Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  As Heaven, now all ‘s at end, did not so well,

  Spite of the faith and victory, to leave

  Its virgin quite to death in the lone eve.

  While the persisting hermit-bee... ha! wait

  No longer: these in compass, forward fate!

  SORDELLO BOOK THE SIXTH.

  The thought of Eglamor’s least like a thought,

  And yet a false one, was, “Man shrinks to nought

  “If matched with symbols of immensity;

  “Must quail, forsooth, before a quiet sky

  “Or sea, too little for their quietude:”

  And, truly, somewhat in Sordello’s mood

  Confirmed its speciousness, while eve slow sank

  Down the near terrace to the farther bank,

  And only one spot left from out the night

  Glimmered upon the river opposite —

  A breadth of watery heaven like a bay,

  A sky-like space of water, ray for ray,

  And star for star, one richness where they mixed

  As this and that wing of an angel, fixed,

  Tumultuary splendours folded in

  To die. Nor turned he till Ferrara’s din

  (Say, the monotonous speech from a man’s lip

  Who lets some first and eager purpose slip

  In a new fancy’s birth — the speech keeps on

  Though elsewhere its informing soul be gone)

  — Aroused him, surely offered succour. Fate

  Paused with this eve; ere she precipitate

  Herself, — best put off new strange thoughts awhile,

  That voice, those large hands, that portentous smile, —

  What help to pierce the future as the past

  Lay in the plaining city?

  And at last

  The main discovery and prime concern,

  All that just now imported him to learn,

  Truth’s self, like yonder slow moon to complete

  Heaven, rose again, and, naked at his feet,

  Lighted his old life’s every shift and change,

  Effort with counter-effort; nor the range

  Of each looked wrong except wherein it checked,

  Some other — which of these could he suspect,

  Prying into them by the sudden blaze?

  The real way seemed made up of all the ways —

  Mood after mood of the one mind in him;

  Tokens of the existence, bright or dim,

  Of a transcendent all-embracing sense

  Demanding only outward influence,

  A soul, in Palma’s phrase, above his soul,

  Power to uplift his power, — such moon’s control

  Over such sea-depths, — and their mass had swept

  Onward from the beginning and still kept

  Its course: but years and years the sky above

  Held none, and so, untasked of any love,

  His sensitiveness idled, now amort,

  Alive now, and, to sullenness or sport

  Given wholly up, disposed itself anew

  At every passing instigation, grew

  And dwindled at caprice, in foam-showers spilt,

  Wedge-like insisting, quivered now a gilt

  Shield in the sunshine, now a blinding race

  Of whitest ripples o’er the reef — found place

  For much display; not gathered up and, hurled

  Right from its heart, encompassing the world.

  So had Sordello been, by consequence,

  Without a function: others made pretence

  To strength not half his own, yet had some core

  Within, submitted to some moon, before

  Them still, superior still whate’er their force, —

  Were able therefore to fulfil a course,

  Nor missed life’s crown, authentic attribute.

  To each who lives must be a certain fruit

  Of having lived in his degree, — a stage,

  Earlier or later in men’s pilgrimage,

  To stop at; and to this the spirits tend

  Who, still discovering beauty without end,

  Amass the scintillations, make one star

  — Something unlike them, self-sustained, afar, —

  And meanwhile nurse the dream of being blest

  By winning it to notice and invest

  Their souls with alien glory, some one day

  Whene’er the nucleus, gathering shape alway,

  Round to the perfect circle — soon or late,

  According as themselves are formed to wait;

  Whether mere human beauty will suffice

  — The yellow hair and the luxurious eyes,

  Or human intellect seem best, or each

  Combine in some ideal form past reach

  On earth, or else some shade of these, some aim,

  Some love, hate even, take their place, the same,

  So to be served — all this they do not lose,

  Waiting for death to live, nor idly choose

  What must be Hell — a progress thus pursued

  Through all existence, still above the food

  That ‘s offered them, still fain to reach beyond

  The widened range, in virtue of their bond

  Of sovereignty. Not that a Palma’s Love,

  A Salinguerra’s Hate, would equal prove

  To swaying all Sordello: but why doubt

  Some love meet for such strength, some moon without

  Would match his sea? — or fear, Good manifest,

  Only the Best breaks faith? — Ah but the Best

  Somehow eludes us ever, still might be

  And is not! Crave we gems? No penury

  Of their material round us! Pliant earth

  And plastic flame — what balks the mage his birth

  — Jacinth in balls or lodestone by the block?

  Flinders enrich the strand, veins swell the rock;

  Nought more! Seek creatures? Life ‘s i’ the tempest, thought

  Clothes the keen hill-top, mid-day woods are fraught

  With fervours: human forms are well enough!

  But we had hoped, encouraged by the stuff

  Profuse at nature’s pleasure, men beyond

  These actual men! — and thus are over-fond

  In arguing, from Good — the Best, from force

  Divided — force combined, an ocean’s course

  From this our sea whose mere intestine pants

  Might seem at times sufficient to our wants.

  External power! If none be adequate,

  And he stand forth ordained (a prouder fate)

  Himself a law to his own sphere? “Remove

  “All incompleteness!” for that law, that love?

  Nay, if all other laws be feints, — truth veiled

  Helpfully to weak vision that had failed

  To grasp aught but its special want, — for lure,

  Embodied? Stronger vision could endure

  The unbodied want: no part — the whole of truth!

  The People were himself; nor, by the ruth

  At their condition, was he less impelled

  To alter the discrepancy beheld,

  Than if, from the sound whole, a sickly part

  Subtracted were transformed, decked out with art,

  Then palmed on him as alien woe — the Guelf

  To succour, proud that he forsook himself.

  All is himself; all service, therefore, rates

  Alike, nor serving one part, immolates

  The rest: but all in time! “That lance of yours

  “Makes havoc soon with Malek and his Moors,

  “That buckler ‘s lined with many a giant’s beard

  “Ere long, our champion, be the lance upreared,

  “The buckler wielded handsomely as now!

  “But view your escort, bear in mind your vow,

  “Count the pale tracts of sand to pass ere that,

  “And, if you hope we str
uggle through the flat,

  “Put lance and buckler by! Next half-month lacks

  “Mere sturdy exercise of mace and axe

  “To cleave this dismal brake of prickly-pear

  “Which bristling holds Cydippe by the hair,

  “Lames barefoot Agathon: this felled, we ‘ll try

  “The picturesque achievements by and by —

  “Next life!”

  Ay, rally, mock, O People, urge

  Your claims! — for thus he ventured, to the verge,

  Push a vain mummery which perchance distrust

  Of his fast-slipping resolution thrust

  Likewise: accordingly the Crowd — (as yet

  He had unconsciously contrived forget

  I’ the whole, to dwell o’ the points... one might assuage

  The signal horrors easier than engage

  With a dim vulgar vast unobvious grief

  Not to be fancied off, nor gained relief

  In brilliant fits, cured by a happy quirk,

  But by dim vulgar vast unobvious work

  To correspond...) this Crowd then, forth they stood.

  “And now content thy stronger vision, brood

  “On thy bare want; uncovered, turf by turf,

  “Study the corpse-face thro’ the taint-worms’ scurf!”

  Down sank the People’s Then; uprose their Now.

  These sad ones render service to! And how

  Piteously little must that service prove

  — Had surely proved in any case! for, move

  Each other obstacle away, let youth

  Become aware it had surprised a truth

  ‘T were service to impart — can truth be seized,

  Settled forthwith, and, of the captive eased,

  Its captor find fresh prey, since this alit

  So happily, no gesture luring it,

  The earnest of a flock to follow? Vain,

  Most vain! a life to spend ere this he chain

  To the poor crowd’s complacence: ere the crowd

  Pronounce it captured, he descries a cloud

  Its kin of twice the plume; which he, in turn,

  If he shall live as many lives, may learn

  How to secure: not else. Then Mantua called

  Back to his mind how certain bards were thralled

  — Buds blasted, but of breath more like perfume

  Than Naddo’s staring nosegay’s carrion bloom;

  Some insane rose that burnt heart out in sweets,

  A spendthrift in the spring, no summer greets;

  Some Dularete, drunk with truths and wine,

  Grown bestial, dreaming how become divine.

  Yet to surmount this obstacle, commence

  With the commencement, merits crowning! Hence

  Must truth be casual truth, elicited

  In sparks so mean, at intervals dispread

  So rarely, that ‘t is like at no one time

  Of the world’s story has not truth, the prime

  Of truth, the very truth which, loosed, had hurled

  The world’s course right, been really in the world

  — Content the while with some mean spark by dint

  Of some chance-blow, the solitary hint

  Of buried fire, which, rip earth’s breast, would stream

  Sky-ward!

  Sordello’s miserable gleam

  Was looked for at the moment: he would dash

  This badge. and all it brought, to earth, — abash

  Taurello thus, perhaps persuade him wrest

  The Kaiser from his purpose, — would attest

  His own belief, in any case. Before

  He dashes it however, think once more!

  For, were that little, truly service? “Ay,

  “I’ the end, no doubt; but meantime? Plain you spy

  “Its ultimate effect, but many flaws

  “Of vision blur each intervening cause.

  “Were the day’s fraction clear as the life’s sum

  “Of service, Now as filled as teems To-come

  “With evidence of good — nor too minute

  “A share to vie with evil! No dispute,

  “‘T were fitliest maintain the Guelfs in rule:

  “That makes your life’s work: but you have to school

  “Your day’s work on these natures circumstanced

  “Thus variously, which yet, as each advanced

  “Or might impede the Guelf rule, must be moved

  “Now, for the Then’s sake, — hating what you loved,

  “Loving old hatreds! Nor if one man bore

  “Brand upon temples while his fellow wore

  “The aureole, would it task you to decide:

  “But, portioned duly out, the future vied

  “Never with the unparcelled present! Smite

  “Or spare so much on warrant all so slight?

  “The present’s complete sympathies to break,

  “Aversions bear with, for a future’s sake

  “So feeble? Tito ruined through one speck,

  “The Legate saved by his sole lightish fleck?

  “This were work, true, but work performed at cost

  “Of other work; aught gained here, elsewhere lost.

  “For a new segment spoil an orb half-done?

  “Rise with the People one step, and sink — one?

  “Were it but one step, less than the whole face

  “Of things, your novel duty bids erase!

  “Harms to abolish! What, the prophet saith,

  “The minstrel singeth vainly then? Old faith,

  “Old courage, only born because of harms,

  “Were not, from highest to the lowest, charms?

  “Flame may persist; but is not glare as staunch?

  “Where the salt marshes stagnate, crystals branch;

  “Blood dries to crimson; Evil ‘s beautified

  “In every shape. Thrust Beauty then aside

  “And banish Evil! Wherefore? After all,

  “Is Evil a result less natural

  “Than Good? For overlook the seasons’ strife

  “With tree and flower, — the hideous animal life,

  “(Of which who seeks shall find a grinning taunt

  “For his solution, and endure the vaunt

  “Of nature’s angel, as a child that knows

  “Himself befooled, unable to propose

  “Aught better than the fooling) — and but care

  “For men, for the mere People then and there, —

  “In these, could you but see that Good and Ill

  “Claimed you alike! Whence rose their claim but still

  “From Ill, as fruit of Ill? What else could knit

  “You theirs but Sorrow? Any free from it

  “Were also free from you! Whose happiness

  “Could be distinguished in this morning’s press

  “Of miseries? — the fool’s who passed a gibe

  “‘On thee,’ jeered he, `so wedded to thy tribe,

  “`Thou carriest green and yellow tokens in

  “‘Thy very face that thou art Ghibellin!’

  “Much hold on you that fool obtained! Nay mount

  “Yet higher — and upon men’s own account

  “Must Evil stay: for, what is joy? — to heave

  “Up one obstruction more, and common leave

  “What was peculiar, by such act destroy

  “Itself; a partial death is every joy;

  “The sensible escape, enfranchisement

  “Of a sphere’s essence: once the vexed — content,

  “The cramped — at large, the growing circle — round,

  “All ‘s to begin again — some novel bound

  “To break, some new enlargement to entreat;

  “The sphere though larger is not more complete.

  “Now for Mankind’s experience: who alone

  “Might style the unobstructed world his own?

  “Whom pa
lled Goito with its perfect things?

  “Sordello’s self: whereas for Mankind springs

  “Salvation by each hindrance interposed.

  “They climb; life’s view is not at once disclosed

  “To creatures caught up, on the summit left,

  “Heaven plain above them, yet of wings bereft:

  “But lower laid, as at the mountain’s foot.

  “So, range on range, the girdling forests shoot

  “‘Twixt your plain prospect and the throngs who scale

  “Height after height, and pierce mists, veil by veil,

  “Heartened with each discovery; in their soul,

  “The Whole they seek by Parts — but, found that Whole,

  “Could they revert, enjoy past gains? The space

  “Of time you judge so meagre to embrace

  “The Parts were more than plenty, once attained

  “The Whole, to quite exhaust it: nought were gained

  “But leave to look — not leave to do: Beneath

  “Soon sates the looker — look Above, and Death

  “Tempts ere a tithe of Life be tasted. Live

  “First, and die soon enough, Sordello! Give

  “Body and spirit the first right they claim,

  “And pasture soul on a voluptuous shame

  “That you, a pageant-city’s denizen,

  “Are neither vilely lodged midst Lombard men —

  “Can force joy out of sorrow, seem to truck

  “Bright attributes away for sordid muck,

  “Yet manage from that very muck educe

  “Gold; then subject nor scruple, to your cruce

  “The world’s discardings! Though real ingots pay

  “Your pains, the clods that yielded them are clay

  “To all beside, — would clay remain, though quenched

  “Your purging-fire; who ‘s robbed then? Had you wrenched

  “An ampler treasure forth! — As ‘t is, they crave

  “A share that ruins you and will not save

  “Them. Why should sympathy command you quit

  “The course that makes your joy, nor will remit

  “Their woe? Would all arrive at joy? Reverse

  “The order (time instructs you) nor coerce

  “Each unit till, some predetermined mode,

  “The total be emancipate; men’s road

  “Is one, men’s times of travel many; thwart

  “No enterprising soul’s precocious start

  “Before the general march! If slow or fast

  “All straggle up to the same point at last,

  “Why grudge your having gained, a month ago,

  “The brakes at balm-shed, asphodels in blow,

  “While they were landlocked? Speed their Then, but how

  “This badge would suffer you improve your Now!”

  His time of action for, against, or with

  Our world (I labour to extract the pith