My mom is a fan of Agatha Christie and a collector. She was recently reading one of Christie’s lesser-known books, “Star Over Bethlehem: Poems and Holiday Stories,” when she found a poem about Elizabeth I. I thought it was just neat to see a crime writer write a poem about Queen Elizabeth I.

Elizabeth of England

I am Mistress of England- the Seas I hold!
I have gambled, and won, alone….
I have freed my land from the power of Spain,
I have gathered in gold from the Spanish Main
With the help of my mariners bold.

But never a child of my flesh and blood,
When I shall be dead and gone,
Oh! never a King of the Tudor blood
Shall sit upon England’s throne….

I have saved my land from the dreaded foe,
My fleet will be known to fame,
And many a ship has sailed to the West
In Gloriana’s name!

I was menanced by Spain before I was born
In the months, oh! mother most dear,
When my father defied those powers twain,
The curse of the Church and the might of Spain,
To keep the oath he had 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 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 daily 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.

‘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 frame 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 grace 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….

Source

Christie, Agatha. 2011. Star over Bethlehem. Harper Collins.