THE PRINCES' CHAMBER
I stood upon Tower Hill,
Bright were the skies and gay,
Yet a cloud and a sudden chill
Passed over the summer day—
A thrill, and a nameless dread,
As of one who waits alone
Where gather the silent dead
Under the charnel stone.
Bright were the skies and gay,
Yet a cloud and a sudden chill
Passed over the summer day—
A thrill, and a nameless dread,
As of one who waits alone
Where gather the silent dead
Under the charnel stone.
For before my shrinking eyes
They glided, one by one,
The great, the good, the wise,
Who here to death were done;
Sinners and saints they came
With blood-stained garments on,
Reckless of praise or blame,
Or battles lost or won.
They glided, one by one,
The great, the good, the wise,
Who here to death were done;
Sinners and saints they came
With blood-stained garments on,
Reckless of praise or blame,
Or battles lost or won.
Then over the moat I passed
And paused at the Traitors' Gate;
Did I hear a trumpet's blast,
Forerunner of deadly fate?
Lo! up the stairs from the river,
Where the sombre shadows crept,
With none to help or deliver,
Kings, queens, and princes swept!
And paused at the Traitors' Gate;
Did I hear a trumpet's blast,
Forerunner of deadly fate?
Lo! up the stairs from the river,
Where the sombre shadows crept,
With none to help or deliver,
Kings, queens, and princes swept!
