Mel. You'll keep, then, to the lover, to the man?

(Enter the DUCHESS-followed by ADOLF and SABYNE,
and, after an interval, by the Courtiers.)
Berth. Good auspice to our meeting!
Duch.
May it prove!
And you, sir, will be Emperor one day?
Berth. (Ay, that 's the point!) I may be
Emperor.

Duch. T is not for my sake only, I am proud

Of this you offer: I am prouder far

That from the highest state should duly spring
The highest, since most generous, of deeds.
Berth. (Generous still that !) You under-
rate yourself.

You are,
what I, to be complete, must gain
Find now, and may not find, another time.
While I career on all the world for stage,

There needs at home my representative.

Duch. Such, rather, would some warriorwoman be

One dowered with lands and gold, or rich in friends

Here's one already be a friend's next gift
A silk glove, if you will - I have a sword.
Duch. You love me, then?
Berth.
Your lineage I revere,
Honor your virtue, in your truth believe,
Do homage to your intellect, and bow
Before your peerless beauty.

Duch.
But, for love-
Berth. A further love I do not understand.
Our best course is to say these hideous truths,
And see them, once said, grow endurable:
Like waters shuddering from their central bed,
Black with the midnight bowels of the earth,
That, once up-spouted by an earthquake's throe,
A portent and a terror -soon subside,
Freshen apace, take gold and rainbow hues
In sunshine, sleep in shadow, and at last
Grow common to the earth as hills or trees
Accepted by all things they came to scare.
Duch. You cannot love, then?

Berth. Charlemagne, perhaps ! Are you not over-curious in love-lore ?

Duch. I have become so, very recently.
It seems, then, I shall best deserve esteem
Respect, and all your candor promises,
By putting on a calculating mood-
Asking the terms of my becoming yours?
Berth. Let me not do myself injustice, neither.
Because I will not condescend to fictions
That promise what my soul can ne'er acquit,
It does not follow that my guarded phrase
May not include far more of what you seek,
Than wide profession of less scrupulous men.
You will be Empress, once for all: with me
The Pope disputes supremacy - you stand,
And none gainsays, the earth's first woman.
Duch.
That

Or simple Lady of Ravestein again?
Berth. The matter 's not in my arbitrament :

What I might else have suffered to ooze forth
Droplet by droplet in a lifetime long-
For aught less than as prompt an answer,
too?

All's fairly told now: who can teach you more?
Duch. I do not see him.

Berth.

I shall ne'er deceive. This offer should be made befittingly Did time allow the better setting forth The good of it, with what is not so good, Advantage, and disparagement as well: But as it is, the sum of both must serve. I am already weary of this place;

My thoughts are next stage on to Rome. Decide!

The Empire- or,- not even Juliers now! Hail to the Empress - farewell to the Duchess! [The Courtiers, who have been drawing nearer and nearer, interpose.

Gau."Farewell," Prince? when we break in at our risk

man

You saw and heard this morning-thought, no doubt,

Was of considerable standing here:

I put it to your penetration, Prince,

If aught save love, the truest love for her
Could make him serve the lady as he did!
He's simply a poor advocate of Cleves

Creeps here with difficulty, finds a place
With danger, gets in by a miracle,
And for the first time meets the lady's face -
So runs the story: is that credible?
For, first- -no sooner in, than he's apprised
Fortunes have changed; you are all-powerful
here,

The lady as powerless: he stands fast by her! Duch. [Aside.] And do such deeds spring up from love alone?

Gui. But here occurs the question, does the

lady

Love him again? I say, how else can she?
Can she forget how he stood singly forth
In her defence, dared outrage all of us,
Insult yourself for what, save love 's reward?
Duch. [Aside.] And is love then the sole
reward of love?

Duch.

Gui. But, love him as she may and mustyou ask, Means she to wed him?" Yes," both natures answer!

Both, in their pride, point out the sole result;
Naught less would he accept nor she propose.
For each conjecture was she great enough
- Will be, for this.

Clug. Though, now that this is known,
Policy, doubtless, urges she deny
Duch.- What, sir, and wherefore? - since I
am not sure

That all is any other than you say!
You take this Valence, hold him close to me,
Him with his actions: can I choose but look?
I am not sure, love trulier shows itself

Than in this man, you hate and would degrade,
Yet, with your worst abatement, show me thus.
Nor am I (thus made look within myself,
Ere I had dared) · -now that the look is dared -
Sure that I do not love him!

Gui.

Hear you, Prince?

Berth. And what, sirs, please you, may this prattle mean

Unless to prove with what alacrity

You give your lady's secrets to the world?
How much indebted, for discovering
That quality, you make me, will be found
When there's a keeper for my own to seek.
Courtiers. "Our lady?"
Berth.

-She assuredly remains.

Duch. Ah, Prince and you too can be generous?

You could renounce your power, if this were so, And let me, as these phrase it, wed my love Yet keep my Duchy? You perhaps exceed Him, even, in disinterestedness!

Berth. How, lady, should all this affect my purpose?

Your will and choice are still as ever, free.
Say, you have known a worthier than myself
In mind and heart, of happier form and face-
Others must have their birthright: I have gifts,
To balance theirs, not blot them out of sight.
Against a hundred alien qualities,

I lay the prize I offer. I am nothing:
Wed you the Empire?

Duch.

And my heart away? Berth. When have I made pretension to your heart?

I give none. I shall keep your honor safe;
With mine I trust you, as the sculptor trusts
Yon marble woman with the marble rose,
Loose on her hand, she never will let fall,
In graceful, slight, silent security.
You will be proud of my world-wide career,
And I content in you the fair and good.
What were the use of planting a few seeds
The thankless climate never would mature
Affections all repelled by circumstance?
Enough to these no credit I attach,
To what you own, find nothing to object.
Write simply on my requisition's face

What shall content my friends-that you

admit,

As Colombe of Ravestein, the claims therein, Or never need admit them, as my wife And either way, all 's ended!

Let all end!

Berth. The requisition!
Gui.
Valence holds, of course!
Berth. Desire his presence! [ADOLF goes out.
Courtiers. [To each other.] Out it all comes

yet;

He 'll have his word against the bargain yet; He's not the man to tamely acquiesce. One passionate appeal - upbraiding even, May turn the tide again. Despair not yet! [They retire a little. Berth. [To MELCHIOR.] The Empire has its old success, my friend!

Mel. You've had your way before the spokesman speaks

Let me, but this once, work a problem out,
And ever more be dumb! The Empire wins?
To better purpose have I read my books!
(Enter VALENCE.)

Mel. [To the Courtiers.] Apart, my masters! [To VALENCE.] Sír, one word with you!

:

I am a poor dependant of the Prince's
Pitched on to speak, as of slight consequence.
You are no higher, I find in other words,
We two, as probably the wisest here,
Need not hold diplomatic talk like fools.
Suppose I speak, divesting the plain fact
Of all their tortuous phrases, fit for them?
Do you reply so, and what trouble saved!
The Prince, then-an embroiled strange heap
of news

This moment reaches him—if true or false,
All dignity forbids he should inquire

In

person, or by worthier deputy; Yet somehow must inquire, lest slander come : And so, 't is I am pitched on.

His offer to your lady?

Val. Mel.

You have heard

Yes.

Conceive

I cannot.

No one can.

So!

All draws to a conclusion, therefore.
Val. [Aside.]

No after-judgment- -no first thought revised -
Her first and last decision!-me, she leaves,
Takes him; a simple heart is flung aside,
The ermine o'er a heartless breast embraced.
Oh Heaven, this mockery has been played too
oft!

Once, to surprise the angels-twice, that fiends,
Recording, might be proud they chose not so —
Thrice, many thousand times, to teach the world
All men should pause, misdoubt their strength,
since men

Can have such chance yet fail so signally

But ever, ever this farewell to Heaven, Welcome to earth- this taking death for life This spurning love and kneeling to the world – Oh Heaven, it is too often and too old!

Mel. Well, on this point, what but an absurd

rumor

Arises these, its source-its subject, you!
Your faith and loyalty misconstruing,
They say, your service claims the lady's hand!
Of course, nor Prince nor lady can respond:
Yet something must be said: for, were it true
You made such claim, the Prince would . . .

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away,

On a little mound, Napoleon

Stood on our storming-day;

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,

Legs wide, arms locked behind,

As if to balance the prone brow
Oppressive with its mind.

Just as perhaps he mused "My plans
That soar, to earth may fall,

Let once my army-leader Lannes
Waver at yonder wall,"

Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound
Full-galloping; nor bridle drew
Until he reached the mound.

Then off there flung in smiling joy,
And held himself erect

By just his horse's mane, a boy :
You hardly could suspect

(So tight he kept his lips compressed,
Scarce any blood came through)

You looked twice ere you saw his breast
Was all but shot in two.

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon !

The Marshal 's in the market-place,
And you'll be there anon

To see your flag-bird flap his vans
Where I, to heart's desire,

Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans

Soared up again like fire.

The chief's eye flashed; but presently
Softened itself, as sheathes

A film the mother-eagle's eye

When her bruised eaglet breathes;

der the combined title were distributed among the Lyrics, and some at first grouped under Lyrics were transferred to this division of Romances. The first poem in the group was originally contained in Dramatic Lyrics along with Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister under the general title of Camp and Cloister, this poem representing the camp.

"You're wounded!"

pride

"Nay," the soldier's

Touched to the quick, he said:

"I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead.

THE PATRIOT

AN OLD STORY

Mr. Browning has denied that this poem refers to Arnold of Brescia. It is imaginative, not historical in its dramatic action. It was possibly to relieve the poem of its apparent distinct reference to history that he removed the name of Brescia, which was used in the poem in its first form.

It was roses, roses, all the way,

With myrtle mixed in my path like mad: The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway, The church-spires flamed, such flags they had, A year ago on this very day.

The air broke into a mist with bells,

The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries.

Had I said, "Good folk, mere noise repels
But give me your sun from yonder skies!"
They had answered, "And afterward, what
else?"

Alack, it was I who leaped at the sun

To give it my loving friends to keep! Naught man could do, have I left undone : And you see my harvest, what I reap This very day, now a year is run.

There's nobody on the house-tops now Just a palsied few at the windows set; For the best of the sight is, all allow,

In Dramatic Lyrics this was entitled Italy, and grouped with Count Gismond under the head Italy and France.

THAT's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will 't please you sit and look at her?

I said

Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but Í)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they
durst,

How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 't was not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say, "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much," or Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat:" such
stuff

Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough For calling up that spot of joy. She had

A heart-how shall I say ? too soon made glad,

Too easily impressed: she liked whate'er

She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 't was all one! My favor at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace- all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving
speech,

Or blush, at least. She thanked men, good! but thanked

Somehow I know not how as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech (which I have not) to make your

will

Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,

CHRIST GOD who savest man, save most
Of men Count Gismond who saved me!
Count Gauthier, when he chose his post,

Chose time and place and company
To suit it; when he struck at length
My honor, 't was with all his strength.

And doubtlessly ere he could draw
All points to one, he must have schemed !
That miserable morning saw

Few half so happy as I seemed,
While being dressed in queen's array
To give our tourney prize away.

I thought they loved me, did me grace

To please themselves; 't was all their deed;
God makes, or fair or foul, our face;
If showing mine so caused to bleed
My cousins' hearts, they should have dropped
A word, and straight the play had stopped.

They, too, so beauteous! Each a queen
By virtue of her brow and breast;
Not needing to be crowned, I mean,

As I do. E'en when I was dressed,
Had either of them spoke, instead
Of glancing sideways with still head!

But no: they let me laugh, and sing
My birthday song quite through, adjust
The last rose in my garland, fling

A last look on the mirror, trust
My arms to each an arm of theirs,
And so descend the castle-stairs

And come out on the morning-troop

Of merry friends who kissed my cheek, And called me queen, and made me stoop Under the canopy · (a streak