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The Lady Jane Grey Internet Museum Poetry

Lady Jane Grey to Lord Guilford Dudley

Author: George Keate
Source: "The Poetical Works of George Keate, Esq"
Year: 1781
Found here.

From these dread walls, this melancholy Tow'r,
Doom'd the sad victim of relentless Pow'r,
Where ruin sits in gloomy pomp array'd,
And circling horrors spread their mournful shade,
I send the tribute of a short'ning life,
The last memorial of a faithful Wife.
For ev'ry hope on this side Heav'n is fled,
And Death's pale banner waves around my head.
It yet perchance may cheer my Lord to know
That SUFFOLK'S Daughter sinks not with her woe:

Beneath its weight I feel myself resign'd;
Tho' strong its pressure, stronger still my mind.
This duty paid to Thee, each care is o'er,
Nor my hard fortune shall distress me more.

Yet spite of all, one anxious thought survives,
For Thee, my GUILFORD, 'tis for Thee it lives.
Yes, Thou alone with Heav'n divid'st my heart,
Tho' all Heaven's due, yet Nature gives Thee part.
If Love be still a crime, I'm guilty still,
But to forget, depends not on our will.
Affection once deep rooted in the breast,
Is sometimes shook, tho' rarely dispossest;
The ruling passion there in triumph reigns,
It sooths my weakness, but augments my pains.
O'er the dear past my roving fancy flies,
And brings thy Image to my raptur'd eyes.
No Mourner's weeds, no Captive's chain it wears,
But bright in all its native charms appears;
Such Grace, such Virtue beaming from thy brows,
As stole my heart, and fix'd my virgin vows;
Such as Thou wert, when at the Altar's side
I gave Thee up my hand, a willing Bride:
How little then expected we to find
Our nuptial wreath by Death had been intwin'd!
Scenes different far from these gay HOPE display'd!
Ah! how the false one sung, and how betray'd!
Each joy the promis'd perish'd in its birth,
And ev'ry flatt'ring blossom fell to earth!——
But from Man's weakness still some comfort flows,
'Tis that he nought beyond the present knows;
Heav'n draws a friendly curtain o'er his doom,
And hides in deepest shades each ill to come.——
Then be its Will ador'd, which, understood,
From seeming mischief draws forth certain good.
Nor in these lines suspect that I complain,
Tho' mem'ry loves to trace past time again.

Thus do I waste the solitary day,
With tedious pace thus creep my hours away;
And when the Moon, rob'd in her paler light,
Revisits mortals, and directs the Night,
If then my weary'd strength some slumber shares,
The Soul reflecting wakes to all her cares:
Delusion o'er my Mind usurps command,
And rules each sense with Fancy's magic wand.
One moment tidings of Forgiveness brings,
Descending Mercy spreads her Cherub wings;
Our guards are vanish'd, ev'ry grief effac'd,
We meet again, embracing and embrac'd.——
O Bliss supreme!——but too supreme to last;
Ere words can find their way, the Vision's past:
It fleets, I call it back——it will not hear,
And fearful shadows in its place appear.
The unrelenting Queen stalks fiercely by,
Fate on her brow, and Fury in her eye.——
Hark! the dread signal that compleats our woes:——
Hark! the loud shoutings of our barb'rous Foes!——
I see the axe rear'd high above thy head,
It falls!—And GUILFORD'S number'd with the dead.
Alas! how ghastly!——Ev'ry vein streams blood,
And the pale corpse sinks in the crimson flood.——
Could that sad form be once my soul's delight?——
Quick tear the mad'ning phantom from my sight.
Hold, hold your hands, ye ministers of Fate,
Suspend the blow, lest Mercy come too late;
Let Innocence at last your pity move,
And spare my Lord, my Husband, and my Love!——
NORTHUMBERLAND! Thee, Thee could I upbraid,
And bid Thee view the ruin thou hast made.
This tragic picture thy ambition plann'd,
And all its colours own thy daring hand.
But thou art fall'n!—Nor shall my parting breath
Call out for Vengeance in the hour of death:
I as thou wert, am to the Scaffold doom'd.
Soon with my Ancestors must lie entomb'd;
With the World's transient contests I have done,
The hast'ning sands of Life are nearly run;
A moment such as this, is not the time
To blame thy weakness, or reproach thy crime!
May all remembrance of thy guilt subside,
And the dark Grave thy dust and frailties hide!

The searching eye of Heav'n, whose wisdom darts
Thro' all the mean disguises of our hearts,
And ev'ry silent motive, knows alone
With what reluctance I approach'd the Throne.
I never sigh'd for Grandeur's envy'd rays,
For regal Honours, or a Nation's praise.
My bosom never felt Ambition's fire;
For what exchange could GUILFORD'S Wife desire?
The bloom of MAY beneath our feet was spread,
And all its roses deck'd our nuptial bed.
With Thee conjoin'd, each social joy I found;
With Thee conversing, Pleasure breath'd around.
To prize the world aright, and form the mind
To my lov'd books my leisure I resign'd:
Or absent thou, to cheer the ev'ning's gloom,
Encircled with my Maidens, ply'd the Loom.
PEACE was my Sister, and my Friend CONTENT,
The best Companions e'er to Mortals sent;
Plac'd at my side, they tun'd their soothing lyres,
And sung those carols Innocence inspires.
But when, obedient to a Father's pow'r,
And the last wish of EDWARD'S dying hour,
Destructive counsel! I my home forsook,
Assum'd the Purple, and the Sceptre took,
Swift from my sight the heav'nly Pair withdrew,
And Friend and Sister bade me both adieu.

Let such as, flatter'd by a pompous name,
Risk their own quiet in pursuit of Fame,
Beware th' exchange; awhile their purpose turn,
And from a wretched Queen one moral learn.
It is the cheat of ev'ry worldly joy,
To tempt when distant, but possess'd to cloy;
Hence flows a truth of much import,'tis this;
"Content's the highest pitch of human bliss."
Strange we should then the proffer'd boon reject!
All know to seek it, yet the search neglect.
To no one soil, no Station 'tis confin'd,
Springing, if cultur'd, in each steady mind,
Far from Ambition's fiery Tract it flies,
But lives with Virtue, and with Virtue dies!

O had our lot by kinder Stars been thrown
Beneath fame lonely shade, to Fame unknown;
Far from those Scenes remov'd, where Pride resorts,
Far from the Cares, far from the Crimes of Courts,
Unconscious of the Thorns which wound the Great,
Our lengthen'd years had own'd a happier Fate:
Pleas'd with our Fortune, by ourselves approv'd,
Secure from Envy, and by all belov'd.
Whilst, from a busy, faithless World retir'd,
By no blind Folly vex'd, no passion fir'd,
Calmly we then afar had heard the Strife,
The Noise, the Tumult that perplexes Life;
Smil'd at Contention's visionary plan,
And the vain Toils of self-deluded Man.

Yet cease, my heart, these plaintive murmurs cease;
For why, my GUILFORD, should I wound thy peace?
Why with imagin'd joys thy thoughts engage,
Since we are fetter'd on a tragic Stage?
But say, what Tyranny can reach the Soul?
What Terrors shake her, or what Force control?
Immortal as the Pow'r from whence she springs,
Sick of her home, she mounts on Fancy's wings,
With inborn Freedom nourish'd, spurns her chains,
And roves unbounded thro' ideal scenes!
Ideal joys are all I now have left,
Of Thee, a Crown, and Liberty bereft;
Torn from the pleasures of domestic Life,
From each fond rapture of a virtuous Wife:
By all Hope here forsaken!--'tis in vain
That Reason whispers I mould not complain:
A sigh will heave, in spite of all my pow'rs;
And sighs are due to Miseries like ours.——
Ha! meet no more!——How cruel the decree!——
Heart-rending sentence!——No——It must not be.
Down prison walls, each obstacle remove,
And let me clasp once more the Man I love!
One parting look a wretched Wife desires;
One parting kiss the seal of Death requires!——
And is there none to plead th' Unhappy's suit?——
——All ears are deaf, and ev'ry tongue is mute!——
Then, come the worst—Yet, howsoe'er distrest,
Still shall thy Image live within my breast;
My senses still that object mall pursue,
And each fond wish be offer'd up for You.
Tho', all unfeeling for this bleeding heart,
Our Foes dismiss to Heav'n thy nobler part,
Deep in the dust thy injur'd Form I'll trace,
And grudge th' unconscious Grave its cold embrace.—
But hold thy hand, presumptuous Woman, hold;
Too warm thy passion, as thy pen too bold.
Far other thoughts the present hour demands,
Lo! at my side the shadowy Monarch stands;
Aid me, great Teacher, this hard conflict end,
Tho' King of Terrors call'd, I'll hail thee Friend!
Since thou alone portray'st to mortal eyes
How weak, how baseless are the joys we prize:
Thou mock'st our useless toils, our mimic state,
And warn'st a brother, by a brother's fate!
Thy moral then shall not be lost on me,
Convinc'd, my Soul approves the just decree;
And unrepining quits this scene of Strife,
Which points thro' Virtue to a happier Life.

The Priest this morn, with ev'ry Art endu'd,
Th' accursed purpose hath again renew'd;
"Be ours," he cries,"our better Faith embrace,
"And live Preserver of your falling Race.
"Tho' yet misled, stand forth the Child of ROME,
"The Queen, in mercy, will avert your doom."
Merciful Queen!--Yet since thus greatly kind,
Tell us what mercy shall th' Apostate find?
Thy royal mandate may decide our fates,
But Peace alone on conscious Duty waits;
Who wars against it, does the work of hell,
And arms a Daemon he can never quell;
Whose shafts receiv'd, search the wide globe around,
Nor herb, nor balsam heals the fatal wound.
Bear back, false WINCHESTER, thy proffer'd Bliss,
Weigh Crowns and Kingdoms with a deed like this,
Far, far too light in Wisdom's eye they seem,
Nor make the scale, while Reason holds the beam.——
And can she, GUILFORD, deem me sunk so low,
So fondly wedded to this world of woe,
To think her bounty would my fears entice
To purchase fleeting breath at such a price?
Which when obtain'd, the poor precarious toy
A thousand ills might weaken, or destroy?--
No--Since I'm sworn a Sister to Mischance,
Let the Clouds gather, let the Storm advance,
Unmov'd, its bursting horrors I'll defy,
And steady to my Faith a Martyr die.
For Life's, alas! too like the transient Rose,
Which oft is blasted the fame day it blows;
Its beauty from the wind a blight receives,
Or some foul canker taints its crimson Leaves!
Nor judge it hard to fall an early Flow'r,
Rescu'd perchance from some tempestuous Shower,
From noxious Vapours arm'd with force to kill,
The noontide Sunbeam, or the ev'ning's Chill.
Howe'er the thought appal, Death's gloomy road
By ev'ry mortal foot must once be trod!
Deep thro' the Vale of tears Man's journey lies,
And sorrow best prepares him for the Skies!——
O then, my Husband, I conjure thee, hear,
If SUFFOLK'S Daughter e'er to Thee was dear,
By ev'ry wish of happiness to come,
By ev'ry hope beyond the mould'ring Tomb;
If anxious that thy better fame mould soar,
And shine applauded when the Man's no more:
Let not the wily Churchman win thine ear,
Or sooth thy weakness by his fraudful care;
But arm'd with Constancy's unfailing shield,
As God's own soldier valiant, scorn to yield.
So when Religion, stript of each disguise,
In ancient purity again shall rise,
To her true throne once more shall be restor'd,
And rule by Reason, stronger than the Sword,
Posterity our merits may attest,
And our fair deeds by all good men be blest.
In distant times, then shall old people tell
How firmly GUILFORD and his Consort fell.
To all their list'ning family relate,
How our Faith triumph'd, tho' our Woes were great.
Then shall each Youth and Maid our names revere,
Grace our sad Story with a gen'rous tear,
And give our dust this Requiem with a sigh,
"Peace guard the Shrine where Virtue's Children lie."
O THOU SUPREME, on whom we all depend,
Our common Parent, and our common Friend,
Who deign'st to watch us from thy distant skies,
Bidding the pray'rs of humbled suff'rers rise,
Ruler of heav'n, stretch forth thy mighty hand,
And save from civil rage my native Land.
Let ROME'S ambitious Sons no more prevail,
Blast all their hopes, and let their counsels fail.
Raise up some Prince to perfect that great plan
Thy servant EDWARD (under Thee) began;
That Error's clouds dispers'd, may ne'er return,
And thy pure Light with fires rekindled burn.
So, Peace, sad fugitive, again shall smile,
And fix her dwelling on this prosper'd Isle.——
Whilst for myself one only boon I crave,
Support that Fortitude thy Mercy gave;
The heart thou mad'st, preserve severely just,
Firm in its fate, and steady to its trust.
There, whilst it beats, thy praise shall ever reign,
Live, whilst it lives, and flow in ev'ry vein:
Praise the sole tribute I have left to give,
Nay, all a GOD from Mortals can receive.

Come then, my Lord, my Husband, and my Love,
(For Death alone those titles shall remove)
With decent courage meet thy certain doom,
Nor shrink with horror at the op'ning tomb.
What from the Grave can Virtue have to fear?
'Tis peace,'tis refuge from the worst despair;
All strife, all human contests 'twill adjust,
Nor can the hand of Pow'r insult the dust!——
Religion sitting by the mourner's side
Inspires that comfort which the World deny'd;
And,'midst our woes, of this one truth we're sure,
Whate'er is mortal cannot long endure.
Our Pains, as well as Joys, soon find an end,
And, tir'd of both, we call our Shroud a Friend!——
Meet it as such, my GUILFORD, nor thy Soul
O'er-awe with fancy, or with fear control.
Think,'twill the rigour of thy lot repay,
Think,'tis a passport to the Realms of day.
On Faith's strong pinions thou shalt wing thy flight,
And (the World conquer'd) with the Blest unite.
The pomp of death, the Scaffold, and the Steel,
The man recoiling, may an instant feel,
For Nature will be heard; but be thy mind
Warm with its future prospects, and resign'd.——
What then remains for me?—Ah! wherefore ask?-
Fain would my trembling pen avoid the task;
Here would it stop, nor wake thy suff'rings more,
But idle Ceremony now is o'er;
These tear-stain'd lines must their whole purpose tell,
And bid my dying Lord a last farewell.
A last! a long farewell!--Oh cruel sound,
It pains, it tears, it harrows up my wound.
Alas! the transient dream!—Down, rebel Heart,-
Yet, keen their pangs that must for ever part!——
A thousand, thousand things I had to say,
But the fleet minutes suffer no delay,
Might these fond eyes once more that Form behold,
These Arms, tho' 'twere in death, my Love enfold?
A Woman's weakness sure might be forgiven,
And this last frailty be absolv'd by Heav'n,——
'Twas a rash wish;-no-shun me,-for I fear
A final interview we could not bear!
Ere yet a little space, this scene will close,
And end the malice of our ruthless foes.
Arm'd as we are for Fate, we'll die content;
Fortune hath done its worst, its Rage is spent.
To happier Mansions we shall soon remove,
And meet in bliss, for we shall meet Above,
Crown'd with eternal Peace, we then shall own
How poor the contest for a worldly Throne!
No feuds, no treasons can our joys molest,
Or make th' immortal triumphs of the Blest!——
And see, our wish'd-for Haven is not far,
This hope shall cheer us like a guiding Star;
Safe in our sea-beat Bark we'll stem the flood
And spread each sail to meet the coming Good.——
Descend, my Guardian Angel, from the sides,
In my firm breast let dauntless Virtue rise;
Loose, loose all ties that hold me captive here,
And from my mem'ry blot what most was dear.——
Yes, my Deliv'rer, yes, I find thy aid;
Each passion's calm, and all the storm is laid.
I felt its influence, GUILFORD, as I spoke;
The complicated chain at length is broke;
Life's vain Enchantments all have ta'en their flight,
And Earth diminish'd fades before my sight;
One last, sad, parting sigh is left for You:
The rest is Heav'n's:-a long-long-long Adieu!
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