Volume II Part 77 (1/2)

Then swoop down vanis.h.i.+ng cliffs again To the thundering gulfs of the Ocean-sea.

We saw it s.h.i.+ne as it swooped from the height, With ruining breakers on every hand, Then--a cry came out of the black mid-night, _As near to heaven by sea as by land!_

And the light was out! Like a wind-blown spark; All in a moment! And we--and we-- Prayed for his soul as we swept thro' the dark: For he was a Knight of the Ocean-sea.

_Over our fleets for evermore The winds 'ull triumph and the waves roar!

But he sails on, sails on before!_

Silence a moment held the Mermaid Inn, Then Michael Drayton, raising a cup of wine, Stood up and said,--”Since many have obtained Absolute glory that have done great deeds, But fortune is not in the power of man, So they that, truly attempting, n.o.bly fail, Deserve great honour of the common-wealth.

Such glory did the Greeks and Romans give To those that in great enterprises fell Seeking the true commodity of their country And profit to all mankind; for, though they failed, Being by war, death, or some other chance, Hindered, their images were set up in bra.s.s, Marble and silver, gold and ivory, In solemn temples and great palace-halls, No less to make men emulate their virtues Than to give honour to their just deserts.

G.o.d, from the time that He first made the world, Hath kept the knowledge of His Ocean-sea And the huge aequinoctiall Continents Reserved unto this day. Wherefore I think No high exploit of Greece and Rome but seems A little thing to these Discoveries Which our adventurous captains even now Are making, out there, Westward, in the night, Captains most worthy of commendation, Hugh Willoughby--G.o.d send him home again Safe to the Mermaid!--and d.i.c.k Chauncellor, That excellent pilot. Doubtless this man, too, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, was worthy to be made Knight of the Ocean-sea. I bid you all Stand up, and drink to his immortal fame!”

II

A COINER OF ANGELS

Some three nights later, thro' the thick brown fog, A link-boy, dropping flakes of crimson fire, Flared to the door and, through its glowing frame, Ben Jonson and Kit Marlowe, arm in arm, Swaggered into the Mermaid Inn and called For red-deer pies.

There, as they supped, I caught Sc.r.a.ps of ambrosial talk concerning Will, His _Venus and Adonis_.

”Gabriel thought 'Twas wrong to change the old writers and create A cold Adonis.”

--”Laws were made for Will, Not Will for laws, since first he stole a buck In Charlecote woods.”

--”Where never a buck chewed fern,”

Laughed Kit, ”unless it chewed the fern seed, too, And walked invisible.”

”Bring me some wine,” called Ben, And, with his knife thrumming upon the board, He chanted, while his comrade munched and smiled.

I

Will Shakespeare's out like Robin Hood With his merry men all in green, To steal a deer in Charlecote wood Where never a deer was seen.

II

He's hunted all a night of June, He's followed a phantom horn, He's killed a buck by the light of the moon, Under a fairy thorn.

III

He's carried it home with his merry, merry band, There never was haunch so fine; For this buck was born in Elfin-land And fed upon sops-in-wine.

IV

This buck had browsed on elfin boughs Of rose-marie and bay, And he's carried it home to the little white house Of sweet Anne Hathaway.

V