Sweet words of pity! Oh! if thou could’st rise

Sweet words of pity! Oh! if thou could’st rise, Fair Queen, from out the darkness of the tomb, And their old beauty light again thine eyes, And thy persuasive lips no more be dumb,— If thou, in all thy charms, should’st thus appear, How thy full heart would throb! With what surprise And rapture thou would’t watch thy gentle peer, By sad Lochleven, as, with tender sighs, She mourned thy fate,—“Poor Mary wandered here.”