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The Lady Jane Grey Internet Museum Poetry

Lady Jane Grey

Author: Miss Leslie From Philadelphia - These stanzas were suggested by C. R. Leslie's picture of "Lady Jane Grey's Reluctance to Accept the Crown of England."
Source: "The Juvenile Forget Me Not: A Christmas and New Year's Gift, Or Birthday Present By S. C. Hall"
Year: 1833
Found here.

OH! not for me—oh! not for me,
That fatal toy of gems and gold—
Blood on its ermine band I see
And thorns are in its velvet fold.

"To me that glittering circlet seems
A burning ring to sear my brow;
To me that shining sceptre gleams
The axe to which our heads shall bow.

"And shew me not th' unjust decree
Extorted from a timid boy;
Nor deem that it can bring to me
One throb of pride, one glow of joy.

"Dark visions pass before my eyes—
Prophetic warnings whisper round;
I see the sable scaffold rise—
I see our life-blood stain the ground.

"And shall not I, in that dread hour,
Confess the justice of my fate?—
I, who usurped another's power,
I, who assumed another's state?"

"Let me the shaded pathway keep,
Remote from wild ambition's glare;
Nor lead me up the dizzy steep,
For clouds and storms are gathering there."

She said—and nerved her gentle soul
To hear, unmoved, the syren song;
Nor let her kindred's schemes control
Her sense of right, her fear of wrong.

Their prayers th' ambitious fathers join;
Her sire, and he of haughtiest mien,
The chief of Dudley's lofty line,
Knelt at her feet, and hail'd her queen!

And she, that dame of regal grace,
Proud Suffolk's duchess, grasped her hand,
And gazed imploring on her face,
With eyes still longing to command.

Vainly they tried each specious art,
Each sophistry of anxious zeal,
Till the young partner of her heart
Made to her love a fond appeal.

She yielded then—and who shall blame
The youthful lord's exulting tone,
When soon the herald's loud acclaim
Announced them heirs of England's throne?

Dim was their star, and short their hour,
And weak their friends, and fierce their foes;
And captives soon to Mary's power,
Nor voice nor hand to save them rose.

There, where their transient court had shone
In Caesar's towers of awful fame,
The hapless pair resigned their throne,
And there their bloody death-hour came.

She died—that glory of her age—
As never Roman heroine died;
And Britain's history has no page
More dear to British woman's pride.
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