WEAVE the warp, and weave the woof,
The winding-sheet of Edward`s race.
Give ample room, and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace.
Mark the year, and mark the night,
When Severn shall re-echo with affright
The shrieks of death, thro Berkley`s roofs that ring,
Shrieks of an agonizing king!
She-Wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,
That tear`st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
From thee be born, who o`er thy country hangs
The scourge of Heav`n. What terrors round him wait!
Amazement in his van, with Flight combined
And Sorrow`s faded form, and Solitude behind.
Fill high the sparkling bowl,
The rich repast prepare;
Reft of a crown, he may yet share the feast:
Close by the regal chair
Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
Yet thee the din of battle bray,
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