Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  Would lure the winner to lose twenty more,

  Beside refunding these! Why else allow

  The fool to gain them? So displays herself

  The lady whom my heart believed — oh, laugh!

  Noble and pure: whom my heart loved at once,

  And who at once did speak truth when she said

  ‘I am not mine now but another’s’ — thus

  Being that other’s! Devil’s-marriage, eh?

  ‘My lie weds thine till lucre us do part?’

  But pity me the snobbish simpleton,

  You two aristocratic tip-top swells

  At swindling! Quits, I cry! Decamp content

  With skin I’m peeled of: do not strip bones bare —

  As that you could, I have no doubt at all!

  O you two rare ones! Male and female, Sir!

  The male there smirked, this morning, ‘Come, my boy —

  Out with it! You’ve been crossed in love, I think:

  I recognize the lover’s hangdog look;

  Make a clean breast and match my confidence,

  For, I’ll be frank, I too have had my fling,

  Am punished for my fault, and smart enough!

  Where now the victim hides her head, God knows!’

  Here loomed her head, life-large, the devil knew!

  Look out, Salvini! Here’s your man, your match!

  He and I sat applauding, stall by stall,

  Last Monday — ’Here’s Othello’ was our word,

  ‘But where’s Iago?’ Where? Why, there! And now

  The fellow-artist, female specimen —

  Oh, lady, you must needs describe yourself!

  He’s grea in art, but you — how greater still

  — (If I can rightly, out of all I learned,

  Apply one bit of Latin that assures

  ‘Art means just art’s concealment’ ) — tower yourself!

  For he stands plainly visible henceforth —

  Liar and scamp: while you, in artistry

  Prove so consummate — or I prove perhaps

  So absolute an ass — that — either way —

  You still do seem to me who worshipped you

  And see you take the homage of this man

  Your master, who played slave and knelt, no doubt,

  Before a mistress in his very craft . . .

  Well, take the fact, I nor believe my eyes,

  Nor trust my understanding! Still you seem

  Noble and pure as when we had the talk

  Under the tower, beneath the trees, that day.

  And there’s the key explains the secret: down

  He knelt to ask your leave to rise a grade

  I’ the mystery of humbug: well he may!

  For how you beat him! Half an hour ago,

  I held your master for my best of friends;

  And now I hate him! Four years since, you seemed

  My heart’s one love: well, and you so remain!

  What’s he to you in craft?”

  She looks him through.

  “My friend, ‘tis just that friendship have its turn —

  Interrogate thus me whom one, of foes

  The worst, has questioned and is answered by.

  Take you as frank an answer! answers both

  Begin alike so far, divergent soon

  World-wide — I own superiority

  Over you, over him. As him I searched,

  So do you stand seen through and through by me

  Who, this time, proud, report your crystal shrines

  A dewdrop, plain as amber prisons round

  A spider in the hollow heart his house!

  Nowise are you that thing my fancy feared

  When out you stepped on me, a minute since,

  — This man’s confederate! no, you step not thus

  Obsequiously at beck and call to help

  At need some second scheme, and supplement

  Guile by force, use my shame to pinion me

  From struggle and escape! I fancied that!

  Forgive me! Only by strange chance, — most strange

  In even this strange world, — you enter now, 100

  Obtain your knowledge. Me you have not wronged

  Who never wronged you — least of all, my friend,

  That day beneath the College tower and trees,

  When I refused to say, — ’not friend but, love!’

  Had I been found as free as air when first

  We met, I scarcely could have loved you. No —

  For where was that in you which claimed return

  Of love? My eyes were all too weak to probe

  This other’s seeming, but that seeming loved

  The soul in me, and lied — I know too late!

  While your truth was truth: and I knew at once

  My power was just my beauty — bear the word —

  As I must bear, of all my qualities,

  To name the poorest one that serves my soul

  And simulates myself! So much in me

  You loved, I know: the something that’s beneath

  Heard not your call, — uncalled, no answer comes!

  For, since in every love, or soon or late

  Soul must awake and seek out soul for soul,

  Yours, overlooking mine then, would, some day,

  Take flight to find some other; so it proved —

  Missing me, you were ready for this man.

  I apprehend the whole relation: his —

  The soul wherein you saw your type of worth

  At once, true object of your tribute. Well

  Might I refuse such half-heart’s homage! Love

  Divining, had assured you I no more

  Stand his participant in infamy

  Than you — I need no love to recognize

  As simply dupe and nowise fellow-cheat!

  Therefore accept one last friend’s-word, — your friend’s,

  All men’s friend, save a felon’s, Ravel out

  The bad embroilment howsoe’er you may,

  Distribute as it please you praise or blame

  To me — so you but fling this mockery far —

  Renounce this rag-and-feather hero-sham,

  This poodle clipt to pattern, lion-like!

  Throw him his thousands back, and lay to heart

  The lesson I was sent, — if man discerned

  Ever God’s message, — just to teach. I judge —

  Far to another issue than could dream

  Your cousin, — younger, fairer, as befits —

  Who summoned me to judgment’s exercise.

  I find you, save in folly, innocent.

  And in my verdict lies your fate; at choice

  Of mine your cousin takes or leaves you. ‘Take!’

  I bid her — for you tremble back to truth!

  She turns the scale, — one touch of the pure hand

  Shall so press down, emprison past relapse

  Farther vibration ‘twixt veracity —

  That’s honest solid earth — and falsehood, theft

  And air, that’s one illusive emptiness!

  That reptile capture you? I conquered him:

  You saw him cower before me! Have no fear

  He shall offend you farther! Spare to spurn —

  Safe let him slink hence till some subtler Eve

  Than I, anticipate the snake — bruise head

  Ere he bruise heel — or, warier than the first,

  Some Adam purge earth’s garden of its pest

  Before the slaver spoil the Tree of Life!

  “You! Leave this youth, as he leaves you, as I

  Leave each! There’s caution surely extant yet

  Though conscience in you were too vain a claim.

  Hence quickly! Keep the cash but leave unsoiled

  The heart I rescue and would lay to heal

  Beside another’s! Never let her know

  How near came taint of your companionship!”
>
  “Ah” — draws a long breath with a new strange look

  The man she interpellates — soul a-stir

  Under its covert, as, beneath the dust,

  A coppery sparkle all at once denotes

  The hid snake has conceived a purpose.

  ”Ah —

  Innocence should be crowned with ignorance?

  Desirable indeed, but difficult!

  As if yourself, now, had not glorified

  Your helpmate by imparting him a hint

  Of how a monster made the victim bleed

  Ere crook and courage saved her — hint, I say, —

  Not the whole horror, — that were needless risk, —

  But just such inkling, fancy of the fact,

  As should suffice to qualify henceforth

  The shepherd, when another lamb would stray,

  For warning ‘Ware the wolf!’ No doubt at all,

  Silence is generosity, — keeps wolf

  Unhunted by flock’s warder! Excellent,

  Did — generous to me, mean — just to him!

  But, screening the deceiver, lamb were found

  Outraging the deceitless! So, — he knows!

  And yet, unharmed I breathe — perchance, repent —

  Thanks to the mercifully-politic!”

  “Ignorance is not innocence but sin —

  Witness your own ignoring after-pangs

  Pursue the plague-infected. Merciful

  Am I? Perhaps! the more contempt, the less

  Hatred; and who so worthy of contempt

  As you that rest assured I cooled the spot

  I could not cure, by poisoning, forsooth,

  Whose hand I pressed there? Understand for once

  That, sick, of all the pains corroding me

  This burnt the last and nowise least — the need 200

  Of simulating soundness. I resolved —

  No matter how the struggle tasked weak flesh —

  To hide the truth away as in a grave

  From — most of all — my husband: he nor knows

  Nor ever shall be made to know your part,

  My part, the devil’s part, — I trust, God’s part

  In the foul matter. Saved, I yearn to save

  And not destroy: and what destruction like

  The abolishing of faith in him, that’s faith

  In me as pure and true? Acquaint some child

  Who takes yon tree into his confidence,

  That, where he sleeps now, was a murder done,

  And that the grass which grows so thick, he thinks,

  Only to pillow him is product just

  Of what lies festering beneath! ‘Tis God

  Must bear such secrets and disclose them. Man?

  The miserable thing I have become

  By dread acquaintance with my secret — you —

  That thing had he become by learning me —

  The miserable, whom his ignorance

  Would wrongly call the wicked: ignorance

  Being, I hold, sin ever, small or great.

  No, he knows nothing!”

  ”He and I alike

  Are bound to you for such discreetness, then.

  What if our talk should terminate awhile?

  Here is a gentleman to satisfy,

  Settle accounts with, pay ten thousand pounds

  Before we part — as, by his face, I fear,

  Results from your appearance on the scene.

  Grant me a minute’s parley with my friend

  Which scarce admits of a third personage!

  The room from which you made your entry first

  So opportunely — still untenanted —

  What if you please return there? Just a word

  To my young friend first — then, a word to you,

  And you depart to fan away each fly

  From who, grass-pillowed, sleeps so sound at home!”

  “So the old truth comes back! A wholesome change, —

  At last the altered eye, the rightful tone!

  But even to the truth that drops disguise

  And stands forth grinning malice which but now

  Whined so contritely — I refuse assent

  Just as to malice. I, once gone, come back?

  No, my lord! I enjoy the privilege

  Of being absolutely loosed from you

  Too much — the knowledge that your power is null

  Which was omnipotent. A word of mouth,

  A wink of eye would have detained me once,

  Body and soul your slave; and now, thank God,

  Your fawningest of prayers, your frightfulest

  Of curses — neither would avail to turn

  My footstep for a moment!”

  ”Prayer, then, tries

  No such adventure. Let us cast about

  For something novel in expedient: take

  Command, — what say you? I profess myself

  One fertile in resource. Commanding, then,

  I bid — not only wait there, but return

  Here, where I want you! Disobey and — good!

  On your own head the peril!”

  ”Come!” breaks in

  The boy with his good glowing face. “Shut up!

  None of this sort of thing while I stand here

  — Not to stand that! No bullying, I beg!

  I also am to leave you presently

  And never more set eyes upon your face —

  You won’t mind that much; but — I tell you frank —

  I do mind having to remember this

  For your last word and deed — my friend who were!

  Bully a woman you have ruined, eh?

  Do you know, — I give credit all at once

  To all those stories everybody told

  And nobody but I would disbelieve:

  They all seem likely now, — nay, certain, sure!

  I daresay you did cheat at cards that night

  The row was at the Club: ‘sauter la coupe’ —

  That was your ‘cut,’ for which your friends ‘cut’ you;

  While I, the booby, ‘cut’ — acquaintanceship

  With who so much as laughed when I said ‘luck!’

  I daresay you had bets against the horse

  They doctored at the Derby; little doubt,

  That fellow with the sister found you shirk

  His challenge and did kick you like a ball,

  Just as the story went about! Enough:

  It only serves to show how well advised,

  Madam, you were in bidding such a fool

  As I, go hang. You see how the mere sight

  And sound of you suffice to tumble down

  Conviction topsy-turvy: no, — that’s false, —

  There’s no unknowing what one knows; and yet

  Such is my folly that, in gratitude

  For . . . well, I’m stupid; but you seemed to wish

  I should know gently what I know, should slip

  Softly from old to new, not break my neck

  Between beliefs of what you were and are.

  Well then, for just the sake of such a wish

  To cut no worse a figure than needs must

  In even eyes like mine, I’d sacrifice

  Body and soul! But don’t think danger — pray! —

  Menaces either! He do harm to us?

  Let me say ‘us’ this one time! You’d allow

  I lent perhaps my hand to rid your ear 300

  Of some cur’s yelping — hand that’s fortified,

  Into the bargain, with a horsewhip? Oh,

  One crack and you shall see how curs decamp!

  My lord, you know your losses and my gains.

  Pay me my money at the proper time!

  If cash be not forthcoming, — well, yourself

  Have taught me, and tried often, I’ll engage,

  The proper course: I post you at the Club,

  Pillory the defaulter. Crack, to-day,

&
nbsp; Shall, slash, to-morrow, slice through flesh and bone!

  There, Madam, you need mind no cur, I think!”

  “Ah, what a gain to have an apt no less

  Than grateful scholar! Nay, he brings to mind

  My knowledge till he puts me to the blush,

  So long has it lain rusty! Post my name!

  That were indeed a wheal from whipcord! Whew!

  I wonder now if I could rummage out

  — Just to match weapons — some old scorpion-scourge!

  Madam, you hear my pupil, may applaud

  His triumph o’er the master. I — no more

  Bully, since I’m forbidden: but entreat —

  Wait and return — for my sake, no! but just

  To save your own defender, should he chance

  Get thwacked thro’ awkward flourish of his thong.

  And what if — since all waiting’s weary work —

  I help the time pass ‘twixt your exit now

  And entry then? for — pastime proper — here’s

  The very thing, the Alburn, verse and prose

  To make the laughing minutes launch away!

  Each of us must contribute. I’ll begin —

  ‘Hail calm acclivity, salubrious spot!’

  I’m confident I beat the bard, — for why?

  My young friend owns me an Iago — him

  Confessed, among the other qualities,

  A ready rhymer. Oh, he rhymed! Here goes!

  — Something to end with ‘horsewhip’! No, that rhyme

  Beats me; there’s ‘cowslip,’ ‘boltsprit,’ nothing else!

  So, Tennyson take my benison, — verse for bard,

  Prose suits the gambler’s book best! Dared and done!”

  Wherewith he dips pen, writes a line or two,

  Closes and clasps the cover, gives the book,

  Bowing the while, to her who hesitates,

  Turns half away, turns round again, at last

  Takes it as you touch carrion, then retires.

  The door shuts fast the couple.

  VI

  With a change

  Of his whole manner, opens out at once

  The Adversary.

  ”Now, my friend, for you!

  You who, protected late, aggressive grown,

  Brandish, it seems, a weapon I must ‘ware!

  Plain speech in me becomes respectable

  Therefore, because courageous; plainly, then —

  (Have lash well loose, hold handle tight and light!)

  Throughout my life’s experience, you indulged

  Yourself and friend by passing in review

  So courteously but now, I vainly search

  To find one record of a specimen

  So perfect of the pure and simple fool

  As this you furnish me. Ingratitude

  I lump with folly, — all’s one lot, — so — fool!

  Did I seek you or you seek me? Seek? sneak