Selections From The Poems And Plays Of Robert Browning Part 15

XV

And now, what took place at the very first of all, I cannot tell, as I never could learn it: 495 Jacynth constantly wished a curse to fall On that little head of hers and burn it, If she knew how she came to drop so soundly Asleep of a sudden and there continue The whole time sleeping as profoundly 500 As one of the boars my father would pin you 'Twixt the eyes where life holds garrison, --Jacynth forgive me the comparison!

But where I begin my own narration Is a little after I took my station 505 To breathe the fresh air from the balcony, And, having in those days a falcon eye, To follow the hunt through the open country, From where the bushes thinlier crested The hillocks, to a plain where's not one tree. 510 When, in a moment, my ear was arrested By--was it singing, or was it saying, Or a strange musical instrument playing In the chamber?--and to be certain I pushed the lattice, pulled the curtain, 515 And there lay Jacynth asleep, Yet as if a watch she tried to keep, In a rosy sleep along the floor With her head against the door; While in the midst, on the seat of state, 520 Was a queen--the gypsy woman late, With head and face downbent On the lady's head and face intent: For, coiled at her feet like a child at ease, The lady sat between her knees, 525 And o'er them the lady's clasped hands met, And on those hands her chin was set, And her upturned face met the face of the crone Wherein the eyes had grown and grown As if she could double and quadruple 530 At pleasure the play of either pupil --Very like, by her hands' slow fanning, As up and down like a gor-crow's flappers They moved to measure, or bell-clappers.

I said, "Is it blessing, is it banning, 535 Do they applaud you or burlesque you Those hands and fingers with no flesh on?"

But, just as I thought to spring in to the rescue, At once I was stopped by the lady's expression: For it was life her eyes were drinking 540 From the crone's wide pair above unwinking, --Life's pure fire received without shrinking, Into the heart and breast whose heaving Told you no single drop they were leaving --Life, that filling her, pa.s.sed redundant 545 Into her very hair, back swerving Over each shoulder, loose and abundant, As her head thrown back showed the white throat curving; And the very tresses shared in the pleasure, Moving to the mystic measure, 550 Bounding as the bosom bounded.

I stopped short, more and more confounded, As still her cheeks burned and eyes glistened, As she listened and she listened: When all at once a hand detained me, 555 The selfsame contagion gained me, And I kept time to the wondrous chime, Making out words and prose and rhyme, Till it seemed that the music furled Its wings like a task fulfilled, and dropped 560 From under the words it first had propped, And left them midway in the world: Word took word as hand takes hand, I could hear at last, and understand, And when I held the unbroken thread, 565 The gypsy said: "And so at last we find my tribe.

And so I set thee in the midst, And to one and all of them describe What thou saidst and what thou didst, 570 Our long and terrible journey through, And all thou art ready to say and do In the trials that remain: I trace them the vein and the other vein That meet on thy brow and part again, 575 Making our rapid mystic mark; And I bid my people prove and probe Each eye's profound and glorious globe Till they detect the kindred spark In those depths so dear and dark, 580 Like the spots that snap and burst and flee, Circling over the midnight sea.

And on that round young cheek of thine I make them recognize the tinge, As when of the costly scarlet wine 585 They drip so much as will impinge And spread in a thinnest scale afloat One thick gold drop from the olive's coat Over a silver plate whose sheen Still through the mixture shall be seen. 590 For so I prove thee, to one and all, Fit, when my people ope their breast, To see the sign, and hear the call, And take the vow, and stand the test Which adds one more child to the rest-- 595 When the breast is bare and the arms are wide, And the world is left outside.

For there is probation to decree, And many and long must the trials be Thou shalt victoriously endure, 600 If that brow is true and those eyes are sure; Like a jewel-finder's fierce a.s.say Of the prize he dug from its mountain-tomb-- Let once the vindicating ray Leap out amid the anxious gloom, 605 And steel and fire have done their part And the prize falls on its finder's heart; So, trial after trial past, Wilt thou fall at the very last Breathless, half in trance 610 With the thrill of the great deliverance, Into our arms forevermore; And thou shalt know, those arms once curled About thee, what we knew before, How love is the only good in the world. 615 Henceforth be loved as heart can love, Or brain devise, or hand approve!

Stand up, look below, It is our life at thy feet we throw To step with into light and joy; 620 Not a power of life but we employ To satisfy thy nature's want; Art thou the tree that props the plant, Or the climbing plant that seeks the tree-- Canst thou help us, must we help thee? 625 If any two creatures grew into one, They would do more than the world has done: Though each apart were never so weak, Ye vainly through the world should seek For the knowledge and the might 630 Which in such union grew their right: So, to approach at least that end, And blend--as much as may be, blend Thee with us or us with thee-- As climbing plant or propping tree, 635 Shall someone deck thee, over and down, Up and about, with blossoms and leaves?

Fix his heart's fruit for thy garland-crown, Cling with his soul as the gourd-vine cleaves, Die on thy boughs and disappear 640 While not a leaf of thine is sere?

Or is the other fate in store, And art thou fitted to adore, To give thy wondrous self away, And take a stronger nature's sway? 645 I foresee and could foretell Thy future portion, sure and well: But those pa.s.sionate eyes speak true, speak true, Let them say what thou shalt do!

Only be sure thy daily life, 650 In its peace or in its strife, Never shall be un.o.bserved; We pursue thy whole career, And hope for it, or doubt, or fear-- Lo, hast thou kept thy path or swerved, 655 We are beside thee in all thy ways, With our blame, with our praise, Our shame to feel, our pride to show, Glad, angry--but indifferent, no!

Whether it be thy lot to go, 660 For the good of us all, where the haters meet In the crowded city's horrible street; Or thou step alone through the mora.s.s Where never sound yet was Save the dry quick clap of the stork's bill, 665 For the air is still, and the water still, When the blue breast of the dipping coot Dives under, and all is mute.

So, at the last shall come old age, Decrepit as befits that stage; 670 How else wouldst thou retire apart With the h.o.a.rded memories of thy heart, And gather all to the very least Of the fragments of life's earlier feast, Let fall through eagerness to find 675 The crowning dainties yet behind?

Ponder on the entire past Laid together thus at last, When the twilight helps to fuse The first fresh with the faded hues, 680 And the outline of the whole, As round eve's shades their framework roll, Grandly fronts for once thy soul.

And then as, 'mid the dark, a gleam Of yet another morning breaks, 685 And like the hand which ends a dream, Death, with the might of his sunbeam, Touches the flesh and the soul awakes, Then"---- Aye, then indeed something would happen!

But what? For here her voice changed like a bird's; 690 There grew more of the music and less of the words; Had Jacynth only been by me to clap pen To paper and put you down every syllable With those clever clerkly fingers, All I've forgotten as well as what lingers 695 In this old brain of mine that's but ill able To give you even this poor version Of the speech I spoil, as it were, with stammering --More fault of those who had the hammering Of prosody into me and syntax, 700 And did it, not with hobnails but tin-tacks!

But to return from this excursion-- Just, do you mark, when the song was sweetest, The peace most deep and the charm completest, There came, shall I say, a snap-- 705 And the charm vanished!

And my sense returned, so strangely banished, And, starting as from a nap, I knew the crone was bewitching my lady, With Jacynth asleep; and but one spring made I 710 Down from the cas.e.m.e.nt, round to the portal, Another minute and I had entered-- When the door opened, and more than mortal Stood, with a face where to my mind centered All beauties I ever saw or shall see, 715 The d.u.c.h.ess: I stopped as if struck by palsy.

She was so different, happy and beautiful, I felt at once that all was best, And that I had nothing to do, for the rest, But wait her commands, obey and be dutiful. 720 Not that, in fact, there was any commanding; I saw the glory of her eye, And the brow's height and the breast's expanding, And I was hers to live or to die.

As for finding what she wanted, 725 You know G.o.d Almighty granted Such little signs should serve wild creatures To tell one another all their desires, So that each knows what his friend requires, And does its bidding without teachers. 730 I preceded her: the crone Followed silent and alone; I spoke to her, but she merely jabbered In the old style; both her eyes had slunk Back to their pits; her stature shrunk; 735 In short, the soul in its body sunk Like a blade sent home to its scabbard.

We descended, I preceding; Crossed the court with n.o.body heeding; All the world was at the chase, 740 The courtyard like a desert-place, The stable emptied of its small fry; I saddled myself the very palfrey I remember patting while it carried her, The day she arrived and the Duke married her. 745 And, do you know, though it's easy deceiving Oneself in such matters, I can't help believing The lady had not forgotten it either, And knew the poor devil so much beneath her Would have been only too glad for her service 750 To dance on hot plowshares like a Turk dervise, But, unable to pay proper duty where owing it, Was reduced to that pitiful method of showing it: For though the moment I began setting His saddle on my own nag of Berold's begetting, 755 (Not that I meant to be obtrusive) She stopped me, while his rug was s.h.i.+fting, By a single rapid finger's lifting, And, with a gesture kind but conclusive, And a little shake of the head, refused me-- 760 I say, although she never used me, Yet when she was mounted, the gypsy behind her, And I ventured to remind her, I suppose with a voice of less steadiness Than usual, for my feeling exceeded me, 765 --Something to the effect that I was in readiness Whenever G.o.d should please she needed me-- Then, do you know, her face looked down on me With a look that placed a crown on me, And she felt in her bosom--mark, her bosom-- 770 And, as a flower-tree drops its blossom, Dropped me ... ah, had it been a purse Of silver, my friend, or gold that's worse, Why, you see, as soon as I found myself So understood--that a true heart so may gain 775 Such a reward--I should have gone home again, Kissed Jacynth, and soberly drowned myself!

It was a little plait of hair Such as friends in a convent make To wear, each for the other's sake-- 780 This, see, which at my breast I wear, Ever did (rather to Jacynth's grudgment), And ever shall, till the Day of Judgment.

And then--and then--to cut short--this is idle, These are feelings it is not good to foster-- 785 I pushed the gate wide, she shook the bridle, And the palfrey bounded--and so we lost her.

XVI

When the liquor's out why clink the cannikin?

I did think to describe you the panic in The redoubtable breast of our master the mannikin, 790 And what was the pitch of his mother's yellowness, How she turned as a shark to snap the spare-rib Clean off, sailors says, from a pearl-diving Carib, When she heard, what she called the flight of the feloness --But it seems such child's play, 795 What they said and did with the lady away!

And to dance on, when we've lost the music, Always made me--and no doubt makes you--sick.

Nay, to my mind, the world's face looked so stern As that sweet form disappeared through the postern, 800 She that kept it in constant good humor, It ought to have stopped; there seemed nothing to do more.

But the world thought otherwise and went on, And my head's one that its spite was spent on; Thirty years are fled since that morning, 805 And with them all my head's adorning.

Nor did the old d.u.c.h.ess die outright, As you expect, of suppressed spite, The natural end of every adder Not suffered to empty its poison-bladder; 810 But she and her son agreed, I take it, That no one should touch on the story to wake it, For the wound in the Duke's pride rankled fiery, So, they made no search and small inquiry-- And when fresh gypsies have paid us a visit, I've 815 Noticed the couple were never inquisitive, But told them they're folks the Duke don't want here, And bade them make haste and cross the frontier.

Brief, the d.u.c.h.ess was gone and the Duke was glad of it, And the old one was in the young one's stead, 820 And took, in her place, the household's head, And a blessed time the household had of it!

And were I not, as a man may say, cautious How I trench, more than needs, on the nauseous, I could favor you with sundry touches 825 Of the paint-s.m.u.tches with which the d.u.c.h.ess Heightened the mellowness of her cheek's yellowness (To get on faster) until at last her Cheek grew to be one master-plaster Of mucus and fucus from mere use of ceruse: 830 In short, she grew from scalp to udder Just the object to make you shudder.

XVII

You're my friend-- What a thing friends.h.i.+p is, world without end!

How it gives the heart and soul a stir-up 835 As if somebody broached you a glorious runlet, And poured out, all lovelily, sparklingly, sunlit, Our green Moldavia, the streaky syrup, Cotnar as old as the time of the Druids-- Friends.h.i.+p may match with that monarch of fluids; 840 Each supples a dry brain, fills you its ins-and-outs, Gives your life's hourgla.s.s a shake when the thin sand doubts Whether to run on or stop short, and guarantees Age is not all made of stark sloth and arrant ease.

I have seen my little lady once more, 845 Jacynth, the gypsy, Berold, and the rest of it, For to me spoke the Duke, as I told you before; I always wanted to make a clean breast of it: And now it is made--why, my heart's blood, that went trickle, Trickle, but anon, in such muddy driblets, 850 Is pumped up brisk now, through the main ventricle.

And genially floats me about the giblets.

I'll tell you what I intend to do: I must see this fellow his sad life through-- He is our Duke, after all, 855 And I, as he says, but a serf and thrall.

My father was born here, and I inherit His fame, a chain he bound his son with; Could I pay in a lump I should prefer it, But there's no mine to blow up and get done with: 860 So, I must stay till the end of the chapter.

For, as to our middle-age-manners-adapter, Be it a thing to be glad on or sorry on, Some day or other, his head in a morion And breast in a hauberk, his heels he'll kick up, 865 Slain by an onslaught fierce of hiccup.

And then, when red doth the sword of our Duke rust, And its leathern sheath lie o'ergrown with a blue crust, Then I shall sc.r.a.pe together my earnings; For, you see, in the churchyard Jacynth reposes, 870 And our children all went the way of the roses.

It's a long lane that knows no turnings.

One needs but little tackle to travel in; So, just one stout cloak shall I indue: And for a staff, what beats the javelin 875 With which his boars my father pinned you?

And then, for a purpose you shall hear presently, Taking some Cotnar, a tight plump skinful, I shall go journeying, who but I, pleasantly!

Sorrow is vain and despondency sinful. 880 What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day what his youth took a year to hold: When we mind labor, then only, we're too old-- What age had Methusalem when he begat Saul?

And at last, as its haven some buffeted s.h.i.+p sees, 885 (Come all the way from the north-parts with sperm oil) I hope to get safely out of the turmoil And arrive one day at the land of the gypsies, And find my lady, or hear the last news of her From some old thief and son of Lucifer, 890 His forehead chapleted green with wreathy hop, Sunburned all over like an aethiop.

And when my Cotnar begins to operate And the tongue of the rogue to run at a proper rate, And our wine-skin, tight once, shows each flaccid dent, 895 I shall drop in with--as if by accident-- "You never knew, then, how it all ended, What fortune good or bad attended The little lady your Queen befriended?"

--And when that's told me, what's remaining? 900 This world's too hard for my explaining.

The same wise judge of matters equine Who still preferred some slim four-year-old To the big-boned stock of mighty Berold, And, for strong Cotnar, drank French weak wine, 905 He also must be such a lady's scorner!

Smooth Jacob still robs homely Esau: Now up, now down, the world's one see-saw.

--So, I shall find out some snug corner Under a hedge, like Orson the wood-knight, 910 Turn myself round and bid the world good night; And sleep a sound sleep till the trumpet's blowing Wakes me (unless priests cheat us laymen) To a world where will be no further throwing Pearls before swine that can't value them. Amen! 915

A GRAMMARIAN'S FUNERAL

SHORTLY AFTER THE REVIVAL OF LEARNING IN EUROPE

Let us begin and carry up this corpse, Singing together.

Leave we the common crofts, the vulgar thorpes Each in its tether Sleeping safe on the bosom of the plain, 5 Cared-for till c.o.c.k-crow; Look out if yonder be not day again r.i.m.m.i.n.g the rock-row!

That's the appropriate country; there, man's thought, Rarer, intenser, 10 Self-gathered for an outbreak, as it ought, Chafes in the censer.

Leave we the unlettered plain its herd and crop; Seek we sepulture On a tall mountain, citied to the top, 15 Crowded with culture!

All the peaks soar, but one the rest excels; Clouds overcome it; No! yonder sparkle is the citadel's Circling its summit. 20 Thither our path lies; wind we up the heights; Wait ye the warning?

Our low life was the level's and the night's; He's for the morning.

Step to a tune, square chests, erect each head, 25 'Ware the beholders!

This is our master, famous, calm, and dead, Borne on our shoulders.

Sleep, crop and herd! sleep, darkling thorpe and croft, Safe from the weather! 30 He, whom we convoy to his grave aloft, Singing together, He was a man born with thy face and throat, Lyric Apollo!

Long he lived nameless; how should Spring take note 35 Winter would follow?

Till lo, the little touch, and youth was gone!

Cramped and diminished, Moaned he, "New measures, other feet anon!

My dance is finished"? 40 No, that's the world's way: (keep the mountain-side, Make for the city!) He knew the signal, and stepped on with pride Over men's pity; Left play for work, and grappled with the world 45 Bent on escaping: "What's in the scroll," quoth he, "thou keepest furled?

Show me their shaping, Theirs who most studied man, the bard and sage-- Give!"--So, he gowned him, 50 Straight got by heart that book to its last page: Learned, we found him.

Yea, but we found him bald, too, eyes like lead, Accents uncertain: "Time to taste life," another would have said, 55 "Up with the curtain!"

This man said rather, "Actual life comes next?

Patience a moment!

Grant I have mastered learning's crabbed text, Still there's the comment. 60 Let me know all! Prate not of most or least, Painful or easy!

Even to the crumbs I'd fain eat up the feast, Aye, nor feel queasy."

Oh, such a life as he resolved to live, 65 When he had learned it, When he had gathered all books had to give!

Sooner, he spurned it.

Image the whole, then execute the parts-- Fancy the fabric 70 Quite, ere you build, ere steel strike fire from quartz.

Ere mortar dab brick!

(Here's the town-gate reached: there's the market-place Gaping before us.) Yea, this in him was the peculiar grace 75 (Hearten our chorus!) That before living he'd learn how to live-- No end to learning: Earn the means first--G.o.d surely will contrive Use for our earning. 80 Others mistrust and say, "But time escapes: Live now or never!"

He said, "What's time? Leave Now for dogs and apes!

Man has Forever."

Back to his book then: deeper drooped his head: 85 _Calculus_ racked him: Leaden before, his eyes grew dross of lead: _Tussis_ attacked him.

"Now, master, take a little rest!"--not he!

(Caution redoubled, 90 Step two abreast, the way winds narrowly!) Not a whit troubled, Back to his studies, fresher than at first, Fierce as a dragon He (soul-hydroptic with a sacred thirst) 95 Sucked at the flagon.