First place in this day’s peril, no man last,
But all one part of peril and one place
To stand and strike, if God be good to us,
In the last field that shall be fought for her
Upon this quarrel. Who are they that lead
The main of the queen’s battle?
KIRKALDY.
On their left
Lord Herries, and Argyle in front; with him
Claude Hamilton and James of Evandale
Bring up their turbulent ranks.
LINDSAY.
Why, these keep none
That crowd against us; horse and mingled foot
Confound each other hurtling as they come
Sheer up between the houses.
MURRAY.
Some default
That maims the general strength has in their need
Held them an hour delaying: our harquebusmen,
Two thousand tried, the best half of our foot,
Keep the way fast each side even to this height
Where stands our strength in the open. We shall have,
If aught win through of all their chivalry,
Some sharp half-hour of hand to hand at last
Ere one thrust other from this brow. Lord Hume,
Keep you the rear of our right wing that looks
Toward Herries and his horsemen; Ochiltree,
Stand you beside him; Grange and Lindsay here
Shall bide with me the main front of their fight
When these break through our guard. Let word be given
That no man when the day is won shall dare
Upon our side to spill one drop of blood
That may be spared of them that yield or fly.
Exeunt.
Scene X. Another part of the Field
Enter Herries and Seyton, with their Soldiers
HERRIES.
If they of our part hold the hill-top yet,
For all our leader’s loss we have the day.
SEYTON.
They stand this half-hour locked on both sides fast
And grappling to the teeth. I would to God
When for faint heart and very fear Argyle
Fell from his horse before the battle met
The devil had writhed his neck round, whose delay
At point to charge first maimed us; else by this
We had scattered them as crows. Make up again
And drive their broken lines in on the rear
While those in front stand doubtful. Charge once more,
Enter Ochiltree and Hume, with Soldiers
And all this side is ours. - Lord Ochiltree,
Yield, in the queen’s name.
OCHILTREE.
In the king’s I stand
To bid his traitors battle.
They fight; Ochiltree falls.
HERRIES.
Stand thou too,
Or give us place; I had rather have to-day
At my sword’s end thee than a meaner man
To try this cause.
HUME.
This edge of mine shall try
Which side and steel be truer.
They fight; Hume is wounded.
SEYTON.
God and the queen!
Set on; this height once ours, this day is too,
And all days after.
HERRIES.
Halt not yet, good friends,
Till with our bright swords we have crowned the hill
Whereon they stand at grapple. Close again,
And we ride lords at large of the free field
Whence these fall hurled in sunder.
SEYTON.
To the height!
Our fellows are fast locked yet with our foes;
Make up there to their comfort.
Enter Lindsay, Kirkaldy, Sir William Douglas, young Ochiltree, with Soldiers
LINDSAY.
Sirs, not yet;
Ere ye win through there be more spears to break
Than there in fight are fastened. Stand, or yield.
HERRIES.
The Highland folk that doubtfully held off
Are fallen upon our flank; hear you the noise?
Back, sirs, bear back: we are sped.
Exit with his followers.
SEYTON.
The day is gone;
Let life go after; for I will not fly
To meet my queen’s face as a beaten man.
Enter Murray, Morton, etc., with Soldiers
MURRAY.
Charge once, and then sheathe swords; the field is ours:
They fly now both ways broken. Some one spur
To bid those knaves that howl upon the rear
Cut short their quest of blood; they were too slack
Who are now so hot, when first the hunt was up;
They shall not flesh those fangs on flying men
That in the fight were bloodless.
SEYTON.
Men, stand fast;
Let not the currish cry of Highland hounds
Bark on your fugitive quarry: here a man
May fall not like a stag or harried hare,
But die more solderlike than in the toils
With their loud pack upon him.
YOUNG OCHILTREE.
Die then here
And pay me for my father, if God please
My life with his shall lie not on thy hand,
But thine on mine as forfeit.
They fight; Seyton falls.
MURRAY.
Slay him not;
I say, put up your sword.
YOUNG OCHILTREE.
Sir, pardon me;
There bleeds my father yet: he too shall die.
MURRAY.
Young man, nor he nor any of his part
When I say, Live. Take up your sword again;
And by this hand that struck it from your own
Be ruled and learn what loyal use it hath,
Which is not on its prisoner. Send forth word
That none take life of any man that yields;
Pursue, but slay not; for the day is won,
And this last battle ended that shall see
By Scottish hands the reek of Scotsmen slain
Defame the face of Scotland. While I live,
If God as on this day be good to her,
Her eyes shall look on her own blood no more.
Exeunt.
Scene XI. The Heights near Langside
The Queen, Mary Beaton, Fleming, Boyd, and young Maxwell
QUEEN.
This is the last time I shall look on war:
Upon this day I know my fate is set
As on a sword’s point. Does the fight stand still,
That we see nothing on that hill’s brow stir
Where both sides lashed together?
FLEMING.
If the light
Tell mine eyes truth that reel with watching, both
Stand with spears crossed and locked so hard, and points
So fast inwound with such inveteracy,
That steel can thrust not steel an inch away
Nor foot push foot a hair’s breadth back that hangs
On the hill’s edge and yields not. Hark! the noise
Grows sharper and more various in its cry
Than first it was; there comes upon the day
Some change for good or ill; but for my charge,
I would not say Would God my hand were there,
But take its chance upon it.
QUEEN.
Be content
To stand this day our soldier at her side
Who will not live to lay such charge again
On them that love her. Lo there, on the left
They charge again from our part.
MAXWELL.
There it is
My father fights; his horse are they that make
The hill’s length rock and lighten as a sea;
; Look where the waves meet as that wind of steeds
Sweeps them together; how they reel and fall
There with the shock from under of the storm
That takes in rear and breaks their guard and leaves
The right wing of the rebels cloven in twain,
And in the cleft their first men fallen that stood
Against the sea-breach. O, this gallant day
Shows us our fortune fair as her fair face
For whom we came to seek it, and the crown
That it gives back more glorious.
QUEEN.
If we knew
How fares our van - Nay, go not from me one,
Lest we be scattered.
BOYD.
Hear you not a cry
As from the rear, a note of ruin, sent
Higher than the noise of horsemen? and therewith
A roar of fire as though the artillery there
Spake all at once its heart untimely out;
Pray God our powder be not spent by chance
And in its waste undo us.
QUEEN.
My heart is sick,
Yet shall it not subdue me while my will
Hath still a man’s strength left. I was not thus -
I will not think what ever I have been.
The worst day lasts no longer than a day,
And its worst hour hath but an hour of life
Wherein to work us evil.
MARY BEATON.
Here comes one
Hot-spurred with haste and pale with this hour’s news:
Now shall we know what work it had to do
And what the next hour may.
Enter George Douglas
GEORGE DOUGLAS.
The day is lost.
There is but one way with us; here we stand
As in death’s hand already. You must fly,
Madam, while time be left or room for flight,
As if there be I know not.
FLEMING.
Is the van
Broken?
GEORGE DOUGLAS.
Look up where late it stood so fast
That wellnigh for an hour the grappling ranks
Were so enlinked in front, the men behind
That fired across the rank of them before
And hurled their pistols in their enemies’ face
Above their comrades’ heads that held the van
Saw them yet reeking on the spear-shafts lodged
That caught them flatlong fallen athwart the staves
Fixed opposite and level, till a shot
Slew him that led behind the artillery up
As the first round was ended on our part,
And straight a gunner’s linstock dropped, and gave
Fire to the powder-waggon.
MAXWELL.
But the horse -
We saw my father’s with Lord Seyton’s horse
Hurl up against the left side round the hill
And break their right wing in the rear.
GEORGE DOUGLAS.
Ye saw?
But not who brought them rescue, and bore back
Your father’s force with might and ruin; Grange
And Lindsay, with my brother third, who fights
With the more bitter heart and hate to-day
For our name’s sake to purge him of my deed
And wreak him on my friends; and would to God,
But for the service’ sake I had to do,
He had met me whom perchance he sought, and slain,
Ere I had borne this news out of the fight
To bid you fly.
QUEEN.
Where will God set mine end?
I am wearied of this flying from death to death
That is my life, and man’s: where’er I go,
From God and death I fly not: and even here
It may be they must find me.
MARY BEATON.
Nay, not yet;
Take heart again, and fly.
QUEEN.
O, this I knew,
Even by thine eyes I knew it a great while since
As now by mine. Our end of fear is come,
That casts out hope as well. Let us make hence.
Perchance our help is in Dumbarton yet
Upon the rock where I would fain at first
Have set my feet; how say you, Fleming, now?
May we there make us fast?
GEORGE DOUGLAS.
The ways are thronged
With arms and noise of enemies; everywhere
The land is full of death and deadly cries
From throats that gape for blood; the regent’s horse
Hold all the highway; and the straiter lanes
Stand thick with peasant folk whose hands are armed
With staves and sickles in their rage caught up
To strike at you for fault of sword or pike
Wherewith to charge us flying: no way is left
But south to Galloway and Lord Herries’ land,
Where you may breathe but for a doubtful day
In the sea’s sight of refuge.
MAXWELL.
In God’s name
Take his good counsel, madam; as you know
The noble Douglas wise and true, believe
So shall you find my father’s men and mine
In this great need.
QUEEN.
Come, help me then to horse;
If I must ride some hundred miles to breathe,
As we must fly no less, I think, or fall
Among our foes that follow, in my mind
The worst it were not nor the unkindliest death
To die in saddle. I will not give again,
So please it God, into mine enemies’ hands
My body up for bondage; twice or thrice
I have ridden hard by stars of March or May
With false or true men to my left and right
The wild night through for death or kingly life,
And if I ride now with few friends at hand
I have none false of them; or if as once
One ride with me that had my hate alive
Who rode with me to his own grave, and now
Holds me in chase toward mine - O, thou that wast
My hate and husband, whom these men to-day
Take on them to revenge, and in thy name
Turn all men’s hearts against me that were born
Mine and all swords that served me, if thou be
A shadow at hand, a ghost unreconciled,
That waits to take his triumph, hear and see
If in this hour that smites me, which is thine,
Thou find one thought in me that bows my heart,
One pang that turns it from the thing it was,
One pulse that moves me to repent or fear
For what was done or shall be; if thou have
But so much power upon me to be called
Less hateful or more fearful, and thy death
With aught of dread have clothed the thought of thee
That thy life had not; if thou seest me fly,
Then must thou see too that thou shalt not see
In death or life one part of spirit or sense
In me that calls thee master. To God’s hand
I give the rest; but in mine own I hold
The perfect power for good or evil days
To keep the heart I had, and on myself
Lose not one jot of lordship; so may God
Love me no less and be no slower, I think,
To help my soul than theirs more vile than mine
And made for chance to mar, whereon their fate
Has power as on their bodies. If he will,
Now should he help, or never; for we leave
A field more fatal to us and day more foul
Than ever cast out hope. I am loth to go
More than to die; yet come what will soe’er,
To Mary Beaton.
But yet I learnt it of thee. Come; we have
One dark day less of doom to see and live
Who have seen this and die not. Stay by me;
I know thou wilt; if I should bid thee go,
It were but even as if I bade thee stay
Who hast as far to flee from death as I.
Exeunt.
Scene XII. Dundrennan Abbey
The Queen and Herries
QUEEN.
Talk not to me of France; this man it was
That gave his tongue to serve my kinsmen’s plea
Who fain had seen me plight at Hamilton
To their Arbroath my hand and kingdom; nay,
I will not seek my fate at Catherine’s hand,
Nor on those lips that were my mother’s watch
My life hang weighed between a word and smile,
Nor on that sleek face of the Florentine
Read my doom writ, nor in her smooth swart cheek
See the blood brighten with desire of mine.
I will not live or die upon her tongue
Whose hate were glad to give me death or life
More hateful from her giving; and I know
How she made proffer to my last year’s lords
To take me from their bondage to her own
And shut my days up cloistered; even such love
Should France afford me now that in men’s sight
I stand yet lower, as fallen from this year’s hope
To live discrowned for ever. Tell him this
Who rode with you behind me from the field,
And bid him bear his mistress word of me
As one that thinks not to be made the mean
For them to weave alliance with my foes,
And with the purchase of my bartered blood
Buy back their power in Scotland.
HERRIES.
I shall say it;
Yet this man’s friendship, madam, might find faith
Who by so wild a way has followed you
To this third day that sees your flight at end,
Where you may sit some forty days secure
In trust and guard of mine.
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Page 243
