e
been. Though a prisoner, he was not confined in a gloomy dungeon, but
had handsome and comfortable apartments, in a tower which overlooked a
beautiful garden, where trees waved, and birds sang, and fountains
sparkled, and flowers sent up sweet perfumes to his windows. The sun
shone and the stars looked in upon him; and when a prisoner can see the
sun and the stars, he cannot feel that God has quite forgotten him, or
the angels ceased to watch over him. He was not left alone, or
deprived of employments and amusements. King Henry commanded that he
should have a right princely education. He had masters who taught him
history, grammar, oratory, music, sword-exercise, jousting, singing,
and dancing. He was handsome, graceful, and clever, but always most
celebrated for his poetical talent. As he grew to manhood, he became
one of the noblest poets of his day, and even now his verses, though
quaint and old-fashioned, are very sweet, pure, and pleasant to read.

One fresh May morning, when James had been a captive in Windsor Castle
nearly eighteen years, as he was looking down from his window, he saw a
beautiful young lady walking in the garden. She was dressed all in
white; a net of pearls and sapphires confined her golden hair, and a
rich chain of gold was about her delicate throat. By her side sported
a pretty little Italian greyhound, with a string of tinkling silver
bells around his neck.

As she moved among the flowers, the violet looked up into her eyes, and
thought their tender blue was her own reflection. The rose said to
herself, "What a rich bloom I must have, if even my shadow makes her
cheeks so red!" The lily had similar thoughts about her neck; while
the golden laburnum thought it and the sunbeams had been the making of
her hair.

This lovely dame was the Lady Jane Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of
Somerset. Of course, King James, having little else to do, fell in
love with her without delay, and in a very short time told her so, by
means of tender rhymes, which he sent fluttering down into her path.
The Lady Jane was charmed with his verses, and found it easy to go from
admiring the poetry into loving the poet. To be frank, and tell him
so, she wrote a little billet, and tied it under the wing of a white
dove, directing him to carry it straight to the captive's window,--and
he did so. But if he had suspected what was to have come of it, I
don't believe he would have gone; for it was little rest