“And spare the meek Usurper’s holy head[46]
“Above, below, the rose of snow,[47]
“Twin’d with her blushing foe, we spread:
“The bristled Boar[48] in infant-gore
“Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
“Now, Brothers, bending o’er th’ accursed loom,
“Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
VII.
“Edward, lo! to sudden fate
“(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)