THE DYING MONARCH. "An omen, say'st thou?" "Of portentous ill! Woe to the wailing wretch that's born to-day Born in the midst of death--and deeper woe To miserable Scotland!" IT was a dark December's day, gloomy, and chill, and silent. The earth had been, for weeks, encrusted with a snowy covering, white and inviolate; the brawling streams, with all their glassy ripples, all their thundering linns, ice-bound and voiceless-the tall forest trees, cased, from their wind-rocked summits down to their very roots, in silvery frostwork, that would have sparkled diamond-like to the faintest sunbeam, had the great light-giver vouchsafed to cheer the melancholy landscape with one, ,the dimmest, of his radiant smiles. But it seemed that nothing gay or lightsome was to shed its influence that day on the sad towers of Falkland, the last abode of Caledonia's dying monarch. At times, indeed, there had appeared a lightening VOL. I. (13.) of the atmosphere, a breaking of the solid clouds, which walled the firmament about in dark monotony; but, after every effort of the shrouded sun to shake away the veil from his diminishing glories, a deeper hue of brown had fallen on the scenery, and the volumed vapours rolled up thicker and more thick, as if in very mockery of his fruitless struggles. Anon the fleecy mass was shaken, and a cold breath came forth, raw, damp, and gusty-then, one by one, the broad flakes floated through the heavy air, sailing at the first to and fro, as doubtful whether to soar or fall, but fast increasing in their number and velocity, till they drove down in long, straight lines, rendering indistinct, if not invisible, the largest objects, even at a few paces distant. Such was the state of things without the castle walls; nor was the scene changed for the better to him who contemplated from within the vaulted halls and darksome cloisters of the royal residence. In the huge guard-room, clustered around a central fire of logs, smouldering and hissing on the hearth, as the fire gradually gained ground upon the moist, unseasoned wood-with the thin acrid smoke surging upwards, curtaining the stone-arched roof, and blackening the quaint devices of the oaken rafters, till it found a vent at some illfastened casement or yawning door-way -there sat a group of weary-looking menials-warders in plate and mail, and servitors in gilded liveries, with here and there a forester, green-frocked, and gauntleted, with falcon on his wrist, cursing the cheerless season that debarred him from the practice of his gentle science! A dozen slow-hounds, "crookkneed and dew-lapped, like Thessalian bulls," with as many greyhounds, of the tall, gaunt, wire-haired Scottish breed, basked on the hearth, stretching their unnerved limbs, and yawning with an expression of weary listlessness almost human on their shaggy features; while two dogged sentinels stalked to and fro before the barred and bolted entrancetheir clanging steps and jingling harness alone waking the echoes of that long corridor. What little converse passed, was in low whispers-brief question and unwilling answer-as though each one had rather commune with his own dull thoughts, than rouse himself, by aught of mental energy, to mingle with his fellows in social and unbended intercourse; the very tankard, mantling with mighty ale, passed slowly round and sullenly, the deep potations from its brim not ministering anything to break the spell which evidently weighed on those bold spirits. On the broad stairway, leading from the guard-room and the offices below, through many a lordly chamber and many a sculptured aisle, to the fair halls where Scotland's monarchs held their state, were mustered in half-armour- with halbert, and two-handed sword, and the uncouth, unmanageable fire-arms of the day-the members of the royal household; while, in the passages above, pages and ushers, gorgeously attired in the black and scarlet colours of the Scottish crown, held ward with their offensive weapons prompt for service. It could not fail to be perceived, even by the least observant, that some events unusual and fearful were in progress the age was one of revelry and licensethe men who moved with careful steps and whispered voices, suffering not a door to echo as it closed, nor a weapon to clash against its fellow-were of a class remarkable above all others for tamelessness of spirit, for uncompromis ing riot, and unbridled insolence. Death was the spell that had overmastered the high spirits-death, dealing with the mightiest. Far, in a low and many-angled chamber-with lofty oriels looking out upon a fair expanse of lawn, and shrubbery, and forest, bright waters glancing in the foreground, blue mountains bounding the misty distance, all viewless now and hidden by the thick-driving stormtossing his fevered limbs upon a couch, luxuriously dressed out with all the rich appliances of downy cushions, velvet coverlets, and draperies of blazoned damask, lay the frail mortal, bearing, alas! how vainly, the proud title and the sumptuous style of king. His limbs that erst had borne the weight of the linked mail and ponderous casque, through many a summer's noon, and many a wintry storm-now languished, overloaded, even to fainting, by the texture of the thinnest linen! his hands -on which the muscles that had couched, and that no long time since, the knightly lance, or hurled the massive axe, stood up like corded ivy clasping the withered limbs of some strong oak—were stretched abroad, clutching the tapestries of the bed, with feeble but convulsive efforts! His eye-formerly as bright in battle as the beacon's light amid the raging of the tempest- -now peered out dimly from its sunken orbits, rayless, and glazing fast with the damp mists of death! It was in vain the leech, who had watched night and day beside his pillow, bandaged his throbbing temples, or tendered soothing potions to his hot and blistered lips-it was in vain the cowled and sandalled monks held up before his clouded gaze the blessed form of him who died to save, or chaunted words of heavenly consolation-it was in vain the dauntless Thirlestane, sole baron who had kept his fealty unstained towards his monarch at his utmost need, spoke cheerily of future fields whereon the treasured unicorn of Scotland should float triumphant, and the false Southron rue the boast of Flodden. All was in vain. Since the fell news of Solway rout had reached his ears, the hapless king, feeble before, and faint alike with sickness and with sorrow, sank down at once into a state of hopeless stupor. That sad intelligence had quenched the last spark of his lordly soul-and well indeed it might. Treason in his own people's ranks-cowardice among those है who heretofore had led the van of battle -defeat, dishonour, and destruction ! A Scottish army of ten thousand veteran warriors trampled into the very dust of earth, scattered to the four winds of heaven, by the marauding spears and private enterprise of but two English barons! If not such tidings, what should dethrone a monarch's spirit from its confident and fearless height? If not such tidings, what should bow the lofty head, and break the gallant heart? Till then he had struggled, if in vain, still nobly-against the tide of fortune! Till then he had borne up against his malady, as the pine-tree, strong and whole at heart, bears up against the blasts that shake its head, but may not bend its stem! He heard-and as his ear drank in the misery, the ruin, the disgracehis dark eye glazed, and his pale lip faltered forth the words "To bed-to bed! never to rise again! No more of waving banners-no more of levelled lances ! When all but life is lost, better to die than live!" He staggered, and would have fallen to the earth, had he not been caught in the arms of his astonished chamberlain. To his bed he had indeed been borne, and, as though his words had been supplied to him by a spirit of prophecy, he had not risen thence again. Leeches could find no ailment; but, although they spoke of nerves enfeebled by the temporary shock, and promised quick relief; although they poured the opiate, in hope of bringing on the soothing slumber; although they banished every cause that should produce excitement; although they strove to lull him with rich perfumes and with gentle music-sleep came not near his eyes. He uttered no complaint, he murmured not of any pain, but he wasted day by day; hourly his hollow cheek waxed hollower; and his hair, which had, a little week ago, been free from speck of white as the wild raven's wing, was veined by many a streak of wintry grey. He spoke not often, nor did he pray at all, though still in the adjoining oratory the monks sang night and day masses for the soul of the dying, and hymns that his spirit might be moved to penitence and faith. It was a deep and rooted sorrow, that was gnawing at his heart-strings; that had, as it were, preoccupied his every thought and precluded the admission of all, or aught, beside into his enfeebled understanding. Passive as an infant, in the arms of his attendants, he sat up, or stretched his nerveless limbs at length; he ate, or drank, or fasted, as he was commanded, reckless to all appearance, and deprived of common intellect. Yet was it evident to those who studied deeply his afflicting case, that the mind was not extinguished, nor even wholly paralysed, as men had at first believed; for they could see his pale lips move, from time to time, as if articulating words, although their sound was indistinct, or utterly inaudible; and after long and deep investigation, they could trace that constant motion, and an occasional sound louder than common, into one ceaseless, iterated sentence"alas alas! my country!" Painful it was, indeed, and piteous to witness such a wreck; a thousand times more painful than to have beheld the mind proudly triumphant above the agonies and dissolution of the frail shell which it inhabits for awhile; and strenuous were the efforts made, and ingenious the experiments devised, "to cleanse his bosom of that perilous stuff" which was evidently choking by degrees the waning lamp of life. Men were brought, clashing in knightly harness, into his silent chamber-messengers were ushered in, herald, and pursuivant, and king-at-arms, proclaiming in loud voices, and with note of triumph, glad tidings of recovered honour and of glorious triumph-but still he lay in listless stupor; his eyelid did not wink, nor his pulse bound at the hearing of such tidings as, but a few weeks before, would have sent the hot current of his blood careering in ecstatic rapture through his remotest veins. It might be, that the words themselves pierced not his ears, or, if they did, reached not the portals of his understanding; it might be for once a faint and sickly smile was seen to cross his pallid features-it might be, that, hearing the triumphant accents, and marking their high import, he had retained, even in his fallen state, enough of judgment to perceive at once the fallacy and the intention of these fictitious tidings. It' might be, that his pride, still in this last ordeal supporting him, led him to pass as unregarded this sporting with his agony-as, if he understood, he must have deemed it since he lacked the power to resent or to avenge it as would become a monarch and a man. At length a sound arose without; remote, indeed, yet distinctly audible in every pause or lull of the wild tempest, that still wailed among the Gothic pinnacles and towers, as if it mourned the sad condition of that unhappy prince who lay beneath, unconscious, as it seemed, either of sympathy or sound. It was a burst of distant music! First the shrill flourish of a trumpet might be caught by practised ears; before the duller notes of the accompanying instruments were audible amid the conflict of the elements-then horn and cymbal, and the deep clang of the kettle-drum, awoke the echoes of the forest; and, over all, the heavy onward trampling of a large force of horsemen was heard, though deadened by the snow on which the steel-shod hoof fell with a sullen sound, far different from their ordinary clang. "What have we here, in the name of heaven?" whispered the oldest of a group of barons, war-worn and wrinkled men, though still erect and hardy, who watched about the couch of their expiring prince. 66 Pray heaven it be not the fause Southron," muttered another, griping to his dagger's hilt, as he replied "Look out there, Thirlestane-an' I deem not wrongly-yon casement will command their march. And thou, lord warden, to the battlements." the crown itself, the treasured fleurs de lis, and the proud motto, boastful no more than true, "Ready, ay! ready," stole with a noiseless step, and a demeanour how far different from the exulting smile and stately port with which he would have rushed to battle, from the apartment, to learn the import, and to check the mirth of these ill-omened strains. The music, however, was still heard without, louder and louder as it drew more nigh, till its sharp cadences rang through the vaulted roofs so shrilly as almost to preclude the possibility of human conversation. One by one, the watchers of the dying had left their stations by the couch, unconscious each, in this absorbed and agitated mood, of his fellow's absence; till all the company, barons and chamberlains, monk, mediciner, and page, were collected in an anxious knot about the casement, watching, with eager expectation, to scan the coming band. It now was evident, indeed, that the intentions of those ap. proaching could be nothing hostile-for with the clangour of the trumpets were now mingled the noisy acclamations of a joyous multitude! They were even now almost beneath the castle walls, yet in such dense and whirling gusts did the "Now shame on ye," cried Thirle- snow-flakes drive against the casements, stane, in tones a little raised by the ex- that it was with difficulty that the gazers citement of the moment-" shame on ye might descry even the train of men and Scottishmen, that know not, and at this horses, which swept around the moat in brief interval, an English point of war slow and solemn cavalcade, strangely at from the Lord Lion's minstrelsy of Scot- variance with the peltings of the wintry land. When heard ye ever such a tone storm; while they could not distinguish as that, so flourishing and prolonged, a aught of their apparel or demeanour. prelude to the volleys of the grey goose shafts, that-out upon them-have drank up more of princely blood in Scotland, than all the spears that have been forged on Southron stithies, from the days of the wight Wallace downward! But war or peace, they must be stopped, those trumpets! Hear ye not now they breathe a note of triumph-ay! by my halydom, of wild exulting joy? See to the king, my lords; I go to take some order with this herald scum! They dare not, I wot, proclaim the king's successor, while yet he breathes the breath, even if they knew to find one! But, alack! alack! Fail our fifth James to-day, where shall poor Scotland go to seek a ruler?" As he spoke, the noble-hearted soldier -so lately decorated by the monarch, whom he, and he alone, had served so faithfully with the heraldic bearings of "I see no gleam of mail," whispered the aged man, who had first directed the attention of his comrades to the approaching sounds. "I see no gleam of mail, nor, methinks, are there any lances clustered beneath yon banner!" "Tush, man," replied another, "no human eye could mark the gleam of mail, nor note the difference between a herald's baton and a knight's weapon, athwart the lines of snow that drive so densely earthward." "True, Lethington-well spoken," muttered a third, his hand still resting on the pummel of his sword; "well spoken! Friends would not march so slowly through such pitiless storm; nor would it be aught strange or new to meet with treachery and war beneath the hollow guise of the fause Southron's amity. Better to arms! say I." "So said not I, nathless," answered he, who had been addressed as Lethington. "So said not I; nor see I aught, that I should say so. No human eye, indeed, could mark the flash of mail or the twinkling of lance-heads in such a flurry as this present; but he were blind, indeed, who could not mark those banners. There be enough, I trow, among that group-scarcely five score, methinks, of horsemen-to array a royal host. Trust me, good friends, these be but pursuivants and peaceful heralds -the train, I well believe, even as Thirlestane told ye, of the Lord Lion king. Even as he spoke, a heavy grating clash was heard below, followed by the rattle of chains, and the creaking of heavy timbers. "There-hear ye not," continued the last speaker, "portcullis up! down drawbridge! So deals not Thirlestane with suspected friends, or open foemen !" And as he spoke, the voice of that bold baron rose clear above the din and tumult. "How now, my masters?-peace! peace with your senseless blasts, I say; else may ye lack the breath, ye so expend, to cool your brose-fore heaven, but ye shall find them hot enough, an' ye but wind one other flourish! The king is ill at ease!"' What followed might not be noted, where they stood at that high casement; but the music sank at once, and they might see the train dismount and disappear, each after each, as they were swallowed up by the projecting vaults of barbican and ballium. "The king-my lords-the king! Look to his highness!" shouted one who, less absorbed than his fellows in admiring the entrance of the fair procession, had turned his head towards the couch of the deserted monarch. Quick as thought, every eye glanced backward in dismay, as each became aware that not he only, but all his comrades, had, with a recklessness, which, should the prince recover, might well be construed into treason, departed from their posts like false and faithless soldiers. Nor was the sight that met them in the least calculated to assuage their fears, or to diminish their sense of guilt and degradation. The consciousness of intellect had, it would seem, at once and thoroughly returned to the unhappy prince, as the wild clamour of the trumpets pierced the shroud that had long involved his mind in dark oblivion. His eyes, though they glared wildly to and fro, no longer lacked a spark of animation, which told that, for the first time now in many days, they were taking note of surrounding objects; and his attenuated frame shook with a convulsive motion, evidently the effect of some strong passion-whether it were the eagerness of expectation-the anguish of insulted pride-or the heart-sickening consciousness that he was thus neglected at his utmost need. He had already risen from his bed of sickness, and, standing erect, although with tottering limbs, had partially attired himself. "My liege, for sake of heaven, my gracious liege," exclaimed the chamberlain, rushing toward him, "for sake of heaven, compose you. There is no cause for fear." "Fear-sirrah!" cried the haughty monarch, his eyes lightening with indignation-" Fear-sirrah! What Stuart hath ever known the word? Summon me Thirlestane hither!-no words I say, no words! By him that made me, I will rise. It matters not, I say," he continued, turning sharply round on the physician, who was interposing with some words of soothing or entreaty-"It matters not to parley-Die !-Think ye, I know not even now that I am dying—and what availeth it to live? But ere I die, I will perform my duties to my people! Thirlestane !-Go call me Thirlestane !" As he spoke, raising his feeble voice to the highest pitch of his lungs, the noble warrior, on whom he so fully and so worthily relied, entered the chamber, accompanied by the highest dignitary of the heraldic college-the Lion king-atarms, his quartered tabard glittering with blazonry of every hue, so brilliant that it mocked the gazer's eye, and his crown of honour sparkling with jewels, and surmounted by the rampant effigy of the monarch of the brute creation, whose name he bore. "Thirlestane, what tidings?-speak? Say out, Lord Lion-what tidings from our consort?" he cried, almost before his eyes could have descried the characters of those who stood beside him"Palter not, nobles-seek not to deceive me-I know ye are from Edinburgh-I know ye bear me tidings from my queen -I know I am a father!"' With a strange expression of astonish |