Thus being cheer'd, he calls aloud for arms,

And bids that all should rise, whom Morpheus charms.
Bring me (saith he) the harness that I wore
At Tewxbury, which from that day no more
Hath felt the batt'ries of a civil strife,
Nor stood between destruction and my life.'
Upon his breast-plate he beholds a dent,

Which in that field young Edward's sword did print:
This stirs remembrance of his heinous guilt,
When he that prince's blood so foully spilt.
Now fully arm'd, he takes his helmet bright,
Which, like a twinkling star, with trembling light
Sends radiant lustre through the darksome air*;
This mask will make his wrinkled visage fair.
But when his head is cover'd with the steel,
He tells his servants, that his temples feel
Deep-piercing stings, which breed unusual pains,.
And of the heavy burden much complains.
Some mark his words, as tokens fram'd t' express
The sharp conclusion of a sad success.

Then going forth, and finding in his way
A soldier of the watch, who sleeping lay;
Enrag'd to see the wretch neglect his part,
He strikes a sword into his trembling heart,
The hand of death and iron dulness takes
Those leaden eyes, which natural ease forsakes:
The king this morning sacrifice commends,

And for example, thus the fact defends:
'I leave him as I found him, fit to keep
The silent doors of everlasting sleep.'

. he takes his helmet bright,

Which, like a twinkling star, with trembling light

Sends radiant lustre through the darksome air.] This description of a piece of armour is as fine as any thing I am able to recol

Still Richmond slept: for worldly care and fear
Have times of pausing when the soul is clear;
While heaven's director, whose revengeful brow
Would to the guilty head no rest allow,
Looks on the other part with milder eyes:
At his command an angel swiftly fiies
From sacred Truth's perspicuous gate, to bring
A crystal vision on his golden wing.

of blood;

This lord, thus sleeping, thought he saw and knew
His lamb-like uncle, whom that tiger slew,
Whose powerful words encourage him to fight:
'Go on, just scourge of murder, Virtue's light.
The combat which thou shalt this day endure,
Makes England's peace for many ages sure;
Thy strong invasion cannot be withstood,
The earth assists thee with the cry
The heaven shall bless thy hopes, and crown thy joys.
See how the fiends, with loud and dismal noise
(Presaging vultures, greedy of their prey),
On Richard's tent their scaly wings display.'
The holy King then offer'd to his view
A lively tree, on which three branches grew :
But when the hope of fruit had made him glad,
All fell to dust: at which the Earl was sad ;
Yet comfort comes again, when from the root

He sees a bough into the north to shoot,

Which, nourish'd there, extends itself from thence,

And girds this island with a firm defence:

lect of the kind. Let the reader compare it with the following lines of Glover:

his glittering shield

Whose spacious orb collects th' effulgent beam
Which from his throne meridian Phoebus cast,
Flames like another sun.

Leonidas.

There he beholds a high and glorious throne,
Where sits a king by laurel garlands known ;
Like bright Apollo in the Muses' quires,
His radiant eyes are watchful heav'nly fires ;
Beneath his feet pale Envy bites her chain,
And snaky Discord whets her sting in vain.

'Thou seest' (said Henry) wise and potent James,
This, this is he, whose happy union tames

The savage feuds, and shall those lets deface,
Which keep the bord❜rers from a dear embrace;
Both nations shall, in Britain's royal crown,
Their diff'ring names, the signs of faction, drown;
The silver streams which from this spring increase
Bedew all Christian hearts with drops of peace.
Observe how hopeful Charles is born t assuage
The winds that would disturb this golden age,
When that great king shall full of glory leave
The earth as base, then may this prince receive
The diadem, without his father's wrong,
May take it late, and may possess it long :
Above all Europe's princes shine thou bright,
O God's selected care, and man's delight.'

Here gentle sleep forsook his clouded brows,
And full of holy thoughts, and pious vows,
He kiss'd the ground as soon as he arose ;
When watchful Digby, who among his foes
Had wander'd unsuspected all the night,
Reports that Richard is prepar'd to fight.

Bosworth Field, by Sir J. Beaumont, p. 1-6, Edit. 1629.

RICHARD THE SECOND,

THE MORNING BEFORE HIS MURDER IN POMFRET CASTLE.

WHETHER the soul receives intelligence,

By her near genius, of the body's end,
And so imparts a sadness to the sense,
Foregoing ruin, whereto it doth tend;
Or whether nature else hath conference
With profound sleep, and so doth warning send
By prophetizing dreams, what hurt is near,
And gives the heavy careful heart to fear :

However, so it is; the now sad king
(Toss'd here and there, his quiet to confound)
Feels a strange weight of sorrows gathering
Upon his trembling heart, and sees no ground;
Feels sudden terror bring cold shivering:
Lists not to eat; still muses; sleeps unsound:
His senses droop, his steady eyes unquick;
And much he ails, and yet he is not sick.

The morning of that day which was his last,
After a weary rest rising to pain,

Out at a little grate his eyes he cast

Upon those bord'ring hills, and open plain,
And views the town, and sees how people pass'd;
Where others' liberty makes him complain

The more his own, and grieves his soul the more;
Conferring captive crowns, with freedom poor.

'O happy man, (saith he,) that lo I see
Grazing his cattle in those pleasant fields!
If he but knew his good, (how blessed he
That feels not what affliction greatness yields !)
Other than what he is he would not be,

Nor change his state with him that sceptres wields.
Thine, thine is that true life-that is to live,
To rest secure, and not rise up to grieve.

'Thou sit'st at home safe by thy quiet fire,
And hear'st of others harms, but feelest none;
And there thou tell'st of kings, and who aspire,
Who fall, who rise, who triumph, who do moan.
Perhaps thou talk'st of me, and dost inquire
Of my restraint, why here I live alone;
And pitiest this my miserable fall:
For pity must have part: envy not all.

Thrice happy you, that look as from the shore *,
And have no venture in the wreck you see;
No int'rest, no occasion to deplore

Other men's travels, while yourselves sit free.

* Thrice happy you, that look as from the shore, &c.]
Suave mari magno turbantibus æquora ventis,
E terrâ magnum alterius spectare laborem ;
Non quia vexari quemquam est jucunda voluptas,
Sed quibus ipse malis careas, quia cernere suave est.
Lucret. Lib. II.

On the subject of kindred sensations to this, I have been always *pleased with the following passage in Dr. Johnson's Journey to the Western Islands. "We came in the afternoon to Slanes Castle, built upon the margin of the sea, so that the walls of one of the towers seem only a continuation of a perpendicular rock, the foot of which is beaten by the waves. To walk round the house seemed impracticable: from the windows the eye wanders over the sea that separates Scotland from Norway, and when the winds beat with violence, must