ROSNY

"The Poet's age is sad: for why?In youth, the natural world could showNo common object but his eyeAt once involved with alien glow—His own soul's iris-bow."And now a flower is just a flower:Man, bird, beast are but beast, bird, man—Simply themselves, uncinct by dowerOf dyes which, when life's day began,Round each in glory ran."Friend, did you need an optic glass,Which were your choice? A lens to drapeIn ruby, emerald, chrysopras,Each object—or reveal its shapeClear outlined, past escape,The naked very thing?—so clearThat, when you had the chance to gaze,You found its inmost self appearThrough outer seeming—truth ablaze,Not falsehood's fancy-haze?How many a year, my Asolo,Since—one step just from sea to land—I found you, loved yet feared you so—For natural objects seemed to standPalpably fire-clothed! No—No mastery of mine o'er these!Terror with beauty, like the BushBurning but unconsumed. Bend knees,Drop eyes to earthward! Language? Tush!Silence 'tis awe decrees.And now? The lambent flame is—where?Lost from the naked world: earth, sky,Hill, vale, tree, flower,—Italia's rareO'er-running beauty crowds the eye—But flame? The Bush is bare.Hill, vale, tree, flower—they stand distinct,Nature to know and name. What then?A Voice spoke thence which straight unlinkedFancy from fact: see, all's in ken:Has once my eyelid winked?No, for the purged ear apprehendsEarth's import, not the eye late dazed.The Voice said, "Call my works thy friends!At Nature dost thou shrink amazed?God is it who transcends."Asolo:September6, 1889.

"The Poet's age is sad: for why?In youth, the natural world could showNo common object but his eyeAt once involved with alien glow—His own soul's iris-bow.

"The Poet's age is sad: for why?

In youth, the natural world could show

No common object but his eye

At once involved with alien glow—

His own soul's iris-bow.

"And now a flower is just a flower:Man, bird, beast are but beast, bird, man—Simply themselves, uncinct by dowerOf dyes which, when life's day began,Round each in glory ran."

"And now a flower is just a flower:

Man, bird, beast are but beast, bird, man—

Simply themselves, uncinct by dower

Of dyes which, when life's day began,

Round each in glory ran."

Friend, did you need an optic glass,Which were your choice? A lens to drapeIn ruby, emerald, chrysopras,Each object—or reveal its shapeClear outlined, past escape,

Friend, did you need an optic glass,

Which were your choice? A lens to drape

In ruby, emerald, chrysopras,

Each object—or reveal its shape

Clear outlined, past escape,

The naked very thing?—so clearThat, when you had the chance to gaze,You found its inmost self appearThrough outer seeming—truth ablaze,Not falsehood's fancy-haze?

The naked very thing?—so clear

That, when you had the chance to gaze,

You found its inmost self appear

Through outer seeming—truth ablaze,

Not falsehood's fancy-haze?

How many a year, my Asolo,Since—one step just from sea to land—I found you, loved yet feared you so—For natural objects seemed to standPalpably fire-clothed! No—

How many a year, my Asolo,

Since—one step just from sea to land—

I found you, loved yet feared you so—

For natural objects seemed to stand

Palpably fire-clothed! No—

No mastery of mine o'er these!Terror with beauty, like the BushBurning but unconsumed. Bend knees,Drop eyes to earthward! Language? Tush!Silence 'tis awe decrees.

No mastery of mine o'er these!

Terror with beauty, like the Bush

Burning but unconsumed. Bend knees,

Drop eyes to earthward! Language? Tush!

Silence 'tis awe decrees.

And now? The lambent flame is—where?Lost from the naked world: earth, sky,Hill, vale, tree, flower,—Italia's rareO'er-running beauty crowds the eye—But flame? The Bush is bare.

And now? The lambent flame is—where?

Lost from the naked world: earth, sky,

Hill, vale, tree, flower,—Italia's rare

O'er-running beauty crowds the eye—

But flame? The Bush is bare.

Hill, vale, tree, flower—they stand distinct,Nature to know and name. What then?A Voice spoke thence which straight unlinkedFancy from fact: see, all's in ken:Has once my eyelid winked?

Hill, vale, tree, flower—they stand distinct,

Nature to know and name. What then?

A Voice spoke thence which straight unlinked

Fancy from fact: see, all's in ken:

Has once my eyelid winked?

No, for the purged ear apprehendsEarth's import, not the eye late dazed.The Voice said, "Call my works thy friends!At Nature dost thou shrink amazed?God is it who transcends."

No, for the purged ear apprehends

Earth's import, not the eye late dazed.

The Voice said, "Call my works thy friends!

At Nature dost thou shrink amazed?

God is it who transcends."

Asolo:September6, 1889.

Woe, he went galloping into the war,Clara, Clara!Let us two dream: shall he 'scape with a scar?Scarcely disfigurement; rather a graceMaking for manhood which nowise we mar:See, while I kiss it, the flush on his face—Rosny, Rosny!Light does he laugh: "With your love in my soul"—(Clara, Clara!)"How could I other than—sound, safe, and whole—Cleave who opposed me asunder, yet standScatheless beside you, as, touching love's goal,Who won the race kneels, craves reward at your hand—Rosny, Rosny?"Ay, but if certain who envied should see!Clara, Clara,Certain who simper: "The hero for meHardly of life were so chary as missDeath—death and fame—that's love's guerdon when SheBoasts, proud bereaved one, her choice fell on thisRosny, Rosny!"So,—go on dreaming,—he lies mid a heap(Clara, Clara,)Of the slain by his hand: what is death but a sleep?Dead, with my portrait displayed on his breast:Love wrought his undoing: "No prudence could keepThe love-maddened wretch from his fate." That is best,Rosny, Rosny!

Woe, he went galloping into the war,

Clara, Clara!

Let us two dream: shall he 'scape with a scar?

Scarcely disfigurement; rather a grace

Making for manhood which nowise we mar:

See, while I kiss it, the flush on his face—

Rosny, Rosny!

Light does he laugh: "With your love in my soul"—(Clara, Clara!)"How could I other than—sound, safe, and whole—Cleave who opposed me asunder, yet standScatheless beside you, as, touching love's goal,Who won the race kneels, craves reward at your hand—Rosny, Rosny?"

Light does he laugh: "With your love in my soul"—

(Clara, Clara!)

"How could I other than—sound, safe, and whole—

Cleave who opposed me asunder, yet stand

Scatheless beside you, as, touching love's goal,

Who won the race kneels, craves reward at your hand—

Rosny, Rosny?"

Ay, but if certain who envied should see!Clara, Clara,Certain who simper: "The hero for meHardly of life were so chary as missDeath—death and fame—that's love's guerdon when SheBoasts, proud bereaved one, her choice fell on thisRosny, Rosny!"

Ay, but if certain who envied should see!

Clara, Clara,

Certain who simper: "The hero for me

Hardly of life were so chary as miss

Death—death and fame—that's love's guerdon when She

Boasts, proud bereaved one, her choice fell on this

Rosny, Rosny!"

So,—go on dreaming,—he lies mid a heap(Clara, Clara,)Of the slain by his hand: what is death but a sleep?Dead, with my portrait displayed on his breast:Love wrought his undoing: "No prudence could keepThe love-maddened wretch from his fate." That is best,Rosny, Rosny!

So,—go on dreaming,—he lies mid a heap

(Clara, Clara,)

Of the slain by his hand: what is death but a sleep?

Dead, with my portrait displayed on his breast:

Love wrought his undoing: "No prudence could keep

The love-maddened wretch from his fate." That is best,

Rosny, Rosny!

I will be happy if but for once:Only help me, Autumn weather,Me and my cares to screen, ensconceIn luxury's sofa-lap of leather!Sleep? Nay, comfort—with just a cloudSuffusing day too clear and bright:Eve's essence, the single drop allowedTo sully, like milk, Noon's water-white.Let gauziness shade, not shroud—adjust,Dim and not deaden,—somehow sheatheAught sharp in the rough world's busy thrust,If it reach me through dreaming's vapor-wreath.Be life so, all things ever the same!For, what has disarmed the world? Outside,Quiet and peace: inside, nor blameNor want, nor wish whate'er betide.What is it like that has happened before?A dream? No dream, more real by much.A vision? But fanciful days of yoreBrought many: mere musing seems not such.Perhaps but a memory, after all!—Of what came once when a woman leantTo feel for my brow where her kiss might fall.Truth ever, truth only the excellent!

I will be happy if but for once:Only help me, Autumn weather,Me and my cares to screen, ensconceIn luxury's sofa-lap of leather!

I will be happy if but for once:

Only help me, Autumn weather,

Me and my cares to screen, ensconce

In luxury's sofa-lap of leather!

Sleep? Nay, comfort—with just a cloudSuffusing day too clear and bright:Eve's essence, the single drop allowedTo sully, like milk, Noon's water-white.

Sleep? Nay, comfort—with just a cloud

Suffusing day too clear and bright:

Eve's essence, the single drop allowed

To sully, like milk, Noon's water-white.

Let gauziness shade, not shroud—adjust,Dim and not deaden,—somehow sheatheAught sharp in the rough world's busy thrust,If it reach me through dreaming's vapor-wreath.

Let gauziness shade, not shroud—adjust,

Dim and not deaden,—somehow sheathe

Aught sharp in the rough world's busy thrust,

If it reach me through dreaming's vapor-wreath.

Be life so, all things ever the same!For, what has disarmed the world? Outside,Quiet and peace: inside, nor blameNor want, nor wish whate'er betide.

Be life so, all things ever the same!

For, what has disarmed the world? Outside,

Quiet and peace: inside, nor blame

Nor want, nor wish whate'er betide.

What is it like that has happened before?A dream? No dream, more real by much.A vision? But fanciful days of yoreBrought many: mere musing seems not such.

What is it like that has happened before?

A dream? No dream, more real by much.

A vision? But fanciful days of yore

Brought many: mere musing seems not such.

Perhaps but a memory, after all!—Of what came once when a woman leantTo feel for my brow where her kiss might fall.Truth ever, truth only the excellent!

Perhaps but a memory, after all!

—Of what came once when a woman leant

To feel for my brow where her kiss might fall.

Truth ever, truth only the excellent!

Out of your whole life give but a moment!All of your life that has gone before,All to come after it,—so you ignore,So you make perfect the present,—condense,In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment,Thought and feeling and soul and sense—Merged in a moment which gives me at lastYou around me for once, you beneath me, above me—Me—sure that despite of time future, time past,—This tick of our life-time's one moment you love me!How long such suspension may linger? Ah, Sweet—The moment eternal—just that and no more—When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the coreWhile cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut and lips meet!

Out of your whole life give but a moment!

All of your life that has gone before,

All to come after it,—so you ignore,

So you make perfect the present,—condense,

In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment,

Thought and feeling and soul and sense—

Merged in a moment which gives me at last

You around me for once, you beneath me, above me—

Me—sure that despite of time future, time past,—

This tick of our life-time's one moment you love me!

How long such suspension may linger? Ah, Sweet—

The moment eternal—just that and no more—

When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core

While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut and lips meet!

What girl but, having gathered flowers,Stript the beds and spoilt the bowers,From the lapful light she carriesDrops a careless bud?—nor tarriesTo regain the waif and stray:"Store enough for home"—she'll say.So say I too: give your loverHeaps of loving—under, over,Whelm him—make the one the wealthy!Am I all so poor who—stealthyWork it was!—picked up what fell:Not the worst bud—who can tell?

What girl but, having gathered flowers,

Stript the beds and spoilt the bowers,

From the lapful light she carries

Drops a careless bud?—nor tarries

To regain the waif and stray:

"Store enough for home"—she'll say.

So say I too: give your loverHeaps of loving—under, over,Whelm him—make the one the wealthy!Am I all so poor who—stealthyWork it was!—picked up what fell:Not the worst bud—who can tell?

So say I too: give your lover

Heaps of loving—under, over,

Whelm him—make the one the wealthy!

Am I all so poor who—stealthy

Work it was!—picked up what fell:

Not the worst bud—who can tell?

"So say the foolish!" Say the foolish so, Love?"Flower she is, my rose"—or else, "My very swan is she"—Or perhaps, "Yon maid-moon, blessing earth below, Love,That art thou!"—to them, belike: no such vain words from me."Hush, rose, blush! no balm like breath," I chide it:"Bend thy neck its best, swan,—hers the whiter curve!"Be the moon the moon: my Love I place beside it:What is she? Her human self,—no lower word will serve.

"So say the foolish!" Say the foolish so, Love?

"Flower she is, my rose"—or else, "My very swan is she"—

Or perhaps, "Yon maid-moon, blessing earth below, Love,

That art thou!"—to them, belike: no such vain words from me.

"Hush, rose, blush! no balm like breath," I chide it:"Bend thy neck its best, swan,—hers the whiter curve!"Be the moon the moon: my Love I place beside it:What is she? Her human self,—no lower word will serve.

"Hush, rose, blush! no balm like breath," I chide it:

"Bend thy neck its best, swan,—hers the whiter curve!"

Be the moon the moon: my Love I place beside it:

What is she? Her human self,—no lower word will serve.

All the breath and the bloom of the year in the bag of one bee:All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the heart of one gem:In the core of one pearl all the shade and the shine of the sea:Breath and bloom, shade and shine,—wonder, wealth, and—how far above them—Truth, that's brighter than gem,Trust, that's purer than pearl,—Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe—all were for meIn the kiss of one girl.

All the breath and the bloom of the year in the bag of one bee:

All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the heart of one gem:

In the core of one pearl all the shade and the shine of the sea:

Breath and bloom, shade and shine,—wonder, wealth, and—how far above them—

Truth, that's brighter than gem,

Trust, that's purer than pearl,—

Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe—all were for me

In the kiss of one girl.

A simple ring with a single stone,To the vulgar eye no stone of price:Whisper the right word, that alone—Forth starts a sprite, like fire from ice,And lo, you are lord (says an Eastern scroll)Of heaven and earth, lord whole and soleThrough the power in a pearl.A woman ('tis I this time that say)With little the world counts worthy praise;Utter the true word—out and awayEscapes her soul: I am wrapt in blaze,Creation's lord, of heaven and earthLord whole and sole—by a minute's birth—Through the love in a girl!

A simple ring with a single stone,

To the vulgar eye no stone of price:

Whisper the right word, that alone—

Forth starts a sprite, like fire from ice,

And lo, you are lord (says an Eastern scroll)

Of heaven and earth, lord whole and sole

Through the power in a pearl.

A woman ('tis I this time that say)With little the world counts worthy praise;Utter the true word—out and awayEscapes her soul: I am wrapt in blaze,Creation's lord, of heaven and earthLord whole and sole—by a minute's birth—Through the love in a girl!

A woman ('tis I this time that say)

With little the world counts worthy praise;

Utter the true word—out and away

Escapes her soul: I am wrapt in blaze,

Creation's lord, of heaven and earth

Lord whole and sole—by a minute's birth—

Through the love in a girl!

Others may need new life in Heaven—Man, Nature, Art—made new, assume!Man with new mind old sense to leaven,Nature,—new light to clear old gloom,Art that breaks bounds, gets soaring-room.I shall pray: "Fugitive as precious—Minutes which passed,—return, remain!Let earth's old life once more enmesh us,You with old pleasure, me—old pain,So we but meet nor part again!"

Others may need new life in Heaven—Man, Nature, Art—made new, assume!Man with new mind old sense to leaven,Nature,—new light to clear old gloom,Art that breaks bounds, gets soaring-room.

Others may need new life in Heaven—

Man, Nature, Art—made new, assume!

Man with new mind old sense to leaven,

Nature,—new light to clear old gloom,

Art that breaks bounds, gets soaring-room.

I shall pray: "Fugitive as precious—Minutes which passed,—return, remain!Let earth's old life once more enmesh us,You with old pleasure, me—old pain,So we but meet nor part again!"

I shall pray: "Fugitive as precious—

Minutes which passed,—return, remain!

Let earth's old life once more enmesh us,

You with old pleasure, me—old pain,

So we but meet nor part again!"

When a boy Browning had a humble friend in the person of a toad. "He visited it daily where it burrowed under a white rosetree, announcing himself by a pinch of gravel dropped into its hole; and the creature would crawl forth, allow its head to be gently tickled, and reward the act with a loving glance of its soft full eyes."Mrs. Orr.

If you and I could change to beasts, what beast should either be?Shall you and I play Jove for once? Turn fox then, I decree!Shy wild sweet stealer of the grapes! Now do your worst on me!And thus you think to spite your friend—turned loathsome? What, a toad?So, all men shrink and shun me! Dear men, pursue your road!Leave but my crevice in the stone, a reptile's fit abode!Now say your worst, Canidia! "He 's loathsome, I allow:There may or may not lurk a pearl beneath his puckered brow:But see his eyes that follow mine—love lasts there, anyhow."

If you and I could change to beasts, what beast should either be?Shall you and I play Jove for once? Turn fox then, I decree!Shy wild sweet stealer of the grapes! Now do your worst on me!

If you and I could change to beasts, what beast should either be?

Shall you and I play Jove for once? Turn fox then, I decree!

Shy wild sweet stealer of the grapes! Now do your worst on me!

And thus you think to spite your friend—turned loathsome? What, a toad?So, all men shrink and shun me! Dear men, pursue your road!Leave but my crevice in the stone, a reptile's fit abode!

And thus you think to spite your friend—turned loathsome? What, a toad?

So, all men shrink and shun me! Dear men, pursue your road!

Leave but my crevice in the stone, a reptile's fit abode!

Now say your worst, Canidia! "He 's loathsome, I allow:There may or may not lurk a pearl beneath his puckered brow:But see his eyes that follow mine—love lasts there, anyhow."

Now say your worst, Canidia! "He 's loathsome, I allow:

There may or may not lurk a pearl beneath his puckered brow:

But see his eyes that follow mine—love lasts there, anyhow."

Last night I saw you in my sleep:And how your charm of face was changed!I asked, "Some love, some faith you keep?"You answered, "Faith gone, love estranged."Whereat I woke—a twofold bliss:Waking was one, but next there cameThis other: "Though I felt, for this,My heart break, I loved on the same."

Last night I saw you in my sleep:And how your charm of face was changed!I asked, "Some love, some faith you keep?"You answered, "Faith gone, love estranged."

Last night I saw you in my sleep:

And how your charm of face was changed!

I asked, "Some love, some faith you keep?"

You answered, "Faith gone, love estranged."

Whereat I woke—a twofold bliss:Waking was one, but next there cameThis other: "Though I felt, for this,My heart break, I loved on the same."

Whereat I woke—a twofold bliss:

Waking was one, but next there came

This other: "Though I felt, for this,

My heart break, I loved on the same."

You in the flesh and here—Your very self! Now, wait!One word! May I hope or fear?Must I speak in love or hate?Stay while I ruminate!The fact and each circumstanceDare you disown? Not you!That vast dome, that huge dance,And the gloom which overgrewA—possibly festive crew!For why should men dance at all—Why women—a crowd of both—Unless they are gay? Strange ball—Hands and feet plighting troth,Yet partners enforced and loth!Of who danced there, no shapeDid I recognize: thwart, perverse,Each grasped each, past escapeIn a whirl or weary or worse;Man's sneer met woman's curse,While he and she toiled as ifTheir guardian set galley-slavesTo supple chained limbs grown stiff;Unmanacled trulls and knaves—The lash for who misbehaves!And a gloom was, all the while,Deeper and deeper yetO'ergrowing the rank and fileOf that army of haters—setTo mimic love's fever-fret.By the wall-side close I crept,Avoiding the livid maze,And, safely so far, outsteppedOn a chamber—a chapel, saysMy memory or betrays—Closet-like, kept aloofFrom unseemly witnessingWhat sport made floor and roofOf the Devil's palace ringWhile his Damned amused their king.Ay, for a low lamp burned,And a silence lay aboutWhat I, in the midst, discernedThough dimly till, past doubt,'T was a sort of throne stood out—High seat with steps, at least:And the topmost step was filledBy—whom? What vestured priest?A stranger to me,—his guild,His cult, unreconciledTo my knowledge how guild and cultAre clothed in this world of ours:I pondered, but no resultCame to—unless that GiaoursSo worship the Lower Powers.When suddenly who entered?Who knelt—did you guess I saw?Who—raising that face were centredAllegiance to love and lawSo lately—off-casting awe,Down-treading reserve, awayThrusting respect ... but mineStands firm—firm still shall stay!Ask Satan! for I declineTo tell—what I saw, in fine!Yet here in the flesh you come—Your same self, form and face,—In the eyes, mirth still at home!On the lips, that commonplacePerfection of honest grace!Yet your errand is—needs must be—To palliate—well, explain,Expurgate in some degreeYour soul of its ugly stain.Oh, you—the good in grain—How was it your white took tinge?"A mere dream"—never object!Sleep leaves a door on hingeWhence soul, ere our flesh suspect,Is off and away: detectHer vagaries when loose, who can!Be she pranksome, be she prude,Disguise with the day began:With the night—ah, what ensuedFrom draughts of a drink hell-brewed?Then She: "What a queer wild dream!And perhaps the best fun is—Myself had its fellow—I seemScarce awake from yet. 'T was this—Shall I tell you? First, a kiss!"For the fault was just your own,—'T is myself expect apology:You warned me to let alone(Since our studies were mere philology)That ticklish (you said) Anthology."So I dreamed that I passedexamTill a question posed me sore:'Who translated this epigramBy—an author we best ignore?'And I answered, 'Hannah More'!"

You in the flesh and here—Your very self! Now, wait!One word! May I hope or fear?Must I speak in love or hate?Stay while I ruminate!

You in the flesh and here—

Your very self! Now, wait!

One word! May I hope or fear?

Must I speak in love or hate?

Stay while I ruminate!

The fact and each circumstanceDare you disown? Not you!That vast dome, that huge dance,And the gloom which overgrewA—possibly festive crew!

The fact and each circumstance

Dare you disown? Not you!

That vast dome, that huge dance,

And the gloom which overgrew

A—possibly festive crew!

For why should men dance at all—Why women—a crowd of both—Unless they are gay? Strange ball—Hands and feet plighting troth,Yet partners enforced and loth!

For why should men dance at all—

Why women—a crowd of both—

Unless they are gay? Strange ball—

Hands and feet plighting troth,

Yet partners enforced and loth!

Of who danced there, no shapeDid I recognize: thwart, perverse,Each grasped each, past escapeIn a whirl or weary or worse;Man's sneer met woman's curse,

Of who danced there, no shape

Did I recognize: thwart, perverse,

Each grasped each, past escape

In a whirl or weary or worse;

Man's sneer met woman's curse,

While he and she toiled as ifTheir guardian set galley-slavesTo supple chained limbs grown stiff;Unmanacled trulls and knaves—The lash for who misbehaves!

While he and she toiled as if

Their guardian set galley-slaves

To supple chained limbs grown stiff;

Unmanacled trulls and knaves—

The lash for who misbehaves!

And a gloom was, all the while,Deeper and deeper yetO'ergrowing the rank and fileOf that army of haters—setTo mimic love's fever-fret.

And a gloom was, all the while,

Deeper and deeper yet

O'ergrowing the rank and file

Of that army of haters—set

To mimic love's fever-fret.

By the wall-side close I crept,Avoiding the livid maze,And, safely so far, outsteppedOn a chamber—a chapel, saysMy memory or betrays—

By the wall-side close I crept,

Avoiding the livid maze,

And, safely so far, outstepped

On a chamber—a chapel, says

My memory or betrays—

Closet-like, kept aloofFrom unseemly witnessingWhat sport made floor and roofOf the Devil's palace ringWhile his Damned amused their king.

Closet-like, kept aloof

From unseemly witnessing

What sport made floor and roof

Of the Devil's palace ring

While his Damned amused their king.

Ay, for a low lamp burned,And a silence lay aboutWhat I, in the midst, discernedThough dimly till, past doubt,'T was a sort of throne stood out—

Ay, for a low lamp burned,

And a silence lay about

What I, in the midst, discerned

Though dimly till, past doubt,

'T was a sort of throne stood out—

High seat with steps, at least:And the topmost step was filledBy—whom? What vestured priest?A stranger to me,—his guild,His cult, unreconciled

High seat with steps, at least:

And the topmost step was filled

By—whom? What vestured priest?

A stranger to me,—his guild,

His cult, unreconciled

To my knowledge how guild and cultAre clothed in this world of ours:I pondered, but no resultCame to—unless that GiaoursSo worship the Lower Powers.

To my knowledge how guild and cult

Are clothed in this world of ours:

I pondered, but no result

Came to—unless that Giaours

So worship the Lower Powers.

When suddenly who entered?Who knelt—did you guess I saw?Who—raising that face were centredAllegiance to love and lawSo lately—off-casting awe,

When suddenly who entered?

Who knelt—did you guess I saw?

Who—raising that face were centred

Allegiance to love and law

So lately—off-casting awe,

Down-treading reserve, awayThrusting respect ... but mineStands firm—firm still shall stay!Ask Satan! for I declineTo tell—what I saw, in fine!

Down-treading reserve, away

Thrusting respect ... but mine

Stands firm—firm still shall stay!

Ask Satan! for I decline

To tell—what I saw, in fine!

Yet here in the flesh you come—Your same self, form and face,—In the eyes, mirth still at home!On the lips, that commonplacePerfection of honest grace!

Yet here in the flesh you come—

Your same self, form and face,—

In the eyes, mirth still at home!

On the lips, that commonplace

Perfection of honest grace!

Yet your errand is—needs must be—To palliate—well, explain,Expurgate in some degreeYour soul of its ugly stain.Oh, you—the good in grain—

Yet your errand is—needs must be—

To palliate—well, explain,

Expurgate in some degree

Your soul of its ugly stain.

Oh, you—the good in grain—

How was it your white took tinge?"A mere dream"—never object!Sleep leaves a door on hingeWhence soul, ere our flesh suspect,Is off and away: detect

How was it your white took tinge?

"A mere dream"—never object!

Sleep leaves a door on hinge

Whence soul, ere our flesh suspect,

Is off and away: detect

Her vagaries when loose, who can!Be she pranksome, be she prude,Disguise with the day began:With the night—ah, what ensuedFrom draughts of a drink hell-brewed?

Her vagaries when loose, who can!

Be she pranksome, be she prude,

Disguise with the day began:

With the night—ah, what ensued

From draughts of a drink hell-brewed?

Then She: "What a queer wild dream!And perhaps the best fun is—Myself had its fellow—I seemScarce awake from yet. 'T was this—Shall I tell you? First, a kiss!

Then She: "What a queer wild dream!

And perhaps the best fun is—

Myself had its fellow—I seem

Scarce awake from yet. 'T was this—

Shall I tell you? First, a kiss!

"For the fault was just your own,—'T is myself expect apology:You warned me to let alone(Since our studies were mere philology)That ticklish (you said) Anthology.

"For the fault was just your own,—

'T is myself expect apology:

You warned me to let alone

(Since our studies were mere philology)

That ticklish (you said) Anthology.

"So I dreamed that I passedexamTill a question posed me sore:'Who translated this epigramBy—an author we best ignore?'And I answered, 'Hannah More'!"

"So I dreamed that I passedexam

Till a question posed me sore:

'Who translated this epigram

By—an author we best ignore?'

And I answered, 'Hannah More'!"

This was my dream: I saw a ForestOld as the earth, no track nor traceOf unmade man. Thou, Soul, explorest—Though in a trembling rapture—spaceImmeasurable! Shrubs, turned trees,Trees that touch heaven, support its freizeStudded with sun and moon and star:While—oh, the enormous growths that barMine eye from penetrating pastTheir tangled twine where lurks—nay, livesRoyally lone, some brute-type castI' the rough, time cancels, man forgives.On, Soul! I saw a lucid CityOf architectural deviceEvery way perfect. Pause for pity,Lightning! nor leave a cicatriceOn those bright marbles, dome and spire,Structures palatial,—streets which mireDares not defile, paved all too fineFor human footstep's smirch, not thine—Proud solitary traverser,My Soul, of silent lengths of way—With what ecstatic dread, aver,Lest life start sanctioned by thy stay!Ah, but the last sight was the hideous!A City, yes,—a Forest, true,—But each devouring each. PerfidiousSnake-plants had strangled what I knewWas a pavilion once: each oakHeld on his horns some spoil he brokeBy surreptitiously beneathUpthrusting: pavements, as with teeth,Griped huge weed widening crack and splitIn squares and circles stone-work erst.Oh, Nature—good! Oh, Art—no whitLess worthy! Both in one—accurst!

This was my dream: I saw a Forest

Old as the earth, no track nor trace

Of unmade man. Thou, Soul, explorest—

Though in a trembling rapture—space

Immeasurable! Shrubs, turned trees,

Trees that touch heaven, support its freize

Studded with sun and moon and star:

While—oh, the enormous growths that bar

Mine eye from penetrating past

Their tangled twine where lurks—nay, lives

Royally lone, some brute-type cast

I' the rough, time cancels, man forgives.

On, Soul! I saw a lucid CityOf architectural deviceEvery way perfect. Pause for pity,Lightning! nor leave a cicatriceOn those bright marbles, dome and spire,Structures palatial,—streets which mireDares not defile, paved all too fineFor human footstep's smirch, not thine—Proud solitary traverser,My Soul, of silent lengths of way—With what ecstatic dread, aver,Lest life start sanctioned by thy stay!

On, Soul! I saw a lucid City

Of architectural device

Every way perfect. Pause for pity,

Lightning! nor leave a cicatrice

On those bright marbles, dome and spire,

Structures palatial,—streets which mire

Dares not defile, paved all too fine

For human footstep's smirch, not thine—

Proud solitary traverser,

My Soul, of silent lengths of way—

With what ecstatic dread, aver,

Lest life start sanctioned by thy stay!

Ah, but the last sight was the hideous!A City, yes,—a Forest, true,—But each devouring each. PerfidiousSnake-plants had strangled what I knewWas a pavilion once: each oakHeld on his horns some spoil he brokeBy surreptitiously beneathUpthrusting: pavements, as with teeth,Griped huge weed widening crack and splitIn squares and circles stone-work erst.Oh, Nature—good! Oh, Art—no whitLess worthy! Both in one—accurst!

Ah, but the last sight was the hideous!

A City, yes,—a Forest, true,—

But each devouring each. Perfidious

Snake-plants had strangled what I knew

Was a pavilion once: each oak

Held on his horns some spoil he broke

By surreptitiously beneath

Upthrusting: pavements, as with teeth,

Griped huge weed widening crack and split

In squares and circles stone-work erst.

Oh, Nature—good! Oh, Art—no whit

Less worthy! Both in one—accurst!

It happened thus: my slab, though new,Was getting weather-stained,—beside,Herbage, balm, peppermint o'ergrewLetter and letter: till you triedSomewhat, the Name was scarce descried.That strong stern man my lover came:—Was he my lover? Call him, pray,My life's cold critic bent on blameOf all poor I could do or sayTo make me worth his love one day—One far day when, by diligentAnd dutiful amending faults,Foibles, all weaknesses which wentTo challenge and excuse assaultsOf culture wronged by taste that halts—Discrepancies should mar no planSymmetric of the qualitiesClaiming respect from—say—a manThat 's strong and stern. "Once more he priesInto me with those critic eyes!"No question! so—"Conclude, condemnEach failure my poor self avows!Leave to its fate all you contemn!There 's Solomon's selected spouse:Earth needs must hold such maids—choose them!"Why, he was weeping! Surely goneSternness and strength: with eyes to groundAnd voice a broken monotone—"Only be as you were! AboundIn foibles, faults,—laugh, robed and crowned"As Folly's veriest queen,—care IOne feather-fluff? Look pity, Love,On prostrate me—your foot shall tryThis forehead's use—mount thence above,And reach what Heaven you dignify!"Now, what could bring such change about?The thought perplexed: till, followingHis gaze upon the ground,—why, outCame all the secret! So, a thingThus simple has deposed my king!For, spite of weeds that strove to spoilPlain reading on the lettered slab,My name was clear enough—no soilEffaced the date when one chance stabOf scorn ... if only ghosts might blab!

It happened thus: my slab, though new,Was getting weather-stained,—beside,Herbage, balm, peppermint o'ergrewLetter and letter: till you triedSomewhat, the Name was scarce descried.

It happened thus: my slab, though new,

Was getting weather-stained,—beside,

Herbage, balm, peppermint o'ergrew

Letter and letter: till you tried

Somewhat, the Name was scarce descried.

That strong stern man my lover came:—Was he my lover? Call him, pray,My life's cold critic bent on blameOf all poor I could do or sayTo make me worth his love one day—

That strong stern man my lover came:

—Was he my lover? Call him, pray,

My life's cold critic bent on blame

Of all poor I could do or say

To make me worth his love one day—

One far day when, by diligentAnd dutiful amending faults,Foibles, all weaknesses which wentTo challenge and excuse assaultsOf culture wronged by taste that halts—

One far day when, by diligent

And dutiful amending faults,

Foibles, all weaknesses which went

To challenge and excuse assaults

Of culture wronged by taste that halts—

Discrepancies should mar no planSymmetric of the qualitiesClaiming respect from—say—a manThat 's strong and stern. "Once more he priesInto me with those critic eyes!"

Discrepancies should mar no plan

Symmetric of the qualities

Claiming respect from—say—a man

That 's strong and stern. "Once more he pries

Into me with those critic eyes!"

No question! so—"Conclude, condemnEach failure my poor self avows!Leave to its fate all you contemn!There 's Solomon's selected spouse:Earth needs must hold such maids—choose them!"

No question! so—"Conclude, condemn

Each failure my poor self avows!

Leave to its fate all you contemn!

There 's Solomon's selected spouse:

Earth needs must hold such maids—choose them!"

Why, he was weeping! Surely goneSternness and strength: with eyes to groundAnd voice a broken monotone—"Only be as you were! AboundIn foibles, faults,—laugh, robed and crowned

Why, he was weeping! Surely gone

Sternness and strength: with eyes to ground

And voice a broken monotone—

"Only be as you were! Abound

In foibles, faults,—laugh, robed and crowned

"As Folly's veriest queen,—care IOne feather-fluff? Look pity, Love,On prostrate me—your foot shall tryThis forehead's use—mount thence above,And reach what Heaven you dignify!"

"As Folly's veriest queen,—care I

One feather-fluff? Look pity, Love,

On prostrate me—your foot shall try

This forehead's use—mount thence above,

And reach what Heaven you dignify!"

Now, what could bring such change about?The thought perplexed: till, followingHis gaze upon the ground,—why, outCame all the secret! So, a thingThus simple has deposed my king!

Now, what could bring such change about?

The thought perplexed: till, following

His gaze upon the ground,—why, out

Came all the secret! So, a thing

Thus simple has deposed my king!

For, spite of weeds that strove to spoilPlain reading on the lettered slab,My name was clear enough—no soilEffaced the date when one chance stabOf scorn ... if only ghosts might blab!

For, spite of weeds that strove to spoil

Plain reading on the lettered slab,

My name was clear enough—no soil

Effaced the date when one chance stab

Of scorn ... if only ghosts might blab!

We two stood simply friend-like side by side,Viewing a twilight country far and wide,Till she at length broke silence. "How it towersYonder, the ruin o'er this vale of ours!The West's faint flare behind it so relievesIts rugged outline—sight perhaps deceives,Or I could almost fancy that I seeA branch wave plain—belike some wind-sown treeChance-rooted where a missing turret was.What would I give for the perspective glassAt home, to make out if 't is really so!Has Ruskin noticed here at AsoloThat certain weed-growths on the ravaged wallSeem" ... something that I could not say at all,My thought being rather—as absorbed she sentLook onward after look from eyes distentWith longing to reach Heaven's gate left ajar—"Oh, fancies that might be, oh, facts that are!What of a wilding? By you stands, and maySo stand unnoticed till the Judgment Day,One who, if once aware that your regardClaimed what his heart holds,—woke, as from its swardThe flower, the dormant passion, so to speak—Then what a rush of life would startling wreakRevenge on your inapprehensive stareWhile, from the ruin and the West's faint flare,You let your eyes meet mine, touch what you termQuietude—that 's an universe in germ—The dormant passion needing but a lookTo burst into immense life!""No, the bookWhich noticed how the wall-growths wave," said she,"Was not by Ruskin."I said, "Vernon Lee."

We two stood simply friend-like side by side,

Viewing a twilight country far and wide,

Till she at length broke silence. "How it towers

Yonder, the ruin o'er this vale of ours!

The West's faint flare behind it so relieves

Its rugged outline—sight perhaps deceives,

Or I could almost fancy that I see

A branch wave plain—belike some wind-sown tree

Chance-rooted where a missing turret was.

What would I give for the perspective glass

At home, to make out if 't is really so!

Has Ruskin noticed here at Asolo

That certain weed-growths on the ravaged wall

Seem" ... something that I could not say at all,

My thought being rather—as absorbed she sent

Look onward after look from eyes distent

With longing to reach Heaven's gate left ajar—

"Oh, fancies that might be, oh, facts that are!

What of a wilding? By you stands, and may

So stand unnoticed till the Judgment Day,

One who, if once aware that your regard

Claimed what his heart holds,—woke, as from its sward

The flower, the dormant passion, so to speak—

Then what a rush of life would startling wreak

Revenge on your inapprehensive stare

While, from the ruin and the West's faint flare,

You let your eyes meet mine, touch what you term

Quietude—that 's an universe in germ—

The dormant passion needing but a look

To burst into immense life!"

"No, the book

Which noticed how the wall-growths wave," said she,

"Was not by Ruskin."

I said, "Vernon Lee."

So, the three Court-ladies beganTheir trial of who judged bestIn esteeming the love of a man:Who preferred with most reason was thereby confessedBoy-Cupid's exemplary catcher and eager;An Abbé crossed legs to decide on the wager.First the Duchesse: "Mine for me—Who were it but God's for Him,And the King's for—who but he?Both faithful and loyal, one grace more shall brimHis cup with perfection: a lady's true lover,He holds—save his God and his king—none above her.""I require"—outspoke the Marquise—"Pure thoughts, ay, but also fine deeds:Play the paladin must he, to pleaseMy whim, and—to prove my knight's service exceedsYour saint's and your loyalist's praying and kneeling—Show wounds, each wide mouth to my mercy appealing."Then the Comtesse: "My choice be a wretch,Mere losel in body and soul,Thrice accurst! What care I, so he stretchArms to me his sole savior, love's ultimate goal,Out of earth and men's noise—names of 'infidel,' 'traitor,'Cast up at him? Crown me, crown's adjudicator!"And the Abbé uncrossed his legs,Took snuff, a reflective pinch,Broke silence: "The question begsMuch pondering ere I pronounce. Shall I flinch?The love which to one and one only has referenceSeems terribly like what perhaps gains God's preference."

So, the three Court-ladies began

Their trial of who judged best

In esteeming the love of a man:

Who preferred with most reason was thereby confessed

Boy-Cupid's exemplary catcher and eager;

An Abbé crossed legs to decide on the wager.

First the Duchesse: "Mine for me—Who were it but God's for Him,And the King's for—who but he?Both faithful and loyal, one grace more shall brimHis cup with perfection: a lady's true lover,He holds—save his God and his king—none above her."

First the Duchesse: "Mine for me—

Who were it but God's for Him,

And the King's for—who but he?

Both faithful and loyal, one grace more shall brim

His cup with perfection: a lady's true lover,

He holds—save his God and his king—none above her."

"I require"—outspoke the Marquise—"Pure thoughts, ay, but also fine deeds:Play the paladin must he, to pleaseMy whim, and—to prove my knight's service exceedsYour saint's and your loyalist's praying and kneeling—Show wounds, each wide mouth to my mercy appealing."

"I require"—outspoke the Marquise—

"Pure thoughts, ay, but also fine deeds:

Play the paladin must he, to please

My whim, and—to prove my knight's service exceeds

Your saint's and your loyalist's praying and kneeling—

Show wounds, each wide mouth to my mercy appealing."

Then the Comtesse: "My choice be a wretch,Mere losel in body and soul,Thrice accurst! What care I, so he stretchArms to me his sole savior, love's ultimate goal,Out of earth and men's noise—names of 'infidel,' 'traitor,'Cast up at him? Crown me, crown's adjudicator!"

Then the Comtesse: "My choice be a wretch,

Mere losel in body and soul,

Thrice accurst! What care I, so he stretch

Arms to me his sole savior, love's ultimate goal,

Out of earth and men's noise—names of 'infidel,' 'traitor,'

Cast up at him? Crown me, crown's adjudicator!"

And the Abbé uncrossed his legs,Took snuff, a reflective pinch,Broke silence: "The question begsMuch pondering ere I pronounce. Shall I flinch?The love which to one and one only has referenceSeems terribly like what perhaps gains God's preference."

And the Abbé uncrossed his legs,

Took snuff, a reflective pinch,

Broke silence: "The question begs

Much pondering ere I pronounce. Shall I flinch?

The love which to one and one only has reference

Seems terribly like what perhaps gains God's preference."

This poem was written in May, 1842, at the same time as thePied Piper, both having been written at the request of Macready's little son, who was confined to the house by illness and wanted Browning to write him some poems for which he could make pictures.

Crescenzio, the Pope's Legate at the High Council, Trent,—Year Fifteen hundred twenty-two, March Twenty-five—intentOn writing letters to the Pope till late into the night,Rose, weary, to refresh himself, and saw a monstrous sight:(I give mine Author's very words: he penned, I reindite.)A black Dog of vast bigness, eyes flaming, ears that hungDown to the very ground almost, into the chamber sprungAnd made directly for him, and laid himself right underThe table where Crescenzio wrote—who called in fear and wonderHis servants in the ante-room, commanded every oneTo look for and find out the beast: but, looking, they found none.The Cardinal fell melancholy, then sick, soon after died:And at Verona, as he lay on his death-bed, he criedAloud to drive away the Dog that leapt on his bedside.Heaven keep us Protestants from harm: the rest ... no ill betide!

Crescenzio, the Pope's Legate at the High Council, Trent,

—Year Fifteen hundred twenty-two, March Twenty-five—intent

On writing letters to the Pope till late into the night,

Rose, weary, to refresh himself, and saw a monstrous sight:

(I give mine Author's very words: he penned, I reindite.)

A black Dog of vast bigness, eyes flaming, ears that hungDown to the very ground almost, into the chamber sprungAnd made directly for him, and laid himself right underThe table where Crescenzio wrote—who called in fear and wonderHis servants in the ante-room, commanded every oneTo look for and find out the beast: but, looking, they found none.

A black Dog of vast bigness, eyes flaming, ears that hung

Down to the very ground almost, into the chamber sprung

And made directly for him, and laid himself right under

The table where Crescenzio wrote—who called in fear and wonder

His servants in the ante-room, commanded every one

To look for and find out the beast: but, looking, they found none.

The Cardinal fell melancholy, then sick, soon after died:And at Verona, as he lay on his death-bed, he criedAloud to drive away the Dog that leapt on his bedside.Heaven keep us Protestants from harm: the rest ... no ill betide!

The Cardinal fell melancholy, then sick, soon after died:

And at Verona, as he lay on his death-bed, he cried

Aloud to drive away the Dog that leapt on his bedside.

Heaven keep us Protestants from harm: the rest ... no ill betide!

What, he on whom our voices unanimously ran,Made Pope at our last Conclave? Full low his life began:His father earned the daily bread as just a fisherman.So much the more his boy minds book, givesproof of mother-wit,Becomes first Deacon, and then Priest, then Bishop: see him sitNo less than Cardinal erelong, while no one cries "Unfit!"But some one smirks, some other smiles, jogs elbow and nods head:Each winks at each: "I'-faith, a rise! Saint Peter's net, insteadOf sword and keys, is come in vogue!" You think he blushes red?Not he, of humble holy heart! "Unworthy me!" he sighs:"From fisher's drudge to Church's prince—it is indeed a rise:So, here 's my way to keep the fact forever in my eyes!"And straightway in his palace-hall, where commonly is setSome coat-of-arms, some portraiture ancestral, lo, we metHis mean estate's reminder in his fisher-father's net!Which step conciliates all and some, stops cavil in a trice:"The humble holy heart that holds of newborn pride no spice!He 's just the saint to choose for Pope!" Each adds, "'T is my advice."So, Pope he was: and when we flocked—its sacred slipper on—To kiss his foot, we lifted eyes, alack, the thing was gone—That guarantee of lowlihead,—eclipsed that star which shone!Each eyed his fellow, one and all kept silence. I cried, "Pish!I 'll make me spokesman for the rest, express the common wish.Why, Father, is the net removed?" "Son, it hath caught the fish."

What, he on whom our voices unanimously ran,Made Pope at our last Conclave? Full low his life began:His father earned the daily bread as just a fisherman.

What, he on whom our voices unanimously ran,

Made Pope at our last Conclave? Full low his life began:

His father earned the daily bread as just a fisherman.

So much the more his boy minds book, givesproof of mother-wit,Becomes first Deacon, and then Priest, then Bishop: see him sitNo less than Cardinal erelong, while no one cries "Unfit!"

So much the more his boy minds book, givesproof of mother-wit,

Becomes first Deacon, and then Priest, then Bishop: see him sit

No less than Cardinal erelong, while no one cries "Unfit!"

But some one smirks, some other smiles, jogs elbow and nods head:Each winks at each: "I'-faith, a rise! Saint Peter's net, insteadOf sword and keys, is come in vogue!" You think he blushes red?

But some one smirks, some other smiles, jogs elbow and nods head:

Each winks at each: "I'-faith, a rise! Saint Peter's net, instead

Of sword and keys, is come in vogue!" You think he blushes red?

Not he, of humble holy heart! "Unworthy me!" he sighs:"From fisher's drudge to Church's prince—it is indeed a rise:So, here 's my way to keep the fact forever in my eyes!"

Not he, of humble holy heart! "Unworthy me!" he sighs:

"From fisher's drudge to Church's prince—it is indeed a rise:

So, here 's my way to keep the fact forever in my eyes!"

And straightway in his palace-hall, where commonly is setSome coat-of-arms, some portraiture ancestral, lo, we metHis mean estate's reminder in his fisher-father's net!

And straightway in his palace-hall, where commonly is set

Some coat-of-arms, some portraiture ancestral, lo, we met

His mean estate's reminder in his fisher-father's net!

Which step conciliates all and some, stops cavil in a trice:"The humble holy heart that holds of newborn pride no spice!He 's just the saint to choose for Pope!" Each adds, "'T is my advice."

Which step conciliates all and some, stops cavil in a trice:

"The humble holy heart that holds of newborn pride no spice!

He 's just the saint to choose for Pope!" Each adds, "'T is my advice."

So, Pope he was: and when we flocked—its sacred slipper on—To kiss his foot, we lifted eyes, alack, the thing was gone—That guarantee of lowlihead,—eclipsed that star which shone!

So, Pope he was: and when we flocked—its sacred slipper on—

To kiss his foot, we lifted eyes, alack, the thing was gone—

That guarantee of lowlihead,—eclipsed that star which shone!

Each eyed his fellow, one and all kept silence. I cried, "Pish!I 'll make me spokesman for the rest, express the common wish.Why, Father, is the net removed?" "Son, it hath caught the fish."

Each eyed his fellow, one and all kept silence. I cried, "Pish!

I 'll make me spokesman for the rest, express the common wish.

Why, Father, is the net removed?" "Son, it hath caught the fish."

He was the man—Pope Sixtus, that Fifth, that swineherd's son:He knew the right thing, did it, and thanked God when 't was done:But of all he had to thank for, my fancy somehow leansTo thinking, what most moved him was a certain meal on beans.For one day, as his wont was, in just enough disguiseAs he went exploring wickedness,—to see with his own eyesIf law had due observance in the city's entrail darkAs well as where, i' the open, crime stood an obvious mark,—He chanced, in a blind alley, on a tumble-down once houseNow hovel, vilest structure in Rome the ruinous:And, as his tact impelled him, Sixtus adventured bold,To learn how lowliest subjects bore hunger, toil, and cold.There sat they at high-supper—man and wife, lad and lass,Poor as you please, but cleanly all and carefree: pain that was—Forgotten, pain as sure to be let bide aloof its time,—Mightily munched the brave ones—what mattered gloom or grime?Said Sixtus, "Feast, my children! who works hard needs eat well.I 'm just a supervisor, would hear what you can tell.Do any wrongs want righting? The Father tries his best,But, since he 's only mortal, sends such as I to testThe truth of all that 's told him—how folk like you may fare:Come!—only don't stop eating—when mouth has words to spare—"You"—smiled he—"play the spokesman, bell-wether of the flock!Are times good, masters gentle? Your grievances unlock!How of your work and wages?—pleasures, if such may be—Pains, as such are for certain." Thus smiling questioned he.But somehow, spite of smiling, awe stole upon the group—An inexpressible surmise: why should a priest thus stoop—Pry into what concerned folk? Each visage fell. Aware,Cries Sixtus interposing: "Nay, children, have no care!"Fear nothing! Who employs me requires the plain truth. PelfBeguiles who should inform me: so, I inform myself.See!" And he drew his hood back, let the close vesture ope,Showed face, and where on tippet the cross lay: 't was the Pope.Imagine the joyful wonder! "How shall the like of us—Poor souls—requite such blessing of our rude bean-feast?" "Thus—Thus amply!" laughed Pope Sixtus. "I early rise, sleep late:Who works may eat: they tempt me, your beans there: spare a plate!"Down sat he on the door-step: 't was they this time said grace:He ate up the last mouthful, wiped lips, and then, with faceTurned heavenward, broke forth thankful: "Not now, that earth obeysThy word in mine, that through me the peoples know Thy ways—"But that Thy care extendeth to Nature's homely wants,And, while man's mind is strengthened, Thy goodness nowise scantsMan's body of its comfort,—that I whom kings and queensCrouch to, pick crumbs from off my table, relish beans!The thunders I but seem to launch, there plain Thy hand all see:That I have appetite, digest, and thrive—that boon 's for me."

He was the man—Pope Sixtus, that Fifth, that swineherd's son:

He knew the right thing, did it, and thanked God when 't was done:

But of all he had to thank for, my fancy somehow leans

To thinking, what most moved him was a certain meal on beans.

For one day, as his wont was, in just enough disguiseAs he went exploring wickedness,—to see with his own eyesIf law had due observance in the city's entrail darkAs well as where, i' the open, crime stood an obvious mark,—

For one day, as his wont was, in just enough disguise

As he went exploring wickedness,—to see with his own eyes

If law had due observance in the city's entrail dark

As well as where, i' the open, crime stood an obvious mark,—

He chanced, in a blind alley, on a tumble-down once houseNow hovel, vilest structure in Rome the ruinous:And, as his tact impelled him, Sixtus adventured bold,To learn how lowliest subjects bore hunger, toil, and cold.

He chanced, in a blind alley, on a tumble-down once house

Now hovel, vilest structure in Rome the ruinous:

And, as his tact impelled him, Sixtus adventured bold,

To learn how lowliest subjects bore hunger, toil, and cold.

There sat they at high-supper—man and wife, lad and lass,Poor as you please, but cleanly all and carefree: pain that was—Forgotten, pain as sure to be let bide aloof its time,—Mightily munched the brave ones—what mattered gloom or grime?

There sat they at high-supper—man and wife, lad and lass,

Poor as you please, but cleanly all and carefree: pain that was

—Forgotten, pain as sure to be let bide aloof its time,—

Mightily munched the brave ones—what mattered gloom or grime?

Said Sixtus, "Feast, my children! who works hard needs eat well.I 'm just a supervisor, would hear what you can tell.Do any wrongs want righting? The Father tries his best,But, since he 's only mortal, sends such as I to testThe truth of all that 's told him—how folk like you may fare:Come!—only don't stop eating—when mouth has words to spare—

Said Sixtus, "Feast, my children! who works hard needs eat well.

I 'm just a supervisor, would hear what you can tell.

Do any wrongs want righting? The Father tries his best,

But, since he 's only mortal, sends such as I to test

The truth of all that 's told him—how folk like you may fare:

Come!—only don't stop eating—when mouth has words to spare—

"You"—smiled he—"play the spokesman, bell-wether of the flock!Are times good, masters gentle? Your grievances unlock!How of your work and wages?—pleasures, if such may be—Pains, as such are for certain." Thus smiling questioned he.

"You"—smiled he—"play the spokesman, bell-wether of the flock!

Are times good, masters gentle? Your grievances unlock!

How of your work and wages?—pleasures, if such may be—

Pains, as such are for certain." Thus smiling questioned he.

But somehow, spite of smiling, awe stole upon the group—An inexpressible surmise: why should a priest thus stoop—Pry into what concerned folk? Each visage fell. Aware,Cries Sixtus interposing: "Nay, children, have no care!

But somehow, spite of smiling, awe stole upon the group—

An inexpressible surmise: why should a priest thus stoop—

Pry into what concerned folk? Each visage fell. Aware,

Cries Sixtus interposing: "Nay, children, have no care!

"Fear nothing! Who employs me requires the plain truth. PelfBeguiles who should inform me: so, I inform myself.See!" And he drew his hood back, let the close vesture ope,Showed face, and where on tippet the cross lay: 't was the Pope.

"Fear nothing! Who employs me requires the plain truth. Pelf

Beguiles who should inform me: so, I inform myself.

See!" And he drew his hood back, let the close vesture ope,

Showed face, and where on tippet the cross lay: 't was the Pope.

Imagine the joyful wonder! "How shall the like of us—Poor souls—requite such blessing of our rude bean-feast?" "Thus—Thus amply!" laughed Pope Sixtus. "I early rise, sleep late:Who works may eat: they tempt me, your beans there: spare a plate!"

Imagine the joyful wonder! "How shall the like of us—

Poor souls—requite such blessing of our rude bean-feast?" "Thus—

Thus amply!" laughed Pope Sixtus. "I early rise, sleep late:

Who works may eat: they tempt me, your beans there: spare a plate!"

Down sat he on the door-step: 't was they this time said grace:He ate up the last mouthful, wiped lips, and then, with faceTurned heavenward, broke forth thankful: "Not now, that earth obeysThy word in mine, that through me the peoples know Thy ways—

Down sat he on the door-step: 't was they this time said grace:

He ate up the last mouthful, wiped lips, and then, with face

Turned heavenward, broke forth thankful: "Not now, that earth obeys

Thy word in mine, that through me the peoples know Thy ways—

"But that Thy care extendeth to Nature's homely wants,And, while man's mind is strengthened, Thy goodness nowise scantsMan's body of its comfort,—that I whom kings and queensCrouch to, pick crumbs from off my table, relish beans!The thunders I but seem to launch, there plain Thy hand all see:That I have appetite, digest, and thrive—that boon 's for me."

"But that Thy care extendeth to Nature's homely wants,

And, while man's mind is strengthened, Thy goodness nowise scants

Man's body of its comfort,—that I whom kings and queens

Crouch to, pick crumbs from off my table, relish beans!

The thunders I but seem to launch, there plain Thy hand all see:

That I have appetite, digest, and thrive—that boon 's for me."

Frowned the Laird on the Lord: "So, red-handed I catch thee?Death-doomed by our Law of the Border!We 've a gallows outside and a chiel to dispatch thee:Who trespasses—hangs: all 's in order."He met frown with smile, did the young English gallant:Then the Laird's dame: "Nay, Husband, I beg!He 's comely: be merciful! Grace for the callant—If he marries our Muckle-mouth Meg!""No mile-wide-mouthed monster of yours do I marry:Grant rather the gallows!" laughed he."Foul fare kith and kin of you—why do you tarry?""To tame your fierce temper!" quoth she."Shove him quick in the Hole, shut him fast for a week:Cold, darkness, and hunger work wonders:Who lion-like roars now, mouse-fashion will squeak,And 'it rains' soon succeed to 'it thunders.'"A week did he bide in the cold and the dark—Not hunger: for duly at morningIn flitted a lass, and a voice like a larkChirped, "Muckle-mouth Meg still ye 're scorning?"Go hang, but here 's parritch to hearten ye first!""Did Meg's muckle-mouth boast within someSuch music as yours, mine should match it or burst:No frog-jaws! So tell folk, my Winsome!"Soon week came to end, and, from Hole's door set wide,Out he marched, and there waited the lassie:"Yon gallows, or Muckle-mouth Meg for a bride!Consider! Sky 's blue and turf 's grassy:"Life 's sweet: shall I say ye wed Muckle-mouth Meg?""Not I," quoth the stout heart: "too eerieThe mouth that can swallow a bubblyjock's egg;Shall I let it munch mine? Never, Dearie!""Not Muckle-mouth Meg? Wow, the obstinate man!Perhaps he would rather wed me!""Ay, would he—with just for a dowry your can!""I 'm Muckle-mouth Meg," chirruped she."Then so—so—so—so—" as he kissed her apace—"Will I widen thee out till thou turnestFrom Margaret Minnikin—mou', by God's grace,To Muckle-mouth Meg in good earnest!"

Frowned the Laird on the Lord: "So, red-handed I catch thee?Death-doomed by our Law of the Border!We 've a gallows outside and a chiel to dispatch thee:Who trespasses—hangs: all 's in order."

Frowned the Laird on the Lord: "So, red-handed I catch thee?

Death-doomed by our Law of the Border!

We 've a gallows outside and a chiel to dispatch thee:

Who trespasses—hangs: all 's in order."

He met frown with smile, did the young English gallant:Then the Laird's dame: "Nay, Husband, I beg!He 's comely: be merciful! Grace for the callant—If he marries our Muckle-mouth Meg!"

He met frown with smile, did the young English gallant:

Then the Laird's dame: "Nay, Husband, I beg!

He 's comely: be merciful! Grace for the callant

—If he marries our Muckle-mouth Meg!"

"No mile-wide-mouthed monster of yours do I marry:Grant rather the gallows!" laughed he."Foul fare kith and kin of you—why do you tarry?""To tame your fierce temper!" quoth she.

"No mile-wide-mouthed monster of yours do I marry:

Grant rather the gallows!" laughed he.

"Foul fare kith and kin of you—why do you tarry?"

"To tame your fierce temper!" quoth she.

"Shove him quick in the Hole, shut him fast for a week:Cold, darkness, and hunger work wonders:Who lion-like roars now, mouse-fashion will squeak,And 'it rains' soon succeed to 'it thunders.'"

"Shove him quick in the Hole, shut him fast for a week:

Cold, darkness, and hunger work wonders:

Who lion-like roars now, mouse-fashion will squeak,

And 'it rains' soon succeed to 'it thunders.'"

A week did he bide in the cold and the dark—Not hunger: for duly at morningIn flitted a lass, and a voice like a larkChirped, "Muckle-mouth Meg still ye 're scorning?

A week did he bide in the cold and the dark

—Not hunger: for duly at morning

In flitted a lass, and a voice like a lark

Chirped, "Muckle-mouth Meg still ye 're scorning?

"Go hang, but here 's parritch to hearten ye first!""Did Meg's muckle-mouth boast within someSuch music as yours, mine should match it or burst:No frog-jaws! So tell folk, my Winsome!"

"Go hang, but here 's parritch to hearten ye first!"

"Did Meg's muckle-mouth boast within some

Such music as yours, mine should match it or burst:

No frog-jaws! So tell folk, my Winsome!"

Soon week came to end, and, from Hole's door set wide,Out he marched, and there waited the lassie:"Yon gallows, or Muckle-mouth Meg for a bride!Consider! Sky 's blue and turf 's grassy:

Soon week came to end, and, from Hole's door set wide,

Out he marched, and there waited the lassie:

"Yon gallows, or Muckle-mouth Meg for a bride!

Consider! Sky 's blue and turf 's grassy:

"Life 's sweet: shall I say ye wed Muckle-mouth Meg?""Not I," quoth the stout heart: "too eerieThe mouth that can swallow a bubblyjock's egg;Shall I let it munch mine? Never, Dearie!"

"Life 's sweet: shall I say ye wed Muckle-mouth Meg?"

"Not I," quoth the stout heart: "too eerie

The mouth that can swallow a bubblyjock's egg;

Shall I let it munch mine? Never, Dearie!"

"Not Muckle-mouth Meg? Wow, the obstinate man!Perhaps he would rather wed me!""Ay, would he—with just for a dowry your can!""I 'm Muckle-mouth Meg," chirruped she.

"Not Muckle-mouth Meg? Wow, the obstinate man!

Perhaps he would rather wed me!"

"Ay, would he—with just for a dowry your can!"

"I 'm Muckle-mouth Meg," chirruped she.

"Then so—so—so—so—" as he kissed her apace—"Will I widen thee out till thou turnestFrom Margaret Minnikin—mou', by God's grace,To Muckle-mouth Meg in good earnest!"

"Then so—so—so—so—" as he kissed her apace—

"Will I widen thee out till thou turnest

From Margaret Minnikin—mou', by God's grace,

To Muckle-mouth Meg in good earnest!"

A.You blame me that I ran away?Why, Sir, the enemy advanced:Balls flew about, and—who can sayBut one, if I stood firm, had glancedIn my direction? Cowardice?I only know we don't live twice,Therefore—shun death, is my advice.B.Shun death at all risks? Well, at some!True, I myself, Sir, though I scoldThe cowardly, by no means comeUnder reproof as overbold—I, who would have no end of brutesCut up alive to guess what suitsMy case and saves my toe from shoots.

A.You blame me that I ran away?

Why, Sir, the enemy advanced:

Balls flew about, and—who can say

But one, if I stood firm, had glanced

In my direction? Cowardice?

I only know we don't live twice,

Therefore—shun death, is my advice.

B.Shun death at all risks? Well, at some!True, I myself, Sir, though I scoldThe cowardly, by no means comeUnder reproof as overbold—I, who would have no end of brutesCut up alive to guess what suitsMy case and saves my toe from shoots.

B.Shun death at all risks? Well, at some!

True, I myself, Sir, though I scold

The cowardly, by no means come

Under reproof as overbold

—I, who would have no end of brutes

Cut up alive to guess what suits

My case and saves my toe from shoots.

She.Yet womanhood you reverence,So you profess!He.With heart and soul.She.Of which fact this is evidence!To help Art-study,—for some doleOf certain wretched shillings,—youInduce a woman—virgin too—To strip and stand stark-naked?He.True.She.Nor feel you so degrade her?He.What—(Excuse the interruption)—clingsHalf-savage-like around your hat?She.Ah, do they please you? Wild-bird-wings!Next season,—Paris-prints assert,—We must go feathered to the skirt:My modiste keeps on the alert.Owls, hawks, jays—swallows most approve.He.Dare I speak plainly?She.Oh, I trust!He.Then, Lady Blanche, it less would moveIn heart and soul of me disgustDid you strip off those spoils you wear,And stand—for thanks, not shillings—bareTo help Art like my Model there.Shewell knew what absolved her—praiseIn me for God's surpassing good,Who granted to my reverent gazeA type of purest womanhood.You—clothed with murder of his bestOf harmless beings—stand the test!What is ityouknow?She.That you jest!

She.Yet womanhood you reverence,

So you profess!

He.With heart and soul.

She.Of which fact this is evidence!

To help Art-study,—for some dole

Of certain wretched shillings,—you

Induce a woman—virgin too—

To strip and stand stark-naked?

He.True.

She.Nor feel you so degrade her?

He.What

—(Excuse the interruption)—clings

Half-savage-like around your hat?

She.Ah, do they please you? Wild-bird-wings!

Next season,—Paris-prints assert,—

We must go feathered to the skirt:

My modiste keeps on the alert.

Owls, hawks, jays—swallows most approve.He.Dare I speak plainly?She.Oh, I trust!He.Then, Lady Blanche, it less would moveIn heart and soul of me disgustDid you strip off those spoils you wear,And stand—for thanks, not shillings—bareTo help Art like my Model there.Shewell knew what absolved her—praiseIn me for God's surpassing good,Who granted to my reverent gazeA type of purest womanhood.You—clothed with murder of his bestOf harmless beings—stand the test!What is ityouknow?She.That you jest!

Owls, hawks, jays—swallows most approve.

He.Dare I speak plainly?

She.Oh, I trust!

He.Then, Lady Blanche, it less would move

In heart and soul of me disgust

Did you strip off those spoils you wear,

And stand—for thanks, not shillings—bare

To help Art like my Model there.

Shewell knew what absolved her—praise

In me for God's surpassing good,

Who granted to my reverent gaze

A type of purest womanhood.

You—clothed with murder of his best

Of harmless beings—stand the test!

What is ityouknow?

She.That you jest!

Stop rowing! This one of our bye-canalsO'er a certain bridge you have to crossThat 's named, "Of the Angel:" listen why!The name "Of the Devil" too much appallsVenetian acquaintance, so—his the loss,While the gain goes ... look on high!An angel visibly guards, yon house:Above each scutcheon—a pair—stands he,Enfolds them with droop of either wing:The family's fortune were perilousDid he thence depart—you will soon agree,If I hitch into verse the thing.For, once on a time, this house belongedTo a lawyer of note, with law and to spare,But also with overmuch lust of gain:In the matter of law you were nowise wronged,But alas for the lucre! He picked you bareTo the bone. Did folk complain?"I exact," growled he, "work's rightful due:'T is folk seek me, not I seek them.Advice at its price! They succeed or fail,Get law in each case—and a lesson too:Keep clear of the Courts—is advicead rem:They 'll remember, I 'll be bail!"So, he pocketed fee without a qualm.What reason for squeamishness? Labor done,To play he betook him with lightened heart,Ate, drank, and made merry with song or psalm,Since the yoke of the Church is an easy one—Fits neck nor causes smart.Brief: never was such an extortionateRascal—the word has escaped my teeth!And yet—(all 's down in a book no assIndited, believe me!)—this reprobateWas punctual at prayer-time: gold lurked beneathAlloy of the rankest brass.For, play the extortioner as he might,Fleece folk each day and all day long,There was this redeeming circumstance:He never lay down to sleep at nightBut he put up a prayer first, brief yet strong,"Our Lady avert mischance!"Now it happened at close of a fructuous week"I must ask," quoth he, "some Saint to dine:I want that widow well out of my earsWith her ailing and wailing. Who bade her seekRedress at my hands? 'She was wronged!' Folk whineIf to Law wrong right appears."Matteo da Bascio—he 's my man!No less than Chief of the Capucins:His presence will surely suffumigateMy house—fools think lies under a banIf somebody loses what somebody wins.Hark, there he knocks at the grate!"Come in, thou blessed of Mother Church!I go and prepare—to bid, that is,My trusty and diligent servitorGet all things in readiness. Vain the searchThrough Venice for one to compare with thisMy model of ministrants: for—"For—once again, nay, three times over,My helpmate 's an ape! so intelligent,I train him to drudge at household work:He toils and he moils, I live in clover:Oh, you shall see! There 's a goodly scent—From his cooking, or I 'm a Turk!"Scarce need to descend and supervise:I 'll do it, however: wait here awhile!"So, down to the kitchen gayly scuttlesOur host, nor notes the alarmed surmiseOf the holy man. "O depth of guile!He blindly guzzles and guttles,"While—who is it dresses the food and poursThe liquor? Some fiend—I make no doubt—In likeness of—which of the loathly brutes?An ape! Where hides he? No bull that gores,No bear that hugs—'t is the mock and floutOf an ape, fiend's face that suits."So—out with thee, creature, wherever thou hidest!I charge thee, by virtue of ... right do I judge!There skulks he perdue, crouching under the bed.Well done! What, forsooth, in beast's shape thou confidest?I know and would name thee but that I begrudgeBreath spent on such carrion. Instead—"I adjure thee by——" "Stay!" laughed the portent that roseFrom floor up to ceiling: "No need to adjure!See Satan in person, late ape by commandOf Him thou adjurest in vain. A saint's noseScents brimstone though incense be burned for a lure.Yet, hence! for I 'm safe, understand!"'T is my charge to convey to fit punishment's placeThis lawyer, my liegeman, for cruelty wroughtOn his clients, the widow and orphan, poor soulsHe has plagued by exactions which proved law's disgrace,Made equity void and to nothingness broughtGod's pity. Fiends, on with fresh coals!""Stay!" nowise confounded, withstands Hell its match:"How comes it, were truth in this story of thine,God's punishment suffered a minute's delay?Weeks, months have elapsed since thou squattedst at watchFor a spring on thy victim: what caused thee declineAdvantage till challenged to-day?""That challenge I meet with contempt," quoth the fiend."Thus much I acknowledge: the man 's armed in mail:I wait till a joint 's loose, then quick ply my claws.Thy friend's one good custom—he knows not—has screenedHis flesh hitherto from what else would assail:At 'Save me, Madonna!' I pause."That prayer did the losel but once pretermit,My pounce were upon him. I keep me attent:He 's in safety but till he 's caught napping. Enough!""Ay, enough!" smiles the Saint—"for the biter is bit,The spy caught in somnolence. Vanish! I'm sentTo smooth up what fiends do in rough.""I vanish? Through wall or through roof?" the ripostGrinned gayly. "My orders were—'Leave not unharmedThe abode of this lawyer! Do damage to prove'T was for something thou quittedst the land of the lost—To add to their number this unit!' Though charmedFrom descent there, on earth that 's above"I may haply amerce him." "So do, and begone,I command thee! For, look! Though there 's doorway behindAnd window before thee, go straight through the wall,Leave a breach in the brickwork, a gap in the stoneFor who passes to stare at!" "Spare speech! I 'm resigned:Here goes!" roared the goblin, as all—Wide bat-wings, spread arms and legs, tail out a-stream,Crash obstacles went, right and left, as he soaredOr else sank, was clean gone through the hole anyhow.The Saint returned thanks: then a satisfied gleamOn the bald polished pate showed that triumph was scored."To dinner with appetite now!"Down he trips. "In good time!" smirks the host. "Didst thou scentRich savor of roast meat? Where hides he, my ape?Look alive, be alert! He 's away to wash plates.Sit down, Saint! What 's here? Dost examine a rentIn the napkin thou twistest and twirlest? Agape ...Ha, blood is it drips nor abates"From thy wringing a cloth, late was lavendered fair?What means such a marvel?" "Just this does it mean:I convince and convict thee of sin!" answers straightThe Saint, wringing on, wringing ever—oh, rare!—Blood—blood from a napery snow not more clean."A miracle shows thee thy state!"See—blood thy extortions have wrung from the fleshOf thy clients who, sheep-like, arrived to be shorn,And left thee—or fleeced to the quick or so flayedThat, behold, their blood gurgles and grumbles afreshTo accuse thee! Ay, down on thy knees, get up swornTo restore! Restitution once made,"Sin no more! Dost thou promise? Absolved, then, arise!Upstairs follow me! Art amazed at yon breach?Who battered and shattered and scattered, escapeFrom thy purlieus obtaining? That Father of LiesThou wast wont to extol for his feats, all and eachThe Devil 's disguised as thine ape!"Be sure that our lawyer was torn by remorse,Shed tears in a flood, vowed and swore so to alterHis ways that how else could our Saint but declareHe was cleansed of past sin? "For sin future—fare worseThou undoubtedly wilt," warned the Saint, "shouldst thou falterOne whit!" "Oh, for that have no care!"I am firm in my purposed amendment. But, prithee,Must ever affront and affright me yon gap?Who made it for exit may find it of useFor entrance as easy. If, down in his smithyHe forges me fetters—when heated, mayhap,He 'll up with an armful! Broke loose—"How bar him out henceforth?" "Judiciously urged!"Was the good man's reply. "How to balk him is plain.There 's nothing the Devil objects to so much,So speedily flies from, as one of those purgedOf his presence, the angels who erst formed his train—His, their emperor. Choose one of such!"Get fashioned his likeness and set him on highAt back of the breach thus adroitly filled up:Display him as guard of two scutcheons, thy arms:I warrant no devil attempts to get byAnd disturb thee so guarded. Eat, drink, dine, and sup,In thy rectitude, safe from alarms!"So said and so done. See, the angel has placeWhere the Devil has passage! All 's down in a book.Gainsay me? Consult it! Still faithless? Trustme?Trust Father Boverio who gave me the caseIn his Annals—gets of it, by hook or by crook,Two confirmative witnesses: threeAre surely enough to establish an act:And thereby we learn—would we ascertain truth—To trust wise tradition which took, at the time,Note that served till slow history ventured on fact,Though folk have their fling at tradition forsooth!Row, boys, fore and aft, rhyme and chime!

Stop rowing! This one of our bye-canals

O'er a certain bridge you have to cross

That 's named, "Of the Angel:" listen why!

The name "Of the Devil" too much appalls

Venetian acquaintance, so—his the loss,

While the gain goes ... look on high!

An angel visibly guards, yon house:Above each scutcheon—a pair—stands he,Enfolds them with droop of either wing:The family's fortune were perilousDid he thence depart—you will soon agree,If I hitch into verse the thing.

An angel visibly guards, yon house:

Above each scutcheon—a pair—stands he,

Enfolds them with droop of either wing:

The family's fortune were perilous

Did he thence depart—you will soon agree,

If I hitch into verse the thing.

For, once on a time, this house belongedTo a lawyer of note, with law and to spare,But also with overmuch lust of gain:In the matter of law you were nowise wronged,But alas for the lucre! He picked you bareTo the bone. Did folk complain?

For, once on a time, this house belonged

To a lawyer of note, with law and to spare,

But also with overmuch lust of gain:

In the matter of law you were nowise wronged,

But alas for the lucre! He picked you bare

To the bone. Did folk complain?

"I exact," growled he, "work's rightful due:'T is folk seek me, not I seek them.Advice at its price! They succeed or fail,Get law in each case—and a lesson too:Keep clear of the Courts—is advicead rem:They 'll remember, I 'll be bail!"

"I exact," growled he, "work's rightful due:

'T is folk seek me, not I seek them.

Advice at its price! They succeed or fail,

Get law in each case—and a lesson too:

Keep clear of the Courts—is advicead rem:

They 'll remember, I 'll be bail!"

So, he pocketed fee without a qualm.What reason for squeamishness? Labor done,To play he betook him with lightened heart,Ate, drank, and made merry with song or psalm,Since the yoke of the Church is an easy one—Fits neck nor causes smart.

So, he pocketed fee without a qualm.

What reason for squeamishness? Labor done,

To play he betook him with lightened heart,

Ate, drank, and made merry with song or psalm,

Since the yoke of the Church is an easy one—

Fits neck nor causes smart.

Brief: never was such an extortionateRascal—the word has escaped my teeth!And yet—(all 's down in a book no assIndited, believe me!)—this reprobateWas punctual at prayer-time: gold lurked beneathAlloy of the rankest brass.

Brief: never was such an extortionate

Rascal—the word has escaped my teeth!

And yet—(all 's down in a book no ass

Indited, believe me!)—this reprobate

Was punctual at prayer-time: gold lurked beneath

Alloy of the rankest brass.

For, play the extortioner as he might,Fleece folk each day and all day long,There was this redeeming circumstance:He never lay down to sleep at nightBut he put up a prayer first, brief yet strong,"Our Lady avert mischance!"

For, play the extortioner as he might,

Fleece folk each day and all day long,

There was this redeeming circumstance:

He never lay down to sleep at night

But he put up a prayer first, brief yet strong,

"Our Lady avert mischance!"

Now it happened at close of a fructuous week"I must ask," quoth he, "some Saint to dine:I want that widow well out of my earsWith her ailing and wailing. Who bade her seekRedress at my hands? 'She was wronged!' Folk whineIf to Law wrong right appears.

Now it happened at close of a fructuous week

"I must ask," quoth he, "some Saint to dine:

I want that widow well out of my ears

With her ailing and wailing. Who bade her seek

Redress at my hands? 'She was wronged!' Folk whine

If to Law wrong right appears.

"Matteo da Bascio—he 's my man!No less than Chief of the Capucins:His presence will surely suffumigateMy house—fools think lies under a banIf somebody loses what somebody wins.Hark, there he knocks at the grate!

"Matteo da Bascio—he 's my man!

No less than Chief of the Capucins:

His presence will surely suffumigate

My house—fools think lies under a ban

If somebody loses what somebody wins.

Hark, there he knocks at the grate!

"Come in, thou blessed of Mother Church!I go and prepare—to bid, that is,My trusty and diligent servitorGet all things in readiness. Vain the searchThrough Venice for one to compare with thisMy model of ministrants: for—

"Come in, thou blessed of Mother Church!

I go and prepare—to bid, that is,

My trusty and diligent servitor

Get all things in readiness. Vain the search

Through Venice for one to compare with this

My model of ministrants: for—

"For—once again, nay, three times over,My helpmate 's an ape! so intelligent,I train him to drudge at household work:He toils and he moils, I live in clover:Oh, you shall see! There 's a goodly scent—From his cooking, or I 'm a Turk!

"For—once again, nay, three times over,

My helpmate 's an ape! so intelligent,

I train him to drudge at household work:

He toils and he moils, I live in clover:

Oh, you shall see! There 's a goodly scent—

From his cooking, or I 'm a Turk!

"Scarce need to descend and supervise:I 'll do it, however: wait here awhile!"So, down to the kitchen gayly scuttlesOur host, nor notes the alarmed surmiseOf the holy man. "O depth of guile!He blindly guzzles and guttles,

"Scarce need to descend and supervise:

I 'll do it, however: wait here awhile!"

So, down to the kitchen gayly scuttles

Our host, nor notes the alarmed surmise

Of the holy man. "O depth of guile!

He blindly guzzles and guttles,

"While—who is it dresses the food and poursThe liquor? Some fiend—I make no doubt—In likeness of—which of the loathly brutes?An ape! Where hides he? No bull that gores,No bear that hugs—'t is the mock and floutOf an ape, fiend's face that suits.

"While—who is it dresses the food and pours

The liquor? Some fiend—I make no doubt—

In likeness of—which of the loathly brutes?

An ape! Where hides he? No bull that gores,

No bear that hugs—'t is the mock and flout

Of an ape, fiend's face that suits.

"So—out with thee, creature, wherever thou hidest!I charge thee, by virtue of ... right do I judge!There skulks he perdue, crouching under the bed.Well done! What, forsooth, in beast's shape thou confidest?I know and would name thee but that I begrudgeBreath spent on such carrion. Instead—

"So—out with thee, creature, wherever thou hidest!

I charge thee, by virtue of ... right do I judge!

There skulks he perdue, crouching under the bed.

Well done! What, forsooth, in beast's shape thou confidest?

I know and would name thee but that I begrudge

Breath spent on such carrion. Instead—

"I adjure thee by——" "Stay!" laughed the portent that roseFrom floor up to ceiling: "No need to adjure!See Satan in person, late ape by commandOf Him thou adjurest in vain. A saint's noseScents brimstone though incense be burned for a lure.Yet, hence! for I 'm safe, understand!

"I adjure thee by——" "Stay!" laughed the portent that rose

From floor up to ceiling: "No need to adjure!

See Satan in person, late ape by command

Of Him thou adjurest in vain. A saint's nose

Scents brimstone though incense be burned for a lure.

Yet, hence! for I 'm safe, understand!

"'T is my charge to convey to fit punishment's placeThis lawyer, my liegeman, for cruelty wroughtOn his clients, the widow and orphan, poor soulsHe has plagued by exactions which proved law's disgrace,Made equity void and to nothingness broughtGod's pity. Fiends, on with fresh coals!"

"'T is my charge to convey to fit punishment's place

This lawyer, my liegeman, for cruelty wrought

On his clients, the widow and orphan, poor souls

He has plagued by exactions which proved law's disgrace,

Made equity void and to nothingness brought

God's pity. Fiends, on with fresh coals!"

"Stay!" nowise confounded, withstands Hell its match:"How comes it, were truth in this story of thine,God's punishment suffered a minute's delay?Weeks, months have elapsed since thou squattedst at watchFor a spring on thy victim: what caused thee declineAdvantage till challenged to-day?"

"Stay!" nowise confounded, withstands Hell its match:

"How comes it, were truth in this story of thine,

God's punishment suffered a minute's delay?

Weeks, months have elapsed since thou squattedst at watch

For a spring on thy victim: what caused thee decline

Advantage till challenged to-day?"

"That challenge I meet with contempt," quoth the fiend."Thus much I acknowledge: the man 's armed in mail:I wait till a joint 's loose, then quick ply my claws.Thy friend's one good custom—he knows not—has screenedHis flesh hitherto from what else would assail:At 'Save me, Madonna!' I pause.

"That challenge I meet with contempt," quoth the fiend.

"Thus much I acknowledge: the man 's armed in mail:

I wait till a joint 's loose, then quick ply my claws.

Thy friend's one good custom—he knows not—has screened

His flesh hitherto from what else would assail:

At 'Save me, Madonna!' I pause.

"That prayer did the losel but once pretermit,My pounce were upon him. I keep me attent:He 's in safety but till he 's caught napping. Enough!""Ay, enough!" smiles the Saint—"for the biter is bit,The spy caught in somnolence. Vanish! I'm sentTo smooth up what fiends do in rough."

"That prayer did the losel but once pretermit,

My pounce were upon him. I keep me attent:

He 's in safety but till he 's caught napping. Enough!"

"Ay, enough!" smiles the Saint—"for the biter is bit,

The spy caught in somnolence. Vanish! I'm sent

To smooth up what fiends do in rough."

"I vanish? Through wall or through roof?" the ripostGrinned gayly. "My orders were—'Leave not unharmedThe abode of this lawyer! Do damage to prove'T was for something thou quittedst the land of the lost—To add to their number this unit!' Though charmedFrom descent there, on earth that 's above

"I vanish? Through wall or through roof?" the ripost

Grinned gayly. "My orders were—'Leave not unharmed

The abode of this lawyer! Do damage to prove

'T was for something thou quittedst the land of the lost—

To add to their number this unit!' Though charmed

From descent there, on earth that 's above

"I may haply amerce him." "So do, and begone,I command thee! For, look! Though there 's doorway behindAnd window before thee, go straight through the wall,Leave a breach in the brickwork, a gap in the stoneFor who passes to stare at!" "Spare speech! I 'm resigned:Here goes!" roared the goblin, as all—

"I may haply amerce him." "So do, and begone,

I command thee! For, look! Though there 's doorway behind

And window before thee, go straight through the wall,

Leave a breach in the brickwork, a gap in the stone

For who passes to stare at!" "Spare speech! I 'm resigned:

Here goes!" roared the goblin, as all—

Wide bat-wings, spread arms and legs, tail out a-stream,Crash obstacles went, right and left, as he soaredOr else sank, was clean gone through the hole anyhow.The Saint returned thanks: then a satisfied gleamOn the bald polished pate showed that triumph was scored."To dinner with appetite now!"

Wide bat-wings, spread arms and legs, tail out a-stream,

Crash obstacles went, right and left, as he soared

Or else sank, was clean gone through the hole anyhow.

The Saint returned thanks: then a satisfied gleam

On the bald polished pate showed that triumph was scored.

"To dinner with appetite now!"

Down he trips. "In good time!" smirks the host. "Didst thou scentRich savor of roast meat? Where hides he, my ape?Look alive, be alert! He 's away to wash plates.Sit down, Saint! What 's here? Dost examine a rentIn the napkin thou twistest and twirlest? Agape ...Ha, blood is it drips nor abates

Down he trips. "In good time!" smirks the host. "Didst thou scent

Rich savor of roast meat? Where hides he, my ape?

Look alive, be alert! He 's away to wash plates.

Sit down, Saint! What 's here? Dost examine a rent

In the napkin thou twistest and twirlest? Agape ...

Ha, blood is it drips nor abates

"From thy wringing a cloth, late was lavendered fair?What means such a marvel?" "Just this does it mean:I convince and convict thee of sin!" answers straightThe Saint, wringing on, wringing ever—oh, rare!—Blood—blood from a napery snow not more clean."A miracle shows thee thy state!

"From thy wringing a cloth, late was lavendered fair?

What means such a marvel?" "Just this does it mean:

I convince and convict thee of sin!" answers straight

The Saint, wringing on, wringing ever—oh, rare!—

Blood—blood from a napery snow not more clean.

"A miracle shows thee thy state!

"See—blood thy extortions have wrung from the fleshOf thy clients who, sheep-like, arrived to be shorn,And left thee—or fleeced to the quick or so flayedThat, behold, their blood gurgles and grumbles afreshTo accuse thee! Ay, down on thy knees, get up swornTo restore! Restitution once made,

"See—blood thy extortions have wrung from the flesh

Of thy clients who, sheep-like, arrived to be shorn,

And left thee—or fleeced to the quick or so flayed

That, behold, their blood gurgles and grumbles afresh

To accuse thee! Ay, down on thy knees, get up sworn

To restore! Restitution once made,

"Sin no more! Dost thou promise? Absolved, then, arise!Upstairs follow me! Art amazed at yon breach?Who battered and shattered and scattered, escapeFrom thy purlieus obtaining? That Father of LiesThou wast wont to extol for his feats, all and eachThe Devil 's disguised as thine ape!"

"Sin no more! Dost thou promise? Absolved, then, arise!

Upstairs follow me! Art amazed at yon breach?

Who battered and shattered and scattered, escape

From thy purlieus obtaining? That Father of Lies

Thou wast wont to extol for his feats, all and each

The Devil 's disguised as thine ape!"

Be sure that our lawyer was torn by remorse,Shed tears in a flood, vowed and swore so to alterHis ways that how else could our Saint but declareHe was cleansed of past sin? "For sin future—fare worseThou undoubtedly wilt," warned the Saint, "shouldst thou falterOne whit!" "Oh, for that have no care!

Be sure that our lawyer was torn by remorse,

Shed tears in a flood, vowed and swore so to alter

His ways that how else could our Saint but declare

He was cleansed of past sin? "For sin future—fare worse

Thou undoubtedly wilt," warned the Saint, "shouldst thou falter

One whit!" "Oh, for that have no care!

"I am firm in my purposed amendment. But, prithee,Must ever affront and affright me yon gap?Who made it for exit may find it of useFor entrance as easy. If, down in his smithyHe forges me fetters—when heated, mayhap,He 'll up with an armful! Broke loose—

"I am firm in my purposed amendment. But, prithee,

Must ever affront and affright me yon gap?

Who made it for exit may find it of use

For entrance as easy. If, down in his smithy

He forges me fetters—when heated, mayhap,

He 'll up with an armful! Broke loose—

"How bar him out henceforth?" "Judiciously urged!"Was the good man's reply. "How to balk him is plain.There 's nothing the Devil objects to so much,So speedily flies from, as one of those purgedOf his presence, the angels who erst formed his train—His, their emperor. Choose one of such!

"How bar him out henceforth?" "Judiciously urged!"

Was the good man's reply. "How to balk him is plain.

There 's nothing the Devil objects to so much,

So speedily flies from, as one of those purged

Of his presence, the angels who erst formed his train—

His, their emperor. Choose one of such!

"Get fashioned his likeness and set him on highAt back of the breach thus adroitly filled up:Display him as guard of two scutcheons, thy arms:I warrant no devil attempts to get byAnd disturb thee so guarded. Eat, drink, dine, and sup,In thy rectitude, safe from alarms!"

"Get fashioned his likeness and set him on high

At back of the breach thus adroitly filled up:

Display him as guard of two scutcheons, thy arms:

I warrant no devil attempts to get by

And disturb thee so guarded. Eat, drink, dine, and sup,

In thy rectitude, safe from alarms!"

So said and so done. See, the angel has placeWhere the Devil has passage! All 's down in a book.Gainsay me? Consult it! Still faithless? Trustme?Trust Father Boverio who gave me the caseIn his Annals—gets of it, by hook or by crook,Two confirmative witnesses: three

So said and so done. See, the angel has place

Where the Devil has passage! All 's down in a book.

Gainsay me? Consult it! Still faithless? Trustme?

Trust Father Boverio who gave me the case

In his Annals—gets of it, by hook or by crook,

Two confirmative witnesses: three

Are surely enough to establish an act:And thereby we learn—would we ascertain truth—To trust wise tradition which took, at the time,Note that served till slow history ventured on fact,Though folk have their fling at tradition forsooth!Row, boys, fore and aft, rhyme and chime!

Are surely enough to establish an act:

And thereby we learn—would we ascertain truth—

To trust wise tradition which took, at the time,

Note that served till slow history ventured on fact,

Though folk have their fling at tradition forsooth!

Row, boys, fore and aft, rhyme and chime!

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