Impudent staring women! It had done me, No foreigner, that I can recollect, Our silk-mills-none with blue eyes and thick rings 520 Of raw-silk-colored hair, at all events. Well, if old Luca keep his good intents, We shall do better, see what next year brings! I may buy shoes, my Zanze, not appear But for Monsignor's people's sudden clatter To carry that exalted air; 532 not the worst of people's doings Day for folly, night for schooling! you! - if you please, here's a friend I've plucked Do good or evil to them some slight way. Call this flower a heart's-ease now! 560 As her... name there's no pronouncing! For she swilled Breganze wine Till her nose turned deep carmine; 'T was but white when wild she grew. And only by this Zanze's eyes Of which we could not change the size, 570 For instance, if I wind Silk to-morrow, my silk may bind 601 [Sitting on the bedside. And border Ottima's cloak's hem. rose ! True in some sense or other, I suppose. God bless me! I can pray no more to- No doubt, some way or other, hymns say right. All service ranks the same with God CAVALIER TUNES [Publ. 1842] I. MARCHING ALONG 611 [She sleeps. KENTISH Sir Byng stood for his King, Marched them along, fifty-score strong, God for King Charles! Pym and such carles To the Devil that prompts 'em their trea- Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup, Сно. Marching along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, sing- Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell. as well! England, good cheer! Rupert is near! right now? King Charles, and who's ripe for Give a rouse: here's, in hell's de- To whom used my boy George quaff else, King Charles, and who 's ripe for Give a rouse: here's, in hell's de- III. BOOT AND SADDLE Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! CHO. Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; Many's the friend there, will listen and pray Browning was beset with questions by people asking if he referred to Wordsworth in this poem. He answered the question more than once, as an artist would: the following letter to Rev. A. B. Grosart, the editor of Wordsworth's Prose Works, sufficiently states his position. 19 Warwick-Crescent, W., Feb. 24, '75. DEAR MR. GROSART, I have been asked the ques tion you now address me with, and as duly answered it, I can't remember how many times; there is no sort of objection to one more assurance or rather confession, on my part, that I did in my hasty youth presume to use the great and venerated personality of Wordsworth as a sort of painter's model; one from which this or the other particular feature may be selected and turned to account; had I intended mo, e, above all, such a boldness as portraying the entire man, I should not have talked about "handfuls of silver and bits of ribbon." These never influenced the change of politics in the great poet, whose defection, nevertheless, accompanied as it was by a regular face-about of his special party, was to my juvenile apprehension, and even mature consideration, an event to deplore. But just as in the tapestry on my wall I can recognize figures which have struck out a fancy, on occasion, that though truly enough thus derived, yet would be preposterous as a copy, so, though I dare not deny the original of my little poem, I altogether refuse to have it considered as the "very effigies" of such a moral and intellectual superiority. Faithfully yours, ROBERT BROWNING. Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, One task more declined, one more footpath untrod, One more devils'-triumph and sorrow for angels, One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Life's night begins: let him never come back to us! There would be doubt, hesitation and pain, Forced praise on our part-the glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning again! Best fight on well, for we taught him strike gallantly, Menace our heart ere we master his At Düffeld, 't was morning as plain as could be; And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime, So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, And against him the cattle stood black every one, 20 |