Poems on Several Occasions With Anne Boleyn to King Henry VIII. An Epistle. By Mrs. Elizabeth Tollet. The Second Edition |
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Anne Boleyn to King Henry
VIII.
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Anne Boleyn to King Henry VIII.
An EPISTLE.
Amid the Joys of this auspicious Hour,
When Fame exalted and extended Pow'r,
With mingled Rays your Sov'reign Head adorn,
Permit unhappy Anne at least to mourn:
Permit one Object to disturb the Scene,
An injur'd Lover and a captive Queen.
That Hand which late the regal Sceptre bore,
And which, when join'd to yours, was honour'd more,
Scarce to its Task the trembling Pen constrains;
So much is Grief a greater Weight than Chains.
When Fame exalted and extended Pow'r,
With mingled Rays your Sov'reign Head adorn,
Permit unhappy Anne at least to mourn:
Permit one Object to disturb the Scene,
An injur'd Lover and a captive Queen.
That Hand which late the regal Sceptre bore,
And which, when join'd to yours, was honour'd more,
Scarce to its Task the trembling Pen constrains;
So much is Grief a greater Weight than Chains.
Irresolute I sit; alike 'tis vain
Or to suppress my Sorrows, or complain
Of Woes that Language never can contain.
What Nature most to Womankind endears,
Whate'er the first and justest Value bears
By universal Voice, demands my Tears.
With Fear my Bosom beats, and sinks with Shame,
When the Debate is Life, and Love, and Fame.
O! how can I proceed, so fast arise
The crowding Images, and stream my Eyes!
Or to suppress my Sorrows, or complain
Of Woes that Language never can contain.
What Nature most to Womankind endears,
Whate'er the first and justest Value bears
By universal Voice, demands my Tears.
With Fear my Bosom beats, and sinks with Shame,
When the Debate is Life, and Love, and Fame.
O! how can I proceed, so fast arise
The crowding Images, and stream my Eyes!
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Or whence, my Liege! shall my Complaint begin
To move Compassion, or Belief to win?
When now the Series of a blameless Life
Is found too weak to vindicate your Wife.
To prove that Truth requir'd by your Command,
Let all my Actions be severely scan'd:
To you my Virtue makes a bold Appeal;
Cou'd or your Greatness, or your Pow'r prevail?
Or cou'd your Person, grac'd above Compare
With manly Beauty, and an awful Air?
Or all the Charms that Learning cou'd impart
To native Eloquence, with soothing Art,
To charm the Frailty of a female Heart?
While rival Princesses aspir'd in vain
To share your Empire, or your Heart to gain,
While jealous France her utmost Efforts try'd
To buy your Friendship with a royal Bride,
Cou'd any Arts my Innocence surprize?
For guarded Virtue sees thro' other Eyes.
To move Compassion, or Belief to win?
When now the Series of a blameless Life
Is found too weak to vindicate your Wife.
To prove that Truth requir'd by your Command,
Let all my Actions be severely scan'd:
To you my Virtue makes a bold Appeal;
Cou'd or your Greatness, or your Pow'r prevail?
Or cou'd your Person, grac'd above Compare
With manly Beauty, and an awful Air?
Or all the Charms that Learning cou'd impart
To native Eloquence, with soothing Art,
To charm the Frailty of a female Heart?
While rival Princesses aspir'd in vain
To share your Empire, or your Heart to gain,
While jealous France her utmost Efforts try'd
To buy your Friendship with a royal Bride,
Cou'd any Arts my Innocence surprize?
For guarded Virtue sees thro' other Eyes.
Let ev'n that jealous France my Deeds report;
A daring Challenge to a partial Court!
There pass'd my early Years, and thence I claim
The Debt of Justice, to defend my Name.
Wou'd two great Queens, by Virtue plac'd as high,
In spotless Fame, as beauteous in the Eye,
Among their honourable Maids retain
Suspected Boleyn, touch'd with guilty Stain,
Dear to their Breast, and foremost of their Train?
A daring Challenge to a partial Court!
There pass'd my early Years, and thence I claim
The Debt of Justice, to defend my Name.
Wou'd two great Queens, by Virtue plac'd as high,
In spotless Fame, as beauteous in the Eye,
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Suspected Boleyn, touch'd with guilty Stain,
Dear to their Breast, and foremost of their Train?
Where Virtue fails, what Arguments can move?
Can tend'rest Proofs of undissembled Love?
Such as in Virgin Hearts from Nature spring,
Distinguishing the Lover from the King.
From Pow'r abstracted to yourself be just;
Reflect again, and scorn the mean Distrust.
'Tis true that never durst my bashful Eye,
Much less my humble Thoughts have soar'd so high;
I well concluded what Event must wait
On Love divided by unequal Fate:
When Passion is the blind Effect of Chance,
The slight Impression of a transient Glance;
When Prudence, Int'rest, and the potent Voice
Of Fame conspire, and all reprove the Choice.
Whate'er of fond, believing Maids I heard,
And Men inconstant, for myself I fear'd:
Too well your Sex weak Woman knows to gain,
With fictious Vows, and a delusive Strain;
'Till ev'n our Hearts your Artifices aid,
Or by Ambition, or by Love betray'd.
The Conquest won, away the Victor flies,
To seek Variety in other Eyes:
While the forsaken Fair beholds him part,
And pines with Anguish of a broken Heart.
Ev'n then, when flatt'ring Stars the Passion bless,
And Hymenæals crown the wish'd Success,
Then stern Ambition points to other Views;
Or some succeeding Flame the past subdues,
And Man the Chace of Novelty pursues.
He looks abroad, and struggles to be freed;
Disgusts and Jealousies, alas! succeed.
He wishes for the Hour that shall divide
The weary Husband from the suff'ring Bride;
Or else prevents it, by some useful Flaw,
Some lucky Turn of misconstructed Law.
Can tend'rest Proofs of undissembled Love?
Such as in Virgin Hearts from Nature spring,
Distinguishing the Lover from the King.
From Pow'r abstracted to yourself be just;
Reflect again, and scorn the mean Distrust.
'Tis true that never durst my bashful Eye,
Much less my humble Thoughts have soar'd so high;
I well concluded what Event must wait
On Love divided by unequal Fate:
When Passion is the blind Effect of Chance,
The slight Impression of a transient Glance;
When Prudence, Int'rest, and the potent Voice
Of Fame conspire, and all reprove the Choice.
Whate'er of fond, believing Maids I heard,
And Men inconstant, for myself I fear'd:
Too well your Sex weak Woman knows to gain,
With fictious Vows, and a delusive Strain;
'Till ev'n our Hearts your Artifices aid,
Or by Ambition, or by Love betray'd.
The Conquest won, away the Victor flies,
To seek Variety in other Eyes:
While the forsaken Fair beholds him part,
And pines with Anguish of a broken Heart.
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And Hymenæals crown the wish'd Success,
Then stern Ambition points to other Views;
Or some succeeding Flame the past subdues,
And Man the Chace of Novelty pursues.
He looks abroad, and struggles to be freed;
Disgusts and Jealousies, alas! succeed.
He wishes for the Hour that shall divide
The weary Husband from the suff'ring Bride;
Or else prevents it, by some useful Flaw,
Some lucky Turn of misconstructed Law.
Too well I guess'd what must at last ensue:
Too soon these direful Omens struck my View,
When first, my Liege! I heard of Love and You.
But then my unsuspecting Soul assur'd
A nobler Mind my Happiness secur'd:
That such a Change in you no Place cou'd find;
Whom Nature had for Royalty design'd,
And pointed out the first of all Mankind.
To Crowns and Sceptres Fortune can advance;
But to deserve them is no Work of Chance.
Rebels and Foes that Valour claims to awe,
That Wisdom, Nations to receive its Law;
(I argued thus,) and he who can persuade
The Learn'd and Wise, may well an harmless Maid.
Witness my Heart from all Ambition free,
No Hope of Greatness ever conquer'd me!
But by your Love encourag'd, I aspir'd:
How easy 'twas to like what all admir'd!
This Truth I now without a Blush may own,
That Love determin'd me, and Love alone,
To tempt the slipp'ry Grandeur of a Throne.
Too soon these direful Omens struck my View,
When first, my Liege! I heard of Love and You.
But then my unsuspecting Soul assur'd
A nobler Mind my Happiness secur'd:
That such a Change in you no Place cou'd find;
Whom Nature had for Royalty design'd,
And pointed out the first of all Mankind.
To Crowns and Sceptres Fortune can advance;
But to deserve them is no Work of Chance.
Rebels and Foes that Valour claims to awe,
That Wisdom, Nations to receive its Law;
(I argued thus,) and he who can persuade
The Learn'd and Wise, may well an harmless Maid.
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No Hope of Greatness ever conquer'd me!
But by your Love encourag'd, I aspir'd:
How easy 'twas to like what all admir'd!
This Truth I now without a Blush may own,
That Love determin'd me, and Love alone,
To tempt the slipp'ry Grandeur of a Throne.
Let these Reflections touch my Henry's Mind;
Said I my Henry? I the King design'd:
Forgive the erring Pen that yet dares write
The past Endearments Love would still indite.
Tho' from your Throne and Bosom forc'd to part,
I bear your Image in my faithful Heart:
Your Royalty with Ease I can resign;
But never can forget you once were mine.
Witness, ye cruel Tow'rs! how oft I call
The Name of Henry from the ecchoing Wall:
Witness the Glass! which with a dimmer Ray
Thro' interposing Grates admits the Day;
Where oft the Diamond, of your former Flame
The earliest Earnest, traces Henry's Name.
No! till I sink into the silent Tomb,
If such your Will, and my impendent Doom,
Shall unexstinguish'd burn the sacred Fires,
Which Virtue warrants and which Love inspires.
Said I my Henry? I the King design'd:
Forgive the erring Pen that yet dares write
The past Endearments Love would still indite.
Tho' from your Throne and Bosom forc'd to part,
I bear your Image in my faithful Heart:
Your Royalty with Ease I can resign;
But never can forget you once were mine.
Witness, ye cruel Tow'rs! how oft I call
The Name of Henry from the ecchoing Wall:
Witness the Glass! which with a dimmer Ray
Thro' interposing Grates admits the Day;
Where oft the Diamond, of your former Flame
The earliest Earnest, traces Henry's Name.
No! till I sink into the silent Tomb,
If such your Will, and my impendent Doom,
Shall unexstinguish'd burn the sacred Fires,
Which Virtue warrants and which Love inspires.
Why does my Mind so sad a Fate presage!
Preventing Nature, Maladies, and Age!
When youthful Blood with lively Spirit warms,
And roseate Health diffuses all her Charms,
When ev'ry Object smiling, fresh and gay,
Adorns the Prospect, to be snatch'd away!
To grow a stupid Mass of mould'ring Clay!
Whither? Ah! whither must we then remove?
Where must the discontented Spirit rove?
From Pow'r, from Pleasure, all that here below
Enchants our Senses, all Mankind must go:
But whither? that to point our Reason errs;
And only humble Faith relieves our Fears;
She promises that guiltless Souls shall know
What lasting Bliss celestial Seats bestow;
What blooming Sweets the injur'd Name embalm,
And how the Martyr gains the Victor-Palm.
Preventing Nature, Maladies, and Age!
When youthful Blood with lively Spirit warms,
And roseate Health diffuses all her Charms,
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Adorns the Prospect, to be snatch'd away!
To grow a stupid Mass of mould'ring Clay!
Whither? Ah! whither must we then remove?
Where must the discontented Spirit rove?
From Pow'r, from Pleasure, all that here below
Enchants our Senses, all Mankind must go:
But whither? that to point our Reason errs;
And only humble Faith relieves our Fears;
She promises that guiltless Souls shall know
What lasting Bliss celestial Seats bestow;
What blooming Sweets the injur'd Name embalm,
And how the Martyr gains the Victor-Palm.
By her supported, I resign my Fear:
But wounded Honour!—'tis too much to bear!
Honour both Sexes have agreed the best,
The noblest Passion of a virtuous Breast:
To fighting Fields she calls the Hero forth,
To prove his Valour, and attest his Worth;
By martial Toils the glorious Prize to buy,
With Honour conquer or with Honour dye.
In Womankind she wears a diff'rent Dress,
Frailty to guard, and Passion to suppress:
She forms the Manners with exactest Care;
Of each ambiguous Action, bids, beware!
And regulates the Motions of the Mind,
By her conducted, and to her resign'd.
'Tis all, alas! that Woman has to boast:
And all that Woman has in her is lost.
By wretched Anne how can the Load be born
Of private Censure, and of public Scorn?
And harder yet to bear, when disapprov'd
By you, a Lover once, and still belov'd.
Think then what Sorrow I must undergo;
Here Sense of Virtue but augments the Woe:
For her, my Cheeks the glowing Blushes dye;
For her, whole Oceans gather in my Eye.
In vain the Passion strives in Words to break;
The Cause too odious and too great to speak:
If in Disgrace my tragic Scene must end,
And I dishonour'd to the Shades descend.
O! had I perish'd but obscure, unknown!
Far from the envy'd Splendors of a Crown!
Then had at once expir'd my Breath and Name;
As safe from Slander as remote from Fame.
But wounded Honour!—'tis too much to bear!
Honour both Sexes have agreed the best,
The noblest Passion of a virtuous Breast:
To fighting Fields she calls the Hero forth,
To prove his Valour, and attest his Worth;
By martial Toils the glorious Prize to buy,
With Honour conquer or with Honour dye.
In Womankind she wears a diff'rent Dress,
Frailty to guard, and Passion to suppress:
She forms the Manners with exactest Care;
Of each ambiguous Action, bids, beware!
And regulates the Motions of the Mind,
By her conducted, and to her resign'd.
'Tis all, alas! that Woman has to boast:
And all that Woman has in her is lost.
By wretched Anne how can the Load be born
Of private Censure, and of public Scorn?
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By you, a Lover once, and still belov'd.
Think then what Sorrow I must undergo;
Here Sense of Virtue but augments the Woe:
For her, my Cheeks the glowing Blushes dye;
For her, whole Oceans gather in my Eye.
In vain the Passion strives in Words to break;
The Cause too odious and too great to speak:
If in Disgrace my tragic Scene must end,
And I dishonour'd to the Shades descend.
O! had I perish'd but obscure, unknown!
Far from the envy'd Splendors of a Crown!
Then had at once expir'd my Breath and Name;
As safe from Slander as remote from Fame.
But now, alas! while each succeeding Age
Shall of your Annals turn the shining Page,
To learn how warlike Scotland felt your Arms,
And England triumph'd free from all Alarms,
How potent France your valu'd Friendship sought,
And how beneath your Standards, Cæsar fought,
In other Combats how from Rome you gain'd
The glorious Stile for sacred Faith maintain'd,
There still must I be read; while Times to come
Renew my Suff'rings, and repeat my Doom:
As wayward Humor governs ev'ry Breast,
Judg'd by the Bad, ev'n doubted by the Best.
Where shall my question'd Innocence appeal,
When partial Spleen assumes the Mask of Zeal?
Hard Fate! that I for ever must engage
The various Insults of injurious Rage:
My own misjudging Sex, who, loth to blame
Their own Defects, imagine mine the same;
Or Men who triumph in a prostrate Fame.
And scarce among the Herd of Readers find
One pitying Tear, to speak a gen'rous Mind.
Shall of your Annals turn the shining Page,
To learn how warlike Scotland felt your Arms,
And England triumph'd free from all Alarms,
How potent France your valu'd Friendship sought,
And how beneath your Standards, Cæsar fought,
In other Combats how from Rome you gain'd
The glorious Stile for sacred Faith maintain'd,
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Renew my Suff'rings, and repeat my Doom:
As wayward Humor governs ev'ry Breast,
Judg'd by the Bad, ev'n doubted by the Best.
Where shall my question'd Innocence appeal,
When partial Spleen assumes the Mask of Zeal?
Hard Fate! that I for ever must engage
The various Insults of injurious Rage:
My own misjudging Sex, who, loth to blame
Their own Defects, imagine mine the same;
Or Men who triumph in a prostrate Fame.
And scarce among the Herd of Readers find
One pitying Tear, to speak a gen'rous Mind.
Unhappy Beauty! of our Woes the Spring!
Of all our Vanities the vainest Thing!
Fondly by our unthinking Sex desir'd;
The more endanger'd as the more admir'd!
But for a certain Fall to Greatness rais'd!
But lov'd for Change, and but for Censure prais'd!
Here my Reflections cease; and turn no more
On what my Soul had prophesy'd before.
Of all our Vanities the vainest Thing!
Fondly by our unthinking Sex desir'd;
The more endanger'd as the more admir'd!
But for a certain Fall to Greatness rais'd!
But lov'd for Change, and but for Censure prais'd!
Here my Reflections cease; and turn no more
On what my Soul had prophesy'd before.
How miserable is the Pris'ner's State
Who lingers in the slow Suspense of Fate!
Is there a greater Ill?—Yes! one remains;
The doubted Fame which foul Suspicion stains.
To obviate this, undaunted I demand
That at the Bar of Justice I may stand:
Nor there, O King! your helpless Wife expose
To the fell Rage of her relentless Foes;
But let the World decide, on what were built
The base Surmises of objected Guilt.
Or I absolv'd shall vindicate from Stain
Your Royal Infant and your glorious Reign,
Or sink in Ruin, nor my Fame survive:
'Twould then be Cruelty to bid me live.
Nor shall I then, to your Delight a Bar,
Retard the Influence of a fairer Star:
I could have pointed to the Name before,
But Love is timorous, and I forbore.
Yet if Ambition urge, and publick Good
Best by the Monarch's Will be understood,
She too may fall, whose now too potent Eyes
Enthral your Heart, herself your Sacrifice.
Unhappy she, whoe'er like me must prove
The dire Disaster of superior Love!
Who lingers in the slow Suspense of Fate!
Is there a greater Ill?—Yes! one remains;
The doubted Fame which foul Suspicion stains.
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That at the Bar of Justice I may stand:
Nor there, O King! your helpless Wife expose
To the fell Rage of her relentless Foes;
But let the World decide, on what were built
The base Surmises of objected Guilt.
Or I absolv'd shall vindicate from Stain
Your Royal Infant and your glorious Reign,
Or sink in Ruin, nor my Fame survive:
'Twould then be Cruelty to bid me live.
Nor shall I then, to your Delight a Bar,
Retard the Influence of a fairer Star:
I could have pointed to the Name before,
But Love is timorous, and I forbore.
Yet if Ambition urge, and publick Good
Best by the Monarch's Will be understood,
She too may fall, whose now too potent Eyes
Enthral your Heart, herself your Sacrifice.
Unhappy she, whoe'er like me must prove
The dire Disaster of superior Love!
One only Instance yet remains behind
To plead my Cause, and touch your royal Mind:
When in
our common Pledge yourself you view,
Believe me loyal then, believe me true.
How can you doubt me, when in her design'd
You see the strongest Features of your Mind?
So just, so masterly describ'd they stand,
That Nature's Work surpasses Holben's Hand.
O! may she still survive!—I ask no more!
Tho' Fancy augurs greater Things in Store,
To vindicate, tho' late, my injur'd Name;
And emulate, perhaps, her Father's Fame.
To plead my Cause, and touch your royal Mind:
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Believe me loyal then, believe me true.
How can you doubt me, when in her design'd
You see the strongest Features of your Mind?
So just, so masterly describ'd they stand,
That Nature's Work surpasses Holben's Hand.
O! may she still survive!—I ask no more!
Tho' Fancy augurs greater Things in Store,
To vindicate, tho' late, my injur'd Name;
And emulate, perhaps, her Father's Fame.
If in your Bosom to Conclusion draws
My Fate determin'd, and prejudg'd my Cause,
Yet think, on one impartial Day shall come
The Judge and Pris'ner to receive their Doom:
'Tis certain that my Innocence shall clear,
However runs the Voice of Rumor here.
Yet no revengeful Wish my Breast shall stain,
Nor from the Seats of Bliss my Soul detain:
Be all the Authors of my Wrongs forgiv'n,
And you absolv'd before the Throne of Heav'n!
Yet, if I ever to your Breast was dear,
Your dread Displeasure let me singly bear:
'Tis but a poor Request to fall alone,
For her whom Fortune tumbles from a Throne.
My Fate determin'd, and prejudg'd my Cause,
Yet think, on one impartial Day shall come
The Judge and Pris'ner to receive their Doom:
'Tis certain that my Innocence shall clear,
However runs the Voice of Rumor here.
Yet no revengeful Wish my Breast shall stain,
Nor from the Seats of Bliss my Soul detain:
Be all the Authors of my Wrongs forgiv'n,
And you absolv'd before the Throne of Heav'n!
Yet, if I ever to your Breast was dear,
Your dread Displeasure let me singly bear:
'Tis but a poor Request to fall alone,
For her whom Fortune tumbles from a Throne.
Ye
Angel Guardians! who the Throne defend,
And hov'ring light in Air, unseen attend;
If heav'nly Minds can hear a Mortal's Pray'r,
From threat'ning Danger guard your sacred Care:
From foreign Wars, and from seditious Strife,
From dark Conspiracy preserve his Life.
Nor ever, ever let the faithless Wiles
Of perjur'd Beauty drest in gaudy Smiles,
The Conflict of the Royal Breast renew;
And by the false One justify the True.
If ever Boleyn to Remembrance brought
Too late shou'd Pity gain, suppress the Thought:
Ev'n Pity I renounce, if it must bring
But an uneasy Moment to the King.
And hov'ring light in Air, unseen attend;
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From threat'ning Danger guard your sacred Care:
From foreign Wars, and from seditious Strife,
From dark Conspiracy preserve his Life.
Nor ever, ever let the faithless Wiles
Of perjur'd Beauty drest in gaudy Smiles,
The Conflict of the Royal Breast renew;
And by the false One justify the True.
If ever Boleyn to Remembrance brought
Too late shou'd Pity gain, suppress the Thought:
Ev'n Pity I renounce, if it must bring
But an uneasy Moment to the King.
And whence, O sad Reverse of prosp'rous Fate!
Must these unhappy Lines receive their Date?
Not from fair Greenwich' ever-pleasing Bow'rs;
Not from the painted Roof of Woolsey's Tow'rs:
But from the Gothic Structures, whence on high
Far, far Beneath I cast my distant Eye,
And see your subject River rolling by.
Alas! how diff'rent from the shining Court
Is this Abode? debarr'd of all Resort?
A Band of Goalers, not a Guard of State,
With surly Aspect here observes the Gate:
Where in its Fall the massive Barrier clangs,
And threat'ning Ruin the Portcullis hangs.
Must these unhappy Lines receive their Date?
Not from fair Greenwich' ever-pleasing Bow'rs;
Not from the painted Roof of Woolsey's Tow'rs:
But from the Gothic Structures, whence on high
Far, far Beneath I cast my distant Eye,
And see your subject River rolling by.
Alas! how diff'rent from the shining Court
Is this Abode? debarr'd of all Resort?
A Band of Goalers, not a Guard of State,
With surly Aspect here observes the Gate:
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And threat'ning Ruin the Portcullis hangs.
Think how I pass the melancholy Hours,
Alone, immur'd in these relentless Tow'rs,
My languid Head upon my Hand declin'd,
Supported only by the conscious Mind.
The Day in pensive Solitude I weep,
And all the Night an anxious Vigil keep;
Or if my weary Eyes, at length opprest
With ever-during Cares, resign to Rest,
Soon start aghast, with shrill-resounding Streams,
From all the Terrors of presaging Dreams:
Nor so reliev'd, the Terrors all remain,
Trac'd in too lively Colours on my Brain;
And imag'd stronger than they were before,
All seems a Vision now, a Dream no more.
The dire Idea by Reflection frights:
Now murther'd Innocents and royal Sprights
Glancing all pale, before my Curtains glare,
Grizzly with gaping Wounds and upstart Hair;
Or Forms of Fancy, or embody'd Air.
Now to my boding Fears the Spectres tell,
How pious Henry, how young Edward fell:
Come then! or calls a Voice, or seems to call
Increase the Number destin'd here to fall!
Alone, immur'd in these relentless Tow'rs,
My languid Head upon my Hand declin'd,
Supported only by the conscious Mind.
The Day in pensive Solitude I weep,
And all the Night an anxious Vigil keep;
Or if my weary Eyes, at length opprest
With ever-during Cares, resign to Rest,
Soon start aghast, with shrill-resounding Streams,
From all the Terrors of presaging Dreams:
Nor so reliev'd, the Terrors all remain,
Trac'd in too lively Colours on my Brain;
And imag'd stronger than they were before,
All seems a Vision now, a Dream no more.
The dire Idea by Reflection frights:
Now murther'd Innocents and royal Sprights
Glancing all pale, before my Curtains glare,
Grizzly with gaping Wounds and upstart Hair;
Or Forms of Fancy, or embody'd Air.
Now to my boding Fears the Spectres tell,
How pious Henry, how young Edward fell:
Come then! or calls a Voice, or seems to call
Increase the Number destin'd here to fall!
Here too my poor Remains must rest unknown,
No Name inscrib'd, no monumental Stone:
No weeping Servant must my Hearse attend,
No pious Kinsman, no afflicted Friend.
They fly me all! how barb'rous! how ingrate!
All but the faithful Few who share my Fate!
Deterr'd by their Example, who shall dare
Compose my lifeless Limbs with decent Care?
Who from polluting Gore my Body lave?
Or lay me peaceful in an humble Grave?
Who then shall interdicted Pity show?
Permit a Sigh to breath, a Tear to flow?
Or whisp'ring soft, my mounting Spirit aid?
Light lye the Earth, and rest the gentle Shade!
Such fun'ral Rites alone must I receive
As Enmity confers, or Chance can give.
No Name inscrib'd, no monumental Stone:
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No pious Kinsman, no afflicted Friend.
They fly me all! how barb'rous! how ingrate!
All but the faithful Few who share my Fate!
Deterr'd by their Example, who shall dare
Compose my lifeless Limbs with decent Care?
Who from polluting Gore my Body lave?
Or lay me peaceful in an humble Grave?
Who then shall interdicted Pity show?
Permit a Sigh to breath, a Tear to flow?
Or whisp'ring soft, my mounting Spirit aid?
Light lye the Earth, and rest the gentle Shade!
Such fun'ral Rites alone must I receive
As Enmity confers, or Chance can give.
Pity, the meanest Boon a Queen can claim,
Is due at least to Boleyn's once lov'd Name:
That Name had yet my noblest Boast remain'd,
Had not your Will another Fate ordain'd.
But you advanc'd me to an higher Sphere,
And Pembroke glitter'd with the Brightest there;
With more conspicuous Lustre next I shone,
Declar'd the Partner of your Heart and Throne:
Earth has no more to give,—but you supply
Her Poverty, and lift me to the Sky;
Thither, where Amaranths eternal grow,
To wreath the Chaplet for the Martyr's Brow.
Is due at least to Boleyn's once lov'd Name:
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Had not your Will another Fate ordain'd.
But you advanc'd me to an higher Sphere,
And Pembroke glitter'd with the Brightest there;
With more conspicuous Lustre next I shone,
Declar'd the Partner of your Heart and Throne:
Earth has no more to give,—but you supply
Her Poverty, and lift me to the Sky;
Thither, where Amaranths eternal grow,
To wreath the Chaplet for the Martyr's Brow.
The Hint of this Epistle was taken from the last Letter
of this unfortunate Princess to King Henry, still preserved
in the Cotton Library, and printed in the Spectators;
in which we have a lasting Monument of the
Quickness of her Understanding, and the Greatness of her
Spirit: To her Wit and engaging Behaviour she owed
her Advancement; her Ruin partly to the King's Inconstancy,
and partly to Reason of State, which required
a more indisputed Succession than could be had from a
Marriage not acknowledged by foreign Princes. Tho' it
cannot be denied that her immoderate Fóndness for being
admired, the usual Result of a French Education, as
well as the implacable Malice of a Party who apprehended
her Favour to the Reformation, contributed to her
Fall: I shall not enter into her general Character, tho'
no Writer seems to have treated it with Impartiality,
except my Lord Herbert. But as I have given this
Letter entirely a poetical Cast, it was not improper to
explain some Parts of the History alluded to in it.
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Margaret Dutchess of Alençon, afterwards Queen of Navarre, Sister to Fran. I. famous for her Wit and Patronage of Learning.
Mary, Sister to King Henry, first married to Lewis XII. of France, afterward to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and the Consort of Francis I.
Henry VIII, was both a learned and accomplished Prince; and, as my Lord Herbert relates, one of the handsomest Men of his Time, when he married Jane Seymour.
The Stile of Defender of the Faith, conferr'd on this King and his Successors by the Pope, for writing against Luther.
The Popish Clergy, whose bitter Malice to this Queen appears from the scurrilous and improbable Reflections of Sanders the Jesuit: For 'tis not very likely that a Woman of a public bad Character, and withal so indifferent a Person as he represents her, could captivate a Prince, who did not need to be at a Loss for a Wife at that Time.
I have not scrupled, by the prophetic Spirit which Poesy allows to dying Persons, to allude to the current Opinion, that King Henry sacrificed this Queen likewise, tho' in a different Manner, to the Security of the Succession: Tho' the best of our Historians contradict it, and clear King Henry in this particular.
Anne Boleyn ends her Letter with a Recommendation of the King to Heaven, too solemn to be introduced into this Sort of Poetry.
Historians have informed us that this unfortunate Lady was interred without even the Regards of common Decency: They tell us that not so much as a Coffin was provided for her; for Want of which her Body was put into an Arrow-Chest, and buried in the Tower Chapel before the high Altar. Where the high Altar stood, a Person best skilled in the Antiquities of the Place was not able to inform me; but it is conjectured by an Accident that happened a few Years since, that she was not buried in the Chapel: For in a Cellar adjoining thereto were found, in such a Chest as Writers mention, not very deeply covered with Earth, the Bones of a human Body of a small Stature, the Scull only wanting. These Bones, after being view'd by several Persons, were by all concluded to be the Remains of Anne Boleyn, and soon after again covered in the same Place.
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