LVII
‘At length in the battle on Evesham plain,
The barons were routed, and Montfort was slain;
Most fatal that battle did prove unto thee,
Though thou wast not born then, my pretty Bessee!
LVIII
‘Along with the nobles, that fell at that tide,
His eldest son Henry, who fought by his side,
Was fell’d by a blow he received in the fight;
A blow that deprived him for ever of sight.
LIX
‘Among the dead bodies all lifeless he lay,
Till evening drew on of the following day;
When by a young lady discovered was he;
And this was thy mother, my pretty Bessee!
LX
‘A baron’s fair daughter stept forth in the night
To search for her father, who fell in the fight,
And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he lay,
Was movèd with pity, and brought him away.
LXI
‘In secret she nurst him, and swagèd his pain,
While he through the realm was believed to be slain:
At length his fair bride she consented to be,
And made him glad father of pretty Bessee.