Volume I Part 39 (1/2)

SONG

_Now the purple night is past, Now the moon more faintly glows, Dawn has through thy cas.e.m.e.nt cast Roses on thy breast, a rose; Now the kisses are all done, Now the world awakes anew, Now the charmed hour is gone, Let not love go, too._

_When old winter, creeping nigh, Sprinkles raven hair with white, Dims the brightly glancing eye, Laughs away the dancing light, Roses may forget their sun, Lilies may forget their dew, Beauties perish, one by one, Let not love go, too._

_Palaces and towers of pride Crumble year by year away; Creeds like robes are laid aside, Even our very tombs decay!

When the all-conquering moth and rust Gnaw the goodly garment through, When the dust returns to dust, Let not love go, too._

_Kingdoms melt away like snow, G.o.ds are spent like wasting flames, Hardly the new peoples know Their divine thrice-wors.h.i.+pped names!

At the last great hour of all, When thou makest all things new, Father, hear Thy children call, Let not love go, too._

The song ceased: all was still; and now it seemed Power brooded on the silence, and Drake saw A woman come to meet him,--tall and pale And proud she seemed: behind her head two wings As of some mighty phantom b.u.t.terfly Glimmered with jewel-sparks in the gold gloom.

Her small, pure, grey-eyed face above her ruff Was chiselled like an agate; and he knew It was the Queen. Low bent he o'er her hand; And ”Ah,” she said, ”Sir Francis Walsingham Hath told me what an English heart beats here!

Know you what injuries the King of Spain Hath done us?” Drake looked up at her: she smiled, ”We find you apt! Will you not be our knight For we are helpless”--witchingly she smiled-- ”We are not ripe for war; our policy Must still be to uphold the velvet cloak Of peace; but I would have it mask the hand That holds the dagger! Will you not unfold Your scheme to us?” And then with a low bow Walsingham, at a signal from the Queen, Withdrew; and she looked down at Drake and smiled; And in his great simplicity the man Spake all his heart out like some youthful knight Before his Gloriana: his heart burned, Knowing he talked with England, face to face; And suddenly the Queen bent down to him, England bent down to him, and his heart reeled With the beauty of her presence--for indeed Women alone have royal power like this Within their very selves enthroned and shrined To draw men's hearts out! Royal she bent down And touched his hand for a moment. ”Friend,” she said, Looking into his face with subtle eyes, ”I have searched thy soul to-night and know full well How I can trust thee! Canst thou think that I, The daughter of my royal father, lack The fire which every boor in England feels Burning within him as the b.l.o.o.d.y score Which Spain writes on the flesh of Englishmen Mounts higher day by day? Am I not Tudor?

I am not deaf or blind; nor yet a king!

I am a woman and a queen, and where Kings would have plunged into their red revenge Or set their throne up on this temporal sh.o.r.e, As flatterers bade that wiser king Canute, Thence to command the advancing tides of battle Till one ensanguined sea whelm throne and king And kingdom, friend, I take my woman's way, Smile in mine enemies' faces with a heart All h.e.l.l, and undermine them hour by hour!

This island scarce can fend herself from France, And now Spain holds the keys of all the world, How should we fight her, save that my poor wit Hath won the key to Philip? Oh, I know His treacherous lecherous heart, and hour by hour My nets are drawing round him. I, that starve My public armies, feed his private foes, Nourish his rebels in the Netherlands, Nay, sacrifice mine own poor woman's heart To keep him mine, and surely now stands Fate With hand uplifted by the doors of Spain Ready to knock: the time is close at hand When I shall strike, once, and no second stroke.

Remember, friend, though kings have fought for her, This England, with the trident in her grasp, Was ever woman; and she waits her throne; And thou canst speed it. Furnish thee with s.h.i.+ps, Gather thy gentleman adventurers, And be a.s.sured thy parsimonious queen-- Oh ay, she knows that chattering of the world-- Will find thee wealth enough. Then put to sea, Fly the black flag of piracy awhile Against these blackest foes of all mankind.

Nay; what hast thou to do with piracy?

_Hostis humani generis_ indeed Is Spain: she dwells beyond the bounds of law; Thine is no piracy, whate'er men say, Thou art a knight on Gloriana's quest.

Oh, lay that golden unction to thy soul, This is no piracy, but glorious war, Waged for thy country and for all mankind, Therefore put out to sea without one fear, Ransack their El Dorados of the West, Pillage their golden galleons, sap their strength Even at its utmost fountains; let them know That there is blood, not water, in our veins.

Sail on, my captain, to the glorious end, And, though at first thou needs must sail alone And undefended, ere that end be reached, When I shall give the word, nay, but one word, All England shall be up and after thee, The sword of England shall s.h.i.+ne over thee, And round about thee like a guardian fire; All the great soul of England shall be there; Her mighty dead shall at that cry of doom Rise from their graves and in G.o.d's panoply Plunge with our standards through immortal storms When Drake rides out across the wreck of Rome.

As yet we must be cautious; let no breath Escape thee, save to thy most trusted friends; For now, if my lord Burleigh heard one word Of all thou hast in mind, he is so much The friend of caution and the beaten road, He would not rest till he had spilled thy hopes And sealed thy doom! Go now, fit out thy s.h.i.+ps.

Walsingham is empowered to give thee gold Immediately, but look to him for more As thou shalt need it, gold and gold to spare, My golden-hearted pilot to the sh.o.r.es Of victory--so farewell;” and through the gloom She vanished as she came; and Drake groped, dazed, Out through the doors, and found great Walsingham Awaiting him with gold.

But in the room Where Drake had held his converse with the Queen The embroidered arras moved, and a lean face, White with its long eavesdropping upon death, Crept out and peered as a venomous adder peers From out dark ferns, then as the reptile flashes Along a path between two banks of flowers Almost too swift for sight, a stealthy form --One of the fifty spies whom Burleigh paid-- Pa.s.sed down the gold-gloomed corridor to seek His master, whom among great books he found, Calm, like a mountain brooding o'er the sea.

Nor did he break that calm for all these winds Of rumour that now burst from out the sky.

His brow bent like a cliff over his thoughts, And the spy watched him half resentfully, Thinking his news well worth a blacker frown.

At last the statesman smiled and answered, ”Go; Fetch Thomas Doughty, Leicester's secretary.”

Few suns had risen and set ere Francis Drake Had furnished forth his s.h.i.+ps with guns and men, Tried seamen that he knew in storms of old,-- Will Harvest, who could haul the ropes and fight All day, and sing a foc'sle song to cheer Sea-weary hearts at night; brave old Tom Moone The carpenter, whose faithful soul looked up To Drake's large mastery with a mastiff's eyes; And three-score trusty mariners, all scarred And weather-beaten. After these there came Some two-score gentleman adventurers, Gay college lads or lawyers that had grown Sick of the dusty Temple, and were fired With tales of the rich Indies and those tall Enchanted galleons drifting through the West, Laden with ingots and broad bars of gold.

Already some had bought at a great price Green birds of Guatemala, which they wore On their slouched hats, tasting the high romance And new-found colours of the world like wine.

By night they gathered in a marvellous inn Beside the black and secret flowing Thames; And joyously they tossed the magic phrase ”Pieces of eight” from mouth to mouth, and laughed And held the red wine up, night after night, Around their tables, toasting Francis Drake.

Among these came a courtier, and none knew Or asked by whose approval, for each thought Some other brought him; yet he made his way Cautiously, being a man with a smooth tongue, The secretary of Leicester; and his name Was Thomas Doughty. Most of all with Drake He won his way to friends.h.i.+p, till at last There seemed one heart between them and one soul.

BOOK II

So on a misty grey December morn Five s.h.i.+ps put out from calm old Plymouth Sound; Five little s.h.i.+ps, the largest not so large As many a coasting yacht or fis.h.i.+ng-trawl To-day; yet these must brave uncharted seas Of unimagined terrors, haunted glooms, And shadowy horrors of an unknown world Wild as primeval chaos. In the first, The _Golden Hynde_, a s.h.i.+p of eighteen guns, Drake sailed: John Wynter, a queen's captain, next Brought out the _Elizabeth_, a stout new s.h.i.+p Of sixteen guns. The pinnace _Christopher_ Came next, in staunch command of old Tom Moone Who, five years back, with reeking powder grimed, Off Cartagena fought against the stars All night, and, as the sun arose in blood, Knee-deep in blood and brine, stood in the dark Perilous hold and scuttled his own s.h.i.+p The _Swan_, bidding her down to G.o.d's great deep Rather than yield her up a prize to Spain.

Lastly two gentleman-adventurers Brought out the new _Swan_ and the _Marygold_.

Their crews, all told, were eight score men and boys.

Not only terrors of the deep they braved, Bodiless witchcrafts of the black abyss, Red gaping mouths of h.e.l.l and gulfs of fire That yawned for all who pa.s.sed the tropic line; But death lurked round them from their setting forth.

Mendoza, plenipotentiary of Spain, By spies informed, had swiftly warned his king, Who sent out mandates through his huge empire From Gaudalchiber to the golden West For the instant sinking of all English s.h.i.+ps And the instant execution of their crews Who durst appear in the Caribbean sea.

Moreover, in the pith of their emprise A peril lurked--Burleigh's emissaries, The smooth-tongued Thomas Doughty, who had brought His brother--unacquitted of that charge Of poisoning, raised against him by the friends Of Ess.e.x, but in luckless time released Lately for lack of proof, on no strong plea.

These two wound through them like two snakes at ease In Eden, waiting for their venomous hour.

Especially did Thomas Doughty toil With soft and flowery tongue to win his way; And Drake, whose rich imagination craved For something more than simple seaman's talk, Was marvellously drawn to this new friend Who with the scholar's mind, the courtier's gloss, The lawyer's wit, the adventurer's romance, Gold honey from the blooms of Euphues, Rare flashes from the _Mermaid_ and sweet smiles Copied from Sidney's self, even to the glance Of sudden, liquid sympathy, gave Drake That banquet of the soul he ne'er had known Nor needed till he knew, but needed now.

So to the light of Doughty's answering eyes He poured his inmost thoughts out, hour by hour; And Doughty coiled up in the heart of Drake.