Here, take this poison'd cup (for in her hand
A poison'd cup she had), and do not stand
To parley now: but drink it presently,
Or else by tortures be resolv'd to die.
Thy doom is set.' Pale trembling Rosamond
Receives the cup, and kneeling on the ground,
When dull amazement somewhat had forsook
Her breast, thus humbly to the queen she spoke :
'I dare not hope you should so far relent,
Great queen, as to forgive the punishment
That to my foul offence is justly due.
Nor will I vainly plead excuse, to show
By what strong arts I was at first betray'd,
Or tell how many subtle snares were laid

To catch mine honour. These, though ne'er so true,
Can bring no recompence at all to you,

Nor just excuse to my abhorred crime.
Instead of sudden death, I crave but time,

Which shall be styled no time of life but death,
In which I may with my condemned breath,
While grief and penance make me hourly die,
Pour out my prayers for your prosperity:
Or take revenge on this offending face,
That did procure you wrong, and my disgrace.
Make poisonous leprosies o'erspread my skin;
And punish that, that made your Henry sin.
Better content will such a vengeance give
To you, that he should loath me whilst I live,
Than that he should extend (if thus I die)
His lasting pity to my memory,

And you be forc'd to see, when I am dead,
Those tears, perchance, which he for me will shed:
For though my worthless self deserve from him
No tears in death; yet when he weighs my crime,

Of which he knows how great a part was his,
And what I suffer as a sacrifice

For that offence, 'twill grieve his soul to be
The cause of such a double tragedy.'

'No more (reply'd the furious queen); have done;
Delay no longer, lest thy choice be gone,
And that a sterner death for thee remain.'
No more did Rosamond entreat in vain;
But, forc'd to hard necessity to yield,
Drank of the fatal potion that she held.
And with it enter'd the grim tyrant Death:
Yet gave such respite, that her dying breath
Might beg forgiveness from the heavenly throne,
And pardon those that her destruction

Had doubly wrought. Forgive, oh Lord, (said she,)
Him that dishonour'd, her that murder'd me.

Yet let me speak, for truth's sake, angry queen:
If you had spar'd my life, I might have been
In time to come th' example of your glory;
Not of your shame, as now; for when the story
Of hapless Rosamond is read, the best
And holiest people, as they will detest
My crime, and call it foul, they will abhor,
And call unjust the rage of Eleanor.
And in this act of yours it will be thought
King Henry's sorrow, not his love, you sought.'
And now so far the venom's force assail'd
Her vital parts, that life with language fail'd.
That well-built palace where the Graces made
Their chief abode, where thousand Cupids play'd
And couch'd their shafts, whose structure did delight
Ev'n nature's self, is now demolish'd quite,
Ne'er to be rais'd again; th' untimely stroke
Of death that precious cabinet has broke,

That Henry's pleased heart so long had held.
With sudden mourning now the house is fill'd;
Nor can the queen's attendants, though they fear
Her wrath, from weeping at that sight forbear.
By rough north blasts so blooming roses fade;
So crushed falls the lily's tender blade.
Her hearse at Godstow Abbey they inter,
Where sad and lasting monuments of her
For many years did to the world remain.
Nought did the queen by this dire slaughter gain,
But more her lord's displeasure aggravate;
And now when he return'd in prosperous state,
This act was cause, together with that crime
Of raising his unnatural sons 'gainst him,
That she so long in prison was detain’d,
And whilst he lived, her freedom never gain'd *.

Reigne of Henry II. by T. May, B. V.

* The tale of Fair Rosamond is altogether most happily adapted to the purposes of poetry, nor has it escaped the notice of our older poets; for (exclusive of May), Warner, Drayton, and Daniel, have 'each tried their respective powers upon it. P. Fletcher, in his Purple Island, alludes to one of them, though it is uncertain which, Cant. v. st. 45. Both Drayton and Daniel mention the circumstance of King Henry's having presented Rosamond, the night before her ruin, with a casket wrought with the story of Neptune and Amymone: this little incident is most probably from history. The necessary curious information for illustrating the whole story may be found in Dr. Percy's Reliques, Vol. II. p. 141, who has entirely anticipated me on the subject.

It may be necessary to apprise some readers, that the word bower was formerly used with considerably greater latitude than at present; and when applied to the residence of Rosamond, as it frequently is, means simply, retreat, private abode; it annexes with it an idea of retirement, but no further. Thus Spenser, in his Sonnet 70, invokes the Spring:

Go to my love, where she is careless laid,

Yet in her Winter's bower not well awake.

The term occurs in almost every page of our old poets, with the same general signification. The word cabin is used in a similar man

ner.

CLEOPATRA WITH THE ASPS BEFORE HER,

DEBATING ON HER OWN DESTRUCTION.

AND here I sacrifice these arms to Death, That lust late dedicated to delights: Off'ring up for my last, this last of breath,

The compliments of my love's dearest rites.'

With that she bares her arm, and offer makes
To touch her death, yet at the touch withdraws;
And seeming more to speak, occasion takes,
Willing to die, and willing too to pause.

Look, how a mother at her son's departing' *
For some far voyage, bent to get him fame,
Doth entertain him with an idle parling,

And still doth speak, and still speaks but the same:

Now bids farewell, and now recals him back;

Tells what was told, and bids again farewell,
And yet again recals; for still doth lack
Something that love would fain, and cannot tell.

Pleas'd he should go, yet cannot let him go:
So she, although she knew there was no way

But this, yet this she could not handle so,

But she must show that life desir'd delay.

*Look how a mother, &c.] See Browne's Brit. Past. B. II. Song 4, first lines.

Fain would she entertain the time as now,

And now would fain that Death would seize upon her, Whilst I might see presented in her brow

The doubtful combat try'd 'twixt Life and Honour.

Life bringing legions of fresh hopes with her,
Arm❜d with the proof of Time, which yields, we say,
Comfort and help to such as do refer

All unto him, and can admit delay.

But Honour scorning Life, lo forth leads he
Bright Immortality in shining armour :
Thorough the rays of whose clear glory, she

Might see Life's baseness, how much it might harm her.

Besides, she saw whole armies of Reproaches,

And base Disgraces, Furies fearful sad,

Marching with Life, and Shame that still encroaches
Upon her face, in bloody colours clad.

Which representments seeing, worse than Death
She deem'd to yield to Life, and therefore chose
To render all to Honour, heart and breath;

And that with speed, lest that her inward foes,

False Flesh and Blood, joining with Life and Hope,
Should mutiny against her resolution,

And to the end she would not give them scope:
She presently proceeds to th' execution;

And sharply blaming of her rebel powers,

"False Flesh,' saith she, and what dost thou conspire With Cæsar too, as thou wert none of ours,

To work my shame, and hinder my

desire?

F