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BOTHWELL 
 
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BOTHWELL 
 
 A POEM 
 
 M Skix i^artg 
 
 B7 
 
 WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN 
 
 D. C. L. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVAUEKS " 
 
 THIRD EDITION, REVISED 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 MDCCCLVIII 
 

SIR EDWAED BULWEE LYTTON, BAET., M.P., 
 
 IN MEMORY OF A VISIT TO HOLTROOD, 
 
 THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOE. 
 
PEEFACE TO THIED EDITION. 
 
 In sending a Third and Ke vised Edition of this 
 Poem from the press, the Author is desirous 
 of expressing his grateful acknowledgment to 
 the public for the favour shown to his work, not- 
 withstanding the many blemishes which were 
 apparent in the first edition. Some of these 
 blemishes were no doubt attributable to over- 
 hasty composition ; while others arose from the 
 difficulty of constructing a poem of this length in 
 the form of a Monologue, and also from a desire 
 (perhaps too scrupulously adhered to) of deviat- 
 ing in no respect from what the Author firmly 
 believes to be the historical truth. In point of 
 form the poem has undergone no alteration ; but 
 much care has been bestowed upon the correction 
 of isolated passages ; some superfluous matter 
 has been excised ; and other amendments made, 
 in the hope of giving more strength and vivacity 
 
 265230 
 
VIU PREFACE. 
 
 to the expression, and more interest to the nar- 
 rative. In particular, the conclnding canto has 
 undergone strict revision, as, in its original form, 
 it bore marks of a certain degree of languor, the 
 consequence of a temporary illness. I say this 
 by way of explanation only, conscious that I have 
 many shortcomings to answer for, with no such 
 excuse to plead. 
 
 I have further to thank those of my reviewers, 
 who, in a spirit of honesty and kindness, have 
 referred to my defects ; for by doing so I must 
 needs acknowledge that they have rendered me 
 an essential service. In these days of volu- 
 minous publication, criticism is valuable to the 
 reader, inasmuch as it places him on his guard ; 
 but it is invaluable to every author, who has 
 the sincere desire of cultivating his art to the 
 utmost of his ability, because it warns him of 
 the faults which are the most glaringly conspi- 
 cuous in his style, and rebukes him for every 
 instance of undue carelessness or neglect. The 
 best proof of my acquiescence in the justice of 
 some of the remarks upon the construction of 
 certain passages of " Bothwell," is the fact that 
 I have made emendations accordingly ; but be- 
 yond that, I have altered, or recast, many pas- 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 sages against whicli no censure was directed. 
 The truth is, that, on the eve of publication, I did 
 not feel by any means satisfied with my own 
 performance. I had an instinctive feeling that 
 I ought to have done it better. I was conscious 
 that occasionally the expression did not ade- 
 quately convey the idea, and that the versifica- 
 tion was sometimes defective both in melody and 
 in power. But there is a peculiarity attendant 
 upon poetical composition, which is well known 
 to those who practise it, though it may not be so 
 to the general reader — and that is, that a certain 
 period must elapse before the writer can discern 
 the precise nature of his faults, or regain the 
 power of correcting them. So long as the heat 
 engendered by the original effort is upon him, 
 his attempts at emendation will be in vain. But 
 after a time, unless he is vainglorious and ego- 
 tistical in the extreme, the faults which he has 
 committed become as apparent to him as they 
 were to others ; and surely, then, it is his duty 
 to retrieve such faults, or at least to make the 
 attempt, although it is quite possible that he 
 may not succeed in doing that in a manner com- 
 mensurate with his desire. 
 
 As the general structure of "Both well," as I 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 now lay it before the public, has undergone no 
 material alteration, it is still amenable to the 
 criticism which was directed against its form. I 
 trust, however, that it is so far amended in detail, 
 as to show the public that the indulgence which 
 they have extended to my humble efforts is 
 deeply and gratefully appreciated. 
 
 Edinburgh, 1st January 1858. 
 
PART FIRST. 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 PAET FIEST. 
 
 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 1 cast it down upon my head, 
 
 And let me cease to feel 1 
 Cold — cold ! The brands are burning out, 
 
 The dying embers wane ; 
 The drops fall plashing from, the roof 
 
 Like slow and sullen rain, 
 
 A 
 

 Cold — cold ! And yet the villain kernes 
 
 Who keep me fettered here, 
 Are feasting in the hall above, 
 
 And holding Christmas cheer. 
 When the wind pauses for its breath, 
 
 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 1 
 Scream on, eagle, in thy flight, 
 
 Through blast and hurricane — 
 And, when thou meetest on thy way 
 
 The black and plunging bark 
 
L BOTHWELL. 3 
 
 Where those who pilot by the stars 
 
 Stand quaking in the dark, 
 Down with thy pinion on the mast, 
 
 Scream louder in the air, 
 x^nd stifle in the wallowing sea 
 
 The shrieks of their despair ! 
 Be my avenger on this night, 
 
 When all, save I, are free ; 
 Why should I care for mortal man, 
 
 When men care nought for me ? 
 Care nought 1 They loathe me, one and all, 
 
 Else why should I be here — 
 I, starving in a foreign cell, 
 
 A Scottish prince and peer ? 
 
 II. 
 
 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, 
 
BOTHWELL. p 
 
 Without the sense to feel my bonds, 
 Without the power to rage — 
 
 Would give me visions dark and drear, 
 Although they were of hell, 
 
 Instead of memories of the place 
 From which I stooped and fell I 
 
 III. 
 
 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 ere the sun espied. 
 Mary — Mary ! Even now. 
 
 Seared as I am to shame. 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 The blood grows thick around my heart 
 
 At utterance of thy name ! 
 I see her, as in bygone days, 
 
 A widow, yet a child. 
 Within the fields of sunny France, 
 
 When heaven and fortune smiled. 
 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 darling of the land, 
 
 That young and spotless Queen ! 
 The sweet, sweet smile 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. 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 — 
 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 ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 My worship ? yes ! My fealty ? ay !- 
 
 Rise, Satan, if thou wilt. 
 And limn in fire, on yonder wall, 
 
 The pictures of my guilt — 
 Accuser ! Tempter ! Do thy worst. 
 
 In this malignant hour. 
 When God and man abandon me, 
 
 And I am in thy power — 
 
BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 1 
 
 V. 
 
 I worshipped ; and as pure a heart 
 
 To her, I swear, was mine, 
 As ever breathed a truthful vow 
 
 Before Saint Mary's shrine : 
 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 still defend her throne. 
 
 And aye protect her right. 
 Well j who dare call me traitor now ^ 
 
 My faith I never sold ; 
 These fingers never felt the touch 
 
 Of England's profiered gold. 
 
BOTHWELL. i 
 
 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 1 
 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 1 
 Get thee across the howling seas. 
 
 And bend o'er Murray's bed. 
 For there the falsest villain lies 
 
 That ever Scotland bred. 
 False to his vows, 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 snapt it not in twain 1 
 
L BOTHWELL. 
 
 What oath so sacred but he broke 
 
 For selfish end or gain 1 
 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 1 
 
 VI. 
 
 Get thee to crafty Lethington, 
 
 That alchemist in wile, 
 To grim Glencairn, the preacher's pride, 
 
 To Cassilis and Argyle — 
 To Morton, steeped in lust and guilt, 
 
 My old confederate he ! — 
 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 
 
 Wduld make him blench and quail, 
 
10 BOTHWELL. paet 
 
 Yea, shiver like an aspen tree, 
 
 Amidst his men of mail ! — 
 Get thee to them, who sold their Queen 
 
 For foreign gold and pay ; 
 Assail them, rack them, mock them, fiend 1 
 
 Bide with them till the day, 
 But leave me here alone to-nio:ht — 
 
 No fear that / will pray ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 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. 
 Perchance my temper was too rude, 
 
 Perchance my pride too great ; 
 Perchance it was my fantasy. 
 
 Perchance it was my fate ! 
 
 1 will not pour my muttered guilt 
 
 In any shaveling's ear. 
 
I. BOTHWELL. ' 11 
 
 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 smile 1 
 And yet I am not guiltier now 
 
 Than when they sought me there ; 
 Not more deserving of their curse. 
 
 Less worthy of their prayer ! 
 
12 BOTHWELL. parti. 
 
 IX. 
 
 What charge — ^what crime 1 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 1 
 
 You murdered Biccio 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 1 
 A weak and worthless boy — 
 
 A fool in whose insensate hand 
 
 The fairest jewel of the land 
 Lay a neglected toy. 
 
 A man, indeed, in outward form. 
 But not a man in mind. 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 13 
 
 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 youthful 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 blent a vow more dear. 
 For I had friends enow to back ; 
 
 And, with my kith and kin, 
 Who held the Borders, far and wide. 
 
 And hemmed the marches in, 
 
14 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 I might have bid defiance 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 within the land. 
 
 XI. 
 
 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. 
 
 Surrounded by a ring 
 Of valiant lords and faithful knights. 
 
L BOTHWELL. 15 
 
 Who for fair Scotland and her rights 
 
 Would die beside their King. 
 Set was the star of chivalry 
 
 That erst had gleamed so pure 
 Upon the crests of those who lay 
 
 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 bells, — 
 
 They broke the Sabbath calm ! 
 Hushed were the notes of minstrelsy — 
 
 They ctimed not with the psalm : 
 '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 tinkling of a lute. 
 Or, worse than all, in royal hall, 
 
 The tread of dancing foot — 
 
IG BOTHWELL. 
 
 Then to a drove of gaping clowns 
 Would Knox with unction tell 
 
 The vengeance that in days of old 
 Had fallen on Jezebel ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 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. 
 Apostles they of easy walk — 
 
 No martyrdom or pain — 
 What marvel if they loved a creed 
 
 That brought such pleasant gain 1 
 What marvel if their greedy hearts 
 
 Were wrung with abject fear, 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 17 
 
 Lest Eome should yet resume her 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 ? 
 England was near, and England's Queen 
 
 Defied both France and Rome — 
 What marvel if they went to her. 
 
 And broke their faith at home 1 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And she, the sister, maiden Queen — 
 
 Rare maid and sister she 1 
 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 — 
 
18 BOTHWELL. par^ 
 
 She, wliom her slaves call wise in thought, 
 
 And generous in deed, — 
 How did she deal with Scotland's Queen, 
 
 How help her in her need 1 
 
 XIV. 
 
 By heaven ! — if I dare speak the word, — 
 
 I, steeped in guilt and crime, 
 I, who must bear the heaviest curse 
 
 Of this distracted 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, 
 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 ; 
 
n. BOTHWELL. 19 
 
 I say it; even for the men 
 
 Who drove me here to shame — 
 
 Theirs is the lesser, paltrier guilt, 
 And theirs the meaner blame ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 They durst not, had they stood alone, 
 
 Inheritors of names 
 That over Christendom have flown, 
 " As stream the northern flames, — 
 Whose fathers, in their silent 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. 
 But at the gate the Temptress stood, 
 
 Not beautiful nor young ; 
 Nor luring, as a Syren might, 
 
 By magic of her tongue ; 
 
20 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 state- craft 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 : 
 Their passion, like the autumn flood. 
 
 Sweeps o'er the plains below ; 
 But woman's hate runs deeper far, 
 
 Though noiseless in its flow. 
 A fairer face, a higher place. 
 
 More worship, more applause. 
 Will make a woman loathe her friend 
 
 Without a deadlier cause. 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 21 
 
 The darkness struggles with the light. 
 
 The gloaming with the day, 
 Ay, even in the deeps of night 
 
 Will shadows force their way : 
 For ever, when the peerless moon 
 
 Is riding clear in heaven. 
 Some sullen cloud, by envious winds, 
 
 Athwart its disc is driven. 
 Yet vainly does the shadow seek 
 
 A borrowed light to steal, 
 The cloud is darker for the orb 
 
 It cannot quite conceal. 
 And so, though minions bent the knee 
 
 To England's haughty Queen, 
 And swore in verse and fulsome rhyme. 
 That never, since the birth of time. 
 
 Was such an angel seen, 
 The instinct of her cold proud heart 
 
 Despised the sordid lie, 
 Yet still she smiled, as women smile, 
 
 Who will not deign to sigh. 
 
22 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And cause had she to hate and fear 
 
 Past woman's pride alone ; 
 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 1 
 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 ? 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 23 
 
 Man cannot quite control his thoughts^ 
 
 Nor keep them in his power, 
 Yet these of mine have wandered wide 
 
 Within the bypast hour. 
 What might have been, in phantom mist 
 
 Has vanished long ago ; 
 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. 
 Bat Darnley 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 Darnley while he lived ; 
 
 I hate him now, though dead ! 
 
24 BOTHWELL. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 She wedded Darnley — and a fool 
 
 In every sense was he, 
 With scarce the wit to be a knave 
 
 If born in low degree. 
 But folly, when it walks abroad 
 
 In royal guise and strain, 
 Will never lack for knavery 
 
 To loiter in its train. 
 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 1 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The madman ! Had he only known 
 His duty, style, and place, 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 25 
 
 When lifted up beside the throne, 
 
 And raised to such a grace — 
 Had he — the winner of the prize, 
 
 For 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 — 
 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 an honoured name. 
 
26 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 still 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. 
 She was a tigress, all too fierce 
 
 For rashest love's essay ; 
 None durst approach the royal lair 
 
 Where mateless long she lay. 
 And it was more than gall to her 
 
 To think that Mary's son 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 27 
 
 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 Enghsh vassal peer, 
 
 For her kind sister's sake. 
 But Darnley 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, 
 At once the madman claimed to be 
 
 In name and power a King ! 
 He, weak as water, frail as sand, 
 A beggar when on Mary's hand 
 
 He placed the marriage ring ! 
 
28 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 Riccio — 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 will — 
 
 No fanatic was I ; 
 Nor would I lend a helping hand 
 To rivet on my native land 
 
 The chains of Italy. 
 Rigl^t 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. 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 29 
 
 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 1 
 I never stood, as Atholl did, 
 
 A soldier sworn of Rome, 
 Nor asked for foreign surgery 
 
 To stanch the wounds at home. 
 Yet Riccio 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 till my dying hour 
 I never shall forget the shriek 
 
 That rung from Mary's bower. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 'Twas night — mirk night — the sleet beat on, 
 
 The wind, as now, was rude. 
 And I was lonely in my room 
 
 In dreary Holyrood. 
 
30 BOTHWELL. part i. 
 
 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 1 
 " 0, for the love of God and Christ, 
 
 Forbear — I will not fly ! 
 mistress — Queen— protect me yet, 
 
 I am not fit to die !" 
 " Hold I hold your hands ! you shall not strike. 
 
 Unless you slay me too ; 
 My guard 1 help 1 they kill the Queen ! 
 
 Help ! husband — nobles — you — 
 Euthven — Douglas — as you trust 
 
 For mercy in your need. 
 
L BOTHWELL. 31 
 
 For Christ's dear sake, be satisfied — 
 
 Do not this monstrous deed ! 
 What ! Darnley, thou ? let go my arm — 
 
 Unhand me, dastard knave ! 
 To me — to me — all Scottish hearts — 
 
 Help 1 treason ! Come and save 1" 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 A door flew wide. I saw them all — 
 
 Ruthven in mail complete, 
 George Douglas, Ker of Fawdonside, 
 
 And Riccio 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. 
 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 Darnley's arms 
 
 As in a serpent's fold — 
 
32 BOTHWELL. part 
 
 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 in the crowd that tossed beneath 
 
 I heard them shout my name. 
 Enough ! — that night one victim died 
 
 Before Queen Mary's face. 
 And in my secret heart I doomed 
 
 Another in his place. 
 
L BOTHWELL. 33 
 
 Not that I cared for Eiccio's life, 
 
 They might have worked their will ; 
 Though base it was for belted knights 
 
 So poor a 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 ill ordained ; 
 
 Her heart was given elsewhere, 
 And for a second courtship, I 
 
 Had neither time nor care. 
 c 
 
34 BOTHWELL. 
 
 It may be that she pined aloue ; 
 
 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. 
 
 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 still have kept her side — 
 How paid he back the matchless debt. 
 
 How did he tend his bride 1 
 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. 36 
 
 To guard her all the livelong night, 
 
 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 hymn 
 Arose, as if an angel led 
 
 The choir of seraphim — 
 Would such a service have been more 
 
 Than he was bound to give 1 
 Nay, if he dared to make it less. 
 
 Deserved the boy to live ? 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 I was a witness on that night 
 
 Of all his sham_e and guilt ; 
 I saw his outrage on the Queen, 
 
 I saw the blood he spilt ; 
 And, ere the day had dawned, I swore. 
 
 Whilst spurring through the sand, 
 I would avenge that treachery. 
 
 And slay him with my hand — 
 
36 BOTHWELL. paki 
 
 Or, in the preachers' holier phrase, 
 Would purge him from the land ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Ah me ! and this is Christmas eve ; 
 
 And here alone I lie, 
 With nothing save my own wild thoughts 
 
 For bitter company ! 
 My own wild thoughts, that will not pass, 
 
 Howe'er I bid them go — 
 My torture, yet the only friends 
 
 That visit me below. 
 Full many a hearth is decked this night 
 
 To hail the blessed morn, 
 On which, in ages long ago. 
 
 The Saviour child was born — 
 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, 
 
I. BOTHWELL. 37 
 
 When Heaven's broad gates are opened wide, 
 
 And Hell's loud roar is dumb. 
 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 all the world, 
 
 Where Christ's dear name is known. 
 Arise the sounds of prayer and praise 
 
 Toward the eternal throne. 
 But I, a slave in bondage here, 
 
 Backed — torn by mad despair — 
 How can I falter forth the words 
 
 Of praise or yet of prayer 1 
 
38 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Men drove me from them, as a wolf 
 
 From mountain-folds is driven, 
 And what I could not win on earth 
 
 How dare I seek from Heaven ? 
 Ay, howl again, thou winter wind — 
 
 Roar louder yet, thou sea ! 
 For nothing else can stun the thoughts 
 
 That rise to madden me ! 
 
PART 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, 
 
42 SOTHWELL. pari 
 
 And every sound that rises up 
 
 Gives token of the spring. 
 Fair is the sight, yet strange to me ; 
 
 No memories I recall, 
 While gazing on the headland cliffs, 
 
 And waves that leap and fall ; 
 No visions of my boyish days, 
 
 Or manhood's sterner prime. 
 Arise from yonder watery waste. 
 
 To cheer me for a time. 
 
 IL 
 
 For I was reared among the hills, 
 
 Within a Border home. 
 Where, brawling down their narrow glens. 
 
 The mountain torrents come ; 
 And well I know the bonny braes 
 
 Where the first primrose blows^ 
 And shrinking tufts of violets 
 
 Eise from the melting snows, 
 Ere yet the hazel leaf is out. 
 
 Or birches show their green, 
 
r. BOTHWELL. 43 
 
 Or, on the sad and sullen ash, 
 A kindling bud is seen. 
 
 Hermitage, by Liddel's side, 
 My old ancestral tower ! 
 
 Were I again but lord of thee — 
 
 Not owning half the power 
 That in my days of reckless pride 
 
 I held, but cast away — 
 
 1 would not leave thee. Border keep, 
 Until 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 w^ll the mountain paths, 
 
 They hear the falcon cry ; 
 And here, within a loathly cell, 
 
 A fettered slave am I. 
 
 III. 
 
 Who owns thee now, fair Hermitage 1 
 Who sits within my hall 1 
 
44 BOTHWELL. pa 
 
 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 ? 
 Or art thou, as thy master is, 
 
 A rent and ruined pile, 
 Once noble, but deserted nov/ 
 
 By all that is not vile 1 
 What matters it 1 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. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Good faith ! I had but little zeal 
 To meddle with the knaves, 
 
[I. BOTHWELL. 45 
 
 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 ; 
 For well the jackmen knew the wealth 
 
 Of canny Cumberland. 
 One note of war — and all our feuds 
 
 Had vanished like the snow 
 From off the fells by Teviot-side, 
 
 When the warm May winds blow. 
 But peace abroad breeds strife at home ; 
 
 Old cause of quarrel rose ; 
 Clan 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. 
 
46 BOTHWELL. part 
 
 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 Elliot of the Park, 
 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 Billhope glen. 
 
 V. 
 
 Short parley passed between us twain — 
 '' Thou art the Warden 1 " '' Ay ! 
 
 Thou Elliot of the Park f "I am." 
 " Wilt yield thee 1 " '' Come and try ! " 
 
II. BOTHWELL. 47 
 
 We lighted down from off our steeds, 
 
 We tied them to a tree ; 
 The sun was sinking in 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 1 
 The blows he fetched were stark and strong, 
 
 And so were mine, I ween, 
 Until I cleft his head-piece through, 
 
 And stretched him on the green. 
 " Wilt yield thee now V ^' 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 ! 
 
48 BOTHWELL. part n 
 
 No man shall take me living yet ; 
 
 Now follow, if you dare ! " 
 I slipped upon the broken moss ; 
 
 And in the sheugh we rolled, 
 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 thing saw I clearly yet 
 
 Before my fading eyes : 
 Not half a rood beyond the burn, 
 
 A man lay stiff 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. 
 
n. BOTHWELL. 49 
 
 VI. 
 
 I wakened in the Hermitage 
 
 From out my heavy swouud, 
 Thanks to the leech, who would not cease 
 
 From probing of my wound : 
 And there I lay, for many a day, 
 
 Weak, weary, 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, 
 As outwards from the castle-gate 
 
 He led his trooper band. 
 Then silence j and that hateful sound. 
 
 The leech's stealthy tread — 
 Aha ! when I had strength to stir, 
 
 How swift the villain fled ! 
 
50 BOTHWELL. parti 
 
 Then the long shades of afternoon— 
 
 The twilight fastening in — 
 The night, when still I heard the brook 
 
 Come roaring down the linn. 
 Strange ! that my memory should recall 
 
 Those distant things to view — 
 That every sound, and sight, and thought, 
 
 Should visit me anew 1 
 Have I not heard a hundred times 
 
 The winter tempests roar, 
 Since first they spread that wretched couch 
 
 Here, on the dungeon floor 1 
 Have I not heard the ocean-surge 
 
 Come bellowing to the strand. 
 When peals of thunder shook the heaven, 
 
 When flashed the levin brand 1 
 The hurleys that might wake the dead, 
 
 Pass from me with their rage ; 
 Not so the sounds that reached my bed 
 
 In lonely Hermitage. 
 
n. BOTHWELL. 51 
 
 VII. 
 
 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 I keep 
 
 The memory of that day ! 
 I thought to hear the gorcock crow. 
 
 Or ouzel whistle shrill, 
 When, lo ! a gallant 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 generous and the free — 
 She came to cheer her wounded knight, 
 
 She came to comfort me. 
 
52 BOTHWELL. part 
 
 VIII. 
 She waited not for guard or groom, 
 
 But passed into the hall ; 
 Around her were the four Maries, 
 
 Herself the rose of all. 
 I never thought that woman's voice 
 
 Could thrill 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 lily 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. 
 
11. BOTHWELL. 53 
 
 But could I quit the Border-side 
 
 Without my thanks to him 
 Who paid his service far too well, 
 
 At risk of life and limb ? 
 Ah, Both well ! you have bravely done, 
 
 And all my thanks are poor ; 
 Would God that more were bent like you 
 
 To make my throne secure I 
 True heart ! strong arm 1 I cannot place 
 
 A chaplet on your brow, 
 For the old rites of chivalry 
 
 Are lost or banished 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 I 
 How say you, brother ? " 
 
 IX. 
 
 At the word, 
 I felt a sudden chill ; 
 
54 BOTHWELL. pari 
 
 I knew not Murray as he rode 
 
 Beside her up the hill. 
 I marked him not within my hall — 
 
 No wonder, for my eye 
 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. 
 Upon his lip there was a smile 
 
 That almost seemed a sneer ; 
 Softly he spoke, but what he said 
 
 Dwelt not within mine ear. 
 Some phrase it was of mild assent. 
 
 Framed in that glossy strain 
 That statesmen use to hide their thoughts 
 
 When honest words were vain ; 
 Some staid and studied compliment. 
 
 As soft and cold as snow — 
 I would not, after desperate fight, 
 
 Have thanked a trooper so ! 
 
n. BOTHWELL. 55 
 
 And then he paused, and glancing round 
 
 Upon the royal train, 
 Began to falter forth excuse, 
 
 Ijike one who spoke in pain. 
 Why Darnley came not with the Queen — 
 
 How could the fool be there 1 
 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 ? 
 
 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, — 
 
56 BOTHWELL. paki 
 
 Might tell her how I dared to love, 
 
 And how I hid my flame, 
 Till he, the wretched, perjured boy, 
 
 Had filled his cup with shame — 
 Might ask her, of her sovran grace, 
 
 To take and keep my vow. 
 To rule James Hepburn's heart and hand, 
 
 Not give him promise now — 
 One word, one little word of hope 
 
 Was all that he would crave, — 
 Hope ? Never hope could rise for me. 
 
 Till Darnley filled his grave ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 For then indeed I felt the spell 
 
 That turned weak Arran's brain. 
 That drove the luckless Chastellar 
 
 To love and die in vain. 
 With tenfold power that magic charm 
 
 Was stirring in my soul ; 
 Though she had spurned me from her feet, 
 
 I must have spoke the whole. 
 
ir. BOTHWELL. 57 
 
 Far better to have 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 1 
 A child might weep, and moan, and fret, 
 
 That yonder glorious bow. 
 Which right before me spans the seas. 
 
 Should melt in mist and rain : 
 What is it but a pageantry 
 
 That will not come again 1 
 Yea, let it pass with other things, 
 
 Old hope, remorse, and fear ; 
 All these are phantoms, dead and gone — 
 
 They shall not force a tear ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 Bright was the morn, and fresh the wind, 
 
 And clear the trumpet's call. 
 As, strong once more in heart and limb, 
 
 I issued from my hall. 
 
58 BOTH WELL. pakt ii. 
 
 A hundred 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 well ; 
 
 And what a wild acclaim 
 Rang through the valley, up the glen, 
 
 To greet me as I came ! 
 Then spears were raised, and swords were swung, 
 
 And banners tossed on high, 
 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 hill and heath, 
 
 Right gallantly we sped, 
 Until we paused, and drew the rein 
 
 Hard by the river's head. 
 
BOTHWELL. 59 
 
 Backward on Castle Hermitage 
 
 One lingering look I cast ; 
 I saw it in its strength and pride — 
 
 That look, it was the last ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 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 coil ; 
 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. 
 
60 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 count the foe. 
 And they had read my secret heart, 
 
 And set their cunning snare ; 
 0, had my only thought been love. 
 
 They'd not have bound me there ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But there was hatred in my soul ; 
 And more, that glorious sin. 
 
ri. BOTHWELL. 61 
 
 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, villain, traitor, regicide — 
 
 These are the counter-names 
 For men whom fortune thrusts aside, 
 
 However bold their aims. 
 I would not care for vulgar speech ; 
 
 But, 0, it drives me wild 
 To think that cold and reckoning knaves 
 
 Could sway me like a child ! 
 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 ! 
 
62 BOTHWELL. 
 
 XV. 
 
 'Twas in Craigmillar's dusky hall 
 
 That first I lent my ear 
 To that deep tempter, Lethington, 
 
 With Murray bending near. 
 The theme was Darnley and his deeds, 
 
 His vain capricious mind, 
 That neither counsel could control, 
 
 Nor sense of honour bind ; 
 His wild outrageous insolence 
 
 To men of high degree, 
 Who, but for Mary's love and grace, 
 
 Were better 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. 
 Of the sad cry she raised to heaven, 
 
 " God 1 that I were dead 1" — 
 
PAETir. BOTHWELL. 63 
 
 Of that dull grief which, more than pain, 
 
 Has power to waste and kill ; 
 Yet in her secret heart, he said, 
 
 Queen Mary loved him still. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Loves him *? " " Why, ay ! Our thought was bent, 
 At first, on Darnley's banishment ; 
 On loosing of the nuptial tie, 
 
 As holy Church allows — 
 An easy thing, for never yet 
 
 Was such a faithless spouse 1 
 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 1 While Darnley lives, 
 
 He's nothing less than King ; 
 An insect monarch, if you will. 
 
 But yet with power to sting. 
 Why, even you, brave Earl, so high 
 
 In honour and in place, 
 
64 BOTHWELL. part n. 
 
 You— Warden — Admiral — must bend 
 
 Before his Koyal Grace ! 
 Nay, chafe not at my open speech, 
 
 For others feel the wrong : 
 Great God ! to think that one so weak 
 
 Should thus defy the strong ! 
 I speak not only for myself — 
 
 I speak Lord Murray's mind ; 
 Your brother Huntley, and Argyle, 
 
 They will not lag behind. 
 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 ; 
 They trusted to his lying tongue, 
 
 And therefore were betrayed. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Surely 'tis time to stanch the wounds 
 That vex the land so sore. 
 
BOTHWELL. 65 
 
 To knit the noble brotherhood 
 
 More closely than of yore ; 
 To curb the wild fanatic mood 
 
 That waxes day by day, 
 And make the surly preachers know 
 
 Their duty, to obey ! 
 But for this brainless, frantic fool, 
 
 Our course were plain and clear ; 
 If Scotland's nobles back their Queen, 
 
 What danger 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 ; 
 As fit a champion as the Bruce, 
 
 To fill the Scottish throne ! 
 More might I say — but, valiant Earl, 
 
 On you our fate depends ; 
 Speak but the word, give but the sign, 
 
 I'll answer for our friends ! 
 Scotland is weary of the load 
 
 That lies upon her now, 
 
BOTHWELL. p. 
 
 And Death is breathing, cold and damp, 
 
 Upon our Sovereign's brow. 
 Here is the stalwart arm we need 
 
 To save the State and Queen ; 
 Your own brave blood was freely shed 
 
 For Mary, on the green — 
 But Darnley'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 seasoned 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, 
 
II. BOTHWELL. 67 
 
 So that the listener far away- 
 Must needs approach the ring, 
 Where^ on the savage Lapland moors, 
 
 The demon chorus ^ing ; 
 And I believe the devil's voice 
 
 Sinks deeper in the ear, 
 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 like reeds, 
 
 Try issue with a knave ! 
 Might is no match for studied craft, 
 
 Which makes the best its thrall : 
 
68 BOTHWELL. pari 
 
 When earth is mined beneath his feet, 
 The champion needs must fall. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Now, were a reverend father here — 
 
 For such there are, I know, 
 Good men and true, who preach the word, 
 Without invoking 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 rancorous feelings from my breast ; 
 
 To bless my deadliest foe ; 
 To pray for that same Lethington ; 
 
 To raise my heart to heaven, 
 And supplicate that Murray's soul 
 
 May not depart unshriven ! 
 
II. BOTHWELL. 69 
 
 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 soul 
 
 Of any foeman dead. 
 That may be priestcraft — idle sound, 
 
 As modern preachers say — 
 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 in a lonely isle, 
 
 To pine, and waste, and die — 
 A prayer for villains such as these 
 
 Were insult to the sky 1 
 
70 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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, 
 Hath a forebodement of the time 
 
 When one or both must fall. 
 That bodement darkened on my soul 
 
 When first I set my eye 
 On Darnley in his trim attire, 
 All youth, and mirth, and hope, and fire, 
 
 A blazoned butterfly. 
 Methought I saw, like northern seers 
 
 When shadowed by the cloud, 
 
ri. BOTHWELL. 71 
 
 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 both my heart and hand were freed ; 
 
 And often in a dream, 
 When, through the corridors of sleep 
 
 Rang Mary's piercing scream, 
 The scene would change from Holyrood 
 
 To some sequestered glen, 
 Where I and Darn ley met alone. 
 
 Apart from other men. 
 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 phantom strife 
 
 Than any that was true ! 
 
72 BOTHWELL. par- 
 
 XXI. 
 
 They prate of murder — 'tis a word 
 
 Most odious to the ear, 
 Condemned ahke by God and man : 
 
 But peer may meet with peer. 
 If laggard laws delay redress 
 
 For insult or for wTong, 
 There is no arbiter like steel 
 
 So ready and so strong. 
 Then they contend on equal ground, 
 
 And equal arms they wield ; 
 What does the knight or captain more 
 
 Who strikes in tented field ? 
 And — by the sun that shines above ! — 
 
 Had fate ordained it so, 
 That I and Darnley might have met, 
 
 As foeman meets his foe. 
 One half my life, when life was prized. 
 
 Were ransom all too poor 
 For one bare hour, 'twixt dawn and mirk. 
 
 Of grappling on the moor ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 73 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But kings — forsooth, they called him King !- 
 
 Are cravens now. They claim 
 Exemption from the knightly rule, 
 
 And skulk behind their name. 
 They dare not, as in Arthur's days, 
 
 When chivalry began, 
 Tell their accuser that he lies, 
 
 And meet him, man to man. 
 They are not dauntless, like the Bruce, 
 
 All Europe's foremost knight, 
 Aye ready with his stalwart hand 
 
 To justify his right — 
 Not valiant, as was royal James, 
 
 Who died on Flodden field, 
 The best and bravest of his race. 
 
 Unknowing how to yield. 
 They sit behind their silken screens. 
 
 Fenced closely by their guard, 
 Their archers and their bandoleers, 
 
 Like women kept in ward. 
 
74 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 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 ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 'Tis strange what freaks the fancy plays. 
 
 When sense is shut by sleep ; 
 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 ; 
 
iL BOTHWELL. 75 
 
 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, — 
 All 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, 
 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. 
 
76 BOTHWELL. paet 
 
 And thus he spoke, in Maitland's voice, 
 But deeper far than he : — 
 
 '^ Eise up, Lord Bothwell, from thy bed- 
 Rise up, and follow me ! " 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 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 still. 
 Then up the stair he led the way. 
 
 By winding steps and steep, 
 Out to the topmost battlement 
 
 Of old Craigmillar's keep. 
 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. 
 
II. BOTHWELL. 77 
 
 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. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " 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 in my ear, 
 " That glorious prize may be thine own ! 
 Nor only that, but honour, power. 
 Beauty, and love — a matchless dower — 
 
 Dominion far and near ! 
 
78 BOTHWELL. pakt ii. 
 
 All 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 I 
 That crown was won by valiant Bruce, 
 
 He gained it by the blow 
 That on the slippery altar-steps 
 
 Laid the Red Comyn low ; 
 He won and wore it as a king, 
 
 And thou may'st win it now ! " 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 I spoke not, but he heard my thought : — 
 
 " Well done, thou dauntless peer ! 
 I love the brave and venturous will 
 
 That knows nor ruth nor fear ! 
 Come, then, I swear by yonder fire — 
 
 A sacred oath to me — 
 That thou shalt sit in Darnley's place 
 
 When Darnley dies by thee 1 
 Away that pageant ! " — Spire and crown 
 
 Shut, like the lightning's leap ; 
 
BOTHWELL. 79 
 
 But overhead a meteor came, 
 Slow- moving, tinging with its flame 
 
 The murky clouds and deep ; 
 It shed a glare on Arthur's Seat, 
 
 It widened like a shield, 
 And burst, in thunder and in fire, 
 
 Above the Kirk-of- Field. 
 
PART THIRD. 
 
PAET THIRD. 
 
 I. 
 That gaoler hath a savage look — 
 
 Methinks I spy a change ; 
 For three long years, within this room, 
 That man has been my only groom, 
 
 And yet his voice is strange. 
 He brings me food, he smoothes my bed, 
 
 Obedient to my sign ; 
 But still his moody eye falls down, 
 
 And will not answer mine. 
 I had the art, in former days. 
 To win, by short familiar phrase. 
 
 The rudest hearts alive, — 
 
84 BOTHWELL. pakt iii. 
 
 To bring the wildest to my side, 
 And force them in the battle-tide 
 Like thorough fiends to strive. 
 When Warden, I have rode alone, 
 Without a single spear to back, 
 The Marches through, although I knew 
 
 That spies were hovering on my track ; 
 I've 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. 
 
 11. 
 
 This fellow scowls as if in hate. 
 
 I've marked upon his brow a scar, 
 More like the hideous galley-brand 
 
 Than any wound from broil or war. 
 
[. BOTHWELL. 85 
 
 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. 
 But something warns me to beware, 
 
 Reminding 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 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. 
 
86 BOTHWELL. part in 
 
 And yet, if treason dares to come 
 And bare the murderous knife, 
 
 Not craven-like nor unavenged 
 Shall Bothwell yield his life ! 
 
 HI. 
 
 Is this indeed a warning voice 
 
 That croaks within my ear 1 
 Or is it guilt that frames the thought, 
 
 And fashions it to fear 1 
 I'd have it so — I'll so believe ! 
 
 These terrors are no more 
 Than the wild 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 : 
 
 i 
 
[. BOTHWELL. 87 
 
 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 will back — and bravel}^ back, 
 
 To that tremendous night 
 When the whole state of Scotland reeled, 
 
 And Darnley took his flight. 
 Borne on the wings of that red blast, 
 
 Whose fell volcano-roar 
 Shook the dark city to its base, 
 
 And bade it sleep no more. 
 That which 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. 
 
88 BOTHWELL. P; 
 
 For on that day Sebastian wed 
 
 The favourite of the Queen. 
 All Scotland's nobles graced the feast, 
 And merrily went round the jest, 
 Though some had secrets in their breast 
 
 Enough to mar their sport. 
 But in a time when all men lied, 
 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 in face or mien a care, 
 Save Mary. But her cheek was pale, 
 Sad was her smile at jest or tale ; 
 And though she strove to bear her part, 
 
 She could not so devise. 
 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, 
 
[I. BOTHWELL. 89 
 
 Loving and loved, without a thought 
 
 Beyond their present bliss and joy, 
 All hope, all trust, all happiness. 
 
 All faith without alloy, 
 I saw her strive to hide her tears — 
 I am not gentler than my peers ; 
 Nor could I, in the general case, 
 
 Divine 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 ! 
 Short interval ; yet where was he, 
 
 The partner of her bed and throne. 
 The chief of all her chivalry ? 
 
 A wretched leper, and alone ! 
 
90 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Stricken, and sick, and ill 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 ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 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. 
 Saint-like she tarried by his side. 
 
 And soothed his torment day by day ; 
 And though her grief she could not hide. 
 
 No anger did her look betray. 
 Now, in the midst of mirth and song. 
 
 Her loving nature did not yield, 
 
III. BOTHWELL. 91 
 
 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 Darnley's bed, 
 
 Till the late revelry begun. 
 And I, like her, had counted time, 
 
 And might not longer tarry there ; 
 For the wild impulse to a crime 
 
 Hath all 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 leads to hell ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Well I remember how my heart 
 Beat as I oped the postern-dopr ; 
 
 My foot upon the threshold stayed, 
 I scarce had power to venture o'er 1 
 
 The night was dark ; a heavy mist 
 
 Came creeping upward from the sea, — 
 
92 BOTHWELL. part m. 
 
 " Who waits there ? Bolton— Talk— hist ! " 
 
 And straight they glided up to me. 
 " Is all prepared ? speak soft and low." 
 
 " Airs done ; beyond the walls they wait." 
 *^ And Ormiston, where lingers he 1 
 
 He was not wont to be so late." 
 " He tarries for you. But, my Lord, 
 
 Some hidden treachery we dread ; 
 Two muffled men are on the watch, 
 
 They passed us by with stealthy tread. 
 No aid has come from Morton yet. 
 
 Despite the promise that he gave ; 
 I searched the fields and orchard round. 
 
 But all was silent as the grave." 
 " Why then, our secret is our own : 
 
 Far better that they are not there. 
 As for the twain you speak of — tush ! 
 
 Maskers or galliards — never care 1 
 Give me your hand. Why, Hay, 'tis cold ! 
 
 No flinching now ; the die is cast. 
 Nay, man ! be resolute and bold ; 
 
 To-morrow, and the danger's past. 
 
m. BOTHWELL. 93 
 
 What brave young heart but would be fain 
 To share in such a venturous deed ? 
 
 Away then ; let's to Ormiston : 
 
 Tread softly as you go — take heed ! " 
 
 IX. 
 
 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 all ! 
 
 If what they died for was a crime. 
 Death was atonement : for the rest 
 
 I'll answer in the coming time. 
 As I must answer. 
 
 " Ormiston ! " 
 
 " Welcome, Lord Earl, but not too soon ; 
 
94 BOTHWELL. part m. 
 
 I've waited here an hour and more, 
 
 And cursed the coming of the moon. 
 Thanks to the mist, the Borderer's friend, 
 
 We shall not see her face to-night ; 
 I never rode a foray yet 
 
 When I had comfort from her light. 
 So Morton has not sent his men 1 
 
 I'm glad on't. Earl ! 'Twere shame, I swear^ 
 That fifty jackmen should be brought 
 
 To see one stripling vault in air." 
 
 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 — 
 
>ARTiri. BOTHWELL. 95 
 
 I've seen it often since in dreams — 
 
 wherefore did I seek him there 1 
 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. 
 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 will 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 ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Time trickled on. I knew 'twas done. 
 When Paris entered with the key — 
 
96 BOTHWELL. p.uit i 
 
 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, 
 
 Malice, or wrong, or other cause, 
 By which the devil, or his mate, 
 
 Tempt man to spurn his Maker's laws — 
 But from that hideous appetite. 
 
 That lust for blood, that joy in sin, 
 That shames the instinct of the wolf, 
 
 So hellish is 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, 
 
ra. BOTHWELL. 97 
 
 The splinters 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 
 
 W^ho did not deem him worth the sword ! 
 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. 
 
 XIL 
 
 " Back, back to Holyrood ! away 1" 
 
 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 
 
 Q 
 
98 BOTH WELL. p.^t iii. 
 
 On state affairs, but of his talk 
 Not any word remains with me. 
 
 We came to Holjrood ; 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 dull boom was in mine ear, 
 
 A surging as of waters pent ; 
 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 1 
 What if the air above were filled 
 
 W^ith clanging from the clocks of hell 1 
 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. BOTHWELL. 99 
 
 XIII. 
 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 ; 
 But, in that awful midnight walk, 
 
 I felt the man spake true. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 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. 
 
 That sound was ever bickering near ; 
 
100 BOTHWELL. part m 
 
 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- 
 Thin 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, 
 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, I'd fight the foe, 
 
JiTiii. bothweLl. 101 
 
 And reckon with them, blow for blow, 
 Though I were one, and they were ten I 
 
 XV. 
 
 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 against 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 lit — 
 
 A moment more, and all is done — 
 Let's 'void the ground !" " He sleeps then sound?" 
 
 " Within that house shall waken none !" 
 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. 
 
102 ^ " " ' B 0"t'!b well. pari 
 
 XVI. 
 
 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. 
 " Hell ! 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 ! " 
 " Stay, stay, my Lord ! you shall not go 1 
 
 'Twere madness now to near the place ; 
 The soldiers' fuses burn but slow ; 
 
 Abide, abide a little space ! 
 There's time enough " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 He said no more, 
 For at the instant flashed the glare, 
 
 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, 
 
III. BOTHWELL. 103 
 
 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 knell. 
 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 like 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 still ; 
 
 Burghers, half clad, ran hurrying by, 
 Old crones came forth, and scolded shrill, 
 
 Men shouted challenge and reply. 
 
104 BOTHWELL. part iii. 
 
 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 guilt. 
 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 ! " 
 
PART FOURTH. 
 
PART FOURTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 Queen Guenever, that lady high, 
 
 Loved Lancelot of the Lake, 
 And sweet Isolde was fain to die 
 
 For gentle Tristram's sake : 
 And aye their story charms the ear, 
 
 Despite the taint of shame, 
 And lordlings list, and ladies hear. 
 
 Nor ever think to blame. 
 Yet Arthur w^as the goodliest knight 
 
 Ofall the Table Round, 
 And stout King Marc, in stubborn fight. 
 
 Was ever foremost found. 
 Why is it that the ancient song 
 
 Should thus have power to thrill ? 
 
108 BOTHWELL. 
 
 That sin, and faithlessness, and wrong, 
 Should wake emotion still 1 
 
 Ah ! Love, so it be passioned love, 
 However frail and blind, 
 
 Will yet on earth, if not above, 
 A gentle judgment find. 
 
 II. 
 
 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. 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 109 
 
 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 roll ! 
 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. 
 But while there breathes on earth a Scot, 
 
 He'll hear, at least, of Bothwell's name ! 
 
 III. 
 
 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 calm, my speech was clear, 
 I did not overact my part. 
 
110 BOTHWELL. , pae 
 
 Nor feign a sorrow, too severe, 
 
 For one I never loved at heart : 
 Intent I seemed to find and trace 
 
 The bloodly 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, 
 Till the scared women, in affright, 
 
 Believed they heard a spirit cry. 
 Each Sabbath-day the pulpits rung 
 
 With texts on murder ill-concealed, 
 And pictures on the Cross were hung 
 
 Of him who died at Kirk-of-Field. 
 
 IV. 
 
 My name was bruited. — Well I know 
 Who set the bloodhounds on my track ; 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. Ill 
 
 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 Darnley'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 Darnley 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 ; 
 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. 
 
112 BOTHWELL. paet iv. 
 
 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 village, 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 1 
 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 I 
 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. 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 113 
 
 VI. 
 
 Why mourn 1 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 1 
 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 1 
 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 child was dead. 
 And so, because in quietness 
 Her secret soul she did possess. 
 Because she did not feign despair, 
 Nor beat her breast, nor rend her hair. 
 
 Nor give superfluous sorrow breath — 
 
 H 
 
114 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Because no vain and false parade, 
 Or frantic show of grief was made, 
 
 They taxed her with her husband's death ! 
 
 Ha, ha ! Their rancour was my shield, 
 
 A buckler between me and shame ; 
 For what belief could Mary yield 
 
 To miscreants who abused her name 1 
 She, in her perfect innocence. 
 
 Despised the foul insulting lie, 
 That, without semblance of pretence, 
 
 Had swollen 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 ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 115 
 
 VIII. 
 
 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 pillowed 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 in 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 ; 
 
116 BOTHWELL. 
 
 I'll answer truly for my Queen, 
 What she, in error, did for me ; 
 
 And, though a gulf lie broad between, 
 I'll vouch her, as an angel, free ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Yet who accused me 1 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 well 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. 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 117 
 
 Keady was I to stand the test, 
 
 To bide the sentence of the law ; 
 Its terrors did not mar my rest, 
 
 Nor make me thrill with guilty awe. 
 For Morton stood beside me then, 
 
 And Lethington was with me too, 
 And even Murray sent his men, 
 
 To witness that my cause was true. 
 Right hastily the ermined lords 
 
 Pronounced me innocent and free : 
 And well they might ! Four thousand swords 
 
 Were there to make defence for me 1 
 Then, hardier yet, I caused proclaim — 
 If any dared impeach my name, 
 Or charge me with a murder stain 
 Upon my hand, for Darnley 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 God defend the right 1 
 
118 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 God 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 ; 
 
 Or think that death must close the whole 
 Long weary tale of shame and grief. 
 
 How could I hope to win in fight — 
 The utterer of so foul a prayer ? 
 
 How 'scape the overwhelming might 
 I had invoked to crush me there ? 
 
 XI. 
 
 Still, no one came to lift my gage ; 
 The law declared me free from taint. 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 119 
 
 What cared I for the preachers' rage 1 
 
 I let them chafe without restraint. 
 The burghers might believe their tale, 
 
 But dared not mutter it again — 
 Too many spears from Liddesdale 
 
 Were daily moving in my train. 
 On slight pretext the borderer draws, 
 
 But not so quickly sheathes his brand, 
 And swords can tame as well as laws, 
 
 They're ever readier to the hand. 
 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. 
 
 XII. 
 
 And I had much to meditate. 
 
 Darnley no longer stopped my way ; 
 The Queen was free to choose a mate, 
 
 I must not, like a fool, delay. 
 For princes, ay, and kings would come 
 
 To sue for favour from her eyes, 
 
120 BOTH WELL. p.uit iv. 
 
 And all the craft of France and Rome 
 
 Would work for such a glorious prize. 
 Then how could I, a simple peer, 
 
 Whose name was scarce in Europe known, 
 Presume to mix or interfere. 
 
 With royal tenders for a throne ? 
 Love levels all ! That faith had I ; 
 
 Yea, and by heaven, true love was mine, 
 Though it was marred by villany. 
 
 As sullied water tainteth wine ! 
 I knew the legend framed of old. 
 
 And ever to my heart it came — 
 He must be desperate and bold 
 
 Who seeks to win a royal dame ! 
 
 XTIL 
 
 Yet all unequal was our lot : 
 She was a widow, I was wed — 
 
 Poor Lady Jane ! I loved her not. 
 Yet never wished her with the dead. 
 
 She was a vixen from her birth. 
 Ready with tears, of temper keen. 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 121 
 
 But though she often stirred my mirth, 
 
 She never waked a touch of spleen. 
 Divorce was easy. She and I, 
 
 In mutual weariness, 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 believe 
 
 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. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Often I strove to speak my mind, 
 
 As often did I swerve aside ; 
 For, though her eyes were ever kind. 
 
 She never lost her queenly pride. 
 Her nature was too great and high 
 
 To listen to a lover's vows. 
 
122 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 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 Holy rood. 
 
 My path was crossed by Lethington. 
 He met me with a meaning smile 
 
 That almost deepened to a sneer; 
 I knew the man was steeped in wile. 
 
 And yet I thought his words sincere. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " 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 ; 
 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, 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 123 
 
 For still 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." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " You speak in riddles ! " " Surely no : 
 
 Methinks my meaning should be clear : 
 Look but around — where breathes the foe 
 
 Whose malice you have cause to fear 1 " 
 " Ay, but the Queen I '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. 
 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 : 
 
124 BOTHWELL. pakt iv. 
 
 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 dares to say. 
 And honest men would stand aloof. 
 
 And friends draw from her in dismay 1 " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 '• Yea — does your foresight reach so far 1 
 Men deemed. Lord Both well, you were born 
 
 Beneath a rash and fiery star 
 
 That ever prompted you to scorn 
 All prudent counsel. You have worn 
 
 Right 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 ! 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 125 
 
 No other noble in the land 
 
 Hath such a wide and strong command. 
 
 Singly yon 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 riiow ; 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 perils hover into sight. 
 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 !" 
 
126 BOTHWELL. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Truce with thy proverbs, man ! thej 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 stinted 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. 
 No Scottish king, these thousand years, 
 
 Hath ever kept the throne. 
 Is it not time for concert now 1 
 The crown is on a woman's brow 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 127 
 
 The people, bj 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 1" 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " 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 1 
 Let me but gain the nobles' voice I 
 About it straight ! Let Morton sign, 
 
 Huntley and Cassilis, Crawford too — 
 Their fortunes are compact with mine ; 
 
 When they stand forward, not a few 
 For love, or dread, or shame will join. 
 Ruthven will follow, nothing loth : 
 Errol, Argyle — I have them both. 
 
128 BOTHWELL. paet iv. 
 
 And hark'ye — sound the bishops, man 1 
 
 Each reverend name is worth a score — 
 Place old St Andrews in the van, 
 
 He'll bring us Orkney, Boss, and more. 
 Not my advancement, friend, alone 
 
 Depends on what we do : 
 If Both well ever mounts the throne, 
 
 Why, thou shalt prosper too !" 
 
 XX. 
 
 They gave it me — that fatal Band ; 
 
 I held their honour in my hand. 
 
 Lords, whose great names were widely known 
 
 Ere Malcolm Canmore filled the throne ; 
 
 Chieftains, who ruled their broad domains 
 
 As freely as a monarch reigns, 
 
 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 — 
 
KTiv. BOTHWELL. 129 
 
 The great, the noble, wise, and free, 
 They, one and all, were bound to me 1 
 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 roll. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 "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 wearied dame ; 
 A wooing, neither hard nor long. 
 
 For Mary cannot but comply ; 
 And then — the child was never strong, 
 
 Sickness may smite him, and he'll die — 
 Infants die easy — and I reign ! 
 
 Ha, ha ! Elizabeth may fret, 
 I 
 
130 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 !" 
 
 XXII. 
 
 There was a knocking. " 'Sdeath ! what fool 
 
 Comes here to interrupt me now 1 
 Ha ! Ormiston, my trusty friend — 
 
 Welcome, — but why that gloomy brow 1 
 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. 
 
^Tiv. BOTHWELL. 131 
 
 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 ! *' 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " 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 stern and strange — 
 
 What is it that thou hast to tell ? " 
 
132 BOTHWELL. part] 
 
 ^' Listen and mark. The Laird of Grange, 
 
 Kirkaldy, whom we know full well 
 To be as resolute a knight 
 
 As lives within this Scottish land — 
 No better ever ruled a fight, 
 
 No wiser ever held command — 
 Accuses you in open day 
 
 Of Darnley's murder !" " Dares he so "? 
 And was there none his tongue to stay. 
 
 No hand to deal a dagger-blow V 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " 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 ! 
 No idle pampered stripling he — 
 A man of mark and dignity ! 
 He can array, at trumpet-call. 
 The Leslies and the Melvilles all ; 
 Though but a knight of slender strain, 
 No Lord can summon such a train. 
 
IV. BOTHWELL. 133 
 
 The burgher carles who turn aside, 
 
 Or scowl with angry brow, 
 When peers and bishops proudly ride, 
 
 To him will bend and bow. 
 Ay, and the preachers, who detest 
 Whatever soldiers love the best, 
 They, who will rail you by the hour. 
 Submit to him and own his power : 
 He guides their council, wields their will. 
 He bids them clamour or be still ; 
 Of evil omen is the day 
 That brings Kirkaldy to the fray 1" 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " So then, that champion of misrule 
 
 Aspires to measure swords with me 1 
 He comes too late ! I were a fool 
 
 To match with one of his degree. 
 My challenge stood unanswered long. 
 
 He might have offered when 'twas new ; 
 I'll not be baited by the throng. 
 
 And bide his knightship's leisure too !" 
 
134 BOTHWELL. parti 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Despise him not ; his plans are laid, 
 
 His friends are numbered and arrayed ; 
 
 On you alone the taint they throw. 
 
 Nay, hear me out ! — 'Tis childish now 
 
 To wince at words — You bear the charge, 
 
 Whilst saintly Morton walks at large ; 
 
 He's safe, whoever may prevail, 
 
 Within the Congregation's pale. 
 
 Some scapegoat truly there must be. 
 
 To carry sin, and you are he ! 
 
 They have brave watchwords ! First, ^The Queen' - 
 
 They're wondrous loyal now, I swear — 
 And next, ' The Prince ;' for 'tis foreseen 
 
 His babyhood may lack some care. 
 The sire's removed, the son survives, 
 
 You're not his foster-father yet ; 
 There's peril, sir, for infant lives, 
 
 When crowns are on their cradles set ! 
 So say the people." 
 
BOTHWELL. 135 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Let them prate ! 
 The sordid knaves may hoot 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 avail would be their stand 
 Against the nobles of the land ? 
 I tell thee, man, their names are here ; 
 
 They urge my marriage with the Queen." 
 " Hath she consented ? " *' No — 'tis clear 
 
 Some little space must intervene : 
 She has not thrown her weeds aside." 
 
 ^* She knows your purpose 1 " ^' 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 pail, 
 
136 BOTHWELL. paet 
 
 Is mistress of her heart and hand, 
 And will 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 statesman's craft I know — 
 Who brought you this ? for, by my word, 
 
 I hold him less your friend than foe !" 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " 'Twas Lethington ! " " 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 ?" | 
 
iRTiv. BOTHWELL. 137 
 
 " She passed with Huntley and his men 
 
 To Stirling Castle yesterday." 
 " When comes she back 1 " " To-morrow." " Good ! 
 Now listen — here, in Holyrood, 
 You cannot gain the Queen's consent j 
 Within a week, the storm, now pent, 
 Will break in fury on your head. 
 The Commons, by Kirkaldy led, 
 
 Will 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. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " 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 : 
 We have a thousand horsemen here. 
 From Crichton and from Teviotdale, 
 
138 BOTHWELL. pabt iv. 
 
 Men who were never known to fail, 
 All 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 still some doubts, should such arise 
 'Twere pity that her Royal Grace / 
 
 Saw not that dutiful demand ! — 
 Now, I have told you all the case ; 
 
 Lord Both well, will you grasp my hand % 
 Nay, never shrink— 'tis now too late ; 
 
 To-morrow must the deed be done ; 
 \ 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 — 
 
 Wilt thou do this ?" " Your hand— I will !" 
 
PART FIFTH. 
 
PAKT FIFTH. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ascension morn ! I hear tlie bells 
 
 Eing from the village 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 echoes 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. 
 Ring on, ye bells 1 Let others throng 
 
 Before the blessed rood to pray ; 
 
142 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 Let them have comfort in the song 
 That celebrates this holy day. 
 
 Eing on for them ! I hear yon well, 
 But cannot lift my thoughts on high ; 
 
 The dreary mists that rise from hell 
 Come thick between me and the sky ! 
 
 II. 
 
 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 1 
 
 Sometimes my mood is stern and wild, 
 Yet often I must stoop my brow. 
 
 And weep as weakly as a child. 
 Defiance burns within me yet. 
 
 But none are near me to defy ; 
 
 i 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 143 
 
 I cannot palter or forget, 
 
 Or cheat my conscience witli a lie. 
 I have shed blood, and rued it sore, 
 
 Because it was not knightly done ; 
 Yet were that all 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, well I ween, 
 A saint had Norman Leslie been : 
 Norman, that fiery youth and bold. 
 Who forced his way to Beatoun's hold. 
 And saw, unmoved, 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 ! 
 
144 BOTHWELL. 
 
 The ten commandments dwindle down, 
 In case of pious need, to nine ; 
 
 Murder no more provokes a frown, 
 'Tis justified by texts divine ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Away, away with thoughts like these ! 
 
 Take them, ye winds, and whelm them, seas ! 
 
 For 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 ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Methinks I can recall the scene, 
 That bright and sunny day ; 
 
y. BOTHWELL. 145 
 
 The Pentlands in their early green 
 
 Like giant warders lay. 
 Upon the bursting woods below 
 
 The pleasant sunbeams fell ; 
 Far off, one streak of lazy snow 
 
 Yet lingered in a dell. 
 The westlin' winds blew soft and sweet, 
 
 The meads were fair to see ; 
 Yet went I not the spring to greet 
 
 Beneath the try sting-tree. 
 
 V. 
 
 For blades were glistening in the light, 
 
 And morions flashing clear : 
 A thousand men in armour bright 
 
 Were there with sw^ord and spear. 
 A thousand men as brave and stout 
 
 As ever faced a foe, 
 Or stemmed the roaring battle-rout 
 
 When fiercest in its flow. 
 
146 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 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 1 " 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Fear not for that 1 No single knave 
 
 Will fail you at your need ; 
 Were.it to gallows or to grave, 
 
 They'd follow where I lead. 
 Give but the signal for the south. 
 
 Or 'gainst the townsmen here, 
 And, fast enough, from every mouth 
 
 Will burst a deafening cheer ! 
 Nothing need they but action, sir, 
 
 To make them fierce and fain : 
 
■V. BOTHWELL. 147 
 
 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 1 " 
 
 VII. 
 
 " 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 ; 
 
148 BOTHWELL. p^ 
 
 But better are we here to-day 
 
 Abroad, than in 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 bell ! 
 Then had the craftsmen rushed to arms ; 
 
 And ill it were to strive, 
 With hampered men, against the swarms 
 
 Lodged in yon waspish hive ! 
 Had Morton joined them with his might. 
 
 Or message <?ome from Mar, 
 Why, you and I this self-same night 
 
 Had lodged within Dunbar ; 
 Not, as I trust, with royal guest, 
 
 At will to entertain, 
 But with some score of beaten rogues, 
 
 Too scared to draw the rein. 
 
BOTHWELL. 149 
 
 The townsfolk can be dangerous foes, 
 If roused within their den ; 
 
 And truly, when it comes to blows, 
 They bear themselves like men ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " 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 all was merry game, 
 Till one gruff elder of the Kirk 
 
 Waxed wrathful at your name. 
 Short say was his and incomplete, 
 
 A Jardine smote him down ; 
 Then, 'midst the brawl, arose the call 
 
 Of ^ Douglas for the town 1' 
 That cry was ready and designed, 
 It rung through street, and pealed through wynd, 
 
 But Morton was not there. 
 
150 BOTHWELL. pa 
 
 Yet bear it ever in your mind, 
 And guard against the stab behind 
 
 When Douglas speaks you fair ! 
 Eight glad was I from yonder pack 
 
 Our men unscathed to bring: ; 
 And, when we ride in triumph back, 
 
 Lord Earl, I'll hail thee King ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 " And, by my soul, the hour has come ! 
 
 No doubt 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 rideS a knight in mail — 
 
 'Tis Huntley with the Queen ! 
 Ho, sound a halt ! Go forward you ; 
 
 I'll follow with my band : 
 Now, Both well, to yourself be true — 
 
 The crown is in your hand 1" 
 
r. BOTHWELL. 151 
 
 True to myself? False — false as hell. 
 
 And false to all beside ! 
 Yet what I did was acted well : 
 
 The devil was my guide. 
 For question left I little space ; 
 
 I spurred across the plain : 
 I met Queen Mary, face to face, 
 
 And took her palfrey's rein. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " 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. 
 Madam ! rebellion rages wide 
 
 Within yon luckless town : 
 The craftsmen in tumultuous tide 
 
 To Holyrood sweep down ! 
 
152 BOTHWELL. 
 
 ' Fire, fire the chapel ! ' is their cry ; 
 
 * No mass — no mumbled prayer 1 
 Hale forth the priests, and let them die 
 Down, down with rank Idolatry ! 
 
 Smite, burn, and do not spare 1 ' 
 Nay, Madam — never look so pale — 
 Your friends are safe. I did not fail 
 
 To leave a trusty band, 
 Who, if they cannot clear the street, 
 Are strong enough for safe retreat j 
 
 And this their 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 : 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 153 
 
 No other place is half so sure ; 
 
 There shall you rest in peace, secure — 
 
 Say, Madam, will you ride 1 
 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, Huntley ! we await your word : 
 
 What better can be done 1 
 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." 
 
 XIJ. 
 
 wretch, to fashion such a lie ! 
 
 slave, to ruin one so fair ! 
 false to faith and chivalry 1 
 
 villain, well may I despair 1 
 
154 BOTHWELL. part 
 
 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 1 
 Beneath the flags that, day by day, 
 
 Return dull echoes to my tread, 
 A grave is hollowed in 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. 
 would it yawn to take me in. 
 
 And bind me, soul and body, down ! 
 could it hide me and my sin. 
 
 When the great trumpet-blast is blown ! 
 might one guilty form remain 
 
 Unsummoned to that awful crowd. 
 When all the chiefs of Bothwell's strain 
 
 Shall rise from sepulchre and shroud ! 
 How could I meet their stony stare — 
 
 How could I see my father's face — 
 
BOTHWELL. 155 
 
 I, the one tainted felon there, 
 The foul Iscariot of my race ? 
 
 XIII. 
 
 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, 
 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, 
 
156 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 We'll rally round our royal line, 
 
 And perish ere they wrong the Crown ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 '^ But these are not the days 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. 
 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. 
 The railing rebel spurns the laws. 
 And bids his hearers bare the sword. 
 Against their rulers, for the Lord ! 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 157 
 
 since your father, royal James, 
 
 Sighed out his life in Falkland tower, 
 How many churches, wrapped in flames. 
 
 Have witnessed to the spoilers' power ! 
 Yea, even in lona's isle. 
 
 That early Bethlehem of the west. 
 Where, by Columba's stately pile, 
 
 The bones of Scotland's monarchs rest. 
 Such deeds were done, by christened men. 
 As well might shame the Saracen. 
 For sacrilegious hands were there 
 The dead from out their graves to tear. 
 And scatter to the winds abroad 
 The relics of the saints of God ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 " And deem not that their rage has passed — 
 It lives, it burns within them still ; 
 
 Misrule and anarchy wall last 
 While those wild preachers have their will. 
 
 This new rebellion shows their mood ; 
 The throne must, like the altar, down : 
 
158 BOTHWELL. 
 
 The hands that tore away the hood, 
 Are eager to profane the Crown ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " But we can stay them in their course ; 
 Force must be met, and fought by force ! 
 The nobles who allowed their aid 
 
 To help the growing power, 
 Shrink from the monster they have made, 
 
 Insatiate to devour. 
 Ready are they with heart and hand 
 To crush rebellion in the land ; 
 All private quarrel to forego, 
 And league against the common foe. 
 Such, Lady, is their full intent. 
 And this the token they h^ve sent. 
 Behold their names — recorded here 
 Are those of prelate, statesman, peer. 
 The heart of Scotland and its might 
 In this great bond of love unite ; 
 And never more shall treason dare 
 
BOTHWELL. 159 
 
 To lift its head in open air 
 Against a brotherhood so fair! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " 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 1 
 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 tell 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 ! 
 Nay, gracious Madam — do not rise ; 
 
160 BOTHWELL. par 
 
 Well can I fathom the surprise 
 
 That shows upon your brow ! 
 Were I by wdld 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 still have tied my tongue ; 
 Nor from my heart had friend or priest, 
 While life yet ebbed within my breast, 
 
 This free confession wrung !" 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Silent and still, though pale as death, 
 Queen Mary kept her throne, 
 
 But for the heaving of her breath, 
 She seemed of marble stone. 
 
 Scarce by a gesture did she show 
 What thoughts were rushing by. 
 
 noblest work of God ! — how low, 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 161 
 
 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 1 
 Great God ! what guilt of me or mine 
 Hath thus provoked thy wrath divine 1 
 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 ! 
 
 L 
 
162 BOTHWELL. part ^ 
 
 sir ! 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 lie '? 
 False was the tale that brought me here, 
 
 False even as the love you feign ; 
 And doubtless now you hope, through fear, 
 
 Your Queen and Mistress to restrain ! " 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Stung to the quick, but bolder far. 
 As men detected ever are, 
 I answered her again — 
 " Madam ! if I have erred through love, 
 
 1 look for pardon from above, 
 
 And shall not look in vain. 
 True love is prompt, and will not wait 
 Till chance or hazard ope the gate. 
 Not mine the arts that gallants own 
 Who glide and prattle round the throne ! 
 A soldier I, unused to sue, 
 Or fawn as courtly minions do. 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 163 
 
 If I am plain and blunt of mood, 
 
 My sword is sharp and keen ; 
 And never have I spared my blood 
 
 In service of my Queen. 
 Why, Madam, should you speak of fear 1 
 1 used no force to bring you here. 
 This castle is a royal hold ; 
 
 Above, upon the turret high, 
 The Euddy Lion ramps in gold, 
 
 True sign of Scotland's majesty. 
 Safe as in Holyrood you bide 
 With friends around you and beside, 
 
 And here you keep your state. 
 What if 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 1 
 Ah, Madam, be not so unkind ! 
 If love is hasty, it is blind. 
 
 And will not bear to wait." 
 
164 BOTHWELL. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Then rose she up ; and on her brow- 
 Was stamped the Stuart frown : — 
 
 " By all the saints in heaven, I trow 
 This man would bear me down 1 
 
 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, 1 
 
 Because I thought you brave and true. 
 
 And now, forsooth, you dare to woo ! 
 
 Are these your thanks for all my grace, 
 Is this your knightly vow ? 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 165 
 
 Fie, Both well ! hide your perjured face — 
 There's falsehood on your brow !" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 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 feign to woo ; 
 Pity, remorse, away I threw. 
 And, desperate that my aim was seen, 
 I, as a rebel, faced my Queen 1 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Madam ! I sought in gentle guise 
 To win your royal ear ; 
 
166 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 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. 
 Deeply the Lords of Scotland mourn 
 
 The cause of this your grief; 
 The fate which left their Queen forlorn, 
 
 And took away their chief 
 But sorrow, though it wring the heart, 
 
 Has limits to its range ; 
 And duty must resume its part, 
 
 Since even empires 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 z^on. 
 And they a chief to lead them on. 
 There's not a man but will rejoice 
 To hail the partner of your choice ; 
 To him obedience will they yield, 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 167 
 
 Him will 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. 
 
 " So say the Lords : and all 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, be sure, you cannot stand ; 
 Gone is the sceptre's might ; the brand 
 Must still the tumults of the land. 
 
 And lay rebellion low. 
 Your nobles proffer well and fair ; 
 They wait your answer to their prayer. 
 
168 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 And now, 'twere best I tell you plain, 
 Resistance to that prayer is vain. 
 Their will— or, if you think the word 
 Too harsh — their counsel must be heard ! 
 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 ! 
 Hope not for rescue — ^none will come ; 
 As well seek answer from the dumb ! 
 
 " 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 blo^. 
 Send forth your summons— warn them all ! 
 
 Tell every noble, far and near, 
 That Bothwell lured you to his hall. 
 
 And holds you as a captive here. 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 169 
 
 Bid Morton come, bid Cassilis arm ; 
 
 Call Errol, Caithness, and Argyle ; 
 Give order for the wide 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 quell your woman's pride ; 
 Till from Dunbar a joyous train 
 
 To Holyrood shall ride, 
 With Bothwell at your palfrey's rein. 
 
 And you his willing bride ! " 
 
 XXV. 
 
 tiger heart ! that fiercer grew 
 With every anguished breath she drew — 
 That gloated on her quivering eye, 
 And trance of mortal agony ! 
 
170 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 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 ? 
 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 vile, so lost, so mean ! 
 
 fade from heaven, thou evening star, 
 I cannot bear thy sheen ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Hopeless, abandoned to despair. 
 
 What else could Mary do biit yield ^ 
 
 1 took her hand — she left it there ; 
 
 'Twas cold and white as frost on field. 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 171 
 
 I tried to comfort her ; a burst 
 
 Of frenzied tears was her reply : 
 For ever be the deed accurst 
 
 That forced such witness from her eye ! 
 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, 
 
172 BOTHWELL. pa] 
 
 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 ; 
 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. 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 173 
 
 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, 
 
 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. 
 
 Deserted and betrayed ? 
 Did they but league to tempt me on ? 
 
 Were all their vows a lure 1 
 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. 
 
174 BOTHWELL, 
 
 XXIX. 
 Yet not bj 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 fall divorce. 
 Nor did the Church refuse its aid. 
 Though Craig a stern remonstrance made. 
 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 
 
 I spoke the word — she made me Duke. 
 
 I claimed her hand the self-same day : 
 
V. BOTHWELL. 175 
 
 And though like aspen-leaf she shook, 
 And wan and piteous was her look, 
 She did not answer, Nay ! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 All 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 1 
 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 Darnley wore. 
 
PART SIXTH. 
 
PAET SIXTH. 
 
 THAT I were a mountaineer, 
 
 To dwell among the Highland hills ! 
 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 ! 
 For 0, of what avail are power. 
 
 Wealth, worship— all we seek to win, 
 
180 BOTHWELL. pakt 
 
 Unless they bring the priceless dower 
 Of rest, and hope, and peace within 1 
 
 IL 
 
 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 swe'et 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 ; 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. I8l 
 
 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 — 
 Men who provoked the people's hate, 
 
 And roared, like ruffians, o'er their wine. 
 The bm-ghera 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. 
 
 III. 
 
 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. 
 
182 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 I worshipped, as I knelt before 
 
 The queen, the woman, and the samt ! 
 
 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 ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 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 heavpn, 
 
 Touch not the mountain's hoary crown. 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 183 
 
 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 in flame — 
 Then Scotland would have risen indeed, 
 
 And followed me, if but for shame ! 
 
 1 might have met the foe in field. 
 
 And raised the Hepburn's name so high. 
 That none thereafter on my shield 
 
 Could trace the bend of infamy. 
 I might have won the people's heart, 
 
 For all men love the stalwart arm ; 
 And valour triumphs over art, 
 
 As faith defies 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 ? 
 
184 BOTHWELL. pa^ 
 
 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 Eome ; 
 
 And let the Pontiff, deified. 
 Deal with the candle, book, and bell. 
 In any way that pleased him well. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But England moved not. England lay, 
 
 As doth the lion 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 aw^ky : 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 185 
 
 My old confederates all were gone — 
 Why should the fortune-hunters stay 1 
 
 There was dead silence for a space : 
 
 A hush, as deep and still 
 As on the lowly valley lies, 
 When clouds, surcharged with lightning, rise. 
 
 And loom along the hill. 
 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. 
 
186 BOTHWELL. pae 
 
 VIII. 
 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 ! 
 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 swift 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 call. 
 Were heard in court, and street, and hall. 
 Each trooper drew a heartier breath, 
 
 And keener glowed his eye ; 
 
BOTHWELL. 187 
 
 I knew that from the field of death 
 No man of mine would fly ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Give me your hand, brave Ormiston ! 
 
 My father loved you dear ! 
 Not better than you love his son — 
 For since the day that I could run, 
 
 Or shake a mimic spear, 
 You were my guardian and my guide, 
 And never parted from my side 
 
 In danger, doubt, or fear. 
 There's comfort in thy hearty grasp ; 
 
 By heaven, it is an honest hand ! 
 I'd rather hold it in my clasp. 
 
 Than any noble's in the land. 
 Henceforward must I stand alone, 
 
 Or only lean on friends like thee ; 
 Of all the caitiff Ijords, not one 
 
 Is here to strike a blow for me ! 
 
188 BOTHWELL. i 
 
 But let it pass — we'll match them yet ! 
 The star of Bothwell hath not set ; 
 Nor will it pale its royal light, 
 For traitor's craft or foeman's might. 
 I'll hold account for every deed, 
 
 From this momentous hour ; 
 And those who fail me in my need 
 
 Shall feel me in my power ! 
 
 "Now then; what news^' "This much I learn, 
 That Morton, AthoU, and Glencairn, 
 Lindsay and Home, Kirkaldy, Mar, 
 Drumlanrig, Cessford, raise the war. 
 They've drawn to Stirling. What their force. 
 
 Our scouts could hardly tell ; 
 Enow there are of man and horse. 
 
 To fence a battle well." 
 " Morton ! art sure ? Is Morton there 1 
 Ah, then I have him in the snare 1 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 189 
 
 If it be mine; but once, to tread 
 
 Victorious on a field of dead, 
 
 I'll have that perjured villain's head ! 
 
 AthoU ? It is a monstrous sign, 
 
 When AthoU and Glencairn combine ! 
 
 Who could have brought the friend of Rome 
 
 To beard me, from his Highland home ? 
 
 Ah, now I see it ! Lethington, 
 
 That arch-dissembler, stirs him on ; 
 
 My evil genius still was he — 
 
 Fool that I was to set him free ! 
 
 A dungeon in yon fortress grim 
 
 Had been the fittest place for him. 
 
 So then ! The masks are thrown away, 
 
 Confessed is every foe ; 
 And boldly to the battle fray, 
 
 With lighter hearts we'll go. 
 But there's a danger near at hand, 
 
 A snake to crush or kill ! 
 What hear'st thou of the City band ? 
 
 The craftsmen— bide they still ?" 
 
190 BOTH WELL. party] 
 
 XI. 
 
 " If I have read their faces right, 
 
 My life on't, they will rise to-night ! 
 
 The booths are closed, the windows barred ; 
 
 In every street patrols a guard. 
 
 The rogues are restless ; by and by, 
 
 They'll all come swarming here : 
 'Twere best to flit, though not to fly, 
 
 Whilst yet the road is clear. 
 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 rascal multitude I 
 Give me an open field without. 
 
 And then, with fifty men, 
 rd drive, like chaff*, the rabble rout 
 
 Back to their smoky den. 
 We dare not venture, for their guard, 
 
 What force these walls require ; j 
 
vr. BOTHWELL. 191 
 
 And shame it were, if, in our ward, 
 
 Thex Palace sunk in fire ! 
 Away then, Duke ! and warn the Queen : 
 
 Doubtless her Grace will gladly ride ! 
 Her presence must be plainly seen, 
 
 To bring the faithful to our side. 
 Were all the Border chieftains 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 shall be Dunbar, 
 
 With Berth wick on the way." 
 
 211. 
 
 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. 
 
192 BOTHWELL. part 
 
 The troopers in procession wound, 
 
 Along the slant and broken ground, 
 
 Beneath old Arthur's lion-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. 
 Ked was the sky ; but Holyrood 
 In dusk and sullen grandeur stood. 
 It seemed as though the setting sun 
 
 Refused to lend it light, 
 So cheerless was its look, and dun, 
 
 While all above was bright. 
 Black in the glare rose spire and vane. 
 No lustre streamed from window-pane ; 
 But, as I stood, the Abbey bell 
 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 1 
 
BOTHWELL. 193 
 
 XIII. 
 
 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. 
 
 Till far away beyond the road 
 
 The lights in Borthwick Castle showed. 
 
 Short tarrying had we there, T ween ! 
 
 Again we sought the woodlands green ; 
 
 For fiery Home was on our track. 
 
 With thousand spearmen at his back : 
 
 Nor dared we rest, till from Dunbar 
 
 I gave the signal for the war. 
 
194 BOTHWELL. part vr. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 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 drum ; 
 And, bearing for the castle mound, 
 
 I saw the squadrons come. 
 Each Baron, sheathed from head to heel 
 In splendid 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— 
 
vr. BOTHWELL. 195 
 
 There were the spears that bore the brunt, 
 And bristled in 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 ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 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. 
 
 1 was the husband of their Queen : 
 Not less, nor more. Old Seton's mien 
 Was haughty, grave — no frankness there. 
 With his long beard, and lyart hair, 
 
 His heavy mantle o'er him thrown, 
 He looked an effigy of stone. 
 
196 BOTHWELL. pakt \ 
 
 He must be in his grave ere now, 
 
 And so I will not speak him wrong ; 
 But, then, the hardness of his brow 
 
 Was more than I could suffer long. 
 He was a noble of a stamp 
 
 Whereof this age hath witnessed few ; 
 Men who came duly to the camp, 
 
 Whene'er the Royal trumpet blew. 
 Blunt tenure lords, who deemed the Crown 
 
 As sacred as the Holy Tree, 
 And laid their lives and fortunes down. 
 
 Not caring what the cause might be. 
 Such chiefs were they who held the fight. 
 
 And strove, and would not yield. 
 Till rushed from heaven the stars of night 
 
 O'er Flodden's cumbered field. 
 Spare were his words, his greeting cold. 
 His look more distant than of old. 
 But that 'twere madness to offend 
 The simplest knight that seemed a friend ; 
 
 But that my men were few — 
 I would have made Lord Seton know 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 197 
 
 That not a peer should slight me so, 
 Or fa\l in reverence due ! 
 
 And Mary — what did she the while 1 
 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 1 
 She, daughter of a race of kings, 
 
 Instinct with that desire 
 Which makes the eagle beat its wings 
 
 Against the prison wire — 
 She, wronged, insulted, and betrayed, 
 Might she not claim her vassals' aid ? 
 
198 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 1 
 They asked not, in her secret bower, 
 
 The wearied Queen to see ; 
 I took, by right, the husband's power, 
 
 And none dared question me. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Another morn — another day ! — 
 
 And what, ere dusk, was I ? 
 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 in my track, 
 Curs'd be the slaves who turned my rein 
 And forced me panting from the plain ! — 
 boaster, liar, murderer — worse, 
 Traitor and felon — hold thy curse ! 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 199 
 
 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 1 1 — it was not I ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 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 ! 
 
200 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Blood seems to rankle in my eyes, 
 Eed as a furnace glare the skies ; 
 And all things waver up and down, 
 Like shadows in a burning town. 
 There's hellish laughter in mine ear — 
 More air — more air ! I stifle here ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 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 1 
 They came not on with shield and targe, 
 And lances levelled for the charge ; 
 
BOTHWELL. 201 
 
 But safe in summer ambush lay, 
 Like ^children on a holiday. 
 
 XX. 
 
 I sent a challenge 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 alooe 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 ! 
 
 Bare answer to my call they gave — 
 they were noble hearts and brave ! 
 
202 BOTHWELL. part 
 
 First, Tullibardine offered fight. 
 He was at best a simple knight, 
 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 lie. 
 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 — " 
 
 Then Ormiston broke in : — 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 203 
 
 " What needs this vaunting 1 Wherefore tell 
 A stor J that we know full well ? 
 
 If never Scot did win 
 More fame than you in fields abroad, 
 Where better men, I think, have trod, 
 
 How stand you here to-day 1 
 A traitor to your Queen and God, 
 
 A knave in knight's array ! 
 Aha 1 you startle at the word — 
 Here am I ready, with my sword. 
 
 To prove it, if you dare ! 
 I am your equal — will you fight ? 
 I stand in arms for Mary's right — 
 Do this, and I'll believe you quite, 
 
 Eank boaster though you are !" 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Grimly his foe Kirkaldy eyed. 
 And heavy breath he drew ; 
 
 Clenched was his hand as he replied. 
 For sharp the taunt, and true. 
 
204 BOTHWELL. p 
 
 " Thou hast the vantage — that I feel ! 
 
 Thy wit hath mastered mine : 
 I came not here to prove my steel 
 
 On ruffian crests like thine ! 
 Yet just, in part, is thy rebuke, 
 
 So much I yield to thee — 
 I was in fault to urge the Duke, 
 
 As now thou urgest me. 
 But not by jeer or ribald word 
 
 Canst thou so far prevail, 
 As tempt me now to draw my sword, 
 
 Far less return thy rail. 
 I will not meet a murderer, sir, 
 
 For such, I ween, art thou 1" 
 " So la ! Here is a goodly stir, 
 
 And tender conscience too ! 
 John Knox has done his duty well. 
 
 His pupil's apt and fain ! 
 When holy Kirk rings out the bell. 
 
 Her saints must needs refrain. 
 Hearken, sir knight ! for all your boast, 
 
 For all your foreign pride, 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 205 
 
 Your place is humble in the host, 
 
 And more — you stand defied 1 
 I fling the lie into your teeth, 
 
 The scorn upon your head ! 
 Say, was that sword within its sheath, 
 
 When priestly Beatoun bled ? 
 Murder, indeed ! Pluck off your glove, 
 
 Lift up your hand on high — 
 Swear, in the face of heaven above, 
 
 You're sackless — then I lie ! " 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Hold, sirs !" I said, " and list to me. 
 
 Your quarrel well can wait : 
 Since present combat may not be. 
 
 Forbear this rude debate ! 
 Unanswered is my challenge still 
 
 By those to whom 'twas borne. 
 If you, Kirkaldy, spoke my will — 
 
 Is that from fear or scorn 1 
 Your offer, sir, was mere pretext I 
 Doubtless some squire would venture next ; 
 
206 BOTHWELL. past ^ 
 
 Or some stark yeoman of your band 
 Would crave to meet me, hand to hand ! 
 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 ! 
 
 " 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 ! 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 207 
 
 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." 
 
 XXV. 
 
 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 in sluggards' paradise, 
 
 The leaders of the war. 
 Yet throbbed my heart, for well I knew 
 
 A cursed chance had been, 
 While I was forth the field to view, 
 
 Kirkaldy met the Queen ! 
 And fear came on me, as the blight 
 
 Of fever shakes the frame, 
 I could not guide my thoughts aright, 
 
 My blood was hot as flame. 
 
208 BOTHWELL. p. 
 
 But in his mail writhed Ormiston, 
 
 As writhes in storm the oak, 
 And twice I heard his angry groan 
 
 Ere yet a word I spoke. 
 " What answer on the rebels' part 
 
 Will yon Kirkaldy bear 1 " 
 " An answer that will freeze your heart, 
 
 And drive you to despair ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 '* Yonder, unscathed, triumphant, goes 
 
 The only man I dread ! 
 What madness made you interpose, 
 When he was ready-ripe for blows, 
 
 And I could strike him dead ? 
 He takes a secret to their camp, 
 
 Is worth your life and mine, 
 My hand was up to break the lamp, ♦ 
 
 But you will have it shine ! 
 Ay ! and forsooth, you must display 
 Your idle chivalry to-day ! 
 
VL BOTHWELL. 209 
 
 You'd fight with Morton ? Easy boast ! 
 
 He will not fight with you. 
 Why, you proclaim your fortune lost — 
 You tell them that you doubt your host ; 
 
 For, if that host were true, 
 No warlike leader, ever known. 
 From the arch-angel. Michael, down 
 To the poor Laird with twenty spears, 
 Would so dishonour his compeers ! 
 And they are faint : and fainter still 
 
 You'll find them at the dawn, 
 If sets the sun behind the hill 
 
 Ere yet the swords are drawn. 
 Hark you — one only chance is ours ! 
 Let me, this instant, form our powers. 
 The Border lances will not fail, 
 
 Though all the rest remain ; 
 I'll to the bands of Liddesdale, 
 
 And lead them to the plain. 
 Bide where you are, or seek the Queen ; 
 
 Leave all the charge to me, 
 o 
 
210 BOTHWELL. p 
 
 And desperate work upon the green, 
 Within the hour, you'll see 1 
 
 Come, Duke — the signal! Let me go, 
 And, by my father's head, 
 
 I'll bring you bound your deadliest foe, 
 Or leave him yonder, dead 1" 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " I cannot do it — for my word 
 
 Is pledged ; I needs must wait." 
 '' You 1 Are we nothing here, my Lord 1 
 
 You are not yet so great, 
 That valiant men should lay their lives 
 
 At your commandment down. 
 Sir — had you twenty royal wives, 
 
 You never wore the crown ! 
 I have some reverence for my neck, 
 And will not risk it at your beck ! 
 Hearken ! You know my way of old — 
 Best is the truth when bluntly told. 
 Your life and mine are now at stake, 
 
 There's but one game to play ; 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 211 
 
 One charge is all that we can make, 
 
 And that I'll make to-day ! 
 Nay, if you wish it, come with me, 
 
 Together let us ride ; 
 No franker hand, so it were free, 
 
 I'd welcome to my side. 
 Better to die with helm on head, 
 
 Than mount a scaffold grim — 
 Why — you are paler than the dead, 
 
 You shake in every limb ! 
 Are you the man who went so far 
 At Kirk-of-Field, and at Dunbar, 
 And shrink you from the face of war 1 
 Why stand you here as on parade ? 
 By heaven — I think the Duke's afraid 1 
 If it be so, then fare you well 1 
 
 Now, shall we onwards go 1 
 Each minute is a passing-bell — 
 
 'Sdeath ! answer, yes or no ! " 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " I tarry here I " " God help thee then — 
 I'll see thy face no more 1 
 
212 BOTHWELL. pa 
 
 Like water spilt upon the plain, 
 Not to be gathered up agaiu, 
 
 Is the old loYe I bore. 
 Best I forget thee, Bothwell ! Yet 
 'Tis not so easy to forget ; 
 For, at the latest hour, I see 
 I've tyned a life by following thee. 
 Friends, fortune, fame, a crown are lost, 
 By you, the captain of a host, 
 The host is standing idly there. 
 And not a single blade is bare ! 
 Saint Andrew ! what a scurvy tale 
 To carry back to Teviotdale 1 
 Farewell, thou poor inconstant lord — 
 Farewell — it is my latest word ! " 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 He parted like a flash of fire ; 
 
 He vanished o'er the hill ; 
 My friend, the follower of my sire, 
 
 The man I trusted still ! 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 213 
 
 What spell was on me, that I stayed, 
 
 Nor tried the chance of war ] 
 Ah — she, the injured and betrayed, 
 
 The captive of Dunbar — 
 I did not dare to face her then, 
 Before Lord Seton and his men 1 
 But, from the plain, a trumpet call 
 
 Came ringing, sharp and clear ; 
 Up flew the knightly pennons all. 
 
 Up rose, in clumps, the spear. 
 And hastily each leader went, 
 
 To marshal forth his band ; 
 And steeds neighed fiercely, to the scent 
 
 Of battle near at hand. 
 Then, from their ranks, Kirkaldy came. 
 
 To me he wended slow ; — 
 0, I could slay myself for shame, 
 
 As I recall it now ! — 
 There was no vaunting in his look : 
 
 The man was brave as bold ; 
 His eye was like a priest's rebuke. 
 
 So calm it was and cold. 
 
214 BOTH WELL. pai 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Now, sir — will Morton forward stand, 
 
 Or does he shun me still V 
 Aloft Kirkaldy raised his hand, 
 
 And pointed to the hill. 
 " Nay ! look, my lord, to yonder height. 
 
 And mark the tumult there ; 
 Is it for combat or for flight, 
 
 Those broken bands prepare ? 
 An ancient soldier, well I know 
 
 Each move on battle-plain ; 
 Though firm their front an hour ago, 
 
 They'll never knit again ! 
 There go the men from Teviot-side ! 
 
 They do not fly from fear. 
 See — o'er the edge the troopers ride ; 
 
 How quick they disappear ! 
 Now Liddesdale, your surest stay, 
 
 Is turning — Duke, you groan ! 
 Whose ensign is it they display ? 
 
 Look there — it is your own ! " 
 
BOTHWELL. 215 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Yes ! every word he spoke was true ; 
 My cause was lost, and that I knew ; 
 
 Yet haughtily I said — 
 " My challenge, sir 1 Do you forget 
 That Morton hath not answered yet ? " 
 
 Kirkaldy bowed his head. 
 *' Take this for answer — not for feud 
 
 Or chivalrous display, 
 Shall any drop of Scottish blood 
 
 Be wagered here to-day ! 
 Forego this dream of idle strife, 
 
 Black Death is hovering near ; 
 
 sir, you dally with your life 
 By longer tarrying here ! 
 
 1 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 ! 
 
216 BOTHWELL. . part vi 
 
 Take counsel from a foe — beware ! 
 
 Fly, sir^ while yet you can. 
 Attainted and proscribed you are, 
 
 A tried and sentenced man ! 
 And swift and hasty be your flight ; 
 For, if you spur not, while the night 
 
 Can shroud you with its gloom, 
 You die — but not in noble fight ; 
 
 The scaffold is your doom ! 
 Come then with me : while I am here. 
 No sudden onset need you fear. 
 I seek the Queen. Belike, once more, 
 
 You would behold her face : 
 Then, far away from Scotland's shore, 
 
 Depart — God give you grace !" 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Had the earth yawned, the thunder crashed. 
 Or had the bolts of lightning flashed, 
 
 And right before me broke ; 
 I had not felt more deep abashed 
 
 Than when Kirkaldy spoke. 
 
vL BOTHWELL. 217 
 
 I went — God help me, how I went ! — 
 A culprit up to Mary's tent : 
 
 No eyes were fixed on me. 
 All looked upon the Laird of Grange, 
 As if, throughout broad Scotland's range, 
 
 Was none so great as he. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 There was more life in Mary's face, 
 A higher 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 love for me had they. 
 And none were there, with kindly grasp, 
 My hand within their own to clasp ; 
 No voice to whisper in my ear 
 
 That hope was yet alive ; 
 No friend to bid me cope with fear. 
 
 And still with fortune strive. 
 
218 BOTHWELL. pakt vi. 
 
 I might have conquered— who can tell ? 
 
 I might have kept mine own ; 
 Ormiston — it was not well 
 
 To leave me thus alone ! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Before the Queen Kirkaldy bent, 
 
 And graciously she said : — 
 " Now, speak. Sir Knight ; with what intent 
 
 Is yonder host arrayed 1 
 What seek my Lords 1 " 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 — " 
 Then burst my wrath ; — " Dare they deny 
 
 The solemn Band they gave 1 
 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 ? 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 219 
 
 Who claimed for me my Sovereign's hand 1 
 Have faith and honour left the land V 
 
 " Your pardon, Duke ! " Kirkaldy said, 
 " Not of the Band is question made, 
 But did you not, by force of war, 
 Convey her Highness to Dunbar 1 
 My gracious Liege ! The Peers invite 
 Your Highness to return this night 
 To Holyrood, your royal home, 
 And to escort you there, they come. 
 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." 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Not once did Mary's eye and mine 
 Encounter while he spoke. 
 
220 BOTH WELL. r 
 
 I felt it as a dismal sign : 
 
 The daughter of the Stuart line 
 
 Would not endure the yoke ! 
 " My answer, sir/' she said, " depends 
 Upon the temper of your friends. 
 Plainly — their purpose with the Duke 1 
 Mark this, 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, 
 The right is mine to dictate here. . 
 My husband shall not brook the shame 
 
 Of trial and disgrace ; 
 I will not so demean my name, 
 
 Or so belie my race. 
 As let my subjects venge my wrong, 
 
 Whatever wrong there be. 
 Thanks be to God, I yet am strong 
 
 Through those brave Lords you see ! 
 Good sir ! your course has upright been, 
 
 Your honour all allow — 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 221 
 
 Pray you, deal frankly with your Queen 
 
 Who asks a service now. 
 Set free the path, your host restrain ; 
 
 And by your knighthood swear, 
 That not a man shall quit his train, 
 Ere I pass downward to the plain, 
 
 And greet my nobles there." 
 " So shall it be," Kirkaldy said ; 
 " For that I pledge my life, my head ! 
 Free is the Duke to pass from hence, 
 Without molest, without offence. 
 With all his following, all his power, 
 So that he tarries not an hour." 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 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 you go and save a life 
 
 That else were lost in useless strife. 
 
222 BOTHWELL. part 
 
 Farewell ! We shall 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 1 
 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 ! 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Was it a dream ^ or did I hear 
 A yell of scorn assail my ear. 
 As frantic from the host I rode 1 
 The very charger I bestrode 
 Eebelled 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, 
 
VI. BOTHWELL. 223 
 
 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 hailed 
 
 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 — 
 Until we steered by Shapinsay, 
 And moored our bark in Kirkwall bay. 
 Yet not in Orkney would they brook 
 The presence of their banished Duke. 
 The castle 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 ! 
 
224 BOTHWELL. pai 
 
 North, ever north I We sailed by night, 
 And yet the sky was red with light, 
 
 And purple rolled 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. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 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 ; 
 Till chased across the open seas, 
 
 I met the surly Dane. 
 These were his gifts and welcome — these ! 
 
 A dungeon and a chain ! 
 
BOTHWELL. 225 
 
 XL. 
 
 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 — 
 
 " Both well ! 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 1 
 Give me one night, 'tis all I crave, 
 To pass in darkness to the grave, 
 
 Nor more this agony renew — 
 What's here 1 — No phantom of the tomb ! 
 
 Death has not cast his livid hue 
 
226 BOTHWELL. part ^ 
 
 On that pale cheek, nor stamped his gloom 
 Upon the forehead, fair and high, 
 Of Scotland's Queenly Majesty 1 
 Mary, is't thou 1 and com'st thou here, 
 
 Alive, to chide me for my wrong 1 
 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 1 a scaffold dressed — 
 The axe, the headsman, and the priest — 
 God 1 it surely cannot be ! — 
 Come, Death ; and I will welcome thee ! 
 
NOTES. 
 
j 
 
NOTES. 
 
 " For one short month the sceptred might 
 Of Scotland was my ownr — P. 4. 
 
 DATES OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS NOTICED IN 
 THIS POEM. 
 
 I believe that a good deal of misconception regard- 
 ing 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 des- 
 tiny, 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 Or- 
 
 
 leans, and by Both well at Join- 
 
 
 ville,. in the early part of 
 
 1561. 
 
230 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Mary landed at Leith, . .20th Aug. 1561 
 
 Marriage of Queen Mary with 
 
 Darnley, .... 27th July, 1565 
 
 Bothwell married Lady Jean Gor- 
 don, 24th Feb. 1566 
 
 Murder of Riccio, . . . 9th March, 1566 
 
 James VI. born, . . . .19th June, 1566 
 
 Murder of Darnley, . . . 10th Feb. 1567 
 
 Bothwell tried and acquitted, . 12th April, 1567 
 
 Band subscribed by the chief 
 nobility recommending Both- 
 well as a proper husband for 
 the Queen, .... 19th April, 1567 
 
 Mary carried off to Dunbar by 
 
 Bothwell, .... 24th April, 1567 
 
 Mary brought back to Edinburgh 
 by Bothwell, and lodged in the 
 Castle, 6th May, 1567 
 
 Bothwell divorced from his wife, 7th May, 1567 
 
 Marriage of Queen Mary with 
 
 Bothwell, .... 15th May, 1567 
 
 Parting of Mary from Bothwell at 
 
 Carberry, .... 15th June, 1567 
 
 Queen Mary sent to Loch Leven, 16th June, 1567 
 
 (C ") r 
 
 ^Twas sin to smile, Hwas sin to laugh, 
 ^Twas sin to sport or play. ^^ — P. 15. 
 
 FANATICAL AUSTEEITY OF THE EEFOEMEES. 
 
 By an Act of the Parliament of Scotland, passed 
 in 1555 during the minority of Mary, the old and 
 
. NOTES. 231 
 
 popular sports of the common people were forbidden. 
 "It is statute and ordained, that in all times cum- 
 ming, no manner of person be chosen Egbert Hude, 
 nor Little John, Abbot of Unreason, Queens of 
 May, nor otherwise, nouther in Burgh nor to Land- 
 wart, 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 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 pertur- 
 bation to the Queenis lieges in the passage throw 
 Burrowes and uthers Landward Townes, the woman 
 perturbatoures for skafrie of money, or utherwise, 
 sail he taken, handled^ and put upon the Cuch-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 that the people, 
 prohibited by statute from enjoying their own sports, 
 
232 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 be- 
 come mere scenes of railing against the vices of the 
 Court ; among which were always noted as the 
 principal, feasting, finery, dancing, balls, and whore- 
 dom (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 foolish women, but against the whole realm." 
 The personal remarks which John Knox directed 
 from the pulpit against his Queen, may be found in 
 any edition of his works. 
 
 " She hated Mary from her soul. 
 
 As womati and as Queen^ — P. 20. 
 
 MARY'S claim to the throne of ENGLAND. 
 
 It is not surprising that Elizabeth should have 
 ^regarded Mary from the very first with extreme 
 
NOTES. 233 
 
 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 position even worse, since the Parliament 
 of England, by acknowledging 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 Cranmer, Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, after Henry had renounced allegiance 
 to Eome, 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 poli- 
 tical motives, was averse to grant ; and Henry, 
 in consequence, threw off the papal authority, and 
 declared himself the head of the English Church. 
 The sentence of Cranmer was ratified and confirmed 
 by Act of Parliament ; and therefore Mary, as the 
 offspring of an unlawful marriage void and null 
 ah initio, was declared illegitimate, and rendered in- 
 capable of succession. But Henry had not waited, 
 
234 BOTHWELL. 
 
 even for the sentence of Cranmer, before consummat- 
 ing his second marriage with Anne Boleyn ; and 
 Elizabeth was born 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 
 will or letters-patent to dispose of the Crown. Jane 
 Seymour died, leaving only one son, Edward ; the 
 marriage with Anne of Cleves was hastily annulled ; 
 and Catherine Howard was beheaded. After taking 
 to himself a sixth wife, Catherine Parr, Henry be- 
 came uneasy as to the state of the succession, and 
 procured an Act of Parliament, limiting the suc- 
 cession to the Crown, in the event of the death of 
 Prince Edward without issue, " to the King's daugh- 
 ter, 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 
 will in writing." 
 
 Such is the abbreviate of the Act of Parliament, 
 28 Henry YIII. c. 7, by which the ordinary laws of 
 
NOTES. 235 
 
 the realm were set at utter defiance ; for while the 
 Princesses were expressly called to the succes- 
 sion, the Acts which declared them to be illegiti- 
 mate were not revoked. About a month before his 
 decease, Henry made his will, leaving the Crown 
 first to Edward, then to Mary, then to Elizabeth ; 
 and failing them and their issue, to the heirs of his 
 younger sister, the Duchess of Sufiblk, thus exclud- 
 ing 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 commissioners specially 
 named, again altering the succession, setting aside 
 Mary and Elizabeth, and preferring the heirs of 
 the Duchess of Sufiblk. 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 
 
236 BOTHWELL. 
 
 declaration of the illegitimacy of Elizabeth, who, as 
 I have said, was born 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 Elizabeth 
 without opposition assumed the throne, with no 
 better title than the destination contained in her 
 father's will, Henry II. of France caused his daugh- 
 ter-in-law, Mary Queen of Scots, and Dauphiness, to 
 assume openly the arms as well as 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 un- 
 fortunate Queen of Scots died upon the scaffold at 
 Eotheringay. 
 
 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 Pro- 
 
NOTES. 237 
 
 testant 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 subjects, 
 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 discontented 
 body. But by promoting discord in Scotland, and 
 by assuming the character of protectress of the re- 
 forming party there ; by giving secret subsidies to 
 the disaffected ; and by affording shelter to those 
 who were guilty of rebellion, Elizabeth played her 
 game so well, that at last she was able to appear as 
 umpire between her hated rival and the insurgent 
 nobles of Scotland. In all this she displayed con- 
 summate tact, judgment, and perfidy — the latter a 
 quality which, in State affairs, it has long been 
 the fashion to excuse : and no one can rise from an 
 attentive perusal of the records of that time, without 
 the conviction that the very wisest of the so-called 
 Scottish statesmen of the day were mere tools and 
 puppets in the hands of her and her counsellors. 
 Murray has, by more than one writer, been repre- 
 
238 BOTHWELL. 
 
 sented 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 pro- 
 tection, and who privily were the recipients of her 
 bounty. To her machinations, successfully carried 
 through by adroit and active agents, each unfor- 
 tunate 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. 26. 
 
 POPULAR PROPHECIES OF THE SUCCESSION OF THE 
 SCOTS LINE TO THE CROWN OF ENGLAND. 
 
 In every nation, at a certain period of its pro- 
 gress, prophecies of this kind 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 modified to 
 suit events after their occurrence. The leading 
 prophet of Scotland, whose fame has not yet passed 
 
NOTES. 239 
 
 into oblivion, was Thomas Learmonth of Ercildonne, 
 familiarly known to the peasantry as Thomas the 
 Ehymer, 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 con- 
 cluded his great struggle for Scottish liberty. His 
 traditionary adventures with the Queen of Elfiand — 
 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 observe at what an early period these 
 were cited as instances of remarkable fulfilment. 
 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 Hersildoune sail veryfyd be 
 In him ; for, swa our Lord help me, 
 I haiff gret hope he sail be king, 
 And haiff this land all in leding." 
 
240 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 fycht quilum spak Thomas 
 Of Ersyldoune, that sayd in derne, 
 There suld meit stalwartly, starke and sterne, 
 He sayd it in his prophecy ; 
 But how he wist, it was ferly." 
 
 There were, however, other popular prophets than 
 Thomas of Ercildoune ; and in process of time their 
 vaticinations became 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. suc- 
 ceeded 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 tra- 
 dition, must, in the course of time, undergo many , 
 changes both in 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 alto- 
 gether the assertion of Lord Hailes, that the popular 
 Scottish prophecies relative to the succession of the 
 Stuart family to the throne of England, were forgeries 
 
NOTES. 241 
 
 or interpolations made subsequent to the death of 
 Queen Elizabeth, for the purpose of being accom- 
 modated 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 pro- 
 phetic 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, 
 Which of the Bruce's blood shall come 
 As neare as the nint degree." 
 
 Now, although there is no earlier printed version 
 of these prophecies than that to which I have referred, 
 it is easy to show that this particular prediction was 
 known and popularly 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 prospect of 
 her contracting a matrimonial alliance was extremely 
 probable. The following remarkable passage is ex- 
 tracted from a poem, of the authenticity of which 
 there can be no question, by Alexander Scott, entitled 
 Ane New Yere Gift to the QuenCy quhen scho come first 
 
242 BOTHWELL. 
 
 hame. The poem, therefore, was composed in 1561. 
 It opens thus : — 
 
 " Welcum, illustrat Ladye, and oure Quene ; 
 Welcum ourlyone, with the Floure-de lyce ; 
 Welcum our thrissill, with the Lorane grene ; 
 "Welcum our rubent rois upon the ryce ; 
 Welcum our gem and joyfuU genetrice ; 
 Welcum our beill of Albion to beir ; 
 Welcum our plesand Princess, maist of price ; 
 God gife thd 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 meaning 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 : — 
 
 " If saws be sooth to show thy celsitude, 
 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 refer- 
 
NOTES. 243 
 
 ence to the prediction which Lord Hailes 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 Colville, whose funeral oration 
 upon Queen Elizabeth (Paris, 1604) contains the 
 following passage : — 
 
 *^ Nonne hsec Saturnii seculi argumenta indubitata ? 
 quae mihi in memoriam exulceratam revocant, quod, 
 cum puer essem audiveram balathrones ceraulas 
 Thomse Eythmici fatidici numerare qusedam carmina 
 trivialia, quae tunc ludicra, nunc vero seria atque 
 efficacia esse agnosco : verum se Delphice an divinitas 
 inspirata sint, definire non audeo cum teste Au- 
 gustino." 
 
 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 calling their notice to one instance 
 in which a popular prophecy was unquestionably 
 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 Elizabeth. Nay more, I apprehend that 
 the prophecy had been widely disseminated through 
 England ; for, in 1562, an Act was passed by the 
 
244 BOTHWELL. 
 
 English Parliament, imposing heavy penalties on those 
 who should be convicted of "feigning, imagining, 
 inventing, and publishing fond and fantastical 'pro- 
 phecies, as well concerning the Queen^s Majesty, as 
 divers honourable personages, gentlemen, and others 
 of this realm." Strong indeed must have been the 
 current of popular prophecy when the politic Eliza- 
 beth deemed it necessary to restrain it by statutory 
 enactment. This Act was passed four years before 
 the birth of James VI., an event which increased the 
 jealousy of Elizabeth towards the unfortunate Queen 
 of Scots. 
 
 " There was that Riccio — sharp and slyT — P. 28. 
 FIRST CONSPIEACY AGAINST QUEEN MAEY. 
 
 The details of the murder of Riccio are so well 
 known that it would be out of place to repeat them 
 here. But the conspiracy which led to that event 
 deserves especial notice ; and I trust that a short ex- 
 planation of its origin and aim will not be considered 
 superfluous. 
 
 The Scottish nobles who promoted the cause of 
 the Reformation, had a deep interest in its per- 
 manence. They knew well that, if the authority of 
 Rome was again established, the immediate con- 
 
NOTES, 245 
 
 sequence would be a restitution of the Church lands 
 which had been appropriated as lawful spoils ; there- 
 fore, 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 Y. by Margaret, 
 daughter of Lord Erskine ; and it is supposed that, 
 from an early period of his life, he entertained the 
 hope of procuring a reversal of his illegitimacy, in 
 which case he might, in the event of Mary dying 
 without issue, have advanced a claim to the crown of 
 Scotland. Nor was this a scheme so wild as to 
 appear beyond the pale of probability. The claims 
 of Henry YII. to the throne of England had been 
 rested upon no better foundation ; 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 in such a design. He was 
 cool, cautious, long-sighted, and unscrupulous ; and 
 by taking the popular side in the then all-absorbing 
 religious controversy, he greatly increased his reputa- 
 tion and his power. He also entered into deep and 
 intricate relations with the Court of England. 
 
 When Mary, contrary to the wishes of Elizabeth, 
 
246 BOTHWELL. 
 
 consulted her own inclination by marrying Darnley, 
 Murray threw every possible obstacle in the way. 
 The means he employed are concisely stated by Lord 
 Herries in his History. 
 
 " A little after this, Henry Lord Darnley 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 grand- 
 mother 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 marriage laid down hereto- 
 fore to the Queen concerning this same gentleman, 
 which were known to be put aside by the underhand 
 working of the Earl of Murray, whereof the Queen 
 was not ignorant. But now the many dislikes she 
 had conceived 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 
 
NOTES. 247 
 
 formerly, he had recourse to Queen Elizabeth of 
 England, who was soon persuaded to throw stumbling- 
 blocks 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 business, the Earl of Murray used what indirect 
 means he could to cross the Queen's resolutions. 
 Religion was his chief objection, 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 who 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 efifect, 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 
 
248 BOTHWELL. 
 
 in her greatest affairs. Upon this man he laid as- 
 persions that the Queen was misled by his advice ; 
 that he was a stranger, and one basely born ; and 
 that for his cause she misregarded the advice 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 Rizius was many times too intimate with the 
 Queen more than was fitting. 
 
 *^The Queen observed all these proceedings, and 
 knew from whom they came. But she was resolved 
 to marry ; which she suspected was the thing in the 
 world that would most vex the Earl of Murray ; and 
 to strengthen her own faction, she called home the 
 Earl of Bothwell from France, the Earl of Suther- 
 land from Flanders, and took George Gordon, the 
 Earl of Huntley's eldest son, out of prison, gave 
 them all remissions, and restored them to their es- 
 tates and honours." 
 
 Eiccio was then labouring to remove every impedi- 
 ment 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 services by the blow of the 
 assassin's dagger ! Murray, though a master in dis- 
 simulation, regarded Mary's marriage as too hazard- 
 
NOTES. 249 
 
 ous an event for his own project to be allowed with- 
 out an outbreak ; more especially as Mary had incon- 
 siderately and foolishly agreed to use her influence with 
 the Scottish Parliament to have the crown-matrimo- 
 nial bestowed upon her husband. This serious error 
 cost Mary dear. The Duke of Chatelherault, who 
 stood next after her in succession, was of course op- 
 posed to such a grant, which threatened his hereditary 
 rights ; and was thus for a time induced to lend his 
 influence to Murray. Mary, being unable to obtain 
 the consent of the nobles, took upon herself to proclaim 
 Darnley King on the day of their marriage ; and 
 the entry in the Canongate Eegister of Marriages is 
 — '^ Henry and Marie, Kyng and Qweine of Scotis." 
 
 Murray attempted a rebellion ; but not being ade- 
 quately supported by the people, he and his confeder- 
 ates were compelled to retire before the army which 
 the Queen led in person, and took refuge in England. 
 So closes the first act of the Murray conspiracy. 
 
 The opening of the second act is very difierent. The 
 marriage being now consummated, and the Queen 
 being pregnant, Murray, then fugitive and exiled, 
 commenced an intimate correspondence with Darnley, 
 whose pride, assumption, and insolence, coupled with 
 his notorious ingratitude and infidelity to his consort, 
 had hj this time alienated from him the regard of 
 all loyal subjects. It is almost inconceivable that 
 
250 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 ; Alexander, 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 maintain 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 rati- 
 fied ; to fortify and maintain his title to the crown, 
 failing the Queen without issue ; and to use their in- 
 terest with Elizabeth in his behalf. I quote one pas- 
 sage, for the purpose of showing the extent of their 
 submission : " Item, as they ar becuming trew and 
 faythfuU subjectes, men, and servandis to the said 
 noble prence, and sail be leall and trew to his Ma- 
 jestie, as becumes trew subjectis to ther naturall 
 prence, and as trew and faythfuU servandis servis 
 ther gud maisteris with ther bodeis, landis, gudis, 
 and possessiounis. And sail nouther spayr lyf nor 
 dead in settyng fordwart ail thingis that may be to 
 the advancement of the said noble prence." We 
 
NOTES. 251 
 
 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 confederates, " 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 trans- 
 action. The support of Morton was purchased by 
 Darnley' s resignation of his claim to the earldom of 
 Angus ; and the plot being thus far advanced, Eliza- 
 beth was apprised of the conspiracy. Here, again, 
 dates become of much value. The Earl of Bedford, 
 and Eandolph, 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 Scot- 
 land these : Argyle, Morton, Boyd, Ruthven, and 
 Lethington. In England these : Murray, Rothes, 
 Grange, myself, and the writer hereof. If persua- 
 sions to cause the Queen to yield to these matters do 
 no good, they propose to proceed we know not in what 
 sortJ'^ The "matters" in question were of great im- 
 portance to Murray and his rebel confederates, for 
 they included their estates in Scotland, it being Mary's 
 declared intention that the fugitive 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. 
 
252 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 in- 
 clude Mary's principal supporters ; as detailed by her- 
 self in a remarkable letter to Betoun, Archbishop of 
 Glasgow, her ambassador at Paris. That letter bears 
 date the 2d April, and the information it contains 
 relative to the designs of the conspirators was evi- 
 dently furnished by Darnley, who by that time had 
 betrayed his confederates. After relating the hor- 
 rible circumstances of the murder, but without charg- 
 ing 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, Bothwell, Atholl, Lords 
 Fleming and Livingston, Sir James Balfour, and 
 certain others our familiar 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 Bothwell escaped forth of their chambers 
 in our palace at a back window by some cords ; 
 whereon the conspirators took some fear, and thought 
 themselves greatly disappointed in their enterprise. 
 
NOTES. 253 
 
 The Earl of Atholl and Sir James Balfour by some 
 other means, with the Lords Fleming and Livingston, 
 obtained deliverance of their invasion. The provost 
 and town of Edinburgh having understood this 
 tumult in our palace, caused ring their common bell, 
 come to us in great number, and desired to have 
 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 com- 
 manded by our husband, retired them to quietness." 
 
 Next day Murray arrived in Edinburgh, and at an 
 interview with his sister expressed great affection and 
 solicitude ; but, as Mary writes, "upon the morn he 
 assembled the enterprisers 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 our 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 govern- 
 ment 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 
 
254 BOTHWELL. 
 
 her own presence of mind, and the influence which 
 she still exercised over the weak and vacillating Darn- 
 ley. 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 gentle- 
 men of Scotland, in indignation at the unparalleled 
 outrage upon their Queen, flocked to her standard, 
 and the murderers of Riccio were compelled to take 
 flight. Murray, however, who denied all compli- 
 city, and who had not been denounced by Darn- 
 ley, remained ; and in the sequel, through the media- 
 tion 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 inferior 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 amiable one. 
 Elizabeth never pardoned those who rebelled against 
 her authority. Mary took the opposite course, and 
 to that we must ascribe her ruin. 
 
NOTES. 255 
 
 ''John Elliot of the Parkr—V. 46. 
 
 BOTHWELL's encounter with ELLIOT. 
 
 The circumstances of this duel, in which Bothwell 
 displayed 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 chief of his 
 name, at least the head 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 spe- 
 cially mentioned in an old poem by Sir Eichard Mait- 
 land, entitled " Aganis the Thieves of Liddesdail." 
 
 *' They spulzie poor men of their packs, 
 They leave them not on bed, nor backs : 
 Both hen and cock, 
 With reel and rock. 
 The Laird's Jock — 
 All with him takes. 
 
 *' They leave not spindle, spoon, nor spit, 
 Bed, bolster, blanket, shirt, nor sheet ; 
 John of the Park 
 Kypes chest and ark ; 
 For all such wark 
 He is right meet." 
 
256: BOTHWELL. 
 
 ^^^Twas in Craigmillar^s dusky hall 
 
 That first I lent my ear 
 To that deep tempter Lethington^ — P. 62. 
 
 CONFERENCES AT CRAIGMILLAE. 
 
 After the flight of the insurgents who were openly 
 concerned in the murder of Eiccio, the affairs of 
 Scotland assumed for some little time an appearance 
 of tranquillity. The chief power was lodged in the 
 hands of Murray, Bothwell, Argyle, Huntley, and 
 Lethington ; and if all 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 ecclesi- 
 astical demagogue, had disappeared immediately after 
 the murder of Eiccio ; Morton, Lindsay, Euthven, 
 and other daring conspirators, were in exile ; and 
 Darnley, 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 his 
 consummate perfidy had been shown. He was hated 
 and despised by those who were privy to the designs 
 of the conspirators ; and his looseness, debaucheries, 
 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. 
 
NOTES. 257 
 
 Murray and Lethington were both traitors ; and 
 the unexampled lenity shown to them by their Sove- 
 reign, who not only had pardoned their offences, 
 but had intrusted them with the administration of 
 affairs, had not the effect of riveting their allegiance. 
 The birth of a prince had lessened the chances, what- 
 ever these might have been, of Murray's succession 
 to the throne. Still he might hope to reign as Ee- 
 gent, if not as King ; and he never for a moment lost 
 sight of that grand object of his ambition. Lething- 
 ton was bound heart and soul to Murray, whose dark, 
 subtile, and intriguing spirit very much resembled 
 his own. These two men, therefore, 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 
 confederates, and by the vigilance of the noblemen 
 who were associated 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 service to the 
 Queen, and had risen high in her favour. He was 
 Warden of the three Marches, Lord High Admiral 
 of Scotland, and General of the land forces ; and his 
 connections were extensive and powerful. He was 
 
268 BOTHWELL. 
 
 held in great dislike by the emissaries of Eliza- 
 beth, who had ever found him incorruptible ; and 
 he was regarded by the conspirators as the most 
 formidable enemy of their faction. But with all 
 this he was a profligate man, of a daring and am- 
 bitious spirit ; unrestrained 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, 
 on account of his undoubted services, appears to 
 have awakened hopes, which possibly, at an earlier 
 period, he had conceived. 
 
 Had Darnley, after the birth of his son, conducted 
 himself with ordinary 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 personal behaviour 
 towards the Queen was of the most heartless and 
 insolent kind. He took every opportunity of thwart- 
 ing 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 let- 
 ters were intercepted, and his practices discovered, 
 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 
 
NOTES. 259 
 
 life, and at last formed the desperate resolution of 
 leaving the kingdom, and remonstrating 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 Darnley 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 
 difference or division." 
 
 The conduct of Darnley at length became so out- 
 rageous that the health of the Queen was visibly 
 affected. 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 Craigmillar, 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 
 
260 BOTHWELL. 
 
 words, ' I could wish to be dead/ You know very 
 well that the injury she has received is exceeding 
 great, and her Majesty will 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 Darnley by ofiering 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 remarkable " Protestation of the Earls 
 of Huntley and Argyle, Touching the Murther of the 
 King of Scots," which in the year 1568 was forward- 
 ed to the Court of England, and which is published 
 in Anderson's Collections. That narrative bears, 
 that in December 1566, "Her Grace being in the 
 Castle of Craigmillar, accompanied by us above 
 written, and by the Earls of Bothwell, Murray, and 
 Secretary Lethington, the said Earl of Murray and 
 Lethington came in to the chamber of us, the Earl 
 of Argyle, in the morning, we being in our bed ; 
 who, lamenting the banishment of the Earl of Morton, 
 Lords Lindsay and Euthven, with the rest of their 
 faction, said that the occasion of the murder of 
 David, slain by them in presence of the Queen's 
 Majesty, was for to trouble and impesche the Parlia- 
 
NOTES. 261 
 
 ment, 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 inter- 
 pose all that was possible for relief of the saids 
 banished, wherefore they thought that we of our 
 part should have been as desirous 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 betwixt 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.' A nd then they 
 send to my Lord of Huntley, praying him to come 
 to our chamber. This is as they dealt with us 
 particularly ; now let us show what followed after 
 that we were assembled. 
 
262 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " 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, pro- 
 mising, if we would consent to the same, that they 
 should find the means to restore us in our o^ti lands 
 and offices, and they to stand good friend unto us, 
 and cause the said Earl of Morton, Euthven, 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 contentment 
 of the Queen's Majesty consisted. And thereon we 
 four, viz. Earls of Huntley, Argyle, Murray, and 
 Secretary Lethington, passed all to the Earl of Both- 
 well's chamber to understand 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 Lethmgton- — after he 
 had reminded her Majesty of a great number of 
 grievous and intolerable offences, that the King (as 
 he said), ingrate of the honour received of her High- 
 ness, 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 the nobility, 
 
NOTES. 263 
 
 to make divorcement betwixt her Highness and the 
 King her husband, which should not need her Grace 
 to met (meddle) therewith. To the which it was 
 necessary that her Majesty take heed to make reso- 
 lution 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 evil turn, when that her High- 
 ness 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 conditions she might understand the 
 same. The one that the divorce was made lawfully ; 
 the other that it was not prejudice to her son, other- 
 wise 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 prejudice in anywise of my Lord Prince ; 
 alleging the example of himself, that he ceased not 
 to succeed to his father's heritage without any diffi- 
 culty, albeit there was divorce betwixt him and his 
 mother. It was also proposed that after their di- 
 vorcement the King should remain alone in one part 
 of the country, and the Queen's Majesty in another, 
 
264 BOTHWELL. 
 
 or else he should retire to another realm ; and hereon 
 her Majesty said, that perad venture he would change 
 opinion, that it were better that she herself for a 
 time should pass to France, abiding till he acknow- 
 ledged himself. Then Lething-ton, taking the speech, 
 said : ^ Madam, soucy {i.e. care) 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 prejudice of your son ; and albeit 
 that my Lord 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 conscience, and therefore I pray 
 you rather let the matter be in the estate as it is, 
 abiding till God of His goodness put remedy thereto ; 
 that ye, believing to do me service, may possibly turn 
 to my hurt and displeasure.' ^ Madam,' said Leth- 
 ington, ^let us guide the matter amongst us, and 
 your Grace shall see nothing but good, and approved 
 by Parliament.' 
 
 " So, after the premises, the murder of the said 
 Henry Stuart following, we judge in our conscience, 
 and hold for certain and truth, that the saids Earl 
 of Murray and Secretary Lethington were authors, 
 
NOTES. 265 
 
 inventors, devisers, councillors, and causers of the said 
 murder, in what manner and by whatsomever 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 Darnley 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 
 telling what took place in their presence, and Leth- 
 ington was their spokesman ; therefore, if this con- 
 struction 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 Darn- 
 ley, 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 Darnley' s reformation. Her language is that of pious 
 resignation to the will of God, not of indignant anger. 
 It must also be remarked that there is nothing in 
 this document to criminate Bothwell. He was the 
 
26C) BOTHWELL. 
 
 last consulted ; and the only remark of his specially 
 quoted, is an argument in favour of the proposed 
 divorce. But if not an accomplice then, he became 
 so immediately afterwards ; and there is little doubt 
 that, before he left Craigmillar, 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 Ormiston in his confession, 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 aflirmed to 
 me was the subscription of the Earl of Huntley, 
 Argyle, the Secretary Maitland, and Sir James Bal- 
 four, 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, contain- 
 ed these words in effect — ^That inasmuch as it was 
 thought expedient and most profitable for the com- 
 mon wealth, by the whole Nobility and Lords under- 
 subscribed, that such a young fool and proud tyrant 
 should not reign nor bear rule over them ; and that 
 for divers causes therefore, that they all had concluded 
 he should be put off, by one way or other ; and who- 
 
NOTES. 267 
 
 soever 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 
 Ormiston, 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 of Edinburgh, and other 
 persons of character ; and I see no ground for doubting 
 its authenticity. It contains a heavy charge against 
 fche Earls of Huntley and Argyle, and gives counte- 
 nance to the idea that the nobility were nearly unani- 
 mous in consenting to the death of Damley. "When 
 we consider that Mary's principal accusers were the 
 men most deeply implicated in the deed, what a fear- 
 ful picture of treachery and turpitude is disclosed ! 
 
 ^ / stood that night in Damley' s room, 
 Above the chamber charged with deathr — P. 94. 
 
 MURDER OF DAENLEY. 
 
 The narrative contained in the third part of the poem 
 will be found to correspond closely with the account 
 
268 BOTHWELL. 
 
 of the murder given by Both well's accomplices, Ormis- 
 ton, Hay of Talla, and Hepburn of Bolton, in their 
 examinations and confessions, which are printed at 
 full length in Pitcairn's Criminal Trials. Yet over 
 some parts of this frightful tragedy there still hangs 
 a cloud of mystery ; in particular, it appears impos- 
 sible 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 injury on his person ; and 
 what is most remarkable, his furred pelisse and pan- 
 touffles were found close by. The bodies of four men, 
 members of Darnley'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 Eiccio, 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, 
 
NOTES. 269 
 
 and to his strength made debate for his life." Mel- 
 ville says, "it was spoken that the King was taken 
 forth, and brought down to a stable, where a napkin 
 was stopped in his month, and he therewith suffocat- 
 ed." Herries' account is different, but very circum- 
 stantial. He says that Both well, after leaving Holy- 
 rood, " went straight to the Kirk-of -Field, up Eob- 
 loch's Wynd, where he met with William Parris and 
 John Hamilton (a servant to the Archbishop 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, 
 William Taylor, that lay by him on a pallet-bed. 
 Those assassins that are named to be with Both well, 
 and actors, were those two above named, Parris and 
 Hamilton, John Hay of Talla, John Hepburn of Bol- 
 ton, George Dalgleish, and one Powrie, Bothwell's men 
 all ; James Ormiston of that Ilk (called Black Ormis- 
 ton). 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 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. 
 
270 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 Darnley was strangled 
 in the orchard while attempting to escape ; that he 
 had been awakened either by the sound of the lock- 
 ing 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 pos- 
 sible to account otherwise for the appearance of the 
 bodies and the scattering of the dress. For let it be 
 supposed possible 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 regard to every important event in 
 Scotland is truly wonderful. But if Darnley was mur- 
 dered in the orchard, and not in the house, I must 
 
NOTES. 271 
 
 also conclude that other actors, unknown to Bothwell 
 and his men, were engaged in the villanous 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 com- 
 pany, and that they neither saw nor knew of any 
 others. The nine were Bothwell, two Ormistons, 
 Bolton, Talla, Dalgleish, Wilson, Powrie, and French 
 Paris. And the confession of Bolton, corroborated 
 by that of Talla, bears, " He knows no others, but 
 that he (Darnley) 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 Darnley, 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 returned 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 
 
272 BOTHWELL. 
 
 summoned by Bothwell to go with him to the Kirk- 
 of-Field. They were carrying back the mail 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. Dalgieish, 
 Bothwell' s groom of the chamber, was not at the 
 Kirk-of -Field in the earlier part of the night, and 
 only witnessed the catastrophe. Paris went away at 
 the same time as Ormiston, but he seems to have 
 returned to witness the explosion. This man, 
 whose real name was Nicholas Hubert, and who had 
 previously been in Bothwell' 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 Talla could have any motive or interest 
 in giving a false account ; for they all three admit- 
 
NOTES. 273 
 
 ted 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 Bothwell 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 departed by ten o'clock ; and both Hep- 
 burn of Bolton and Hay of Talla, who were in the 
 house 'Hill after two hours after midnight," when 
 the match was lighted, say positively in their de- 
 positions 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 ; but there is no evidence to that 
 effect, and we must take them as they stand. If 
 their depositions are entitled to credence, they estab- 
 S 
 
274 BOTHWELL. 
 
 lisli this much, that these two men, as well as Both- 
 well, believed that Darnley was asleep in the house 
 when the explosion took place, and that no other com- 
 pany was on the watch. 
 
 But (as Miss Strickland, who has taken great pains 
 in the investigation of this point, has shown), it ap- 
 pears from depositions recently discovered in the 
 General Begister House of Edinburgh, 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 evi- 
 dence 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 unnatural and overstrained ; for at first sight 
 it seems extremely improbable that two bodies of 
 conspirators should have been sent on the same er- 
 rand, 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 im- 
 plicate Bothwell, and to avoid anything that might 
 leave a trace of their participation in the deed. 
 Murray found it convenient to go over to Fife on the 
 morning before the murder, selecting Sunday as his 
 
NOTES. 275 
 
 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 con- 
 fessed on the eve of his execution, and had told him 
 of the purpose ; but then, as he said to the inquisi- 
 tive ministers, " Mr Archibald at that time was a 
 depender of the Earl of Botliwell, making court for 
 himself, rather than a depender of mine." In short, 
 the leading conspirators were desirous of two things 
 — first, that Darnley should be eifectually 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, un- 
 known to him, that he should not blunder in the exe- 
 cution of his design. From Bolton's deposition and 
 Ormiston's confession it would appear that, until two 
 days before the murder took place, Bothwell under- 
 stood that Darnley was to be disposed of in a different 
 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 
 
276 BOTHWELL. 
 
 known ; and showed to tliem (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 port- 
 manteau, and was brought by Powrie and "Wilson 
 from the Earl's lodging in Holyrood to the Black 
 Friars gate, where it was handed over to Bolton and 
 Talla. It was in bags, and was poured out loose on 
 the floor of the room below Darnley's chamber. All 
 that is distinctly proven. Bolton and Talla, after 
 lighting the match — a soldier's fuse " of half a fathom 
 or thereby," — locked the door, and joined Bothwell 
 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 of 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 Arch- 
 bishop Betoun (Labanofi", 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 
 
NOTES. 277 
 
 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-simile of a drawing, 
 taken at the time, of the ruins, which entirely cor- 
 roborates the statement that the house was blown up 
 from the very foundations. I do not pretend to be 
 a master of the theory of explosive forces, but I have 
 asked the opinion of some competent judges, and I 
 am assured, that if the facts above stated regard- 
 ing 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. Both- 
 well's only agents were the men specially named ; 
 and they did nothing 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 difficulty 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 
 
278 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 having brought together, in little 
 compass, all the evidence upon that point. That such 
 were the operations of the conspirators is also evident 
 from the terms of the indictment raised against Mor- 
 ton in 1581, in which it is set forth that he "most 
 vilely, unmercifully, and treasonably slew and mur- 
 dered him (Darnley), with William Taylor and 
 Andrew MacKaig, his cubiculars (grooms), when as 
 they, buried in sleep, were taking the night's rest, 
 burned his hail 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^ 
 These operations, 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, Bothwell 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 
 
 i 
 
NOTES. 279 
 
 was already undermined — for this reason, that the 
 other conspirators calculated 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 Both well's order, from the magazine at 
 Dunbar, of which he was keeper, to his apartments 
 in Holyrood — ^was carried by his own servants, and 
 laid down by his own associates — things which could 
 not be done so secretly as to defy detection. In con- 
 sequence, 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 were hung 
 
 Of him who died at Kir k-of -Field:' — P. 110. 
 
 POLITICAL CARICATUKES— " THE MERMAm." 
 
 " 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 the doors of churches 
 and other public places in Edinburgh. Eewards 
 were vainly offered for the discovery of the limners by 
 whom these treasonable painted tickets, as they were 
 
280 BOTHWELL. 
 
 styled in the proclamations, were designed. Mary 
 was peculiarly annoyed at one of these productions, 
 called ^ The Mermaid,' 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. E. This curious specimen of party 
 malignity is still preserved in the State Paper Office." 
 — Miss Strickland's Life of Queen Mary. 
 
 I recommend this passage to the notice of future 
 commentators on Shakespeare ; because it appears to 
 me ver}'- 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 Puck, come hither : Thou remember'st 
 Since once I sat upon 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 understand why Mary should be allegorised 
 as a mermaid. Here is historical evidence that she 
 was so represented many years before Shakespeare 
 wrote. 
 
NOTES. 281 
 
 " Right hastily the ermined lords 
 
 Pronounced me imwcent and freer — P. 117. 
 
 TEIAL OF BOTHWELL. 
 
 The trial of Both well was a mere sham and mock- 
 ery of justice. The management of it was left to 
 Lethington, Morton, Huntley, and Argyle, of whom 
 two at least were participators 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 accidental ; 
 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 Bothwell to the Tolbooth, 
 where the trial took place. He was attended by 
 two hundred harquebussiers, and escorted by up- 
 
282 BOTHWELL. 
 
 wards of four thousand gentlemen ; and so he passed 
 " with a merry and lusty cheer" to the Tolbooth. 
 
 This was upon the 1 2th 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 ex- 
 citement. Murray, as was his custom on the ap- 
 proach 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 sup- 
 ported Bothwell. This latter circumstance ought 
 especially to be borne in mind, because it shows 
 that Bothwell was not deserted by the nobility on 
 account of his participation in the slaughter of Darn- 
 ley. No new fact relating to that matter emerged 
 between the day of his trial and that when he fled 
 from Carberry Hill ; 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 Barnley, They knew 
 him to be guilty, but in the mean time, instead of 
 deserting, they supported him ; because through his 
 means, and by stimulating his exorbitant ambition, 
 
NOTES. 283 
 
 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 me — that fatal Bandr — P. 128. 
 
 BAND MADE BY A NUMBER OF THE NOBILITY IN 
 
 FAVOUR OF THE EARL OF BOTHWELL, 
 
 19th APRIL 1567. 
 
 " We undersubscribing, understanding, that altho' 
 the noble and mighty Lord James Earl Bothwell, 
 Lord Hailes, Crichton, and Liddesdale, Great Admi- 
 ral of Scotland, and Lieutenant to our Sovereign 
 Lady over all the Marches thereof, being not only 
 bruited and calumniated by placards privily affixed 
 on the public places of the Kirk of Edinburgh, and 
 otherwise slandered by his evil willers and privy 
 Enemies, 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 murder, — 
 he, by condign Inquest and Assize of certain Noble- 
 
284 BOTHWELL. 
 
 men 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 honour- 
 able and good service done by his predecessors, and 
 specially by himself, to our Sovereign, 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 par- 
 ticular ; 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 accusations and calumnies of their adversaries, 
 envious of our Place and Vocation, which we of our 
 duty and friendship are astricted and debt-bound to 
 repress and withstand ; Therefore oblige us, and 
 each one of us, upon our Faith and Honours, and 
 Truth in our bodies, as we are Noblemen, and will 
 
NOTES. 285 
 
 answer to God, that in case hereafter any manner of 
 person or persons, in whatsoever manner, shall hap- 
 pen 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 all that 
 will do for us, shall take true, honest, plain, and 
 upright Part with him, to the Defence and Main- 
 tenance of his Quarrell, with our bodies, heritage, 
 and goods, against his private or public calumniators, 
 byepast or to come, or any others presuming any- 
 thing in Word or Deed to his Eeproach, Dishonour, 
 or Infamy. Moreover, 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 Eealme 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, pre- 
 ferring one of her native-born subjects unto all 
 
286 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 Mar- 
 riage to be solemnised and completed betwixt her 
 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 whatsoever 
 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 Willers ; and notwithstanding the same, take 
 part and fortify the said Earl to the said Marriage, 
 so far as it may please our Sovereign Lady to allow ; 
 and therein shall spend and bestow our Lives and 
 Goods against all 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 faith- 
 less Traitors. In Witness whereof, we have sub- 
 scribed these presents, as follows, at Edinburgh, the 
 19th day of April, the year of God 1567 years." 
 
NOTES. 287 
 
 Sucli was the tenor and substance of that celebrat- 
 ed "Band," the origin and object of which has given 
 rise to so much discussion. But the historian or 
 annotator who attempts 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 art- 
 fully 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 altera- 
 tion has been made in the body of the Band by copy- 
 ists or transcribers. The points in dispute, however, 
 are very important, as they involve the circumstances 
 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. Ac- 
 cording 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 in- 
 stance to have departed from his usual accurate habit 
 of investigation, gives us the following narrative : 
 
288 BOTHWELL. 
 
 '* On the evening of the day on which the Parliament 
 rose (April 19th), Both well invited the principal 
 nobility to supper in a tavern kept by a person 
 named Ansley. They sat drinking till a late hour ; 
 and during the entertainment a band of two hundred 
 hagbutters surrounded the house and overawed its 
 inmates. The Earl then rose, and proposed his mar- 
 riage 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 con- 
 fusion one nobleman, the Earl of Eglinton, contrived 
 to make his escape ; but the rest, both Papist and 
 Protestant, were overawed into compliance, and af- 
 fixed 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 1 1th Octo- 
 ber 1568, and printed both by Anderson and Good- 
 all. It contains the account of the transaction, or 
 rather the explanation of the signatures, as given on 
 the part of Murray and his colleagues, 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 
 
NOTES. 289 
 
 there assembled, which being all 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 Both well's devotion." Ainslie, "mine 
 host," owes his immortality to a document, a copy of 
 which is in the Cottonian Library under this head- 
 ing, "The names of such of the nobility as subscribed 
 the Band, so far as John Bead might remember, of 
 whom I had this copy, being in his own hand, being 
 commonly termed in Scotland Aynsleis Supper." 
 The list is as follows : — 
 
 "Earls Murray, Argyle, Huntley, Cassillis, Morton, 
 Sutherland, Rothes, Glencaim, Caithness. 
 
 "Lords Boyd, Seton, Sinclair, Semple, Oliphant, 
 Ogilvy, Ross of Hawkhead, Carlyle, Herries, Hume, 
 Innermeith. 
 
 "Eglinton subscribed not, but slipped away." 
 
 But the memory of "John Read," whom I strong- 
 ly suspect to have been an amanuensis of Greorge 
 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 
 
290 BOTHWELL. 
 
 most valuable Life of Queen Mary, repeats the story 
 ad longum, and, in her surprise at finding the names 
 of Seton and Herries appended to the Band, hazards 
 the conjecture, 'Hhat 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 Imperialist 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 Ainslie's tavern the transaction is wholly of an- 
 other character. Eight Earls and eleven Barons, of 
 all shades of political and religious opinion, are said 
 to have been invited by Bothwell 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 court- 
 yard and the stairs — that Bothwell drew from his 
 pocket the document ready prepared — and that the 
 nineteen noble poltroons signed it without remon- 
 strance or hesitation ! 
 
 " Credat Judseus Apella, 
 Kon ego " 
 
 What, it may be inquired, had the nobles to fear 
 
NOTES. 291 
 
 if they refused compliance ? Not massacre, surely, 
 for that would have effectually extinguished all the 
 hopes and prospects of Bothwell ; not abduction, for 
 that would have been impossible, considering the 
 locality. There is no difficulty in accounting for 
 the signature of some of the Peers, who were con- 
 spirators, and therefore ready enough to sign without 
 compulsion ; but there were others, such as Glen- 
 cairn, Seton, and Oliphant, little likely, under any 
 circumstances, to have submitted to such 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 skilful 
 artisan of romance would hardly have dared, in de- 
 fiance of all probability, to depict such a scene in 
 his pages. Grave historians, however, have not 
 hesitated to stand sponsors for the story. 
 
 That Bothwell may have entertained his friends 
 at supper in Ainslie's tavern, on the occasion of the 
 dismissal of Parliament, is quite 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 College at Paris, another copy of this Band, 
 
292 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " attested by the proper subscription of Sir James 
 Balfour of Pittendrich, the Clerk of Register 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, 
 Dumblane, Brechin, Ross, the Isles, and Orkney ; 
 the Earls of Huntley, Argyle, Morton, Cassillis, 
 Sutherland, Errol, Crawford, Caithness, and Rothes ; 
 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 side. Herries, 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 Hill. 
 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 
 
NOTES. 293 
 
 marriage with the Queen, a7id that of these, eight 
 were bishops. I admit that Both well'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 com- 
 missioners, 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 Both well 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 introduc- 
 tory letter to the Memoirs of Sir James Melville, ad- 
 dressed 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 regarded 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 subscribe, 
 with the rest of his flatterers, that paper wherein they 
 declared it was her Majesty's interest to marry the said 
 Earl ; but I chose rather to lay myself open to his 
 hatred and revenge, whereby I was afterward in 
 peril of my life." This evidently points to a delibe- 
 
294 BOTHWELL. 
 
 rate 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 destruction. 
 
 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 would not have 
 been seduced from his allegiance without very dis- 
 tinct 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 
 had induced Bothwell to become the principal actor 
 in the murder of Darnley, and it was also their in- 
 terest to keep faith with him, until he was installed 
 as Darnley'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, 
 
NOTES. 295 
 
 that no one who subscribed the deed had any faith 
 in Both well's innocence. Darnley had made himself 
 so obnoxious 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 inquisi- 
 tive as to the means which were 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 Eiccio, 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 Scot- 
 land immediately after the assassination, coupled with 
 the fact that he did not return to Edinburgh until 
 Mary was imprisoned and her enemies triumphant, 
 has naturally enough engendered suspicion. Grave 
 doubts may be entertained as to his innocence ; but 
 I am bound to say that, in a question of this kind, 
 no weight ought to be given to a paper which is un- 
 
296 BOTHWELL. 
 
 signed, 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 previ- 
 ous knowledge of the murder. He was the colleague 
 of Knox in the ministerial charge of Edinburgh, but 
 did not quit his post when those who were notorious- 
 ly concerned in the assassination of Eiccio were com- 
 pelled to seek safety in flight ; and his subsequent 
 demeanour and bearing, as well as his high and 
 really admirable character, seem to me utterly in- 
 consistent with the idea that he was privy to that act 
 of violence and blood. Indeed, I have a strong con- 
 viction 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, how- 
 ever much their influence with the people may have 
 been used to forward them. 
 
NOTES. 297 
 
 " Four own brave father wodd a Queen — 
 This Mary's mother r — P. 131. 
 
 PATRICK EARL BOTHWELL, AND MARY 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 marriage ; both re- 
 ceived crown-grants of Orkney ; and both died in 
 exile. During the lifetime of James Y., Earl Pa- 
 trick was suspected of treasonable practices with 
 England, and in 1531 was imprisoned in the Castle 
 of Edinburgh, and afterwards, according to Pitscottie, 
 banished from the kingdom. He returned, 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 appa- 
 rent encouragement which he received from Mary of 
 Guise, a woman of great talent, who possessed in an 
 uncommon degree the power of fascinating all whp 
 approached her. I am enabled, through the kind- 
 ness of my friend Mr Joseph Eobertson, of the 
 General Register House, Edinburgh, to make public 
 a curious document, prepared by Earl Patrick for 
 the consideration of the King of France, in which he 
 
298 BOTHWELL. 
 
 asserts that the Queen-Dowager had twice promised 
 him marriage. . 
 
 " Thir ar the articlis that Patrik Erie Boithuile, 
 greit admirall of Scotland, promissis to bid at 
 and debait with his body ; That is to say, ane 
 hundreth men for ane hundreth 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 hir, Promest faithfullie 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 her writ- 
 tingis obligatouris vnder hir hand writ mair fullelie 
 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 lords- 
 chip of Galloway, elike maner induring hir life- 
 tyme. 
 
NOTES. 299 
 
 " Fferdlie, scho gaif to the said Erie the erledome 
 of Orknay during hir lifetyme for payment, Eeserv- 
 and 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 incontinent 
 thaireftir send the post with ane discharge. 
 
 "The said Erie desyris thir articlis to be re- 
 presentit 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, Oflferis him to cum to France or Scot- 
 land, quhair it pleissis the Kingis Maieste of France 
 to appunct, To debait the samin with his body againis 
 all thaim will say in the contrair, That he nevir did 
 afore the said day that micht be prejudiciall to the 
 realme of Scotland. In witnes hereof, and for 
 vereficatioune of the premissis, he has subscriuit 
 thir presentis with his hand. At Armetage the first 
 day of Aprile, the yere of God ane thowsand five 
 hundreth fourtynyne yeris. 
 
 " Erle Bothuile, 
 Amirall." 
 
300 BOTHWELL. 
 
 As this document is preserved iu the Register 
 House of Edinburgh, we may presume that it never was 
 forwarded to France. Yery shortly afterwards, Earl 
 Patrick formally renounced his allegiance, and became 
 a pensioner of England, as appears in an instrument 
 of King Edward VI,, dated at Westminster, 3d 
 September 1549. " Whereas Patrick, Earl of Both- 
 well, has acknowledged his duty to us, his natural 
 sovereign lord and King, superior lord of the realm 
 of Scotland, we have taken him, his castles, towers, 
 lands, tenements, rents, goods, and cattals, men-ser- 
 vants, 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 annoying 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, &c., 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 
 Bothwells have been confounded ; so much so, that 
 
NOTES. 301 
 
 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 Both- 
 well, which have puzzled so many readers of history. 
 Both well 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 Joinville in 1561, and about 
 thirty-two when he carried her ofi* to Dunbar. 
 
 Strange to say, it appears that another of the 
 house of Hepburn, Adam, Master of Hales, father of 
 the first Earl of Both well, had an intrigue with an- 
 other Queen-Dowager of Scotland, Mary of Gueldres, 
 widow of James II. The authorities upon which 
 that statement has been made, will be found in the 
 first volume of Pinkerton's History of Scotland. 
 
 " How many churches wrapt in fiames, 
 Have witnessed to the spoilen^s power T — P. 157. 
 
 DEMOLITION OF CHURCHES BY THE REFORMERS. 
 
 "Now arises tumults upon tumults, killing of 
 priests, sacking and pulling down of Churches, ruin- 
 ing of statlie Abbacies, and other glorious buildings. 
 
302 BOTHWELL. 
 
 dissolving hospitals ; all in confusion. 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 main- 
 tain by the sword ! 
 
 "The first storm fell upon Saint Johnstoun, in 
 this same month of May. John Knox (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 down the nests that the crows might not build 
 again ! ' Whereupon they run out in confusion, 
 killed the priests, broke down altars, and destroyed 
 all the images and ornaments. From that they fell 
 upon the Eeligious 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 all their 
 riches made a prey to the people ! But the Abbay 
 of Charters Monks stood longer by one day. The 
 
NOTES. 303 
 
 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-Eegent, 
 and joined themselves to the Congregation, the people 
 were so much encouradged that they flockt in multi- 
 tudes. Then a declaration 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-Eegent, whom nei- 
 ther 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 con- 
 fusion to the town of Crail, and fell upon the Church, 
 which they ransackt and spoiled. From thence to 
 St Androes, and there they spoiled all ; and not con- 
 tent with the spoil of the whole Churches and Monas- 
 teries, they pulled down the very walls of the Grey 
 and Black Friers' Monasteries, goodlie things, and of 
 great antiquity ; and chased the Archbishop himself 
 out of the toune." 
 
304 BOTHWELL. 
 
 "This being refused, the Congregation marches 
 directly to Perth, and besieges the town, which was 
 rendered within few days. Then the Laird of Kin- 
 fauns (whom the Queen-Eegent had made Provost) 
 was displaced, and the Lord Euthven was again ad- 
 mitted. 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 orna- 
 ments and ancient monuments, and so retired. Upon 
 the other hand. Lord James and the Earl of Argyle 
 marched to Stirling, 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 fell 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 all their ornaments. 
 From thence to the Black Friers Monasterie, which 
 they overturned to the foundation. They likewise 
 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 
 
NOTES. 305 
 
 Edinburgh, and pulled down those they pleased, they 
 planted Keformed preachers in those they had re- 
 served, and disposed of the government as they 
 thought fit. Then they seized upon the Queen's 
 palace of Holyroodhouse, with all the rich furniture, 
 which they possessed and kept for their own use." — 
 Lord Herries' 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 defenders, 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 extinguished. 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 king- 
 dom, she received practical proof of the tolerant spirit 
 of her subjects, who, demanding freedom of worship 
 for themselves, fell into the usual mistake of con- 
 founding freedom with monopoly. Before Mary left 
 France she had expressly stipulated that she was to 
 be allowed the privilege of worshipping God according 
 to the rites of the Church to which she belonged, and 
 
 V 
 
306 BOTHWELL. 
 
 this was at once conceded by Murray in his charac- 
 ter of delegate from the Lords of the Congregation. 
 Trusting to this pledge, she gave orders that mass 
 should be performed in the Royal Chapel of Holy- 
 rood ; 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 protection of great men. Lord James 
 took iipon him to pacify the tumult, which he did to 
 the Queen's disadvantage." 
 
 In the same year lona was "visited." I quote 
 from the Statistical Account : "In 1561, the Con- 
 vention of Estates passed an Act, at the desire of the 
 Church, ^ for demolishing all the Abbeys of monks 
 and friars, and for suppressing whatever monuments 
 of idolatry were remaining in the realm,' the execu- 
 tion whereof in the west was committed to the Earls 
 of Arran, Argyle, and Glencairn. The learning of 
 ages, which had been treasured up in lona, the records 
 of nations, and the valuable archives of remote an- 
 tiquity, which had been safe there under the fury of 
 barbarians, now fell at once a sacrifice. Authorised 
 
NOTES. 307 
 
 by this, and by an ill-judged decree of the synod of 
 Argyle, the zealous mob fell upon lona, as the most 
 valuable and venerated seat of the Popish clergy, and 
 nothing escaped destruction but such parts of the 
 building and such solid monuments as were proof 
 against the hands of rage. Of three hundred and 
 sixty crosses said to have been standing, only three 
 were left. Some were thrown into the sea, many 
 carried away, and to this day some are to be seen as 
 gravestones in every churchyard in Mull and the sur- 
 rounding islands. Pennant says that the cross at 
 Campbelton was transported there from lona. Spot- 
 tiswoode writes, that Hhe very sepulchres of the 
 dead were not spared, but digged, ript up, and sacri- 
 legiously violated. Bibliothecks were destroyed, the 
 volumes of the fathers, counsells, and other books of 
 human learning, with the registers of the church, 
 cast into the streets, afterwards gathered in heaps 
 and consumed with fire.' " — Statistical Account of 
 Scotland, 1845. The article, from which the above 
 is extracted, was written by the parish minister. 
 
 After Mary was sent as a prisoner to Lochleven, 
 Holyrood Chapel was honoured with another sanitory 
 visit. According to Herries, " Before they left Edin- 
 burgh, the Earl of Glencairn, with his domestick 
 servants onlie in his company, went to the Chapel of 
 Halliroodhouse, and with great noise broke down the 
 
308 BOTHWELL. 
 
 altar, and defaced everything 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 acting without a public order." 
 
 " tiger heart ! that fiercer grew 
 
 With every anguished breath she drew^ — P. 169. 
 
 ABDUCTION OF QUEEN MARY BY BOTHWELL. 
 
 The opponents of Queen Mary would have us be- 
 lieve 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 Bothwell, there was no occasion 
 whatever for her resorting to so ridiculous an expe- 
 dient. 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 
 
NOTES. 309 
 
 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 her councillors ; and she might then 
 have wedded Bothwell publicly without reproach. 
 There was actually no impediment in her way, sup- 
 posing her to have been so inclined ; but we are 
 asked to believe that, instead of following this clear 
 and open course, she agreed that Bothwell should 
 waylay her on the public highway, almost at the gate 
 of her capital of Edinburgh, carry her off to Dunbar, 
 and detain her there as a captive ! We are asked 
 to believe that she willingly consented to appear, in 
 the eyes of her subjects, as a woman whose person 
 had been violated, and who could only obtain repara- 
 tion of her wrong by marriage with her ravisher ! 
 "We are asked to believe that Bothwell, in the full 
 knowledge that he might press his suit openly to a 
 successful conclusion, having already the concurrence 
 of the nobility, was mad enough to simulate 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 con- 
 spiracies of the time, but were devotedly attached to 
 their Queen ! 
 
310 BOTHWELL. 
 
 The real obstacle to the marriage was, that Both- 
 well, though he had obtained the support of the 
 nobility, could not obtain the consent of the Queen. 
 I believe that, up to the time of Darnley's murder, 
 Mary regarded Bothwell with as much favour as 
 could honestly be granted by a sovereign to a subject 
 of high rank who had rendered extraordinary ser- 
 vices. 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 all advances made to him by the emis- 
 saries of Elizabeth ; and — what was likely to weigh 
 much with a woman of Mary's disposition — he had 
 shed his blood in her cause. The visit which Mary, 
 accompanied by her brother, had paid to him 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 subse- 
 quent conduct, were of no warmer kind. That Mary- 
 should have believed him innocent of the murder of 
 Darnley, need surprise no one. Among the avowed 
 enemies of Darnley were the men who had murdered 
 Riccio before her face, intending the same fate for 
 Bothwell on account of his loyalty to her. Her 
 suspicion naturally lighted upon those who had al- 
 ready shown themselves capable of any atrocity, and 
 who had intelligible cause of hatred against Darnley, 
 
NOTES. 311 
 
 their betrayer. With Darnley, Bothwell had no 
 personal ground of quarrel ; and it certainly appeared 
 most improbable that he would confederate with 
 men who, a few months before, had sovight to take 
 his life. Besides this, popular rumour had not 
 spared Mary herself. She had been accused, as she 
 well knew, of being privy 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 which occurred 
 about the time of Bothwell' 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 influenced 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 Queen Mary's letter to 
 the Bishop of Dunblane, written after her unhappy 
 nuptials, for the purpose of explaining to the Court 
 of France the position in which she stood. After 
 alluding to the favour which she had previously 
 shown to Bothwell, she says : — 
 
 " But he, as well has appeared since then, making 
 his profit of everything that might serve his ttirn, 
 
312 BOTHWELL. 
 
 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 outward 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 proceed- 
 ed 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 all 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 who would disturb or impede the same ; which 
 latter he purchased, giving them to understand that 
 we were content therewith. 
 
 " And the same being once obtained, he begun afar 
 off to discover his intention to us, and to assay if he 
 might by humble suit purchase our goodwill ; but find- 
 ing our answer nothing corresponding to his desire, 
 and casting before his eyes all doubts that customarily 
 men use to revolve with themselves in similar enter- 
 prises, the outwardness of our own mind, the persua- 
 sions which our friends, or his unfriends, might cast 
 out for his hindrance, the change of their minds 
 whose consent he had already obtained, with many 
 
NOTES. 313 
 
 other incidents which might occur to frustrate him 
 of his expectation, he resolved with himself to follow 
 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 there- 
 after, finding opportunity, by reason we were past 
 secretly towards Stirling to visit the Prince our dear- 
 est 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 
 Both well 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 con- 
 sent ; 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 Dunbar ; but 
 this much must be kept in mind, that the Act of 
 Parliament for Bothwell's forfeiture (20th Dec. 1567) 
 contains the following narrative : — 
 
314 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " And for that purpose, he [Bothwell], with a great 
 number of armed men — to wit, a thousand horsemen 
 in mail, 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 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 apprehending 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 incarcerating and holding her therein captive 
 for the space of twelve days or thereby ; and by com- 
 pelling 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, 
 
NOTES. 316 
 
 which was passed after Mary was deposed, must clear 
 her of the charge of deliberate collusion with Both- 
 well. Her enemies were then in power ; and it is 
 not credible that they would have lost such an oppor- 
 tunity of justifying their rebellion, had they been 
 able to show that Mary went willingly with Both- 
 well to Dunbar. The attainder of Bothw^ell was 
 certain upon other grounds. Nay, more ; this Act 
 was passed six months after the silver casket, alleged 
 to contain letters from Mary to Both well, was seized, 
 when Dalgleish, Both well's groom of the chambers, 
 was apprehended. The letters are now, I believe, 
 universally admitted to be rank forgeries ; but if 
 any one should still entertain a doubt as to that, let 
 him remember that the letters, if genuine, must have 
 been in the hands of Murray and Morton six months 
 before the Act for Both well's forfeiture was passed, 
 and that, according to their tenor, the narrative of 
 the Act was false. This is one of the most remark- 
 able instances in history tending to show that delibe- 
 rate villany leads to inextricable contradictions. 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 Regent, have 
 passed an Act which expressly acquits Mary of all 
 complicity with Bothwell ? Be it remembered, also, 
 
316 BOTHWELL. 
 
 that at the time when that Act was passed, 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 fac- 
 tion was little likely to omit any opportunity of cast- 
 ing 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 Castle of 
 Edinburgh, where she was kept closely guarded till 
 the day of marriage. That might have been collu- 
 sive. 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 so disdainfully 
 handled, and with such reproachful language, that, 
 in presence of Arthur Areskine, 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 
 
NOTES. 317 
 
 in so little a time, without extremity of sickness, 
 they have seen ;" and on the very day after the mar- 
 riage, she said to De Croc, the French ambassador, 
 " that he must not be surprised if he saw her sorrow- 
 ful, for she could not rejoice, nor ever should again : 
 all she desired was death." Such were the manifesta- 
 tions 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 scor7i assail my ear, 
 As frantic from the host I rode /"' — P. 222. 
 
 bothwell's flight from carberry. 
 
 I have endeavoured, as nearly as poetical require- 
 ments 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 his hands ; but their object was to 
 have her married 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 Border barons as regarded with jealousy 
 
318 BOTHWELL. 
 
 tlie increasing power of the house of Hepburn. They 
 could also depend upon the assistance of the craftsmen 
 of Edinburgh, a body trained to the use of arms, and 
 not degenerate from their fathers, who had fought 
 valiantly at Flodden. Bothwell, on the other hand, 
 had none beyond his own troopers in whom he 
 could place perfect reliance. The royal summons had 
 brought to Dunbar many of the East-Lothian barons, 
 headed by Lords Seton, Yester, and Borthwick ; but 
 they were not partisans of Bothwell, and came simply 
 on account of the Queen. Bothwell was perfectly 
 aware of this, and of the Queen's desire to escape, if 
 possible, from his hands ; and that knowledge accounts 
 for his behaviour. I shall quote once more from 
 Melville : — 
 
 " Both armies lay not far from Carberry : the Earl 
 of Bothwell' s men camped upon the hill, in a strength 
 very advantageous ; the Lords encamped at the foot 
 of the hill. And albeit her Majesty was there, I 
 cannot call it her army, for many of those who were 
 with her were of opinion that she had intelligence 
 with the Lords, especially such as were informed of 
 the many indignities put upon her by the Earl of 
 Bothwell since their marriage. He was so beastly 
 and suspicious, that he suffered her not to pass one 
 day in patience, without making her shed abundance 
 
NOTES. 319 
 
 of tears. Thus part of his own company detested 
 him ; other part of them believed that her Majesty- 
 would fain have been quit of him, but thought shame 
 to be the doer of the deed directly herself." 
 
 The statements in the poem regarding Kirkaldy of 
 Grange are historically true. I must do Bothwell 
 the justice to say that, from all the accounts extant, 
 his challenges were not mere bravado, but that he 
 was almost insanely anxious to meet Morton in single 
 combat. Bothwell was a man of great physical 
 courage, which 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 Bothwell, 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 until Bothwell' s 
 retreat was secured. Then, and not till then, she 
 took an everlasting farewell of the man who, insti- 
 gated by others, worse traitors than himself, had 
 achieved her ruin. Her reception in the camp of 
 the confederates does not fall within the scope of the 
 poem. 
 
320 BOTHWELL. 
 
 " Till, chased across the open seas, 
 
 I met the surly Bane; 
 These were his gifts and welcome — these! 
 
 A dungeon and a chain^ — P. 224. 
 
 BOTHWELL's IMPKISONMENT AND CONFESSION. 
 
 After his flight from the northern islands, where 
 he escaped with difficulty from the vessels sent in 
 pursuit, under the command of Kirkaldy of Grange 
 and Murray of TuUibardine, 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 ships had been employed for piratical 
 purposes ; and Bothwell, for obvious reasons, refused 
 at first to disclose his name and quality. Conceal- 
 ment, 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 surveil- 
 lance* The Eegent 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 Darnley. Frederick, 
 however, was too cautious to acknowledge the author- 
 ity of a man who had just^ dethroned his sister and 
 
NOTES. 321 
 
 sovereign, but compromised the matter by subject- 
 ing Bothwell to close confinement in the fortress of 
 Malmoe. The following is a translation of the order 
 for his imprisonment: "Frederick. Be it known 
 to you that we have ordered our well-beloved Peder 
 Oxe, our man, Councillor and Marshall of the king- 
 dom of Denmark, to send the Scottish Earl who 
 resides in 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 apart- 
 ment ; and that you will cover with mason work 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 will 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 all 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 
 Friedrichsberg, 28th day of December, of the year 
 after the birth of Christ 1567." 
 
 During the earlier part of his confinement. Both- 
 well appears to have occupied himself in the composi- 
 X 
 
322 BOTHWELL. 
 
 tion of memorials addressed to the King of Denmark, 
 for the purpose of asserting his innocence and obtain- 
 ing his liberty. These documents, which are of great 
 historical interest, were printed for the Bannatyne 
 Club from an authenticated copy of the originals, 
 which are preserved in the royal library at Drotting- 
 holm, under the title of Les Affaires du Conte de 
 Boduel; and they throw a strong light upon the dar- 
 ing character and mendacity of the writer. The 
 narrative opens with the following declaration : " In 
 order that the King of Denmark and the Council of 
 his kingdom may be better and more clearly informed 
 of the wickedness and treachery of my accusers here- 
 after 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 occasioned to my- 
 self : which statement I can and will 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 im- 
 pression that Bothwell had been made the innocent 
 
NOTES. 323 
 
 victim of a deep-laid and unprincipled conspiracy. 
 The first memorial appears, from its date, '^ Copen- 
 hagen, Eve of Twelfth day {la vielle des roys), 1568," 
 to have been written immediately before his impri- 
 sonment ; but the second is dated from Malmoe, 13 
 January 1568. In this latter document Both well 
 assumes high ground, representing himself as an 
 ambassador from Queen Mary to the King of Den- 
 mark, '^ comme allie et confeder6 de la Boyne," 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 reservation, 
 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 re 
 mained a prisoner until his death. It has been 
 stated, and I believe correctly, that after having 
 been confined for several years in the fortress of 
 Malmoe, he was removed for surer custody to the 
 prison of Drachsholm, in which he ended his days. 
 
 Lord Herries, in his Historie 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 
 
324 BOTHWELL. 
 
 he went to Denmark, where he was known by some 
 Scots merchants that acquented the Earl of Murray 
 at their returne, when he was Regent. Whereupon 
 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, till, being overgrown with hair and 
 filth, he went mad and died — a just punishment 
 for his wickedness." It appears, however, from 
 the published correspondence of M. de Danzay, 
 ambassador from Charles IX. to the Court of Den- 
 mark, that Both well died in November 1575 ; and 
 on 1st June of the following 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 Bothwell ; 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 husband, wherein he expressly 
 acquits me, declaring me innocent even on the peril 
 of the damnation of his soul. If this indeed be so. 
 
NOTES. 325 
 
 this testimony would be of vast importance in re- 
 futing the false calumnies of my enemies. I pray 
 you therefore, by every means, to ascertain the truth 
 of this. Those who were present at the said declara- 
 tion, which was afterwards signed and sealed in form 
 of a testament, are Otto Braw of the Castle of Elcam- 
 bre, Paris Braw of the Castle of Vascut, M. Gullun- 
 starne 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 Glas- 
 gow in these terms : " I am assured that the King 
 of Denmark has transmitted to this Queen [Elizabeth] 
 the testament of the late Earl of Bothwell, and that 
 she has done the utmost in her power to suppress 
 and keep it secret." About the same time the Arch- 
 bishop wrote to Queen Mary that, according to his 
 information, a copy of the testament had been sent 
 to Scotland ; that it had been in the hands of Mur- 
 ray of TuUibardine, the Comptroller ; and that it 
 had been perused by the Prince [James], who there- 
 upon used the following words : " TuUibardine, have 
 I not reason to be glad, considering the accweations 
 and calumnies against my mother the Queen, so 
 
326 BOTHWELL. 
 
 often repeated to me, when I have this day seen so 
 clear a proof of her innocence ? " 
 
 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 Both well 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 inno- 
 cence of any participation in the murder of Darnley ; 
 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 report- 
 ed 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 Eegent ; in 
 which, referring to a communication on this very 
 subject from Denmark, they say : "In that we had 
 no will^the contents of the same should be known, 
 fearino^ that some words and matters mentioned in 
 
NOTES. 327 
 
 the same, being dispersed here as news, should rather 
 have hindered than forwarded our cause. And there- 
 fore, being desired at Court to show the letter, we 
 gave to understand that we had sent the principal 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." 
 Further, in a letter addressed by Sir John Forster 
 to Secretary Walsingham (the original of which is 
 preserved in the British Museum), dated 4th June 
 1581, and containing an account of the execution of 
 the Earl of Morton, we find an express statement 
 that BothwelVs testament was given in evidence against 
 that nobleman on his trial for the King's murder. 
 This fact is important, as removing the objection 
 started by Mr Laing, that Bothwell, having died mad, 
 was incapable of a genuine confession at his death. 
 It proves also that he did emit a confession or testa- 
 ment, which was then considered as perfectly au- 
 thentic, and also that this confession was received as 
 good evidence by a Supreme Court of Justice, which 
 a-ssuredly would not have been the case had Bothwell, 
 through insanity, been deemed incapable of making 
 a deposition. 
 
 No copy of that testament has been preserved, and 
 it is more than probable that none is in existence. 
 Since the publication of the first edition of this Poem, 
 
328 BOTHWELL. 
 
 Earl Stanhope (whose contributions to history, as 
 Lord Mahon, have elevated him to the first literary 
 rank) has favoured me with information upon this 
 point. His lordship writes : "It will interest you 
 to hear that Lord Palmerston, being then Secretary 
 of State for Foreign Affairs, consented to write a 
 despatch to Sir Henry Wynn, then our Minister at 
 the Court of Copenhagen, to inquire from the Danish 
 Government whether any such document could be 
 found in their archives. The answer, of which Lord 
 Palmerston transmitted a copy to me, was, in sub- 
 stance, that no such document could be found, and 
 that, as they believed, none such existed in Denmark." 
 I find also, from a recent publication by Prince 
 Alexander Labanoff — Pieces et Documents relatifs au 
 Comte de Bothwell, St Petersburg, 1856 — that his 
 inquiries, made in the same quarter, were equally 
 unsuccessful. We have therefore only secondary 
 evidence as to the terms and purport of that confes- 
 sion or testament, consisting of documents admittedly 
 ancient, but not of a nature directly probative. The 
 first of these, which has been made the subject of 
 much controversy, is a document in French, with an 
 English version appended, and is to be found in 
 Keith's History. It is also contained in the collec- 
 tion relative to Both well, printed for the Bannatjrne 
 Club, with a statement, which I believe to be erro- 
 
NOTES. 329 
 
 neous, that the original is preserved in the Cottonian 
 collection. It was copied from a paper existing in 
 the Scots College of Paris in 1734, but which has 
 since disappeared, and is entitled, " Copy of a Eela- 
 tion of the Earl of Bothwell's Declaration at his 
 Death, by one that was present." It bears no date, 
 and the name of the writer is not appended 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 
 present 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 [Darnley], 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 discourse 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 it." The writer of the paper further states, that 
 " this whole narrative, and much, more largely extended, 
 was written both in Latin and Danish, and sealed 
 with the King of Denmark's seal, and of the persons 
 
330 BOTHWELL. 
 
 who assisted as above." Now let us see in wliat 
 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 Arch- 
 bishop 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 
 assertion of his, viz. that the names of the parties 
 mentioned in Queen Mary's letter as having been 
 present at the confession, correspond with those set 
 forth in the " Relation." Such, however, 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 ; — in Queen Mary's letter 
 the name of this lord does not appear. In like man- 
 ner, Otto Braw is designated in the " Relation" as 
 "of the castle of Ottenbrocht" — in Queen Mary's 
 letter he is styled " of the castle of Elcambre." These 
 variations are sufficiently important to negative the 
 idea that Mary had seen this " Relation" before she 
 wrote to Betoun ; and I think that Mr Laing him- 
 self has proved this to be impossible. Among the 
 names of Bothwell's accomplices, as given in the 
 ''Relation," there occurs that of "my Lord Robert 
 
 J 
 
NOTES. 331 
 
 Abbe de Sainte-Croix, maintenant Comte des Isles 
 OrchadesP Now, as Mr Laing truly enough remarks, 
 Robert Stewart was not created Earl of Orkney until 
 1581, five years after the death of Both well ; 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 Darnley, had 
 also got the title. In order to clear the way for this 
 interpretation, we must suppose that Betoun delibe- 
 rately forged the " Relation," 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 ex- 
 planation is, that the " Relation," which, as I have 
 said already, bears no date, was penned subsequently 
 to 1581, and that, in consequence, Robert Stewart 
 is therein correctly designated as "maintenant Comte 
 des Isles Orchades." Had the " Relation" been 
 mentioned or referred to in ihe 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. 
 There is, however, in the Cottonian collection, British 
 Museum, a document, marked as of date April 1576, 
 
332 BOTHWELL. 
 
 which, I think, bears strong internal evidence of its 
 authenticity. It is an account of Both well's Confes- 
 sion, written in the Scottish dialect, and is so curious 
 that I shall insert it here. 
 
 " Confession of E. Bothwell. 
 
 "The confession of my Lord Bothwell before y dyed, 
 in presence of dyvers Lords of Denmarke, being maire 
 lang in latin and danisk. 
 
 " The Lords present weare these ; Baron Gowes of 
 Malmye Castle, Otto Brawe of Elsenbronche Castell, 
 Monsieur Gullionestarne of Fowltostie Castell, the 
 Bishop of Skone and four Baylies of the towne ; wha 
 desired him the he would declare his conscience, and 
 say nothinge by the truth, concernand the King and 
 Queene of Scotland with the child. 
 
 " In primis, he did take it upon his death, that the 
 Queene never knew nor consented to the death of the 
 Kinge, but he and his friends, by his appointment, 
 dyvers Lords consenting and subscriving thereunto ; 
 whilk yet was not there present at the deed dooinge. 
 
 "• There names be. Lord James Earl of Murray, 
 Lord Morton, Lord Robert, the Bishop of St An- 
 drewes, with dyvers others whome he sayd he could 
 not remember at that present. 
 
 " Lykewise he sayd that all the frendship which 
 he had of the Queene, he gatt alwayes by witchcraft. 
 
NOTES. 333 
 
 and the inventions belanging thereunto, specially by 
 use of sweete water, and that he found means to put 
 away his ower wife to obtayne the Queene." 
 
 The remainder of the confession relates to his per- 
 sonal intrigues, several of which are specified, " with 
 many lyke, whilk he sayd were lang to rehearse ; and 
 forgave all the world, and was sorrowful for his 
 offences ; and did receive the sacrament, that all the 
 thinges he speake weare trew. And soe he dyed." 
 
 I may, in conclusion, 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 demon- 
 strated, upon what authority does Mr Laing assert 
 that it was forged ? 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. Did they forge it ? Probably, 
 however, Mr Laing meant to say that the " Eelation" 
 was a forgery. To support that view, he has done 
 nothing more than urge the objections which I trust 
 I have sufficiently refuted ; and it certainly is a re- 
 markable 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 undue 
 weight to this document, I consider it entitled to as 
 
334 BOTHWELL. 
 
 much credence as can be given to any which is not 
 authenticated by the name of the writer. If Both well 
 emitted no confession, the " Relation" is of course a 
 forgery. If, on the contrary, he did emit a confes- 
 sion, as seems proved both by the letters of Queen 
 Mary and Betoun, and, aboA^e all, 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 Both- 
 well, in regard, at least, to the innocence of Mary. 
 
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