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Why watch ye now ? Seven thunders would not wake 

 That dreaded one her load of life laid down. 



Her sleep is sound. Her stern heart may not ache, 

 Nor throb the brow that wore a joyless crown; 



An instant past a queen. For love or hate, 



She cares not now ; waiting at mercy's gate. 



Hark to swift footsteps on the dewy grass, 

 'Mid the dim twilight, for the flush is gone 



That lit yon death-couch. Hasting on they pass 

 To hail, as queen, the lone and captive one. 



Captive, and yet a queen ! one moment more 



Shall give to her the crown that anxious Mary wore. 



