Browning and the Dramatic Monologue Part 31

I hardly dare ... yet, only you to see, Give the chalk here--quick, thus the line should go!

Ay, but the soul! he's Rafael! rub it out!

Still, all I care for, if he spoke the truth, (What he? why, who but Michel Agnolo?

Do you forget already words like those?) If really there was such a chance so lost,-- Is, whether you're--not grateful--but more pleased.

Well, let me think so. And you smile indeed!

This hour has been an hour! Another smile?

If you would sit thus by me every night I should work better, do you comprehend?

I mean that I should earn more, give you more.

See, it is settled dusk now; there's a star; Morello's gone, the watch-lights show the wall, The cue-owls speak the name we call them by.

Come from the window, love,--come in, at last, Inside the melancholy little house We built to be so gay with. G.o.d is just.

King Francis may forgive me: oft at nights When I look up from painting, eyes tired out, The walls become illumined, brick from brick Distinct, instead of mortar, fierce bright gold, That gold of his I did cement them with!

Let us but love each other. Must you go?

That Cousin here again? he waits outside?

Must see you--you, and not with me? Those loans?

More gaming debts to pay? you smiled for that?

Well, let smiles buy me! have you more to spend?

While hand and eye and something of a heart Are left me, work's my ware, and what's it worth?

I'll pay my fancy. Only let me sit The gray remainder of the evening out, Idle, you call it, and muse perfectly How I could paint, were I but back in France, One picture, just one more--the Virgin's face, Not yours this time! I want you at my side To hear them--that is, Michel Agnolo-- Judge all I do and tell you of its worth.

Will you? To-morrow, satisfy your friend.

I take the subjects for his corridor, Finish the portrait out of hand--there, there, And throw him in another thing or two If he demurs; the whole should prove enough To pay for this same Cousin's freak. Beside, What's better and what's all I care about, Get you the thirteen scudi for the ruff!

Love, does that please you? Ah, but what does he, The Cousin! what does he to please you more?

I am grown peaceful as old age to-night.

I regret little, I would change still less.

Since there my past life lies, why alter it?

The very wrong to Francis!--it is true I took his coin, was tempted and complied, And built this house and sinned, and all is said.

My father and my mother died of want.

Well, had I riches of my own? you see How one gets rich! Let each one bear his lot.

They were born poor, lived poor, and poor they died: And I have laboured somewhat in my time And not been paid profusely. Some good son Paint my two hundred pictures--let him try!

No doubt, there's something strikes a balance. Yes, You loved me quite enough, it seems to-night.

This must suffice me here. What would one have?

In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more chance-- Four great walls in the New Jerusalem, Meted on each side by the angel's reed, For Leonard, Rafael, Agnolo and me To cover--the three first without a wife, While I have mine! So--still they overcome Because there's still Lucrezia,--as I choose.

Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.

MULeYKEH

If a stranger pa.s.sed the tent of Hoseyn, he cried "A churl's!"

Or haply "G.o.d help the man who has neither salt nor bread!"

--"Nay," would a friend exclaim, "he needs nor pity nor scorn More than who spends small thought on the sh.o.r.e-sand, picking pearls, --Holds but in light esteem the seed-sort, bears instead On his breast a moon-like prize, some orb which of night makes morn.

"What if no flocks and herds enrich the son of Sinan?

They went when his tribe was mulct, ten thousand camels the due, Blood-value paid perforce for a murder done of old.

'G.o.d gave them, let them go! But never since time began, Muleykeh, peerless mare, owned master the match of you, And you are my prize, my Pearl: I laugh at men's land and gold!'

"So in the pride of his soul laughs Hoseyn--and right, I say.

Do the ten steeds run a race of glory? Outstripping all, Ever Muleykeh stands first steed at the victor's staff.

Who started, the owner's hope, gets shamed and named, that day.

'Silence,' or, last but one, is 'The Cuffed,' as we use to call Whom the paddock's lord thrusts forth.

Right, Hoseyn, I say, to laugh!"

"Boasts he Muleykeh the Pearl?" the stranger replies: "Be sure On him I waste nor scorn nor pity, but lavish both On Duhl the son of Sheyban, who withers away in heart For envy of Hoseyn's luck. Such sickness admits no cure.

A certain poet has sung, and sealed the same with an oath, 'For the vulgar--flocks and herds! The Pearl is a prize apart.'"

Lo, Duhl the son of Sheyban comes riding to Hoseyn's tent, And he casts his saddle down, and enters and "Peace!" bids he.

"You are poor, I know the cause: my plenty shall mend the wrong.

'Tis said of your Pearl--the price of a hundred camels spent In her purchase were scarce ill paid: such prudence is far from me Who proffer a thousand. Speak! Long parley may last too long."

Said Hoseyn "You feed young beasts a many, of famous breed, Slit-eared, unblemished, fat, true offspring of Muzennem: There stumbles no weak-eyed she in the line as it climbs the hill.

But I love Muleykeh's face: her forefront whitens indeed Like a yellowish wave's cream-crest. Your camels--go gaze on them!

Her fetlock is foam-splashed too. Myself am the richer still."

A year goes by: lo, back to the tent again rides Duhl.

"You are open-hearted, ay--moist-handed, a very prince.

Why should I speak of sale? Be the mare your simple gift!

My son is pined to death for her beauty: my wife prompts 'Fool, Beg for his sake the Pearl! Be G.o.d the rewarder, since G.o.d pays debts seven for one: who squanders on Him shows thrift.'"

Said Hoseyn "G.o.d gives each man one life, like a lamp, then gives That lamp due measure of oil: lamp lighted--hold high, wave wide Its comfort for others to share! once quench it, what help is left?

The oil of your lamp is your son: I s.h.i.+ne while Muleykeh lives.

Would I beg your son to cheer my dark if Muleykeh died?

It is life against life: what good avails to the life-bereft?"

Another year, and--hist! What craft is it Duhl designs?

He alights not at the door of the tent as he did last time, But, creeping behind, he gropes his stealthy way by the trench Half-round till he finds the flap in the folding, for night combines With the robber--and such is he: Duhl, covetous up to crime, Must wring from Hoseyn's grasp the Pearl, by whatever the wrench.

"He was hunger-bitten, I heard: I tempted with half my store, And a gibe was all my thanks. Is he generous like Spring dew?

Account the fault to me who chaffered with such an one!

He has killed, to feast chance comers, the creature he rode: nay, more-- For a couple of singing-girls his robe has he torn in two: I will beg! Yet I nowise gained by the tale of my wife and son.

"I swear by the Holy House, my head will I never wash Till I filch his Pearl away. Fair dealing I tried, then guile, And now I resort to force. He said we must live or die: Let him die, then,--let me live! Be bold--but not too ras.h.!.+

I have found me a peeping-place: breast, bury your breathing while I explore for myself! Now, breathe! He deceived me not, the spy!

"As he said--there lies in peace Hoseyn--how happy! Beside Stands tethered the Pearl: Thrice winds her headstall about his wrist: 'Tis therefore he sleeps so sound--the moon through the roof reveals.

And, loose on his left, stands too that other, known far and wide, Buheyseh, her sister born: fleet is she yet ever missed The winning tail's fire-flash a-stream past the thunderous heels.

"No less she stands saddled and bridled, this second, in case some thief Should enter and seize and fly with the first, as I mean to do.

What then? The Pearl is the Pearl: once mount her we both escape."

Through the skirt-fold in glides Duhl,--so a serpent disturbs no leaf In a bush as he parts the twigs entwining a nest: clean through, He is noiselessly at his work: as he planned, he performs the rape.

He has set the tent-door wide, has buckled the girth, has clipped The headstall away from the wrist he leaves thrice bound as before, He springs on the Pearl, is launched on the Desert like bolt from bow.

Up starts our plundered man: from his breast though the heart be ripped, Yet his mind has the mastery: behold, in a minute more, He is out and off and away on Buheyseh, whose worth we know!

And Hoseyn--his blood turns flame, he has learned long since to ride, And Buheyseh does her part,--they gain--they are gaining fast On the fugitive pair, and Duhl has Ed-Darraj to cross and quit, And to reach the ridge El-Saban,--no safety till that be spied!

And Buheyseh is, bound by bound, but a horse-length off at last, For the Pearl has missed the tap of the heel, the touch of the bit.

She shortens her stride, she chafes at her rider the strange and queer: Buheyseh is mad with hope--beat sister she shall and must Though Duhl, of the hand and heel so clumsy, she has to thank.

She is near now, nose by tail--they are neck by croup--joy! fear!

What folly makes Hoseyn shout "Dog Duhl, d.a.m.ned son of the Dust, Touch the right ear and press with your foot my Pearl's left flank!"