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Cornell University Library 
 PR 4047.B7 1856 
 
 Bothwell; a POf I"; 
 
The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013209808 
 
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BOTHWELL 
 
PBINTED BY WCIilAM BLACKWOOD ABD SONS, EDIHBTJiUlH. 
 
BOTHWELL 
 
 A POEM 
 
 In 3h WMs 
 
 W. EDMONDSTOIJNE 4YT01JN 
 
 D. C. L. 
 Author of " Lays of tlie Scotdsli Cavaiiera," &c. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLVI 
 

 /|7crv7S^ 
 
TO 
 
 SIE EDWAED BULWEE LTTTON, BAET., M.P., 
 
 IN MEMORY OF A VISIT TO HOLYHOOD, 
 
 THIS POEM IS INSCETBED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOE, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The scene of this Poem, whicli is in the form of a 
 monologue, is laid in the fortress of Malmoe, where 
 Bothwell was confined. I have endeavoured to make 
 available for poetical composition the most striking 
 events in the history of Mary, Queen of Scots, down 
 to the period when she parted from BothweU at 
 Carberry HUl ; and in doing so, I wish it to be 
 distiQCtly understood, that, except in minor and im- 
 material matters, necessary for the construction of a 
 Poem of this length, I have not deviated from what 
 I consider to be the historical truth. I have founded 
 my idea of the character of Bothwell on the descrip- 
 tions of him given by Throckmorton and Herries : 
 the one representing him to be "glorious, boastful, 
 rash, and hazardous," and the other as " a man high 
 in his own conceit, proud, vicious, and vainglorious 
 above measure." The reader will find, in the Notes 
 appended, some iaformation regarding the more ob- 
 scure and contested points of the history of this 
 remarkable period. 
 
 Edinbukgh, 10(A July 1856. 
 
PART FIEST. 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 Cold — cold ! The wind howls fierce without : 
 
 It drives the sleet and snow ; 
 With thundering hurl, the angry sea 
 
 Smites on the crags below. 
 Each wave that leaps against the rock 
 
 Makes this old prison reel — 
 God ! cast it down upon my head, 
 
 And let me cease to feel ! 
 Cold — cold ! The brands are burning out, 
 
 The dying embers wane ; 
 
 The drops fall plashing from the roof 
 
 • . Like slow and sullen rain. 
 A 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 Cold — cold ! And yet the viUain kernes 
 
 Who keep me fettered here, 
 Are feasting in the hall above, 
 
 And holding Christmas cheer. 
 When the "wind pauses for its hreath, 
 
 I hear their idiot bray, 
 The laugh, the shout, the stamping feet, 
 
 The song and roundelay. 
 They pass the jest, they quaff the cup. 
 
 The Yule-log sparkles brave, 
 They riot o'er my dungeon vault 
 
 As though it were my grave. 
 Ay, howl again, thou bitter wind, 
 
 Eoar louder yet, thou sea ! 
 And drown the gusts of brutal mirth 
 
 That mock and madden me ! 
 Ho, ho ! the Eagle of the North 
 
 Has stooped upon the main ! 
 Scream on, eagle, in thy flight, 
 
 Through blast and hurricane — 
 And, when thou meetest on thy way 
 
 The black and plunging bark. 
 Where those who pilot by the stars 
 
 Stand quaking in the dark. 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 
 
 Down with thy pinion on the mast, 
 
 Scream louder in the air, 
 And stifle in the wallowing sea 
 
 The shrieks of their despair ! 
 Be my avenger on this night, 
 
 When all, save I, am free ; 
 Why should I care for mortal man. 
 
 When men care nought for me ? 
 Care nought ? They loathe me, one and all. 
 
 Else why should I be here — 
 I, starving in a foreign cell, 
 
 A Scottish prince and peer ? 
 
 0, that the madness, which at times 
 
 Comes surging through my brain. 
 Would smite me deaf, and dumb, and blind, 
 
 No more to wake again — 
 Would make me, what I am indeed, 
 
 A beast within a cage. 
 Without the sense to feel my bonds. 
 
 Without the power to rage — 
 Would give me visions dark and drear, 
 
 Although they were of hell. 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 Instead of memories of the place 
 From whicli I stooped and fell ! 
 
 I was the husband of a Queen, 
 
 The partner of a throne ; 
 For one short month the sceptred might 
 
 Of Scotland was my own. 
 The crown that father Fergus wore 
 
 Lay ready for my hand, 
 Yea, but for treason, I had been 
 
 The monarch of the land ; 
 The King of Scots, in right of her 
 
 Who was my royal bride. 
 The fairest woman on the earth 
 
 That e'er the sun espied. 
 
 Mary — Mary ! Even now, 
 Seared as I am to shame. 
 
 The blood grows thick around my heart 
 At utterance of thy name I 
 
 1 see her, as in bygone days, 
 A widow, yet a child, 
 
 Within the fields of sunny France, 
 When heaven and fortune smiled. 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 The violets grew beneath her feet. 
 
 The lilies budded fair, 
 All that is beautiful and bright 
 
 Was gathered round her there. 
 lovelier than the fairest flower 
 
 That ever bloomed on green, 
 Was she, the lUy of the land, 
 
 That young and spotless Queen ! 
 The sweet, sweet smUe upon her lips, 
 
 Her eyes so kind and clear, 
 The magic of her gentle voice, 
 
 That even nOw I hear ! 
 And nobles knelt, and princes bent 
 
 Before her as she came ; 
 A Queen by gift of nature she. 
 
 More than a Queen in. name. 
 Even I, a rugged border lord, 
 
 Unused to courtly ways, 
 Whose tongue was -never tutored yet 
 
 To lisp in polished phrase ; 
 I, who would rather on the heath 
 
 Confront a feudal foe, 
 Than linger in a royal hall 
 
 Where lackeys come and go — 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 I, who had seldom bent the knee 
 At mass, or yet at prayer, 
 
 Bowed down in homage at her feet. 
 And paid my worship there ! 
 
 My worship ? yes ! My fealty ? ay ! — 
 
 Rise, Satan, if thou wilt. 
 And limn in fire, on yonder wall. 
 
 The pictures of my guUt — 
 Accuser ! Tempter ! Do thy worst, 
 
 In this malignant hour. 
 When God and man abandon me, 
 
 And I am in thy power — 
 Come up, and show me all the past. 
 
 Spare nothing that has been ; 
 Thou wert not present, juggling fiend, 
 
 When first I saw my Queen ! 
 
 I worshipped ; and as pure a heart 
 To her, I swear, was mine. 
 
 As ever breathed a truthful vow 
 Before Saint Mary's shrine : 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 I thought of her, as of a star 
 
 Within the heavens above, 
 That such as I might gaze upon. 
 
 But never dare to love. 
 I swore to her that day my troth, 
 
 As belted earl and knight. 
 That I would stOl defend her throne, 
 
 And aye protect her right. 
 Well ; who dare call me traitor now ? 
 
 My faith I never sold ; 
 These fingers never felt the touch 
 
 Of England's proffered gold. 
 Free from one damning guilt at least 
 
 My soul has ever been ; 
 I did not sell my country's rights. 
 
 Nor fawn on England's Queen ! 
 Why stand'st thou ever at my head ? 
 
 False devil, hence, I say ! 
 And seek for traitors, black as hell, 
 
 'Mongst those who preach and pray ! 
 Get thee across the howling seas. 
 
 And bend o'er Murray's bed, 
 For there the falsest villain lies 
 
 That ever Scotland bred. 
 
BOTHWBLL. 
 
 False to his faith, a wedded priest ; 
 
 Still falser to the Crown ; 
 False to the blood, that in his veins 
 
 Made bastardy renown ; 
 False to his sister, whom he swore 
 To guard and shield from harm ; 
 The head of many a felon plot. 
 
 But never once the arm ! 
 What tie so holy that his hand 
 
 Hath snapped it not in twain ? 
 What oath so sacred but he broke 
 
 For selfish end or gain ? 
 A verier knave ne'er stepped the earth 
 
 Since this wide world began ; 
 And yet — he bandies texts with Knox, 
 And walks a pious man ! 
 
 Or pass to crafty Lethington, 
 
 That alchemist in wUe, 
 To grim Glencairn, the preacher's pride, 
 
 To CassOis or Argyle — 
 To Morton, steeped in lust and gmlt, 
 
 My old accomplice he ! — 
 
t. BOTHWELL. 
 
 well for him that 'twixt us twain 
 
 There rolls the trackless sea ! 
 well for him that never more 
 
 On Scottish hill or plain, 
 My foot shall tread, my shadow fall. 
 
 My voice be heard again : 
 For there are words that I could speak 
 
 Would make him blench and quail, 
 Yea, shiver like an aspen tree. 
 
 Amidst his men of maU ! — 
 Gret thee to them, who sold their Queen 
 
 For foreign gold and pay ; 
 Assail them, rack them, mock them, fiend ! 
 
 Bide with them till the day. 
 But leave me here alone to-night — 
 
 No fear that / will pray ! 
 
 many a deed that I have done 
 
 Weighs heavy on my soul ; 
 For I have been a sinful man, 
 And never, since my life began. 
 Have bowed me to control. 
 
10 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Perchance my temper was too rude, 
 
 Perchance my pride too great ; 
 Perchance it was my fantasy, 
 
 Perchance it was my fate ! 
 I will not pour my muttered guilt 
 
 In any shaveling's ear, 
 Nor ask for prayer from mortal lips 
 
 Were death and judgment near. 
 They shall not weigh those, deeds of mine 
 
 By moral code or rule ; 
 Man deals with man by human laws. 
 
 And judges like a fool ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In Scotland, when my name is heard 
 
 From Orkney's utmost bound. 
 To where Tweed's silver waters run, 
 
 Men shudder at the sound. 
 They will not even deign to pray 
 
 For one so lost and vile — 
 They, who have raced to see me ride, 
 They, who have waited by my side 
 
 For nothing save a smUe ! 
 
BOTHWBLL. 11 
 
 And yet I am not guiltier now 
 
 That when they watched me there ; 
 
 Not more deserving of their curse, 
 Less worthy of their prayer ! 
 
 What charge — what crime ? Come, trusty peers. 
 
 Come all of you, and say 
 "Why I should be a prisoner here, 
 
 And you be free to-day ! 
 You dealt with England — ^that's assured ! 
 
 You murdered Riccio too ; 
 And he who planned that felon deed. 
 
 And, with his wife in view, 
 Plunged his weak dagger in the corpse — 
 
 That coward wretch I slew ! 
 
 A king ? he was no king of mine ! 
 
 A weak and worthless boy — 
 A fool in whose insensate hand 
 The fairest jewel of the land. 
 
 Lay a neglected toy. 
 
12 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 A man, indeed, in outward form. 
 
 But not a man in mind, 
 Less fit by far to rule the realm 
 
 Than many a vassal hind. 
 
 had I earlier sought the place 
 That late — too late — ^was mine ; 
 
 Had I but seen the woman then, 
 
 And deemed her less divine. 
 When first upon the Scottish shore 
 
 She, like a radiant star. 
 Descended, bringing hope and mirth 
 
 From those bright realms afar ; 
 When all men's hearts were blithe and glad 
 
 To greet their youthM Queen, 
 And once again within the land 
 
 A happy face was seen — 
 
 1 might have made my homage more 
 
 Than that of subject peer. 
 And with my oath of loyalty 
 
 Have mixed a vow more dear — 
 Proclaimed myself to be her knight. 
 
 As in the olden time, 
 When any he that wore the spurs 
 
 Might love without a crime ; 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 13 
 
 When Queens were queens of chivalry ; 
 
 And deeds of bold emprise, 
 Not flattering words or fawning speech, 
 
 Found grace in woman's eyes. 
 had I then been bold indeed. 
 
 And known the secret power 
 Which he who wins in battle-field 
 
 Can use ia lady's bower — 
 Had I, with friends enow to back. 
 
 And all my kith and kin. 
 Who held the borders, far and wide. 
 
 And hemmed the marches in. 
 But bid defiance, broad and bold, 
 
 To all who dared advance 
 To claim the hand of Scotland's Queen, 
 
 The widow-child of France — 
 Had I but sent the cry abroad. 
 
 That neither English peer. 
 Nor Scottish lord from England's court, 
 
 Should be our master here — 
 Had I but trusted to myself, 
 
 And bravely ta'en my stand. 
 Then Darnley never would have been 
 
 The King withia the land. 
 
14 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 Too late — too late ! Poor Mary stood 
 
 Unfriended and alone, 
 The tenant of a dreary hall — 
 
 A melancholy throne. 
 No more as in her grandsire's days, 
 
 Sxirrounded by a ring 
 Of valiant lords and gentle knights, 
 Who for fair Scotland and her rights 
 
 Would die beside their King. 
 Gone was the star of chivalry 
 
 That gleamed so bright and pure 
 Upon the crests of those who feU 
 
 On Flodden's fatal moor. 
 Gone were the merry times of old — 
 
 The masque, and mirth, and glee. 
 And wearier was the palace then 
 
 Than prison needs to be. 
 Forbidden were the vesper beUs, — 
 
 They broke the Sabbath calm ! 
 Hushed were the notes of minstrelsy — 
 
 They chimed not with the psalm : 
 
BOTHWELL. 15 
 
 'Twas sin to smile, 'twas sin to laugh, 
 
 'Twas sin to sport or play, 
 And heavier than a hermit's fast 
 
 Was each dull holiday. 
 Was but the sound of laughter heard. 
 
 Or tinkHng of a lute. 
 Or, worse than aU, in royal hall. 
 
 The tread of dancing foot — 
 Then to a drove of gaping clowns. 
 
 Would Knox with unction tell 
 The vengeance that in days of old 
 
 Had fallen on Jezebel ! 
 
 She stood alone, without a friend 
 
 On whom her arm might lean. 
 No true and trusty counsellors 
 
 Were there to serve their Queen ; 
 But moody men, with sullen looks 
 
 And faces hard and keen. 
 They who professed the later faith 
 
 Were trembling for their hold 
 Of the broad lands and fertile fields 
 
 Owned by the Church of old. 
 
16 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 Apostles they of easy walk — 
 
 No martyrdom or pain — 
 What marvel if they loved a creed 
 
 That brought such pleasant gain ? 
 What marvel if their greedy hearts 
 
 Were wrung with abject fear, 
 Lest Eome once more should bear the sway, 
 
 And strip them of their gear ? 
 How could they serve a Papist Queen 
 
 With loyal hearts and true ? 
 How own a rank idolatress 
 
 With Paradise in view ? 
 They, who upheld the word of truth 
 
 With Mammon close combined, — 
 How could they falter in their course, 
 
 Or change their steadfast mind ? 
 England was near, and England's Queen 
 
 Defied both Prance and Eome — 
 What marvel if they went to her. 
 
 And broke their faith at home ? 
 
 And she, the sister, maiden Queen- 
 Kare maid and sister she ! 
 
I. BOTHWBLL. 17 
 
 True daughter of the Tudor line, 
 
 Who claimed her crown by right divine, 
 
 And ruled o'er land and sea — 
 She who might well, without disgrace. 
 
 Or any thought of fear. 
 Have deigned, from her established place. 
 
 To succour one so near — 
 She, whom her slaves call wise in thought. 
 
 And generous in deed, — 
 How did she deal with Scotland's Queen, 
 
 How help her in her need ? 
 
 XIV. 
 
 By heaven ! — if I dare speak the word, — 
 
 I, steeped in guilt and crime, 
 I, who must bear the blame and brand 
 
 Of this accursfed time — 
 By heaven ! I think, had Scotland stood 
 
 Unfriended and alone. 
 Left to herself, without intrigue, 
 
 From any neighbour throne ; 
 Free to decide, and mould, and fix 
 
 The manner of her sway. 
 
18 BOTHWELL. 
 
 No Scottish soul had ever stooped 
 
 To cozen or betray ! 
 I say it — I, the twice betrayed. 
 
 Their victim and their tool — 
 I, whom they made the sacrifice 
 
 For their unrighteous rule ; 
 I say it, even for the men 
 
 Who drove me here to shame, 
 Theirs is the lesser, paltrier guilt, 
 
 And theirs the meaner blame ! 
 
 They durst not, had they stood alone. 
 
 Inheritors of names 
 That over Christendom have flown, 
 
 As stream the northern flames, — 
 Whose fathers, in their sUent graves. 
 
 Sleep peacefully and well, 
 Scotland's great champions while they lived. 
 
 And greater when they fell — 
 They durst not so have wronged their blood. 
 
 And smirched their fair renown. 
 Have flung their honour to the winds. 
 
 And leagued against the crown. 
 
BOTHWELL. 19 
 
 But at the gate the Temptress stood, 
 
 Not beautiful nor young ; 
 Nor luring, as a Syren might. 
 
 By magic of her tongue ; 
 High and imperious, stately, proud, 
 
 Yet artful to beguile, 
 A woman, without woman's heart, 
 
 Or woman's sunny smile : 
 By nature tyrannous and vain. 
 
 By king-craffc false and mean- 
 She hated Mary from her soul, 
 
 As woman and as Queen ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Men hate, because in act or strife 
 
 They cross each other's path ; 
 Short is the space for jealousy, 
 
 And fierce the hour of wrath : 
 But woman's hate runs deeper far. 
 
 Though shallower at the spring ; 
 Eight seldom is it they forget 
 
 The shaft that gaUed their wing. 
 A fairer face, a higher place, 
 
 More worship, more applause. 
 
20 BOTHWELl. 
 
 Will make a -woman loathe her Mend 
 
 Without a deadlier cause. 
 In this at least Elizabeth 
 
 To womankind was true, 
 For who would ever bend to her 
 
 When Mary was in view ? 
 Mary, the bright and peerless moon 
 
 That shines aloft in heaven, — 
 Elizabeth, the envious cloud 
 
 That o'er its disc is driven. 
 What mattered it that flattering knaves 
 
 Proclaimed her Beauty's Queen, 
 And swore ia verse and fulsome rhyme. 
 That never, since the birth of time. 
 
 Was such an angel seen ? 
 Each mom and eve, her mirror gave 
 
 Their wretched words the lie ; 
 And though she fain would have believed, 
 
 She could not close her eye. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And cause had she to hate and fear 
 Past woman's pride alone ; 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 21 
 
 For Boleyn's daughter sate not safe 
 
 Nor surely on her throne. 
 And many a lord of England thought 
 
 On Mary's right and claim, 
 And owned her in their wassail cups 
 
 As Queen, though not by name. 
 But why this paltering with the past ? 
 
 Why mutter idly here. 
 As though I were in dull debate 
 
 With council or with peer ? 
 Is it the dripping from the roof. 
 
 Or plunging of the sea, 
 That thus infects me with the weight 
 
 Of their monotony ? 
 Why should I brood o'er perished things, 
 
 And, like a dotard, dream 
 Of visions seen but not fulfilled 
 
 Far up life's whirling stream ? 
 Man cannot quite control his thoughts, 
 
 Nor keep them iti his power. 
 Yet these of mine have wandered wide 
 
 Within the bypast hour. 
 What might have been, in phantom mist 
 
 Has vanished long ago ; 
 
22 BOTHWELL. 
 
 I need not try to trace it out, 
 What was, and is, I know. 
 Enough — ^no word of love was breathed 
 
 In Mary's ear by me. 
 When most she needed manly aid. 
 
 And when her hand was free. 
 But Damley came, and woo'd, and won ;- 
 
 They say that death should close 
 All count of hate and enmity 
 
 Between the deadliest foes — 
 And yet— I will not forge a lie. 
 Here on my wretched bed — 
 I hated Damley whUe he lived ; 
 I hate him now, though dead ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 She wedded Damley — and a fool 
 
 In every sense was he. 
 With scarce the wit to be a knave 
 
 If bom in low degree. 
 But foUy, when it walks abroad 
 
 In royal guise and strain, 
 Will never lack for knavery 
 
 To loiter in its train. 
 
BOTHWELL. 23 
 
 Loose comrades of the baser sort 
 
 Were always by his side, 
 To whisper lewdness in his ear, 
 
 And pander to his pride. 
 And men who wore a graver mask, 
 
 Whose hearts were all untrue, 
 Essayed — ^it was an easy task — 
 
 To make him traitor too ! 
 
 The madman ! Had he only known 
 
 His duty, style, and place. 
 When lifted up beside the throne. 
 
 And raised to such a grace — 
 Had he — the winner of the prize, 
 
 Por whose transcendant charms, 
 If deeds availed, not idle words. 
 Through Europe wide, a thousand lords. 
 Famous and proud, had drawn their swords 
 
 And courted death in arms — 
 Had he been gentle, faithful, true, 
 
 Kind, courteous, nobly-bred, 
 To her who found him fugitive. 
 
 Yet took him to her bed — 
 
24 BOTHWBLL, 
 
 Why then, in spite of England's Queen, 
 
 Of treason hatched at home. 
 Of foreign league, or civil war, 
 
 Or danger yet to come. 
 He might have kept the foremost place 
 
 Without contending claim, 
 Have won a kingdom for his race, 
 
 And left a glorious name. 
 
 Not as a Prince of high estate 
 
 Came Darnley to the Queen : 
 His pride provoked the nobles' hate. 
 
 His folly stirred their spleen. 
 And fiercely blazed Elizabeth's wrath 
 
 Against the luckless pair. 
 For stUl the phantom in her path 
 
 Had been a Scottish heir. 
 And well she knew the ancient strain 
 
 That rings through Scotland free — 
 That the French Queen should bear the son 
 
 To rule all Britain to the sea. 
 And from the Bruce's blood should come 
 
 As near as in the ninth degree — 
 
BOTHWELL. 25 
 
 She was no lioness, bereft 
 
 Of cubs by men unkind; 
 Meet partner for ber royal lair 
 
 She sought, but could not find. 
 And it was more than gall to her 
 
 To think that Mary's son 
 Must sit one day upon her seat — 
 
 Must end what she begun. 
 She might have frowned a cold consent, 
 
 Had Mary stooped to take, 
 As spouse, an English vassal peer, 
 
 For her kind sister's sake. 
 But Damley stood too near the throne. 
 
 And strong his place had been, 
 If ready, like a valiant knight. 
 Against the world to hold his right. 
 And more — as love and honour bade. 
 To vindicate the choice she made. 
 
 By duty to the Queen. 
 But neither honour, truth, nor love 
 Had power his selfish soul to move ; 
 As cold of heart, as weak of brain. 
 Unused his passion to restrain. 
 
26 BOTHWELL. 
 
 At once the madman claimed to be 
 
 In name and power a King I 
 He, weak as water, frail as sand, 
 A beggar when on Mary's hand 
 
 He placed the marriage ring ! 
 Then, false to her who gave him all, 
 
 And, lost to sense of shame. 
 He banded with her deadliest foes 
 
 To stain her spotless name ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 There was that Eiceio — sharp and sly, 
 
 No friend of mine, I swear, 
 For in that dark Italian eye 
 Was craft beyond my mastery. 
 And in his cold and subtle smile 
 I read the evidence of guile 
 
 Was deep implanted there. 
 He could not bend me to his wiU — 
 
 No fanatic was I, 
 Nor would I lend a helping hand 
 To rivet on my native land 
 
 The chains of Italy. 
 
[. BOTHWELL. 27 
 
 Eight little cared I for the creeds 
 
 Of either Church, I trow ; 
 I recked not which should win or lose. 
 
 And more — I reck not now. 
 But lost on me was all his speech. 
 
 His policy was vain : 
 What was to me the Papal cause 
 
 In France or yet in Spain ? 
 I never stood, as Atholl did, 
 
 A soldier sworn of Eome, 
 Nor asked for foreign surgery 
 
 To stanch the wounds at home. 
 Yet Eiccio may have faithful been. 
 
 And to his mistress true. 
 For those who hated him the worst 
 
 Were knaves and traitors too. 
 I cannot tell — ^but this I know. 
 
 That tUl my dying hour 
 I never shall forget the shriek 
 
 That rung from Mary's bower. 
 
 'Twas night — ^mirk night — ^the sleet beat on. 
 The wind, as now, was rude. 
 
28 BOTHWELL. 
 
 And I was lonely in my room 
 
 In dreary Holyrood. 
 I heard a cry, a tramp of men, 
 
 A clash of steel below. 
 And from my window, in the court 
 
 I saw the torches glow. 
 More common were such sounds to me 
 
 Than hum of evening hymn ; 
 I caught my sword, and hurried out 
 
 Along the passage dim. 
 But 0, the shriek that thrilled me then — 
 
 The accents of despair, 
 The man's imploring agony. 
 
 The woman's frantic prayer ! 
 " 0, for the love of God and Christ, 
 
 Have mercy — ^mercy — I ! 
 mistress — Queen — ^protect me yet, 
 
 I am not fit to die ! " 
 " God ! stand by me, Damley — ^you — 
 
 My husband ! wiU you see 
 Black murder in my presence here ! 
 
 God ! he turns from me ! 
 Back — ^villains, back ! you shall not strike, 
 
 Unless you slay me too. 
 
[. BOTHWBLL. 29 
 
 help ! help ! help ! they kiU the Queen ! 
 
 Help ! help ! nobles — ^you — - 
 Kuthven — Douglas — as you trust 
 
 For mercy in your need, 
 Por Christ's dear sake, be satisfied — 
 
 Do not this monstrous deed ! 
 I'U yield — yes ! FU break with I^ance, 
 
 Do anything you wiU, 
 But spare him — spare him — spare him, friends ! 
 
 Why should you seek to kill ? 
 God ! unloose me, Damley ! shame ! 
 
 Let go my arm, thou knave ! 
 To me — ^to me — all Scottish hearts — 
 
 Help ! Murder ! Come and save ! " 
 
 A door flew wide. I saw them there — 
 
 Euthven in mail complete, 
 George Douglas, Ker of Fawdonside, 
 
 And Eiccio at their feet. 
 With rapiers drawn and pistols bent, 
 
 They seized their wretched prey ; 
 They wrenched her garments from his grasp, 
 
 They stabbed him where he lay. 
 
30 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 I saw George Douglas raise his arm, 
 
 I saw his dagger gleam ; 
 And then I heard the dying yell, 
 
 And Mary's piteous scream. 
 I saw her writhe in Damley's arms 
 
 As in a serpent's fold — 
 The coward ! he was pale as death, 
 
 But would not loose his hold ! 
 And then the torches waved and shook. 
 
 And louder grew the din, 
 And up the stair, and through the doors 
 
 The rest came trooping in. 
 What could I do ? No time was that 
 
 To listen or to wait ; 
 Thronged were the rooms with furious men. 
 
 And close beset the gate. 
 Morton and Lindsay kept the court, 
 
 With many a deadly foe ; 
 And swords are swift to do their work 
 
 When blood begins to flow. 
 Darkling I traced the passage back 
 
 As swiftly as I came, 
 For through the din that rose without 
 
 I heard them shout my name. 
 
I. EOTHWELL. 31 
 
 Enough ! — thskt night one victim died 
 
 Before Queen Mary's face, 
 And in my heart, I doomed that night 
 
 Another in his place. 
 Not that I cared for Eiccio's life. 
 
 They might have worked their will ; 
 Though base it was in men so high 
 
 A helpless wretch to kill. 
 But I had seen my Queen profaned, 
 
 Outraged before my face. 
 By him, the dastard, heartless boy. 
 
 The land's and our disgrace. 
 'Twas he devised the felon plot — 
 
 'Twas he that planned the crime — 
 He led the murderers to her room — 
 
 And — God — at what a time ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 They call me savage, brutal, base, 
 
 And more — because I wed 
 A trembling, sickly, shrewish dame, 
 
 And put her from my bed. 
 Heaven wot, the match was iU ordained ; 
 
 Her heart was given elsewhere. 
 
32 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 And for a second courtsMp I 
 
 Had neither time nor care. 
 It may be that she pined alone ; 
 
 it may be in my hall 
 She met with ruder company 
 
 Than pleased her taste withal : 
 I may have wronged her by neglect, 
 
 I may have galled her pride ; 
 But never brooked she scathe or scorn 
 
 While she was Bothwell's bride. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But he whom Mary's love had raised 
 
 To such a high degree, 
 The lord and husband of her heart. 
 
 The father soon to be. 
 The man who, in the hour of pain. 
 
 Should stUl have kept her side — 
 How paid he back the matchless debt. 
 
 How did he tend his bride ? 
 Why, had he never left her room. 
 
 But, like the grooms of yore. 
 To lay him on the rushes down 
 
 His lady's nest before, 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 33 
 
 To guard her all the livelong niglit, 
 
 And slumber scarce till dawn. 
 When her dear voice, so low and sweet. 
 
 Like breathings of a fawn, 
 Told that the time of rest was o'er, 
 
 And then a simple hynm 
 Arose, as if an angel led 
 
 The choir of seraphim — 
 Would such a service have been more 
 
 Than he was bound to give ? 
 Nay, if he dared to make it less. 
 
 Deserved the boy to live ? 
 
 I was a witness on that night 
 
 Of all Ms shame and guUt ; 
 I saw his outrage on the Queen, 
 
 I saw the blood he spUt ; 
 And, ere the day had dawned, I swore, 
 
 Whilst spurring through the sand, 
 I would avenge that treachery. 
 
 And slay him with my hand — 
 Or, in the preachers' cherished phrase, 
 
 Would purge him from the land ! 
 
34 BOTHWBI.L. 
 
 All me ! and tMs is Christmas eve ; 
 
 And here alone I lie, 
 With nothing save my own wild thoughts 
 
 For bitter company ! 
 My own wild thoughts, that wiU not pass, 
 
 Howe'er I bid them go — 
 My torture, yet the only Mends 
 
 That visit me below. 
 FuU many a hearth is decked to-night 
 
 To haU the blessed mom. 
 On which, in ages long ago. 
 
 The Saviour child was bom — 
 The churches all are wreathed with green, 
 
 The altars set with flowers. 
 And happy lowly hearts wait on 
 
 And count the passing hours ; 
 Until the midnight chimes proclaim 
 
 The hallowed season come. 
 When Heaven's broad gates are opened wide, 
 
 And Hell's loud roar is dumb. 
 
BOTHWELL. 35 
 
 Then myriad voices in acclaim. 
 
 The song of homage yield, 
 That once from angels' lips was heard 
 
 By shepherds in the field. 
 Stilled for a time are angry thoughts, 
 
 The hearts of men are mild ; 
 The father with a holier thrill 
 
 Bends o'er his slumbering child ; 
 New is the kiss the husband gives 
 
 Unto his wedded wife, 
 For earthly love, when blest by Heaven, 
 
 Ends not with earthly life ; 
 And, fountain-like, o'er aU the world. 
 
 Where Christ's dear name is known, 
 Leap up the sounds of prayer and praise 
 
 Toward the eternal throne. 
 But I, a slave in bondage here, 
 
 Eacked — torn by mad despair — 
 How can I falter forth the words 
 
 Of praise or yet of prayer ? 
 Men drove me from them, as a wolf 
 
 From mountain-folds is driven, 
 And what I could not wiu on earth 
 
 How dare I seek from Heaven ? 
 
36 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Ay, howl again, thou •winter wind — 
 Roar louder yet, thou sea ! 
 
 For nothing else can stun the thoughts 
 That rise to madden me ! 
 
PAET SECOND. 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 The sun is bright, the day is warm, 
 
 The breeze is blowing free — 
 Come, I will rouse me from my lair, 
 
 And look upon the sea : 
 'Tis clear and blue, with here and there 
 
 A little fleck of foam ; 
 And yonder glides a stately ship. 
 
 Bound on her voyage home. 
 The fishers, on the scanty sward. 
 
 Spread out their nets to dry. 
 And whistle o'er their lazy task 
 
 In happy vacancy. 
 Swift by the window skims the tern. 
 
 On light and glancing wing. 
 And every sound that rises up 
 
 Gives token of the spring. 
 
40 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 Fair is the sight, yet strange to me ; 
 
 No memories I recall, 
 WhUe gazing on the headland cliffs. 
 
 And waves that leap and fall ; 
 No visions of my toyish days 
 
 Or manhood's sterner prime 
 Arise from yonder watery waste, 
 
 To cheer me for a time. 
 
 For I was reared among the hills. 
 
 Within a Border home, 
 Where, sweeping from their narrow glens, 
 
 The mountain torrents come ; 
 And well I know the bonny braes 
 
 Where the first primrose blows. 
 And shrinking tufts of violets 
 
 Kise from the meltiag snows. 
 Ere yet the hazel leaf is out. 
 
 Or birches grow their green, 
 Or, on the sad and sullen ash, 
 
 A kindling bud is -seen. 
 Hermitage, by Liddel's side. 
 
 My old ancestral tower ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 41 
 
 Were I again but lord of thee — 
 
 Not owning half the power 
 That in my days of reckless pride 
 
 I held, but cast away — 
 I would not leave thee, Border keep, 
 
 TJntU my dying day ! 
 "Wise was Buccleuch, and Cessford too. 
 
 Who stoutly held their own, 
 And little cared, amidst their clans, 
 
 For threat from either throne. 
 They range at will the mountain paths. 
 
 They hear the falcon cry. 
 And here, within a loathly ceU, 
 
 A fettered slave am I. 
 
 III. 
 
 Who owns thee now, fair Hermitage ? 
 
 Who sits within my hall ? 
 What banner flutters in the breeze 
 
 Above that stately wall ? 
 Does yet the court-yard ring with tramp 
 
 Of horses and of men ; 
 Do bay of hounds and bugle-note 
 
 Sound merry from the glen ? 
 
42 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Or art thou, as thy master is, 
 
 A rent and ruined pUe, 
 Once noble, but deserted now 
 
 By all that is not vile ? 
 What matters it ? These eyes of mine 
 
 Shall never see thee more; 
 Still in my thought must thou abide 
 
 As stately as of yore, 
 When, Warden of the Marches three. 
 
 In Mary's right I came. 
 To still the rugged Border feuds. 
 
 And trample out the flame. 
 
 Good faith ! I had but little zeal 
 
 To meddle with the knaves, 
 Who simply kept their fathers' rule. 
 
 And fought for bloody graves. 
 No war was then between the lands, 
 
 Else swift and sure, I ween. 
 Each Border clan, on Scottish soil, 
 
 Had mustered for their Queen ; 
 The tidings of an English raid 
 
 Had joined them, heart and hand ; 
 
BOTHWBLL. 43 
 
 For well the jaekmen knew the wealth 
 
 Of canny Cumberland. 
 One note of war — and aU the feuds 
 
 Had vanished, like the snow 
 From oflf the fells by Teviot-side, 
 
 When the warm May winds blow. 
 But peace abroad breeds feud at home ; 
 
 Old cause of quarrel rose ; 
 dan fought with clan, and name with name, 
 
 As fierce and deadly foes. 
 To them came I in evil hour- 
 Most perilous the tide; 
 For he who seeks to part a fray, 
 
 Wins strokes from either side. 
 Saint Andrew ! 'twas no easy task 
 
 To hunt an Armstrong down. 
 Or make a Johnstone yield his sword 
 
 At summons from the crown : 
 Yet, ere a week had passed away, 
 
 One half my work was done. 
 And safe within my castle lay 
 
 Whitehaugh and Mangerton. 
 I had them all but only one, 
 
 John ElHot of the Park, 
 
44 BOTHWELL. pa 
 
 As stalwart and as bold a man 
 
 As ever rode by dark. 
 I sought him far, I sought him near, 
 
 He baffled all my men : 
 At last I met him, face to face. 
 
 Within the BiUhope glen. 
 
 V. 
 
 Short parley passed between us twain — 
 
 " Thou art the Warden ? " " Ay ! 
 Thou Elliot of the Park ?" " I am." 
 
 " Wilt yield thee ?" " Come and try !" 
 We lighted down from off our steeds, 
 
 We tied them to a tree ; 
 The sun was sinking ia the west, 
 
 And all alone were we. 
 Out flew the steel ; and then began 
 
 A sharp and desperate strife. 
 For Elliot fought to 'scape the cord, 
 
 I fought for fame and life. 
 Ha, ha ! were he alive again, 
 
 And on this dungeon floor. 
 What joy, with such a man as that. 
 
 To cross the sword once more ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 45 
 
 The blows lie fetched were stark and strong, 
 
 And so were mine, I ween. 
 Until I cleft his head-piece through. 
 
 And stretched him on the green. 
 " WUt yield thee now ?" "I will not yield. 
 
 But an ye promise grace." 
 " That must you ask upon your knee. 
 
 Before our Sovereign's face." 
 Blinded with blood, he struggled up — 
 
 " Lord Earl \" he said, " beware ! 
 No man shall take me living yet ; 
 
 Now follow, if you dare \" 
 I slipped upon the broken moss ; 
 
 And in the sheugh we roUed, 
 Death-grappling, silent, heaving each 
 
 Within the other's hold. 
 He passed above me, and I felt — 
 
 Once — twice — ^his dagger drive; 
 But mine went deeper through his breast — 
 
 I rose, but half alive ! 
 All spun around me — ^trees and hills — 
 
 A mist appeared to rise ; 
 Yet one thiag saw I cle9,rly yet 
 
 Before my fading eyes : 
 
BOTHWELL. p. 
 
 Not half a rood beyond the bum, 
 
 A man lay stiflf and stark; 
 I knew it was my stubborn foe, 
 
 John Elliot of the Park. 
 I strove in vain to sound my horn. 
 
 No further strength had I ; 
 And reeling in that lonely glen, 
 
 I fell — ^but not to die. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I wakened in the Hermitage 
 
 Up from my heavy -swound. 
 Thanks to the leech, who would not cease 
 
 From probing of my wound: 
 And there I lay, for many a day. 
 
 Weak, wearied, dull, and wan. 
 With little blood within my veins, 
 
 To make me feel like man. 
 In sooth, it was a heavy time — 
 
 I heard the bugles blow. 
 The horses neigh, the bridles ring. 
 
 The soldiers come and go. 
 I heard the voice of Ormiston, 
 
 In short and gruff command, 
 
BOTHWELL. 47 
 
 As outwards from the castle-gate 
 
 He led his trooper band. 
 Then silence; and that hateful sound, 
 
 The leech's stealthy tread — 
 Aia ! when I had strength to stir, 
 
 How swift the villain fled ! 
 Then the long shades of afternoon — 
 
 The twilight fastening in — 
 The night, when stOl I heard the brook 
 
 Come roaring down the Hnn. 
 Strange ! that my memory should recall 
 
 Those distant things to view — 
 That every sound, and sight, and thought, 
 
 Should visit me anew! 
 Have I not heard a hundred times 
 
 The winter tempests roar. 
 Since first they spread that wretched bed 
 
 Here, on the dungeon floor ? 
 Have I not heard the ocean-surge 
 
 Come bellowing to the strand, 
 When peals of thunder shook the heaven, 
 
 When flashed the levin brand ? 
 The hurleys that might wake the dead. 
 
 Pass from me with their rage ; 
 
48 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Not SO the sounds that reached my bed 
 In lonely Hermitage. 
 
 But 0, that day, when first I rose, 
 
 A cripple, from my lair — 
 Threw wide the casement, breathed my fill 
 
 Of fresh and wholesome air — 
 Drank in new life, and felt once more 
 
 The pulse's stirring play — 
 0, madly in my heart is writ 
 
 The record of that day ! 
 I thought to hear the gorcock crow, 
 
 Or ouzel whistle shnll. 
 When, lo ! a gaUant company 
 
 Came riding up the hill. 
 No banner was displayed on high, 
 
 No sign of war was seen. 
 No armed band, with spear and brand, 
 
 Encompassed Scotland's Queen. 
 She came, on gentle errand bound — 
 
 The bounteous and the free — 
 She came to cheer her wounded knight. 
 
 She came to smile on me. 
 
BOTHWELL. 49 
 
 VIII. 
 
 She waited not for guard or groom, 
 
 But passed into tlie hall ; 
 Around her were the four Maries, 
 
 Herself the rose of all. 
 I never thought that woman's voice 
 
 Could thriU my being so, 
 As when she thanked me for my zeal 
 
 In accents soft and low. 
 I saw the tear within her eye. 
 
 When, bending down to me, 
 She placed her Uly hand in mine. 
 
 And bade me quit my knee. 
 " Dear lord," she said, " 'tis woman's right 
 
 To comfort when she may; 
 Then chafe not, if we take by storm 
 
 Your Border-keep to-day. 
 We come not to invade your hall, 
 
 Or rudely mar your rest; 
 Though well I know, at fitter time, 
 
 I were a welcome guest. 
 But could I quit the Border-side 
 
 Without my thanks to hitn 
 
50 BOTHWELL. rj 
 
 Who paid his service far too well, 
 
 At risk of life and limb ? 
 Ah, Bothwell ! you have bravely done, 
 
 And all my thanks are poor; 
 Would God that more were bent like you 
 
 To make my throne secure ! 
 True heart ! strong arm ! I cannot place 
 
 A chaplet on your brow, 
 For the old laws of chivalry 
 
 Are dead and vanished now ; 
 But, trust me, never was a Queen 
 
 More debtor to a peer, 
 Than I, brave Earl, am proud to own, 
 
 Before the presence here ! 
 How say you, brother?" 
 
 At the word, 
 
 I felt a sudden chUl ; 
 I knew not Murray as he rode 
 
 Beside her up the hUl. 
 I marked him not within my hall — 
 
 No wonder, for my eye 
 
BOTHWELL. 51 
 
 Was fixed on one bright form alone 
 
 Of all that company ! 
 But there he stood, the pulseless man, 
 
 The calculating lord. 
 Swart in the Congregation's garb, 
 
 And leaning on his sword. 
 By heaven ! I wished that on his face 
 
 I could have traced a sneer — 
 Right swiftly had I paid it back ; 
 
 But all was calm and clear : 
 Softly he spoke, but what he said 
 
 Dwelt not within mine ear. 
 Some phrase it was of mild assent. 
 
 Framed in that glossy speech 
 Which statesmen use to cozen fools, 
 
 And bring them to their reach ; 
 Some staid and studied compliment, 
 
 As soft and cold as snow — 
 I would not, after fiery fight. 
 
 Have thanked a trooper so ! 
 And then he paused, and glanciug round 
 
 Upon the royal train. 
 Began to falter forth excuse. 
 
 Like one who spoke in pain, 
 
62 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Why Darnley came not witli the Queen- 
 How could the fool be there ? 
 
 Had he not left his Sovereign's Court, 
 Despite her tears and prayer ? — 
 
 Left her, with base unmanly threat. 
 Alone to weep and pine ; 
 
 That he might lie in harlots' laps, 
 And hiccup o'er his wine ? 
 
 X. 
 
 Well know I now what Murray meant, 
 
 But then I did not care — 
 The sight of Darnley in my hall 
 
 Had darkened all the air. 
 In sooth, I wished them far away, 
 
 The Maries, and the rest. 
 That I might throw me at her feet, 
 
 Might ease my bursting breast, — 
 Might tell her how I came to love. 
 
 And how I hid my flame, 
 TUl he, the wretched perjured boy, 
 
 Had filled his cup with shame — 
 Might ask her, of her sovran grace. 
 
 To take and keep my- vow, 
 
BOTHWELL. 53 
 
 To rule James Hepburn's heart and hand, 
 
 Not give him promise now — 
 One word, one little word of hope 
 
 Was all he dared to crave, — 
 Hope ? There was none in store for me, 
 
 Till Darnley filled his grave ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 keenly do I know the spell 
 
 That turned weak Arran's brain. 
 That drove the luckless ChasteUar 
 
 To love and die in vain. 
 With tenfold power that mighty charm 
 
 Was stirring in my soul ; 
 Though she had spurned me from her feet, 
 
 I must have spoke the whole. 
 Far better had I told her all, 
 
 And waked at once her scorn, 
 Than brood o'er passions ill-concealed. 
 
 And wait for crimes unborn. 
 Unborn, but yet, alas ! conceived — 
 
 Well — well ! what recks it now ? 
 A child might weep, and moan, and fret, 
 
 That yonder glorious bow. 
 
54 BOTHWELL. part ii. 
 
 Which right before me spans the seas, 
 
 Should melt in mist and rain : 
 What is it but a pageantry 
 
 That will not come again ? 
 Yea, let it pass with other things, 
 
 Old hope, and thought, and fear ; 
 All these are phantoms, dead and gone. 
 
 They shall not force a tear 1 
 
 XII. 
 
 Bright was the morn, and fresh the wind, 
 
 And clear the trumpet's caU, 
 As, strong once more in heart and limb, 
 
 I issued from my haU. 
 A himdred troopers, cased in mail. 
 
 Were mounted on the sward ; 
 Men who would ride through steel and flame 
 
 At signal of their lord. 
 The knaves ! I know they loved me weU ; 
 
 And what a wild acclaim 
 Bang through the vaUey, up the glen, 
 
 To greet me as I came ! 
 Then spears were raised, and swords were swung, 
 
 And banners tossed on high, 
 
BOTHWBLL. 55 
 
 In such a storm of wild delight, 
 As drives men onward to the fight, 
 
 For death or victory ! 
 The blood was warm within me then. 
 
 And proudly did it bound. 
 As, clad again in knightly garb, 
 
 I wheeled my charger round ; 
 O'er moss and moor, o'er hiU and heath, 
 
 Eight gallantly we sped. 
 Until we paused and drew the rein 
 
 Hard by the river's head. 
 Backward on Castle Hermitage 
 
 One lingering look I cast ; 
 I saw it in its strength and pride — 
 
 That look, it was the last. 
 
 Men say that in those northern seas. 
 
 Far out from human view. 
 There lies a huge and whirling pit. 
 As deep as though the globe were split. 
 
 To let the waters through ; 
 All round and round for many a mile 
 Spreads the strong tide's resistless coU ; 
 
56 BOTHWELL. 
 
 And if a ship should chance to pass 
 
 Within the Maelstrom's sweep, 
 Nor helm nor sail will then avail 
 
 To drive her through the deep. 
 Headlong she rolls on racing waves, 
 
 Still narrowing in her round, 
 Still drawn towards the awful brim 
 
 Of that abyss profound. 
 Then one sharp whirl, one giant surge, 
 
 A lurch, a plunge, a yell, — 
 And down for ever goes the ship 
 
 Into the raging hell ! 
 God wot, I am not fanciful ; 
 
 But from that fatal day. 
 When first I leagued with other men. 
 
 And left my open way. 
 No power had I to check my course, 
 
 No will to pause or stay. 
 They knew that I was proud and bold, 
 
 And foremost still would go. 
 Where danger waited in the path. 
 
 Nor ever coimt the foe. 
 And they had read my secret heart. 
 
 And set their cunning snare ; 
 
BOTHWBLL. 57 
 
 0, had my only thought been love, 
 They'd not have bound me there ! 
 
 But there was hatred in my soul ; 
 
 And more, that glorious sin. 
 Ambition, cursed by all who lose. 
 
 No crime for those who win. 
 What sceptre ever yet was gained 
 
 Without the reddened hand ? 
 Light penance serves to cleanse the stain 
 
 From those who rule a land. 
 Hero, and king, and conqueror — 
 
 So ring the changes here. 
 For those who rise by any art. 
 
 No matter what they were ! 
 Wretch, viUain, traitor, regicide — 
 
 These are the counter-names 
 For men whom fortune sets aside, 
 
 However bold their aims. 
 I would not care for vulgar speech ; 
 
 But, 0, it drives me wild 
 To know that cold and reckoning knaves 
 
 Have swayed me like a child. 
 
68 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Tell me no more of guilt and shame ! 
 
 'Tis worse to be a fool, 
 To play the subtler traitors' game, 
 
 Their partner and their tool ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 'Twas in Craigmillar's ancient pile 
 
 That first I lent my ear 
 To the dark words of Lethington, 
 
 With Murray bending near. 
 The theme was Damley and his deeds. 
 
 His vain capricious mind, 
 That no controlling power could guide 
 
 Or sense of honour bind ; 
 His wild outrageous insolence 
 
 To men of high degree. 
 Who, but for Mary's love and grace, 
 
 Were higher far than he. 
 All this I heard, and answered not ; 
 
 But when he came to speak 
 Of Mary's wrongs, and Mary's woes. 
 
 The blood was in my cheek. 
 He told me of her breaking heart, 
 
 Of bitter tears she shed. 
 
II. BOTHWELL. 59 
 
 Of the sad cry she raised to heaven, 
 
 " God ! that I were dead !"— 
 Of that dull grief which, more than pain. 
 
 Has power to waste and kiU ; 
 Yet in her secret heart, he said. 
 
 Queen Mary loved him still. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Loves him ?" " Why, ay ! Our thought was bent, 
 At first, on Damley's banishment ; 
 On loosing of the nuptial tie, 
 
 As holy Church allows — 
 An easy thing, for never yet 
 
 Was such a faithless spouse — 
 But when we broke it to the Queen, 
 
 She would not deign to hear ; 
 He was the father of her child. 
 
 And so to her was dear. 
 What then is left ? While Damley lives 
 
 As king within the land, 
 Whate'er his insolence may be, 
 
 He holds us at command. 
 Why, even you, brave Earl, so high 
 
 In honour and in place, 
 
60 BOTHWELL. part ii. 
 
 You — Warden — Admiral — ^must bend 
 
 Before his Eoyal Grace ! 
 Nay, chafe not at my open speech : 
 
 For more have felt the wrong, 
 And, trust me, will not stoop to wear 
 
 Those galling shackles long. 
 My Lord of Murray stands prepared 
 
 To aid us, heart and hand ; 
 Your brother Huntley, and Argyle 
 
 Are eager for the Band. 
 You know their strength : yet more remains ; 
 
 The banished lords are ours — 
 Lindsay and Morton, were they here, 
 
 Would help us with their powers. 
 In evil hour, in evil cause. 
 
 They lent weak Darnley aid ; 
 Persuaded by his lying tongue. 
 
 With treason foul repaid. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Surely 'tis time to stanch the wounds 
 
 That vex the land so sore, 
 To knit the noble brotherhood 
 
 As closely as of yore ; 
 
BOTHWBLL. 61 
 
 To curb the wild fanatic mood 
 
 That waxes day by day, 
 And make the surly preachers know 
 
 Their duty, to obey ! 
 But for one plague-spot in the land. 
 
 Our course were plain and clear ; 
 If Scotland's nobles back their Queen, 
 
 What foemen need they fear ? 
 No more will we of foreign league 
 
 Or foreign wedlock hear ! 
 A better husband for the Queen 
 
 We'll find among our own : 
 A champion, able, like the Bruce, 
 
 To take and keep the throne ! 
 More might I say ; but, valiant Earl, 
 
 On you our fate depends; — 
 Speak but the word, give but the sign, ' 
 
 And round us throng our friends. 
 Scotland is weary of the load 
 
 That lies upon her now, 
 And Death is breathing, cold and damp. 
 
 Upon our Sovereign's brow. 
 This is the stalwart arm we need 
 
 To save the State and Queen 
 
62 
 
 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Your own brave blood was freely shed 
 
 For Mary, on the green — 
 But Damley's ! — for one drop of yours 
 
 His life were all too mean." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 I've heard that poison-sprinkled flowers 
 
 Are sweeter in perfume 
 Than when, untouched by deadly dew, 
 
 They opened in their bloom ; 
 I've heard that men, condemned to die, 
 
 Have quaffed the fatal wine 
 With keener relish than the juice 
 
 Of the untampered vine ; 
 I've heard that with the witches' song, 
 
 Though harsh and rude it be, 
 There blends a wild mysterious strain 
 
 Of weirdest harmony, 
 So that the listener far away 
 
 Must needs approach the ring. 
 Where, on the savage Lapland moors. 
 
 The demon chorus sing. 
 And I believe the devil's voice 
 
 Sinks deeper in the ear. 
 
II. BOTHWELL. 63 
 
 Than any whispers sent from heaven, 
 
 However soft and clear. 
 Yes ! I was cozened, cheated, led — - 
 
 No beast more blindly goes 
 Towards the shambles, than I went 
 
 When flattered by my foes ! 
 Flattered — and bribed ! Ay, that's the word — 
 
 No need to hide it now — 
 Bribed by the proffer of a crown 
 
 To glitter on my brow ! 
 never let the man of deeds, 
 
 Though strong, and bold, and brave, 
 Though he has shaken thrones lUce reeds, 
 
 Try issue with a knave ! 
 Might is no match for studied craft. 
 
 Which makes the best its thrall : 
 When earth is mined beneath his feet, 
 
 The champion needs must fall. 
 
 Now, were a reverend father here — • 
 
 For such there are, I know. 
 Good men and true, who preach the word, 
 
64 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 Without inToking fire and sword 
 
 To lay the temples low — 
 Men who proclaim their mission, peace ; 
 
 And count it worse than shame. 
 To shed their doctrines forth like oil 
 
 Upon a land in flame — 
 Had I such ghostly counsellor, 
 
 He'd tell me straight to throw 
 All angry feelings from my breast, 
 
 To bless my deadliest foe ; 
 To pray for that same Lethiugton ; 
 
 To raise my heart to heaven, 
 And supplicate that Murray's soul 
 
 May not depart unshriven. 
 Nay — ^more than that — for Morton's weal 
 
 My prayer must also rise : 
 A proper instrument were I 
 
 To lift him to the skies ! 
 The older faith enjoined a mass, 
 
 A requiem to be said 
 Above the bier, or for the sake 
 
 Of any foeman dead. 
 That may be priest-craft^-idle sound. 
 
 As modem preachers say. 
 
ir. BOTHWBLL. 65 
 
 A lie, that neither saint in heaven, 
 
 Nor guard on hell, obey. 
 But to forgive them, -while they live ; 
 
 To breathe a prayer for them, 
 The traitors who have robbed their Queen 
 
 Of state and diadem — 
 Have shut her ia a lonely isle, 
 
 To pine, and waste, and die — 
 A prayer for villains such as these 
 
 Were insult to the sky ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 I yielded ; for the deed proposed 
 
 Was nothing new or strange. 
 Though ne'er a Lord in Scotland stirred. 
 My purpose, oath, and secret word 
 
 Had known nor check nor change. 
 Men feel by instinct, swift as light. 
 
 The presence of the foe. 
 Whom God has marked, in after years 
 
 To strike the mortal blow ; 
 The other, though his brand be sheathed 
 
 At banquet or in hall, 
 
66 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 Hath a forebodement of the time 
 
 When one or both must fall. 
 That bodement darkened on my soid 
 
 When first I set my eye 
 On Damley in Ms trim attire, 
 All youth, and mirth, and hope, and fire, 
 
 A blazoned butterfiy. 
 Methought I saw, like northern seers 
 
 When shadowed by the cloud. 
 Around his pomp and bravery 
 
 The phantom of a shroud : 
 It chilled me then, it haunts me now — 
 
 Let this at least be said. 
 No thought of slaughter crossed my mind 
 
 Till David Riccio bled. 
 Then I was free to do and dare ; 
 
 And often in a dream. 
 When, through the corridors of sleep 
 
 Eang Mary's piercing scream. 
 The scene would change from Holyrood 
 
 To some sequestered glen. 
 Where I and Damley met alone. 
 
 Apart from other men. 
 
BOTHWELL. 67 
 
 How often have we twain been thrown 
 
 In death-lock on the sand, 
 Eye fixed on eye, breath meeting breath. 
 
 And steel in either hand ! 
 And I have wakened, panting sore. 
 
 My forehead wet with dew. 
 More shaken by the fancied strife 
 
 Than any that was tme. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 They prate of murder — 'tis a word 
 
 Most odious to the ear. 
 Condemned aUke by God and man : 
 
 But peer may meet with peer. 
 If laggard laws delay redress 
 
 For insult or for wrong. 
 There is no arbiter like steel 
 
 So ready and so strong. 
 Then they contend on equal ground. 
 
 And equal arms they wield ; 
 Wiat does the knight or captain more 
 
 Who strikes in tented field ? 
 
68 BOTHWELL. pabti 
 
 And — ^by the sun that shines above ! — 
 
 Had fate ordained it so, 
 That I and Damley might have met, 
 
 In combat, foe to foe, 
 One half my life, when life was prized. 
 
 Were ransom all too poor. 
 For one bare hour, 'twixt dawn and mirk. 
 
 Of combat on the moor ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But kings — ^forsooth, they called him King !- 
 
 Are now content to claim 
 Exemption from the knightly rule, 
 
 And skolk behind their name. 
 They are not, as in Arthur's days. 
 
 When chivalry began. 
 Prompt to repel the accuser's voice, 
 
 And meet him, man to man. 
 They are not valiant Kke the Bruce, 
 
 That fearless prince and knight. 
 Aye ready with his stalwart hand 
 
 To justify his right — 
 Not valiant, as was royal James, 
 
 Who died on Hodden field, 
 
BOTHWBLL. 69 
 
 The best and bravest of his race, 
 
 Unknowing how to yield. 
 They sit behind their silken screens, 
 
 And fence them with their guard, 
 Their archers and their bandoleers, 
 
 Like women kept in ward. 
 No reckoning give they for their deeds. 
 
 Whatever those may be — 
 Too high was Darnley in his place 
 
 To measure swords with me. 
 I hold the creed that earthly wrong 
 
 On earth must be repaid ; 
 And, if the battle be denied, 
 And law is drugged, and stupified, 
 
 Why — vengeance comes in aid ! 
 
 What else ? I care not for the tales 
 
 I heard ia earlier years. 
 Which my old teacher strove to thrust 
 
 In most unwilling ears ; 
 Of Greeks — I think he called them that — 
 
 Whose weapon was the knife. 
 
70 BOTHWBLL. pak' 
 
 Who for some wretched servile cause 
 
 Let out a tyrant's life — 
 Of Eomans, nearer to our times. 
 
 Who butchered Caesar so — 
 Base villaia churls, who wreaked their hate 
 On one so high, and grand, and great. 
 
 Because they stood so low ! 
 When perfect nobleness remains 
 
 To fence a royal crown ; 
 When honour, faith, and chivalry 
 
 Are prized beyond renown ; 
 When God's vicegerents on the earth 
 
 Know how to rule and shine, 
 With splendour as becomes their place, — 
 
 Then is their right divine. 
 But Darnley — fie ! why speak of him 
 
 As royal, brave, or leal ? 
 He was an adder in my path — 
 
 I crushed him with my heel ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 'Tis strange what freaks the fancy plays. 
 When sense is shut by sleep ; 
 
BOTHWBLL. 71 
 
 How a vague horror thrills the frame, 
 
 And awful sounds and deep 
 Boom on the ear, as if the earth 
 
 Moaned in her central caves 
 Beneath the weight of buried men, 
 
 And stirred them in their graves ! 
 That night, as on my bed I lay, 
 
 The terror passed on me ; 
 It wrung my heart, it froze my blood, 
 
 It forced my eyes to see 
 The spectral fire upon the hearth. 
 
 The' arras' stiffened fold. 
 The gaunt, mute figures on its web, 
 
 In tarnished silk and gold, — 
 AU there — ^no motion — but a step 
 
 Was creaking on the stair ; 
 It made me pant, it made me gasp — 
 
 Who was it sought me there ? 
 I saw my sword beside the bed, 
 
 I could not stretch my arm — 
 I could not stir, I could not cry, 
 
 I lay beneath a charm. 
 The door swung slowly on its hinge. 
 
 And in a figure came, 
 
72 BOTHWBLL. i 
 
 In form and face like Lethington, 
 
 Most like, yet not the same. 
 Those were his eyes that glared on mine. 
 
 But in them was a gleam 
 That burned like fire into my brain ; 
 
 I felt them in my dream. 
 And thus he spoke, in Maitland's voice. 
 
 But deeper far than he : — 
 " Else up. Lord Bothwell, from thy bed, 
 
 Eise up, and follow me !" 
 
 I rose, but not as men arise 
 
 At hasty call or loud ; 
 I rose as rigid as a corpse 
 
 Swathed in its burial-shroud. 
 Spellbound I stood upon the floor. 
 
 Bereft of power or will, 
 For well I knew, where'er he went. 
 
 That I must follow stUl. 
 Then up the stair he led the way. 
 
 By winding steps and steep. 
 Out to the topmost battlement 
 
 Of old Craigmillar's keep. . 
 
BOTHWELL. 73 
 
 The moon was down, but myriad stars 
 
 Were sparkling in the sky — 
 " Behold ! " he said, and raised his hand — 
 
 They seemed to wane and die. 
 They passed from out the firmament, 
 
 Deep darkness fell around — 
 Darkness, and horror as of hell. 
 
 And silence most profound. 
 No wind, no murmur, breath, nor stir, 
 
 'Twas utter blankness all. 
 As though the face of God were hid. 
 
 And heaven were wrapped in pall. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Behold again ! " the deep voice said. 
 
 And straight arose a spire 
 Of lurid, red, and dismal light, 
 Between me and the mountain height, 
 
 A peak of wavering fire : 
 Above it was a kingly crown — 
 
 Then sounded ia my ear, 
 " That glorious prize may be thine own ! 
 Nor only that, but honour, power. 
 
74 BOTHWELL. part 
 
 Beauty, and love — a, matchless dower — 
 Dominion far and near ! 
 
 AU these await thee, if thy heart 
 Is tempered like thy steel, 
 
 Keen, sharp, and strong, and prompt to strike- 
 To strike, but not to feel ! 
 
 That crown was won by valiant Bruce, 
 He gained it by the blow 
 
 That on the slippery altar-steps 
 Laid the Eed Comyn low ; 
 
 He won and wore it as a king, 
 
 , And thou may'st win it now !" 
 
 I spoke not, but he heard my thought : — 
 
 " Well done, thou dauntless peer ! 
 I love the brave and venturous wiU 
 
 That knows nor ruth nor fear ! 
 Come, then, I swear, by yonder fire — 
 
 An oath ne'er broke by me — 
 That thou shalt sit in Darnley's place 
 
 When Damley dies by thee ! 
 Away that pageant !" — Spire and crown 
 
 Shut, like the lightning's leap ; 
 
BOTHWBLL. 75 
 
 But overhead a meteor came, 
 Slow-moving, tinging vrith its flame 
 
 The murky clouds and deep ; 
 It shed a glare on Arthur's Seat, 
 
 It widened Kke a shield. 
 And burst, in thunder and in fire. 
 
 Above the Kirk-of-Field. 
 
PAET THIED. 
 
PART THIRD. 
 
 That gaoler hath a savage look — 
 
 Methinks I see a change : 
 For three long years, withui this room, 
 That man has been my only groom, 
 
 And yet his voice is strange. 
 He briags me food, he smoothes my bed, 
 
 Obedient to my sign ; 
 But still his moody eye falls down. 
 
 And wiU not answer mine. 
 I had the art, in former days. 
 To win, by short familiar phrase. 
 
 The rudest hearts alive, — 
 To bring the wildest to my side, 
 And force them, in the battle-tide. 
 
 Like thorough fiends to strive. 
 
80 BOTHWELL. part i 
 
 When Warden, I have rode alone, 
 
 Without a single spear to back. 
 The marches through, although I knew 
 
 That spies were prowling on my track ; 
 Fve passed into the midst of clans 
 
 So fierce and wild, that, undismayed, 
 They would have risen, sword in hand. 
 
 Had the Queen's standard been displayed; 
 But never did I meet with one, 
 
 Trooper or jackman, groom or knave, 
 But to the ready fearless call 
 
 A frank and fearless answer gave. 
 
 This fellow scowls as if in hate ; 
 
 I've marked upon his brow a scar. 
 More like the hideous gaUey-brand 
 
 Than any wound from broU or war. 
 Either he is, in mind and sense. 
 
 Far duller than a Lothian boor. 
 Or there's a plot against my life. 
 
 And he's the man to make it sure ! 
 I never hear him at the door, 
 
 When fumbling with his heavy keys, 
 
BOTHWELL. 81 
 
 But something warns me to beware, 
 
 Eemindiug me that sounds like these 
 Were heard by Eothsay, Scotland's heir, 
 
 In Falkland's dungeon deep ; 
 When, mad with famine and despair, 
 
 He started from his sleep. 
 To see the butchers usher in 
 
 That terrible repast, 
 The black bull's head, the awful sign 
 
 Of death, to follow fast ! 
 Slave that he is ! I've strength enough 
 
 To brain him at a blow : 
 But Danish laws, they say, are hard ; 
 And scarcely might a man in ward 
 
 Deal with his gaoler so. 
 The churl is better than the peer, 
 
 Because the churl is free. 
 But should a gesture rouse suspect. 
 
 Let him beware of me ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Is this indeed a warning voice 
 That croaks within my ear ? 
 
82 BOTHWELL. pa 
 
 Or is it guilt that frames the thought, 
 
 And fashions it to fear ? 
 I'd have it so — I'll so believe ! 
 
 These terrors are no more 
 Than the mid blasts that conscience drives ; 
 
 And though they shake me sore, 
 I'll hold them empty, vain, and false, 
 
 Nor so demean my place. 
 As tremble at a clown's approach. 
 
 Or deign to watch his face ! 
 
 Come — I will far away from hence — 
 
 I cannot tarry here : 
 Whate'er the penance, I must forth. 
 
 And quit this dungeon drear ! 
 Man lives not for the single point 
 
 That marks the passing time ; 
 He lives in thoughts and memories 
 
 Of glory or of crime. 
 And I win back — and bravely back. 
 
 To that tremendous night 
 When the whole state of Scotland reeled. 
 
 And Darnley took his flight. 
 
BOTHWELL. 83 
 
 That -wHcli I did, nor shrunk to do, 
 
 I may at least recall ; 
 If spectres rise from out the grave, 
 
 I dare to face them all ! 
 
 High mirth there was in Holyrood, 
 
 As fitted nuptial scene. 
 For on that day Sebastian wed 
 
 The favourite of the Queen. 
 All Scotland's nobles graced the feast, 
 And ever passed the ready jest, 
 Though some had secrets in their breast 
 
 That might have marred their sport. 
 But in a time when all men Hed, 
 Nor trusted neighbour by their side. 
 Deceit was more than justified ; 
 
 And, truly, of that Court, 
 I doubt if there was any there, 
 Who showed iu face or mien a care. 
 Save Mary. But her cheek was pale, 
 Sad was her snule at jest or tale ; 
 And though she strove to bear her part, 
 
 She could not so devise. 
 
84 BOTHWELL. 
 
 But that the anguish of her heart 
 Came glistening to her eyes. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yes, when she looked upon the pair 
 So fondly placed together there, 
 Loying and loved, without a thought 
 
 Beyond their present bliss and joy, 
 All. hope, aU trust, all happiness, 
 
 All faith, vsdthout alloy ; 
 I saw her strive to hide her tears — 
 I am no gentler than my peers ; 
 Nor could I, in the general case, 
 
 Diviae why women weep and wail. 
 But gazing on Queen Mary's face, 
 
 I saw the cause, and could not fail. 
 She thought her of the marriage-feast 
 
 When Darnley was the chosen groom. 
 When, trusting to his vows and faith, 
 
 She gave herself, in beauty's bloom. 
 When she was radiant, as the bride, 
 
 And he was, as the lover, gay ; 
 Alas ! there rolled an awful tide 
 
 Between that time and this to-day ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 85 
 
 Short interval ; yet where was he, 
 
 The partner of her bed and throne, 
 The chief of all her chivalry ? 
 
 A wretched leper, and alone ! 
 Stricken, and sick, and Ul at ease. 
 Worn out with base debaucheries, 
 
 Her lord once more was nigh ; 
 Broken in body and in mind — 
 A wretch, who paradise resigned, 
 
 To wallow in a sty ! 
 
 How she endured him, after all 
 
 His foulness and his insolence. 
 Puzzles my mind — but let it fall ! 
 
 God gave to woman gentler sense 
 And sweeter temper than to man ; 
 
 And she will bear, like penitence, 
 A load that makes the other ban. 
 Satut-like she tarried by Ms side. 
 
 And soothed his torment day by day ; 
 And though her grief she could not hide, 
 
 No anger did her look betray. 
 
86 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Now, in the midst of mirth and song. 
 
 Her loving nature did not yield. 
 And every moment seemed too long 
 
 That kept her from the Kirk-of-Field. 
 Early she gave the wonted sign 
 
 In token that the feast was done ; 
 Her place was then by Damley's bed, 
 
 TUl the late revelry begmi. 
 And I, like her, had reckoned time. 
 
 And might not longer tarry there ; 
 For the wild impulse to a crime 
 
 Hath aU the urgence of despair. 
 I knew her errand, and my own ! 
 
 I knew them both but far too well — 
 Hers was the thorny path to heaven. 
 
 And mine the road that ends at heU ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Well I remember how my heart 
 Beat as I oped the postem-door ; 
 
 My foot upon the threshold stayed, 
 I scarce had power to venture o'er ! 
 
 The night was dark; a heavy mist 
 Came creeping upward from the sea,— 
 
III. BOTHWELL. 87 
 
 " Who waits there ? Bolton— Talla— hist ! " 
 
 And straight they glided up to me. 
 " Is aU prepared ? speak soft and low." 
 
 " AU ready ! we have sent the men, 
 As you appointed, to the place : 
 
 French Paris waits for them ; but then " 
 
 " What then ? Come farther from the wall — 
 
 Give me your hand. Why, Hay, 'tis cold : 
 Poor lad, it shakes ! Take courage, man ! 
 
 I know that you are stout and bold, 
 But the first venture ever frays. 
 
 Your fortune's mine, in woe or weal ; 
 Here is my cousin, Bolton, now — 
 
 His heart. 111 swear, is firm as steel ! 
 Where left ye Ormiston ?" " At home ; 
 
 And it were best to seek him straight. 
 Else we may chance to lack his aid, 
 
 If guards are at the city gate ! " 
 
 " What mean you, kinsman ? Ormiston ! 
 
 Surely he will not fail me now ?" 
 " I meant not that : he wiU not fail, 
 
 If he be fit to plant a blow. 
 
88 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 But never saw I Hm so strange : 
 
 He thinks Earl Morton has designed 
 To place us in the foremost range. 
 
 And keep himself and his behind. 
 And — you must pardon me, my Lord — 
 
 But, if it be not now too late 
 To pause on what we have resolved, 
 
 'Twere wise, methinks, a while to wait. 
 The promised succour has not come ; 
 
 There are no horsemen near the place ; 
 Our scouts hear nothing ; all is dumb. 
 
 And 'tis long past the tiystiag space. 
 I would some other hands than ours 
 
 Were busied with the work to-night ! 
 Though Morton tarries in his towers, 
 
 His men, at least, should be in sight : 
 Else how shall we escape the charge 
 
 That needs must lie against us here. 
 When no proved enemy at large 
 
 Has crossed the country, far or near ? 
 Throughout the land is Morton known 
 
 As faithless, ever prone to guile ; 
 Yea, there are some who hold his frown 
 
 In far less terror than his smile. 
 
III. BOTHWELL. 89 
 
 A rival never brooked lie yet, 
 
 You stand too nearly in his way, 
 And ancient feud hatli left a debt 
 
 Of hate that he will foully pay. 
 Trust not the Douglas ! "■ • 
 
 X. 
 
 " By my soul — 
 
 But that I've seen thy mettle tried — 
 I'd say, John Hepburn, it was fear 
 
 That makes thee swerve and start aside ! 
 Content thee, man ! I trust him not ; 
 
 He dares not challenge what we do : 
 Look fortune in the face — ^be bold. 
 
 And thou shalt rise to honours new. 
 It is too late to pause or wait ; 
 
 To-night or never is the time. 
 Let Morton shrink and hesitate. 
 
 The gain is ours, he shares the crime. 
 But what of Ormiston ? " " He waits ; 
 
 But if you seek his help to gain, 
 'Twere well that we made better speed, 
 
 The wine-cup may have drenched his brain. 
 
90 BOTHWELL. pa 
 
 You know his mood when sore perplexed " — 
 
 " What ! makes he reveky to-night ? 
 Come quickly, Bolton — ^TaUa, come : 
 
 Is't not that entry on the right ?" 
 We found him graithed in steel array — 
 
 0, often yet I think of him ! 
 The strongest warrior of his day, 
 
 A giant both in thewes and limb. 
 He was,my friend, my father's too ; 
 
 But he is dead — nor only he. 
 For the black gibbet was the doom 
 
 Of every man who stood by me ! 
 Well, well ! God sain them — sain them aU ! 
 
 If what they died for was a crime. 
 Death was atonement : for the rest 
 
 Fll answer in the coming time, 
 As I must answer. 
 
 " Ormiston ! " 
 
 " Welcome, Lord Earl ! Aha ! you look 
 As though you doubt my prudence sore ; 
 
 John Hepburn, here, as from a book. 
 Hath preached to me an hour and more ! 
 
III. BOTHWELL. 91 
 
 He would have beaten Knox or Craig, 
 
 Had he been for the pulpit bred ; 
 But — ^to be honest — I required 
 
 Some little fire to warm my head — 
 To still my doubts — and that is done. 
 
 Jor surely, when a man is led. 
 His mind should be his leader's. Mine 
 
 Is all made up and fortified ; 
 I mean to action for to-night — 
 
 Beyond it 'tis for you to guard. 
 You need not look for Morton's aid, 
 
 He'd spring you with your own petard. 
 But what of that ? the way is clear. 
 
 Lacks nothing but a willing hand ; 
 And Ormiston is ready here 
 
 To move or strike at your command." 
 
 " That's well ! Then instant to our work ! 
 
 I must away to Kirk-of-Field : 
 You, Ormiston, be near the port, 
 
 And keep the troopers close concealed 
 Till the guard passes with the Queen : 
 
 Then fence the road from every spy. 
 
92 BOTHWELL. pa 
 
 Bolton, see you the powder laid, 
 
 And do it quick and carefully : 
 Paris awaits to let you in 
 
 By the back entrance : take good heed 
 That nothing fails ; let no man speak — 
 
 No noise, no sound ; but make you speed. 
 All must be ready, ere the train 
 
 Moves back for Holyrood to-night — 
 Then nothing need we, but a spark. 
 
 To set the state of Scotland right ! 
 You, Talla, as my squire shall go ; 
 
 Cleave to the officer on guard. 
 Be frank and free with him below ; 
 
 To-night no license is debarred. 
 Keep your brow smooth ; be wUd in speech, 
 
 But do not wander with your eye ; 
 Your part should be an easy one — 
 
 'Tis but the face of revelry ! 
 And now let's forth. Nay, Ormiston ! 
 
 No further pledges — set it past. 
 The draught that steeled you to the deed 
 
 Must be, for aU, to-night the last. 
 If we succeed in this emprise — 
 
 As, by my soul, succeed we must — 
 
III. BOTHWELL. 93 
 
 Enough of space we'll have for mirth ; 
 
 And those who give to me their trust 
 In this high juncture, surely know 
 
 That Bothwell leaves no debt unpaid, 
 To friend, to kinsman, or to foe ! " 
 
 I stood that night in Darnley's room, 
 
 Above the chamber charged with death ; 
 At every sound that rose below 
 
 There was a catching in my breath. 
 The aspect of the boy was sad. 
 
 For he was weak, and wrung with pain ; 
 Weary he lay upon the bed. 
 
 From which he never rose again. 
 I saw his brow so pale and damp, 
 
 I saw his cheek so thin and spare — 
 I've seen it often since in dreams — 
 
 wherefore did I seek him there ? 
 He lay, indeed a dying man. 
 
 His minutes numbered, marked, and spanned ; 
 With every ticking of the clock 
 
 There fell a priceless grain of sand. 
 
94 BOTHWELL. part ii 
 
 Yet over him an angel bent, 
 
 And soothed his pain, and wiped his brow — 
 So fair, so kind, so innocent. 
 
 That all hell's tortures to me now 
 Could scarce be worse than what I felt 
 
 Within that thrice-accursed room ! 
 No heart so hard that wiU not melt 
 
 When love stands weeping o'er the tomb. 
 had I hellebore for that — 
 
 That one damn'd hour ! — I'd count me blest; 
 So would I banish from my couch 
 
 The direst phantom of unrest ! 
 
 Time trickled on. I knew 'twas done, 
 
 When Paris entered with the key — 
 I'd listened for his foot, as one 
 Upon the rack might hail the tread 
 Of the grim gaoler of the dead. 
 
 Yet loathsome was his face to me ! 
 He looked a murderer ; not for hate. 
 
 Envy, or slight, or other cause. 
 By which the devil, or his mate. 
 
 Tempts man to spurn his Maker's laws- 
 
nr. BOTHWELL. 95 
 
 But from that Mdeous appetite, 
 
 That lust for blood, that joy in sin, 
 Which shows the instinct of the wolf, 
 
 And ravins on the heart within. 
 Let no man seek to gain his end 
 
 By felon means ! I never felt 
 So like a slave, as when he passed. 
 
 And touched the key beneath his belt ! 
 For in his glance I read the thought — 
 
 " Lord Bothwell ! ever from this hour. 
 Though you be great, and I am nought. 
 
 Your life and fame are in my power ! " 
 Ah ! shame that I should now recall 
 
 The meaner feelings of that time, 
 The spUnters and the accidents 
 
 That flash from every deed of crime ! 
 Shame, that a face like his should rise 
 
 To gibber at me even now. 
 To Scare me with his hateful eyes. 
 
 And beckon from the gulf below ! 
 What recks it how a caitiff ends ? 
 
 If Murray paid him with a cord. 
 Why, let his spectre haunt the friends 
 
 Who did not deem him worth the sword ! 
 
96 BOTHWELL. 
 
 No more of that ! — The Queen arose, 
 And we, her nobles, stood aloof 
 
 Until she parted from her spouse. 
 And then we left the fated roof. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Back, back to Holyrood ! away I" 
 
 Then torches flashed, and yeomen came. 
 And round the royal litter closed 
 
 A gleaming zone of ruddy flame. 
 I have slight memory of that walk — 
 
 Argyle, I think, spoke earnestly 
 On state aifairs, but of his talk 
 
 Not any word remains with me. 
 We came to Holyrood ; and soon 
 
 A gush of music filled the hall ; 
 The dance was set ; the long saloon 
 
 Glowed as in time of carnival : 
 
 hateful to me was the sound. 
 And doubly hateful was the light ! 
 
 1 could not bear to look around, 
 
 I longed to plunge into the night. 
 A low duU boom was in mine ear, 
 A surging as of waters pent ; 
 
ui. BOTHWELL. 97 
 
 And the strained sense refused to hear 
 
 The words of passing merriment. 
 What if that Babel should be stilled, 
 
 Smote dumb, by one tremendous knell ? 
 What if the air above were filled 
 
 With clanging from the clocks of hell ? 
 Yet waited I till all was o'er ; 
 
 The bride withdrew, the masque was done : 
 And as I left the postern-door, 
 
 Dully the palace bell struck. One ! 
 
 I heard a sermon long ago. 
 Wherein the preacher strove to show 
 That guiltiness in high or low 
 
 Hath the like touch of fear ; 
 And that the knight who sallies forth, 
 Bent on an action of unworth. 
 Though he be duke or belted earl. 
 Feels the same tremor as the churl 
 
 Who steals his neighbour's gear. 
 I held his words for idle talk. 
 
 And cast them from my view ; 
 
98 BOTHWELL. pae 
 
 But, in that awful midnight walk, 
 I felt the man spake true. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 I heard the echo of my foot, 
 
 As up the Canongate I sped, 
 Distinct, as though in close pursuit 
 
 Some spy kept even with my tread. 
 Or did I run, or did I pause, 
 
 The sound was ever bickering hear ; 
 And though I guessed full well the cause, 
 
 I could not free myself from fear. 
 I almost stumbled in the dark 
 
 Upon a houseless, vagrant hound. 
 And his sharp snarl, and sudden bark. 
 
 Made my heart leap, and pulses bound. 
 Wherever there were lights on high, 
 
 Methought there stood some watcher pale- 
 Long shadows seemed to flitter by, 
 
 I heard low voices mourn and waiL 
 And I could swear that once I saw 
 
 A phantom gliding by, the place 
 Where then I stood. I shook with awe— 
 
 The face was like my mother's face. 
 
HI. BOTHWELL. 99 
 
 When last I saw her on her bier ! 
 
 Are there such things ? or does the dread 
 Of coming evil craze our fear, 
 
 And so bring up the sheeted dead ? 
 I cannot tell. But this I know, 
 
 That rather than endure again 
 Such hideous thoughts, Td fight the foe, 
 And reckon with them, blow for blow. 
 
 Though I were one, and they were ten ! 
 
 I passed beyond the city wall ; 
 
 No light there was in hut or bield, 
 I scarce could find the narrow lane 
 
 That led me to the Kirk-of-Field. 
 Three men were speeding from the door ; 
 
 They ran agaiast me in the way — 
 "Who's that?" " 'Tis I!" "Lord Bothwell? Back, 
 
 Back, back — my Lord ! make no delay ! 
 The doors are locked, the match is fired— 
 
 A moment more, and all is done — 
 Let's 'void the gTOund!" "He sleeps then sound?" 
 
 " Within that house shall waken none I" 
 
100 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Shortly we paused ; I strained my sight 
 To trace the outline of the pile ; 
 
 But neither moon nor stars gave light, 
 And so we waited for a while. 
 
 Down came the rain with steady pour, 
 
 It splashed the pools among our feet ; 
 Each minute seemed in length an hour, 
 
 As each went by, yet uncomplete. 
 " HeU ! should it fail, our plot is vain ! 
 
 Bolton — you have mislaid the light ! 
 Give me the key — I'll fire the train. 
 
 Though I be partner of his flight I" 
 " Stay, stay, my Lord I you shall not go ! 
 
 'Twere madness now to near the place ; 
 The soldiers' fuses bum but slow ; 
 
 Abide, abide a little space ! 
 There's time enough " 
 
 He said no more, 
 For at the instant flashed the glare, 
 
III. BOTHWELL. 101 
 
 And with a hoarse infernal roar 
 
 A blaze went up and filled the air ! 
 Eafters, and stones, and bodies rose 
 
 In one quick gush of blinding flame, 
 And down, and down, amidst the dark. 
 
 Hurtling on every side they came. 
 Surely the devil tarried near, 
 
 To make the blast more fierce and fell, 
 For never pealed on human ear 
 
 So dreadful and so dire a kneU. 
 The heavens took up the earth's dismay. 
 
 The thunder bellowed overhead ; 
 Steep called to steep. Away, away ! — 
 
 Then fear fell on me, and I fled. 
 For I was dazzled and amazed — 
 
 A fire was flashing in my brain — 
 I hasted Uke a creature crazed. 
 
 Who strives to overrun his pain. 
 I took the least-frequented road, 
 
 But even there arose a hum ; 
 Lights showed in every vile abode. 
 
 And far away I heard the drum. 
 Eoused was the city, late so stiU ; 
 
 Burghers, half clad, ran hurrying by. 
 
102 BOTHWELL. fab 
 
 Old crones came forth, and scolded shrill, 
 
 Men shouted challenge and reply. 
 Yet no one dared to cross my path, 
 
 My hand was on my dagger's hilt ; 
 Fear is as terrible as wrath. 
 
 And vengeance not more fierce than gmlt. 
 I would have stricken to the heart 
 
 Whoever should have stopped me then ; 
 None saw me from the palace part. 
 
 None saw me enter it again. 
 Ah ! but I heard a whisper pass. 
 
 It thrilled me as I reached the door — 
 " Welcome to thee, the knight that was, 
 The felon now for evermore I" 
 
PAET FOUETH. 
 
PART FOURTH. 
 
 What is a woman's weakest mood ? 
 
 Is it when some bold flatterer speaks ; 
 When honied words, scarce understood, 
 
 Call up the colour to her cheeks ? 
 When the dropt eye and heaving breast 
 
 Are tell-tales of the tempter's power ? 
 Ill bodes it for the maiden's rest 
 
 Who lends her ear at such an hour ! 
 Thus simple damsels may be wooed, 
 
 So doubtless they may be betrayed ; 
 'Tis the old courtship still pursued 
 
 By lovers in the forest glade. 
 But flattery cannot sway the mind 
 That's noble, constant, and resigned. 
 
106 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 In the old tales of chivalry 
 
 There lies more truth than priests allow ; 
 Valour, and strength, and courtesy. 
 
 Have power to make the haughtiest bow. 
 The knight who by his single arm 
 
 Could free a lady from duresse, 
 And break the fell magician's charm. 
 
 Had claim upon her loveliness : 
 Although the daughter of a king 
 
 She might not spurn his homage fair. 
 And proud was she in listed ring, 
 
 To see him with her colours there. 
 Eare thoughts are these for one disgraced, 
 
 A slave in body, racked in soul ! — 
 My blazon has been long erased. 
 
 My name struck off the knightly roU ! 
 But what of that? The time has been 
 
 When I was highest of the high — 
 Yea, was the husband of a Queen ; 
 
 And so they shall not pass me by. 
 Good men and brave may be forgot, 
 
 The tomb may hide their dust and fame, 
 
v- BOTHWBLL. 107 
 
 But wMle there breathes on eaxth a Scot, 
 He'll hear, at least, of BothweU's name ! 
 
 Yet, when the awful deed was done. 
 
 And Mary's burst of grief was by. 
 Of all who stood around the throne. 
 
 Was none in closer trust than I. 
 My front was cahn, my speech was clear, 
 
 I did not overact my part, 
 Nor feign a sorrow, too severe. 
 
 For one I never loved at heart : 
 Intent I seemed to find and trace 
 
 The bloody authors of the crime ; 
 But rumour hath a headlong pace. 
 
 And would not tarry for my time. 
 Whispers arose, not loud, but strong. 
 
 That I was privy to the deed ; 
 The rabble, when I passed along. 
 
 Regarded me with sullen heed ; 
 A madman paced the streets by night. 
 
 Invoking vengeance from on high. 
 Tin the scared women in affright. 
 Believed they heard a spirit cry. 
 
108 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Each Sabbath-day the pulpits rung 
 With texts on murder Ul-eoncealed, 
 
 And pictures on the Cross were hung 
 Of him who died at Kirk-of-Field. 
 
 My name was bruited. — Well I know 
 
 Who set the bloodhounds on my track ; 
 But Morton, though my deadliest foe, 
 
 Dared not, as then, to cheer the pack. 
 Had I been such a knave as he, 
 
 I might at once have eased my breath. 
 And made my name for ever free. 
 
 By charging him with Damley's death. 
 Ay, without falsehood in my heart ; 
 
 For, when I went at break of day, 
 To search the ruins, far apart 
 
 The unscathed corpse of Damley lay. 
 No mark of fire was on the dead, 
 
 Unsinged his cloak of velvet fine ; 
 If he were murdered as he fled. 
 
 It was not done by me or mine ! 
 And none save Douglas knew the hour 
 
 When the old roof should whirl in air ; 
 
BOTHWELL. 109 
 
 He swore to aid me with his power — 
 It may be that his men were there. 
 
 But rumour is a reckless fire, 
 
 Which, kindled once, is sure to spread, 
 And, raging in its frantic ire. 
 
 Spares not the living or the dead. 
 An ember dropped upon the waste. 
 
 Swells to a blaze that wraps the hill. 
 And onward rush the flames in haste. 
 
 Ascending, striding, bickering still ; 
 They reach the wood, they spare it not, — 
 
 The forest roars and crashes down, — 
 The red surge breaks on tower and cot. 
 
 Homestead and viUage, church and town. 
 And rumour did not spare a name 
 
 That should have been from tarnish free ; 
 No saint in heaven was less to blame 
 
 For wretched Damley's death than she ! 
 Fling forth a lie amongst the crowd. 
 
 Let but the preachers vouch 'tis true — 
 And innocence may buy her shroud, 
 
 And guilt go forth in garments new ! 
 
110 BOTHWELL. 
 
 They said she did not mourn him long — 
 What cause had she to mourn at all ? 
 
 His life had been a course of wrong, 
 A hideous shadow on her wall. 
 
 Why mourn ? Because the man was dead 
 
 Who brought his ruffians to her room, 
 And held her struggling, while they shed 
 
 The life-blood of her favourite groom — 
 Who trafficked with her darkest foes. 
 
 Heaped insult on her and despite. 
 Fled from the Court to herd with those 
 
 Whose baseness was his foul delight ? 
 Why, I have heard old Knox protest, 
 
 Men should not mourn for those they love, 
 Since earthly mourning is, at best, 
 
 Defiance to the will above. 
 He cited David, who arose 
 
 And washed his face and tasted bread, 
 Things he omitted, in his woes. 
 
 Until he knew his chUd was dead. 
 And so, because in quietness 
 Her secret soul she did possess. 
 
.V. BOTHWBLL. Ill 
 
 Because she did not feign despair, 
 Nor beat her breast nor rend her hair, 
 
 Nor give superfluous sorrow breath — 
 Because no vaiu and false parade. 
 Or frantic show of grief was made, 
 
 They taxed her with her husband's death ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Ha, ha ! Their folly was my shield, 
 
 A buckler between me and shame; 
 For what belief could Mary yield 
 
 To felons who abused her name? 
 She, in. her perfect innocence. 
 
 Despised the foul and recreant Ue, 
 That, without semblance of pretence, 
 
 Had swoUen into a common cry. 
 They dared to charge her — her, their Queen — 
 
 With guilt so monstrous of its kind, 
 That, granting she had only been 
 
 In knowledge of the deed designed. 
 The gates of heaven had shut for aye 
 
 Against her penitence and prayer. 
 Angels had loathed her in their sky. 
 
 And left her to her soul's despair ! 
 
112 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Yea, men had loathed her ! I myself, 
 
 The devil's bondsman, though alive, 
 Whom not for charity nor pelf 
 
 The meanest priest that crawls would shrive- 
 I would not, though she brought a crown. 
 
 Have ta'en a murderess to my bed ; 
 The Borgia won such wide renown 
 
 As well might warn a pUlowed head ! — 
 But, fie on me, to mix>the name 
 
 Of one so tainted and so vile 
 With hers, the pure and spotless Dame 
 
 Who tarries iu Lochleven's isle ! 
 Her noble soul, that knew no taint, 
 
 Was far too trusting and sincere ; 
 She was, in purity, the saint. 
 
 With all that makes the woman dear. 
 And when I pass before the Throne, 
 
 To reckon for my deeds on earth ; 
 When every secret crime is known. 
 
 And every thought that gave them birth ; 
 I'U answer truly for my Queen, 
 
 What she, in error, did for me ; 
 
BOTHWELL. 113 
 
 And, though a gulf lie broad between, 
 I'U vouch her, as an angel, free ! 
 
 Yet who accused me ? Not my peers ; 
 
 They one and all were dumb as death — 
 'Twere shame to think that doubts or fears 
 Could make them draw a bated breath ! 
 If some were mingled in the plot, 
 
 And far too weU the secret knew, 
 Yet more there were who loved me not. 
 
 Brave lords and valiant, tried and true. 
 Boyd — Seton — Herries — none stood forth, 
 Nor any knight of fame and worth ; 
 Only old Lennox, half distraught 
 
 With sorrow for his slaughtered son, 
 Gave utterance to the people's thought, 
 
 And craved that justice should be done. 
 Ready was I to stand the test. 
 
 To bide the sentence of the law ; 
 Its terrors did not mar my rest, 
 
 Nor make me thrUl with guilty awe. 
 My witnesses were clothed in steel. 
 They tarried for me in the street ; 
 
114 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 Old Lennox failed in his appeal, 
 
 And my acquittal was complete. 
 Then, as is wont, I caused proclaim- 
 If any dared impeach my name. 
 Or charge me with a murder stain 
 Upon my hand, for Damley slain. 
 So that he were of like degree, 
 He had my challenge, fair and free- 
 In guarded lists, or open heath, 
 
 I'd meet him as a knight. 
 And do stark battle to the death — 
 Might Grod defend the right ! 
 
 liar that I was, and mad, 
 
 In such wild manner to blaspheme ! 
 Not mine the faith that Morton had. 
 
 Who held salvation but a dream. 
 Never I doubted, from the first. 
 
 The judgment of a G-od on high ; 
 And if I be by Him accursed, 
 
 I know what waits me when I die. 
 
 1 will not stupify my soul — 
 
 Wretch as I am — with false belief ; 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 115 
 
 Or think that death must close the whole 
 
 Account of anguish and of grief. 
 How could I hope to win in fight — 
 
 The utterer of so foul a prayer ? 
 How 'scape the oyerwhelming might 
 
 I had iuvoked to crush me there ? 
 
 Still, no one came to lift my gage ; 
 
 The law declared me free from taint ; 
 What cared I for the preachers' rage ? 
 
 I let them chafe without restraint. 
 The burghers might receive their tale, 
 
 But dared not mutter it again — 
 Too many spears from Liddesdaie 
 
 Were daily moving in my train. 
 Enough for me that I was clear ; 
 
 I thought to let the storm pass by ; 
 For railing soon fatigues the ear, 
 
 When no one will vouchsafe reply. 
 
 And I had much to meditate. 
 
 Darnley no longer stopped my way ; 
 
116 BOTHWELL. 
 
 The Queen was free to choose a mate, 
 
 I might not dally nor delay. 
 Yet all unequal was our lot : 
 
 She was a widow, I was wed — 
 Poor Lady Jean ! I loved her not, 
 
 Yet never wished her with the dead. 
 She was a vixen from her birth, 
 
 Ready with tears, of temper keen, 
 But though she often stirred my mirth, 
 
 She never waked a touch of spleen. 
 Divorce was easy. She and I, 
 
 Like ill-assorted birds, could part 
 Without a ceremonial sigh, 
 
 Or fiction of an aching heart. 
 But Mary — ^how would she receive 
 
 A suit so strange and bold as mine ? 
 Had I but ventured to beHeve 
 
 That worship at so fair a shrine. 
 So mutely offered and so long. 
 
 Could not, at least, unnoticed be. 
 My courage then had been more strong. 
 
 My speech more unrestrained and free. 
 
BOTHWBLL. 117 
 
 Often I strove to speak my mind, 
 
 As often did I swerve aside ; 
 For, though her eyes were ever kind, 
 
 She had her share of queenly pride. 
 Her nature was too great and high 
 
 To listen to a lover's vows. 
 Ere on her cheek the tears were dry 
 
 She gave to her departed spouse. 
 And therefore, in uncertain mood, 
 
 Aimless, perplext, I lingered on. 
 Until one day, at Holyrood, 
 
 My path was crossed by Lethington. 
 He met me with a meaniag smile 
 
 That almost deepened to a sneer, 
 I knew the man was steeped in wile, 
 
 And yet I thought his words sincere. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Lord Earl," he said, " in days of old. 
 As I have heard the story told, 
 There reigned a king in Lydian land 
 Who had a beauteous wife ; 
 
118 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 But kings right seldom understand 
 The -worth of that which they possess, 
 And this weak monarch's shamelessness 
 
 Cost him his crown and life. 
 I need not now the tale rehearse, 
 For stUl it lives in minstrel's verse ; 
 
 This only shall I say. 
 That he who 'venged the lady's wrong 
 Was far too wise to tarry long 
 
 Before he claimed the sway. 
 Trust me, when fortune beckons on, 
 And danger in the path is none, 
 
 'Tis madness to delay !" 
 
 " You speak in riddles !" " Surely no : 
 
 Is not my meaning broad and clear ? 
 Look but around — where breathes the foe 
 
 Whose hatred you have cause to fear ?" 
 " Ay, but the Queen ! 'Twere doubly base 
 
 For me to press, as yet, my claim ; 
 To urge her to her own disgrace, 
 
 And taint her honour and her fame. 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 119 
 
 I stand suspected ; even here 
 
 Men deem me guilty of the sin ; 
 And though their tongues are bound by fear, 
 
 I know what thoughts they keep within. 
 England abhors me. England's Queen 
 
 Detests the man she could not buy : 
 Yes ! there had less of rancour been, 
 
 Were I a caitiff and a spy ! 
 Now — say that I advanced my suit, 
 
 And Mary yielded me her hand, 
 Would not rebellion start to foot, 
 
 And treason rage throughout the land ? 
 Her foes could find no better proof 
 
 Of all that slander dared to say, 
 And honest men would stand aloof, 
 
 And friends draw from her in dismay !" 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Yea — does your foresight reach so far ? 
 Men deemed, Lord Bothwell, you were born 
 
 Beneath a rash and fiery star 
 
 That ever prompted you to scorn 
 All prudent counsel. You have worn 
 
120 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 Eight well the mask ; but now I see, 
 
 You are as wise in policy 
 
 As swift in action — list to me. 
 
 How stand you at the present hour ? 
 
 The first in place, the first in power ! 
 
 No other noble in the land 
 
 Hath such a wide and strong command. 
 
 Singly you might defy them all, 
 
 If they were leagued to work your fall ; 
 
 And yet the first and greatest Lords 
 
 Are pledged your honour to maintain. 
 And they are ready with their swords 
 
 To prove they did not swear in vain. 
 What you have risked for them they know ; 
 
 All were approvers of the deed ; 
 Nor is there one so mean and low 
 
 As leave you in the hour of need, — 
 So it is now ; but who dare say 
 To-morrow shall be like to-day ? 
 A common danger keeps us bound. 
 
 That past, the league will sunder quite, 
 New foes will rise as from the ground, 
 
 New perUs hover into sight. 
 
[V. BOTHWBLL. 121 
 
 Oh, then take heed, lest, being strong, 
 You count too much upon your power ; 
 
 Occasion never proffers long. 
 
 It comes and passes in an hour !" 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Truce with thy proverbs, man ! they fill 
 
 With sound, and nothing else, mine ear — 
 Speak of the Queen, — ^her royal will 
 
 Must surely count for something here ? " 
 " My Lord — this Scottish crown of ours, 
 
 August and ancient though it be. 
 Doth yet confer but stiated powers, 
 
 And is but royal in degree. 
 He whom the nobles hail as king 
 
 Becomes the foremost of them all ; 
 He passes first in listed ring. 
 
 In battle, banquet, bower, or hall. 
 He leads our armies to the field. 
 The laws are his to guard and wield ; 
 
 And yet 'tis widely known. 
 Without the concert of his peers. 
 
122 BOTHWELL. pah 
 
 No Scottish king, these thousand years, 
 
 Hath ever kept the throne. 
 Is it not time for concert now ? 
 The crown is on a woman's brow, 
 The people, by the preachers led, 
 Heap insults on her royal head — 
 She stands alone, without a mate 
 
 On whom her arm might lean — 
 Why sleep the guardians of the State ? 
 Their voice is strong, their powers are great ; 
 
 Let them direct the Queen ! " 
 
 " Thanks, Maitland, thanks ! I see thy aim- 
 By heaven, it shall be done ! 
 
 If Scotland's peers support my claim. 
 The prize is almost won ! 
 
 Ay, and who dare impeach their choice ? 
 
 Let me but gain the nobles' voice. 
 
 And rumour, like a rated cur. 
 Must shrink into its den ; 
 
 Let factions rise, or treason stir, 
 I well can face them then ! 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 123 
 
 About it straight I Let Morton sign, 
 
 Huntley and Cassilis, Crawford too — 
 Their fortunes are compact with mine ; 
 
 When they stand forward, not a few 
 For loTe, or dread, or shame will join. 
 Ruthven wiU foUow, nothing loth : 
 Errol, Argyle — I have them both. 
 And hark'ye — sound the bishops, man ! 
 
 Each reverend name is worth a score — 
 Place old St Andrews in the van. 
 
 He'll bring us Orkney, Ross, and more. 
 About it straight ! The time's complete ; 
 
 AH timorous thoughts I trample down .• 
 He must not walk with idle feet 
 
 Who seeks to win and wear a crown ! " 
 
 They gave it me — that fatal Band ; 
 
 I held their honour in my hand. 
 
 Lords, whose great names were widely known 
 
 Ere Malcolm Camnore filled the throne ; 
 
 Chieftains, who ruled their broad domains 
 
 As freely as a monarch reigns, 
 
124 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Around whose banners reared on high 
 Would flock our Scottish chivalry ; 
 Grave prelates who, in former days, 
 
 Before the Church was rent in twain, 
 Had won the people's worthless praise 
 
 And bore the crozier not in vain — 
 The great, the noble, wise, and free, 
 They, one and all, were bound to me ! 
 No miser ever clutched his gold 
 
 More keenly than did I the scroll, 
 I conned it over, fold by fold, 
 
 I weighed each name upon the roU. 
 
 " And now," thought I, " though fortune change, 
 
 My place is firm, my seat secure ; 
 Yea, let her like a falcon, range 
 
 In wilful flight o'er moss and moor ! 
 Nothing, I feel, can shake me now ; 
 
 The strength of Scotland backs my claim. 
 'Tis but the loosing of a vow, 
 
 A parting from a ready dame ; 
 A wooing, neither hard nor long. 
 
 For Mary cannot but comply ; 
 
v. BOTHWBLL. 125 
 
 And then — the child was never strong, 
 
 Sickness may smite him, and heTl die — 
 Infants ^ie easy — and I reign ! 
 
 Ha, ha ! Elizabeth may fret. 
 And Cecil vex his restless brain : 
 
 I'll make them know me better yet ! 
 For let them dare to disallow 
 
 My claim of right — and, by my head, 
 Before a year goes by, they'll trow 
 
 That Bruce has risen from the dead ! " 
 
 XXI. 
 
 There was a knocking. " 'Sdeath ! what fool 
 
 Comes here to interrupt me now ? 
 Ha ! Ormiston, my trusty friend — 
 
 "Welcome, — but why that gloomy brow ? 
 Be joyful, man ! — all's done, all's sure." — 
 
 " "What's done ? you're not her husband yet ?" 
 " No— but my claim is made secure ;. 
 
 This Band, to which the Lords have set 
 Their names and seals " — " Is like the rest. 
 
 Parchment and ink — I know them well — 
 Good faith hath been a stranger guest 
 
 Since Scottish nobles learned to spell. 
 
126 BOTHWELL. paet 
 
 Your own brave father woo'd a Queen — 
 
 This Mary's mother. I have seen 
 
 The letters written by her hand, 
 
 Far clearer than that doubtful Band, 
 
 With promise, oath, and token too ; 
 
 He deemed himself secure, like you, 
 
 Yet died he in a foreign land. 
 
 0, never rest your faith on words ; 
 
 Pens are for priests ; trust nought but swords ! 
 
 Clerks torture language to conceal 
 
 Their inward thoughts, and cheat the eye ; 
 There's honesty in naked steel, 
 
 It rings too sharply for a lie ! " 
 
 " A cheerful counsellor art thou ! 
 
 What next ? If nothing worse portend. 
 Relax the rigour of thy brow. 
 
 And speak to me as friend with friend. 
 Why — still thou lookest stem and strange- 
 
 What is it that thou hast to tell?" 
 " Listen and mark. The Laird of Grange, 
 
 Kirkaldy, whom we know full well 
 
[V. BOTHWELL. 127 
 
 To be as resolute a knight 
 
 As lives witliui this Scottish land — 
 No better ever ruled a fight, 
 
 No wiser ever held command — 
 Accuses you in open day 
 
 Of Darnle/s murder ! " " Dares he so ? 
 And was there none his tongue to stay, 
 
 No hand to deal a dagger-blow?" 
 
 " On even field I would not fear 
 To meet Kirkaldy spear to spear ; 
 But shame it were to touch his life 
 Through vassal's dirk or yeoman's knife ! 
 Know you the power he holds in Fife ? 
 He can array, at trumpet call, 
 The Leslies and the Melvilles all ; 
 Though but a knight of gentle strain. 
 No Lord can summon such a train. 
 Since Wallace, none has known the art, 
 Like him, to win the people's heart ; 
 Burghers, who scowl or turn aside 
 When peers and bishops proudly ride, 
 
128 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Would do Mm service on their knee, 
 And vail to Mm the bonnet free. 
 The preachers, who are hard to bend, 
 Regard Mm as their stanchest friend ; 
 He guides their council, wields their will,. 
 He bids them clamour or be stUl ; 
 Of evU omen is the day 
 That brings Kirkaldy to the fray I" 
 
 " So then, that champion of misrule 
 
 Aspires to measure swords with me ? 
 He comes too late ! I were a fool 
 
 To match with one of Ms degree. 
 My challenge stood unanswered long, 
 
 He might have offered when 'twas new ; 
 m not be baited by the throng. 
 
 And bide his knightship's leisure too !" 
 
 " Despise him not ; his plans are laid, 
 
 His friends are numbered and arrayed ; 
 
 Their watchword is ' The Queen ! ' 
 
IV. BOTHWBLL. 129 
 
 They say that you, and you alone, 
 Are guilty of the murder done — 
 
 Of Damley's death, I mean. 
 Nay, hear me out ! — Tis childish now 
 To wince at words — On you they throw 
 All the huge burden of the charge : 
 Mark that ! — ^for Morton walks at large. 
 Your CYery scheme is traced and known ; 
 They say you seek to moimt the throne 
 By aid of your associate Lords ; 
 
 They say the Prince — you need not chafe, 
 I but repeat the people's words — 
 
 Within your hands were barely safe. 
 They say " 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " What care I for their prate ? 
 
 The sordid knaves may howl and groan ; 
 Not theirs to overrule my fate, 
 
 Or bar my passage to the throne ! 
 Let twenty knights of greater worth 
 Than this Kirkaldy venture forth. 
 Of what avaU would be their stand 
 Against the nobles of the land ? 
 
130 BOTHWELL. part iv. 
 
 I tell thee, man, their names are here ; 
 
 They urge my marriage with the Queen." 
 " Hath she consented 1" " No — 'tis clear 
 
 Some little space must intervene : 
 She has not thrown her weeds aside." 
 
 " She knows your purpose ? " " She may guess." 
 " What ! do you count upon a bride 
 
 Before her lips have answered. Yes ? 
 Never spoke I with courtly dame, 
 But women are throughout the same ; 
 The lowest lass in Teviotdale 
 That goes a-milking with her paU, 
 Is mistress of her heart and hand. 
 And wUl not yield them at command. 
 Lovers must bend, and fawn, and sue 
 
 To maids of high or low degree ; 
 The wooing may be rough, 'tis true, 
 
 Yet, nathless, wooing there must be. 
 That parchment no assurance gives — 
 
 I see not how it aids your aim. 
 You are not free : your Countess lives ; 
 
 She may refuse to waive her claim. 
 Come now — be frank with me, my Lord ! 
 
 Something of courtly craft I know — 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 131 
 
 Who brought you this ? for, by my word, 
 I hold him less your friend than foe!" 
 
 " 'Twas Lethington I" " Why, he's in league 
 
 With Morton and Kirkaldy too ! 
 The busiest spider of intrigue 
 
 That ever simple Scotland knew ! 
 This web is of his weaving, then ? 
 
 We'll burst it yet ! The Queen's away ?" 
 " She passed with Huntley and his men 
 
 To Stirling Castle yesterday." 
 "When comes she back?" "To-morrow." "Good! 
 Now listen — ^here, in Holyrood, 
 You cannot gain the Queen's consent ; 
 Within a week the storm, now pent, 
 Will break in fury on your head. 
 The Commons, by Kirkaldy led, 
 
 WlU thunder at the palace gate ; 
 And, were you innocent as Knox, 
 When captured at St Andrews rocks. 
 
 Your friends must leave you to your fate. 
 
132 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " Be ruled by me — ^forestall the time ! 
 
 Surprise is fair in love or war ; 
 A little urging is no crime — 
 
 Take Mary with you to Dunbar ! 
 Thanks to the knave who brought me word, 
 Kirkaldy set us on our guard : 
 I have a thousand horsemen here, 
 From Crichton and from Teviotdale, 
 Men who were never known to faU, 
 AU ready, armed with jack and spear. 
 Around Dunbar the waters sweep ; 
 
 Meet place for meditation lone, 
 When he who owns the castle-keep 
 
 Is host and lover, both in one ! 
 Take, too, the Band ; it may suffice 
 To stiU some doubts, should such arise ! 
 'Twere pity that her Royal Grace 
 
 Saw not that dutiful demand !— 
 Now, I have told you aU the case ; 
 
 Lord BothweU, will you touch my hand ? 
 Nay, never shrink — 'tis now too late ; 
 
 To-morrow must the deed be done ; 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 133 
 
 You'll find me at the western gate, 
 With all our men equipped, by one. 
 
 I know the road ; we'll meet them there, 
 Then hey o'er meadow, heath, and hill ! 
 
 Come now, be brave ! — ^All bids us fair — 
 WUt thou do this ? " " Your hand— I will ! " 
 
PAET FIFTH. 
 
PART FIFTH. 
 
 Ascension morn ! I hear the bells 
 
 Eing from the Tillage far away : 
 How solemnly that music tells 
 
 The mystic story of the day ! 
 Fainter and fainter come the chimes, 
 
 As though they melted into air, 
 Like voices of the ancient times, 
 
 Like whispers of ascending prayer ! 
 So sweet and gentle sound they yet. 
 
 That I, who never bend the knee, 
 Can listen on, and half forget 
 
 That heaven's bright door is shut for me. 
 Yes, universal as the dew, 
 
 Which falls alike on field and fen, 
 Comes the wide summons to the true, 
 
 The false, the best, and worst of men. 
 
138 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Eing on, ye bells ! Let others tkrong 
 
 Before the blessed rood to pray ; 
 Let them have comfort in the song 
 
 That celebrates this holy day. 
 King on for them ! I hear you well, 
 
 But cannot lift my thoughts on high ; 
 The dreary mists that rise from hell 
 
 Come thick between me and the sky ! 
 
 God, I wish that I were dead ! 
 
 That I had died long, long ago. 
 With but such sin upon my head 
 
 As men of dull temptations know ! 
 We cleave to life, yet never deem 
 
 That life may be a curse and snare — 
 Far better with the dead to dream. 
 
 Than wake in torture and despair. 
 yes, I can be humble now ! 
 
 Sometimes my mood is stem and wild, 
 Yet often I must stoop my brow. 
 
 And weep as weakly as a child. 
 Defiance bums within me yet. 
 
 But none are near me to defy ; 
 
BOTHWELL. 139 
 
 I cannot palter or forget. 
 
 Or cheat my conscience with a lie. 
 I have shed blood, and rued it sore, 
 
 Because it was not knightly done ; 
 Yet were that aU my guilt — no more — 
 
 It well might brook comparison 
 With deeds that, in the preachers' eyes, 
 Appear a righteous sacrifice. 
 They own no saints ; else, weU I ween, 
 A saint had Norman Leslie been : 
 Norman, that fiery youth and bold, 
 Who forced his way to Beatoun's hold, 
 And saw, umnoved, the murderer's knife 
 Let out the Primate's throbbing life. 
 Though private feud, not holy zeal. 
 Set Norman forward with his steel. 
 Yet his was styled a godly deed. 
 Because he made a bishop bleed. 
 Witchcraft has charms to daze the sight ; 
 
 Strange glamour has religion too : 
 It makes the wrong appear the right. 
 
 The false as worthy as the true ! 
 The ten commandments dwindle down, 
 
 In case of pious need, to nine ; 
 
140 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Murder no more provokes a frown, 
 'Tis justified by texts divine ! 
 
 Away, away with thoughts like these ! 
 
 Take them, ye winds, and whelm them, seas ! 
 
 Por other memories haunt me. Yes ; 
 
 As greater billows drown the less. 
 
 So one dark surge within my breast 
 
 Roars up, and overwhelms the rest. 
 
 It might be foul, it might be wrong 
 
 To slay the man I hated long ; 
 
 But 0, what mercy from above 
 
 Can he entreat who strikes at love ? 
 
 Methinks I can recall the scene. 
 That bright and sunny day ; 
 
 The Pentlands in their early green 
 Like giant warders lay. 
 
 Upon the bursting woods below 
 The pleasant sunbeams fell ; 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 141 
 
 Far oif, one streak of lazy snow 
 
 Yet lingered in a deU. 
 The westlin' winds blew soft and sweet. 
 
 The meads were fair to see ; 
 Yet went I not the spring to greet 
 
 Beneath the trysting-tree. 
 
 For blades were glistening in the Ught, 
 
 And morions flashing clear : 
 A thousand men in armour bright 
 
 Were there with jack and spear. 
 A thousand men, as brave and stout 
 
 As ever faced a foe. 
 Or stemmed the roaring battle-tide 
 
 When fiercest in its flow. 
 But cold and cheerless was their mien, 
 
 And faint their welcome then : — • 
 " Why, Ormiston ! what sullen fiend 
 
 Hath so possessed the men ? 
 They look like images in steel, 
 
 Not vassals prompt and true : 
 Think you they know or guess the work. 
 
 And will they bear us through ?" 
 
142 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " Fear not for that ! No single knave 
 
 Will faU you at your need ; 
 Were it to gallows or to grave, 
 
 They'd foUow vrhere I lead. 
 Give but the signal for the south. 
 
 Or 'gainst the townsmen here, 
 And, fast enough, from every mouth 
 
 WiU peal the deafening cheer ! 
 Nothing need they but action, sir. 
 
 To make them fierce and fain : 
 Last night their blood began to stir ; 
 
 'Twas pity to refrain ! 
 A blow or two on yonder crew 
 
 Right well had been bestowed ! 
 But more anon : the day wears on ; 
 
 'Tis time to take the road. 
 Hay, bid the trumpets sound the march ; 
 
 Go, Bolton, to the van ; 
 Young Niddrie follows with the rear ; 
 
 Set forward, every man \" 
 
BOTHWBLL. 143 
 
 " But what hath chanced ? The streets are clear ; 
 
 I saw no gathering throng : 
 No sound of tumult reached my ear, 
 
 Now, as I passed along." 
 "0, sir ! the Edinburgh folk are wise ; 
 They know the value of disguise ! 
 Short warning give they of the fray. 
 For they are hounds that do not bay 
 
 Until they tear you down ; 
 But weU is it for us to-day, 
 
 That we have left the town. 
 I knew that danger was at hand, 
 
 But deemed it not so nigh ; 
 Your chance was lost, despite the Band, 
 
 Had this one day gone by. 
 Kirkaldy's friends have laid their plot. 
 
 They know our purpose well. 
 You start — thank God, they ventured not 
 
 To sound St Giles's beU ! 
 Then had the craftsmen rushed to arms ; 
 
 And iU it were to strive. 
 
144 BOTHWELL. 
 
 With hampered men, against the swarms 
 
 Lodged in yon waspish hive I 
 Had Morton joined them with his might. 
 
 Or message come from Mar, 
 Why, you and I this self-same night 
 
 Had lodged within Dunhar ; 
 Not, as I trust, with royal guest; 
 
 At will to entertain. 
 But with some score of beaten men 
 
 Too scared to draw the rein. 
 The townsfolk can be dangerous foes, 
 
 If roused within their den ; 
 Good faith ! and, if it comes to blows. 
 
 They bear themselves like men ! 
 
 " Last night they tried our troopers' faith ; 
 
 And many a can of ale 
 Was emptied to Queen Mary's health 
 
 By lads of Liddesdale. 
 Frankly, the burghers played the host ; 
 
 And aU was merry game, 
 Till one gruff elder of the Kirk 
 
 Waxed wrathful at your name. 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 145 
 
 Short say was his and incomplete ; 
 
 For, as he cleared his throat, 
 An Armstrong had him by the feet, 
 
 A Johnstone by the coat. 
 Amidst the brawl, arose the caU 
 
 Of ' Douglas for the town ! 
 Ho ! rally for the Bleeding Heart, 
 
 And bear the Hepburns down !' 
 That cry was ready and designed, 
 It rung through street, and pealed through wynd, 
 
 But Morton was not there. 
 Yet bear it ever in your mind, 
 And guard against the stab behind 
 
 When Douglas speaks you fair ! 
 Right glad was I from yonder pack 
 
 Our men unscathed to bring ; 
 And when we ride in triumph back, 
 
 Lord Earl, Til hail thee King '." 
 
 " Hush, Ormiston ! I dare not think 
 
 Too closely of this thing \" 
 " What ! would you from the water shrink 
 
 When standing by the spring ? 
 
146 BOTHWELL. 
 
 I know you better, good my Lord ! 
 
 Your doubts are but a dream ; 
 They'll cease to haunt you when you see 
 
 The fresh and flowing stream. 
 And, by my soul, the hour has come ! 
 
 No pause or tarrying now ! 
 Mark yonder drifting cloud of dust 
 
 Above the orchard row — 
 Some thirty spears, not more, are there — 
 
 I reckon by their sheen : 
 And yonder is a knight in maU — 
 
 'Tis Huntley with the Queen ! 
 Ho, sound a halt ! Eide forward you ; 
 
 FU. foUow with my band : 
 Now, Bothwell, to yourself be true — 
 
 The crown is in your hand I" 
 
 True to myself? False — ^false as hell. 
 
 And false to aU beside ! 
 Yet what I did was acted well : 
 
 The devil was my guide. 
 For question left I little space ; 
 
 I spurred across the plain : 
 
BOTHWELL. 147 
 
 I met Queen Maiy, face to face, 
 And took her palfrey's rein. 
 
 " Pardon, my liege, if hot with haste 
 
 I fail in homage due ! 
 Too precious is the time to waste ; 
 
 My care is all for you. 
 Thanks to the warders at the gate, 
 Who showed their courage somewhat late, 
 
 I've brought my soldiers through ! 
 Madam ! rebellion rages wide 
 
 Within yon luckless town : 
 The craftsmen in tumultuous tide 
 
 To Holyrood sweep down ! 
 ' Fire, fire the chapel !' is their cry ; 
 
 ' No mass — no mumbled prayer ! 
 Hale forth the priests, and let them die : 
 Down, down with rank Idolatry ! 
 
 Smite, bum, and do not spare ! ' 
 Nay, Madam — never look so pale — 
 Your friends are safe. I did not fail 
 
 To send a trusty band. 
 Who, though perchance they cannot beat 
 
148 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 The rebels back, or clear the street, 
 
 Have this in strict command — 
 To make at least the passage good 
 Of all your train from Holyrood, 
 To Crichton, my ancestral home. 
 Where the false villains dare not come. 
 But you, our Lady and our Queen — 
 
 Your safety is my care : 
 One royal fortress yet remains. 
 
 We'll bring you bravely there. 
 I hold your castle of Dunbar, 
 The strongest keep equipped for war 
 
 Within the Lothians wide : 
 No other place is half so sure ; 
 There shall you rest iu peace, secure. 
 Until the nobles raise their men 
 To drive rebeUion back again — 
 
 Say, Madam, will you ride ? 
 Short is the space for parley now, 
 
 The road beset may be ; 
 But though we hew our passage through, 
 
 We'll bear your Highness free ! 
 Come, Lethington ! we wait your word : 
 
 What better can be done ? 
 
BOTHWELL. 149 
 
 Far is the ride ; but yet, my Lord, 
 
 There's nearer shelter none. 
 Safe is that hold from storm or siege. 
 
 However wide the war — 
 'Tis well resolved ! My gracious liege, 
 
 This night we reach Dunbar." 
 
 wretch, to fashion such a lie ! 
 
 slave, to ruin one so fair ! 
 false to faith and chivalry ! 
 
 villain, well may I despair ! 
 Why live I longer, since I know 
 
 That prayer and penitence are vain ; 
 Since hope is dead for me below, 
 
 And hell can give no ghastlier pain ? 
 Beneath the flags that, day by day, 
 
 Eetum dull echoes to my tread, 
 A grave is hollowed ia the clay ; 
 
 It waits the coming of the dead : 
 A grave apart, a grave unknown, 
 
 A grave of solitude and shame. 
 Whereon shall lie no sculptured stone 
 
 With legend of a warrior's name. 
 
150 BOTHWELL. 
 
 would it yawn to take me in, 
 
 And bind me, soul and body, down ! 
 could it hide me and my sin. 
 
 When the last trumpet-blast is blown ! 
 might one guilty form remain 
 
 Unsummoned to that awful crowd, 
 When all the chiefs of BothweU's strain 
 
 Shall rise from sepulchre and shroud ! 
 How could I meet their stony stare — 
 
 How could I see my father's face — 
 I, the one tainted felon there. 
 
 The foul Iscariot of my race ? 
 
 I sought her presence in the hall — 
 
 Not as a knight prepared to woo. 
 But like a faltering criminal 
 
 Who knows not what to say or do. 
 I told the story once again 
 
 Of wide rebellion in the land. 
 Of clamour raised against her reign, 
 
 Of treason by the preachers planned. 
 I told her that the English Queen 
 
 Was bent to drive her from the throne. 
 
V. BOTHWBLL. 151 
 
 That still Elizabeth's aim had been 
 
 To rule in Britain's isle, alone. 
 " Madam," I said ; " Though great her power, 
 
 Trust me, that woman's craft is vain ; 
 Nor any town, nor any tower. 
 
 Shall she usurp on Scottish plain. 
 Though knaves and hypocrites combine, 
 
 Though the old faith be trampled down. 
 We'll rally round our royal line. 
 
 And perish ere they wrong the Crown ! 
 
 " Yet, Madam, plainly must I speak — 
 
 And 0, forgive me if I say 
 A lady's arm is all too weak 
 
 The sceptre and the sword to sway ! 
 Changed are the times from those of yore, 
 
 When duty was a sacred thing. 
 When loyal hearts the people bore. 
 
 And priests were subject to the king. 
 Not now, upon the Sabbath day, 
 Are men exhorted to obey, 
 Nor do they meet to kneel and pray. 
 
152 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Savage and wild the preacher stands, 
 And imprecates with lifted hands 
 The wrath of Heaven upon the head 
 Of all who differ from his creed. 
 Nor only that ; the pulpit rings 
 With lying tales of priests and kings. 
 Bold in his self-commissioned cause, 
 He hurls defiance at the laws. 
 And bids his hearers bare the sword, 
 Against their rulers, for the Lord ! 
 since your father, royal James, 
 
 Sighed out his life in Falkland tower, 
 How many churches, wrapped in flames. 
 
 Have witnessed to the spoilers' power ! 
 Amidst the jeers of knave and clown 
 Altar and fane came thundering down ; 
 The abbeys, where the poor were fed. 
 Have now no inmates but the dead, 
 And wild birds feed their caUow young 
 In aisles where once the anthem rung. 
 
 " And deem not that their rage is passed — 
 It lives, it bums within them still ; 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 153 
 
 Misrule and anarchy will last 
 
 While those wild preachers have their will. 
 This new rebellion shows their mood ; 
 
 Altar and throne alike must down : 
 The hands that tore away the hood 
 
 Are eager to profane the Crown ! 
 
 " But we can stay them in their course ; 
 
 And this the counsel of the wise — 
 Force must be met, and fought by force. 
 
 Else Scotland, as a kingdom, dies. 
 The nobles who allowed their aid 
 
 To help the growing power, 
 Shrink from the monster they have made 
 
 Insatiate to devour. 
 Keady are they with heart and hand 
 To crush rebellion ia the land ; 
 All private quarrel to forego. 
 And league against the common foe. 
 Such, Lady, is their full intent, 
 And this the token they have sent. 
 Behold their names — recorded here 
 Are those of prelate, statesman, peer : 
 
154 BOTHWELL. 
 
 ■ The heart of Scotland and its might 
 In this great bond of love unite, 
 And never more shall treason dare 
 To lift its head in open air 
 Against a brotherhood so fair ! 
 
 " But, Madam, something they require — 
 
 that I might from speech refrain ! 
 Scarce can I utter their desire, 
 
 Or speak a prayer that may be vain ' 
 Yet must I do it. Lady ! see — 
 With throbbing heart and bended knee 
 Thus low before your royal seat 
 I pour my homage at your feet ! 
 0, by the heaven that spreads above. 
 
 By all that man holds fond and dear ! 
 I had not dared to teU my love. 
 
 Or breathe that secret in your ear. 
 But for the urgence of the time. 
 When silence almost is a crime — 
 But for the danger to the throne, 
 James Hepburn to his grave had gone, 
 
 And never knelt as now ! 
 
BOTHWBLL. 155 
 
 Nay, gracious Madam — do not rise ; 
 Well can I fathom the surprise 
 
 That sits upon your brow ! 
 Were I by wild ambition stirred, 
 
 Or moved by selfish aim, 
 Then might you spurn my suit preferred, 
 Bid me begone, condemned, unheard. 
 
 And ever loathe my name. 
 Nay more — for frankly will I speak — 
 The marriage bonds I wear, though weak, 
 
 Would stm have tied my tongue ; 
 Nor from my heart had friend or priest, 
 WhUe life yet ebbed withia my breast. 
 
 This free confession wrung ! " 
 
 SUent and stUl, though pale as death. 
 Queen Mary kept her throne. 
 
 But for the heaving of her breast, 
 She seemed of marble stone. 
 
 Scarce by a gesture did she show 
 What thoughts were rushing by. 
 
 noblest work of God ! — ^how low. 
 
156 BOTHWBLL. p* 
 
 How mean I felt when grovelling so, 
 
 With every word a lie ! 
 " And can it be," at length she said, 
 " That Bothwell has his Queen betrayed ? 
 Bothwell, my first and foremost knight — 
 Bothwell, whose faith I deemed more bright. 
 More pure than any spotless gem 
 That glitters in my diadem ? 
 Great God ! what guilt of me or mine 
 Hath thus provoked thy wrath divine ? 
 Weary, though short, has been my life ; 
 For dangers, sickness, murders, strife, 
 All the worst woes that man can fear. 
 Have thickened round me year by year. 
 The smiles of love I scarce had seen 
 
 Ere death removed them from my view ; 
 My realm had scarce received its Queen 
 
 Ere treason's hideous trumpet blew. 
 They whom I sought to make my friends, 
 
 My very kin, proved false to me ; 
 And now before me Bothwell bends 
 
 In falsehood, not in faith, the knee ! 
 Nay, nay, my Lord ! you need not speak. 
 
 For I have read your purpose through ; 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 157 
 
 There is a blush upon your cheek 
 
 Which tells me that my words are true. 
 
 Bothwell I was this a knightly deed, 
 
 To wrong a woman in her need. 
 
 When neither help nor friends were nigh. 
 
 And snare her with an odious He? 
 
 False was the tale that brought me here. 
 False even as the love you feign ; 
 
 And now you think, perhaps through fear, 
 Your Queen and Mistress to restrain I" 
 
 Stung to the quick, but bolder far. 
 As men detected ever are, 
 
 I answered her again — 
 " Madam ! if I have erred through love, 
 I look for pardon from above. 
 
 And shall not look in vain. 
 True love is prompt, and will not wait 
 TUl chance or hazard ope the gate. 
 Not mine the arts that gallants own 
 Who sigh and circle round the throne. 
 Content a lady's glove to wear 
 As their sole guerdon from the fair. 
 
158 BOTHWELL. 
 
 A soldier I, with little time, 
 
 And little used, I trow, 
 To bend, or fawn, or Usp in rhyme. 
 
 As courtly minions do. 
 If I am plain and blunt of mood, 
 
 My sword is sharp and keen ; 
 And never have I spared my blood 
 
 In combat for my Queen. 
 Why, Madam, should you speak of fear ? 
 I used no force to bring you here. 
 This castle is a royal hold ; 
 
 Above, upon the turret high, 
 The Ruddy Lion ramps in gold. 
 
 Brave sign of Scotland's majesty. 
 Safe as in Holyrood you bide. 
 With friends around you and beside, 
 
 And here you keep your state. 
 Say that I longed to speak my mind, 
 To tell you what the peers designed — 
 To plead my cause, however rude. 
 Where no rash meddler might intrude — 
 
 Was that a crime so great ? 
 Ah, Madam, be not so unkind ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 159 
 
 If love is hasty, it is blind, 
 And will not bear to wait." 
 
 Then rose she up ; and on her brow 
 
 Was stamped the Stuart frown : — 
 " By all the saints in heaven, I vow 
 
 This man would bear me down ! 
 He prates of love, as if my hand 
 
 Were but a sworder's prize. 
 That any ruffian in the land 
 
 Might challenge or despise ! 
 What mad ambition prompts you, sir, 
 
 To utter this to me ? 
 What word of mine has raised your hopes 
 
 In such a wild degree ? 
 I gave you trust, because I deemed 
 
 Your honour free from stain ; 
 I raised you to the highest place 
 
 That subject could attain. 
 Because I thought you brave and true. 
 
 And fittest to command. 
 When murder stalked in open day. 
 
 And treason shook the land. 
 
160 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 Are these your thanks for all my grace, 
 
 Is this your knightly vow ? 
 Fie, Bothwell ! hide your perjured face — 
 
 There's falsehood on your brow ! " 
 
 Swift as the adder rears its head 
 When trampled by the shepherd's tread, 
 Sprang up my pride ; for word of scorn 
 By me was never tamely borne. 
 Like liquid fire through every vein 
 The blood rushed burning to my brain ; 
 All the worst passions of my soul 
 Broke out at once beyond control. 
 No longer did I strive to woo ; 
 Pity, remorse, away I threw. 
 And, desperate that my aim was seen, 
 T, as a rebel, faced my Queen ! 
 
 " Madam ! I sought in gentle guise 
 To win your royal ear ; 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 161 
 
 Since humble speech will not suffice, 
 In words unblent with courtesies 
 
 My message shall you hear. 
 I speak not for myself alone ; 
 But for the noblest near your throne, 
 Who know the weakness of the State, 
 And wiU not longer brook to wait, 
 Lest valour be aroused too late. 
 Deeply the Lords of Scotland mourn 
 
 The woeful cause of this your grief ; 
 The fate which left their Queen forlorn, 
 
 And took away their Prince and chief 
 But sorrow, though it wring the heart, 
 
 Hath yet a limit to its range ; 
 And duty must resume its part 
 
 Since even empires wane and change. 
 Therefore they pray you, of your grace. 
 
 To put aside the garb of dule, 
 And choose some mate of Scottish race 
 
 To aid you in the sovereign rule. 
 You need a guardian for your son. 
 And they a chief to lead them on. 
 There's not a man but will rejoice 
 To haU the partner of your choice : 
 
162 BOTHWELL. 
 
 To Mm obedience will they yield, 
 Him wiU they follow to the field ; 
 And deal so strictly with your foes, 
 
 Whether abroad or here. 
 That the wide land shall gain repose, 
 
 And good men cease to fear. 
 
 XXIII, 
 
 " So say the Lords : and aU agree 
 To follow and be ruled by me. 
 Traced on this parchment are the names 
 Of those who own and urge^^my claims. 
 Therefore the suit which you despise 
 Seems not so strange to other eyes ; 
 Nor, Madam, were it safe or wise 
 
 To thwart their wishes now. 
 Alone, 'tis clear you cannot stand ; 
 For not the sceptre, but the brand. 
 Must still the tumults of the land, 
 
 And lay rebellion low. 
 Your nobles profiler weU and fair ; 
 They wait your answer to their prayer, 
 Not doubting that your Grace will own 
 Their deep devotion to the throne. 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 163 
 
 And now, 'twere best I tell you plain, 
 Resistance to their prayer is vaia. 
 Their will — or, if you think the word 
 Too harsh — their counsel must be heard I 
 I am no madman, fond and blind, 
 
 No fool to court contempt and shame ; 
 Nor did I hope to sway your mind 
 
 By any oaths that love can frame. 
 Well know I, Madam, what I do. 
 
 And what awaits me if I fail : 
 I stand not here to fawn or sue, 
 
 I came determined to prevail ! 
 Think not that rashly I provoke 
 The sentence and the headsman's stroke ! 
 Dream not of rescue — none will come ; 
 As well seek answer from the dumb ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " Nay, if you doubt me, send and try. 
 No harsh or timid gaoler I ! 
 Your messengers have leave to go 
 Where water runs or breezes blow. 
 Send forth your summons — warn them all ! 
 Tell every noble, far and near. 
 
164 BOTHWELL. pa 
 
 That Bothwell lured you to Ms hall, 
 
 And holds you as a captive here. 
 Bid Morton come, bid Cassilis arm ; 
 
 Call Errol, Caithness, and Argyle ; 
 Give order for the loud alarm 
 
 To ring through strath and sound o'er isle. 
 Call Lethington, your trustiest friend ; 
 
 Warn Herries of this rude surprise — 
 How many lances will they send ? 
 
 Believe me, not a man will rise ! 
 Bound to my cause is every peer ; 
 With their consent I brought you here : 
 And here your Highness must remain. 
 
 And queU your woman's pride ; 
 TiU from Dunbar a joyous train 
 
 To Holyrood shall ride. 
 With Bothwell at your palfrey's rein, 
 
 And you his willing bride !" 
 
 tiger heart ! that fiercer grew 
 With every anguished breath she drew- 
 That gloated on her quivering eye. 
 And trance of mortal agony ! 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 165 
 
 savage beast ! most justly driven 
 
 By man from home, by God from heaven ! 
 What fitter refuge could I have 
 
 Than this neglected lair, 
 Where, grovelling o'er my empty grave, 
 
 1 yet am free to howl and rave. 
 
 And rend my grizzly hair ? 
 O well becomes it me to rage 
 
 At crimes of other men. 
 To snarl defiance from my cage. 
 
 And antic in my den — 
 I, than all others guiltier far. 
 
 So vUe, so lost, so mean ! 
 fade from heaven, thou evening star, 
 
 I cannot bear thy sheen ! 
 
 Hopeless, abandoned to despair, 
 
 What else could Mary do but yield ? 
 
 I took her hand — she left it there ; 
 'Twas cold and white as frost on field. 
 
 I tried to comfort her ; a burst 
 Of frenzied tears was her reply : 
 
166 BOTHWBLL. pa 
 
 For ever be the deed accurst 
 
 That forced such witness from her eye I 
 Dim as an unregarded lamp, 
 
 Her light of life was on the wane, 
 And on her brow was set the stamp 
 
 Of utter misery and pain. 
 Like some caged bird that in dismay 
 
 Has fluttered till its strength is gone, 
 She had no power to fly away, 
 
 Though wide the prison-door was thrown. 
 In vain I strove to wake a smile, 
 
 In vain protested she was free, 
 For bitterly she felt the while 
 
 That henceforth she was bound to me ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Again I entered Holyrood ; 
 
 Not as an unexpected guest, 
 But, in the pride of masterhood. 
 
 With haughty eye and princely crest. 
 The cannon thundered welcome out ; 
 
 The magnates all were there ; 
 And though I missed the people's shout. 
 
 For them I did not care ; 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 167 
 
 More trusty than the rabble rout, 
 My troopers filled the square ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 No draught from magic herb or flower 
 
 Is equal to the taste of power ! 
 
 Eight royally I took my stand. 
 
 With knights and squires on either hand, 
 
 And gave due audience to the ring 
 
 As though I had been born a king ! 
 
 More wondrous yet — my altered tone 
 
 Seemed strange or malapert to none. 
 
 With deep respect and visage meek, 
 
 Each civic ruler heard me speak — ■ 
 
 Was proud my mandate to fulfil. 
 
 And bowed obedience to my will. 
 
 But when I turned me to the Peers, 
 
 Something there was that waked my fears : — 
 
 A guarded, cold, and formal air, 
 
 A staid retent of dignity, 
 
 A studied guise of courtesy, 
 
 Which faithful friends do never wear. 
 
 The greatest nobles did not come 
 
 To bid their Sovereign welcome home. 
 
168 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Or ratify ■with cordial hand 
 
 The weighty promise of their band. 
 
 Why kept they from me at the time 
 
 When most I lacked their aid ? 
 Was I, whom they had urged to crime, 
 
 Discarded and betrayed ? 
 Did they but league to tempt me on ? 
 
 Were aU their vows a lure ? 
 Even with my foot upon the throne, 
 
 I stood as insecure 
 As the rash huntsman on the lake 
 
 When winter slacks its spell, 
 Who feels the ice beneath him quake, 
 
 And dreads the treacherous well. 
 
 Yet not by look, or word, or sign. 
 
 Did I my fears betray ; 
 One sole desire and thought was mine. 
 
 To haste the wedding-day. 
 The law, though drowsy in its course, 
 Gave me, at length, a fuU divorce. 
 Nor did the Church refuse its aid. 
 Though Craig a stern remonstrance made. 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 169 
 
 C 
 
 He was a zealot like the rest, 
 
 But far more honest than his kind, 
 And would not yield without protest 
 
 A service hateful to his mind. 
 Warned by the past, I would not wait 
 
 Till Mary breathed again. 
 I did not ask for idle state. 
 For gathering of the proud and great, 
 
 Or pomp of nuptial train. 
 I spoke the word — she made me Duke. 
 
 I claimed her hand the self-same day : 
 And though Kke aspen-leaf she shook. 
 And wan and piteous was her look. 
 
 She did not answer. Nay ! 
 
 AU was accomplished. By my side 
 The Queen of Scotland knelt, a bride. 
 In face of Holy Kirk, her hand 
 Was linked with mine in marriage band ; 
 Her lips pronounced the solemn word ; 
 I rose, her husband and her lord ! 
 And now, what lacked I more ? 
 
170 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Around me thronged the guests to pay 
 Their duty on the wedding-day : 
 Proud and elate, I smiled on all 
 As master in that royal hall. 
 Scarce had I spoke, when clashing fell 
 
 A weapon on the floor ; 
 I trembled, for I knew it well — 
 
 The sword that Damley wore. 
 
PAET SIXTH. 
 
PART SIXTH. 
 
 THAT I were a mountaineer, 
 
 To dwell among the Highland MUs ! 
 To tread the heath, to watch the deer, 
 
 Beside the fountains of the rills — 
 To wander by the lonely lake 
 
 All silent in the evening's glow, 
 When, like a phantom, from the brake 
 
 Comes gliding past the stealthy roe— 
 Without a thought, without a care, 
 
 Without ambition, pomp, or crime, 
 To live a harmless peasant there, 
 
 And die at God's appointed time ! 
 Of what avail are wealth and power, 
 
 Eank, worship — aU we seek to win. 
 Unless they bring the priceless dower 
 
 Of rest, and hope, and peace within ? 
 
174 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 I had no peace ; if peace it be 
 
 To rest unscared, to wake secure, 
 To let the fancy wander free, 
 
 Or dream of pleasant things and pure : 
 To take sweet counsel with a friend, 
 
 Or, dearer, with a loving wife, 
 And sometimes gladly to unbend 
 
 The strained and weary bow of life. 
 Broken and feverish was my sleep. 
 
 For, all night long, within my room 
 Methought I heard the murderers creep, 
 
 And voices whisper through the gloom. 
 Nor, when the ghastly night was o'er. 
 
 Content or respite did I win ; 
 For guilt stood sentry at the door, 
 
 And challenged all who ventured in. 
 In fear I slept ; in fear I woke ; 
 
 In fear I lingered out the day ; 
 Whatever lord or courtier spoke, 
 
 I thought was uttered to betray. 
 I had no friends, save those whose fate 
 
 A common danger linked with mine — 
 
vr. BOTHWELL. 175 
 
 Men who provoked the people's hate, 
 And roared, like ruffians, o'er their wine. 
 
 The burghers heard the noisy brawl 
 
 That scared the swallows from their eaves. 
 
 And mourned that Scotland's royal hall 
 Should thus be made a den of thieves. 
 
 I had a wife — a fair one too — 
 
 But love I durst not even name ! 
 I kept aloof, for why renew 
 
 The memory of my sin and shame ? 
 She was my hostage, not my bride ; 
 
 Enough it was for me to know 
 She could not sever from my side, 
 
 Nor yet unsay the marriage-vow. 
 
 these were not my thoughts of yore, 
 When, free from fell "ambition's taint, 
 
 1 worshipped, as I knelt before 
 
 The queen, the woman, and the saint ! 
 My hand had torn the wings of love, 
 
 Profaned its temple, soiled its shrine ; 
 No pardon here, nor yet above. 
 
 Could granted be to guilt like mine ! 
 
176 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Pardon! I sought it not from men ; 
 
 I would not take it at their hand ! 
 I owned no judge, no master then ; 
 
 I was the lord within the land. 
 Pardon ! the word was made for slaves, 
 
 Not for a Sovereign Prince like me: 
 Lost is the man who pardon craves 
 
 From any baser in degree. 
 There is a peak of guilt so high, 
 
 That those who reach it stand above 
 The sweep of dull humanity. 
 
 The trail of passion and of love. 
 The lower clouds that dim the heaven, 
 
 Touch not the mountain's hoary crown. 
 And on the summit, thunder-riven, 
 
 God's lightning only smites them down ! 
 
 V. 
 
 for a war to make me freed ! 
 
 Had England but denied my claim, 
 And sent an army o'er the Tweed 
 
 To wrap the Border braes ni flame — 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 177 
 
 Then Scotland would hare risen indeed, 
 
 And foUo'^ed me, if bnt for shame ! 
 I might have met the foe in field. 
 
 And raised the Hepburn's name so high. 
 That none thenceforward on my shield 
 
 Could trace the bend of infamy. 
 I might have won the people's heart. 
 
 For aU. men love the stalwart arm ; 
 And valour triumphs over art. 
 
 As heroes burst a wizard's charm. 
 Once victor o'er my country's foes. 
 What lord in Scotland durst oppose 
 Her champion's rights, or mutter shame 
 Against my newly-gilded name. 
 All radiant with the gloss of fame ? 
 Nor to the preachers had I turned 
 Disdainful ear. I never spurned 
 Their doctrines, though I did not care, 
 And knew not what those doctrines were. 
 In truth, I thought the time had come 
 
 When every state in Europe wide 
 Should clear itself from bonds of Kome, 
 
 And let the Pontiff, deified, 
 
 M 
 
178 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 Deal with tlie candle, book, and beU, 
 In any way that pleased him well ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Men say the hills of Rome are high — 
 They are not loftier than our own ; 
 Let good Saint Peter's follower try- 
 How far his curses can be blown. 
 Loud must his ghostly thunder be 
 To roll so wide o'er land and sea ! 
 Our fathers in their desperate fight 
 For Scotland's freedom and her right — 
 When lay the valiant on their shields 
 As thick as sheaves in. autumn fields, 
 "When, in the raging battle-tide. 
 
 The banners of the foemen sunk — 
 Gave not their blood to swell the pride, 
 
 Or back the cause of Roman monk ! 
 I would have left the people free 
 
 To frame their worship at their will ; 
 To utter chaunt, or psalmody, 
 
 In kirk or abbey, glen or hill. 
 Preacher and priest alike should stand. 
 Have leave alike to teach and pray. 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 179 
 
 So that they owned the King's command, 
 Nor wandered widely from their way ; 
 
 For woe betide the luckless land 
 
 Where bigot churchmen bear the sway ! 
 
 But England moved not. England lay, 
 
 As doth the Kon in the brake. 
 When waiting for some noble prey, 
 
 With ear intent and eye awake : 
 I, like a wretched mongrel cur, 
 
 Might safely pass his couch before ; 
 Not for my snarling would he stir— 
 
 I was not worth the lion's roar ! 
 The courtiers left me; one by one, 
 
 Like shadows did they glide away ; 
 My old confederates all were gone — 
 
 Why should the fortune-hunters stay ? 
 
 There was dead sUence for a space : 
 A hush, as deep and still 
 
180 BOTHWBLL. PAR' 
 
 As on the lowly valley lies, 
 
 When clouds, surcharged with lightning, rise, 
 
 And loom along the hUl. 
 Then with a rush, the rumours came 
 
 Of gatherings near at hand, 
 Where nobles, knights, and chiefs of fame 
 Were arming in the Prince's name. 
 
 To drive me from the land! 
 And straightway through the city rose 
 
 The low and angry hum, 
 That tells of keen and bitter foes 
 
 Who cluster ere they come. 
 Post after post rode clattering in. 
 Loud rung the court with soldiers' din ; 
 For Bolton at the first alarm 
 Bade all the troopers rise and arm. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Aroused as if by trumpet-call, 
 
 I felt my spirit bound ; 
 No longer pent in hateful hall. 
 Now must I forth to fight or fall. 
 
 With men-at-arms around. 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 181 
 
 I cared not what the scouts might bring — 
 
 I hungered for the strife ; 
 When victor, I must reign as King ; 
 
 If vanquished, yield my life. 
 With spear in rest and visor down, 
 
 Twas but one mad career — 
 A glorious grave, or else a crown — 
 
 The sceptre or the bier ! 
 Aha ! there was no tarrying then ! 
 For prance of steed, and tramp of men, 
 And clash of arms, and hasty caU, 
 Were heard in court, and street, and haU. 
 Each trooper drew a heartier breath. 
 
 And keener glowed his eye ; 
 I knew that from the field of death 
 
 No man of mine would fly ! 
 
 " Give me your hand, brave Ormiston ! 
 
 My father loved you dear ! 
 Not better than you love his son — 
 For siaee the day that I could run. 
 
 Or shake a mimic spear, 
 
182 BOTHWBLL. pa 
 
 You were my guardian and my guide, 
 And never parted from my side 
 
 In danger, doubt, or fear. 
 Since then, old friend, we've held our course 
 
 Together on a slippery way ; 
 And I might tell you of remorse — 
 
 But not to-day — ^no, not to-day ! 
 There — ^let me feel that grasp again ! 
 I know not why, but I am fain 
 To utter more than suits the time. 
 Ambition ever leads to crime ; 
 
 And there's a forfeit all must pay. 
 Out on these thoughts ! They cleave to me 
 
 More closely than beseems the brave : 
 So — let the past forgotten be. 
 
 We'll lay it in the grave ! 
 
 " Now then ; what news ?" " This much I learn. 
 That Morton, Atholl, and Gleneaim, 
 Lindsay and Home, Kirkaldy, Mar, 
 Drumlanrig, Cessford, raise the war, 
 And yesterday arrayed their powers — 
 
vr. BOTHWBLL. 183 
 
 Not greater, say the scouts, than ours — 
 
 Upon a plain near Stirling's towers. 
 
 There may be more ; but these I know 
 
 Are drawn against us/' " Is it so ? 
 
 If it be mine, but once, to tread 
 
 Victorious on a field of dead, 
 
 I'll have that villain Morton's head ! 
 
 Atholl ? It is a monstrous sign, 
 
 When AthoU and Glencaim combine : 
 
 The friend of Eome, the preachers' boast, 
 
 Together in that motley host ! 
 
 Ah, now I see it ! Lethington, 
 
 That arch dissembler, stirs him on. 
 
 My evU genius, and my foe — 
 
 Fool that I was to let him go ! 
 
 A cell in yonder fortress grim. 
 
 Had been the fit abode for him. 
 
 What do the townsfolk ? Much I fear 
 
 The knaves may breed some tumult here." 
 
 XII. 
 
 " If I have read their faces right. 
 My life on't, they will rise to-night ! 
 
184 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 Closed are the booths, the windows barred ; 
 
 In every street patrols a guard. 
 
 The ports are watched ; men hurry by, 
 
 None stop for question or reply. 
 
 The dullest bailie could not find 
 
 An audience to relieve his mind. 
 
 When angry men are brief or mute. 
 
 Be sure that mischief is on foot ! 
 
 A look, a nod, a sign from each. 
 
 Are graver tokens far than speech. 
 
 I am not wont to shun a fray. 
 
 And seldom give a faint advice. 
 But this most frankly do I say — 
 
 I'd rather ride the Teviot thrice. 
 When rolling in its heaviest flood, 
 Than meet that angry multitude ! 
 Our men are trained lo fight in field. 
 
 But here they have no skill nor space : 
 Let's quit the Palace ; for to yield. 
 
 If leaguered here, were sore disgrace. 
 Nor have we any force to spare ; 
 And time is wanting to prepare. 
 Forthwith the messengers must ride, 
 And scour the country far and wide, 
 
BOTHWELL. 185 
 
 To bring our allies to your side. 
 Were all tlie Border cMeftains true, 
 I'd care not what the rest might do. 
 I knew that soon the strife must come — 
 That stout Kirkaldy would not sleep, 
 Nor Morton tarry in his keep — 
 But this revolt of Ker and Home 
 Hath changed the aspect of the war: 
 
 Therefore let's forth without delay. 
 Our trysting-place must be Dunbar, 
 
 With Berth wick on the way. 
 
 " Short space is left ; for, ere the night. 
 
 We must decamp, though not in flight ; 
 
 The craftsmen will be more afraid 
 
 An empty palace to invade. 
 
 Than if each window showed a man 
 
 Prepared with pike and partisan. 
 
 But, meanwhile, send the heralds through. 
 
 The Hamiltons are surely true — 
 
 Entreat, command them to appear. 
 
 Nor leave behind one idle spear ; 
 
 We cannot spare a straggler here. 
 
186 BOTHWELL. part 
 
 Make the Queen write — ^you know the way — 
 
 A wife her husband must obey. 
 
 There's something in the royal name, 
 
 If not to rouse, at least to tame ; 
 
 And men who fain would see you down, 
 
 May fear to rise against the Crown. 
 
 Seton and Yester both will fight. 
 
 Without a call, for Mary's right ; 
 
 And many a Baron bold will come 
 
 Soon as they hear the signal-drum. 
 
 We'll beat them yet ! But have a care — 
 
 No speech — no treaty — naught but blows ! 
 Of that dark Lethington beware, 
 
 The worst and wiliest of your foes. 
 And Morton — ^hear no word from him ! 
 
 No quaking moss is more unsound ; 
 He'd venture all but life and limb 
 
 To bring your greatness to the ground. 
 Let him, if he has aught to say. 
 Stand forth in front of his array, 
 And from his helmet speak the word 
 That can be answered by the sword. 
 Come then, away ! 'Tis hard to go, 
 Old Holyrood is worth a blow ; 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 187 
 
 Yet is it wiser to abstain. 
 Worse danger threats the roof than rain ; 
 And, hy my soul, 'twere sin and shame. 
 To leave it wrapped ia fiery flame ! 
 Forth then ! and ere the sky be dark, 
 
 Some safer lodging shall we find ; 
 We'U change the cricket for the lark. 
 
 And leave this troublous town behind." 
 
 I know not why : but o'er my soul. 
 That eve, the self-same bodement stole 
 That thrilled me with a sad presage 
 When last I gazed on Hermitage. 
 The troopers in procession wound, 
 Along the slant and broken ground, 
 Beneath old Arthur's Uon-hill. 
 The Queen went onward with her train ; 
 I rode not by her palfrey's rein, 
 But lingered at the tiny rill 
 
 That flows from Anton's fane. 
 Red was the sky ; but Holyrood 
 In dusk and sullen grandeur stood. 
 
188 BOTHWELL. 
 
 It seemed as though the setting sun 
 
 Eefused to lend it light, 
 So cheerless was its look, and dun. 
 
 While all above was bright. 
 Black in the glare rose spire and yane, 
 No lustre streamed from wiadow-pane ; 
 But, as I stood, the Abbey beU 
 Tolled out, with such a dismal knell 
 As smites with awe the shuddering crowd. 
 When a king's folded in his shroud — 
 
 Methought it said. Farewell ! 
 
 So passed we on. The month was June : 
 
 We did not need the lady moon 
 
 To light us onwards on our way 
 
 Through thickets white with hawthorn spray ; 
 
 Past old Dalhousie's stately tower, 
 
 Up the lone Esk, across the moor, 
 
 By many a hamlet, many a spring, 
 
 By holt, and knowe, and fairy ring. 
 
 By many a noted trysting-place. 
 
 We held our course, nor slacked our pace. 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 189 
 
 Till far away beyond the road 
 The lights in Borthwick Castle showed. 
 Short tarrying had we there, I ween ! 
 Again we sought the woodlands green ; 
 For fiery Home was on our track, 
 With thousand spearmen at his back : 
 Nor dared we rest, tiU from Dunbar 
 I gave the signal for the war. 
 
 By heaven, it was a glorious sight. 
 
 When the sun started from the sea. 
 And in the vivid morning light 
 
 The long blue waves were rolling free ! 
 But little time had I to gaze 
 Upon the ocean's kindling face. 
 Or mark the breakers in the bay — 
 For other thoughts were mine that day. 
 I stood upon the topmost tower : 
 From wood, and shaw, and brake, and bower, 
 I heard the trumpet's blithesome sound, 
 I heard the tuck of dram ; 
 
190 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 And, bearing for the castle mound, 
 
 I saw the squadrons come. 
 Each Baron, sheathed from head to heel 
 In glorious panoply of steel, 
 Eode stalwartly before his band, 
 The bravest yeomen of the land. 
 There were the pennons that in fight 
 Had flashed across the Southron's sight — 
 There were the spears that bore the brunt, 
 And bristled ia the battle's front 
 
 On many a bloody day- — 
 The swords, that through the hostile press. 
 When steeds were plunging masterless. 
 
 Had hewn their desperate way ! 
 gallant hearts ! what joy to ride. 
 Your lord and leader, prince and guide. 
 With you around me and beside, 
 
 But once in battle fray ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Brief counsel held we in the hall : 
 Ready for fight seemed one and all. 
 Though somewhat I was chafed to bear 
 But cold regard from knight and peer. 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 191 
 
 I was the husband of their Queen : 
 
 Not less, nor more. Old Seton's mien 
 
 Was graver than beseemed a lord 
 
 Who came, prepared with hand and sword, 
 
 To smite rebellion to the dust. 
 
 To me he never gave his trust. 
 
 He was a noble of a stamp 
 
 Whereof this age hath witnessed few ; 
 Men who came duly to the camp, 
 
 Whene'er the Eoyal trumpet blew. 
 Blunt tenure-lords, who for the Crown 
 Would lay their lives and fortunes down, 
 Nor sift the cause that bade them bring 
 Their vassals to support the King. 
 Such men were they who held the fight. 
 
 And strove, and would not yield, 
 TUl rushed from heaven the stars of night 
 
 O'er Flodden's cumbered field. 
 For Mary's sake he brought his band. 
 
 He cared for her alone ; 
 And would not lend a helping hand 
 
 To lift me to the throne. 
 His words were spare, his greeting cold. 
 His look as distant as of old. 
 
192 BOTHWELL. 
 
 But that I could not then afford 
 To lose a man or spare a sword ; 
 
 But that my friends were few — 
 I would have made Lord Seton know 
 That not a peer should slight me so, 
 
 Or fail in reverence due ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And Mary — iwhat did she the while ? 
 Alas, she never showed a smile ! 
 I dared not ask her to appear 
 
 Within the castle hall. 
 Her champions and her knights to cheer- 
 She might have hailed them with a tear. 
 Or breathed a word in Seton's ear. 
 
 That would have wrought my fall. 
 She loathed her bondage — ^that I knew. 
 What is it woman will not do 
 
 To free herself from thrall ? 
 She, daughter of a race of kings. 
 
 Instruct with that desire 
 Which makes the eagle beat its wiugs 
 
 Against the prison wire — 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 193 
 
 She, wronged, insulted, and betrayed. 
 Might she not claim her vassals' aid ? 
 Conjure them by their oath and vows 
 To bear her from her hated spouse. 
 And, in the face of heaven, proclaim 
 My guilt, my treason, and my shame ? 
 Too great the risk ! My sister came — 
 
 Well skilled was she to turn a phrase, 
 A ready, apt, quick-witted dame. 
 
 Who knew the nobles and their ways. 
 Freely she smiled, and deftly spoke, 
 
 Gave cordial greeting from the Queen, 
 Whose slumbers had been early broke 
 
 By tramp of horses on the green — 
 " Her Majesty had need of rest 
 
 To fit her for the road ; 
 But prayed each knight and noble guest 
 
 Who honoured her abode. 
 To take the thanks so greatly due 
 For all their service prompt and true." 
 
 Another mom — another day !— 
 And what, ere dusk, was I ? 
 
 N 
 
194 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 A fugitive, a castaway, 
 A recreant knight who did not stay- 
 On battle-field to die ! 
 Curs'd be the hands that held me back 
 When death lay ready ia my track, 
 Curs'd be the slaves who turned my rein 
 And forced me panting from the plain ! — 
 O boaster, liar, murderer — ^worse. 
 Traitor and felon — hold thy curse ! 
 Curse not, for lost though others be, 
 There's none so deep debased as thee ! 
 A murderer may be strong of heart, 
 A liar act a warrior's part, 
 A traitor may be bold and brave, 
 A felon fearless at the grave — 
 Branded, condemned, of fame bereft. 
 The courage of a man is left. 
 But coward — that sickening sound ! 
 Great God ! To pass without a wound, 
 Without one shivered spear or blow. 
 From such a field, from such a foe, 
 To lose a Queen and kingdom so — 
 To tremble, shrink, and vilely fly — 
 It was not I ! — it was not I ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 195 
 
 breeze ! that blowest from the west, 
 O'er that dear land I loved the best — 
 Breathe on my temples, cool my brow, 
 And keep the madness from me now ! 
 Blood seems to rankle in my eyes. 
 Red as a furnace glare the skies ; 
 And all things waver np and down, 
 Like shadows in a burning town. 
 There's hellish laughter in mine ear — 
 More air — ^more air ! I stifle here ! 
 
 Devil ! thou shalt not yet prevail ; 
 Before thy face I will not quail ! 
 I fled — Do brave men never fly ? 
 I am no coward — 'tis a lie ! 
 I stood upon Carberry's height, 
 Eager, intent, resolved to fight. 
 Ay, to the death, as seems a knight ! 
 Down on the plain, beyond the hill. 
 The foe were motionless and still. 
 Why tarried so the rebel lords ? 
 Were we not ready with our swords ? 
 
196 BOTHWELL. 
 
 They came not on with shield and targe, 
 And lances levelled for the charge ; 
 But safe in summer ambush lay, 
 Like children on a holiday. 
 
 I sent a message to their van — 
 
 The Laird of Grange that challenge bore, 
 
 I spared his life an hour before — 
 
 I bade them choose their bravest man, 
 
 My equal in degree ; 
 So that we two alone might try 
 The cast for death or victory, 
 
 And all the rest go free. 
 No braggart speech was that of mine. 
 My blood had flowed, ere then, like wine. 
 In fiercer combat and more fell 
 Than any Scottish peer could tell. 
 I, who had laid John Elliot low. 
 Need scarce have feared another foe! 
 
 Kare answer to my call they gave — 
 O they were noble hearts and brave ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 197 
 
 First, Tullibardine offered fight. 
 He was at best a simple kaiglit, 
 Without a claim, without a right 
 
 To meet a prince like me. 
 He was no mate in camp or hall ; 
 I stood not there to fight with all 
 
 Whatever their degree. 
 " I dare not then," Kirkaldy said, 
 " To take this quarrel on my head. 
 If Tullibardine ranks too low 
 To hold your challenge as a foe, 
 
 No better claim have I. 
 Yet, would the Duke of Orkney deign 
 To meet me yonder on the plain 
 
 And there his fortune try, 
 I cannot think that any stain 
 
 Upon his name would Ue. 
 It has been mine, ere now, to ride 
 In battle front by Princes' side ; 
 With Egmont I have broke a lance, 
 Charged with the Constable of France, 
 And sate at council and at board 
 Withm any a famous chief and lord " 
 
 Then Ormiston broke in : — 
 
198 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " Baron of Grange ! No need to tell 
 A story that we know full weU : 
 
 For never Scot did win 
 More fame than you in foreign field ; 
 And proudly might you bear your shield 
 In front of Europe's best array, 
 But for your treason of to-day. 
 Aha ! you startle at the word ! 
 Here am I ready with my sword 
 
 To prove it, if you dare ! 
 I am your equal — WUl you fight ? 
 I stand in arms for Mary's right — 
 Do this, and I'll forgive you quite, 
 
 Eank traitor as you are !" 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 A flush came o'er Kirkaldy's face. 
 Nor spoke he for a little space. 
 
 But then he answered cold ; — 
 " Ready, though rough, is thy rebuke ; 
 I was in fault to urge the Duke. 
 
 And yet, were he as bold 
 
BOTHWELL. 199 
 
 As one at least that I could name, 
 
 He might have deigned, for very shame. 
 
 To set his rank aside. 
 If, Ormiston, we chance to meet, 
 A gallant foeman shall I greet 
 
 In rolling battle-tide. 
 But vain it were for you and I 
 In single fight our strength to try. 
 Your death or mine could not affect 
 
 The issue of the day : 
 So, not in anger, but respect. 
 
 Sir Knight, I turn away ' 
 What more remains?" 
 
 XXV. 
 
 I could not bear 
 His calm, composed, contemptuous air ! 
 Save Lethington's, of all that host 
 I feared Kirkaldy's presence most. 
 Already once had Mary sent. 
 And communed with him in her tent. 
 That meeting was not by my will ; 
 I should have stopped him on the hill ; 
 
200 BOTHWELL. 
 
 For he was subtile, wise, and keen, 
 
 The very man to sway the Queen. 
 
 " All this," I said, " is vain pretext ! 
 
 What knight or squire shall foUow next ? 
 
 Must I do battle hand to hand 
 
 With some stark yeoman of your band ? 
 
 Or, for your sport, lay spear in rest 
 
 Against some trooper from the west ? 
 
 Go — say to Morton and to Mar, 
 
 I strained my courtesy too far 
 
 In that I sent my battle-gage 
 
 To every rebel peer. 
 Perchance their prudence cools their rage. 
 
 Or else they did not hear ! 
 Brave leaders have you. Laird of Grange— 
 I wish you joy. Sir, of the change ! 
 Here might I tarry for a week, 
 
 And never find a foe. 
 The friends in France of whom you speak 
 
 Had scarcely lingered so ! 
 There stand your chiefs before our eyes ; 
 Each Lord my challenge underlies. 
 
 Yet none will venture here ! 
 
,. BOTHWBLL. 201 
 
 Kirkaldy ! wherefore should you try 
 To shelter with your chivalry 
 
 Those cowards' abject fear? 
 If I refuse to meet you now, 
 
 I mean nor slight nor scorn ; 
 Your valour, worth, and deeds I know — 
 Ay, better than the men below — 
 
 Your bad revolt I mourn. 
 
 " Go back — and tell them I revoke 
 The general challenge that I spoke. 
 Say that I now demand the right, 
 Open to every peer and knight. 
 To call his equal to the field. 
 Say, that I smite on Morton's shield ! 
 If he refuse, through Europe wide 
 
 I'll brand him as a recreant knave — 
 If he comes forth, the quarrel's tried 
 
 For one or both shall find a grave. 
 And now, God speed you ! go your way : 
 I have no other word to say. 
 
202 BOTHWELL. 
 
 If Morton is so faint of heart 
 That he prefers the coward's part, 
 
 Why, let the fight begin ! 
 Here stand two armies in array, 
 Por them to waste a summer's day 
 In boasting words and vain display, 
 
 Were infamy and sin." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Glad was I when he turned his steed 
 And slowly paced towards the mead. 
 Where, round a standard whose device 
 
 I could not scan so far, 
 Lay stretched iu sluggards' paradise, 
 
 The leaders of the war. 
 " What think you, Ormiston, my friend. 
 
 Win Morton do me right ? 
 Or will he, like a craven, send 
 
 Some other peer to fight ?" 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " What think I ? That the rebels know 
 Better than you, to crush their foe ! 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 203 
 
 Curse on that old fantastic fool, 
 
 The Frenchman, whom I went to guard ! 
 Had he not eyes to see the pool. 
 
 Or feet to bear him o'er the sward ? 
 He kept me severed from your side 
 
 When most you needed care ; 
 And now your rashness and your pride 
 
 Have cast you in the snare ! 
 My Lord, my Lord ! I tell you here, 
 This knightly freak may cost you dear ! 
 Was this a time to vent your spite 
 By calling Morton forth to fight ? 
 Or worse, by pledging faith and word 
 To tUt with any brainless lord ? 
 Why, the mere offer on your part 
 Shows that your friends are faint of heart : 
 For never leader of a host 
 
 On which he dared rely. 
 Unless he deemed his fortune lost. 
 Would peril for an empty boast 
 
 The chance of victory. 
 And they are faint : and faiater still 
 
 You'll find them at the dawn, 
 
204 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 If sets the sun behind the hill 
 
 Before the swords are drawn ! 
 What said Kirkaldy to the Queen ? 
 I hear there has been speech between. 
 And are not you, my Lord, afraid 
 That, even now, you stand betrayed ? 
 Yon pining captive hath not shown 
 
 Such liking to her range, 
 That I would trust her, aU alone, 
 
 To speak with one like Grange ? 
 I prate too much. One chance is ours — 
 Let me, this instant, form our powers. 
 I'U. place old Seton in the van — 
 
 I trust him not to-day — 
 And send behind a Border clan. 
 
 To goad him to the fray. 
 
 Forego your challenge — strike the drum ! 
 
 And when the rebels see us come, 
 
 * 
 As comes a river, red and large, 
 
 It may be they will shun the charge. 
 
 Upon them now, with sword and lance — 
 
 Believe me, 'tis our only chance ! " 
 
BOTHWBLL. 205 
 
 " I cannot do it — for my word 
 
 Is pledged and passed ; I needs must wait." 
 " You ? Are we nothing here, my Lord ? 
 
 Care you so little for our fate ? 
 I have some reverence for my neck, 
 And will not risk it at your beck I 
 Hearken ! You know my way of old — 
 Best is the truth when bluntly told. 
 This day our lives are set at stake : 
 
 You are not able to command — 
 Let me the whole disposal take, 
 
 Or else, by heaven, I quit your band ! 
 Look not aghast ! There's no retreat 
 
 For you or me. This very day 
 You must ascend the royal seat, 
 
 Or perish as a castaway ! 
 Then wait not, like a fettered bear, 
 
 TiU some stout mastiff slips his chain ! 
 Give me the order to prepare : 
 
 m drive them from the plaiu. — 
 But who spurs hither ? Bolton ! Well, 
 
 What brings you from your post ? " 
 
206 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " Come up ! I cannot stay to tell — 
 
 Come up, or all is lost ! 
 The troopers murmur. On the green 
 
 They pUe their arms, and say 
 Without an order from the Queen, 
 
 They will not fight to-day. 
 The Queen 's with Seton ia her tent ! 
 And, more than once, has message sent 
 Down to the rebel camp below — 
 Marchmont is with them even now." 
 
 " Enough ! Go back ; we'll follow straight- 
 
 Now is the crisis of our fate ! 
 
 Say but the word, and, with my band, 
 
 FU do what mortal can ; 
 Ride up with me ! Take sword in hand, 
 
 And bear you like a man ! 
 Better to die with helm on head. 
 
 Than mount a scaffold grim — 
 Why — you are paler than the dead. 
 
 You shake in every limb ! 
 
L BOTHWELL. 207 
 
 Are you the man who went so far 
 At Kirk-of-Field, and at Dunbar, 
 And shrink you from the face of war ? 
 Why stand you here as on parade ? 
 By heaven — I think the Duke's afraid ! 
 If it be so, then fare you well ! 
 
 Now, shall we onwards go ? 
 Each minute is a passing-bell — 
 
 'Sdeath ! answer, yes or no ! " 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " I tarry here ! " " God help thee then — 
 
 rn see thy face no more ! 
 Like water spUt upon the plain 
 Not to be gathered up again 
 
 Is the old love I bore. 
 Best I forget thee, Bothwell ! Yet 
 'Tis not so easy to forget ; 
 For, at the latest hour, I see 
 I've lost a hfe in following thee. 
 Faint-hearted now ? Alas, for shame ! 
 To bring disgrace on such a name — 
 
 But wherefore should I chide ? 
 
208 BOTHWELL. 
 
 See — ^yonder comes Kirkaldy back, 
 
 With Marchmont at his side. 
 Now, sir ; since other aid you lack. 
 
 Make him your friend and guide. 
 He's honest, brave, a generous foe — : 
 It may be he will let you go 
 
 If you bespeak him fair ! 
 Friends, fortune, fame, a crown are lost. 
 By you, the captain of a host. 
 
 And not a blade is bare ! 
 Saint Andrew ! what a scurvy tale 
 To carry back to Teviotdale ! 
 Farewell, thou weak and wavering lord- 
 Farewell — ^it is my latest word ! " 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 He parted, like a flash of fire ; 
 
 He spurred his courser up the hill ; 
 My friend, the follower of my sire, 
 
 The man whom I had trusted still ! 
 What spell was on me, that I stayed. 
 
 Nor tried the chance of war ? 
 Ah — she, the injured and betrayed. 
 
 The captive of Dunbar — 
 
VI. BOTHWBLL. 209 
 
 I did not dare to face her then, 
 
 Before Lord Seton and his men ! 
 
 Then came Kirkaldy, riding slow — 
 
 " Well, sir ; what message bring you now ? 
 
 Will Morton come ? Though somewhat late, 
 
 You see his answer stiU I wait." 
 
 " My Lord — the message that I bear 
 Comes from the peers assembled there. 
 My charge is only to the Queen, 
 
 Whose herald has been sent ; 
 Therefore no words can pass between. 
 
 Save in the royal tent. 
 But this 'tis mine to say, my Lord ; 
 I gave your challenge, word for word. 
 The answer, sent unto your Grace, 
 111 speak before my Sovereign's face." 
 " Why not to me ? " " Because they deem 
 
 One answer will suffice ; 
 Because they hold the Queen supreme. 
 
 And know her just and wise ; 
 
210 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 Because, before a life is lost, 
 For -which, as leaders of the host. 
 
 They must account to God, 
 Most surely are they bound to say 
 Why thus, in masterful array, 
 
 They bar the royal road. 
 Nay more ; because the Queen's command. 
 
 Not yours, has brought me here : 
 Therefore your challenge needs must stand 
 Unanswered, till the Lords' demand 
 
 Shall reach her Highness' ear. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " Herald ! withdraw a little space — 
 
 Now list to me, my Lord ! 
 As truly as I hope for grace, 
 
 I pledge my faith and word. 
 That, if you do not take your flight 
 Forthwith, and seek this very night 
 
 Some distant hold or room, 
 You die ! But not in open fight ; 
 
 The scaflbld is your doom. 
 There is no chance of battle now — 
 There never was — for aU avow. 
 
"'■ BOTHWELL. 211 
 
 Both yours and ours, the same intent, 
 To free her Highness from restraint. 
 Beside your own retainers, few 
 If any, there, will strike for you. 
 I love you not : but loth were I, 
 
 Whate'er your deeds have been, 
 To see a Scottish noble die 
 A death of shame and infamy ; 
 And more, because he stood so high, 
 
 The husband of my Queen. 
 Therefore beware ! This much I say 
 
 To you, as man to man. 
 Think of it : make no long delay, 
 
 Take warning while you can. 
 If you are armed in innocence. 
 
 Your answer may be strong ; 
 But here, at least, is no defence. 
 And now my duty calls me hence ; 
 
 WUt please you pass along ? " 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Had the earth yawned, the thunder crashed. 
 Or had the bolts of lightning flashed. 
 And right before me broke ; 
 
212 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 I had not felt more deep abashed 
 
 Then when Kirkaldy spoke. 
 I went — God help me, how I went ! — 
 A culprit, up to Mary's tent : 
 
 No eyes were fixed on me. 
 AU looked upon the Laird of Grange, 
 As if, throughout broad Scotland's range, 
 
 Was none so great as he. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 There was more life in Mary's face, 
 More spirit, dignity, and grace, 
 Than I had marked for many a day. 
 Behind her, in their steel array, 
 Seton and Yester gravely stood : 
 Their presence boded little good, 
 
 No friends of mine were they. 
 Then thus Kirkaldy she addressed : — 
 " Since, Laird of Grange, you stOl protest 
 
 That duty to the crown. 
 Which fits a loyal subject best — 
 
 Now make your message known. 
 
VI. BOTHWBLL. 213 
 
 What seek my Lords ? " Then answered he, 
 " They come to set your Highness free ! 
 Your pardon — though the Duke be here, 
 
 I must speak boldly on. 
 They hold him as a traitor peer, 
 
 To you and to your son — " 
 Fierce I exclaimed ; — " Dare they deny 
 
 The solemn Band they gave ? 
 By heaven, such weight of infamy 
 
 Should sink them to the grave ! 
 Did they not say that I alone 
 Was the fit man to guard the throne ? 
 Is nothing written in the Band 
 Of Both well's claim to Mary's hand ? 
 Have faith and honour left the land ?" 
 
 " I well believe," Kirkaldy said, 
 
 " That such a dangerous Band was made, 
 
 But that avails not now. 
 Though every peer had influence lent, 
 There still remained the Queen's consent. 
 
 And when spoke she the vow ? 
 
214 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Not until yoTi, by force of war, 
 Had ta'en her Highness to Dunbar ! 
 But let me speak. The Lords invite 
 Your Highness to return this night 
 To Holyrood, your royal home, 
 And to escort you there, they come. 
 Gladly their homage will they show : 
 They pray you to believe it so ; 
 For aye they hold your honour dear, 
 And therefore, Madam, we are here. 
 Not against you shall Scottish swords 
 
 E'er glitter in the sun. 
 This message bear I from the Lords ; 
 
 And now my task is done." 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Not once did Mary's eye and mine 
 
 Encounter while he spoke. 
 I felt it as a dismal sign : 
 The daughter of the Stuart line 
 Would not endure the yoke ! 
 " What I may ,do," she said, '' depends 
 Upon the temper of your friends. 
 
■I. BOTHWBLL. 215 
 
 What is their purpose with, the Duke ? 
 Know you, that when his hand I took 
 
 And spake the solemn vows, 
 I lost my freedom to rebuke ; 
 
 I owned him as my spouse ? 
 If, for my sake, the Lords appear, 
 I have the right to dictate here ; 
 Nor will I so belie my race 
 As yield to vengeance or disgrace 
 The meanest vassal in my train. 
 Therefore, Sir Elnight, you speak in vain, 
 Unless prepared to pledge your faith. 
 
 That all are free to go. 
 Nay more — I stir not from this heath 
 
 Until I see it so." 
 " So shall it be," Kirkaldy said ; 
 " FoT that I pledge my life, my head. 
 This message to the Duke I bear. 
 
 That, if he craves the fight. 
 Lord Lindsay, high and noble peer. 
 
 Win prove our quarrel right. 
 Yet is he free to pass from hence. 
 Without molest, without offence, 
 
216 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 With all his following, all his power, 
 So that he tarries not an hour." 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 The tear was in Queen Mary's eye, 
 
 As forth she held her hand. 
 " Then is the time of parting nigh ! 
 
 For, Bothwell, my command 
 Is that 70U go and save a life 
 That else were lost in useless strife. 
 Farewell ! We may not meet again ; 
 But I have passed such years of pain — 
 So many partings have I known, 
 That this poor heart has callous grown. 
 Farewell ! If any thing there be 
 That moves you when you think on me. 
 Believe that you are quite forgiven 
 By one who bids you pray to Heaven ! 
 No soul alive so innocent 
 
 But needs must beg at Mercy's door — 
 Farewell ! " She passed from out the tent. 
 
 God — I never saw her more ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 217 
 
 Was it a dream ? or did I hear 
 A yell of scorn assail my ear, 
 As frantic from the host I rode ? 
 The very charger I bestrode 
 Kebelled in wrath against the rein, 
 And strove to bear me back again ! 
 Lost, lost ! I cared not where I went— 
 
 Lost, lost ! And none were there, 
 Save those who sought in banishment 
 
 A refuge from despair. 
 How fared the rest ? I do not know. 
 For I was maddened with my woe. 
 But I remember when we sailed 
 
 From out that dreary Forth, 
 And in the dull of morning haUed 
 
 The headlands of the North : 
 The hills of Caithness wrapped in rain. 
 
 The reach of Stroma's isle, 
 The Pentland, where the furious main 
 
 Eoars white for many a mile — 
 Untn we steered by Shapinsay, 
 And moored our bark in Kirkwall bay. 
 
218 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Yet not in Orkney would they brook 
 The presence of their banished Duke. 
 The oastle gates were shut and barred, 
 Up rose in arms the burgher guard ; 
 
 No refuge there we found. 
 But that I durst not tarry long, 
 I would have ta'en that castle strong, 
 
 And razed it to the ground ! 
 North, ever north ! we sailed by night. 
 And yet the sky was red with light. 
 
 And purple roUed the deep. 
 When morning came, we saw the tide 
 Break thundering on the rugged side 
 
 Of Sumburgh's awful steep ; 
 And, weary of the wave, at last 
 In Bressay Sound our anchor cast. 
 
 faithless were the waves and wind ! 
 Still the avenger sped behind. 
 No rock so rude, no isle so lone, 
 That I might claim it as my own. 
 A price was set upon my head, 
 Hunted from place to place I fled ; 
 
VL BOTHWBLL. 219 
 
 Till chased across the open seas, 
 
 I met the surly Dane. 
 These were his gifts and welcome — these ! 
 
 A dungeon and a chain ! 
 
 xm. 
 
 Descend, black night ! Blot out thy stars — 
 Nor let them through those prison bars 
 
 Behold me writhing here ! 
 For there's a hand upon my heart 
 That makes my being thrill and start- — 
 
 A voice is in mine ear. 
 I hear its whisper, sad and low, 
 As if a spirit wailed in woe — 
 
 " BothweU ! thine end is near." 
 then, in mercy, keep away. 
 Ye spectral forms, nor cast dismay 
 Upon me in my dying hour ! 
 Why should it please you that I cower. 
 Like a lashed hound, beneath your stare, 
 And shriek, a madman, in despair ? 
 Grire me one night, 'tis all I crave. 
 To pass in darkness to the grave, 
 
 Nor more this agony renew — 
 
220 BOTHWELL. p 
 
 What's here ? — No phantom of the tomb ! 
 
 Death has not shed his livid hue 
 On that pale cheek, nor stamped his gloom 
 Upon the forehead, fair and high, 
 Of Scotland's Queenly Majesty ! 
 Mary, is't thoii ? and com'st thou here, 
 
 Alive, to chide me for my wrong ? 
 0, for the love of God, forbear ! 
 
 Haunt me not now ! I've suffered long, 
 And bitter has my anguish been ! 
 What brings thee hither, woeful Queen ? 
 Ah, what is that ? a scaffold dressed — 
 The axe, the headsman, and the priest — 
 God ! it surely cannot be ! — 
 Come, Death ; and I will welcome thee ! 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES, 
 
 " F(yr one short month the sceptred might 
 Of Scotland was my own." — P. 4. 
 
 DATES OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS NOTICED IN THIS POEM. 
 
 I believe that a good deal of misconception regarding the 
 personal history of Queen Mary has arisen from the slight 
 attention which ordinary readers pay to dates. The leading 
 events of Mary's life, at least such events as most powerfully 
 influenced her destiny, are comprised within a very short 
 period of time ; and I think it may assist the reader by 
 placing these before him in their chronological order : — 
 
 Marriage of Queen Mary with the Dauphin, 
 
 24th April, 
 
 1558 
 
 Dauphin succeeded to the throne of France, 
 
 
 
 as Francis II., . . . . 
 
 10th July, 
 
 1559 
 
 Francis II. died, . . . . 
 
 5th Dec. 
 
 1560 
 
 Mary waited on by Darnley at Orleans, and 
 
 
 
 by BothweE at JoinTille, in the early 
 
 
 
 part of 
 
 . 
 
 1561 
 
 Mary landed at Leith, .... 
 
 20th Aug. 
 
 1561 
 
 Marriage of Queen Mary with Darnley, 
 
 27th July, 
 
 1565 
 
 BothweE married Lady Jean Gordon, 
 
 2tth Feb. 
 
 1566 
 
 Murder of Eiccio, 
 
 9th March, 
 
 1566 
 
224 BOTHWELL. 
 
 James VI. born, 
 
 Murder of Damley, 10th Feb. 
 
 Bothwell tried and acqmtted, 
 
 Band subscribed by the chief nobility recom- 
 mending Bothwell as a, proper husband 
 for the Queen, 
 
 Mary carried off to Dunbar by Bothwell, 
 
 Mary brought back to Edinburgh by Both- 
 well, and lodged in the Castle, 
 
 Bothwell diTorced from his wife. 
 
 Marriage of Queen Mary with Bothwell, 
 
 Parting of Mary from Bothwell at Carberry, 
 
 Queen Mary sent to Loch Leven, 
 
 19th June, 
 
 1566 
 
 10th Feb. 
 
 1667 
 
 12th April, 
 
 1567 
 
 19th April, 
 
 1667 
 
 24th April, 
 
 1667 
 
 6th May, 
 
 1667 
 
 7th May, 
 
 1667 
 
 15th May, 
 
 1567 
 
 15th June, 
 
 1567 
 
 16th June, 
 
 1S67 
 
 " ^Twas mh to smile, 'twas sin to laugh, 
 'Twos sin to sport or play." — P. 15. 
 
 FANATICAL AUSTEEITY OF THE EEFOEMEES. 
 
 By an Act of the Parliament of Scotland, passed in 1565, 
 during the minority of Mary, the old and popular spori;s of 
 the common people were forbidden. "It is statute and 
 ordained, that in all times cumming, no manner of person be 
 chosen Eobeet Hudb, nor Little John, Abbot of Un- 
 EEAsoN, Queens of May, nor otherwise, nouther in Burgh 
 nor to Landwart, in onie time to cum." This restriction on 
 the amusement of the lieges was accompanied with severe 
 penalties against those who should contravene it. Any 
 pretty girl who wished to be a candidate for the flowery 
 
NOTES. 225 
 
 chaplet of " the Queen of the May," then stood in manifest peril 
 of forfeiting her character ; for the statute proceeds : — " And 
 gif onie women or others about summer trees singand, makis 
 perturbation to the Queenis lieges in the passage throw 
 Burrowes and uthers Landward Townes, the woman pertur- 
 batoures for skafrie of money, or utherwise, sail be taken, 
 handled, and piU upon the Cuck-stules of everie Burgh or 
 Toune." What a genial age it must have been, when poor 
 maid Marian was liable to "handling" and the pillory for the 
 heinous offence of singing under the summer trees ! 
 
 This Act was in full force when Mary returned to Scotland ; 
 and as any deprivation of the amusements of the working 
 classes is certain to be followed by an outburst against the 
 liberty of their superiors in rank and station, it is no wonder 
 if the people, prohibited by statute from enjoying their own 
 sports, should have regarded with jealousy the gaieties which 
 were exhibited in the Palace. 
 
 I shall simply quote the words of Hume, referable to the 
 construction which the preachers were pleased to place upon 
 the earliest attempts of Mary to render her Court attractive. 
 " The pulpits had become mere scenes of railing against the 
 vices of the Court ; among which were always noted as the 
 principal, feasting, finery, dancing, balls, and whoredom (as 
 Knox said), their necessary attendant. Some ornaments, 
 which the ladies' at that time wore upon their petticoats, 
 excited mightily the indignation of the preachers ; and they 
 affirmed that such vanity would provoke God's vengeance, 
 not only against these foofish women, but against the whole 
 realm." The personal remarks which John Knox directed 
 
 V 
 
226 BOTHWELL. 
 
 from the pulpit against his Queen, may be found in any 
 edition of his works. 
 
 " She hated Mary from her sovl, 
 
 As woman and as Queen."— ¥. 19. 
 
 MAEY's claim to the THEONE of ENGLAND. 
 
 It is not surprisuig that Elizabeth should hare regarded 
 Mary from the very first with extreme jealousy and dislike. 
 Her own title to the crown of England, at least according to 
 the ordinary rules of succession, was worse than doubtful, 
 and had been disallowed by Parliaments held during the 
 reigns both of her father and her brother. The accession of 
 her sister Mary, after the death of Edward VI. made her posi- 
 tion even worse, since the Parliament of England, by acknow- 
 ledging Mary's legitimate right, virtually declared Elizabeth 
 to be a bastard. It will be remembered that the marriage of 
 Henry VIII. with his first wife, Catherine of Arragon, was 
 set aside by the sentence of Oranmer, Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, after Henry had renounced allegiance to Rome, on the 
 ground of nullity, Catherine having been his brother's 
 widow. The marriage had been allowed in consequence of 
 the papal dispensation; and Henry, who had then set his 
 affections upon Anne Boleyn, used every exertion to obtain a 
 divorce from Rome. That divorce. Pope Clement, from 
 political motives, was averse to grant ; and Henry, in conse- 
 quence, threw off the papal authority, and declared himself 
 the head of the English Church. The sentence of Cranmer was 
 
NOTES. 227 
 
 ratified and confinned by Act of Parliament ; and therefore 
 Mary, as the offspring of an unlawful marriage void and mill 
 ab initio, was declared illegitimate, and rendered incapable of 
 succession. But Henry had not waited, even for the sentence 
 of Cranmer, before consummating his second marriage with 
 Anne Boleyn ; and Elizabeth was bom before the decease of 
 Catherine of Arragon. When Henry, moved by the charms 
 of Jane Seymour, who became his third wife, sent Anne 
 Boleyn upon false charges to the block, that marriage also 
 was annulled, and the issue declared illegitimate ; and by Act 
 of Parliament (8th June 1536) the Crown was settled on the 
 King's issue by Jane Seymour, or any subsequent wife ; and 
 in case he should die without children, he was empowered by 
 wiU or letters-patent to dispose of the Crown. Jane Seymour 
 died, leaving only one son, Edward ; Anne of Cleves was un- 
 ceremoniously sent back to her famUy, and Catherine 
 Howard was beheaded. After taking to himself a sixth wife, 
 Catherine Parr, Henry became uneasy as to the state of the 
 succession, and procured an Act of Parliament, limiting the 
 succession to the Crown, in the event of the death of Prince 
 Edward without issue, "to the King's daughter, Lady Mary, 
 and her issue ; and in default of such issue, to Lady Elizabeth 
 and her issue : — the King being empowered to appoint the 
 succession of the Crown, on failure of all such issue, by his last 
 wiU in writing." 
 
 Such is the abbreviate of the Act of Parliament, 28 Henry 
 VIII. c. 7, by which the ordinary laws of the realm were set 
 at utter defiance; for while the Princesses were expressly 
 called to the succession, the Acts which declared them to be 
 illegitimate were not revoked. About a month before his 
 
228 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 decease, Heniy made Ms will, leaving the Crown ^rst to 
 Edward, then to Mary, then to Elizabeth ; and failiug them 
 and their issue, to the heirs of his younger sister, the Duchess 
 of Suffolk, thus excluding the posterity of his eldest sister 
 Margaret, Queen of Scots, who, after his lawful children, were 
 next in succession. Of Edward's right to the Crown there 
 could be no doubt ; but Edward had formed the opinion that 
 both his sisters were illegitimate. Accordingly, upon his 
 deathbed, he desired letters-patent to be made out by com- 
 missioners specially named, again altering the succession, 
 setting aside Mary and Elizabeth, and preferring the heirs of 
 the Duchess of Suffolk. Upon these letters-patent was 
 founded the claim of the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey, who, 
 personally blameless, became a sacrifice to the ambition of her 
 husband's family. By the first Parliament of Queen Mary the 
 Acts affecting her own legitimacy were set aside ; the sentence 
 of divorce between Henry and Catherine of Arragon was 
 repealed and annulled, and their marriage was declared to 
 have been in every respect valid and lawful. This Act was 
 another solemn declaration of the illegitimacy of Elizabeth, 
 who, as I have said, was bom during the lifetime of Queen 
 Catherine ; for it is evident that by no possible construction 
 of law could Mary and Elizabeth both be held legitimate. 
 Mary's right and status were never questioned by any power 
 in Europe ; and so long as she lived, the claims of the Scots 
 line were kept in abeyance. But on her death, when Eliza^ 
 beth without opposition assumed the throne, with no better 
 title than the destination contained in her father's will, Henry 
 II. of France caused his daughter-in-law, Mary Queen of 
 Scots, and Dauphiness, to assume openly the arms as well as 
 
NOTES. 229 
 
 the title of Queen of England. This was a direct challenge 
 of the right and legitimacy of Elizabeth ; and doubtless gave 
 rise to that hatred which was not appeased until the unfortu- 
 nate Queen of Scots died upon the scaffold at Fotheringay. 
 
 Elizabeth had the good fortune to be served by wise and 
 able ministers ; and they, conscious of the radical defect in 
 the title of their mistress, advised her that the surest mode of 
 counteracting her rival was by fomenting the dissensions 
 which at that time agitated Scotland, and by lending her 
 countenance and aid to the Lords of the Congregation. For 
 the adoption of this policy it would be unreasonable to blame 
 Elizabeth. She was, in fact, the great Protestant Sovereign 
 of Europe, with Spain and France against her ; but the most 
 serious and pressing danger was to be apprehended from 
 Scotland. If Mary could by any means conciliate her sub- 
 jects, and restore internal harmony to her realm, she might, 
 without any imputation of rashness, proceed to enforce her 
 undoubted hereditary right to the throne of England ; in 
 which attempt, besides the co-operation of the Continental 
 Catholic powers, she was certain to receive assistance from 
 the English Catholics, then a large, influential, and discon- 
 tented body. But by promoting discord in Scotland, and 
 by assuming the character of protectress of the reforming 
 party there ; by giving secret subsidies to the disaifected ; 
 and by affording shelter to those who were guilty of rebeUion, 
 Elizabeth played her game so well, that at last she was able 
 to appear as umpire between her hated rival and the insur- 
 gent nobles of Scotland. In all this she displayed consum- 
 mate tact, judgment, and perfidy— the latter a quality which, 
 in State affairs, it has long been the fashion to excuse : and 
 
230 BOTHWELL. 
 
 no one can rise from an attentive perasal of the records of 
 that time, without the conviction that the very wisest of the 
 so-called Scottish statesmen of the day were mere took and 
 puppets in the hands of her and her counsellors. Murray has, 
 by more than one writer, been Represented as a high-minded 
 and patriotic man. Before Elizabeth he was no better than 
 a spaniel, cowering under the degradation of the lash, which 
 was often unsparingly applied. And so it was with Morton, 
 and all the others to whom she extended her protection, and 
 who privily were the recipients of her bounty. To her machi- 
 nations, successfully carried through by adroit and active 
 agents, each unfortunate step in the career of Mary, whose 
 nature was too guileless to enable her to descry the fine 
 meshes of the net by which she was pitilessly surrounded, 
 may easily be traced. 
 
 " For still the 'phantom in her path 
 Had been a Scottish heir'' — P. 24. 
 
 POPULAR PEOPHECrES OF THE SUCCESSION OF THE SCOTS 
 LINE TO THE CROWN OF ENGLAND. 
 
 In every nation, at a certain period of its progress, prophe- 
 cies of this Mud are current ; though it is but proper to add 
 that, in many instances, there is good reason to suspect that 
 the vaticinations of the elder seers have been altered and mo- 
 dified to suit events after their occurrence. The leading 
 prophet of Scotland, whose fame has not yet passed into 
 oblivion, was Thomas Learmonth of ErcRdoune, familiarly 
 
NOTES. 231 
 
 known to the peasantry as Thomas the Rhymer, who lived in 
 the days of King Alexander the Third, and died, as appears 
 from a charter by his son, previous to 1299, before Wallace 
 had concluded his great struggle for Scottish liberty. His 
 traditionary adventures with the Queen of Elfland — a very 
 different personage from Titania, the spouse of Oberon — have 
 been made the theme of ballad and of song : indeed, he seems 
 to have enjoyed in Scotland, for a very long series of years, 
 the same magical reputation which was conferred, during the 
 middle ages, upon the poet Virgil. His prophecies, however, 
 are the great foundation of his fame, and it is curious to ob- 
 serve at what an early period these were cited as instances of 
 remarkable ftdfilment. He seems to have prophesied that 
 one of the family of Bruce would gain the throne of Scotland ; 
 for, in Barbour's poem of The Bruce, which was composed 
 about the year 1370, the Bishop of St Andrews is made to 
 exclaim, on receiving intelligence of the slaughter of the Red 
 Comyn by King Robert — 
 
 " Sekyrly 
 
 I hope, Thomas prophecy 
 
 Off Hereildoune sail veryfyd be 
 
 In him ; for, swa our Lord help me, 
 
 I haiff gret hope he saU be king, 
 
 And haiff this land all in leding." 
 
 Andrew Wintoun, prior of St Serf's, who compiled his 
 Chronicle about the year 1420, speaks thus of one of the 
 Rhymer's current prophecies : — 
 
 " Of this fyoht qvulum spak Thomas 
 Of Ersyldoune, that sayd in deme. 
 There suld meit stalwartly, starke and steme. 
 
232 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 He Bayd it in his prophecy ; 
 But how he wist, it was ferly." 
 
 There were, howeyer, other popular prophets than Thomas 
 of Ercildouae ; and in process of time their vaticinations be- 
 came blended with his, and the greater prophet eclipsed the 
 group of the lesser ones, and enjoyed the monopoly of the 
 whole. No collection of these prophecies seems to have been 
 made and published before the year 1608, after James VI. 
 succeeded to the throne of England ; and therefore there is 
 no satisfactory evidence as to their authenticity in the form 
 in which they now exist. Ballads and popular rhymes, when 
 transmitted only by oral tradition, must, in the course of time, 
 undergo many changes both iu dialect and form ; and that 
 strong tendency towards the marvellous, which is by no 
 means confined to the vulgar, may be presumed to encourage 
 and invite imposture. But I deny altogether the assertion of 
 Lord HaUes, that the popular Scottish prophecies relative to 
 the succession of the Stuart famUy to the throne of England, 
 were forgeries or interpolations made subsequent to the death 
 of Queen Elizabeth, for the purpose of being accommodated to 
 the accession of King James ; and I do so upon the strength 
 of evidence which cannot be overthrown. It is but fair that 
 the prophets should receive credit where credit is justly due ; 
 and in this instance it is impossible to deny to Thomas the 
 Rhymer, or his follower, the possession of the prophetic 
 mantle. The rhyme stands thus : — 
 
 " However it happen for to fall. 
 The Lyon shall be lord of all ; 
 The French Queene shall beare the son 
 Shall rule all Britaine to the sea. 
 
NOTES. 233 
 
 Which of the Bruce's blood shall come 
 As neare as the nint degree." 
 
 Now, although there is no printed version of these prophe- 
 cies earlier than that to which I have referred, it is easy to 
 show that this particular- prediction was known and popu- 
 larly quoted previous to the return of Queen Mary from 
 France ; therefore previous to her marriage with Darnley, and 
 at a time when Elizabeth was still young, and when the pros- 
 pect of her contracting a matrimonial alliance was extremely 
 probable. The following remarkable passage is extracted 
 from a poem, of the authenticity of which there can be no 
 question, by Alexander Scott, entitled Ane New Tere Gift to 
 the Queue, quhen scho coTtie first harm. The poem, therefore, 
 was composed in 1561. It opens thus : — 
 
 " Welcum, illustrat Ladye, and oure Quene ; 
 Welcutn our lyone, with the Floure-de-lyce ; 
 Welcum our thrissill, with the Loraue grene ; 
 Welcimi our rubent rois upon the ryoe ; 
 Welcum our jem and joyfull genetriee ; 
 Welcum our beUl of Albion to beir ; 
 Welcum our plesand Princess, maist of price ; 
 God gife th^ grace aganis this guid new yeir." 
 
 After no fewer than twenty-four stanzas of loyal greeting 
 and aspiration, closing with a devout wish for the Queen's 
 marriage, the poet thus refers to the current prophecies. As 
 it may be difficult for some readers to comprehend the mean- 
 ing of the words when expressed in the old Scottish mode of 
 spelling, I have ventured so far to modernise this stanza, but 
 without changing a single word : — 
 
234 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " If saws be sooth to show thy oelsitude, 
 What bairn should brook all Britain by the sea ? 
 The prophecy expressly does conclude 
 The French wife of the Bruce' s blood should be : 
 Thou art by line from him the ninth degree, 
 And was King Francis' party maik and peer ; 
 So by descent, the same should spring of thee, 
 By grace of God, against this good new year." 
 
 Here we have, in language so precise as almost to amount 
 to quotation, distinct and unequivocal reference to the predic- 
 tion which Lord HaUes challenged as spurious. 
 
 I may add that curious testimony has been borne to the 
 strange fulfilment of some of the Ehymer's prophecies by 
 John ColviUe, whose funeral oration upon Queen Elizabeth 
 (Paris, 1604) contains the following passage : — 
 
 " Nonne hsec Satumii secuU argumenta indubitata ? quae 
 mihi in memoriam exulceratam revocant, quod, cum puer 
 essem audiveram balathrones ceraulas Thomse Rythmici fati- 
 dici numerare qusedam carmina trivialia, quae tunc ludicra, 
 nunc vero seria atque efficacia esse agnosco : verum se Del- 
 phice an divinitas inspirata sint, definire non audeo cum teste 
 Augustino." 
 
 I am very far from wishing it to be supposed that I rest 
 much faith in the authenticity of popular rhymes, especially 
 when these are of a prophetic character. Nevertheless, I 
 hope my readers will not be displeased at my caUing their 
 notice to one instance in which a popular prophecy was un- 
 doubtedly fulfilled. The extract from Scott's poem shows 
 that the prediction was then current among the people of 
 Scotland ; and there can be little doubt that it was known to 
 
NOTES. 235 
 
 Elizabeth. If so, is it wonderful that, in an age when super- 
 stitious feelings were stUl cherished, the announcement that 
 her rival had given birth to a son and heir, next after herself 
 in succession to the throne of England, should have grieved 
 the haughty mind of Elizabeth 1 
 
 " There was that Riccio — sharp and sly." — P. 26. 
 
 FIRST CONSPIRA.CY AGAINST QUEEN MAEY. 
 
 The details of the murder of Riccio are so well known that 
 it woidd be out of place to repeat them here. But the con- 
 spiracy which led to that event deserves especial notice ; and 
 I trust that a short explanation of its origia and aim will not 
 be considered superfluous. 
 
 The Scottish nobles who promoted the cause of the Refor- 
 mation, had a deep interest in its permanence. They knew 
 well that, if the authority of Rome was again established, the 
 immediate consequence would be a restitution of the Church 
 lands which had been appropriated as lawful spoils ; therefore, 
 from the very first, they ranged themselves in opposition to 
 Mary, whose devotion to the Catholic faith was notorious. At 
 their head was Lord James Stuart, Prior of St Andrews, better 
 known as the Earl of Murray, a bastard brother of the Queen, 
 formidable alike from his ability and his ambition. He was 
 the natural son of James V. by Margaret, daughter of Lord 
 Erskine ; and is believed, from an early period of his life, to 
 have entertained the hope of obtaining a reversal of his Ulegi- 
 
236 BOTHWELL. 
 
 timacy, in wMch case he might, in the event of Mary dying 
 without issue, have advanced a claim to the crown of Scot- 
 land. Nor was this a scheme so wild as to appear beyond 
 the pale of probability. The claims of Henry VII. to the 
 throne of England had been rested upon no better foundar 
 tion ; and Elizabeth's right, as I have explained in a former 
 note, was worse than doubtful. Murray was just the kind of 
 man likely to succeed iu such a design. He was cool, cautious, 
 long-sighted, and unscrupulous ; and by taking the popidar 
 side in the then all-absorbing religious controversy, he greatly 
 increased his reputation and his power. He also entered into 
 deep and intricate relations with the Court of England. 
 
 When Mary, contrary to the wishes of Elizabeth, consulted 
 her own inclination by marrying Damley, Murray threw every 
 possible obstacle ia the way. The means he employed are 
 concisely stated by Lord Henries in his History. 
 
 " A little after this, Henry Lord Damley came to Scotland, 
 upon a pass from the Queen of England for three months' 
 stay. Our Queen was desirous to see this young gentleman, 
 who had been secretly proposed unto her for a husband. He 
 was her own cousin in the third degree by his mother, who 
 was daughter to the Earl of Angus, begotten upon the Queen 
 who was mother to King James the Fifth, and grandmother 
 to the Queen herself. It was soon seen that she took a 
 liking unto him ; which by many means was indirectly crossed 
 by the Earl of Murray. There had been propositions of mar- 
 riage laid down heretofore to the Queen concerning this same 
 gentleman, which were known to be put aside by the imderhand 
 working of the Earl of Murray, whereof the Queen was not 
 ignorant. But now the many dislikes she had conceived 
 
NOTES. 237 
 
 against him made her resolve to take a husband, that by the 
 happiness of succession a settlement might be expected to the 
 crown and estate of the kingdom. Yet the crown being the 
 mark whereat Murray aimed, his greatest study was to keep 
 the Queen from marriage, which at this time he could not do 
 handsomely himself. So now, as formerly, he had recourse to 
 Queen Elizabeth of England, who was soon persuaded to 
 throw stumblingblocks in the way. It was thought that, 
 besides reasons of state and the assisting of Murray in his 
 pretensions, the Queen of England had a secret averseness and 
 antipathy to our Queen, one of her own sex, whom she knew 
 to be her nearest successor ; but now, to have the comfort of 
 a husband and the happiness of children, blessings that she 
 knew herself not capable of, were things that she could not 
 think upon but with envy. 
 
 " But before Queen Elizabeth did show herself in the busi- 
 ness, the Earl of Murray used what indirect means he could 
 to cross the Queen's resolutions. Religion was his chief ob- 
 jection, wherein he had the ministers to follow him with open 
 mouth. They said that it could not stand with the honour 
 of God, nor the Reformed Religion, that the Queen should 
 take any to husband whfD had any tincture of Popery, nor 
 before a visible assurance might be had of the preservation of 
 the religion now established. These were public propositions. 
 But the Earl of Murray, finding them not take the wished 
 effect, he laid open challenge to one David Rizius, an Italian, 
 who had served the Queen for many years, and who, from a 
 Musician, became the Secretary of State— an active politick 
 man, whose counsel the Queen made use of in her greatest 
 afifairs. Upon this man he laid aspersions that the Queen 
 
238 BOTHWELL. 
 
 was misled by his advice ; that he was a stranger, and one 
 basely bom ; and that for his cause she misregarded the ad- 
 vice of her nobility. These things were cried out by that 
 party. They went yet further ; there were whispering means 
 used to divert the Lord Darnley's affection from the Queen, 
 and tales were sometimes minced at, as though David Eiaius 
 was many times too intimate with the Queen more than was 
 fitting. 
 
 " The Queen observed aU these proceedings, and knew from 
 whom they came. But she was resolved to marry; which 
 she suspected was the thing in the world that woidd most vex 
 the Earl of Murray ; and to strengthen her own faction, she 
 called home the Earl of BothweU from France, the Earl of 
 Sutherland from Flanders, and took George Gordon, the Earl 
 of Huntley's eldest son, out of prison, gave them aU remis- 
 sions, and restored them to their estates and honours." 
 
 Kiccio was then labouring to remove every impediment 
 which had been cast in the way of the marriage of his royal 
 mistress with Darnley; little dreaming that the infatuated 
 fool whom he was raising to a throne would repay his ser- 
 vices by the blow of the assassin's dagger ! Murray, though 
 a master in dissimidation, regarded Mary's marriage as too 
 hazardous an event for his own project to be allowed with- 
 out an outbreak ; more especially as Mary had inconsiderately 
 and foolishly agreed to use her influence with the Scottish 
 Parliament to confer the crown-matrimonial upon her husband. 
 This serious error cost Mary dear. The Duke of Ch^tel- 
 herault, who stood next after her in succession, was of course 
 opposed to such a grant, which threatened his hereditary rights ; 
 and was thus for a time induced to lend his influence to 
 
NOTES. 239 
 
 Murray. Mary, being unable to obtain the consent of the 
 nobles, took upon herself to proclaim Damley on the day of 
 their marriage as King ; and the entry in the Oanongate 
 Register of Marriages is—" Henry and Marie, Kyng and 
 Qweine of Scotis.'' 
 
 Murray attempted a rebellion ; but not being adequately 
 supported by the people, he and his confederates were com- 
 pelled to retire before the army, which the Queen led in per- 
 son, and took refuge in England. So closes the first act of 
 the Murray conspiracy. 
 
 The opening of the second act is very different. The mar- 
 riage being now consummated, and the Queen being pregnant, 
 Murray, then fugitive and exiled, commenced an intimate 
 correspondence with Damley, whose pride, assumption, and 
 insolence, coupled with his notorious ingratitude and infidelity 
 to his consort, had by this time alienated from him the re- 
 gard of all loyal subjects. It is almost inconceivable that 
 Darnley, imbecile and thoroughly vicious as he was, should 
 have fallen into such a snare ; nevertheless we find that, only 
 seven days before the murder of Eiccio, a Band was granted 
 by " Archibald, Earl of Argyle ; James, Earl of Murray ; Alex- 
 ander, Earl of Glencairn ; Andrew, Earl of Rothes ; Robert, 
 Lord Boyd ; Andrew, Lord Ochiltree ; and their complices," 
 " to ane noble and mychty Prence, Henry, King of Scotland, 
 husband to our soverane Lady.'' And the terms of that Band 
 were as follows. The subscribers bound themselves to main- 
 tain Darnley's cause and quarrel against all the world, with 
 life, lands, and goods; to use their influence in Parliament to 
 have his assumption of the crown-matrimonial ratified; to 
 fortify and maintain his title to the crown, failing the Queen 
 
240 BOTHWELL. 
 
 without issue ; and to use their interest with Elizabeth in his 
 behalf. I quote one passage, for the purpose of showing the 
 extent of their submission ; " Item, as they ar becuming 
 trew and faythfull subjectes, men, and servandis to the said 
 noble prence, and sail be leall and trew to his Majestie, as be- 
 cumes trew subjectis to ther natural! prence, and as trew and 
 faythfull servandis servis ther gud maisteris with ther bodeis, 
 landis, gudis, and possessiounis. And sail nouther spayr lyf 
 nor dead in settyng fordwart all thingis that may be to the 
 advancement of the said noble prence.'' We have it on the 
 authority of Knox, that a counter-band, signed by Darnley 
 and his father the Earl of Lennox, was granted to the con- 
 federates, " for they durst not trust the King's word without 
 his Signet." All this was perfectly well known to Elizabeth's 
 agents ; indeed, they were privy to the whole transaction. 
 The support of Morton was purchased by Damley's resign- 
 ing his claim to the earldom of Angus ; and the plot being 
 thus far advanced, Elizabeth was apprised of the conspiracy. 
 Here, again, dates become of much value. The Earl of Bed- 
 ford and Randolph, who were then at Berwick, wrote to Cecil 
 on 6th March that "a matter of no small consequence in 
 Scotland was intended ;'' and " to this determination of theirs 
 there are privy in Scotland these : Argyle, Morton, Boyd, 
 Ruthven, and Lethington. In England these : Murray, 
 Rothes, Grange, myself, and the writer hereof. If persuar 
 sions to cause the Queen to yield to these matters do no good, 
 they propose to proceed we know not in what sort." The 
 "matters'" in question were of great importance to Murray 
 and his rebel confederates, for they included their estates in 
 Scotland, it being Mary's declared intention that the fugitive 
 
NOTES. 241 
 
 Lords should be forfeited by Parliament. They were cited to 
 appear on the 12th of March, so that some sudden and decisive 
 step was necessary. 
 
 On the 9th of March, Riccio was murdered in the presence 
 of the Queen, who was made a prisoner in her own palace. It 
 was at first intended that the slaughter should be on a larger 
 scale, so as to include Mary's principal supporters; as detailed 
 by herself in a remarkable letter to Betoun, Archbishop of 
 Glasgow, her ambassador at Paris. That letter bears date 
 the 2d April, and the revelation it contains relative to the 
 designs of the conspirators was evidently furnished by Dam- 
 ley, who by that time had betrayed his confederates. After 
 relating the horrible circumstances of the murder, but without 
 charging her husband with direct participation, she writes : — 
 
 " We all this time took no less care of ourselves than for 
 our council and nobility, maintainers of our authority, being 
 with us in our palace at the time ; to wit, the Earls of Huntley, 
 BothweU, AthoU, Lords Fleming and Livingston, Sir James 
 Balfour, and certain others our fanuUar servitors, against 
 whom the enterprise was conspired as well as for David ; and 
 namely, to have hanged the said Sir James in cords. Yet, by 
 the providence of God, the Earls of Huntley and BothweU 
 escaped forth of their chambers in our palace at a back win- 
 dow by some cords ; whereon the conspirators took some fear, 
 and thought themselves greatly disappointed in their enter- 
 prise. The Earl of AthoU and Sir James Balfour by some other 
 means, with the Lords Fleming and Livingston, obtained 
 deUverance of their invasion. The provost and town of 
 Edinburgh having understood this tumult in our palace, 
 
 Q 
 
242 BOTHWELL. 
 
 caused ring their common bell, came to us in great number, 
 and desired to bave seen our presence, intercommuned with 
 us, and to have known our welfare : so when we was not per- 
 mitted to give answer, being extremely bestead by those lords, 
 who in our face declared, if we desired to have spoken them, 
 they should cut us in collops, and cast us over the wall. So 
 this community, being commanded by our husband, retired 
 them to quietness.'' 
 
 Next day Murray arrived in Edinburgh, and at an inter- 
 view with his sister expressed great affection and solicitude ; 
 but, as Mary writes, '' upon the mom he assembled the enter- 
 prisers of this late crime, and such of our rebels as came 
 with him. In their council they thought it most expedient 
 we should be warded in oux castle of Stirling, there to remain 
 while we had approved in Parliament all their wicked enter- 
 prises, established their religion, and given to the King the 
 crown-matrimonial and the whole government of our realm : 
 or else, by all appearance, firmly purposed to have put us to 
 death, or detained us in perpetual captivity." 
 
 Mary owed her escape from this frightful peril to her own 
 presence of mind, and the influence which she stiU exercised 
 over the weak and vacillating Damley. She represented to 
 him that, by aiding the designs of the rebel Lords, he was 
 inviting his own ruin ; and he, being thoroughly terrified by 
 the dreadful consequences of his folly, abandoned the Lords 
 (with whom he had been confederated for scarcely ten days), 
 devised the means of escape, and fled with Mary to Dunbar. 
 Once there, she was safe, at least in the meanwhile ; for the 
 loyal gentlemen of Scotland, in indignation at the unparalleled 
 outrage upon their Queen, flocked to her standard, and the 
 
NOTES. 243 
 
 murderers of Riccio were compelled to take their flight. 
 Murray, ho-wever, who denied complicity, and who had not 
 been denounced by Damley, remained; and in the sequel, 
 through the mediation of Elizabeth, whose astute counsellors 
 foresaw the effect of such undeserved lenity, all the conspira- 
 tors and actors in the murder of Riccio were pardoned, except 
 Morton, Lindsay, Ruthven, and one or two of iuferior note. 
 This act of grace, which is only one of many proofs of Mary's 
 singular clemency, was made shortly after the birth of the 
 Prince. It was a political blunder, but undoubtedly an ami able 
 one. Elizabeth never pardoned those who rebelled against 
 her authority. Mary took the opposite course, and to that we 
 must ascribe her ruin. 
 
 "John Elliot of the Park"— P. 43. 
 
 BOTHWELL'S ENCOUNTEK with ELLIOT. 
 
 The circumstances of this duel, m which Bothwell dis- 
 played great intrepidity, are minutely stated by a journalist 
 of the time, and I have not deviated from his account. Elliot 
 of the Park was no common marauder. He claimed to be, 
 if not the head of Ms name, at least the chief of a powerful 
 branch of the Elliots ; and asserted that, by hereditary right, 
 he was the Captain of Hermitage Castle. He was, however, 
 a notorious Border depredator, and is specially mentioned in 
 an old poem by Sir Richard Maitland, entitled " Aganis'the 
 Thieves of Liddesdail." 
 
244 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " They spulzie poor men of their packs. 
 They leave them not on bed, nor backs : 
 Both hen and cook, 
 With reel and rock, 
 The Laird's Jock — 
 AU with him takes. 
 
 " They leave not spindle, spoon, nor spit. 
 Bed, bolster, blanket, shirt, nor sheet ; 
 John of the Park 
 Eypes chest and ark : 
 For all such wark 
 He is right meet." 
 
 " 1 heard the voice of Ormiston." — P. 46. 
 
 OEMISTON OF THAT ILK. 
 
 James Ormiston of that Ilk — or Black Ormiston, as he was 
 sometimes distinctively called — was a Baron of Teviotdale, the 
 devoted adherent and adviser of BothweU. He is not to he 
 confounded, as some writers have done, with Cockbum of 
 Ormiston, a baron of East Lothian, who was noted for Ms 
 zeal in the cause of the Keformation, and who was the patron 
 of Wishart. James Ormiston did not follow the fortunes of 
 Bothwell after his flight from Carberry ; nor was he brought 
 to trial for his share in the murder of Damley until the year 
 1573, six years after that atrocious event. His confession, 
 which is of great value as showing who were the real perpe- 
 
NOTES. 245 
 
 trators of the crime, wiU be more specially referred to in 
 another note. 
 
 " 'Twos in Craigmillar's ancient pile 
 TIiM first I lent my ear 
 To the dark words of Leihington"—P. 58. 
 
 CONFERENCES AT CEAIGMILLAE. 
 
 After the flight of the insurgents who were openly con- 
 cerned in the murder of Riccio, the affairs of Scotland assumed 
 for some little time the appearance of tranquillity. The chief 
 power was lodged in the hands of Murray, Bothwell, Argyle, 
 Huntley, and Lethington; and if aU these men had been well 
 affected towards their Sovereign, and actuated by patriotic 
 motives, there would have been no difficulty in settling the 
 kingdom. Knox, the leading ecclesiastical demagogue, had 
 disappeared immediately after the murder of Riccio ; Morton, 
 Lindsay, Ruthven, and other daring conspirators, were in 
 exUe ; and Damley, at least in political influence, was a mere 
 cipher. He had forfeited the regard, if he had not entirely 
 alienated from himself the affections of his wife, to whom the 
 Bands and other evidence of Ms consummate perfidy had been 
 shown. He was hated and despised by those who were privy 
 to the designs of the conspirators ; and his looseness, de- 
 baucheries, and arrogance were such that he was respected by 
 none. Yet was he the occasion of a new conspiracy, far more 
 tragical in its results than the first. 
 Murray and Lethington were both traitors ; and the unex- 
 
246 BOTHWELL. 
 
 ampled lenity shown to them by their Sovereign, who not 
 only had pardoned their offences, but had intrusted them 
 with the administration of affairs, had not the effect of rivet- 
 ing their allegiance. The birth of a prince had lessened the 
 chances, whatever these might have been, of Murray's succes- 
 sion to the throne. Still he might hope to reign as Regent, if 
 not as King, and he never for a moment lost sight of that 
 grand object of his ambition. Lethington was bound heart 
 and soul to Murray, whose dark, subtile, and intriguing 
 spirit very much resembled his own. These two men, there- 
 fore, were ever on the watch for opportunities secretly to 
 undermine the fortune of their mistress ; but their power 
 was greatly circumscribed by the banishment of their con- 
 federates, and the vigilance of the noblemen who were asso- 
 ciated with them in the government. 
 
 Of these Bothwell was the most formidable. Without any 
 pretence to personal religion, he was nominally a Protestant, 
 and therefore not obnoxious to the people on the score of 
 Popery. Since his recall from France, he had done good ser- 
 vice to the Queen, and had risen high in her favour. He was 
 Warden of the three Marches, Lord High Admiral of Scot- 
 land, and General of the land forces ; and his connections 
 were extensive and powerful. He was held in great dislike 
 by the emissaries of Elizabeth, who had ever found him in- 
 corruptible ; and he was regarded by the conspirators as the 
 formidable enemy of their faction. But with all this he was 
 a profligate man, of a daring and ambitious spirit; unre-" 
 strained by real principle, and ready to go any lengths for the 
 gratification of his own desires. He was also exorbitantly 
 vain ; and the preference which was shown him by the Queen, 
 
NOTES. 247 
 
 on account of his undoubted services, appears to have awak- 
 ened hopes, which possibly, at an earlier period, he had 
 conceived. 
 
 Had Damley, after the birth of his son, conducted himself 
 with ordinaiy discretion, it might have been difficult for the 
 conspirators to gain over Bothwell to their side. But that 
 unhappy young Prince was thoroughly infatuated. His per- 
 sonal behaviour towards the Queen was of the most heartless 
 and insolent kind. He took every opportunity of thwarting 
 her government. He began to intrigue with the Romanists, 
 and even went so far as to write to the Pope, denouncing the 
 Queen for not having restored the mass. "When," says 
 Tytler, " his letters were intercepted, and his practices dis- 
 covered, he complained bitterly of the neglect into which he 
 had fallen, affirmed that he had no share in the government, 
 accused the nobles of a plot against his life, and at last formed 
 the desperate resolution of leaving the kingdom, and remon- 
 strating to foreign powers against the cruelty with which he 
 was treated." Here is the testimony of Monsieur de Croc, the 
 French ambassador to Scotland, written on 15th Oct. 1566, 
 as to the relative estimation in which Damley and the Queen 
 were held : " It is in vain to imagine that he shall be able to 
 raise any disturbance ; for there is not one person in all this 
 kingdom, from the highest to the lowest, that regards him 
 any further than is agreeable to the Queen. And I never 
 saw her Majesty so much beloved, esteemed, and honoured ; 
 nor so great a harmony amongst all her subjects, as at present 
 is, by her wise conduct ; for I cannot perceive the smallest 
 diflference or division." 
 
 The conduct of Damley at length became so outrageous 
 
248 BOTHWELL. 
 
 that the health of the Queen was visibly afifected. She fell 
 into a profound melancholy ; and her state of mind and body 
 is thus described in a letter from De Croc : " The Queen is 
 for the present at CraigmiUar, about a league distant from 
 this city. She is in the hands of the physicians, and I do 
 assure you is not at all well, and I do believe the principal part 
 of her disease to consist of a deep grief and sorrow. Nor 
 does it seem possible to make her forget the same. StiU she 
 repeats these words, ' I could wish to be dead.' You know 
 very well that the injury she has received is exceeding great, 
 and her Majesty wiU never forget it." 
 
 At this point I conceive that the complicity of Bothwell 
 begins. It is impossible to ascertain whether or not, in the 
 first instance, Murray and Lethington confided to him their 
 whole scheme, and induced him to become the principal actor 
 in the murder of Damley by offering to obtain for him the 
 hand of the Queen. I think it probable that they advanced 
 more cautiously, and in the manner set forth in the remark- 
 able " Protestation of the Earls of Huntley and Argyle, 
 Touching the Murther of the King of Scots," which in the 
 year 1568 was forwarded to the Court of England, and which 
 is published in Anderson's Collections. That narrative bears, 
 that in December 1666, " Her Grace being in the Castle of 
 CraigmiUar, accompanied by us above written, and by the 
 Earls of Bothwell, Murray, and Secretary Lethington, the 
 said Earl of Murray and Lethington came iato the cham- 
 ber of us, the Earl of Argyle, in the morning, we being 
 in oxa bed ; who, lamenting the banishment of the Earl 
 of Morton, Lords Lindsay and Kuthven, with the rest of 
 their faction, said that the occasion of the murder of David, 
 
NOTES. 249 
 
 slain by them in presence of the Queen's Majesty, was for to 
 trouble and impesche the Parliament, wherein the Earl of 
 Murray and others should have been forfeited and declared 
 rebels ; and seeing that this same was chiefly for the welfare 
 of the Earl of Murray, it should be esteemed ingratitude if 
 he and his friends, in reciprocal manner, did not interpose all 
 that was possible for relief of the saids banished, wherefore 
 they thought that we of our part should have been as desir- 
 ous thereto as they were. And we agreeing to the same, to do 
 all that was in us for their relief, providing that the Queen's 
 Majesty should not be offended thereat. On this Lethington 
 proponed and said, that the nearest and best way to obtain 
 the said Earl of Morton's pardon was to promise to the 
 Queen's Majesty to find a means to make divorcement be- 
 twixt her Grace and the King her husband, who had offended 
 her Highness so highly in many ways. Whereunto we 
 answering that we knew not how that might be done, Lething- 
 ton said (the Earl of Murray being ever present), ' My Lord, 
 care not you thereof We shall find the means well enough to 
 make her quit of him, so that you and my Lord of Huntley 
 will only behold the matter, and not be offended thereat' 
 And then they send to my Lord of Huntley, praying him to 
 come to our chamber. This is as they dealt with us particu- 
 larly; now let us show what followed after that we were 
 assembled. 
 
 " We, Earl of Huntley, being in that said chamber, the saids 
 Earl of Murray and Lethington opened the matter likewise 
 to us in manner foresaid, promising, if we would consent to 
 the same, that they shoidd find the means to restore us in our 
 own lands and oflBces, and they to stand good friend unto us. 
 
250 BOTEWBLL. 
 
 and cause the said Earl of Morton, Ruthven, and all the rest 
 of that company, to do the like in time coming. Our answer 
 was, it should not stop by us that the matter come not to 
 effect in all might be profitable and honourable both for them 
 and us ; and specially where the pleasure, weal, and content- 
 ment of the Queen's Majesty consisted. And thereon we four, 
 viz. Earls of Huntley, Argyle, Murray, and Secretary Leth- 
 ington, passed all to the Earl of Bothwell's chamber to under- . 
 stand his advice on these things proponed, wherein he gainsaid 
 not more than we. So therefore we passed all together toward 
 the Queen's Grace. Where Lethington — after he had remind- 
 ed her Majesty of a great number of grievous and intolerable 
 offences, that the King (as he said), ingrate of the honour re- 
 ceived of her Highness, had done to her Grace, and continuing 
 every day from evil to worse — proposed. That if it pleased 
 her Majesty to pardon the Earl of Morton, Lords Ruthven 
 and Lindsay, with their company, they should find the means, 
 with the rest of ths nobility, to make divorcement betwixt her 
 Highness and the King her husband, which should not need 
 her Grace to mel (meddle) therewith. To the which it was 
 necessary that her Majesty take heed to make resolution 
 therein, as well for his own easement as well of the realm ; 
 for he troubled her Grace and us all ; and remaining with her 
 Majesty, would not cease till he did her some other evU turn, 
 when that her Highness would be mickle impesched to put 
 remedy thereto. After these persuasions, and divers others 
 which the said Lethington used, besides those that every one 
 of us showed particularly to her Majesty, to bring her to the 
 said purpose, her Grace answered. That under two condi- 
 tions she might understand the same. The one that the 
 
NOTES. 251 
 
 divorce was made lawfully ; the other that it was not preju- 
 dice to her son, otherwise her Highness would rather endure 
 all torments, and abide the perils that might chance her in her 
 Grace's lifetime. The Earl of Bothwell answered : That he 
 doubted not but the divorcement might be made without pre- 
 judice in any wise of my Lord Prince ; aUeging the example 
 of himself, that he ceased not to succeed to his father's heri- 
 tage without any diflSculty, albeit there was divorce betwixt 
 him and his mother. It was also proposed that after their 
 divorcement the King should remain alone in one part of the 
 coimtry, and the Queen's Majesty in another, or else he should 
 retire to another realm ; and hereon her Majesty said, that 
 peradventure he would change opinion, that it were better 
 that she herself for a time should pass to France, abiding tiU 
 he acknowledged himself. Then Lethington, taking the 
 speech, said : ' Madam, fancy ye not : we are here of the 
 principal of your Grace's nobility and Council, that shall find 
 the means that your Majesty shall be quit of him without pre- 
 judice of your son ; and albeit that my Lcrd of Murray here 
 present be little less scrupulous for a Protestant than your 
 Grace is for a Papist, I am assured he will look through his 
 fingers thereto, and will behold our doings, saying nothing to 
 the same.' The Queen's Majesty answered : ' I will that ye 
 do nothing whereby any spot may be laid upon my honour or 
 conscie;ice, and therefore I pray you rather let the matter be 
 in the estate as it is, abiding till God of His goodness put re- 
 medy thereto ; that ye, believing to do me service, may pos- 
 sibly turn to my hurt and displeasure.' ' Madame,' said Leth- 
 ington, ' let us guide the matter amongst us, and your Grace 
 shall see nothing but good, and approved by Parliament.' 
 
252 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " So, after the premises, the murder of the said Henry- 
 Stuart following, we judge in our conscience, and hold for cer- 
 tain and truth, that the saids Earl of Murray and Secretary 
 Lethingtonwere authors, inventors, devisers, councillors, and 
 causers of the said murder, in what manner and by whatsom- 
 ever persons the same was executed." 
 
 Mr Tytler, who has quoted part of the foregoing remarkable 
 document in his History of Scotland, seems to think that the 
 language used by Lethington conveyed a hint that Damley 
 might be got rid of by violent means. I am sure that, had he 
 reflected for a moment, he would have seen the extreme 
 absurdity of any such construction. Argyle and Huntley are 
 teUing what took place in their presence, and Lethington was 
 their spokesman ; therefore, if this construction is to be put 
 upon Maitland's language, the two Earls must be held as 
 acknowledging their own complicity in the murderous design. 
 That evidently was not their intention. Besides this, his 
 closing words, referring to the approval of Parliament, utterly 
 negative such an idea. The impression made upon me by the 
 perusal of this document is, that Mary, though greatly and 
 most .justly incensed against Darnley, was unwilling to take 
 the extreme step of a divorce ; partly because she feared that 
 it might prejudice her son, and partly because she had not 
 abandoned all hope of Damley's reformation. Her language 
 is that of pious resignation to the will of God, not of indignant 
 anger. 
 
 ft must also be remarked that there is nothing in this 
 document to criminate BothweU. He was the last consulted ; 
 and the only remark of his specially quoted, is an argument 
 in favour of the proposed divorce. But if not an accomplice 
 
NOTES. 253 
 
 then, he became so immediately afterwards; and there is 
 little doubt that, before he left CraigmiUar, he received a Band 
 subscribed by persons of influence consenting to the murder 
 of Darnley. That Band was probably among the private 
 papers of Bothwell, which fell into the hands of Murray ; and 
 if so, was of course destroyed. Its existence, and to a certain 
 extent its tenor, were vouched for by Onniston in his confes- 
 sion, reported by John Brand, Minister at Holyrood ; and as 
 the passage is very curious, I shall transcribe it : — 
 
 " He (Bothwell) let me see a contract subscribed by four or 
 five handwritings, which he affirmed to me was the subscrip- 
 tion of the Earl of Huntley, Argyle, the Secretary Maitland, 
 and Sir James Balfour, and alleged that many more promised 
 who would assist him if he was put at : And thereafter read 
 the said contract, which, as I remember, contained these 
 words in effect — ' That inasmuch as it was thought expedient 
 and most profitable for the common wealth, by the whole 
 Nobility and Lords undersubscribed, that such a young fool 
 and proud tyrant should not reign nor bear rule over them ; 
 and that for divers causes therefore, that they aU had con- 
 cluded he should be put off, by one way or other ; and whoso- 
 ever should take the deed in hand, or do it, they should defend 
 and fortify it as themselves ; for it should be, by every one of 
 their own, reckoned and holden done by themselves : Which 
 writing, as the said Earl showed unto me, was devised by 
 Sir James_ Balfour, subscribed by them all a quarter of a year 
 before the deed was done..' " 
 
 This confession, though it bears to be emitted by Onniston, 
 was not subscribed by him ; but the writer states that it was 
 read over to him in the presence of the Constable of the Castle 
 
264^ BOTHWELL. 
 
 of Edinburgh, and other persons of character ; and I see no 
 ground for doubting its authenticity. It contains a heavy 
 charge against the Earls of Huntley and Argyle, and gives 
 countenance to the idea that the nobility were nearly unani- 
 mous in consenting to the death of Darnley. When we 
 consider that Mary's principal accusers were the men most 
 deeply imijlicated in the deed, what a fearful picture of 
 treachery and turpitude is disclosed ! 
 
 " I stood that night in Darnley's room, 
 
 Above the chamber charged with death." — P. 93. 
 
 MTJEDEE OF DAENIEY. 
 
 The narrative contained in the third part of the poem will 
 be found to correspond closely with the account of the murder 
 given by Bothwell's accomplices, Ormiston, Hay of Talla, and 
 Hepburn of Bolton, in their examinations and confessions, 
 which are printed at full length in Pitcaim's Criminal Trials. 
 Yet over some parts of this frightful tragedy there still hangs 
 a cloud of mystery ; in particular, it appears impossible to 
 ascertain whether Darnley perished by the explosion, or 
 whether he was strangled in bed, or in the orchard when 
 attempting to escape. There is strong evidence to support 
 the latter view. On the following morning, his body, and 
 that of his servant Taylor, were found lying under a tree, in 
 an orchard, about eighty yards from the ruins. There were 
 no marks of fire or of actual iiyury on his person ; and what 
 
NOTES. 255 
 
 is most remarkable, his furred pelisse and pantouffles were 
 found close by. The bodies of four men, members of Damley's 
 household, were found crushed among the ruins. The only 
 survivor, Thomas Nelson, was asleep when the explosion took 
 place. Buchanan says that on that night there were three 
 distinct bands of conspirators watching the house. Drury, 
 writing not very long after to Cecil, makes an averment to 
 the same effect, and specifies Ker of Fawdonside, the ruffian 
 who, at the murder of Ricoio, levelled a pistol at the Queen, 
 as having been on horseback near the place, to aid in case of 
 necessity. Drury further uses these significant words, "the 
 King was long of dying, and to his strength made debate for 
 his life." Melville says, " it was spoken that the King was 
 taken fortli, and brought down to a stable, where a napkin 
 was stopped in his mouth, and he therewith suffocated." 
 Herries' account is different, but very circumstantial. He 
 says that BothweU, after leaving Holyrood, " went straight 
 to the Kirk-of-Field, up Robloch's Wynd, where he met with 
 William Parris and John Hamilton (a servant to the Arch- 
 bishop of St Andrews), who had stolen the keys of the gates. 
 They entered softly the King's chamber, and found him 
 asleep, where they both strangled him and his man, WiUiam 
 Taylor, that lay by him on a paUet-bed. Those assassins 
 that are named to be with BothweU, and actors, were those 
 two above named, Parris and Hamilton, John Hay of TaUa, 
 John Hepburn of Bolton, George Dalgleish, and one Powrie, 
 Bothwell's men all; James Ormiston of that Ilk (called 
 Black Ormiston), Hob Ormiston, and Patrick Wilson. After 
 they had strangled the King and his man dead, they carried 
 them both out at a back gate of the town wall, which opened 
 
256 BOTHWELL. 
 
 at the back of the house, and laid them both down carelessly, 
 one from another, and then fired some barrels of powder 
 which they had put in the room below the King's chamber ; 
 which, with a great noise, blew up the house. They imagined 
 the people would conceive the house to' be blown up by 
 accident, and the corpse of the King and his man to be 
 blown over the wall by the force of the powder. But neither 
 were their shirts singet, nor their clothes burned (which were 
 likeways laid by them), nor their skins anything touched by 
 fire; which gave easie satisfaction to all that looked upon 
 them." 
 
 My own conviction is that Damley was strangled in the 
 orchard whUe attempting to escape ; that he had been 
 awakened either by the sound of the locking of the door, or 
 by the smell of the burning fuse, which, Bolton says, was 
 lighted for a quarter of an hour before the explosion took 
 place ; and that, in his haste, he had caught up the garments 
 which were found beside his corpse. I do not see how it is 
 possible to account otherwise for the appearance of the bodies 
 and the scattering of the dress. For let it be supposed possi- 
 ble that the bodies could be blown through the roof, and cast 
 such a distance into the orchard, without presenting any 
 visible marks, still no one can believe that loose articles of 
 dress could be carried there by the explosion. I think that 
 the real details of the murder, from whatsoever source they 
 might have come, were known to Drury ; for the accuracy of 
 the information obtained by the agents of Elizabeth with re- 
 gard to every important event in Scotland is truly wonderful. 
 But if Damley was murdered in the orchard, and not in the 
 house, I must also conclude that other actors, unknown to 
 
NOTES. 257 
 
 Bothwell and his men, were engaged in the vUlanouB 
 work. 
 
 Bolton and Talla, who confessed to having put the powder 
 in the house, fired the match, and locked the door behind 
 them, averred, both in their depositions when examined, and 
 in their confessions before execution, that there were but nine 
 of their company, and that they neither saw nor knew of any 
 others. The nine were Bothwell, two Ormistons, Bolton, 
 TaUa, Dalgleish, Wilson, Powrie, and French Paris. And 
 the confession of Bolton, corroborated by that of Talla, bears, 
 " He knows no others, but that he (Damley) was blown in 
 the air ; for he was handled with no man's hands as he saw ; 
 and if he was, it was with others, and not with them." They 
 both concur in saying that the two Ormistons went away 
 after the powder was put in, the Queen being then in the 
 house with Damley, and that they did not return ; which 
 tallies perfectly with the account given by Ormiston in his 
 confession, for he says that the clock struck ten as he re- 
 turned to his lodging, "to avoid suspicion, that no man 
 should say I was at the deed-doing ; for I was an hour and 
 more in my bed before the blast and crack was." Wilson 
 and Powrie were mere servants, who brought the powder, by 
 order of Bolton, and having delivered it, returned to the 
 Abbey, where they waited, until summoned by Bothwell to 
 go with him to the Kirk-of-Field. They were carrying back 
 the maU and trunk in which the powder had been conveyed, 
 when, " as they came up the Black Friar Wynd, the Queen's 
 grace was going before them with light torches." This marks 
 the time of their departure. Dalgleish, Bothwell's groom of 
 the chamber, was not at the Kirk-of-Field in the earlier part 
 
 K 
 
258 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 of the night, and only witnessed the catastrophe. Paris went 
 away at the same time as Ormiston, but he seems to have 
 come back to witness the explosion. This man, whose real 
 name was Nicholas Hubert, and who had previously been in 
 BothweU's service, was the party who furnished the keys. 
 There is, however, trace of one other person, Archibald 
 Betoun, who was Queen's usher, and the proper custodier of 
 the room in which the powder was placed. Nelson, the sole 
 survivor of the explosion, deponed that this Betoun had the 
 keys; and Ormiston, in his confession, says that "Archie 
 Betoun '' was along with Paris while they were preparing to 
 lay down the fuse. But apart from this, all the confederates 
 and servants of Bothwell, who were executed for their share 
 in the murder, declared that they knew of no others present 
 at or concerned in the deed. Neither Ormiston, nor Bolton, 
 nor TaUa could have any motive or interest in giving a false 
 account ; for they aU three admitted that they were principal 
 actors in causing the explosion, by which they evidently 
 thought that Darnley perished. 
 
 Powrie, however, stated in his deposition that when he and 
 Wilson brought the powder to the gate at the entrance of the 
 Black Friars, there were with Bothwell two strangers " who 
 had cloaks about their faces ;'' and upon being re-examined, he 
 said that the Earl BothweU came to them at the gate, " ac- 
 companied with three more, who had their cloaks, and 'mules' 
 upon their feet." Mules were large slippers, worn to prevent 
 the tread of the feet from being heard. From evidence given 
 at a much later trial, it appears extremely probable that one 
 of these strangers was Archibald Douglas, Parson of Glasgow, 
 a near relative of Morton. But, whoever they were, they had 
 
NOTES. 259 
 
 departed by ten o'clock ; and both Hepburn of Bolton and 
 Hay of Talla, who were in the house " till after two hours 
 after midnight," when the match was lighted, say positively 
 in their depositions that they knew of no others concerned, 
 save the nine in their company. It is quite possible that 
 their depositions may have been altered to suit the purposes 
 of Murray and Morton, before whom they were emitted j but 
 there is no evidence to that effect, and we must take them as 
 they stand. If their depositions are entitled to credence, 
 they estabhsh this much, that these two men, as well as 
 Bothwell, believed that Damley was asleep in the house when 
 the explosion took place, and that no other company was on 
 the watch. 
 
 But, as Miss Strickland, who has taken great pains in the 
 investigation of this point, has shown, it appears from deposi- 
 tions recently discovered in the General Register House of 
 Ediaburgh, that on that night two detachments of men, one 
 of eight, and the other of eleven (two of whom were in armour), 
 were seen hurrying from the Kirk-of-Field immediately before 
 and after the explosion. There is thus evidence that another 
 party, besides that of Bothwell, was on the watch ; and this 
 circumstance strongly corroborates the account of the murder 
 which was sent by Drury to Cecil. 
 
 These complications may appear to the casual reader un- 
 natural and overstrained ; for at first sight it seems extremely 
 improbable that two bodies of conspirators should have been 
 sent on the same errand, without the one being cognisant of 
 the presence of the other. But then it must be kept in view 
 that the main object of the other conspirators was to impli- 
 cate Bothwell, and to avoid anything that might leave a trace 
 
260 BOTHWELL. 
 
 of their participation in the deed. Murray found it conveni- 
 ent to go over to Fife on the morning before the murder, 
 selecting Sunday as his travelling day, which assuredly was a 
 great lapse in so rigid a professor of Calvinism. Morton was 
 at St Andrews. His kinsman, Archibald Douglas, was indeed 
 in the plot, as the Earl long afterwards confessed on the eve 
 of his execution, and had told him of the purpose ; but then, 
 as he said to the inquisitive ministers, " Mr Archibald at that 
 time was a depender of the Earl of Both well, making court for 
 himself, rather than a depender of mine." In short, the lead- 
 ing conspirators were desirous of two things — first, that 
 Damley should be effectually disposed of; and, secondly, that 
 the whole blame should rest on the shoulders of Bothwell — 
 and they took their measures accordingly. 
 
 It seems very clear that they had not much faith in Both- 
 well's dexterity ; for they made provision, unknown to him, 
 that he should not blunder in the execution of his design. 
 From Bolton's deposition and Ormiston's confession it would 
 appear that, until two days before the murder took place. Both- 
 well understood that Damley was to be disposed of in a differ- 
 ent manner — ^viz. that each conspiring nobleman was to send 
 "two servants to the doing thereof, either in the fields or 
 otherwise, as he may be apprehended." " But," said Bolton, 
 " within two days before the murder the said Earl changed 
 purpose of the slaying of the King in the fields, because then 
 it would be known ; and showed to them (Ormiston, Bolton, 
 and Talla) what way it might be used better by the powder." 
 Now, as to the quantity of powder used. That was contained 
 in a trunk and a mail or portmanteau, and was brought by 
 
NOTES. 261 
 
 Powrie and Wilson from the Earl's lodging ia Holyrood to 
 the Black Friars gate, where it was handed oyer to Bolton 
 and Talla. It was in bags, and was poured out loose on the 
 floor of the room below Damle/s chamber. All this is dis- 
 tinctly proven. Bolton and Talla, after lighting- the match— 
 a soldier's fuse "of half a fathom or thereby "—locked the 
 door, and joined BothweU outside ; and so long was it until 
 the explosion took place, that Bothwell could hardly be 
 restrained from entering the house to ascertain whether the 
 match had not failed. When it came, the explosion was 
 awful. Not only the upper part of the house, but the 
 whole fabric, from the foundation-stones, was heaved into air. 
 French Paris said, it was like a tempest or a thunder-peal, 
 and that for fear thereof he fell to the ground, with every hair 
 on his head standing up like awls ! To use the language of the 
 Privy Council, the house was " dung into dross.'' The same 
 phrase is used in Mary's letter to Archbishop Betoun (Laban- 
 off, vol. ii. p. 3). " The matter is so horrible and so strange, 
 as we believe the like was never heard of in any country. 
 This night past, being the 9th February, a little after two 
 hours after midnight, the house wherein the King was lodged 
 was in an instant blown in the air, he lying sleeping in his 
 bed, with such a vehemency that of the whole lodging, walls 
 and other, there is nothing remaining — no, not a stone above 
 another, but all other carried far away, or dung in dross to 
 the very ground-stone." In the first volume of Chalmers's 
 Life of Queen Mary there is a fac-simHe of a drawing, taken 
 at the time, of the ruins, which entirely corroborates the 
 statement that the house was blown up from the very founda- 
 
262 BOTHWELL. 
 
 tions. I do not pretend to be a master of the theory of ex- 
 plosive forces, but I have asked the opinion of some compe- 
 tent judges, and I am assured, that if the facts above stated, 
 regarding the quantity of powder deposited by Bothwell's 
 people, are correct, it is absolutely impossible that the house 
 could have been so demolished from the foundation. Here, 
 then, is another mystery. BothweU's only agents were the 
 men specially named ; and they did notliing more than bring 
 to the Kirk-of-Field, on the night of the murder, a quantity of 
 powder quite inadequate to produce the actual result. The 
 house had been previously undermined. There was no diffi- 
 culty in doing this, for the house of Kirk-of-Field belonged to 
 Eobert Balfour, brother of Sir James Balfour, who drew the 
 original Band for the King's death, and he was entirely in the 
 hands of Lethington. This is not a mere hypothesis, for the 
 fact rests upon undeniable evidence; and it is proved that 
 both Sir James Balfour and Archibald Douglas sent powder 
 for the purpose. Miss Strickland has the great merit of hav- 
 ing brought together, in little compass, aU the evidence upon 
 that point. That such were the operations of the conspirators 
 is also evident from the terms of the indictment raised against 
 Morton in 1581, in which it is set forth that he " most vUely, 
 unmercifully, and treasonably slew and murdered him (Dam- 
 ley), with WUliam Taylor and Andrew MacKaig, his cubicu- 
 lars (grooms), when as they, buried in sleep, were taking the 
 night's rest, burned his haU lodging foresaid, and raised the 
 same in the air by force of gunpowder, which, a little before 
 was placed and in put by him and his foresaids under the 
 ground, and angular stands, and within the vaults, laigh and 
 derne parts and places thereof, to that effect." 
 
NOTES. 263 
 
 These operationB, however, seem to have been studiously 
 concealed from Bothwell; nor was the idea of blowing up the 
 house suggested to him until two days before the period 
 fixed for the murder. Like many other men of action, Both- 
 weU was infirm of purpose and liable to be imposed on, as 
 indeed his whole history shows, and he fell at once into the 
 snare. But he never was informed that the house was already 
 undermiaed — for this reason, that the other conspirators calcu- 
 lated on his taking such steps as would avert suspicion from 
 themselves. And so it proved : for the powder, conveyed to 
 the Kirk-of-Field in the trunk and valise, was brought on the 
 Saturday, by Bothwell's order, from the magaziae at Dunbar, 
 of which he was keeper, to his apartments in Holyrood — was 
 carried by his own servants, and laid down by his own asso- 
 ciates — things which could not be done so secretly as to defy 
 detection. In consequence, he was looked upon as the sole 
 deviser of the murder, which, however, there are strong 
 grounds for believing was not perpetrated by his means. 
 
 " And pictures on the Cross wei-e hung 
 
 Of him who died at Kirk-of-Field." — P. 108. 
 
 POLITICAL CARICATURES.— " THE MEKMAID." 
 
 "Among other cruel devices practised against Mary at this 
 season by her cowardly assailants, was the dissemination of 
 gross personal caricatures, which, like the placards charging 
 her as an accomplice in her husband's murder, were fixed on 
 
264 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 the doors of churches and other public places in Edinburgh. 
 Kewards were vainly offered for the discovery of the limners 
 by whom these treasonable painted tickets, as they were 
 styled in the proclamations, were designed. Mary was pecu- 
 liarly annoyed at one of these productions, called "The Mer- 
 maid," which represented her in the character of a crowned 
 syren, with a sceptre formed of a fish's tail in her hand, and 
 flanked with the regal initials M. R. This curious specimen 
 of party malignity is stiU preserved in the State Paper Ofllce." 
 — Miss Strickland's Life of Queen Mary. 
 
 I recommend this passage to the notice of future commen- 
 tators on Shakespeare ; because it appears to me very strongly 
 to corroborate the idea originally started by Warburton, that 
 the following well-known lines in the " Midsummer Night's 
 Dream" were meant to apply to Mary : — 
 
 " My gentle Pack, come hither : Thou remember'st 
 Since once I sat npon a promontory, 
 And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back. 
 Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath. 
 That the rude sea grew ciyil at her song ; 
 And certain stars shot madly from their spheres. 
 To hear the sea-maid's music." 
 
 This theory of Warburton's led to an animated controversy, 
 his opponents declaring that they were unable to imderstand 
 why Mary should be allegorised as a mermaid. Here is his- 
 torical evidence that she was so represented many years before 
 Shakespeare wrote. 
 
NOTES. 265 
 
 " Old Lennox failed in his appeal, 
 
 And my acquittal was complete" — P. 114. 
 
 TRIAL OP BOTHWELL. 
 
 The trial of Bothwell was a mere sham and mockery of 
 justice. The management of it was left to Lethington, Mor- 
 ton, Himtley, and Argyle, of whom two at least were partici- 
 pators in Darnley's murder, while Huntley was the brother- 
 in-law of Bothwell. " The whole proceedings," says Mr 
 Tytler, "had already been arranged in a council, held some 
 little time before, in which Bothwell had taken his seat, and 
 given directions regarding his own arraignment. The jury 
 consisted principally, if not wholly, of the favourers of the 
 Earl ; the law-officers of the Crown were either in his interest, 
 or overawed into silence ; no witnesses were summoned ; the 
 indictment was framed with a flaw too manifest to be acci- 
 dental ; and his accuser, the Earl of Lennox, who was on his 
 road to the city, surrounded by a large force of his friends, 
 had received an order not to enter the town with more than 
 six in his company." Morton and Lethington rode with Both- 
 well to the Tolbooth, where the trial took place. He was 
 attended by two hundred harquebussiers, and escorted by up- 
 wards of four thousand gentlemen ; and so he passed " with 
 a merry and lusty cheer" to the Tolbooth. 
 
 This was upon the 12th of April, more than two months 
 after the murder, during which time the common people had 
 been thoroughly impressed with the conviction that Bothwell 
 was the real assassin, and that the Queen was privy to the 
 design. In fact, the public mind was in a state of violent 
 
266 BOTHWELL. 
 
 excitement. Murray, as was his custom on the approach of 
 any crisis when his presence might have inconvenient results 
 for himself, left Edinburgh three days before the trial ; but 
 his faction to a man supported Bothwell. This latter circum- 
 stance ought especially to be borne in mind, because it sfejws 
 that Bothwell was not deserted by the nobility on account of 
 his participation in the slaughter of Darnley. No new fact 
 relating to that matter emerged between the day of his trial 
 and that when he fled from Carberry HiU ; no divulgements 
 of further or concealed evidence were made. The voluntary 
 escort of four thousand gentlemen to his trial, is an unequi- 
 vocal proof of the strength of his position at the time. 
 
 He was not deserted because the confederates believed him to 
 be guilty of the murder of Darnley. They knew him to be 
 guilty, but in the mean time, instead of deserting, they sup- 
 ported him; because through Hs means, and by stimulating 
 his exorbitant ambition, they expected to accomplish their 
 great design, which was the overthrow and ruin of the Queen. 
 Their next -advance in that direction is referred to in the note 
 immediately following. 
 
 " They gave it m,e — that fatal Band." — P. 123. 
 
 BAND MADE BY A NtfJIBEE OF THE NOBILITY IN FAVOUR 
 OF THE EAEL OF BOTHWIiLL, 19TH APRIL 1567. 
 
 " We undersubscribing, understanding, that altho' the 
 noble and mighty Lord James Earl BothweU, Lord HaHes, 
 Crichton, and Liddesdale, Great Admiral of Scotland, and 
 
NOTES. 267 
 
 Lieutenant to our Sovereign Lady over all the Marches 
 thereof, being not only bruited and calumniated by placards 
 privily aflixed on the public places of the Kirk of Edinburgh, 
 and otherways slandered by his evil willers and privy Ene- 
 mies, as Art and Part of the heinous Murder of the King, the 
 Queen's Majesty's late Husband, but also by special Letters 
 sent to her Highness by the Earl of Lennox, and dilated of 
 the same crime, who in his Letters earnestly desired and 
 required the said Earl Bothwell to be tried of the said mur- 
 der, — he, by condign Inquest and Assize of certain Noblemen 
 his Peers, and other Barons of good reputation, is found 
 guiltless and innocent of the odious crime objected to him, 
 and acquitted thereof, conform to the Laws of this Realm ; 
 who also, for further trial of his part, has offered himself 
 readie to defend and maintain his innocence against all that 
 will impugn the same by the Law of Arms, and so has 
 omitted nothing for the perfect trial of his accusation, that 
 any Nobleman of honour, or by the Laws ought to underlie 
 and accomplish. And We considering the Ancientness and 
 Nobleness of his House, the honourable and good service 
 done by his predecessors, and specially by himself, to our Sove- 
 reign, and for the defence of this her Highness' Realm against 
 the enemies thereof, and the Amity and Friendship which so 
 long has persevered betwixt his House and every one of us, and 
 others our Predecessors in particular ; and therewithal seeing 
 how all Noblemen, being in reputation, honour, and credit 
 with their Sovereign, are commonly subject to sustain as well 
 the vain bruits of the inconstant common people, as the accusa- 
 tions and calumnies of their adversaries, envious of our Place 
 and Vocation, which we of our duty and friendship are as- 
 
268 BOTHWELL. 
 
 tricted and debt-bound to repress and withstand ; Therefore 
 oblige us, and eacli one of us, upon our Faith and Honours, and 
 Truth in our bodies, as we are Noblemen, and will answer to 
 God, that in case hereafter any manner of person or persons, 
 in whatsoever manner, shall happen to insist further to the 
 slander and calumniation of the said Earl of Bothwell, as 
 participant, Art or Part, of the said heinous murder, whereof 
 ordinary Justice has acquitted him, and for which he has 
 offered to do his Devoir by the Law of Arms in manner above 
 rehearsed ; we, and every one of us, by ourselves, our kin, 
 friends, assisters, partakers, and aU that will do for us, shall 
 take true, honest, plain, and upright Part with him, to the 
 Defence and Maintenance of his QuarreU, with our bodies, 
 heritage, and goods, against his private or pubUc calumniators, 
 byepast or to come, or any others presuming anything in 
 Word or Deed to his Keproach, Dishonour, or Infamy. Moee- 
 OVEE, weighing and considering the time present, and how our 
 Sovereign the Queen's Majesty is now destitute of a Husband, 
 in the which solitary state the Commonweal of this Realme 
 may not permit her Highness to continue and endure, but at 
 some time her Highness in appearance may be inclined to 
 yield into a Marriage ; and therefore, in case the former 
 affectionate and hearty service of the said Earl done to her 
 Majesty from time to time, and his other good Qualities and 
 Behaviour, may move her Majesty so far to humble herself, 
 as, preferring one of her native-bom subjects unto all foreign 
 Princes, to take to Husband the said Earl, We and every one 
 of us undersubscribing, upon our Honours and Fidelity, oblige 
 us and promise, not only to further, advance, and set forward 
 the Marriage to be solemnised and completed betwixt her 
 
NOTES. 269 
 
 Highness and the said Noble Lord, with our Votes, Counsel, 
 Fortification, and Assistance in Word and Deed, at such time 
 as it shall please her Majesty to think it convenient, and how- 
 soon the Laws shall leave it to be done; but in case any 
 should presume directly or indirectly, openly, or under what- 
 soever Colour or Pretence, to hinder, hold back, or disturb 
 the said Marriage, we shall, in that behalf, esteem, hold, and 
 repute the Hinderers, Adversaries, or Disturbers thereof, as 
 our common Enemies and evil WUlers ; and notwithstanding 
 the same, take part and fortify the said Earl to the said Mar- 
 riage, so far as it may please our Sovereign Lady to allow ; 
 and therein shall spend and bestow our Lives and Goods 
 against aD. that live or die may, as we shall answer to God, 
 and upon our own Fidelities and Conscience ; and in case we 
 do to the contrary, never to have Eeputation or Credit in no 
 Time hereafter, but to be accounted unworthy and faithless 
 Traitors. In Witness whereof, we have subscribed these pre- 
 sents, as follows, at Edinburgh, the 19th day of April, the 
 year of God 1567 years." 
 
 Such was the tenor and substance of that celebrated 
 "Band," the origin and object of which has given rise to so 
 much discussion. But the historian or annotator who at- 
 tempts the investigation of any point in this distracted period 
 of Scottish annals, must exercise the utmost caution before 
 adopting as genuine any kind of documentary evidence, so 
 artfully have many papers been altered or perverted to suit 
 the views or to maintain the credit of the chief actors in 
 political intrigue. In this instance there seems no ground for 
 supposing that material alteration has been made in the body 
 of the Band by copyists or transcribers. The points in dispute. 
 
270 BOTHWELL. 
 
 however, are very important, as they involve the circum- 
 stances under which the Band was granted, and the status, 
 character, and even individuality of the subscribers. The 
 story commonly received — but which I entirely discredit, for 
 reasons which I shall immediately state — is as follows : The 
 Band in question is said to have been subscribed after a 
 supper to which Bothwell had invited the whole of the 
 nobility in Edinburgh, on the occasion of the dismissal of 
 Parliament. According to this version, the entertainment was 
 given at a tavern kept by a person of the name of Ansley or 
 Ainslie ; and Mr Tytler, who seems in this instance to have 
 departed from his usual accurate habit of investigation, gives 
 us the following narrative : " On the evening of the day on 
 which the Parliament rose (April 19th), BothweU invited the 
 principal nobility to supper in a tavern kept by a person 
 named Ansley. They sat drinking tiU a late hour ; and dur- 
 ing the entertainment a band of two hundred hagbutters sur- 
 rounded the house and overawed its inmates. The Earl then 
 rose, and proposed his marriage with the Queen, affirming 
 that he had gained her consent, and even (it is said) producing 
 her written warrant empowering him to propose the matter to 
 her nobility. Of the guests some were his sworn friends, 
 others were terrified and irresolute ; and in the confusion one 
 nobleman, the Earl of Eglinton, contrived to make his escape ; 
 but the rest, both Papist and Protestant, were overawed into 
 compliance, and affixed their signatures to a bond." The 
 foundation of the story is to be found in a letter to Queen 
 Elizabeth from her Commissioners at York, dated 11th Octo- 
 ber 1568, and printed both by Anderson and Goodall. It con- 
 tains the account of the transaction, or rather the explanation 
 
NOTES. 271 
 
 of the signatures, as given on the part of Murray and his col- 
 leagues, some of whom were parties to the bond. " It 
 appeared also," say the Commissioners, " that the self-same 
 day of the date of this Band, being the 19th of April, the Earl 
 of Huntley was restored by Parliament, which Parliament was 
 the occasion that so many Lords were there assembled, which, 
 being aU invited to a supper by Bothwell, were induced after 
 supper, more for fear than otherwise, to subscribe to the said 
 Band ; two hundred harkebusiers being in the Court and 
 about the Chamber door where they supped, which were all 
 at BothweU's devotion." Ainslie, " mine host," owes his im- 
 mortality to a document, a copy of which is in the Cottonian 
 Library under this heading, "The names of such of the 
 nobility as subscribed the Band, so far as John Read might 
 remember, of whom I had this copy, being in his own hand, 
 being commonly termed in Scotland Aynsleis Suppek." The 
 list is as follows : — 
 
 " Eaels Murray, Argyle, Huntley, OassUis, Morton, Suther- 
 land, Rothes, Grlencaim, Caithness. 
 
 " Lords Boyd, Seton, Sinclair, Semple, Oliphant, OgUvy, 
 Ross of Hawkhead, Carlyle, Herries, Hume, Innermeith. 
 
 " Eglinton subscribed not, but slipped away." 
 
 But the memory of " John Read," whom I strongly suspect 
 to have been an amanuensis of George Buchanan, cannot have 
 been of the most reliable kind, inasmuch as Murray could by 
 no possibility have signed the Band, for this simple reason, 
 that he was not in Scotland at the time. This authority, such 
 as it is, has imposed not only on Mr Tytler, but on Miss 
 Strickland, who, in her recent elaborate and most valuable 
 Life of Queen Mary, repeats the story ad longum, and, in her 
 
272 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 surprise at finding the names of Seton and Hemes appended 
 to tlie Band, hazards the conjecture, "that they must have 
 drunk to excess, and signed it when under the temporary 
 delirium of intoxication !" 
 
 In Schiller's grand political drama of Wallenstein, the Im- 
 perialist generals are represented as signing, after supper, a 
 fabricated bond, differing materially in substance from that 
 which had been exhibited before the commencement of the 
 convivialities. But at AinsUe's tavern the transaction is 
 wholly of another character. Eight Earls and eleven Barons, 
 of all shades of political and religious opinion, are said to have 
 been invited by BothweU to supper — not in some remote 
 chateau, with its dungeon and oubliette, but in a public inn, 
 in the heart of populous Edinburgh. We are then asked to 
 believe that a couple of hundred armed desperadoes beset the 
 courtyard and the stairs — ^that BothweU drew from his pocket 
 the document ready prepared — and that the nineteen noble 
 poltroons signed it without remonstrance or hesitation ! 
 
 '^ Credat Judeeus Ape] la, 
 Non ego " 
 
 What, it may be inquired, had the nobles to fear if they 
 refused compliance? Not massacre, surely, for that would 
 have eifectually extinguished all the hopes and prospects of 
 BothweU ; not abduction, for that would have been impos- 
 sible, considering the locality. There is no difficulty in ac- 
 counting for the signature of some of the Peers, who were 
 conspirators, and therefore ready enough to sign without 
 compulsion ; but there were others, such as Glencairn, Seton, 
 and Oliphant, little likely, under any circumstances, to have 
 
NOTES. 273 
 
 submitted to sucli insolent dictation. But even granting that 
 they had been constrained, it is a very singular and significant 
 fact, that none of them deemed it necessary at an after period 
 to offer an explanation in order to clear their characters from 
 so very serious a stain. A skUful artisan of romance would 
 hardly have dared, in defiance of all probability, to depict 
 such a scene in his pages. Grave historians, however, have 
 not hesitated to stand sponsors for the story. 
 
 That BothweU may have entertained his friends at supper 
 in Ainslie's tavern, on the occasion of the dismissal of Parlia^ 
 ment, is quitp possible — ^but that the signatures were then 
 extorted and given, appears to me, from intrinsic and 
 extrinsic evidence, as preposterous a fiction as ever was 
 devised. Bishop Keith states that there is, or was in his 
 time, in the Scottish CoUege at Paris, another copy of this 
 Band, "attested by the proper subscription of Sir James 
 Balfour of Pittendrich, the Clerk of Eegister and Privy- 
 Council at the time the Band was formed, who had the 
 original in his keeping." That copy bears date the 20th, not 
 the 19th April, and the following are the parties subscribing : 
 — The Archbishop of St Andrews ; the Bishops of Aberdeen, 
 Galloway, Dunblane, Brechin, Koss, the Isles, and Orkney ; 
 the Earls of Huntley, Argyle, Morton, CassUis, Sutherland, 
 Errol, Crawford, Caithness, and Eothes ; the Lords Boyd, 
 Glammis, Ruthven, Semple, Herries, Ogilvy, and Fleming. 
 This is a very different list from that which " John Read" 
 sets down from memory. Its accuracy may, like that of the 
 other, be impugned, but it does not shock credibility. Boyd 
 was a waverer, who, after the Queen's marriage, joined the 
 confederacy against her, but afterwards came over to her 
 
 s 
 
274 BOTHWELL. 
 
 side. Hemes, according to Mr Tytler, was not to be trusted 
 when his own interests came in the way. And it is certain 
 that not one of the nobles on that list repaired to the 
 standard of Queen Mary previous to the affair at Carberry 
 HUl. Bothwell, in his Memorial to the King of Denmark, 
 penned after he was a fugitive, states that, on his acquittal, 
 twenty-eight members of Parliament came to him at his 
 own house without solicitation, offering him their support 
 towards the furtherance of his marriage with the Queen, and 
 that of these, eight were bishops. I admit that Bothwell's 
 own statements are entitled to very little respect, but his 
 averment as to the concurrence of the bishops is worthy of 
 notice. It is not difficult to understand the reason why, in 
 the communications made to Elizabeth's commissioners, all 
 mention of the bishops' signatures was suppressed; for 
 Buchanan, though endowed with preternatural impudence, 
 could scarcely have hoped to persuade the Duke of Norfolk 
 that Bothwell had decoyed eight prelates into a tavern, and 
 there, under the influence of drink and terror, compelled 
 them to set their names to a bond, recognising him as a 
 proper match for their sovereign ! In the introductory letter 
 to the Memoirs of Sir James MelvU, addressed to his son, 
 there occurs this significant passage, which I have never seen 
 quoted, but which appears to me very decisive against the 
 authenticity of the Ainslie Legend : " Had I not more re- 
 garded my Princess her interest than mine own, I should have 
 accepted the large offers made to me by the Earl of Bothwell, 
 when he desired me to svibscrihe, mih the rest of his flatterers, 
 that paper wherein they declared it was her Majesti/s 
 interest to marry the said Earl ; but I chose rather to lay 
 
NOTES. 275 
 
 myself open to his hatred and revenge, whereby I was after- 
 ward in peril of my life." This evidently points to a 
 deliberate and studied attempt, not to a drunken surprise. 
 Bothwell was a daring and unscrupulous villain— not a wise 
 man, yet certainly not an idiot; and he never would have 
 resorted to a device, which, so far from promoting his object, 
 must have led to his immediate detection. 
 
 My conclusion therefore is, that the terms of the Band 
 were arranged between Bothwell and the lords of the faction 
 of Murray and Morton, with whom he was then acting in 
 apparent concert. It was part of their regular scheme ; for 
 Bothwell woidd not have been seduced from his allegiance 
 without very distinct promises made by his tempters. Their 
 object in signing the Band was to fortify Bothwell in his 
 pretensions to the hand of the Queen, they being aware that 
 such a marriage would be the signal for insurrection, and 
 inevitably lead to her deposition : That marriage was the 
 bribe, by means of which they induced Bothwell to become 
 the principal actor in the murder of Damley, and it was also 
 their interest to keep faith with him, until he was installed 
 as Damley's successor ; after that he was to be hunted down. 
 It seems established, moreover, that this Band was signed 
 by a considerable number of the nobility who did not belong 
 to the faction, but who may have given their names partly 
 from example and partly from interest. I very much fear, 
 however, that no one who subscribed the deed, had any faith 
 in BothweU's innocence. Darnley had made himself so ob- 
 noxious to the whole nobility, that his removal was regarded 
 in the light of a state necessity ; and in those days, men were 
 not over-scrupulous or inquisitive as to the means which were 
 
276 BOTHWELL. 
 
 employed for an end which they approved. Some who knew 
 Bothwell's violent temper, may have had no better reason for 
 signing than a vague dread of his resentment, but I think 
 there is no ground for supposing that in any case there was 
 an extortion of signatures. 
 
 I may here remark, that lists, such as that drawn up 
 from the recollection of " John Eead," ought not to be relied 
 on as authentic historical documents. Mr Tytler has been 
 blamed, and I think deservedly, for preferring a charge 
 against Knox of complicity in the murder of Riccio, founded 
 upon a document in the State-paper Office. It is highly 
 probable, as Dr M'Crie allows, that Knox regarded that event 
 with satisfaction ; and his disappearance from Scotland 
 immediately after the assassination, coupled with the fact that 
 he did not return to Edinburgh untU Mary was imprisoned 
 and her enemies triumphant, has naturally enough engendered 
 suspicion. Grave doubts may be entertained as to his inno- 
 cence ; but I am boimd to say that, in a question of this kind, 
 no weight ought to be given to a paper which is unsigned, 
 and not satisfactorily authenticated. I am clearly of opinion 
 that the list referred to by Mr Tytler cannot be accepted as 
 reliable evidence that Knox was one of the actual conspirators. 
 In that list, " John Craig, preacher," is set down as having 
 consented, along with Knox, to the death of Eiccio ; and the 
 evidence which would condemn the one, must be held to 
 apply to the other. Yet no writer has ventured to maintain 
 that Craig had any previous knowledge of the murder. He 
 was the colleague of Knox in the ministerial charge of Edin- 
 burgh, but did not qidt his post when those who were noto- 
 riously concerned iu the assassination of Eiccio were com- 
 
NOTES. 277 
 
 pelledto seek safety in flight; and his subsequent demeanour 
 and bearing, as well as Ms high and really admirable character, 
 seem to me utterly inconsistent with the idea that he was 
 privy to that act of violence and blood. Indeed, I have a 
 strong conviction that there was less real confidence than is 
 generally supposed to have existed between the nobles who 
 professed the cause of the Eeformation and the preachers ; 
 and that the latter were seldom consulted with regard to 
 political movements, however their influence with the people 
 may have been used to forward them. 
 
 " Tour own brave father woo'd a Queen — 
 This Mary's mother." — P. 126. 
 
 PATRICK EAKL BOTHWELL, AND MAEY OF GUISE. 
 
 There is a remarkable coincidence in the leading points of 
 the personal history of the two Bothwells, father and son. 
 Both of them paid their addresses to Scottish Queens ; both 
 divorced their wives with a view to the more ambitious mar- 
 riage ; both received crown-grants of Orkney ; and both died 
 in exUe. During the lifetime of James V., Earl Patrick was 
 suspected of treasonable practices with England, and in 1531 
 was imprisoned in the Oastle of Edinburgh, and afterwards, 
 according to Pitscottie, banished from the kingdom. He re- 
 turned, however, after the death of James, and paid court to 
 the Queen-Dowager, his rival being the Earl of Lennox. But 
 his suit did not prosper, notwithstanding the apparent en- 
 
278 BOTHWELL. 
 
 couragement which he received from Mary of Guise, a woman 
 of great talent, who possessed in an uncommon degree the 
 power of fascinating all who approached her. I am enabled, 
 through the kindness of my friend Mr Joseph Robertson, of 
 the General Register House, Edinburgh, to make public a 
 curious document, prepared by Earl Patrick for the consider- 
 ation of the King of France, in which he asserts that the 
 Queen-Dowager had twice promised him marriage. 
 
 " Thie ar the articlis that Patrik Erie Boithuile, greit admiraU 
 of Scotland, promissis to bid at and debait with Ms 
 body ; That is to say, ane hundreth men for ane hun- 
 dreth men, or man for man, as the King of Frances 
 Maieste will pleis command him thairto. 
 
 " In primis, that the Quenis Grace, his auld maistress, for 
 his continewale seruice done for the tyme, and for eschewing 
 of sic inconvenient cummeris that apperit to fall vpoun Mr, 
 Promest faithfuUie be hir hand writ at twa sindre tymes to 
 tak the said Erie in mariage ; Hir talking deliuerit to him 
 thairupoune, and day assignit thairto, as hir writtingis obliga- 
 touris vnder hir hand writ mair fuUelie proportis. 
 
 " Secundlie, scho gaif to the said Erie the erledome of Fiff 
 during hir lifetyme, for seruice done and to be done, As hir 
 euidentis maid to him thairof proportis. 
 
 "Thirdlie, scho gaif to the said Erie fre the lordschip of 
 Galloway, eUke maner induring hir lifetyme. 
 
 " Pferdlie, scho gaif to the said Brie the erledome of Orknay 
 
NOTES. 279 
 
 during Mr lifetyme for payment, Reservand ane thousand 
 merk thairof at the said Erles dispositioune in feis quhair he 
 plesit. 
 
 "Alswa, scho is awand to the said Erie foure thowsand 
 crovnis, And gaif in command to the Ambassatour passand 
 for the tyme to France to answer Maister Michell Balfour, 
 seruitour to the said Erie, twa thowsand crovnis, and inconti- 
 nent thaireftir send the post with ane discharge. 
 
 " The said Erie desyris thir articlis to be representit vnto the 
 King of Frances Maieste ; And for vereficatioune hereof. And 
 clering of all promissis allegit maid be him to Ingland afore the 
 day of the dait hereof, Offeris him to cum to France or Scot- 
 land, quhair it pleissis the Kingis Maieste of France to appimct. 
 To debait the samin with his body aganis all thaim will say 
 in the contrair, That he nevir did afore the said day that 
 micht be prejudiciall to the reabne of Scotland. In witnes 
 hereof, and for vereficatioune of the premissis, he has sub- 
 scriuit thir presentis with his hand. At Armetage the first 
 day of AprUe, the yere of God ane thowsand five hundreth 
 fourtynyne yeris. 
 
 "Eele Bothuile, 
 Amirall." 
 
 As this document is preserved ui the Register House of 
 Edinburgh, we may presume that it never was forwarded to 
 France. Very shortly afterwards, Earl Patrick formally 
 renounced his aUegiance, and became a pensioner of England, 
 as appears in an instrument of King Edward VI., dated at 
 Westminster, 3d September 1549. " Whereas Patrick, Earl 
 
280 BOTHWELL. 
 
 of Bothwell, has acknowledged Ms duty to us, his natural 
 sovereign lord and King, superior lord of the realm of Scot- 
 land, we have taken him, his castles, towers, lands, tenements, 
 rents, goods, and cattals, men-servants, and retainers into our 
 protection and defence ; and we grant, to him an annuity of 
 yearly rent of 3000 crowns, and the wages of 100 horsemen, to 
 serve under him for the defence of his person and the annoy- 
 ing of the enemy ; and if it shall fortune him, by means of 
 our service, to lose his lands and possessions in Scotland 
 above the space of three years, we promise to give and grant 
 to him and his heirs for ever lands and tenements to the 
 yearly rent and value of all such lands, (fee, as from this day 
 forward he shall lose by reason of his service.'' We find him, 
 however, again in Scotland, and in attendance on the Queen- 
 Dowager in 1554. He appears to have died in 1556, when 
 he was succeeded by his son James. 
 
 I have noted these particulars, because even by old 
 writers, such as Buchanan and Herries, the two BothweUs 
 have been confounded ; so much so, that a dissertation was 
 written by Patrick Lord Elibank, to prove that the rival of 
 Lennox in the favour of Mary of Guise, and the husband of 
 her daughter Mary, Queen of Scots, was one and the same 
 person. Hence have arisen the extraordinary discrepancies 
 of statement regarding the age of James Earl of BothweU, 
 which have puzzled so many readers of history. BothweU 
 was certainly little more than twenty years of age when his 
 father died ; consequently he must have been about twenty- 
 six when he first paid his duty to the Queen at JoinviUe in 
 1561, and about thirty-two when he carried her off to 
 Dunbar. 
 
NOTES. 281 
 
 Strange to say, it appears that another of the house of 
 Hepburn, Adam, Master of Hales, father of the first Earl 
 of Bothwell, had an intrigue with another Queen-Dowager 
 of Scotland, Mary of Gueldres, widow of James II. The 
 authorities upon which this statement has been made, wUl 
 be found in the first volume of Pinkerton's History of Scot- 
 land. 
 
 " Of evil omen is the day 
 Thai brings Kirhaldy to the fray." — P. 128. 
 
 SIE WILLIAM KIEKALDY OF GEAN6E. 
 
 ■ Those who desire to know the particulars of the career of 
 this remarkable soldier, whose name is so conspicuous in 
 Scottish annals, may consult Mr James Grant's Memoirs 
 and Adventures of Kirhaldy of Grange, an animated 
 biography which wiU amply repay perusal Unfortunately 
 for the cause of Queen Mary, he was too long duped by her 
 betrayers ; but no sooner were his eyes opened to the real 
 nature of the infamous conspiracy, than he took her part ; 
 maintained it with that energy and valour which had won 
 him an European fame; and after a desperate struggle, in 
 which he probably would have been victorious had not the 
 armed power of England been put forth, was sent to the 
 scaffold, the last and greatest of the adherents of that unfor- 
 tunate Queen. I shall content myself by transcribing the 
 following passage from the Memoirs of Sir James Melville : — 
 "On this manner both England and the Regent were 
 
282 BOTHWELL. 
 
 revenged upon that worthy champion Grange, whom they 
 had some time in great estimation, who had done such notable 
 service in France, being captain of an hundred light horse- 
 men, that he was extolled by the Duke of Venddme, Prince of 
 Cond^, and Duie of Aumale, governors and colonels then in 
 Picardy ; that I heard Henry II. point unto him and say, 
 ' Yonder is one of the most valiant men of our age.' Also the 
 King used him so familiarly that he chose him commonly 
 upon his side in all pastimes he went to ; and because he 
 shott far with- a great shaft at the buts, the King would have 
 him to shoot two arrows, one for his pleasure. The great 
 Constable of France would never speak to him uncovered, 
 and the King gave him an honourable pension, whereof he 
 never sought payment. England had proof of his valour fre- 
 quently against them upon the Borders, where he gave them 
 divers ruffles. In a single combat he vanquished the Earl of 
 Eivers' brother between the two armies of Scotland and 
 England. He afterwards debated manfully the liberty of his 
 country against the Frenchmen, when they intended to erect 
 the land into a province. He had lately refused the demands 
 of Mr Eandolph and Mr KiUigrew, as is before mentioned, 
 and had reproached both the said ambassadors of false and 
 deceitful dealing. Last of all, he had refused to put the castle 
 into the hands of Englishmen, and therefore, because he was 
 true to his Prince and country, it cost him his life. For they 
 boasted plainly to bring down that giant's pride, who, as 
 they alleged, presumed to be another Wallace ; albeit con- 
 trariwise he was humble, gentle, and meek, like a lamb in the 
 house, but like a lion in the fields. He was a lusty, strong, 
 and well-proportioned personage, hardy, and of a magnani- 
 
NOTES. 283 
 
 mous courage ; secret and prudent in all Ms enterprises, so 
 that never one that he made or devised misgave where he 
 was present himself. When he was victorious, he was very 
 merciful, and naturally liberal ; an enemy to greediness and 
 ambition, and a friend to all men in adversity.'' 
 
 " How many churches, wrapped inflames, 
 
 Have witnessed to the spoUer's pofwer." — P. 152. 
 
 DEMOLITION OP CHUECHES BY THE EEFOKMEES. 
 
 " Now arises tumults upon tumults, killing of priests, sack- 
 ing and pulling down of Churches, ruining of statlie Abbacies, 
 and other glorious buildings, dissolving hospitals ; all in con- 
 fusion. In a word, these ancient buildings and brave fabrics, 
 monuments of antiquity and marks of piety, which for many 
 hundred years have been a-building, shall in few months be 
 destroyed and razed to the ground ! The ornaments and 
 riches of the Churches fell to the share of the common rabble ; 
 the estates and lands were divided amongst the great men, 
 by themselves, without right or law ; which they resolve to 
 maintain by the sword ! 
 
 "The first storm feU upon Saint Johnstoun, in this same 
 month of May. John Knoi (of whom we spoke before, who 
 had been minister to these rebels in the castle of St Andrews) 
 was the occasion ; who, by a seditious sermon, stirred up the 
 people to fury and madness ; who encouraged them to pull 
 down the Churches ; for in his sermon he bid them ' Pull 
 
284 BOTHWELL. 
 
 down the nests that the crows might not build again ! ' Where- 
 upon they run out in confusion, killed the priests, broke down 
 altars, and destroyed all the images and ornaments. From 
 that they fell upon the Religious Houses and Monasteries ; 
 those two goodly Abbacies of Franciscans and Dominicans, 
 with their Churches, were pulled down and made level with 
 the ground in two days, and aU their riches made a prey to 
 the people ! But the Abbay of Charters Monks stood longer 
 by one day. The next storm fell upon Couper. Those people, 
 upon notice of this business at Perth, fell likeways upon 
 their Churches ; which they spoiled and ransackt, and chased 
 away the priests." 
 
 "When the news was known that Lord James and the 
 Earl of Argyle had deserted the Queen-Regent, and joined 
 themselves to the Congregation, the people were so much 
 encouradged that they flockt in multitudes. Then a declarar 
 tion was put out, by which it was declared. That the cause 
 of their rising in arms was for defence of the cause of God, 
 their religion, and liberty, and lives, that were all in eminent 
 danger by the false dealing of the Queen - Regent, whom 
 neither Bands, religion, nor solemn oaths could bind : That 
 she was a breaker of truth and faith : That she was a stranger 
 who had no respect to the well of Scotland. These words 
 being declared to the people by John Knox, they grew so 
 exasperatt that they were ready to attempt anything. They 
 run in confusion to the town of CraU, and fell upon the 
 Church, which they ransackt and spoiled. From thence to St 
 Androes, and there they spoiled aU ; and not content with 
 the spoU of the whole Churches and Monasteries, they pulled 
 down the very walls of the Grey and Black Friers' Monas- 
 
NOTES. 285 
 
 teries, goodlie things, and of great antiquity ; and chased the 
 Archbishop himself out of the toune." 
 
 " This being refused, the Congregation inarches directly to 
 Perth, and besieges the town, which was rendered withiu few 
 days. Then the Laird of Kinfauns (whom the Queen-Eegent 
 had made Provost) was displaced, and the Lord Euthven 
 was again admitted. Then they send a strong party over to 
 Scone, who ransackt and defaced the Churches, broke down 
 the altars and images, and destroyed the whole ornaments 
 and ancient monuments, and so retired. Upon the other 
 hand. Lord James and the Earl of Argyle marched to Stir- 
 ling, and served the Churches there with the like fare ; and 
 razes the Monasterie of Black Friers to the ground. The 
 next day they remove to Edinburgh, and in their way, they 
 visit the Churches of Lithgow, which they altogether spoiled 
 and ruined. They were willingly received in Edinburgh by 
 the Magistrates, where they were no sooner entered, but they 
 feU upon the Churches, which they ransackt and ruined with 
 admirable speed. They begun at the great Church of St 
 Giles, and from it to the Colledge Kirk, both which they 
 spoiled of aU their ornaments. From thence to the Black 
 Friers Monasterie, which they overturned to the foundation. 
 They likeways pulled down the Monasterie and Church of 
 Gray Friers, and our Lady Kirk in the Fields (called Maria 
 de Campis), and made them level with the ground. Thus, 
 having defaced all the Churches in Edinburgh, and pulled 
 down those they pleased, they planted Reformed preachers in 
 those they had reserved, and disposed of the government of 
 the town as they thought fit. Then they seized upon the 
 Queen's palace of Holyroodhouse, with all the rich furniture. 
 
286 BOTHWELL. 
 
 which they possessed and kept for their own use." — Lobd 
 Hberies' Historie of the Reign of Marie Queen of Scots. 
 
 These atrocities, for such undoubtedly they were (though 
 even at the present day they have found apologists and defen- 
 ders, who, in common consistency, are bound to vindicate the 
 proceedings of Lord George Gordon and his fanatical mob), 
 took place during the Regency of Mary of Guise. But the 
 disposition to attack and deface religious edifices was not ex- 
 tinguished. In making Bothwell deceive the Queen by an 
 account of an imaginary tumult in Edinburgh and an attack 
 upon Holyrood Chapel, I have not outraged probability. 
 Within a fortnight from the day when 'Queen Mary landed in 
 her kingdom, she received practical proof of the tolerant spirit 
 of her subjects, who, demanding freedom of worship for them- 
 selves, fell into the usual mistake of confounding freedom with 
 monopoly. Before Mary left France she had expressly stipu- 
 lated that she was to be allowed the privilege of worshipping 
 God according to the rites of the Church to which she be- 
 longed, and this was at once conceded by Murray in his 
 character of delegate from the Lords of the Congregation. 
 Trusting to this pledge, she gave orders that mass should be 
 performed in the Eoyal Chapel of Holyrood ; but no sooner 
 was this known than the tumults began. The Master of 
 Lindsay put on his armour, assembled his followers, and 
 rushed into the courtyard of the palace, exclaiming that the 
 priests should die the death ! The almoner of the Queen was 
 assaulted, and had difficulty in saving his life by flight. 
 " This," says Herries, " took great impression on the Queen, 
 for she knew this durst not have been done without the pro- 
 tection of great men. Lord James took upon him to pacify 
 
NOTES. 287 
 
 the tumult, -whicli lie did to the Queen's disadvantage." Knox 
 seized the occasion to deliver a pithy sermon against idolatry, 
 and averred in his peroration that " one mass was more fear- 
 ful unto him than if ten thousand armed enemies were landed 
 in ony parte of the reahne, of purpose to suppress the whole 
 religioun." This was a mere expression of opinion ; but 
 opinions, when uttered by influential persons, often lead to 
 practical results. Accordingly, the Town-council of Edin- 
 burgh shortly afterwards passed the following coarse and 
 most disgraceful resolution : — 
 
 " Secundo Octohria 1561. 
 
 " The quhilk day the Provest, Baillies, Counsale, and hale 
 Deckyuis, persaving the priestis, monks, freris, and utheris of 
 the wikit rable of the Antechrist the Paip, to resort to this 
 toune, encontrare the'tenour of the Proclamatioun maid in the 
 contrair ; therefor ordanis the said Proclamatioun to be pro- 
 clamyt of new, chargeing aU monkis, freris, priestis, nunnys, 
 adulteraris, fornicatouris, and all sic filthy personis to remove 
 themselfis of this toun, and bounds thairofF, within 24 hours, 
 under the pane of carting throuch the toun, byming on the 
 cheik, and banissing the samyn for evir." 
 
 It is gratifying to know that this monstrous exhibition of 
 civic insolence was followed by the deprivation of the Pro- 
 vost and Bailies. 
 
 After Mary was sent as a prisoner to Lochleven, Holyrood 
 Chapel was honoured with another sanitory visit. According 
 to Herries, " Before they left Edinburgh, the Earl of Glen- 
 cairn, with his domestick servants onlie in his company, went 
 
288 BOTHWELL. 
 
 to the Chapel of Halliroodhouse, and with great noise broke 
 down the altar, and defaced every thing that pertained to the 
 ornaments thairof; which was much commended by the 
 ministry for an act of pietie and zeal ; but the nobility did 
 not approve of it, for they reprehended him for actiug without 
 a pubUe order." 
 
 " tiger heart ! that fiercer grew 
 With every anguished breath she drew." — P. 164. 
 
 ABDUCTION OF QUEEN MAEY BY BOTHWELL. 
 
 The opponents of Queen Mary would have us believe that 
 no real force was used, and that she was carried by Bothwell 
 to Dunbar with her own consent. It is matter of surprise to 
 me that a story so palpably absurd should ever have received 
 credence ; for if Mary was possessed, as her calumniators say, 
 by an infatuated passion for BothweU, there was no occasion 
 whatever for her resorting to so ridiculous an expedient. 
 Bothwell had been tried for the murder, and acquitted. The 
 strength of his own party is evident from the fact, already 
 stated, that he was escorted to his trial by no less than four 
 thousand gentlemen. His influence with the nobility is 
 evidenced by the Band which was granted to him by so 
 many men of high station, recommending him as a fit person 
 to marry the Queen, and pledging themselves to assist him 
 in that object. If Mary had really desired the marriage, 
 nothing more was needful than her consent to the advice of 
 
NOTES. ' 289 
 
 her councillors ; and she might then have wedded BothweU 
 publicly without reproach. There was actually no impedi- 
 ment in her way, supposing her to have been so inclined ; but 
 we are asked to believe that, instead of following this clear and 
 open course, she agreed that BothweU should waylay her on 
 the public highway, almost at the gate of her capital of Edin- 
 burgh, carry her off to Dunbar, and detain her there as a 
 captive ! We are asked to believe that she willingly con- 
 sented to appear, in the eyes of her subjects, as a woman 
 whose person had been violated, and who could only obtain 
 reparation of her wrong by marriage with her ravisher! 
 We are asked to believe that BothweU, in the fuU know- 
 ledge that he might press his suit openly to a successful 
 conclusion, having already the concurrence of the nobility, 
 was mad enough to simidate a crime by which he incurred 
 the penalties of high treason, and which could have no other 
 effect than that of raising the indignation of the people, and 
 forfeiting all chance of the future support of those peers and 
 barons who were not implicated in any of the conspiracies of 
 the time, but were devotedly attached to their Queen ! 
 
 The real obstacle to the marriage was, that BothweU, though 
 he had obtained the support of the nobility, could not obtain 
 the consent of the Queen. I beUeve that, up to the time of 
 Damley's murder, Mary regarded BothweU with as much 
 favour as could honestly be granted by a sovereign to a subject 
 of high rank who had rendered extraordinary services. He 
 had joined in none of the conspiracies which were directed 
 against her, but, on the contrary, had been active in quelling 
 them ; he had rejected with scorn aU advances made to him 
 by the emissaries of Elizabeth ; and — what was Ukely to 
 
 T 
 
290 BOTHWELL. 
 
 weigh, much with a woman of Mary's disposition — he had 
 shed his blood in her cause. The visit which Mary, accom- 
 panied by her brother, had paid to Mm at Hermitage Castle, 
 when he was lying wounded there, was a strong token of her 
 sense of gratitude ; but her feelings towards him, as shown 
 by her subsequent conduct, were of no warmer kind. That 
 Mary should have believed him innocent of the murder of 
 Damley, need surprise no one. Among the avowed enemies 
 of Damley were the men who had murdered Eiccio before 
 her face, intending the same fate for BothweU on account of 
 Ms loyalty to her. Her suspicion naturally lighted upon 
 those who had already shown themselves capable of any 
 atrocity, and who had intelligible cause of hatred against 
 Damley, their betrayer. With Damley, Bothwell had no 
 personal groimd of quarrel ; and it certainly appeared most 
 improbable that he would confederate with men who, a few 
 months before, had sought to take his life. Besides tMs, 
 popular rumour had not spared Mary herself. She had been 
 accused, as she well knew, of being piivy to the murder of 
 her husband ; and, conscious of her own innocence, she 
 would not believe Bothwell to be guilty. But I think, from 
 certain circumstances wMch occurred about the time of 
 BothweU's trial, that Mary had begun to suspect that he 
 was aspiring to her hand. Deeply as Murray had offended 
 her on previous occasions, she wept passionately when he 
 came to take leave of her, and besought him to remain in 
 Scotland. This certainly she would not have done, if in- 
 fluenced by an infatuated passion for Bothwell. Immediately 
 after the latter had obtained the Band from the nobility, he 
 began to discover his purpose. The following extract is from 
 
NOTES. 291 
 
 Queen Mary's letter to the Bishop of Dunblane, written after 
 her unhappy nuptials, for the purpose of explaimng to the 
 Court of France the position in which she stood. After 
 alluding to the favour which she had previously shown to 
 BothweU, she says : — 
 
 " But he, as well has appeared since then, making his 
 profit of everything that might serve his turn, not discovering 
 to our self his intent, or that he had any such purpose in his 
 head, was content to entertain our favour by his good out- 
 ward behaviour and all means possible. And in the mean- 
 time went about by practising with the noblemen secretly to 
 make them his friends, and to procure their consent to the 
 furtherance of his intents : and so far proceeded by means 
 with them, before that ever the same came to our knowledge, 
 that our whole Estates being here assembled in Parliament, 
 he obtained a writing, subscribed with aU their hands, 
 wherein they not only granted their consents to our marriage 
 with him, but also obliged themselves to set him forward 
 thereto with their lives and goods, and to be enemies to all 
 would disturb or impede the same ; which latter he pur- 
 chased, giviag them to understand that we were content 
 therewith. 
 
 " And the same being once obtained, he begun afar oflf to 
 discover his intention to us, and to assay if he might by 
 humble suit purchase our good-will ; but finding our answer 
 nothing corresponding to his desire, and casting before his 
 eyes all doubts that customarily men use to revolve with 
 themselves in similar enterprises, the outwardness of our own 
 mind, the persuasions which our friends, or his unfriends, 
 might cast out for his hindrance, the change of their minds 
 
292 BOTHWELL. 
 
 whose consent he had akeady obtained, with many other 
 incidents which might occur to frustrate him of his expecta- 
 tion, he resolved with himself to foUow forth his good fortune, 
 and all respects laid apart, either to tyne (lose) all in one 
 hour, or to bring to pass that thing he had taken in hand ; 
 and so resolved quickly to prosecute his deliberation, he 
 suffered not the matter long to sleep, but within four days 
 thereafter, finding opportunity, by reason we were past 
 secretly towards Stirling to visit the Prince our dearest son, 
 in our returning he awaited us by the way, accompanied with 
 a great force, and led us with all diligence to Dunbar.'' It is 
 easy to understand why BothweU could not afford to wait ; 
 because, the day after the Band was signed, Kirkaldy began 
 to bestir himself, and his influence with the commons was 
 such that he could very soon have raised an insurrection. I 
 have no doubt that, notwithstanding this, he would have 
 waited if there had been any reasonable ground for supposing 
 that the Queen would ultimately consent ; but the failure of 
 his father in his attempt to gain the hand of Mary of Guise 
 (vide previous note), may have been regarded by him as a 
 warning against delay, 
 
 I say nothing of what occurred at Dimbar ; but this much 
 must be kept in mind, that the Act of Parliament for 
 BothweU's forfeiture (20th Dec. 1567) contains the following 
 narrative : — 
 
 " And for that purpose, he (BothweU), with a great number 
 of armed men — to wit, a thousand horsemen in maU, and 
 others equipped in warlike manner — did, on the twenty- 
 fourth day of the month of April last, waylay our dearest 
 mother Mary, then Queen of Scots, on her journey from 
 
NOTES. 293 
 
 Linlithgow to our city of Edinburgh, she suspecting no evil 
 from any subject of hers, much less from the said Earl of 
 Bothwell, to whom she had vouchsafed as many tokens of 
 liberality and bounty as any prince could show or exhibit 
 to a faithful subject ; and with force and treasonable 
 violence did seize upon her august person, and did lay 
 violent hands upon her, not permitting her to enter the 
 city of Edinburgh peacefully ; but committed the heinous 
 crime of ravishment upon her august person, by apprehend- 
 ing our said dearest mother on the public highway, and by 
 carrying her away on the same night to the Castle of Dunbar, 
 which was then in his keeping ; by forcibly and violently in- 
 carcerating and holding her therein captive for the space of 
 twelve days or thereby ; and by compelling her, through fear, 
 to which even the most constant of women are liable, to give 
 him a promise of marriage at as early period as it possibly 
 could be contracted." 
 
 If there is any faith to be placed in public records or 
 solemn acts of national assemblies, this statute, which was 
 passed after Mary was deposed, must clear her of the 
 charge of deliberate collusion with Bothwell. Her enemies 
 were then in power; and it is not credible that they 
 would have lost such an opportunity of justifying their re- 
 bellion, had they been able to show that Mary went will- 
 ingly with Bothwell to Dunbar. The attainder of Both- 
 well was certain upon other grounds. Nay, more ; this Act 
 was passed sis months after the silver casket, alleged to con- 
 tain letters from Mary to Bothwell, was seized, when Dal- 
 gleish, BothweU's groom of the chambers, was apprehended. 
 The letters are now, I believe, universally admitted to be rank 
 
294 BOTHWELL. 
 
 forgeries ; but if any one should still entertain a doubt as to 
 that, let him remember that the letters, if genmne, must have 
 been in the hands of Murray and Morton six months before 
 the Act for Bothwell's forfeiture was passed, and that, accord- 
 ing to their tenor, the narrative of the Act was false. This is 
 one of the most remarkable instances in history tending to 
 show that deliberate viUany leads to inextricable contradic- 
 tions. If the letters said to be written by Mary to Bothwell 
 were genuine — if they had even been forged at so early a 
 period — is it conceivable that Murray, with such evidence 
 in his hands, would, as Kegent, have passed an Act which 
 expressly acquits Mary of all complicity with Bothwell 1 
 Be it remembered, also, that at the time when that Act 
 was past, the Queen's cause was by no means desperate^ 
 A large party of the nobility and barons were convinced 
 of her innocence, indignant at the treachery which had been 
 used towards her, and determined to reinstate her on the 
 throne ; and therefore the dominant faction was little likely 
 to omit any opportunity of casting a stain upon her character. 
 I would further ask those who doubt the innocence of Mary, 
 to consider how far her demeanour and that of Bothwell, after 
 their marriage, is consistent with the theory of a devoted 
 attachment upon her part. I shall not insist upon the fact 
 that she was brought from Dunbar, not to Holyrood, but to 
 the Oastle of Edinburgh, where she was kept closely guarded 
 till the day of marriage. That might have been collusive. 
 But take Melville's account of what followed the nuptials : 
 "When I returned to Edinburgh, I dealt with Sir James 
 Balfour not to part with the Castle, whereby he might be 
 an instrument to save the Prince and the Queen, who was 
 
NOTES. 295 
 
 so disdainfully handled, and with such reproachful language, 
 that, ia presence of Arthur AresMne, I heard her ask for a 
 knife to stab herself, or else, said she, I shall drown myself." 
 Five days after the marriage, Drury, writing to Cecil, said, 
 " The opinion of divers is that the Queen is the most changed 
 woman in face, that in so little a time, without extremity of 
 sickness, they have seen ; '' and on the very day after the 
 marriage, she said to De Croc, the French ambassador, 
 "that he must not be surprised if he saw her sorrowful, 
 for she could not rejoice, nor ever should again : all she 
 desired was death." Such were the manifestations of the 
 vehement and passionate love which some historians would 
 have us to believe that Mary felt for Bothwell ! 
 
 " Was it a dream ? or did I hear 
 A yell of scorn assail my ear, 
 As frarttic from the host I rode 2 " — P. 217. 
 
 bothwbll's flight from carbeeey. 
 
 I have endeavoured, as nearly as poetical requirements 
 would allow, to follow history accurately. I interpret the 
 events thus. Bothwell, by carrying Mary off to Dunbar, at 
 once consummated his own ruin. His fellow-conspirators 
 might easily have rescued her from Ms hands ; but their 
 object was to have her fliarried to him, so they delayed. After 
 the marriage had taken place, they lost no time, but 
 strengthened themselves by calling in the aid of such of the 
 
296 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Border barons as regarded with jealousy the increasing power 
 of the house of Hepburn. They could also depend upon the 
 assistance of the craftsmen of Ediuburgh, a body trained to the 
 use of arms, and not degenerate from their fathers, who had 
 fought valiantly at Flodden. BothweU, on the other hand, had 
 none beyond his own troopers in whom he could place perfect 
 reliance. The royal summons had brought to Dtmbar many 
 of the East-Lothian barons, headed by Lords Seton, Yester, 
 and Borthwick ; but they were not partisans of BothweU, and 
 came simply on account of the Queen. BothweU. was per- 
 fectly aware of this, and of the Queen's desire to escape, if 
 possible, from his hands ; and that knowledge accounts for 
 his behaviour. I shaU quote once more from MelvUle : — 
 
 " Both armies lay not far from Carbeny : the Earl of Both- 
 weU's men camped upon the hUI, in a strength very advan- 
 tageous ; the lords encamped at the foot of the hUl. And 
 albeit her Majesty was there, I cannot caU it her army, for 
 many of those who were with her were of opinion that she 
 had intelligence with the Lords, especiaUy such as were in- 
 formed of the many indignities put upon her by the Earl of 
 BothweU since their marriage. He was so beastly and sus- 
 picious, that he suffered her not to pass one day in patience, 
 without making her shed abundance of tears. Thus part of 
 his own company detested him ; other part of them believed 
 that her Majesty would faia have been quit of him, but 
 thought shame to he the doer of the deed directly herseE" 
 
 The statements in the poem regarding Kirkaldy of Grange 
 are historicaUy true. I must do BothweU the justice to say 
 that, from aU the accoimts extant, his challenges were not 
 mere bravado, but that he was almost insanely anxious to 
 
NOTES. 297 
 
 meet Morton in single combat. Bothwell was a man of great 
 physical courage, wMch is more than can be said for the ad- 
 versary whom he selected, who was very glad to accept of 
 Lord Lindsay of the Byres as his substitute ; but a duel 
 under such circumstances would have been ridiculous. Mary 
 wanted to be rid of BothweU, and signified as much to the 
 Lords who came in obedience to her summons ; but with that 
 noble spirit which was always her characteristic, she refused 
 to make any terms with the confederated nobles untE Both- 
 well's retreat was secured. Then, and not tiU then, she took 
 an everlasting farewell of the man who, instigated by others, 
 worse traitors than himself, had achieved her ruin. Her re- 
 ception in the camp of the confederates does not fall within 
 the scope of the poem. 
 
 " Till, chased across the open seas, 
 
 I met the surly Dane; 
 These were his gifts and welcome — these ! 
 
 A dungeon and a chain." — P. 219. 
 
 bothwell's impeisonment and confession. 
 
 After his flight from the northern islands, where he 
 escaped with diflBculty from the vessels sent in pursuit, under 
 the command of Kirkaldy of Grange and Murray of Tulli- 
 bardine, Bothwell was taken prisoner by a Danish man-of- 
 war, and brought to Bergen in Norway. The cause of his 
 arrest and detention seems to have been the absence of regular 
 papers and passports, which led to the suspicion that his two 
 
298 BOTHWELL. 
 
 ships had been employed for piratical purposes ; and Both- 
 well, for obvious reasons, refused at first to disclose his name 
 and quality. Concealment, however, was impossible, and he 
 was then sent, by the desire of the King, to Denmark, where 
 for a few months he remained at large, but under surveUlcmce. 
 The Regent Murray having discovered where he was residing, 
 applied to Frederick II. to have him delivered up, on the 
 allegation that he had been adjudged guilty of the death of 
 Damley. Frederick, however, was too cautious to acknow- 
 ledge the authority of a man who had just dethroned his 
 sister and sovereign, but compromised the matter by subject- 
 ing BothweU to close confinement in the fortress of Malmoe. 
 The following is a translation of the order for his imprison- 
 ment : "Febdbeick. Be it known to you that we have 
 ordered our weU-beloved Peder Oxe, our man. Councillor and 
 Marshall of the kingdom of Denmark, to send the Scottish 
 Earl who resides ui the Castle of Copenhagen, over to our 
 Castle of Malmoe, where he is to remain for some time. 
 Therefore we request of you that you will have prepared that 
 same vaulted room in the Castle, where the Marshal Eyler 
 Hardenberg had his apartment ; and that you will cover with 
 masonwork the private place in the said chamber, and where 
 the iron bars of the windows may not be sufficiently strong 
 and well guarded, that you wUl have them repaired ; and 
 when he arrives, that you will put him into the said chamber, 
 give him a bed and good entertainment, as Peder Oxe will 
 further direct and advise you ; and that ye, before aU things, 
 will keep a strong guard, and hold in good security the 
 said Earl as you may best devise, in order that he may 
 not escape. Thereby our will is done. — Written in Fried- 
 
NOTES. 299 
 
 richsberg, 28th day of December, of the year after the birth 
 of Christ 1567." 
 
 During the earlier part of his confinement, Bothwell ap- 
 pears to have occupied himself in the composition of memo- 
 rials addressed to the King of Denmark, for the purpose of 
 asserting his innocence and obtaining his liberty. These 
 documents, which are of great historical interest, were printed 
 for the Bannatyne Chib from an authenticated copy of the 
 originals, which are preserved in the royal library at Drot- 
 tingholm, under the title of Les Affaires du Conte de 
 Boduel ; and they throw a strong light upon the daring 
 character and mendacity of the writer. The narrative opens 
 with the following declaration : " In order that the King of 
 Denmark and the Ooimcil of his kingdom may be better and 
 more clearly informed of the wickedness and treachery of my 
 accusers hereafter named, I have (as succinctly as I am 
 able) explained and truly declared the causes of the troubles 
 and commotions which have occurred ; of which they alone 
 have been the principal authors and promoters from the year 
 1559 to the present time. I have similarly declared their 
 calumnies, and the mischief and detriment they have occa- 
 sioned to myself : which statement I can and wiU maintain 
 to be true, as (with God's assistance) any one may clearly see 
 and understand." 
 
 The narrative itself is exceedingly artful, truth and 
 falsehood being blended together so dexterously as to make 
 the story plausible, and to leave the impression that Both- 
 well had been made the innocent victim of a deep-laid and 
 unprincipled conspiracy. The first memorial appears, from its 
 date, " Copenhagen, Eve of Twelfth day (la vielle des roys), 
 
300 BOTHWELL. 
 
 1568," to have been ■written immediately before his imprison- 
 ment; but the second is dated from Malmoe, 13 January 1668. 
 In this latter document Bothwell assumes high ground, repre- 
 senting himself as an ambassador from Queen Mary to the 
 King of Denmark, " comme aUi^ et conf^der^ de la Royne," 
 sent to solicit aid and assistance, in the shape of troops and 
 vessels, towards rescuing her from the hands of her insurgent 
 nobility. He further states that he is authorised, in return 
 for such assistance, " to offer to his said Majesty to restore the 
 islands of Orkney and Zetland, free and quit, without any re- 
 servation, to the crown of Denmark and Norway, as they had 
 been in time past." No answer seems to have been made to 
 these memorials ; and the unhappy man never quitted the 
 prison in which he had been immured. 
 
 Lord Herries, in his Eistorie of the Reign of Marie Queen 
 of Scots, gives the following account of him after his flight 
 from Zetland, and this may be taken as the popular rumour 
 of that time. " From thence he went to Denmark, where he 
 was known by some Scots merchants that acquented the Earl 
 of Murray at their retume, when he was Regent. Where- 
 upon he sends to the King of Denmark an information against 
 him, and desired him to put him to death, for an example to 
 all who shall attempt the Prince's lyfe. It is recorded that 
 the King of Denmark caused cast him in a lothsome prisone, 
 where none had access unto him but only those who carried 
 him such scurvie meat and drink as was allowed, which was 
 given him in at a little window. Here he was kept ten years, 
 tiU, being overgrown with hair and filth, he went mad and 
 died — a just punishment for his wickedness." It appears, 
 however, that BothweU died in the course of 1576, as on 1st 
 
NOTES. 301 
 
 June of that year Queen Mary -wrote from Sheffield to Betoun, 
 Archbishop of Glasgow, her ambassador at Paris, as follows : 
 " I have received intelligence of the death of the Earl of Both- 
 well ; as also that before his decease he made an ample con- 
 fession of his crimes, and acknowledged himself to have been 
 the author and guilty of the murder of the late King, my hus- 
 band, wherein he expressly acquits me, declaring me innocent 
 even on the peril of the damnation of his soul. If this indeed be 
 so, this testimony would be of vast importance in refuting the 
 false calumnies of my enemies. I pray you therefore, by every 
 means, to ascertain the truth of this. Those who were pre- 
 sent at the said declaration, which was afterwards signed and 
 sealed in form of a testament, are Otto Braw of the Castle of 
 Elcambre, Paris Braw of the Castle of Vascut, M. GuUun- 
 stame of the Castle of Fulkenstere, the Bishop of Schonen, and 
 four Bailiffs of the town." In reply, the Archbishop states 
 that he had heard of the death of Bothwell, and that the 
 French ambassador in Denmark had been instructed to apply 
 for a formal copy of the testament. On 6th January 1577, 
 Queen Mary again wrote to the Archbishop of Glasgow in 
 these terms : " I am assured that the King of Denmark has 
 transmitted to this Queen (Elizabeth) the testament of the late 
 Earl of BothweU, and that she has done the utmost in her 
 power to suppress and keep it secret." About the same time 
 the Archbishop wrote to Queen Mary that, according to Ms 
 information, a copy of the testament had been sent to Scot- 
 land ; that it had been in the hands of Murray of Tullibardine, 
 the Comptroller ; and that it had been perused by the Prince 
 (James), who thereupon used the following words : " Tullibar- 
 dine, have I not reason to be glad, considering the accusations 
 
302 BOTHWELL. 
 
 and calumnies against my mother the Queen, so often repeated 
 to me, when I have this day seen so clear a proof of her inno- 
 cence?" 
 
 The authenticity of these letters, which are to be found in 
 Keith and Labanoff, is undoubted ; and I think that they 
 establish very clearly two things : 1st, That BothweU did emit 
 a dying declaration or testament ; and, 2dly, That copies of 
 that document, if not the original, had been transmitted to 
 England and Scotland. I might perhaps be entitled to say 
 that they establish something more, viz. the tenor of that 
 declaration, as testifying to Queen Mary's innocence of any 
 participation in the murder of Damley ; but I do not wish 
 to follow the example of those who have laboured to make 
 out her guilt, by attaching too much importance to casual 
 expressions or reported conversations. But the question will 
 necessarily occur to every candid and inquiring mind — ^why, if 
 this declaration was not favourable to Queen Mary, should it 
 have been suppressed ? That suppression was freely used for 
 the purpose of injuring Mary, is proved by a letter, printed 
 in Goodall's Appendix, from the Earl of Morton and others. 
 Commissioners at the Conference in England, to the Regent ; 
 in which, referring to a communication on this very subject 
 from Denmark, they say : " In that we had no wiU the 
 contents of the same should be known, fearing that some 
 words and matters mentioned in the same, beiag dispersed 
 here as news, should rather have hindered than forwarded 
 our cause. And therefore, being desired at Court to show 
 the letter, we gave to understand that we had sent the prin- 
 cipal away ; and delivered a copy, omitting such things as 
 we thought not meet to he shown, as your Grace may perceive 
 by the like copy, which also we have sent you herewith." 
 
NOTES. 303 
 
 Further, Chalmers says, on the authority of a letter from 
 Sir John Torster to Secretary Walsingham, "that BothweU's 
 Testament was given in evidence against Morton on his trial 
 for the King's murder.'' This fact is important, as removing 
 the objection started hy Mr Laing, that Both well, having died 
 mad, was incapable of a genuine confession at Ms death. It 
 proves that he did emit a confession, and also that this con- 
 fession was received as good evidence by a Supreme Court of 
 Justice, which assuredly would not have been the case had 
 Bothwell, through insanity, been incapable of making a 
 deposition. 
 
 No copy of that testament has been preserved ; but there 
 is, in the Cottonian Library, a document of that period, 
 entitled, " Copy of a Relation of the Earl of BothweU's De- 
 claration at his Death, by one that was present." That docu- 
 ment bears no date, and the name of the writer is not ap- 
 pended to it. Consequently it is liable to criticism ; and has 
 been criticised very severely indeed by the ingenious but 
 somewhat bigoted Mr Laing. 
 
 After recounting the names of the persons who were pre- 
 sent at the taking of the deposition or declaration, this 
 document bears that the said parties " prayed the said Earl 
 to declare freely and truly what he knew of the death of the 
 late King Henry (Damley), and of the authors thereof, 
 according as he should answer before God at the day of 
 judgment, where all things, however secret they may be here, 
 shall be laid open. Then the said Earl, declaring that 
 through his present great weakness he was not able to dis- 
 course all the separate steps of these things, testified that the 
 Queen was innocent of that death, and that only he himself, 
 his friends, and some of the nobility, were the authors of 
 
304 BOTHWBLL. 
 
 it." The writer of the paper further states, that "this 
 whole narrative, and much more largely extended, was 
 written both in Latia and Danish, and sealed with the 
 King of Denmark's seal, and of the persons who assisted 
 as above." Now let us see in what manner Mr Laing deals 
 with this document. 
 
 In the first place, he asserts that Queen Mary had seen this 
 paper at the time when she wrote to Archbishop Betoun (as 
 above quoted), with" the intelligence of the death of Bothwell, 
 and of his having made a confession. For this assertion he 
 has no kind of authority. It is a pure hypothesis of his own ; 
 and, so far as I can see, is rested entirely upon another asser- 
 tion of his, viz. that the names of the parties mentioned in 
 Queen Mary's letter as having been present at the confession, 
 correspond entirely with those set forth in the "Eelation." 
 Such is not the fact. In the " Relation," Berin Gowes, of the 
 Castle of Malmoe, is mentioned immediately after the Bishop 
 of Schonen, as one of the '' quatre grands Seigneurs" present 
 at the confession ; — ^iu Queen Mary's letter the name of this 
 lord does not appear. In like manner. Otto Braw is designated 
 in the " Eelation" as " of the castle of Ottenbrocht " — in 
 Queen Mary's letter he is styled " of the castle of Elcambre." 
 These variations are suflGlciently important to negative the 
 idea that Mary had seen this " Relation" before she wrote to 
 Betoun ; and I think that Mr Laing himself has proved this 
 to be impossible. Among the names of BothweU's accomplices, 
 as given in the " Relation," there occurs that of " my Lord 
 Robert Abbd de Sainte-Croix, maintenant Gomte des Isles 
 Orchades." Now, as Mr Laing truly enough remarks, Robert 
 Stewart was not created Earl of Orkney untU 1581, five years 
 
NOTES. 305 
 
 after the death of Bothwell; but he accounts for the mistake 
 — for such he assumes it to be — by supposing that Betoun had 
 somehow or other conceived the idea that Stewart, who 
 received a grant of the crown-lands of Orkney from Queen 
 Mary in 1565, a short time before she married Damley, had 
 also got the title. In order to clear the way for this inter- 
 pretation, we must suppose that Betoun deliberately forged 
 the " Eelation," and forwarded it to Mary, in order that she 
 might write him to procure a copy of the original testament, 
 which, in the opinion of Mr Laing, never had existence ! It 
 does not seem to have occurred to Mr Laing that the natural 
 explanation is, that the " Relation," which, as I have said 
 already, bears no date, was penned subseqioentli/ to 1581, and 
 that, in consequence, Robert Stewart is therein correctly desig- 
 nated as "maintenant Comte des Isles Orchades." Had the 
 " Relation" been mentioned or referred to in the letters either 
 of Queen Mary or of Betoun, the objection would have had 
 much force. But it never was mentioned or referred to ; and 
 therefore the criticism is pointless. 
 
 I must further observe that Mr Laing, in stating that " the 
 testament is a shallow forgery,'' seems to confound things 
 essentially apart. If there was a testament, as I think is 
 very clearly demonstrated, upon what authority does Mr 
 Laing assert that it was forged 1 No copy of the testament 
 now exists, and we have only a general statement of its tenor. 
 It never was in the hands of Queen Mary, her advisers, or 
 agents— if anywhere, it was in the hands of her enemies. 
 Bid they forge it ? Probably, however, Mr Laing meant to 
 say that the " Relation" was a forgery. To support that view, 
 he has done nothing more than urge the objections which I 
 
 U 
 
306 BOTHWELL. 
 
 trast I have sufficiently refuted ; and it certainly is a remark- 
 able fact that this paper, if forged, was never heard of until 
 long after Queen Mary perished on the scaffold. For my own 
 part, without attaching imdue weight to this document, I 
 consider it entitled to as much credence as can be given to 
 any which is not authenticated by the name of the writer. 
 If Bothwell emitted no confession, the "Relation" is of 
 course a forgery. If, on the contrary, he did emit a confession, 
 as seems proved both by the letters of Queen Mary and 
 Betoun, and by the fact that such a document was produced 
 at the trial of Morton, then the " Relation" becomes valuable, 
 as showing what was the general tenor of the confession of 
 Bothwell, in regard, at least, to the iunocence of Mary. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, BDINBURGH. 
 
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