too well. 
Of Edward the fourth it seems proper to say
That he fancied Dame Shore, when wed to Bess Gray. 
But the fate of Jane Shore, should be warning to all
Who from love, or ambition, are tempted to fall. 
When Edward the fourth departed this earth,
He left two little sons, both Royal by birth;
But ere three years had pass’d, both met with their doom,
By a most cruel uncle, cut down in their bloom
Of youth, love, and beauty, and laid in the tomb. 
King Edward the fifth was the eldest one’s name,
Though never permitted by his uncle to reign. 
Next comes cruel Richard, the third of that name,
Whose vices surpassing put others to shame. 
When unhorsed in battle, he’s so anxious to live,
That he cries “for a horse, my kingdom I’ll give.” 
But in the same battle he had his last fall—­
Lamented by none, but detested by all. 
In the next reign the wars of the roses, all ended,
And the red rose and white, forever were blended;
For when Henry the seventh took Bessy his bride,
The knot of the roses forever was tied;
And when the sceptre descended from father to son,
The red and the white leaves all mingled in one. 
King Henry the eighth had quite a long reign
Mixed up with his Anne’s, his Katy’s and Jane. 
But from this King we turn with disgust and with shame,
And greet with delight, the sixth Edward by name. 
But only six years did this King fill the throne,
When called to resign it and lay his crown down. 
A worthier we think, has never set
On the throne of Great Britain—­at least not as yet. 
With pleasure we love to contemplate him now,
With a bright crown of Glory, encircling his brow,
In the region of light, love, peace, and of joy,
Where pleasures eternal can have no alloy. 
Sin, sickness, and death, never find entrance there,
For the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair;
The clouds of his young life have all passed away
And he enjoys the full light of an endless day—­
For all who find footing on that peaceful shore,
Shall hunger, and thirst, and sorrow no more. 
But once more we return to this “dim speck of earth,”
And revisit the clime that gave Edward his birth. 
Bloody Mary his sister, next mounted the throne,
But when five years had pass’d, was obliged to lay down,
Notwithstanding reluctance, her Sceptre and Crown. 
For death to whom she had sent many a one,
Now called for his victim, and made her his own. 
Not by fire and by faggot was she hurried away,
But by painful sickness and loathsome decay. 
Now commences the reign of the “Good Queen Bess,”
But why she’s called good I never could guess: 
Yet justice constrains me to allow in the main,
That her’s was a glorious and most prosperous reign. 
She had the good sense to know whom to admit
To her private councils, as men the most fit;