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But, Mary, in thy darkest hour some happiness was thine;
For thou didst lay thy trusting heart upon a holy shrine.

For though thine was an erring faith, 'twas beautiful to see
Thy steadfast love, thy earnest zeal, thy tender constancy;
All Europe looked with pitying eyes upon thy closing fate,
And mourned for Scotland's Royal Flower—the lone, the desolate!