Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series)
Page 238
MAITLAND.
One threat the more
From your queen’s lips bequeathed by rote to yours,
Or one more promise? If we run her course,
This queen will leave us in the briars, we know,
There to lie fast or labour till the thorns
Have rent our flesh and raiment.
THROGMORTON.
Sir, take thought
If help were sent not at the siege of Leith,
When France had grasped you by the throat, and sea
To land gave battle, from that sovereign’s hand
Whom now ye trust not.
MAITLAND.
Ay, for her own ends
She cast the French out and flung back their power
Which here was deadly to her, and of that deed
Had recompense with surety: but what aid
Must we now look for of her, on whose will
Hang all our enemies’ hopes? I would I had been
Banished seven years my country, and your queen
On that condition had but as a friend
Dealt freely with us. Let her now proclaim,
Her own seed failing, this our prince her heir,
And England shall no less have care of him
Than we his lineal servants; else, if hence
We yield him to your keeping, men will say
We have given our natural master to be kept
As among wolves a sheep, and made our hope
The fosterling of danger: and small trust
Should we put in her that has newly dealt
By secret message to subvert our state,
We know, with those indeed of our queen’s kin
From whose report we know it.
THROGMORTON.
What have they said?
MAITLAND.
That you brought proffers of her aid and love
To incite their arms, to quicken the slow snake
Whose sting lies cold yet in their policy,
But watched and warmed of her with hand and eye
The perfect poison should put forth, and thrust
At once the hot and cloven tongue of war
Even in our face and bosom; but for fear,
It may be, or being yet at heart’s root Scots, -
For this or that cause, through false heart or true,
So is it, that in doubt of your good mind
Toward them or Scotland, in whose breast you sought
To make the mutual swords of her own sons
Clash as they crossed once more, drinking her blood,
They sent us word of all your embassy.
THROGMORTON.
But you, whate’er these thought or feigned to think,
Think no such foolish evil as fools may,
Deem not of England as the Scot who deems
She hath no will, no line of life, no hope,
No thought but Scotland’s ruin, and our queen
No sense of aught here done - her sister’s doom,
The people’s rage, the council’s purpose - nought
But where to find in these a guileful mean
To strike at Scotland? why, these fears are old,
White-bearded dreams, suspicions long grown grey,
Dangers and doubts toothless and eyeless now
That fright nor babe nor dotard; and your thought
Finds room for such? What profit should she have
To turn your swords against each other’s throats
And pick some privy chance of vantage up
That fell between your factions at her feet?
Such chance indeed of vantage might there fall
For your own queen, who nowise has been slow
To nurse the chance and wait on it and serve,
From strifes rekindled and requickening claims
Set each at each in England, whence or craft
Or force might filch or seize for Scotland’s sake
Some no less jewel than her eye ere now
Was fixed so fast on, even the crown that hangs
In doubt yet of unsure inheritance,
As hangs not yours for us to pluck at, who,
Reign whoso may when this queen’s life is quenched,
In Scotland shall reign never.
MAITLAND.
That I know,
And this no less; that he who reigns shall reign
Never by right of England’s leave or love,
Her ward or servant; as, this queen removed,
Haply ye hope her lineal heir might be,
And in that hope work with these Hamiltons
To strike at us in Mary’s name, and pluck
Death from our hands upon her; you, your queen,
And they her kinsfolk, all ye seek her death;
No word but of her freedom in your mouths,
No end than this less looked for in your hearts.
Speak to the council as but now to me,
Defy them in her cause, not all the world
For three days’ space shall save her.
THROGMORTON.
Nay, not we
Desire the queen’s death at your hand provoked,
But here from Tullibardine’s mouth I know
Her kin at secret heart desire no less,
And will ye but allow their house its right
By heritage to reign, no need, they say,
To take more care for her, who privily
May be put out of life, and no man more
In that dead name be troubled; and again,
If they with no such promise being assured
Shall not join hands with you, and England then
Shall bring the queen back whom ye spared to slay,
Ye are lost and they not winners. Therefore is it
That of Lord Mar and of yourself I seek
Help for the queen’s deliverance, who being dead
Can profit no man but your foes and ours
That love not England more than they love you
Nor you than they love England: shall not both
With their own cause take part?
MAITLAND.
It is too late;
What part should we take with you, to what end,
Since all the council knows your traffic now
With their chief foes, and how being there betrayed
You can but bring us such a friendship back
As they would none of?
THROGMORTON.
Sir, if yet you fear,
If you suspect yet that our queen desires
To speed the death of yours or make it sure
By pleading for her, or by threat of war
Denounced for her sake, let this letter be
The seal and warrant of our single heart,
Wherein she threatens war - but smile not yet -
If in his mother’s name for him discrowned
Ye crown the child that has but wailed one year.
This should the lords have seen; but even for doubt
Lest it should set their spirits on such fire
As but her blood shed presently could slake,
And this be deemed its aim indeed at heart
And privy purpose of her hand who writ,
Your eye alone must read that reads it now
And the lord Murray’s; for they know that send
And with it send me this for secret charge,
They know the truth and heat of fiery will
That urges our queen’s heart upon this war,
And for no end but for her sake who sits
Held fast in bonds of her own subjects born,
And with her all the majesty on earth
That walks with monarchs, and no king alive
But wears some shameful parcel of her chain.
MAITLAND.
Though this be truth, yet they that hold it false
Will join in wrath with them that hold it true,
Even for t
he threat’s sake and for shame, will join
To write red answer in the slain queen’s blood
Back to the queen that threatens. Nay, herself
Who sits in bonds yet of us will not yield
To come forth singly safe, nor give consent
That Bothwell should fare worse than she, or have
More harm or danger; and being thus incensed,
A three-edged weapon in the council’s hand
Is drawn to smite at need, a treble charge
Whereon to impeach her; on that statute first
Made of this land’s religion seven years since,
Which though she signed not, yet its breach in her
Shall stand for guilt before them; and thereto
Shall she be challenged of incontinence
With more than Bothwell, who by noteless nights
Have made her bed adulterous; and of each
The proof that seals her shame in him, they say,
Lies in their hand; last, of her murdered lord
Their warrant cries against her; and from these
No man may think to quit her nor secure,
Save he that here comes timeliest for such toil
As none beside may take upon his hand.
Enter Murray
Welcome, my lord, and to a land that lacks
As never yet it lacked or looked for you.
What comfort bring you for her wounds from France
Besides that present help of hand and head
We heard returned an hour since?
MURRAY.
Sir, thus much;
All of our faith in France will in our cause
Live or die fighting; gold and men in arms
Will flow thence on us in full stream and free
If Scotland set but open hand or breast
To greet them coming; they will buy our love
At what best price they may.
THROGMORTON.
But you, my lord,
That have loved England ever, and that know
The worth and unworth weighed of either friend,
French faith or English, will not surely buy
With heavy hate of England the light love
That France and fraud would sell you, nor for this
Cast off the fortune and the peace unborn
That may bind fast in one strong ring of sea
Two jewels become one jewel, one such land
As from the stout fort of a single heart
Fixed like a sea-rock might look forth and laugh
Upon the under wars of all the world,
And see not higher the heads of kingdoms risen
Than of small waves in summer? will you pluck
This hope out of the hopeful hand of time
Ere he can gather, this good fruit that grows
On the green present branch of time’s grey tree
To feed the future where the hungry past
Could get but blood for bread, and with bare steel
Died starved and smitten?
MURRAY.
Sir, when I came in
By secret flight from France, out of the guard
Wherein I lived inwalled with watch of men
That the court set about me to withhold
My foot from England - when an English boat
Had borne me oversea by secret night
From privy port to port, at the long last
I saw your queen’s face darken on mine own
As on a servant favour-fallen, that came
To take rebuke and speak not; in her speech
I found no note of favour, no good word,
Nor honour such as late in France I found
And finding fled from: sharply with strange eyes
She glanced against me; taxed me with the bonds
Wherein men held my sister; half a threat
Was all her promise: I returned but this,
I would be still a Scotsman, and this land
I had more mind to serve and do her good
Than either of these queens; so parted thence
Unfriendlike, yet with no breach openly
Proclaimed of friendship; and being here, my mind
Is yet to serve no mistress but alone
This earth my bones were bred of, this kind land
Which moulded me and fostered; her strong milk
Put manhood in my blood, and from my heart
If she that nurtured need it now to drink
I think not much to shed it. If those lords
In whom her power now stands shall with one mouth
Bid me put on this weight of regency,
For no man’s fear shall I deny them; she,
Your queen that threatens me with ignominy
If I obey their choice and call, must know
That to God only and my heart, those twain
That are one eye to know me and to judge,
Will I refer it; and of them being known
That with pure purpose and no soiled intent
I take this charge up, I will bear it through
To the right end. Yet ere my mind be fixed,
I will behold her that was queen, and see
How sits the spirit within her; but howe’er,
Till Bothwell in our hands lie trapped and dead
She must not pass forth free; and we will hold
No traffic for the bear’s skin merchant-like
Before the bear be caught; but if your queen
Proclaim against us therefore war, be sure
We will not lose our lives, yield up our lands,
And bear repute of rebels through the world,
Who might, how loth soe’er, in all men’s eyes
Make our cause clear as righteousness; the proofs
Which in our hands lie darkling yet, but bear
The perfect witness of those ill deeds past
That bring her thus in danger of our doom
And righteous peril of all-judging law,
Must to the world’s eye nakedly set forth
What cause is hers, and ours; when if I stand
In the king’s likeness of the state elect,
To him in me shall all knees bend and hearts
Kneel subjected; for them that hold apart,
No head shall stand of any Hamilton
That shall not bow before my sword or me.
Scene IV. Lochleven Castle
The Queen and George Douglas
QUEEN.
Will he be here to-day? Alas, my friend,
I made my hope of this till he should come,
And now he comes I would not look on him.
I know not what put hope into my fear
That this your mother’s and my father’s son
Should do me good for evil.
GEORGE DOUGLAS.
Madam, I think
The mind can be but good that marshals him
To your fair presence; nay, though even his soul
Were damned so deep as to desire your death,
He durst not come to show us his purpose here
Who were not chosen for murderers at his hire
But guards and servants that would shed their lives
Ere yours should look on danger.
QUEEN.
That we know,
And have no better wage than love to give,
Which more to give we grudge not, being so poor,
Than from your queen’s hands you disdain to take:
But what knows he? for aught our brother knows,
Your mother and yourself are envious guards
That hate me for my faith as for my fault
And hold your hands but till he bids you slay
Or yield me to my slayers. Ah my last knight,
You shall do well to leave me at my need;
He will command you; when this brother knows
I am not hated, think you then my friend
Shall no
t be chidden from me?
GEORGE DOUGLAS.
When my life
Is bidden from my body; not till then
Shall I be found obedient.
Enter Lady Lochleven
QUEEN.
Be but wise,
And wisdom shall not let you disobey.
Our noble hostess, you have borne a son,
I dare not say more noble, but I dare
More simple than his elders; one whose heart
Stands fast when fortune stands not, and requires,
As other men do power and glory and gold,
No guerdon but the memory writ of him
To have been most true when fortune was most false,
And most to have loved whom she most hated: this
Shall not of them be written. Come you not
To bring one to me that shall never sin
As he by faith and folly? I would say
Of my great brother and your kingly son
Nothing but good; yet can nor you nor I
Say that he loves me and my fallen estate
More than the power he comes to take from me,
Or rather from their hands that ere he came
Had rent it out of mine. Nay, look not sad;
You should be merrier than my mother might,
Were she now living.
LADY LOCHLEVEN.
God shall witness me
What joy I have of such a guest, or pride
To be so stricken, madam, of your tongue
Chastising me for triumph; if my heart
Exalt itself for this day’s sake, God knows,
Who hears you mock me.
QUEEN.
Nay, I said no scorn;
I had rather need to pray you in his name
Scorn not at me. Let him come in; I know
What ceremony my masters should put on
Were but to mock their servant.
Enter Murray, Athol, and Morton
Sirs, you twain
That brought me two months since between you safe
Out of the town by night that sought my blood
Myself bid welcome; but she is not I
That in this presence should make welcome here
My father’s son; nor shall my speech usurp
For modesty that office: yet indeed
I am glad, my lord, to see your face, that must
Bring comfort, or an end of all this life
That yet needs comfort.
MURRAY.
What I may, I will;
Yet haply shall you find not in my words
Or death or comfort; as you give them heed,