Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SORDELLO: BOOK 5, by ROBERT BROWNING Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Is it the same sordello in the dusk Last Line: No longer: these in compass, forward fate! Subject(s): Troubadours; Minnesingers | ||||||||
Is it the same Sordello in the dusk As at the dawn? -- merely a perished husk Now, that arose a power fit to build (Mankind triumph of a sudden?) Up Rome again? The proud conception chilled So soon? Ay, watch that latest dream of thine -- A Rome indebted to no Palatine -- Drop arch by arch, Sordello! Art possessed Of thy wish now, rewarded for thy quest To-day among Ferrara's squalid sons? Are this and this and this the shining ones Meet for the Shining City? Sooth to say, Your favored tenantry pursue their way After a fashion! This companion slips On the smooth causey, t' other blinkard trips At his mooned sandal. "Leave to lead the brawls Here i' the atria?" No, friend! He that sprawls On aught but a stibadium ... what his dues Who puts the lustral vase to such an use? Oh, huddle up the day's disasters! March, Ye runagates, and drop thou, arch by arch, Rome! Yet before they quite disband -- a whim -- Study mere shelter, now, for him, and him, Nay, even the worst, -- just house them! Any cave Suffices: throw out earth! A loophole? Brave! They ask to feel the sun shine, see the grass Grow, hear the larks sing? Dead art thou, alas, And I am dead! But here's our son excels At hurdle-weaving any Scythian, fells Oak and devises rafters, dreams and shapes His dream into a door-post, just escapes The mystery of hinges. Lie we both Perdue another age. The goodly growth Of brick and stone! Our building-pelt was rough, But that descendant's garb suits well enough A portico-contriver. Speed the years -- (Why, the work should be one of ages,) What's time to us? At last, a city rears Itself! nay, enter -- what's the grave to us? Lo, our forlorn acquaintance carry thus The head! Successively sewer, forum, cirque -- Last age, an aqueduct was counted work, But now they tire the artificer upon Blank alabaster, black obsidion, -- Careful, Jove's face be duly fulgurant, And mother Venus' kiss-creased nipples pant Back into pristine pulpiness, ere fixed Above the baths. What difference betwixt This Rome and ours -- resemblance what, between That scurvy dumb - show and this pageant sheen -- These Romans and our rabble? Use thy wit! The work marched: step by step, -- a workman fit Took each, nor too fit, -- to one task, one time, -- No leaping o'er the petty to the prime, (If performed equally and thoroughly;) When just the substituting osier lithe For brittle bulrush, sound wood for soft withe, To further loam-and-roughcast-work a stage, -- Exacts an architect, exacts an age: No tables of the Mauritanian tree For men whose maple log's their luxury! That way was Rome built. "Better" (say you) "merge At once all workmen in the demiurge, All epochs in a lifetime, every task In one!" So should the sudden city bask I' the day -- while those we'd feast there, want the knack Of keeping fresh-chalked gowns from speck and brack, Distinguish not rare peacock from vile swan Nor Mareotic juice from Caecuban. "Enough of Rome! 'T was happy to conceive Rome on a sudden, nor shall fate bereave Me of that credit: for the rest, her spite Is an old story -- serves my folly right By adding yet another to the dull List of abortions -- things proved beautiful Could they be done, Sordello cannot do." He sat upon the terrace, plucked and threw The powdery aloe-cusps away, saw shift Rome's walls, and drop arch after arch, and drift Mist-like afar those pillars of all stripe, Mounds of all majesty. "Thou archetype, Last of my dreams and loveliest, depart!" And then a low voice wound into his heart "Sordello!" (low as some old Pythoness Conceding to a Lydian King's distress The cause of his long error -- one mistake Of her past oracle) "Sordello, wake! God has conceded two sights to a man -- (And a man can do but a man's portion.) One, of men's whole work, time's completed plan, The other, of the minute's work, man's first Step to the plan's completeness: what's dispersed Save hope of that supreme step which, descried Earliest, was meant still to remain untried Only to give you heart to take your own Step, and there stay -- leaving the rest alone? Where is the vanity? Why count as one The first step, with the last step? What is gone Except Rome's aery magnificence, That last step you'd take first? -- an evidence You were God: be man now! Let those glances fall! The basis, the beginning step of all, Which proves you just a man -- is that gone too? Pity to disconcert one versed as you In fate's ill-nature! but its full extent Eludes Sordello, even: the veil rent, Read the black writing -- that collective man Outstrips the individual! Who began (The last of each series of workmen) The acknowledged greatnesses? Ay, your own art Shall serve us: put the poet's mimes apart -- Close with the poet's self, and lo, a dim Yet too plain form divides itself from him! Alcamo's song enmeshes the lulled Isle. Woven into the echoes left erewhile By Nina, one soft web of song: no more Turning his name, then, flower-like o'er and o'er! An elder poet in the younger's place: Nina's the strength, but Alcamo's the grace: Each neutralizes each then! Search your fill; You get no whole and perfect Poet -- still New Ninas, Alcamos, till time's mid-night Shrouds all -- or better say, the shutting light Of a forgotten yesterday. Dissect Every ideal workman -- (to reject In favor of your fearful ignorance The thousand phantasms eager to advance, (Sums up in himself all predecessors.) And point you but to those within your reach) -- Were you the first who brought -- (in modern speech) The Multitude to be materialized? That loose eternal unrest -- who devised An apparition i' the midst? The rout Was checked, a breathless ring was formed about That sudden flower: get round at any risk The gold-rough pointel, silver-blazing disk O' the lily! Swords across it! Reign thy reign (We just see Charlemagne, Hildebrand,) And serve thy frolic service, Charlemagne! --The very child of over-joyousness, Unfeeling thence, strong therefore: Strength by stress Of Strength comes of that forehead confident, Those widened eyes expecting heart's content, A calm as out of just-quelled noise; nor swerves For doubt, the ample cheek in gracious curves Abutting on the upthrust nether lip: He wills, how should he doubt then? Ages slip: Was it Sordello pried into the work So far accomplished, and discovered lurk A company amid the other clans, Only distinct in priests for castellans And popes for suzerains (their rule confessed Its rule, their interest its interest, Living for sake of living -- there an end, -- Wrapt in itself, no energy to spend In making adversaries or allies), -- Dived you into its capabilities And dared create, out of that sect, a soul Should turn a multitude, already whole, Into its body? Speak plainer! Is't so sure God's church lives by a King's investiture? Look to last step! A staggering -- a shock -- What's mere sand is demolished, while the rock Endures: a column of black fiery dust Blots heaven -- that help was prematurely thrust Aside, perchance! -- but air clears, naught's erased Of the true outline! Thus much being firm based, The other was a scaffold. See him stand Buttressed upon his mattock, Hildebrand Of the huge brain-mask welded ply o'er ply As in a forge; it buries either eye White and extinct, that stupid brow; teeth clenched, The neck tight-corded, too, the chin deep-trenched, As if a cloud enveloped him while fought Under its shade, grim prizers, thought with thought At dead-lock, agonizing he, until The victor thought leap radiant up, and Will, The slave with folded arms and drooping lids They fought for, lean forth flame-like as it bids. Call him no flower -- a mandrake of the earth, Thwarted and dwarfed and blasted in its birth, Rather, -- a fruit of suffering's excess, Thence feeling, therefore stronger: still by stress Of Strength, work Knowledge! Full three hundred years Have men to wear away in smiles and tears Between the two that nearly seemed to touch (In composite work they end and name.) Observe you! quit one workman and you clutch Another, letting both their trains go by -- The actors-out of either's policy, Heinrich, on this hand, Otho, Barbaross, Carry the three Imperial crowns across, Aix' Iron, Milan's Silver, and Rome's Gold -- While Alexander, Innocent uphold On that, each Papal key -- but, link on link, Why is it neither chain betrays a chink? How coalesce the small and great? Alack, For one thrust forward, fifty such fall back! Do the popes coupled there help Gregory Alone? Hark -- from the hermit Peter's cry At Claremont, down to the first serf that says Friedrich's no liege of his while he delays Getting the Pope's curse off him! The Crusade -- Or trick of breeding Strength by other aid Than Strength, is safe. Hark -- from the wild harangue Of Vimmercato, to the carroch's clang Yonder! The League -- or trick of turning Strength Against Pernicious Strength, is safe at length. Yet hark -- from Mantuan Albert making cease The fierce ones, to Saint Francis preaching peace Yonder! God's Truce -- or trick to supersede The very Use of Strength, is safe. Indeed We trench upon the future. Who is found To take next step, next age -- trail o'er the ground -- Shall I say, gourd-like? -- not the flower's display Nor the root's prowess, but the plenteous way O' the plant -- produced by joy and sorrow, whence Unfeeling and yet feeling, strongest thence? Knowledge by stress of merely Knowledge? No-- E'en were Sordello ready to forego His life for this, 't were overleaping work Some one has first to do, howe'er it irk, Nor stray a foot's breadth from the beaten road. Who means to help must still support the load Hildebrand lifted -- 'why hast Thou,' he groaned, 'Imposed on me a burden, Paul had moaned, And Moses dropped beneath?' Much done -- and yet Doubtless that grandest task God ever set On man, left much to do: at his arm's wrench, Charlemagne's scaffold fell; but pillars blench Merely, start back again -- perchance have been Taken for buttresses: crash every screen, Hammer the tenons better, and engage A gang about your work, for the next age Or two, of Knowledge, part by Strength and part By Knowledge! Then, indeed, perchance may start Sordello on his race -- would time divulge Such secrets! If one step's awry, one bulge Calls for correction by a step we thought Got over long since, why, till that is wrought, No progress! And the scaffold in its turn Becomes, its service o'er, a thing to spurn. Meanwhile, if your half-dozen years of life In store dispose you to forego the strife, Who takes exception? Only bear in mind, Ferrara's reached, Goito's left behind: (If associates trouble you, stand off!) As you then were, as half yourself, desist! -- The warrior-part of you may, an it list, Finding real falchions difficult to poise, Fling them afar and taste the cream of joys By wielding such in fancy, -- what is bard Of you may spurn the vehicle that marred Elys so much, and in free fancy glut His sense, yet write no verses -- you have but To please yourself for law, and once could please What once appeared yourself, by dreaming these Rather than doing these, in days gone by. But all is changed the moment you descry Mankind as half yourself, -- then, fancy's trade Ends once and always: how may half evade The other half? men are found half of you. Out of a thousand helps, just one or two Can be accomplished presently: but flinch From these (as from the falchion, raised an inch, Elys, described a couplet) and make proof Of fancy, -- then, while one half lolls aloof I' the vines, completing Rome to the tip-top -- See if, for that, your other half will stop (Should the new symphthies allow you.) A tear, begin a smile! The rabble's woes, Ludicrous in their patience as they chose To sit about their town and quietly Be slaughtered, -- the poor reckless soldiery, With their ignoble rhymes on Richard, how 'Polt-foot,' sang they, 'was in a pitfall now,' Cheering each other from the engine-mounts, -- That crippled sprawling idiot who recounts How, lopped of limbs, he lay, stupid as stone, Till the pains crept from out him one by one, And wriggles round the archers on his head To earn a morsel of their chestnut bread, -- And Cino, always in the self-same place Weeping; beside that other wretch's case, Eyepits to ear, one gangrene since he plied The engine in his coat of raw sheep's hide A double watch in the noon sun; and see Lucchino, beauty, with the favors free, Trim hacqueton, spruce beard and scented hair, Campaigning it for the first time -- cut there In two already, boy enough to crawl For latter orpine round the southern wall, Toma, where Richard's kept, because that whore Marfisa, the fool never saw before, Sickened for flowers this wearisomest siege: And Tiso's wife -- men liked their pretty liege, Cared for her least of whims once, -- Berta, wed A twelvemonth gone, and, now poor Tiso's dead, Delivering herself of his first child On that chance heap of wet filth, reconciled To fifty gazers!" -- (Here a wind below Made moody music augural of woe From the pine barrier) -- "What if, now the scene Draws to a close, yourself have really been (Time having been lost, choose quick!) -- You, plucking purples in Goito's moss Like edges of a trabea (not to cross Your consul-humor) or dry aloe-shafts For fasces, at Ferrara -- he, fate wafts, This very age, her whole inheritance Of opportunities? Yet you advance Upon the last! Since talking is your trade, There's Salinguerra left you to persuade: Fail! then" -- "No -- no -- which latest chance secure!" Leaped up and cried Sordello: "this made sure, The past were yet redeemable; its work Was -- help the Guelfs, whom I, howe'er it irk, Thus help!" He shook the foolish aloe-haulm (He takes his first step as a Guelf;) Out of his doublet, paused, proceeded calm To the appointed presence. The large head Turned on its socket; "And your spokesman," said The large voice, "is Elcorte's happy sprout? Few such" -- (so finishing a speech no doubt Addressed to Palma, silent at his side) "-- My sober councils have diversified. Elcorte's son! good: forward as you may, Our lady's minstrel with so much to say!" The hesitating sunset floated back, Rosily traversed in the wonted track The chamber, from the lattice o'er the girth Of pines, to the huge eagle blacked in earth Opposite, -- outlined sudden, spur to crest, That solid Salinguerra, and caressed Palma's contour; 't was day looped back night's pall; Sordello had a chance left spite of all. And much he made of the convincing speech Meant to compensate for the past and reach Through his youth's daybreak of unprofit, quite To his noon's labor, so proceed till night Leisurely! The great argument to bind Taurello with the Guelf Cause, body and mind, -- Came the consummate rhetoric to that? Yet most Sordello's argument dropped flat Through his accustomed fault of breaking yoke, Disjoining him who felt from him who spoke. Was't not a touching incident -- so prompt A rendering the world its just accompt, Once proved its debtor? Who'd suppose, before This proof, that he, Goito's god of yore, At duty's instance could demean himself So memorably, dwindle to a Guelf? Be sure, in such delicious flattery steeped, His inmost self at the out-portion peeped, Thus occupied; then stole a glance at those Appealed to, curious if her color rose Or his lip moved, while he discreetly urged The need of Lombardy becoming purged At soonest of her barons; the poor part Abandoned thus, missing the blood at heart And spirit in brain, unseasonably off Elsewhere! But, though his speech was worthy scoff, Good-humored Salinguerra, famed for tact And tongue, who, careless of his phrase, ne'er lacked The right phrase, and harangued Honorius dumb At his accession, -- looked as all fell plumb To purpose and himself found interest In every point his new instructor pressed -- Left playing with the rescript's white wax seal To scrutinize Sordello head and heel. He means to yield assent sure? No, alas! All he replied was, "What, it comes to pass That poesy, sooner than politics, Makes fade young hair?" To think such speech could fix Taurello! Then a flash of bitter truth: So fantasies could break and fritter youth That he had long ago lost earnestness, (But to will and to do are different:) Lost will to work, lost power to even express The need of working! Earth was turned a grave: No more occasions now, though he should crave Just one, in right of superhuman toil, To do what was undone, repair such spoil, Alter the past -- nothing would give the chance! Not that he was to die; he saw askance Protract the ignominious years beyond To dream in -- time to hope and time despond, Remember and forget, be sad, rejoice As saved a trouble; he might, at his choice, One way or other, idle life out, drop (He may sleep on the bed he has made.) No few smooth verses by the way -- for prop, A thyrsus, these sad people, all the same, Should pick up, and set store by, -- far from blame, Plant o'er his hearse, convinced his better part Survived him. "Rather tear men out the heart O' the truth!" -- Sordello muttered, and renewed His propositions for the Multitude. But Salinguerra, who at this attack Had thrown great breast and ruffling corselet back To hear the better, smilingly resumed His task; beneath, the carroch's warning boomed; He must decide with Tito; courteously He turned then, even seeming to agree With his admonisher -- "Assist the Pope, Extend Guelf domination, fill the scope O' the Church, thus based on All, by All, for All -- Change Secular to Evangelical" -- Echoing his very sentence: all seemed lost, When suddenly he looked up, laughingly almost, To Palma: "This opinion of your friend's -- For instance, would it answer Palma's ends? Best, were it not, turn Guelf, submit our Strength" -- (Here he drew out his baldric to its length) -- "To the Pope's Knowledge -- let our captive slip, Wide to the walls throw ope our gates, equip Azzo with ... what I hold here! Who'll subscribe To a trite censure of the minstrel tribe Henceforward? or pronounce, as Heinrich used, 'Spear-heads for battle, burr-heads for the joust!' -- When Constance, for his couplets, would promote Alcamo, from a parti-colored coat, To holding her lord's stirrup in the wars. Not that I see where couplet-making jars With common sense: at Mantua I had borne This chanted, better than their most forlorn Of bull-baits, -- that's indisputable!" Brave Whom vanity nigh slew, contempt shall save! All's at an end: a Troubadour suppose Mankind will class him with their friends or foes? (Scorn flings cold water in his face,) A puny uncouth ailing vassal think The world and him bound in some special link? Abrupt the visionary tether burst. What were rewarded here, or what amerced If a poor drudge, solicitous to dream Deservingly, got tangled by his theme So far as to conceit the knack or gift Or whatsoe'er it be, of verse, might lift The globe, a lever like the hand and head Of -- "Men of Action," as the Jongleurs said, -- "The Great Men," in the people's dialect? And not a moment did this scorn affect (Arouses him at last, to some purpose,) Sordello: scorn the poet? They, for once, Asking "what was," obtained a full response. Bid Naddo think at Mantua, he had but To look into his promptuary, put Finger on a set thought in a set speech: But was Sordello fitted thus for each Conjecture? Nowise; since within his soul, Perception brooded unexpressed and whole. A healthy spirit like a healthy frame Craves aliment in plenty -- all the same, Changes, assimilates its aliment. Perceived Sordello, on a truth intent? Next day no formularies more you saw Than figs or olives in a sated maw. 'T is Knowledge, whither such perceptions tend; They lose themselves in that, means to an end, The many old producing some one new, A last unlike the first. If lies are true, The Caliph's wheel-work man of brass receives A meal, munched millet grains and lettuce leaves Together in his stomach rattle loose; You find them perfect next day to produce: But ne'er expect the man, on strength of that, Can roll an iron camel-collar flat Like Haroun's self! I tell you, what was stored (And thus gets the utmost out of him.) Bit by bit through Sordello's life, outpoured That eve, was, for that age, a novel thing: And round those three the People formed a ring Of visionary judges whose award He recognized in full -- faces that barred Henceforth return to the old careless life, In whose great presence, therefore, his first strife For their sake must not be ignobly fought: All these, for once, approved of him, he thought, Suspended their own vengeance, chose await The issue of this strife to reinstate Them in the right of taking it -- in fact He must be proved king ere they could exact Vengeance for such king's defalcation. Last, A reason why the phrases flowed so fast Was in his quite forgetting for a time Himself in his amazement that the rhyme Disguised the royalty so much: he there -- And Salinguerra yet all unaware Who was the lord, who liegeman! "Thus I lay On thine my spirit and compel obey His lord, -- my liegeman, -- impotent to build Another Rome, but hardly so unskilled In what such builder should have been, as brook One shame beyond the charge that I forsook His function! Free me from that shame, I bend A brow before, suppose new years to spend, -- Allow each chance, nor fruitlessly, recur -- Measure thee with the Minstrel, then, demur (He asserts the poet's rank and right,) At any crowd he claims! That I must cede Shamed now, my right to my especial meed -- Confess thee fitter help the world than I Ordained its champion from eternity, Is much: but to behold thee scorn the post I quit in thy behalf -- to hear thee boast What makes my own despair!" And while he rung The changes on this theme, the roof up-sprung, The sad walls of the presence-chamber died Into the distance, or embowering vied With far-away Goito's vine-frontier; And crowds of faces -- (only keeping clear The rose-light in the midst, his vantage-ground To fight their battle from) -- deep clustered round Sordello, with good wishes no mere breath, Kind prayers for him no vapor, since, come death, Come life, he was fresh-sinewed every joint, Each bone new-marrowed as whom gods anoint Though mortal to their rescue. Now let sprawl The snaky volumes hither! Is Typhon all For Hercules to trample -- good report From Salinguerra only to extort? "So was I" (closed he his inculcating, A poet must be earth's essential king) (Basing these on their proper ground,) "So was I, royal so, and if I fail, 'T is not the royalty, ye witness quail, But one deposed who, caring not exert Its proper essence, trifled malapert With accidents instead -- good things assigned As heralds of a better thing behind -- And, worthy through display of these, put forth Never the inmost all-surpassing worth That constitutes him king precisely since As yet no other spirit may evince Its like: the power he took most pride to test, Whereby all forms of life had been professed At pleasure, forms already on the earth, Was but a means to power beyond, whose birth Should, in its novelty, be kingship's proof. Now, whether he came near or kept aloof The several forms he longed to imitate, Not there the kingship lay, he sees too late. Those forms, unalterable first as last, Proved him her copier, not the protoplast Of nature: what would come of being free, By action to exhibit tree for tree, Bird, beast, for beast and bird, or prove earth bore One veritable man or woman more? Means to an end, such proofs are: what the end? Let essence, whatsoe'er it be, extend -- Never contract. Already you include The multitude; then let the multitude Include yourself; and the result were new: Themselves before, the multitude turn you. This were to live and move and have, in them, Your being, and secure a diadem You should transmit (because no cycle yearns Beyond itself, but on itself returns) When, the full sphere in wane, the world o'er laid Long since with you, shall have in turn obeyed Some orb still prouder, some displayer, still More potent than the last, of human will, (Recognizing true dignity in service,) And some new king depose the old. Of such Am I -- whom pride of this elates too much? Safe, rather say, 'mid troops of peers again; I, with my words, hailed brother of the train Deeds once sufficed: for, let the world roll back, Who fails, through deeds howe'er diverse, retrack My purpose still, my task? A teeming crust -- Air, flame, earth, wave at conflict! Then, needs must Emerge some Calm embodied, these refer The brawl to -- yellow-bearded Jupiter? No! Saturn; some existence like a pact And protest against Chaos, some first fact I' the faint of time. My deep of life, I know, Is unavailing e'en to poorly show" ... For here the Chief immeasurably yawned) ... "Deeds in their due gradation till Song dawned -- The fullest effluence of the finest mind, All in degree, no way diverse in kind From minds about it, minds which, more or less, Lofty or low, move seeking to impress (Whether successively that of epoist,) Themselves on somewhat; but one mind has climbed Step after step, by just ascent sublimed. Thought is the soul of act, and, stage by stage, Soul is from body still to disengage As tending to a freedom which rejects Such help and incorporeally affects The world, producing deeds but not by deeds, Swaying, in others, frames itself exceeds, Assigning them the simpler tasks it used To patiently perform till Song produced Acts, by thoughts only, for the mind: divest Mind of e'en Thought, and, lo, God's unexpressed Will draws above us! All then is to win Save that. How much for me, then? where begin My work? About me, faces! and they flock, The earnest faces. What shall I unlock By song? behold me prompt, whate'er it be, To minister: how much can mortals see Of Life? No more than so? I take the task And marshal you Life's elemental masque, Show Men, on evil or on good lay stress, (Dramatist, or, so to call him analyst,) This light, this shade make prominent, suppress All ordinary hues that softening blend Such natures with the level. Apprehend Which sinner is, which saint, if I allot Hell, Purgatory, Heaven, a blaze or blot, To those you doubt concerning! I enwomb Some wretched Friedrich with his red-hot tomb, Some dubious spirit, Lombard Agilulph With the black chastening river I engulf! Some unapproached Matilda I enshrine With languors of the planet of decline -- These, fail to recognize, to arbitrate Between henceforth, to rightly estimate Thus marshalled in the masque! Myself, the while, As one of you, am witness, shrink or smile At my own showing! Next age -- what's to do? The men and women stationed hitherto Will I unstation, good and bad, conduct Each nature to its farthest, or obstruct At soonest, in the world: light, thwarted, breaks A limpid purity to rainbow flakes, Or shadow, massed, freezes to gloom: behold How such, with fit assistance to unfold, Or obstacles to crush them, disengage Their forms, love, hate, hope, fear, peace make, war wage, In presence of you all! Myself, implied Superior now, as, by the platform's side, I bade them do and suffer, -- would last content The world ... no -- that's too far! I circumvent A few, my masque contented, and to these Offer unveil the last of mysteries -- Man's inmost life shall have yet freer play: Once more I cast external things away, And natures composite, so decompose That" ... Why, he writes Sordello! "How I rose, And how have you advanced! since evermore Yourselves effect what I was fain before Effect, what I supplied yourselves suggest, What I leave bare yourselves can now invest. How we attain to talk as brothers talk, In half-words, call things by half-names, no balk From discontinuing old aids. To-day Takes in account the work of Yesterday: Has not the world a Past now, its adept Consults ere he dispense with or accept New aids? a single touch more may enhance, A touch less turned to insignificance Those structures' symmetry the past has strewed The world with, once so bare. Leave the mere rude (Who turns in due course synthetist.) Explicit details! 't is but brother's speech We need, speech where an accent's change gives each The other's soul -- no speech to understand By former audience: need was then to expand, Expatiate -- hardly were we brothers! true -- Nor I lament my small remove from you, Nor reconstruct what stands already. Ends Accomplished turn to means: my art intends New structure from the ancient: as they changed The spoils of every clime at Venice, ranged The horned and snouted Libyan god, upright As in his desert, by some simple bright Clay cinerary pitcher -- Thebes as Rome, Athens as Byzant rifled, till their Dome From earth's reputed consunmations razed A seal the all-transmuting Triad blazed Above. Ah, whose that fortune? Ne'ertheless E'en he must stoop contented to express No tithe of what's to say -- the vehicle Never sufficient: but his work is still For faces like the faces that select (This for one day: now, serve as Guelf!) The single service I am bound effect, -- That bid me cast aside such fancies, bow Taurello to the Guelf cause, disallow The Kaiser's coming -- which with heart, soul, strength, I labor for, this eve, who feel at length My past career's outrageous vanity, And would, as it amends, die, even die Now I first estimate the boon of life, If death might win compliance -- sure, this strife Is right for once -- the People my support." My poor Sordello! what may we extort By this, I wonder? Palma's lighted eyes Turned to Taurello who, long past surprise, Began, "You love him -- what you'd say at large Let me say briefly. First, your father's charge To me, his friend, peruse: I guessed indeed You were no stranger to the course decreed. (Salinguerra, dislodged from his post,) He bids me leave his children to the saints: As for a certain project, he acquaints The Pope with that, and offers him the best Of your possessions to permit the rest Go peaceably -- to Ecelin, a stripe Of soil the cursed Vicentines will gripe, -- To Alberic, a patch the Trevisan Clutches already; extricate, who can, Treville, Villarazzi, Puissolo, Loria and Cartiglione! -- all must go, And with them go my hopes. 'T is lost, then! Lost This eve, our crisis, and some pains it cost Procuring; thirty years -- as good I'd spent Like our admonisher! But each his bent Pursues: no question, one might live absurd One's self this while, by deed as he by word Persisting to obtrude an influence where 'T is made account of, much as ... nay, you fare With twice the fortune, youngster! -- I submit, Happy to parallel my waste of wit With the renowned Sordello's: you decide A course for me. Romano may abide Romano, -- Bacchus! After all, what dearth Of Ecelins and Alberics on earth? Say there's a prize in prospect, must disgrace Betide competitors, unless they style Themselves Romano? Were it worth my while to try my own luck! But an obscure place Suits me -- there wants a youth to bustle, stalk And attitudinize -- some fight, more talk, Most flaunting badges -- how, I might make clear Since Friedrich's very purposes lie here -- Here, pity they are like to lie! For me, With station fixed unceremoniously Long since, small use contesting; I am but The liegeman -- you are born the lieges -- shut That gentle mouth now! or resume your kin In your sweet self; were Palma Ecelin For me to work with! Could that neck endure This bauble for a cumbrous garniture, She should ... or might one bear it for her? Stay-- I have not been so flattered many a day As by your pale friend -- Bacchus! The least help Would lick the hind's fawn to a lion's whelp: His neck is broad enough -- a ready tongue Beside -- too writhled -- but, the main thing, young -- I could ... why, look ye!" And the badge was thrown (In moving, opens a door to Sordello,) Across Sordello's neck: "This badge alone Makes you Romano's Head -- becomes superb On your bare neck, which would, on mine, disturb The pauldron," said Taurello. A mad act, Nor even dreamed about before -- in fact, Not when his sportive arm rose for the nonce -- But he had dallied overmuch, this once, With power: the thing was done, and he, aware The thing was done, proceeded to declare -- (So like a nature made to serve, excel. In serving, only feel by service well!) -- That he would make Sordello that and more. "As good a scheme as any. What's to pore At in my face?" he asked -- "ponder instead This piece of news; you are Romano's Head! One cannot slacken pace so near the goal, Suffer my Azzo to escape heart-whole This time! For you there's Palma to espouse -- For me, one crowning trouble ere I house Like my compeer." On which ensued a strange And solemn visitation; there came change O'er every one of them; each looked on each: Up in the midst a truth grew, without speech. And when the giddiness sank and the haze Subsided, they were sitting, no amaze, Sordello with the baldric on, his sire (Who is declared Salinguerra's son,) Silent, though his proportions seemed aspire Momently; and, interpreting the thrill Right at its ebb, Palma was found there still Relating somewhat Adelaide confessed A year ago, while dying on her breast, -- Of a contrivance that Vicenza night When Ecelin had birth. "Their convoy's flight, Cut off a moment, coiled inside the flame That wallowed like a dragon at his game The toppling city through -- San Biagio rocks! And wounded lies in her delicious locks Retrude, the frail mother, on her face, None of her wasted, just in one embrace Covering her child: when, as they lifted her, Cleaving the tumult, mighty, mightier And mightiest Taurello's cry outbroke, Leapt like a tongue of fire that cleaves the smoke, Midmost to cheer his Mantuans onward -- drown His colleague Ecelin's clamor, up and down The disarray: failed Adelaide see then Who was the natural chief, the man of men? Outstripping time, her infant there burst swathe, Stood up with eyes haggard beyond the scathe From wandering after his heritage Lost once and lost for aye -- and why that rage, That deprecating glance? A new shape leant On a familiar shape -- gloatingly bent O'er his discomfiture; 'mid wreaths it wore, Still one outflamed the rest -- her child's before 'T was Salinguerra's for his child: scorn, hate, Rage now might startle her when all too late! Then was the moment! -- rival's foot had spurned (Hidden hitherto by Adelaide's policy.) Never that House to earth else! Sense returned -- The act conceived, adventured and complete, They bore away to an obscure retreat Mother and child -- Retrude's self not slain" (Nor even here Taurello moved) "though pain Was fled: and what assured them most 't was fled, All pain, was, if they raised the pale hushed head 'T would turn this way and that, waver awhile, And only settle into its old smile -- (Graceful as the disquieted water-flag Steadying itself, remarked they, in the quag On either side their path) -- when suffered look Down on her child. They marched: no sign once shook The company's close litter of crossed spears Till, as they reached Goito, a few tears Slipped in the sunset from her long black lash, And she was gone. So far the action rash; No crime. They laid Retrude in the font, Taurello's very gift, her child was wont To sit beneath -- constant as eve he came To sit by its attendant girls the same As one of them. For Palma, she would blend With this magnific spirit to the end. That ruled her first; but scarcely had she dared To disobey the Adelaide who scared Her into vowing never to disclose A secret to her husband, which so froze His blood at half-recital, she contrived To hide from him Taurello's infant lived, Lest, by revealing that, himself should mar Romano's fortunes. And, a crime so far, Palma received that action: she was told Of Salinguerra's nature, of his cold Calm acquiescence in his lot! But free To impart the secret to Romano, she (How the discovery moves Salinguerra,) Engaged to repossess Sordello of His heritage, and hers, and that way doff The mask, but after years, long years: while now, Was not Romano's sign-mark on that brow?" Across Taurello's heart his arms were locked: And when he did speak 't was as if he mocked The minstrel, "who had not to move," he said, "Nor stir -- should fate defraud him of a shred Of his son's infancy? much less his youth!" (Laughingly all this) -- "which to aid, in truth, Himself, reserved on purpose, had not grown Old, not too old -- 't was best they kept alone Till now, and never idly met till now;" -- Then, in the same breath, told Sordello how All intimations of this eve's event Were lies, for Friedrich must advance to Trent, Thence to Verona, then to Rome, there stop, Tumble the Church down, institute a-top The Alps a Prefecture of Lombardy: -- "That's now! -- no prophesying what may be Anon, with a new monarch of the clime, Native of Gesi, passing his youth's prime At Naples. Tito bids my choice decide On whom" ... "Embrace him, madman!" Palma cried, Who through the laugh saw sweat-drops burst apace, And his lips blanching: he did not embrace Sordello, but he laid Sordello's hand On his own eyes, mouth, forehead. Understand, This while Sordello was becoming flushed (And Sordello the finally-determined,) Out of his whiteness; thoughts rushed, fancies rushed; He pressed his hand upon his head and signed Both should forbear him. "Nay, the best's behind!" Taurello laughed -- not quite with the same laugh: "The truth is, thus we scatter, ay, like chaff These Guelfs, a despicable monk recoils From: nor expect a fickle Kaiser spoils Our triumph! -- Friedrich? Think you, I intend Friedrich shall reap the fruits of blood I spend And brain I waste? Think you, the people clap Their hands at my out-hewing this wild gap For any Friedrich to fill up? 'T is mine -- That's yours: I tell you, towards some such design Have I worked blindly, yes, and idly, yes, And for another, yes -- but worked no less With instinct at my heart; I else had swerved, While now -- look round! My cunning has preserved Samminiato -- that's a central place Secures us Florence, boy, -- in Pisa's case, By land as she by sea; with Pisa ours, And Florence, and Pistoia, one devours The land at leisure! Gloriously dispersed -- Brescia, observe, Milan, Piacenza first That flanked us (ah, you know not!) in the March; On these we pile, as keystone of our arch, Romagna and Bologna, whose first span Covered the Trentine and the Valsugan; Sofia's Egna by Bolgiano's sure!" ... So he proceeded: half of all this, pure (The devil putting forth his potency:) Delusion, doubtless, nor the rest too true, But what was undone he felt sure to do, As ring by ring he wrung off, flung away The pauldron-rings to give his sword-arm play -- Need of the sword now! That would soon adjust Aught wrong at present; to the sword intrust Sordello's whiteness, undersize: 't was plain He hardly rendered right to his own brain -- Like a brave hound, men educate to pride Himself on speed or scent nor aught beside, As though he could not, gift by gift, match men! (Since Sordello, who began by rhyming,) Palma had listened patiently: but when 'T was time expostulate, attempt withdraw Taurello from his child, she, without awe Took off his iron arms from, one by one, Sordello's shrinking shoulders, and, that done, Made him avert his visage and relieve Sordello (you might see his corselet heave The while) who, loose, rose -- tried to speak, then sank: They left him in the chamber. All was blank. And even reeling down the narrow stair Taurello kept up, as though unaware Palma was by to guide him, the old device -- Something of Milan -- "how we muster thrice The Torriani's strength there; all along Our own Visconti cowed them" -- thus the song Continued even while she bade him stoop, Thrid somehow, by some glimpse of arrow-loop, The turnings to the gallery below, Where he stopped short as Palma let him go. When he had sat in silence long enough Splintering the stone bench, braving a rebuff She stopped the truncheon; only to commence One of Sordello's poems, a pretence For speaking, some poor rhyme of "Elys' hair And head that's sharp and perfect like a pear, So smooth and close are laid the few fine locks (May, even from the depths of failure) Stained like pale honey oozed from topmost rocks Sun-blanched the livelong summer" -- from his worst Performance, the Goito, as his first: And that at end, conceiving from the brow And open mouth no silence would serve now, Went on to say the whole world loved that man And, for that matter, thought his face, though wan, Eclipsed the Count's -- he sucking in each phrase As if an angel spoke. The foolish praise Ended, he drew her on his mailed knees, made Her face a framework with his hands, a shade, A crown, an aureole: there must she remain (Her little mouth compressed with smiling pain As in his gloves she felt her tresses twitch) To get the best look at, in fittest niche Dispose his saint. That done, he kissed her brow, -- "Lauded her father for his treason now," He told her, "only, how could one suspect The wit in him? -- whose clansman, recollect, Was ever Salinguerra -- she, the same, Romano and his lady -- so, might claim To know all, as she should" -- and thus begun Schemes with a vengeance, schemes on schemes, "not one Fit to be told that foolish boy," he said, "But only let Sordello Palma wed, -- Then!" 'T was a dim long narrow place at best: (Yet spring to the summit of success,) Midway a sole grate showed the fiery West, As shows its corpse the world's end some split tomb -- A gloom, a rift of fire, another gloom, Faced Palma -- but at length Taurello set Her free; the grating held one ragged jet Of fierce gold fire: he lifted her within The hollow underneath -- how else begin Fate's second marvellous cycle, else renew The ages than with Palma plain in view? Then paced the passage, hands clenched, head erect, Pursuing his discourse; a grand unchecked Monotony made out from his quick talk And the recurring noises of his walk; -- Somewhat too much like the o'ercharged assent Of two resolved friends in one danger blent, Who hearten each the other against heart; Boasting there's naught to care for, when, apart The boaster, all's to care for. He, beside Some shape not visible, in power and pride Approached, out of the dark, ginglingly near, Nearer, passed close in the broad light, his ear Crimson, eyeballs suffused, temples full-fraught, Just a snatch of the rapid speech you caught, And on he strode into the opposite dark, Till presently the harsh heel's turn, a spark I' the stone, and whirl of some loose embossed thong That crashed against the angle aye so long After the last, punctual to an amount Of mailed great paces you could not but count, -- Prepared you for the pacing back again. And by the snatches you might ascertain That, Friedrich's Prefecture surmounted, left By this alone in Italy, they cleft Asunder, crushed together, at command Of none, were free to break up Hildebrand, (If he consent to oppress the world.) Rebuild, he and Sordello, Charlemagne -- But garnished, Strength with Knowledge, "if we deign Accept that compromise and stoop to give Rome law, the Caesar's Representative." Enough, that the illimitable flood Of triumphs after triumphs, understood In its faint reflux (you shall hear) sufficed Young Ecelin for appanage, enticed Him on till, these long quiet in their graves, He found't was looked for that a whole life's braves Should somehow be made good; so, weak and worn, Must stagger up at Milan, one gray morn Of the to-come, and fight his latest fight. But, Salinguerra's prophecy at height -- (Just this decided, as it now may be,) He voluble with a raised arm and stiff, A blaring voice, a blazing eye, as if He had our very Italy to keep Or cast away, or gather in a heap To garrison the better -- ay, his word Was, "run the cucumber into a gourd, Drive Trent upon Apulia" -- at their pitch Who spied the continents and islands which Grew mulberry-leaves and sickles, in the map -- (Strange that three such confessions so should hap To Palma, Dante spoke with in the clear Amorous silence of the Swooning-sphere, -- Cunizza, as he called her! Never ask Of Palma more! She sat, knowing her task Was done, the labor of it, -- for, success Concerned not Palma, passion's votaress) Triumph at height, and thus Sordello crowned -- Above the passage suddenly a sound Stops speech, stops walk: back shrinks Taurello, bids With large involuntary asking lids, Palma interpret. "'T is his own foot-stamp -- Your hand! His summons! Nay, this idle damp Befits not!" Out they two reeled dizzily. "Visconti's strong at Milan," resumed he, In the old, somewhat insignificant way -- (Was Palma wont, years afterward, to say) As though the spirit's flight, sustained thus far, Dropped at that very instant. Gone they are -- Palma, Taurello; Eglamor anon, Ecelin, -- only Naddo's never gone! -- Labors, this moonrise, what the Master meant -- "Is Squarcialupo speckled? -- purulent, I'd say, but when was Providence put out? He carries somehow handily about His spite nor fouls himself!" Goito's vines Stand like a cheat detected -- stark rough lines, The moon breaks through, a gray mean scale against The vault where, this eve's Maiden, thou remain'st Like some fresh martyr, eyes fixed -- who can tell? As Heaven, now all's at end, did not so well, (And we have done.) Spite of the faith and victory, to leave Its virgin quite to death in the lone eve. While the persisting hermit-bee ... ha! wait No longer: these in compass, forward fate! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RUDEL TO THE LADY OF TRIPOLI by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 1 by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 2 by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 3 by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 4 by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 6 by ROBERT BROWNING THE ROLL OF THE ROSES by NATHALIA CRANE THE DEATH OF GEOFFREY RUDEL, THE TROUBADOUR by ROWLAND EYLES EGERTON-WARBURTON BEHOLD THE MEADS by GUILLAUME DE POITIERS CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME' by ROBERT BROWNING |
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