But soon tumultous thoughts began gave way, His looks could soften, and his words assuage. Unruly care from him was far remov'd, Grief's wildest murmurs at his breath would cease; O! in his blameless life how well he prov❜d The house of goodness is the house of peace! Here I again enjoy'd my sweet repose, And taught my heart, with pious wisdom fill'd, No more with anxious throb to seek disclose What stubborn fate had doom'd to lie conceal'd. But long these fond delusions did not last, Some sterner pow'r my rising life controul'd, My visionary hopes too swiftly past, And left my prospects, dreary, dark, and cold. When rugged March o'er-rules the growing year, Have we not seen the sun, with treach'rous Shine out awhile, then instant disappear, ray, And leave to damp and gloom the future day? So dawn'd my fate, and so deceiv'd my heart, In one unlook'd-for moment, bade me part My guide once more arriv'd, tho', as of late, 66 And care and thought seem'd busy on his brow. r Rise, youth," he said, " and mount this rapid steed;" I argued not; his bidding strait was done; Proud-crested was the beast, of warlike breed, Arm'd at all points, with rich caparison.. We commun'd not-such heat was in our speed, Who hath not heard of Bosworth's fatal plain, Where base advent'rers did in compact join 'Gainst chiefs of prowess high, and noble strain, And low'r'd the crest of YORK's imperial line? Now verging on that memorable ground, Our course we stay'd—yet we alighted not; Fill'd with astonishment I gaz'd around, While in my glowing breast my heart grew hot. Thick-station'd tents, extended wide and far, The sinking sun, with richly burnish'd glow, Now to his western chamber made retire, While pointed spears, quick shifting to and fro, Seem'd all as spiral flames of hottest fire. Promiscuous voices fill'd the floating gale, The welkin echo'd with the steed's proud neigh: The bands oft turn'd and ey'd the western vale, Watching the closure of departing day. Light vanish'd now apace, and twilight grey With speed unusual mantled all the ground, The chieftains to their tents had ta'en their way, And centinels thick-posted watch'd around. As sable night advanced more and more, Now tow'rd the tents awhile we journey'd on With hasty foot we press'd the dewy sod, He seem'd as tho' he there did list'ning stand, With glowing crimson the pavilion shone, The polish'd armour, bright and deft to don, The crown imperial glitter'd in mine eye, A weighty curtleaxe unsheath'd was plac'd. The chief unbonnetted, and drew me nigh, Wrapt in a deepen'd gloom his face appear'd Like the dark low'rings of the clouded sky, Ere the big-bursting tempest's voice is heard, Revenge, impatience, all that mads the soul, All that despair and frenzy's flame inspires, Shewn by the tapers, in his eyes did roll, Hot meteors they amid the lesser fires. Tho' each dark line I could not truly scan, Whom, whilom, at the palace I had seen. To quell his feelings huge he sternly try'd, Holding strong combat with his fighting soul, Cresting himself with more than earthly pride, As tho' from pow'r supreme he scorn'd controul. At length (in part subdu'd his troubled breast) Who waits the inspirings of his mystic oak!) "Wonder no more why thou art hither brought, The secret of thy birth shall now be shewn; With glorious ardor be thy bosom fraught, 66 For know, thou art imperial RICHARD'S son.. Thy father I, who fold thee in my arms, 豐 Soon as my pow'r hath quell'd these loud alarms, Thou shalt be known, be honour'd, and be great. "Rise from the ground, and dry thy flowing tears, To nature's dues be other hours assign'd! Beset with foes, solicitude, and cares, Far other thoughts must now possess the mind. "To-morrow,* boy, I combat for my crown, * The battle of Bosworth field was fought August 22nd, 1485. |