Part 23 (2/2)
*The Dethe of the Kynge of Scottis.
Then turning to the fire James seized the tongs, ”and under his feet he mightily brast up a blank of the chamber,”* and leaping down into the vault beneath he let the plank fall again into its place. By this vault the King might have escaped, for until three days before there had been a hole leading from it to the open air. But as he played tennis his b.a.l.l.s often rolled into this hole and were lost. So he had ordered it to be built up.
*The same.
There was nothing, then, for the King to do but wait. Meanwhile the noise grew louder and louder, the traitors came nearer and nearer. One brave lady named Catherine Douglas, hoping to keep them out, and so save the King, thrust her arm through the iron loops on the door where the great bolt should have been. But against the savage force without, her frail, white arm was useless. The door was burst open. Wounded and bleeding, Catherine Douglas was thrown aside and the wild horde stormed into the room.
It was not long ere the King's hiding-place was found, and one of the traitors leaped down beside him with a great knife in his hand. ”And the King, doubting him for his life, caught him mightily by the shoulders, and with full great violence cast him under his feet. For the King was of his person and stature a man right manly strong.”*
*The same.
Seeing this, another traitor leaped down to help his fellow.
”And the King caught him manly by the neck, both under him that all a long month after men might see how strongly the King had holden them by the throats.”*
*The same.
Fiercely the King struggled with his enemies, trying to wrench their knives from them so that he might defend himself. But it was in vain. Seeing him grow weary a third traitor, the King's greatest enemy, Robert Grahame, leaped down too into the vault, ”with a horrible and mortal weapon in his hand, and therewithal he smote him through the body, and therewithal the good King fell down.”*
*The same.
And thus the poet King died with sixteen wounds in his brave heart and many more in his body. So at the long last our story has a sad ending. But we have to remember that for twelve years King James had a happy life, and that as he had loved his lady at the first so he loved her to the end, and was true to her.
Besides The King's Quair, there are a few other short poems which some people think King James wrote. They are very different from the Quair, being more like the ballads of the people, and most people think now that James did not write them. But because they are different is no real reason for thinking that they are not his. For James was quite clever enough, we may believe, to write in more than one way.
Besides these doubtful poems, there is one other poem of three verses about which no one has any doubt. I will give you one verse here, for it seems in tune with the King's own life and sudden death.
”Be not our proud in thy prosperite, Be not o'er proud in thy prosperity, For as it c.u.mis, sa will it pa.s.s away; For as it comes, so will it pa.s.s away; Thy tym to compt is short, thou may weille se Thy time to count is short, thou mayst well see For of green gres soyn c.u.mis walowit hay, For of green gra.s.s soon cometh withered hay, Labour is trewth, quhill licht is of the day.
Labour in truth, while light is of the day.
Trust maist in G.o.d, for he best gyd thee can, Trust most in G.o.d, for he best guide thee can, And for ilk inch he wil thee quyt a span.”
And for each inch he will thee requite a span.
BOOKS TO READ
An ill.u.s.tration of this chapter may be read in The Fair Maid of Perth, by Sir Walter Scott; The King's Tragedy (poetry), by D. G.
Rossetti in his Poetical Works. The best version of The King's Quair in the ancient text is by W. W. Skeat.
Chapter x.x.x DUNBAR--THE WEDDING OF THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE
THE fifteenth century, the century in which King James I reigned and died, has been called the ”Golden Age of Scottish Poetry,”
because of the number of poets who lived and wrote then. And so, although I am only going to speak of one other Scottish poet at present, you must remember that there were at this time many more. But of them all William Dunbar is counted the greatest.
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