A Historical Poem On The Day Of Her Murder From Her Perspective
As I await my execution,
I wonder how my short life found its end at the hand of the executioner?
I never wanted to be Queen!
My poor Edward, my dearest and closest friend, my King
Your father so wanted a male heir to his throne
Mary and Elizabeth, your sisters, were not the apple of Henry’s eye
By all sovereign rights, the throne was Mary’s
I repeatedly said that as they maneuvered me into being crowned Queen
John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, was an evil, ambitious man
Marrying his son, Lord Guildford Dudley, was an arrangement
With Duke and Duchess of Suffolk Henry and Frances Grey, my parents,
Without the promise of love
The plot was to make his son king and me, a poor pawn in a madman’s chess game,
Would die a slow and insidious death from his wife’s poison cup
Lady Mary did not accept the arrangement of being ignored as the rightful heir
She came with her army and all of my counselors abandoned me, except my father
Who showed me a bit of kindness after years of parental neglect
They led my husband to the execution block a few moments ago
Dear Lord, forgive me for not loving the man, the spawn of the devil
His fate was sealed the moment he was conceived in that evil woman’s womb
Please do not hold his parents’ sins against him
He had a spark of goodness which could have been nourished, but alas,
When John and Jane Dudley married, there was joy in Hades
And it is said, that the heavens poured rain like a waterfall on that day
The tears of heaven could not hold their place at such a baleful union
In essence, I die the same moment as my poor Edward, even though I knew it not
My fate was sealed
I do not hate Lady Mary for what she did
But I can not forgive her for attempting to take away my faith.
Her choice to me: convert to Catholicism and live the royal life
Or die as a treasonous pig- hated, and forgotten by history
I cannot in good conscience renounce my faith which is truly mine and mine alone
The throne was hers,
But I will stand with my God though the heavens fall
I will not recant to save my life when my Saviour gave His life for me
How can I betray Him for my mortal existence?
The Abbot of Westminster informed me
That my mother went to Mary to beg for my father’s life
However, my mother uttered not a word in defense of me, not a tear to save me
May the Lord have mercy on her miserable soul in the judgment to come
As the Abbott left, he said arrogantly, that we would never meet again.
So, now, I am totally alone in this world,
But this world was never my home
It was just a tavern stop on the road to heaven.
The guards are at the door, and the crowd awaits their daily amusements
How did we English become like the ancient Romans- lusting for bread and circuses?
May the Lord have mercy on His wayward children.
I walk like the lady that I am between the guards
I see the headless body of my arranged husband.
Poor Guildford, I hope there’s a place for you in heaven.
Soon I stand a top the scaffold and gaze across the mass of men, women and children
How did we English come to be
Like hunger cows in winter and blind servants of the Pope once more?
Through the crowd a murmur is heard,
“Speak, false queen, before the devil burns your soul this night.”
Suddenly, through the clouds, the sun rays fall about me.
I am bathed in warm light.
Dead silence spreads through the crowd.
“Good people, I die today as a Christian woman saved by the precious blood of Jesus.My hope and prayer for each of you is that you will come to know Jesus as I do.
Remember, the Holy Spirit is the only intercessor between you and God
This is Jesus’ chosen way to the Father.
Do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and your children.
Death and misery will fall on this nation for the innocent blood shed.
Fear not, there is a feast prepared for me in the kingdom to come.
For you, the birds of the air will pick your bones clean unless you repent.
We will not meet again.”
I looked directly at the Abbott with my last words.
I saw a glint of fear in those eyes
As he beheld, the sun draped me in a garment of light.
The redness of his robe testified of my innocent blood and so many others.
He would never wash his hands white again.
Like innocent Abel, his victims’ blood will allow him no peace.
As I lay on the block,
I heard the air sliced by the approaching blade and my earthly journey is over.
My last image was of the Abbott covering his eyes.
For you see, as the blade came down on my neck
The rays of the sun reflected off the steel into his pug face.
His few moments of pain is
but a foretaste of the pain that he will suffer at the last judgment…
On February 12, 1554 Lady Jane Grey became another devout Christian slaughtered by the madness of the Queen. Mary would have a fitting tribute and be remembered as Bloody Mary. All who refused to renounce the Protestant faith would suffer her wrath in the weeks and months ahead.
Lady Jane Grey was sixteen when she gave her mortal life for her Jesus. Sixteen. Queen on earth for nine days, but she believed a daughter of the King for eternity!
G. D. Williams © 2015