The shrouds were all torn, and the decks fill'd with blood, And scores of dead bodies were thrown in the flood ;-The flood from the days of old Noah and Seth, Ne'er saw such a man as our brave captain Death. At last the dread bullet came wing'd with his fate, Our brave captain dropp'd, and soon after his mate; Each officer fell, and a carnage was seen, That soon died the waves to a crimson from green: Thus fell the strong Terrible, bravely and bold; The French were the victors,-though much to their For many brave French were with Englishmen lost. And thus, says old Time, from good queen Elizabeth, I ne'er saw the fellow of brave captain Death. Epistle FROM MARY, QUEEN OF FRANCE,* ΤΟ CHARLES BRANDON, DUKE OF Suffolk. Mary, youngest sister of Henry the VIIIth, was one of the most beautiful women of her time; and when only sixteen years of age was betrothed to Louis the XIIth. She was sent over to France with a splendid retinue, and Louis met her at Abbeville, * A Portrait of this Lady is given in Gent. Mag. August, 1805, p. 697. young where the espousals were celebrated, on the 9th of October, 1514. He was enchanted with the beauty, grace, und numerous accomplishments of the princess, but died in less than three months after the marriage. His successor Francis the Ist. proposed the Queen dowager's return to England, to which king Henry consented, after having made the best conditions he could for his sister, and taken security for the payment of her dowry. This done, some of the English nobility were appointed to go over into France to receive the Queen, and conduct her back; amongst whom was the Duke of Suffolk; who, upon his arrival, renewing his suit, and being already in her good graces, found it no difficult matter to gain his point; and wisely concluding that Henry might not so readily consent to his marrying the dowager of France, as he would have done to his marrying the princess his sister, he would not delay his happiness, but had the marriage privately solemnized before he left that country. It is known, however, that Suffolk had entirely gained her affections long before she was married to the French monarch. For soon after his arrival she asked him, whether he had now the courage, without farther reflection, to espouse her? And she told him, that her brother would more easily forgive him for not asking his consent, than for acting contrary to his orders. But this was most probably done with the king's connivance. It is, however, certain, that no other subject durst have ventured upon a Queen of France, and a sister of the inexorable Henry the VIIIth. It is remarkable, that neither this princess nor her sister had any great pride or ambition; for although they both had been wedded to monarchs we find that the eldest sister, Margaret, after having buried her first husband, James the Vth of Scotland, chose one of her nobles for a second, and married Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus. The Duchess died at the Manor House of Wes thorp in 1533, and was first buried in the abbey church of Bury St. Edmund; but at the dissolution of that monastery, her remains were removed to the church of St. Mary, and interred on the north side of the altar; and over them was placed a plain table monument. This tomb, simple and unadorned, was for some time supposed to be only a cenotaph; but on opening it in 1731, a covering of lead, evidently inclosing a human body, was found, with this inscription on the breast, "Mary Queen of France, 1533." Notwithstanding this discovery, the tomb - continued without any external memorial of the rank of the person deposited beneath it, till 1758, when Dr. Symonds of Bury had it repaired at his own expence, and a marble tablet inserted with the following inscription: Sacred to the Memory of MARY TUDOR, Third Daughter of Henry VII. King of England, CHARLES BRANDON, DUKE OF SUFFOLK. at the Manor of Westhorp, in this County; after the Dissolution of the ABBEY. LET these soft lines my kindest thoughts conver, Tall ships, with flying sails and labouring oars, But thy firm faith no injury receiv'd; For you still lov'd, or I was well deceiv'd. Nor were my virgin vows less true to thee, When young Castile address'd the court for me. The charms of proffer'd empire I resign'd; Brandon was more than empire to my mind: While, without rivals, in thy breast I reign'd, My thoughts the pageantry of power disdain'd. But, ah! what changes human joys attend! On fickle turns our brightest hopes depend. Victorious Henry's arms still meet success; The vanquish'd Gauls at last propose a peace. By Wolsey's policy their terms succeed; The long contending nations are agreed ; And I the public victim am decreed, Condemn'd to share the Christian Monarch's bed, And curs'd with that magnificence I fled. I knew my rank no private choice allow'd, And what a Princess to her country ow'd. These splendid maxims should have sway'd my breast, But Love entirely had my soul possess'd. How oft I wish'd my kinder destiny Had sunk the Queen in some obscure degree; From all the curst restraints which greatness brings; While grots, the meads, the shades, and purling springs, The flowery valley, and the gloomy grove, Had heard of no superior name to Love. Till real ills dissolv'd the pleasing dreams, The groves and vallies fled, the lawns and silver streams. The gay fantastic paradise I mourn'd; While courts and factions, crowns and cares, return'd. When no pretence could gain a longer stay. When shipp'd for France, before the dancing wind Nor once from thence my stedfast sight withdrew, |