Virgin's Choice, or, Youth Preferred to Old Age/The Queen of France's Lamentation

 

The Queen of Frances's Lamentation.

Good people all both great and small,
 that hear my strange relation,
A shocking shame, a wretched Queen,
 in this sad situation.

Although in prison I'm confin'd,
 my eyes are dim with weeping,
The Lord till release my troubled mind,
 who hath my soul a keeping.

My hair is fallen from my head,
 My flesh hath left its station,
I soon will mingle with the dead,
 and leave this cruel nation.

I seldom with my children walk,
 but hears some piercing story,
And oft times mingled with their talk,
 their Papa's now in glory.

Your father's blood for vengeance cries,
 France is in great confusion,
With glitt'ring words and cannon balls,
 it will end with Desolation

Like Hamlet's Ghost I move along,
 I scarce can see my shadow
In dreams I see my murdered Lord,
 ascending Jacob's ladder

Farewel to lilies, crowns and gold,
 and all this worldly pleasure.
For since to Heaven I hope to fly,
 there lieth all my treasure;

But now observe that injur'd Queen,
 who much deserves your pity,
Who many months in sorrow's been,
 and thus I end my ditty

FINIS.

Glasgow, Printed by J. & M. Robertson,
Saltmarket, 1800.