Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/109

At length her quivering hand unclos'd,
    And lo! a ring was there,
Of rare and radiant gems compos'd,
    Such as a king might wear.

"He, for whose hand this ring was meet,
    I dare not name his name
Once bade me lay it at your feet
    To spare the scaffold's shame;
But I—and be my sin reveal'd,
    And my repentance keen,
In bitter hate the pledge conceal'd,
    Oh pardon! gracious Queen!"

What might that jewel'd toy restore
    Within the royal heart?
Did buried love revive once more
    In that convulsive start?
But none may scan her spirit's frame
    As that fond gift she view'd,
While back her idol Essex came
    From his dark grave of blood!

Again that noble form appear'd
    In homage at her feet,
Again his manly voice she heard
    In murmur'd flattery sweet;
His warm lips press the fatal ring,
    Bright tears suffuse his eye,
Broke she the promise of a king?
    And did that favorite die?

Down, Fancy down! her cheek is pale!
    Her haughty soul doth quake,