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

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 goodwill 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)