ENGLAND .

Poor foolish virgin that foreswore Love's creeds
While a warm harlot heart throbbed strong with lust,
Uncloyed, it soured thy bosom with mistrust,
Prompting thy mind to base and cruel deeds.

With limitless power, vast as thy jealous greeds,
Thine iron hate no sympathy could rust,
When thy hand, tremulous with rage unjust,
Doomed Mary's beauty in pale widow weeds.

Horrible proof of thy despotic power,
I see the heated steel for suffering backs;
Whene'er I think of thee, the sullen Tower
Looms up thro' winter fogs — I hear the racks
Creak for fresh victims at the fatal hour,
And dream of Essex and a shining axe.