Sordello/Book the Fourth

BOOK THE FOURTH.

Meantime Ferrara lay in rueful case; The lady-city, for whose sole embrace Her pair of suitors struggled, felt their arms A brawny mischief to the fragile charms They tugged for—one discovering that to twist Her tresses twice or thrice about his wrist Secured a point of vantage—one, how best He 'd parry that by planting in her breast His elbow spike—each party too intent For noticing, howe'er the battle went, The conqueror would but have a corpse to kiss. "May Boniface be duly damned for this!" —Howled some old Ghibellin, as up he turned, From the wet heap of rubbish where they burned His house, a little skull with dazzling teeth: "A boon, sweet Christ—let Salinguerra seethe "In hell for ever, Christ, and let myself "Be there to laugh at him!"—moaned some young Guelf Stumbling upon a shrivelled hand nailed fast To the charred lintel of the doorway, last His father stood within to bid him speed. The thoroughfares were overrun with weed —Docks, quitchgrass, loathy mallows no man plants.

The stranger, none of its inhabitants Crept out of doors to taste fresh air again, And ask the purpose of a splendid train Admitted on a morning; every town Of the East League was come by envoy down To treat for Richard's ransom: here you saw The Vicentine, here snowy oxen draw The Paduan carroch, its vermilion cross On its white field. A-tiptoe o'er the fosse Looked Legate Montelungo wistfully After the flock of steeples he might spy In Este's time, gone (doubts he) long ago To mend the ramparts: sure the laggards know The Pope's as good as here! They paced the streets More soberly. At last, "Taurello greets "The League," announced a pursuivant,—"will match "Its courtesy, and labours to dispatch "At earliest Tito, Friedrich's Pretor, sent "On pressing matters from his post at Trent, "With Mainard Count of Tyrol,—simply waits "Their going to receive the delegates." "Tito!" Our delegates exchanged a glance, And, keeping the main way, admired askance The lazy engines of outlandish birth, Couched like a king each on its bank of earth— Arbalist, manganel and catapult; While stationed by, as waiting a result, Lean silent gangs of mercenaries ceased Working to watch the strangers. "This, at least, "Were better spared; he scarce presumes gainsay "The League's decision! Get our friend away "And profit for the future: how else teach "Fools 't is not safe to stray within claw's reach "Ere Salinguerra's final gasp be blown? "Those mere convulsive scratches find the bone. "Who bade him bloody the spent osprey's nare?"

The carrochs halted in the public square. Pennons of every blazon once a-flaunt, Men prattled, freelier than the crested gaunt White ostrich with a horse-shoe in her beak Was missing, and whoever chose might speak "Ecelin" boldly out: so,—"Ecelin "Needed his wife to swallow half the sin "And sickens by himself: the devil's whelp, "He styles his son, dwindles away, no help "From conserves, your fine triple-curded froth "Of virgin's blood, your Venice viper-broth— "Eh? Jubilate!"—"Peace! no little word "You utter here that 's not distinctly heard "Up at Oliero: he was absent sick "When we besieged Bassano—who, i' the thick "O' the work, perceived the progress Azzo made, "Like Ecelin, through his witch Adelaide? "She managed it so well that, night by night "At their bed-foot stood up a soldier-sprite, "First fresh, pale by-and-by without a wound, "And, when it came with eyes filmed as in swound, "They knew the place was taken."—"Ominous "That Ghibellins should get what cautelous "Old Redbeard sought from Azzo's sire to wrench "Vainly; Saint George contrived his town a trench "O' the marshes, an impermeable bar." "—Young Ecelin is meant the tutelar "Of Padua, rather; veins embrace upon "His hand like Brenta and Bacchiglion." What now?—"The founts! God's bread, touch not a plank! "A crawling hell of carrion—every tank "Choke-full!—found out just now to Cino's cost— "The same who gave Taurello up for lost, "And, making no account of fortune's freaks, "Refused to budge from Padua then, but sneaks "Back now with Concorezzi: 'faith! they drag "Their carroch to San Vitale, plant the flag "On his own palace, so adroitly razed "He knew it not; a sort of Guelf folk gazed "And laughed apart; Cino disliked their air— "Must pluck up spirit, show he does not care— "Seats himself on the tank's edge—will begin "To hum, za, za, Cavaler Ecelin— "A silence; he gets warmer, clinks to chime, "Now both feet plough the ground, deeper each time, "At last, za, za and up with a fierce kick "Comes his own mother's face caught by the thick "Grey hair about his spur!"

Which means, they lift The covering, Salinguerra made a shift To stretch upon the truth; as well avoid Further disclosures; leave them thus employed. Our dropping Autumn morning clears apace, And poor Ferrara puts a softened face On her misfortunes. Let us scale this tall Huge foursquare line of red brick garden-wall Bastioned within by trees of every sort On three sides, slender, spreading, long and short; Each grew as it contrived, the poplar ramped, The fig-tree reared itself,—but stark and cramped, Made fools of, like tamed lions: whence, on the edge, Running 'twixt trunk and trunk to smooth one ledge Of shade, were shrubs inserted, warp and woof, Which smothered up that variance. Scale the roof Of solid tops, and o'er the slope you slide Down to a grassy space level and wide, Here and there dotted with a tree, but trees Of rarer leaf, each foreigner at ease, Set by itself: and in the centre spreads, Borne upon three uneasy leopards' heads, A laver, broad and shallow, one bright spirt Of water bubbles in. The walls begirt With trees leave off on either hand; pursue Your path along a wondrous avenue Those walls abut on, heaped of gleamy stone, With aloes leering everywhere, grey-grown From many a Moorish summer: how they wind Out of the fissures! likelier to bind The building than those rusted cramps which drop Already in the eating sunshine. Stop, You fleeting shapes above there! Ah, the pride Or else despair of the whole country-side! A range of statues, swarming o'er with wasps, God, goddess, woman, man, the Greek rough-rasps In crumbling Naples marble—meant to look Like those Messina marbles Constance took Delight in, or Taurello's self conveyed To Mantua for his mistress, Adelaide,— A certain font with caryatides Since cloistered at Goito; only, these Are up and doing, not abashed, a troop Able to right themselves—who see you, stoop Their arms o' the instant after you! Unplucked By this or that, you pass; for they conduct To terrace raised on terrace, and, between, Creatures of brighter mould and braver mien Than any yet, the choicest of the Isle No doubt. Here, left a sullen breathing-while, Up-gathered on himself the Fighter stood For his last fight, and, wiping treacherous blood Out of the eyelids just held ope beneath Those shading fingers in their iron sheath, Steadied his strengths amid the buzz and stir Of the dusk hideous amphitheatre At the announcement of his over-match To wind the day's diversion up, dispatch The pertinactious Gaul: while, limbs one heap, The Slave, no breath in her round mouth, watched leap Dart after dart forth, as her hero's car Clove dizzily the solid of the war —Let coil about his knees for pride in him. We reach the farthest terrace, and the grim San Pietro Palace stops us.

Such the state Of Salinguerra's plan to emulate Sicilian marvels, that his girlish wife Retrude still might lead her ancient life In her new home: whereat enlarged so much Neighbours upon the novel princely touch He took,—who here imprisons Boniface. Here must the Envoys come to sue for grace; And here, emerging from the labyrinth Below, Sordello paused beside the plinth Of the door-pillar.

He had really left Verona for the cornfields (a poor theft From the morass) where Este's camp was made; The Envoys' march, the Legate's cavalcade— All had been seen by him, but scarce as when,— Eager for cause to stand aloof from men At every point save the fantastic tie Acknowledged in his boyish sophistry,— He made account of such. A crowd,—he meant To task the whole of it; each part's intent Concerned him therefore: and, the more he pried, The less became Sordello satisfied With his own figure at the moment. Sought He respite from his task? Descried he aught Novel in the anticipated sight Of all these livers upon all delight? This phalanx, as of myriad points combined, Whereby he still had imaged the mankind His youth was passed in dreams of rivalling, His age—in plans to prove at least such thing Had been so dreamed,—which now he must impress With his own will, effect a happiness By theirs,—supply a body to his soul Thence, and become eventually whole With them as he had hoped to be without— Made these the mankind he once raved about? Because a few of them were notable, Should all be figured worthy note? As well Expect to find Taurello's triple line Of trees a single and prodigious pine. Real pines rose here and there; but, close among, Thrust into and mixed up with pines, a throng Of shrubs, he saw,—a nameless common sort O'erpast in dreams, left out of the report And hurried into corners, or at best Admitted to be fancied like the rest. Reckon that morning's proper chiefs—how few! And yet the people grew, the people grew, Grew ever, as if the many there indeed, More left behind and most who should succeed,— Simply in virtue of their mouths and eyes, Petty enjoyments and huge miseries,— Mingled with, and made veritably great Those chiefs: he overlooked not Mainard's state Nor Concorezzi's station, but instead Of stopping there, each dwindled to be head Of infinite and absent Tyrolese Or Paduans; startling all the more, that these Seemed passive and disposed of, uncared for, Yet doubtless on the whole (like Eglamor) Smiling; for if a wealthy man decays And out of store of robes must wear, all days, One tattered suit, alike in sun and shade, 'T is commonly some tarnished gay brocade Fit for a feast-night's flourish and no more: Nor otherwise poor Misery from her store Of looks is fain upgather, keep unfurled For common wear as she goes through the world, The faint remainder of some worn-out smile Meant for a feast-night's service merely. While Crowd upon crowd rose on Sordello thus,— (Crowds no way interfering to discuss, Much less dispute, life's joys with one employed In envying them,—or, if they aught enjoyed, Where lingered something indefinable In every look and tone, the mirth as well As woe, that fixed at once his estimate Of the result, their good or bad estate)— Old memories returned with new effect: And the new body, ere he could suspect, Cohered, mankind and he were really fused, The new self seemed impatient to be used By him, but utterly another way Than that anticipated: strange to say, They were too much below him, more in thrall Than he, the adjunct than the principal. What booted scattered units?—here a mind And there, which might repay his own to find, And stamp, and use?—a few, howe'er august, If all the rest were grovelling in the dust? No: first a mighty equilibrium, sure, Should he establish, privilege procure For all, the few had long possessed! He felt An error, an exceeding error melt: While he was occupied with Mantuan chants, Behoved him think of men, and take their wants, Such as he now distinguished every side, As his own want which might be satisfied,— And, after that, think of rare qualities Of his own soul demanding exercise. It followed naturally, through no claim On their part, which made virtue of the aim At serving them, on his,—that, past retrieve, He felt now in their toils, theirs—nor could leave Wonder how, in the eagerness to rule, Impress his will on mankind, he (the fool!) Had never even entertained the thought That this his last arrangement might be fraught with incidental good to them as well, And that mankind's delight would help to swell His own. So, if he sighed, as formerly Because the merry time of life must fleet, 'T was deeplier now,—for could the crowds repeat Their poor experiences? His hand that shook Was twice to be deplored. "The Legate, look! "With eyes, like fresh-blown thrush-eggs on a thread, "Faint-blue and loosely floating in his head, "Large tongue, moist open mouth; and this long while "That owner of the idiotic smile "Serves them!"

He fortunately saw in time His fault however, and since the office prime Includes the secondary—best accept Both offices; Taurello, its adept, Could teach him the preparatory one, And how to do what he had fancied done Long previously, ere take the greater task. How render first these people happy? Ask The people's friends: for there must be one good One way to it—the Cause! He understood The meaning now of Palma; why the jar Else, the ado, the trouble wide and far Of Guelfs and Ghibellins, the Lombard hope And Rome's despair?—'twixt Emperor and Pope The confused shifting sort of Eden tale— Hardihood still recurring, still to fail— That foreign interloping fiend, this free And native overbrooding deity: Yet a dire fascination o'er the palms The Kaiser ruined, troubling even the calms Of paradise; or, on the other hand, The Pontiff, as the Kaisers understand, One snake-like cursed of God to love the ground, Whose heavy length breaks in the noon profound Some saving tree—which needs the Kaiser, dressed As the dislodging angel of that pest: Yet flames that pest bedropped, flat head, full fold, With coruscating dower of dyes. "Behold "The secret, so to speak, and master-spring "O' the contest!—which of the two Powers shall bring "Men good, perchance the most good: ay, it may "Be that!—the question, which best knows the way."

And hereupon Count Mainard strutted past Out of San Pietro; never seemed the last Of archers, slingers: and our friend began To recollect strange modes of serving man— Arbalist, catapult, brake, manganel, And more. "This way of theirs may,—who can tell?— "Need perfecting," said he: "let all be solved "At once! Taurello 't is, the task devolved "On late: confront Taurello!"

And at last He did confront him. Scarce an hour had past When forth Sordello came, older by years Than at his entry. Unexampled fears Oppressed him, and he staggered off, blind, mute And deaf, like some fresh-mutilated brute, Into Ferrara—not the empty town That morning witnessed: he went up and down Streets whence the veil had been stript shred by shred, So that, in place of huddling with their dead Indoors, to answer Salinguerra's ends, Townsfolk make shift to crawl forth, sit like friends With any one. A woman gave him choice Of her two daughters, the infantile voice Or the dimpled knee, for half a chain, his throat Was clasped with; but an archer knew the coat— Its blue cross and eight lilies,—bade beware One dogging him in concert with the pair Though thrumming on the sleeve that hid his knife. Night set in early, autumn dews were rife, They kindled great fires while the Leaguers' mass Began at every carroch: he must pass Between the kneeling people. Presently The carroch of Verona caught his eye With purple trappings; silently he bent Over its fire, when voices violent Began, "Affirm not whom the youth was like "That struck me from the porch: I did not strike "Again: I too have chestnut hair; my kin "Hate Azzo and stand up for Ecelin. "Here, minstrel, drive bad thoughts away! Sing! Take "My glove for guerdon!" And for that man's sake He turned: "A song of Eglamor's!"—scarce named, When, "Our Sordello's rather!"—all exclaimed; "Is not Sordello famousest for rhyme?" He had been happy to deny, this time,— Profess as heretofore the aching head And failing heart,—suspect that in his stead Some true Apollo had the charge of them, Was champion to reward or to condemn, So his intolerable risk might shift Or share itself; but Naddo's precious gift Of gifts, he owned, be certain! At the close— "I made that," said he to a youth who rose As if to hear: 't was Palma through the band Conducted him in silence by her hand.

Back now for Salinguerra. Tito of Trent Gave place to Palma and her friend, who went In turn at Montelungo's visit: one After the other were they come and gone,— These spokesmen for the Kaiser and the Pope, This incarnation of the People's hope, Sordello,—all the say of each was said; And Salinguerra sat,—himself instead Of these to talk with, lingered musing yet. 'T was a drear vast presence-chamber roughly set In order for the morning's use; full face, The Kaiser's ominous sign-mark had first place, The crowned grim twy-necked eagle, coarsely-blacked With ochre on the naked wall; nor lacked Romano's green and yellow either side; But the new token Tito brought had tried The Legate's patience—nay, if Palma knew What Salinguerra almost meant to do Until the sight of her restored his lip A certain half-smile, three months' chieftainship Had banished! Afterward, the Legate found No change in him, nor asked what badge he wound And unwound carelessly. Now sat the Chief Silent as when our couple left, whose brief Encounter wrought so opportune effect In thoughts he summoned not, nor would reject, Though time 't was now if ever, to pause—fix On any sort of ending: wiles and tricks Exhausted, judge! his charge, the crazy town, Just managed to be hindered crashing down— His last sound troops ranged—care observed to post His best of the maimed soldiers innermost— So much was plain enough, but somehow struck Him not before. And now with this strange luck Of Tito's news, rewarding his address So well, what thought he of?—how the success With Friedrich's rescript there, would either hush Old Ecelin's scruples, bring the manly flush To his young son's white cheek, or, last, exempt Himself from telling what there was to tempt? No: that this minstrel was Romano's last Servant—himself the first! Could he contrast The whole!—that minstrel's thirty years just spent In doing nought, their notablest event This morning's journey hither, as I told— Who yet was lean, outworn and really old, A stammering awkward man that scarce dared raise His eye before the magisterial gaze— And Salinguerra with his fears and hopes Of sixty years, his Emperors and Popes, Cares and contrivances, yet, you would say, 'T was a youth nonchalantly looked away Through the embrasure northward o'er the sick Expostulating trees—so agile, quick And graceful turned the head on the broad chest Encased in pliant steel, his constant vest, Whence split the sun off in a spray of fire Across the room; and, loosened of its tire Of steel, that head let breathe the comely brown Large massive locks discoloured as if a crown Encircled them, so frayed the basnet where A sharp white line divided clean the hair; Glossy above, glossy below, it swept Curling and fine about a brow thus kept Calm, laid coat upon coat, marble and sound: This was the mystic mark the Tuscan found, Mused of, turned over books about. Square-faced, No lion more; two vivid eyes, enchased In hollows filled with many a shade and streak Settling from the bold nose and bearded cheek. Nor might the half-smile reach them that deformed A lip supremely perfect else—unwarmed, Unwidened, less or more; indifferent Whether on trees or men his thoughts were bent, Thoughts rarely, after all, in trim and train As now a period was fulfilled again: Of such, a series made his life, compressed In each, one story serving for the rest— How his life-streams rolling arrived at last At the barrier, whence, were it once overpast, They would emerge, a river to the end,— Gathered themselves up, paused, bade fate befriend, Took the leap, hung a minute at the height, Then fell back to oblivion infinite: Therefore he smiled. Beyond stretched garden-grounds Where late the adversary, breaking bounds, Had gained him an occasion, That above, That eagle, testified he could improve Effectually. The Kaiser's symbol lay Beside his rescript, a new badge by way Of baldric; while,—another thing that marred Alike emprise, achievement and reward,— Ecelin's missive was conspicuous too.

What past life did those flying thoughts pursue? As his, few names in Mantua half so old; But at Ferrara, where his sires enrolled It latterly, the Adelardi spared No pains to rival them: both factions shared Ferrara, so that, counted out, 't would yield A product very like the city's shield, Half black and white, or Ghibellin and Guelf As after Salinguerra styled himself And Este who, till Marchesalla died, (Last of the Adelardi)—never tried His fortune there: with Marchesalla's child Would pass,—could Blacks and Whites be reconciled And young Taurello wed Linguetta,—wealth And sway to a sole grasp. Each treats by stealth Already: when the Guelfs, the Ravennese Arrive, assault the Pietro quarter, seize Linguetta, and are gone! Men's first dismay Abated somewhat, hurries down, to lay The after indignation, Boniface, This Richard's father. "Learn the full disgrace "Averted, ere you blame us Guelfs, who rate "Your Salinguerra, your sole potentate "That might have been, 'mongst Este's valvassors— "Ay, Azzo's—who, not privy to, abhors "Our step; but we were zealous." Azzo then To do with! Straight a meeting of old men: "Old Salinguerra dead, his heir a boy, "What if we change our ruler and decoy "The Lombard Eagle of the azure sphere "With Italy to build in, fix him here, "Settle the city's troubles in a trice? "For private wrong, let public good suffice!" In fine, young Salinguerra's staunchest friends Talked of the townsmen making him amends, Gave him a goshawk, and affirmed there was Rare sport, one morning, over the green grass A mile or so. He sauntered through the plain, Was restless, fell to thinking, turned again In time for Azzo's entry with the bride; Count Boniface rode smirking at their side; "She brings him half Ferrara," whispers flew, "And all Ancona! If the stripling knew!"

Anon the stripling was in Sicily Where Heinrich ruled in right of Constance; he Was gracious nor his guest incapable; Each understood the other. So it fell, One Spring, when Azzo, thoroughly at ease, Had near forgotten by what precise degrees He crept at first to such a downy seat, The Count trudged over in a special heat To bid him of God's love dislodge from each Of Salinguerra's palaces,—a breach Might yawn else, not so readily to shut, For who was just arrived at Mantua but The youngster, sword on thigh and tuft on chin, With tokens for Celano, Ecelin, Pistore, and the like! Next news,—no whit Do any of Ferrara's domes befit His wife of Heinrich's very blood: a band Of foreigners assemble, understand Garden-constructing, level and surround, Build up and bury in. A last news crowned The consternation: since his infant's birth, He only waits they end his wondrous girth Of trees that link San Pietro with Tomà, To visit Mantua. When the Podestà Ecelin, at Vicenza, called his friend Taurello thither, what could be their end But to restore the Ghibellins' late Head, The Kaiser helping? He with most to dread From vengeance and reprisal, Azzo, there With Boniface beforehand, as aware Of plots in progress, gave alarm, expelled Both plotters: but the Guelfs in triumph yelled Too hastily. The burning and the flight, And how Taurello, occupied that night With Ecelin, lost wife and son, I told: —Not how he bore the blow, retained his hold, Got friends safe through, left enemies the worst O' the fray, and hardly seemed to care at first: But afterward men heard not constantly Of Salinguerra's House so sure to be! Though Azzo simply gained by the event A shifting of his plagues—the first, content To fall behind the second and estrange So far his nature, suffer such a change That in Romano sought he wife and child, And for Romano's sake seemed reconciled To losing individual life, which shrunk As the other prospered—mortised in his trunk; Like a dwarf palm which wanton Arabs foil Of bearing its own proper wine and oil, By grafting into it the stranger-vine, Which sucks its heart out, sly and serpentine, Till forth one vine-palm feathers to the root, And red drops moisten the insipid fruit. Once Adelaide set on,—the subtle mate Of the weak soldier, urged to emulate The Church's valiant women deed for deed, And paragon her namesake, win the meed O' the great Matilda,—soon they overbore The rest of Lombardy,—not as before By an instinctive truculence, but patched The Kaiser's strategy until it matched The Pontiff's, sought old ends by novel means. "Only, why is it Salinguerra screens "Himself behind Romano?—him we bade "Enjoy our shine i' the front, not seek the shade!" —Asked Heinrich, somewhat of the tardiest To comprehend. Nor Philip acquiesced At once in the arrangement; reasoned, plied His friend with offers of another bride, A statelier function—fruitlessly: 't was plain Taurello through some weakness must remain Obscure. And Otho, free to judge of both —Ecelin the unready, harsh and loth, And this more plausible and facile wight With every point a-sparkle—chose the right, Admiring how his predecessors harped On the wrong man: "thus," quoth he, "wits are warped "By outsides!" Carelessly, meanwhile, his life Suffered its many turns of peace and strife In many lands—you hardly could surprise The man; who shamed Sordello (recognize!) In this as much beside, that, unconcerned What qualities were natural or earned, With no ideal of graces, as they came He took them, singularly well the same— Speaking the Greek's own language, just because Your Greek eludes you, leave the least of flaws In contracts with him; while, since Arab lore Holds the stars' secret—take one trouble more And master it! 'T is done, and now deter Who may the Tuscan, once Jove trined for her, From Friedrich's path!—Friedrich, whose pilgrimage The same man puts aside, whom he 'll engage To leave next year John Brienne in the lurch, Come to Bassano, see Saint Francis' church And judge of Guido the Bolognian's piece Which,—lend Taurello credit,—rivals Greece— Angels, with aureoles like golden quoits Pitched home, applauding Ecelin's exploits. For elegance, he strung the angelot, Made rhymes thereto; for prowess, clove he not Tiso, last siege, from crest to crupper? Why Detail you thus a varied mastery But to show how Taurello, on the watch For men, to read their hearts and thereby catch Their capabilities and purposes, Displayed himself so far as displayed these: While our Sordello only cared to know About men as a means whereby he 'd show Himself, and men had much or little worth According as they kept in or drew forth That self; the other's choicest instruments Surmised him shallow.

Meantime, malcontents Dropped off, town after town grew wiser. "How "Change the world's face?" asked people; "as 't is now "It has been, will be ever: very fine "Subjecting things profane to things divine, "In talk! This contumacy will fatigue "The vigilance of Este and the League! "The Ghibellins gain on us!"—as it happed. Old Azzo and old Boniface, entrapped By Ponte Alto, both in one month's space Slept at Verona: either left a brace Of sons—but, three years after, either's pair Lost Guglielm and Aldobrand its heir: Azzo remained and Richard—all the stay Of Este and Saint Boniface, at bay As 't were. Then, either Ecelin grew old Or his brain altered—not o' the proper mould For new appliances—his old palm-stock Endured no influx of strange strengths. He 'd rock As in a drunkenness, or chuckle low As proud of the completeness of his woe, Then weep real tears;—now make some mad onslaught On Este, heedless of the lesson taught So painfully,—now cringe for peace, sue peace At price of past gain, bar of fresh increase To the fortunes of Romano. Up at last Rose Este, down Romano sank as fast. And men remarked these freaks of peace and war Happened while Salinguerra was afar: Whence every friend besought him, all in vain, To use his old adherent's wits again. Not he!—"who had advisers in his sons, "Could plot himself, nor needed any one's "Advice." 'T was Adelaide's remaining staunch Prevented his destruction root and branch Forthwith; but when she died, doom fell, for gay He made alliances, gave lands away To whom it pleased accept them, and withdrew For ever from the world. Taurello, who Was summoned to the convent, then refused A word at the wicket, patience thus abused, Promptly threw off alike his imbecile Ally's yoke, and his own frank, foolish smile. Soon a few movements of the happier sort Changed matters, put himself in men's report As heretofore; he had to fight, beside, And that became him ever. So, in pride And flushing of this kind of second youth, He dealt a good-will blow. Este in truth Lay prone—and men remembered, somewhat late, A laughing old outrageous stifled hate He bore to Este—how it would outbreak At times spite of disguise, like an earthquake In sunny weather—as that noted day When with his hundred friends he tried to slay Azzo before the Kaiser's face: and how, On Azzo's calm refusal to allow A liegeman's challenge, straight he too was calmed: As if his hate could bear to lie embalmed, Bricked up, the moody Pharaoh, and survive All intermediate crumblings, to arrive At earth's catastrophe—'t was Este's crash Not Azzo's he demanded, so, no rash Procedure! Este's true antagonist Rose out of Ecelin: all voices whist, All eyes were sharpened, wits predicted. He 'T was, leaned in the embrasure absently, Amused with his own efforts, now, to trace With his steel-sheathed forefinger Friedrich's face I' the dust: but as the trees waved sere, his smile Deepened, and words expressed its thought erewhile.

"Ay, fairly housed at last, my old compeer? "That we should stick together, all the year "I kept Vicenza!—How old Boniface, "Old Azzo caught us in its market-place, "He by that pillar, I at this,—caught each "In mid swing, more than fury of his speech, "Egging the rabble on to disavow "Allegiance to their Marquis—Bacchus, how "They boasted! Ecelin must turn their drudge, "Nor, if released, will Salinguerra grudge "Paying arrears of tribute due long since— "Bacchus! My man could promise then, nor wince "The bones-and-muscles! Sound of wind and limb, "Spoke he the set excuse I framed for him: "And now he sits me, slavering and mute, "Intent on chafing each starved purple foot "Benumbed past aching with the altar slab: "Will no vein throb there when some monk shall blab "Spitefully to the circle of bald scalps, "'Friedrich 's affirmed to be our side the Alps' "—Eh, brother Lactance, brother Anaclet? "Sworn to abjure the world, its fume and fret, "God's own now? Drop the dormitory bar, "Enfold the scanty grey serge scapular "Twice o'er the cowl to muffle memories out! "So! But the midnight whisper turns a shout, "Eyes wink, mouths open, pulses circulate "In the stone walls: the past, the world you hate "Is with you, ambush, open field—or see "The surging flame—we fire Vicenza—glee! "Follow, let Pilio and Bernardo chafe! "Bring up the Mantuans—through San Biagio—safe! "Ah, the mad people waken? Ah, they writhe "And reach us? If they block the gate? No tithe "Can pass—keep back, you Bassanese! The edge, "Use the edge—shear, thrust, hew, melt down the wedge, "Let out the black of those black upturned eyes! "Hell—are they sprinkling fire too? The blood fries "And hisses on your brass gloves as they tear "Those upturned faces choking with despair. "Brave! Slidder through the reeking gate! `How now? "'You six had charge of her?' And then the vow "Comes, and the foam spirts, hair's plucked, till one shriek "(I hear it) and you fling—you cannot speak— "Your gold-flowered basnet to a man who haled "The Adelaide he dared scarce view unveiled "This morn, naked across the fire: how crown "The archer that exhausted lays you down "Your infant, smiling at the flame, and dies? "While one, while mine...

"Bacchus! I think there lies "More than one corpse there" (and he paced the room) "—Another cinder somewhere: 't was my doom "Beside, my doom! If Adelaide is dead, "I live the same, this Azzo lives instead "Of that to me, and we pull, any how, "Este into a heap: the matter 's now "At the true juncture slipping us so oft. "Ay, Heinrich died and Otho, please you, doffed "His crown at such a juncture! Still, if hold "Our Friedrich's purpose, if this chain enfold "The neck of... who but this same Ecelin "That must recoil when the best days begin! "Recoil? that 's nought; if the recoiler leaves "His name for me to fight with, no one grieves: "But he must interfere, forsooth, unlock "His cloister to become my stumbling-block "Just as of old! Ay, ay, there 't is again— "The land's inevitable Head—explain "The reverences that subject us! Count "These Ecelins now! Not to say as fount, "Originating power of thought,—from twelve "That drop i' the trenches they joined hands to delve, "Six shall surpass him, but... why men must twine "Somehow with something! Ecelin 's a fine "Clear name! 'Twere simpler, doubtless, twine with me "At once: our cloistered friend's capacity "Was of a sort! I had to share myself "In fifty portions, like an o'ertasked elf "That 's forced illume in fifty points the vast "Rare vapour he 's environed by. At last "My strengths, though sorely frittered, e'en converge "And crown... no, Bacchus, they have yet to urge "The man be crowned!

"That aloe, an he durst, "Would climb! Just such a bloated sprawler first "I noted in Messina's castle-court "The day I came, when Heinrich asked in sport "If I would pledge my faith to win him back "His right in Lombardy: 'for, once bid pack "Marauders,' he continued, `in my stead "'You rule, Taurello!' and upon this head `Laid the silk glove of Constance—I see her "Too, mantled head to foot in miniver, "Retrude following!

"I am absolved "From further toil: the empery devolved "On me, 't was Tito's word: I have to lay "For once my plan, pursue my plan my way, "Prompt nobody, and render an account "Taurello to Taurello! Nay, I mount "To Friedrich: he conceives the post I kept, "—Who did true service, able or inept, "Who 's worthy guerdon, Ecelin or I. "Me guerdoned, counsel follows: would he vie "With the Pope really? Azzo, Boniface "Compose a right-arm Hohenstauffen's race "Must break ere govern Lombardy. I point "How easy 't were to twist, once out of joint, "The socket from the bone: my Azzo's stare "Meanwhile! for I, this idle strap to wear, "Shall—fret myself abundantly, what end "To serve? There 's left me twenty years to spend "—How better than my old way? Had I one "Who laboured overthrow my work—a son "Hatching with Azzo superb treachery, "To root my pines up and then poison me, "Suppose—'t were worth while frustrate that! Beside, "Another life's ordained me: the world's tide "Rolls, and what hope of parting from the press "Of waves, a single wave though weariness "Gently lifted aside, laid upon shore? "My life must be lived out in foam and roar, "No question. Fifty years the province held "Taurello; troubles raised, and troubles quelled, "He in the midst—who leaves this quaint stone place, "These trees a year or two, then not a trace "Of him! How obtain hold, fetter men's tongues "Like this poor minstrel with the foolish songs— "To which, despite our bustle, he is linked? "—Flowers one may teaze, that never grow extinct. "Ay, that patch, surely, green as ever, where "I set Her Moorish lentisk, by the stair, "To overawe the aloes; and we trod "Those flowers, how call you such?—into the sod; "A stately foreigner—a world of pain "To make it thrive, arrest rough winds—all vain! "It would decline; these would not be destroyed: "And now, where is it? where can you avoid "The flowers? I frighten children twenty years "Longer!—which way, too, Ecelin appears "To thwart me, for his son's besotted youth "Gives promise of the proper tiger—tooth: "They feel it at Vicenza! Fate, fate, fate, "My fine Taurello! Go you, promulgate "Friedrich's decree, and here 's shall aggrandise "Young Ecelin—your Prefect's badge! a prize "Too precious, certainly.

"How now? Compete "With my old comrade? shuffle from their seat "His children? Paltry dealing! Do n't I know "Ecelin? now, I think, and years ago! "What 's changed—the weakness? did not I compound "For that, and undertake to keep him sound "Despite it? Here 's Taurello hankering "After a boy's preferment—this plaything "To carry, Bacchus!" And he laughed.

Remark Why schemes wherein cold-blooded men embark Prosper, when your enthusiastic sort Fail: while these last are ever stopping short— (So much they should—so little they can do!) The careless tribe see nothing to pursue If they desist; meantime their scheme succeeds.

Thoughts were caprices in the course of deeds Methodic with Taurello; so, he turned,— Enough amused by fancies fairly earned Of Este's horror-struck submitted neck, And Richard, the cowed braggart, at his beck,— To his own petty but immediate doubt If he could pacify the League without Conceding Richard; just to this was brought That interval of vain discursive thought! As, shall I say, some Ethiop, past pursuit Of all enslavers, dips a shackled foot Burnt to the blood, into the drowsy black Enormous watercourse which guides him back To his own tribe again, where he is king; And laughs because he guesses, numbering The yellower poison-wattles on the pouch Of the first lizard wrested from its couch Under the slime (whose skin, the while, he strips To cure his nostril with, and festered lips, And eyeballs bloodshot through the desert-blast) That he has reached its boundary, at last May breathe;—thinks o'er enchantments of the South Sovereign to plague his enemies, their mouth, Eyes, nails, and hair; but, these enchantments tried In fancy, puts them soberly aside For truth, projects a cool return with friends, The likelihood of winning mere amends Ere long; thinks that, takes comfort silently, Then, from the river's brink, his wrongs and he, Hugging revenge close to their hearts, are soon Off-striding for the Mountains of the Moon.

Midnight: the watcher nodded on his spear, Since clouds dispersing left a passage clear For any meagre and discoloured moon To venture forth; and such was peering soon Above the harassed city—her close lanes Closer, not half so tapering her fanes, As though she shrunk into herself to keep What little life was saved, more safely. Heap By heap the watch-fires mouldered, and beside The blackest spoke Sordello and replied Palma with none to listen. "'T is your cause: "What makes a Ghibellin? There should be laws— "(Remember how my youth escaped! I trust "To you for manhood, Palma! tell me just "As any child)—there must be laws at work "Explaining this. Assure me, good may lurk "Under the bad,—my multitude has part "In your designs, their welfare is at heart "With Salinguerra, to their interest "Refer the deeds he dwelt on,—so divest "Our conference of much that scared me. Why "Affect that heartless tone to Tito? I "Esteemed myself, yes, in my inmost mind "This morn, a recreant to my race—mankind "O'erlooked till now: why boast my spirit's force, "—Such force denied its object? why divorce "These, then admire my spirit's flight the same "As though it bore up, helped some half-orbed flame "Else quenched in the dead void, to living space? "That orb cast off to chaos and disgrace, "Why vaunt so much my unencumbered dance, "Making a feat's facilities enhance "Its marvel? But I front Taurello, one "Of happier fate, and all I should have done, "He does; the people's good being paramount "With him, their progress may perhaps account "For his abiding still; whereas you heard "The talk with Tito—the excuse preferred "For burning those five hostages,—and broached "By way of blind, as you and I approached, "I do believe."

She spoke: then he, "My thought "Plainlier expressed! All to your profit—nought "Meantime of these, of conquests to achieve "For them, of wretchedness he might relieve "While profiting your party. Azzo, too, "Supports a cause: what cause? Do Guelfs pursue "Their ends by means like yours, or better?"

When The Guelfs were proved alike, men weighed with men, And deed with deed, blaze, blood, with blood and blaze, Morn broke: "Once more, Sordello, meet its gaze "Proudly—the people's charge against thee fails "In every point, while either party quails! "These are the busy ones: be silent thou! "Two parties take the world up, and allow "No third, yet have one principle, subsist "By the same injustice; whoso shall enlist "With either, ranks with man's inveterate foes. "So there is one less quarrel to compose: "The Guelf, the Ghibellin may be to curse— "I have done nothing, but both sides do worse "Than nothing. Nay, to me, forgotten, reft "Of insight, lapped by trees and flowers, was left "The notion of a service—ha? What lured "Me here, what mighty aim was I assured "Must move Taurello? What if there remained "A cause, intact, distinct from these, ordained "For me, its true discoverer?"

Some one pressed Before them here, a watcher, to suggest The subject for a ballad: "They must know "The tale of the dead worthy, long ago "Consul of Rome—that 's long ago for us, "Minstrels and bowmen, idly squabbling thus `In the world's corner—but too late no doubt, "For the brave time he sought to bring about. "—Not know Crescentius Nomentanus?" Then He cast about for terms to tell him, when Sordello disavowed it, how they used Whenever their Superior introduced A novice to the Brotherhood—("for I "Was just a brown-sleeve brother, merrily "Appointed too," quoth he, "till Innocent "Bade me relinquish, to my small content, "My wife or my brown sleeves")—some brother spoke Ere nocturns of Crescentius, to revoke The edict issued, after his demise, Which blotted fame alike and effigies, All out except a floating power, a name Including, tending to produce the same Great act. Rome, dead, forgotten, lived at least Within that brain, though to a vulgar priest And a vile stranger,—two not worth a slave Of Rome's, Pope John, King Otho,—fortune gave The rule there: so, Crescentius, haply dressed In white, called Roman Consul for a jest, Taking the people at their word, forth stepped As upon Brutus' heel, nor ever kept Rome waiting,—stood erect, and from his brain Gave Rome out on its ancient place again, Ay, bade proceed with Brutus' Rome, Kings styled Themselves mere citizens of, and, beguiled Into great thoughts thereby, would choose the gem Out of a lapfull, spoil their diadem —The Senate's cypher was so hard to scratch He flashes like a phanal, all men catch The flame, Rome 's just accomplished! when returned Otho, with John, the Consul's step had spurned, And Hugo Lord of Este, to redress The wrongs of each. Crescentius in the stress Of adverse fortune bent. "They crucified "Their Consul in the Forum; and abide "E'er since such slaves at Rome, that I—(for I "Was once a brown-sleeve brother, merrily "Appointed)—I had option to keep wife "Or keep brown sleeves, and managed in the strife "Lose both. A song of Rome!"

And Rome, indeed, Robed at Goito in fantastic weed, The Mother-City of his Mantuan days, Looked an established point of light whence rays Traversed the world; for, all the clustered homes Beside of men, seemed bent on being Romes In their degree; the question was, how each Should most resemble Rome, clean out of reach. Nor, of the Two, did either principle Struggle to change, but to possess Rome,—still Guelf Rome or Ghibellin Rome.

Let Rome advance! Rome, as she struck Sordello's ignorance— How could he doubt one moment? Rome 's the Cause! Rome of the Pandects, all the world's new laws— Of the Capitol, of Castle Angelo; New structures, that inordinately glow, Subdued, brought back to harmony, made ripe By many a relic of the archetype Extant for wonder; every upstart church That hoped to leave old temples in the lurch, Corrected by the Theatre forlorn That,—as a mundane shell, its world late born,— Lay and o'ershadowed it. These hints combined, Rome typifies the scheme to put mankind Once more in full possession of their rights. "Let us have Rome again! On me it lights "To build up Rome—on me, the first and last: "For such a future was endured the past!" And thus, in the grey twilight, forth he sprung To give his thought consistency among The very People—let their facts avail Finish the dream grown from the archer's tale.