_The buffoon_; Voltaire.



TOWTON FIELD


Palm Sunday: 1461

Love, Who from the throne above
Cam'st to teach the law of love,
Who Thy peaceful triumph hast
Led o'er palms before Thee cast,
E'en in highest heaven Thine eyes
Turn from this day's sacrifice!
Slaughter whence no victor host
Can the palms of triumph boast;
Blood on blood in rivers spilt,--
English blood by English guilt!

From the gracious Minster-towers
Of York the priests behold afar
The field of Towton shimmer like a star
With light of lance and helm; while both the powers
Misnamed from the fair rose, with one fell blow,
--In snow-dazed, blinding air
Mass'd on the burnside bare,--
Each army, as one man, drove at the opposing foe.

Ne'er since then, and ne'er before,