Selections From The Poems And Plays Of Robert Browning Part 11

THE GUARDIAN-ANGEL

A PICTURE AT FANO

Dear and great Angel, wouldst thou only leave That child, when thou hast done with him, for me!

Let me sit all the day here, that when eve Shall find performed thy special ministry, And time come for departure, thou, suspending 5 Thy flight, mayst see another child for tending, Another still, to quiet and retrieve.

Then I shall feel thee step one step, no more, From where thou standest now, to where I gaze, --And suddenly my head is covered o'er 10 With those wings, white above the child who prays Now on that tomb--and I shall feel thee guarding Me, out of all the world; for me, discarding Yon heaven thy home, that waits and opes its door.

I would not look up thither past thy head 15 Because the door opes, like that child, I know, For I should have thy gracious face instead, Thou bird of G.o.d! And wilt thou bend me low Like him, and lay, like his, my hands together, And lift them up to pray, and gently tether 20 Me, as thy lamb there, with thy garment's spread?

If this was ever granted, I would rest My head beneath thine, while thy healing hands Close-covered both my eyes beside thy breast, Pressing the brain, which too much thought expands, 25 Back to its proper size again, and smoothing Distortion down till every nerve had soothing, And all lay quiet, happy, and suppressed.

How soon all worldly wrong would be repaired!

I think how I should view the earth and skies 30 And sea, when once again my brow was bared After thy healing, with such different eyes.

O world, as G.o.d has made it! All is beauty: And knowing this, is love, and love is duty.

What further may be sought for or declared? 35

Guercino drew this angel I saw teach (Alfred, dear friend!)--that little child to pray, Holding the little hands up, each to each Pressed gently--with his own head turned away Over the earth where so much lay before him 40 Of work to do, though heaven was opening o'er him, And he was left at Fano by the beach.

We were at Fano, and three times we went To sit and see him in his chapel there, And drink his beauty to our soul's content 45 --My angel with me too; and since I care For dear Guercino's fame (to which in power And glory comes this picture for a dower, Fraught with a pathos so magnificent)--

And since he did not work thus earnestly 50 At all times, and has else endured some wrong-- I took one thought his picture struck from me, And spread it out, translating it to song.

My love is here. Where are you, dear old friend?

How rolls the Wairoa at your world's far end? 55 This is Ancona, yonder is the sea.

MEMORABILIA

Ah, did you once see Sh.e.l.ley plain, And did he stop and speak to you, And did you speak to him again?

How strange it seems and new!

But you were living before that, 5 And also you are living after; And the memory I started at-- My starting moves your laughter!

I crossed a moor, with a name of its own And a certain use in the world no doubt, 10 Yet a hand's-breadth of it shines alone 'Mid the blank miles round about:

For there I picked up on the heather, And there I put inside my breast A molted feather, an eagle-feather! 15 Well, I forget the rest.

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 5 Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the p.r.o.ne brow Oppressive with its mind.

Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans That soar, to earth may fall, 10 Let once my army-leader Lannes Waver at yonder wall"-- Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew 15 Until he reached the mound.

Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy; You hardly could suspect-- 20 (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two.

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by G.o.d's grace 25 We've got you Ratisbon!

The Marshal's in the market-place, And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans Where I, to heart's desire, 30 Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans Soared up again like fire.

The chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother-eagle's eye 35 When her bruised eaglet breathes; "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said: "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead. 40

MY LAST d.u.c.h.eSS

FERRARA

That's my last d.u.c.h.ess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands.

Will't please you sit and look at her? I said 5 "Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read Strangers like you that pictured countenance, The depth and pa.s.sion of its earnest glance, But to myself they turned (since none puts by The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) 10 And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, How such a glance came there; so, not the first Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not Her husband's presence only, called that spot Of joy into the d.u.c.h.ess' cheek; perhaps 15 Fra Pandolf chanced to say, "Her mantle laps Over my lady's wrist too much," or "Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat"; such stuff Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough 20 For calling up that spot of joy. She had A heart--how shall I say?--too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.

Sir, 'twas all one! My favor at her breast, 25 The dropping of the daylight in the West, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule She rode with round the terrace--all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, 30 Or blush, at least. She thanked men--good! but thanked Somehow--I know not how--as if she ranked My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame This sort of trifling? Even had you skill 35 In speech--(which I have not)--to make your will Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, Or there exceed the mark"--and if she let Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set 40 Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, --E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt, Whene'er I pa.s.sed her; but who pa.s.sed without Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; 45 Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet The company below, then. I repeat, The Count your master's known munificence Is ample warrant that no just pretense 50 Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, 55 Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

THE BOY AND THE ANGEL

Morning, evening, noon, and night, "Praise G.o.d!" sang Theocrite.

Then to his poor trade he turned, Whereby the daily meal was earned.

Hard he labored, long and well; 5 O'er his work the boy's curls fell.

But ever, at each period, He stopped and sang, "Praise G.o.d!"

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 today Were praising G.o.d, the Pope's great way.

"This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome 15 Praises G.o.d from Peter's dome."

Said Theocrite, "Would G.o.d that I Might praise him, that great way, and die!"

Night pa.s.sed, day shone, And Theocrite was gone. 20

With G.o.d a day endures alway, A thousand years are but a day.

G.o.d said in heaven, "Nor day nor night Now brings the voice of my delight."