[QUEEN MARY.] ‘Christian Carstairs’ Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T76883 Carstairs, Christian. Original Poems. By a Lady, Dedicated to Miss Ann Henderson. A Tribute to Gratitude and Friendships. Edinburgh Andrew Shortrede 1786 pp. [3]-14.

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[ QUEEN MARY . ]
Kinross-House , September 9. 1768. The FIRST PART of QUEEN MARY . The following Dedication designed for — Esq ; deceased . Deign to accept The effusions — of my heart . To thee , with love ! I dedicate my art ; That high respect — thy virtuous mind demands . 'TWAS under sail — the barge — to row them o'er , Where Beauty's Queen was captive long before . There had the Muse with pleasure led the way ; For there , in Autumn , now she loves to stray : There on the shore — where oft the Queen at night , Had lonely walk'd — revolving her sad fate ; The trees — the walls — the ruin , all conspire — The dome sequester'd — wakes poetic fire : There oft the Queen , as the chaste dame Penelope . , had wove Her fatal story and their fatal love ; Young Gordon's doom — poor Chatilard's despair , By Murray's guile one common fate they share ; Her injur'd honour — and her infant son , Distracting thought ! From cruel subjects turns her thoughts away , To milder scenes her fancy steals astray , Peace and justice , and the story of David feeding his sheep , are both shown in the palace of Scone , as worked by Queen Mary's own hand when a prisoner in the Castle of Loch-Leven . To peace — to justice — Bethlehem's shepherd King , His dog , his sheep , his crook , may there be seen , In well chose colours , — work'd each scene with ease , As Nature taught her all the arts to please . Kind Nature's gifts — her unmatch'd charms to prove , The Muse and Graces here had interwove Their various skill . Tun'd to the harp , the Muses oft had sung , In mournful strains , her story thus begun : Her infant reign — Elis'beth's deadly hate , The many troubles prelude to her fate ; A fate uncommon — a beheaded Queen , And all the various scenes that intervene . Tho' drove from home , in Henry II . King of France . Henry's court she found Each pleasure wait her , with politeness crown'd ; Belov'd , ador'd , her dawning charms expand , And Taste and Genius lead her hand in hand . O heavenly Muse ! her early sorrows tell , Let Truth and Pity clear her injur'd fame , Which long conceal'd , the brighter now to shine , To share the pleasure — and the praise be thine . No father's care her infant years to guide , James V. of Scotland died of grief . For death untimely — in the tomb had laid , By grief of heart — and factious times oppress'd , But more than all , by The battle of Solway moss . Solway's loss distress'd . What could the The Queen Dowager sent over her daughter Mary to France , then six years of age . Queen in these disastrous times ? She sought a refuge in more temp'rate climes . To Gallia's King , the royal charge conveys , Till Time and Wisdom civil discord lays . No easy task — where blind mistaken zeal , And diff'rent tenets but increase the flame , Religion pure , While mortals weak but prostitute thy name . Fortune for a time now promis'd fair , And Henry , faithful , us'd his utmost care To form her mind — each science to impart , While thus our Beauty gains each youthful heart ; Well pleas'd both nations mutual to entwine , Francis , then Dauphin of France . And weds to Francis this our blooming Queen . What does ambition ? and aspiring Pride ? Two regal sceptres to adorn the bride Could not suffice — assumes fair England's name , And royal arms — which the proud Dame Could ne'er forget — whose firm and cautious reign Made it unsafe for Mary then to claim Her nat'ral right , nor the young Queen be blam'd , By whomso'er that fatal counsel fram'd . Must still your Queen Elisabeth . Queen — resentful thus to me , To bar my passage through the British sea . Unkind condolence ! in a perplexing time , When thus sedition rends my native Isle . Scarce had I mourn'd my much lov'd mother's death When Henry too — resign'd his dying breath . More than a parent ! I his greatest care , And parting sigh'd , for me preferr'd his prayer , Was it not hard ? O Muse , forbear to tell , Her growing sorrows — thou knowest them well . END OF THE FIRST PART .
Kinross-House , a stormy day in the month of December 1769. The SECOND PART of QUEEN MARY .

Dedicated to G. Hamilton , Esq ; on his design to paint that scene where Lord Lindsay comes to demand the crown of Queen Mary , when a prisoner in the Castle of Loch-Leven .

AH ! how unfeeling , he demands her crown , Her country to resign . Relentless Lindsay , Did e'er real beauty touch a heart like thine ? Impossible — to thus insult — while spirit , Nobleness of mind , and young Ambition , All fluttering round th' imprison'd Queen Yet weeping for her son ! for him she dreads . Ye ruin'd walls ! with ivy mantled o'er , And Winter snows , the emblem of her fate , Which all extremes have known — nor Hope — nor Spring Nor Summer Sun return . — But I will plant A thousand shrubs and trees to shade her injur'd name , Invite the Muse ! to wander with me there , And op'ning gayer fields of new ideas . Power of the mind ! Sovereign of the Soul , O ! why denied that wond'rous art to me ? Titian — Rubens — Raphael — finish'd hands , Hamilton ! here's thy Lucretia On looking at the print of Lucretia and Brutus , the original done by Hamilton . , O'er all her dying frame , as life just fled ; The barb'rous poniard drops her sacred blood ; From Brutus arm ! behold the fate of Rome , Avenge his country on the Tarquin race . What differ'd fates ! while all the world admire Thy honour'd name — chaste — pure as light , as truth , To Mary's load of grief — to blast her fame ! Rome by one's death — from tyranny was freed , A tyrant hop'd to reign in Mary's stead . Of all my former ills , the Queen might say , And soon to Nature I that debt shall pay . My injur'd shade ! shall mourn my blasted fame : My son perhaps shall curse his mother's name ; O ! cruel thought — if e'er my Darnley's life Avenge the deed — if e'er that name was dear , By these bleak mountains , and this lonely isle , The troubled waters , and the winds that blow , Or by that power superior to the storm , Attest my innocence . Too soon the seeds Of jealousy were sown — that fatal bond ; Associate of their guilt — to be deceiv'd To wed his murderer ! ah ! had I died , Buried in the grave , e'er thus dishonour'd . O ! all ye faithful dames for truth renown'd , Am I unworthy to be nam'd with them ? — Had she , as thou ! Lucretia — durst — But here the soul ! superior by her faith , Triumph'd — and for her country and her son , Endur'd , in misery , all her cruel fate , Accursed marriage ! — deep laid malice . O Mary ! Their vill'nous designs — were here accomplish'd , — And stabb'd thy fame ! But time shall bring to light Their darkest deeds — and heal thy wounded name . — Avaunt thou ! — Murray , Morton , Bothwell , And thou Elisabeth , great as a Queen , But deadly in thy hate — as desperate by thy love . Mary and Essex , victims of thy ire , Bright stars that fell by thy malignant breath , Yet , yet I weep for thee — thy woman's weakness , And thy jealous mind . O they were punishment enough — forgive , Forgive , O mighty God ! forgive . O Character ! thou sacred name prophan'd , Or gain'd so dear — by those who court thee Only for a name , — and in fair shew Appear what they art not . Fair Rectitude , Be thou alone my wish — retir'd and silent . There , the motives of my heart to know , And leave to others — what ? as they deserve A name ! Shall I e'er gain thee by one restless thought , Or popular deed — to strive — to vie , Or to supplant another . To sacrifice my mind , my peace , — — — — Her's was gone . No rather , Suffer all — unknown — forsaken — unminded , Or minded only when again to take The little I have got . Whence is that envy And that jealous eye ? To be what ? yes . Let them . O happiness , canst thou depend On aught — but truth , unfullied rectitude of thought , And virtue fair , — with kind benevolence , And humblest mind reflect how poor and weak We're in ourselves . Come , quiet thought , and leave the giddy restless Vain pursuit of earthly cares — O come , And by yon brook where dancing sun beams Wander through the trees — invite my Muse , Or catch yon awful arch — from rock to rock Where dashing waters burst in broken falls , Or in the shady break where murm'ring rills , In wild meanders stray from wood to wood , Or list'ning to the evening song retir'd Where scarce a breeze is whisper'd through the scene . Who can behold yon glorious orb that gilds the sky , And not adore the hand , Author of Nature , Who in his works sublime paints out his power ; In Wisdom all express'd , at awful distance , view The mighty mind — the thought , contrivance , And the powerful word — And as the sun goes down , Come , evening mild — and with thy soft'ning dews Or gentle rains refresh the earth , Mother of all the sustenance to man . Chorus . I. Light Fame — no more I thee attend , No more thy airy flight pursue ; Light Fame no more my soul can move , No more thy freaks and whims I heed . II . Light Fame — no more thy voice I'll hear , Thy voice I thought how sweet to me ; Light Fame , I thought thy voice was true , But soon it chang'd , how false , how wild ? III . Light Fame — no more my soul can move , Thy freaks and whims she may neglect . Light Fame — no more my soul can move , In conscious worth shall find relief . NIGHTINGALE . O ! could my sweet plaint lull to rest , Soften one sigh — as thou dreamst , I'd sit the whole night on thy tree , And sing , — — sing , — — With the thorn at my breast .