Discrown'd of two kingdoms, and bare;
Not first nor last on this one was cast
The burden that others should share.

--When the race is convened at the great assize
And the last long trumpet-call,
If Woman 'gainst Man, in her just appeal,
At the feet of the Judge should fall,
O the cause were secure;--the sentence sure!
--But she will forgive him all!--

O keen heart-hunger for days that were;
Last look at a vanishing shore!
In two short words all bitterness summ'd,
That _Has been_ and _Nevermore_!
Nor with one caress will Mary bless,
Nor look on the babe she bore!

Blow, bitter wind, with a cry of death,
Blow over the western bay:
The sunshine is gone from the desolate girl,
And before is the doomster-day,
And the saw-dust red with the heart's-blood shed
In the shambles of Fotheringay.

Mary of Scotland is one of the five or six figures in our history who
rouse an undying personal interest. Volumes have been and will be
written on her:--yet if we put aside the distorting mists of national and
political and theological partisanship, the common laws of human nature
will give an easy clue to her conduct and that of her enemies.