Weep no more, nor sigh nor groan,
Sorrow calls no time that's gone.
Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again.
Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;
Fate's hidden ends eyes cannot see.
Joys, as winged dreams, fly fast:
Why should sadness longer last?
Grief is but a wound to wo:
Gentlest fair! mourn, mourn no mo.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
It was with feelings of considerable anxiety that the Protector waited
the return of Colonel Jones from the second task assigned him in the
Isle of Shepey.
The routing out of a band of lawless smugglers, although commanded by so
daring a skipper as Hugh Dalton, was to him a matter of little
consideration, compared to the restoration of Zillah Ben Israel, and the
positive saving of Constantia Cecil from worse than death: these two
motives weighed deeply upon Cromwell's mind, and he would have made any
sacrifice to have been assured that his purpose, with regard to both,
might be effected before the morning's dawn. When the explosion of the
Fire-fly disturbed his solitude in the purple chamber at Cecil Place, he
directed immediate inquiry to be instituted as to its origin, and
quickly ascertained that it was caused by the destruction of some ship
at sea; his suspicions were at once directed to the vessel of the
Buccaneer.
There was no time to lose; Colonel Jones, whose courage and coolness
were proverbial amongst soldiers more celebrated for these qualities
than even British soldiers have ever been before or since, was instantly
dispatched to the Gull's Nest. At first the command of the Protector was
to "mount silently;" but his pledge to Robin Hays was remembered, and,
at the very moment when the glare of the burning ship was illumining the
island, he could not bring himself to determine that the little deformed
being, with whom he had held commune, had betrayed the confidence
reposed in him.
"Let him know who are coming and prepare for it," thought Cromwell,
whose caution was really subservient to his enthusiasm, powerful as was
at all times this latter quality; and then he gave, in a low, but
earnest and energetic tone, the order, "Sound a brief 'to horse!' trust
in the Lord, and see that your swords be loose in their scabbards."
The troop, on its return, was met by Cromwell himself at the gate to
which we have so frequently alluded. His anxiety had not been often
greater than on that occasion, and it was manifested by an impatience of
manner that almost terrified the attendants who waited in his presence.
He was accompanied by only two officers, and his first question was if
"Colonel Jones had secured Dalton and the Jewess?" A reply in the
affirmative evidently afforded him great relief and satisfaction; but
the feeling was quickly succeeded by one of extreme anger when informed
of the total destruction of the Fire-fly, which he had desired to
preserve for his own special purpose. Yet, until the prisoners had been
conducted into Cecil Place by the private entrance, as he had previously
arranged, his displeasure only found vent in occasional exclamations.
The house was alive with alarm and curiosity, but its inmates received
little information to quiet or to satisfy their eager thirst for
intelligence. As the soldiers passed the gates, lights floated through
the dwelling, and the windows were crowded with inquisitive
countenances; great, therefore, was the disappointment when they
observed the party separate, and one portion of it take a private path,
leading to the Protector's apartments, while the other proceeded round
an angle of the building to the stables. Many of the domestics met them
at the stable gates, but could learn nothing from those trusty soldiers,
who perfectly understood, and invariably acted upon, their master's
favourite motto, "safety in silence;"--still they could not rest, no one
went to bed, for all were in expectation of--they knew not what.