Sordello: Book The Sixth

The thought of Eglamor's least like a thought,     And yet a false one, was, "Man shrinks to nought     "If matched with symbols of immensity;     "Must quail, forsooth, before a quiet sky     "Or sea, too little for their quietude:"     And, truly, somewhat in Sordello's mood     Confirmed its speciousness, while eve slow sank     Down the near terrace to the farther bank,     And only one spot left from out the night     Glimmered upon the river opposite     A breadth of watery heaven like a bay,     A sky-like space of water, ray for ray,     And star for star, one richness where they mixed     As this and that wing of an angel, fixed,     Tumultuary splendours folded in     To die. Nor turned he till Ferrara's din     (Say, the monotonous speech from a man's lip     Who lets some first and eager purpose slip     In a new fancy's birth the speech keeps on     Though elsewhere its informing soul be gone)     Aroused him, surely offered succour. Fate     Paused with this eve; ere she precipitate     Herself, best put off new strange thoughts awhile,     That voice, those large hands, that portentous smile,     What help to pierce the future as the past     Lay in the plaining city?     And at last     The main discovery and prime concern,     All that just now imported him to learn,     Truth's self, like yonder slow moon to complete     Heaven, rose again, and, naked at his feet,     Lighted his old life's every shift and change,     Effort with counter-effort; nor the range     Of each looked wrong except wherein it checked,     Some other which of these could he suspect,     Prying into them by the sudden blaze?     The real way seemed made up of all the ways     Mood after mood of the one mind in him;     Tokens of the existence, bright or dim,     Of a transcendent all-embracing sense     Demanding only outward influence,     A soul, in Palma's phrase, above his soul,     Power to uplift his power, such moon's control     Over such sea-depths, and their mass had swept     Onward from the beginning and still kept     Its course: but years and years the sky above     Held none, and so, untasked of any love,     His sensitiveness idled, now amort,     Alive now, and, to sullenness or sport     Given wholly up, disposed itself anew     At every passing instigation, grew     And dwindled at caprice, in foam-showers spilt,     Wedge-like insisting, quivered now a gilt     Shield in the sunshine, now a blinding race     Of whitest ripples o'er the reef found place     For much display; not gathered up and, hurled     Right from its heart, encompassing the world.     So had Sordello been, by consequence,     Without a function: others made pretence     To strength not half his own, yet had some core     Within, submitted to some moon, before     Them still, superior still whate'er their force,     Were able therefore to fulfil a course,     Nor missed life's crown, authentic attribute.     To each who lives must be a certain fruit     Of having lived in his degree, a stage,     Earlier or later in men's pilgrimage,     To stop at; and to this the spirits tend     Who, still discovering beauty without end,     Amass the scintillations, make one star     Something unlike them, self-sustained, afar,     And meanwhile nurse the dream of being blest     By winning it to notice and invest     Their souls with alien glory, some one day     Whene'er the nucleus, gathering shape alway,     Round to the perfect circle soon or late,     According as themselves are formed to wait;     Whether mere human beauty will suffice     The yellow hair and the luxurious eyes,     Or human intellect seem best, or each     Combine in some ideal form past reach     On earth, or else some shade of these, some aim,     Some love, hate even, take their place, the same,     So to be served all this they do not lose,     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     Sky-ward!     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     "In every shape. Thrust Beauty then aside     "And banish Evil! Wherefore? After all,     "Is Evil a result less natural     "Than Good? For overlook the seasons' strife     "With tree and flower, the hideous animal life,     "(Of which who seeks shall find a grinning taunt     "For his solution, and endure the vaunt     "Of nature's angel, as a child that knows     "Himself befooled, unable to propose     "Aught better than the fooling) and but care     "For men, for the mere People then and there,     "In these, could you but see that Good and Ill     "Claimed you alike! Whence rose their claim but still     "From Ill, as fruit of Ill? What else could knit     "You theirs but Sorrow? Any free from it     "Were also free from you! Whose happiness     "Could be distinguished in this morning's press     "Of miseries? the fool's who passed a gibe     "'On thee,' jeered he, `so wedded to thy tribe,     "`Thou carriest green and yellow tokens in     "'Thy very face that thou art Ghibellin!'     "Much hold on you that fool obtained! Nay mount     "Yet higher and upon men's own account     "Must Evil stay: for, what is joy? to heave     "Up one obstruction more, and common leave     "What was peculiar, by such act destroy     "Itself; a partial death is every joy;     "The sensible escape, enfranchisement     "Of a sphere's essence: once the vexed content,     "The cramped at large, the growing circle round,     "All's to begin again some novel bound     "To break, some new enlargement to entreat;     "The sphere though larger is not more complete.     "Now for Mankind's experience: who alone     "Might style the unobstructed world his own?     "Whom palled Goito with its perfect things?     "Sordello's self: whereas for Mankind springs     "Salvation by each hindrance interposed.     "They climb; life's view is not at once disclosed     "To creatures caught up, on the summit left,     "Heaven plain above them, yet of wings bereft:     "But lower laid, as at the mountain's foot.     "So, range on range, the girdling forests shoot     "'Twixt your plain prospect and the throngs who scale     "Height after height, and pierce mists, veil by veil,     "Heartened with each discovery; in their soul,     "The Whole they seek by Parts but, found that Whole,     "Could they revert, enjoy past gains? The space     "Of time you judge so meagre to embrace     "The Parts were more than plenty, once attained     "The Whole, to quite exhaust it: nought were gained     "But leave to look not leave to do: Beneath     "Soon sates the looker look Above, and Death     "Tempts ere a tithe of Life be tasted. Live     "First, and die soon enough, Sordello! Give     "Body and spirit the first right they claim,     "And pasture soul on a voluptuous shame     "That you, a pageant-city's denizen,     "Are neither vilely lodged midst Lombard men     "Can force joy out of sorrow, seem to truck     "Bright attributes away for sordid muck,     "Yet manage from that very muck educe     "Gold; then subject nor scruple, to your cruce     "The world's discardings! Though real ingots pay     "Your pains, the clods that yielded them are clay     "To all beside, would clay remain, though quenched     "Your purging-fire; who 's robbed then? Had you wrenched     "An ampler treasure forth! As 't is, they crave     "A share that ruins you and will not save     "Them. Why should sympathy command you quit     "The course that makes your joy, nor will remit     "Their woe? Would all arrive at joy? Reverse     "The order (time instructs you) nor coerce     "Each unit till, some predetermined mode,     "The total be emancipate; men's road     "Is one, men's times of travel many; thwart     "No enterprising soul's precocious start     "Before the general march! If slow or fast     "All straggle up to the same point at last,     "Why grudge your having gained, a month ago,     "The brakes at balm-shed, asphodels in blow,     "While they were landlocked? Speed their Then, but how     "This badge would suffer you improve your Now!"     His time of action for, against, or with     Our world (I labour to extract the pith     Of this his problem) grew, that even-tide,     Gigantic with its power of joy, beside     The world's eternity of impotence     To profit though at his whole joy's expense.     "Make nothing of my day because so brief?     "Rather make more: instead of joy, use grief     "Before its novelty have time subside!     "Wait not for the late savour, leave untried     "Virtue, the creaming honey-wine, quick squeeze     "Vice like a biting spirit from the lees     "Of life! Together let wrath, hatred, lust,     "All tyrannies in every shape, be thrust     "Upon this Now, which time may reason out     "As mischiefs, far from benefits, no doubt;     "But long ere then Sordello will have slipt     "Away; you teach him at Goito's crypt,     "There 's a blank issue to that fiery thrill.     "Stirring, the few cope with the many, still:     "So much of sand as, quiet, makes a mass     "Unable to produce three tufts of grass,     "Shall, troubled by the whirlwind, render void     "The whole calm glebe's endeavour: be employed!     "And e'en though somewhat smart the Crowd for this,     "Contribute each his pang to make your bliss,     "'T is but one pang one blood-drop to the bowl     "Which brimful tempts the sluggish asp uncowl     "At last, stains ruddily the dull red cape,     "And, kindling orbs grey as the unripe grape     "Before, avails forthwith to disentrance     "The portent, soon to lead a mystic dance     "Among you! For, who sits alone in Rome?     "Have those great hands indeed hewn out a home,     "And set me there to live? Oh life, life-breath,     "Life-blood, ere sleep, come travail, life ere death!     "This life stream on my soul, direct, oblique,     "But always streaming! Hindrances? They pique:     "Helps? such . . . but why repeat, my soul o'ertops     "Each height, then every depth profoundlier drops?     "Enough that I can live, and would live! Wait     "For some transcendent life reserved by Fate     "To follow this? Oh, never! Fate, I trust     "The same, my soul to; for, as who flings dust,     "Perchance (so facile was the deed) she chequed     "The void with these materials to affect     "My soul diversely: these consigned anew     "To nought by death, what marvel if she threw     "A second and superber spectacle     "Before me? What may serve for sun, what still     "Wander a moon above me? What else wind     "About me like the pleasures left behind,     "And how shall some new flesh that is not flesh     "Cling to me? What 's new laughter? Soothes the fresh     "Sleep like sleep? Fate 's exhaustless for my sake     "In brave resource: but whether bids she slake     "My thirst at this first rivulet, or count     "No draught worth lip save from some rocky fount     "Above i' the clouds, while here she 's provident     "Of pure loquacious pearl, the soft tree-tent     "Guards, with its face of reate and sedge, nor fail     "The silver globules and gold-sparkling grail     "At bottom? Oh, 't were too absurd to slight     "For the hereafter the to-day's delight!     "Quench thirst at this, then seek next well-spring: wear     "Home-lilies ere strange lotus in my hair!     "Here is the Crowd, whom I with freest heart     "Offer to serve, contented for my part     "To give life up in service, only grant     "That I do serve; if otherwise, why want     "Aught further of me? If men cannot choose     "But set aside life, why should I refuse     "The gift? I take it I, for one, engage     "Never to falter through my pilgrimage     "Nor end it howling that the stock or stone     "Were enviable, truly: I, for one,     "Will praise the world, you style mere anteroom     "To palace be it so! shall I assume     "My foot the courtly gait, my tongue the trope,     "My mouth the smirk, before the doors fly ope     "One moment? What? with guarders row on row,     "Gay swarms of varletry that come and go,     "Pages to dice with, waiting-girls unlace     "The plackets of, pert claimants help displace,     "Heart-heavy suitors get a rank for, laugh     "At yon sleek parasite, break his own staff     "'Cross Beetle-brows the Usher's shoulder, why     "Admitted to the presence by and by,     "Should thought of having lost these make me grieve     "Among new joys I reach, for joys I leave?     "Cool citrine-crystals, fierce pyropus-stone,     "Are floor-work there! But do I let alone     "That black-eyed peasant in the vestibule     "Once and for ever? Floor-work? No such fool!     "Rather, were heaven to forestall earth, I 'd say     "I, is it, must be blest? Then, my own way     "Bless me! Giver firmer arm and fleeter foot,     "I 'll thank you: but to no mad wings transmute     "These limbs of mine our greensward was so soft!     "Nor camp I on the thunder-cloud aloft:     "We feel the bliss distinctlier, having thus     "Engines subservient, not mixed up with us.     "Better move palpably through heaven: nor, freed     "Of flesh, forsooth, from space to space proceed     "'Mid flying synods of worlds! No: in heaven's marge     "Show Titan still, recumbent o'er his targe     "Solid with stars the Centaur at his game,     "Made tremulously out in hoary flame!     "Life! Yet the very cup whose extreme dull     "Dregs, even, I would quaff, was dashed, at full,     "Aside so oft; the death I fly, revealed     "So oft a better life this life concealed,     "And which sage, champion, martyr, through each path     "Have hunted fearlessly the horrid bath,     "The crippling-irons and the fiery chair.     "'T was well for them; let me become aware     "As they, and I relinquish life, too! Let     "What masters life disclose itself! Forget     "Vain ordinances, I have one appeal     "I feel, am what I feel, know what I feel;     "So much is truth to me. What Is, then? Since     "One object, viewed diversely, may evince     "Beauty and ugliness this way attract,     "That way repel, why gloze upon the fact?     "Why must a single of the sides be right?     "What bids choose this and leave the opposite?     "Where 's abstract Right for me? in youth endued     "With Right still present, still to be pursued,     "Thro' all the interchange of circles, rife     "Each with its proper law and mode of life,     "Each to be dwelt at ease in: where, to sway     "Absolute with the Kaiser, or obey     "Implicit with his serf of fluttering heart,     "Or, like a sudden thought of God's, to start     "Up, Brutus in the presence, then go shout     "That some should pick the unstrung jewels out     "Each, well!"     And, as in moments when the past     Gave partially enfranchisement, he cast     Himself quite through mere secondary states     Of his soul's essence, little loves and hates,     Into the mid deep yearnings overlaid     By these; as who should pierce hill, plain, grove, glade,     And on into the very nucleus probe     That first determined there exist a globe.     As that were easiest, half the globe dissolved,     So seemed Sordello's closing-truth evolved     By his flesh-half's break-up; the sudden swell     Of his expanding soul showed Ill and Well,     Sorrow and Joy, Beauty and Ugliness,     Virtue and Vice, the Larger and the Less,     All qualities, in fine, recorded here,     Might be but modes of Time and this one sphere,     Urgent on these, but not of force to bind     Eternity, as Time as Matter Mind,     If Mind, Eternity, should choose assert     Their attributes within a Life: thus girt     With circumstance, next change beholds them cinct     Quite otherwise with Good and Ill distinct,     Joys, sorrows, tending to a like result     Contrived to render easy, difficult,     This or the other course of . . . what new bond     In place of flesh may stop their flight beyond     Its new sphere, as that course does harm or good     To its arrangements. Once this understood,     As suddenly he felt himself alone,     Quite out of Time and this world: all was known.     What made the secret of his past despair?     Most imminent when he seemed most aware     Of his own self-sufficiency: made mad     By craving to expand the power he had,     And not new power to be expanded? just     This made it; Soul on Matter being thrust,     Joy comes when so much Soul is wreaked in Time     On Matter: let the Soul's attempt sublime     Matter beyond the scheme and so prevent     By more or less that deed's accomplishment,     And Sorrow follows: Sorrow how avoid?     Let the employer match the thing employed,     Fit to the finite his infinity,     And thus proceed for ever, in degree     Changed but in kind the same, still limited     To the appointed circumstance and dead     To all beyond. A sphere is but a sphere;     Small, Great, are merely terms we bandy here;     Since to the spirit's absoluteness all     Are like. Now, of the present sphere we call     Life, are conditions; take but this among     Many; the body was to be so long     Youthful, no longer: but, since no control     Tied to that body's purposes his soul,     She chose to understand the body's trade     More than the body's self had fain conveyed     Her boundless to the body's bounded lot.     Hence, the soul permanent, the body not,     Scarcely its minute for enjoying here,     The soul must needs instruct her weak compeer,     Run o'er its capabilities and wring     A joy thence, she held worth experiencing:     Which, far from half discovered even, lo,     The minute gone, the body's power let go     Apportioned to that joy's acquirement! Broke     Morning o'er earth, he yearned for all it woke     From the volcano's vapour-flag, winds hoist     Black o'er the spread of sea, down to the moist     Dale's silken barley-spikes sullied with rain,     Swayed earthwards, heavily to rise again     The Small, a sphere as perfect as the Great     To the soul's absoluteness. Meditate     Too long on such a morning's cluster-chord     And the whole music it was framed afford,     The chord's might half discovered, what should pluck     One string, his finger, was found palsy-struck.     And then no marvel if the spirit, shown     A saddest sight the body lost alone     Through her officious proffered help, deprived     Of this and that enjoyment Fate contrived,     Virtue, Good, Beauty, each allowed slip hence,     Vain-gloriously were fain, for recompense,     To stem the ruin even yet, protract     The body's term, supply the power it lacked     From her infinity, compel it learn     These qualities were only Time's concern,     And body may, with spirit helping, barred     Advance the same, vanquished obtain reward,     Reap joy where sorrow was intended grow,     Of Wrong make Right, and turn Ill Good below.     And the result is, the poor body soon     Sinks under what was meant a wondrous boon,     Leaving its bright accomplice all aghast.     So much was plain then, proper in the past;     To be complete for, satisfy the whole     Series of spheres Eternity, his soul     Needs must exceed, prove incomplete for, each     Single sphere Time. But does our knowledge reach     No farther? Is the cloud of hindrance broke     But by the failing of the fleshly yoke,     Its loves and hates, as now when death lets soar     Sordello, self-sufficient as before,     Though during the mere space that shall elapse     'Twixt his enthralment in new bonds perhaps?     Must life be ever just escaped, which should     Have been enjoyed? nay, might have been and would,     Each purpose ordered right the soul 's no whit     Beyond the body's purpose under it.     Like yonder breadth of watery heaven, a bay,     And that sky-space of water, ray for ray     And star for star, one richness where they mixed     As this and that wing of an angel, fixed,     Tumultuary splendours folded in     To die would soul, proportioned thus, begin     Exciting discontent, or surelier quell     The body if, aspiring, it rebel?     But how so order life? Still brutalize     The soul, the sad world's way, with muffled eyes     To all that was before, all that shall be     After this sphere all and each quality     Save some sole and immutable Great, Good     And Beauteous whither fate has loosed its hood     To follow? Never may some soul see All     The Great Before and After, and the Small     Now, yet be saved by this the simplest lore,     And take the single course prescribed before,     As the king-bird with ages on his plumes     Travels to die in his ancestral glooms?     But where descry the Love that shall select     That course? Here is a soul whom, to affect,     Nature has plied with all her means, from trees     And flowers e'en to the Multitude! and these,     Decides he save or no? One word to end!     Ah my Sordello, I this once befriend     And speak for you. Of a Power above you still     Which, utterly incomprehensible,     Is out of rivalry, which thus you can     Love, tho' unloving all conceived by man     What need! And of none the minutest duct     To that out-nature, nought that would instruct     And so let rivalry begin to live     But of a Power its representative     Who, being for authority the same,     Communication different, should claim     A course, the first chose but this last revealed     This Human clear, as that Divine concealed     What utter need!     What has Sordello found?     Or can his spirit go the mighty round,     End where poor Eglamor begun? So, says     Old fable, the two eagles went two ways     About the world: where, in the midst, they met,     Though on a shifting waste of sand, men set     Jove's temple. Quick, what has Sordello found?     For they approach approach that foot's rebound     Palma? No, Salinguerra though in mail;     They mount, have reached the threshold, dash the veil     Aside and you divine who sat there dead,     Under his foot the badge: still, Palma said,     A triumph lingering in the wide eyes,     Wider than some spent swimmer's if he spies     Help from above in his extreme despair,     And, head far back on shoulder thrust, turns there     With short quick passionate cry: as Palma pressed     In one great kiss, her lips upon his breast,     It beat.     By this, the hermit-bee has stopped     His day's toil at Goito: the new-cropped     Dead vine-leaf answers, now 't is eve, he bit,     Twirled so, and filed all day: the mansion 's fit,     God counselled for. As easy guess the word     That passed betwixt them, and become the third     To the soft small unfrighted bee, as tax     Him with one fault so, no remembrance racks     Of the stone maidens and the font of stone     He, creeping through the crevice, leaves alone.     Alas, my friend, alas Sordello, whom     Anon they laid within that old font-tomb,     And, yet again, alas!     And now is 't worth     Our while bring back to mind, much less set forth     How Salinguerra extricates himself     Without Sordello? Ghibellin and Guelf     May fight their fiercest out? If Richard sulked     In durance or the Marquis paid his mulct,     Who cares, Sordello gone? The upshot, sure,     Was peace; our chief made some frank overture     That prospered; compliment fell thick and fast     On its disposer, and Taurello passed     With foe and friend for an outstripping soul,     Nine days at least. Then, fairly reached the goal,     He, by one effort, blotted the great hope     Out of his mind, nor further tried to cope     With Este, that mad evening's style, but sent     Away the Legate and the League, content     No blame at least the brothers had incurred,     Dispatched a message to the Monk, he heard     Patiently first to last, scarce shivered at,     Then curled his limbs up on his wolfskin mat     And ne'er spoke more, informed the Ferrarese     He but retained their rule so long as these     Lingered in pupilage, and last, no mode     Apparent else of keeping safe the road     From Germany direct to Lombardy     For Friedrich, none, that is, to guarantee     The faith and promptitude of who should next     Obtain Sofia's dowry, sore perplexed     (Sofia being youngest of the tribe     Of daughters, Ecelin was wont to bribe     The envious magnates with nor, since he sent     Henry of Egna this fair child, had Trent     Once failed the Kaiser's purposes "we lost     "Egna last year, and who takes Egna's post     "Opens the Lombard gate if Friedrich knock?")     Himself espoused the Lady of the Rock     In pure necessity, and, so destroyed     His slender last of chances, quite made void     Old prophecy, and spite of all the schemes     Overt and covert, youth's deeds, age's dreams,     Was sucked into Romano. And so hushed     He up this evening's work that, when 't was brushed     Somehow against by a blind chronicle     Which, chronicling whatever woe befell     Ferrara, noted this the obscure woe     Of "Salinguerra's sole son Giacomo     "Deceased, fatuous and doting, ere his sire,"     The townsfolk rubbed their eyes, could but admire     Which of Sofia's five was meant.     The chaps     Of earth's dead hope were tardy to collapse,     Obliterated not the beautiful     Distinctive features at a crash: but dull     And duller these, next year, as Guelfs withdrew     Each to his stronghold. Then (securely too     Ecelin at Campese slept; close by,     Who likes may see him in Solagna lie,     With cushioned head and gloved hand to denote     The cavalier he was) then his heart smote     Young Ecelin at last; long since adult.     And, save Vicenza's business, what result     In blood and blaze? (So hard to intercept     Sordello till his plain withdrawal!) Stepped     Then its new lord on Lombardy. I' the nick     Of time when Ecelin and Alberic     Closed with Taurello, come precisely news     That in Verona half the souls refuse     Allegiance to the Marquis and the Count     Have cast them from a throne they bid him mount,     Their Podest, thro' his ancestral worth.     Ecelin flew there, and the town henceforth     Was wholly his Taurello sinking back     From temporary station to a track     That suited. News received of this acquist,     Friedrich did come to Lombardy: who missed     Taurello then? Another year: they took     Vicenza, left the Marquis scarce a nook     For refuge, and, when hundreds two or three     Of Guelfs conspired to call themselves "The Free,"     Opposing Alberic, vile Bassanese,     (Without Sordello!) Ecelin at ease     Slaughtered them so observably, that oft     A little Salinguerra looked with soft     Blue eyes up, asked his sire the proper age     To get appointed his proud uncle's page.     More years passed, and that sire had dwindled down     To a mere showy turbulent soldier, grown     Better through age, his parts still in repute,     Subtle how else? but hardly so astute     As his contemporaneous friends professed;     Undoubtedly a brawler: for the rest,     Known by each neighbour, and allowed for, let     Keep his incorrigible ways, nor fret     Men who would miss their boyhood's bugbear: "trap     "The ostrich, suffer our bald osprey flap     "A battered pinion!" was the word. In fine,     One flap too much and Venice's marine     Was meddled with; no overlooking that!     She captured him in his Ferrara, fat     And florid at a banquet, more by fraud     Than force, to speak the truth; there 's slender laud     Ascribed you for assisting eighty years     To pull his death on such a man; fate shears     The life-cord prompt enough whose last fine threads     You fritter: so, presiding his board-head,     The old smile, your assurance all went well     With Friedrich (as if he were like to tell!)     In rushed (a plan contrived before) our friends,     Made some pretence at fighting, some amends     For the shame done his eighty years (apart     The principle, none found it in his heart     To be much angry with Taurello) gained     Their galleys with the prize, and what remained     But carry him to Venice for a show?     Set him, as 't were, down gently free to go     His gait, inspect our square, pretend observe     The swallows soaring their eternal curve     'Twixt Theodore and Mark, if citizens     Gathered importunately, fives and tens,     To point their children the Magnifico,     All but a monarch once in firm-land, go     His gait among them now "it took, indeed,     "Fully this Ecelin to supersede     "That man," remarked the seniors. Singular!     Sordello's inability to bar     Rivals the stage, that evening, mainly brought     About by his strange disbelief that aught     Was ever to be done, this thrust the Twain     Under Taurello's tutelage, whom, brain     And heart and hand, he forthwith in one rod     Indissolubly bound to baffle God     Who loves the world and thus allowed the thin     Grey wizened dwarfish devil Ecelin,     And massy-muscled big-boned Alberic     (Mere man, alas!) to put his problem quick     To demonstration prove wherever's will     To do, there's plenty to be done, or ill     Or good. Anointed, then, to rend and rip     Kings of the gag and flesh-hook, screw and whip,     They plagued the world: a touch of Hildebrand     (So far from obsolete!) made Lombards band     Together, cross their coats as for Christ's cause,     And saving Milan win the world's applause.     Ecelin perished: and I think grass grew     Never so pleasant as in Valley R     By San Zenon where Alberic in turn     Saw his exasperated captors burn     Seven children and their mother; then, regaled     So far, tied on to a wild horse, was trailed     To death through raunce and bramble-bush. I take     God's part and testify that 'mid the brake     Wild o'er his castle on the pleasant knoll,     You hear its one tower left, a belfry, toll     The earthquake spared it last year, laying flat     The modern church beneath, no harm in that!     Chirrups the contumacious grasshopper,     Rustles the lizard and the cushats chirre     Above the ravage: there, at deep of day     A week since, heard I the old Canon say     He saw with his own eyes a barrow burst     And Alberic's huge skeleton unhearsed     Only five years ago. He added, "June 's     "The month for carding off our first cocoons     "The silkworms fabricate" a double news,     Nor he nor I could tell the worthier. Choose!     And Naddo gone, all's gone; not Eglamor!     Believe, I knew the face I waited for,     A guest my spirit of the golden courts!     Oh strange to see how, despite ill-reports,     Disuse, some wear of years, that face retained     Its joyous look of love! Suns waxed and waned,     And still my spirit held an upward flight,     Spiral on spiral, gyres of life and light     More and more gorgeous ever that face there     The last admitted! crossed, too, with some care     As perfect triumph were not sure for all,     But, on a few, enduring damp must fall,     A transient struggle, haply a painful sense     Of the inferior nature's clinging whence     Slight starting tears easily wiped away,     Fine jealousies soon stifled in the play     Of irrepressible admiration not     Aspiring, all considered, to their lot     Who ever, just as they prepare ascend     Spiral on spiral, wish thee well, impend     Thy frank delight at their exclusive track,     That upturned fervid face and hair put back!     Is there no more to say? He of the rhymes     Many a tale, of this retreat betimes,     Was born: Sordello die at once for men?     The Chroniclers of Mantua tired their pen     Telling how Sordello Prince Visconti saved     Mantua, and elsewhere notably behaved     Who thus, by fortune ordering events,     Passed with posterity, to all intents,     For just the god he never could become.     As Knight, Bard, Gallant, men were never dumb     In praise of him: while what he should have been,     Could be, and was not the one step too mean     For him to take, we suffer at this day     Because of: Ecelin had pushed away     Its chance ere Dante could arrive and take     That step Sordello spurned, for the world's sake:     He did much but Sordello's chance was gone.     Thus, had Sordello dared that step alone,     Apollo had been compassed: 't was a fit     He wished should go to him, not he to it     As one content to merely be supposed     Singing or fighting elsewhere, while he dozed     Really at home one who was chiefly glad     To have achieved the few real deeds he had,     Because that way assured they were not worth     Doing, so spared from doing them henceforth     A tree that covets fruitage and yet tastes     Never itself, itself. Had he embraced     Their cause then, men had plucked Hesperian fruit     And, praising that, just thrown him in to boot     All he was anxious to appear, but scarce     Solicitous to be. A sorry farce     Such life is, after all! Cannot I say     He lived for some one better thing? this way.     Lo, on a heathy brown and nameless hill     By sparkling Asolo, in mist and chill,     Morning just up, higher and higher runs     A child barefoot and rosy. See! the sun's     On the square castle's inner-court's low wall     Like the chine of some extinct animal     Half turned to earth and flowers; and through the haze     (Save where some slender patches of grey maize     Are to be overleaped) that boy has crossed     The whole hill-side of dew and powder-frost     Matting the balm and mountain camomile.     Up and up goes he, singing all the while     Some unintelligible words to beat     The lark, God's poet, swooning at his feet,     So worsted is he at "the few fine locks     "Stained like pale honey oozed from topmost rocks     "Sun-blanched the livelong summer," all that's left     Of the Goito lay! And thus bereft,     Sleep and forget, Sordello! In effect     He sleeps, the feverish poet I suspect     Not utterly companionless; but, friends,     Wake up! The ghost's gone, and the story ends     I'd fain hope, sweetly; seeing, peri or ghoul,     That spirits are conjectured fair or foul,     Evil or good, judicious authors think,     According as they vanish in a stink     Or in a perfume. Friends, be frank! ye snuff     Civet, I warrant. Really? Like enough!     Merely the savour's rareness; any nose     May ravage with impunity a rose:     Rifle a musk-pod and 't will ache like yours!     I'd tell you that same pungency ensures     An after-gust, but that were overbold.     Who would has heard Sordello's story told.