X.

O’er James’s heart, the courtiers say, Sir Hugh the Heron’s wife held sway: To Scotland’s Court she came, To be a hostage for her lord, Who Cessford’s gallant heart had gored, And with the king to make accord Had sent his lovely dame. Nor to that lady free alone Did the gay king allegiance own; For the fair Queen of France Sent him a turquoise ring and glove, And charged him, as her knight and love, For her to break a lance; And strike three strokes with Scottish brand, And march three miles on Southron land, And bid the banners of his band In English breezes dance. And thus for France’s queen he drest His manly limbs in mailèd vest; And thus admitted English fair His inmost counsels still to share: And thus, for both, he madly planned The ruin of himself and land! And yet, the sooth to tell, Nor England’s fair, nor France’s Queen, Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, From Margaret’s eyes that fell, His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow’s bower, All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour.