The song ceased. Far away the great sea slept...

The song ceased. Far away the great sea slept,

And all was very still. Only hard by

One bird-throat poured its passion through the gloom,

And the whole night breathlessly listened.

A twig

Snapped, the song ceased, the intense dumb night was all

One passion of expectation — as if that song

Were prelude, and ere long the heavens and earth

Would burst into one great triumphant psalm.

The song ceased only as if that small bird-throat

Availed no further. Would the next great chord

Ring out from harps in flaming seraph hands

Ranged through the sky? The night watched, breathless, dumb.

Bess listened. Once again a dry twig snapped

Beneath her casement, and a face looked up,

Draining her face of blood, of sight, of life,

Whispering, a voice from far beyond the stars,

Whispering, unutterable joy, the whole

Glory of life and death in one small word —

Sweetheart!

The jasmine at her casement shook,

She knew no more than he was at her side,

His arms were round her, and his breath beat warm

Against her cheek.

Suddenly, nigh the house,

A deep-mouthed mastiff bayed and a foot crunched

The gravel. “Hark! they are watching for thee,” she cried.

He laughed: “There's half of Europe on the watch

Outside for my poor head,‘ Tis cosier here

With thee; but now” — his face grew grave, he drew

A silken ladder from his doublet — “quick,

Before yon good gamekeeper rounds the house

We must be down.” And ere the words were out

Bess reached the path, and Drake was at her side.

Then into the star-stabbed shadow of the woods

They sped, his arm around her. Suddenly

She drew back with a cry, as four grim faces,

With hand to forelock, glimmered in their way.

Laughing she saw their storm-beat friendly smile

Welcome their doughty captain in this new

Adventure. Far away, once more they heard

The mastiff bay; then nearer, as if his nose

Were down upon the trail; and then a cry

As of a hot pursuit. They reached the brook,

Hurrying to the deep. Drake lifted Bess

In his arms, and down the watery bed they splashed

To baffle the clamouring hunt. Then out of the woods

They came, on the seaward side, and Bess, with a shiver,

Saw starlight flashing from bare cutlasses,

As the mastiff bayed still nearer. Swiftlier now

They passed along the bare blunt cliffs and saw

The furrow ploughed by that strange cannon-shot

Which saved this hour for Bess; down to the beach

And starry foam that churned the silver gravel

Around an old black lurching boat, a strange

Grim Charon's wherry for two lovers’ flight,

Guarded by old Tom Moone. Drake took her hand,

And with one arm around her waist, her breath

Warm on his cheek for a moment, in she stepped

Daintily o'er the gunwale, and took her seat,

His throned princess, beside him at the helm,

Backed by the glittering waves, his throned princess,

With jewelled throat and glorious hair that seemed

Flashing back scents and colours to a sea

Which lived but to reflect her loveliness.

Then, all together, with their brandished oars

The seamen thrust as a heavy mounded wave

Lifted the boat; and up the flowering breast

Of the next they soared, then settled at the thwarts,

And the fierce water boiled before their blades

While with Drake's iron hand upon the helm

They plunged and ploughed across the starlit seas

To where a small black lugger at anchor swung,

Dipping her rakish brow i’ the liquid moon.

Small was she, but not fangless; for Bess saw,

With half a tremor, the dumb protective grin

Of four grim guns above the tossing boat.

But ere his seamen or his sweetheart knew

What power, as of a wind, bore them along,

Anchor was up, the sails were broken out,

And as they scudded down the dim grey coast

Of a new enchanted world ( for now had Love

Made all things new and strange ) the skilled musicians

Upraised, at Drake's command, a song to cheer

Their midnight path across that faery sea.