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

Waiting for death to live, nor idly choose

What must be Hell — a progress thus pursued

Through all existence, still above the food

That ‘s offered them, still fain to reach beyond

The widened range, in virtue of their bond

Of sovereignty. Not that a Palma’s Love,

A Salinguerra’s Hate, would equal prove

To swaying all Sordello: but why doubt

Some love meet for such strength, some moon without

Would match his sea? — or fear, Good manifest,

Only the Best breaks faith? — Ah but the Best

Somehow eludes us ever, still might be

And is not! Crave we gems? No penury

Of their material round us! Pliant earth

And plastic flame — what balks the mage his birth

— Jacinth in balls or lodestone by the block?

Flinders enrich the strand, veins swell the rock;

Nought more! Seek creatures? Life ‘s i’ the tempest, thought

Clothes the keen hill-top, mid-day woods are fraught

With fervours: human forms are well enough!

But we had hoped, encouraged by the stuff

Profuse at nature’s pleasure, men beyond

These actual men! — and thus are over-fond

In arguing, from Good — the Best, from force

Divided — force combined, an ocean’s course

From this our sea whose mere intestine pants

Might seem at times sufficient to our wants.

External power! If none be adequate,

And he stand forth ordained (a prouder fate)

Himself a law to his own sphere? “Remove

“All incompleteness!” for that law, that love?

Nay, if all other laws be feints, — truth veiled

Helpfully to weak vision that had failed

To grasp aught but its special want, — for lure,

Embodied? Stronger vision could endure

The unbodied want: no part — the whole of truth!

The People were himself; nor, by the ruth

At their condition, was he less impelled

To alter the discrepancy beheld,

Than if, from the sound whole, a sickly part

Subtracted were transformed, decked out with art,

Then palmed on him as alien woe — the Guelf

To succour, proud that he forsook himself.

All is himself; all service, therefore, rates

Alike, nor serving one part, immolates

The rest: but all in time! “That lance of yours

“Makes havoc soon with Malek and his Moors,

“That buckler ‘s lined with many a giant’s beard

“Ere long, our champion, be the lance upreared,

“The buckler wielded handsomely as now!

“But view your escort, bear in mind your vow,

“Count the pale tracts of sand to pass ere that,

“And, if you hope we struggle through the flat,

“Put lance and buckler by! Next half-month lacks

“Mere sturdy exercise of mace and axe

“To cleave this dismal brake of prickly-pear

“Which bristling holds Cydippe by the hair,

“Lames barefoot Agathon: this felled, we ‘ll try

“The picturesque achievements by and by —

“Next life!”

Ay, rally, mock, O People, urge

Your claims! — for thus he ventured, to the verge,

Push a vain mummery which perchance distrust

Of his fast-slipping resolution thrust

Likewise: accordingly the Crowd — (as yet

He had unconsciously contrived forget

I’ the whole, to dwell o’ the points… one might assuage

The signal horrors easier than engage

With a dim vulgar vast unobvious grief

Not to be fancied off, nor gained relief

In brilliant fits, cured by a happy quirk,

But by dim vulgar vast unobvious work

To correspond…) this Crowd then, forth they stood.

“And now content thy stronger vision, brood

“On thy bare want; uncovered, turf by turf,

“Study the corpse-face thro’ the taint-worms’ scurf!”

Down sank the People’s Then; uprose their Now.

These sad ones render service to! And how

Piteously little must that service prove

— Had surely proved in any case! for, move

Each other obstacle away, let youth

Become aware it had surprised a truth

‘T were service to impart — can truth be seized,

Settled forthwith, and, of the captive eased,

Its captor find fresh prey, since this alit

So happily, no gesture luring it,

The earnest of a flock to follow? Vain,

Most vain! a life to spend ere this he chain

To the poor crowd’s complacence: ere the crowd

Pronounce it captured, he descries a cloud

Its kin of twice the plume; which he, in turn,

If he shall live as many lives, may learn

How to secure: not else. Then Mantua called

Back to his mind how certain bards were thralled

— Buds blasted, but of breath more like perfume

Than Naddo’s staring nosegay’s carrion bloom;

Some insane rose that burnt heart out in sweets,

A spendthrift in the spring, no summer greets;

Some Dularete, drunk with truths and wine,

Grown bestial, dreaming how become divine.

Yet to surmount this obstacle, commence

With the commencement, merits crowning! Hence

Must truth be casual truth, elicited

In sparks so mean, at intervals dispread

So rarely, that ‘t is like at no one time

Of the world’s story has not truth, the prime

Of truth, the very truth which, loosed, had hurled

The world’s course right, been really in the world

— Content the while with some mean spark by dint

Of some chance-blow, the solitary hint

Of buried fire, which, rip earth’s breast, would stream

Skyward!

Sordello’s miserable gleam

Was looked for at the moment: he would dash

This badge. and all it brought, to earth, — abash

Taurello thus, perhaps persuade him wrest

The Kaiser from his purpose, — would attest

His own belief, in any case. Before

He dashes it however, think once more!

For, were that little, truly service? “Ay,

“I’ the end, no doubt; but meantime? Plain you spy

“Its ultimate effect, but many flaws

“Of vision blur each intervening cause.

“Were the day’s fraction clear as the life’s sum

“Of service, Now as filled as teems To-come

“With evidence of good — nor too minute

“A share to vie with evil! No dispute,

“‘T were fitliest maintain the Guelfs in rule:

“That makes your life’s work: but you have to school

“Your day’s work on these natures circumstanced

“Thus variously, which yet, as each advanced

“Or might impede the Guelf rule, must be moved

“Now, for the Then’s sake, — hating what you loved,

“Loving old hatreds! Nor if one man bore

“Brand upon temples while his fellow wore

“The aureole, would it task you to decide:

“But, portioned duly out, the future vied

“Never with the unparcelled present! Smite

“Or spare so much on warrant all so slight?

“The present’s complete sympathies to break,

“Aversions bear with, for a future’s sake

“So feeble? Tito ruined through one speck,

“The Legate saved by his sole lightish fleck?

“This were work, true, but work performed at cost

“Of other work; aught gained here, elsewhere lost.

“For a new segment spoil an orb half-done?

“Rise with the People one step, and sink — one?

“Were it but one step, less than the whole face

“Of things, your novel duty bids erase!

“Harms to abolish! What, the prophet saith,

“The minstrel singeth vainly then? Old faith,

“Old courage, only born because of harms,

“Were not, from highest to the lowest, charms?

“Flame may persist; but is not glare as staunch?

“Where the salt marshes stagnate, crystals branch;

“Blood dries to crimson; Evil ‘s beautified