ANNE BOLEYN.
ON SEEING IN THE TOWER OF LONDON THE AXE WITH WHICH
ANNE BOLEYN WAS BEHEADED.
Minion of Fate severe!
Who, drunk with beauty's blood,
In spite of Time dost linger here,
Frowning with visage drear,
Like blackened beacon on the wrecking flood,
Say! when Ambition's dream
First lured thy victim's heart aside,
Why, like a serpent didst thou hide,
Mid clustering flowers, and robes of pride,
Thy warning gleam?
Hadst thou but once arisen, in vision dread,
From glory's fearful cliff her startled step had fled.
Ah! little she reck'd, when St. Edward's crown
So heavily pressed her tresses fair,
That with sleepless wrath its thorns of care
Would rankle within her couch of down!
