University of Virginia Library


196

QUEEN MARY'S LAMENTATION.

I sigh and lament me in vain;
These walls can but echo my moan;
Alas! they increase but my pain,
When I think on the days that are gone.
Through the grates of my prison I see,
The birds as they wanton in air;
My heart—how it pants to be free!
My looks—they are wild with despair!

197

Above, tho' opprest by my fate,
I burn with contempt for my foes:
Though fortune has alter'd my state,
She ne'er can subdue me to those.
False woman in ages to come,
Thy malice detested shall be;
And, when I am cold in my tomb,
Some heart still shall sorrow for me.
Ye roofs, where cold damps and dismay,
With silence and solitude dwell,
How comfortless passes the day,
How sad tolls the evening bell!
The owls from the battlements cry,
Hollow winds seem to murmur around;
O! Mary, prepare thee to die!
My blood it runs cold at the sound.