And the king was loth to stir from her side:

For as on the day when she was his bride, Even so he loved her yet.

And the Earl of Athole, the King's false friend,

Sat with him at the board;
And Robert Stuart the chamberlain
Who had sold his sovereign Lord.

Yet the traitor Christopher Chaumber there

Would fain have told him all,

And vainly four times that night he strove

To reach the King through the hall.

But the wine is bright at the goblet's brim

Though the poison lurk beneath; And the apples still are red on the tree Within whose shade may the adder be That shall turn thy life to death.

There was a knight of the King's fast friends

Whom he called the King of Love; And to such bright cheer and courtesy That name might best behove.

And the King and Queen both loved him well

For his gentle knightliness;

And with him the King, as that eve

wore on,

Was playing at the chess.

And the King said, (for he thought to jest

And soothe the Queen thereby ;)"In a book 't is writ that this same year A King shall in Scotland die.

"And I have pondered the matter o'er, And this have I found, Sir Hugh,There are but two Kings on Scottish ground,

And those Kings are I and you.

"And I have a wife and a newborn heir,
And you are yourself alone;
So stand you stark at my side with me
To guard our double throne.

"For here sit I and my wife and child,
As well your heart shall approve,
In full surrender and soothfastness,

Beneath your Kingdom of Love."

And the Knight laughed, and the Queen too smiled;

But I knew her heavy thought, And I strove to find in the good King's jest

What cheer might thence be wrought.

And I said, "My Liege, for the Queen's dear love

Now sing the song that of old You made, when a captive Prince you lay,

And the nightingale sang sweet on the spray,

In Windsor's castle-hold.”

Then he smiled the smile I knew so well
When he thought to please the Queen;
The smile which under all bitter frowns
Of hate that rose between,
For ever dwelt at the poet's heart
Like the bird of love unseen.

And he kissed her hand and took his harp,

And the music sweetly rang; And when the song burst forth, it seemed

'T was the nightingale that sang.

"Worship, ye lovers, on this May:

Of bliss your kalends are begun : Sing with us, Away, Winter, away! Come, Summer, the sweet season and sun!

Awake for shame,-your heaven is.

Of minstrel ministerings; But when he spoke of the Queen at the last,

Its strings were his own heart-strings.

"Unworthy but only of her grace,

Upon Love's rock that's easy and sure, In guerdon of all my love's space

She took me her humble creäture. Thus fell my blissful aventure In youth of love that from day to day Flowereth aye new, and further I say. To reckon all the circumstance As it happed when lessen gan my sore, Of my rancor and woful chance,

It were too long.-I have done therefor. And of this flower I say no more But unto my help her heart hath tended And even from death her man defended."

Aye, even from death," to myself I said;

For I thought of the day when she Had borne him the news, at Roxbro' siege.

Of the fell confederacy.

But Death even then took aim as he sang With an arrow deadly bright;

And the grinning skull lurked grimly aloof,

And the wings were spread far over the roof

More dark than the winter night.

Yet truly along the amorous song

Of Love's high pomp and state, There were words of Fortune's trackless doom

And the dreadful face of Fate.

And oft have I heard again in dreams
The voice of dire appeal

In which the King then sang of the pit
That is under Fortune's wheel.

"And under the wheel beheld I there
An ugly Pit as deep as hell,
That to behold I quaked for fear:

And this I heard, that who therein fell
Came no more up, tidings to tell :
Whereat, astound of the fearful sight,
I wist not what to do for fright."
And oft has my thought called up again
These words of the changeful song:-
"Wist thou thy pain and thy travail
To come, well might'st thou weep and
wail!"

And our wail, O God! is long.

But the song's end was all of his love;
And well his heart was grac'd
With her smiling lips and her tear-bright
eyes

As his arm went round her waist.

And on the swell of her long fair throat Close clung the necklet-chain

As he bent her pearl-tir'd head aside,
And in the warmth of his love and pride
He kissed her lips full fain.

And her true face was a rosy red,
The very red of the rose
That, couched on the happy garden-bed,
In the summer sunlight glows.

And all the wondrous things of love
That sang so sweet through the song
Were in the look that met in their eyes,
And the look was deep and long.

T was then a knock came at the outer gate,

And the usher sought the King. "The woman you met by the Scottish Sea,

My Liege, would tell you a thing; And she says that her present need for speech

Will bear no gainsaying."

And the King said :-"The hour is late; To-morrow will serve, I ween."

Then he charged the usher strictly, and said:

"No word of this to the Queen."

But the usher came again to the King, "Shall I call her back? "quoth he: "For as she went on her way, she cried, Woe! Woe! then the thing must be!""

And the King paused, but he did not speak.

Then he called for the Voidee-cup: And as we heard the twelfth hour strike, There by true lips and false lips alike

Was the draught of trust drained up. So with reverence meet to King and Queen,

To bed went all from the board; And the last to leave of the courtly train Was Robert Stuart the chamberlain Who had sold his sovereign lord.

And all the locks of the chamber-door Had the traitor riven and brast;

And that Fate might win sure way from afar,

He had drawn out every bolt and bar
That made the entrance fast.

And now at midnight he stole his way
To the moat of the outer wall,
And laid strong hurdles closely across
Where the traitors' tread should fall.

But we that were the Queen's bowermaids

Alone were left behind;

And with heed we drew the curtains close

Against the winter wind.

And now that all was still through the hall,

More clearly we heard the rain That clamored ever against the glass And the boughs that beat on the pane.

But the fire was bright in the ingle-nook, And through empty space around The shadows cast on the arras'd wall 'Mid the pictured kings stood sudden and tall

Like spectres sprung from the ground.

And the bed was dight in a deep alcove;
And as he stood by the fire
The king was still in talk with the Queen
While he doffed his goodly attire.

And the song had brought the image back

Of many a bygone year;

And many a loving word they said With hand in hand and head laid to head;

And none of us went anear.

But Love was weeping outside the house, A child in the piteous rain;

And as he watched the arrow of Death, He wailed for his own shafts close in the

sheath

That never should fly again.

And now beneath the window arose
A wild voice suddenly:

And the King reared straight, but the
Queen fell back

As for bitter dule to dree; And all of us knew the woman's voice Who spoke by the Scottish Sea.

"O King," she cried, "in an evil hour They drove me from thy gate;

And yet my voice must rise to thine

ears:

But alas! it comes too late!

Last night at mid-watch, by Aberdour, When the moon was dead in the skies O King, in a death-light of thine own I saw thy shape arise.

"And in full season, as erst I said,

The doom had gained its growth; And the shroud had risen above thy neck And covered thine eyes and mouth.

"And no moon woke, but the pale dawn broke,

And still thy soul stood there; And I thought its silence cried to my

soul

As the first rays crowned its hair. "Since then have I journeyed fast and fain

In very despite of Fate,

Lest Hope might still be found in God's will:

But they drove me from thy gate.

"For every man on God's ground, O King,

His death grows up from his birth In a shadow-plant perpetually; And thine towers high, a black yewtree,

O'er the Charterhouse of Perth!"

That room was built far out from the house;

And none but we in the room
Might hear the voice that rose beneath,
Nor the tread of the coming doom.

For now there came a torchlight-glare,
And a clang of arms there came ;
And not a soul in that space but thought
Of the foe Sir Robert Græme.

Yea, from the country of the Wild Scots,
O'er mountain, valley, and glen,
He had brought with him in murderous
league

Three hundred armed men.

The King knew all in an instant's flash,
And like a King did he stand;
But there was no armor in all the room,
Nor weapon lay to his hand.

And all we women flew to the door

And thought to have made it fast:

But the bolts were gone and the bars were gone

And the locks were riven and brast.

And he caught the pale queen in his

arms

As the iron footsteps fell,Then loosed her, standing alone, and said,

"Our bliss was our farewell!"

And 'twixt his lips he murmured a prayer,

And he crossed his brow and breast; And proudly in royal hardihood Even so with folded arms he stood,—

The prize of the bloody quest.

Then on me leaped the Queen like a deer :

"Catherine, help!" she cried.

And low at his feet we clasped his knees Together side by side.

"Oh! even a King, for his people's sake,

From treasonous death must hide!"

"For her sake most!" I cried, and I marked

The pang that my words would wring. And the iron tongs from the chimney

66

nook

I snatched and held to the King:Wrench up the plank! and the vault beneath

Shall yield safe harboring."

With brows low-bent, from my eager hand

The heavy heft did he take;

And the plank at his feet he wrenched and tore;

And as he frowned through the open floor,

Again I said, "For her sake!"

Then he cried to the Queen, “God's will be done!"

For her hands were clasped in prayer. And down he sprang to the inner crypt; And straight we closed the plank he had ripp'd

And toiled to smoothe it fair

(Alas! in that vault a gap once was Wherethro' the King might have fled; But three days since close-walled had it been [therein

By his will; for the ball would roll When without at the palm he play'd.)

Then the Queen cried, "Catherine, keep the door,

And I to this will suffice!"

At her word I rose all dazed to my feet,

And my heart was fire and ice.

And louder ever the voices grew,

And the tramp of men in mail; Until to my brain it seemed to be As though I tossed on a ship at sea In the teeth of a crashing gale.

Then back I flew to the rest; and hard
We strove with sinews knit

To force the table against the door;
But we might not compass it.

Then my wild gaze sped far down the hall

To the place of the hearthstone-sill; And the Queen bent ever above the floor,

For the plank was rising still.

And now the rush was heard on the stair,

And God, what help?" was our cry. And was I frenzied or was I bold? I looked at each empty stanchion-hold, And no bar but my arm had I!

Like iron felt my arm, as through The staple I made it pass :Alack! it was flesh and bone-no more! 'T was Catherine Douglas sprang to the door,

But I fell back Kate Barlass.

And 't was empty space once more; And my eyes sought out the wounded Queen

As I lay behind the door.

And I said: "Dear Lady, leave me here, For I cannot help you now;

But fly while you may, and none shall reck

Of my place here lying low."

And she said, "My Catherine, God help thee !"

Then she looked to the distant floor, And clasping her hands, " Oh God help him,"

She sobbed," for we can no more!"
But God He knows what help may mean,
If it mean to live or to die;
And what sore sorrow and mighty moan
On earth it may cost ere yet a throne
Be filled in His house on high.

And now the ladies fled with the Queen!
And through the open door
The night-wind wailed round the empty

room

And the rushes shook on the floor.

And the bed drooped low in the dark re

cess

Whence the arras was rent away; And the firelight still shone over the space

Where our hidden secret lay.

And the rain had ceased, and the moonbeams lit

The window high in the wall,-Bright beams that on the plank that I knew

Through the painted pane did fall And gleamed with the splendor of Scotland's crown

And shield armorial.

But then a great wind swept up the skies, And the climbing moon fell back : And the royal blazon fled from the floor, And nought remained on its track; And high in the darkened window-pane The shield and the crown were black.

And what I say next I partly saw
And partly I heard in sooth,
And partly since from the murderers'
lips

The torture wrung the truth.

For now again came the armed tread
And fast through the hall it fell;
But the throng was less; and ere I saw,
By the voice without I could tell
That Robert Stuart had come with them
Who knew that chamber well.

And over the space the Græme strode dark

With his mantle round him flung; And in his eye was a flaming light

But not a word on his tongue.

And Stuart held a torch to the floor, And he found the thing he sought; And they slashed the plank away with their swords;

And O God! I fainted not!

And the traitor held his torch in the gap,
All smoking and smouldering;
And through the vapor and fire, beneath
In the dark crypt's narrow ring,
With a shout that pealed to the room's
high roof

They saw their naked King.

Half naked he stood, but stood as one
Who yet could do and dare: