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taking the crucifix from the altar in her right, and carrying her prayer-book in her left hand. Her servants were forbidden to follow; they insisted; but the queen bade them be content; and turning, gave them her blessing. They received it on their knees, some kissing her hands, others her mantle. The door closed; and the burst of lamentation from those within resounded through the hall.

4. Mary was now joined by the earls and her keepers, and descending the staircase, found at the foot, Melville, the steward of her household, who, for several weeks had been excluded from her presence. "Good Melville," said Mary, "I pray thee report that I die a true woman to my religion, to Scotland, and to France. May God forgive them that have long thirsted for my blood as the hart doth for the brook of water. Commend me to my son; and tell him that I have done nothing prejudicial to the dignity or independence of his crown." She made a last request, that her servants might be present at her death; but the Earl of Kent objected. When she asked with vehemence, "Am I not the cousin to your queen, a descendant of the blood royal of Henry VII., a named queen of France, and the anointed Queen of Scotland?"

5. It was then resolved to admit four of her men and two of her women servants. She selected her steward, physician, apothecary, and surgeon, with her two maids. Mary wore the richest of her dresses, that which was appropriate to the rank of a queen-dowager. Her step was firm, and her countenance cheerful. She bore without shrinking the gaze of the spectators, and the sight of the scaffold, the block, and the executioner; and advanced into the hall with that grace and majesty which she had so often displayed in her happier days, and in the palace of her fathers. To aid her, as she mounted the scaffold, Paulet offered his arm. "I thank you, sir," said Mary; "it is the last trouble I shall give you, and the most acceptable service you have ever rendered me."

6. The queen seated herself on a stool which was prepared for her; and in an audible voice addressed the assembly. She said that she pardoned from her heart all her enemies. She

then repeated with a loud voice, and in the Latin language, passages from the Book of Psalms; and a prayer in French, in which she begged of God to pardon her sins, declared that she forgave her enemies, and protested that she was ignorant of ever consenting in wish or deed to the death of her English sister. She then prayed in English for Christ's afflicted church, for her son James, and for Queen Elizabeth, and in conclusion, holding up the crucifix, exclaimed, "As thy arms, O God, were stretched out upon the cross, so receive me unto the arms of thy mercy, and forgive my sins."

7. "Madam," said the Earl of Kent, "you had better leave such popish trumperies, and bear him in your heart." She replied, "I cannot hold in my hand the representation of his sufferings, but I must at the same time bear him in my heart." When her maids, bathed in tears, began to disrobe their mistress, the executioners, fearing the loss of their usual perquisites, hastily interfered. The queen remonstrated; but instantly submitted to their rudeness, observing to the earls, with a smile, that she was not accustomed to employ such grooms, or to undress in the presence of so numerous a company. Her servants, at the sight of their sovereign in this lamentable state, could not suppress their feelings; but Mary, putting her finger to her lips, commanded silence, gave them her blessing, and solicited their prayers.

8. One of her maids, taking from her a handkerchief edged with gold, pinned it over her eyes; the executioners, holding her by the arms, led her to the block; and the queen, kneeling down, said repeatedly, with a firm voice, "Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit." But the sobs and groans of the spectators disconcerted the headsman. He trembled, missed his aim, and inflicted a deep wound in the lower part of the skull. The queen remained motionless; and at the third stroke her head was severed from her body. The executioner held it up, and cried as usual, "God save Queen Elizabeth." "So perish all her enemies!" subjoined the Dean of Peterborough. "So perish all the enemies of the gospel!" exclaimed, in a still louder tone, the fanatical Earl of Kent. Not a voice was heard to cry Amen. Party feeling was absorbed in pity.

Mary Stuart and her Mourner.-Bulwer.

Her re

["Mary Stuart perished at the age of forty-four years and two months. mains were taken from her weeping servants, and a green cloth, torn in haste from an old billiard-table, was flung over her once beautiful form. Thus it remained unwatched and unattended, except by a poor little lap-dog, which could not be induced to quit the body of its mistress. This faithful little animal was found dead two days afterward; and the circumstances made such an impression even on the hard-hearted minister of Elizabeth, that it was mentioned in the official dispatches."-Mrs. Jamieson's " Female Sovereigns."]

THE axe its bloody work had done;

The corpse neglected lay;

This peopled world could spare not one
To watch beside the clay.

The fairest work from Nature's hand
That e'er on mortals shone,-
A sunbeam stray'd from fairy land
To fade upon a throne ;-

The Venus of the Tomb whose form
Was destiny and death;

The Siren's voice that stirr'd a storm
In each melodious breath ;-

Such was, what now by fate is hurl'd
To rot, unwept, away.

A star has vanish'd from the world;
And none to miss the ray!

Stern Knox, that loneliness forlorn
A harsher truth might teach
To royal pomps, than priestly scorn
To royal sins can preach !

No victims now that lip can make!
That hand, how powerless now!
O God! and what a king-but take
A bauble from the brow?

The world is full of life and love;

The world, methinks, might spare
From millions, one to watch above
The dust of monarchs there.

And not one human eye!-yet, lo!
What stirs the funeral pall?
What sound-it is not human woe-
Wails moaning through the hall?

Crose by the form mankind desert,
One thing a vigil keeps ;

More near and near to that still heart
It wistful, wondering creeps.

It gazes on those glazed eyes,
It hearkens for a breath-

It does not know that kindness dies,
And love departs from death.

It fawns as fondly as before

Upon that icy hand;

And hears from lips that speak no more

The voice that can command.

To that poor fool, alone on earth,
No matter what had been

The pomp, the fall, the guiit, the worth.
The Dead was still a Queen.

With eyes that horror could not scare,
It watch'd the senseless clay ;—

Crouch'd on the breast of Death, and there
Moan'd its fond life away.

And when the bolts discordant clash'd,
And human steps drew nigh,

The human pity shrunk abash'd

Before that faithful eye;

It seem'd to gaze with such rebuke

On those who could forsake;

Then turn'd to watch once more the look,

And strive the sleep to wake.

They raised the pall-they touch'd the dead,
A cry, and both were still'd,-

Alike the soul that Hate had sped,
The life that Love had kill'd.

Semiramis of England, hail!

Thy crime secures thy sway;

But when thine eyes shall scan the tale,
Those hireling scribes convey;

When thou shalt read, with late remorse,
How one poor slave was found
Beside thy butcher'd rival's corse,
The headless and discrown'd;

Shall not thy soul foretell thine own

Unloved, expiring hour,

When those who kneel around the throne
Shall fly the falling tower;

When thy great heart shall silent break,
When thy sad eyes shall strain
Through vacant spice, one thing to seek-
One thing that loved-in vain?

Though round thy parting pangs of pride
Shall priest and noble crowd;

More worth the grief, that mourn'd beside
Thy victim's gory shroud!

Character of Mary Queen of Scots.-Robertson.

[From the "History of Scotland."]

1. To all the charms of beauty and the utmost elegance of external form, she added those accomplishments which render their impression irresistible. Polite, affable, insinuating, sprightly, and capable of speaking and writing with equal ease and dignity. Sudden, however, and violent in all her attachments, because her heart was warm and unsuspicious. Impatient of contradiction, because she had been accustomed from her infancy to be treated as a queen. No stranger, on some occasions, to dissimulation, which, in that perfidious court where she received her education, was reckoned among the necessary arts of government.

2. Not insensible of flattery, or unconscious of that pleasure with which almost every woman beholds the influence of her

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