The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere

The Archbishop of York, the Bishops of London and of Salisbury.
Gil.
The boors at Sandwich as his ship drew near
Noting the great cross archiepiscopal,
Met him breast high in the waves.

Joce. of Sal.
The women hailed him
The orphan's father, and the widow's judge:
From Sandwich to the gates of Canterbury
The concourse, as he passed them, knelt, and sang
‘Blessed the man who cometh in God's name!’

Gil.
De Broc and our retainers, as he landed,
Drew near, their armour hidden 'neath their vests,
Protesting with fierce brows against our wrong:
Becket thus answered: ‘With your king's consent—
Two hundred men together heard him speak it—
The Pope suspends those bishops for their sin.’
If Henry yields, all's lost.

Roger.
The king's consent!
'Twas he who bade us crown the prince his son!

Gil.
The game is played, and lost. The cards were with us—
A king magnanimous, and an angry queen
Foe of our foe; an emperor whose sword

297

Warred on the crosier; and an antipope;
The barons with us, and the people cowed.
These things were for us; what was there against us?
One man—one man alone; not trained in schools;
No canonist; with scant ascetic fame;
A man once worldly warred on by the world:
My lords, this man, subduing his own heats,
And learning how to wait, hath to himself
Well-nigh subdued the realm. No course remains
This day, except to yield.

Joce.
We had these helps;
But policy had none.

Roger.
My lord, we had one:
A day ere Becket landed all was marred.
I at Saint Paul's had sung that morn the mass:
The king was standing with his courtiers round him;
Then drew to me a nun in black, and knelt:
She raised, in humble sort, a scroll. I took it.
She closed my hand in both of hers, and cried,
‘A mandate from the Pope with his command
To read the same aloud.’ The papal seal—
The Fisherman's—witnessed that scroll authentic:
Perforce I read it. 'Twas my own suspension!

Joce.
The nun?

Roger.
Through folly of the king she 'scaped:
The boy but laughed; then sent her to her convent,
Therein to plot and pray.

Joce.
Her name?

Be Broc
(who has just ridden up).
Idonea!
The accursèd veil hid not the hand! I knew it.
I knew it, and remembered well that day
When, as she passed me, by the primate's side
Issuing from Canterbury's sanctuary,

298

I said, ‘That small white hand shall dig his grave!’
From John of Oxford this! he landed late
At Sandwich with the traitor.

Roger.
Sir, I thank you.
(Reads)
‘The king has given consent to those suspensions,
And stands impledged to fill the vacant sees.
Wring, from this darkness, dawn! At once—unbidden—
In over-measure crown his six years' suit.
Send him six canons from each vacant see:
Let these elect the bishop he shall choose,
In his own chapel, yea, in his own presence;
The royal heart will then be wholly yours:
Make speed across the seas.’

Gil.
At once—we must:
I much misdoubt this youthful king.

De Broc.
Attend:
Where'er the traitor moves I hem him round
With horsemen fierce and free. Without a guard
He dares not move. Now mark! A guard's an army!
A larger army is that rabble-rout
Which dogs his steps. Scare the young king with rumours;
Wake up his spleen; tell him the primate's sworn
To abase a prince ill crowned.

Gil.
The prince, thus warned,
When Becket reaches London must repel him.
His heart will sink; the people's zeal will slack,
And wild tales rush abroad.

De Broc.
The self-same rumours
Shall fire the father-king.

Roger.
A sager counsel—

299

De Broc.
Sage heads and keen of England, and of France
That think ye see so far, I tell you this,
Within the hollow heart of all your sageness
A blind worm works! Farewell! Ere long you'll cry,
‘The strong hand of De Broc was worth us all.’

[He gallops away. The rest, except Gilbert of London, walk rapidly towards the harbour.
Gil.
(alone).
Somewhere—I know not when—I know not how—
I took, methinks, one step—one little step—
A hair's breadth only from the righteous way.
Where will this end? I know not. This I know,
A man there is I hate; his name is Becket.

University of Virginia Library

Scene III.—Sea-shore at Dover.