Bothwell
 
It made Mary Stuart tremble
When, through a secret door, late,
Bothwell came without preamble,
Loud to avow an act of hate.
 
Her pretty face, drained, lifeless now,
She twisted like a woman scorned.
He wiped the sweat from off his brow
And claimed the deed to have performed.
 
“I killed him for a mouth like yours
Was not fashioned for his kisses.
Tonight, as town clocks struck eight hours,
Darnley’s body proved my wishes.”
 
She cried out then:  “God forgive a
Sinner!  Take all my gold and flee!”
Then he laughed.  It made her shiver:
“What good is gold for blood to me?
 
I love you well, and if in hell
I must my crime awhile atone,
It’s just for you my soul I’d sell,
My fairest devil, you alone.
 
The hand that can a king strike down
Can, after his death, take his queen.”
It seemed to Mary that her crown
She’d forfeited, her own death seen.
 
He lifted her.  She had not bled
Though through her flesh his armour bit.
Her hair over her shoulders spread
As out towards his horse they lit.
 
He placed a ring upon her hand
And seated her upon his steed.
While storm clouds raced above the land
Of Dunbar Castle they had need.
 
The night was black as if each star
Had ceased to shine they knew not why
And now and then a lightning far
Like blade of axe flashed through the sky.