The King's Tragedy (Huntington Library Manuscript) Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 © Huntington Library The King's Tragedy<lb/> James I of Scots.<lb/> {20<hi rend="sup">th</hi> February, 1437} Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1881 fair copy with corrections 51 notebook leaves DGR DGR Huntington Library HM6095 white lined notebook paper 18 x 11.2 cm Commentary
Introduction

This is the printer's copy manuscript for the first publication of the poem in the 1881 <hi rend="i">Ballads and Sonnets</hi> volume. It is comprised of two distinct parts: a completed text of the unrevised version of the poem (45 leaves); and a transcript (6 leaves) of two parts of the poem that DGR altered and made additions to: lines 519-588 and 742-814. The manuscript concludes with a second copy of lines 568-572.

Textual History: Composition

The poem was composed between December 1880 and February 1881. This copy was made shortly afterwards and completed on 20 February 1881. The revised section (the 6 concluding leaves) would have been added shortly afterwards. The latter is a text that would itself be revised by DGR.

Textual History: Revision

Production History

Reception History

Iconographic

Printing History

Pictorial

Historical

Literary

Translation

Autobiographical

Bibliographic

125 Two pagination numbers, the first by DGR <hi rend="u">The King's Tragedy</hi> <lb/>James I of Scots<lb/>{20<hi rend="sup">th</hi> Feb, 1437} I Catherine was am a Douglas born, A name to all Scots dear; And Kate Barlass they've called me now Through many an aging a waning year. This old arm's withered now. 'Twas once Most deft 'mong maidens all To rein the steed, to wing the shaft, To smite the palm-play ball. In hall adown the close-linked dance It has shone most white and fair; It has been the rest for a true lord's head, And many a sweet babe's cradle nursing-bed, And the bar to a King's chambère. Aye, lasses, draw round Kate Barlass, And hark with bated breath How good King James, King Robert's son, Was foully done to death. blank page 2 Pagination number by DGR Through all the days of his gallant youth The princely James was pent, By his friends at first and then by his foes, In long imprisonment. For the elder Prince, the kingdom's heir, By treason's murderous brood Was slain; and the father quaked for the child With the royal mortal blood. In I' the Bass Rock fort, by his father's will care, Was his childhood's life assured; And Henry the subtle Bolingbroke, Proud England's King, 'neath the southron yoke His youth for long years immured. Yet in all things meet for a kingly man Himself did he approve; And the nightingale through his prison-wall Taught him both lore and love. blank page 3 Pagination number by DGR For once, when the bird's song drew him close To the opened window-pane, In her bowers beneath a lady stood, A light of life to his sorrowful mood, Like a lily amid the rain. And for her sake, to the sweet bird's note, He framed a sweeter Song, More sweet than ever a poet's heart Gave yet to the English tongue. She was a lady of royal blood; And when, past sorrow and teen, He stood where for many/ all still through his crownless years His Scotish realm had been, At Scone were the happy lovers crowned, A heart-wed King and Queen. But the bird may fall from the bough of youth, And song may be turned to moan, And Love's storm-cloud be the shadow of Hate, When the tempest-waves of a troubled State Are beating against a throne. blank page 4 Pagination number by DGR Yet well they loved; and the god of Love, Whom well the King had sung, Could have found no simple Might find on the earth no truer hearts His lowliest swains among. From the days when first she rode abroad With Scotish maids in her train, I Catherine Douglas won the trust Of my mistress sweet Queen Jane. And oft she sighed, “To be born a King!” And oft along the way When she saw the homely lovers pass She has said, “Alack the day!” Years pa waned,—the loving & toiling years: Till England's wrong renew'd/paid ? wrong renewed Drove James, by outrage cast on his crown, To the open field of feud/war feud. 'Twas when the King and his host were met At the leaguer of Roxbro' hold, The Queen o' the sudden sought his camp With a tale of dread to be told. blank page 5 Pagination number by DGR And she showed him a secret letter writ That spoke of treasonous strife, And how a band of his noblest lords Were sworn to take his life. “And it may be here or it may be there, In the camp or the court,” she said: “But for my sake come to your people's arms And guard your royal head.” Quoth he, “'Tis the fifteenth day of the siege, And the castle's nigh to yield.” “O face your foes on your throne,” she cried, “And show the power you wield; And under your Scotish people's love You shall sit as under your shield.” At the fair Queen's side I stood that day When he bade them raise the siege, And back to his Court he sped to larn know How the lords would meet their Liege. blank page 6 Pagination number by DGR But when he summoned his Parliament, The louring brows hung round, Like clouds that circle the mountain-head Ere the first low thunders sound. For he had tamed the nobles' lust And curbed their power and pride, And reached out an arm to right the poor Through Scotland far and wide; And many a lordly wrong-doer By the headsman's axe had died. 'Twas then upspoke Sir Robert Græme, The bold o'ermastering man:— “O King, in the name of your Three Estates I set you under their ban! “For, as your lords made oath to you Of service and fealty, Even in like wise you pledged your oath Their faithful sire to be:— DGR drafted recieved lines 119-121 on this page and marked them for insertion at the appropriate place in the text. Quoth the King:“Thou speak'st but for one Estate, Nor doth it avow thy gage. Let my liege lords hale this traitor hence!” 7 Pagination number by DGR “Yet all we here that are nobly sprung Have mourned dear kith and kin Since first for the Scotish Barons' curse Did your bloody rule begin.” With that he laid his hands on his King:— “Is this not so, my lords?” But of all who had sworn to league with him Not one spake back to his words. Quoth the King, “Hale hence thou traitor knight!” The Græme fired dark with rage:— “Who works for lesser men than himself, He earns but a witless wage!” But soon from the dungeon where he lay He won by privy plots, And forth he fled with a price on his head To the country of the Wild Scots. And word there came from Sir Robert Græme To the King at Edinbro':— blank page 8 Pagination number by DGR “No Liege of mine thou art; but I see From this day forth alone in thee God's creature, my mortal foe. “Through thee are my wife and children lost, My heritage and lands; And when my God shall show me a way, Thyself my mortal foe will I slay With these my proper hands.” Against the coming of Christmastide That year the King bade call I' the Black Friars' Charterhouse of Perth A kingly solemn festival. And we of his household rode with him In a close-ranked company; But not till the moon was high in the clouds sun had sunk from his throne Did we reach the Scotish Sea. That eve was clenched for a boding storm, 'Neath a moon ? bare and ? toilsome moon half seen; DGR worked hard at revising received lines 157-161. The first version of the stanza is written then cancelled on page 9; then DGR recast it at the bottom of the facing verso, but cancelled that as well. Pencil revisions appear around this second cancelled stanza that anticipate the final version, which is written above the second cancelled stanza on this page. And was it only the tossing furns Or brake of the waste sea-wold? Or was it an eagle bent to the blast? When then near we came, we knew it at last For a woman tattered and old. And first 'twas the tossing ferns, and then Meseemed 'twas only the tossing ferns Torn trees Or brake/signbrake/copse of the waste sea-wold? Or was it And then an eagle bent to the blast? And then an unstartled deer, and last 'Twas a woman tattered and old. 9 Pagination number by DGR The clouds stooped low and the surf rose high; And where there was a line of the sky, The Wild wings loomed dark between.— By fits But once the moon sailed clear of the rack On high in her hollow dome; And still then as with hoary upreared crest upreared Each boisterous wave rang home, Like fire in snow the moonlight blazed Amid the champing foam. And on a rock of the dark black beach-side, As the moon fell dim again By the veiled moon dimly lit, There was something seemed to heave with life At the tread of the royal train As the King drew nigh to it. And first 'twas the tossing ferns, and then Torn trees of the waste sea-wold? And then an eagle bent to the blast? And then an unstartled deer, and last 'Twas a woman tattered and old. DGR drafted recieved lines 165-170 on this page and marked them for insertion at the appropriate place in the text. The equivalent text that he had originally written on page 9 has been cancelled. But now / And 'Twas then the moon sailed clear of the rack On high in her hollow dome; And still as aloft with hoary upreared crest Each boisterous clamorous wave rang home, Like fire in snow the moonlight blazed Amid the champing foam. 10 Pagination number by DGR Sig. I. p. 113 Compositor notation between lines 182 and 183. But it seemed as though by a fire within Her writhen limbs were wrung; And as soon as the King was close to her, She stood up gaunt and strong. And she met the woman held his eyes with her eyes and said:— “O King, thou art come at last; But thy wraith has haunted the Scotish Sea To my sight for four years past. “Four years it is since first I met, 'Twixt the Duchray and the Dhu, A shape whose feet clung close in a shroud, And that shape for thine I knew. “A year again, and on Inchkeith Isle I saw thee fleet past pass in the breeze, With the cerecloth risen above thy feet And wound about thy knees. “And yet a year, in the Links of Forth, As a wanderer without rest, Thou cam'st with both thine arms i' the shroud That clung high up thy breast. blank page 11 Pagination number by DGR Bass Compositor's name inserted in the left margin. “And in this hour I find thee here, And well mine eyes may note That the winding-sheet hath passed thy breast And risen around thy throat. “And when I meet thee again, O King, That of death hast such sore drouth,— Unless Except thou turn again on this shore,— The winding-sheet shall have moved once more And covered thine eyes and mouth. “O King, for whom poor folk men bless the for their King, Of thy fate be not so fain; But these my words for God's counsel message take, And turn thy steed, O King, for her sake Who rides beside thy rein!” While the woman spoke, the King's horse reared As if it would breast the sea, And the Queen turned pale as she heard on the gale The voice die ? dolorously. blank page 12 Pagination number by DGR When the woman ceased, the steed was still, But the King gazed on her yet, And in silence save for the wail of the wind sea His eyes and her eyes met. At last he said:—“God's ways are His own; Man is but shadow and dust. Last night I prayed by His altar-stone; To-night I wend to the Feast of His Son; And in Him I set my trust. “I have held this poor for a my people in sacred charge, And have not feared the sting Of proud men's hate,—to His/God's His will resign'd There is Who has but one same death for a human hind And one same death for a human King. “And if God in His wisdom have brought close The day when I must die, That day by water or fire or air My feet shall fall in the destined snare Wherever my road may lie. blank page 13 Pagination number by DGR “What man can say but the Fiend hath set Thy sorcery on my path, My heart with the fear of death to fill, And turn me against God's very will To sink in His burning wrath?” The woman stood as the train passed on rode past, And moved nor limb nor eye; And when we were shipped, we saw her there Still standing against the sky. As the ship made way, the moon once more Sank slow in her rising pall; And I thought of the shrouded wraith of the King, And I said, “Doth the moon The Heavens know all.” And now, ye lasses, must ye hear How my name is Kate Barlass:— But a little thing, when all the tale Is told of the weary mass Of crime and woe which in Scotland's realm God's will let come to pass. DGR drafted recieved lines 251-254 on this page and marked them for insertion at the appropriate place in the text. And when the wind swooped over the night lift And made the whole heaven frown, It seemed a grip was laid on the walls To tug the housetop down. 14 Pagination number by DGR 'Twas in the Charterhouse of Perth That the King and all his Court Were met, the Christmas Feast being done, For solace and disport. 'Twas a wind-wild eve in February, And against the lattice casement-pane The branches smote like summoning hands And muttered the driving rain. And the Queen was there, more stately fair Than a lily in garden set; And the King was loth to stir from her side; For as on the day when she was his bride, Even so he loved her yet. And the Earl of Athole, the King's false friend, Sat with him at the board; And Robert Stuart the chamberlain Who had sold his sovereign Lord. Yet the traitor Christopher Chaumber there Would fain have told him all, And vainly four times that night he strove To reach the King through the hall. blank page 15 Pagination number by DGR Skinner Compositor's name marked at the top left margin But the wine is bright at the goblet's brim Though the poison lurk beneath; And the apples still are red on the tree Within whose leaves shade may the adder be That shall turn thy life to death. There was a knight of the King's fast friends Whom he called the King of Love; And to his such bright cheer and courtesy Such That name might best behove. And the King and Queen both loved him well For his gentle knightliness; And with him the King, as that eve wore on, Was playing at the chess. And the King said, (for he thought to jest And soothe the Queen thereby;)— “A rede have I read In a book 'tis writ that in this same year A King should shall in Scotland die. “And I have pondered the matter o'er, And this have I found, Sir Hugh,— There are but two Kings on Scotish ground, And those Kings are I and you. blank page 16 Pagination number by DGR “And I have a wife and a young babe newborn heir, And you are yourself alone; And good it is that you stand up stark So stand you stark at my side with me To guard our double throne. “For here sit I and my wife and child, As well your heart shall approve, In full surrender and soothfastness, Beneath your Kingdom of Love.” And the Knight laughed, and the Queen too smiled; But I knew her heavy thought, And I strove to find in the good King's jest What cheer might thence be wrought. And I said, “My Liege, for the Queen's dear sake love Now sing the song that of old You made, when a captive Prince you lay, And the nightingale sang sweet on the spray, In Windsor's castle-hold.” blank page 17 Pagination number by DGR Then he smiled the smile I knew so well When he thought to please the Queen; The smile which under all bitter frowns Of fate that rose between, For ever dwelt at the poet's heart A Like the bird of love unseen. And he kissed the Queen her hand and took his harp, And the music sweetly rang; And when the song burst forth, it seemed 'Twas the nightingale that sang. “Worship, ye lovers, on this May: Of bliss your kalends are begun: Sing with us, Away, Winter, away! Come, Summer, the sweet season & sun! Awake for shame,—your heaven is won,— And amorously your heads lift all: Thank Love, that you to his grace doth call!” But when he bent to the Queen, and sang The speech whose praise was hers, It seemed his voice was the voice of the Spring And the voice of the bygone years. blank page 18 Pagination number by DGR “The fairest and the freshest flower That ever I saw before that hour, The which o' the sudden made to start The blood of my body to my heart. * * * * * Ah sweet, are ye a worldly creature Or heavenly thing in form of nature?” And the song was long, and richly stored With wonder and beauteous things; And the harp was tuned to every change Of minstrel ministerings; But when he spoke of the Queen at the last, Its strings were his own heart-strings. “Unworthy but only of her grace, Upon Love's rock that's easy and sure, In guerdon of all my lovè's space She took me her humble creäture. Thus fell my blissful aventure In youth of love that from day to day Flowereth aye new, and further I say. blank page 19 Pagination number by DGR green [?] Transcribed by DGR in the left margin. “To reckon of all the circumstance As it happed when lessen gan my sore, Of my rancour and woful chance, It were too long,—I have done therefor. And of this flower I say no more But unto my help her heart hath tended And even from death her man defended.” “Aye, even from death,” to myself I thought said; And For I thought of the day when she Had brought borne him the news, at Roxbro' siege, Of the fell confederacy. But Death even then took aim as he sang With an arrow deadly bright; And the grinning skull lurked grimly aloof, And the wings were spread far over the roof More dark than the winter night. Yet truly along the amorous song Of Love's high pomp and state, There were words of Fortune's trackless doom And the dreadful face of Fate. blank page 20 Pagination number by DGR And oft have I heard again in dreams The voice of dire appeal In which the King then sang of the pit That is under Fortune's wheel. “And under the wheel beheld I there An ugly pit as deep as hell, That to behold I quaked for fear: And this I heard, that who therein fell Came no more up, tidings to tell: Whereat, astound of the fearful sight, I wist not what to do for fright.” And oft has my thought called up again These words of the changeful song:— “Wist thou thy pain and thy travàil To come, well might'st thou weep and wail!” And our wail, O God! is long. But the song's end was all of his love; And well his heart was grac'd With the smile that shone from her life and eyes her smiling lips and her tear-bright eyes When As his arm went round her waist. blank page 21 Pagination number by DGR Sig. K. p. 129 Compositor notation between lines 398 and 399. And on the swell of her long fair throat Close clung the necklet-chain As he bent her pearl-tir'd head aside, And in the warmth of his joy love and pride He kissed her lips again full fain. And her fair true face was a rosy red, The very red of the rose That, couched on the happy garden-bed, In the summer sunlight glows. And all the wondrous things of love That sang so sweet through the song Were in the look that met in their eyes, And the look was deep and long. 'Twas then a knock came at the outer gate, And the usher sought the King. “The woman you met by the Scotish Sea, My Liege, would tell you a thing; And she says that her present need for speech Will bear no gainsaying.” blank page 22 Pagination number by DGR And the King said: “The hour is late; To-morrow will serve, I ween.” Then he charged the usher strictly, and said: “No word of this to the Queen.” But the usher came again to the King. “Shall I call her back?” quoth he: “For as she went on her way, she cried, ‘Woe! Woe! then the thing must be!‘” And the King paused, but he did not speak. Then he called for the Voidee-cup: And as we heard the twelfth hour strike, There by true lips and false lips alike Was the draught of trust drained up. So with reverence meet to King and Queen, To bed went all from the board; And the last to leave of the courtly train Was Robert Stuart the chamberlain Who had sold his sovereign lord. blank page 23 Pagination number by DGR Smith Compositor's name in upper left margin And all the locks of the chamber-door Had the traitor riven and brast; And that Fate might win sure way from afar, He had drawn out every bolt and bar That made the entrance fast. And now at midnight he stole his way To the moat of the outer wall, And closely he laid strong plamks hurdles closely across Where the traitors' tread should fall. But we that were the Queen's bower-maids Alone were left behind; And with heed we drew the curtains close Against the winter wind. And now that all was still through the hall, More clearly we heard the rain That clamoured ever against the glass And the boughs that beat on the pane. blank page 24 Pagination number by DGR But the fire was bright in the ingle-nook, And through empty space around The shadows cast up on the arras'd wall 'Mid the pictured kings stood sudden and tall Like spectres sprung from the ground. And the bed was dight in a deep alcove; And as he stood by the fire The King was still in talk with the Queen While he doffed his goodly attire. And the song had brought the image back Of many a bygone year; And many a loving word they said, With hand in hand and head laid to head; And none of us went anear. But Love was weeping outside the house, A child in the piteous rain; And as he watched the arrow of Death, He wailed for his own shafts close in the sheath That never should fly again. blank page 25 Pagination number by DGR And now beneath the window arose A wild voice suddenly: And the King reared straight, but the Queen fell back As for bitter dule to dree; And all of us knew the woman's voice Who spoke by the Scotish Sea. “O King,” she cried, “in an evil hour They drove me from thy gate; And yet my voice must rise to thine ears; But alas! it comes too late! “Three nights agone Last night at mid-watch, by Aberdour, When the moon was dead in the skies, O King, in a death-light of its thine own I saw thy shape arise. “And in full season, as erst I said, The doom had gained its growth; And the shroud had risen above thy neck And covered thine eyes and mouth. “And no moon came woke, but the pale dawn broke, And still thy soul stood there; And I thought its silence cried to my soul As the first rays crowned its hair. blank page 26 Pagination number by DGR “Since then have I journeyed fast & fain In very despite of Fate, If Lest Hope might still be found in God's will: But they drove me from thy gate. “For every man on God's ground, O King, His death grows up from his birth In a shadow-plant perpetually; And thine towers high, a black yew-tree, O'er the Charterhouse of Perth!” That room was built far out from the house; And none but we in the room Might hear the voice that rose beneath, Nor the tread of the coming doom. For now there came a torchlight-glare, And a clang of arms there came; And not a soul that was there in that space but thought Of the fell foe Sir Robert Græme. blank page 27 Pagination number by DGR Kisbi Compositor's name in upper left margin Yea, from the country of the Wild Scots, O'er mountain, valley, and glen, He had brought with him in murderous league Three hundred armèd men. The King knew all in an instant's flash; And like a King did he stand; But there was no armour in all the room, Nor weapon lay to his hand. And all we women flew to the door And thought to have made it fast; But the bolts were gone & the bars were gone And the locks were riven and brast. And he caught the pale pale Queen in his arms As the iron footsteps fell,— Then loosed her, standing alone, and said, “That Our bliss was our farewell!” And 'twixt his lips he murmured a prayer, And he crossed his brow and breast; blank page 28 Pagination number by DGR And proudly in royal hardihood Then with set teeth and clenched hands he stood Even so with folded arms he stood,— The prize of the bloody quest. Then on me leaped the Queen like a deer:— “O Catherine, [?] help!” she cried. And I felt the strength of a mighty man As wildly across the room I ran And reached her husband's side. And the iron tongs from the chimney-nook I snatched, nor my hand did shake, But a the plank of the room at my feet I wrenched & tore; And pointed down through the open floor, And said, “My Liege, or her sake!” And he looked to the Queen, and then he came For her hands were clasped in prayer. And down he sprang to the inner crypt; And straight I closed the plank I had ripp'd And strewed spread the rushes there. blank page 29 Pagination number by DGR (Alas! in that vault a gap once was Wherethro' the King might have fled: But three days since close-walled had it been By his will; for the ball would roll therein When without at the palm he play'd.) And louder ever the voices grew, And the tramp of men in mail; Until to my brain it seemed to be As though we I tossed on a ship at sea In the teeth of a crashing gale. Then back I flew to the rest; and we and hard All We strove with sinews knit To drag force the table against the door; But we might not compass it. And now the rush was heard on the stair, And “God, what help?” did we was our cry. And was I frenzied or was I bold? And I looked at the each empty ?-hold stanchion-hold, And no bar but my arm had I! blank page 30 Pagination number by DGR Like iron felt my arm, as through The chain staple I made it pass:— Alack! it was flesh and bone—no more! 'Twas Catherine Douglas sprang to the door, But I fell back Kate Barlass. With that they all thronged into the hall, Half dim to my failing ken; And the space that was but a void before Was a crowd of raging men. Behind the door I had fall'n and lay, Yet my sense was wildly aware, And despite for all the pain of my shattered arm I never fainted there. And under the litters and through the bed And within the presses all They sought in vain for the King, & pierced The arras around the wall. DGR drafted recieved lines 601-602 on this page and marked them for insertion at the appropriate place in the text. And away from her girdle-zone He struck the point of the murderous steel; 31 Pagination number by DGR Hutchings Compositor's name written in the upper left margin. And through the chamber they stamped & stormed Like lions loose in the lair, And scarce could trust to their very eyes,— For behold! no King was there. Then one of them seized the Queen, & cried,— “Now tell us, where is thy lord?” And he held the sharp point close to her heart over her heart: She drooped not her eyes nor did she start, But she answered never a word. With that Then the sword grazed half pierced the true true breast: But Sir Robert Graham's it was the Græme's own son Cried/Said Cried, “This is a woman,—we seek a man!” And that foul deed was not done. And forth flowed all the throng like the a sea, And 'twas empty space once more; And I turned my eyes to sought out the wounded Queen As I lay behind the door. And I said: “Dear Lady, leave me here, For I cannot help you now; But fly while you may, and none shall reck Of my place here lying low.” blank page 32 Pagination number by DGR And she said, “My Catherine, God help thee!” Then she looked to the distant floor, And clasping her hands, “O God help him,” ' She said sobbed, “for we can no more!” But God He knows what help may mean, If it mean to live or to die; And what great sore sorrow and what sore mighty moan On earth it may ? cost ere yet a throne Be reached filled in h His house on high. And now the ladies fled with the Queen; And thorough the open door The night-wind wailed round the empty room And the rushes shook on the floor. And the bed stood stript drooped low in the deep dark recess Whence the arras was rent away; And the firelight still shone over the space Where our hidden secret lay. DGR drafted recieved lines 637-638 on this page and marked them for insertion at the appropriate place in the text. And the royal radiance blazon fled from the floor, And nought remained on its track; 33 Pagination number by DGR L [?] 145 Note to a compositor in left margin. And the rain had ceased, and the moonbeams lit The window high in the wall,— Bright beams that on the plank that I knew Through the painted pane did fall And glowed gleamed with the splendour of Scotland's crown And shield armorial. But then a great wind swept up the skies, And the climbing moon fell back; And high in the darkened window-pane The shield and the crown were black. And what I say next I partly heard saw And partly I saw heard in sooth, And partly since from the murderers' lips The torture wrung the truth. For now again came the armèd tread, And fast through the hall it fell; But the throng was less; and ere I saw, By the voice without I could tell That Robert Stuart had come with them Who knew that chamber well. 34 Pagination number by DGR And over the space the Græme strode dark With his mantle round him flung; And in his eye was a flaming light But not a word on his tongue. And Stuart held a torch to the floor, And he found the thing he sought; And they wrenched slashed the plank away with their swords; And O God! I fainted not! And the traitor held his torch in the gap, All smoking and smouldering; And through the vapour and fire, beneath In the dark crypt's narrow ring, With a shout that pealed to the room's high roof They saw their naked King. All Half naked he stood, but stood as one Who yet could do and dare: With the crown, the King was stript away,— The Knight was reft of his battle-array,— But still the Man was there. 35 Pagination number by DGR There was a villain among that rout,— From the rout then stepped a villain forth,— Sir John Hall was his name; With a crooked knife unsheathed he leaped t to the vault Beneath the torchlight-flame. Of his person and stature was the King A man right manly strong, And mightily by the shoulder-blades His foe with to his feet he flung. Then the traitor's brother, Sir Rob Thomas Hall, Sprang down to work his worst; And the King caught the second man by the neck And flung him above the first. And he smote and trampled them under him; And a long month thence they bare All black their throats with the grip of his hands When the hangman's hand came there. And sore he strove to have had their knives, But the sharp blades gashed his hands. DGR drafted recieved lines 697-705 on this page and marked them for insertion at the appropriate place in the text. (Now shame on the recreant traitor's heart Who dared durst not face his King Till the body unarmed was wearied out With twofold combating! Ah! well might the people sing and say, As oft ye have heard aright:— “O Robert Græme, O Robert Græme, Who slew our King, God give thee shame!” For he slew him not as a knight.) 36 Pagination number by DGR Green Compositor's name written in upper left corner Oh James! so armed, thou hadst battled there Till the help that had ca ome of thy bands; And oh! once more thou hadst held our throne And ruled thy Scotish lands! But while the King o'er his foes still raged With a heart that nought could tame, Another man sprang down to the crypt; And with his sword in his hand hard-gripp'd, There stood Sir Robert Græme. And the naked King turned round at bay, But his strength had passed the goal, And he could but gasp:—“Mine hour is come; But oh! to succour thine own soul's doom, Let a priest now shrive my soul!” And the traitor looked on the King's spent strength, And said:—“Have I kept my word?— Yea, King, the mortal pledge that I gave? No black friar's shrift thy soul shall have, But the shrift of this red sword!” DGR drafted received lines 737-741 on this page and marked them for insertion at the appropriate place in the text. But ere they came, to the black death-gap Somewise did I creep and steal; And lo! or ever I swooned away, Through the dusk I saw where the white face lay In the Pit of Fortune's Wheel. --------------------------- 37 Pagination number by DGR line break here Direction to the printer by DGR With that he smote his King through the breast; And all they three in that pen Fell on him and stabbed and stabbed him o'er and o'er there Like merciless murderous men. Yet is it said seemed it now that Sir Robert Græme, Ere the King's last breath was o'er, Turned sick at heart with the deadly sight And would have done no more. But a cry came from the troop above:— “If him thou do not slay, The price of his life that thou dost spare Thy forfeit life shall pay!” O God! what more did I hear or see, Or how should I tell the rest? But there at length did the our King lie lay slain With sixteen wounds in his breast. And now too late O God! and now did a bell boom forth, And the murderers turned and fled;— Too late, too late, O God, did it sound!— And I heard the true men mustering round, And the cries and the coming tread. blank page 38 Pagination number by DGR And now, ye Scotish maids who have heard Dread things to hear & behold,— Even at the last, of true Queen Jane May somewhat yet be told, And how she dealt for her dear lord's sake Dire vengeance manifold. 'Twas in the Charterhouse of Perth, In the royal high Chapelle fair-lit Death-chapelle, That the slain King's fair corpse on bier was laid With chaunt and requiem-knell. And by the balm of spices sweet all with royal wealth of balm Was the body purified; And none could trace on the brow and lips The death that he had died. In his robes of state he lay asleep With orb and sceptre in hand; And by the crown he wore on his throne Was his kingly forehead spann'd. blank page 39 Pagination number by DGR Skinner Compositor's name marked at the top left margin And, girls, 'twas a goodly sight sweet sad thing to see How the curling golden hair, As in the day of the poet's youth, From the King's crown clustered there. And if all had come to pass in the brain That throbbed beneath those curls, Then Scots had said in the days to come That this their soil was a different home And a different Scotland, girls! And the Queen sat by him night & day, And oft she knelt in prayer, All wan and pale in the widow's veil That shrouded her shining hair. And I had got good help of my hurt: And only to me some sign She made; and save the priests that were there, No face would she see but mine. And the month of March wore on apace; And now fresh couriers fared blank page 40 Pagination number by DGR Still from the country of the Wild Scots With news of the traitors snared. And still as I told her day by day, Her pallor changed to sight, And the frost grew to a furnace-flame That burnt her visage white. And evermore as I brought her word, She bent to her dead King James, And into his ear with teeth close set in the cold ear with fire-drawn breath She spoke the traitors' names. But when the name of Sir Robert Græme Was the one she had to give, I ran to hold her up from the floor; For the froth was on her lips, and sore I feared that she could not live. And the month of March wore nigh to its end, And still was the death-pall spread; For she would not bury her slaughtered lord Till his slayers all were dead. DGR drafted received lines 798-801 on this page and marked them for insertion at the appropriate place in the text. And now of their dooms dread tidings came, And of tortures torments fierce and dire; And nought she spake,—she had ceased to speak,— But her eyes were a soul on fire. 41 Pagination number by DGR And But when news came of I told her the bitter end Of the stern and just award, She bent leaned o'er the bier, and thrice three times She kissed the lips of her lord. And then she said,—“O James My King, they are dead!” And she knelt on the chapel-floor, And whispered low with a strange proud smile,— “James, James, they suffered more!” Last she stood up to her queenly height, But she shook like an autumn leaf, As though the fire wherein she burned Then left her body, and all were turned To winter of life-long grief. And “O James!” she said,—“My James!” she said,— “Alas for the woful thing, That a poet true and a friend of man, In desperate days of bale and ban, Should needs be born a King!” --------------- D G Rossetti 20th Feb. 1881 blank page 1 Pagination number by DGR For Sheet K page 137 as marked Publisher's notation for printing. This is DGR's retranscription, with major revisions, of lines 519-88. Then on me leaped the Queen like a deer:— “O, Catherine, help!” she cried. And low at his feet we clasped his knees Together side by side. “Oh even a King, for his people's sake, From murder's stroke may must hide!” “For her sake most!” I cried, and I said How his true heart felt the sting. And the iron tongs from the chimney-nook I snatched and held to the King:— “Wrench up the plank! and the vault beneath Shall yield safe harbouring.” With brows low-bent, from my eager hand The heavy heft did he take; And the plank at his feet he wrenched & tore; And as he frowned through the open floor, Again I said, “For her sake!” blank page 2 Pagination number by DGR Then he cried to the Queen, “God's will be done!” For her hands were clasped in prayer. And down he sprang to the inner crypt; And straight we closed the plank he had ripp'd And toiled to smoothe it fair. (Alas! in that vault a gap once was Wherethro' the King might have fled: But three days since close-walled had it been By his will; for the ball would roll therein When without at the palm he play'd.) Then the Queen cried, “Catherine, keep the door, And I to this will suffice!” At thi her word I rose all dazed to my feet, And my heart was fire and ice. And louder ever the voices grew, And the tramp of men in mail; Until to my brain it seemed to be As though I tossed on a ship at sea In the teeth of a crashing gale. blank page 3 Pagination number by DGR Then back I flew to the rest; and hard We strove with sinews knit To force the table against the door; But we might not compass it. And my wild gaze sped far down the hall To the place of the hearthstone-sill; And the Queen bent ever above the plank floor, For the edge plank was rising still. And now the rush was heard on the stair, And “God, what help?” was our cry. And was I frenzied or was I bold? I looked at each empty stanchion-hold, And no bar but my arm had I. Like iron felt my arm, as through The staple I made it pass:— Alack! it was flesh and bone—no more! 'Twas Catherine Douglas sprang to the door, But I fell back Kate Barlass. blank page 4 Pagination number by DGR With that they all thronged into the hall, Half dim to my failing ken; And the space that was but a void before Was a crowd of wrathful men. Behind the door I had fall'n and lay, Yet my sense was wildly aware, And for all the pain of my shattered arm I never fainted there. But my glance Even as I fell, was thither sent my glance eyes were cast Where the King leaped down to the pit; And lo! the plank was smooth in its place, And the Queen stood calm/well calm by it. And under the litters and through the bed And within the presses all The traitors sought for the King, and pierced The arras around the wall. blank page 1 Pagination number by DGR This is DGR's retranscription, with major revisions, of received lines 742-759. And now, ye Scotish maids who have heard The tale I could unfold Dread things to hear and behold,— Even at the last, of true Queen Jane Some words m May somewhat yet be told, And how she dealt for her dear lord's sake Dire vengeance manifold. 'Twas in the Charterhouse of Perth, In the saintly royal high Chapelle, That the King's fair corpse on bier was laid in state With chaunt and requiem-bell knell. And all embalmed with with by the balm of spices sweet Was the body purified; And none could trace on the brow & lips The death that he had died. And In his regal robes of state he lay asleep With orb and sceptre in hand; And by the crown he wore on his throne Was his kingly forehead spann'd. blank page 2 Pagination number by DGR And, girls, 'twas a goodly sight to see How the curling golden hair, As in the day of the poet's youth, From the King's crown clustered there. And if all had come to pass in the brain That throbbed beneath those curls, Then Scots had said in the days to come That this their soil was a different home And a different Scotland, girls! And the Queen sat by him night & day, And oft she knelt in prayer, All wan and pale in the widow's veil That shrouded her shining hair. And I had got good help of my hurt: And only to me alone made she some sign She made; and And save the priests that were round the bier there, No face would she see but mine. And every morn and eve I brought To her arms her little son, blank page 3 Pagination number by DGR And once she murmured under her breath,— “My God! he must he mount a throne?” And she held his face to his father's face, And wept and almost smil'd To see again her dear dead King Reborn in her little child. And the month of March wore on apace; And now fresh couriers fared Still from the country of the Wild Scots With news of the traitors snared. And still as I told her day by day, Her pallor changed to sight, And the frost grew to a furnace-flame That burnt her visage white. And evermore as I brought her word, She bent to her dead King James, And into his ear with teeth close set She spoke the traitors' names. DGR composed, and then canclled, an extra stanza intended to come between received lines 793-794. Some sleep that night, for the first time yet, She took by her husband's bier; For till that night, for her vegeance' sake, Like the beacon-fire was her soul awake While the foemen still are near. 4 Pagination number by DGR But when the name of Sir Robert Græme Was the one she had to give, I ran to hold her up from the floor; For the froth was on her lips, and sore I feared that she could not live. And the month of March wore nigh to its end, And still was the death-pall spread; For she would not bury her slaughtered lord Till his slayers all were dead. And now of their dooms dread tidings came, And of tortures dire fierce and dire; And nought she spake,—she had ceased to speak,— But her eyes were a soul on fire. And now I heard how the felon Graeme, Withtorments fiercely riven, Had cried at length: “If by this your deed To curse God's name I am driven, I summon you all the Queen at the last dread Day To answer my that crime to Heaven!” blank page 5 Pagination number by DGR Then I said, “Grant death, for mercy's ake!” She looked up once; and no more I spoke; for it made me chill at the heart To behold the face she wore. But And when the news came of the bitter end Of the dread stern and just award, She bent o'er the bier, and thrice three times She kissed the lips of her lord. And well then she said,—“O James, they are dead!” And then she knelt on the chapel floor, And whispered low with a strange proud smile,— “James, James, they suffered more!” Last she stood up to her queenly height, But she shook like an autumn leaf, As if the fire wherein she burned Then left her body, and all were turned To winter of lifelong grief. blank page 6 Pagination number by DGR Like iron I felt my arm, as through The groove I made it pass. Alack! it was brittle bone—no more: Twas Catherine Douglas sprang to the door And I fell down Kate Barlass. ---------------