PIPPA PASSES New Year's Day at Asolo in the Trevisan. A large, mean, airy Chamber. A girl, Pippa, from the silk-mills, springing out of bed. Day! Faster and more fast O'er night's brim day boils at last; Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim 5 Where spurting and supprest it lay컴 For not a froth-flake touched the rim Of yonder gap in the solid gray Of eastern cloud an hour away컴 But forth one wavelet then another curled, 10 Till the whole sunrise, not to be supprest, Rose-reddened, and its seething breast Flickered in bounds, grew gold, then overflowed the world. Day, if I waste a wavelet of thee, Aught of my twelve-hours' treasure컴 15 One of thy gazes, one of thy glances, (Grants thou art bound to, gifts above measure,) One of thy choices, one of thy chances, (Tasks God imposed thee, freaks at thy pleasure,) Day, if I waste such labour or leisure 20 Shame betide Asolo, mischief to me! But in turn, Day, treat me not As happy tribes컴so happy tribes! who live At hand컴the common, other creatures' lot컴 Ready to take when thou wilt give, 25 Prepared to pass what thou refusest; Day, 'tis but Pippa thou ill-usest If thou prove sullen, me, whose old year's sorrow Who except thee can chase before to-morrow, Seest thou, my day? Pippa's컴who mean to borrow 30 Only of thee strength against new year's sorrow: For let thy morning scowl on that superb Great haughty Ottima컴can scowl disturb Her Sebald's homage? And if noon shed gloom O'er Jules and Phene컴what care bride and groom 35 Save for their dear selves? Then, obscure thy eve With mist컴will Luigi and Madonna grieve 컴The mother and the child컴unmatched, forsooth, She in her age as Luigi in his youth, For true content? And once again, outbreak 40 In storm at night on Monsignor they make Such stir to-day about, who foregoes Rome To visit Asolo, his brother's home, And say there masses proper to release The soul from pain컴what storm dares hurt that peace? 45 But Pippa컴just one such mischance would spoil, Bethink thee, utterly next twelvemonth's toil At wearisome silk-winding, coil on coil! And here am I letting time slip for nought! You fool-hardy sunbeam컴caught 50 With a single splash from my ewer! You that mocked the best pursuer, Was my basin over-deep? One splash of water ruins you asleep And up, up, fleet your brilliant bits 55 Wheeling and counterwheeling, Reeling, crippled beyond healing컴 Grow together on the ceiling, That will task your wits! Whoever it was first quenched fire hoped to see 60 Morsel after morsel flee As merrily, As giddily ... what lights he on컴 Where settles himself the cripple? Oh never surely blown, my martagon? 65 New-blown, though!컴ruddy as a nipple, Plump as the flesh bunch on some Turk bird's poll! Be sure if corals, branching 'neath the ripple Of ocean, bud there,컴fairies watch unroll Such turban flowers .. I say, such lamps disperse 70 Thick red flame thro' that dusk green universe! Queen of thee, floweret, Each fleshy blossom Keep I not, safer Than leaves that embower it 75 Or shells that embosom, From weevil and chafer? Laugh thro' my pane then, solicit the bee, Gibe him, be sure, and in midst of thy glee Worship me! 80 Worship whom else? for am I not this Day Whate'er I please? Who shall I seem to-day? Morn, Noon, Eve, Night컴how must I spend my Day? Up the hill-side, thro' the morning, Love me as I love! 85 I am Ottima, take warning, And the gardens, and stone house above, And other house for shrubs, all glass in front, Are mine, and Sebald steals as he is wont To court me, and old Luca yet reposes, 90 And therefore till the shrub-house door uncloses I ... what now? give abundant cause for prate Of me (that's Ottima)컴too bold of late, By far too confident she'll still face down The spitefullest of talkers in our town컴 95 How we talk in the little town below! But love, love, love, there's better love I know! This love's only day's first offer컴 Next love shall defy the scoffer: For do not bride and bridegroom sally 100 Out of Possagno church at noon? Their house looks over Orcana valley컴 Why not be the bride as soon As Ottima? I saw, myself, beside, Arrive last night that bride컴 105 Saw, if you call it seeing her, one flash Of the pale snow-pure cheek and blacker tresses Than ... not the black eyelash; A wonder she contrives those lids no dresses 컴So strict was she the veil 110 Should cover close her pale Pure cheeks컴a bride to look at and scarce touch, Remember Jules!컴for are not such Used to be tended, flower-like, every feature, As if one's breath would fray the lily of a creature? 115 Oh, save that brow its virgin dimness, Keep that foot its lady primness, Let those ancles never swerve From their exquisite reserve, Yet have to trip along the streets like me 120 All but naked to the knee! How will she ever grant her Jules a bliss So startling as her real first infant kiss? Oh컴no컴not envy this! Not envy sure, for, if you gave me 125 Leave to take or to refuse In earnest, do you think I'd choose That sort of new love to enslave me? Mine should have lapped me round from the beginning; As little fear of losing it as winning컴 130 Why look you! when at eve the pair Commune inside our turret, what prevents My being Luigi?컴While that mossy lair Of lizards thro' the winter-time, is stirred With each to each imparting sweet intents 135 For this new year, as brooding bird to bird컴 I will be cared about, kept out of harm And schemed for, safe in love as with a charm, I will be Luigi ... if I only knew What was my father like ... my mother too! 140 Nay, if you come to that, the greatest love of all Is God's: well then, to have God's love befall Oneself as in the palace by the dome Where Monsignor to-night will bless the home Of his dead brother! I, to-night at least, 145 Will be that holy and beloved priest. Now wait컴even I myself already ought to share In that컴why else should new year's hymn declare All service ranks the same with God: If now, as formerly, he trod 150 Paradise, God's presence fills Our earth, and each but as God wills Can work컴God's puppets, best and worst, Are we; there is no last nor first. Say not, a small event! Why small? 155 Costs it more pain this thing ye call A great event should come to pass Than that? Untwine me, from the mass Of deeds that make up life, one deed Power shall fall short in, or exceed! 160 And more of it, and more of it컴oh, yes! So that my passing, and each happiness I pass, will be alike important컴prove That true! oh yes컴the brother, The bride, the lover, and the mother,컴 165 Only to pass whom will remove컴 Whom a mere look at half will cure The Past, and help me to endure The Coming ... I am just as great, no doubt, As they! 170 A pretty thing to care about So mightily컴this single holiday! Why repine? With thee to lead me, Day of mine, Down the grass path gray with dew, 175 'Neath the pine-wood, blind with boughs, Where the swallow never flew As yet, nor cicale dared carouse: No, dared carouse! [She enters the Street. I.--Morning. Up the Hill-side. The Shrub House. Luca's Wife Ottima, and her Paramour the German Sebald. Sebald. [Sings] Let the watching lids wink! Day's a-blaze with eyes, think,컴 Deep into the night drink! Ottima. Night? What, a Rhineland night, then? How these tall 5 Naked geraniums straggle! Push the lattice컴 Behind that frame.컴Nay, do I bid you?컴Sebald, It shakes the dust down on me! Why, of course The slide-bolt catches컴Well, are you content, Or must I find you something else to spoil? 10 Kiss and be friends, my Sebald. Is it full morning? Oh, don't speak then! Sebald. Ay, thus it used to be! Ever your house was, I remember, shut Till mid-day컴I observed that, as I strolled On mornings thro' the vale here: country girls 15 Were noisy, washing garments in the brook컴 Herds drove the slow white oxen up the hills컴 But no, your house was mute, would ope no eye컴 And wisely컴you were plotting one thing there, Nature another outside: I looked up컴 20 Rough white wood shutters, rusty iron bars, Silent as death, blind in a flood of light, Oh, I remember!컴and the peasants laughed And said, "The old man sleeps with the young wife!" This house was his, this chair, this window컴his. 25 Ottima. Ah, the clear morning! I can see St. Mark's: That black streak is the belfry컴stop: Vicenza Should lie컴there's Padua, plain enough, that blue. Look o'er my shoulder컴follow my finger컴 Sebald. Morning? It seems to me a night with a sun added: 30 Where's dew? where's freshness? That bruised plant I bruised In getting thro' the lattice yestereve Droops as it did. See, here's my elbow's mark In the dust on the sill. Ottima. Oh shut the lattice, pray! Sebald. Let me lean out. I cannot scent blood here 35 Foul as the morn may be컴 There, shut the world out! How do you feel now, Ottima? There컴curse The world, and all outside! Let us throw off This mask: how do you bear yourself? Let's out With all of it! Ottima. Best never speak of it. 40 Sebald. Best speak again and yet again of it, Till words cease to be more than words. "His blood," For instance컴let those two words mean "His blood" And nothing more. Notice컴I'll say them now, "His blood." Ottima. Assuredly if I repented The deed컴 45 Sebald. Repent? who should repent, or why? What puts that in your head? Did I once say That I repented? Ottima. No컴I said the deed컴 Sebald. "The deed" and "the event"컴and just now it was "Our passion's fruit"컴the devil take such cant! 50 Say, once and always, Luca was a wittol, I am his cut-throat, you are컴 Ottima. Here is the wine컴 I brought it when we left the house above컴 And glasses too컴wine of both sorts. Black? white, then? Sebald. But am not I his cut-throat? What are you? 55 Ottima. There trudges on his business from the Duomo, Benet the Capuchin, with his brown hood And bare feet컴always in one place at church, Close under the stone wall by the south entry; I used to take him for a cold brown piece 60 Of the wall's self, as out of it he rose To let me pass컴at first, I say, I used컴 Now컴so has that dumb figure fastened on me컴 I rather should account the plastered wall A piece of him, so chilly does it strike. This, Sebald? 65 Sebald. No컴the white wine컴the white wine! Well, Ottima, I promised no new year Should rise on us the ancient shameful way, Nor does it rise컴pour on컴To your black eyes! Do you remember last damned New Year's day? 70 Ottima. You brought those foreign prints. We looked at them Over the wine and fruit. I had to scheme To get him from the fire. Nothing but saying His own set wants the proof-mark roused him up To hunt them out. Sebald. Faith, he is not alive To fondle you before my face. 75 Ottima. Do you Fondle me then: who means to take your life For that, my Sebald? Sebald. Hark you, Ottima, One thing's to guard against. We'll not make much One of the other컴that is, not make more 80 Parade of warmth, childish officious coil, Than yesterday컴as if, sweet, I supposed Proof upon proof was needed now, now first, To show I love you컴still love you컴love you In spite of Luca and what's come to him. 85 컴Sure sign we had him ever in our thoughts, White sneering old reproachful face and all컴 We'll even quarrel, love, at times, as if We still could lose each other컴were not tied By this컴conceive you? Ottima. Love컴 Sebald. Not tied so sure컴 90 Because tho' I was wrought upon컴have struck His insolence back into him컴am I So surely yours?컴therefore, forever yours? Ottima. Love, to be wise, (one counsel pays another) Should we have컴months ago컴when first we loved, 95 For instance that May morning we two stole Under the green ascent of sycamores컴 If we had come upon a thing like that Suddenly컴 Sebald. "A thing" .. there again컴"a thing!" Ottima. Then, Venus' body, had we come upon 100 My husband Luca Gaddi's murdered corpse Within there, at his couch-foot, covered close컴 Would you have pored upon it? Why persist In poring now upon it? For 'tis here컴 As much as there in the deserted house컴 105 You cannot rid your eyes of it: for me, Now he is dead I hate him worse컴I hate컴 Dare you stay here? I would go back and hold His two dead hands, and say, I hate you worse Luca, than컴 Sebald. Off, off; take your hands off mine! 110 'Tis the hot evening컴off! oh, morning, is it? Ottima. There's one thing must be done컴you know what thing. Come in and help to carry. We may sleep Anywhere in the whole wide house to-night. Sebald. What would come, think you, if we let him lie 115 Just as he is? Let him lie there until The angels take him: he is turned by this Off from his face, beside, as you will see. Ottima. This dusty pane might serve for looking-glass. Three, four컴four grey hairs! is it so you said 120 A plait of hair should wave across my neck? No컴this way! Sebald. Ottima, I would give your neck, Each splendid shoulder, both those breasts of yours, This were undone! Killing?컴Let the world die So Luca lives again!컴Ay, lives to sputter 125 His fulsome dotage on you컴yes, and feign Surprise that I returned at eve to sup, When all the morning I was loitering here컴 Bid me dispatch my business and begone. I would컴 Ottima. See! Sebald. No, I'll finish. Do you think 130 I fear to speak the bare truth once for all? All we have talked of is at bottom fine To suffer컴there's a recompense in that: One must be venturous and fortunate컴 What is one young for else? In age we'll sigh 135 O'er the wild, reckless, wicked days flown over: But to have eaten Luca's bread컴have worn His clothes, have felt his money swell my purse컴 Why, I was starving when I used to call And teach you music컴starving while you pluck'd Me flowers to smell! 140 Ottima. My poor lost friend! Sebald. He gave me Life컴nothing less: what if he did reproach My perfidy, and threaten, and do more컴 Had he no right? What was to wonder at? Why must you lean across till our cheeks touch'd? 145 Could he do less than make pretence to strike me? 'Tis not the crime's sake컴I'd commit ten crimes Greater, to have this crime wiped out컴undone! And you컴O, how feel you? feel you for me? Ottima. Well, then컴I love you better now than ever컴 150 And best (look at me while I speak to you)컴 Best for the crime컴nor do I grieve in truth This mask, this simulated ignorance, This affectation of simplicity Falls off our crime; this naked crime of ours 155 May not be looked over컴look it down, then! Great? let it be great컴but the joys it brought Pay they or no its price? Come컴they or it! Speak not! The past, would you give up the past Such as it is, pleasure and crime together? 160 Give up that noon I owed my love for you컴 The garden's silence컴even the single bee Persisting in his toil, suddenly stopt And where he hid you only could surmise By some campanula's chalice set a-swing As he clung there컴"Yes, I love you." Sebald. And I drew 165 Back: put far back your face with both my hands Lest you should grow too full of me컴your face So seemed athirst for my whole soul and body! Ottima. And when I ventured to receive you here, Made you steal hither in the mornings컴 170 Sebald. When I used to look up 'neath the shrub-house here Till the red fire on its glazed windows spread Into a yellow haze? Ottima. Ah컴my sign was, the sun Inflamed the sere side of yon chestnut-tree Nipt by the first frost컴 175 Sebald. You would always laugh At my wet boots컴I had to stride thro' grass Over my ancles. Ottima. Then our crowning night컴 Sebald. The July night? Ottima. The day of it too, Sebald! When heaven's pillars seemed o'erbowed with heat 180 Its black-blue canopy seemed let descend Close on us both, to weigh down each to each, And smother up all life except our life. So lay we till the storm came. Sebald. How it came! Ottima. Buried in woods we lay, you recollect; 185 Swift ran the searching tempest overhead; And ever and anon some bright white shaft Burnt thro' the pine-tree roof컴here burnt and there, As if God's messenger thro' the close wood screen Plunged and replunged his weapon at a venture, 190 Feeling for guilty thee and me컴then broke The thunder like a whole sea overhead컴 Sebald. Yes. Ottima. While I stretched myself upon you, hands To hands, my mouth to your hot mouth, and shook All my locks loose, and covered you with them. You, Sebald, the same you컴 195 Sebald. Slower, Ottima컴 Ottima. And as we lay컴 Sebald. Less vehemently컴Love me컴 Forgive me컴take not words컴mere words컴to heart컴 Your breath is worse than wine컴breathe slow, speak slow컴 Do not lean on me컴 Ottima. Sebald, as we lay, 200 Rising and falling only with our pants, Who said, "Let death come now컴'tis right to die! Right to be punished컴nought completes such bliss But woe!" Who said that? Sebald. How did we ever rise? Was't that we slept? Why did it end? Ottima. I felt 205 You tapering to a point the ruffled ends Of my loose locks 'twixt both your humid lips컴 (My hair is fallen now컴knot it again). Sebald. I kiss you now, dear Ottima, now and now; This way? will you forgive me컴be once more My great queen? 210 Ottima. Bind it thrice about my brow; Crown me your queen, your spirit's arbitress, Magnificent in sin. Say that! Sebald. I crown you My great white queen, my spirit's arbitress, Magnificent컴 215 [Without] The year's at the spring, And day's at the morn: Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearled: The lark's on the wing, 220 The snail's on the thorn; God's in his heaven컴 All's right with the world! [Pippa passes. Sebald. God's in his heaven! Do you hear that? Who spoke? You, you spoke! Ottima. Oh컴that little ragged girl: 225 She must have rested on the step컴we give Them but one holiday the whole year round컴 Did you e'er see our silk-mills컴their inside? There are ten silk-mills now belong to you. She stops to pick my double heartsease ... Sh! She does not hear컴you call out louder! 230 Sebald. Leave me! Go, get your clothes on컴dress those shoulders. Ottima. Sebald? Sebald. Wipe off that paint. I hate you! Ottima. Miserable! Sebald. My God! and she is emptied of it now! Outright now!컴how miraculously gone 235 All of the grace컴had she not strange grace once? Why, the blank cheek hangs listless as it likes, No purpose holds the features up together, Only the cloven brow and puckered chin Stay in their places컴and the very hair, 240 That seemed to have a sort of life in it, Drops a dead web! Ottima. Speak to me컴not of me! Sebald. That round great full orbed face, where not an angle Broke the delicious indolence컴all broken! Ottima. Ungrateful컴to me컴not of me컴perjured cheat컴 245 A coward too컴but ingrate's worse than all: Beggar컴my slave컴a fawning, cringing lie! Leave me!컴betray me!컴I can see your drift컴 A lie that walks, and eats, and drinks! Sebald. My God! Those morbid, olive, faultless shoulder-blades컴 250 I should have known there was no blood beneath! Ottima. You hate me, then? you hate me then? Sebald. To think She would succeed in her absurd attempt And fascinate with sin! and show herself Superior컴Guilt from its excess, superior 255 To Innocence. That little peasant's voice Has righted all again. Though I be lost, I know which is the better, never fear, Of vice or virtue, purity or lust, Nature, or trick컴I see what I have done 260 Entirely now. Oh, I am proud to feel Such torments컴let the world take credit that I, having done my deed, pay too its price! I hate, hate컴curse you! God's in his heaven! Ottima. Me! Me! no, no Sebald컴not yourself컴kill me! 265 Mine is the whole crime컴do but kill me컴then Yourself컴then컴presently컴first hear me speak컴 I always meant to kill myself컴wait you! Lean on my breast .. not as a breast; don't love me The more because you lean on me, my own 270 Heart's Sebald. There컴there컴both deaths presently! Sebald. My brain is drowned now컴quite drowned: all I feel Is ... is at swift-recurring intervals, A hurrying-down within me, as of waters Loosened to smother up some ghastly pit컴 275 There they go컴whirls from a black, fiery sea. Ottima. Not me컴to him oh God be merciful! 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴 Talk by the way in the mean time. Foreign Students of Painting and Sculpture, from Venice, assembled opposite the house of Jules, a young French Statuary. 1 Student. Attention: my own post is beneath this window, but the pomegranate-clump yonder will hide three or four of you with a little squeezing, and Schramm and his pipe must lie flat in the balcony. Four, five컴who's a defaulter? Jules must not be suffered to hurt his bride. 2 Student. The poet's away컴never having much meant to be here, moonstrike him! He was in love with himself, and had a fair prospect of thriving in his suit, when suddenly a woman fell in love with him too, and out of pure jealousy, he takes himself off to Trieste, immortal poem and all컴whereto is this prophetical epitaph appended already, as Bluphocks assured me:컴"The author on the author. Here so and so, the mammoth, lies, Fouled to death by butterflies." His own fault, the simpleton! Instead of cramp couplets, each like a knife in your entrails, he should write, says Bluphocks, both classically and intelligibly.컴Aesculapius, an epic. Catalogue of the drugs:컴Hebe's plaister컴One strip Cools your lip; Phoebus' emulsion컴One bottle Clears your throttle; Mercury's bolus컴One box Cures ... 3 Student. Subside, my fine fellow; if the marriage was over by ten o'clock, Jules will certainly be here in a minute with his bride. 2 Student. So should the poet's muse have been acceptable, says Bluphocks, and Delia not better known to our dogs than the boy. 1 Student. To the point, now. Where's Gottlieb? Oh, listen, Gottlieb컴What called down this piece of friendly vengeance on Jules, of which we now assemble to witness the winding-up. We are all in a tale, observe, when Jules bursts out on us by and bye: I shall be spokesman, but each professes himself alike insulted by this strutting stone-squarer, who came singly from Paris to Munich, thence with a crowd of us to Venice and Possagno here, but proceeds in a day or two alone,컴oh! alone, indubitably컴to Rome and Florence. He take up his portion with these dissolute, brutalized, heartless bunglers! (Is Schramm brutalized? Am I heartless?) Gottlieb. Why, somewhat heartless; for, coxcomb as much as you choose, you will have brushed off컴what do folks style it?컴the bloom of his life. Is it too late to alter? These letters, now, you call his. I can't laugh at them. 4 Student. Because you never read the sham letters of our inditing which drew forth these. Gottlieb. His discovery of the truth will be frightful. 4 Student. That's the joke. But you should have joined us at the beginning: there's no doubt he loves the girl. Gottlieb. See here: "He has been accustomed," he writes, "to have Canova's women about him, in stone, and the world's women beside him, in flesh, these being as much below, as those above, his soul's aspiration; but now he is to have" ... There you laugh again. You wipe off the very dew of his youth. 1 Student. Schramm (take the pipe out of his mouth, somebody), will Jules lose the bloom of his youth? Schramm. Nothing worth keeping is ever lost in this world: look at a blossom컴it drops presently and fruits succeed; as well affirm that your eye is no longer in your body because its earliest favourite is dead and done with, as that any affection is lost to the soul when its first object is superseded in due course. Has a man done wondering at women? There follow men, dead and alive, to wonder at. Has he done wondering at men? There's God to wonder at: and the faculty of wonder may be at the same time grey enough with respect to its last object, and yet green sufficiently so far as concerns its novel one: thus ... 1 Student. Put Schramm's pipe into his mouth again컴There you see! well, this Jules .. a wretched fribble컴oh, I watched his disportings at Possagno the other day! The Model-Gallery컴you know: he marches first resolvedly past great works by the dozen without vouchsafing an eye: all at once he stops full at the Psiche-fanciulla컴cannot pass that old acquaintance without a nod of encouragement컴"In your new place, beauty? Then behave yourself as well here as at Munich컴I see you!"컴Next posts himself deliberately before the unfinished Piet� for half an hour without moving, till up he starts of a sudden and thrusts his very nose into .. I say into컴the group컴by which you are informed that precisely the sole point he has not fully mastered in Canova was a certain method of using the drill in the articulation of the knee-joint컴and that, even, has he mastered at length! Good bye, therefore, to Canova컴whose gallery no longer contains Jules, the predestinated thinker in marble! 5 Student. Tell him about the women컴go on to the women. 1 Student. Why, on that matter he could never be supercilious enough. How should we be other than the poor devils you see, with those debasing habits we cherish? He was not to wallow in that mire, at least: he would love at the proper time, and meanwhile put up with the Psiche-fanciulla. Now I happened to hear of a young Greek컴real Greek girl at Malamocco, a true Islander, do you see, with Alciphron hair like sea-moss컴you know! White and quiet as an apparition, and fourteen years old at farthest; daughter, so she swears, of that hag Natalia, who helps us to models at three lire an hour. So first Jules received a scented letter컴somebody had seen his Tydeus at the Academy, and my picture was nothing to it컴bade him persevere컴would make herself known to him ere long컴(Paolina, my little friend, transcribes divinely.) Now think of Jules finding himself distinguished from the herd of us by such a creature! In his very first answer he proposed marrying his monitress; and fancy us over these letters two, three times a day to receive and dispatch! I concocted the main of it: relations were in the way컴secrecy must be observed컴would he wed her on trust and only speak to her when they were indissolubly united? St컴St! 6 Student. Both of them! Heaven's love, speak softly! speak within yourselves! 5 Student. Look at the Bridegroom컴half his hair in storm and half in calm컴patted down over the left temple, like a frothy cup one blows on to cool it; and the same old blouse he murders the marble in! 2 Student. Not a rich vest like yours, Hannibal Scratchy, rich that your face may the better set it off. 6 Student. And the bride컴and the bride컴how magnificently pale! Gottlieb. She does not also take it for earnest, I hope? 1 Student. Oh, Natalia's concern, that is; we settle with Natalia. 6 Student. She does not speak컴has evidently let out no word. Gottlieb. How he gazes on her! 1 Student. They go in컴now, silence! II.컴Noon. Over Orcana. The House of Jules, who crosses its threshold with Phene컴she is silent, on which Jules begins컴 Do not die, Phene컴I am yours now컴you Are mine now컴let fate reach me how she likes Ifyou'll not die컴so never die! Sit here컴 My work-room's single seat컴I do lean over 5 This length of hair and lustrous front컴they turn Like an entire flower upward컴eyes컴lips컴last Your chin컴no, last your throat turns컴'tis their scent Pulls down my face upon you. Nay, look ever That one way till I change, grow you컴I could 10 Change into you, beloved! Thou by me And I by thee컴this is thy hand in mine컴 And side by side we sit컴all's true. Thank God! I have spoken컴speak thou! 컴O my life to come! My Tydeus must be carved that's there in clay, 15 And how be carved with you about the chamber? Where must I place you? When I think that once This room-full of rough block-work seemed my heaven Without you! Shall I ever work again컴 Get fairly into my old ways again컴 20 Bid each conception stand while trait by trait My hand transfers its lineaments to stone? Will they, my fancies, live near you, my truth컴 The live truth컴passing and repassing me컴 Sitting beside me? Now speak! Only, first, 25 Your letters to me컴was't not well contrived? A hiding-place in Psyche's robe컴there lie Next to her skin your letters: which comes foremost? Good컴this that swam down like a first moonbeam Into my world. Those? Books I told you of. 30 Let your first word to me rejoice them, too컴 This minion of Coluthus, writ in red Bistre and azure by Bessarion's scribe컴 Read this line ... no, shame컴Homer's be the Greek! My Odyssey in coarse black vivid type 35 With faded yellow blossoms 'twixt page and page; "He said, and on Antinous directed A bitter shaft"컴then blots a flower the rest! 컴Ah, do not mind that컴better that will look When cast in bronze .. an Almaign Kaiser that, 40 Swart-green and gold with truncheon based on hip컴 This rather, turn to .. but a check already컴 Or you had recognized that here you sit As I imagined you, Hippolyta Naked upon her bright Numidian horse! 45 컴Forget you this then? "carve in bold relief" ... So you command me컴"carve against I come A Greek, bay-filleted and thunder-free, Rising beneath the lifted myrtle-branch, Whose turn arrives to praise Harmodius."컴Praise him! 50 Quite round, a cluster of mere hands and arms Thrust in all senses, all ways, from all sides, Only consenting at the branch's end They strain towards, serves for frame to a sole face컴 (Place your own face)컴the Praiser's, who with eyes 55 Sightless, so bend they back to light inside His brain where visionary forms throng up, (Gaze컴I am your Harmodius dead and gone,) Sings, minding nor the palpitating arch Of hands and arms, nor the quick drip of wine 60 From the drenched leaves o'erhead, nor who cast off Their violet crowns for him to trample on컴 Sings, pausing as the patron-ghosts approve, Devoutly their unconquerable hymn컴 But you must say a "well" to that컴say "well" 65 Because you gaze컴am I fantastic, sweet? Gaze like my very life's-stuff, marble컴marbly Even to the silence컴and before I found The real flesh Phene, I inured myself To see throughout all nature varied stuff 70 For better nature's birth by means of art: With me, each substance tended to one form Of beauty컴to the human Archetype컴 And every side occurred suggestive germs Of that컴the tree, the flower컴why, take the fruit, 75 Some rosy shape, continuing the peach, Curved beewise o'er its bough, as rosy limbs Depending nestled in the leaves컴and just From a cleft rose-peach the whole Dryad sprung! But of the stuffs one can be master of, 80 How I divined their capabilities From the soft-rinded smoothening facile chalk That yields your outline to the air's embrace, Down to the crisp imperious steel, so sure To cut its one confided thought clean out 85 Of all the world: but marble!컴'neath my tools More pliable than jelly컴as it were Some clear primordial creature dug from deep In the Earth's heart where itself breeds itself And whence all baser substance may be worked; 90 Refine it off to air you may컴condense it Down to the diamond;컴is not metal there When o'er the sudden specks my chisel trips? 컴Not flesh컴as flake off flake I scale, approach, Lay bare those blueish veins of blood asleep? 95 Lurks flame in no strange windings where, surprised By the swift implement sent home at once, Flushings and glowings radiate and hover About its track?컴 Phene? what컴why is this? Ah, you will die컴I knew that you would die! Phene begins, on his having long remained silent. 100 Now the end's coming컴to be sure it must Have ended sometime!컴Tush컴I will not speak Their foolish speech컴I cannot bring to mind Half컴so the whole were best unsaid컴what care I for Natalia now, or all of them? 105 Oh, you .. what are you?컴I do not attempt To say the words Natalia bade me learn To please your friends, that I may keep myself Where your voice lifted me컴by letting you Proceed .. but can you?컴even you perhaps 110 Cannot take up, now you have once let fall, The music's life, and me along with it? No컴or you would .. we'll stay then as we are Above the world컴 Now you sink컴for your eyes Are altered .. altering컴stay컴"I love you, love you,"컴 115 I could prevent it if I understood More of your words to me .. was't in the tone Of the voice, your power? Stay, stay, I will repeat Their speech, if that affects you! only change No more and I shall find it presently컴 120 Far back here in the brain yourself filled up: Natalia said (like Lutwyche) harm would follow Unless I spoke their lesson to the end, But harm to me, I thought, not you: and so I'll speak it,컴"Do not die, Phene, I am yours" .. 125 Stop컴is not that, or like that, part of what You spoke? 'Tis not my fault컴that I should lose What cost such pains acquiring! is this right? The Bard said, do one thing I can컴 Love a man and hate a man 130 Supremely: thus my lore began. Thro' the Valley of Love I went In its lovingest spot to abide; And just on the verge where I pitched my tent Dwelt Hate beside컴 135 (And the bridegroom asked what the bard's smile meant Of his bride.) Next Hate I traversed, the Grove, In its hatefullest nook to dwell컴 And lo, where I flung myself prone, couched Love 140 Next cell. (For not I, said the bard, but those black bride's eyes above Should tell!) (Then Lutwyche said you probably would ask, "You have black eyes, love,컴you are sure enough 145 My beautiful bride컴do you, as he sings, tell What needs some exposition컴what is this?" ... And I am to go on, without a word,) Once when I loved I would enlace Breast, eyelids, hands, feet, form and face 150 Of her I loved in one embrace컴 And, when I hated, I would plunge My sword, and wipe with the first lunge My foe's whole life out like a spunge: 컴But if I would love and hate more 155 Than ever man hated or loved before컴 Would seek in the valley of Love The spot, or in Hatred's grove The spot where my soul may reach The essence, nought less, of each ... 160 (Here he said, if you interrupted me With, "There must be some error,컴who induced you To speak this jargon?"컴I was to reply Simply컴"Await till ... until .." I must say Last rhyme again컴) 165 .. The essence, nought less, of each컴 The Hate of all Hates, or the Love Of all Loves in its glen or its grove, 컴I find them the very warders Each of the other's borders. 170 So most I love when Love's disguised In Hate's garb컴'tis when Hate's surprised In Love's weed that I hate most; ask How Love can smile thro' Hate's barred iron casque, Hate grin thro' Love's rose-braided mask, 175 Of thy bride, Giulio! (Then you, "Oh, not mine컴 Preserve the real name of the foolish song!" But I must answer, "Giulio컴Jules컴'tis Jules!") Thus I, Jules, hating thee Sought long and painfully ... Jules interposes. 180 Lutwyche컴who else? But all of them, no doubt, Hated me컴them at Venice컴presently For them, however! You I shall not meet컴 If I dreamed, saying that would wake me. Keep What's here컴this too컴we cannot meet again 185 Consider컴and the money was but meant For two years' travel, which is over now, All chance, or hope, or care, or need of it! This컴and what comes from selling these컴my casts And books, and medals except ... let them go 190 Together컴so the produce keeps you safe Out of Natalia's clutches! If by chance (For all's chance here) I should survive the gang At Venice, root out all fifteen of them, We might meet somewhere since the world is wide. 1. 195 [Without] Give her but a least excuse to love me! When컴where컴 How컴can this arm establish her above me If fortune fixed my lady there컴 컴There already, to eternally reprove me? 200 (Hist, said Kate the queen: 컴Only a page who carols unseen Crumbling your hounds their messes!) 2. She's wronged?컴To the rescue of her honor, My heart! 205 She's poor?컴What costs it to be styled a donor? An earth's to cleave, a sea's to part! 컴But that fortune should have thrust all this upon her! (Nay, list, bade Kate the queen: Only a page that carols unseen, 210 Fitting your hawks their jesses!)컴 [Pippa passes. Kate? Queen Cornaro doubtless, who renounced Cyprus to live and die the lady here At Asolo컴and whosoever loves Must be in some sort god or worshipper, 215 The blessing, or the blest one, queen or page컴 I find myself queen here it seems! How strange! Shall to produce form out of shapelessness Be art컴and, further, to evoke a soul From form be nothing? This new soul is mine컴 220 Now to kill Lutwyche what would that do? Save A wretched dauber men will hoot to death Without me. To Ancona컴Greece컴some isle! I wanted silence only컴there is clay Every where. One may do whate'er one likes 225 In Art컴the only thing is, to be sure That one does like it컴which takes pains to know. Scatter all this, my Phene컴this mad dream! Who컴what is Lutwyche컴what Natalia컴 What the whole world except our love컴my own 230 Own Phene? But I told you, did I not, Ere night we travel for your land컴some isle With the sea's silence on it? Stand aside컴 I do but break these paltry models up To begin art afresh. Shall I meet Lutwyche, 235 And save him from my statue's meeting him? Some unsuspected isle in the far seas! Like a god going thro' his world I trace One mountain for a momentin the dusk, Whole brotherhoods of cedars on its brow컴 240 And you are ever by me while I trace 컴Are in my arms as now컴as now컴as now! Some unsuspected isle in the far seas! Some unsuspected isle in far-offseas! 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴 Talk by the way in the mean time. Two or three of the Austrian Police loitering with Bluphocks, an English vagabond, just in view of the Turret. Bluphocks.* Oh! were but every worm a maggot, Every fly a grig, Every bough a christmas faggot, Every tune a jig! In fact, I have abjured all religions,컴but the last I inclined to was the Armenian컴for I have travelled, do you see, and at Koenigsberg, Prussia Improper (so styled because there's a sort of bleak hungry sun there,) you might remark over a venerable house-porch, a certain Chaldee inscription; and brief as it is, a mere glance at it used absolutely to change the mood of every bearded passenger. In they turned, one and all, the young and lightsome, with no irreverent pause, the aged and decrepit, with a sensible alacrity,컴'twas the Grand Rabbi's abode, in short. I lost no time in learning Syriac컴(vowels, you dogs, follow my stick's end in the mud컴Celarent, Darii, Ferio!) and one morning presented myself spelling-book in hand, a, b, c,컴what was the purport of this miraculous posy? Some cherished legend of the past, you'll say컴"How Moses hocus-pocust Egypt's land with fly and locust,"컴or, "How to Jonah sounded harshish, Get thee up and go to Tarshish,"컴or, "How the angel meeting Balaam, Straight his ass returned a salaam,"컴in no wise! "Shackabrach--Boach--somebody or other컴Isaach, Re-cei-ver, Pur-cha-ser and Ex-chan-ger of컴Stolen goods." So talk to me of obliging a bishop! I have renounced all bishops save Bishop Beveridge컴mean to live so컴and die컴As some Greek dog-sage, dead and merry, Hellward bound in Charon's ferry컴With food for both worlds, under and upper, Lupine-seed and Hecate's supper, And never an obolus .. (it might be got in somehow) Tho' Cerberus should gobble us컴To pay the Stygian ferry컴or you might say, Never an obol To pay for the coble .... Though thanks to you, or this Intendant thro' you, or this Bishop thro' his Intendant컴I possess a burning pocket-full of zwanzigers. 1 Policeman. I have been noticing a house yonder this long while컴not a shutter unclosed since morning. 2 Policeman. Old Luca Gaddi's, that owns the silk-mills here: he dozes by the hour컴wakes up, sighs deeply, says he should like to be Prince Metternich, and then dozes again after having bidden young Sebald, the foreigner, set his wife to playing draughts: never molest such a household, they mean well. Bluphocks. Only tell me who this little Pippa is I must have to do with컴one could make something of that name. Pippa컴that is, short for Felippa컴Panurge consults Hertrippa컴Believ'st thou, King Agrippa? Something might be done with that name. 2 Policeman. Your head and a ripe musk-melon would not be dear at half a zwanziger! Leave this fool, and look out컴the afternoon's over or nearly so. 3 Policeman. Where in this passport of Signior Luigi does the principal instruct you to watch him so narrowly? There? what's there beside a simple signature? That English fool's busy watching. 2 Policeman. Flourish all round컴"put all possible obstacles in his way;" oblong dot at the end컴"Detain him till further advices reach you;" scratch at bottom컴"send him back on pretence of some informality in the above." Ink-spirt on right-hand side, (which is the case here)컴"Arrest him at once," why and wherefore, I don't concern myself, but my instructions amount to this: if Signior Luigi leaves home to-night for Vienna, well and good컴the passport deposed with us for our visa is really for his own use, they have misinformed the Office, and he means well; but, let him stay over to-night컴there has been the pretence we suspect컴the accounts of his corresponding and holding intelligence with the Carbonari are correct컴we arrest him at once컴to-morrow comes Venice컴and presently, Spielberg. Bluphocks makes the signal sure enough!  III.컴Evening. Inside the Turret. Luigi and his Mother entering. Mother. If there blew wind you'd hear a long sigh, easing The utmost heaviness of music's heart. Luigi. Here in the archway? Mother. Oh no, no컴in further. Where the echo is made컴on the ridge. Luigi. Here surely then! 5 How plain the tap of my heel as I leaped up: Aristogeiton! "ristogeiton"컴plain Was't not? Lucius Junius! The very ghost of a voice컴 Whose flesh is caught and kept by those withered wall-flowers, Or by the elvish group with thin bleached hair 10 Who lean out of their topmost fortress컴look And listen, mountain men and women, to what We say컴chins under each grave earthy face: Up and show faces all of you!컴"All of you!" That's the king with the scarlet comb: come down!컴"Come down." 15 Mother. Do not kill that Man, my Luigi컴do not Go to the City! putting crime aside, Half of these ills of Italy are feigned컴 Your Pellicos and writers for effect Write for effect. Luigi. Hush! say A writes, and B. 20 Mother. These A's and B's write for effect I say. Then evil is in its nature loud, while good Is silent컴you hear each petty injury컴 None of his daily virtues; he is old, Quiet, and kind, and densely stupid컴why Do A and B not kill him themselves? 25 Luigi. They teach Others to kill him컴me컴and if I fail Others to succeed; now if A tried and failed I could not do that: mine's the lesser task. Mother, they visit night by night ... Mother. You Luigi? 30 Ah will you let me tell you what you are? Luigi. Why not? Oh the one thing you fear to hint You may assure yourself I say and say Often to myself; at times컴nay, now컴as now We sit, I think my mind is touched컴suspect 35 All is not sound컴but is not knowing that What constitutes one sane or otherwise? I know I am thus컴so all is right again! I laugh at myself as thro' the town I walk And see the world merry as if no Italy 40 Were suffering컴then I ponder컴I am rich, Young, healthy, happy, why should this fact trouble me ... More than it troubles these? But it does trouble me! No컴trouble's a bad word컴for as I walk There's springing and melody and giddiness, 45 And old quaint turns and passages of my youth컴 Dreams long forgotten, little in themselves컴 Return to me컴whatever may recreate me, And earth seems in a truce with me, and heaven Accords with me, all things suspend their strife, 50 The very cicales laugh "There goes he and there컴 "Feast him, the time is short컴he is on his way "For the world's sake컴feast him this once, our friend!" And in return for all this, I can trip Cheerfully up the scaffold-steps: I go This evening, mother. 55 Mother. But mistrust yourself컴 Mistrust the judgment you pronounce on him. Luigi. Oh, there I feel컴am sure that I am right. Mother. Mistrust your judgment then of the mere means Of this wild enterprise: say you are right,컴 60 How should one in your state e'er bring to pass What would require a cool head, a cold heart, And a calm hand? you never will escape. Luigi. Escape컴to wish that even would spoil all! The dying is best part of it컴I have 65 Enjoyed these fifteen years of mine too much To leave myself excuse for longer life컴 Was not life pressed down, running o'er with joy, That I might finish with it ere my fellows Who sparelier feasted make a longer stay? 70 I was put at the board head, helped to all At first: I rise up happy and content. God must be glad one loves his world so much컴 I can give news of earth to all the dead Who ask me:컴last year's sunsets and great stars 75 That had a right to come first and see ebb The crimson wave that drifts the sun away컴 Those crescent moons with notched and burning rims That strengthened into sharp fire and there stood Impatient of the azure컴and that day 80 In March a double rainbow stopped the storm컴 May's warm, slow, yellow moonlit summer nights컴 Gone are they컴but I have them in my soul! Mother. (He will not go!) Luigi. You smile at me컴I know Voluptuousness, grotesqueness, ghastliness 85 Environ my devotedness as quaintly As round about some antique altar wreathe The rose festoons, goats' horns, and oxen's skulls. Mother. See now컴you reach the city컴you must cross His threshold컴how? Luigi. Oh, that's if we conspire! 90 Then come the pains in plenty you foresee 컴Who guess not how the qualities required For such an office컴qualities I have컴 Would little stead us otherwise employed, Yet prove of rarest merit here컴here only. 95 Everyone knows for what his excellences Will serve, but no one ever will consider For what his worst defects might serve; and yet Have you not seen me range our coppice yonder In search of a distorted ash?컴it happens 100 The wry spoilt branch's a natural perfect bow: Fancy the thrice sage, thrice precautioned man Arriving at the city on my errand! No, no컴I have a handsome dress packed up컴 White satin here to set off my black hair컴 105 In I shall march컴for you may watch your life out Behind thick walls컴binding friends to betray you; More than one man spoils every thing컴March straight컴 Only no clumsy knife to fumble for컴 Take the great gate, and walk (not saunter) on 110 Thro' guards and guards컴컴I have rehearsed it all Inside the Turret here a hundred times컴 Don't ask the way of whom you meet, observe, But where they cluster thickliest is the door Of doors: they'll let you pass .. they'll never blab 115 Each to the other, he knows not the favourite, Whence he is bound and what's his business now컴 Walk in컴straight up to him컴you have no knife컴 Be prompt, how should he scream? Then, out with you! Italy, Italy, my Italy! 120 You're free, you're free컴Oh mother, I believed They got about me컴Andrea from his exile, Pier from his dungeon, Gaultier from his grave! Mother. Well you shall go. If patriotism were not The easiest virtue for a selfish man 125 To acquire! he loves himself컴and then, the world컴 If he must love beyond, but nought between: As a short-sighted man sees nought midway His body and the sun above. But you Are my adored Luigi컴ever obedient 130 To my least wish, and running o'er with love컴 I could not call you cruel or unkind! Once more, your ground for killing him!컴then go! Luigi. Now do you ask me, or make sport of me? How first the Austrians got these provinces컴 135 (If that is all, I'll satisfy you soon) ... Never by warfare but by treaty, for That treaty whereby ... Mother. Well? Luigi. (Sure he's arrived컴 The tell-tale cuckoo컴spring's his confidant, And he lets out her April purposes!) 140 Or .. better go at once to modern times컴 He has .. they have .. in fact I understand But can't re-state the matter; that's my boast; Others could reason it out to you, and prove Things they have made me feel. Mother. Why go to-night? 145 Morn's for adventure. Jupiter is now A morning-star .... I cannot hear you, Luigi! Luigi. "I am the bright and morning-star," God saith컴 And, "such an one I give the morning-star!" The gift of the morning-star컴have I God's gift Of the morning-star? 150 Mother. Chiara will love to see That Jupiter an evening-star next June. Luigi. True, mother. Well for those who live June over. Great noontides컴thunder storms컴all glaring pomps Which triumph at the heels of June the God 155 Leading his revel thro' our leafy world. Yes, Chiara will be here컴 Mother. In June컴remember Yourself appointed that month for her coming컴 Luigi. Was that low noise the echo? Mother. The night-wind. She must be grown컴with her blue eyes upturned 160 As if life were one long and sweet surprise컴 In June she comes. Luigi. We are to see together The Titian at Treviso컴there again! [Without] A king lived long ago, In the morning of the world, 165 When earth was nigher heaven than now: And the king's locks curled Disparting o'er a forehead full As the milk-white space 'twixt horn and horn Of some sacrificial bull컴 170 Only calm as a babe new-born: For he was got to a sleepy mood, So safe from all decrepitude, Age with its bane so sure gone by, (The Gods so loved him while he dreamed,) 175 That, having lived thus long, there seemed No need the king should ever die. Luigi. No need that sort of king should ever die. [Without] Among the rocks his city was: Before his palace, in the sun, 180 He sate to see his people pass, And judge them every one From its threshold of smooth stone. They haled him many a valley-thief Caught in the sheep-pens컴robber-chief, 185 Swarthy and shameless컴beggar-cheat컴 Spy-prowler컴or some pirate found On the sea-sand left aground; Sometimes there clung about his feet With bleeding lip and burning cheek 190 A woman, bitterest wrong to speak Of one with sullen, thickset brows: Sometimes from out the prison-house The angry priests a pale wretch brought, Who through some chink had pushed and pressed, 195 Knees and elbows, belly and breast, Worm-like into the temple,컴caught He was by the very God, Who ever in the darkness strode Backward and forward, keeping watch 200 O'er his brazen bowls, such rogues to catch: These, all and every one, The king judged, sitting in the sun. Luigi. That king should still judge sitting in the sun. [Without] His councillors, on left and right, 205 Looked anxious up,컴but no surprise Disturbed the king's old smiling eyes, Where the very blue had turned to white. A python passed one day The silent streets컴until he came, 210 With forky tongue and eyes on flame, Where the old king judged alway; But when he saw the sweepy hair, Girt with a crown of berries rare The God will hardly give to wear 215 To the maiden who singeth, dancing bare In the altar-smoke by the pine-torch lights, At his wondrous forest rites,컴 But which the God's self granted him For setting free each felon limb 220 Because of earthly murder done Faded till other hope was none;컴 Seeing this, he did not dare Approach that threshold in the sun, Assault the old king smiling there. [Pippa passes. 225 Luigi. Farewell, farewell컴how could I stay? Farewell! 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴 Talk by the way in the mean time. Poor Girls sitting on the steps of Monsignor's brother's house, close to the Duomo S. Maria. 1 Girl. There goes a swallow to Venice컴the stout sea-farer! Let us all wish; you wish first. 2 Girl. I? This sunset To finish. 3 Girl. That old ... somebody I know, To give me the same treat he gave last week컴 230 Lampreys, and red Breganze-wine, and mumbling The while some folly about how well I fare컴 Since had he not himself been late this morning Detained at컴never mind where컴had he not .. Eh, baggage, had I not!컴 2 Girl. How she can lie! 235 3 Girl. Look there컴by the nails컴 2 Girl. What makes your fingers red? 3 Girl. Dipping them into wine to write bad words with On the bright table컴how he laughed! 1 Girl. My turn: Spring's come and summer's coming: I would wear 240 A long loose gown컴down to the feet and hands컴 With plaits here, close about the throat, all day: And all night lie, the cool long nights, in bed컴 And have new milk to drink컴apples to eat, Deuzans and junetings, leather-coats .. ah, I should say This is away in the fields컴miles! 245 3 Girl. Say at once You'd be at home컴she'd always be at home! Now comes the story of the farm among The cherry orchards, and how April snowed White blossoms on her as she ran: why fool, 250 They've rubbed the chalk-mark out how tall you were, Twisted your starling's neck, broken his cage, Made a dunghill of your garden컴 1 Girl. They destroy My garden since I left them? well컴perhaps! I would have done so컴so I hope they have! 255 A fig-tree curled out of our cottage wall컴 They called it mine, I have forgotten why, It must have been there long ere I was born, Criq컴criq컴I think I hear the wasps o'erhead Pricking the papers strung to flutter there 260 And keep off birds in fruit-time컴coarse long papers And the wasps eat them, prick them through and through. 3 Girl. How her mouth twitches! where was I before She broke in with her wishes and long gowns And wasps컴would I be such a fool!컴Oh, here! 265 This is my way컴I answer every one Who asks me why I make so much of him컴 (Say, you love him컴he'll not be gulled, he'll say) "He that seduced me when I was a girl Thus high컴had eyes like yours, or hair like yours, 270 Brown, red, white,"컴as the case may be컴that pleases! (See how that beetle burnishes in the path컴 There sparkles he along the dust컴and there컴 Your journey to that maize-tuft's spoilt at least! 1 Girl. When I was young they said if you killed one 275 Of those sunshiny beetles, that his friend Up there would shine no more that day or next. 3 Girl. When you were young? Nor are you young, that's true! How your plump arms, that were, have dropped away! Why I can span them! Cecco beats you still? 280 No matter so you keep your curious hair. I wish they'd find a way to dye our hair Your colour컴any lighter tint, indeed, Than black컴the men say they are sick of black, Black eyes, black hair! 2 Girl. Sick of yours, like enough, 285 Do you pretend you ever tasted lampreys And ortolans? Giovita, of the palace, Engaged (but there's no trusting him) to slice me Polenta with a knife that had cut up An ortolan. 3 Girl. Why컴there! is not that Pippa 290 We are to talk to, under the window, quick Where the lights are? 1 Girl. No컴or she would sing 컴For the Intendant said ... 3 Girl. Oh, you sing first컴 Then, if she listens and comes close .. I'll tell you, Sing that song the young English noble made, 295 Who took you for the purest of the pure And meant to leave the world for you컴what fun! 2 Girl. [Sings] You'll love me yet!컴and I can tarry Your love's protracted growing: June reared that bunch of flowers you carry 300 From seeds of April's sowing. I plant a heartfull now컴some seed At least is sure to strike And yield컴what you'll not care, indeed, To pluck, but, may be like 305 To look upon .. my whole remains, A grave's one violet: Your look?컴that pays a thousand pains. What's death?컴You'll love me yet! 3 Girl. [To Pippa who approaches] Oh, you may come closer컴we shall not eat you!   IV.컴Night. The Palace by the Duomo. Monsignor, dismissing his Attendants. Monsignor. Thanks, friends, many thanks. I desire life now chiefly that I may recompense every one of you. Most I know something of already. Benedicto benedicatur .. ugh .. ugh! Where was I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is mild, very unlike winter-weather,컴but I am a Sicilian, you know, and shiver in your Julys here: To be sure, when 'twas full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross in procession the great square on Assumption Day, you might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [To the Intendant] Not you, Ugo! [The others leave the apartment, where a table with refreshments is prepared.] I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo! Intendant. Uguccio컴 Monsignor. .. 'guccio Stefani, man! of Ascoli, Fermo, and Fossombruno:컴what I do need instructing about are these accounts of your administration of my poor brother's affairs. Ugh! I shall never get through a third part of your accounts: take some of these dainties before we attempt it, however: are you bashful to that degree? For me, a crust and water suffice. Intendant. Do you choose this especial night to question me? Monsignor. This night, Ugo. You have managed my late brother's affairs since the death of our elder brother컴fourteen years and a month, all but three days. The 3rd of December, I find him ... Intendant. If you have so intimate an acquaintance with your brother's affairs, you will be tender of turning so far back컴they will hardly bear looking into so far back. Monsignor. Ay, ay, ugh, ugh,컴nothing but disappointments here below! I remark a considerable payment made to yourself on this 3rd of December. Talk of disappointments! There was a young fellow here, Jules, a foreign sculptor, I did my utmost to advance, that the church might be a gainer by us both: he was going on hopefully enough, and of a sudden he notifies to me some marvellous change that has happened in his notions of art; here's his letter,컴"He never had a clearly conceived Ideal within his brain till to-day. Yet since his hand could manage a chisel he has practised expressing other men's Ideals컴and in the very perfection he has attained to he foresees an ultimate failure컴his unconscious hand will pursue its prescribed course of old years, and will reproduce with a fatal expertness the ancient types, let the novel one appear never so palpably to his spirit: there is but one method of escape컴confiding the virgin type to as chaste a hand, he will paint, not carve, its characteristics,"컴strike out, I dare say, a school like Correggio: how think you, Ugo? Intendant. Is Correggio a painter? Monsignor. Foolish Jules! and yet, after all, why foolish? He may컴probably will, fail egregiously: but if there should arise a new painter, will it not be in some such way컴a poet, now, or a musician, spirits who have conceived and perfected an Ideal through some other channel, transferring it to this, and escaping our conventional roads by pure ignorance of them, eh, Ugo? If you have no appetite, talk at least, Ugo! Intendant. Sir, I can submit no longer to this course of yours: first, you select the group of which I formed one,컴next you thin it gradually,컴always retaining me with your smile,컴and so do you proceed till you have fairly got me alone with you between four stone walls: and now then? Let this farce, this chatter end now컴what is it you want with me? Monsignor. Ugo ... Intendant. From the instant you arrived I felt your smile on me as you questioned me about this and the other article in those papers컴why, your brother should have given me this manor, that liberty,컴and your nod at the end meant,컴what? Monsignor. Possibly that I wished for no loud talk here컴if once you set me coughing, Ugo! Intendant. I have your brother's hand and seal to all I possess: now ask me what for! what service I did him컴ask me! Monsignor. I had better not컴I should rip up old disgraces컴let out my poor brother's weaknesses. By the way, Maffeo of Forli, (which, I forgot to observe, is your true name) was the interdict taken off you for robbing that church at Cesena? Intendant. No, nor needs be컴for when I murdered your brother's friend, Pasquale for him ... Monsignor. Ah, he employed you in that matter, did he? Well, I must let you keep, as you say, this manor and that liberty, for fear the world should find out my relations were of so indifferent a stamp: Maffeo, my family is the oldest in Messina, and century after century have my progenitors gone on polluting themselves with every wickedness under Heaven: my own father ... rest his soul!컴I have, I know, a chapel to support that it may: my dear two dead brothers were,컴what you know tolerably well: I, the youngest, might have rivalled them in vice, if not in wealth, but from my boyhood I came out from among them, and so am not partaker of their plagues. My glory springs from another source, or if from this, by contrast only,컴for I, the bishop, am the brother of your employers, Ugo. I hope to repair some of their wrong, however; so far as my brother's ill-gotten treasure reverts to me, I can stop the consequences of his crime, and not one soldo shall escape me. Maffeo, the sword we quiet men spurn away, you shrewd knaves pick up and commit murders with; what opportunities the virtuous forego, the villanous seize. Because, to pleasure myself, apart from other considerations, my food would be millet-cake, my dress sackcloth, and my couch straw, am I therefore to let the off-scouring of the earth seduce the ignorant by appropriating a pomp these will be sure to think lessens the abominations so unaccountably and exclusively associated with it? Must I let manors and liberties go to you, a murderer and thief, that you may beget by means of them other murderers and thieves? No ... if my cough would but allow me to speak! Intendant. What am I to expect? you are going to punish me? Monsignor. Must punish you, Maffeo. I cannot afford to cast away a chance. I have whole centuries of sin to redeem, and only a month or two of life to do it in! How should I dare to say ... Intendant. "Forgive us our trespasses." Monsignor. My friend, it is because I avow myself a very worm, sinful beyond measure, that I reject a line of conduct you would applaud, perhaps: shall I proceed, as it were, a-pardoning?--I?컴who have no symptom of reason to assume that aught less than my strenuousest effort will keep myself out of mortal sin, much less, keep others out. No컴I do trespass, but will not double that by allowing you to trespass. Intendant. And suppose the manors are not your brother's to give, or yours to take? Oh, you are hasty enough just now! Monsignor. 1, 2컴No. 3!컴ay, can you read the substance of a letter, No. 3, I have received from Rome? It is on the ground I there mention of the suspicion that a certain child of my late elder brother, who would have succeeded to his estates, was murdered in infancy by you, Maffeo, at the instigation of my late brother컴that the pontiff enjoins on me not merely the bringing that Maffeo to condign punishment, but the taking all pains, as guardian of that infant's heritage for the church, to recover it parcel by parcel, howsoever, whensoever, and wheresoever. While you are now gnawing those fingers, the police are engaged in sealing up your papers, Maffeo, and the mere raising my voice brings my people from the next room to dispose of yourself. But I want you to confess quietly, and save me raising my voice. Why, man, do I not know the old story? The heir between the succeeding heir, and that heir's ruffianly instrument, and their complot's effect, and the life of fear and bribes, and ominous smiling silence? Did you throttle or stab my brother's infant? Come, now! Intendant. So old a story, and tell it no better? When did such an instrument ever produce such an effect? Either the child smiles in his face, or, most likely, he is not fool enough to put himself in the employer's power so thoroughly컴the child is always ready to produce컴as you say컴howsoever, wheresoever, and whensoever. Monsignor. Liar! Intendant. Strike me? Ah, so might a father chastise! I shall sleep soundly to-night at least, though the gallows await me to-morrow; for what a life did I lead? Carlo of Cesena reminds me of his connivance every time I pay his annuity (which happens commonly thrice a year). If I remonstrate, he will confess all to the good bishop컴you! Monsignor. I see thro' the trick, caitiff! I would you spoke truth for once; all shall be sifted, however컴seven times sifted. Intendant. And how my absurd riches encumbered me! I dared not lay claim to above half my possessions. Let me but once unbosom myself, glorify Heaven, and die! Sir, you are no brutal, dastardly idiot like your brother I frightened to death ... let us understand one another. Sir, I will make away with her for you컴the girl컴here close at hand; not the stupid obvious kind of killing; do not speak컴know nothing of her or me. I see her every day컴saw her this morning컴of course there is no killing; but at Rome the courtesans perish off every three years, and I can entice her thither컴have, indeed, begun operations already컴there's a certain lusty, blue-eyed, florid-complexioned, English knave I employ occasionally.컴You assent, I perceive컴no, that's not it 컴assent I do not say컴but you will let me convert my present havings and holdings into cash, and give time to cross the Alps? 'Tis but a little black-eyed, pretty singing Felippa, gay silk-winding girl. I have kept her out of harm's way up to this present; for I always intended to make your life a plague to you with her! 'Tis as well settled once and forever: some women I have procured will pass Bluphocks, my handsome scoundrel, off for somebody, and once Pippa entangled!컴you conceive? Monsignor. Why, if she sings, one might ... [Without] Over-head the tree-tops meet컴 Flowers and grass spring 'neath one's feet컴 What are the voices of birds 컴Ay, and beasts, too컴but words컴our words, Only so much more sweet? That knowledge with my life begun! But I had so near made out the sun컴 Could count your stars, the Seven and One! Like the fingers of my hand컴 Nay, could all but understand How and wherefore the moon ranges컴 And just when out of her soft fifty changes No unfamiliar face might overlook me컴 Suddenly God took me. [Pippa passes. Monsignor [Springing up] My people컴one and all컴all 컴within there! Gag this villain컴tie him hand and foot: he dares컴I know not half he dares컴but remove him컴quick! Miserere mei, Domine! quick, I say! 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴 Pippa's Chamber again. She enters it. The bee with his comb, The mouse at her dray, The grub in its tomb Wile winter away; But the fire-fly and hedge-shrew and lobworm, I pray, Where be they? Ha, ha, thanks my Zanze컴 "Feed on lampreys, quaff Breganze"컴 The summer of life's so easy to spend! But winter hastens at summer's end, And fire-fly, hedge-shrew, lob-worm, pray, Where be they? No bidding you then to .. what did Zanze say? "Pare your nails pearlwise, get your small feet shoes "More like .. (what said she?)컴and less like canoes컴" Pert as a sparrow ... would I be those pert Impudent staring wretches! It had done me, However, surely no such mighty hurt To learn his name who passed that jest upon me.컴 No foreigner, that I can recollect, Came, as she says, a month since to inspect Our silk-mills컴none with blue eyes and thick rings Of English-coloured hair, at all events. Well컴if old Luca keeps his good intents We shall do better컴see what next year brings컴 I may buy shoes, my Zanze, not appear So destitute, perhaps, next year! Bluf컴something컴I had caught the uncouth name But for Monsignor's people's sudden clatter Above us컴bound to spoil such idle chatter, The pious man, the man devoid of blame, The ... ah, but컴ah, but, all the same No mere mortal has a right To carry that exalted air; Best people are not angels quite컴 While컴not worst people's doings scare The devils; so there's that regard to spare! Mere counsel to myself, mind! for I have just been Monsignor! And I was you too, mother, And you too, Luigi!컴how that Luigi started Out of the Turret컴doubtlessly departed On some love-errand or another컴 And I was Jules the sculptor's bride, And I was Ottima beside, And now what am I?컴tired of fooling! Day for folly, night for schooling컴 New year's day is over컴over! Even my lily's asleep, I vow: Wake up컴here's a friend I pluckt you. See컴call this a heart's-ease now! Something rare, let me instruct you, Is this컴with petals triply swollen, Three times spotted, thrice the pollen, While the leaves and parts that witness The old proportions and their fitness Here remain, unchanged unmoved now컴 Call this pampered thing improved now! Suppose there's a king of the flowers And a girl-show held in his bowers컴 "Look ye, buds, this growth of ours," Says he, "Zanze from the Brenta, I have made her gorge polenta Till both her cheeks are near as bouncing As her ... name there's no pronouncing! See this heightened colour too컴 For she swilled Breganze wine Till her nose turned deep carmine컴 'Twas but white when wild she grew! And only by this Zanze's eyes Of which we could not change the size, The magnitude of what's achieved Elsewhere may be perceived!" Oh what a drear, dark close to my poor day! How could that red sun drop in that black cloud! Ah, Pippa, morning's rule is moved away, Dispensed with, never more to be allowed. Day's turn's over컴now's the night's컴 Oh Lark be day's apostle To mavis, merle and throstle, Bid them their betters jostle From day and its delights! But at night, brother Howlet, over the woods Toll the world to thy chantry컴 Sing to the bats' sleek sisterhoods Full complines with gallantry컴 Then, owls and bats, cowls and twats, Monks and nuns, in a cloister's moods, Adjourn to the oak-stump pantry! [After she has begun to undress herself. Now one thing I should like to really know: How near I ever might approach all these I only fancied being this long day컴 ... Approach, I mean, so as to touch them컴so As to .. in some way .. move them컴if you please, Do good or evil to them some slight way. For instance, if I wind Silk to-morrow, silk may bind [Sitting on the bedside. And broider Ottima's cloak's hem컴 Ah, me and my important passing them This morning's hymn half promised when I rose! True in some sense or other, I suppose. [As she lies down. God bless me tho' I cannot pray tonight. No doubt, some way or other, hymns say right. All service is the same with God컴 Whose puppets, best and worst, Are we ...... [She sleeps.