sent her to prison, where she was beheaded; and her brother, Lord Rochford, who was a brave and noble gentleman, had his head cut off too. The very day poor Anne was executed, the cruel king married a lady named Jane Seymour.

She was not good, nor beautiful, nor clever; but she always did just as the king wished her, which made him like her better than any of his wives. But soon after her little son was born she died. Henry sent about everywhere to get a wife; and among other places, he sent to Germany for a picture of Anne, the sister of the Duke of Cleves. He liked the picture so much that he married her; but when she came to England she was not at all like her picture, and the king was so angry because she was ugly, that he sent her away, as he had sent Queen Katherine; and he married a young lady named Lady Katherine Howard, the Duke of Norfolk's niece. But before long she too was accused of wicked actions, and so she was put in prison. She was not allowed to be properly tried, nor even to speak; and her head was cut off like Anne Boleyn's.

After he had done this, the Bluebeard king sent all over Europe to get another wife. He asked an Italian lady to marry him, named Christina, the Duchess of Milan. She was a very witty lady, and she sent him word, "that if she had had two heads, she would perhaps marry him; but as she had only one, she was afraid." He married, at last, a widow lady named Katherine Parr, who was very learned and prudent, and who knew how to manage him. Katherine Parr was a Protestant; and she helped to bring up Jane Seymour's little son Edward, and Anne Boleyn's daughter Elizabeth, and their cousin Lady Jane Grey, to be Protestants too.

The Pope tried hard to bring England back to the old faith. He sent Cardinal Pole to Spain and France, to try to persuade Charles V. and Francis I. to invade England, and frighten Henry. But they were not to be persuaded. Henry was so enraged at his favourite, Reginald Pole, for undertaking this new service, that

A.D. 1547.] EXECUTION OF LORD SURREY.

41

he seized upon all his relations, and put them in prison, including Courtenay-Lord Devon-and his little son, and the noble cardinal's venerable mother, Margaret, the Countess of Salisbury.

It can scarcely be believed that the savage monarch had this noble old lady put to death, because she refused to exert her influence to induce her son to return to England. She was very old, and her hair was quite white; but she was full of energy and courage, like a true Plantagenet. When the executioner told her to lay her head on the block, she said that her head had never been a traitor, and that if they wanted it, they might take it as they could. The cruel executioner followed her about the scaffold striking at her with his axe till she died.

The last evil deeds of King Henry VIII. were to put the old Duke of Norfolk and his brave son, Lord Surrey, in prison. The old duke was one of the wisest and best ministers in the kingdom; and Lord Surrey was the handsomest and politest and bravest young nobleman of the time. He was very learned, and wrote some of the most beautiful poetry of that age.

Lord Surrey, who had committed no crime, was executed, but the old Duke of Norfolk was saved by the savage king's own death. Henry died, as might be expected, in great misery, sometimes raving out in wild despair, and sometimes sullen and stupefied. In his last agony he looked towards the door, and cried out with loud shrieks, "Monks! monks!"

King Henry's body was carried to Windsor to be buried; and on the way it rested for one night in the ruined abbey-church of Sion, which he had caused to be desecrated, and where he had imprisoned poor Katherine Howard. The leaden coffin burst with the weight of the enormous corpse, and the blood gushed out upon the pavement. While the plumber was soldering up the coffin, there appeared a dog suddenly under his feet, licking up the blood; and men then remembered Friar Peyto's prophecy, who, when Henry had hunted away

the Franciscan friars, had compared him to Achab, and had declared that the dogs should lick up his blood.

The

Henry VIII. went to war with France but gained little glory by it. The King of France stirred up the Scots against England, and King James IV. of Scotland marched over the border. Earl of Surrey gave him battle at Flodden, where the Scots were utterly routed, and their king was left dead upon the field.

"See! look up,-on Flodden * bent
The Scottish foe has fired his tent;"

And sudden as he spoke,

Flodden Ridge, an offshoot of the Cheviots, on which James IV. had posted his army.

A.D. 1513.] THE BATTLE OF FLODDEN.
From the sharp ridges of the hill
All downward to the banks of Till*
Was wreathed in sable smoke;
Volumed † and vast, and rolling far,
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war
As down the hill they broke;
Nor martial shout nor minstrel tone
Announced their march; their tread alone,
At times one warning trumpet blown,
At times a stifled hum,

Told England, from his mountain-throne
King James did rushing come.

Scarce could they hear or see their foes,
Until at weapon-point they close-
They close in clouds of smoke and dust,
With sword-sway and with lance's thrust:
And such a yell was there

Of sudden and portentous ‡ birth,
As if men fought upon the earth
And fiends in upper air.

Long looked the anxious squires; § their eye
Could in the darkness naught descry.
At length the freshening western blast
Aside the shroud of battle cast;
And first the ridge of mingled spears
Above the brightening cloud appears;
And in the smoke the pennons || flew,
As in the storm the white sea-mew;
Then marked they, dashing broad and far,
The broken billows of the war;

The plumèd crests of chieftains brave,
Floating like foam upon the wave:

But naught distinct they see.

43

* Till, the river which Surrey crossed, so as to put himself between the Scots army and Scotland.

+Volumed, in great volumes, or heaps, of cloud.

Portentous, full of portents or wonders.

§ Squire, or esquire, an attendant on a knight. One next to a knight in the order of chivalry.

Pennons, banners.

¶ Plumed crests, plumes or tufts of feathers worn on the helmet.

Wide raged the battle on the plain;
Spears shook, and falchions* flashed amain;
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain;
Crests rose, and stooped, and rose again,
Wild and disorderly.

But as they left the darkening heath,
More desperate grew the strife of death;
The English shafts † in volleys hailed,
In headlong charge their horse assailed;
Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep,
To break the Scottish circle deep,

That fought around their king.
But yet, though thick the shafts as snow,
Though charging knights like whirlwinds
Though bill-men ‡ ply the ghastly blow,
Unbroken was the ring;

The stubborn spearmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,
Each stepping where his comrade stood
The instant that he fell.

go,

No thought was there of dastard flight;
Linked in the serried phalanx § tight,
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
As fearlessly and well;

Till utter Darkness closed her wing
O'er their thin host and wounded king.
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands
Led back from strife his shattered bands;
And from the charge they drew,

As mountain-waves from wasted lands
Sweep back to ocean blue.

Then did their loss his foemen know

Their king, their lords, their mightiest low;

*Falchions, swords.

Shafts, arrows.

Bill-men, the men who fight with bill, a weapon half axe, half spear, having a sharp hook.

§ Serried phalanx, closely packed ranks,