Henry Glassford Bell
An Unrecorded Chronicle
Roll back, roll back a hundred years,
Thou ever-rolling wheel of time ;
Restore again dead hopes and fears,
Exhume the undiscovered crime.
Why should the tale remain untold,
Or noiseless Lethe waft it by ?—
The actors in the scene are cold,
But human passions never die.
She had no child ; a fatal spell
Hung over the unfruitful bands ;
Without a child the title fell,
A stranger took her lord's broad lands.
They went away beyond the sea,
They found beneath another sky
An infant on a mother's knee,—
'What is there gold will ...