with the unruly Scotch nobles. After six turbulent years, Mary fled the kingdom and took refuge in England. There she remained a prisoner till her execution (1587).

Now Nature hangs her mantle green

On every blooming tree,

And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
Out o'er the grassy lea:

Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams,
And gilds the azure skies;

But nought can glad the weary wight
That fast in durance lies.

Now lav'rocks 1 wake the merry morn,
Aloft on dewy wing:

The merle,2 in his noontide bow'r,
Makes woodland echoes ring;
The mavis 3 mild, wi' many a note,
Sings drowsy day to rest:
In love and freedom they rejoice,
Wi' care nor thrall opprest.

4

Now blooms the lily by the bank,

The primrose down the brae; 5
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
And milk-white is the slae; 6

The meanest hind in fair Scotland
May rove the sweets amang;
But I, the Queen of a' Scotland,
Maun lie in prison strang.

I was the Queen o' bonnie France,

Where happy I hae been;

Fu' lightly rase I in the morn,
As blithe lay down at e'en :
And I'm the Sov'reign of Scotland
And monie a traitor there;
Yet here I lie in foreign bands,

And never ending care.

But as for thee, thou false woman,
My sister and my fae,

Grim Vengeance, yet, shall whet a sword
That thro' thy soul shall gae;

The weeping blood in woman's breast
Was never known to thee;

Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of wo
Frae woman's pitying e'e.

My son !

my son! may kinder stars

Upon thy fortune shine;

And may those pleasures gild thy reign
That ne'er wad blink on mine!

God keep thee frae thy mother's faes,

Or turn their hearts to thee;

And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend, Remember him for me!

O! soon, to me, may summer suns
Nae mair light up the morn!
Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds
Wave o'er the yellow corn!

And in the narrow house o' death

Let winter round me rave!

And the next flowers that deck the spring,
Bloom on my peaceful grave!

THE ARMADA

(A Fragment)

LORD MACAULAY

THE death of Mary was the signal for war. Philip II., thwarted in his purpose to marry Elizabeth, fitted out a great fleet for the invasion of England, aiming to seize the throne and restore the land to the papal jurisdiction. From the Romanist point of view, the expedition was a crusade against heretics, and Spain gave blood and treasure without stint. Philip was bitterly hated in England, and people of all classes resented his attempt to displace their beloved queen. There was no standing army in those days, but every able-bodied man was trained to the use of weapons, and one hundred thousand soldiers were ready to take up arms at a day's notice. The royal navy was quite unequal to the defence of the coast, but English privateers had long been waging war on the galleons of Spain, and English sea-captains were eager for a final bout with the arch-enemy.

The Armada was never able to effect a landing in England. Driven by storms and harassed by a running fire from the English fleet, the Spanish men-of-war made their way up the Channel and around the north of Scotland, only to be dashed in pieces off the wild west coast of Ireland.

Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise;

I sing of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days,

When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain

The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of

Spain.

It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day, There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth bay;

Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle,

At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a mile.

At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial

grace;

And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase.

Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the

wall;

The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's lofty hall;

Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the

coast;

And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many a post.

With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff

comes;

Behind him march the halberdiers; before him sound

the drums:

The yeomen round the market cross make clear an ample space;

For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her Grace:

And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells,

As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells.

Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient

crown,

And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down!

So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field,

Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's eagle shield.

So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned

to bay,

And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely hunters lay.

Ho! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight: ho! scatter flowers, fair maids:

Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, draw your blades:

Thou sun, shine on her joyously; ye breezes, waft her wide;

Our glorious semper eadem, the banner of our pride.

The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold;

The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold;

Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple

sea,

Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be.

From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay,