The Kings and Queens of England with Other Poems | Page 2

second, first
Prince of that name.
But what shall I say of King Edward the third,

The most remarkable reign, that yet had occurred;
Fire arms in the
war, were first used in his reign,
And the battle of Cressy of great
note and fame,
To their introduction has the right to lay claim.
The
knights of the Garter, first made in his reign
In honor it seems of a
fair English dame,
The Duchess of Salisbury to whom it is said,

From Edward peculiar attentions were paid.
Of Richard the second
we have little to say,
And take up the fourth Henry, the next on our
way,
Who reigned fourteen years, when death cut him down
And
left his good Kingdom to Henry his son;
But ere nine years had past,
the fifth Henry was borne
To the region of darkness from whence
none return.
The next reign is full of commotion and strife,
And
Henry the sixth is seen flying for life;
For though King of England,
we cannot but see
He's but the shadow of a king--that should be;

And during the thirty-nine years that he reigned
His crown and his
sceptre were feebly retained.
It was in this reign on her mission intent,

That Joan of Arc to the battle field went:

The French troops were
elated, the English dismayed
At the wonderful victories achieved by
her aid;
At length fortune turns, and 'tis needless to tell
Of the fate
of this maiden--it is all known too well.
Of Edward the fourth it
seems proper to say
That he fancied Dame Shore, when wed to Bess
Gray.
But the fate of Jane Shore, should be warning to all
Who
from love, or ambition, are tempted to fall.
When Edward the fourth
departed this earth,
He left two little sons, both Royal by birth;
But

ere three years had pass'd, both met with their doom,
By a most cruel
uncle, cut down in their bloom
Of youth, love, and beauty, and laid in
the tomb.
King Edward the fifth was the eldest one's name,
Though
never permitted by his uncle to reign.
Next comes cruel Richard, the
third of that name,
Whose vices surpassing put others to shame.

When unhorsed in battle, he's so anxious to live,
That he cries "for a
horse, my kingdom I'll give."
But in the same battle he had his last
fall--
Lamented by none, but detested by all.
In the next reign the
wars of the roses, all ended,
And the red rose and white, forever were
blended;
For when Henry the seventh took Bessy his bride,
The
knot of the roses forever was tied;
And when the sceptre descended
from father to son,
The red and the white leaves all mingled in one.

King Henry the eighth had quite a long reign
Mixed up with his
Anne's, his Katy's and Jane.
But from this King we turn with disgust
and with shame,
And greet with delight, the sixth Edward by name.

But only six years did this King fill the throne,
When called to resign
it and lay his crown down.
A worthier we think, has never set
On
the throne of Great Britain--at least not as yet.
With pleasure we love
to contemplate him now,
With a bright crown of Glory, encircling his
brow,
In the region of light, love, peace, and of joy,
Where
pleasures eternal can have no alloy.
Sin, sickness, and death, never
find entrance there,
For the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair;

The clouds of his young life have all passed away
And he enjoys the
full light of an endless day--
For all who find footing on that peaceful
shore,
Shall hunger, and thirst, and sorrow no more.
But once more
we return to this "dim speck of earth,"
And revisit the clime that gave
Edward his birth.
Bloody Mary his sister, next mounted the throne,

But when five years had pass'd, was obliged to lay down,

Notwithstanding reluctance, her Sceptre and Crown.
For death to
whom she had sent many a one,
Now called for his victim, and made
her his own.
Not by fire_ and by _faggot_ was _she hurried away,

But by painful sickness and loathsome decay.
Now commences the
reign of the "Good Queen Bess,"
But why_ she's called _good I never

could guess:
Yet justice constrains me to allow in the main,
That
her's was a glorious and most prosperous reign.
She had the good
sense to know whom to admit
To her private councils, as men the
most fit;
And by their advice, good sense and discretion,
She
managed with fitness to govern the nation.
As a Queen she seems
great, though weak as a woman,
And when praised as a Goddess, was
no more than human;
At the age of threescore, she loved to be
compared
As a beauty to Venus, though crook'd and red haired.
Of
lovers she had full many a one,
Who sought, through her hand, a pass
to the throne,
But chose to remain single; for full well she knew,

That in giving her hand, she gave away her power too.
In this reign
we find ineffacible blots,
In the treatment of Essex, and Mary of
Scots;
The death of the former, the Queen sorely repents,
And for
her lost Essex she deeply laments.
The remorse of a Countess,