Tragedy of Sir James the Rose (1815)/Mary, Queen of Scots' Lament

by anon

For other versions of this work, see Queen Mary's Lamentation (song).

MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS
LAMENT.

I ſigh and lament me in vain,
⁠these walls do bet echo my moan;
Alas! it increases my pain,
⁠when I think on the days that are gone!

Thro' the grate of my prison I see
⁠the birds as they wanton in air;
My heart, how it pants to be free!
⁠my looks they are wild with despair!

Above the oppreſt by my fate,
⁠I burn with contempt for my foes;
Tho' fortune has alter'd my ſtate,
⁠ſhe ne'er can subdue me to those.

False woman, in ages to come,
⁠thy malice deteſted ſhall be;
And when we are cold in the tomb,
⁠some heart ſtill ſhall sorrow for me.

Ye roofs, where cold damps and dismay,
⁠with ſilence and solitude dwell,
How comfortless passes the day—
⁠how sad tolls the evening bell!

The owls from the battlements cry,
⁠hollow winds seem to murmur around.
O Mary! prepare thee to die!—
⁠my blood it runs cold at the sound!