But I sink the pretension as fearing a man may o'ertake God's own speed in the one way of love: I abstain for love's sake. -What, my soul? see thus far and no farther? when doors great and small, Nine-and-ninety flew ope at our touch, should the hundredth appall? In the least things have faith, yet distrust in the greatest of all? Do I find love so full in my nature, God's ultimate gift, That I doubt his own love can compete with it? Here, the parts shift? The man taught enough by life's dream, of the rest to make sure; By the pain-throb, triumphantly winning intensified bliss, And the next world's reward and repose, by the struggles in this. XVIII And thy love fill infinitude wholly, nor leave up nor down One spot for the creature to stand in! It is by no breath, Turn of eye, wave of hand, that salvation joins issue with death! As thy Love is discovered almighty, almighty be proved Thy power, that exists with and for it, of being Beloved! He who did most, shall bear most; the strongest shall stand the most weak. 'Tis the weakness in strength, that I cry for! my flesh, that I seek In the Godhead! I seek and I find it. O Saul, it shall be MY LAST DUCHESS FERRARA ΤΟ That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, A heart how shall I say? - too soon made glad, good! 31 but thanked Somehow I know not how as if she ranked And Theocrite was gone, With God a day endures alway, God said in heaven, "Nor day nor night Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth, Entered, in flesh, the empty cell, Lived there, and played the craftsman well; And from a boy, to youth he grew: The man matured and fell away And ever o'er the trade he bent, (He did God's will; to him, all one God said, "A praise is in mine ear; "So sing old worlds, and so Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell 'Twas Easter Day: he flew to Rome, And paused above Saint Peter's dome. In the tiring-room close by The great outer gallery, With his holy vestments dight, Stood the new Pope, Theocrite: And all his past career Came back upon him clear, Since when, a boy, he plied his trade, 40 50 бо 30 20 To the East with praise he turned, "I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell, And set thee here; I did not well. "Vainly I left my angel-sphere, Vain was thy dream of many a year. "Thy voice's praise seemed weak; droppedCreation's chorus stopped! "Go back and praise again The early way, while I remain. "With that weak voice of our disdain, Theocrite grew old at home; One vanished as the other died: 70 ΙΟ 20 Then we began to ride. My soul Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll Freshening and fluttering in the wind. Past hopes already lay behind. What need to strive with a life awry? So might I gain, so might I miss. Fail I alone, in words and deeds? As the world rushed by on either side. I thought, All labour, yet no less Bear up beneath their unsuccess. Look at the end of work, contrast The petty done, the undone vast, This present of theirs with the hopeful past! I hoped she would love me; here we ride. What hand and brain went ever paired? We ride and I see her bosom heave. A soldier's doing! what atones? They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones. What does it all mean, poet? Well, And place them in rhyme so, side by side. 30 40 50 60 70 80 |