132 Sir Nicholas at Marston Moor. Oh, many were the tears that those radiant eyes had shed, As she worked the bright word 'Glory' in the gay and glancing thread; And mournful was the smile that o'er those beauteous features ran, As she said, 'It is your lady's gift, unfurl it in the van.' 'It shall flutter, noble wench, where the best and boldest ride, Through the steel-clad files of Skippon and the black dragoons of Pride; The recreant soul of Fairfax will feel a sicklier qualm, And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder psalm, When they see my lady's gew-gaw flaunt bravely on their wing, And hear her loyal soldiers shout, for God and for the King!' 'Tis noon; the ranks are broken along the royal line; They fly, the braggarts of the Court, the bullies of the Rhine: Stout Langley's cheer is heard no more, and Astley's helm is down, And Rupert sheathes his rapier with a curse and with a frown; And cold Newcastle mutters as he follows in the flight, The Knight is all alone, his steel cap cleft in twain, stain; But still he waves the standard, and cries amid the rout 'For Church and King, fair gentlemen, spur on and fight it out!' And now he wards a Roundhead's pike, and now he hums a stave, And here he quotes a stage-play, and there he fells a knave. Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas ! thou hast no thought of fear; Good speed to thee, Sir Nicholas! but fearful odds are here. The traitors ring thee round, and with every blow and thrust, Down, down,' they cry, 'with Belial, down with him to the dust!' 'I would' quoth grim old Oliver, 'that Belial's trusty sword This day were doing battle for the Saints and for the Lord!' The Lady Alice sits with her maidens in her bower; The gray-haired warden watches on the castle's highest tower. 'What news, what news, old Anthony?' 'The field is lost and won; The ranks of war are melting as the mists beneath the sun; And a wounded man speeds hither,—I am old and cannot see Or sure I am that sturdy step my master's step should be.' 'I bring thee back the standard from as rude and rough a fray, As e'er was proof of soldier's thews, or theme for min strel's lay. Bid Hubert fetch the silver bowl, and liquor quantum suff.; I'll make a shift to drain it, ere I part with boot and buff; Though Guy through many a gaping wound is breathing out his life, And I come to thee a landless man, my fond and faithful wife! 'Sweet, we will fill our money-bags, and freight a ship for France, And mourn in merry Paris for this poor realm's mischance; Or, if the worst betide me, why, better axe or rope, Than life with Lenthal for a king, and Peters for a pope! Alas, alas, my gallant Guy!-out on the crop-eared boor, That sent me with my standard on foot from Marston Moor!' LXXIV. W. M. Praed. SONNET. T is a beauteous evening, calm and free. Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea : Aud doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder-everlastingly. Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, Thy nature is not therefore less divine : W. Wordsworth. LXXV. KING RICHARD II. ACT III. SCENE III.-Wales, before Flint Castle. KING RICHARD. DUKE OF AUMERLE. EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND. North. HY thrice noble cousin Harry Bolingbroke doth humbly kiss thy hand; And by the honourable tomb he swears, That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones, K. Rich. Northumberland, say thus the king returns : His noble cousin is right welcome hither; And all the number of his fair demands Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not. [To Aumerle. To look so poorly and to speak so fair? Shall we call back Northumberland, and send Defiance to the traitor, and so die? Aum. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words On yon proud man, should take it off again Or not remember what I must be now! Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. Aum. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. K. Rich. What must the king do now? must he submit? The king shall do it must he be deposed? The king shall be contented: must he lose Some way of common trade†, where subjects' feet - Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, * Words of sooth. Assuaging, soothing words. + Common trade. A beaten path. The original meaning of trade is a path or course that is traded or trodden. |