Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/19

Rh Think!—what were her pangs as she traced her fate On that changeful monarch's brow of hate? What were the thoughts, which in misery's hour Throng'd o'er her soul, in her dungeon tower? Regret, with pencil keen, Retouch'd the deep'ning scene: Delightful France, whose genial skies Bade her gay childhood's pleasures rise; Earl Percy's love,—his youthful grace, Her gallant brother's fond embrace, Her stately father's feudal halls, Where proud heraldic annals deck'd the ancient walls.

Wrapt in the scaffold's gloom, Brief tenant of that living tomb She stands!—the life blood chills her heart, And her tender glance from earth does part; But her infant daughter's image fair, In the smile of innocence is there, It clings to her soul mid its last despair; And the desolate queen is doom'd to know How far a mother's grief transcends a martyr's wo.

Say! did prophetic light Illume her darkening sight, Painting the future island-queen Like the fabled bird, all hearts surprising, Bright from blood-stain'd ashes rising, Wise, energetic, bold, serene? Ah no! the scroll of time Is seal'd;—and hope sublime Rests, but on those far heights, which mortals may not climb.