Poem written by Mary, Queen of Scots during her incarceration in Fotheringhay.. Alas what am I? What use has my life? I am but a body whose heart’s torn away, A vain shadow, an object of misery Who has nothing left but death-in-life. O my enemies, set your envy all aside; I’ve no more eagerness for high domain; I’ve borne too long the burden of my pain To see your anger swiftly satisfied. And you, my friends who have loved me so true, Remember, lacking health and heart and peace, There is nothing worthwhile that I can do; Ask only that my misery should cease And that, being punished in a world like this, I have my portion in eternal bliss.