The sound of the oars was dreadful, God's slave
She was, yet helpless before God and men,
And she knew, as they rowed her to the grave,
She would never hear sound of rowing again.
Though the lady was Queen she shook inside,
But how great was her fear no-one would know,
Because, into the mist, on this last ride,
As brave Mary of Scotland she must go.
So young to her death and much unprepared.
The Tower had been her home for past years.
Despite her pleas to the Queen with red hair,
She was condemned and there must be no tears.
I often remember, as taught at school,
Goodly Queen Bess cried in cousinly grief
When she signed the Warrant with stately rule
That usurping her throne would end in defeat.
She reminded Pretenders to this, her shore,
Before claiming reign, not to think like fools.
Some had aimed and missed, as this girl before
When mist took her to kneel at the axe's stool.
I thoroughly enjoyed this piece. I particularly love those with a historic flavour. It must be the failed historian or archaeolgist in me. The poem captures such fear and dread in its brilliant imagery. Best Regards Steve 10
Wow I thought that there were so many new, wonderful poems found at PH today; but then I fond THIS one..it's exquisite and terrifying together..(smile)
This is SUPERB Fay! ! I love history and the whole stary around Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary (it was Elizabeth right?) you have written this with utmost grace describing the troubles and her fate...10+
Fay, a wonderful insight of medieval history, finely tuned to keep us reading all the way through. Top marks and thank for sharing this with us my friend. Hugs David
This is an ultra fine piece of work and deserves more than can be voted 10 ++ Daniel
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
AWESOME poetry........great flow of words and fine diction used...loved it! ! !