Their horrors suage not, tho' my heart should break.
Regard this portraiture.*
MRS. CLAYPOLE. (Looking at a Painting.)
In imagery dark, the glowing tint
Of rich and gloomy brown, like forest shade
Thro' twilight, by the fearful eye scarce seen ;
And beauteous light thrown from the mellow sky
Athwart the fine obscure: where fraught with life
Two forms jut from the canvass, and come out
In mirror like relief; one of ripe years,
And I would judge the other for a king,
The circlet noting on his beamy front,
Save that a boon he begs: and must endure
Refusal fixt and high.
* Sir John Oldcastle Lord Cobham. Ob. 1417.
Dwells in the senior's aspect; having sense
Of peril, yet deliberate to dare :
Inly sustain'd, and eyeing what's remote,
To wanton somewhat with his fate he seems;
And clos'd by honour, with reluctance stems
The quest of one as gracious as the spring.
Are they for gods; wherewith the limner vies
His very soul to ouch within his art,
And plot the human, blent in the divine.
Yet breathes the royal youth somewhat amaze,
And baulk'd solicitude; a hasty lip
Upon the curl, unformed to sue in vain.
But lo! in yonder region I detect
What did not first appear, whose baleful eyes
Glare like a lion's thro' the murky shade;
The pallid scowl of predetermin'd hate,
Into white-cheek'd revenge, settled and wrought.
What thing is this; so steadfast in his ire?
Ah me! an inmate of the place of woe,
Ne'er was wound up to such perpetual wrath.
Now will I teach this hist'ry: mark me well.
The youth is Henry, of that name the fifth,
Who brake in twain the brazen gates of France.
With Cobham, his approved friend, he pleads,
Who, like Cornelius, serv'd the King of kings,
And found his service gain. Howbeit this mars
The hierarchy's pride.* His liege alarm'd,
Deals with him close, his faith to abnegate,
And, retrogade within the courts of Rome,
Re-kiss the idol shrine. But the odious priest,†
Taught of the strength of conscience, that 'tis vain
To wrest his spirit who is nerv'd of heaven,
Already whispers vengeful fire to rid
The heretic. I pray thee mark this scene;
T'avert whose semblance in this goodly realm,
And such true tale as thou anon shalt hear,
My hands I glov'd in steel; and clutched up
The reins of England, and am hedg'd outright
O'er-head to king it, lest worse ill befall.
* The Papal Priesthood.
† Archbishop Arundel.
God save the soldier from the hideous monk, Methinks he's not in peril from the king.
pray thee list. Earl Cobham was the prime Of English thanes, whose blazing chivalry Flar'd in the eyes of European peers.*
Broad regions for their valid lord him, own'd,
Wide seigniory of mountain and of flood,
Where his tall fortress rose 'mid wenned oaks,
Engirding all that blesses homebred scenes,
Of festal hospitality, warm store,
And bosom friendships, and exub'rant alms
Th' entreaty of the wishful poor that cheer.
The towering grace and majesty of life,
Which most part view at distance and revere :
And eyeing him not grudgingly, well pleas'd
That all the peerage should his worth partake,
By river and by leafy forest side,
Contented, blithe, his vassals dwell around:
* In Henry V.-French wars.
Whose free and plentiful felicity
Adorn'd his potent earldom, not reproached.
So did his puissance them fence from wrong,
As Lebanon embosoms from the storm
Sweet-wooded cedars that bedeck his side.
Happily flitted past the months of youth,
Till manhood came, with brow bemesh'd in cares,
And notions new of choice: stung wherewithal,
He starts to call of honour and the king,
And makes for France, those dubious fields to try,
That held the balanc'd nations in suspense,
And hazard all upon the quivering stakes
Of peril and renown. Forthwith his clan,
Asham'd of loitering by recumbent herds,
Mid sluggish verdure of the drowsy meads
'And sultry idleness thro' tedded flowers,
While their bold chief, in steely armour cas'd,
Woo'd danger's awful smile; follow, intent
To blend their life-blood in his noble cause.
And when high-mettled and unsparing war
Surceased, and peace her luscious notes had pip'd,
The lofty Baron and his carles return,
Trooping, their gladsome mouths with laughter fill'd,
Like sire and sons; warpt in such friendly knot,
As partner'd peril wove on bloody plains.
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