Queen Hynde. A poem, in six books

Front matter

€tnt tit Ut ulrt ♦ A POEM, in &\x Books. By JOHN COTTON, AUTHOR OF THE PRAISES OF TOBACCO, THE PAIR OF SNUFFERS, &C. EDINBURGH: PRINTED FOR WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS. M.DCCC.XXX. TO Æl)c ©au aljtrrs of eralroonia, THIS POEM is addressed throughout, AND MOST HUMBLY AND RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, BY THEIR OBLIGED AND DEVOTED SERVANT, THE AUTHOR. QUEEN HYNDE. BOOK FIRST. A QUEEN HYNDE. BOOK FIRST. There was a time — but it is gone ! — When he that sat on Albyn's throne Over his kindred Scots alone Upheld a fathers sway ; Unmix'd and unalloy'd they stood With plodding Pict of Cimbrian brood, Or sullen Saxons pamper'd blood, Their bane on future day. Nations arose, and nations fell, But still his sacred citadel Of Grampian cliff and trackless dell The Caledonian held. 1I00K I Grim as the wolf that guards his young, Above the dark defile he hung, With targe and claymore forward flung ; The stoutest heart, the proudest tongue, Of foeman there was quelfd !

The plumed chief, the plaided clan, Mock'd at the might of mortal man, — Even those the world who overran Were from that bourn expelFd Then stood the Scot unmoved and free, Wall'd by his hills and sounding sea ; Child of the ocean and the wood, The frith, the forest, gave him food ; His couch the heath on summer even, His coverlet the cloud of heaven, While from the winter wind and sleet The bothy was a shelter meet. His home was in the desert rude, His range the mountain solitude ; The sward beneath the forest tree His revel-hall, his sanctuary ; His court of equity and right, His tabernacle, was the height ;

Book I. Queen Hynde

The field of fame his death-bed stern, His cemetery the lonely cairn. Such was the age, and such the day, When young Queen Hynde, with gentle sway, Ruled o'er a people bold and free, From vale of Clyde to Orcady. The tale is old, but the event Confirm'd by dreadful monument. Her sire had eastern vales laid waste, The Pict subdued, the Saxon chased, And dying old and loved, resign'd The sceptre to his lovely Hynde. Each warrior chief of name was there, Each bard, and grey-hair'd minister, When the old king, in accents mild, Commended to their love his child. " My friends, your faith has oft been seal'd, In counsel tried, and bloody field ; For Scotland's right, by foes o'errun, We pledged our lives — we fought and won ; liOOK I 6 QUEEN HYNDE. Now every Scot can wander free From hill to hill, from sea to sea.

Thanks to your worth — the throne is. fast. Now list my suit ; — it is the last. " One child I have, and one alone, To fill my father's ancient throne ; Your virgin sovereign you behold — I speak not of her beauteous mould, But, if affection do not bhnd, I vouch her energy of mind ; Here pledge your honours, still to be To her what you have been to me." — Each warrior vow'd upon his brand, And, kneeling, kiss'd the maiden's hand ; Each grey-hair'd sire, with moisten'd eye, Swore by his country's liberty. The king then rose upon his bed, And, leaning forward, bent his head ; His silver locks waved o'er his cheek, Like winter clouds on mountain bleak, I100K I. QUEEN HYNDE. And like that mountain's hoary form, All blench'd and wither'd by the storm, Was every feature's grisly cast, — Pale, but majestic to the last.

" Grieve not, my gallant friends," he said, " That by a queen the land is sway'd ; When woman rules without control, Her generous but dependent soul To worth and wisdom gives command — And then 'tis man that rules the land. " But when in second place she sits, Then all her cunning, all her wits, Are on the stretch with knaves to league, And rule the king by court intrigue. Trust me, 'tis truth to you I tell — I have been tried, and know it well ! — A queen by men of wisdom rules, A king by mistresses and fools. " Now note my will — My daughter Hynde Must wed the knight that suits her mind ; I Her choice no interest let revoke, Be it as free as bird on oak, Or the grey eagle of the rock. But suffer not, on any plea, A lover to her privacy ; No breathings of ecstatic bliss, No fond caress, or burning kiss, May be allow'd, else all is done — A coxcomb shall the lady won, And Albyn's ancient royal blood Run to a weak and spurious brood.

Forbid it, God ! — In time to be, Should my unbodied spirit see A son of mine to sloth betake, Or sleep while warriors toil and wake : On such my soul shall never tend, As guardian angel or as friend ! " These woes and failings to prevent, Let young Queen Hynde, in royal tent, Hear chiefs debate on government ; Mark all their feats in bold tournay, And list their love or warrior lay ;

BOOK I. QUEEN HYNDE.

And thus, her keen and piercing sight Can hardly fail to judge aright. " Think of this charge — much it portends ; I go — but not resign my friends ; No home I'll seek within the sky ; My patriot soul shall hover nigh, To watch your actions, mark your deeds In battle-field, where glory leads ; And o'er the counsel group, reclined Upon the eddy of the wind, I'll list how truth your counsel brooks, And read your spirits in your looks. " Woe be to him whom I observe Daring from loyalty to swerve ! Though neither blood nor bone invest The living flame within this breast, That flame shall sear his palsied sight, With shades of horror strew the night, Load with disgust the light of day, His motions cross, his path belay ; >J Each warden spirit's arm control, And whisper vengeance to his soul. Till down the miscreant shall be driven — The hate of man, the scorn of heaven !

" Be thou, my child, upright as fair, And thou shalt be my special care ; And oh ! should power's temptations try, Think of thy father's spirit nigh : Be that thy stay on ruin's brink. Nor tongue may frame, nor heart may think. How distant far such crime will spurn The kindred minds that round thee burn. " I may not warn thee face to face ; But still, when danger or disgrace Unseen approaches, I'll be nigh ; Therefore, my child, on dreams rely. Then to thy spirit's eye unfurl'd, I'll hold, in shadowy courses hurl'd, The motions of the moving world. Farewell — be calm — my time is nigh ; Would that the parting throe were by .'"

BOOK I. QUEEN HYNDE.

11 He stretch'd him on his couch, resign'd ; The ruthless foe of human kind, Whom he had met mid fire and storm, And braved in every hideous form, Now unresisting found his arm, And stopp'd the tide that scarce was warm. No plaint — no groan hung on his breath To gratify the ear of death ; Steady and dauntless was his look, As one a bitter draught who took, Or, for the sake of health to be, Suffer'd a transient agony : On that pale face, when turn'd to clay, When lifeless on the couch he lay, A bold defiance still was blent, Uncancell'd, with each lineament. The cross was o'er the body hung, The royal coronach was sung, And paid each rite, each honour due, To sire beloved and sovereign true ; J100K It 12 QUEEN HYNDE. And young Queen Hynde holds the command O'er Caledon's unconquer'd land. High were the hopes her chiefs among, Their emulation great and strong ; Before their queen in circle set, When for deliberate counsel met, Never was heard such manly sense, Such high and moving eloquence ; Never did armed list present Such bold and rapid tournament ; And when the festal days came on, Such gallant splendour never shone In royal halls of Caledon.

Then did the towers with echoes ring, For every knight his song would sing, Whether his voice to music's tone Had note of harmony or none ; And, strange though seems the incident, Those who sung worst were most intent. No smile, no marvel let arise, That such the strife, when such the prize — A flower in Albyn never shone Like Hynde, the Queen of Caledon. The Lord of Moray, famed in war, Proud Gaul of Ross, and lordly Mar, Were first in rank and wide control, And others shrunk before their scowl. Young Allan Bane was brave and bold, And Sutherland of manly mould ; And Donald Gorm, of lion eye, Chief of the kindred tribes of Skye, Was such a knight in heart and mien As Skye again hath never seen. Yet, after year and day was past, It was not trow'd, from glances cast, Who would be chosen king at last.

Once on a day — a day it seem'd When more than earthly splendour beam'd On Appin hills, that tower'd on high, Like golden columns to the sky, Bathed in the glories of the morn, That, west in airy rivers borne, Stream'd over all the woods of Lorn — Queen Hynde upon the mountain leant ; She wist not how or why she went ; But there she sat, by old grey stone, Upon the flowery sward alone ; The day-breeze play'd in eddies weak, And waved the rock-rose to her cbeek ; The little ewe-flower starr'd the lea, The hare-bell nodded at her knee, While all the sward in summer prime Was woven with the moorland thyme. Blithe was her bosom's guileless core, Unthoughtful all of woes before ; With nature's beauties glow'd her mind, She breathed a prayer for all mankind, Pondering of nought but onward bliss, And peace, and love, and happiness.

How transient all we here enjoy ! How short our bliss without alloy ! While thus she lay, with heart elate, In nature's purest blissful state, She heard a voice rise from the ground, With hollow, soft, and moving sound ; Fix'd was her eye, and mute her tongue, While thus some viewless being sung : — £>onfl. " The black bull of Norway has broken his band- He's down through the links of fair Scotland ; And the flower of the isle shall be lost and won, Ere ever he turn his horn from the sun." — She look'd around with eyes intent, In breathless dumb astonishment ; No living thing she could espy, Yet still a sound was murmur'd nigh ! It sunk into a mournful tone, And flitted like a passing groan. She deem'd she lay on fairy ground, By some unearthly fetters bound ;

BOOK I QUEEN HYNDE.

For why she came so far astray, Or why she did not haste away, She nothing knew. The east grew dun, A cloud came floating o'er the sun, And down the hills of Appin roll'd In many a dim and darksome fold ; The scene was mingled — shades of night With dim, with pale, and dazzling light. Still was the mighty ocean seen, A boundless field of dazzling sheen ; For west the morning beam withdrew To bask upon the shelvy blue, And on its bosom went and came In thousand shreds of shivery flame. But O, between the east and north Came moving on a veil so swarth, — From earth to heaven one solid wave, Like pall upon creation's grave, — As if the Lord of Nature furl'd Up like a scroll the smouldering world. s The virgin sovereign look'd aghast, And ween'd each breath would be her last ; For denser grew the vapour's coil, And backward seem'd to whirl and boil ; At length stood fix'd, from earth to sky, A wall of gloomy ebony ; Save when long wreaths of downy grey Turn'd their pale bosoms to the day, Like fillets of empyrean white Circling the funeral brow of night.

It seem'd as if the world from thence Was sever'd by Omnipotence — One part in light and life to bloom, The other grope in murky gloom — As all behind were left in wrath, A gloomy wilderness of death, And all before rejoice for aye In starry night and sunshine day. Conscious of innocence the while, The queen look'd on that hideous veil B With awe, but yet with such an eye As virtue turns unto the sky ; Expecting, every glance she cast, To see forth bursting from its breast The hail, the thunder, or the flame, Or something without form or name. The virgin look'd not long in vain — The cloud began to move amain ; Inward, like whirlpool of the ocean, It roll'd with dark and troubled motion ; And sometimes, Uke that ocean's foam, Waving on its unstable home, The silvery verges tossing by Were swallow'd in obscurity.

Still, as it open'd on the sight, The gauzy linings met the light ; And far within its bosom grew A human form of face she knew ; No earthly thought it did convey, It was not form'd like face of clay, 1!) i

BOOK 1. QUEEN HYNDE.

But in the cloudy dome was seen Like image of a thing had been — As if on canvass heavenly fair A reverend face was form'd of air, On texture of celestial land, And pencill'd by an angel's hand. Yet every line was there approved, And every feature once beloved. The silence, as she gazed, was broke — Aloud the hoary Vision spoke ; But yet no motion it address'd ; Lip unto lip was never press'd ; It moved no feature, tongue nor eye, Yet this it utter'd solemnly : — " Queen of green Albyn, liest thou alone ? Look to thy honour, and look to thy throne ! The ravisher comes on his car of the wind ; The sea is before thee, the spoiler behind. Queen of green Albyn, dare not to roam ! There's rapine approaching, and treason at home BOOK i 20 QUEEN HYNDE. Trust not the sea-maid with laurel in hand ; Trust not the leopard, or woe to the land !

The falcon shall fail, and the oak of Loch-Orn, The eagle of Mar, and the lion of Lorn ; But trust to the roe-buck with antler of grey, In the halls of Temora, or woe to the day !" — Up closed the cloud dark as before, But chilling terror was not o'er : Just where the maiden's eye was set, Where cloud and land and ocean met, A bull came forth, of monstrous frame, With wreathy mane and eyes of flame ; Slowly he paw'd the yielding ground, Then stood and madly gazed around ; His white horns flickering in the light, Like boreal streamers o'er the night. Soon as he fix'd his savage look On young Queen Hynde, the mountains shook With bellowings of unearthly tone, As wild and furious he came on.

BOOK I.

She tried to fly — her sight grew dim, A numbness seized on every limb, And nought remain'd in such a place Save meeting danger face to face ; For she had heard that maiden's eye Had some commanding majesty, At which, if bold and fearless cast, All earthly things would stand aghast. Other expedient there was none ; Mighty the motive ! — All alone She turn'd, and with as dauntless look As eye of beauty well might brook, Beheld the monster as he came Roaring and foaming on his aim. He eyed her moveless as she stood, And all at once, in raving mood, Halted abash'd, and 'gan aloof To tear the ground with horn and hoof, Uttering such horrid sounds of wrath, As hell had bellow'd from beneath. The mountains caught the clamours loud, And groan'd in echoes from the cloud. Proud of her virtue's power display'd, And homage by creation paid, High glow'd the beauties kindly given As maiden's shield by favouring Heaven ; So strong the fence, that savage fierce Was baulk'd, and could not through it pierce.

But, mad at such a viewless toil, He kneel'd, he grovell'd in the soil : Shorten'd by fury, broke his roar, Not in long bellow as before ; But with loud rending bursts of breath He vomited forth smoke and wrath. I've heard it said by reverend sage, — And why should youth discredit age ? — That maiden's form, when pure and free, Had something of divinity ; That furious ban-dog changed his eye, And fawn'd and whined as she drew nigh ; That elfin spear, or serpent's sting, Or pestilence on mortal wing, To her was harmless as the dew ; That crocodile and lion knew

BOOK I. QUEEN HYNDE.

The virgin frame, which had a charm They would not, or they could not harm ; That even the thunderbolt of heaven, Pour'd in resistless liquid levin, Would turn aside before her eye, Or part, and fleet unhurtful by ; Because she form'd, in nature's reign, That link of the eternal chain, Which earth unto the heavens combined, And angels join'd to human kind. From worth this adage I received ; I love it, and in part believe't. Well might Queen Hynde have stood unmoved, Trusting a power so fairly proved : For o'er her memory stealing came That old and wondrous apothegm ; And she had stood, save for the eye Of virgin's only enemy. Across the hill, swift as the deer, Fierce Mar approach'd, with shield and spear, To save his beauteous sovereign bent, And claim the due acknowledgment : Aloud his threat and clamour grew, Daring the savage as he flew.

Soon as the monster saw advance The chieftain with his threatening lance, Away he rush'd in vengeance dire, And met him with redoubled ire. The chieftain bawl'd and braved amain To cow the savage, but in vain. Onward he drove with stay less shock, The rested lance in splinters broke, And down to earth the chief was borne, Struggling to ward the ruthless horn ; But all in vain ! — Queen Hynde beheld Him gored and toss'd along the field ; She saw him swathed in bloody red, And torfeli'd on the monster's head. Appall'd and shock'd, her faith withdrew ; She tum'd, and off in horror flew ;

BOOK I.

i But soon all hopes of life resign'd As the loud bello wings near'd behind. Upon a rough and rocky steep, That overhangs the restless deep, She was o'erhied, and toss'd in air — Loud were her shrieks of wild despair O for the covert of the grave ! No refuge ! — None at hand to save ! Maids of Dunedin, in despair Will ye not weep and rend your hair ? Ye who, in these o'erpolish'd times, Can shed the tear o'er woful rhymes ; O'er plot of novel sore repine, And cry for hapless heroine — O ye dear maids, of forms so fair, That scarce the wandering western air May kiss the breast so sweetly slim, Or mould the drapery on the limb ; If in such breast a heart may be, Sure you must weep and wail with me That full set eye, that peachen chin, Bespeaks the comely void within ; But sure that vacancy is blent With fuming, flaming sentiment !

Then can you read, ye maidens fair, And neither weep nor rend your hair ? Think of a lady all alone — The beauteous Hynde of Caledon— Toss'd up the air a hideous height, On point of blood-stain'd horn to light ! And if to wail thou canst delay, Have thou a bard's anathema. Still is there one resource in view — For life one effort still is due — It is, to plunge with desperate leap Into the far-resounding deep, And in the pure and yielding wave To seek a refuge or a grave. The leap is made, the monster foil'd, Adown the air the virgin toil'd ;

BOOK I. QUEEN HYNDE.

27 But in cold tremor crept her blood, For far short of the yielding flood Her fall descends with deathful blow Sheer on the pointed rocks below. O canst thou view the scene with me, The scene of ruth and misery ? Yes, thou shalt go, and thou shalt view Such scene as artist never drew. In western lands there is a hall, With spire, and tower, and turret tall ; Ajid in that tower a chamber fair. — Is that a mortal triad there ? For sure such beauty, such array, Such moveless eye of wild dismay, Such attitude, was never given To being underneath the heaven. Yes, there are two most fair, I ween, But she whom they support between, In symmetry of form and face, In comely yet majestic grace, — Statue or vision, she would seem Chose from celestial cherubim ! Come, modellist, thy toil renew — Such scene shall never meet thy view !

See how the raven tresses flow, And lace that mould of purest snow; The night-robe from one shoulder flung, In silken folds so careless hung ; The face half-turn'd, the eagle eye Fix'd rayless on the morning sky ; That neck — that bosom, ill at rest, White as the sea-mew's downy breast ; And that pure lip was ne'er outdone By rose-leaf folding to the sun. And note that still and stedfast eye, That look of wild sublimity, As dawning memory wakes, the while Soft fading to a virgin smile. O modellist ! thy toil renew — Such scene shall never greet thy view ! High looks that chamber o'er the sea, And frith, and vale, and promont'ry ; From dark Cruachan pours the day, The lattice drinks the golden ray ; And that fair form you there behold, That statue of majestic mould, Leaning two beauteous maids upon, Is Hynde the Queen of Caledon !

The leap was from a couch of down, The rest a dream for ever flown .' Maid of Dunedin, do not jeer, Nor lift that eye with gibing fleer ; For well you wot, deny who dares, Such are the most of woman's cares ; Nay, if I durst, I would them deem More trivial than a morning dream. Have I not seen thy deep distress, Thy tears for disregarded dress, Thy flush of pride, thy wrath intense, For slight and casual precedence ? And I have heard thy tongue confess Most hi"'!1 "ff" — Yet sooth thou still art dear to me — These very faults I love for thee ; Then why not all my freaks allow ? I have a few, and so hast thou. It was a dream — but it was one, The more the virgin ponder'd on, The deeper on her heart it fell, Her sire's last words remembering well :■ " When danger threatens, I'll be nigh ; Therefore, my child, on dreams rely."

And she believed each incident Was by her father's spirit sent, To warn of treason, or of blood, Or danger all misunderstood. A load upon her heart it weigh'd, And on her youthful spirits prey'd ; At length she left her royal pile, To visit, and consult the while Columba of the holy isle : A seer and priest of God was he, A saint of spotless purity ; And then held in such high regard, That Scottish sovereign nothing dared, Of war, religion, or of law, Without consulting Columba. Queen Hynde embarks in Uan bay, Brisk was the breeze and bright the day ; Before the tide, before the gale, The gilded barge, with silken sail, Adown the narrow channel run, Like meteor in the morning sun. So swiftly swept the flying keel, The woods and islands seem'd to wheel ; And distant peaks of freckly grey Were winding to the north away.

The sea-gull rose as she drew nigh, And tried before her speed to fly ; But after toilsome travelling, With beating breast and flapping wing, Was forced to turn aside outworn, For shelter in the creeks of Lorn. But Ila Glas, the minstrel grey, Well noted, as they sped away, That sea-fowls flock' d from isle and steep, To view that wonder of the deep ; And well they might, for never more Such bark shall glide from Scotland's shore. The sailors were as chiefs bedight, The queen and virgins all in white ; The prow was form'd in curious mould, The top-mast stem of beaten gold ; The sails were white, the sails were blue, And every dye the rainbow knew ; And then the pennons, red and pale, So far were fluttering in the gale, She was not like an earthly thing, But some sweet meteor on the wing. I may not say, (and if I might, Man never has beheld the sight,) That all were like pure angels driven By living breeze in barge of heaven.

BOOK I. QUEEN HYNDE.

33 i When westward from the sound she fell, She met the ocean's mighty swell ; Yet bounded on in all her pride, Breasting the billow's mountain side, Or bearing with delirious sweep From dizzy verge into the deep. Maid of Dunedin, well I know, Hadst thou been there, there had been woe Distress of body and of mind, And qualms of most discourteous kind. But here, in days of yore, were seen Young Hynde, the Caledonian queen, With all her maids, enjoy the motion, Blithe as the bird that skims the ocean. O to have been the soaring gull, Perch'd on the headland cliff of Mull, There to have watch'd, with raptured eye, That royal bark go bounding by, Casting a tiny rainbow shade O'er every hill the ocean made ! c Iona bay is gain'd at last — The barge is moor'd, the anchor cast ; And though no woman might come nigh That consecrated land of I, The queen, presuming on her sway, Went right ashore without delay.

Her sire that isle had gifted free, And rear'd that sacred monast'ry ; The doctrine of the cross he heard, Believed, and paid it high regard ; For he perceived that simple plan A band 'twixt God and sinful man, Befitting well his nature weak, That would not loose, and could not break ; And with his child and kinsmen came, And was baptized in Jesus' name. When Ila Glas, in holy fane, Announced his queen and virgin train, Saint Oran was that very time Giving such picture of the crime

BOOK I.

here Of woman's love and woman's art, Of woman's mind and woman's heart ! If thou, dear maid, the same hadst heard, Thy blissful views had all been marr'd ; For thou durst never more have been In robe of lightsome texture seen, Thy breast, soft-heaving with the sigh, Arresting glance of vagrant eye ! Love's fatal and exhaustless quiver Must have been shrouded up for ever ! The perfume — simper — look askance — The ready blush — the ogling glance — All, all o'erthrown, ne'er to recover ! Thy conquests and thy triumphs over ! O breathe to Heaven the grateful vow, That good Saint Oran lives not now ! When he of such intrusion heard, Around in holy wrath he stared : — " What !" said the saint — " What ! even Must these unrighteous pests appear ! Though even the rough surrounding sea Could not protect our sanctuary ; Nor maiden modesty, nor pride, Can keep them from where men reside, I should have ween'd, that, thus retired, The frame of mind the place required, The frame of holy penitence, Had been enough to keep them hence.

" I know them well, and much I fear No good intent has brought them here. E'er since that day, deplored the most, When Adam sinn'd, and man was lost, By woman tempted to the deed, Mischief to man has been their meed. Rise, holy brethren, rise with me, And drive them back into the sea ! Should they resist, do them no harm, But bear them back by force of arm." — Up sprung the bearded group amain, Who to be first each nerve they strain ; ■>1

BOOK I. QUEEN HYNDE.

Whether to save the holy isle From woman's snare and witching wile, Or once again to fold the charms Of beauty in their idle arms, I nothing wot ; but all was vain, For, in the chancel of the fane, Columba rose before the band, With crosier stretch'd in his right hand. — " Hold, my loved brethren — is it best Thus to expel a royal guest ? We not as woman her receive, But Scotland's representative ; And meet it is that maids should be Tending on virgin royalty."— That word was law — the rage was o'er, The stem Saint Oran said no more : He sat down on his chair of stone, Shook his grey head, and gave a groan. Come, view the barefoot group with me, Kneeling upon one bended knee, In two long piles — a lane between, Where pass the maidens and their queen, Up to the sacred altar stone, Where good Columba stands alone.

There was one maiden of the train Known by the name of Wicked Wene ; A lovely thing, of slender make, Who mischief wrought for mischief's sake ; And never was her heart so pleased As when a man she vex'd or teazed. By few at court she was approved, And yet by all too well beloved ; So dark, so powerful was her eye, Her mien so witching and so sly, That every youth, as she inclined, Was mortified, reserved, or kind ; This day would curse her in disdain, And next would sigh for Wicked Wene. No sooner had this fairy eyed The looks demure on either side,