Lost! lost! lost!
The famed and gracious Anne is no more,
Her sceptre broken, now her power is o'er,
Ye judges, who, to-day pronounced my doom
With solemn words that filled my soul with
And Henry, king with deeds so just and
Come thou, and tell me if this still be Anne.
This sunken cheek, this tearful eye, this
So withered in its woe, cans't be the same?
My maidens, who, with skillful touch and
Have looped with jewels these locks of
And smiled with pleasure at my face so fair,
When through the mirror they saw it reflected
Say, tell me if a likeness can be seen
In this poor wasted frame, to England's
Ah, Wolsey, Yes; thy fate was like to mine,
I,too, did rise, but now, my lot is thine.
At once arrayed in pomp, endowed with
Now, fickle fortune assigns to me the tower.
Will naught but blood e'er quench king
Naught but revenge with which his brain is
Base villain! though thou decked in robes
Thy heart is like to Lucifer's in hate!
Thou dwell'st beneath a canopy of light
With soul in lust enshrouded, black as night,
And yet this man, so base, so weak, so vain,
Great heaven! this poor heart could love
Could kneel with 'raptured words and tearful
Bid him clasp me to his heart, and linger
Yes, he was loving, kind, and good to me,
Six years I knew naught but felicity,
And gratitude, like some emitted spark,
Awoke the fire within my woman's heart.
My babe, Elizabeth, he loved the child;
104Oft have I seen his countenance grow mild
Whene'er in infant voice she lisped his
In tones like an Ĉolian harp it came.
But why this change! How turned his love
Whence comes this wrath like some outburst
False! false! O God! the light has dawned
I know now why his tenderness has passed!
Ah! I can see why he thus thinks me site!
He basks within another's 'switching smile;
'Tis Jane Seymour, my fair and gifted maid
Has made upon his heart this sudden raid.
O Father! and 'tis she will reign the queen,
When I on earth, no more will e'er be seen.
She'll wear this crown I prize more than my
She holds his heart, 'tis she he'll make his
O heaven! for an arm of Samson's strength,
That I might burst these doors of wondrous
105And flee this tower; sweet freedom breathe
Ah! I would seek this treasured one,-- and
This dagger thrust into her siren heart.
And see her writhe in pain from its keen
Then could I smile, and know forevermore,
Her fascinations and her smiles were o'er!
Delusion vain! these thoughts but poison
And rack the soul with storms that never
Lost! lost! lost! I've played the game of
chance, and lost.
And O ye destinies! what it has cost
To brain, and heart, and soul! and now I
Scorned, and derived, and loathed by every
O thou, who lov'st the paths of home and
Know thou the darkness of this dreadful
Will yet be thine! Oh, quench this fearful
Else thy life, too, with madness will be crust.
Thou'lt live to know thy hopes and dreams
And thou wilt fall, as I, to rise no more.