Alexandria Gazette & Daily Advertiser

From the New-York Evening Post.
These beautiful lines were written by a young gentleman (a Scotchman) in Columbia (S. C.) and appeared in a paper called the "Telescope," printed in that place, and have been handed to us by a friend for publication :
LOCH LEVEN--A Fragment.
The many vicissitudes of fortune that attended the beautiful and unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, have held her up to the pity and admiration of succeeding ages; nor is there a heart possessed of feeling, that does not rise with indignation at the monsters who pursued, imprisoned, and finally brought to the block, the most accomplished woman of her time. The recollection of her faults is lost in that of her sufferings: sufferings so great, that even the brutal emissaries of Elizabeth, instead of exulting at the dreadful catastrophe that closed the life of their helpless victim, burst into tears as they saw her head, streaming with blood held up, with the memorable expression, "So perish all the enemies of Elizabeth."
After the battle of Langside, Mary surrendered herself to the mercy of her subjects headed by the Earl of Morton, who immediately sent her under a strong guard to Loch Leven castle, situate in the middle of the Lake (or Loch) of Leven, where she was exposed to the daily insults of her harsh keeper, Sir William Douglas, and his imperious wife, who having herself some distant pretensions to royalty, felt entitled to insult the fallen dignity of the unfortunate Queen.
A more dismal situation could hardly have been chosen for her prison. Loch Leven, surrounded by mountains on every side, seemed to shut her up from the world; and in a tower of the castle, in an apartment, the immense grated windows of which scarcely admitted the light of day, was the helpless Mary Stuart immured (as her enemies thought) for life.
But under all these circumstances, she found a deliverer and protector, in the brother of her keeper, George Douglas, a young nobleman then in his nineteenth year who had frequent opportunity of seeing her. And who that had a heart could at that age see and not love her? Young Douglas vowed to set her free, or perish in the attempt. He engaged Sir James Hamilton, and Seton, Lord of Niddrie Castle, to assist him.--They procured a boat, and waited with fleet horses on the banks of the lake, a few miles from the small town of Kin-Ross.
Mary waited with conflicting emotions the hour that was to restore her to liberty--when about midnight, of Sunday, the second of May, 1568, George Douglas stole the keys of the castle, and after getting Queen Mary out, he locked the gates upon his brother and the guards, and secured their flight by throwing the keys into the lake.
R.
Is it the breeze on Leven's lake,
That flies o'er its waters, and stirs the brake?
Or is it the glance of yon midnight beam,
That flits o'er the face of the island stream ?
The anxious eyes of Scotland's Queen
Were bent on the silent deep,
Nor boat nor Douglas could be seen,
And Mary turn'd to weep.
As o'er her harp she lonely bends,
The silent tear of anguish flows
And thus to Scotia's cadence wild,
The lovely captive sung her woes--
THE SONG.
O Leven! lonely is thine isle,
And dismal are thy mould'ring towers,
Where Mary's held in durance vile.
Torn from her friends and kindred bowers
And damp and dreary are these walls,
Through which the chilling breezes blow;
Where gloomy echo but recalls
The plaintive strains of Mary's woe.
Ben Lomond! o'er thy tow'ring head.
How free the Highland eagle wings
Ben Nevis! up thy craggy side,
The bounding red deer fleetly springs.
The ptarmigan, with lofty sweep,
Soars from the bosom of Loch Doil ;
But Scotland's Queen is left to weep,
A captive in Loch Leven's isle.
Without a friend to take my part,
Since Douglas' plighted faith is gone;
With ruined hopes and broken heart,
He leaves me here to weep alone.
THE ESCAPE.
Now rapid o'er the midnight tide.
With silent speed a boat did glide ;
And bold in conscious love and truth,
Before her stood the gallant youth.
" Oh Mary, dearest, now is the hour,
To fly from my cruel father's power;
Oh fly to the boat, and my faithful rowers
Will carry thee far from these gloomy towers."
He caught her in his faithful arms.
And gently hush'd her wild alarms;
His heart beat high as he wildly prest
The lovely Queen to his panting breast.
He seiz'd the keys of the castle gate,
And dash'd them deep in the silent lake.
"Now thou art safe," he softly said.
And wrapt her in his Highland plaid;
Now stretch, my clansmen, for the shore,"
He cried, and drew his bright claymore.
And now the boat has reached the strand,
The gallant Douglas springs to land--
And now they speed their rapid flight,
Beneath the favouring shade of night;
And ere the dawning of the morn,
They pass'd like lightning thro' Kinghorn.
Speedily onward still they fly,
No resting place had they I ween :
Till Castle Niddrie's friendly gate,
Receiv'd the youth and his lovely Queen.