Ballads in Imitation of the Antient By W. H. Ireland |
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A BALLAD.
Wherein the QUEEN of SCOTS mourneth her Captivity
and hard usage at the CASTLE of LOCHLEVEN.
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 | Ballads in Imitation of the Antient |  |
181
A BALLAD. Wherein the QUEEN of SCOTS mourneth her Captivity and hard usage at the CASTLE of LOCHLEVEN.
[_]
The lengthened sufferings of this Princess gave rise to the following lines; for however faulty her conduct in many instances, yet it is generally allowed that she did not merit such rigorous treatment from a Sister Queen.
Round this dungeon damp and dreary,
Oft I bend my aching eye,
Till my troubled soul grown weary,
Vents its anguish in a sigh.
Men, alas, there's no believing,
All are cruel and unkind;
Here there's naught but false deceiving,
Man's more wav'ring than the wind.
Oft I bend my aching eye,
Till my troubled soul grown weary,
Vents its anguish in a sigh.
Men, alas, there's no believing,
All are cruel and unkind;
Here there's naught but false deceiving,
Man's more wav'ring than the wind.
182
Did the secret sigh of anguish
Reach my cruel Sister's ear;
Did she see me pine and languish,
Could she view this falling tear,
Then her flinty heart might borrow
Gentle pity's tender sigh;
Then the silv'ry drop of sorrow,
Soon would grace her pensive eye.
Reach my cruel Sister's ear;
Did she see me pine and languish,
Could she view this falling tear,
Then her flinty heart might borrow
Gentle pity's tender sigh;
Then the silv'ry drop of sorrow,
Soon would grace her pensive eye.
Will no stranger hear my ditty?
Must I pine in silence drear?
Will no female melt with pitty?
Will no hand asswage the tear?
No, 'tis o'er, my fate's decided;
Languid beats my breaking heart;
Forgot by friends, by fate derided,
Life and Mary soon must part.
Must I pine in silence drear?
Will no female melt with pitty?
Will no hand asswage the tear?
No, 'tis o'er, my fate's decided;
Languid beats my breaking heart;
Forgot by friends, by fate derided,
Life and Mary soon must part.
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