Too well I know, pacing the place of awe,

Three queens, young save in trouble, moulder by;

More in his halo, Monmouth’s mocking eye,

The eagle Essex in a harpy’s claw;

Seymour and Dudley, and stout heads that saw

Sundown of Scotland: how with treasons lie

White martyrdoms; rank in a company

Breaker and builder of the eternal law.

Oft as I come, the bitter garden-row

Of ruined roses hanging from the stem,

Where winds of old defeat yet batter them,

Infects me: suddenly must I depart,

Ere thought of men’s injustice then, and now,

Add to these aisles one other broken heart.