Oh, Fortune!

Oh, Fortune! how thy restlesse wavering state
Hath fraught with cares my troubled witt!
Witnes this present prisonn, whither fate
Could beare me, and the joys I quitt.
Thou causedest the guiltie to be losed
From bandes, wherein are innocents inclosed:
Causing the guiltles to be straite reserved,
And freeing those that death had well deserved.
But by her envie can be nothing wroughte,
So God send to my foes all they have thoughte.

signed - A. D. MDLV.
Elizabethe, Prisonner.

by Queen Elizabeth I

Comments (2)

Amazing if sad poem..........👍
There is a mistake in the following lines: Sir, their light hearts turned to stone. It is not remembered whether in gardens stone gardens illumined pleasant ways. They should read: Sir, their light hearts turned to stone. It is not remembered whether in gardens stone LANTERNS illumined pleasant ways.