Robert Browning

“ Ivàn Ivànovitch has done a deed that's named
Murder by law and me: who doubts, may speak unblamed!"
All turned to the old Pope. "Ay, children, I am old —
How old, myself have got to know no longer. Rolled ⁠310
Quite round, my orb of life, from infancy to age,
Seems passing back again to youth. A certain stage
At least I reach, or dream I reach, where I discern
Truer truths, laws behold more lawlike than we learn
When first we set our foot to tread the course I trod
With man to guide my steps: who leads me now is God. ”

“ Make a simple hatchet serve as a tool-box serves with us.
Arm but each man with his axe, 't is a hammer and saw and plane
And chisel, and — what know I else? We should imitate in vain
The mastery wherewithal, by a flourish of just the adze,
He cleaves, clamps, dovetails in, — no need of our nails and brads, —
The manageable pine: 't is said he could shave himself
With the axe, — so all adroit, now a giant and now an elf,
Does he work and play at once! ”

“ A power of life and death. They stoop, survey the corpse.
Then, straightened on his staff, the Stàrosta — the thorpe's
Sagaciousest old man — hears what you just have heard,
From Droug's first inrush, all, up to Ivàn's last word
"God bade me act for him: I dared not disobey!" ”

“ I died then, dead I lay doubtlessly till Droug stopped
Here, I suppose. I come to life, I find me propped
Thus — how or when or why, — I know not. Tell me, friends,
All was a dream: laugh quick and say the nightmare ends!
Soon I shall find my house: 't is over there: in proof,
Save for that chimney heaped with snow, you'd see the roof
Which holds my three — my two — my one — not one?
"Life's mixed
With misery, yet we live — must live. ”

“ Stumbled on, till he fell, in one last bound for life,
A horse: and, at his heels, a sledge held — "Dmìtri's wife!
Back without Dmìtri too! and children — where are they?
Only a frozen corpse!"
They drew it forth: then — "Nay, ⁠50
Not dead, though like to die! Gone hence a month ago:
Home again, this rough jaunt — alone through night and snow —
What can the cause be? Hark — Droug, old horse, how he groans:
His day's done! Chafe away, keep chafing, for she moans:
She's coming to! Give here: see, motherkin, your friends! ”

“ While Dmìtri shook the reins, urged Droug upon his track!
"Well, soon the month ran out, we just were coming back, ⁠90
When yesterday — behold, the village was on fire!
Fire ran from house to house. What help, as, nigh and nigher,
The flames came furious? 'Haste,' cried Dmìtri, 'men must do
The little good man may: to sledge and in with you,
You and our three! We check the fire by laying flat
Each building in its path, — I needs must stay for that, —
But you . . . no time for talk! Wrap round you every rug,
Cover the couple close, — you'll have the babe to hug. ”