Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  “By that, I wonder? Here I live

  “In trusting ease; and do you drive

  “At causing me to lose what most

  “Yourself would mourn for when ‘twas lost?”

  XII.

  But, do you see, my friend, that thus

  You leave St. Paul for Æschylus? —

  — Who made his Titan’s arch-device

  The giving men blind hopes to spice

  The meal of life with, else devoured

  In bitter haste, while lo! Death loured

  Before them at the platter’s edge!

  If faith should be, as we allege,

  Quite other than a condiment

  To heighten flavors with, or meant

  (Like that brave curry of his Grace)

  To take at need the victuals’ place?

  If having dined you would digest

  Besides, and turning to your rest

  Should find instead . . .

  XIII.

  Now, you shall see

  And judge if a mere foppery

  Pricks on my speaking! I resolve

  To utter . . . yes, it shall devolve

  On you to hear as solemn, strange

  And dread a thing as in the range

  Of facts, — or fancies, if God will —

  E’er happened to our kind! I still

  Stand in the cloud, and while it wraps

  My face, ought not to speak, perhaps;

  Seeing that as I carry through

  My purpose, if my words in you

  Find veritable listeners,

  My story, reason’s self avers

  Must needs be false — the happy chance!

  While, if each human countenance

  I meet in London streets all day,

  Be what I fear, — my warnings fray

  No one, and no one they convert,

  And no one helps me to assert

  How hard it is to really be

  A Christian, and in vacancy

  I pour this story!

  XIV.

  I commence

  By trying to inform you, whence

  It comes that every Easter-night

  As now, I sit up, watch, till light

  Shall break, those chimney-stacks and roofs

  Give, through my window-pane, grey proofs

  That Easter-day is breaking slow.

  On such a night, three years ago,

  It chanced that I had cause to cross

  The common, where the chapel was,

  Our friend spoke of, the other day —

  You’ve not forgotten, I dare say.

  I fell to musing of the time

  So close, the blessed matin-prime

  All hearts leap up at, in some guise —

  One could not well do otherwise.

  Insensibly my thoughts were bent

  Toward the main point; I overwent

  Much the same ground of reasoning

  As you and I just now: one thing

  Remained, however — one that tasked

  My soul to answer; and I asked,

  Fairly and frankly, what might be

  That History, that Faith, to me —

  — Me there — not me, in some domain

  Built up and peopled by my brain,

  Weighing its merits as one weighs

  Mere theories for blame or praise,

  — The Kingcraft of the Lucumons,

  Or Fourier’s scheme, its pros and cons, —

  But as my faith, or none at all.

  ‘How were my case, now, should I fall

  ‘Dead here, this minute — do I lie

  ‘Faithful or faithless?’ — Note that I

  Inclined thus ever! — little prone

  For instance, when I slept alone

  In childhood, to go calm to sleep

  And leave a closet where might keep

  His watch perdue some murderer

  Waiting till twelve o’clock to stir,

  As good, authentic legends tell

  He might — ’But how improbable!

  ‘How little likely to deserve

  ‘The pains and trial to the nerve

  ‘Of thrusting head into the dark,’ —

  Urged my old nurse, and bade me mark

  Besides, that, should the dreadful scout

  Really lie hid there, to leap out

  At first turn of the rusty key,

  It were small gain that she could see

  In being killed upon the floor

  And losing one night’s sleep the more.

  I tell you, I would always burst

  The door ope, know my fate at first. —

  This time, indeed, the closet penned

  No such assassin: but a friend

  Rather, peeped out to guard me, fit

  For counsel, Common Sense, to-wit,

  Who said a good deal that might pass, —

  Heartening, impartial too, it was,

  Judge else: ‘For, soberly now, — who

  ‘Should be a Christian if not you?’

  (Hear how he smoothed me down). ‘One takes

  ‘A whole life, sees what course it makes

  ‘Mainly, and not by fits and starts —

  ‘In spite of stoppage which imparts

  ‘Fresh value to the general speed:

  ‘A life, with none, would fly indeed:

  ‘Your progressing is slower-right!

  ‘We deal with progressing, not flight.

  ‘Through baffling senses passionate,

  ‘Fancies as restless, — with a freight

  ‘Of knowledge cumbersome enough

  ‘To sink your ship when waves grow rough,

  ‘Not serve as ballast in the hold,

  ‘I find, ‘mid dangers manifold,

  ‘The good bark answers to the helm

  ‘Where Faith sits, easier to o’erwhelm

  ‘Than some stout peasant’s heavenly guide,

  ‘Whose hard head could not, if it tried,

  ‘Conceive a doubt, or understand

  ‘How senses hornier than his hand

  ‘Should ‘tice the Christian off, his guard —

  ‘More happy! But shall we award

  ‘Less honour to the hull, which, dogged

  ‘By storms, a mere wreck, waterlogged,

  ‘Masts by the board, and bulwarks gone,

  ‘And stanchions going, yet bears on, —

  ‘Than to mere life-boats, built to save,

  ‘And triumph o’er the breaking wave?

  ‘Make perfect your good ship as these,

  ‘And what were her performances!’

  I added — ’Would the ship reached home!

  ‘I wish indeed “God’s kingdom come — ”

  ‘The day when I shall see appear

  ‘His bidding, as my duty, clear

  ‘From doubt! And it shall dawn, that day,

  ‘Some future season; Easter may

  ‘Prove, not impossibly, the time —

  ‘Yes, that were striking — fates would chime

  ‘So aptly! Easter-morn, to bring

  ‘The Judgment! — deeper in the Spring

  ‘Than now, however, when there’s snow

  ‘Capping the hills; for earth must show

  ‘All signs of meaning to pursue

  ‘Her tasks as she was wont to do —

  ‘ — The lark, as taken by surprise

  ‘As we ourselves, shall recognise

  ‘Sudden the end: for suddenly

  ‘It comes — the dreadfulness must be

  ‘In that — all warrants the belief —

  ‘“At night it cometh like a thief.”

  ‘I fancy why the trumpet blows;

  ‘ — Plainly, to wake one. From repose

  ‘We shall start up, at last awake

  ‘From life, that insane dream we take

  ‘For waking now, because it seems.

  ‘And as, when now we wake from drea
ms,

  ‘We say, while we recall them, “Fool,

  ‘“To let the chance slip, linger cool

  ‘“When such adventure offered! Just

  ‘“A bridge to cross, a dwarf to thrust

  ‘“Aside, a wicked mage to stab —

  ‘“And, lo ye, I had kissed Queen Mab,” —

  ‘So shall we marvel why we grudged

  ‘Our labours here, and idly judged

  ‘Of Heaven, we might have gained, but lose!

  ‘Lose? Talk of loss, and I refuse

  ‘To plead at all! I speak no worse

  ‘Nor better than my ancient nurse

  ‘When she would tell me in my youth

  ‘I well deserved that shapes uncouth

  ‘Should fright and tease me in my sleep —

  ‘Why did I not in memory keep

  ‘Her precept for the evil’s cure?

  ‘“Pinch your own arm, boy, and be sure

  ‘“You’ll wake forthwith!”‘

  XV.

  And as I said

  This nonsense, throwing back my head

  With light complacent laugh, I found

  Suddenly all the midnight round

  One fire. The dome of Heaven had stood

  As made up of a multitude

  Of handbreadth cloudlets, one vast rack

  Of ripples infinite and black,

  From sky to sky. Sudden there went,

  Like horror and astonishment,

  A fierce vindictive scribble of red

  Quick flame across, as if one said

  (The angry scribe of Judgment) ‘There —

  ‘Burn it!’ And straight I was aware

  That the whole ribwork round, minute

  Cloud touching cloud beyond compute,

  Was tinted each with its own spot

  Of burning at the core, till clot

  Jammed against clot, and spilt its fire

  Over all heaven, which ‘gan suspire

  As fanned to measure equable, —

  As when great conflagrations kill

  Night overhead, and rise and sink,

  Reflected. Now the fire would shrink

  And wither oft the blasted face

  Of heaven, and I distinct could trace

  The sharp black ridgy outlines left

  Unburned like network — then, each cleft

  The fire had been sucked back into,

  Regorged, and out it surging flew

  Furiously, and night writhed inflamed,

  Till, tolerating to be tamed

  No longer, certain rays world-wide

  Shot downwardly, on every side,

  Caught past escape; the earth was lit;

  As if a dragon’s nostril split

  And all his famished ire o’erflowed;

  Then, as he winced at his Lord’s goad,

  Back he inhaled: whereat I found

  The clouds into vast pillars bound,

  Based on the corners of the earth,

  Propping the skies at top: a dearth

  Of fire i’ the violet intervals,

  Leaving exposed the utmost walls

  Of time, about to tumble in

  And end the world.

  XVI.

  I felt begin

  The Judgment-Day: to retrocede

  Was too late now. — ’In very deed,

  (I uttered to myself) ‘that Day!’

  The intuition burned away

  All darkness from my spirit too —

  There, stood I, found and fixed, I knew,

  Choosing the world. The choice was made —

  And naked and disguiseless stayed,

  An unevadeable, the fact.

  My brain held ne’ertheless compact

  Its senses, nor my heart declined

  Its office — rather, both combined

  To help me in this juncture — I

  Lost not a second, — agony

  Gave boldness: there, my life had end

  And my choice with it — best defend,

  Applaud them! I resolved to say,

  So was I framed by Thee, this way

  ‘I put to use Thy senses here!

  ‘It was so beautiful, so near,

  ‘Thy world, — what could I do but choose

  ‘My part there? Nor did I refuse

  ‘To look above the transient boon

  ‘In time — but it was hard so soon

  ‘As in a short life, to give up

  ‘Such beauty: I had put the cup

  ‘Undrained of half its fullness, by;

  ‘But, to renounce it utterly,

  ‘ — That was too hard! Nor did the Cry

  ‘Which bade renounce it, touch my brain

  ‘Authentically deep and plain

  ‘Enough, to make my lips let go.

  ‘But Thou, who knowest all, dost know

  ‘Whether I was not, life’s brief while,

  ‘Endeavouring to reconcile

  ‘Those lips — too tardily, alas!

  ‘To letting the dear remnant pass,

  ‘One day, — some drops of earthly good

  ‘Untasted! Is it for this mood,

  ‘That Thou, whose earth delights so well,

  ‘Has made its complement a Hell?

  XVII.

  A final belch of fire like blood,

  Overbroke all, next, in one flood

  Of doom. Then fire was sky, and sky

  Was fire, and both, one extasy,

  Then ashes. But I heard no noise

  (Whatever was) because a Voice

  Beside me spoke thus, “All is done,

  “Time end’s, Eternity’s begun,

  “And thou art judged for evermore!”

  XVIII.

  I looked up; all was as before;

  Of that cloud-Tophet overhead,

  No trace was left: I saw instead

  The common round me, and the sky

  Above, stretched drear and emptily

  Of life: ‘twas the last watch of night,

  Except what brings the morning quite,

  When the armed angel, conscience-clear

  His task nigh done, leans o’er his spear

  And gazes on the earth he guards,

  Safe one night more through all its wards,

  Till God relieve him at his post.

  ‘A dream — a waking dream at most!’

  (I spoke out quick that I might shake

  The horrid nightmare off, and wake.)

  ‘The world’s gone, yet the world is here?

  ‘Are not all things as they appear?

  ‘Is Judgment past for me alone?

  ‘ — And where had place the Great White Throne?

  ‘The rising of the Quick and Dead?

  ‘Where stood they, small and great? Who read

  ‘The sentence from the Opened Book?’

  So, by degrees, the blood forsook

  My heart, and let it beat afresh:

  I knew I should break through the mesh

  Of horror, and breathe presently —

  When, lo, again, the Voice by me!

  XIX.

  I saw . . . Oh, brother, ‘mid far sands

  The palm-tree-cinctured city stands, —

  Bright-white beneath, as Heaven, bright-blue,

  Above it, while the years pursue

  Their course, unable to abate

  Its paradisal laugh at fate:

  One morn, — the Arab staggers blind

  O’er a new tract of death, calcined

  To ashes, silence, nothingness, —

  Striving, with dizzy wits, to guess

  Whence fell the blow: what if, ‘twixt skies

  And prostrate earth, he should surprise

  The imaged Vapour, head to foot.

  Surveying, motionless and mute,

  Its work, ere, in a whirlwind rapt,

  It vanish up again? — So hapt

  My chance. HE stood there. Like the smoke
/>   Pillared o’er Sodom, when day broke, —

  I saw Him. One magnific pall

  Mantled in massive fold and fall

  His Dread, and coiled in snaky swathes

  About His feet: night’s black, that bathes

  All else, broke, grizzled with despair,

  Against the soul of blackness there.

  A gesture told the mood within —

  That wrapped right hand which based the chin, —

  That intense meditation fixed

  On His procedure, — pity mixed

  With the fulfilment of decree.

  Motionless, thus, He spoke to me,

  Who fell before His feet, a mass,

  No man now.

  XX.

  ”All is come to pass.

  “Such shows are over for each soul

  “They had respect to. In the roll

  “Of Judgment which convinced mankind

  “Of sin, stood many, bold and blind,

  “Terror must burn the truth into:

  “Their fate for them! — thou had’st to do

  “With absolute omnipotence,

  “Able its judgments to dispense

  “To the whole race, as every one

  “Were its sole object: that is done:

  “God is, thou art, — the rest is hurled

  “To nothingness for thee. This world,

  “This finite life, thou hast preferred,

  “In disbelief of God’s own word,

  “To Heaven and to Infinity.

  “Here, the probation was for thee,

  “To show thy soul the earthly mixed

  “With Heavenly, it must choose betwixt.

  “The earthly joys lay palpable, —

  “A taint, in each, distinct as well;

  “The Heavenly flitted, faint and rare,

  “Above them, but as truly were

  “Taintless, so in their nature, best.

  “Thy choice was earth: thou didst attest

  “Twas fitter spirit should subserve

  “The flesh, than flesh refine to nerve

  “Beneath the spirit’s play. Advance

  “No claim to their inheritance

  “Who chose the spirit’s fugitive

  “Brief gleams, and thought, ‘This were to live

  “‘Indeed, if rays, completely pure

  “‘From flesh that dulls them, should endure, —

  ““Not shoot in meteor-light athwart

  “‘Our earth, to show how cold and swart

  “‘It lies beneath their fire, but stand

  “‘As stars should, destined to expand,

  “‘Prove veritable worlds, our home!’

  “Thou said’st, — ’Let Spirit star the dome

  “‘Of sky, that flesh may miss no peak,

  “‘No nook of earth, — I shall not seek

  “‘Its service further!’ Thou art shut

  “Out of the Heaven of Spirit; glut

  “Thy sense upon the world: ‘tis thine

  “For ever — take it!”

  XXI.

  ’How? Is mine,

  ‘The world?’ (I cried, while my soul broke