text:
Sordello/Book the Third

BOOK THE THIRD.

And the font took them: let our laurels lie! Braid moonfern now with mystic trifoly Because once more Goito gets, once more, Sordello to itself! A dream is o'er, And the suspended life begins anew; Quiet those throbbing temples, then, subdue That cheek's distortion! Nature's strict embrace, Putting aside the past, shall soon efface Its print as well—factitious humours grown Over the true—loves, hatreds not his own— And turn him pure as some forgotten vest Woven of painted byssus, silkiest Tufting the Tyrrhene whelk's pearl-sheeted lip, Left welter where a trireme let it slip I' the sea, and vexed a satrap; so the stain O' the world forsakes Sordello, with its pain, Its pleasure: how the tinct loosening escapes, Cloud after cloud! Mantua's familiar shapes Die, fair and foul die, fading as they flit, Men, women, and the pathos and the wit, Wise speech and foolish, deeds to smile or sigh For, good, bad, seemly or ignoble, die. The last face glances through the eglantines, The last voice murmurs, 'twixt the blossomed vines, Of Men, of that machine supplied by thought To compass self-perception with, he sought By forcing half himself—an insane pulse Of a god's blood, on clay it could convulse, Never transmute—on human sights and sounds, To watch the other half with; irksome bounds It ebbs from to its source, a fountain sealed Forever. Better sure be unrevealed Than part revealed: Sordello well or ill Is finished: then what further use of Will, Point in the prime idea not realized, An oversight? inordinately prized, No less, and pampered with enough of each Delight to prove the whole above its reach. "To need become all natures, yet retain "The law of my own nature—to remain "Myself, yet yearn . . . as if that chestnut, think, "Should yearn for this first larch-bloom crisp and pink, "Or those pale fragrant tears where zephyrs stanch "March wounds along the fretted pine-tree branch! "Will and the means to show will, great and small, "Material, spiritual,—abjure them all "Save any so distinct, they may be left "To amuse, not tempt become! and, thus bereft, "Just as I first was fashioned would I be! "Nor, moon, is it Apollo now, but me "Thou visitest to comfort and befriend! "Swim thou into my heart, and there an end, "Since I possess thee!—nay, thus shut mine eyes "And know, quite know, by this heart's fall and rise, "When thou dost bury thee in clouds, and when "Out-standest: wherefore practise upon men "To make that plainer to myself?"

Slide here Over a sweet and solitary year Wasted; or simply notice change in him— How eyes, once with exploring bright, grew dim And satiate with receiving. Some distress Was caused, too, by a sort of consciousness Under the imbecility,—nought kept That down; he slept, but was aware he slept, So, frustrated: as who brainsick made pact Erst with the overhanging cataract To deafen him, yet still distinguished plain His own blood's measured clicking at his brain.

To finish. One declining Autumn day— Few birds about the heaven chill and grey, No wind that cared trouble the tacit woods— He sauntered home complacently, their moods According, his and nature's. Every spark Of Mantua life was trodden out; so dark The embers, that the Troubadour, who sung Hundreds of songs, forgot, its trick his tongue, Its craft his brain, how either brought to pass Singing at all; that faculty might class With any of Apollo's now. The year Began to find its early promise sere As well. Thus beauty vanishes; thus stone Outlingers flesh: nature's and his youth gone, They left the world to you, and wished you joy. When, stopping his benevolent employ, A presage shuddered through the welkin; harsh The earth's remonstrance followed. 'T was the marsh Gone of a sudden. Mincio, in its place, Laughed, a broad water, in next morning's face, And, where the mists broke up immense and white I' the steady wind, burned like a spilth of light Out of the crashing of a myriad stars. And here was nature, bound by the same bars Of fate with him!

"No! youth once gone is gone: "Deeds, let escape, are never to be done. "Leaf-fall and grass-spring for the year; for us— "Oh forfeit I unalterably thus "My chance? nor two lives wait me, this to spend, "Learning save that? Nature has time, may mend "Mistake, she knows occasion will recur; "Landslip or seabreach, how affects it her "With her magnificent resources?—I "Must perish once and perish utterly. "Not any strollings now at even-close "Down the field-path, Sordello! by thorn-rows "Alive with lamp-flies, swimming spots of fire "And dew, outlining the black cypress' spire "She waits you at, Elys, who heard you first "Woo her, the snow-month through, but ere she durst "Answer 't was April. Linden-flower-time-long "Her eyes were on the ground; 't is July, strong "Now; and because white dust-clouds overwhelm "The woodside, here or by the village elm "That holds the moon, she meets you, somewhat pale, "But letting you lift up her coarse flax veil "And whisper (the damp little hand in yours) "Of love, heart's love, your heart's love that endures "Till death. Tush! No mad mixing with the rout "Of haggard ribalds wandering about "The hot torchlit wine-scented island-house "Where Friedrich holds his wickedest carouse, "Parading,—to the gay Palermitans, "Soft Messinese, dusk Saracenic clans "Nuocera holds,—those tall grave dazzling Norse, "High-cheeked, lank-haired, toothed whiter than the morse, "Queens of the caves of jet stalactites, "He sent his barks to fetch through icy seas, "The blind night seas without a saving star, "And here in snowy birdskin robes they are, "Sordello!—here, mollitious alcoves gilt "Superb as Byzant domes that devils built! "—Ah, Byzant, there again! no chance to go "Ever like august cheery Dandolo, "Worshipping hearts about him for a wall, "Conducted, blind eyes, hundred years and all, "Through vanquished Byzant where friends note for him "What pillar, marble massive, sardius slim, "'T were fittest he transport to Venice' Square— "Flattered and promised life to touch them there "Soon, by those fervid sons of senators! "No more lifes, deaths, loves, hatreds, peaces, wars! "Ah, fragments of a whole ordained to be, "Points in the life I waited! what are ye "But roundels of a ladder which appeared "Awhile the very platform it was reared "To lift me on?—that happiness I find "Proofs of my faith in, even in the blind "Instinct which bade forego you all unless "Ye led me past yourselves. Ay, happiness "Awaited me; the way life should be used "Was to acquire, and deeds like you conduced "To teach it by a self-revealment, deemed "Life's very use, so long! Whatever seemed "Progress to that, was pleasure; aught that stayed "My reaching it—no pleasure. I have laid "The ladder down; I climb not; still, aloft "The platform stretches! Blisses strong and soft, "I dared not entertain, elude me; yet "Never of what they promised could I get "A glimpse till now! The common sort, the crowd, "Exist, perceive; with Being are endowed, "However slight, distinct from what they See, "However bounded; Happiness must be, "To feed the first by gleanings from the last, "Attain its qualities, and slow or fast "Become what they behold; such peace-in-strife, "By transmutation, is the Use of Life, "The Alien turning Native to the soul "Or body—which instructs me; I am whole "There and demand a Palma; had the world "Been from my soul to a like distance hurled, "'T were Happiness to make it one with me: "Whereas I must, ere I begin to Be, "Include a world, in flesh, I comprehend "In spirit now; and this done, what 's to blend "With? Nought is Alien in the world—my Will "Owns all already; yet can turn it—still "Less—Native, since my Means to correspond "With Will are so unworthy, 't was my bond "To tread the very joys that tantalize "Most now, into a grave, never to rise. "I die then! Will the rest agree to die? "Next Age or no? Shall its Sordello try "Clue after clue, and catch at last the clue "I miss?—that 's underneath my finger too, "Twice, thrice a day, perhaps,—some yearning traced "Deeper, some petty consequence embraced "Closer! Why fled I Mantua, then?—complained "So much my Will was fettered, yet remained "Content within a tether half the range "I could assign it?—able to exchange "My ignorance (I felt) for knowledge, and "Idle because I could thus understand— "Could e'en have penetrated to its core "Our mortal mystery, yet—fool—forbore, "Preferred elaborating in the dark "My casual stuff, by any wretched spark "Born of my predecessors, though one stroke "Of mine had brought the flame forth! Mantua's yoke, "My minstrel's-trade, was to behold mankind,— "My own concern was just to bring my mind "Behold, just extricate, for my acquist, "Each object suffered stifle in the mist "Which hazard, custom, blindness interpose "Betwixt things and myself."

Whereat he rose. The level wind carried above the firs Clouds, the irrevocable travellers, Onward.

"Pushed thus into a drowsy copse, "Arms twine about my neck, each eyelid drops "Under a humid finger; while there fleets, "Outside the screen, a pageant time repeats "Never again! To be deposed, immured "Clandestinely—still petted, still assured "To govern were fatiguing work—the Sight "Fleeting meanwhile! 'T is noontide: wreak ere night "Somehow my will upon it, rather! Slake "This thirst somehow, the poorest impress take "That serves! A blasted bud displays you, torn, "Faint rudiments of the full flower unborn; "But who divines what glory coats o'erclasp "Of the bulb dormant in the mummy's grasp "Taurello sent?" . ..

"Taurello? Palma sent "Your Trouvere," (Naddo interposing leant Over the lost bard's shoulder)—"and, believe, "You cannot more reluctantly receive "Than I pronounce her message: we depart "Together. What avail a poet's heart "Verona's pomps and gauds? five blades of grass "Suffice him. News? Why, where your marish was, "On its mud-banks smoke rises after smoke "I' the valley, like a spout of hell new-broke. "Oh, the world's tidings! small your thanks, I guess, "For them. The father of our Patroness, "Has played Taurello an astounding trick, "Parts between Ecelin and Alberic "His wealth and goes into a convent: both "Wed Guelfs: the Count and Palma plighted troth "A week since at Verona: and they want "You doubtless to contrive the marriage-chant "Ere Richard storms Ferrara." Then was told The tale from the beginning—how, made bold By Salinguerra's absence, Guelfs had burned And pillaged till he unawares returned To take revenge: how Azzo and his friend Were doing their endeavour, how the end O' the siege was nigh, and how the Count, released From further care, would with his marriage-feast Inaugurate a new and better rule, Absorbing thus Romano.

"Shall I school "My master," added Naddo, "and suggest "How you may clothe in a poetic vest "These doings, at Verona? Your response "To Palma! Wherefore jest? 'Depart at once? "A good resolve! In truth, I hardly hoped "So prompt an acquiescence. Have you groped "Out wisdom in the wilds here?—thoughts may be "Over-poetical for poetry. "Pearl-white, you poets liken Palma's neck; "And yet what spoils an orient like some speck "Of genuine white, turning its own white grey? "You take me? Curse the cicala!"

One more day, One eve—appears Verona! Many a group, (You mind) instructed of the osprey's swoop On lynx and ounce, was gathering—Christendom Sure to receive, whate'er the end was, from The evening's purpose cheer or detriment, Since Friedrich only waited some event Like this, of Ghibellins establishing Themselves within Ferrara, ere, as King Of Lombardy, he 'd glad descend there, wage Old warfare with the Pontiff, disengage His barons from the burghers, and restore The rule of Charlemagne, broken of yore By Hildebrand.

I' the palace, each by each, Sordello sat and Palma: little speech At first in that dim closet, face with face (Despite the tumult in the market-place) Exchanging quick low laughters: now would rush Word upon word to meet a sudden flush, A look left off, a shifting lips' surmise— But for the most part their two histories Ran best thro' the locked fingers and linked arms. And so the night flew on with its alarms Till in burst one of Palma's retinue; "Now, Lady!" gasped he. Then arose the two And leaned into Verona's air, dead-still. A balcony lay black beneath until Out, 'mid a gush of torchfire, grey-haired men Came on it and harangued the people: then Sea-like that people surging to and fro Shouted, "Hale forth the carroch—trumpets, ho, "A flourish! Run it in the ancient grooves! "Back from the bell! Hammer—that whom behoves "May hear the League is up! Peal—learn who list, "Verona means not first of towns break tryst "To-morrow with the League!"

Enough. Now turn— Over the eastern cypresses: discern! Is any beacon set a-glimmer?

Rang The air with shouts that overpowered the clang Of the incessant carroch, even: "Haste— "The candle 's at the gateway! ere it waste, "Each soldier stand beside it, armed to march "With Tiso Sampier through the eastern arch!" Ferrara's succoured, Palma!

Once again They sat together; some strange thing in train To say, so difficult was Palma's place In taking, with a coy fastidious grace Like the bird's flutter ere it fix and feed. But when she felt she held her friend indeed Safe, she threw back her curls, began implant Her lessons; telling of another want Goito's quiet nourished than his own; Palma—to serve him—to be served, alone Importing; Agnes' milk so neutralized The blood of Ecelin. Nor be surprised If, while Sordello fain had captive led Nature, in dream was Palma subjected To some out-soul, which dawned not though she pined Delaying, till its advent, heart and mind Their life. "How dared I let expand the force "Within me, till some out-soul, whose resource "It grew for, should direct it? Every law "Of life, its every fitness, every flaw, "Must One determine whose corporeal shape "Would be no other than the prime escape "And revelation to me of a Will "Orb-like o'ershrouded and inscrutable "Above, save at the point which, I should know, "Shone that myself, my powers, might overflow "So far, so much; as now it signified "Which earthly shape it henceforth chose my guide, "Whose mortal lip selected to declare "Its oracles, what fleshly garb would wear "—The first of intimations, whom to love; "The next, how love him. Seemed that orb, above "The castle-covert and the mountain-close, "Slow in appearing?—if beneath it rose "Cravings, aversions,—did our green precinct "Take pride in me, at unawares distinct "With this or that endowment,—how, repressed "At once, such jetting power shrank to the rest! "Was I to have a chance touch spoil me, leave "My spirit thence unfitted to receive "The consummating spell?—that spell so near "Moreover! 'Waits he not the waking year? "'His almond-blossoms must be honey-ripe "'By this; to welcome him, fresh runnels stripe "'The thawed ravines; because of him, the wind "'Walks like a herald. I shall surely find "'Him now!'

"And chief, that earnest April morn "Of Richard's Love-court, was it time, so worn "And white my cheek, so idly my blood beat, "Sitting that morn beside the Lady's feet "And saying as she prompted; till outburst "One face from all the faces. Not then first "I knew it; where in maple chamber glooms, "Crowned with what sanguine-heart pomegranate blooms, "Advanced it ever? Men's acknowledgment "Sanctioned my own: 't was taken, Palma's bent,— "Sordello,—recognized, accepted.

"Dumb "Sat she still scheming. Ecelin would come "Gaunt, scared, 'Cesano baffles me,' he 'd say: "'Better I fought it out, my father's way! "'Strangle Ferrara in its drowning flats, "'And you and your Taurello yonder!—what's "'Romano's business there?' An hour's concern "To cure the froward Chief!—induce return "As heartened from those overmeaning eyes, "Wound up to persevere,—his enterprise "Marked out anew, its exigent of wit "Apportioned,—she at liberty to sit "And scheme against the next emergence, I— "To covet her Taurello-sprite, made fly "Or fold the wing—to con your horoscope "For leave command those steely shafts shoot ope, "Or straight assuage their blinding eagerness "In blank smooth snow What semblance of success "To any of my plans for making you "Mine and Romano's? Break the first wall through, "Tread o'er the ruins of the Chief, supplant "His sons beside, still, vainest were the vaunt: "There, Salinguerra would obstruct me sheer, "And the insuperable Tuscan, here, "Stay me! But one wild eve that Lady died "In her lone chamber: only I beside: "Taurello far at Naples, and my sire "At Padua, Ecelin away in ire "With Alberic. She held me thus—a clutch "To make our spirits as our bodies touch— "And so began flinging the past up heaps "Of uncouth treasure from their sunless sleeps "Within her soul; deeds rose along with dreams, "Fragments of many miserable schemes, "Secrets, more secrets, then—no, not the last— "'Mongst others, like a casual trick o' the past, "How . . . ay, she told me, gathering up her face, "All left of it, into one arch-grimace "To die with . ..

"Friend, 't is gone! but not the fear "Of that fell laughing, heard as now I hear. "Nor faltered voice, nor seemed her heart grow weak "When i' the midst abrupt she ceased to speak "—Dead, as to serve a purpose, mark!—for in "Rushed o' the very instant Ecelin "(How summoned, who divines?)—looking as if "He understood why Adelaide lay stiff "Already in my arms; for 'Girl, how must "'I manage Este in the matter thrust "'Upon me, how unravel your bad coil?— "'Since' (he declared) ''t is on your brow—a soil "'Like hers there!' then in the same breath, 'he lacked "'No counsel after all, had signed no pact "'With devils, nor was treason here or there, "'Goito or Vicenza, his affair: "'He buried it in Adelaide's deep grave, "'Would begin life afresh, now,—would not slave "'For any Friedrich's nor Taurello's sake! "'What booted him to meddle or to make "'In Lombardy?' And afterward I knew "The meaning of his promise to undo "All she had done—why marriages were made, "New friendships entered on, old followers paid "With curses for their pains,—new friends' amaze "At height, when, passing out by Gate St. Blaise, "He stopped short in Vicenza, bent his head "Over a friar's neck,—'had vowed,' he said, "'Long since, nigh thirty years, because his wife "'And child were saved there, to bestow his life "'On God, his gettings on the Church.'

"Exiled "Within Goito, still one dream beguiled "My days and nights; 't was found, the orb I sought "To serve, those glimpses came of Fomalhaut, "No other: but how serve it?—authorize "You and Romano mingle destinies? "And straight Romano's angel stood beside "Me who had else been Boniface's bride, "For Salinguerra 't was, with neck low bent, "And voice lightened to music, (as he meant "To learn, not teach me,) who withdrew the pall "From the dead past and straight revived it all, "Making me see how first Romano waxed, "Wherefore he waned now, why, if I relaxed "My grasp (even I!) would drop a thing effete, "Frayed by itself, unequal to complete "Its course, and counting every step astray "A gain so much. Romano, every way "Stable, a Lombard House now—why start back "Into the very outset of its track? "This patching principle which late allied "Our House with other Houses—what beside "Concerned the apparition, the first Knight "Who followed Conrad hither in such plight "His utmost wealth was summed in his one steed? "For Ecelo, that prowler, was decreed "A task, in the beginning hazardous "To him as ever task can be to us; "But did the weather-beaten thief despair "When first our crystal cincture of warm air "That binds the Trevisan,—as its spice-belt "(Crusaders say) the tract where Jesus dwelt,— "Furtive he pierced, and Este was to face— "Despaired Saponian strength of Lombard grace? "Tried he at making surer aught made sure, "Maturing what already was mature? "No; his heart prompted Ecelo, 'Confront "'Este, inspect yourself. What 's nature? Wont. "'Discard three-parts your nature, and adopt "'The rest as an advantage!' Old strength propped "The man who first grew Podestà among "The Vicentines, no less than, while there sprung "His palace up in Padua like a threat, "Their noblest spied a grace, unnoticed yet "In Conrad's crew. Thus far the object gained, "Romano was established—has remained— "'For are you not Italian, truly peers "'With Este? Azzo better soothes our ears "'Than Alberic? or is this lion's-crine "'From over-mounts' (this yellow hair of mine) "'So weak a graft on Agnes Este's stock?' "(Thus went he on with something of a mock) "'Wherefore recoil, then, from the very fate "'Conceded you, refuse to imitate "'Your model farther? Este long since left "'Being mere Este: as a blade its heft, "'Este required the Pope to further him: "'And you, the Kaiser—whom your father's whim "'Foregoes or, better, never shall forego "'If Palma dare pursue what Ecelo "'Commenced, but Ecelin desists from: just "'As Adelaide of Susa could intrust "'Her donative,—her Piedmont given the Pope, "'Her Alpine-pass for him to shut or ope "''Twixt France and Italy,—to the superb "'Matilda's perfecting,—so, lest aught curb "'Our Adelaide's great counter-project for "'Giving her Trentine to the Emperor "'With passage here from Germany,—shall you "'Take it,—my slender plodding talent, too!' "—Urged me Taurello with his half-smile

"He "As Patron of the scattered family "Conveyed me to his Mantua, kept in bruit "Azzo's alliances and Richard's suit "Until, the Kaiser excommunicate, "'Nothing remains,' Taurello said, 'but wait "'Some rash procedure: Palma was the link, "'As Agnes' child, between us, and they shrink "'From losing Palma: judge if we advance, "'Your father's method, your inheritance!' "The day I was betrothed to Boniface "At Padua by Taurello's self, took place "The outrage of the Ferrarese: again, "The day I sought Verona with the train "Agreed for,—by Taurello's policy "Convicting Richard of the fault, since we "Were present to annul or to confirm,— "Richard, whose patience had outstayed its term, "Quitted Verona for the siege.

"And now "What glory may engird Sordello's brow "Through this? A month since at Oliero slunk "All that was Ecelin into a monk; "But how could Salinguerra so forget "His liege of thirty years as grudge even yet "One effort to recover him? He sent "Forthwith the tidings of this last event "To Ecelin—declared that he, despite "The recent folly, recognized his right "To order Salinguerra: 'Should he wring "'Its uttermost advantage out, or fling "'This chance away? Or were his sons now Head "'O' the House?' Through me Taurello's missive sped; "My father's answer will by me return. "Behold! 'For him,' he writes, 'no more concern "'With strife than, for his children, with fresh plots "'Of Friedrich. Old engagements out he blots "'For aye: Taurello shall no more subserve, "'Nor Ecelin impose.' Lest this unnerve "Taurello at this juncture, slack his grip "Of Richard, suffer the occasion slip,— "I, in his sons' default (who, mating with "Este, forsake Romano as the frith "Its mainsea for that firmland, sea makes head "Against) I stand, Romano,—in their stead "Assume the station they desert, and give "Still, as the Kaiser's representative, "Taurello licence he demands. Midnight— "Morning—by noon to-morrow, making light "Of the League's issue, we, in some gay weed "Like yours, disguised together, may precede "The arbitrators to Ferrara: reach "Him, let Taurello's noble accents teach "The rest! Then say if I have misconceived "Your destiny, too readily believed "The Kaiser's cause your own!"

And Palma's fled. Though no affirmative disturbs the head, A dying lamp-flame sinks and rises o'er, Like the alighted planet Pollux wore, Until, morn breaking, he resolves to be Gate-vein of this heart's blood of Lombardy, Soul of this body—to wield this aggregate Of souls and bodies, and so conquer fate Though he should live—a centre of disgust Even—apart, core of the outward crust He vivifies, assimilates. For thus I bring Sordello to the rapturous Exclaim at the crowd's cry, because one round Of life was quite accomplished; and he found Not only that a soul, whate'er its might, Is insufficient to its own delight, Both in corporeal organs and in skill By means of such to body forth its Will— And, after, insufficient to apprise Men of that Will, oblige them recognize The Hid by the Revealed—but that,—the last Nor lightest of the struggles overpast,— Will, he bade abdicate, which would not void The throne, might sit there, suffer he enjoyed Mankind, a varied and divine array Incapable of homage, the first way, Nor fit to render incidentally Tribute connived at, taken by the by, In joys. If thus with warrant to rescind The ignominious exile of mankind— Whose proper service, ascertained intact As yet, (to be by him themselves made act, Not watch Sordello acting each of them) Was to secure—if the true diadem Seemed imminent while our Sordello drank The wisdom of that golden Palma,—thank Verona's Lady in her citadel Founded by Gaulish Brennus, legends tell: And truly when she left him, the sun reared A head like the first clamberer's who peered A-top the Capitol, his face on flame With triumph, triumphing till Manlius came. Nor slight too much my rhymes—that spring, dispread, Dispart, disperse, lingering over head Like an escape of angels! Rather say, My transcendental platan! mounting gay (An archimage so courts a novice-queen) With tremulous silvered trunk, whence branches sheen Laugh out, thick-foliaged next, a-shiver soon With coloured buds, then glowing like the moon One mild flame,—last a pause, a burst, and all Her ivory limbs are smothered by a fall, Bloom-flinders and fruit-sparkles and leaf-dust, Ending the weird work prosecuted just For her amusement; he decrepit, stark, Dozes; her uncontrolled delight may mark Apart—

Yet not so, surely never so Only, as good my soul were suffered go O'er the lagune: forth fare thee, put aside— Entrance thy synod, as a god may glide Out of the world he fills, and leave it mute For myriad ages as we men compute, Returning into it without a break O' the consciousness! They sleep, and I awake O'er the lagune, being at Venice.

Note, In just such songs as Eglamor (say) wrote With heart and soul and strength, for he believed Himself achieving all to be achieved By singer—in such songs you find alone Completeness, judge the song and singer one, And either purpose answered, his in it Or its in him: while from true works (to wit Sordello's dream-performances that will Never be more than dreamed) escapes there still Some proof, the singer's proper life was 'neath The life his song exhibits, this a sheath To that; a passion and a knowledge far Transcending these, majestic as they are, Smouldered; his lay was but an episode In the bard's life: which evidence you owed To some slight weariness, some looking-off Or start-away. The childish skit or scoff In "Charlemagne," (his poem, dreamed divine In every point except one silly line About the restiff daughters)—what may lurk In that? "My life commenced before this work," (So I interpret the significance Of the bard's start aside and look askance) "My life continues after: on I fare "With no more stopping, possibly, no care "To note the undercurrent, the why and how, "Where, when, o' the deeper life, as thus just now. "But, silent, shall I cease to live? Alas "For you! who sigh, 'When shall it come to pass "'We read that story? How will he compress "'The future gains, his life's true business, "'Into the better lay which—that one flout, "'Howe'er inopportune it be, lets out— "'Engrosses him already, though professed "'To meditate with us eternal rest, "'And partnership in all his life has found?'" 'T is but a sailor's promise, weather-bound: "Strike sail, slip cable, here the bark be moored "For once, the awning stretched, the poles assured! "Noontide above; except the wave's crisp dash, "Or buzz of colibri, or tortoise' splash, "The margin 's silent: out with every spoil "Made in our tracking, coil by mighty coil, "This serpent of a river to his head "I' the midst! Admire each treasure, as we spread "The bank, to help us tell our history "Aright: give ear, endeavour to descry "The groves of giant rushes, how they grew "Like demons' endlong tresses we sailed through, "What mountains yawned, forests to give us vent "Opened, each doleful side, yet on we went "Till . . . may that beetle (shake your cap) attest "The springing of a land-wind from the West!"

—Wherefore? Ah yes, you frolic it to-day! To-morrow, and, the pageant moved away Down to the poorest tent-pole, we and you Part company: no other may pursue Eastward your voyage, be informed what fate Intends, if triumph or decline await The tempter of the everlasting steppe.

I muse this on a ruined palace-step At Venice: why should I break off, nor sit Longer upon my step, exhaust the fit England gave birth to? Who 's adorable Enough reclaim a —- no Sordello's Will Alack!—be queen to me? That Bassanese Busied among her smoking fruit-boats? These Perhaps from our delicious Asolo Who twinkle, pigeons o'er the portico Not prettier, bind June lilies into sheaves To deck the bridge-side chapel, dropping leaves Soiled by their own loose gold-meal? Ah, beneath The cool arch stoops she, brownest cheek! Her wreath Endures a month—a half-month—if I make A queen of her, continue for her sake Sordello's story? Nay, that Paduan girl Splashes with barer legs where a live whirl In the dead black Giudecca proves sea-weed Drifting has sucked down three, four, all indeed Save one pale-red striped, pale-blue turbaned post For gondolas.

You sad dishevelled ghost That pluck at me and point, are you advised I breathe? Let stay those girls (e'en her disguised —Jewels i' the locks that love no crownet like Their native field-buds and the green wheat-spike, So fair!—who left this end of June's turmoil, Shook off, as might a lily its gold soil, Pomp, save a foolish gem or two, and free In dream, came join the peasants o'er the sea.) Look they too happy, too tricked out? Confess There is such niggard stock of happiness To share, that, do one's uttermost, dear wretch, One labours ineffectually to stretch It o'er you so that mother and children, both May equitably flaunt the sumpter-cloth! Divide the robe yet farther: be content With seeing just a score pre-eminent Through shreds of it, acknowledged happy wights, Engrossing what should furnish all, by rights! For, these in evidence, you clearlier claim A like garb for the rest,—grace all, the same As these my peasants. I ask youth and strength And health for each of you, not more—at length Grown wise, who asked at home that the whole race Might add the spirit's to the body's grace, And all be dizened out as chiefs and bards. But in this magic weather one discards Much old requirement. Venice seems a type Of Life—'twixt blue and blue extends, a stripe, As Life, the somewhat, hangs 'twixt nought and nought: 'T is Venice, and 't is Life—as good you sought To spare me the Piazza's slippery stone Or keep me to the unchoked canals alone, As hinder Life the evil with the good Which make up Living, rightly understood. Only, do finish something! Peasants, queens, Take them, made happy by whatever means, Parade them for the common credit, vouch That a luckless residue, we send to crouch In corners out of sight, was just as framed For happiness, its portion might have claimed As well, and so, obtaining joy, had stalked Fastuous as any!—such my project, baulked Already; I hardly venture to adjust The first rags, when you find me. To mistrust Me!—nor unreasonably. You, no doubt, Have the true knack of tiring suitors out With those thin lips on tremble, lashless eyes Inveterately tear-shot: there, be wise, Mistress of mine, there, there, as if I meant You insult!—shall your friend (not slave) be shent For speaking home? Beside, care-bit erased Broken-up beauties ever took my taste Supremely; and I love you more, far more Than her I looked should foot Life's temple-floor. Years ago, leagues at distance, when and where A whisper came, "Let others seek!—thy care "Is found, thy life's provision; if thy race "Should be thy mistress, and into one face "The many faces crowd?" Ah, had I, judge, Or no, your secret? Rough apparel—grudge All ornaments save tag or tassel worn To hint we are not thoroughly forlorn— Slouch bonnet, unloop mantle, careless go Alone (that's saddest, but it must be so) Through Venice, sing now and now glance aside, Aught desultory or undignified,— Then, ravishingest lady, will you pass Or not each formidable group, the mass Before the Basilic (that feast gone by, God's great day of the Corpus Domini) And, wistfully foregoing proper men, Come timid up to me for alms? And then The luxury to hesitate, feign do Some unexampled grace!—when, whom but you Dare I bestow your own upon? And hear Further before you say, it is to sneer I call you ravishing; for I regret Little that she, whose early foot was set Forth as she 'd plant it on a pedestal, Now, i' the silent city, seems to fall Toward me—no wreath, only a lip's unrest To quiet, surcharged eyelids to be pressed Dry of their tears upon my bosom. Strange Such sad chance should produce in thee such change, My love! Warped souls and bodies! yet God spoke Of right-hand, foot and eye—selects our yoke, Sordello, as your poetship may find! So, sleep upon my shoulder, child, nor mind Their foolish talk; we 'll manage reinstate Your old worth; ask moreover, when they prate Of evil men past hope, "Don't each contrive, "Despite the evil you abuse, to live?— "Keeping, each losel, through a maze of lies, "His own conceit of truth? to which he hies "By obscure windings, tortuous, if you will, "But to himself not inaccessible; "He sees truth, and his lies are for the crowd "Who cannot see; some fancied right allowed "His vilest wrong, empowered the losel clutch "One pleasure from a multitude of such "Denied him." Then assert, "All men appear "To think all better than themselves, by here "Trusting a crowd they wrong; but really," say, "All men think all men stupider than they, "Since, save themselves, no other comprehends "The complicated scheme to make amends "—Evil, the scheme by which, thro' Ignorance, "Good labours to exist." A slight advance,— Merely to find the sickness you die through, And nought beside! but if one can't eschew One's portion in the common lot, at least One can avoid an ignorance increased Tenfold by dealing out hint after hint How nought were like dispensing without stint The water of life—so easy to dispense Beside, when one has probed the centre whence Commotion 's born—could tell you of it all! "—Meantime, just meditate my madrigal "O' the mugwort that conceals a dewdrop safe!" What, dullard? we and you in smothery chafe, Babes, baldheads, stumbled thus far into Zin The Horrid, getting neither out nor in, A hungry sun above us, sands that bung Our throats,—each dromedary lolls a tongue, Each camel churns a sick and frothy chap, And you, 'twixt tales of Potiphar's mishap, And sonnets on the earliest ass that spoke, —Remark, you wonder any one needs choke With founts about! Potsherd him, Gibeonites! While awkwardly enough your Moses smites The rock, though he forego his Promised Land Thereby, have Satan claim his carcass, and Figure as Metaphysic Poet . . . ah, Mark ye the dim first oozings? Meribah! Then, quaffing at the fount my courage gained, Recall—not that I prompt ye—who explained . ..

"Presumptuous!" interrupts one. You, not I 'T is brother, marvel at and magnify Such office: "office," quotha? can we get To the beginning of the office yet? What do we here? simply experiment Each on the other's power and its intent When elsewhere tasked,—if this of mine were trucked For yours to either's good,—we watch construct, In short, an engine: with a finished one, What it can do, is all,—nought, how 't is done. But this of ours yet in probation, dusk A kernel of strange wheelwork through its husk Grows into shape by quarters and by halves; Remark this tooth's spring, wonder what that valve's Fall bodes, presume each faculty's device, Make out each other more or less precise— The scope of the whole engine 's to be proved; We die: which means to say, the whole 's removed, Dismounted wheel by wheel, this complex gin,— To be set up anew elsewhere, begin A task indeed, but with a clearer clime Than the murk lodgment of our building-time. And then, I grant you, it behoves forget How 't is done—all that must amuse us yet So long: and, while you turn upon your heel, Pray that I be not busy slitting steel Or shredding brass, camped on some virgin shore Under a cluster of fresh stars, before I name a tithe o' the wheels I trust to do!

So occupied, then, are we: hitherto, At present, and a weary while to come, The office of ourselves,—nor blind nor dumb, And seeing somewhat of man's state,—has been, For the worst of us, to say they so have seen; For the better, what it was they saw; the best Impart the gift of seeing to the rest: "So that I glance," says such an one, "around, "And there 's no face but I can read profound "Disclosures in; this stands for hope, that—fear, "And for a speech, a deed in proof, look here! "'Stoop, else the strings of blossom, where the nuts "'O'erarch, will blind thee! Said I not? She shuts "'Both eyes this time, so close the hazels meet! "'Thus, prisoned in the Piombi, I repeat "'Events one rove occasioned, o'er and o'er, "'Putting 'twixt me and madness evermore "'Thy sweet shape, Zanze! Therefore stoop!'

"'That's truth!' "(Adjudge you) 'the incarcerated youth "'Would say that!'

"Youth? Plara the bard? Set down "That Plara spent his youth in a grim town "Whose cramped ill-featured streets huddled about "The minster for protection, never out "Of its black belfry's shade and its bells' roar. "The brighter shone the suburb,—all the more "Ugly and absolute that shade's reproof "Of any chance escape of joy,—some roof, "Taller than they, allowed the rest detect,— "Before the sole permitted laugh (suspect "Who could, 't was meant for laughter, that ploughed cheek's "Repulsive gleam!) when the sun stopped both peaks "Of the cleft belfry like a fiery wedge, "Then sank, a huge flame on its socket edge, "With leavings on the grey glass oriel-pane "Ghastly some minutes more. No fear of rain— "The minster minded that! in heaps the dust "Lay everywhere. This town, the minster's trust, "Held Plara; who, its denizen, bade hail "In twice twelve sonnets, Tempe's dewy vale."

"'Exact the town, the minster and the street!'"

"As all mirth triumphs, sadness means defeat: "Lust triumphs and is gay, Love 's triumphed o'er "And sad: but Lucio 's sad. I said before, "Love's sad, not Lucio; one who loves may be "As gay his love has leave to hope, as he "Downcast that lusts' desire escapes the springe: "'T is of the mood itself I speak, what tinge "Determines it, else colourless,—or mirth, "Or melancholy, as from heaven or earth." "'Ay, that 's the variation's gist!'

"Indeed? "Thus far advanced in safety then, proceed! "And having seen too what I saw, be bold "And next encounter what I do behold "(That's sure) but bid you take on trust!"

Attack The use and purpose of such sights! Alack, Not so unwisely does the crowd dispense On Salinguerras praise in preference To the Sordellos: men of action, these! Who, seeing just as little as you please, Yet turn that little to account,—engage With, do not gaze at,—carry on, a stage, The work o' the world, not merely make report The work existed ere their day! In short, When at some future no-time a brave band Sees, using what it sees, then shake my hand In heaven, my brother! Meanwhile where's the hurt Of keeping the Makers-see on the alert, At whose defection mortals stare aghast As though heaven's bounteous windows were slammed fast Incontinent? Whereas all you, beneath, Should scowl at, bruise their lips and break their teeth Who ply the pullies, for neglecting you: And therefore have I moulded, made anew A Man, and give him to be turned and tried, Be angry with or pleased at. On your side, Have ye times, places, actors of your own? Try them upon Sordello when full-grown, And then—ah then! If Hercules first parched His foot in Egypt only to be marched A sacrifice for Jove with pomp to suit, What chance have I? The demigod was mute Till, at the altar, where time out of mind Such guests became oblations, chaplets twined His forehead long enough, and he began Slaying the slayers, nor escaped a man. Take not affront, my gentle audience! whom No Hercules shall make his hecatomb, Believe, nor from his brows your chaplet rend— That's your kind suffrage, yours, my patron-friend, Whose great verse blares unintermittent on Like your own trumpeter at Marathon,— You who, Platæa and Salamis being scant, Put up with Ætna for a stimulant— And did well, I acknowledged, as he loomed Over the midland sea last month, presumed Long, lay demolished in the blazing West At eve, while towards him tilting cloudlets pressed Like Persian ships at Salamis. Friend, wear A crest proud as desert while I declare Had I a flawless ruby fit to wring Tears of its colour from that painted king Who lost it, I would, for that smile which went To my heart, fling it in the sea, content, Wearing your verse in place, an amulet Sovereign against all passion, wear and fret! My English Eyebright, if you are not glad That, as I stopped my task awhile, the sad Dishevelled form, wherein I put mankind To come at times and keep my pact in mind, Renewed me,—hear no crickets in the hedge, Nor let a glowworm spot the river's edge At home, and may the summer showers gush Without a warning from the missel thrush! So, to our business, now—the fate of such As find our common nature—overmuch Despised because restricted and unfit To bear the burthen they impose on it— Cling when they would discard it; craving strength To leap from the allotted world, at length They do leap,—flounder on without a term, Each a god's germ, doomed to remain a germ In unexpanded infancy, unless. . . But that 's the story—dull enough, confess! There might be fitter subjects to allure; Still, neither misconceive my portraiture Nor undervalue its adornments quaint: What seems a fiend perchance may prove a saint. Ponder a story ancient pens transmit, Then say if you condemn me or acquit.

John the Beloved, banished Antioch For Patmos, bade collectively his flock Farewell, but set apart the closing eve To comfort those his exile most would grieve, He knew: a touching spectacle, that house In motion to receive him! Xanthus' spouse You missed, made panther's meat a month since; but Xanthus himself (his nephew 't was, they shut 'Twixt boards and sawed asunder) Polycarp, Soft Charicle, next year no wheel could warp To swear by Cæsar's fortune, with the rest Were ranged; thro' whom the grey disciple pressed, Busily blessing right and left, just stopped To pat one infant's curls, the hangman cropped Soon after, reached the portal. On its hinge The door turns and he enters: what quick twinge Ruins the smiling mouth, those wide eyes fix Whereon, why like some spectral candlestick's Branch the disciple's arms? Dead swooned he, woke Anon, heaved sigh, made shift to gasp, heart-broke, "Get thee behind me, Satan! Have I toiled "To no more purpose? Is the gospel foiled "Here too, and o'er my son's, my Xanthus' hearth, "Portrayed with sooty garb and features swarth— "Ah Xanthus, am I to thy roof beguiled "To see the—the—the Devil domiciled?" Whereto sobbed Xanthus, "Father, 't is yourself "Installed, a limning which our utmost pelf "Went to procure against to-morrow's loss; "And that's no twy-prong, but a pastoral cross, "You 're painted with!"

His puckered brows unfold— And you shall hear Sordello's story told.

title: Sordello/Book the Third


text:
Sordello/Book the Fourth

BOOK THE FOURTH.

Meantime Ferrara lay in rueful case; The lady-city, for whose sole embrace Her pair of suitors struggled, felt their arms A brawny mischief to the fragile charms They tugged for—one discovering that to twist Her tresses twice or thrice about his wrist Secured a point of vantage—one, how best He 'd parry that by planting in her breast His elbow spike—each party too intent For noticing, howe'er the battle went, The conqueror would but have a corpse to kiss. "May Boniface be duly damned for this!" —Howled some old Ghibellin, as up he turned, From the wet heap of rubbish where they burned His house, a little skull with dazzling teeth: "A boon, sweet Christ—let Salinguerra seethe "In hell for ever, Christ, and let myself "Be there to laugh at him!"—moaned some young Guelf Stumbling upon a shrivelled hand nailed fast To the charred lintel of the doorway, last His father stood within to bid him speed. The thoroughfares were overrun with weed —Docks, quitchgrass, loathy mallows no man plants.

The stranger, none of its inhabitants Crept out of doors to taste fresh air again, And ask the purpose of a splendid train Admitted on a morning; every town Of the East League was come by envoy down To treat for Richard's ransom: here you saw The Vicentine, here snowy oxen draw The Paduan carroch, its vermilion cross On its white field. A-tiptoe o'er the fosse Looked Legate Montelungo wistfully After the flock of steeples he might spy In Este's time, gone (doubts he) long ago To mend the ramparts: sure the laggards know The Pope's as good as here! They paced the streets More soberly. At last, "Taurello greets "The League," announced a pursuivant,—"will match "Its courtesy, and labours to dispatch "At earliest Tito, Friedrich's Pretor, sent "On pressing matters from his post at Trent, "With Mainard Count of Tyrol,—simply waits "Their going to receive the delegates." "Tito!" Our delegates exchanged a glance, And, keeping the main way, admired askance The lazy engines of outlandish birth, Couched like a king each on its bank of earth— Arbalist, manganel and catapult; While stationed by, as waiting a result, Lean silent gangs of mercenaries ceased Working to watch the strangers. "This, at least, "Were better spared; he scarce presumes gainsay "The League's decision! Get our friend away "And profit for the future: how else teach "Fools 't is not safe to stray within claw's reach "Ere Salinguerra's final gasp be blown? "Those mere convulsive scratches find the bone. "Who bade him bloody the spent osprey's nare?"

The carrochs halted in the public square. Pennons of every blazon once a-flaunt, Men prattled, freelier than the crested gaunt White ostrich with a horse-shoe in her beak Was missing, and whoever chose might speak "Ecelin" boldly out: so,—"Ecelin "Needed his wife to swallow half the sin "And sickens by himself: the devil's whelp, "He styles his son, dwindles away, no help "From conserves, your fine triple-curded froth "Of virgin's blood, your Venice viper-broth— "Eh? Jubilate!"—"Peace! no little word "You utter here that 's not distinctly heard "Up at Oliero: he was absent sick "When we besieged Bassano—who, i' the thick "O' the work, perceived the progress Azzo made, "Like Ecelin, through his witch Adelaide? "She managed it so well that, night by night "At their bed-foot stood up a soldier-sprite, "First fresh, pale by-and-by without a wound, "And, when it came with eyes filmed as in swound, "They knew the place was taken."—"Ominous "That Ghibellins should get what cautelous "Old Redbeard sought from Azzo's sire to wrench "Vainly; Saint George contrived his town a trench "O' the marshes, an impermeable bar." "—Young Ecelin is meant the tutelar "Of Padua, rather; veins embrace upon "His hand like Brenta and Bacchiglion." What now?—"The founts! God's bread, touch not a plank! "A crawling hell of carrion—every tank "Choke-full!—found out just now to Cino's cost— "The same who gave Taurello up for lost, "And, making no account of fortune's freaks, "Refused to budge from Padua then, but sneaks "Back now with Concorezzi: 'faith! they drag "Their carroch to San Vitale, plant the flag "On his own palace, so adroitly razed "He knew it not; a sort of Guelf folk gazed "And laughed apart; Cino disliked their air— "Must pluck up spirit, show he does not care— "Seats himself on the tank's edge—will begin "To hum, za, za, Cavaler Ecelin— "A silence; he gets warmer, clinks to chime, "Now both feet plough the ground, deeper each time, "At last, za, za and up with a fierce kick "Comes his own mother's face caught by the thick "Grey hair about his spur!"

Which means, they lift The covering, Salinguerra made a shift To stretch upon the truth; as well avoid Further disclosures; leave them thus employed. Our dropping Autumn morning clears apace, And poor Ferrara puts a softened face On her misfortunes. Let us scale this tall Huge foursquare line of red brick garden-wall Bastioned within by trees of every sort On three sides, slender, spreading, long and short; Each grew as it contrived, the poplar ramped, The fig-tree reared itself,—but stark and cramped, Made fools of, like tamed lions: whence, on the edge, Running 'twixt trunk and trunk to smooth one ledge Of shade, were shrubs inserted, warp and woof, Which smothered up that variance. Scale the roof Of solid tops, and o'er the slope you slide Down to a grassy space level and wide, Here and there dotted with a tree, but trees Of rarer leaf, each foreigner at ease, Set by itself: and in the centre spreads, Borne upon three uneasy leopards' heads, A laver, broad and shallow, one bright spirt Of water bubbles in. The walls begirt With trees leave off on either hand; pursue Your path along a wondrous avenue Those walls abut on, heaped of gleamy stone, With aloes leering everywhere, grey-grown From many a Moorish summer: how they wind Out of the fissures! likelier to bind The building than those rusted cramps which drop Already in the eating sunshine. Stop, You fleeting shapes above there! Ah, the pride Or else despair of the whole country-side! A range of statues, swarming o'er with wasps, God, goddess, woman, man, the Greek rough-rasps In crumbling Naples marble—meant to look Like those Messina marbles Constance took Delight in, or Taurello's self conveyed To Mantua for his mistress, Adelaide,— A certain font with caryatides Since cloistered at Goito; only, these Are up and doing, not abashed, a troop Able to right themselves—who see you, stoop Their arms o' the instant after you! Unplucked By this or that, you pass; for they conduct To terrace raised on terrace, and, between, Creatures of brighter mould and braver mien Than any yet, the choicest of the Isle No doubt. Here, left a sullen breathing-while, Up-gathered on himself the Fighter stood For his last fight, and, wiping treacherous blood Out of the eyelids just held ope beneath Those shading fingers in their iron sheath, Steadied his strengths amid the buzz and stir Of the dusk hideous amphitheatre At the announcement of his over-match To wind the day's diversion up, dispatch The pertinactious Gaul: while, limbs one heap, The Slave, no breath in her round mouth, watched leap Dart after dart forth, as her hero's car Clove dizzily the solid of the war —Let coil about his knees for pride in him. We reach the farthest terrace, and the grim San Pietro Palace stops us.

Such the state Of Salinguerra's plan to emulate Sicilian marvels, that his girlish wife Retrude still might lead her ancient life In her new home: whereat enlarged so much Neighbours upon the novel princely touch He took,—who here imprisons Boniface. Here must the Envoys come to sue for grace; And here, emerging from the labyrinth Below, Sordello paused beside the plinth Of the door-pillar.

He had really left Verona for the cornfields (a poor theft From the morass) where Este's camp was made; The Envoys' march, the Legate's cavalcade— All had been seen by him, but scarce as when,— Eager for cause to stand aloof from men At every point save the fantastic tie Acknowledged in his boyish sophistry,— He made account of such. A crowd,—he meant To task the whole of it; each part's intent Concerned him therefore: and, the more he pried, The less became Sordello satisfied With his own figure at the moment. Sought He respite from his task? Descried he aught Novel in the anticipated sight Of all these livers upon all delight? This phalanx, as of myriad points combined, Whereby he still had imaged the mankind His youth was passed in dreams of rivalling, His age—in plans to prove at least such thing Had been so dreamed,—which now he must impress With his own will, effect a happiness By theirs,—supply a body to his soul Thence, and become eventually whole With them as he had hoped to be without— Made these the mankind he once raved about? Because a few of them were notable, Should all be figured worthy note? As well Expect to find Taurello's triple line Of trees a single and prodigious pine. Real pines rose here and there; but, close among, Thrust into and mixed up with pines, a throng Of shrubs, he saw,—a nameless common sort O'erpast in dreams, left out of the report And hurried into corners, or at best Admitted to be fancied like the rest. Reckon that morning's proper chiefs—how few! And yet the people grew, the people grew, Grew ever, as if the many there indeed, More left behind and most who should succeed,— Simply in virtue of their mouths and eyes, Petty enjoyments and huge miseries,— Mingled with, and made veritably great Those chiefs: he overlooked not Mainard's state Nor Concorezzi's station, but instead Of stopping there, each dwindled to be head Of infinite and absent Tyrolese Or Paduans; startling all the more, that these Seemed passive and disposed of, uncared for, Yet doubtless on the whole (like Eglamor) Smiling; for if a wealthy man decays And out of store of robes must wear, all days, One tattered suit, alike in sun and shade, 'T is commonly some tarnished gay brocade Fit for a feast-night's flourish and no more: Nor otherwise poor Misery from her store Of looks is fain upgather, keep unfurled For common wear as she goes through the world, The faint remainder of some worn-out smile Meant for a feast-night's service merely. While Crowd upon crowd rose on Sordello thus,— (Crowds no way interfering to discuss, Much less dispute, life's joys with one employed In envying them,—or, if they aught enjoyed, Where lingered something indefinable In every look and tone, the mirth as well As woe, that fixed at once his estimate Of the result, their good or bad estate)— Old memories returned with new effect: And the new body, ere he could suspect, Cohered, mankind and he were really fused, The new self seemed impatient to be used By him, but utterly another way Than that anticipated: strange to say, They were too much below him, more in thrall Than he, the adjunct than the principal. What booted scattered units?—here a mind And there, which might repay his own to find, And stamp, and use?—a few, howe'er august, If all the rest were grovelling in the dust? No: first a mighty equilibrium, sure, Should he establish, privilege procure For all, the few had long possessed! He felt An error, an exceeding error melt: While he was occupied with Mantuan chants, Behoved him think of men, and take their wants, Such as he now distinguished every side, As his own want which might be satisfied,— And, after that, think of rare qualities Of his own soul demanding exercise. It followed naturally, through no claim On their part, which made virtue of the aim At serving them, on his,—that, past retrieve, He felt now in their toils, theirs—nor could leave Wonder how, in the eagerness to rule, Impress his will on mankind, he (the fool!) Had never even entertained the thought That this his last arrangement might be fraught with incidental good to them as well, And that mankind's delight would help to swell His own. So, if he sighed, as formerly Because the merry time of life must fleet, 'T was deeplier now,—for could the crowds repeat Their poor experiences? His hand that shook Was twice to be deplored. "The Legate, look! "With eyes, like fresh-blown thrush-eggs on a thread, "Faint-blue and loosely floating in his head, "Large tongue, moist open mouth; and this long while "That owner of the idiotic smile "Serves them!"

He fortunately saw in time His fault however, and since the office prime Includes the secondary—best accept Both offices; Taurello, its adept, Could teach him the preparatory one, And how to do what he had fancied done Long previously, ere take the greater task. How render first these people happy? Ask The people's friends: for there must be one good One way to it—the Cause! He understood The meaning now of Palma; why the jar Else, the ado, the trouble wide and far Of Guelfs and Ghibellins, the Lombard hope And Rome's despair?—'twixt Emperor and Pope The confused shifting sort of Eden tale— Hardihood still recurring, still to fail— That foreign interloping fiend, this free And native overbrooding deity: Yet a dire fascination o'er the palms The Kaiser ruined, troubling even the calms Of paradise; or, on the other hand, The Pontiff, as the Kaisers understand, One snake-like cursed of God to love the ground, Whose heavy length breaks in the noon profound Some saving tree—which needs the Kaiser, dressed As the dislodging angel of that pest: Yet flames that pest bedropped, flat head, full fold, With coruscating dower of dyes. "Behold "The secret, so to speak, and master-spring "O' the contest!—which of the two Powers shall bring "Men good, perchance the most good: ay, it may "Be that!—the question, which best knows the way."

And hereupon Count Mainard strutted past Out of San Pietro; never seemed the last Of archers, slingers: and our friend began To recollect strange modes of serving man— Arbalist, catapult, brake, manganel, And more. "This way of theirs may,—who can tell?— "Need perfecting," said he: "let all be solved "At once! Taurello 't is, the task devolved "On late: confront Taurello!"

And at last He did confront him. Scarce an hour had past When forth Sordello came, older by years Than at his entry. Unexampled fears Oppressed him, and he staggered off, blind, mute And deaf, like some fresh-mutilated brute, Into Ferrara—not the empty town That morning witnessed: he went up and down Streets whence the veil had been stript shred by shred, So that, in place of huddling with their dead Indoors, to answer Salinguerra's ends, Townsfolk make shift to crawl forth, sit like friends With any one. A woman gave him choice Of her two daughters, the infantile voice Or the dimpled knee, for half a chain, his throat Was clasped with; but an archer knew the coat— Its blue cross and eight lilies,—bade beware One dogging him in concert with the pair Though thrumming on the sleeve that hid his knife. Night set in early, autumn dews were rife, They kindled great fires while the Leaguers' mass Began at every carroch: he must pass Between the kneeling people. Presently The carroch of Verona caught his eye With purple trappings; silently he bent Over its fire, when voices violent Began, "Affirm not whom the youth was like "That struck me from the porch: I did not strike "Again: I too have chestnut hair; my kin "Hate Azzo and stand up for Ecelin. "Here, minstrel, drive bad thoughts away! Sing! Take "My glove for guerdon!" And for that man's sake He turned: "A song of Eglamor's!"—scarce named, When, "Our Sordello's rather!"—all exclaimed; "Is not Sordello famousest for rhyme?" He had been happy to deny, this time,— Profess as heretofore the aching head And failing heart,—suspect that in his stead Some true Apollo had the charge of them, Was champion to reward or to condemn, So his intolerable risk might shift Or share itself; but Naddo's precious gift Of gifts, he owned, be certain! At the close— "I made that," said he to a youth who rose As if to hear: 't was Palma through the band Conducted him in silence by her hand.

Back now for Salinguerra. Tito of Trent Gave place to Palma and her friend, who went In turn at Montelungo's visit: one After the other were they come and gone,— These spokesmen for the Kaiser and the Pope, This incarnation of the People's hope, Sordello,—all the say of each was said; And Salinguerra sat,—himself instead Of these to talk with, lingered musing yet. 'T was a drear vast presence-chamber roughly set In order for the morning's use; full face, The Kaiser's ominous sign-mark had first place, The crowned grim twy-necked eagle, coarsely-blacked With ochre on the naked wall; nor lacked Romano's green and yellow either side; But the new token Tito brought had tried The Legate's patience—nay, if Palma knew What Salinguerra almost meant to do Until the sight of her restored his lip A certain half-smile, three months' chieftainship Had banished! Afterward, the Legate found No change in him, nor asked what badge he wound And unwound carelessly. Now sat the Chief Silent as when our couple left, whose brief Encounter wrought so opportune effect In thoughts he summoned not, nor would reject, Though time 't was now if ever, to pause—fix On any sort of ending: wiles and tricks Exhausted, judge! his charge, the crazy town, Just managed to be hindered crashing down— His last sound troops ranged—care observed to post His best of the maimed soldiers innermost— So much was plain enough, but somehow struck Him not before. And now with this strange luck Of Tito's news, rewarding his address So well, what thought he of?—how the success With Friedrich's rescript there, would either hush Old Ecelin's scruples, bring the manly flush To his young son's white cheek, or, last, exempt Himself from telling what there was to tempt? No: that this minstrel was Romano's last Servant—himself the first! Could he contrast The whole!—that minstrel's thirty years just spent In doing nought, their notablest event This morning's journey hither, as I told— Who yet was lean, outworn and really old, A stammering awkward man that scarce dared raise His eye before the magisterial gaze— And Salinguerra with his fears and hopes Of sixty years, his Emperors and Popes, Cares and contrivances, yet, you would say, 'T was a youth nonchalantly looked away Through the embrasure northward o'er the sick Expostulating trees—so agile, quick And graceful turned the head on the broad chest Encased in pliant steel, his constant vest, Whence split the sun off in a spray of fire Across the room; and, loosened of its tire Of steel, that head let breathe the comely brown Large massive locks discoloured as if a crown Encircled them, so frayed the basnet where A sharp white line divided clean the hair; Glossy above, glossy below, it swept Curling and fine about a brow thus kept Calm, laid coat upon coat, marble and sound: This was the mystic mark the Tuscan found, Mused of, turned over books about. Square-faced, No lion more; two vivid eyes, enchased In hollows filled with many a shade and streak Settling from the bold nose and bearded cheek. Nor might the half-smile reach them that deformed A lip supremely perfect else—unwarmed, Unwidened, less or more; indifferent Whether on trees or men his thoughts were bent, Thoughts rarely, after all, in trim and train As now a period was fulfilled again: Of such, a series made his life, compressed In each, one story serving for the rest— How his life-streams rolling arrived at last At the barrier, whence, were it once overpast, They would emerge, a river to the end,— Gathered themselves up, paused, bade fate befriend, Took the leap, hung a minute at the height, Then fell back to oblivion infinite: Therefore he smiled. Beyond stretched garden-grounds Where late the adversary, breaking bounds, Had gained him an occasion, That above, That eagle, testified he could improve Effectually. The Kaiser's symbol lay Beside his rescript, a new badge by way Of baldric; while,—another thing that marred Alike emprise, achievement and reward,— Ecelin's missive was conspicuous too.

What past life did those flying thoughts pursue? As his, few names in Mantua half so old; But at Ferrara, where his sires enrolled It latterly, the Adelardi spared No pains to rival them: both factions shared Ferrara, so that, counted out, 't would yield A product very like the city's shield, Half black and white, or Ghibellin and Guelf As after Salinguerra styled himself And Este who, till Marchesalla died, (Last of the Adelardi)—never tried His fortune there: with Marchesalla's child Would pass,—could Blacks and Whites be reconciled And young Taurello wed Linguetta,—wealth And sway to a sole grasp. Each treats by stealth Already: when the Guelfs, the Ravennese Arrive, assault the Pietro quarter, seize Linguetta, and are gone! Men's first dismay Abated somewhat, hurries down, to lay The after indignation, Boniface, This Richard's father. "Learn the full disgrace "Averted, ere you blame us Guelfs, who rate "Your Salinguerra, your sole potentate "That might have been, 'mongst Este's valvassors— "Ay, Azzo's—who, not privy to, abhors "Our step; but we were zealous." Azzo then To do with! Straight a meeting of old men: "Old Salinguerra dead, his heir a boy, "What if we change our ruler and decoy "The Lombard Eagle of the azure sphere "With Italy to build in, fix him here, "Settle the city's troubles in a trice? "For private wrong, let public good suffice!" In fine, young Salinguerra's staunchest friends Talked of the townsmen making him amends, Gave him a goshawk, and affirmed there was Rare sport, one morning, over the green grass A mile or so. He sauntered through the plain, Was restless, fell to thinking, turned again In time for Azzo's entry with the bride; Count Boniface rode smirking at their side; "She brings him half Ferrara," whispers flew, "And all Ancona! If the stripling knew!"

Anon the stripling was in Sicily Where Heinrich ruled in right of Constance; he Was gracious nor his guest incapable; Each understood the other. So it fell, One Spring, when Azzo, thoroughly at ease, Had near forgotten by what precise degrees He crept at first to such a downy seat, The Count trudged over in a special heat To bid him of God's love dislodge from each Of Salinguerra's palaces,—a breach Might yawn else, not so readily to shut, For who was just arrived at Mantua but The youngster, sword on thigh and tuft on chin, With tokens for Celano, Ecelin, Pistore, and the like! Next news,—no whit Do any of Ferrara's domes befit His wife of Heinrich's very blood: a band Of foreigners assemble, understand Garden-constructing, level and surround, Build up and bury in. A last news crowned The consternation: since his infant's birth, He only waits they end his wondrous girth Of trees that link San Pietro with Tomà, To visit Mantua. When the Podestà Ecelin, at Vicenza, called his friend Taurello thither, what could be their end But to restore the Ghibellins' late Head, The Kaiser helping? He with most to dread From vengeance and reprisal, Azzo, there With Boniface beforehand, as aware Of plots in progress, gave alarm, expelled Both plotters: but the Guelfs in triumph yelled Too hastily. The burning and the flight, And how Taurello, occupied that night With Ecelin, lost wife and son, I told: —Not how he bore the blow, retained his hold, Got friends safe through, left enemies the worst O' the fray, and hardly seemed to care at first: But afterward men heard not constantly Of Salinguerra's House so sure to be! Though Azzo simply gained by the event A shifting of his plagues—the first, content To fall behind the second and estrange So far his nature, suffer such a change That in Romano sought he wife and child, And for Romano's sake seemed reconciled To losing individual life, which shrunk As the other prospered—mortised in his trunk; Like a dwarf palm which wanton Arabs foil Of bearing its own proper wine and oil, By grafting into it the stranger-vine, Which sucks its heart out, sly and serpentine, Till forth one vine-palm feathers to the root, And red drops moisten the insipid fruit. Once Adelaide set on,—the subtle mate Of the weak soldier, urged to emulate The Church's valiant women deed for deed, And paragon her namesake, win the meed O' the great Matilda,—soon they overbore The rest of Lombardy,—not as before By an instinctive truculence, but patched The Kaiser's strategy until it matched The Pontiff's, sought old ends by novel means. "Only, why is it Salinguerra screens "Himself behind Romano?—him we bade "Enjoy our shine i' the front, not seek the shade!" —Asked Heinrich, somewhat of the tardiest To comprehend. Nor Philip acquiesced At once in the arrangement; reasoned, plied His friend with offers of another bride, A statelier function—fruitlessly: 't was plain Taurello through some weakness must remain Obscure. And Otho, free to judge of both —Ecelin the unready, harsh and loth, And this more plausible and facile wight With every point a-sparkle—chose the right, Admiring how his predecessors harped On the wrong man: "thus," quoth he, "wits are warped "By outsides!" Carelessly, meanwhile, his life Suffered its many turns of peace and strife In many lands—you hardly could surprise The man; who shamed Sordello (recognize!) In this as much beside, that, unconcerned What qualities were natural or earned, With no ideal of graces, as they came He took them, singularly well the same— Speaking the Greek's own language, just because Your Greek eludes you, leave the least of flaws In contracts with him; while, since Arab lore Holds the stars' secret—take one trouble more And master it! 'T is done, and now deter Who may the Tuscan, once Jove trined for her, From Friedrich's path!—Friedrich, whose pilgrimage The same man puts aside, whom he 'll engage To leave next year John Brienne in the lurch, Come to Bassano, see Saint Francis' church And judge of Guido the Bolognian's piece Which,—lend Taurello credit,—rivals Greece— Angels, with aureoles like golden quoits Pitched home, applauding Ecelin's exploits. For elegance, he strung the angelot, Made rhymes thereto; for prowess, clove he not Tiso, last siege, from crest to crupper? Why Detail you thus a varied mastery But to show how Taurello, on the watch For men, to read their hearts and thereby catch Their capabilities and purposes, Displayed himself so far as displayed these: While our Sordello only cared to know About men as a means whereby he 'd show Himself, and men had much or little worth According as they kept in or drew forth That self; the other's choicest instruments Surmised him shallow.

Meantime, malcontents Dropped off, town after town grew wiser. "How "Change the world's face?" asked people; "as 't is now "It has been, will be ever: very fine "Subjecting things profane to things divine, "In talk! This contumacy will fatigue "The vigilance of Este and the League! "The Ghibellins gain on us!"—as it happed. Old Azzo and old Boniface, entrapped By Ponte Alto, both in one month's space Slept at Verona: either left a brace Of sons—but, three years after, either's pair Lost Guglielm and Aldobrand its heir: Azzo remained and Richard—all the stay Of Este and Saint Boniface, at bay As 't were. Then, either Ecelin grew old Or his brain altered—not o' the proper mould For new appliances—his old palm-stock Endured no influx of strange strengths. He 'd rock As in a drunkenness, or chuckle low As proud of the completeness of his woe, Then weep real tears;—now make some mad onslaught On Este, heedless of the lesson taught So painfully,—now cringe for peace, sue peace At price of past gain, bar of fresh increase To the fortunes of Romano. Up at last Rose Este, down Romano sank as fast. And men remarked these freaks of peace and war Happened while Salinguerra was afar: Whence every friend besought him, all in vain, To use his old adherent's wits again. Not he!—"who had advisers in his sons, "Could plot himself, nor needed any one's "Advice." 'T was Adelaide's remaining staunch Prevented his destruction root and branch Forthwith; but when she died, doom fell, for gay He made alliances, gave lands away To whom it pleased accept them, and withdrew For ever from the world. Taurello, who Was summoned to the convent, then refused A word at the wicket, patience thus abused, Promptly threw off alike his imbecile Ally's yoke, and his own frank, foolish smile. Soon a few movements of the happier sort Changed matters, put himself in men's report As heretofore; he had to fight, beside, And that became him ever. So, in pride And flushing of this kind of second youth, He dealt a good-will blow. Este in truth Lay prone—and men remembered, somewhat late, A laughing old outrageous stifled hate He bore to Este—how it would outbreak At times spite of disguise, like an earthquake In sunny weather—as that noted day When with his hundred friends he tried to slay Azzo before the Kaiser's face: and how, On Azzo's calm refusal to allow A liegeman's challenge, straight he too was calmed: As if his hate could bear to lie embalmed, Bricked up, the moody Pharaoh, and survive All intermediate crumblings, to arrive At earth's catastrophe—'t was Este's crash Not Azzo's he demanded, so, no rash Procedure! Este's true antagonist Rose out of Ecelin: all voices whist, All eyes were sharpened, wits predicted. He 'T was, leaned in the embrasure absently, Amused with his own efforts, now, to trace With his steel-sheathed forefinger Friedrich's face I' the dust: but as the trees waved sere, his smile Deepened, and words expressed its thought erewhile.

"Ay, fairly housed at last, my old compeer? "That we should stick together, all the year "I kept Vicenza!—How old Boniface, "Old Azzo caught us in its market-place, "He by that pillar, I at this,—caught each "In mid swing, more than fury of his speech, "Egging the rabble on to disavow "Allegiance to their Marquis—Bacchus, how "They boasted! Ecelin must turn their drudge, "Nor, if released, will Salinguerra grudge "Paying arrears of tribute due long since— "Bacchus! My man could promise then, nor wince "The bones-and-muscles! Sound of wind and limb, "Spoke he the set excuse I framed for him: "And now he sits me, slavering and mute, "Intent on chafing each starved purple foot "Benumbed past aching with the altar slab: "Will no vein throb there when some monk shall blab "Spitefully to the circle of bald scalps, "'Friedrich 's affirmed to be our side the Alps' "—Eh, brother Lactance, brother Anaclet? "Sworn to abjure the world, its fume and fret, "God's own now? Drop the dormitory bar, "Enfold the scanty grey serge scapular "Twice o'er the cowl to muffle memories out! "So! But the midnight whisper turns a shout, "Eyes wink, mouths open, pulses circulate "In the stone walls: the past, the world you hate "Is with you, ambush, open field—or see "The surging flame—we fire Vicenza—glee! "Follow, let Pilio and Bernardo chafe! "Bring up the Mantuans—through San Biagio—safe! "Ah, the mad people waken? Ah, they writhe "And reach us? If they block the gate? No tithe "Can pass—keep back, you Bassanese! The edge, "Use the edge—shear, thrust, hew, melt down the wedge, "Let out the black of those black upturned eyes! "Hell—are they sprinkling fire too? The blood fries "And hisses on your brass gloves as they tear "Those upturned faces choking with despair. "Brave! Slidder through the reeking gate! `How now? "'You six had charge of her?' And then the vow "Comes, and the foam spirts, hair's plucked, till one shriek "(I hear it) and you fling—you cannot speak— "Your gold-flowered basnet to a man who haled "The Adelaide he dared scarce view unveiled "This morn, naked across the fire: how crown "The archer that exhausted lays you down "Your infant, smiling at the flame, and dies? "While one, while mine...

"Bacchus! I think there lies "More than one corpse there" (and he paced the room) "—Another cinder somewhere: 't was my doom "Beside, my doom! If Adelaide is dead, "I live the same, this Azzo lives instead "Of that to me, and we pull, any how, "Este into a heap: the matter 's now "At the true juncture slipping us so oft. "Ay, Heinrich died and Otho, please you, doffed "His crown at such a juncture! Still, if hold "Our Friedrich's purpose, if this chain enfold "The neck of... who but this same Ecelin "That must recoil when the best days begin! "Recoil? that 's nought; if the recoiler leaves "His name for me to fight with, no one grieves: "But he must interfere, forsooth, unlock "His cloister to become my stumbling-block "Just as of old! Ay, ay, there 't is again— "The land's inevitable Head—explain "The reverences that subject us! Count "These Ecelins now! Not to say as fount, "Originating power of thought,—from twelve "That drop i' the trenches they joined hands to delve, "Six shall surpass him, but... why men must twine "Somehow with something! Ecelin 's a fine "Clear name! 'Twere simpler, doubtless, twine with me "At once: our cloistered friend's capacity "Was of a sort! I had to share myself "In fifty portions, like an o'ertasked elf "That 's forced illume in fifty points the vast "Rare vapour he 's environed by. At last "My strengths, though sorely frittered, e'en converge "And crown... no, Bacchus, they have yet to urge "The man be crowned!

"That aloe, an he durst, "Would climb! Just such a bloated sprawler first "I noted in Messina's castle-court "The day I came, when Heinrich asked in sport "If I would pledge my faith to win him back "His right in Lombardy: 'for, once bid pack "Marauders,' he continued, `in my stead "'You rule, Taurello!' and upon this head `Laid the silk glove of Constance—I see her "Too, mantled head to foot in miniver, "Retrude following!

"I am absolved "From further toil: the empery devolved "On me, 't was Tito's word: I have to lay "For once my plan, pursue my plan my way, "Prompt nobody, and render an account "Taurello to Taurello! Nay, I mount "To Friedrich: he conceives the post I kept, "—Who did true service, able or inept, "Who 's worthy guerdon, Ecelin or I. "Me guerdoned, counsel follows: would he vie "With the Pope really? Azzo, Boniface "Compose a right-arm Hohenstauffen's race "Must break ere govern Lombardy. I point "How easy 't were to twist, once out of joint, "The socket from the bone: my Azzo's stare "Meanwhile! for I, this idle strap to wear, "Shall—fret myself abundantly, what end "To serve? There 's left me twenty years to spend "—How better than my old way? Had I one "Who laboured overthrow my work—a son "Hatching with Azzo superb treachery, "To root my pines up and then poison me, "Suppose—'t were worth while frustrate that! Beside, "Another life's ordained me: the world's tide "Rolls, and what hope of parting from the press "Of waves, a single wave though weariness "Gently lifted aside, laid upon shore? "My life must be lived out in foam and roar, "No question. Fifty years the province held "Taurello; troubles raised, and troubles quelled, "He in the midst—who leaves this quaint stone place, "These trees a year or two, then not a trace "Of him! How obtain hold, fetter men's tongues "Like this poor minstrel with the foolish songs— "To which, despite our bustle, he is linked? "—Flowers one may teaze, that never grow extinct. "Ay, that patch, surely, green as ever, where "I set Her Moorish lentisk, by the stair, "To overawe the aloes; and we trod "Those flowers, how call you such?—into the sod; "A stately foreigner—a world of pain "To make it thrive, arrest rough winds—all vain! "It would decline; these would not be destroyed: "And now, where is it? where can you avoid "The flowers? I frighten children twenty years "Longer!—which way, too, Ecelin appears "To thwart me, for his son's besotted youth "Gives promise of the proper tiger—tooth: "They feel it at Vicenza! Fate, fate, fate, "My fine Taurello! Go you, promulgate "Friedrich's decree, and here 's shall aggrandise "Young Ecelin—your Prefect's badge! a prize "Too precious, certainly.

"How now? Compete "With my old comrade? shuffle from their seat "His children? Paltry dealing! Do n't I know "Ecelin? now, I think, and years ago! "What 's changed—the weakness? did not I compound "For that, and undertake to keep him sound "Despite it? Here 's Taurello hankering "After a boy's preferment—this plaything "To carry, Bacchus!" And he laughed.

Remark Why schemes wherein cold-blooded men embark Prosper, when your enthusiastic sort Fail: while these last are ever stopping short— (So much they should—so little they can do!) The careless tribe see nothing to pursue If they desist; meantime their scheme succeeds.

Thoughts were caprices in the course of deeds Methodic with Taurello; so, he turned,— Enough amused by fancies fairly earned Of Este's horror-struck submitted neck, And Richard, the cowed braggart, at his beck,— To his own petty but immediate doubt If he could pacify the League without Conceding Richard; just to this was brought That interval of vain discursive thought! As, shall I say, some Ethiop, past pursuit Of all enslavers, dips a shackled foot Burnt to the blood, into the drowsy black Enormous watercourse which guides him back To his own tribe again, where he is king; And laughs because he guesses, numbering The yellower poison-wattles on the pouch Of the first lizard wrested from its couch Under the slime (whose skin, the while, he strips To cure his nostril with, and festered lips, And eyeballs bloodshot through the desert-blast) That he has reached its boundary, at last May breathe;—thinks o'er enchantments of the South Sovereign to plague his enemies, their mouth, Eyes, nails, and hair; but, these enchantments tried In fancy, puts them soberly aside For truth, projects a cool return with friends, The likelihood of winning mere amends Ere long; thinks that, takes comfort silently, Then, from the river's brink, his wrongs and he, Hugging revenge close to their hearts, are soon Off-striding for the Mountains of the Moon.

Midnight: the watcher nodded on his spear, Since clouds dispersing left a passage clear For any meagre and discoloured moon To venture forth; and such was peering soon Above the harassed city—her close lanes Closer, not half so tapering her fanes, As though she shrunk into herself to keep What little life was saved, more safely. Heap By heap the watch-fires mouldered, and beside The blackest spoke Sordello and replied Palma with none to listen. "'T is your cause: "What makes a Ghibellin? There should be laws— "(Remember how my youth escaped! I trust "To you for manhood, Palma! tell me just "As any child)—there must be laws at work "Explaining this. Assure me, good may lurk "Under the bad,—my multitude has part "In your designs, their welfare is at heart "With Salinguerra, to their interest "Refer the deeds he dwelt on,—so divest "Our conference of much that scared me. Why "Affect that heartless tone to Tito? I "Esteemed myself, yes, in my inmost mind "This morn, a recreant to my race—mankind "O'erlooked till now: why boast my spirit's force, "—Such force denied its object? why divorce "These, then admire my spirit's flight the same "As though it bore up, helped some half-orbed flame "Else quenched in the dead void, to living space? "That orb cast off to chaos and disgrace, "Why vaunt so much my unencumbered dance, "Making a feat's facilities enhance "Its marvel? But I front Taurello, one "Of happier fate, and all I should have done, "He does; the people's good being paramount "With him, their progress may perhaps account "For his abiding still; whereas you heard "The talk with Tito—the excuse preferred "For burning those five hostages,—and broached "By way of blind, as you and I approached, "I do believe."

She spoke: then he, "My thought "Plainlier expressed! All to your profit—nought "Meantime of these, of conquests to achieve "For them, of wretchedness he might relieve "While profiting your party. Azzo, too, "Supports a cause: what cause? Do Guelfs pursue "Their ends by means like yours, or better?"

When The Guelfs were proved alike, men weighed with men, And deed with deed, blaze, blood, with blood and blaze, Morn broke: "Once more, Sordello, meet its gaze "Proudly—the people's charge against thee fails "In every point, while either party quails! "These are the busy ones: be silent thou! "Two parties take the world up, and allow "No third, yet have one principle, subsist "By the same injustice; whoso shall enlist "With either, ranks with man's inveterate foes. "So there is one less quarrel to compose: "The Guelf, the Ghibellin may be to curse— "I have done nothing, but both sides do worse "Than nothing. Nay, to me, forgotten, reft "Of insight, lapped by trees and flowers, was left "The notion of a service—ha? What lured "Me here, what mighty aim was I assured "Must move Taurello? What if there remained "A cause, intact, distinct from these, ordained "For me, its true discoverer?"

Some one pressed Before them here, a watcher, to suggest The subject for a ballad: "They must know "The tale of the dead worthy, long ago "Consul of Rome—that 's long ago for us, "Minstrels and bowmen, idly squabbling thus `In the world's corner—but too late no doubt, "For the brave time he sought to bring about. "—Not know Crescentius Nomentanus?" Then He cast about for terms to tell him, when Sordello disavowed it, how they used Whenever their Superior introduced A novice to the Brotherhood—("for I "Was just a brown-sleeve brother, merrily "Appointed too," quoth he, "till Innocent "Bade me relinquish, to my small content, "My wife or my brown sleeves")—some brother spoke Ere nocturns of Crescentius, to revoke The edict issued, after his demise, Which blotted fame alike and effigies, All out except a floating power, a name Including, tending to produce the same Great act. Rome, dead, forgotten, lived at least Within that brain, though to a vulgar priest And a vile stranger,—two not worth a slave Of Rome's, Pope John, King Otho,—fortune gave The rule there: so, Crescentius, haply dressed In white, called Roman Consul for a jest, Taking the people at their word, forth stepped As upon Brutus' heel, nor ever kept Rome waiting,—stood erect, and from his brain Gave Rome out on its ancient place again, Ay, bade proceed with Brutus' Rome, Kings styled Themselves mere citizens of, and, beguiled Into great thoughts thereby, would choose the gem Out of a lapfull, spoil their diadem —The Senate's cypher was so hard to scratch He flashes like a phanal, all men catch The flame, Rome 's just accomplished! when returned Otho, with John, the Consul's step had spurned, And Hugo Lord of Este, to redress The wrongs of each. Crescentius in the stress Of adverse fortune bent. "They crucified "Their Consul in the Forum; and abide "E'er since such slaves at Rome, that I—(for I "Was once a brown-sleeve brother, merrily "Appointed)—I had option to keep wife "Or keep brown sleeves, and managed in the strife "Lose both. A song of Rome!"

And Rome, indeed, Robed at Goito in fantastic weed, The Mother-City of his Mantuan days, Looked an established point of light whence rays Traversed the world; for, all the clustered homes Beside of men, seemed bent on being Romes In their degree; the question was, how each Should most resemble Rome, clean out of reach. Nor, of the Two, did either principle Struggle to change, but to possess Rome,—still Guelf Rome or Ghibellin Rome.

Let Rome advance! Rome, as she struck Sordello's ignorance— How could he doubt one moment? Rome 's the Cause! Rome of the Pandects, all the world's new laws— Of the Capitol, of Castle Angelo; New structures, that inordinately glow, Subdued, brought back to harmony, made ripe By many a relic of the archetype Extant for wonder; every upstart church That hoped to leave old temples in the lurch, Corrected by the Theatre forlorn That,—as a mundane shell, its world late born,— Lay and o'ershadowed it. These hints combined, Rome typifies the scheme to put mankind Once more in full possession of their rights. "Let us have Rome again! On me it lights "To build up Rome—on me, the first and last: "For such a future was endured the past!" And thus, in the grey twilight, forth he sprung To give his thought consistency among The very People—let their facts avail Finish the dream grown from the archer's tale.

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

title: Sordello/Book the Fourth


text:
Page:Book of the Riviera.djvu/304

242 Franciscan, Antonio Boyer, of Nice, it had a square basement about twenty-four feet high, above which rose a circular structure sixty feet high, divided into two stages, with marble columns ranging one above another. Between these columns were niches once adorned with statues, and the whole was capped by a cupola surmounted, probably by a statue of Victory, or of Augustus. In the basement were two doors, and above the north door was the tablet inscribed with the dedication to Augustus. The upper portion, converted into a tower in the Middle Ages, was destroyed in 1705 by order of Louis XIV. Mines of gunpowder were exploded under it. The church, erected in 1777, and the houses of La Turbie are built out of the stones pillaged from this monument. In the church is a copy of the S. Michael of Raphael, given by the Musée S. Germain in exchange for a statue and the fragments of the inscription, from the Trophy of Augustus. It is worth while to sit on the rock and look at this ruin—the ruin of an immense monument set up to honour a mortal deified, and to whom sacrifices were offered, who gathered into his own hands all the authority and power of the known world for his own selfish glorification—and think, that at the same time He was born who made Himself of no reputation and took on Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of man—who humbled Himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. The Trophy of Augustus is a heap of ruins, but the Catholic Church, the trophy of Him who was born under Caesar Augustus, is everywhere, and imperishable.

title: Page:Book of the Riviera.djvu/304