— Had she, as thou! Lucretia — durst —
But here the soul! superior by her faith,
Triumph'd — and for her country and her son,
Endur'd, in misery, all her cruel fate,
Accursed marriage! — deep laid malice. O Mary!
Their vill'nous designs — were here accomplish'd, —
And stabb'd thy fame! But time shall bring to light
Their darkest deeds — and heal thy wounded name.
— Avaunt thou! — Murray, Morton, Bothwell,
And thou Elisabeth, great as a Queen,
But deadly in thy hate — as desperate by thy love.
Mary and Essex, victims of thy ire,
Bright stars that fell by thy malignant breath,
Yet, yet I weep for thee — thy woman's weakness,
And thy jealous mind.
O they were punishment enough — forgive,
Forgive, O mighty God! forgive.