Queen Mary; and, Harold Part 17

My foreign friends, who dream'd us blanketed In ever-closing fog, were much amazed To find as fair a sun as might have flash'd Upon their lake of Garda, fire the Thames; Our voyage by sea was all but miracle; And here the river flowing from the sea, Not toward it (for they thought not of our tides), Seem'd as a happy miracle to make glide-- In quiet--home your banish'd countryman.

MARY. We heard that you were sick in Flanders, cousin.

POLE. A dizziness.

MARY. And how came you round again?

POLE. The scarlet thread of Rahab saved her life; And mine, a little letting of the blood.

MARY. Well? now?

POLE. Ay, cousin, as the heathen giant Had but to touch the ground, his force return'd-- Thus, after twenty years of banishment, Feeling my native land beneath my foot, I said thereto: 'Ah, native land of mine, Thou art much beholden to this foot of mine, That hastes with full commission from the Pope To absolve thee from thy guilt of heresy.

Thou hast disgraced me and attainted me, And mark'd me ev'n as Cain, and I return As Peter, but to bless thee: make me well.'

Methinks the good land heard me, for to-day My heart beats twenty, when I see you, cousin.

Ah, gentle cousin, since your Herod's death, How oft hath Peter knock'd at Mary's gate!

And Mary would have risen and let him in, But, Mary, there were those within the house Who would not have it.

MARY. True, good cousin Pole; And there were also those without the house Who would not have it.

POLE. I believe so, cousin.

State-policy and church-policy are conjoint, But Ja.n.u.s-faces looking diverse ways.

I fear the Emperor much misvalued me.

But all is well; 'twas ev'n the will of G.o.d, Who, waiting till the time had ripen'd, now, Makes me his mouth of holy greeting. 'Hail, Daughter of G.o.d, and saver of the faith.

Sit benedictus fructus ventris tui!'

MARY. Ah, heaven!

POLE. Unwell, your Grace?

MARY. No, cousin, happy-- Happy to see you; never yet so happy Since I was crown'd.

POLE. Sweet cousin, you forget That long low minster where you gave your hand To this great Catholic King.

PHILIP. Well said, Lord Legate.

MARY. Nay, not well said; I thought of you, my liege, Ev'n as I spoke.

PHILIP. Ay, Madam; my Lord Paget Waits to present our Council to the Legate.

Sit down here, all; Madam, between us you.

POLE. Lo, now you are enclosed with boards of cedar, Our little sister of the Song of Songs!

You are doubly fenced and s.h.i.+elded sitting here Between the two most high-set thrones on earth, The Emperor's highness happily symboll'd by The King your husband, the Pope's Holiness By mine own self.

MARY. True, cousin, I am happy.

When will you that we summon both our houses To take this absolution from your lips, And be regather'd to the Papal fold?

POLE. In Britain's calendar the brightest day Beheld our rough forefathers break their G.o.ds, And clasp the faith in Christ; but after that Might not St. Andrew's be her happiest day?

MARY. Then these shall meet upon St. Andrew's day.

_Enter_ PAGET, _who presents the Council. Dumb show_.

POLE. I am an old man wearied with my journey, Ev'n with my joy. Permit me to withdraw.

To Lambeth?

PHILIP. Ay, Lambeth has ousted Cranmer.

It was not meet the heretic swine should live In Lambeth.

MARY. There or anywhere, or at all.

PHILIP. We have had it swept and garnish'd after him.

POLE. Not for the seven devils to enter in?

PHILIP. No, for we trust they parted in the swine.

POLE. True, and I am the Angel of the Pope.

Farewell, your Graces.

PHILIP. Nay, not here--to me; I will go with you to the waterside.

POLE. Not be my Charon to the counter side?

PHILIP. No, my Lord Legate, the Lord Chancellor goes.

POLE. And unto no dead world; but Lambeth palace, Henceforth a centre of the living faith.

[_Exeunt_ PHILIP, POLE, PAGET, _etc_.

_Manet_ MARY.

MARY. He hath awaked! he hath awaked!

He stirs within the darkness!

Oh, Philip, husband! now thy love to mine Will cling more close, and those bleak manners thaw, That make me shamed and tongue-tied in my love.

The second Prince of Peace-- The great unborn defender of the Faith, Who will avenge me of mine enemies-- He comes, and my star rises.

The stormy Wyatts and Northumberlands, The proud ambitions of Elizabeth, And all her fieriest partisans--are pale Before my star!

The light of this new learning wanes and dies: The ghosts of Luther and Zuinglius fade Into the deathless h.e.l.l which is their doom Before my star!

His sceptre shall go forth from Ind to Ind!

His sword shall hew the heretic peoples down!

His faith shall clothe the world that will be his, Like universal air and suns.h.i.+ne! Open, Ye everlasting gates! The King is here!-- My star, my son!

_Enter_ PHILIP, DUKE OF ALVA, _etc_.

Oh, Philip, come with me; Good news have I to tell you, news to make Both of us happy--ay, the Kingdom too.

Nay come with me--one moment!

PHILIP (_to_ ALVA). More than that: There was one here of late--William the Silent They call him--he is free enough in talk, But tells me nothing. You will be, we trust, Sometime the viceroy of those provinces-- He must deserve his surname better.

ALVA. Ay, sir; Inherit the Great Silence.