And aged cypress, did she shelter her

From day's meridian power, and when the moon
Ascended o'er the forests into heaven,

Or restless fire-flies, 'mid the purple eve,
Sparkled like dropp'd gold on a monarch's robe.

Now summer's reign was ended, and the earth, All prodigally lavish, shed its treasures, Half undeserved, into the idler's hands, Enrich'd beyond his hopes.-The autumn came, And in its scythed breeze dropp'd the sere leaves, And the clouds darken'd, and the flowers all wither'd, And, like the fading year, Marilla faded.

Scarce seem'd she to have died, so tranquilly

Lay on her closed eyes the poppied touch

Of death-but she was dead. Some peasants found her Under a savin bush, stretch'd on the ground,

Beside the cherish'd grave of him she loved!

MARY'S MOUNT.

I.

WHO, standing on this rural spot,
With groves above, and fields around,
Would, pausing, e'er indulge the thought,
That armies throng'd the lower ground;

Or image neighing steed, or fear

That trump or drum salute his ear;
Or think this leafy screen enfolded
A being of as tragic fate,

As lovely, and unfortunate,
As Nature ever moulded!

II.

Traced like a map, the landscape lies
In cultured beauty stretching wide;
There Pentland's green acclivities;
There Ocean, with its azure tide;

There Arthur's Seat; and, gleaming through Thy southern wing, Dunedin blue!

While, in the orient, Lammer's daughters,

A distant giant range, are seen,

North Berwick Law, with cone of green, And Bass amid the waters.

III.

Wrapt in the mantle of her woe,
Here agonized Mary stood,
And saw contending hosts below,
Opposing, meet in deadly feud;
With hilt to hilt, and hand to hand,
The children of one mother-land

For battle come.

The banners flaunted

Amid Carberry's beechen grove;

And kinsmen, braving kinsmen, strove Undaunting, and undaunted.

IV.

Silent the Queen in sorrow stood,
When Bothwell, starting forward, said,
"The cause is mine-a nation's blood,

Go, tell yon chiefs, should not be shed;

Go, bid the bravest heart advance

In single fight, to measure lance
With me, who wait prepared to meet him!'

"Fly!-Bothwell, fly!-it shall not be "She wept-she sobb'd-on bended knee Fair Mary did entreat him.

V.

"I go," he sigh'd-" the war is mine,
A Nero could not injure thee;—
My lot on earth is seal'd, but thine

Shall long and bright and happy be !-
This last farewell-this struggle o'er,
We ne'er shall see each other more-
Now loose thy hold! poor broken-hearted-

She faints—she falls.-Upon his roan
The bridle-reins in haste are thrown.-
The pilgrim hath departed.

VI.

Know ye the tenor of his fate?-
A fugitive among his own;
Disguised-deserted-desolate-
A weed on Niagara thrown;

A Cain among the sons of men ;
A pirate on the ocean; then,
A Scandinavian captive fetter'd,

To die amid the dungeon gloom :
If earthly chance, or heavenly doom
Is dark-but so it matter'd.

VII.

Daughter of Scotland! beautiful
Beyond what falls to human lot,
Thy breathing features render'd dull

The visions of a poet's thought;

Thy voice was music on the deep,

When winds are hush'd, and waves asleep;

In mould and mind by far excelling,

Or Cleopatra on the wave

Of Cydnus vanquishing the brave,

Or Troy's resplendent Helen!

VIII.

Thy very sun in clouds arose,

Delightful flower of Holyrood!

Thy span was tempest-fraught, thy woes Should make thee pitied by the good.