The Life and Death of Fair ROSAMOND,
King HENRY the Second's Concubine.
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WHEN as king Henry rul'd this land,
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The second of that name,
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Beside the queen he loved dear
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A fair and comely dame.
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Most peerless was her beauty found,
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Her favour and her face;
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A sweeter creature in the world,
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Could never prince embrace.
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Her crisped locks like thread of gold
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Appear'd to each man's fight.
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Her camely eyes, like orient pearl,
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Did cast a heavenly light.
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The blood within her cristal cheeks
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Did such a colour drive,
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As tho' the lilly and the rose
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For mastership did strive.
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Fair Rosamond, Fair Rosamond,
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Her name was called so,
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To whom dame Eleanor, our queen,
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Was known a deadly foe.
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The king therefore, for her defence
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Against the furious queen,
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At Woodstock builded such a bower,
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The like was never seen.
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Most curiously that bower was built
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Of stone and timber strong,
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An hundred and fifty doors
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Did to this bower belong.
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And they so cunningly contriv'd,
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With turnings round about,
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That none without a clew of thread
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Could enter in and out.
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Now for his love and lady's sake,
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Who was both fair and bright,
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The keeping of this bower he gave
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Unto a valiant knight.
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But fortune that doth often frown
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Where it before did smile,
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The king's delight, the lady's joy
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Full soon she did beguile.
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For why, the king's ungracious son,
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Whom he did high advance,
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Against his father raised wars
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Within the tealms of France.
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But yet before our gracious king
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The English land forsook,
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Of Rosamond, his lady fair.
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His farewel thus he took.
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My Rosamond, my only rose,
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Who pleaseth best mine eye;
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The fairest flower in all the world,
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To feed my plantasy.
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The flower of my affected heart,
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Whose sweetness doth excel
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My royal rose a hundred times,
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I bid you now farewel.
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For I must leave my fairest rose,
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My sweetest rose, a space.
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And cross the ocean into France,
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Proud rebels to debase.
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But still, my rose, besure thou shalt
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My coming shortly see,
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And in my heart, when hence I am,
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I'll bear my rose with me.
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When Rosamond, the lady bright,
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Did hear the king say so,
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The sorrow of her grieved heart
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Her outward looks did show.
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And from her clear and cristal eyes
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The tears gush'd out apace,
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Which like the silver pearled dew
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Ran down her comely face.
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Her lips, like to the coral red,
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Did wax both wan and pale.
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And for the sorrow she conceiv'd,
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Her vital spirits fail.
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And falling down into a swoon
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Before king Henry's face,
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Full oft within his princely arms
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Her body did embrace.
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And twenty times with watry eyes
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He kiss'd her tender cheeks,
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Until he had reviv'd again
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Her spirit mild and meek
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Why grieves my rose? my sweetest rose,
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The king did often say.
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Because, quoth she, to bloody wars
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My lord must pass away.
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But since your grace in foreign coasts
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Among your foes unkind,
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Must go to hazard life and limb,
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Why must I stay behind?
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Nay, rather let me, like a page,
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Thy sword and target bear,
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That on my breast the blow may light
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That should offend my dear.
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O let me in your royal tent
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Prepare pour bed at night,
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And with sweet baths refroshen you,
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As you return from fight.
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So I your presehce may enjoy
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No toil I will refuse:
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But wanting you my life is death,
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Which doth true love abuse.
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Content thyself, my dearest love,
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Thy rest at home shall be
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In England's sweet and pleasing court,
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For travels fit not thee.
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Fair ladies brook not bloody wars,
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Sweet peace their pleasure breeds,
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The nourisher of heart's content,
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Whose fancy first did feed.
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My rose shall rest in Woodstock bower,
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With music's sweet delight;
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While I among the piercing pikes,
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Against my foes do fight.
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My rose in robes of pearl and gold,
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With diamonds rich and bright,
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Shall dance the galliards of my love,
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While I my foes do smite.
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And you, sir Thomas, whom I trust
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To be my love's defence,
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Be careful of my gallant rose
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When I am parted hence.
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And herewithal he fetch'd a sigh,
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As tho' his heart would break;
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And Rosamond, for very grief,
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Not one plain word could speak.
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And at their parting well they might
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In heart be grieved sore:
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After that day Fair Rosamond
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The king did see no more.
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For when his grace passed the seas,
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And into France was gone,
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Queen Eleanor with envious heart
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To Woodstock came anon.
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And forth she calls the rrusty knight,
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Who kept this curious bower,
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And with a clew of twisted thread
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Came from this famous flower.
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And when that they had wounded him,
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The queen his thread did get,
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And went where lady Rosamond
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Was like an angel set.
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But when the queen, with stedfast eyes,
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Beheld her heavenly face,
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She was amazed in her mind
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At her exceeding grace.
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Cast off, said she, these fine robes,
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That rich and costly be,
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And drink you up this deadly draught
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Which I have brought to thee.
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But presently upon her knees
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Fair Rosamond did fall,
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And pardon of the queen she crav'd
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For her offences all.
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Take pity on my youthful years,
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Fair Rosamond did cry,
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And let me not with poison strong
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Be forced for to die.
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I will renounce my sinful life,
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And in some cloister bide,
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Or else be banish'd if you please,
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To range the world so wide.
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And for the fault which I have done,
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Tho' I was forc'd thereto,
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Preserve my life, and punish me,
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As you think fit to do.
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And with these words her lilly hands
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She wrung full often there,
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And down along her comely face
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Proceeded many a tear.
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But nothing could this furious queen
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Herewith appeased be,
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The cup of deadly poison strong,
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Which we held on her knee,
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She gave this comely dame to drink,
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Who took it from her hand,
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And from her bended knees arose,
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And on her feet did stand.
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When casting up her eyes to Heaven.
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She did for mercy call,
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And drinking up the poison strong,
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Her life she lost withal.
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And when death thro' every limb
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Had done it's greatest spite,
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Her chiefest foes did not confess
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She was a glorious wight.
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Her body then they did emtomb,
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When life was fled away,
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At Woodstock, near to Oxford-town.
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As may be seen this day.
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