STATELY as bridegroom to a feast, Sir Richard trod the scaffold stair, And bowing to the crowd, untied The love locks from his sable hair; Took off his watch, "Give that to Ned, I've done with time," he proudly said. 'Twas bitter cold -- it made him shake -- Said one, "Ah! see the villain's look?" Sir Richard, with a scornful frown, Cried -- "Frost, not fear, my body shook!" Giving a gold piece to the slave, He laughed, "Now praise me, master knave!" They pointed, with a sneering smile, Unto a black box, long and grim; But no white shroud, or badge of death Had power to draw a tear from him; "It needs no lock," he said in jest, "This chamber, where to-night I rest." Then crying out -- "God save the king!" In spite of hiss, and shout, and frown; He stripped his doublet, dropped his cloak, And gave the headsman's man a crown; Then, "Oh! for Heaven!" proudly cried, And bowed his head -- and so he died. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CASE OF SABRINA SIMPSON USCH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE SWALLOWS by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS SHELLEY AND TRELAWNEY by JULIA COOLEY ALTROCCHI BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE FIRST SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: DEATH-IN-LIFE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |