Volume I Part 40 (1/2)

II

The soft aegean heard her sigh,-- _N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_-- Heard the Spartan hills reply, _Je vous en prie_, pity me; Spain was aware of her drawing nigh Foot-gilt from the blossoms of Italy; _N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_

III

In France they heard her voice go by,-- _N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_ --And on the May-wind droop and die, _Je vous en prie_, pity me; Your maidens choose their loves, but I-- White as I came from the foam-white sea, _N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_--

IV

The warm red-meal-winged b.u.t.terfly,-- _N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_-- Beat on her breast in the golden rye,-- _Je vous en prie_, pity me,-- Stained her breast with a dusty dye Red as the print of a kiss might be!

_N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_

V

Is there no land, afar or nigh-- _N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_-- But dreads the kiss o' the sea? Ah, why-- _Je vous en prie_, pity me!-- Why will ye cling to the loves that die?

Is earth all Adon to my plea?

_N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_

VI

Under the warm blue summer sky,-- _N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_ With outstretched arms and a low long sigh,-- _Je vous en prie_, pity me;-- Over the Channel they saw her fly To the white-cliffed island that crowns the sea, _N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_

VII

England laughed as her queen drew nigh,-- _N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_ To the white-walled cottages gleaming high, _Je vous en prie_, pity me!

They drew her in with a joyful cry To the hearth where she sits with a babe on her knee, She has turned her moan to a lullaby.

She is nursing a son to the kings of the sea, _N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oserez vous, mon bel ami?_

Such memories, on the plunging _Golden Hynde_, Under the stars, Drake drew before his friend, Clomb for a moment to that peak of vision, That purple peak of Darien, laughing aloud O'er those wild exploits down to Rio Grande Which even now had made his fierce renown Terrible to all lonely s.h.i.+ps of Spain.

E'en now, indeed, that poet of Portugal, Lope de Vega, filled with this new fear Began to meditate his epic muse Till, like a cry of panic from his lips, He shrilled the faint _Dragontea_ forth, wherein Drake is that Dragon of the Apocalypse, The dread Antagonist of G.o.d and Man.

Well had it been for Doughty on that night Had he not heard what followed; for, indeed, When two minds clash, not often does the less Conquer the greater; but, without one thought Of evil, seeing they now were safe at sea, Drake told him, only somewhat, yet too much, Of that close conference with the Queen. And lo, The face of Doughty blanched with a slow thought That crept like a cold worm through all his brain, ”Thus much I knew, though secretly, before; But here he freely tells me as his friend; If I be false and he be what they say, His knowledge of my knowledge will mean death.”

But Drake looked round at Doughty with a smile And said, ”Forgive me now: thou art not used To these cold nights at sea! thou tremblest, friend; Let us go down and drink a cup of sack To our return!” And at that kindly smile Doughty shook off his nightmare mood, and thought, ”The yard-arm is for dogs, not gentlemen!

Even Drake would not misuse a man of birth!”

And in the cabin of the _Golden Hynde_ Revolving subtle treacheries he sat.

There with the sugared phrases of the court Bartering beads for gold, he drew out all The simple Devon seaman's inmost heart, And coiled up in the soul of Francis Drake.

There in the solemn night they interchanged Lies for sweet confidences. From one wall The picture of Drake's love looked down on him; And, like a bashful schoolboy's, that bronzed face Flushed as he blurted out with brightening eyes And quickening breath how he had seen her first, Crowned on the village green, a Queen of May.

Her name, too, was Elizabeth, he said, As if it proved that she, too, was a queen, Though crowned with milk-white Devon may alone, And queen but of one plot of meadow-sweet.

As yet, he said, he had only kissed her hand, Smiled in her eyes and--there Drake also flinched, Thinking, ”I ne'er may see her face again.”

And Doughty comforted his own dark heart Thinking, ”I need not fear so soft a soul As this”; and yet, he wondered how the man, Seeing his love so gripped him, none the less Could leave her, thus to follow after dreams; For faith to Doughty was an unknown word, And trustfulness the property of fools.

At length they parted, each to his own couch, Doughty with half a chuckle, Francis Drake With one old-fas.h.i.+oned richly grateful prayer Blessing all those he loved, as he had learnt Beside his mother's knee in Devon days.

So all night long they sailed; but when a rift Of orchard crimson broke the yellowing gloom And barred the closely clouded East with dawn, Behold, a giant galleon, overhead, Lifting its huge black s.h.i.+ning sides on high, Loomed like some misty monster of the deep: And, sullenly rolling out great gorgeous folds, Over her rumbled like a thunder-cloud The heavy flag of Spain. The splendid p.o.o.p, Mistily l.u.s.trous as a dragon's h.o.a.rd Seen in some magic cave-mouth o'er the sea Through s.h.i.+mmering April sunlight after rain, Blazed to the morning; and her port-holes grinned With row on row of cannon. There at once One sharp shrill whistle sounded, and those five Small s.h.i.+ps, mere minnows clinging to the flanks Of that Leviathan, unseen, unheard, Undreamt of, grappled her. She seemed asleep, Swinging at ease with great half-slackened sails, Majestically careless of the dawn.

There in the very native seas of Spain, There with the yeast and foam of her proud cliffs, Her own blue coasts, in sight across the waves, Up her t.i.tanic sides without a sound The naked-footed British seamen swarmed With knives between their teeth: then on her decks They dropped like panthers, and the softly fierce Black-bearded watch, of Spaniards, all amazed, Rubbing their eyes as if at a wild dream, Upraised a sudden shout, _El Draque! El Draque!_ And flashed their weapons out, but all too late; For, ere their sleeping comrades reached the deck, The little watch, out-numbered and out-matched, Lay bound, and o'er the hatches everywhere The points of naked cutla.s.ses on guard Gleamed, and without a struggle those below Gave up their arms, their poignards jewelled thick With rubies, and their blades of Spanish steel.

Then onward o'er the great grey gleaming sea They swept with their rich booty, night and day.