Part 2 / Act 5 — YOUNG ARGYLE; OR, STANZAS TO LETHINGTON CASTLE.

Argyle, the state’s whole thunder born to wield,

And shake alike the senate or the field.—Pope.

Nor less the palm of peace enwreathes thy brow;

For, powerful as thy sword, from thy rich tongue

Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate;

While mix’d in thee combine the charm of youth,

The force of manhood, and the depth of age.—Thomson.

312Lethington House is situated on the south banks of the Tyne, rather more than a mile from Haddington. This fortalice was built by the Giffords, and was purchased from Sir John Gifford by Sir Richard Maitland, about the end of the fourteenth century. It was in this “fortress, large and lang,” in its “arbour, and orchard green,” where Lord Lethington, the blind baron, dictated his poetical pieces, after he had retired from public business, at an advanced age, to his daughter Mary, the partner of his studies, and herself a writer of verses, who was celebrated for her “fleing fame,” and her “trew virginitie,” by the “unknawin makars” of that period.—See Pinkerton’s Ant. Scot. Poems.—In process of time Lethington became the jointure house of the Duchess of Lauderdale, formerly Countess of Dysart. Her daughter, Lady Lorn, afterwards Duchess of Argyle, resided here during the time of her father-in-law’s forfeiture.—It was from a window in the uppermost storey of the house that John, Duke of Argyle, fell when an infant, and escaped unhurt.—Dr Barclay, Trans. Ant. Scot. I have only to add, on the authority of Sir Walter Scott, that this happened on the very day on which the duke’s grandfather was beheaded at Edinburgh.

313

YOUNG ARGYLE; OR STANZAS TO LETHINGTON CASTLE.

I.

Old Lethington! wert thou by Gifford rear’d

With magic art, like Yester’s goblin cave,^[17]

What time the Night her course to morning steer’d

And the owl whoop’d upon the virgin’s grave;

Say, did thy master-builder Heaven brave,

And with unearthly craftsmen overnight

From Garvald’s quarry drag, by hook and knave,

Those massy battlements ere morning’s light

To strike the early swain with wonder and affright?

314II.

It matters not to tell—but o’er the pines

I love to view thy turrets towering grey,

Which braved the fiery blast of feudal times,

And still unbroke their lofty front display.

Though thou hast seen thy lordlings pass away,

And castled towers and abbeys fall around,

Yet here thy veteran face appears as gay

As when the warrior’s horn at morn did sound,

And gallant Lindsay paced thy spacious pleasure-ground.^[18]

III.

And, hark! resounds the clashing din of war,

On adamantine walls the arrows play;

Against thy gates, strong laced with iron bar,

The battering-ram rolls on in fierce array;

Now high thy famish’d garrison display

The skin of beasts, to mock what most they need,

While shakes thy tower from vault to turret gray,

As on the invader’s head the pointed reed

From cunning crevice pours the boiling molten lead.

315IV.

How oft by innate strength and stratagem

Did Scotia’s ancient fortlets brave the foe,

Whether when feudal chiefs chivalrous came,

Or civil discord wrapt the land in woe;

Or when the robber’s torch at night did glow,

And shrieks of murder’d men came on the gale,

The chiefs of Lethington were never slow,

To draw the sword, or brace the glitt’ring mail,

And chase the bold outlaw o’er farthest Lauderdale.

V.

Then Lauder’s forest to the bugle rung,

Startling marauders from their mountain prey,

As morning rose, deplored by old and young,

Where ravaged round the burning farm-yards lay;

These were fierce men, the scourges of their day,

Who on the sea of venture did embark,

And, as we’re told in Maitland’s doleful lay,

Spared neither house nor stable, church nor ark,

And loved the midnight ride, because their deeds were dark.

316VI.

Lo! crown’d with laurel, in his oaken chair,

I see the ancient knight of Thirlestane,

Attended by Maria, chaste and fair,

Amanuensis to his tuneful strain,

Like Milton’s daughter, copying the rich vein

Of inspiration, as her father woke

The harp: Then humorous Lindsay breathed again,

While moral saws, and satire’s flashes broke,

As erst by Greece’s bard in optic darkness spoke.

VII.

O Lethington! thy woodlands are sublime,

Where everlasting trees their green arms wave,

Like giant-shadows beautified by time,

Shaking their shaggy locks when tempests rave;

Here walk’d the politician plotting grave;^[19]

Here sighs from icy bosoms beauty wrung;

Here, young Argyle—the generous and the brave—

First woke to eloquence his artless tongue,

Where beauteous Lennox smiled, and old Sir Richard sung.

317VIII.

’Tis sweet, at summer’s noon, on thy high tower,

When half obscured the sun looks softly bright,

To view the amber heights of Lammermoor,

Bathed in a misty veil of living light,

While hill and dale alternate charm the sight,

And hum of birds, and distant murmuring stream,

Sound in the ear like music in the night,

While, through the copsewood, Coalston’s turrets gleam,

And still remind us of her Margaret’s ominous dream.

IX.

The Lady lay upon her marriage-bed,

And saw the Enchanted Pear of Coalston; fair

As Eden’s tree, it rear’d its lovely head

That look’d more sweet, as whispers said, Beware!

For while the magic cornac flourish’d there,

So spread and flourish’d Coalston’s rich estate;

But the young bride long’d for a fruit so rare,—

Now touch’d it—tasted—the enchantment ate—

Awoke—it was a dream! but big with future fate.

318X.

If Coalston had its pear, fair Lethington!

Thou hadst thy apples, with which none may vie;

As Jove’s own fruit, thy boughs beneath them groan,

Like aromatic sweets dropt from the sky—

Beneath their shades the archers oft would try

Their strength of arm; and, at the day’s decline,

They tasted Maitland’s hospitality

In draughts of Angiers that gleam’d divine,

And fed their hearts with joy, as erst it fed the vine.

XI.

Thy walks were spacious once, fair Lethington!

When Charles the Witty made his progress here,

What time the Duke, who reign’d above the throne,

Thy many parks stored full of stately deer,^[20]

That venison-loving kings might not want cheer,

Nor the fat cook be taken by surprise;

Happy to leave the state—the spit to steer,

And look an epicure in royal eyes,

Who ne’er spoke nonsense, yet, ne’er acted wise!

319XII.

With Charles fair Lennox might have shared the throne;

For o’er his heart she held despotic sway:

Amidst the loveliest of the court she shone,

As Venus shines amidst the starry way,

Dimming each lesser planet with her ray,

She walk’d in beauty like the sylphs above,

The diamond stone of nature’s galaxy—

Girdled with cestus by the graces wove,

Like her who from the waves uprose the Queen of Love!

XIII.

Francis Teresa! on thy fine-arch’d brow,

Minerva’s conquering aspect we descry,

While in that face where smiles through roses glow,

And in the lustre of that dark-blue eye,

Shaded by auburn ringlets, we espy

The Cyprian queen, while on thy breast of snow

Perfection leans,—and claims the heart’s soft sigh;

Before such form a monarch well might bow,

Admiring nature’s works, as we the canvass now.

320XIV.

Farewell, fair Lennox! for severer themes

Than Beauty now demand the muse’s care;

The patriot’s brow the deathless laurel claims,

While rosy chaplets best become the fair;

Though gems grow dim in thy luxuriant hair,

I seek the couch where lone Eliza lies—

Alas! that hope should waken to despair,

That tears should cloud affection’s doting eyes:—

“Come, lady, fair, awake! the sun is in the skies.

XV.

“Lady of Lorn! the morning bids thee wake,

Her purple beams gild Lammerlaw’s high steep;

The lark is springing from the dewy brake,

Rousing the minstrels of the air to keep

Their woodland concert. ’Tis not meet to sleep

While on the battlements thy baby fair

Forth from his vagrant nurse has dared to creep

To sip alone the balmy-breathing air;

Lady of Lorn, awake! or waken in despair!”

321XVI.

Thus spake the warning spirit of a dream,

When lovely from her couch, dishevell’d, wild,

Uprose the Flower of Dysart with a scream,

As she beheld a writhing serpent coil’d

Around her child, while each swollen artery boil’d;

And as with shrieks far Coalston’s echoes rung,

The emerald turf with infant’s blood was soil’d;

She heard the death-notes freeze upon his tongue—

When, reckless where she went, away the lady sprung.

XVII.

She sought her boy in castle-tower and wood;

But he was not in nursery nor in hall—

When ’neath the casement’s lofty sash she stood,

And heard his gentle voice upon her call.

Sprung from his nurse’s arms in gamesome brawl,

Next moment on the ground he bit the soil,

Roll’d up, then to his little limbs ’gan crawl,

Look’d in his mother’s face with playful smile,

And rose—a miracle! unhurt the Young Argyle!

322XVIII.

It was a dreadful omen, at that hour,

Which nearly a long line of glory broke,

When Young Argyle fell from the lofty tower

On the green-turf unscath’d—upon the block

His grandsire laid his head; alas! the shock

Was felt by Freedom; it severely shew’d

The gratitude of kings, and did provoke

That slumbering justice which so fiercely glow’d,

When man at last “appeal’d from tyranny to God.”

XIX.

Soon Campbell rose, renown’d for arts and arms,

Free in the senate—bold in battle-field;

Now awed with Roman fire and personal charms;

Now freedom’s champion—now his sovereign’s shield;

His country’s thunders early taught to wield,

Witness Ramillies, Oudenarde, Ghent, and Lisle.

Tournay, Minorca, to his prowess yield;

While spake the master-spirits of the Isle,

And Pope and Thomson strove to laud the Young Argyle!

323

NOTES TO YOUNG ARGYLE; or, STANZAS TO LETHINGTON

Stanza ii. page 314.

I love to view thy turrets towering grey,

Which braved the fiery blast of feudal times,

And still unbroke their lofty front display.

The following verses, addressed to Lethington, which are so descriptive of an ancient chateau of that period, were copied from the Maitland MS. (preserved at Cambridge,) by Mr Pinkerton, and published in his collection of Ancient Scottish Poems. The poem appears to have been written by an “unknawin makar,” who, in gratitude for the “treitting and gud cheir” which he met with at Lethington, could “nae mair silence hauld, but put furth his mynd to rehers the joy” which he found in the castle. We shall confine ourselves to the descriptive parts, as being most interesting to posterity, leaving out the introductory similes respecting Virgil’s Mantua and Catullus’s Verone.

IN PRAYSE OF LETHINGTOUN.

To speik of thee, O Lethingtoun!

Quhilk standis fair on Tyne;

Quhais worthie praysis and renown

Transcendis my ingyne.

Thou merits Homer and Virgil,

Thy worschip till advance,

And put thy name, digne and nobill,

In dew rememberance.

Thy tour and fortres lairge and lang,

Thy nychhours dois excell;

And for thy wallis, thik and strang,

Thou justly beirs the bell.

324Thy groundis deip, and toppis hie

Uprising in the air;

Thy vaultis plesand ar to sie,

Thay ar so greit and fair.

Thy work to luik on is delyite,

So clein, so sound, so evin;

Thy alryne^[21] is a marvall greit,

Upreiching to the hevin.

O quhat plesour is to be thair,

As Phœbus dois upryise,

To sie the wood and feildis fair,

Quhilk round about thee lyis!

* * * * *

Greit was the work to houke the ground,

And thy foundatioun cast;

Bot greater it was thee to found,

And end thee at the last.

I merveill that he did not feir,

Quha rasit thee on hicht,

That na foundatioun sould thee beir

Bot thou sould sink for wecht.

* * * * *

Bot the to plenisch and fulfill,

And mak thy worke compleit,

Quhoso it richt considder will,

Wes worke of no les spreit.

Thy beddis soft, and tapeis fair,

Thy treitting and gud cheir;

Gif I the treuth wald now declair,

I wait thow hes no peir.

* * * * *

Thy arbour and thy orchard grene,

I cannot pass it by,

A thing maist semelie to be sene

Under thy wall dois ly;

325Maist plesand place to mak repair,

Thairin to sit or gang;

Thy knottis; and thy alleis fair,

Quhilk are bayth braid and lang.

Thy buttis, biggit neir thame by,

Sa suire, but sone or wind,

Maist plesand place of archerie

That e’er I yit could find.

Thow hes a thousand plesoures ma,

That my toung cannot tell,

O happie war he that micht ay

Bot troubill in thee dwell!

And happie art thou, sic a place,

That few thy mak are sene;

Bot yit mair happie far that race

To quhome thou dois pertene.

Quha dois not knaw the Maitland bluid,

The best in all this land;

In quhilk sumtyme the honour stuid

And worship of Scotland?

Stanza viii. page 317.

While, through the copsewood, Coalston’s turrets gleam,

And still remind us of her Margaret’s ominous dream.

The Enchanted Pear of Coalston, which was considered a sufficient dowry for a lady, was the gift, it is supposed, of Hugh Gifford, the magician of Yester. “The heiress of his family,” says Sharpe, “married Sir William Hay of Locharret, ancestor of John, third Lord Hay of Yester, whose daughter Jean became the wife of Mr. Brown of Coalston. This lady’s dowry consisted of a single pear, probably enchanted by her ancestor, which her father declared to be invaluable; assuring the Laird of Coalston, that while the pear was preserved in the family, it would certainly continue to flourish. This palladium is still carefully treasured up; but there is a mark on one side, made by the eager teeth of a lady of Coalston, who, while breeding, longed for the forbidden fruit, and was 326permitted to take one bite by her too-indulgent husband; in consequence, some of the best farms on the estate very speedily came to market. Crawford, the peerage-writer, thus mentions the superstition in his MS. account of the Browns of Coalston:—‘They had a pear in their family, which they esteemed yer palladium; it’s reported, that Betty Mackenzie, when she married George Brown of Colstoun, the first night she came to the house of Colstoun, dreamed that she had eat the pear, which her father-in-law looked on as a bad omen, and expressed great fears that she should be an instrument in the destruction of the house of Colstoun.’”—See Sharpe’s Prefatory Notice to Law’s Memoriallis, p. 14. Notwithstanding these predictions, the house of Coalston still flourishes in the female line, in the person of Lady Dalhousie.

Stanza xii. page 319.

With Charles fair Lennox might have shared the throne;

For o’er his heart she held despotic sway.

Frances Teresa, Duchess of Lennox, was daughter to the Hon. Walter Stuart, M.D., son of Walter, first Lord Blantyre. This lady was of exquisite beauty, which, if justly represented in a puncheon made by Rottiere, engraver of the Mint, exhibits the finest face that perhaps ever appeared.—Mem. Gramont, vol. i. p. 272. Charles II. was desperately enamoured of her, and it was said there was a design on foot to get him divorced from the queen, that he might marry this lady;—but to his great indignation, and to her honour, she espoused Charles, sixth Duke of Richmond and Lennox. Bishop Burnet says, the king disgraced Lord Clarendon for not preventing this marriage. Charles’s romantic regard is evident from his ordering a coinage, as mentioned above, whereon her portrait was represented as Britannia on the reverse.—See Fenton’s Notes to Waller. There is a portrait of this celebrated beauty in the Memoires de Gramont, and in Pinkerton’s Iconographia Scotica; as also a fine full-length painting in Lethington-house. The latter likewise contains, among many other fine family-likenesses, excellent portraits of Queen Mary, the Marquis of Montrose, Lord Belhaven, and the Admirable Crichton.

327