Page:Poems Hale.djvu/209

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death-bed of queen elizabeth.
201
A moment, and the cloud has drooped upon her glorious brow;
Her cheek is pale with care, her eye is dim with weeping now:
Yet peerless, though the woes of years have bowed her spirit down,
As when there shone upon that brow a monarch's jeweled crown.

Where was thy sympathy, thou skilled in cold and treacherous art?
Stern one! hadst thou no woman's love within thy woman's heart?
Such mingled grief and loveliness might win a heart of stone;
Yet nature's bond of fellowship thy spirit did not own.

Lured by thy promises, she turned her weary soul to thee:
Thou didst its guileless trust betray, in bitter mockery.
Meekly, beneath the lifted steel she bowed her head in prayer,
And left thy earth-bound soul to meet the depth of its despair.

The past gives back its shadowy forms, the dust its shrouded dead,
And she, that cold and voiceless form, stands now beside thy bed.
Well may'st thou shrink in agony, guilt-stricken and dismayed,
Thus haunted in thy dying hour by her thine arts betrayed.