 | Poems |  |
367
MARY OF SCOTLAND.
“Allons donc!” she then said. “Let us go!” and leaning on the arm of an officer of the guard she descended the great staircase to the hall.—
Froude's History.
“Go on!” To that imperial throne
She made a glory and a shame?
No. Mary Stuart stood alone,
Her queenly crown an empty name.
She made a glory and a shame?
No. Mary Stuart stood alone,
Her queenly crown an empty name.
“Go on!” She waved her royal hand.
Go where? to that dear distant France
The loved, the lost, the joyous land
Where once she led the song and dance?
Go where? to that dear distant France
The loved, the lost, the joyous land
Where once she led the song and dance?
On to that home where once her child,
Born to her grief, the heir of tears,
Looked in his mother's face and smiled,
Unconscious of her foes and fears?
Born to her grief, the heir of tears,
Looked in his mother's face and smiled,
Unconscious of her foes and fears?
Ah, no! her youth, her hope, were dead:
Her boy a stranger, far away:
The glamor of a crown was fled,
This was her last, her dying day.
Her boy a stranger, far away:
The glamor of a crown was fled,
This was her last, her dying day.
She stood so calm, so still, so proud,
So firm amid a hundred foes,
So careless of that eager crowd,
So crowned anew with fatal woes,
So firm amid a hundred foes,
368
So crowned anew with fatal woes,
So scornful of the cruel death
That waited, crouched beyond the door,
The ruthless jailors held their breath,
The mail-clad warriors spake no more.
That waited, crouched beyond the door,
The ruthless jailors held their breath,
The mail-clad warriors spake no more.
“Go on!”—and on the grim Earls went.
There was the scaffold,—there the block;
The murderous axe against it leant.
They moved her not; her heart was rock.
There was the scaffold,—there the block;
The murderous axe against it leant.
They moved her not; her heart was rock.
The spirit of her kingly race
Inspired her soul and fired her eye;
A smile lit up her tranquil face
“You thought a queen would fear to die?”
Inspired her soul and fired her eye;
A smile lit up her tranquil face
“You thought a queen would fear to die?”
She clasped the cross against her breast
“Oh Lord! thine arms upon the tree
Spread for the world; now give me rest:
Forgive! Redeem! I come to Thee.”
“Oh Lord! thine arms upon the tree
Spread for the world; now give me rest:
Forgive! Redeem! I come to Thee.”
The maidens loosed her widow's veil
And laid the sable robe aside;
Their cheeks were wet, their lips were pale,
But hers were red with scorn and pride.
And laid the sable robe aside;
Their cheeks were wet, their lips were pale,
But hers were red with scorn and pride.
Fair in her blood-red gown she stood;
A rose against the stormy skies,
That in some garden solitude
Uplifts its stately head,—and dies!
A rose against the stormy skies,
369
Uplifts its stately head,—and dies!
“Weep not my Ladies; weep no more.
Farewell; farewell! we meet again.
Oh Lord amid my troubles sore
I trust in Thee, nor trust in vain.”
Farewell; farewell! we meet again.
Oh Lord amid my troubles sore
I trust in Thee, nor trust in vain.”
She laid her head upon the block,
And murmured low—“In Thee I trust.”
Down fell the axe with thundering shock,
Mary the Queen was common dust.
And murmured low—“In Thee I trust.”
Down fell the axe with thundering shock,
Mary the Queen was common dust.
The beauteous face, the smiling lips,
Wrinkled and set in aged gloom!
So from some tree a tempest strips
In one brief gust, its leaf and bloom.
Wrinkled and set in aged gloom!
So from some tree a tempest strips
In one brief gust, its leaf and bloom.
Leave her the peace that life denied:
Her sins and follies all are o'er;
A Queen she lived, a Queen she died,
Peace to her ashes! ask no more.
Her sins and follies all are o'er;
A Queen she lived, a Queen she died,
Peace to her ashes! ask no more.
| Poems | |