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

“ — 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