Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  “To serve, those glimpses came of Fomalhaut,

  “No other: but how serve it? — authorize

  “You and Romano mingle destinies?

  “And straight Romano’s angel stood beside

  “Me who had else been Boniface’s bride,

  “For Salinguerra ‘t was, with neck low bent,

  “And voice lightened to music, (as he meant

  “To learn, not teach me,) who withdrew the pall

  “From the dead past and straight revived it all,

  “Making me see how first Romano waxed,

  “Wherefore he waned now, why, if I relaxed

  “My grasp (even I!) would drop a thing effete,

  “Frayed by itself, unequal to complete

  “Its course, and counting every step astray

  “A gain so much. Romano, every way

  “Stable, a Lombard House now — why start back

  “Into the very outset of its track?

  “This patching principle which late allied

  “Our House with other Houses — what beside

  “Concerned the apparition, the first Knight

  “Who followed Conrad hither in such plight

  “His utmost wealth was summed in his one steed?

  “For Ecelo, that prowler, was decreed

  “A task, in the beginning hazardous

  “To him as ever task can be to us;

  “But did the weather-beaten thief despair

  “When first our crystal cincture of warm air

  “That binds the Trevisan, — as its spice-belt

  “(Crusaders say) the tract where Jesus dwelt, —

  “Furtive he pierced, and Este was to face —

  “Despaired Saponian strength of Lombard grace?

  “Tried he at making surer aught made sure,

  “Maturing what already was mature?

  “No; his heart prompted Ecelo, ‘Confront

  “‘Este, inspect yourself. What ‘s nature? Wont.

  “‘Discard three-parts your nature, and adopt

  “‘The rest as an advantage!’ Old strength propped

  “The man who first grew Podestà among

  “The Vicentines, no less than, while there sprung

  “His palace up in Padua like a threat,

  “Their noblest spied a grace, unnoticed yet

  “In Conrad’s crew. Thus far the object gained,

  “Romano was established — has remained —

  “‘For are you not Italian, truly peers

  “‘With Este? Azzo better soothes our ears

  “‘Than Alberic? or is this lion’s-crine

  “‘From over-mounts’ (this yellow hair of mine)

  “‘So weak a graft on Agnes Este’s stock?’

  “(Thus went he on with something of a mock)

  “‘Wherefore recoil, then, from the very fate

  “‘Conceded you, refuse to imitate

  “‘Your model farther? Este long since left

  “‘Being mere Este: as a blade its heft,

  “‘Este required the Pope to further him:

  “‘And you, the Kaiser — whom your father’s whim

  “‘Foregoes or, better, never shall forego

  “‘If Palma dare pursue what Ecelo

  “‘Commenced, but Ecelin desists from: just

  “‘As Adelaide of Susa could intrust

  “‘Her donative, — her Piedmont given the Pope,

  “‘Her Alpine-pass for him to shut or ope

  “Twixt France and Italy, — to the superb

  “‘Matilda’s perfecting, — so, lest aught curb

  “‘Our Adelaide’s great counter-project for

  “‘Giving her Trentine to the Emperor

  “‘With passage here from Germany, — shall you

  “‘Take it, — my slender plodding talent, too!’

  “ — Urged me Taurello with his half-smile

  ”He

  “As Patron of the scattered family

  “Conveyed me to his Mantua, kept in bruit

  “Azzo’s alliances and Richard’s suit

  “Until, the Kaiser excommunicate,

  “‘Nothing remains,’ Taurello said, ‘but wait

  “‘Some rash procedure: Palma was the link,

  “‘As Agnes’ child, between us, and they shrink

  “‘From losing Palma: judge if we advance,

  “‘Your father’s method, your inheritance!’

  “The day I was betrothed to Boniface

  “At Padua by Taurello’s self, took place

  “The outrage of the Ferrarese: again,

  “The day I sought Verona with the train

  “Agreed for, — by Taurello’s policy

  “Convicting Richard of the fault, since we

  “Were present to annul or to confirm, —

  “Richard, whose patience had outstayed its term,

  “Quitted Verona for the siege.

  ”And now

  “What glory may engird Sordello’s brow

  “Through this? A month since at Oliero slunk

  “All that was Ecelin into a monk;

  “But how could Salinguerra so forget

  “His liege of thirty years as grudge even yet

  “One effort to recover him? He sent

  “Forthwith the tidings of this last event

  “To Ecelin — declared that he, despite

  “The recent folly, recognized his right

  “To order Salinguerra: ‘Should he wring

  “‘Its uttermost advantage out, or fling

  “‘This chance away? Or were his sons now Head

  “‘O’ the House?’ Through me Taurello’s missive sped;

  “My father’s answer will by me return.

  “Behold! ‘For him,’ he writes, ‘no more concern

  “‘With strife than, for his children, with fresh plots

  “‘Of Friedrich. Old engagements out he blots

  “‘For aye: Taurello shall no more subserve,

  “‘Nor Ecelin impose.’ Lest this unnerve

  “Taurello at this juncture, slack his grip

  “Of Richard, suffer the occasion slip, —

  “I, in his sons’ default (who, mating with

  “Este, forsake Romano as the frith

  “Its mainsea for that firmland, sea makes head

  “Against) I stand, Romano, — in their stead

  “Assume the station they desert, and give

  “Still, as the Kaiser’s representative,

  “Taurello licence he demands. Midnight —

  “Morning — by noon to-morrow, making light

  “Of the League’s issue, we, in some gay weed

  “Like yours, disguised together, may precede

  “The arbitrators to Ferrara: reach

  “Him, let Taurello’s noble accents teach

  “The rest! Then say if I have misconceived

  “Your destiny, too readily believed

  “The Kaiser’s cause your own!”

  And Palma’s fled.

  Though no affirmative disturbs the head,

  A dying lamp-flame sinks and rises o’er,

  Like the alighted planet Pollux wore,

  Until, morn breaking, he resolves to be

  Gate-vein of this heart’s blood of Lombardy,

  Soul of this body — to wield this aggregate

  Of souls and bodies, and so conquer fate

  Though he should live — a centre of disgust

  Even — apart, core of the outward crust

  He vivifies, assimilates. For thus

  I bring Sordello to the rapturous

  Exclaim at the crowd’s cry, because one round

  Of life was quite accomplished; and he found

  Not only that a soul, whate’er its might,

  Is insufficient to its own delight,

  Both in corporeal organs and in skill

  By means of such to body forth its Will �
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  And, after, insufficient to apprise

  Men of that Will, oblige them recognize

  The Hid by the Revealed — but that, — the last

  Nor lightest of the struggles overpast, —

  Will, he bade abdicate, which would not void

  The throne, might sit there, suffer he enjoyed

  Mankind, a varied and divine array

  Incapable of homage, the first way,

  Nor fit to render incidentally

  Tribute connived at, taken by the by,

  In joys. If thus with warrant to rescind

  The ignominious exile of mankind —

  Whose proper service, ascertained intact

  As yet, (to be by him themselves made act,

  Not watch Sordello acting each of them)

  Was to secure — if the true diadem

  Seemed imminent while our Sordello drank

  The wisdom of that golden Palma, — thank

  Verona’s Lady in her citadel

  Founded by Gaulish Brennus, legends tell:

  And truly when she left him, the sun reared

  A head like the first clamberer’s who peered

  A-top the Capitol, his face on flame

  With triumph, triumphing till Manlius came.

  Nor slight too much my rhymes — that spring, dispread,

  Dispart, disperse, lingering over head

  Like an escape of angels! Rather say,

  My transcendental platan! mounting gay

  (An archimage so courts a novice-queen)

  With tremulous silvered trunk, whence branches sheen

  Laugh out, thick-foliaged next, a-shiver soon

  With coloured buds, then glowing like the moon

  One mild flame, — last a pause, a burst, and all

  Her ivory limbs are smothered by a fall,

  Bloom-flinders and fruit-sparkles and leaf-dust,

  Ending the weird work prosecuted just

  For her amusement; he decrepit, stark,

  Dozes; her uncontrolled delight may mark

  Apart —

  Yet not so, surely never so

  Only, as good my soul were suffered go

  O’er the lagune: forth fare thee, put aside —

  Entrance thy synod, as a god may glide

  Out of the world he fills, and leave it mute

  For myriad ages as we men compute,

  Returning into it without a break

  O’ the consciousness! They sleep, and I awake

  O’er the lagune, being at Venice.

  Note,

  In just such songs as Eglamor (say) wrote

  With heart and soul and strength, for he believed

  Himself achieving all to be achieved

  By singer — in such songs you find alone

  Completeness, judge the song and singer one,

  And either purpose answered, his in it

  Or its in him: while from true works (to wit

  Sordello’s dream-performances that will

  Never be more than dreamed) escapes there still

  Some proof, the singer’s proper life was ‘neath

  The life his song exhibits, this a sheath

  To that; a passion and a knowledge far

  Transcending these, majestic as they are,

  Smouldered; his lay was but an episode

  In the bard’s life: which evidence you owed

  To some slight weariness, some looking-off

  Or start-away. The childish skit or scoff

  In “Charlemagne,” (his poem, dreamed divine

  In every point except one silly line

  About the restiff daughters) — what may lurk

  In that? “My life commenced before this work,”

  (So I interpret the significance

  Of the bard’s start aside and look askance)

  “My life continues after: on I fare

  “With no more stopping, possibly, no care

  “To note the undercurrent, the why and how,

  “Where, when, o’ the deeper life, as thus just now.

  “But, silent, shall I cease to live? Alas

  “For you! who sigh, ‘When shall it come to pass

  “‘We read that story? How will he compress

  “‘The future gains, his life’s true business,

  “‘Into the better lay which — that one flout,

  “‘Howe’er inopportune it be, lets out —

  “‘Engrosses him already, though professed

  “‘To meditate with us eternal rest,

  “‘And partnership in all his life has found?’“

  ‘T is but a sailor’s promise, weather-bound:

  “Strike sail, slip cable, here the bark be moored

  “For once, the awning stretched, the poles assured!

  “Noontide above; except the wave’s crisp dash,

  “Or buzz of colibri, or tortoise’ splash,

  “The margin ‘s silent: out with every spoil

  “Made in our tracking, coil by mighty coil,

  “This serpent of a river to his head

  “I’ the midst! Admire each treasure, as we spread

  “The bank, to help us tell our history

  “Aright: give ear, endeavour to descry

  “The groves of giant rushes, how they grew

  “Like demons’ endlong tresses we sailed through,

  “What mountains yawned, forests to give us vent

  “Opened, each doleful side, yet on we went

  “Till . . . may that beetle (shake your cap) attest

  “The springing of a land-wind from the West!”

  — Wherefore? Ah yes, you frolic it to-day!

  To-morrow, and, the pageant moved away

  Down to the poorest tent-pole, we and you

  Part company: no other may pursue

  Eastward your voyage, be informed what fate

  Intends, if triumph or decline await

  The tempter of the everlasting steppe.

  I muse this on a ruined palace-step

  At Venice: why should I break off, nor sit

  Longer upon my step, exhaust the fit

  England gave birth to? Who ‘s adorable

  Enough reclaim a — - no Sordello’s Will

  Alack! — be queen to me? That Bassanese

  Busied among her smoking fruit-boats? These

  Perhaps from our delicious Asolo

  Who twinkle, pigeons o’er the portico

  Not prettier, bind June lilies into sheaves

  To deck the bridge-side chapel, dropping leaves

  Soiled by their own loose gold-meal? Ah, beneath

  The cool arch stoops she, brownest cheek! Her wreath

  Endures a month — a half-month — if I make

  A queen of her, continue for her sake

  Sordello’s story? Nay, that Paduan girl

  Splashes with barer legs where a live whirl

  In the dead black Giudecca proves sea-weed

  Drifting has sucked down three, four, all indeed

  Save one pale-red striped, pale-blue turbaned post

  For gondolas.

  You sad dishevelled ghost

  That pluck at me and point, are you advised

  I breathe? Let stay those girls (e’en her disguised

  — Jewels i’ the locks that love no crownet like

  Their native field-buds and the green wheat-spike,

  So fair! — who left this end of June’s turmoil,

  Shook off, as might a lily its gold soil,

  Pomp, save a foolish gem or two, and free

  In dream, came join the peasants o’er the sea.)

  Look they too happy, too tricked out? Confess

  There is such niggard stock of happiness

  To share, that, do one’s uttermost, dear wretch,

  One labours ineffectually to stretch

  It o’er you so that mother and children, both

  May equitably flaunt the sumpter-cloth!

/>   Divide the robe yet farther: be content

  With seeing just a score pre-eminent

  Through shreds of it, acknowledged happy wights,

  Engrossing what should furnish all, by rights!

  For, these in evidence, you clearlier claim

  A like garb for the rest, — grace all, the same

  As these my peasants. I ask youth and strength

  And health for each of you, not more — at length

  Grown wise, who asked at home that the whole race

  Might add the spirit’s to the body’s grace,

  And all be dizened out as chiefs and bards.

  But in this magic weather one discards

  Much old requirement. Venice seems a type

  Of Life — ’twixt blue and blue extends, a stripe,

  As Life, the somewhat, hangs ‘twixt nought and nought:

  ‘T is Venice, and ‘t is Life — as good you sought

  To spare me the Piazza’s slippery stone

  Or keep me to the unchoked canals alone,

  As hinder Life the evil with the good

  Which make up Living, rightly understood.

  Only, do finish something! Peasants, queens,

  Take them, made happy by whatever means,

  Parade them for the common credit, vouch

  That a luckless residue, we send to crouch

  In corners out of sight, was just as framed

  For happiness, its portion might have claimed

  As well, and so, obtaining joy, had stalked

  Fastuous as any! — such my project, baulked

  Already; I hardly venture to adjust

  The first rags, when you find me. To mistrust

  Me! — nor unreasonably. You, no doubt,

  Have the true knack of tiring suitors out

  With those thin lips on tremble, lashless eyes

  Inveterately tear-shot: there, be wise,

  Mistress of mine, there, there, as if I meant

  You insult! — shall your friend (not slave) be shent

  For speaking home? Beside, care-bit erased

  Broken-up beauties ever took my taste

  Supremely; and I love you more, far more

  Than her I looked should foot Life’s temple-floor.

  Years ago, leagues at distance, when and where

  A whisper came, “Let others seek! — thy care

  “Is found, thy life’s provision; if thy race

  “Should be thy mistress, and into one face

  “The many faces crowd?” Ah, had I, judge,

  Or no, your secret? Rough apparel — grudge

  All ornaments save tag or tassel worn

  To hint we are not thoroughly forlorn —

  Slouch bonnet, unloop mantle, careless go

  Alone (that’s saddest, but it must be so)

  Through Venice, sing now and now glance aside,

  Aught desultory or undignified, —

  Then, ravishingest lady, will you pass