'Twould sweep to the lights of Charles's Wain,
As the hills of the deep 'ud mount and flee.
Then swoop down vanishing cliffs again
To the thundering gulfs of the Ocean-sea.
We saw it shine as it swooped from the height,
With ruining breakers on every hand,
Then—a cry came out of the black mid-night,
As near to heaven by sea as by land!
And the light was out! Like a wind-blown spark;
All in a moment! And we—and we—
Prayed for his soul as we swept thro' the dark:
For he was a Knight of the Ocean-sea.
Over our fleets for evermore
The winds 'ull triumph and the waves roar!
But he sails on, sails on before!
Silence a moment held the Mermaid Inn,
Then Michael Drayton, raising a cup of wine,
Stood up and said,—"Since many have obtained
Absolute glory that have done great deeds,
But fortune is not in the power of man,
So they that, truly attempting, nobly fail,
Deserve great honour of the common-wealth.
Such glory did the Greeks and Romans give
To those that in great enterprises fell
Seeking the true commodity of their country
And profit to all mankind; for, though they failed,
Being by war, death, or some other chance,
Hindered, their images were set up in brass,
Marble and silver, gold and ivory,
In solemn temples and great palace-halls,
No less to make men emulate their virtues
Than to give honour to their just deserts.
God, from the time that He first made the world,
Hath kept the knowledge of His Ocean-sea
And the huge Æquinoctiall Continents
Reserved unto this day. Wherefore I think
No high exploit of Greece and Rome but seems
A little thing to these Discoveries
Which our adventurous captains even now
Are making, out there, Westward, in the night,
Captains most worthy of commendation,
Hugh Willoughby—God send him home again
Safe to the Mermaid!—and Dick Chauncellor,
That excellent pilot. Doubtless this man, too,
Sir Humphrey Gilbert, was worthy to be made
Knight of the Ocean-sea. I bid you all
Stand up, and drink to his immortal fame!"
II
A COINER OF ANGELS
Some three nights later, thro' the thick brown fog,
A link-boy, dropping flakes of crimson fire,
Flared to the door and, through its glowing frame, Ben Jonson and Kit Marlowe, arm in arm,
Swaggered into the Mermaid Inn and called
For red-deer pies.
There, as they supped, I caught
Scraps of ambrosial talk concerning Will,
His Venus and Adonis.
"Gabriel thought
'Twas wrong to change the old writers and create
A cold Adonis."
—"Laws were made for Will,
Not Will for laws, since first he stole a buck
In Charlecote woods."
—"Where never a buck chewed fern,"
Laughed Kit, "unless it chewed the fern seed, too,
And walked invisible."
"Bring me some wine," called Ben,
And, with his knife thrumming upon the board,
He chanted, while his comrade munched and smiled.
I
Will Shakespeare's out like Robin Hood
With his merry men all in green,
To steal a deer in Charlecote wood
Where never a deer was seen.