James Graham, 1st Marquise of Montrose


Lines Written on the Eve of His Execution


Let them bestow on every airth a limb,
Then open all my veins, that I may swim
To thee, my Maker, in that crimson lake,
Then place my par boiled head upon a stake;
Scatter my ashes, strow them in the air.
Lord, since thou knowest where all these atoms are,
I'm hopeful thou'lt recover once my dust,
And confident thou'lt raise me with the just.






English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru