'My Final Hours'

               Jane Dudley

                                                 (Lady Jane Grey)

Actual words written by sixteen and a half year old, Jane on the eve of her execution:

"If justice be done with my body, my soul will find mercy with god.  Death will give pain to my body for it's sins, but the soul will be justified before God.  If my faults deserve punishment, my youth at least, and my imprudence, were worthy of excuse; God and posterity will show me favour."

'My final hours'

January 25th 

Sitting here, pondering, on, ' what' I will be,

Or, if at all future generations remember me.

Quene of nine days,  

A living legend,

Or a sixteen-year-old Quene,

Who was sent to heaven?                                                                 

'Lady Jane Grey'

Forever' 

I will be.

A simple girl, '

'Just',

Is 

Me.                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                                       January 28th

                                                              My life has been fine, 

                                                              So some would say,

                                                              What sufferings bestowed unto me, 

                                                              They may never know.

                                                              I now face death for the sake of thee

                                                              Thee, who loved me

                                                               Oh!

                                                               I  thought they did so.

February 1st

Reflecting on my past,

My, Unyielding conformity, 

My beliefs that were tainted from the start.

Now trapped in this fruitless affair,

Together with those whom have a selfish heart.

Did I ask, am I wanton, did I, lie?

No it is they that are wanton

It is they that lie,

It is for they,

that I die.

                                                                 February 6th

My father,

     He is here too,

                                       Herewith, in this once loved Tower,

                         This now, Tower of doom.

                  He gathered an army,

                                   Staged an uprising in my name,

                   He is guilty of treason,

           His fate is certain,

                   His dreams shattered,

                        For I, his eldest daughter,

                                             Will never be reclaimed as Quene Jane

February 8th

Observing eyes watch over me,

They witness my 'woeful days',

But change; they will not see.

I will be strong unto the end,

My spirit is low, but my will is high.

The Quene has condemned me,

Mine, simple body,

Sentenced to die.

They persist on their faith,

To beguile me,

Endeavouring to dissuade me from mine.

Thou puppet never again will I be,

Am wilful,

I decline.

                                               February 9th

 I pray to God O’ Lord,

       I can stand no more I fear,

      Prey my final days be swift,

                          Impaired with too much time to think,

                                          I sense, my untimely death is approaching near.

February 10th

Dishonoured and disgraced,

Oh, poor Guilford Dudley.

Sleeping in mouldy straw, with rats.

His destiny is as mine,

Denigrated, in shame of his fathers,

Deceitful deplorable acts.

It is said that poor Guilford is to die,

On the 12th February,

So, as to be to die,

The same day

As I

                                   12th February, 

                             'Last light has fallen'

                                   I awoke today with trepid consternation,

                                   This morning will be my last,

                                   The Tower outside is busy,

                                   Tower hill is ready

                                   Oh poor Guilford!

                                   Thou doest say numbers there are vast

                                   The beating of drums, relocates me to the window.

                                    I watch him, Guilford Dudley, walking, pacing himself slowly,

                                   Tears weep from my eyes, as I watch him walk his last walk of life.

                                   Departed, now, from my view,

                                   From this here lieutenants room.

                                    I look upon the heavens above,

                                   'God our father bequeath to, Guilford your holy love'.

                                   Nearby, a sound of constant clanging,

                                    It is no longer the drums I hear beating.

                                   Left of the window is a commotion on Tower green,

                                   They are finishing a structure,

                                   A scaffold,  

                                    Oh,

                                     It is for me.

My final walk

Shrouded in black hymnbook in hand

My time has come

For the new promised land.

I walk steadfast, upon the way

Though inside me,

My heart is beating,

As if to fly away.

They are around me now,

People whom I doubt to trust,

Vigilantly, they watch me,

As they think they must.

Still a threat to them is I,

Until I perish,

Until I die.

Grasping my prayer book close to my beating heart,

 While duplicitous eyes stare,

True to god, loyal unto my faith,

Never having faltered.

Lord thus far I have not pleaded as now,

'Lord my God carry, me safe', 

'Hear my prayer'

Slowly, climbing the scaffold stairs,

I count the steps to three.

Upon the platform, my will still strong,

But tainted nervously.

Addressing a silent crowd before me,

Ambience is still, but poignant.

I state my innocence and make peace with those

Who decide my providence.

Then,

'Do you forgive me madam'?

Asks the masked man who is to slay me.

‘Willingly’

I reply standing unmoving impotently.

I place a blindfold to my eyes.

Shaking but achieved alone,

Much, to their surprise.

Last light has gone,

First darkness has come,

This moment in time is my last.

My kingdom is almost done.

The voice I hear is the man I forgave,

He is requesting me to kneel.

Down I go so frightened now,

Outstretch my arms,

No block before me do I, feel.

A, gentle hand Guides me to the block where my head will at last lay.

I hold the block before my hands with a sudden sense of dismay,

I place my head upon the block, 

Then voice my last prayer,

Lord into thy hand I commend my spirit. (actual last words of Jane)

Then swiftly,

My life flashes,

Through the eye of my soul.

I have arrived in forever darkness,

But, oh! it is lighter than the sun.

This moment in time will stand still forever,

Thy kingdom has now come.

I can see,

I wonder how this can be.

I rise, high, towards my loved ones,

And the rising heaven sun.

My Woeful Day's are ended,

My spirit is released,

My soul, 

It is

Forever

Free.

Written by Leyla Raymond

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Last modified: May 22, 2002