Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series)
Page 230
I would pray God for nought again alive.
But since my heart can strike not in my hand,
Fight you for me; put on my heart to yours,
And let the might of both enforce your arm
With more than its own manhood and that strength
Which is your natural glory.
BOTHWELL.
Sweet, I think,
When we have rid through this day’s wrath, if God
Shall give us peace and kingdom and long life
And make them fruitful to us, we shall bring forth
A brood of kings as lions. Now in brief
If this shall be or shall not may we know,
For look where yonder facing to the sun
Comes up to usward from the under field
One with a flag of message; in mine eye
It is the Frenchman.
QUEEN.
I will meet him here;
Here will I sit upon this rock for throne
And give such audience as my fortune may;
Either the last that shall salute me queen
Or first of my new reign, that from this day
Shall fearfully begin for them whose fear
Till now has held me shackled, and my will
Confined of theirs unqueenly.
BOTHWELL.
I meantime
Will see our line in order; for this truce
Must hold not long; I would our hosts should meet
Before the heat strikes of the middle day
And this June sun drop on our soldiers’ heads
Or shoot their eyes out.
Exit.
QUEEN.
If God give us peace!
Yet though he give and we twain see good days,
I would not lose for many fortunate years
And empire ringed with smooth security
The sharp and dangerous draught of this delight
That out of chance and peril and keen fear
Springs as the wine out of the trampled grape
To make this hour sweet to my lips, and bid
My dancing heart be like a wave in the sun
When the sea sways between the sun and wind
As my sense now between the fears and hopes
That die to-day for ever. O, this doubt
That is not helpless but has armour on
And hands to fight with, has more joy withal
And puts more spirit into the flesh of life,
More heart into the blood and light in the eyes,
Than the utter hour of triumph, and the fight
More than the prize is worth man’s prizing; yea,
For when all’s won all’s done, and nought to do
Is as a chain on him that with void hands
Sits pleasureless and painless. I had rather
Have looked on Actium with Mark Antony
Than bound him fast on Cydnus. O my hour,
Be good to me, as even for the doubt’s sake
More than safe life I love thee; yet would choose
Not now to know, though I might see the end,
If thou wilt be good to me; do thy work,
Have thine own end; and be thou bad or good,
Thou shalt nor smite nor crown a queen in heart
Found lesser than her fortune.
Enter Du Croc
Now, my lord,
What is their will who by such sovereign show
Should be my lords indeed? if you that came
‘Twixt crown and crown ambassador pass now
Between our camps on message: but this day
Shall leave in Scotland but one sovereignty
To see that sun sink.
DU CROC.
Madam, from the lords
I come on errand but for love and fear
That move me toward your highness; on whose part
I reasoning with them of their faith to you
And bond wherein their loyalties should live,
By counsel of the Laird of Lethington,
Was charged to bear you from them present word
For what they stand against your sight in arms,
And will not but by force of yours dissolve
Till it be granted.
QUEEN.
Speak, my lord; I know
Your heart is whole and noble as their faith
Is flawed and rotten; no disloyal word
Shall make your tongue disloyal in mine ear,
Speaking for them.
DU CROC.
This is their whole demand;
That from the bloody hand which holds your own
You pluck it forth and cast him from your sight
To judgment who now stands through you secure
And makes his weapon of your wounded name
And of your shame his armour; and to him
They offer fight with equal hand to hand
Of noble seconds in what sum he will
To match in blood and number with his own,
If so he list to meet their chosen of men
In personal battle, backed with less or more
Or singly sworded; but this much they swear,
They had rather make their beds in the earth alive
Than yet sit still and let this evil be.
And on your own part I beseech your grace
Set not your heart against the hearts of these
Lest it be broken of them, but betimes
Call yet to mind what grief and shame will be
Among your friends in France and all our part
To see you so with this man’s hap inwound
That in his fall you cast yourself away
And hand in hand run on with him to death.
QUEEN.
They are all forsworn that seek his death; all they
With these blown tongues now questing for his blood
By judgment set him free as innocence,
And now take back the doom they gave, and turn
On their own heads the lie: devise such shame
As lewd folk loathe, to gird themselves withal
And wear it for a jewel; seek and set
The name of liar upon them like a crown,
And bind about them as a coat and cloak
Plain treason and ungilded infamy,
Bare as a beggar; let them sue for grace,
Kneel here and ask me favour; save as thus
I treat not with them. Say how I sit here
In this mean raiment, on this naked stone,
Their queen to judge them, and with heart to weigh
Their fault against my mercy; which yet once,
Though hardly their submission may deserve,
Say, haply they may find.
Re-enter Bothwell
BOTHWELL.
Good day, my lord.
You look far off upon me; by your brow
And strange-eyed salutation I may read
The burden of your this day’s embassy.
Is it but I whom all these ranked in arms
Are come against to battle?
DU CROC.
Ay, my lord;
No hand is raised there dangerous to the queen
Nor thought of heart not loyal.
BOTHWELL.
Why to me?
What hurt have I done to them? none of these
But would be gladly in my place, who had
The heart to seek it; ’tis the braver man
That ever fortune follows: what I hold
I have won not basely, but from forth her hand
Have ta’en it manlike, and with spirit as good
Have girt me to maintain it. For my part,
I seek no bloodshed, but in single field
Will meet with whom their lot shall fall upon
That shall be found fair champion on their part
To bear the general quarrel; and to this
My state and present name shall be no bar,
> But the queen’s consort as her man shall fight
In any good cause simply with God’s help
With any sword that shames not mine to meet.
QUEEN.
It is my cause; me must they strike, or none;
Myself am all the quarrel; let them yield
Or give me battle.
BOTHWELL.
Then, no need of words;
Let but your excellency stand here by
And see the show as once that envoy bound
‘Twixt Hannibal and Scipio; by God’s grace
This too shall be worth sight and good report
If he not fail us.
DU CROC.
Madam, with rent heart
Must I take leave then of you.
QUEEN.
Sir, farewell:
I pray you say not that you saw me weep;
These tears are not to turn the sword’s edge soft
Nor made of fear nor pity; but my heart
Holds no more rule on my rebellious eyes
Than truth on those my traitors; yet I trust
Again to bring both under.
Exit Du Croc.
BOTHWELL.
We must fight;
Yet had I rather take it on mine hand
Than dare the general field.
QUEEN.
No, for God’s love.
BOTHWELL.
God hath not so much love of us to serve;
Nor would I wager on his head to-day
That he shall fight upon our side. Look there;
They are at point to cross; even now you see
The first glint on them stirring of the sun
As they set forth to make by the eastern bank
Along the meadows edgeways towards Dalkeith
Before they turn in wheel and take the hills;
I see their bent of battle; yet we keep
The slopes and crest here with our covering lines
If they stand fast.
QUEEN.
What, have you fear of that?
BOTHWELL.
I cannot tell; the day grows fiery hot:
I would we might close in at once and strike
Before the noon burn; all the pause we make
Who stand here idle watchers till they join
Takes off some heart from us for weariness
And gives us doubt; I would the field were set.
QUEEN.
Why should not we that wait for them and chafe
Break rather on them coming, and brush off
Their gathering muster from the hillskirts there
With one sheer stroke of battle as from heaven
Right on them hurling down with all our host
Out of these heights ere they made head below?
BOTHWELL.
No, my sweet captain; we must hold this fast,
This height of vantage, and keep close our ranks
As I have ranged in order: see again,
How they sweep round and settle fast in file
There on the ridge of Cowsland, with their backs
Turned on the sun that climbs toward noon too fast,
And in their front that hollow gap of hill
Three crossbow-shots across; so far apart
We look upon each other for a breath
And hold our hands from battle; but you see
How soon both sides must lash together: yea,
I would we might not hold off yet an hour
But close at once and end.
QUEEN.
That burgh below,
Is it not Preston Pans? These hills are set
As stages for the show of such high game
As is played out for God’s content on earth
Between men’s kings and kingdoms; yet I think
He that beholds hath no such joy o’ the game
As he that plays, nor can the joy be known
Save of man only, that man has to play
When the die’s throw rings death for him or life.
How clear the wind strikes from the mounting sun -
I am glad at heart the day we have of fight
Should look thus lively on both sides that meet
Beneath so large an open eye of heaven.
The wind and sun are in my blood; I feel
Their fire and motion in me like a breath
That makes the heart leap. Dear, I too have read
The tale of Rome whence lightly you chose out
A likeness for us; but the parts we bear,
We are to play them with a difference, take
A fairer end upon us though we fall
Than they that in their hazard were most like
To this our imminent fortune: had I been
She for whose lips love let the round world fall
And all man’s empire founder, on that day
When earth’s whole strengths met on the warring sea
And side with side clashed of the kingdomed world,
I had not given my galleys wings for fear
To bear me out of the eye of battle, nor
Put space of flight between me and my love,
More than I think on this wave’s edge that foams
To leave our chance unshipwrecked, or forsake
My more imperial Antony.
BOTHWELL.
Would that now
We stood less near their hazard; on our part
I fear to see the lines already melt
If we hold longer off, and this firm front
Unfix itself and with no stroke dissolve
As snows in summer: half my folk by this
For thirst are fallen upon the wine-casks there
We brought from Seyton; and for those that stand,
We have not half their hearts upon our side
Whose hands are armed to uphold it. I must fight
With whom they choose, and take upon my hand
The day with all its issue: if our cause
Be set upon the general cast of fight,
It is but lost. Let messengers be sent
To know of the enemy if his challenge hold
Which I stand armed to answer; but no Scot
Shall bear the message and betray our need:
Two Frenchmen of your guard shall cross, and bring
Their fighter’s name back that my sword must know
And we twain meet and end it in fair field
Between these ranks; and for my single part,
I am glad the chance should hang but on my hand
And my sole stroke determine the dim war
That flags yet in the dark and doubt of fate
Till mine arm fix it fast, and in God’s sight
Confirm and close the chapter of it. Come,
Choose you your envoys.
QUEEN.
Nay, choose you the man
That you will fight with; let him be not one
Who had no part with us in Darnley’s blood,
So God shall strike not on his unjust side
Who fights against you.
BOTHWELL.
‘Faith, if God were judge,
He should not do us right to approve their cause
Who helped us to that slaying, and in its name
Take on them now to accuse us, and appeal
As guiltless to him against their proper deed
And this right hand that wrought but with their will;
Wherefore so far forth as it hangs on God
From such a champion I should bear the bell,
If he be righteous; which to assure you of,
That even for God’s sake you may feel no fear,
Let Morton meet me.
QUEEN.
O, that two-tongued knave!
The worst of all my traitors, whom I spared
And should have slain when you had brought him home
To help despatch his friend that had been! nay,
Him shal
l you meet not: he shall die no death
So brave as by your sword; the axe thinks long
To clasp his cursed neck; your hand, dear lord,
Shall not redeem it.
BOTHWELL.
Come, content you, sweet;
Him I must meet, or other; and myself
Care not if one that struck with us it be
Or one that struck not; only for your ease,
To make you trustful for God’s judgment’s sake
And confident of justice, I thought well
To choose a man of counsel with us then
And on this challenge fight with him, that God
Might witness with us of his treacherous cause
If I should win the field; but by this hand,
I put more trust in it and in my sword
Than in God’s hand or judgment. Have no fear;
What is our cause you know, and in what right
We stand here armed; vex not your constant heart
To seek for help or warrant more than this,
Which if it cannot stand us yet in stead
It shall avail not to devise fresh means
To underprop with prayer and trust in God
And stay our souls with footless faith or hope
That other might will aid our right than ours.
Here shall we try it: and you, sustain your spirit
Still at its height and poise of fortitude
Firmly to front this infirm face of things
That changes on us gazing, and each hour
Shifts as the wind that shapes it; fear nor hope,
Bethink yourself, shall make or unmake fate,
Nor faith unbuild or build it, but that end
Will be at last that will be. So, keep heart;
Choose you two messengers for trust and speed
While I go form again these lines of ours
That break and loosen in the enemy’s sight,
If time shall let reshape their ranks, and mend
The breach of their defection; in short space
Shall we have answer back whom I must meet,
And then my sword shall take this day’s chance up
And ease us of its trouble. Nay, make haste;
Too long I stand yet here; send off at once
Our message, and bid speed their word again
Before our battle melt out of our hands
And we be ta’en with no man at our back.
Scene II. The Camp of the Lords
Morton, Lindsay, Du Croc, Kirkaldy of Grange, and others