Soft Tears bedimn'd his noble Sight,
His grieved Heart was fad;
Altho' he was as brave a Knight
As any Henry had.

With that, this noble Knight of Fame
Rode on without delay,

Until he to the Bower came,

Which was both rich and gay:
She cry'd, when he knock'd at the Ring,
Who raps fo fierce and bold?
Sifter, I've brought you from the King
Three Letters feal'd with Gold.

Then with her Fingers, long and small,
She broke the Seals of Gold;

And as she did to reading fall

At first, you might behold

The Smiles of pleasant sweet Delight,
As if well fatisfy'd;

But e're she had concluded quite,

She wrung her Hands, and cry'd:

Why did you boaft beyond your Bounds,

When Oxford you did fee?

You might have talk'd of Hawks and Hounds, And never bragg'd of me.

When by the King I am defil'd,

My Father's Griefs begin;

He'll have no Comfort of his Child,
Nor come to my Wedding.

Go, fetch me down my Planet-Book
Straight from my private Room;

For in the fame I mean to look,
What is decreed my Doom.

The Planet-Book to her they brought,

And laid it on her Knee;

She found that all would come to nought,

For poifon'd she should be.

I curfe

I curse you, Brother, then she cry'd,
Who caus'd my Destiny;

I might have been fome Lord's fair Bride,
But you have ruin'd me.

With that, the call'd her Waiting-Maid,
To bring her Riding Weed;
And to her Groom she likewise said,
Saddle my milk-white Steed.

Some rid before her, to report
Her coming to the King:

As the approach'd the Royal Court,
Sweet Peals of Bells did ring.

A Garland o're her Head they bore,
To magnify her Charms;

And as the came the King before,
He clasp'd her in his Arms.

With Blushes then she did befeech
The King on her bare Knee;
Her Words were thefe, I pray, my Liege,
What is your Will with me?
Said he, I fent for thee, my Rofe,

To grace my Royal Bed:
Now, as he did his Mind disclose,
She blushed Scarlet red.

Blush not, my faireft Rofamond;
Fear no unhappy Fate;
For, by my Kingly Pow'r, I can
Place thee in happy State:

No Lady in this Court of mine

Can purchase thy Defert;

Whose pleasant Looks, and Charms divine,

Have won my Royal Heart.

The Gifts and Presents of a King,
Soon caus'd her to comply;

Thinking there was not any Thing

Like Royal Dignity.

B 4

But

But as her bright and golden Scene
In Court began to shine,

The News was carry'd to the Queen
Of this new Concubine:

At which she was enraged fo
With Malice in her Breast,
That till she wrought her Overthrow,
She could not be at Rest.

She felt the Fury of the Queen,
E're she had flourish'd long;
And dy'd, juft as fhe had foreseen,
By force of Poyson strong.

The angry Queen, with Malice fraught,
Cou'd not her felf contain,

Till the fair Rofamond had brought
To her fad fatal Bane.

The sweet and charming precious Rofe,
King Henry's chief Delight!
The Queen fhe to the Bower goes,
And wrought her hateful Spite :

But when she to the Bower came,
Where Lady Clifford lay,
Enraged Ellinor by Name

She could not find the Way;
Until the filken Clue of Thread
Became a fatal Guide

Unto the Queen; who laid her dead,

E're she was fatisfy'd.

Alas! it was no fmall Surprize

To Rofamond the fair,

When Death appear'd before her Eyes,

No faithful Friend was there,

Who could stand up in her Defence,
To put the Potion by ;

So, by the Hands of Violence,
Compell'd she was to dye.

O moft renowned, gracious Queen,
Compaffion take of me;

I wish that I had never feen
Such Royal Dignity.
Betray'd I was, and by degrees
A fad Confent I gave;

And now, upon my bended Knees,
I do your Pardon crave.

I will not pardon you, fhe cry'd;
So take this fatal Cup:

And you may well be fatisfy'd;
I'll see you drink it up.

Then, with her fair and milk-white Hand,
The fatal Cup she took ;

Which being drank, she could not stand,

But foon the World forfook.

Now when the King was well inform'd
What Ellinor had done,

His Breast he fmote, in wrath he storm'd,
As if he would have run

Besides his Senses; and he swore,

For this inhuman Deed,

He never would bed with her more ;
His Royal Heart did bleed.

The King did not stand pausing long,
How to reward her Spleen;
But straight in a close Prison strong
He caft his cruel Queen :

Where the lay Six and twenty Years,
A long Captivity,

Bathed in Floods of weeping Tears,
Till his Death fet her free.

Now when her Son he did fucceed
His Father, Great Henry;
His Royal Mother foon he freed
From her Captivity:

B 5

And

And the fet many more at large, Who long for Debt had lain; Her Royal Pity did discharge Thousands in Richard's Reign.