Poor Lucy Walters! who remembers thee? Thy name is lost, though on thy native hill Perchance they know it, yea, and see thee still; But, in the outer world, how few there be To speak of Monmouth's mother! To thy door The tempter came, and thy young heart beguil'd; Then came the birth of that half-royal child, Who, when his feeble battle-shout was o'er, Crept into lone Shag's Heath from lost Sedgemoor; Then fell his kinsman's axe, whose triple blow Thy spirit still hears! sore penance for that tryst Of shame, which brought thy motherhood of woe; Or sighs, at breaking of the mountain-mist, To view each morn, the headsman's world below. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WINDS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: SONG by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: METEMPSYCHOSIS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON BALLAD TO THE TUNE - 'AND WILL YOU NOW TO PEACE INCLINE' by PATRICK CAREY LATIGO TOWN by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. HOW THE COMMENCEMENT GROWS NEW by JOHN CLEVELAND THE COMPLAINT OF NINATHOMA, FROM THE SAME by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |