Free Star over Bethlehem by Agatha Christie Page A

sworn!
    And Katharine, raging, invoked her God,
    And appealed both far and near,
    And fostered the plan of leer and of nod
    Which brought you down to the bier …
    So is it written in ages past
    With a woman’s smile as bait,
    A King shall risk his very soul
    And change a nation’s fate …
    Did you never fear, oh! mother of mine,
    When you played on a King’s desire,
    When first of a queenly rank you dreamed,
    And subtly plotted and boldly schemed
    To further your high design?
    Did you never dread that the hand which crowned
    Could cast you down in the mire,
    That a love so swift might be swiftly drowned,
    And a King might love—and tire?
    Oh! red were your lips as you smiled in his face,
    And red was your hair as fire!
    And red was the band around your neck
    As you met your doom so dire …
    An Oath I swore!—and the Pride of Spain
    Is driftwood along my coast!
    I was not too royal to scheme and to smile,
    To pay with a promise—and dally awhile—
    Till I changed my mind again …
    Your blood, oh! mother, which gave me might,
    (Not that of the Tudor host,)
    And a woman’s game that was played aright
    Is Elizabeth Tudor’s boast.
    â€™Tis perilous work to trifle with France …
    To jest with Spain may be death …
    But I played my part with a woman’s guile
    And never a catch in my breath!
    I have hated most women—but one above all,
    (No matter her rank or name,)
    Fair was her face, and her fame spread wide
    When in France she dwelt as a royal bride
    Ere she sailed to her fate and fall.
    The lure of her beauty drew all mankind
    Like a moth to the candle flame …
    They brought me the warrant to sign … and I signed
    With a flourish my royal name!
    (But oh! to think that when I am gone
    And laid in my grave so low,
    The Crown which rests on my royal head
    Shall adorn a Stewart’s false brow!)
    She had fostered a plan to seize my throne,
    Conspiring with Rome and Spain,
    She had aimed at my life, so they said—what then?
    It was never fear that drove my pen!
    ( Who have never a child of my own … )
    But the jealous rage that naught can slake
    Of a woman who loved in vain …
    And she shall die for her beauty’s sake!
    Who has loved—and been loved again!
    (There are gallants thronging around my throne,
    And many a maiden fair,
    But the maids who come to Elizabeth’s court
    Must coif Saint Catherine’s hair!)
    I am Queen of England! I rule unafraid!
    (But never a son of my own …)
    I have gowns in plenty, and jewels rare,
    With many a wench to tire my hair,
    And they call me a painted jade!
    But many a ship in Elizabeth’s name
    Shall open up seas unknown …
    And I shall share in my Children’s fame
    Who have never a child of my own …

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The Bells of Brittany
    B ELLS are ringing o’er the sea,
    The gentle bells of Brittany.
    Rock the cradle to and fro,
    Croon a lullaby so low,
    Mark the cross upon her brow,
    She is Christ’s for ever now.
    (White thy tiny hands, my dove,
    Small and white and made for love.
    Love to wake, and love to keep …)
    Rock the cradle, let her sleep,
    While the bells ring out and say
    That a child was born today!
    Bells are tolling o’er the sea,
    The woeful bells of Brittany.
    Rock the cradle lest she wake,
    Learn who died for her sweet sake.
    Mark a cross upon that brow,
    Which shall sleep for ever now.
    (Dark thy downy head, my sweet,
    Motherless the world to meet,
    Fold thy little hands in sleep …)
    Rock the cradle lest she weep,
    While the bells toll on and say
    That a mother died today …

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Isolt of Brittany
    M Y Lord and I upon a hill
    Looked out across the sea
    And watched the gulls that wheel and turn
    And circle endlessly.
    And Lo, my Lord was lost in thought
    Until to him I said:
    â€œThy thoughts are very far away
    From her thou soon shalt wed.
    â€œIn Cornwall, at Queen Isolt’s court
    The maids are fair to see
    Fairer are they,