Thou hast saved thine honor, Mary; thou hast kept thy stainless name;
Be my loyal blood the voucher for thy spotlessness of fame;
But its worth will be diminished by the price which thou hast given,
And thy secret heart rebelling, to thy soul will ere be telling
That thy truest lover waits thee on the confines of his heaven.
Was I a traitor, O blest Mary, when I saw thee kneeling there
In thy chamber's holy silence, sending up thy evening prayer?
Not the holy Virgin Mother could more pure or glorious seem;
And when from thy lips ascending, my name with thy God's was blending—
Mary, Mary, as immortal as my soul will be that dream!
Did I wrong her whom I worshiped, was her beauty made profane?
Let my life-blood pay the penance, and remove the blushing stain;
Still the daring sin committed which the queen can not forgive,
In thy woman's soul repenting, finds a generous relenting,
Which while it would slay the subject, would still bid the lover live.
God protect thee, beauteous princess, when the faithful are no more,
God's guiding angels pilot thee to Time's eternal shore;
Though thy subject, Mary, fears not death, his heart doth sorely bleed,
For the future opes before him, and the prophet's vail falls o'er him,
And he sees for thee, sweet, hapless queen, a "time and hour of need."
The sullen bell is tolling that calls me to my doom;
Another morning's sun will shine upon thy lover's tomb;
I see thee at thy casement high, thy face bedewed with tears—
O fare-thee-well, my soul's bright queen, this sight divine that I have seen,
Of Mary weeping at my death, is worth a life of years!
