All her court through;” forgive me.
QUEEN.
With my heart.
Father, you see the hatefulness of these —
They loathe us for our love. I am not moved:
What should I do being angry? By this hand
(Which is not big enough to bruise their lips),
I marvel what thing should be done with me
To make me wroth. We must have patience with us
When we seek thank of men.
FATHER BLACK.
Madam, farewell;
I pray God keep you in such patient heart.
[Exit.]
QUEEN.
Let him come now.
MARY SEYTON.
Madam, he is at hand.
[Exit.]
[Enter CHASTELARD.]
QUEEN.
Give me that broidery frame; how, gone so soon?
No maid about? Reach me some skein of silk.
What, are you come, fair lord? Now by my life
That lives here idle, I am right glad of you;
I have slept so well and sweet since yesternight
It seems our dancing put me in glad heart.
Did you sleep well?
CHASTELARD.
Yea, as a man may sleep.
QUEEN.
You smile as if I jested; do not men
Sleep as we do? Had you fair dreams in the night?
For me — but I should fret you with my dreams —
I dreamed sweet things. You are good at soothsaying:
Make me a sonnet of my dream.
CHASTELARD.
I will,
When I shall know it.
QUEEN.
I thought I was asleep
In Paris, lying by my lord, and knew
In somewise he was well awake, and yet
I could not wake too; and I seemed to know
He hated me, and the least breath I made
Would turn somehow to slay or stifle me.
Then in brief time he rose and went away,
Saying, Let her dream, but when her dream is out
I will come back and kill her as she wakes.
And I lay sick and trembling with sore fear,
And still I knew that I was deep asleep;
And thinking I must dream now, or I die,
God send me some good dream lest I be slain,
Fell fancying one had bound my feet with cords
And bade me dance, and the first measure made
I fell upon my face and wept for pain:
And my cords broke, and I began the dance
To a bitter tune; and he that danced with me
Was clothed in black with long red lines and bars
And masked down to the lips, but by the chin
I knew you though your lips were sewn up close
With scarlet thread all dabbled wet in blood.
And then I knew the dream was not for good.
And striving with sore travail to reach up
And kiss you (you were taller in my dream)
I missed your lips and woke.
CHASTELARD.
Sweet dreams, you said?
An evil dream I hold it for, sweet love.
QUEEN.
You call love sweet; yea, what is bitter, then?
There’s nothing broken sleep could hit upon
So bitter as the breaking down of love.
You call me sweet; I am not sweet to you,
Nor you-O, I would say not sweet to me,
And if I said so I should hardly lie.
But there have been those things between us, sir,
That men call sweet.
CHASTELARD.
I know not how There is
Turns to There hath been; ‘t is a heavier change
Than change of flesh to dust. Yet though years change
And good things end and evil things grow great,
The old love that was, or that was dreamed about,
That sang and kissed and wept upon itself,
Laughed and ran mad with love of its own face,
That was a sweet thing.
QUEEN.
Nay, I know not well.
’T is when the man is held fast underground
They say for sooth what manner of heart he had.
We are alive, and cannot be well sure
If we loved much or little: think you not
It were convenient one of us should die?
CHASTELARD.
Madam, your speech is harsh to understand.
QUEEN.
Why, there could come no change then; one of us
Would never need to fear our love might turn
To the sad thing that it may grow to be.
I would sometimes all things were dead asleep
That I have loved, all buried in soft beds
And sealed with dreams and visions, and each dawn
Sung to by sorrows, and all night assuaged
By short sweet kissed and by sweet long loves
For old life’s sake, lest weeping overmuch
Should wake them in a strange new time, and arm
Memory’s blind hand to kill forgetfulness.
CHASTELARD.
Look, you dream still, and sadly.
QUEEN.
Sooth, a dream;
For such things died or lied in sweet love’s face,
And I forget them not, God help my wit!
I would the whole world were made up of sleep
And life not fashioned out of lies and loves.
We foolish women have such times, you know,
When we are weary or afraid or sick
For perfect nothing.
CHASTELARD.
[Aside.]
Now would one be fain
To know what bitter or what dangerous thing
She thinks of, softly chafing her soft lip.
She must mean evil.
QUEEN.
Are you sad too, sir,
That you say nothing?
CHASTELARD.
I? not sad a jot —
Though this your talk might make a blithe man sad.
QUEEN.
O me! I must not let stray sorrows out;
They are ill to fledge, and if they feel blithe air
They wail and chirp untunefully. Would God
I had been a man! when I was born, men say,
My father turned his face and wept to think
I was no man.
CHASTELARD.
Will you weep too?
QUEEN.
In sooth,
If I were a man I should be no base man;
I could have fought; yea, I could fight now too
If men would show me; I would I were the king!
I should be all ways better than I am.
CHASTELARD.
Nay, would you have more honor, having this —
Men’s hearts and loves and the sweet spoil of souls
Given you like simple gold to bind your hair?
Say you were king of thews, not queen of souls,
An iron headpiece hammered to a head,
You might fall too.
QUEEN.
No, then I would not fall,
Or God should make me woman back again.
To be King James-you hear men say King James,
The word sounds like a piece of gold thrown down,
Rings with a round and royal note in it —
A name to write good record of; this king
Fought here and there, was beaten such a day,
And came at last to a good end, his life
Being all lived out, and for the main part well
And like a king’s life; then to have men say
(As now they say of Flodden, here they broke
And there they held up to the end) years back
They saw you-yea, I saw the king’s face helmed
Red in the hot lit foreground of some fight
Hold the whole war as it were by the bit, a horse
Fit for his knees’ grip-the great rearing war
That frothed with lips flung up, and shook men’s lives
Off either flank of it like snow; I saw
(You could not hear as his sword rang), saw him
Shout, laugh, smite straight, and flaw the riven ranks,
Move as the wind moves, and his horse’s feet
Stripe their long flags with dust. Why, if one died,
To die so in the heart and heat of war
Were a much goodlier thing than living soft
And speaking sweet for fear of men. Woe’s me,
Is there no way to pluck this body off?
Then I should never fear a man again,
Even in my dreams I should not; no, by heaven.
CHASTELARD.
I never thought you did fear anything.
QUEEN.
God knows I do; I could be sick with wrath
To think what grievous fear I have ‘twixt whiles
Of mine own self and of base men: last night
If certain lords were glancing where I was
Under the eyelid, with sharp lip and brow,
I tell you, for pure shame and fear of them,
I could have gone and slain them.
CHASTELARD.
Verily,
You are changed since those good days that fell in France;
But yet I think you are not so changed at heart
As to fear man.
QUEEN.
I would I had no need.
Lend me your sword a little; a fair sword;
I see the fingers that I hold it with
Clear in the blade, bright pink, the shell-color,
Brighter than flesh is really, curved all round.
Now men would mock if I should wear it here,
Bound under bosom with a girdle, here,
And yet I have heart enough to wear it well.
Speak to me like a woman, let me see
If I can play at man.
CHASTELARD.
God save King James!
QUEEN.
Would you could change now! Fie, this will not do;
Unclasp your sword; nay, the hilt hurts my side;
It sticks fast here. Unbind this knot for me:
Stoop, and you’ll see it closer; thank you: there.
Now I can breathe, sir. Ah! it hurts me, though:
This was fool’s play.
CHASTELARD.
Yea, you are better so,
Without the sword; your eyes are stronger things,
Whether to save or slay.
QUEEN.
Alas, my side!
It hurts right sorely. Is it not pitiful
Our souls should be so bound about with flesh
Even when they leap and smite with wings and feet,
The least pain plucks them back, puts out their eyes,
Turns them to tears and words? Ah my sweet knight,
You have the better of us that weave and weep
While the blithe battle blows upon your eyes
Like rain and wind; yet I remember too
When this last year the fight at Corrichie
Reddened the rushes with stained fen-water,
I rode with my good men and took delight,
Feeling the sweet clear wind upon my eyes
And rainy soft smells blown upon my face
In riding: then the great fight jarred and joined,
And the sound stung me right through heart and all;
For I was here, see, gazing off the hills,
In the wet air; our housings were all wet,
And not a plume stood stiffly past the ear
But flapped between the bridle and the neck;
And under us we saw the battle go
Like running water; I could see by fits
Some helm the rain fell shining off, some flag
Snap from the staff, shorn through or broken short
In the man’s falling: yea, one seemed to catch
The very grasp of tumbled men at men,
Teeth clenched in throats, hands riveted in hair,
Tearing the life out with no help of swords.
And all the clamor seemed to shine, the light
Seemed to shout as a man doth; twice I laughed —
I tell you, twice my heart swelled out with thirst
To be into the battle; see, fair lord,
I swear it seemed I might have made a knight,
And yet the simple bracing of a belt
Makes me cry out; this is too pitiful,
This dusty half of us made up with fears. —
Have you been ever quite so glad to fight
As I have thought men must? pray you, speak truth.
CHASTELARD.
Yea, when the time came, there caught hold of me
Such pleasure in the head and hands and blood
As may be kindled under loving lips:
Crossing the ferry once to the Clerks’ Field,
I mind how the plashing noise of Seine
Put fire into my face for joy, and how
My blood kept measure with the swinging boat
Till we touched land, all for the sake of that
Which should be soon.
QUEEN.
Her name, for God’s love, sir;
You slew your friend for love’s sake? nay, the name.
CHASTELARD.
Faith, I forget.
QUEEN.
Now by the faith I have
You have no faith to swear by.
CHASTELARD.
A good sword:
We left him quiet after a thrust or twain.
QUEEN.
I would I had been at hand and marked them off
As the maids did when we played singing games:
You outwent me at rhyming; but for faith,
We fight best there. I would I had seen you fight.
CHASTELARD.
I would you had; his play was worth an eye;
He made some gallant way before that pass
Which made me way through him.
QUEEN.
Would I saw that —
How did you slay him?
CHASTELARD.
A clean pass — this way;
Right in the side here, where the blood has root.
His wrist went round in pushing, see you, thus,
Or he had pierced me.
QUEEN.
Yea, I see, sweet knight.
I have a mind to love you for his sake;
Would I had seen.
CHASTELARD.
Hugues de Marsillac —
I have the name now; ‘t was a goodly one
Before he changed it for a dusty name.
QUEEN.
Talk not of death; I would hear living talk
Of good live swords and good strokes struck withal,
Brave battles and the mirth of mingling men,
Not of cold names you greet a dead man with.
You are yet young for fighting; but in fight
Have you never caught a wound?
CHASTELARD.
Yea, twice or so:
The first time in a little outlying field
(My first field) at the sleepy gray of dawn,
They found us drowsy, fumbling at our girths,
And rode us down by heaps; I took a hurt
Here in the shoulder.
QUEEN.
Ah, I mind well now;
Did you not ride a day’s space afterward,
Having two wounds? yea, Dandelot it was,
That Dandelot took word of it. I know,
Sitting at meat when the news came to us
I had nigh swooned but for those Florence eyes
Slanting my way with sleek lids drawn up close —
Yea, and she said, the Italian brokeress,
She said such men were good for great queens�
� love.
I would you might die, when you come to die,
Like a knight slain. Pray God we make good ends.
For love too, love dies hard or easily,
But some way dies on some day, ere we die.
CHASTELARD.
You made a song once of old flowers and loves,
Will you not sing that rather? ‘t is long gone
Since you sang last.
QUEEN.
I had rather sigh than sing
And sleep than sigh; ‘t is long since verily,
But I will once more sing; ay, thus it was.
[Sings.]
1.
J’ai vu faner bien des choses,
Mainte feuille aller au vent.
En songeant aux vieilles roses,
J’ai pleure souvent.
2.
Vois-tu dans les roses mortes
Amour qui sourit cache?
O mon amant, a nos portes
L’as-tu vu couche?
3.
As-tu vu jamais au monde
Venus chasser et courir?
Fille de l’onde, avec l’onde
Doit-elle mourir?
4.
Aux jours de neige et de givre
L’amour s’effeuille et s’endort;
Avec mai doit-il revivre,
Ou bien est-il mort?
5.
Qui sait ou s’en vont les roses?
Qui sai ou s’en va le vent?
En songeant a telles choses,
J’ai pleure souvent.
I never heard yet but love made good knights,
But for pure faith, by Mary’s holiness,
I think she lies about men’s lips asleep,
And if one kiss or pluck her by the hand
To wake her, why God help your woman’s wit,
Faith is but dead; dig her grave deep at heart,
And hide her face with cerecloths; farewell faith.
Would I could tell why I talk idly. Look,
Here come my riddle-readers. Welcome all;
[Enter MURRAY, DARNLEY, RANDOLPH, LINDSAY,
MORTON, and other LORDS.]
Sirs, be right welcome. Stand you by my side,
Fair cousin, I must lean on love or fall;
You are a goodly staff, sir; tall enough,
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 191