [root, As they in measuring were of acres, and their With long and mighty spurns to grapple with the land, [stand: As nature would have said, that they shall ever So that this place where now this Huntingdon is As fruitful every way, as those by nature, which The husbandman by art, with compost doth enrich, [about, them blest. This boasting of herself; that walk ber verge And view her well within, her breadth and length throughout: [best, The worst foot of her earth is equal with their With most abundant store, that highliest think [doth win When Whittlewood betime th' unwearied Muse To talk with her a while; at her first coming in, The forest thus that greets: "With more success. ful fate, [ruinous state Thrive then thy fellow-nymphs, whose sad and We every day behold, if any thing there be, That from this general fall, thee happily may free, 'Tis only for that thou dost naturally produce More underwood and brake, than oak for greater [bereft, But when this ravenous age, of those hath us Time wanting this our store shall seize what thee is left. use: For what base avarice now enticeth men to do, Necessity in time shall strongly urge them to; Which each divining spirit most clearly doth fore[to be, see." Whilst at this speech perplex'd, the forest seem'd A water-nymph, near to this goodly wood-nymph's side, [doth slide) (As tow'rds her sovereign Ouse, she softly down Tea, her delightsome stream by Towcester doth lead; [mead, And sporting her sweet self in many a dainty She hath not sallied far, but Sacy soon again Salutes her; one much grac'd among the sylvan train: [oft One whom the queen of shades, the bright Diana Hath courted for her looks, with kisses smooth and soft, On her fair bosom lean'd, and tenderly embrac'd, And call'd her, her dear heart, most lov'd, and only chaste: Yet Sacy after Tea, her amorous eyes doth throw, Till in the banks of Ouse the brook herself be stow. |