 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
SCENE III.
With black the stately hall was hung; a cloud was on each brow
That gathered round the council board in solemn silence now;
And pain and anxious doubt within each noble's bosom stirred,
For well they knew that life and death now hung upon their word.
That gathered round the council board in solemn silence now;
And pain and anxious doubt within each noble's bosom stirred,
For well they knew that life and death now hung upon their word.
With snow-white robes and veilèd brow, a female form drew nigh;
With calm and stately air she stepped, while fixed was every eye;
And 'mid the dark, stern visaged guards around her, she might seem
The being of a higher sphere, the creature of a dream.
With calm and stately air she stepped, while fixed was every eye;
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The being of a higher sphere, the creature of a dream.
Now like a criminal she stood, while plainly she could trace
The fearful workings of his soul upon each noble's face;
Yet was she calm; with queenly grace her veil aside was thrown—
Unhappy Percy! from thy lips burst that convulsive groan?
The fearful workings of his soul upon each noble's face;
Yet was she calm; with queenly grace her veil aside was thrown—
Unhappy Percy! from thy lips burst that convulsive groan?
Well might his breast with anguish thrill! few years had passed away
Since that fair form within his arms in love's deep fondness lay;
Since then she moved the stately queen—now the disloyal wife,
For her deep treachery and wrong must answer with her life.
Since that fair form within his arms in love's deep fondness lay;
Since then she moved the stately queen—now the disloyal wife,
For her deep treachery and wrong must answer with her life.
Yet she was innocent; O! none could gaze upon her eye
And deem that sin's dark stain within her bosom's depths could lie;
But who might dare assert her truth, when, wearied with her charms,
The tyrant had decreed that she should sleep in death's cold arms?
And deem that sin's dark stain within her bosom's depths could lie;
But who might dare assert her truth, when, wearied with her charms,
The tyrant had decreed that she should sleep in death's cold arms?
Now, placed 'mid England's haughty peers, must Percy seal the doom
That gave the creature of his love to fill a bloody tomb;
Too soon the fatal deed was done—though pure as unsunned snow,
Yet must the fearful hand of death stamp guilt upon her brow.
That gave the creature of his love to fill a bloody tomb;
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Yet must the fearful hand of death stamp guilt upon her brow.
He heard no more; but wildly from the judgment hall he rushed,
Too strong the tenderness within his anguished spirit gushed;
Till worn by such resistless pangs, o'ermastered by the spell
Of demon thought, upon the earth in senselessness he fell.
Too strong the tenderness within his anguished spirit gushed;
Till worn by such resistless pangs, o'ermastered by the spell
Of demon thought, upon the earth in senselessness he fell.
Stately and calm the queen had sat, but when she heard his cry,
From her quick heaving bosom burst the half-convulsive sigh.
One pleading look to heaven she cast, then spoke in murmured tone:
“Slight is the bitterness of death when spotless fame is gone.”
From her quick heaving bosom burst the half-convulsive sigh.
One pleading look to heaven she cast, then spoke in murmured tone:
“Slight is the bitterness of death when spotless fame is gone.”
Thus did she die—the young, the fair, the good, compelled to bow
Her graceful, swan-like neck beneath the headsman's heavy blow;
Her shining locks were dabbled in the blood that flowed like rain;
But o'er the whiteness of her soul, e'en blood could leave no stain.
Her graceful, swan-like neck beneath the headsman's heavy blow;
Her shining locks were dabbled in the blood that flowed like rain;
But o'er the whiteness of her soul, e'en blood could leave no stain.
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |