University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—Changes to Mary's Chamber.
Mary leaning on a Couch, Adelaide standing beside her.
Mary.
I fear they've made the attempt, and been betrayed;
The night was now and then as light as noon:
The elements denounce hostility
'Gainst Mary Stewart. What an awful night!
How couldst thou sleep?

Adel.
I tried to keep awake, and long kept up
My leaden eyelids; the night was then quite still;
I dropped asleep, thinking of Douglas.

Mary.
Didst thou not hear the peals?

Adel.
No.

Mary.
But that I'm miserable, I should have swooned
With terror: The flashes followed each so fast,
That had they followed faster, the night had shone
One unremitting blaze: These window bars
At times appeared as if of glowing iron;
And up this chain there sometimes ran a gleam!—
Then fear was gone; I hoped, I did half hope,
That it might reach my heart, to which I held
The links. But soon I clung to life again;
I thought upon my boy;
And while the other and the other flash
Dazzled my sight,
I wished to have my hand across his eyes:
Then such a peal would burst, I scarce durst draw
My breath, or move.—'Twas terrible; it bodes no good to us.

Adel.
You are of late so given to omening—

Mary.
And when it ceased, and sleep o'er powered my senses—
O Adelaide!
I fear, I fear to tell thee what I saw.

Adel.
Tell me, and I will read it.

Mary.
One made me swear an oath I'd not reveal.

Adel.
A dream! an oath sworn in a dream! 'tis nothing.

Mary.
I thought me walking in the Abbey garden;
The moon shone bright: I wished her not so bright.

Adel.
What abbey?

Mary.
Holyrood.

Adel.
Say on.

Mary.
I thought I heard a burst of noise, as loud
As were the thunder-peals of yesternight.

Adel.
And—

Mary.
I thought it came as if from Kirk O'Field;
And, ere the echoes of St Antoin's rocks
Had ceased, amid a shower of ashes, fell
Close at my feet a blackened corse, with eyes unclosed;
And, Adelaide,—but let me grasp thine arm,—
They glared on Bothwell, who stood rooted by,
All horror-struck:—My crucifix I tried
To kiss; but ponderous it felt,
Down-weighing my weak arm. I fancied next,
What I had heard and seen was but a dream,
And that I lay, new waked, beside a river,
And felt the sunbeams, heard the thrush's note,
And saw the wildflowers blooming o'er my face,—
When straight the flowers, the trees, the sward,
Seemed black and smouldering, and the sky blood-tinged;
I turned me round, and feared I should again
Behold the horrid form, but saw instead
A sanded scaffold, and a sable block;
My eyes were dazzled with the gleaming axe;—
At sight of which, sudden methought I rushed
To throw myself into the gliding stream;
But as I stooping paused upon the brink,
I saw, not my own image in the wave,—
I saw, O Adelaide, I saw the corse,
With eyes unclosed, and arms outstretched, to clasp me.
At this I woke, and viewed the prison bars
And bolts, the dire realities of fate,
As objects grateful to my harrowed soul;
Then counted o'er these links, to be assured
That all was but a dream.

Adel.
You've uttered horrors—'Tis your hand I feel—
Yes, it was but a dream—no more.

Mary.
But, Adelaide, it is no dream, that still
Our friends are absent, and ourselves are captives.

Adel.
What though they be not come!
Douglas is wise as brave, and would not mar,
By heedless haste, what might be surer done
By short delay.

Mary.
One circumstance I did forget to tell thee—

Adel.
Stop—tell it not—banish these dreadful phantasies.

Mary.
Banish!—what said'st thou about banishment?
I'm banished from my country and my child.

[Shouting heard without.
Adel.
They come, they come; we're free!
O now for France!—Dear sunny fields!—

Mary.
Can it be so?
[Shouting heard again.
O joy!
But is't impossible to land in Scotland?
Is there not one,
One friendly spot, in that ungrateful land
I love so well?—which I would die to bless!

Enter Warder, looking round the Chamber.
Adel.
Are they not coming up? Why dost not speak?
This fellow is assuming consequence.

Mary.
Good keeper, speak to us; speak, I beseech you;
What means that noise without?

[Exit Warder.
Mary.
I dread—

Adel.
There is no cause.

Mary.
Something he had to say.

Adel.
What then?

Mary.
It must have been unwelcome tidings.

Re-enter the Warder.
Ward.
The queen's commissioner desires to see you;
He's waiting for you on the yew-tree terrace,
Close by the chapel; he there expects Francisco.

Mary.
We're ready; we will come.

[Exit Warder, followed by Mary and Adelaide.