Lament of Mary Queen of Scots on the Approach of Spring

4
I was the Queen o' bonie France,
Where happy I hae been;
Fu' lightly rose I on the morn,
As blythe lay down at e'en:
And I'm the Sovereign of Scotland
And mony a traitor there;
Yet here I lie in foreign bands
And never-ending care. -

5.
But as for thee thou false woman,
My Sister & my fae;
Grim Vengeance yet shall whet a sword
That through thy soul shall gae:
The weeping blood in woman's breast
Thy breast did never know,
Nor th' balm that drops from woman's een
To heal the wounds of woe:
The weeping blood in woman's breast
Is quite unknown to thee;
And th' balm that draps on wounds of woe
Frae woman's pitying e'e.-

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My son, my son may kinder stars
Upon thy fortune shine;
And may those pleasures gild thy reign,
That ne'er would blink on mine!
God keep thee frae thy Mother's faes,
Or turn their hearts to thee;
And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend,
Remember him for me.-