God help the friendless boy on England's throne!
Now Pembroke's noble strength must e'en to coffin;
And Isabel across the sea cares not,
But happier in a gentler husband's love
Takes little thought of John of England's heir,
Who has his father's beauty, not his heart,—
Just so much of that proud and guilty blood
As makes him kingly nor corrupts his own.
... But, come, my soul! Prepare thee for a world
Of rarer breath, lest thou too rudely go