The proud possessor of a Crown!
Alas the phrase - a mockery!
How gladly would I lay adown
My royal state, my honours high.
Ambition raised me to the throne;
Remorse hath laid me in the dust;
My sire is dead, by me betrayed--
A curse upon Ambition's lust.
My reign is only now begun,
And yet my life I loathe, I hate;
O God to think that e'er a son
Could calmly plot a father's fate.
Let me atone my deadly wrong--
Let me do penance for my sin;
Through life that penance I'll prolong
That I may Heaven's pardon win.
By day and night without respite,
Around my body I shall wear
A massive-link'ed iron chain
In token of my soul's despair.
That chain shall fret my tender skin,
With cruel clasp shall banish sleep;
Thus -- thus may I my deadly sin
For ever in remembrance keep.
But never shall my soul repine
At woes retributive and just;
My sire is dead, by me betrayed,
And I am humbled to the dust.
I'd love to have you drop by!--Barbara
