When the young hand of Darnley locked in hers Had knit her to her northern doom - amid The spousal pomp of flags and trumpeters, Her fate look'd forth and was no longer hid; A jealous brain beneath a southern crown Wrought spells upon her; from afar she felt The waxen image of her fortunes melt Beneath the Tudor's eye, while the grim frown Of her own lords o'ermaster'd her sweet smiles - And nipt her growing gladness, till she mourned, And sank, at last, beneath their cruel wiles; But, ever since, all generous hearts have burned To clear her fame, yea, very babes have yearned Over this saddest story of the isles. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PHANTOM SHIP by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW EARTH TRIUMPHANT by CONRAD AIKEN AN ACTOR'S REMINISCENCES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) PSALM 89 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE AS LOVELY AS THEY by EVA MARBELL BONDI TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |