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Anne Boleyn

· Anne Boleyn: O Death, Rock Me Asleep · Anne Boleyn: Defiled is my name · Anne Boleyn: Letter to the king · Anne Boleyn: O Death, Rock Me Asleep

Anne Boleyn: O Death, Rock Me Asleep

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Anne Boleyn

(1507?-1536)

O Death, Rock Me Asleep

 

DEATH, rock me asleep,

Bring me to quiet rest,

Let pass my weary guiltless ghost

Out of my careful breast.

Toll on, thou passing bell;

Ring out my doleful knell;

Let thy sound my death tell.

Death doth draw nigh;

There is no remedy.

 

My pains who can express?

Alas, they are so strong;

My dolour will not suffer strength

My life for to prolong.

Toll on, thou passing bell;

Ring out my doleful knell;

Let thy sound my death tell.

Death doth draw nigh;

There is no remedy.

 

Alone in prison strong

I wait my destiny.

Woe worth this cruel hap that I

Should taste this misery!

Toll on, thou passing bell;

Ring out my doleful knell;

Let thy sound my death tell.

Death doth draw nigh;

There is no remedy.

 

Farewell, my pleasures past,

Welcome, my present pain!

I feel my torments so increase

That life cannot remain.

Cease now, thou passing bell;

Rung is my doleful knell;

For the sound my death doth tell.

Death doth draw nigh;

There is no remedy.

 

Anne Boleyn poetry

fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Anne Boleyn, Archive A-B


Anne Boleyn: Defiled is my name

Anne Boleyn

(1507?-1536)

 

Defiled is my name full sore

Through cruel spite and false report,

That I may say for evermore,

Farewell, my joy! Adieu comfort!

For wrongfully ye judge of me

Unto my fame a mortal wound,

Say what ye list, it will not be,

Ye seek for that can not be found.

 

Anne Boleyn poetry

fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Anne Boleyn, Archive A-B


Anne Boleyn: Letter to the king

ANNE BOLEYN (1507-1536)

It was for Anne that Henry VIII gave up the wife with whom he had lived for twenty years; it was for Anne that he broke his hitherto unbroken allegiance of England to the Pope of Rome; tl was for Anne that he braved the anger of the great powers of Europe.Yet it was this same Anne who, but two years after her marriage, was writing to her passionate lover the following heart-broken letter—while awaiting her death.

TO THE KING

SIR, Your Grace’s displeasure and my imprisonment are things so strange unto me, as what to write, or what to excuse, I am altogether ignorant. Whereas you send unto me (willing [me] to confess a truth, and to obtain your favour) by such an one whom you know to be mine ancient professed enemy. I no sooner conceived this message by him, than I rightly conceived your meaning; and, as you say, confessing a truth indeed may procure my safety, I shall with all willingness and duty perform your command.

But let not your Grace ever imagine that your poor wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a fault where not so much as a thought thereof proceeded. And to speak a truth, never prince had wife more loyal in all duty, and in all true affection, than you have ever found in Anne Boleyn; with which name and place I could willingly have contented myself, if God and your Grace’s pleasure had been so pleased. Neither did I at any time so far forget myself in my exaltation or received queenship, but that I always looked for such an alteration as now I find: for the ground of my preferment being on no surer foundation than your Grace’s fancy, the least alteration I knew was fit and sufficient to draw that fancy to some other subject. You have chosen me from a low estate to be your queen and companion, far beyond my desert or desire. If then you found me worthy of such honour, good your Grace, let not any light fancy or bad counsel of mine enemies withdraw your princely favour from me; neither let that stain, that unworthy stain, of a disloyal heart towards your good Grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your most dutiful wife, and the infant princess, your daughter.

Try me, good king, but let me have a lawful trial; and let not my sworn enemies sit as my accusers and my judges; yea, let me receive an open trial, for my truth shall fear no open shame. Then shall you see either mine innocency cleared, your suspicions and conscience satisfied, the ignominy and slander of the world stopped, or my guilt openly declared; so that, whatsoever God or you may determine of me, your Grace may be freed from an open censure; and mine offence being so lawfully proved, your Grace is at liberty, both before God and man, not only to execute worthy punishment on me, as an unlawful wife, but to follow your affection already settled on that party for whose sake I am now as I am, whose name I could some good while since have pointed unto; your Grace not being ignorant of my suspicion therein.

But if you have already determined of me; and that not only my death, but an infamous slander, must bring you the enjoying of your desired happiness; then I desire of God that he will pardon your great sin therein, and likewise my enemies the instruments thereof; and that He will not call you to a strict account for your unprincely and cruel usage of me, at his general judgementseat, where both you and myself must shortly appear; and in whose judgement, I doubt not, whatsoever the world may think of me, mine innocence shall be openly known and sufficiently cleared.

My last and only request shall be, that myself may only bear the burden of your Grace’s displeasure, and that it may not touch the innocent souls of those poor gentlemen who, as I understand, are likewise in strait imprison¬ment for my sake. If ever I have found favour in your sight, if ever the name of Anne Boleyn hath been pleasing in your ears, then let me obtain this request; and I will so leave to trouble your Grace any further; with mine earnest prayers to the Trinity, to have your Grace in his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. From my doleful prison in the Tower, this 6th of May. Your most loyal and ever faithful wife.

ANNE BOLEYN (1536)

fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Anne Boleyn, Archive A-B


Anne Boleyn: O Death, Rock Me Asleep

Anne Boleyn?

(1507?-1536)

O Death, Rock Me Asleep

 

DEATH, rock me asleep,

Bring me to quiet rest,

Let pass my weary guiltless ghost

Out of my careful breast.

Toll on, thou passing bell;

Ring out my doleful knell;

Let thy sound my death tell.

Death doth draw nigh;

There is no remedy.

 

My pains who can express?

Alas, they are so strong;

My dolour will not suffer strength

My life for to prolong.

Toll on, thou passing bell;

Ring out my doleful knell;

Let thy sound my death tell.

Death doth draw nigh;

There is no remedy.

 

Alone in prison strong

I wait my destiny.

Woe worth this cruel hap that I

Should taste this misery!

Toll on, thou passing bell;

Ring out my doleful knell;

Let thy sound my death tell.

Death doth draw nigh;

There is no remedy.

 

Farewell, my pleasures past,

Welcome, my present pain!

I feel my torments so increase

That life cannot remain.

Cease now, thou passing bell;

Rung is my doleful knell;

For the sound my death doth tell.

Death doth draw nigh;

There is no remedy.

 

Anne Boleyn poetry

fleursdumal.nl magazine

More in: Anne Boleyn, Archive A-B


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