Charles Tennyson Turner - Mary Queen of Scots lyrics

When the young hand of Darnley locked in hers Had knit her to her northern doom--amid The spousal pomp of flags and trumpeters, Her fate looked forth and was no longer hid; A jealous brain beneath a southern crown Wrought spells upon her; from afar she felt The waxen image of her fortunes melt Beneath the Tudor's eye, while the grim frown Of her own lords o'ermastered her sweet smiles, And nipped her growing gladness, till she mourned, And sank, at last, beneath their cruel wiles; But, ever since, all generous hearts have burned To clear her fame, yes, very babes have yearned Over this saddest story of the isles.