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LAMENTS.
Dudley, my one one love, my spirit halts ;
Would that it had thine now on which to lean ;
Faulty thou wert, they said ; come back, dear faults,-
Have I not right to pardon, as a queen ?
Truly, 'tis hard to rule, 'tis sore to love,
All my life long the two have torn my heart ;
Now that the end has come, all things to prove,
I but repent me of my chosen part.
Now to my mother's God, who dwells alar,
Come I, a broken queen, a woman old ;
Smirched with the miry way my soul hath trod,
Weary of life as with a tale twice told.
Thou who dost know what ingrate subjects are,
Hear me, assoil, receive me, God, my God.
