Welcome, good friends, and welcome this good day
That casts out hope and brings in certainty
To turn raw spring to summer. Now not long
The flower that crowns the front of all our faiths
Shall bleach to death in prison; now the trust
That took the night with fire as of a star
Grows red and broad as sunrise in our sight
Who held it dear and desperate once, now sure,
But not more dear, being surer. In my hand
I hold this England and her brood, and all
That time out of the chance of all her fate
Makes hopeful or makes fearful: days and years,
Triumphs and changes bred for praise or shame
From the unborn womb of these unknown, are ours
That stand yet noteless here; ours even as God’s
Who puts them in our hand as his, to wield
And shape to service godlike. None of you
But this day strikes out of the scroll of death
And writes apart immortal; what we would,
That have we; what our fathers, brethren, peers,
Bled and beheld not, died and might not win,
That may we see, touch, handle, hold it fast,
May take to bind our brows with. By my life,
I think none ever had such hap alive
As ours upon whose plighted lives are set
The whole good hap and evil of the state
And of the Church of God and world of men
And fortune of all crowns and creeds that hang
Now on the creed and crown of this our land,
To bring forth fruit to our resolve, and bear
What sons to time it please us; whose mere will
Is father of the future.
TILNEY.
Have you said?
BABINGTON.
I cannot say too much of so much good.
TILNEY.
Say nothing then a little, and hear one while:
Your talk struts high and swaggers loud for joy,
And safely may perchance, or may not, here;
But why to-day we know not.
BABINGTON.
No, I swear,
Ye know not yet, no man of us but one,
No man on earth; one woman knows, and I,
I that best know her the best begot of man
And noblest; no king born so kingly-souled,
Nor served of such brave servants.
TICHBORNE.
What, as we?
BABINGTON.
Is there one vein in one of all our hearts
That is not blown aflame as fire with air
With even the thought to serve her? and, by God,
They that would serve had need be bolder found
Than common kings find servants.
SALISBURY.
Well, your cause?
What need or hope has this day’s heat brought forth
To blow such fire up in you?
BABINGTON.
Hark you, sirs;
The time is come, ere I shall speak of this,
To set again the seal on our past oaths
And bind their trothplight faster than it is
With one more witness; not for shameful doubt,
But love and perfect honour. Gentlemen,
Whose souls are brethren sealed and sworn to mine,
Friends that have taken on your hearts and hands
The selfsame work and weight of deed as I,
Look on this picture; from its face to-day
Thus I pluck off the muffled mask, and bare
Its likeness and our purpose. Ay, look here;
None of these faces but are friends of each,
None of these lips unsworn to all the rest,
None of these hands unplighted. Know ye not
What these have bound their souls to? and myself,
I that stand midmost painted here of all,
Have I not right to wear of all this ring
The topmost flower of danger? Who but I
Should crown and close this goodly circle up
Of friends I call my followers? There ye stand,
Fashioned all five in likeness of mere life,
Just your own shapes, even all the man but speech,
As in a speckless mirror; Tichborne, thou,
My nearest heart and brother next in deed,
Then Abington, there Salisbury, Tilney there,
And Barnwell, with the brave bright Irish eye
That burns with red remembrance of the blood
Seen drenching those green fields turned brown and grey
Where fire can burn not faith out, nor the sword
That hews the boughs off lop the root there set
To spread in spite of axes. Friends, take heed;
These are not met for nothing here in show
Nor for poor pride set forth and boastful heart
To make dumb brag of the undone deed, and wear
The ghost and mockery of a crown unearned
Before their hands have wrought it for their heads
Out of a golden danger, glorious doubt,
An act incomparable, by all time’s mouths
To be more blessed and cursed than all deeds done
In this swift fiery world of ours, that drives
On such hot wheels toward evil goals or good,
And desperate each as other; but that each,
Seeing here himself and knowing why here, may set
His whole heart’s might on the instant work, and hence
Pass as a man rechristened, bathed anew
And swordlike tempered from the touch that turns
Dull iron to the two-edged fang of steel
Made keen as fire by water; so, I say,
Let this dead likeness of you wrought with hands
Whereof ye wist not, working for mine end
Even as ye gave them work, unwittingly,
Quicken with life your vows and purposes
To rid the beast that troubles all the world
Out of men’s sight and God’s. Are ye not sworn
Or stand not ready girt at perilous need
To strike under the cloth of state itself
The very heart we hunt for?
TICHBORNE.
Let not then
Too high a noise of hound and horn give note
How hot the hunt is on it, and ere we shoot
Startle the royal quarry; lest your cry
Give tongue too loud on such a trail, and we
More piteously be rent of our own hounds
Than he that went forth huntsman too, and came
To play the hart he hunted.
BABINGTON.
Ay, but, see,
Your apish poet’s-likeness holds not here,
If he that fed his hounds on his changed flesh
Was charmed out of a man and bayed to death
But through pure anger of a perfect maid;
For she that should of huntsmen turn us harts
Is Dian but in mouths of her own knaves,
And in paid eyes hath only godhead on
And light to dazzle none but them to death.
Yet I durst well abide her, and proclaim
As goddess-like as maiden.
BARNWELL.
Why, myself
Was late at court in presence, and her eyes
Fixed somewhile on me full in face; yet, ‘faith,
I felt for that no lightning in my blood
Nor blast in mine as of the sun at noon
To blind their balls with godhead; no, ye see,
I walk yet well enough.
ABINGTON.
She gazed at you?
BARNWELL.
Yes, ‘faith; yea, surely; take a Puritan oath
To seal my faith for Catholic. What, God help,
Are not mine eyes yet whole then? am I blind
Or maimed or scor
ched, and know not? by my head,
I find it sit yet none the worse for fear
To be so thunder-blasted.
ABINGTON.
Hear you, sirs?
TICHBORNE.
I was not fain to hear it.
BARNWELL.
Which was he
Spake of one changed into a hart? by God,
There be some hearts here need no charm, I think,
To turn them hares of hunters; or if deer,
Not harts but hinds, and rascal.
BABINGTON.
Peace, man, peace!
Let not at least this noble cry of hounds
Flash fangs against each other. See what verse
I bade write under on the picture here:
These are my comrades, whom the peril’s self
Draws to it; how say you? will not all in the end
Prove fellows to me? how should one fall off
Whom danger lures and scares not? Tush, take hands;
It was to keep them fast in all time’s sight
I bade my painter set you here, and me
Your loving captain; gave him sight of each
And order of us all in amity.
And if this yet not shame you, or your hearts
Be set as boys’ on wrangling, yet, behold,
I pluck as from my heart this witness forth
Taking out a letter.
To what a work we are bound to, even her hand
Whom we must bring from bondage, and again
Be brought of her to honour. This is she,
Mary the queen, sealed of herself and signed
As mine assured good friend for ever. Now,
Am I more worth or Ballard?
TILNEY.
He it was
Bade get her hand and seal to allow of all
That should be practised; he is wise.
BABINGTON.
Ay, wise!
He was in peril too, he said, God wot,
And must have surety of her, he; but I,
’Tis I that have it, and her heart and trust,
See all here else, her trust and her good love
Who knows mine own heart of mine own hand writ
And sent her for assurance.
SALISBURY.
This we know;
What we would yet have certified of you
Is her own heart sent back, you say, for yours.
BABINGTON.
I say? not I, but proof says here, cries out
Her perfect will and purpose. Look you, first
She writes me what good comfort hath she had
To know by letter mine estate, and thus
Reknit the bond of our intelligence,
As grief was hers to live without the same
This great while past; then lovingly commends
In me her own desire to avert betimes
Our enemies’ counsel to root out our faith
With ruin of us all; for so she hath shown
All Catholic princes what long since they have wrought
Against the king of Spain; and all this while
The Catholics naked here to all misuse
Fall off in numbered force, in means and power,
And if we look not to it shall soon lack strength
To rise and take that hope or help by the hand
Which time shall offer them; and see for this
What heart is hers! she bids you know of me
Though she were no part of this cause, who holds
Worthless her own weighed with the general weal,
She will be still most willing to this end
To employ therein her life and all she hath
Or in this world may look for.
TICHBORNE.
This rings well;
But by what present mean prepared doth hers
Confirm your counsel? or what way set forth
So to prevent our enemies with good speed
That at the goal we find them not, and there
Fall as men broken?
BABINGTON.
Nay, what think you, man,
Or what esteem of her, that hope should lack
Herein her counsel? hath she not been found
Most wary still, clear-spirited, bright of wit,
Keen as a sword’s edge, as a bird’s eye swift,
Man-hearted ever? First, for crown and base
Of all this enterprise, she bids me here
Examine with good heed of good event
What power of horse and foot among us all
We may well muster, and in every shire
Choose out what captain for them, if we lack
For the main host a general; – as indeed
Myself being bound to bring her out of bonds
Or here with you cut off the heretic queen
Could take not this on me; – what havens, towns,
What ports to north and west and south, may we
Assure ourselves to hold in certain hand
For entrance and receipt of help from France,
From Spain, or the Low Countries; in what place
Draw our main head together; for how long
Raise for this threefold force of foreign friends
Wage and munition, or what harbours choose
For these to land; or what provision crave
Of coin at need or armour; by what means
The six her friends deliberate to proceed;
And last the manner how to get her forth
From this last hold wherein she newly lies:
These heads hath she set down, and bids me take
Of all seven points counsel and common care
With as few friends as may be of the chief
Ranged on our part for actors; and thereon
Of all devised with diligent speed despatch
Word to the ambassador of Spain in France,
Who to the experience past of all the estate
Here on this side aforetime that he hath
Shall join goodwill to serve us.
TILNEY.
Ay, no more?
Of us no more I mean, who being most near
To the English queen our natural mistress born
Take on our hands, her household pensioners’,
The stain and chiefest peril of her blood
Shed by close violence under trust; no word,
No care shown further of our enterprise
That flowers to fruit for her sake?
BABINGTON.
Fear not that;
Abide till we draw thither – ay – she bids
Get first assurance of such help to come,
And take thereafter, what before were vain,
Swift order to provide arms, horses, coin,
Wherewith to march at word from every shire
Given by the chief; and save these principals
Let no man’s knowledge less in place partake
The privy ground we move on, but set forth
For entertainment of the meaner ear
We do but fortify us against the plot
Laid of the Puritan part in all this realm
That have their general force now drawn to head
In the Low Countries, whence being home returned
They think to spoil us utterly, and usurp
Not from her only and all else lawful heirs
The kingly power, but from their queen that is
(As we may let the bruit fly forth disguised)
Wrest that which now she hath, if she for fear
Take not their yoke upon her, and therefrom
Catch like infection from plague-tainted air
The purulence of their purity; with which plea
We so may stablish our confederacies
As wrought but for defence of lands, lives, goods,
From them that would cut off our faith and these;
No word writ straight or given directly forth
Against the queen, but rather showing our will
Firm to maintain her and her lineal heirs,
Myself (she saith) not named. Ha, gallant souls,
Hath our queen’s craft no savour of sweet wit,
No brain to help her heart with?
TICHBORNE.
But our end –
No word of this yet?
BABINGTON.
And a good word, here,
And worth our note, good friend; being thus prepared,
Time then shall be to set our hands on work
And straight thereon take order that she may
Be suddenly transported out of guard,
Not tarrying till our foreign force come in,
Which then must make the hotter haste; and seeing
We can make no day sure for our design
Nor certain hour appointed when she might
Find other friends at hand on spur of the act
To take her forth of prison, ye should have
About you always, or in court at least,
Scouts furnished well with horses of good speed
To bear the tiding to her and them whose charge
Shall be to bring her out of bonds, that these
May be about her ere her keeper have word
What deed is freshly done; in any case,
Ere he can make him strong within the house
Or bear her forth of it: and need it were
By divers ways to send forth two or three
That one may pass if one be stayed; nor this
Should we forget, to assay in the hour of need
To cut the common posts off; by this plot
May we steer safe, and fall not miserably,
As they that laboured heretofore herein,
Through overhaste to stir upon this side
Ere surety make us strong of strangers’ aid.
And if at first we bring her forth of bonds,
Be well assured, she bids us – as I think
She doubts not me that I should let this slip,
Forget so main a matter – well assured
To set her in the heart of some strong host,
Or strength of some good hold, where she may stay
Till we be mustered and the ally drawn in;
For should the queen, being scatheless of us yet
As we unready, fall upon her flight,
The bird untimely fled from snare to snare
Should find being caught again a narrower hold
Whence she should fly forth never, if cause indeed
Should seem not given to use her worse; and we
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 245