The King to penance keen and sore, So humble, nor is like to be again. Had but the justice of the land, For which too oft he'd given cause, Struck BECKET with a legal hand, Instead of shame the King had gain'd applause.* IRELAND and WALES and SCOTLAND pay * His ill-bred haughtiness was such, that when the English prelates, in one body, represented to him the consequences which must inevitably attend his turbulent obstinacy, he answered only, "I hear you." Nothing could exceed his pride, or the splendor of his household. Before his advancement to the primacy he had been used to travel attended by two hundred knights and other gay domestics: eight waggons were in his suite, two of those bore his ale, three the furniture of his chapel, of his bed-chamber, and of his kitchen, and the other three carried provisions and necessaries. Twelve pack-horses bore his money, plate, &c. to each waggon was chained a fierce mastiff, and on each pack-horse there sat a baboon. The following Epitaph, among others, was made on Becket: Quis moritur? Præsul. Cur? Pro grege. Qualiter? Ense. Quando? Natali. Quis locus? Ara dei. Imitated by J. P. Andrews. Who's slain? The Primate. How? In dire affray. Say where? 'Twas where we kneel to heaven and pray. Shorten'd Shorten'd by civil jars, And most unnatural wars, In unenjoy'd possession, dies away. HENRY, his son, was by his father crown'd, A child, the former fell in martial pride. In turn, -with shame the Muse makes known, A story told of Woodstock bow'r, I wis, * At this coronation, young Henry, on his father's humility being pointed out, arrogantly replied, "A great honour truly, "for the son of a King to be waited on by the son of an Earl!" At other times too, he requited his father's tenderness with most unfilial ingratitude, a sense of which, is said, at length to have broken his own heart. His body was carried towards Roan, but the clergy and citizens of Mans took it by force and interred it in their cathedral, near the Old Geoffry Plantagenet, whence it was ultimately taken and re-interred at Roan. King Henry, in allusion to the ingratitude of his sons, had an allegorical picture painted for his palace at Windsor, representing an old eagle, his young ones fighting with him, and one scarcely fledged striving to peck out his eyes; the last he used to say was JOHN, whom he loved best of all. GIRALDUS CAMBRENSIS. ROSAMOND's BOWER. A PARODY. THE ARGUMENT. Henry the Second keepeth (with much care,) "Lord Clifford's daughter, Rosamond the faire; "And whilst his sonnes do Normandy invade "He, forced to France, with wond'rous cost hath made "A labyrinthe in Woodstocke, where unseene "His love might lodge safe from his iealous queene." DRAYTON. I. EMBOW'R'D sat a lover and lady so gay, Where jas'mine with lilies were curl'd, They gaz'd on each other with tender delight; The warrior was HARRY PLANTAGENET hight, And the lady the ROSE OF THE World. II. Said the fair, "when you follow the drum and the fife, "I shall wish by my side you had tarried, "For as soon as you leave me your termagant wife, "Will be certain to frighten me out of my life," For, I'm sorry to say, he was married. Oh, III. "Oh, hush these suspicions," PLANTAGENET said, "Offensive to ELLEN and me, "For if she, by anger or jealousy led, "Should alarm you, while I am abroad, by my head, "Who's at home,* I shall soon let her see." IV. "Besides "cried the King, "can my beautiful rose "Fear surprize in this intricate place? "Where it answers no purpose to follow one's nose, "Unless a silk clue, that you know of, disclose "A road none could ever yet trace." V. They parted in sorrow; poor girl, she turn❜d cold, She ne'er felt so nervous before; Nor yet many days had elaps'd, when, behold! The Queen, with a regʼment of troopers, so bold, 'Gan thunder at ROSAMOND's door. *The phrase of letting a person know "Who's at home," has (unless the custom is very much out,) since obtained considerably in domestic circles. VI. Their swords on the porter the Grenadiers drew, The poor man was sadly distrest; The Queen tried a bribe, soon discover'd the clue, And of poison so sable, or steel polish'd blue, Ask'd Rosamond "which she liked best?" VII. The Flow'r of the World" changed her "redolent❞ hue To white, while she sank on her knee The tear on her cheek look'd like heaven-dropp'd dew, When she said "If, dear ma'am, it's the same thing to you, "Not either, I thank you, for me." VIII. Her majesty threaten'd, her victim complied, * Rosamond was buried at Godstow, and the following quaint Epitaph inscribed on her tomb. Hic jacet in Tumba Rosa Mundi, non Rosamunda, Thus imitated by J. P. Andrews. Here lies, not Rose the Chaste, but Rose the Fair, And |