THE Union of the Red Rose and the White; BY A Marriage between King Henry VII. and a Daughter of King Edward IV.
|
WHEN York and Lancaster made War,
|
Within this famous Land;
|
The Lives of Englands noble Peers,
|
Did much in Danger stand.
|
Seven English Kings in bloody Fields,
|
For Englands Crown did fight;
|
In which their Heirs were all, but twain,
|
Of Life bereaved quite.
|
Then thirty Thousand Englishmen,
|
Were in one Battle slain;
|
Yet could not all this English Blood,
|
A settled Peace obtain.
|
Fathers unkind their Children killd,
|
And Sons their Fathers slew:
|
Yea, Kindred fought against their Kind,
|
And not each other knew.
|
At last, by Henrys lawful Claim,
|
The wasting Wars had End;
|
For Englands Peace he soon restord,
|
And did the same defend.
|
For Tyrant Richard, namd the Third,
|
The Breeder of this Woe;
|
By him was slain, near Leicester Town,
|
As Chronicles do show.
|
All Fears of Wars he thus exild,
|
Which joyd each Englishman,
|
And Days of long desired Peace,
|
Within the Land began.
|
He ruld this Kingdom by true Love,
|
To chear his Subjects Lives:
|
For every one had daily Joy,
|
And Comfort of their Wives.
|
King Henry had such princely Care,
|
Our further Peace to frame,
|
Took fair Elizabeth to Wife,
|
That gallant Yorkshire Dame.
|
Fourth Edwards Daughter, blessd of God,
|
To escape King Richards Spite,
|
Was thus made Englands peerless Queen,
|
And Henrys Hearts Delight.
|
Thus Henry first, of Tudors Name,
|
And Lancaster the first,
|
With Yorks right Heir, a true Loves Knot,
|
Did link and tie full fast.
|
Renowned York the White Rose gave,
|
Brave Lancaster the Red,
|
By Wedlock now conjoind to grow,
|
Both in one princely Bed.
|
These Roses sprung and budded fair,
|
And carried such a Grace,
|
That Kings of England in their Arms,
|
Afford them worthy Place.
|
And flourish may those Roses long,
|
That all the World may tell,
|
How Owners of those princely Flowrs,
|
In Virtues did excel.
|
To glorify those Roses more,
|
King Henry and his Queen,
|
First placd their Pictures in wrought Gold,
|
Most gorgeous to be seen.
|
The Kings own Guard now wear the same,
|
Upon their Back and Breast;
|
Where Love and Loyalty remains,
|
And evermore shall rest.
|
The Red Rose on the Back is placd,
|
Thereon a Crown of Gold:
|
The White Rose on the Breast is brave
|
And costly to behold.
|
Bedeckd most rich with Silver Studs,
|
On Coat of Scarlet red:
|
A blushing Hue with Englands Fame,
|
Now many a Year hath bred.
|
Thus Tudor and Plantagenet,
|
These Honours first devisd;
|
To welcome long desired Peace,
|
With us so highly prizd.
|
A Peace that now maintained is,
|
By Charles our Royal King:
|
For Peace brings Plenty to the Land,
|
With every blessed Thing.
|
To speak again of Henrys Praise,
|
His princely libral Hand;
|
Gave Gifts and Graces many Ways
|
Unto this famous Land.
|
For which the Lord him Blessings sent,
|
And multiplyd his Store:
|
In that he left more Wealth to us,
|
Than any King before.
|
For first his sweet and lovely Queen,
|
A Joy above the rest,
|
Brought him both Sons and Daughters fair,
|
To make his Kingdom blest.
|
The Royal Blood that was at Ebb,
|
So increasd by his Queen,
|
That Englands Heirs unto this Day,
|
Do flourish fair and green.
|
The first fair Blessing of his Seed,
|
Was Arthur Prince of Wales,
|
Whose Virtue to the Spanish Court,
|
Quite oer the Ocean fails.
|
There Ferdinand, the King of Spain,
|
His Daughter Katherine gave,
|
For Wife unto the English Prince,
|
A Thing that God would have.
|
Yet Arthur in his lofty Youth,
|
And blooming Time of Age,
|
Submitting meekly his sweet Life,
|
To Deaths impartial Rage;
|
Who dying so, no Issue left,
|
The Sweet of Natures Joy,
|
Which compassd England round with Grief,
|
And Spain with sad Annoy.
|
King Henrys second Consort provd,
|
A Henry of his Name:
|
In following Times Eight Henry calld,
|
A King of Noble Fame.
|
He conquerd Bulloign with his Sword,
|
With many Towns in France:
|
His manly Mind and Fortitude,
|
Did Englands Fame advance.
|
He Popish Abbeys first suppressd,
|
And Papistry pulld down;
|
And bound their Lands by Parliament,
|
Unto his Royal Crown.
|
He had three Children by three Wives,
|
And Princes reigning here:
|
Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth,
|
A Queen belovd most dear.
|
These three sweet Branches bare no Fruit,
|
God no such Joy did send;
|
Thro which the kingly Tudors Name,
|
In England there had End.
|
The last Plantagenet that livd,
|
Was namd Elizabeth:
|
Elizabeth last Tudor was,
|
The greatest Queen on Earth.
|
Seventh Henry yet we name again,
|
Whose Grace gave free Consent,
|
To have his Daughters married both
|
To Kings of high Descent.
|
Margaret, the eldest of the twain,
|
Was made great Scotlands Queen;
|
As wise, as fair, as virtuous,
|
As eer was Lady seen.
|
From which fair Queen, our Royal King
|
Does lineally descend;
|
And rightfully enjoys that Crown,
|
Which God doth still befriend.
|
For Tudor and Plantagenet,
|
By yielding unto Death,
|
Have made renowned Stuarts Name,
|
The greatest upon Earth.
|
His youngest Daughter, Mary calld,
|
As princely in Degree;
|
Was by her Father worthy thought,
|
The Queen of France to be:
|
And after to the Suffolk Duke,
|
Was made a noble Wife,
|
When in the famous English Court,
|
She led a virtuous Life.
|
King Henry and his loving Queen,
|
Rejoicd to see the Day;
|
To have their Children thus advancd,
|
With Honours every Way.
|
Which purchasd Pleasure and Content,
|
With many Years Delight;
|
Till sad Mischance, by cruel Death,
|
Procurd them both a Spite.
|
The Queen that fair and princely Dame,
|
That Mother meek and mild;
|
To add more Number to her Joy,
|
Again grew big with Child:
|
All which brought Comfort to the King,
|
Against which careful Hour,
|
He lodgd his dear kind-hearted Queen,
|
In Londons stately Tower.
|
That Tower that was so fatal once,
|
To Princes of Degree;
|
Provd fatal to this noble Queen,
|
For therein died she.
|
In Child-bed lost she her sweet Life,
|
Her Life esteemd so dear;
|
Which had been Englands loving Queen,
|
Full many a happy Year.
|
The King herewith possessd with Grief,
|
Spent many Months in Moan;
|
And daily sighd, and said that he
|
Like her could find out none:
|
Nor none could he in Fancy chuse,
|
To make his wedded Wife;
|
Wherefore a Widower would remain,
|
The Remnant of his Life.
|
His after Days he spent in Peace,
|
And Quietness of Mind.
|
Like King and Queen, as those two were,
|
The World can hardly find.
|
Our King and Queen, yet like to them,
|
In Virtue and true Love;
|
Have heavenly Blessings in like Sort,
|
From heavenly Powrs above.
|
|
|
|
|
|