LAMENTATION OF QUEEN MART

1 sîgh and lament me in vain , Thèse walU can but écho my moan s Alas ! it incrcases my pain , When I think of the days that are gone.

Tliro' the grate of my prison I sec The birds as they wantoti in air :

My h cuit how it pants to be free , My looks thcy are wild with despair.

Above tho' oppressed by my fate, I bnrn witli contempt for my focs :

Tho' fortune bas «ller'd my stale, She ne' er can subduc me to tbose.

F aise woman , in agcs to corne Thy malice detestcd shall be ; And when we are cold in the tomb , Some hcart still will sorrow for me.

Ve, rools whcre cold damps and disinny With silence and solitude dwell, How comfortlesA passes tlie day !

How sad tolls the evening bcll !

The owls from the battlements cry , Hollow winds scem to murmur around :

O Mary , prépare thec to die.

My blood it ruus cold at tlic sound.

-"' -Ai