Sonnet.
Three names of women on the tragic page1
Of history shine as letters writ in gold2
On vellum scroll of legends dim and old ;3
Three crownéd women who flung down their gage,4
Amid the din of war and lion-rage5
Of nations wrath. Says Mary, fair to see :6
“ A babe I played with Scotland’s crown. Ah me !7
The Queen of France was I, and youth and age8
Still know my name.” “ And I the imperial throne9
Forsook to die amid the rabble throng,”10
Says Antoinette, so proud and pale. Says Joan,11
A peasant maid : “ I brooded o’er the wrong12
Of France, till on my virgin brow the crown13
And golden aureole of martyrdom came down ! ”14