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The salt sea was frozen on her breast,

The salt tears in her eyes;

And he saw her hair, like the brown seaweed,

On the billows fall and rise.

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King Fran- KING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal

cis, Francis

I. of France.


showy, splendid.






Royal beasts,

the lions; the


And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the


The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by

their side,

to make his bride :

And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped

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And truly 'twas a gallant* thing to see that crown

ing* show,

lion is called Valour* and love, and a king above, and the royal

the king of



beasts below.


Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing

They bit, they glared,* gave blows like beams, a wind
went with their paws;

With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on
one another;

Io Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thun

derous smother;

Ramped, leaped about in a furious manner.

Glared, looked fiercely.


The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing a noise like through the air;

Said Francis then: "Faith, gentlemen, we're better

here than there!"


De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, a beauteous,* lively Beauteous,

With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, which
always seemed the same:

15 She thought: "The Count, my lover, is as brave as


brave can be ;

very handsome.

He surely would do desperate* things to show his love Desperate,

of me!


fearless of danger, rash.

King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is Occasion,


opportunity, time, chance.

divine, I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory Prove, try, will be mine!"

She dropped her glove to prove his love; then looked

on him and smiled;

He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions


The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon
regained his place ;

Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the
lady's face!

"In truth," cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he

rose from where he sat :

"No love," quoth he, "but vanity,* sets love a task
like that!"



Vanity, little pride, idle show.

WHAT stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?
Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just;
And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.


HENRY GLASSFORD BELL (1814-1874) was educated for the law, and was, at the time of his death, the Sheriff of Lanarkshire. He had very considerable literary taste, and was a frequent contributor to the Magazines.

A stately convent, the


on the island of Inch

I LOOKED far back into other years, and lo! in

bright array


I saw, as in a dream, the forms of ages passed
It was a stately convent* with its old and
lofty walls,

mahome ("isle of And gardens with their broad green walks,
where soft the footstep falls;

rest"), in the Lake of Menteith, Perthshire. Antique, old-fashioned.

Radiance, brightness.

Cloister, convent.

Five noble maidens, Mary, Queen of Scots, and four other Maries

Mary Carmichael, Mary Hamilton, Mary Seton, and Mary Bea

ton-who are known

in history as the "Queen's Maries." Recked, cared.

Stuart line, Robert, the High Steward of

Scotland, succeeded

to the throne on the

death of David II.

He was the first of the famous House of Stuart, and Mary was descended in a direct line from him.

Courtiers, nobles living at court.

And o'er the antique * dial-stone the creeping 5
shadow passed,

And, all around, the noon-day sun a drowsy
radiance* cast.

cloister * dim

No sound of busy life was heard, save from the
[holy hymn.
The tinkling of the silver bell, or the sisters'
And there five noble maidens * sat beneath the
orchard trees,


that first budding spring of youth when all
its prospects please;

And little recked* they, when they sang, or
knelt at vesper prayers,

That Scotland knew no prouder names-held
none more dear than theirs ;-

And little even the loveliest thought, before the
holy shrine,



Of royal blood and high descent from the
ancient Stuart line;
Calmly her happy days flew on, uncounted in 15
their flight,
[tinuing light.
And as they flew, they left behind a long-con-

The scene was changed. It was the court, the
gay court of Bourbon,

And 'neath a thousand silver lamps a thou-
sand courtiers* throng :

* Mary, Queen of Scots, was born at Linlithgow in 1542, a few days before the death of her father, James V. In 1558 she was married to Francis, the Dauphin of France, who died the next year, and Mary returned to Scotland in 1561. Her own subjects rebelled, and defeated her troops at Langside in 1568. She then fled to England, where she was executed by order of Elizabeth in 1587.


in-law, Henry II. of
I ween,

And proudly kindles Henry's eye-well Henry, Mary's fatherpleased, I ween,* to see [chivalry :20 The land assemble all its wealth of grace and Grey Montmorency,* o'er whose head has passed a storm of years,

Strong in himself and children, stands the first


among peers;

And next the Guises,* who so well fame's
steepest heights assailed,

And walked ambition's diamond ridge, where

bravest hearts have failed

25 And higher yet their path shall be, stronger
shall wax * their might,

For before them Montmorency's star shall pale
its waning light.

Here Louis, Prince of Condé,* wears his all-
unconquered sword,

With great Coligni * by his side: each name a
household word.

And there walks she of Medicis,* that proud
Italian line,

[Catherine. 30 The mother of a race of kings-the haughty The forms that follow in her train a glorious sunshine make

A milky way of stars that grace a comet's
glittering wake;

But fairer far than all the rest who bask* on

Fortune's tide,



I am sure, I

Grey Montmorency,
Anne de Montmor-

ency, a peer, marquis,


and Constable
the greatest generals
France, was one of

of the 16th century.

The Guises, a princely

family of Lorraine, a province in the north

east of France.

Shall wax, shall be

come, or grow.

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Bask, &c., those who
were blessed
good fortune.

Effulgent in the light of youth, is she, the Effulgent, splendid.

new-made bride!

35 The homage of a thousand hearts-the fond,

deep love of one

The hopes that dance around a life whose
charms are but begun,-

They lighten up her chestnut eye, they mantle

o'er her cheek,

They sparkle on her open brow, and high

souled joy bespeak:

Ah! who shall blame, if scarce that day,
through all its brilliant hours,

40 She thought of that quiet convent's calm, its
sunshine and its flowers?

The scene was changed. It was a bark* that

slowly held its way,

A bark, a ship; this scene represents Mary on her voyage from France to Scotland in 1561.

And o'er its lee* the coast of France in the light Lee, the sheltered side

of evening lay;

of the ship.

And on its deck a Lady sat, who gazed with
tearful eyes

Receding, fading from Upon the fast receding* hills, that dim and


Marvel, wonder.

distant rise.


No marvel that the lady wept,-there was no 45 land on earth

She loved like that dear land, although she

Iowed it not her birth ;

Her mother's land, It was her mother's land,* the land of child-
Mary's mother was a hood and of friends,-
French princess, Mary
of Lorraine, daughter

of the Duke of Guise.

Tranquil, peaceful.

Ominous, threatening.

Holyrood, the residence of the Scottish

sovereigns in Edinburgh. This scene

relates to the murder of Rizzio, an Italian

musician, whom Mary promoted to the office of her secretary.

Darnley, the Queen's

husband, led the con

spirators up a secret

stair to Mary's private room, where she was

sitting at supper with

a few of her attendants and Rizzio.

Blanched, made pale.

Traitor, one who betrays, a deceiver. Rebel, one who goes against lawful authority.

It was the land where she had found for all
her griefs amends,-

The land where her dead husband slept-the
land where she had known


The tranquil convent's hushed repose, and the
splendours of a throne :

No marvel that the lady wept-it was the land
of France-

The chosen home of chivalry-the garden of
past was bright, like those dear hills so
far behind her bark;

The future, like the gathering night, was omi-
nous * and dark!

One gaze again-one long, last gaze—“ Adieu,
fair France, to thee !"

The breeze comes forth-she is alone on the
unconscious sea!

The scene was changed. It was an eve of raw
and surly mood,


[rood And in a turret-chamber high of ancient HolySat Mary, listening to the rain, and sighing

with the winds,

That seemed to suit the stormy state of men's

uncertain minds.

The touch of care had blanched * her cheek—
her smile was sadder now;


weight of royalty had pressed too heavy
on her brow;

And traitors to her councils came, and rebels
to the field ;-

Stuart sceptre well she swayed, but the
sword she could not wield.






thought of all her blighted hopes-the
dreams of youth's brief day,


And summoned Rizzio with his lute, and bade

the minstrel play

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