Thus on soft wing the moments flew,
(Tho' love implor'd their stay)
While some new virtue rose to view,
And mark'd each fleeting day.
The youthful poet's soothing dream
Of golden ages past;
The muse's fond, ideal theme,
Was realiz'd at last.
But vainly here we hope, that bliss
Unchanging will endure;
Ah, in a world so vain as this,
What heart can rest secure!
For now arose the fatal day
For civil discord fam'd;
When _York_, from _Lancaster's_ proud sway,
The regal sceptre claim'd.
Each moment now the horrors brought
Of desolating rage;
The fam'd atchievements now were wrought,
That swell th' historic page.
The good old Albert pants, again
To dare the hostile field,
The cause of Henry to maintain,
For him, the launce to wield.
But oh, a thousand gen'rous ties,
That bind the hero's soul;
A thousand tender claims arise,
And Edwin's breast controul.
Tho' passion pleads in Henry's cause,
And Edwin's heart would sway;
Yet honour's stern, imperious laws,
The brave will still obey.
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