The gallant Princess to the grave, and JAMES
Ascended in triumphant vanity,—

All hope without a cloud-and confident
In the full prowess of his learned head,

To put down Faction's voice, and spell the pen
From the charm'd hand of controversialist!
But, ah! how little did he know his force!
He was the very instrument for those
He was so rife to battle with; and well
Were they prepar'd to daunt him to the fight,
To draw him to the snare, as does the spider
The fly on which she darts! for cobwebs thick,
And strong, they spun in every corner, and
On every tree! the Monarch struggling seen,-
Sport for his courtiers-for the subtler spinners
Triumph conceal'd and inexpressible!—

Thus pass'd his days, that soon began with clouds
And plots to darken that deep loaded sky,
Which he had at his entrance fondly thought,
Could only sunshine be beneath his wisdom!
O Monarch all of petitess supreme,

Great in small things, and then whenever greatness
Was call'd for, truly least of all the little,
Thou didst by each day's folly thick prepare
The storms and bloodshed for thy fated son,
Who on the scaffold clos'd his wretched days!
Now, Puritans, the practical effect
Of all the theoretic looms of blood
Ye had been working into action, came,
And now it was a war of words no longer :

Out leap'd the sword; and armies met; and brother Oppos'd himself to brother's instrument

Of death! and fields with civil blood were cover'd,

And fortunes fell, and gallant heroes died;
And law was overturn'd, and blessed Arts
Cover'd their heads and hands, and clos'd their voices.
And thou, divinest Poesy, e'en thou
Fledst the domains, where Heaven had begun
To breathe her accents from the lyre, and He,
The Bard of Paradise, in Ludlow's Castle,
Or Harefield's Halls, had just begun to open
Strains of a tone ne'er yet in Albion sounded.
Then the all-virtuous, and all-eloquent,
All-learned Falkland fell at Newbury,
Already sunk in sorrow for the times,

And daring death in midst of hostile swords!
Then thou from whom the stream of blood I draw,
That circuits thro my veins, O beautiful
And gallant Mainwaring, didst nobly die
On Chester walls, and to an ancient name
Didst leave no scion male! and still I hold
The Garter, signal of thy loyalty,

Cut from the monarch's shoulder, and in need
Giv'n to thy widow as a future pledge!

But many a battle still was to be fought,-
And still, when Newbury's disastrous doom
Could not be chang'd, rested the conflict's issue
·Between a gallant monarch and a people,
Who, when awaken'd to the war, would never
Leave liberty's broad banner in the dust!

Duke of Newcastle of 1676

whose daughter Elis" m2 Schn Egerton 24 Earl of Bridgwater