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
.