(B.) LORD DARNLEY.

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It may be of some interest to collect a few contemporary opinions regarding the unfortunate Lord Darnley. The extracts from Sir James Melville and Randolph (pp. 46-53, 54-56) sufficiently illustrate the personality of Mary, and we need only add Knolly's description of the Queen of Scots on her arrival in England (Wright's "Elizabeth," vol. i. pp. 280-1). He wrote to Cecil: "This ladie and princess is a notable woman. She semeth to regard no ceremonious honour beside the acknowledging of her estate regalle. She sheweth a disposition to speake much, to be bold, to be pleasant, and to be very famylyar. She sheweth a great desire to be avenged of her enemies: she sheweth a readiness to expose herself to all perylls in hope of victorie; she delyteth much to hear of hardiness and valiancye, commending by name all approved hardy men of her cuntrye, altho' they be her enemies: and she commendeth no cowardice even in her friends. The thing that most she thirsteth after is victory, and it semeth to be indifferent to her to have her enemies diminish, either by the sword of her friends, or by the liberall promises and rewards of her purse, or by division and quarrells raised among themselves; so that for victorie's sake, payne and perrylls semeth pleasant unto her, and in respect of victorie, welthe and all thyngs semeth to her contemptuous and vile."

Our best picture of Darnley comes from the pen of the continuator of Knox. "He was of a comely stature, and none was like unto him within this island; he died under the age of one and twenty years; prompt and ready for all games and sports; much given to hawking and hunting, and running of horses, and likewise to playing on the lute; and also to Venus chamber he was liberal enough; he could write and dictate well; but he was somewhat given to wine, and much feeding, and likewise to inconstancy; and proud beyond measure, and therefore contemned all others; he had learned to dissemble well enough, being from his youth misled up in Popery" (Laing's "Knox," vol. ii. p. 551). Incidental references to Darnley's character will be found on pp. 47-8, 64-5, 87-8, &c. The author of the "Histoire of James the Sext" wrote of him, "He was a comelie Prince, of a fayre and large stature of bodie, pleasant in countenance, and affable to all men, and devote, weill exercised in martiall pastymes upoun horseback as ony Prince of that age, but was sa facile as he could conceal no secret, although it might tend to his own weill." Of Darnley's literary abilities we possess two indications—a letter written to Mary Tudor, and the following ballad, both printed in Maidment's "Scottish Songs and Ballads," vol. ii. It may be noted that the figure of the turtle-dove or wood-pigeon occurs in the ballad and in one of the "Casket Letters."

Gife langour makis men licht,
Or dolour thame decoir,
In earth there is no wicht,[98]
May me compair in gloir.
Gif cairfuill thoftis restoir
My havy heart from sorrow
I am for evir moir
In joy, both evin and morrow.
Gif plesour be to pance,[99]
I playne me nocht opprest,
Or absence micht avance,
My heart is haill possesst,
Gif want of quiet rest
From cairis micht me convoy,
My mynd is nocht mollest,
Bot evir moir in joy.
Thocht that I pance in paine,
In passing to and fro,
I laubor all in vane,
For so hes mony mo,
That hes nocht servit so,
In suting of thair sueit,[100]
The nar the fyre I go
The grittar is my heit.
The turtour for hir maik,
Mair dule may nocht indure
Nor I do for hir saik,
Evin hir quha hes in cure
My hairt, quhilk salbe sure,
And service to the deid,
Unto that lady pure,
The well of woman heid.
Schaw shedfull to that sueit
My pairt so permanent
That no mirth quhill[101] we meit,
Sall cause me be content;
But still my hairt lament,
In sorrowfull siching soir,
Till tyme sho be present,
Fairweill, I say no moir.
Finis quod King Hary Stewart.

This lament for Darnley (also printed by Maidment) was doubtless used as a political weapon against Queen Mary:—

To Edinburgh about six hours at morn,
As I was passing pansand out the way;
Ane bonny boy was sore making his moan,
His sorry song was Oche, and Wallaway!
That ever I should lyve to see that day,
Ane king at eve, with sceptre, sword and crown;
At morn but a deformed lump of clay,
With traitors strong so cruelly put down!
Then drew I near some tidings for to speir,
And said, My friend, what makis thee sa way.
Bloody Bothwell hath brought our king to beir,
And flatter and fraud with double Dalilay.
At ten houris on Sunday late at een,
When Dalila and Bothwell bade good night,
Off her finger false she threw ane ring,
And said, My Lord, ane token you I plight.
She did depart then with an untrue train,
And then in haste and culverin they let craik,
To teach their feiris to know the appoint time,
About the kinge's lodging for to clap.
To dance that night they said she should not slack,
With leggis lycht to hald the wedow walkan;
And baid fra bed until she heard the crack,
Whilk was a sign that her good lord was slain.
O ye that to our kirk have done subscryve,
These Achans try alsweill traist I may,
If ye do not, the time will come, belyve,
That God to you will raise some Iosuay;
Whilk shall your bairnis gar sing Wallaway,
And ye your selvis be put down with shame;
Remember on the awesome latter day,
When ye reward shall receive for your blame.
I ken right well ye knaw your duty,
Gif ye do not purge you ane and all,
Then shall I write in pretty poetry,
In Latin laid in style rhetorical;
Which through all Europe shall ring like ane bell,
In the contempt of your malignity.
Fye, flee fra Clynemnestra fell,
For she was never like Penelope.
With Clynemnestra I do not fain to fletch,
Who slew her spouse, the great Agamemnon;
Or with any that Ninus' wife doth match,
Semiramis quha brought her gude lord down.
Quha do abstain fra litigation,
Or from his paper hald aback the pen?
Except he hate our Scottish nation,
Or then stand up and traitors deeds commend?
Now all the woes that Ovid in Ibin,
Into his pretty little book did write,
And many mo be to our Scottish Queen,
For she the cause is of my doleful dyte.
Sa mot her heart be fillet full of syte,
As Herois was for Leander's death;
Herself to slay for woe who thought delyte,
For Henry's sake to like our Queen was laith.
The dolours als that pierced Dido's heart,
When King Enee from Carthage took the flight;
For the which cause unto a brand she start,
And slew herseif, which was a sorry sight.
Sa might she die as did Creusa bright,
The worthy wife of douty Duke Jason;
Wha brint was in ane garment wrought by slight
Of Medea through incantation.
Her laughter light be like to true Thisbe,
When Pyramus she found dead at the well,
In languor like unto Penelope,
For Ulysses who long at Troy did dwell.
Her dolesome death be worse than Jezebel,
Whom through an window surely men did thraw;
Whose blood did lap the cruel hundis fell,
And doggis could her wicked bainis gnaw.
Were I an hound—oh! if she an hare,
And I an cat, and she a little mouse,
And she a bairn, and I a wild wod bear,
I an ferret, and she cuniculus.
To her I shall be aye contrarius—
When to me Atropos cut the fatal thread,
And fell deithis dartys dolorous,
Then shall our spirits be at mortal feid.
My spirit her spirit shall douke in Phlegethon,
Into that painful filthy flood of hell,
And then in Styx, and Lethe baith anone—
And Cerberus that cruel hound sa fell,
Sall gar her cry with mony gout and yell,
O Wallaway! that ever she was born,
Or with treason by ony manner mell,
Whilk from all bliss should cause her be forlorn.


APPENDIX C.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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