III. St. Peter-ad-Vincula |
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 piteous 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 man's injustice then and now Add to these aisles one other broken heart.
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