ACT FIFTHSCENE IOFF CAPE TRAFALGAR[A bird’s eye view of the sea discloses itself. It is daybreak,and the broad face of the ocean is fringed on its eastern edgeby the Cape and the Spanish shore. On the rolling surfaceimmediately beneath the eye, ranged more or less in two parallellines running north and south, one group from the twain standingoff somewhat, are the vessels of the combined French and Spanishnavies, whose canvases, as the sun edges upward, shine in itsrays like satin.On the western horizon two columns of ships appear in full sail,small as moths to the aerial vision. They are bearing downtowards the combined squadrons.]RECORDING ANGEL I [intoning from his book]At last Villeneuve accepts the sea and fate,Despite the Cadiz council called of late,Whereat his stoutest captains—men the firstTo do all mortals durst—Willing to sail, and bleed, and bear the worst,Short of cold suicide, did yet opineThat plunging mid those teeth of treble lineIn jaws of oaken woodHeld open by the English navarchyWith suasive breadth and artful modesty,Would smack of purposeless foolhardihood.RECORDING ANGEL IIBut word came, writ in mandatory mood,To put from Cadiz, gain Toulon, and straightAt a said sign on Italy operate.Moreover that Villeneuve, arrived as planned,Would find Rosily in supreme command.—Gloomy Villeneuve grows rash, and, darkly brave,Leaps to meet war, storm, Nelson—even the grave.SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music]Ere the concussion hurtle, draw abreastOf the sea.SEMICHORUS IIWhere Nelson’s hulls are rising from the west,Silently.SEMICHORUS IEach linen wing outspread, each man and ladSworn to beSEMICHORUS IIAmid the vanmost, or for Death, or gladVictory![The point of sight descends till it is near the deck of the“Bucentaure,” the flag-ship of VILLENEUVE. Present thereuponare the ADMIRAL, his FLAG-CAPTAIN MAGENDIE, LIEUTENANTDAUDIGNON, other naval officers and seamen.]MAGENDIEAll night we have read their signals in the air,Whereby the peering frigates of their vanHave told them of our trend.VILLENEUVEThe enemyMakes threat as though to throw him on our stern:Signal the fleet to wear; bid GravinaTo come in from manoeuvring with his twelve,And range himself in line.[Officers murmur.]I say againBid Gravina draw hither with his twelve,And signal all to wear!—and come uponThe larboard tack with every bow anorth!—So we make Cadiz in the worst event.And patch our rags up there. As we head nowOur only practicable thoroughfareIs through Gibraltar Strait—a fatal door!Signal to close the line and leave no gaps.Remember, too, what I have already told:Remind them of it now. They must not pauseFor signallings from me amid a strifeWhose chaos may prevent my clear discernment,Or may forbid my signalling at all.The voice of honour then becomes the chief’s;Listen they thereto, and set every stitchTo heave them on into the fiercest fight.Now I will sum up all: heed well the charge;EACH CAPTAIN, PETTY OFFICER, AND MANIS ONLY AT HIS POST WHEN UNDER FIRE.[The ships of the whole fleet turn their bows from south tonorth as directed, and close up in two parallel curved columns,the concave side of each column being towards the enemy, andthe interspaces of the first column being, in general, oppositethe hulls of the second.]AN OFFICER [straining his eyes towards the English fleet]How they skip on! Their overcrowded sailBulge like blown bladders in a tripeman’s shopThe market-morning after slaughterday!PETTY OFFICERIt’s morning before slaughterday with us,I make so bold to bode![The English Admiral is seen to be signalling to his fleet. Thesignal is: “ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY.” A loudcheering from all the English ships comes undulating on the windwhen the signal is read.]VILLENEUVEThey are signalling too—Well, business soon begins!You will reserve your fire. And be it knownThat we display no admirals’ flags at allUntil the action’s past. ’Twill puzzle them,And work to our advantage when we close.—Yes, they are double-ranked, I think, like us;But we shall see anon.MAGENDIEThe foremost oneMakes for the “Santa Ana.” In such caseThe “Fougueux” might assist her.VILLENEUVEBe it so—There’s time enough.—Our ships will be in place,And ready to speak back in iron wordsWhen theirs cry Hail! in the same sort of voice.[They prepare to receive the northernmost column of the enemy’sships headed by the “Victory,” trying the distance by an occasionalsingle shot. During their suspense a discharge is heard southward,and turning they behold COLLINGWOOD at the head of his column inthe “Royal Sovereign,” just engaging with the Spanish “Santa Ana.”Meanwhile the “Victory’s” mizzen-topmast, with spars and a quantityof rigging, is seen to have fallen, her wheel to be shot away, andher deck encumbered with dead and wounded men.]VILLENEUVE’Tis well! But see; their course is undelayed,And still they near in clenched audacity!DAUDIGNONWhich aim deft Lucas o’ the “Redoubtable”Most gallantly bestirs him to outscheme.—See, how he strains, that on his timbers fallBlows that were destined for his Admiral![During this the French ship “Redoubtable” is moving forwardto interpose itself between the approaching “Victory” and the“Bucentaure.”]VILLENEUVENow comes it! The “Santisima Trinidad,”The old “Redoubtable’s” hard sides, and ours,Will take the touse of this bombastic blow.Your grapnels and your boarding-hatchets—ready!We’ll dash our eagle on the English deck,And swear to fetch it!CREWAy! We swear. HuzzaLong live the Emperor![But the “Victory” suddenly swerves to the rear of the “Bucentaure,”and crossing her stern-waters, discharges a broadside into her andthe “Redoubtable” endwise, wrapping the scene in folds of smoke.The point of view changes.]SCENE IITHE SAME. THE QUARTER-DECK OF THE “VICTORY”[The van of each division of the English fleet has drawn to thewindward side of the combined fleets of the enemy, and brokentheir order, the “Victory” being now parallel to and alongsidethe “Redoubtable,” the “Temeraire” taking up a station on theother side of that ship. The “Bucentaure” and the “SantisimaTrinidad” become jammed together a little way ahead. A smokeand din of cannonading prevail, amid which the studding-sailbooms are shot away.NELSON, HARDY, BLACKWOOD, SECRETARY SCOTT, LIEUTENANT PASCO,BURKE the Purser, CAPTAIN ADAIR of the Marines, and otherofficers are on or near the quarter-deck.]NELSONSee, there, that noble fellow Collingwood,How straight he helms his ship into the fire!—Now you’ll haste back to yours [to BLACKWOOD].—We must henceforthTrust to the Great Disposer of events,And justice of our cause!...[BLACKWOOD leaves. The battle grows hotter. A double-headed shotcuts down seven or eight marines on the “Victory’s” poop.]Captain Adair, part those marines of yours,And hasten to disperse them round the ship.—Your place is down below, Burke, not up here;Ah, yes; like David you would see the battle![A heavy discharge of musket-shot comes from the tops of the“Santisima Trinidad. ADAIR and PASCO fall. Another swatheof Marines is mowed down by chain-shot.]SCOTTMy lord, I use to you the utmost prayersThat I have privilege to shape in words:Remove your stars and orders, I would beg;That shot was aimed at you.NELSONThey were awarded to me as an honour,And shall I do despite to those who prize me,And slight their gifts? No, I will die with them,If die I must.[He walks up and down with HARDY.]HARDYAt least let’s put you onYour old greatcoat, my lord—[the air is keen.].—’Twill cover all. So while you still retainYour dignities, you baulk these deadly aimsNELSONThank ’ee, good friend. But no,—I haven’t time,I do assure you—not a trice to spare,As you well will see.[A few minutes later SCOTT falls dead, a bullet having piercedhis skull. Immediately after a shot passes between the Admiraland the Captain, tearing the instep of Hardy’s shoe, and strikingaway the buckle. They shake off the dust and splinters it hasscattered over them. NELSON glances round, and perceives whathas happened to his secretary.]NELSONPoor Scott, too, carried off! Warm work this, Hardy;Too warm to go on long.HARDYI think so, too;Their lower ports are blocked against our hull,And our charge now is less. Each knock so nearSets their old wood on fire.NELSONAy, rotten as peat.What’s that? I think she has struck, or pretty nigh![A cracking of musketry.]HARDYNot yet.—Those small-arm men there, in her tops,Thin our crew fearfully. Now, too, our gunsHave dipped full down, or they would rakeThe “Temeraire” there on the other side.NELSONTrue.—While you deal good measure out to these,Keep slapping at those giants over here—The “Trinidad,” I mean, and the “Bucentaure,”To win’ard—swelling up so pompously.HARDYI’ll see no slackness shall be shown that way.[They part and go in their respective directions. Gunners, nakedto the waist and reeking with sweat, are now in swift action onthe several decks, and firemen carry buckets of water hither andthither. The killed and wounded thicken around, and are beinglifted and examined by the surgeons. NELSON and HARDY meet again.]NELSONBid still the firemen bring more bucketfuls,And dash the water into each new holeOur guns have gouged in the “Redoubtable,”Or we shall all be set ablaze together.HARDYLet me once more advise, entreat, my lord,That you do not expose yourself so clearly.Those fellows in the mizzen-top up thereAre peppering round you quite perceptibly.NELSONNow, Hardy, don’t offend me. They can’t aim;They only set their own rent sails on fire.—But if they could, I would not hide a buttonTo save ten lives like mine. I have no causeTo prize it, I assure ’ee.—Ah, look there,One of the women hit,—and badly, too.Poor wench! Let some one shift her quickly down.HARDYMy lord, each humblest sojourner on the seas,Dock-labourer, lame longshore-man, bowed bargee,Sees it as policy to shield his lifeFor those dependent on him. Much more, then,Should one upon whose priceless presence hereSuch issues hang, so many strivers lean,Use average circumspection at an hourSo critical for us all.NELSONAy, ay. Yes, yes;I know your meaning, Hardy,; and I knowThat you disguise as frigid policyWhat really is your honest love of me.But, faith, I have had my day. My work’s nigh done;I serve all interests best by chancing itHere with the commonest.—Ah, their heavy gunsAre silenced every one! Thank God for that.HARDY’Tis so. They only use their small arms now.[He goes to larboard to see what is progressing on that sidebetween his ship and the “Santisima Trinidad.”]OFFICER [to seaman]Swab down these stairs. The mess of blood aboutMakes ’em so slippery that one’s like to fallIn carrying the wounded men below.[While CAPTAIN HARDY is still a little way off, LORD NELSON turnsto walk aft, when a ball from one of the muskets in the mizzen-top of the “Redoubtable” enters his left shoulder. He falls uponhis face on the deck. HARDY looks round, and sees what hashappened.]HARDY [hastily]Ah—what I feared, and strove to hide I feared!...[He goes towards NELSON, who in the meantime has been lifted bySERGEANT-MAJOR SECKER and two seamen.]NELSONHardy, I think they’ve done for me at last!HARDYI hope not!NELSONYes. My backbone is shot through.I have not long to live.[The men proceed to carry him below.]Those tiller ropesThey’ve torn away, get instantly repaired![At sight of him borne along wounded there is great agitationamong the crew.]Cover my face. There will be no good be doneBy drawing their attention off to me.Bear me along, good fellows; I am but oneAmong the many darkened here to-day![He is carried on to the cockpit over the crowd of dead andwounded.]Doctor, I’m gone. I am waste o’ time to you.HARDY [remaining behind]Hills, go to Collingwood and let him knowThat we’ve no Admiral here.[He passes on.]A LIEUTENANTNow quick and pick him off who did the deed—That white-bloused man there in the mizzen-top.POLLARD, a midshipman [shooting]No sooner said than done. A pretty aim![The Frenchman falls dead upon the poop.The spectacle seems now to become enveloped in smoke, and thepoint of view changes.]SCENE IIITHE SAME. ON BOARD THE “BUCENTAURE”[The bowsprit of the French Admiral’s ship is stuck fast in thestern-gallery of the “Santisima Trinidad,” the starboard side ofthe “Bucentaure” being shattered by shots from two English three-deckers which are pounding her on that hand. The poop is alsoreduced to ruin by two other English ships that are attackingher from behind.On the quarter-deck are ADMIRAL VILLENEUVE, the FLAG-CAPTAINMAGENDIE, LIEUTENANTS DAUDIGNON, FOURNIER, and others, anxiouslyoccupied. The whole crew is in desperate action of battle andstumbling among the dead and dying, who have fallen too rapidlyto be carried below.]VILLENEUVEWe shall be crushed if matters go on thus.—Direct the “Trinidad” to let her drive,That this foul tangle may be loosened clear!DAUDIGNONIt has been tried, sir; but she cannot move.VILLENEUVEThen signal to the “Hero” that she striveOnce more to drop this way.MAGENDIEWe may make signs,But in the thickened air what signal’s marked?—’Tis done, however.VILLENEUVEThe “Redoubtable”And “Victory” there,—they grip in dying throes!Something’s amiss on board the English ship.Surely the Admiral’s fallen?A PETTY OFFICERSir, they sayThat he was shot some hour, or half, ago.—With dandyism raised to godlike pitchHe stalked the deck in all his jewellery,And so was hit.MAGENDIEThen Fortune shows her face!We have scotched England in dispatching him. [He watches.]Yes! He commands no more; and Lucas, joying,Has taken steps to board. Look, spars are laid,And his best men are mounting at his heels.VILLENEUVEAh, God—he is too late! Whence came the hurlOf heavy grape? The smoke prevents my seeingBut at brief whiles.—The boarding band has fallen,Fallen almost to a man.—’Twas well assayed!MAGENDIEThat’s from their “Temeraire,” whose vicious broadsideHas cleared poor Lucas’ decks.VILLENEUVEAnd Lucas, too.I see him no more there. His red planks showThree hundred dead if one. Now for ourselves![Four of the English three-deckers have gradually closed roundthe “Bucentaure,” whose bowsprit still sticks fast in the galleryof the “Santisima Trinidad.” A broadside comes from one of theEnglish, resulting in worse havoc on the “Bucentaure.” The mainand mizzen masts of the latter fall, and the boats are beaten topieces. A raking fire of musketry follows from the attackingships, to which the “Bucentaure” heroically continues still tokeep up a reply.CAPTAIN MAGENDIE falls wounded. His place is taken by LIEUTENANTDAUDIGNON.]VILLENEUVENow that the fume has lessened, code my biddanceUpon our only mast, and tell the vanAt once to wear, and come into the fire.[Aside] If it be true that, as HE sneers, successDemands of me but cool audacity,To-day shall leave him nothing to desire![Musketry continues. DAUDIGNON falls. He is removed, his postbeing taken by LIEUTENANT FOURNIER. Another crash comes, andthe deck is suddenly encumbered with rigging.]FOURNIERThere goes our foremast! How for signalling now?VILLENEUVETo try that longer, Fournier, is in vainUpon this haggard, scorched, and ravaged hulk,Her decks all reeking with such gory shows,Her starboard side in rents, her stern nigh gone!How does she keep afloat?—“Bucentaure,” O lucky good old ship!My part in you is played. Ay—I must go;I must tempt Fate elsewhere,—if but a boatCan bear me through this wreckage to the van.FOURNIEROur boats are stove in, or as full of holesAs the cook’s skimmer, from their cursed balls![Musketry. VILLENEUVE’S Head-of-Staff, DE PRIGNY, falls wounded,and many additional men. VILLENEUVE glances troublously fromship to ship of his fleet.]VILLENEUVEHow hideous are the waves, so pure this dawn!—Red-frothed; and friends and foes all mixed therein.—Can we in some way hail the “Trinidad”And get a boat from her?[They attempt to distract the attention of the “SantisimaTrinidad” by shouting.]Impossible;Amid the loud combustion of this strifeAs well try holloing to the antipodes!...So here I am. The bliss of Nelson’s endWill not be mine; his full refulgent eveBecomes my midnight! Well; the fleets shall seeThat I can yield my cause with dignity.[The “Bucentaure” strikes her flag. A boat then puts off from theEnglish ship “Conqueror,” and VILLENEUVE, having surrendered hissword, is taken out from the “Bucentaure.” But being unable toregain her own ship, the boat is picked up by the “Mars,” andthe French admiral is received aboard her. Point of view changes.]SCENE IVTHE SAME. THE COCKPIT OF THE “VICTORY”[A din of trampling and dragging overhead, which is accompaniedby a continuos ground-bass roar from the guns of the warringfleets, culminating at times in loud concussions. The woundedare lying around in rows for treatment, some groaning, somesilently dying, some dead. The gloomy atmosphere of the low-beamed deck is pervaded by a thick haze of smoke, powdered wood,and other dust, and is heavy with the fumes of gunpowder andcandle-grease, the odour of drugs and cordials, and the smellfrom abdominal wounds.NELSON, his face now pinched and wan with suffering, is lyingundressed in a midshipman’s berth, dimly lit by a lantern. DR.BEATTY, DR. MAGRATH, the Rev. DR. SCOTT the Chaplain, BURKE thePurser, the Steward, and a few others stand around.]MAGRATH [in a low voice]Poor Ram, and poor Tom Whipple, have just gone..BEATTYThere was no hope for them.NELSON [brokenly]Who have just died?BEATTYTwo who were badly hit by now, my lord;Lieutenant Ram and Mr. Whipple.NELSONAh!So many lives—in such a glorious cause....I join them soon, soon, soon!—O where is Hardy?Will nobody bring Hardy to me—none?He must be killed, too. Surely Hardy’s dead?A MIDSHIPMANHe’s coming soon, my lord. The constant callOn his full heed of this most mortal fightKeeps him from hastening hither as he would.NELSONI’ll wait, I’ll wait. I should have thought of it.[Presently HARDY comes down. NELSON and he grasp hands.]Hardy, how goes the day with us and England?HARDYWell; very well, thank God for’t, my dear lord.Villeneuve their Admiral has this moment struck,And put himself aboard the “Conqueror.”Some fourteen of their first-rates, or about,Thus far we’ve got. The said “Bucentaure” chief:The “Santa Ana,” the “Redoubtable,”The “Fougueux,” the “Santisima Trinidad,”“San Augustino, “San Francisco,” “Aigle”;And our old “Swiftsure,” too, we’ve grappled back,To every seaman’s joy. But now their vanHas tacked to bear round on the “Victory”And crush her by sheer weight of wood and brass:Three of our best I am therefore calling up,And make no doubt of worsting theirs, and France.NELSONThat’s well. I swore for twenty.—But it’s well.HARDYWe’ll have ’em yet! But without you, my lord,We have to make slow plodding do the deedsThat sprung by inspiration ere you fell;And on this ship the more particularly.NELSONNo, Hardy.—Ever ’twas your settled faultSo modestly to whittle down your worth.But I saw stuff in you which admirals needWhen, taking thought, I chose the “Victory’s” keelTo do my business with these braggarts in.A business finished now, for me!—Good friend,Slow shades are creeping me... I scarce see you.HARDYThe smoke from ships upon our win’ard side,And the dust raised by their worm-eaten hulks,When our balls touch ’em, blind the eyes, in truth.NELSONNo; it is not that dust; ’tis dust of deathThat darkens me.[A shock overhead. HARDY goes up. On or two other officers go up,and by and by return.]What was that extra noise?OFFICERThe “Formidable’ passed us by, my lord,And thumped a stunning broadside into us.—But, on their side, the “Hero’s” captain’s fallen;The “Algeciras” has been boarded, too,By Captain Tyler, and the captain shot:Admiral Gravina desperately holds out;They say he’s lost an arm.NELSONAnd we, ourselves—Who have we lost on board here? Nay, but tell me!BEATTYBesides poor Scott, my lord, and Charles Adair,Lieutenant Ram, and Whipple, captain’s clerk,There’s Smith, and Palmer, midshipmen, just killed.And fifty odd of seamen and marines.NELSONPoor youngsters! Scarred old Nelson joins you soon.BEATTYAnd wounded: Bligh, lieutenant; Pasco, too,and Reeves, and Peake, lieutenants of marines,And Rivers, Westphall, Bulkeley, midshipmen,With, of the crew, a hundred odd just now,Unreckoning those late fallen not brought below.BURKEThat fellow in the mizzen-top, my lord,Who made it his affair to wing you thus,We took good care to settle; and he fellLike an old rook, smack from his perch, stone dead.NELSON’Twas not worth while!—He was, no doubt, a manWho in simplicity and sheer good faithStrove but to serve his country. Rest be to him!And may his wife, his friends, his little ones,If such be had, be tided through their loss,And soothed amid the sorrow brought by me.[HARDY re-enters.]Who’s that? Ah—here you come! How, Hardy, now?HARDYThe Spanish Admiral’s rumoured to be wounded,We know not with what truth. But, be as ’twill,He sheers away with all he could call round,And some few frigates, straight to Cadiz port.[A violent explosion is heard above the confused noises on deck.A midshipman goes above and returns.]MIDSHIPMAN [in the background]It is the enemy’s first-rate, the “Achille,”Blown to a thousand atoms!—While on fire,Before she burst, the captain’s woman there,Desperate for life, climbed from the gunroom portUpon the rudder-chains; stripped herself stark,And swam for the Pickle’s boat. Our men in charge,Seeing her great breasts bulging on the brine,Sang out, “A mermaid ’tis, by God!”—then rowedAnd hauled her in.—BURKESuch unbid sights obtrudeOn death’s dyed stage!MIDSHIPMANMeantime the “Achille” fought on,Even while the ship was blazing, knowing wellThe fire must reach their powder; which it did.The spot is covered now with floating men,Some whole, the main in parts; arms, legs, trunks, heads,Bobbing with tons of timber on the waves,And splinter looped with entrails of the crew.NELSON [rousing]Our course will be to anchor. Let me know.HARDYBut let me ask, my lord, as needs I must,Seeing your state, and that our work’s not done,Shall I, from you, bid Admiral CollingwoodTake full on him the conduct of affairs?NELSON [trying to raise himself]Not while I live, I hope! No, Hardy; no.Give Collingwood my order. Anchor all!HARDY [hesitating]You mean the signal’s to be made forthwith?NELSONI do!—By God, if but our carpenterCould rig me up a jury-backbone now,To last one hour—until the battle’s done,I’d see to it! But here I am—stove in—Broken—all logged and done for! Done, ay done!BEATTY [returning from the other wounded]My lord, I must implore you to lie calm!You shorten what at best may not be long.NELSON [exhausted]I know, I know, good Beatty! Thank you wellHardy, I was impatient. Now I am still.Sit here a moment, if you have time to spare?[BEATTY and others retire, and the two abide in silence, exceptfor the trampling overhead and the moans from adjoining berths.NELSON is apparently in less pain, seeming to doze.]NELSON [suddenly]What are you thinking, that you speak no word?HARDY [waking from a short reverie]Thoughts all confused, my lord:—their needs on deck,Your own sad state, and your unrivalled past;Mixed up with flashes of old things afar—Old childish things at home, down Wessex way.In the snug village under Blackdon HillWhere I was born. The tumbling stream, the garden,The placid look of the grey dial there,Marking unconsciously this bloody hour,And the red apples on my father’s trees,Just now full ripe.NELSONAy, thus do little thingsSteal into my mind, too. But ah, my heartKnows not your calm philosophy!—There’s one—Come nearer to me, Hardy.—One of all,As you well guess, pervades my memory now;She, and my daughter—I speak freely to you.’Twas good I made that codicil this morningThat you and Blackwood witnessed. Now she restsSafe on the nation’s honour.... Let her haveMy hair, and the small treasured things I owned,And take care of her, as you care for me![HARDY promises.]NELSON [resuming in a murmur]Does love die with our frame’s decease, I wonder,Or does it live on ever?...[A silence. BEATTY approaches.]HARDYNow I’ll leave,See if your order’s gone, and then return.NELSON [symptoms of death beginning to change his face]Yes, Hardy; yes; I know it. You must go.—Here we shall meet no more; since Heaven forfendThat care for me should keep you idle now,When all the ship demands you. Beatty, too.Go to the others who lie bleeding there;Them can you aid. Me you can render none!My time here is the briefest.—If I liveBut long enough I’ll anchor.... But—too late—My anchoring’s elsewhere ordered!... Kiss me, Hardy:[HARDY bends over him.]I’m satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty![HARDY brushes his eyes with his hand, and withdraws to go above,pausing to look back before he finally disappears.]BEATTY [watching Nelson]Ah!—Hush around!...He’s sinking. It is but a trifle nowOf minutes with him. Stand you, please, aside,And give him air.[BEATTY, the Chaplain, MAGRATH, the Steward, and attendantscontinue to regard NELSON. BEATTY looks at his watch.]BEATTYTwo hours and fifty minutes since he fell,And now he’s going.[They wait. NELSON dies.]CHAPLAINYes.... He has homed to whereThere’s no more sea.BEATTYWe’ll let the Captain know,Who will confer with Collingwood at once.I must now turn to these.[He goes to another part of the cockpit, a midshipman ascends tothe deck, and the scene overclouds.]CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music]His thread was cut too slowly! When he fell.And bade his fame farewell,He might have passed, and shunned his long-drawn pain,Endured in vain, in vain!SPIRIT OF THE YEARSYoung Spirits, be not critical of ThatWhich was before, and shall be after you!SPIRIT OF THE PITIESBut out of tune the Mode and meritlessThat quickens sense in shapes whom, thou hast said,Necessitation sways! A life there wasAmong these self-same frail ones—Sophocles—Who visioned it too clearly, even whileHe dubbed the Will “the gods.” Truly said he,“Such gross injustice to their own creationBurdens the time with mournfulness for us,And for themselves with shame.”9—Things mechanizedBy coils and pivots set to foreframed codesWould, in a thorough-sphered melodic rule,And governance of sweet consistency,Be cessed no pain, whose burnings would abideWith That Which holds responsibility,Or inexist.SPIRIT OF THE PITIESYea, yea, yea!Thus would the Mover payThe score each puppet owes,The Reaper reap what his contrivance sows!Why make Life debtor when it did not buy?Why wound so keenly Right that it would die?SPIRIT OF THE YEARSNay, blame not! For what judgment can ye blame?—In that immense unweeting Mind is shownOne far above forethinking; processive,Yet superconscious; a ClairvoyancyThat knows not what It knows, yet works therewith.—The cognizance ye mourn, Life’s doom to feel,If I report it meetly, came unmeant,Emerging with blind gropes from impercipienceBy listless sequence—luckless, tragic Chance,In your more human tongue.SPIRIT OF THE PITIESAnd hence unneededIn the economy of Vitality,Which might have ever kept a sealed cognitionAs doth the Will Itself.CHORUS OF THE YEARS [aerial music]Nay, nay, nay;Your hasty judgments stay,Until the topmost cymeHave crowned the last entablature of Time.O heap not blame on that in-brooding Will;O pause, till all things all their days fulfil!SCENE VLONDON. THE GUILDHALL[A crowd of citizens has gathered outside to watch the carriagesas they drive up and deposit guests invited to the Lord Mayor’sbanquet, for which event the hall is brilliantly lit within. Acheer rises when the equipage of any popular personage arrivesat the door.FIRST CITIZENWell, well! Nelson is the man who ought to have been banquetedto-night. But he is coming to Town in a coach different from these.!SECOND CITIZENWill they bring his poor splintered body home?FIRST CITIZENYes. They say he’s to be tombed in marble, at St. Paul’s orWestminster. We shall see him if he lays in state. It willmake a patriotic spectacle for a fine day.BOYHow can you see a dead man, father, after so long?FIRST CITIZENThey’ll embalm him, my boy, as they did all the great Egyptianadmirals.BOYHis lady will be handy for that, won’t she?FIRST CITIZENDon’t ye ask awkward questions.SECOND CITIZENHere’s another coming!FIRST CITIZENThat’s my Lord Chancellor Eldon. Wot he’ll say, and wot he’ll look!Mr. Pitt will be here soon.BOYI don’t like Billy. He killed Uncle John’s parrot.SECOND CITIZENHow may ye make that out, youngster?BOYMr. Pitt made the war, and the war made us want sailors; and UncleJohn went for a walk down Wapping High Street to talk to the prettyladies one evening; and there was a press all along the river thatnight—a regular hot one—and Uncle John was carried on board aman-of-war to fight under Nelson; and nobody minded Uncle John’sparrot, and it talked itself to death. So Mr. Pitt killed UncleJohn’s parrot; see it, sir?SECOND CITIZENYou had better have a care of this boy, friend. His brain is tooprecious for the common risks of Cheapside. Not but what he mightas well have said Boney killed the parrot when he was about it.And as for Nelson—who’s now sailing shinier seas than ours, ifthey’ve rubbed Her off his slate where he’s gone to,—the Frenchpapers say that our loss in him is greater than our gain in ships;so that logically the victory is theirs. Gad, sir, it’s almosttrue![A hurrahing is heard from Cheapside, and the crowd in thatdirection begins to hustle and show excitement.]FIRST CITIZENHe’s coming, he’s coming! Here, let me lift you up, my boy.— Why,they have taken out the horses, as I am man alive!SECOND CITIZENPitt for ever!—Why, here’s a blade opening and shutting his mouthlike the rest, but never a sound does he raise!THIRD CITIZENI’ve not too much breath to carry me through my day’s work, so Ican’t afford to waste it in such luxuries as crying Hurrah toaristocrats. If ye was ten yards off y’d think I was shoutingas loud as any.SECOND CITIZENIt’s a very mean practice of ye to husband yourself at such a time,and gape in dumbshow like a frog in Plaistow Marshes.THIRD CITIZENNo, sir; it’s economy; a very necessary instinct in these days ofghastly taxations to pay half the armies in Europe! In short, inthe word of the Ancients, it is scarcely compass-mentas to dootherwise! Somebody must save something, or the country will beas bankrupt as Mr. Pitt himself is, by all account; though hedon’t look it just now.[PITT’s coach passes, drawn by a troop of running men and boy.The Prime Minister is seen within, a thin, erect, up-nosedfigure, with a flush of excitement on his usually pale face.The vehicle reached the doorway to the Guildhall and halts witha jolt. PITT gets out shakily, and amid cheers enters thebuilding.]FOURTH CITIZENQuite a triumphal entry. Such is power;Now worshipped, now accursed! The overthrowOf all Pitt’s European policyWhen his hired army and his chosen generalSurrendered them at Ulm a month ago,Is now forgotten! Ay; this TrafalgarWill botch up many a ragged old repute,Make Nelson figure as domestic saintNo less than country’s saviour, Pitt exaltAs zenith-star of England’s firmament,And uncurse all the bogglers of her wealAt this adventurous time.THIRD CITIZENTalk of Pitt being ill. He looks hearty as a buck.FIRST CITIZENIt’s the news—no more. His spirits are up like a rocket for themoment.BOYIs it because Trafalgar is near Portugal that he loves Port wine?SECOND CITIZENAh, as I said, friend; this boy must go home and be carefully putto bed!FIRST CITIZENWell, whatever William’s faults, it is a triumph for his virtuesto-night![PITT having disappeared, the Guildhall doors are closed, andthe crowd slowly disperses, till in the course of an hour thestreet shows itself empty and dark, only a few oil lamps burning.The SCENE OPENS, revealing the interior of the Guildhall, andthe brilliant assembly of City magnates, Lords, and Ministersseated there, Mr. PITT occupying a chair of honour by the LordMayor. His health has been proposed as that of the Saviour ofEngland, and drunk with acclamations.]PITT [standing up after repeated calls]My lords and gentlemen:—You have toasted meAs one who has saved England and her cause.I thank you, gentlemen, unfeignedly.But—no man has saved England, let me say:England has saved herself, by her exertions:She will, I trust, save Europe by her example![Loud applause, during which he sits down, rises, and sits downagain. The scene then shuts, and the night without has place.]SPIRIT OF THE YEARSThose words of this man Pitt—his last large words,As I may prophesy—that ring to-nightIn their first mintage to the feasters here,Will spread with ageing, lodge, and crystallize,And stand embedded in the English tongueTill it grow thin, outworn, and cease to be.—So is’t ordained by That Which all ordains;For words were never winged with apter grace.Or blent with happier choice of time and place,To hold the imagination of this strenuous race.SCENE VI10AN INN AT RENNES[Night. A sleeping-chamber. Two candles are burning near a bedin an alcove, and writing-materials are on the table.The French admiral, VILLENEUVE, partly undressed, is pacing upand down the room.]VILLENEUVEThese hauntings have at last nigh proved to meThat this thing must be done. Illustrious foeAnd teacher, Nelson: blest and over blestIn thy outgoing at the noon of strifeWhen glory clasped thee round; while wayward DeathRefused my coaxings for the like-timed call!Yet I did press where thickest missiles fell,And both by precept and example showedWhere lay the line of duty, patriotism,And honour, in that combat of despair.[He see himself in the glass as he passes.]Unfortunate Villeneuve!—whom fate has markedTo suffer for too firm a faithfulness.—An Emperor’s chide is a command to die.—By him accursed, forsaken by my friend,Awhile stern England’s prisoner, then unloosedLike some poor dolt unworth captivity,Time serves me now for ceasing. Why not cease?...When, as Shades whisper in the chasmal night,“Better, far better, no percipience here.”—O happy lack, that I should have no childTo come into my hideous heritage,And groan beneath the burden of my name!11SPIRIT OF THE YEARSI’ll speak. His mood is ripe for such a parle.[Sending a voice into VILLENEUVE’S ear.]Thou dost divine the hour!VILLENEUVEBut those stern Nays,That heretofore were audible to meAt each unhappy time I strove to pass?SPIRIT OF THE YEARSHave been annulled. The Will grants exit freely;Yea, It says “Now.” Therefore make now thy time.SPIRIT OF THE PITIESMay his sad sunken soul merge into noughtMeekly and gently as a breeze at eve!VILLENEUVEFrom skies above me and the air aroundThose callings which so long have circled meAt last do whisper “Now.” Now it shall be![He seals a letter, and addresses it to his wife; then takes adagger from his accoutrements that are hanging alongside, and,lying down upon his back on the bed, stabs himself determinedlyin many places, leaving the weapon in the last wound.]Ungrateful master; generous foes; Farewell![VILLENEUVE dies; and the scene darkens.]SCENE VIIKING GEORGE’S WATERING-PLACE, SOUTH WESSEX[The interior of the “Old Rooms” Inn. Boatmen and burghers aresitting on settles round the fire, smoking and drinking.FIRST BURGHERSo they’ve brought him home at last, hey? And he’s to be solemnizedwith a roaring funeral?FIRST BOATMANYes, thank God.... ’Tis better to lie dry than wet, if canst do itwithout stinking on the road gravewards. And they took care that heshouldn’t.SECOND BOATMAN’Tis to be at Paul’s; so they say that know. And the crew of the“Victory” have to walk in front, and Captain Hardy is to carry hisstars and garters on a great velvet pincushion.FIRST BURGHERWhere’s the Captain now?SECOND BOATMAN [nodding in the direction of Captain Hardy’s house]Down at home here biding with his own folk a bit. I zid en walkingwith them on the Esplanade yesterday. He looks ten years older thanhe did when he went. Ay—he brought the galliant hero home!SECOND BURGHERNow how did they bring him home so that he could lie in stateafterwards to the naked eye!FIRST BOATMANWell, as they always do,—in a cask of sperrits.SECOND BURGHERReally, now!FIRST BOATMAN [lowering his voice]But what happened was this. They were a long time coming, owing tocontrary winds, and the “Victory” being little more than a wreck.And grog ran short, because they’d used near all they had to pecklehis body in. So—they broached the Adm’l!SECOND BURGHERHow?FIRST BOATMANWell; the plain calendar of it is, that when he came to be unhooped,it was found that the crew had drunk him dry. What was the men todo? Broke down by the battle, and hardly able to keep afloat, ’twasa most defendable thing, and it fairly saved their lives. So he wastheir salvation after death as he had been in the fight. If hecould have knowed it, ’twould have pleased him down to the ground!How ’a would have laughed through the spigot-hole: “Draw on, myhearties! Better I shrivel that you famish.” Ha-ha!SECOND BURGHERIt may be defendable afloat; but it seems queer ashore.FIRST BOATMANWell, that’s as I had it from one that knows—Bob Loveday ofOvercombe—one of the “Victory” men that’s going to walk in thefuneral. However, let’s touch a livelier string. Peter Green,strike up that new ballet that they’ve lately had prented here,and were hawking about town last market-day.SONGTHE NIGHT OF TRAFALGARIIn the wild October night-time, when the wind raved round the land,And the Back-sea12met the Front-sea, and our doors were blockedwith sand,And we heard the drub of Dead-man’s Bay, where bones of thousands are,We knew not what the day had done for us at Trafalgar.[All] Had done,Had done,For us at Trafalgar!II“Pull hard, and make the Nothe, or down we go!” one says, says he.We pulled; and bedtime brought the storm; but snug at home slept we.Yet all the while our gallants after fighting through the day,Were beating up and down the dark, sou’-west of Cadiz Bay.The dark,The dark,Sou’-west of Cadiz Bay!IIIThe victors and the vanquished then the storm it tossed and tore,As hard they strove, those worn-out men, upon that surly shore;Dead Nelson and his half-dead crew, his foes from near and far,Were rolled together on the deep that night at Trafalgar!The deep,The deep,That night at Trafalgar![The Cloud-curtain draws.]CHORUS OF THE YEARSMeanwhile the month moves on to counter-deedsVast as the vainest needs,And fiercely the predestined plot proceeds.
OFF CAPE TRAFALGAR[A bird’s eye view of the sea discloses itself. It is daybreak,and the broad face of the ocean is fringed on its eastern edgeby the Cape and the Spanish shore. On the rolling surfaceimmediately beneath the eye, ranged more or less in two parallellines running north and south, one group from the twain standingoff somewhat, are the vessels of the combined French and Spanishnavies, whose canvases, as the sun edges upward, shine in itsrays like satin.On the western horizon two columns of ships appear in full sail,small as moths to the aerial vision. They are bearing downtowards the combined squadrons.]
RECORDING ANGEL I [intoning from his book]At last Villeneuve accepts the sea and fate,Despite the Cadiz council called of late,Whereat his stoutest captains—men the firstTo do all mortals durst—Willing to sail, and bleed, and bear the worst,Short of cold suicide, did yet opineThat plunging mid those teeth of treble lineIn jaws of oaken woodHeld open by the English navarchyWith suasive breadth and artful modesty,Would smack of purposeless foolhardihood.
RECORDING ANGEL IIBut word came, writ in mandatory mood,To put from Cadiz, gain Toulon, and straightAt a said sign on Italy operate.Moreover that Villeneuve, arrived as planned,Would find Rosily in supreme command.—Gloomy Villeneuve grows rash, and, darkly brave,Leaps to meet war, storm, Nelson—even the grave.
SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music]Ere the concussion hurtle, draw abreastOf the sea.
SEMICHORUS IIWhere Nelson’s hulls are rising from the west,Silently.
SEMICHORUS I
Each linen wing outspread, each man and ladSworn to be
SEMICHORUS IIAmid the vanmost, or for Death, or gladVictory![The point of sight descends till it is near the deck of the“Bucentaure,” the flag-ship of VILLENEUVE. Present thereuponare the ADMIRAL, his FLAG-CAPTAIN MAGENDIE, LIEUTENANTDAUDIGNON, other naval officers and seamen.]
MAGENDIEAll night we have read their signals in the air,Whereby the peering frigates of their vanHave told them of our trend.
VILLENEUVEThe enemyMakes threat as though to throw him on our stern:Signal the fleet to wear; bid GravinaTo come in from manoeuvring with his twelve,And range himself in line.[Officers murmur.]I say againBid Gravina draw hither with his twelve,And signal all to wear!—and come uponThe larboard tack with every bow anorth!—So we make Cadiz in the worst event.And patch our rags up there. As we head nowOur only practicable thoroughfareIs through Gibraltar Strait—a fatal door!Signal to close the line and leave no gaps.Remember, too, what I have already told:Remind them of it now. They must not pauseFor signallings from me amid a strifeWhose chaos may prevent my clear discernment,Or may forbid my signalling at all.The voice of honour then becomes the chief’s;Listen they thereto, and set every stitchTo heave them on into the fiercest fight.Now I will sum up all: heed well the charge;EACH CAPTAIN, PETTY OFFICER, AND MANIS ONLY AT HIS POST WHEN UNDER FIRE.[The ships of the whole fleet turn their bows from south tonorth as directed, and close up in two parallel curved columns,the concave side of each column being towards the enemy, andthe interspaces of the first column being, in general, oppositethe hulls of the second.]
AN OFFICER [straining his eyes towards the English fleet]How they skip on! Their overcrowded sailBulge like blown bladders in a tripeman’s shopThe market-morning after slaughterday!
PETTY OFFICERIt’s morning before slaughterday with us,I make so bold to bode![The English Admiral is seen to be signalling to his fleet. Thesignal is: “ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY.” A loudcheering from all the English ships comes undulating on the windwhen the signal is read.]
VILLENEUVEThey are signalling too—Well, business soon begins!You will reserve your fire. And be it knownThat we display no admirals’ flags at allUntil the action’s past. ’Twill puzzle them,And work to our advantage when we close.—Yes, they are double-ranked, I think, like us;But we shall see anon.
MAGENDIEThe foremost oneMakes for the “Santa Ana.” In such caseThe “Fougueux” might assist her.
VILLENEUVEBe it so—There’s time enough.—Our ships will be in place,And ready to speak back in iron wordsWhen theirs cry Hail! in the same sort of voice.[They prepare to receive the northernmost column of the enemy’sships headed by the “Victory,” trying the distance by an occasionalsingle shot. During their suspense a discharge is heard southward,and turning they behold COLLINGWOOD at the head of his column inthe “Royal Sovereign,” just engaging with the Spanish “Santa Ana.”Meanwhile the “Victory’s” mizzen-topmast, with spars and a quantityof rigging, is seen to have fallen, her wheel to be shot away, andher deck encumbered with dead and wounded men.]
VILLENEUVE’Tis well! But see; their course is undelayed,And still they near in clenched audacity!
DAUDIGNONWhich aim deft Lucas o’ the “Redoubtable”Most gallantly bestirs him to outscheme.—See, how he strains, that on his timbers fallBlows that were destined for his Admiral![During this the French ship “Redoubtable” is moving forwardto interpose itself between the approaching “Victory” and the“Bucentaure.”]
VILLENEUVENow comes it! The “Santisima Trinidad,”The old “Redoubtable’s” hard sides, and ours,Will take the touse of this bombastic blow.Your grapnels and your boarding-hatchets—ready!We’ll dash our eagle on the English deck,And swear to fetch it!
CREWAy! We swear. HuzzaLong live the Emperor![But the “Victory” suddenly swerves to the rear of the “Bucentaure,”and crossing her stern-waters, discharges a broadside into her andthe “Redoubtable” endwise, wrapping the scene in folds of smoke.The point of view changes.]
THE SAME. THE QUARTER-DECK OF THE “VICTORY”[The van of each division of the English fleet has drawn to thewindward side of the combined fleets of the enemy, and brokentheir order, the “Victory” being now parallel to and alongsidethe “Redoubtable,” the “Temeraire” taking up a station on theother side of that ship. The “Bucentaure” and the “SantisimaTrinidad” become jammed together a little way ahead. A smokeand din of cannonading prevail, amid which the studding-sailbooms are shot away.NELSON, HARDY, BLACKWOOD, SECRETARY SCOTT, LIEUTENANT PASCO,BURKE the Purser, CAPTAIN ADAIR of the Marines, and otherofficers are on or near the quarter-deck.]
NELSONSee, there, that noble fellow Collingwood,How straight he helms his ship into the fire!—Now you’ll haste back to yours [to BLACKWOOD].—We must henceforthTrust to the Great Disposer of events,And justice of our cause!...[BLACKWOOD leaves. The battle grows hotter. A double-headed shotcuts down seven or eight marines on the “Victory’s” poop.]Captain Adair, part those marines of yours,And hasten to disperse them round the ship.—Your place is down below, Burke, not up here;Ah, yes; like David you would see the battle![A heavy discharge of musket-shot comes from the tops of the“Santisima Trinidad. ADAIR and PASCO fall. Another swatheof Marines is mowed down by chain-shot.]
SCOTTMy lord, I use to you the utmost prayersThat I have privilege to shape in words:Remove your stars and orders, I would beg;That shot was aimed at you.
NELSONThey were awarded to me as an honour,And shall I do despite to those who prize me,And slight their gifts? No, I will die with them,If die I must.[He walks up and down with HARDY.]
HARDYAt least let’s put you onYour old greatcoat, my lord—[the air is keen.].—’Twill cover all. So while you still retainYour dignities, you baulk these deadly aims
NELSONThank ’ee, good friend. But no,—I haven’t time,I do assure you—not a trice to spare,As you well will see.[A few minutes later SCOTT falls dead, a bullet having piercedhis skull. Immediately after a shot passes between the Admiraland the Captain, tearing the instep of Hardy’s shoe, and strikingaway the buckle. They shake off the dust and splinters it hasscattered over them. NELSON glances round, and perceives whathas happened to his secretary.]
NELSONPoor Scott, too, carried off! Warm work this, Hardy;Too warm to go on long.
HARDYI think so, too;Their lower ports are blocked against our hull,And our charge now is less. Each knock so nearSets their old wood on fire.
NELSONAy, rotten as peat.What’s that? I think she has struck, or pretty nigh![A cracking of musketry.]
HARDYNot yet.—Those small-arm men there, in her tops,Thin our crew fearfully. Now, too, our gunsHave dipped full down, or they would rakeThe “Temeraire” there on the other side.
NELSONTrue.—While you deal good measure out to these,Keep slapping at those giants over here—The “Trinidad,” I mean, and the “Bucentaure,”To win’ard—swelling up so pompously.
HARDYI’ll see no slackness shall be shown that way.[They part and go in their respective directions. Gunners, nakedto the waist and reeking with sweat, are now in swift action onthe several decks, and firemen carry buckets of water hither andthither. The killed and wounded thicken around, and are beinglifted and examined by the surgeons. NELSON and HARDY meet again.]
NELSONBid still the firemen bring more bucketfuls,And dash the water into each new holeOur guns have gouged in the “Redoubtable,”Or we shall all be set ablaze together.
HARDYLet me once more advise, entreat, my lord,That you do not expose yourself so clearly.Those fellows in the mizzen-top up thereAre peppering round you quite perceptibly.
NELSONNow, Hardy, don’t offend me. They can’t aim;They only set their own rent sails on fire.—But if they could, I would not hide a buttonTo save ten lives like mine. I have no causeTo prize it, I assure ’ee.—Ah, look there,One of the women hit,—and badly, too.Poor wench! Let some one shift her quickly down.
HARDYMy lord, each humblest sojourner on the seas,Dock-labourer, lame longshore-man, bowed bargee,Sees it as policy to shield his lifeFor those dependent on him. Much more, then,Should one upon whose priceless presence hereSuch issues hang, so many strivers lean,Use average circumspection at an hourSo critical for us all.
NELSONAy, ay. Yes, yes;I know your meaning, Hardy,; and I knowThat you disguise as frigid policyWhat really is your honest love of me.But, faith, I have had my day. My work’s nigh done;I serve all interests best by chancing itHere with the commonest.—Ah, their heavy gunsAre silenced every one! Thank God for that.
HARDY’Tis so. They only use their small arms now.[He goes to larboard to see what is progressing on that sidebetween his ship and the “Santisima Trinidad.”]
OFFICER [to seaman]Swab down these stairs. The mess of blood aboutMakes ’em so slippery that one’s like to fallIn carrying the wounded men below.[While CAPTAIN HARDY is still a little way off, LORD NELSON turnsto walk aft, when a ball from one of the muskets in the mizzen-top of the “Redoubtable” enters his left shoulder. He falls uponhis face on the deck. HARDY looks round, and sees what hashappened.]
HARDY [hastily]Ah—what I feared, and strove to hide I feared!...[He goes towards NELSON, who in the meantime has been lifted bySERGEANT-MAJOR SECKER and two seamen.]
NELSONHardy, I think they’ve done for me at last!
HARDYI hope not!
NELSONYes. My backbone is shot through.I have not long to live.[The men proceed to carry him below.]Those tiller ropesThey’ve torn away, get instantly repaired![At sight of him borne along wounded there is great agitationamong the crew.]Cover my face. There will be no good be doneBy drawing their attention off to me.Bear me along, good fellows; I am but oneAmong the many darkened here to-day![He is carried on to the cockpit over the crowd of dead andwounded.]Doctor, I’m gone. I am waste o’ time to you.
HARDY [remaining behind]Hills, go to Collingwood and let him knowThat we’ve no Admiral here.[He passes on.]
A LIEUTENANTNow quick and pick him off who did the deed—That white-bloused man there in the mizzen-top.
POLLARD, a midshipman [shooting]No sooner said than done. A pretty aim![The Frenchman falls dead upon the poop.The spectacle seems now to become enveloped in smoke, and thepoint of view changes.]
THE SAME. ON BOARD THE “BUCENTAURE”[The bowsprit of the French Admiral’s ship is stuck fast in thestern-gallery of the “Santisima Trinidad,” the starboard side ofthe “Bucentaure” being shattered by shots from two English three-deckers which are pounding her on that hand. The poop is alsoreduced to ruin by two other English ships that are attackingher from behind.On the quarter-deck are ADMIRAL VILLENEUVE, the FLAG-CAPTAINMAGENDIE, LIEUTENANTS DAUDIGNON, FOURNIER, and others, anxiouslyoccupied. The whole crew is in desperate action of battle andstumbling among the dead and dying, who have fallen too rapidlyto be carried below.]
VILLENEUVEWe shall be crushed if matters go on thus.—Direct the “Trinidad” to let her drive,That this foul tangle may be loosened clear!
DAUDIGNONIt has been tried, sir; but she cannot move.
VILLENEUVEThen signal to the “Hero” that she striveOnce more to drop this way.MAGENDIEWe may make signs,But in the thickened air what signal’s marked?—’Tis done, however.
VILLENEUVEThe “Redoubtable”And “Victory” there,—they grip in dying throes!Something’s amiss on board the English ship.Surely the Admiral’s fallen?
A PETTY OFFICERSir, they sayThat he was shot some hour, or half, ago.—With dandyism raised to godlike pitchHe stalked the deck in all his jewellery,And so was hit.
MAGENDIEThen Fortune shows her face!We have scotched England in dispatching him. [He watches.]Yes! He commands no more; and Lucas, joying,Has taken steps to board. Look, spars are laid,And his best men are mounting at his heels.
VILLENEUVEAh, God—he is too late! Whence came the hurlOf heavy grape? The smoke prevents my seeingBut at brief whiles.—The boarding band has fallen,Fallen almost to a man.—’Twas well assayed!
MAGENDIEThat’s from their “Temeraire,” whose vicious broadsideHas cleared poor Lucas’ decks.
VILLENEUVEAnd Lucas, too.I see him no more there. His red planks showThree hundred dead if one. Now for ourselves![Four of the English three-deckers have gradually closed roundthe “Bucentaure,” whose bowsprit still sticks fast in the galleryof the “Santisima Trinidad.” A broadside comes from one of theEnglish, resulting in worse havoc on the “Bucentaure.” The mainand mizzen masts of the latter fall, and the boats are beaten topieces. A raking fire of musketry follows from the attackingships, to which the “Bucentaure” heroically continues still tokeep up a reply.CAPTAIN MAGENDIE falls wounded. His place is taken by LIEUTENANTDAUDIGNON.]
VILLENEUVENow that the fume has lessened, code my biddanceUpon our only mast, and tell the vanAt once to wear, and come into the fire.[Aside] If it be true that, as HE sneers, successDemands of me but cool audacity,To-day shall leave him nothing to desire![Musketry continues. DAUDIGNON falls. He is removed, his postbeing taken by LIEUTENANT FOURNIER. Another crash comes, andthe deck is suddenly encumbered with rigging.]
FOURNIERThere goes our foremast! How for signalling now?
VILLENEUVETo try that longer, Fournier, is in vainUpon this haggard, scorched, and ravaged hulk,Her decks all reeking with such gory shows,Her starboard side in rents, her stern nigh gone!How does she keep afloat?—“Bucentaure,” O lucky good old ship!My part in you is played. Ay—I must go;I must tempt Fate elsewhere,—if but a boatCan bear me through this wreckage to the van.
FOURNIEROur boats are stove in, or as full of holesAs the cook’s skimmer, from their cursed balls![Musketry. VILLENEUVE’S Head-of-Staff, DE PRIGNY, falls wounded,and many additional men. VILLENEUVE glances troublously fromship to ship of his fleet.]
VILLENEUVEHow hideous are the waves, so pure this dawn!—Red-frothed; and friends and foes all mixed therein.—Can we in some way hail the “Trinidad”And get a boat from her?[They attempt to distract the attention of the “SantisimaTrinidad” by shouting.]Impossible;Amid the loud combustion of this strifeAs well try holloing to the antipodes!...So here I am. The bliss of Nelson’s endWill not be mine; his full refulgent eveBecomes my midnight! Well; the fleets shall seeThat I can yield my cause with dignity.[The “Bucentaure” strikes her flag. A boat then puts off from theEnglish ship “Conqueror,” and VILLENEUVE, having surrendered hissword, is taken out from the “Bucentaure.” But being unable toregain her own ship, the boat is picked up by the “Mars,” andthe French admiral is received aboard her. Point of view changes.]
THE SAME. THE COCKPIT OF THE “VICTORY”[A din of trampling and dragging overhead, which is accompaniedby a continuos ground-bass roar from the guns of the warringfleets, culminating at times in loud concussions. The woundedare lying around in rows for treatment, some groaning, somesilently dying, some dead. The gloomy atmosphere of the low-beamed deck is pervaded by a thick haze of smoke, powdered wood,and other dust, and is heavy with the fumes of gunpowder andcandle-grease, the odour of drugs and cordials, and the smellfrom abdominal wounds.NELSON, his face now pinched and wan with suffering, is lyingundressed in a midshipman’s berth, dimly lit by a lantern. DR.BEATTY, DR. MAGRATH, the Rev. DR. SCOTT the Chaplain, BURKE thePurser, the Steward, and a few others stand around.]
MAGRATH [in a low voice]Poor Ram, and poor Tom Whipple, have just gone..
BEATTYThere was no hope for them.NELSON [brokenly]Who have just died?
BEATTYTwo who were badly hit by now, my lord;Lieutenant Ram and Mr. Whipple.
NELSONAh!So many lives—in such a glorious cause....I join them soon, soon, soon!—O where is Hardy?Will nobody bring Hardy to me—none?He must be killed, too. Surely Hardy’s dead?
A MIDSHIPMANHe’s coming soon, my lord. The constant callOn his full heed of this most mortal fightKeeps him from hastening hither as he would.
NELSONI’ll wait, I’ll wait. I should have thought of it.[Presently HARDY comes down. NELSON and he grasp hands.]Hardy, how goes the day with us and England?
HARDYWell; very well, thank God for’t, my dear lord.Villeneuve their Admiral has this moment struck,And put himself aboard the “Conqueror.”Some fourteen of their first-rates, or about,Thus far we’ve got. The said “Bucentaure” chief:The “Santa Ana,” the “Redoubtable,”The “Fougueux,” the “Santisima Trinidad,”“San Augustino, “San Francisco,” “Aigle”;And our old “Swiftsure,” too, we’ve grappled back,To every seaman’s joy. But now their vanHas tacked to bear round on the “Victory”And crush her by sheer weight of wood and brass:Three of our best I am therefore calling up,And make no doubt of worsting theirs, and France.
NELSONThat’s well. I swore for twenty.—But it’s well.
HARDYWe’ll have ’em yet! But without you, my lord,We have to make slow plodding do the deedsThat sprung by inspiration ere you fell;And on this ship the more particularly.
NELSONNo, Hardy.—Ever ’twas your settled faultSo modestly to whittle down your worth.But I saw stuff in you which admirals needWhen, taking thought, I chose the “Victory’s” keelTo do my business with these braggarts in.A business finished now, for me!—Good friend,Slow shades are creeping me... I scarce see you.
HARDYThe smoke from ships upon our win’ard side,And the dust raised by their worm-eaten hulks,When our balls touch ’em, blind the eyes, in truth.
NELSONNo; it is not that dust; ’tis dust of deathThat darkens me.[A shock overhead. HARDY goes up. On or two other officers go up,and by and by return.]What was that extra noise?
OFFICERThe “Formidable’ passed us by, my lord,And thumped a stunning broadside into us.—But, on their side, the “Hero’s” captain’s fallen;The “Algeciras” has been boarded, too,By Captain Tyler, and the captain shot:Admiral Gravina desperately holds out;They say he’s lost an arm.
NELSONAnd we, ourselves—Who have we lost on board here? Nay, but tell me!
BEATTYBesides poor Scott, my lord, and Charles Adair,Lieutenant Ram, and Whipple, captain’s clerk,There’s Smith, and Palmer, midshipmen, just killed.And fifty odd of seamen and marines.
NELSONPoor youngsters! Scarred old Nelson joins you soon.
BEATTYAnd wounded: Bligh, lieutenant; Pasco, too,and Reeves, and Peake, lieutenants of marines,And Rivers, Westphall, Bulkeley, midshipmen,With, of the crew, a hundred odd just now,Unreckoning those late fallen not brought below.
BURKEThat fellow in the mizzen-top, my lord,Who made it his affair to wing you thus,We took good care to settle; and he fellLike an old rook, smack from his perch, stone dead.
NELSON’Twas not worth while!—He was, no doubt, a manWho in simplicity and sheer good faithStrove but to serve his country. Rest be to him!And may his wife, his friends, his little ones,If such be had, be tided through their loss,And soothed amid the sorrow brought by me.[HARDY re-enters.]Who’s that? Ah—here you come! How, Hardy, now?
HARDYThe Spanish Admiral’s rumoured to be wounded,We know not with what truth. But, be as ’twill,He sheers away with all he could call round,And some few frigates, straight to Cadiz port.[A violent explosion is heard above the confused noises on deck.A midshipman goes above and returns.]
MIDSHIPMAN [in the background]It is the enemy’s first-rate, the “Achille,”Blown to a thousand atoms!—While on fire,Before she burst, the captain’s woman there,Desperate for life, climbed from the gunroom portUpon the rudder-chains; stripped herself stark,And swam for the Pickle’s boat. Our men in charge,Seeing her great breasts bulging on the brine,Sang out, “A mermaid ’tis, by God!”—then rowedAnd hauled her in.—
BURKESuch unbid sights obtrudeOn death’s dyed stage!
MIDSHIPMANMeantime the “Achille” fought on,Even while the ship was blazing, knowing wellThe fire must reach their powder; which it did.The spot is covered now with floating men,Some whole, the main in parts; arms, legs, trunks, heads,Bobbing with tons of timber on the waves,And splinter looped with entrails of the crew.
NELSON [rousing]Our course will be to anchor. Let me know.
HARDYBut let me ask, my lord, as needs I must,Seeing your state, and that our work’s not done,Shall I, from you, bid Admiral CollingwoodTake full on him the conduct of affairs?
NELSON [trying to raise himself]Not while I live, I hope! No, Hardy; no.Give Collingwood my order. Anchor all!
HARDY [hesitating]You mean the signal’s to be made forthwith?
NELSONI do!—By God, if but our carpenterCould rig me up a jury-backbone now,To last one hour—until the battle’s done,I’d see to it! But here I am—stove in—Broken—all logged and done for! Done, ay done!
BEATTY [returning from the other wounded]My lord, I must implore you to lie calm!You shorten what at best may not be long.
NELSON [exhausted]I know, I know, good Beatty! Thank you wellHardy, I was impatient. Now I am still.Sit here a moment, if you have time to spare?[BEATTY and others retire, and the two abide in silence, exceptfor the trampling overhead and the moans from adjoining berths.NELSON is apparently in less pain, seeming to doze.]
NELSON [suddenly]What are you thinking, that you speak no word?
HARDY [waking from a short reverie]Thoughts all confused, my lord:—their needs on deck,Your own sad state, and your unrivalled past;Mixed up with flashes of old things afar—Old childish things at home, down Wessex way.In the snug village under Blackdon HillWhere I was born. The tumbling stream, the garden,The placid look of the grey dial there,Marking unconsciously this bloody hour,And the red apples on my father’s trees,Just now full ripe.
NELSONAy, thus do little thingsSteal into my mind, too. But ah, my heartKnows not your calm philosophy!—There’s one—Come nearer to me, Hardy.—One of all,As you well guess, pervades my memory now;She, and my daughter—I speak freely to you.’Twas good I made that codicil this morningThat you and Blackwood witnessed. Now she restsSafe on the nation’s honour.... Let her haveMy hair, and the small treasured things I owned,And take care of her, as you care for me![HARDY promises.]
NELSON [resuming in a murmur]Does love die with our frame’s decease, I wonder,Or does it live on ever?...[A silence. BEATTY approaches.]
HARDYNow I’ll leave,See if your order’s gone, and then return.
NELSON [symptoms of death beginning to change his face]Yes, Hardy; yes; I know it. You must go.—Here we shall meet no more; since Heaven forfendThat care for me should keep you idle now,When all the ship demands you. Beatty, too.Go to the others who lie bleeding there;Them can you aid. Me you can render none!My time here is the briefest.—If I liveBut long enough I’ll anchor.... But—too late—My anchoring’s elsewhere ordered!... Kiss me, Hardy:[HARDY bends over him.]I’m satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty![HARDY brushes his eyes with his hand, and withdraws to go above,pausing to look back before he finally disappears.]
BEATTY [watching Nelson]Ah!—Hush around!...He’s sinking. It is but a trifle nowOf minutes with him. Stand you, please, aside,And give him air.[BEATTY, the Chaplain, MAGRATH, the Steward, and attendantscontinue to regard NELSON. BEATTY looks at his watch.]
BEATTYTwo hours and fifty minutes since he fell,And now he’s going.[They wait. NELSON dies.]
CHAPLAINYes.... He has homed to whereThere’s no more sea.
BEATTYWe’ll let the Captain know,Who will confer with Collingwood at once.I must now turn to these.[He goes to another part of the cockpit, a midshipman ascends tothe deck, and the scene overclouds.]
CHORUS OF THE PITIES [aerial music]His thread was cut too slowly! When he fell.And bade his fame farewell,He might have passed, and shunned his long-drawn pain,Endured in vain, in vain!
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSYoung Spirits, be not critical of ThatWhich was before, and shall be after you!
SPIRIT OF THE PITIESBut out of tune the Mode and meritlessThat quickens sense in shapes whom, thou hast said,Necessitation sways! A life there wasAmong these self-same frail ones—Sophocles—Who visioned it too clearly, even whileHe dubbed the Will “the gods.” Truly said he,“Such gross injustice to their own creationBurdens the time with mournfulness for us,And for themselves with shame.”9—Things mechanizedBy coils and pivots set to foreframed codesWould, in a thorough-sphered melodic rule,And governance of sweet consistency,Be cessed no pain, whose burnings would abideWith That Which holds responsibility,Or inexist.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIESYea, yea, yea!Thus would the Mover payThe score each puppet owes,The Reaper reap what his contrivance sows!Why make Life debtor when it did not buy?Why wound so keenly Right that it would die?
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSNay, blame not! For what judgment can ye blame?—In that immense unweeting Mind is shownOne far above forethinking; processive,Yet superconscious; a ClairvoyancyThat knows not what It knows, yet works therewith.—The cognizance ye mourn, Life’s doom to feel,If I report it meetly, came unmeant,Emerging with blind gropes from impercipienceBy listless sequence—luckless, tragic Chance,In your more human tongue.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIESAnd hence unneededIn the economy of Vitality,Which might have ever kept a sealed cognitionAs doth the Will Itself.
CHORUS OF THE YEARS [aerial music]Nay, nay, nay;Your hasty judgments stay,Until the topmost cymeHave crowned the last entablature of Time.O heap not blame on that in-brooding Will;O pause, till all things all their days fulfil!
LONDON. THE GUILDHALL[A crowd of citizens has gathered outside to watch the carriagesas they drive up and deposit guests invited to the Lord Mayor’sbanquet, for which event the hall is brilliantly lit within. Acheer rises when the equipage of any popular personage arrivesat the door.
FIRST CITIZENWell, well! Nelson is the man who ought to have been banquetedto-night. But he is coming to Town in a coach different from these.!
SECOND CITIZENWill they bring his poor splintered body home?
FIRST CITIZENYes. They say he’s to be tombed in marble, at St. Paul’s orWestminster. We shall see him if he lays in state. It willmake a patriotic spectacle for a fine day.
BOYHow can you see a dead man, father, after so long?
FIRST CITIZENThey’ll embalm him, my boy, as they did all the great Egyptianadmirals.
BOYHis lady will be handy for that, won’t she?
FIRST CITIZENDon’t ye ask awkward questions.
SECOND CITIZENHere’s another coming!
FIRST CITIZENThat’s my Lord Chancellor Eldon. Wot he’ll say, and wot he’ll look!Mr. Pitt will be here soon.
BOYI don’t like Billy. He killed Uncle John’s parrot.
SECOND CITIZENHow may ye make that out, youngster?
BOYMr. Pitt made the war, and the war made us want sailors; and UncleJohn went for a walk down Wapping High Street to talk to the prettyladies one evening; and there was a press all along the river thatnight—a regular hot one—and Uncle John was carried on board aman-of-war to fight under Nelson; and nobody minded Uncle John’sparrot, and it talked itself to death. So Mr. Pitt killed UncleJohn’s parrot; see it, sir?
SECOND CITIZENYou had better have a care of this boy, friend. His brain is tooprecious for the common risks of Cheapside. Not but what he mightas well have said Boney killed the parrot when he was about it.And as for Nelson—who’s now sailing shinier seas than ours, ifthey’ve rubbed Her off his slate where he’s gone to,—the Frenchpapers say that our loss in him is greater than our gain in ships;so that logically the victory is theirs. Gad, sir, it’s almosttrue![A hurrahing is heard from Cheapside, and the crowd in thatdirection begins to hustle and show excitement.]
FIRST CITIZENHe’s coming, he’s coming! Here, let me lift you up, my boy.— Why,they have taken out the horses, as I am man alive!
SECOND CITIZENPitt for ever!—Why, here’s a blade opening and shutting his mouthlike the rest, but never a sound does he raise!THIRD CITIZENI’ve not too much breath to carry me through my day’s work, so Ican’t afford to waste it in such luxuries as crying Hurrah toaristocrats. If ye was ten yards off y’d think I was shoutingas loud as any.
SECOND CITIZENIt’s a very mean practice of ye to husband yourself at such a time,and gape in dumbshow like a frog in Plaistow Marshes.
THIRD CITIZENNo, sir; it’s economy; a very necessary instinct in these days ofghastly taxations to pay half the armies in Europe! In short, inthe word of the Ancients, it is scarcely compass-mentas to dootherwise! Somebody must save something, or the country will beas bankrupt as Mr. Pitt himself is, by all account; though hedon’t look it just now.[PITT’s coach passes, drawn by a troop of running men and boy.The Prime Minister is seen within, a thin, erect, up-nosedfigure, with a flush of excitement on his usually pale face.The vehicle reached the doorway to the Guildhall and halts witha jolt. PITT gets out shakily, and amid cheers enters thebuilding.]
FOURTH CITIZENQuite a triumphal entry. Such is power;Now worshipped, now accursed! The overthrowOf all Pitt’s European policyWhen his hired army and his chosen generalSurrendered them at Ulm a month ago,Is now forgotten! Ay; this TrafalgarWill botch up many a ragged old repute,Make Nelson figure as domestic saintNo less than country’s saviour, Pitt exaltAs zenith-star of England’s firmament,And uncurse all the bogglers of her wealAt this adventurous time.
THIRD CITIZENTalk of Pitt being ill. He looks hearty as a buck.
FIRST CITIZENIt’s the news—no more. His spirits are up like a rocket for themoment.
BOYIs it because Trafalgar is near Portugal that he loves Port wine?
SECOND CITIZENAh, as I said, friend; this boy must go home and be carefully putto bed!
FIRST CITIZEN
Well, whatever William’s faults, it is a triumph for his virtuesto-night![PITT having disappeared, the Guildhall doors are closed, andthe crowd slowly disperses, till in the course of an hour thestreet shows itself empty and dark, only a few oil lamps burning.The SCENE OPENS, revealing the interior of the Guildhall, andthe brilliant assembly of City magnates, Lords, and Ministersseated there, Mr. PITT occupying a chair of honour by the LordMayor. His health has been proposed as that of the Saviour ofEngland, and drunk with acclamations.]
PITT [standing up after repeated calls]My lords and gentlemen:—You have toasted meAs one who has saved England and her cause.I thank you, gentlemen, unfeignedly.But—no man has saved England, let me say:England has saved herself, by her exertions:She will, I trust, save Europe by her example![Loud applause, during which he sits down, rises, and sits downagain. The scene then shuts, and the night without has place.]
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSThose words of this man Pitt—his last large words,As I may prophesy—that ring to-nightIn their first mintage to the feasters here,Will spread with ageing, lodge, and crystallize,And stand embedded in the English tongueTill it grow thin, outworn, and cease to be.—So is’t ordained by That Which all ordains;For words were never winged with apter grace.Or blent with happier choice of time and place,To hold the imagination of this strenuous race.
AN INN AT RENNES[Night. A sleeping-chamber. Two candles are burning near a bedin an alcove, and writing-materials are on the table.The French admiral, VILLENEUVE, partly undressed, is pacing upand down the room.]
VILLENEUVEThese hauntings have at last nigh proved to meThat this thing must be done. Illustrious foeAnd teacher, Nelson: blest and over blestIn thy outgoing at the noon of strifeWhen glory clasped thee round; while wayward DeathRefused my coaxings for the like-timed call!Yet I did press where thickest missiles fell,And both by precept and example showedWhere lay the line of duty, patriotism,And honour, in that combat of despair.[He see himself in the glass as he passes.]Unfortunate Villeneuve!—whom fate has markedTo suffer for too firm a faithfulness.—An Emperor’s chide is a command to die.—By him accursed, forsaken by my friend,Awhile stern England’s prisoner, then unloosedLike some poor dolt unworth captivity,Time serves me now for ceasing. Why not cease?...When, as Shades whisper in the chasmal night,“Better, far better, no percipience here.”—O happy lack, that I should have no childTo come into my hideous heritage,And groan beneath the burden of my name!11
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSI’ll speak. His mood is ripe for such a parle.[Sending a voice into VILLENEUVE’S ear.]Thou dost divine the hour!
VILLENEUVEBut those stern Nays,That heretofore were audible to meAt each unhappy time I strove to pass?
SPIRIT OF THE YEARSHave been annulled. The Will grants exit freely;Yea, It says “Now.” Therefore make now thy time.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIESMay his sad sunken soul merge into noughtMeekly and gently as a breeze at eve!
VILLENEUVEFrom skies above me and the air aroundThose callings which so long have circled meAt last do whisper “Now.” Now it shall be![He seals a letter, and addresses it to his wife; then takes adagger from his accoutrements that are hanging alongside, and,lying down upon his back on the bed, stabs himself determinedlyin many places, leaving the weapon in the last wound.]Ungrateful master; generous foes; Farewell![VILLENEUVE dies; and the scene darkens.]
KING GEORGE’S WATERING-PLACE, SOUTH WESSEX[The interior of the “Old Rooms” Inn. Boatmen and burghers aresitting on settles round the fire, smoking and drinking.
FIRST BURGHERSo they’ve brought him home at last, hey? And he’s to be solemnizedwith a roaring funeral?
FIRST BOATMANYes, thank God.... ’Tis better to lie dry than wet, if canst do itwithout stinking on the road gravewards. And they took care that heshouldn’t.
SECOND BOATMAN’Tis to be at Paul’s; so they say that know. And the crew of the“Victory” have to walk in front, and Captain Hardy is to carry hisstars and garters on a great velvet pincushion.
FIRST BURGHERWhere’s the Captain now?
SECOND BOATMAN [nodding in the direction of Captain Hardy’s house]Down at home here biding with his own folk a bit. I zid en walkingwith them on the Esplanade yesterday. He looks ten years older thanhe did when he went. Ay—he brought the galliant hero home!
SECOND BURGHERNow how did they bring him home so that he could lie in stateafterwards to the naked eye!
FIRST BOATMANWell, as they always do,—in a cask of sperrits.
SECOND BURGHERReally, now!
FIRST BOATMAN [lowering his voice]But what happened was this. They were a long time coming, owing tocontrary winds, and the “Victory” being little more than a wreck.And grog ran short, because they’d used near all they had to pecklehis body in. So—they broached the Adm’l!
SECOND BURGHERHow?
FIRST BOATMANWell; the plain calendar of it is, that when he came to be unhooped,it was found that the crew had drunk him dry. What was the men todo? Broke down by the battle, and hardly able to keep afloat, ’twasa most defendable thing, and it fairly saved their lives. So he wastheir salvation after death as he had been in the fight. If hecould have knowed it, ’twould have pleased him down to the ground!How ’a would have laughed through the spigot-hole: “Draw on, myhearties! Better I shrivel that you famish.” Ha-ha!
SECOND BURGHERIt may be defendable afloat; but it seems queer ashore.
FIRST BOATMANWell, that’s as I had it from one that knows—Bob Loveday ofOvercombe—one of the “Victory” men that’s going to walk in thefuneral. However, let’s touch a livelier string. Peter Green,strike up that new ballet that they’ve lately had prented here,and were hawking about town last market-day.
SONGTHE NIGHT OF TRAFALGAR
IIn the wild October night-time, when the wind raved round the land,And the Back-sea12met the Front-sea, and our doors were blockedwith sand,And we heard the drub of Dead-man’s Bay, where bones of thousands are,We knew not what the day had done for us at Trafalgar.[All] Had done,Had done,For us at Trafalgar!
II“Pull hard, and make the Nothe, or down we go!” one says, says he.We pulled; and bedtime brought the storm; but snug at home slept we.Yet all the while our gallants after fighting through the day,Were beating up and down the dark, sou’-west of Cadiz Bay.The dark,The dark,Sou’-west of Cadiz Bay!
IIIThe victors and the vanquished then the storm it tossed and tore,As hard they strove, those worn-out men, upon that surly shore;Dead Nelson and his half-dead crew, his foes from near and far,Were rolled together on the deep that night at Trafalgar!The deep,The deep,That night at Trafalgar![The Cloud-curtain draws.]
CHORUS OF THE YEARSMeanwhile the month moves on to counter-deedsVast as the vainest needs,And fiercely the predestined plot proceeds.