Chapter 17

Edina! Scotia's darling seat,
All hail thy palaces and towers,
Where once, beneath a monarch's feet,
Sate legislation's sovereign powers.
BURNS.

"This, then, is Edinburgh?" said the youth, as the fellow-travellers
arrived at one of the heights to the southward, which commanded a view
of the great northern capital--"This is that Edinburgh of which we
have heard so much!"

"Even so," said the falconer; "yonder stands Auld Reekie--you may see
the smoke hover over her at twenty miles' distance, as the gosshawk
hangs over a plump of young wild-ducks--ay, yonder is the heart of
Scotland, and each throb that she gives is felt from the edge of
Solway to Duncan's-bay-head. See, yonder is the old Castle; and see
to the right, on yon rising ground, that is the Castle of Craigmillar,
which I have known a merry place in my time."

"Was it not there," said the page in a low voice, "that the Queen held
her court?"

"Ay, ay," replied the falconer, "Queen she was then, though you must
not call her so now. Well, they may say what they will--many a true
heart will be sad for Mary Stewart, e'en if all be true men say of
her; for look you, Master Roland--she was the loveliest creature to
look upon that I ever saw with eye, and no lady in the land liked
better the fair flight of a falcon. I was at the great match on Roslin
Moor betwixt Bothwell--he was a black sight to her that Bothwell--and
the Baron of Roslin, who could judge a hawk's flight as well as any
man in Scotland--a butt of Rhenish and a ring of gold was the wager,
and it was flown as fairly for as ever was red gold and bright wine.
And to see her there on her white palfrey, that flew as if it scorned
to touch more than the heather blossom; and to hear her voice, as
clear and sweet as the mavis's whistle, mix among our jolly whooping
and whistling; and to mark all the nobles dashing round her; happiest
he who got a word or a look--tearing through moss and hagg, and
venturing neck and limb to gain the praise of a bold rider, and the
blink of a bonny Queen's bright eye!--she will see little hawking
where she lies now--ay, ay, pomp and pleasure pass away as speedily as
the wap of a falcon's wing."

"And where is this poor Queen now confined?" said Roland Graeme,
interested in the fate of a woman whose beauty and grace had made so
strong an impression even on the blunt and careless character of Adam
Woodcock.

"Where is she now imprisoned?" said honest Adam; "why, in some castle
in the north, they say--I know not where, for my part, nor is it worth
while to vex one's sell anent what cannot be mended--An she had guided