Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  “Romano, — Bacchus! After all, what dearth

  “Of Ecelins and Alberics on earth?

  “Say there ‘s a prize in prospect, must disgrace

  “Betide competitors, unless they style

  “Themselves Romano? Were it worth my while

  “To try my own luck! But an obscure place

  “Suits me — there wants a youth to bustle, stalk

  “And attitudinize — some fight, more talk,

  “Most flaunting badges — how, I might make clear

  “Since Friedrich’s very purposes lie here

  “ — Here, pity they are like to lie! For me,

  “With station fixed unceremoniously

  “Long since, small use contesting; I am but

  “The liegeman — you are born the lieges: shut

  “That gentle mouth now! or resume your kin

  “In your sweet self; were Palma Ecelin

  “For me to work with! Could that neck endure

  “This bauble for a cumbrous garniture,

  “She should... or might one bear it for her? Stay —

  “I have not been so flattered many a day

  “As by your pale friend — Bacchus! The least help

  “Would lick the hind’s fawn to a lion’s whelp:

  “His neck is broad enough — a ready tongue

  “Beside: too writhled — but, the main thing, young —

  “I could... why, look ye!”

  And the badge was thrown

  Across Sordello’s neck: “This badge alone

  “Makes you Romano’s Head — becomes superb

  “On your bare neck, which would, on mine, disturb

  “The pauldron,” said Taurello. A mad act,

  Nor even dreamed about before — in fact,

  Not when his sportive arm rose for the nonce —

  But he had dallied overmuch, this once,

  With power: the thing was done, and he, aware

  The thing was done, proceeded to declare —

  (So like a nature made to serve, excel

  In serving, only feel by service well!)

  — That he would make Sordello that and more.

  “As good a scheme as any. What ‘s to pore

  “At in my face?” he asked — ”ponder instead

  “This piece of news; you are Romano’s Head!

  “One cannot slacken pace so near the goal,

  “Suffer my Azzo to escape heart-whole

  “This time! For you there ‘s Palma to espouse —

  “For me, one crowning trouble ere I house

  “Like my compeer.”

  On which ensued a strange

  And solemn visitation; there came change

  O’er every one of them; each looked on each:

  Up in the midst a truth grew, without speech.

  And when the giddiness sank and the haze

  Subsided, they were sitting, no amaze,

  Sordello with the baldric on, his sire

  Silent, though his proportions seemed aspire

  Momently; and, interpreting the thrill, —

  Night at its ebb, — Palma was found there still

  Relating somewhat Adelaide confessed

  A year ago, while dying on her breast, —

  Of a contrivance, that Vicenza night

  When Ecelin had birth. “Their convoy’s flight,

  “Cut off a moment, coiled inside the flame

  “That wallowed like a dragon at his game

  “The toppling city through — San Biagio rocks!

  “And wounded lies in her delicious locks

  “Retrude, the frail mother, on her face,

  “None of her wasted, just in one embrace

  “Covering her child: when, as they lifted her,

  “Cleaving the tumult, mighty, mightier

  “And mightiest Taurello’s cry outbroke,

  “Leapt like a tongue of fire that cleaves the smoke,

  “Midmost to cheer his Mantuans onward — drown

  “His colleague Ecelin’s clamour, up and down

  “The disarray: failed Adelaide see then

  “Who was the natural chief, the man of men?

  “Outstripping time, her infant there burst swathe,

  “Stood up with eyes haggard beyond the scathe

  “From wandering after his heritage

  “Lost once and lost for aye: and why that rage,

  “That deprecating glance? A new shape leant

  “On a familiar shape — gloatingly bent

  “O’er his discomfiture; ‘mid wreaths it wore,

  “Still one outflamed the rest — her child’s before

  “‘T was Salinguerra’s for his child: scorn, hate,

  “Rage now might startle her when all too late!

  “Then was the moment! — rival’s foot had spurned

  “Never that House to earth else! Sense returned —

  “The act conceived, adventured and complete,

  “They bore away to an obscure retreat

  “Mother and child — Retrude’s self not slain”

  (Nor even here Taurello moved) “though pain

  “Was fled; and what assured them most ‘t was fled,

  “All pain, was, if they raised the pale hushed head

  “‘T would turn this way and that, waver awhile,

  “And only settle into its old smile —

  “(Graceful as the disquieted water-flag

  “Steadying itself, remarked they, in the quag

  “On either side their path) — when suffered look

  “Down on her child. They marched: no sign once shook

  “The company’s close litter of crossed spears

  “Till, as they reached Goito, a few tears

  “Slipped in the sunset from her long black lash,

  “And she was gone. So far the action rash;

  “No crime. They laid Retrude in the font,

  “Taurello’s very gift, her child was wont

  “To sit beneath — constant as eve he came

  “To sit by its attendant girls the same

  “As one of them. For Palma, she would blend

  “With this magnific spirit to the end,

  “That ruled her first; but scarcely had she dared

  “To disobey the Adelaide who scared

  “Her into vowing never to disclose

  “A secret to her husband, which so froze

  “His blood at half-recital, she contrived

  “To hide from him Taurello’s infant lived,

  “Lest, by revealing that, himself should mar

  “Romano’s fortunes. And, a crime so far,

  “Palma received that action: she was told

  “Of Salinguerra’s nature, of his cold

  “Calm acquiescence in his lot! But free

  “To impart the secret to Romano, she

  “Engaged to repossess Sordello of

  “His heritage, and hers, and that way doff

  “The mask, but after years, long years: while now,

  “Was not Romano’s sign-mark on that brow?”

  Across Taurello’s heart his arms were locked:

  And when he did speak ‘t was as if he mocked

  The minstrel, “who had not to move,” he said,

  “Nor stir — should fate defraud him of a shred

  “Of his son’s infancy? much less his youth!”

  (Laughingly all this) — ”which to aid, in truth,

  “Himself, reserved on purpose, had not grown

  “Old, not too old — ’t was best they kept alone

  “Till now, and never idly met till now;”

  — Then, in the same breath, told Sordello how

  All intimations of this eve’s event

  Were lies, for Friedrich must advance to Trent,

  Thence to Verona, then to Rome, there stop,

  Tumble the Church down, institute a-top

  The Alps a Prefecture of Lombardy:


  — ”That ‘s now! — no prophesying what may be

  “Anon, with a new monarch of the clime,

  “Native of Gesi, passing his youth’s prime

  “At Naples. Tito bids my choice decide

  “On whom...”

  ”Embrace him, madman!” Palma cried,

  Who through the laugh saw sweat-drops burst apace,

  And his lips blanching: he did not embrace

  Sordello, but he laid Sordello’s hand

  On his own eyes, mouth, forehead.

  Understand,

  This while Sordello was becoming flushed

  Out of his whiteness; thoughts rushed, fancies rushed;

  He pressed his hand upon his head and signed

  Both should forbear him. “Nay, the best ‘s behind!”

  Taurello laughed — not quite with the same laugh:

  “The truth is, thus we scatter, ay, like chaff

  “These Guelfs, a despicable monk recoils

  “From: nor expect a fickle Kaiser spoils

  “Our triumph! — Friedrich? Think you, I intend

  “Friedrich shall reap the fruits of blood I spend

  “And brain I waste? Think you, the people clap

  “Their hands at my out-hewing this wild gap

  “For any Friedrich to fill up? ‘T is mine —

  “That ‘s yours: I tell you, towards some such design

  “Have I worked blindly, yes, and idly, yes,

  “And for another, yes — but worked no less

  “With instinct at my heart; I else had swerved,

  “While now — look round! My cunning has preserved

  “Samminiato — that ‘s a central place

  “Secures us Florence, boy, — in Pisa’s case.

  “By land as she by sea; with Pisa ours,

  “And Florence, and Pistoia, one devours

  “The land at leisure! Gloriously dispersed —

  “Brescia, observe, Milan, Piacenza first

  “That flanked us (ah, you know not!) in the March;

  “On these we pile, as keystone of our arch,

  “Romagna and Bologna, whose first span

  “Covered the Trentine and the Valsugan;

  “Sofia’s Egna by Bolgiano ‘s sure!”...

  So he proceeded: half of all this, pure

  Delusion, doubtless, nor the rest too true,

  But what was undone he felt sure to do,

  As ring by ring he wrung off, flung away

  The pauldron-rings to give his sword-arm play —

  Need of the sword now! That would soon adjust

  Aught wrong at present; to the sword intrust

  Sordello’s whiteness, undersize: ‘t was plain

  He hardly rendered right to his own brain —

  Like a brave hound, men educate to pride

  Himself on speed or scent nor aught beside,

  As though he could not, gift by gift, match men!

  Palma had listened patiently: but when

  ‘T was time expostulate, attempt withdraw

  Taurello from his child, she, without awe

  Took off his iron arms from, one by one,

  Sordello’s shrinking shoulders, and, that done,

  Made him avert his visage and relieve

  Sordello (you might see his corslet heave

  The while) who, loose, rose — tried to speak, then sank:

  They left him in the chamber. All was blank.

  And even reeling down the narrow stair

  Taurello kept up, as though unaware

  Palma was by to guide him, the old device

  — Something of Milan — ”how we muster thrice

  “The Torriani’s strength there; all along

  “Our own Visconti cowed them” — thus the song

  Continued even while she bade him stoop,

  Thrid somehow, by some glimpse of arrow-loop,

  The turnings to the gallery below,

  Where he stopped short as Palma let him go.

  When he had sat in silence long enough

  Splintering the stone bench, braving a rebuff

  She stopped the truncheon; only to commence

  One of Sordello’s poems, a pretence

  For speaking, some poor rhyme of “Elys’ hair

  “And head that ‘s sharp and perfect like a pear,

  “So smooth and close are laid the few fine locks

  “Stained like pale honey oozed from topmost rocks

  “Sun-blanched the livelong summer” — from his worst

  Performance, the Goito, as his first:

  And that at end, conceiving from the brow

  And open mouth no silence would serve now,

  Went on to say the whole world loved that man

  And, for that matter, thought his face, tho’ wan,

  Eclipsed the Count’s — he sucking in each phrase

  As if an angel spoke. The foolish praise

  Ended, he drew her on his mailed knees, made

  Her face a framework with his hands, a shade,

  A crown, an aureole: there must she remain

  (Her little mouth compressed with smiling pain

  As in his gloves she felt her tresses twitch)

  To get the best look at, in fittest niche

  Dispose his saint. That done, he kissed her brow,

  — ”Lauded her father for his treason now,”

  He told her, “only, how could one suspect

  “The wit in him? — whose clansman, recollect,

  `Was ever Salinguerra — she, the same,

  “Romano and his lady — so, might claim

  “To know all, as she should” — and thus begun

  Schemes with a vengeance, schemes on schemes, “not one

  “Fit to be told that foolish boy,” he said,

  “But only let Sordello Palma wed,

  “ — Then!”

  ’T was a dim long narrow place at best:

  Midway a sole grate showed the fiery West,

  As shows its corpse the world’s end some split tomb —

  A gloom, a rift of fire, another gloom,

  Faced Palma — but at length Taurello set

  Her free; the grating held one ragged jet

  Of fierce gold fire: he lifted her within

  The hollow underneath — how else begin

  Fate’s second marvellous cycle, else renew

  The ages than with Palma plain in view?

  Then paced the passage, hands clenched, head erect,

  Pursuing his discourse; a grand unchecked

  Monotony made out from his quick talk

  And the recurring noises of his walk;

  — Somewhat too much like the o’ercharged assent

  Of two resolved friends in one danger blent,

  Who hearten each the other against heart;

  Boasting there ‘s nought to care for, when, apart

  The boaster, all ‘s to care for. He, beside

  Some shape not visible, in power and pride

  Approached, out of the dark, ginglingly near,

  Nearer, passed close in the broad light, his ear

  Crimson, eyeballs suffused, temples full-fraught,

  Just a snatch of the rapid speech you caught,

  And on he strode into the opposite dark,

  Till presently the harsh heel’s turn, a spark

  I’ the stone, and whirl of some loose embossed throng

  That crashed against the angle aye so long

  After the last, punctual to an amount

  Of mailed great paces you could not but count, —

  Prepared you for the pacing back again.

  And by the snatches you might ascertain

  That, Friedrich’s Prefecture surmounted, left

  By this alone in Italy, they cleft

  Asunder, crushed together, at command

  Of none, were free to break up Hildebrand,

  Rebuild, he and Sordello, Charlemagne —
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  But garnished, Strength with Knowledge, “if we deign

  “Accept that compromise and stoop to give

  “Rome law, the Cæsar’s Representative.”

  Enough, that the illimitable flood

  Of triumphs after triumphs, understood

  In its faint reflux (you shall hear) sufficed

  Young Ecelin for appanage, enticed

  Him on till, these long quiet in their graves,

  He found ‘t was looked for that a whole life’s braves

  Should somehow be made good; so, weak and worn,

  Must stagger up at Milan, one grey morn

  Of the to-come, and fight his latest fight.

  But, Salinguerra’s prophecy at height —

  He voluble with a raised arm and stiff,

  A blaring voice, a blazing eye, as if

  He had our very Italy to keep

  Or cast away, or gather in a heap

  To garrison the better — ay, his word

  Was, “run the cucumber into a gourd,

  “Drive Trent upon Apulia” — at their pitch

  Who spied the continents and islands which

  Grew mulberry leaves and sickles, in the map —

  (Strange that three such confessions so should hap

  To Palma, Dante spoke with in the clear

  Amorous silence of the Swooning-sphere, —

  Cunizza, as he called her! Never ask

  Of Palma more! She sat, knowing her task

  Was done, the labour of it, — for, success

  Concerned not Palma, passion’s votaress.)

  Triumph at neight, and thus Sordello crowned —

  Above the passage suddenly a sound

  Stops speech, stops walk: back shrinks Taurello, bids

  With large involuntary asking lids,

  Palma interpret. “‘T is his own foot-stamp —

  “Your hand! His summons! Nay, this idle damp

  “Befits not!” Out they two reeled dizzily.

  “Visconti ‘s strong at Milan,” resumed he,

  In the old, somewhat insignificant way —

  (Was Palma wont, years afterward, to say)

  As though the spirit’s flight, sustained thus far,

  Dropped at that very instant.

  Gone they are —

  Palma, Taurello; Eglamor anon,

  Ecelin, — only Naddo ‘s never gone!

  — Labours, this moonrise, what the Master meant:

  “Is Squarcialupo speckled? — purulent,

  “I ‘d say, but when was Providence put out?

  “He carries somehow handily about

  “His spite nor fouls himself!” Goito’s vines

  Stand like a cheat detected — stark rough lines,

  The moon breaks through, a grey mean scale against

  The vault where, this eve’s Maiden, thou remain’st

  Like some fresh martyr, eyes fixed — who can tell?