Read Ebook: Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning by Browning Robert Reynolds Myra Editor

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TO PACCHIAROTTO

Oh, the old wall here! How I could pass Life in a long midsummer day, My feet confined to a plot of grass, My eyes from a wall not once away!

And lush and lithe do the creepers clothe 5 Yon wall I watch, with a wealth of green: Its bald red bricks draped, nothing loth, In lappets of tangle they laugh between.

Now, what is it makes pulsate the robe? Why tremble the sprays? What life o'erbrims 10 The body--the house, no eye can probe-- Divined as, beneath a robe, the limbs?

And there again! But my heart may guess Who tripped behind; and she sang perhaps; So, the old wall throbbed, and its life's excess 15 Died out and away in the leafy wraps!

Wall upon wall are between us; life And song should away from heart to heart! I--prison-bird, with a ruddy strife At breast, and a lip whence storm-notes start-- 20

Hold on, hope hard in the subtle thing That's spirit: though cloistered fast, soar free; Account as wood, brick, stone, this ring Of the rueful neighbors, and--forth to thee!

HOUSE

Shall I sonnet-sing you about myself? 25 Do I live in a house you would like to see? Is it scant of gear, has it store of pelf? "Unlock my heart with a sonnet-key"?

Invite the world, as my betters have done? "Take notice: this building remains on view, 30 Its suites of reception every one, Its private apartment and bedroom too;

"For a ticket, apply to the Publisher." No: thanking the public, I must decline. A peep through my window, if folk prefer; 35 But, please you, no foot over threshold of mine!

I have mixed with a crowd and heard free talk In a foreign land where an earthquake chanced And a house stood gaping, naught to balk Man's eye wherever he gazed or glanced. 40

The whole of the frontage shaven sheer, The inside gaped; exposed to day, Right and wrong and common and queer, Bare, as the palm of your hand, it lay.

The owner? Oh, he had been crushed, no doubt! 45 "Odd tables and chairs for a man of wealth! What a parcel of musty old books about! He smoked--no wonder he lost his health!

"I doubt if he bathed before he dressed. A brasier?--the pagan, he burned perfumes! 50 You see it is proved, what the neighbors guessed: His wife and himself had separate rooms."

Friends, the goodman of the house at least Kept house to himself till an earthquake came; 'Tis the fall of its frontage permits you feast 55 On the inside arrangement you praise or blame.

Outside should suffice for evidence; And whoso desires to penetrate Deeper, must dive by the spirit-sense-- No optics like yours, at any rate! 60

SHOP

So, friend, your shop was all your house! 65 Its front, astonishing the street, Invited view from man and mouse To what diversity of treat Behind its glass--the single sheet!

What gimcracks, genuine Japanese: 70 Gape-jaw and goggle-eye, the frog; Dragons, owls, monkeys, beetles, geese; Some crush-nosed human-hearted dog: Queer names, too, such a catalogue!

I thought, "And he who owns the wealth 75 Which blocks the window's vastitude, --Ah, could I peep at him by stealth Behind his ware, pass shop, intrude On house itself, what scenes were viewed!

"If wide and showy thus the shop, 80 What must the habitation prove? The true house with no name a-top-- The mansion, distant one remove, Once get him off his traffic-groove!

"Pictures he likes, or books perhaps; 85 And as for buying most and best, Commend me to these City chaps! Or else he's social, takes his rest On Sundays, with a lord for guest.

"Some suburb-palace, parked about 90 And gated grandly, built last year; The four-mile walk to keep off gout; Or big seat sold by bankrupt peer-- But then he takes the rail, that's clear.

"Or, stop! I wager, taste selects 95 Some out o' the way, some all-unknown Retreat; the neighborhood suspects Little that he who rambles lone Makes Rothschild tremble on his throne!"

Nowise! Nor Mayfair residence 100 Fit to receive and entertain-- Nor Hampstead villa's kind defense From noise and crowd, from dust and drain-- Nor country-box was soul's domain!

Nowise! At back of all that spread 105 Of merchandise, woe's me, I find A hole i' the wall where, heels by head, The owner couched, his ware behind --In cupboard suited to his mind.

For why? He saw no use of life 110 But, while he drove a roaring trade, To chuckle, "Customers are rife!" To chafe, "So much hard cash outlaid Yet zero in my profits made!

"This novelty costs pains, but--takes? 115 Cumbers my counter! Stock no more! This article, no such great shakes, Fizzes like wildfire? Underscore The cheap thing--thousands to the fore!"

'Twas lodging best to live most nigh 120 Receipt of Custom; ear and eye Wanted no outworld: "Hear and see The bustle in the shop!" quoth he

My fancy of a merchant-prince 125 Was different. Through his wares we groped Our darkling way to--not to mince The matter--no black den where moped The master if we interloped!

What might he deal in? Gems, suppose! 135 Since somehow business must be done At cost of trouble--see, he throws You choice of jewels, everyone, Good, better, best, star, moon, and sun!

Which lies within your power of purse? 140 This ruby that would tip aright Solomon's scepter? Oh, your nurse Wants simply coral, the delight Of teething baby--stuff to bite!

Howe'er your choice fell, straight you took 145 Your purchase, prompt your money rang On counter--scarce the man forsook His study of the "Times," just swang Till-ward his hand that stopped the clang--

Then off made buyer with a prize, 150 Then seller to his "Times" returned; And so did day wear, wear, till eyes Brightened apace, for rest was earned; He locked door long ere candle burned.

And whither went he? Ask himself, 155 Not me! To change of scene, I think. Once sold the ware and pursed the pelf, Chaffer was scarce his meat and drink, Nor all his music--money-chink.

Because a man has shop to mind 160 In time and place, since flesh must live, Needs spirit lack all life behind, All stray thoughts, fancies fugitive, All loves except what trade can give?

I want to know a butcher paints, 165 A baker rhymes for his pursuit, Candlestick-maker much acquaints His soul with song, or, haply mute, Blows out his brains upon the flute!

But--shop each day and all day long! 170 Friend, your good angel slept, your star Suffered eclipse, fate did you wrong! From where these sorts of treasures are, There should our hearts be--Christ, how far!

HERV? RIEL

On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two, Did the English fight the French--woe to France! And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue, Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, Came crowding ship on ship to Saint Malo on the Rance, 5 With the English fleet in view.

'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville; Close on him fled, great and small, Twenty-two good ships in all; 10 And they signaled to the place, "Help the winners of a race! Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick--or, quicker still, Here's the English can and will!"

Then was called a council straight. Brief and bitter the debate: "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound? 30 Better run the ships aground!" . "Not a minute more to wait! Let the Captains all and each Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach! 35 France must undergo her fate.

"Give the word!" But no such word Was ever spoke or heard; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these --A Captain? A Lieutenant? A Mate--first, second, third? 40 No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete! But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet, A poor coasting-pilot he, Herv? Riel the Croisickese.

Not a minute more to wait. "Steer us in, then, small and great! Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief. Captains, give the sailor place! He is Admiral, in brief. 70 Still the north-wind, by God's grace! See the noble fellow's face As the big ship, with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound, Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's 75 profound! See, safe through shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock; Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief! The peril, see, is past. 80 All are harbored to the last, And just as Herv? Riel hollas, "Anchor!"--sure as fate Up the English come--too late!

So, the storm subsides to calm: They see the green trees wave 85 On the heights o'erlooking Gr?ve. Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. "Just our rapture to enhance; Let the English rake the bay, Gnash their teeth, and glare askance 90 As they cannonade away! 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!" How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's countenance! Out burst all with one accord, "This is Paradise for Hell! 95 Let France, let France's King Thank the man that did the thing!" What a shout, and all one word, "Herv? Riel!" As he stepped in front once more, Not a symptom of surprise 100 In the frank blue Breton eyes, Just the same man as before.

Then said Damfreville, "My friend, I must speak out at the end, Though I find the speaking hard. 105 Praise is deeper than the lips; You have saved the King his ships, You must name your own reward. 'Faith, our sun was near eclipse! Demand whate'er you will, 110 France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville."

Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, As the honest heart laughed through 115 Those frank eyes of Breton blue: "Since I needs must say my say, Since on board the duty's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?-- Since 'tis ask and have, I may-- 120 Since the others go ashore-- Come! A good whole holiday! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!" That he asked and that he got--nothing more.

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