Being glad to feed on beggars' food And calling to remembrance then 'Which make him rend his milk white locks And treffes from his head, And all with blood beftain his cheeks, To hills and woods, and wat'ry founts, Till hills and woods, and fenfelefs things, groan. Ev'n thus poffefs'd with difcontents, In hope from fair Cordelia there To find fome gentler chance. Moft virtuous Dame! which when she heard Of this her father's grief, As duty bound, the quickly fent Him comfort and relief. And by a train of noble peers, She gave in charge he should be brought Whose royal King, whofe noble mind, So freely gave confent, To mufter up his knights at arms, And fo to England came with speed And And drive his daughters from their thrones By his Cordelia dear: Where fhe, true hearted noble Queen, Was in the battle flain; Yet he, good King, in his old days, But when he heard Cordelia's death, The lords and nobles when they faw And being dead their crowns they left Thus have you feen the fall of pride END OF THE SEVENTH VOLUME. |