The Elegy of Chidiock Tichborne

Chidiock Tichborne was one of the men chosen to assassinate Elizabeth I in the doomed Babington plot. On the eve of his execution, 19th September 1586, he wrote a final letter to his wife Agnes containing this poem.

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,

My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,

My crop of corn is but a field of tares,

And all my good is but vain hope of gain;

The day is past and yet I saw no sun,

And now I live, and now my life is done.

My tale was heard and yet it was not told,

My fruit is fallen and yet my leaves are green,

My youth is spent and yet I am not old,

I saw the world and yet I was not seen;

My thread is cut and yet it is not spun,

And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death and found it in my womb,

I looked for life and saw it was a shade,

I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb,

And now I die, and now I was but made;

My glass is full, and now my glass is run,

And now I live, and now my life is done. 

Greensleeves

It is widely believed - and has been so for centuries - that the song "Greensleeves" was written by Henry VIII about Anne Boleyn before they were married. The melody and written are definitely from the Tudor period and the entire theme of the song fits perfectly well with the relationship between Anne and Henry. Others claim that the melody is Italian and was not introduced to the English court before after Henry's death. The first time the song was ever heard of officially was in 1580 during Elizabeth I when no less than four different versions suddenly appeared during the same September. It is possible however that Henry did not publish this song himself and that it was found later on. The King was a quite good composer and played several instruments with skill which adds to the myth of the royal origins of the song. No matter what it remains one of the oldest and best known songs from the Tudor age.

Alas, my love, you do me wrong,

To cast me off discourteously,

For I have loved you well and long,

Delighting in your company.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

But who was my lady greensleeves?

Your vows, you've broken, like my heart,

Oh, why did you so enrapture me?

Now I remain in a world apart 

But my heart remains in captivity.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

But who was my lady greensleeves?

I have been ready at your hand,

To grant whatever you would crave,

I have both wagered life and land

Your love and good-will for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

But who was my lady greensleeves?

If you intend thus to disdain,

It does the more enrapture me,

And even so, I still remain

A lover in captivity

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

But who was my lady greensleeves?

My men were clothed all in green,

And they did ever wait on thee;

All this was gallant to be seen,

And yet thou wouldst not love me.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

But who was my lady greensleeves?

Thou couldst desire no earthly thing,

But still thou hadst it readily,

Thy music still to play and sing;

And yet thou wouldst not love me.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

But who was my lady greensleeves?

Well, I will pray to God on high,

That thou my constancy mayst see,

And that yet once before I die,

Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

But who was my lady greensleeves?

Ah, Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu,

To God I pray to prosper thee,

For I am still thy lover true,

Come once again and love me.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

But who was my lady greensleeves?

Calais in my Heart

The loss of Calais to the French was one of the greatest errors made during Mary I's reign - a fact the Queen herself was well aware of. Mary I frustrated exclaimed that:

"When I am dead, and my body is opened, ye shall find Calais written on my heart"

Scandal of Christendom

One of the best known - and only known - quotes from Catherine of Aragon is regarding her jewellery. When Henry VIII asked her to surrender her jewels since they belonged to the Queen of England - a position she no longer held - the former Queen replied:

"I will not give them up to a person who is the scandal of Christendom and a disgrace to you."

It is obvious that she is referring to Anne Boleyn who was moving faster and faster towards becoming the Queen of England.

Poem of Margaret Salisbury

After Margaret Pole, the Countess of Salisbury had been executed, a short piece of text was found carved into the wall. The Countess denied her guilt to the end and it is believed that the poem is written by the Countess herself.

For traitors on the block should die;

I am no traitor, no, not I!

My faithfulness stands fast and so,

Towards the block I shall not go!

Nor make one step, as you shall see;

Christ in Thy mercy, save Thou me!

Sadly, the elderly woman's prayer was not heard - her execution would be remembered as the most horrible execution of the Tower of London.

Death of Five Innocent Men

The poem has been attributed to Thomas Wyatt - who was not only a personal friend of the Boleyn family but was also arrested along with the other four men; however he was released. It appears to be about the men who were executed on false charges of adultery with Queen Anne Boleyn: George Boleyn (Lord Rochford, Anne's brother), Sir Henry Norris, Sir Francis Weston, Sir William Brereton and Mark Smeaton. However, Brereton is the only one who is not mentioned in the poem.

As for them all I do not thus lament,

But as of right my reason doth me bind;

But as the most doth all their deaths repent,

Even so do I by force of mourning mind.

Some say: "Rochford, haddest thou not been so proud,

For thy great wit each man would thee bemoan,

Since as it is so, many cry aloud

It is a great loss that thou art dead and gone!"

Ah! Norris, Norris, my tears begin to run

To think what hap did thee so lead or guide

Whereby thou hast both thy and thee undone

That is bewailed in court of every side;

In place also where thou hast never been

Both man and child doth piteously thee moan.

They say: "Alas, thou art far overseen

By thine offences to be thus dead and gone."

Ah! Weston, Weston, that pleasant was and young,

In active things who might with thee compare?

All words accept that thou didst speak with tongue

So well esteemed with each where thou didst fare.

And we that now in court doth lead our life

Most part in mind does thee lament and moan;

But that thy faults we daily hear so rife,

All we should weep, that thou art dead and gone.

Ah! Mark, what moan should I for thee make more,

Since that thy death thou hast deserved best,

Save only that my eye is forced sore

With piteous plaint to moan thee with the rest?

A time thou haddest above your poor degree, 

The fall whereof thy friends may well bemoan:

A rotten twig on so high a tree

Hath slipped thy hold and thy art dead and gone.

And thus farewell each one in hearty wise!

The axe is home, your heads be in the street;

The trickling tears doth so fall from my eyes

I scarce may write, may paper is so wet.

But what can hope when death has played his part

Though nature's course will thus lament and moan?

Leave sobs therefore, and every Christian heart

Pray for the souls of those be dead and gone.

How No Age Is Content

This poem is written by Henry Howard, the Earl of Surrey who was the last to be executed during the reign of Henry VIII.

Laid in my quiet bed, in study as I were,

I saw within my troubled head a heap of thoughts appear

And every thought did show so lively in my eyes

That now I sighed and then I smiled as cause of thought arise

I saw the little boy, in thought how oft that he;

Did wish of God to'scape the rod, a tall young man to be;

The young man eke that feels his bones with pains oppressed

How he would be a rich old man to live and lie at rest;

The rich old man that sees his end draw on so sore,

How he would be a boy again to live so much the more.

Whereat full oft I smiled to see how all these three,

From boy to man, from man to boy would chop and change degree;

And musing thus, I think the case is very strange

That man from wealth to live in woe doth ever seek to change.

Thus thoughtful as I lay, I saw my withered skin

How it doth show my dented chaws, the flesh was worn so thin,

And eke my toothless chaps, the gates of my right way;

That opes and shuts as I do speak, do thus unto me speak:

"Thy white and hoarish hairs, the messengers of age,

That show, like lines of true belief, that this life doth assuage,

Bid thee lay hand and feel them hanging on thy chin

They which do write two ages past, the third now coming in.

Hang up, therefore, the bit of thy young wanton time,

And thou that therein beaten art the happiest life define."

Whereat I sighed and said: "Farewell, my wonted joy.

Truss up thy pack and trudge from me to every little boy

And tell thus from me their time most happy is,

If to their time they reason had to know the truth of this."

Catherine the Queen

"The Lady Katherine is a proud, stubborn woman of very high courage. If she took it into her head to take her daughter's part, she could quite easily take the field, muster a great array, and wage against me a war as fierce as any her mother Isabella ever waged in Spain." 

This is what Henry VIII himself said about Catherine of Aragon. It is strange that he still chose to go up against her in the matter of their marriage's trial - he must have known that Catherine would never leave the title, she felt belonged to her by right.

Oh Death, Rock Me Asleep

This poem is thought to be written by Anne Boleyn the days before her execution and supports the theory that she welcomed death in the last hours of her life.

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 pain 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.

Elizabeth I - Quotes

The Virgin Queen left her mark and personality for us to see through the quotes that survived her