Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/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."