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Domestic blifs, that dear, that fovereign joy,
Far from her hearth was seen to speed away;
Strait dark-brow'd Factions entering in destroy
The feeds of peace, and mark her for their prey.

No more by moon-fhine to the nuptial bower
Her Francis comes, by Love's foft fetters led;
Far other spouse now wakes her midnight hour,
Enrag'd, and reeking from the harlot's bed.

"Ah! draw the veil," fhrill trembles thro' the air:
The veil was drawn, but darker scenes arofe,
Another nuptial couch the Fates prepare,
The baleful teeming fource of deeper woes,

The bridal torch her Evil angel wav'd,

Far from the couch offended Prudence fled;
Of deepest crimes deceitful Faction rav'd,
And rous'd her trembling from the fatal bed.

The hinds are feen in arms, and glittering fpears
Instead of crooks the Grampian fhepherds wield;
Fanatic rage the plowman's vifage wears,

And red with flaughter lies the harvest field.

c Lord Darnly; the handsomest man of his age, but a worthless des bauchee of no abilities.

d Her marriage with the Earl of Bothwell; an unprincipled politician of great addrefs.

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From Borthwick field, deserted and forlorn,
The beauteous Queen all tears is feen to fly;
• Now thro' the streets a weeping captive borne,
Her woes the triumph of the vulgar eye.

Again the vision shifts the woeful scene;
Again forlorn from rebel arms fhe flies,
And unfufpecting on a fifter Queen,
The lovely injur'd Fugitive relies.

When Wisdom baffled owns th' attempt in vain,
Heaven oft delights to fet the virtuous free:
Some friend appears, and breaks Affliction's chain,
But ah, no generous friend appears for thee!

A prifon's ghaftly walls and grated cells
Deform'd the airy scenery as it past;
The haunt where liftlefs Melancholy dwells,
Where every genial feeling fhrinks aghaft.

No female eye her fickly bed to tend f!
"Ah ceafe to tell it in the female ear!
"A woman's ftern command! a proffer'd friend!
"Oh generous paffion, peace, forbear, forbear!

• When she was brought prifoner through the ftreets of Edinburgh, the fuffered almost every indignity which an enraged mob could offer. Her perfon was bedaubed with mire, and her ear infulted with every term of vulgar abufe. Even Buchanan when he relates these circumstances seems to drop a tear over them.

f A fact.

«And

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"And could, oh Tudor, could thy breast retain

"No foftening thought of what thy woes had been, "When thou, the heir of England's crown, in vain "Didst fue the mercy of a tyrant Queen ?

from tender memory

wake,

"And could no pang
"And feel those woes that once had been thine own;

"No pleading tear to drop for Mary's fake,

"For Mary's fake, the heir of England's throne?

"Alas! no pleading touch thy memory knew,

Dry'd were the tears which for thyfelf had flow'd; "Dark politics alone engag'd thy view; "With female jealousy thy bofom glow'd.

And fay, did Wisdom own thy ftern command ? "Did Honour wave his banner o'er the deed? "Ah!-Mary's fate thy name fhall ever brand, "And ever o'er her woes fhall Pity bleed.

"The babe that prattled on his nurse's knee,
"When firft thy woeful captive hours began,
"Ere heaven, oh hapless Mary, fet thee free,
"That babe to battle march'd in arms a man."

An awful paufe enfues-With speaking eyes,

And hands half rais'd, the guardian Wood Nymphs wait, While flow and fad the airy scenes arise,

Stain'd with the laft deep woes of Mary's fate.

With

With dreary black hung round the hall appears,
The thirsty faw-duft ftrews the marble floor,
Blue gleams the ax, the block its shoulders rears,
And pikes and halberts guard the iron door.

The clouded moon her dreary glimpses shed,

And Mary's maids, a mournful train, pass by; Languid they walk, and liftlefs hang the head, And filent tears pace down from every eye.

Serene and nobly mild appears the Queen,

She fmiles on heaven, and bows the injur'd head; The ax is lifted-from the deathful scene

The Guardians turn'd, and all the picture fled:

It fled the Wood Nymphs o'er the distant lawn,
As 'rapt in vifion, dart their earnest eyes ;
So when the huntsman hears the rustling fawn,
He ftands impatient of the starting prize.

The fovereign Dame her awful eye-balls roll'd,
As Cuma's maid when by the God infpir'd;
"The depths of ages to my fight unfold,"

She cries," and Mary's meed my breast has fir'd,

"On Tudor's throne her Sons fhall ever reign,

66

Age after age shall fee their flag unfurl'd, "With fovereign pride, where-ever roars the main, "Stream to the wind, and awe the trembling world.

"Nor

"Nor Britain's fceptre fhall they wield alone,

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Age after age through lengthening time shall fee "Her branching race on Europe's every throne, "And either India bend to them the knee.

"But Tudor as a fruitless gourd fhall die;

"I fee her death-fcene-On the lowly floor "Dreary fhe fits, cold Grief has glafs'd her eye,

"And Anguish gnaws her till the breathes no more."

But hark-loud howling thro' the midnight gloom,
Faction is rous'd, and fends the baleful yell!
Oh fave, ye generous few, your Mary's tomb,
Oh fave her ashes from the blafting spell;

"And lo, where Time with brighten'd face ferene,
"Points to yon far, but glorious opening sky;
"See Truth walk forth, majestic awful Queen,
"And Party's blackening mifts before her fly.

"Falfhood unmask'd withdraws her ugly train,
"And Mary's virtues all illuftrious fhine-
"Yes, thou haft friends, the godlike and humane
"Of latest ages, injur'd Queen, are thine."

The

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