Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/110

110 The horrors of thy scenery veil, The fearful torpor break, That seems along her brow to steal, But lo! with sudden strife, In all its rash, ungovern'd zeal Dire Anger sprang to life.

Revenge, amazement and remorse Each warring thought distrest, And every heart-string's rebel force Made conflict in her breast; Fierce passions o'er her features spread As with a frantic grasp She shook the dying in her bed Even at the latest gasp.

With flashing eyes and tottering knees She shriek'd in accents shrill "God may forgive you, if he please    But no! I never will." Convulsion like a blighting frost Upon the sufferer fell, And with one groan the wretched ghost Bade its blanch'd corpse farewell.

Yet scarce a few more suns serene O'er the proud palace sped, When lo! high Tudor's haughty Queen Was with the crownless dead; Yes! the implacable did stand Before that Judge in Heaven Who gave the great, the dread command "Forgive! and be forgiven."