Robert Browning: How to Know Him Part 12

She should never have looked at me If she meant I should not love her!

There are plenty ... men, you call such, I suppose ... she may discover All her soul to, if she pleases, And yet leave much as she found them: But I'm not so, and she knew it When she fixed me, glancing round them.

II

What? To fix me thus meant nothing?

But I can't tell (there's my weakness) What her look said!--no vile cant, sure, About "need to strew the bleakness Of some lone sh.o.r.e with its pearl-seed, That the sea feels"--no "strange yearning That such souls have, most to lavish Where there's chance of least returning."

III

Oh, we're sunk enough here, G.o.d knows!

But not quite so sunk that moments, Sure tho' seldom, are denied us, When the spirit's true endowments Stand out plainly from its false ones, And apprise it if pursuing Or the right way or the wrong way, To its triumph or undoing.

IV

There are flashes struck from midnights, There are fire-flames noondays kindle, Whereby piled-up honours perish, Whereby swollen ambitions dwindle, While just this or that poor impulse, Which for once had play unstifled, Seems the sole work of a life-time That away the rest have trifled.

V

Doubt you if, in some such moment, As she fixed me, she felt clearly, Ages past the soul existed, Here an age 'tis resting merely, And hence fleets again for ages, While the true end, sole and single, It stops here for is, this love-way, With some other soul to mingle?

VI

Else it loses what it lived for, And eternally must lose it; Better ends may be in prospect, Deeper blisses (if you choose it), But this life's end and this love-bliss Have been lost here. Doubt you whether This she felt as, looking at me, Mine and her souls rushed together?

VII

Oh, observe! Of course, next moment, The world's honours, in derision, Trampled out the light for ever: Never fear but there's provision Of the devil's to quench knowledge Lest we walk the earth in rapture!

--Making those who catch G.o.d's secret Just so much more prize their capture!

VIII

Such am I: the secret's mine now!

She has lost me, I have gained her; Her soul's mine: and thus, grown perfect, I shall pa.s.s my life's remainder.

Life will just hold out the proving Both our powers, alone and blended: And then, come the next life quickly!

This world's use will have been ended.

SONG FROM _PARACELSUS_

1835

Over the sea our galleys went, With cleaving prows in order brave To a speeding wind and a bounding wave, A gallant armament: Each bark built out of a forest-tree Left leafy and rough as first it grew, And nailed all over the gaping sides, Within and without, with black bull-hides, Seethed in fat and suppled in flame, To bear the playful billows' game: So, each good ship was rude to see, Rude and bare to the outward view, But each upbore a stately tent Where cedar pales in scented row Kept out the flakes of the dancing brine, And an awning drooped the mast below, In fold on fold of the purple fine, That neither noontide nor starshine Nor moonlight cold which maketh mad, Might pierce the regal tenement.

When the sun dawned, oh, gay and glad We set the sail and plied the oar; But when the night-wind blew like breath, For joy of one day's voyage more, We sang together on the wide sea, Like men at peace on a peaceful sh.o.r.e; Each sail was loosed to the wind so free, Each helm made sure by the twilight star, And in a sleep as calm as death, We, the voyagers from afar, Lay stretched along, each weary crew In a circle round its wondrous tent Whence gleamed soft light and curled rich scent, And with light and perfume, music too: So the stars wheeled round, and the darkness past, And at morn we started beside the mast, And still each ship was sailing fast.

Now, one morn, land appeared--a speck Dim trembling betwixt sea and sky: "Avoid it," cried our pilot, "check The shout, restrain the eager eye!"

But the heaving sea was black behind For many a night and many a day, And land, though but a rock, drew nigh; So, we broke the cedar pales away, Let the purple awning flap in the wind, And a statue bright was on every deck!

We shouted, every man of us, And steered right into the harbour thus, With pomp and paean glorious.

A hundred shapes of lucid stone!

All day we built its shrine for each, A shrine of rock for every one, Nor paused till in the westering sun We sat together on the beach To sing because our task was done.

When lo! what shouts and merry songs!

What laughter all the distance stirs!

A loaded raft with happy throngs Of gentle islanders!

"Our isles are just at hand," they cried, "Like cloudlets faint in even sleeping: Our temple-gates are opened wide, Our olive-groves thick shade are keeping For these majestic forms"--they cried.

Oh, then we awoke with sudden start From our deep dream, and knew, too late, How bare the rock, how desolate, Which had received our precious freight: Yet we called out--"Depart!

Our gifts, once given, must here abide.

Our work is done; we have no heart To mar our work,"--we cried,

EVELYN HOPE

1855

I

Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead!

Sit and watch by her side an hour.

That is her book-shelf, this her bed; She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, Beginning to die too, in the gla.s.s; Little has yet been changed, I think: The shutters are shut, no light may pa.s.s Save two long rays thro' the hinge's c.h.i.n.k.

II

Sixteen years old when she died!

Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name; It was not her time to love; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little cares, And now was quiet, now astir, Till G.o.d's hand beckoned unawares,-- And the sweet white brow is all of her.

III

Is it too late then, Evelyn Hope?

What, your soul was pure and true, The good stars met in your horoscope, Made you of spirit, fire and dew-- And, just because I was thrice as old And our paths in the world diverged so wide, Each was nought to each, must I be told?

We were fellow mortals, nought beside?

IV