Robert Browning - The Complete Poems of Robert Browning - 22 Poetry Collections in One Edition

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