Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/65

Rh Not long! Not long! What savage band 'Neath thy grated window bears The headless form, the lifeless hand Of him, the magic of whose love could charm away thy cares? Guilford! thy husband! yet the gushing tear Scarce flows to mourn his fate severe, Thy pious thought doth rise To those unclouded skies, Where he, amid the angel train Doth for thy coming wait, to part no more again.

The Scaffold! Must it be! Stern England's Queen Hast thou such doom decreed? Dwells Draco's soul beneath a woman's mien? Must guileless youth and peerless beauty bleed? Away! Away! I will not see the deed! Fresh drops of crimson stain the new-fall'n snow, The wintry winds wail fitfully and low;— But the meek victim is not there, Far from this troubled scene, High o'er the tyrant Queen, She finds that amaranthine crown, which sinless seraphs wear.