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

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


Скачать книгу
and May.

       Beneath a flowering laurel thicket lay

       Sordello; each new sprinkle of white stars

       That smell fainter of wine than Massic jars

       Dug up at Baiæ, when the south wind shed

       The ripest, made him happier; filleted

       And robed the same, only a lute beside

       Lay on the turf. Before him far and wide

       The country stretched: Goito slept behind

       — The castle and its covert, which confined

       Him with his hopes and fears; so fain of old

       To leave the story of his birth untold.

       At intervals, ‘spite the fantastic glow

       Of his Apollo-life, a certain low

       And wretched whisper, winding through the bliss,

       Admonished, no such fortune could be his,

       All was quite false and sure to fade one day:

       The closelier drew he round him his array

       Of brilliance to expel the truth. But when

       A reason for his difference from men

       Surprised him at the grave, he took no rest

       While aught of that old life, superbly dressed

       Down to its meanest incident, remained

       A mystery: alas, they soon explained

       Away Apollo! and the tale amounts

       To this: when at Vicenza both her counts

       Banished the Vivaresi kith and kin,

       Those Maltraversi hung on Ecelin,

       Reviled him as he followed; he for spite

       Must fire their quarter, though that selfsame night

       Among the flames young Ecelin was born

       Of Adelaide, there too, and barely torn

       From the roused populace hard on the rear,

       By a poor archer when his chieftain’s fear

       Grew high; into the thick Elcorte leapt,

       Saved her, and died; no creature left except

       His child to thank. And when the full escape

       Was known — how men impaled from chine to nape

       Unlucky Prata, all to pieces spurned

       Bishop Pistore’s concubines, and burned

       Taurello’s entire household, flesh and fell,

       Missing the sweeter prey — such courage well

       Might claim reward. The orphan, ever since,

       Sordello, had been nurtured by his prince

       Within a blind retreat where Adelaide —

       (For, once this notable discovery made,

       The past at every point was understood)

       — Might harbour easily when times were rude,

       When Azzo schemed for Palma, to retrieve

       That pledge of Agnes Este — loth to leave

       Mantua unguarded with a vigilant eye,

       While there Taurello bode ambiguously —

       He who could have no motive now to moil

       For his own fortunes since their utter spoil —

       As it were worth while yet (went the report)

       To disengage himself from her. In short,

       Apollo vanished; a mean youth, just named

       His lady’s minstrel, was to be proclaimed

       — How shall I phrase it? — Monarch of the World!

       For, on the day when that array was furled

       Forever, and in place of one a slave

       To longings, wild indeed, but longings save

       In dreams as wild, suppressed — one daring not

       Assume the mastery such dreams allot,

       Until a magical equipment, strength,

       Grace, wisdom, decked him too, — he chose at length,

       Content with unproved wits and failing frame,

       In virtue of his simple will, to claim

       That mastery, no less — to do his best

       With means so limited, and let the rest

       Go by, — the seal was set: never again

       Sordello could in his own sight remain

       One of the many, one with hopes and cares

       And interests nowise distinct from theirs,

       Only peculiar in a thriveless store

       Of fancies, which were fancies and no more;

       Never again for him and for the crowd

       A common law was challenged and allowed

       If calmly reasoned of, howe’er denied

       By a mad impulse nothing justified

       Short of Apollo’s presence. The divorce

       Is clear: why needs Sordello square his course

       By any known example? Men no more

       Compete with him than tree and flower before.

       Himself, inactive, yet is greater far

       Than such as act, each stooping to his star,

       Acquiring thence his function; he has gained

       The same result with meaner mortals trained

       To strength or beauty, moulded to express

       Each the idea that rules him; since no less

       He comprehends that function, but can still

       Embrace the others, take of might his fill

       With Richard as of grace with Palma, mix

       Their qualities, or for a moment fix

       On one; abiding free meantime, uncramped

       By any partial organ, never stamped

       Strong, and to strength turning all energies —

       Wise, and restricted to becoming wise —

       That is, he loves not, nor possesses One

       Idea that, starlike over, lures him on

       To its exclusive purpose. “Fortunate!

       “This flesh of mine ne’er strove to emulate

       “A soul so various — took no casual mould

       “Of the first fancy and, contracted, cold,

       “Clogged her forever — soul averse to change

       “As flesh: whereas flesh leaves soul free to range,

       “Remains itself a blank, cast into shade,

       “Encumbers little, if it cannot aid.

       “So, range, free soul! — who, by self-consciousness,

       “The last drop of all beauty dost express —

       “The grace of seeing grace, a quintessence

       “For thee: while for the world, that can dispense

       “Wonder on men who, themselves, wonder — make

       “A shift to love at second-hand, and take

       “For idols those who do but idolize,

       “Themselves, — the world that counts men strong or wise,

      


Скачать книгу