Can MARY'S fufferings view, nor have on figh.
From kinder skies, and from luxurious courts,
From tilts and tournaments, and feafts, and sports,
She came to govern (oh, too hard a part!)
A barbarous nation and a tender heart;
And fell a victim in that fullen age,
To factious fury, and fanatic rage.
Oh! had the liv'd in more enlighten'd times,
When graces were not fins, nor talents crimes,
Admiring nations had confefs'd her worth;
And SCOTLAND fhone the ATHENS of the NORTH.
Too long hath virtue blufh'd at MARY'S name,
And justice flumber'd o'er her injur'd fame :
Truth to the heart at length fhall force its way,
And reafon juftify the paffion's fway.
The Gateway of Bolton Castle.
Enter Beton, who perceives Lord Herries arriving.
SURE 'tis Lord Herries! Oh, my noble friend!
How have we daily pray'd for your return!
Your royal miftrefs, from yon turrets height,
By hourly watch, hath ftrain'd her beauteous eyes,
Till gufhing tears o'erwhelm'd her fight-But say,
What tidings bring you from the English Court?
L. Her. Beton! if faith, and zeal in a good caufe,
Cou'd have fecur'd fuccefs, it had been thine;
Your claim of fimple audience for a queen
Was founded on a royal pledge. The ring
Which grac'd your embally, was fent with vows
To Mary from Elizabeth, that the wou'd aid
Her royal fifter's caufe-But, oh, good Beton!
It needs not our experience to foresee
The gulph 'twixt vows, and their accomplishment. Beton. But the refult?
L. Her. Evafions and chicane;
Bafe terms propos'd; then treacherous advice
That Mary fhould in policy fubmit
To this ftrange trial; Heav'n forbid ! until
She's heard in perfon.
Beton. Still deny her prefence?
Still urge thefe poor pretences! Grant our Queen
Were liable to imputations-Grant
Whate'er hate envy lift-'twill but enforce,
Her claim to face th' accuser.
L. Her. I fhall entreat
Permiffion to revoke this rash appeal.
Beton Wou'd it were done! Our country is de bas'd!
While our annointed Queen fubmits her cause
To foreign jurifdiction, and betrays
At once her own and Scotland's dignity,
L. Her. Thus fhall I urge; you know her fpirit
Touch but that ftring, 'twill vibrate o'er her frame
She has a foul that wakes at honour's voice,
Alive, with eager trembling at the found,
She flies to its embrace; let fhame approach';
straight fhe recoils and fhrinks within herself;
No plant of fenfitive, no fhade fo fleet.
May Heav'n ftill guard her! which way is the Queen?
SCENE II. The Hall in Bolton Castle.
Enter Lady Scrope, meeting Lady Douglas.
L. Scrope. How fares my royal gueft this morn, fweet maid?
You meet me on my accustom'd daily courfe
To attend your Queen, and wait her high com-.
L. Doug. My gentle Lady Scrope, you are too kind;
Such courteous words but ill befuit the ftate
Of my poor fallen miftrefs-Rather say,
Is the fecure? Whe guards the Castle gates?
Is ev'ry narrow-flit, and loop-hole watch'd?
L. Scrope. Tax me not, Douglas! with feverity
L. Doug. 'Tis but your duty which you exercife
With tender feeling, and more true respect,
Than thofe at first deputed to receive her
With all the forms and pomp of royal state.
For, oh! what aggravating mockery!
Bowe, fmiles, and court-like phrafes never footh
The pangs of Princes in imprifonment.
But your high mind wou'd fcorn to pay base court
By acts of rigour on the wretched.
I know too well the dues of fovereignty:
While fhe is with me, under the Lord Scrope's roof,.
His wife and Norfolk's fifter, ne'er fhall hear
A Queen's complaints with cold indifference.
L. Doug. Oh, nobly spoken!
Oh how your fentiments and voice recall
Your brothers image! would he now were here
For my poor miftrefs' fake-But fee fhe comes.
L. Scrope. May health and comfort to your Ma. jesty
Return with this propitious morn!
My noble hoftefs, your.civility
Tonches a grateful mind more pointedly;
Is more affecting; melts my fpirits more
Than a lefs kind reception cou'd have done.
You owe not me this vifit; for I came
In Arick obedience to your Queen's high will
Under a promise from her royal felf
That he wou'd meet me ere I fhou'd arrive ;
But in her place, behold! fhe fends her guards
To do me honour-Oh, my faithful maid!
You've seen me travel with a prouder fuit ;
When all the gallant youth of France prefs'd on,
Led forward by the Princes of Lorrain,
Striving who foremost fhou'd escort their Queen
From Paris to the fea-The gorgeous train
Sweeping along the plains of Picardy,
Like fome bright comet in its pathless course,
Illumin'd all the country as it pafs'd.
But what avail thefe thoughts! for other fcenes
I must behold-Yet, truly, this fair seat
Might well befit a royal refidence,
And fuits my fancy-but that I perceive
Some features in it which awake my mind
To ftrange misgivings-Wherefore, Lady Scrope,
Do centinels furround the battlements?
L. Scrope. Madam, be not alarm'd; and reft af fur'd
All comforts, honours free accefs of friends,
And every privilege that can affuage
Misfortune, thall be found within thefe walls,
Seek then no rescue, nor attempt a flight.
Mary. Flight! faid you, Lady Scrope! I must not
Then there's no farther doubt Ah, 'tis too plain! I'm in confinement here! a prifoner!
Oh, horrid word!-Oh, monftrous perfidy!
Oh, perjur'd, falfe Elizabeth! Is this
The faith of England? thefe the plighted vows
Of Queen to Queen? the bond of filterhood?
And facred rights of hofpitality?
If juftice has not fled the earth and skies,
Require it Heav'n Oh, my kind keeper now
No more my hoftefs; you are merciful;
Your kind indulgence mitigates my lot;
oftens, and blunts the fharp edge of that hour,
painful but fhort hour, that goes between
prifonment of Princes and their end:
d affure me I fhou'd see my friends;
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