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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448924" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Perkin Warbeck</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">i</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At Turney in Flanders I was born<br>Fore-doomed to splendour and sorrow,<br>For I was a king when they cut the corn,<br>And they strangle me to-morrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">ii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh ! why was I made so red and white,<br>So fair and straight and tall ?<br>And why were my eyes so blue and bright,<br>And my hands so white and small ?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">iii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And why was my hair like the yellow silk,<br>And curled like the hair of a king ?<br>And my body like the soft new milk<br>That the maids bring from milking ?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">iv</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was nothing but a weaver's son,<br>I was born in a weaver's bed ;<br>My brothers toiled and my sisters spun,<br>And my mother wove for our bread.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">v</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was the latest child she had,<br>And my mother loved me the best.<br>She would laugh for joy and anon be sad<br>That I was not as the rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">vi</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For my brothers and sisters were black as the gate<br>Whereby I shall pass to-morrow,<br>But I was white and delicate,<br>And born to splendour and sorrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">vii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And. my father the weaver died full soon,<br>But my mother lived for me ;<br>And I had silk doublets and satin shoon<br>And was nurtured tenderly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">viii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the good priests had much joy of me,<br>For I had wisdom and wit;<br>And there was no tongue or subtlety<br>But I could master it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">ix</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when I was fourteen summers old<br>There came an English knight,<br>With purple cloak and spurs of gold,<br>And sword of chrysolite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">x</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He rode through the town both sad and slow,<br>And his hands lay in his lap ;<br>He wore a scarf as white as the snow,<br>And a snow-white rose in his cap.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xi</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he passed me by in the market-place,<br>And he reined his horse and stared,<br>And I looked him fair and full in the face,<br>And he stayed with his head all bared.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he leaped down quick and bowed his knee,<br>And took hold on my hand,<br>And he said, ' Is it ghost or wraith that I see,<br>Or the White Rose of England .? '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xiii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I answered him in the Flemish tongue,<br>' My name is Peter Warbeckke,<br>From Katharine de Faro I am sprung,<br>And my father was John Osbeckke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xiv</div><div style="margin:10px 0">' My father toiled and weaved with his hand<br>And bare neither sword nor shield<br>And the White Rose of fair England<br>Turned red on Bosworth field.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xv</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he answered, ' What matter for anything ?<br>For God hath given to thee<br>The voice of the king and the face of the king,<br>And the king thou shalt surely be.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xvi</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he wrought on me till the vesper bell,<br>And I rode forth out of the town :<br>And I might not bid my mother farewell,<br>Lest her love should seem more than a crown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xvii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the sun went down, and the night waxed black,<br>And the wind sang wearily ;<br>And I thought on my mother, and would have gone back,<br>But he would not suffer me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xviii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And we rode, and we rode, was it nine days or three ?<br>Till we heard the bells that ring<br>For ' my cousin Margaret of Burgundy,'<br>And I was indeed a king.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xix</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For I had a hundred fighting men '<br>To come at my beck and call,<br>And I had silk and fine linen<br>To line my bed withal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xx</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They dressed me all in silken dresses,<br>And little I wot did they reck<br>Of the precious scents for my golden tresses,<br>And the golden chains for my neck.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxi</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all the path for ' the rose ' to walk<br>Was strewn with flowers and posies,<br>I was the milk-white rose of York,<br>The rose of all the roses.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the Lady Margaret taught me well,<br>Till I spake without lisping<br>Of Warwick and Clarence and Isabel,<br>And ' my father ' Edward the King.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxiii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I sailed to Ireland and to France,<br>And I sailed to fair Scotland,<br>And had much honour and pleasaunce,<br>And Katharine Gordon's hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxiv</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And after that what brooks it to say<br>Whither I went or why ?<br>I was as loath to leave my play<br>And fight, as now to die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxv</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For I was not made for wars and strife<br>And blood and slaughtering,<br>I was but a boy that loved his life,<br>And I had not the heart of a king.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxvi</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh ! why hath God dealt so hardly with me,<br>That such a thing should be done,<br>That a boy should be born with a king's body<br>And the heart of a weaver's son ?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxvii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was well pleased to be at the court,<br>Lord of the thing that seems;<br>It was merry to be a prince for sport,<br>A king in a kingdom of dreams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxviii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But ever they said I must strive and fight<br>To wrest away the crown,<br>So I came to England in the night<br>And I warred on Exeter town.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxix</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the King came up with a mighty host<br>And what could I do but fly ?<br>I had three thousand men at the most,<br>And I was most loath to die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxx</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they took me and brought me to London town,<br>And I stood where all men might see ;<br>I, that had well-nigh worn a crown,<br>In a shameful pillory !</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxxi</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I cried these words in the English tongue,<br>' I am Peter Warbeckke,<br>From Katharine de Faro I am sprung<br>And my father was John Osbeckke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxxii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">' My father toiled and weaved with his hand,<br>And bare neither sword nor shield ;<br>And the White Rose of fair England<br>Turned red on Bosworth field.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxxiii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they gave me my life, but they held me fast<br>Within this weary place ;<br>But I wrought on my guards ere a month was past,<br>With my wit and my comely face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxxiv</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they were ready to set me free,<br>But when it was almost done,<br>And I thought I should gain the narrow sea '<br>And look on the face of the sun,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxxv</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lord of the tower had word of it,<br>And, alas! for my poor hope,<br>For this is the end of my face and my wit<br>That to-morrow I die by the rope.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxxvi</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the time draws nigh and the darkness closes,<br>And the night is almost done.<br>What had I to do with their roses,<br>I, the poor weaver's son ?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxxvii<br>hey promised me a bed so rich<br>And a queen to be my bride,<br>And I have gotten a narrow ditch<br>And a stake to pierce my side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxxviii</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They promised me a kingly part<br>And a crown my head to deck,<br>And I have gotten the hangman's cart<br>And a hempen cord for my neck.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xxxix</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh ! I would that I had never been born,<br>To splendour and shame and sorrow,<br>For it's ill riding to grim Tiborne,<br>Where I must ride to-morrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xl</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I shall dress me all in silk and scarlet,<br>And the hangman shall have my ring,<br>For though I be hanged like a low-born varlet<br>They shall know I was once a king.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">xli</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And may I not fall faint or sick<br>Till I reach at last to the goal,<br>And I pray that the rope may choke me quick<br>And Christ receive my soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lord+Alfred+Douglas">Lord Alfred Douglas</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448924" data-title="Perkin Warbeck de Lord Alfred Douglas" data-description="i

At Turney in Flanders I was born
Fore-doomed to splendour and sorrow,
For I was a king when they cut the corn,
And they strangle me to-morrow.

ii

Oh ! why was I made so red and white,
So fair and straight and tall ?
And why were my eyes so bl..."></div>
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