Robert Browning

“ THE STATUE AND THE BUST There's a palace in Florence, the world knows well, And a statue watches it from the square, And this story of both do our townsmen tell. Ages ago, a lady there, At the farthest window facing the East Asked, "Who rides by with the royal air?" The bridesmaids' prattle around her ceased; She leaned forth, one on either hand; They saw how the blush of the bride increased— They felt by its beats her heart expand— 10 As one at each ear and both in a breath Whispered, "The Great-Duke Ferdinand." ”

“ I have seen my little lady once more, Jacynth, the Gipsy, 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, And I, as he says, but a serf and thrall. ”

“ An old gipsy is the agency that awakens her to the joy and freedom of love. Her mystic chant and charm claim the duchess as the true heir of gipsy blood, thrill her with life, half-hypnotize the huntsman, too, and seem to transform the gipsy crone herself into an Eastern queen. He helps them off, and looks for no better future, when the duke's death releases him, than to travel to the land of the gipsies and hear the last news of his lady. The poem grew from the fancies aroused in the poet's heart by the snatch of a woman's song he overheard when a boy—"Following the Queen of the Gipsies, O!" ”

“ How it gives the heart and soul a stir-up 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— Friendship may match with that monarch of fluids; 840 Each supples a dry brain, fills you its ins-and-outs, Gives your life's hour-glass 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. ”

“ Like a jewel-finder's fierce assay Of the prize he dug from its mountain tomb— Let once the vindicating ray Leap out amid the anxious gloom, 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 for evermore; And thou shalt know, those arms once curled About thee, what we knew before, How love is the only good in the world. Henceforth be loved as heart can love, Or brain devise, or hand approve! ”

“ For when you've passed the cornfield country, Where vineyards leave off, flocks are packed, 10 And sheep-range leads to cattle-tract, And cattle-tract to open-chase, And open-chase to the very base Of the mountain where, at a funeral pace, Round about, solemn and slow, One by one, row after row, Up and up the pine-trees go, So, like black priests up, and so Down the other side again To another greater, wilder country, 20 That's one vast red drear burnt-up plain, Branched through and through with many a vein Whence iron's dug, and copper's dealt ”

“ 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? I foresee and could foretell Thy future portion, sure and well: But those passionate 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 unobserved ”

“ O'er his work the boy's curls fell. But ever, at each period, He stopped and sang, "Praise God!" Then back again his curls he threw, And cheerful turned to work anew. 10 Said Blaise, the listening monk, "Well done; I doubt not thou art heard, my son: As well as if thy voice to-day Were praising God, the Pope's great way. This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome Praises God from Peter's dome." Said Theocrite, "Would God that I Might praise him, that great way, and die!" Night passed, day shone, And Theocrite was gone. 20 With God a day endures alway, A thousand years are but a day. ”

“ While there's cast Paul's cloak about my head, and fast Gian pinions me, Himself has past His stylet thro' my back; I reel; And... is it thou I feel? II They trail me, these three godless knaves, 110 Past every church that saints and saves, Nor stop till, where the cold sea raves By Lido's wet accursed graves, They scoop mine, roll me to its brink, And... on thy breast I sink! She replies, musing. Dip your arm o'er the boat-side, elbow-deep, As I do: thus: were death so unlike sleep, Caught this way? Death's to fear from flame or steel, Or poison doubtless ”

“ We pursue thy whole career, And hope for it, or doubt, or fear— Lo, hast thou kept thy path or swerved, 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 morass Where never sound yet was Save the dry quick clap of the stork's bill, For the air is still, and the water still, When the blue breast of the dipping coot Dives under, and all is mute. ”

“ On to the maze Of the wild wood-ways, Not turning to left nor right From the pathway, blind with sight— XVIII Making thro' rain and wind O'er the broken shrubs, 'Twixt the stems and stubs, With a still, composed, strong mind, Nor a care for the world behind— 90 XIX Swifter and still more swift, As the crowding peace Doth to joy increase In the wide blind eyes uplift Thro' the darkness and the drift! XX While I—to the shape, I too Feel my soul dilate Nor a whit abate, And relax not a gesture due, As I see my belief come true. ”

“ Face to face the lovers stood A single minute and no more, While the bridegroom bent as a man subdued— Bowed till his bonnet brushed the floor— For the Duke on the lady a kiss conferred, As the courtly custom was of yore. In a minute can lovers exchange a word? If a word did pass, which I do not think, 50 Only one out of the thousand heard. That was the bridegroom. At day's brink He and his bride were alone at last In a bedchamber by a taper's blink. Calmly he said that her lot was cast, That the door she had passed was shut on her Till the final catafalk repassed. ”

“ For, ever some new head and breast of them Thrusts into view To observe the intruder; you see it If quickly you turn And, before they escape you surprise them. They grudge you should learn How the soft plains they look on, lean over And love (they pretend) 190 —Cower beneath them, the flat sea-pine crouches, The wild fruit-trees bend, E'en the myrtle-leaves curl, shrink and shut: All is silent and grave: 'Tis a sensual and timorous beauty, How fair! ”

“ They should have got his cheek fresh tannage Such a day as to-day in the merry sunshine! Had they stuck on his fist a rough-foot merlin! (Hark, the wind's on the heath at its game! Oh for a noble falcon-lanner 80 To flap each broad wing like a banner, And turn in the wind, and dance like flame!) Had they broached a white-beer cask from Berlin —Or if you incline to prescribe mere wine Put to his lips, when they saw him pine, A cup of our own Moldavia fine, Cotnar for instance, green as May sorrel And ropy with sweet—we shall not quarrel. ”

“ IV For, what with my whole world-wide wandering, What with my search drawn out thro' years, my hope 20 Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope With that obstreperous joy success would bring, I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring My heart made, finding failure in its scope. V As when a sick man very near to death Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end The tears and takes the farewell of each friend, And hears one bid the other go, draw breath Freelier outside ("since all is o'er," he saith, "And the blow fallen no grieving can amend") ”

“ There! 120 Now pluck a great blade of that ribbon-grass To plait in where the foolish jewel was, I flung away: since you have praised my hair, 'Tis proper to be choice in what I wear. He speaks. Row home? must we row home? Too surely Know I where its front's demurely Over the Giudecca piled; Window just with window mating, Door on door exactly waiting, All's the set face of a child: 130 But behind it, where's a trace Of the staidness and reserve, And formal lines without a curve, In the same child's playing-face? No two windows look one way O'er the small sea-water thread Below them. ”

“ I admonished myself, "Is one mocked by an elf, Is one baffled by toad or by rat? The gravamen's in that! How the lion, who crouches to suit His back to my foot, Would admire that I stand in debate! But the small turns the great If it vexes you, that is the thing! Toad or rat vex the king? 50 Though I waste half my realm to unearth Toad or rat, 'tis well worth!" ”

“ Once hold you, those jaws want no fresh hold, Their first would too pleasantly purloin The visitor's brisket or surloin: 80 But who's he would prove so fool-hardy? Not the best man of Marignan, pardie!" The sentence no sooner was uttered, Than over the rails a glove fluttered, Fell close to the lion, and rested: The dame 'twas, who flung it and jested With life so, De Lorge had been wooing For months past; he sat there pursuing His suit, weighing out with nonchalance Fine speeches like gold from a balance. 90 Sound the trumpet, no true knight's a tarrier! ”

“ Earth being so good, would heaven seem best? Now, heaven and she are beyond this ride. X And yet—she has not spoke so long! 100 What if heaven be that, fair and strong At life's best, with our eyes upturned Whither life's flower is first discerned, We, fixed so, ever should so abide? What if we still ride on, we two With life for ever old yet new, Changed not in kind but in degree, The instant made eternity— And heaven just prove that I and she Ride, ride together, forever ride? ”

“ XIII Now, in your land, Gipsies reach you, only 350 After reaching all lands beside; North they go, South they go, trooping or lonely And still, as they travel far and wide, Catch they and keep now a trace here, a trace there, That puts you in mind of a place here, a place there. But with us, I believe they rise out of the ground, And nowhere else, I take it, are found With the earth-tint yet so freshly embrowned: Born, no doubt, like insects which breed on The very fruit they are meant to feed on. ”

“ 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, Shall some one deck thee, over and down, Up and about, with blossoms and leaves? ”

“ The true has no value beyond the sham: As well the counter as coin, I submit, When your table's a hat, and your prize a dram. Stake your counter as boldly every whit, Venture as warily, use the same skill, Do your best, whether winning or losing it, 240 If you choose to play!—is my principle. Let a man contend to the uttermost For his life's set prize, be it what it will! The counter our lovers staked was lost As surely as if it were lawful coin: And the sin I impute to each frustrate ghost Is—the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin, Though the end in sight was a vice, I say. ”

“ An author soliloquizes in his garret over the fact that he possesses a friend who loves him and would do anything in his power to serve him, but for whom he cares almost nothing. At the same time he himself loves a woman to such distraction that he counts himself crowned with love's best crown while sacrificing his soul, his body, his peace, and his fame in brooding on his love, while she could calmly decree that he should roast at a slow fire if it would compass her frivolously ambitious designs. ”

“ Gay he rode, with a friend as gay, Till he threw his head back—"Who is she?" "A bride the Riccardi brings home to-day." Hair in heaps lay heavily Over a pale brow spirit-pure— 20 Carved like the heart of a coal-black tree, Crisped like a war-steed's encolure— And vainly sought to dissemble her eyes Of the blackest black our eyes endure. And lo, a blade for a knight's emprise Filled the fine empty sheath of a man— The Duke grew straightway brave and wise. He looked at her, as a lover can ”

“ 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? ”

“ PORPHYRIA'S LOVER The rain set early in to-night, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its worst to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up, and all the cottage warm; Which done, she rose, and from her form 10 Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl, And laid her soiled gloves by, untied Her hat and let the damp hair fall, And, last, she sat down by my side And called me. ”