The Life and Death of Jane Shore, Concubine to Edward IV/Chapter 11
A short account of Fair Rosamond
Concubine to King Henry II.
When as King Henry rul'd this land,
the second of that name;
Besides the queen, he loved dear,
a fair and comely dame.
Most peerless was her beauty found,
her favour and her face;
A sweeter creature in the world,
could never prince embrace.
Her crisped locks, like threads of gold,
appear'd to each man's sight,
Her comely eyes like orient pearl,
did cast a heavenly light.
The blood within her chrystal cheeks,
did such a colour drive,
As tho' the lilly and the rose.
Fair Rosamond, Fair Rosamond,
her name was called so,
To whom dame Eleanor our Queen,
was known a deadly foe.
The king therefore, for her defence,
against the furious queen,
At Woodstock builded such a bower,
the like was never seen.
Most curiously that bower was built,
of stone and timber strong,
An hundred and fifty doors,
did to this bower belong.
And they so cunningly contriv'd
with turnings round about,
That none without a clue or thread,
could enter in or out.
Now for his love and lady's sake,
who was both fair and bright,
The keeping of this bower he gave,
unto a valiant Knight.
But fortune that does often frown,
where it before did smile,
The king's delight, the lady's joy,
full soon she did beguile.
For why, the king's ungracious son,
whom he did high advance,
Against his father raised wars,
within the realms of France.
But yet before our gracious king,
the English land forsook,
Of Rosamond his lady fair,
his last farewel he took.
Teen said, Sir Thomas, whom I trust,
to be my love's defence;
Be careful of my gallant rose,
when I am parted hence.
And here withal he fetch'd a sigh,
as tho' his heart would break,
And Rosamond, for very grief,
not one plain word could speak,
And at their parting well they might,
in heart be grieved sore,
After that day Fair Rosamond,
the king did see no more.
But nothing could this furious queen,
therewith appeased be,
The cup of deadly poison strong,
which she held on her knee.
She gave this comely dame to drink,
who took it from her hand,
And from her bended knees arose,
and on her feet did stand.
When casting up her eyes to heav'n,
she did for mercy call,
And drinking up the poison strong,
she lost her life with all.
Her bedy then they did entomb,
when life was fled away,
At Woodstock, near to Oxford town
as may be seen this day.
FINIS.
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