Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Composite volume > Mary, Queen of Scots, a tragedy

A T R A G E D y* 25
SCENE II. TutburyCaftle, Mary's Cham-
ber- — Mar_y and Lady Douglas djfcovered.
MAR Y.
No, not another tear ! our fate's decreed ;
Our lot is cafi ; here in this fad abode,
E'en here we may enjoy a dread repoie —
Better by far than the tumultuous throbbs
Of my poor aching heart, while yet it drearnt
Of hberty and vifionary crowns.
Whene'er I flumber'd, mock'd my troubled fight.
Here then, at laft, in thefe dark, filent dens,
We fliall be proof againft anxiety.
And feverous expeftation's agonies.
LADY DOUGLAS.
My royal Miftrefs, ftill there is hope, though this
May feem the manfion of defpair ; fo cold.
So comfortlefs, and fit for fcenes of woe ;
Such deep, low, winding vaults ; fuch towers aloft
Impending o'er their bafe, like broken cliffs
Whofe fhapeiefs, weather-beaten fummits hang
In rude excrefcence, threat'ning inftant fall :
Perhaps, in each of them fome wretch pent up.
Lives here, fufpended between heaven and earth —
MARY.
I like thefe difinal cells ; this awful gloom's
Congenial to my foul — each yawning cave
Looks like the entrance to the Ihades of death,
And promifes oblivion of this world.
Rude as this caftle is, here held his ftate
Old John of Gaunt ; hither flock'd all the pride
Of chivalry ; around the lifts fat all
The beauties of the Court ; each Knight in arms,
Ineent to catch a glance from fome bright eye,
^ Exulting