Introduction to Robert Browning [139]
till, built to the skies, Let it mark where the great First King slumbers: whose fame would ye know? Up above see the rock's naked face, where the record shall go [181] In great characters cut by the scribe, -- Such was Saul, so he did; With the sages directing the work, by the populace chid, -- For not half, they'll affirm, is comprised there! Which fault to amend, In the grove with his kind grows the cedar, whereon they shall spend (See, in tablets 'tis level before them) their praise, and record With the gold of the graver, Saul's story, -- the statesman's great word Side by side with the poet's sweet comment. The river's a-wave With smooth paper-reeds grazing each other when prophet-winds rave: So the pen gives unborn generations their due and their part [190] In thy being! Then, first of the mighty, thank God that thou art!"
14.
And behold while I sang. . .but O Thou who didst grant me, that day, And, before it, not seldom hast granted thy help to essay, Carry on and complete an adventure, -- my shield and my sword In that act where my soul was thy servant, thy word was my word, -- Still be with me, who then at the summit of human endeavor And scaling the highest, man's thought could, gazed hopeless as ever On the new stretch of heaven above me -- till, mighty to save, Just one lift of thy hand cleared that distance -- God's throne from man's grave! Let me tell out my tale to its ending -- my voice to my heart [200] Which can scarce dare believe in what marvels last night I took part, As this morning I gather the fragments, alone with my sheep! And still fear lest the terrible glory evanish like sleep, For I wake in the gray dewy covert, while Hebron upheaves The dawn struggling with night on his shoulder, and Kidron retrieves Slow the damage of yesterday's sunshine.
15.
I say then, -- my song While I sang thus, assuring the monarch, and, ever more strong, Made a proffer of good to console him -- he slowly resumed His old motions and habitudes kingly. The right hand replumed His black locks to their wonted composure, adjusted the swathes [210] Of his turban, and see -- the huge sweat that his countenance bathes, He wipes off with the robe; and he girds now his loins as of yore, And feels slow for the armlets of price, with the clasp set before. He is Saul, ye remember in glory, -- ere error had bent The broad brow from the daily communion; and still, though much spent Be the life and the bearing that front you, the same, God did choose, To receive what a man may waste, desecrate, never quite lose. So sank he along by the tent-prop, till, stayed by the pile Of his armor and war-cloak and garments, he leaned there awhile, And sat out my singing, -- one arm round the tent-prop, to raise [220] His bent head, and the other hung slack -- till I touched on the praise I foresaw from all men in all time, to the man patient there; And thus ended, the harp falling forward. Then first I was 'ware That he sat, as I say, with my head just above his vast knees Which were thrust out on each side around me, like oak-roots which please To encircle a lamb when it slumbers. I looked up to know If the best I could do had brought solace: he spoke not, but slow Lifted up the hand slack at his side, till he laid it with care Soft and grave, but in mild settled will, on my brow: through my hair The large fingers were pushed, and he bent back my head, with kind power -- All my face back, intent to peruse it, as men do a flower. [231] Thus held he me there with his great eyes that scrutinized mine -- And oh, all my heart how it loved him! but where was the sign? I yearned -- "Could I help thee, my father, inventing a bliss, I would add, to that life of the past, both the future and this; I would give thee new life altogether, as good, ages hence, As this moment, -- had love but the warrant, love's heart to dispense!"
16.
Then the truth came upon me. No harp more -- no song more! outbroke
14.
And behold while I sang. . .but O Thou who didst grant me, that day, And, before it, not seldom hast granted thy help to essay, Carry on and complete an adventure, -- my shield and my sword In that act where my soul was thy servant, thy word was my word, -- Still be with me, who then at the summit of human endeavor And scaling the highest, man's thought could, gazed hopeless as ever On the new stretch of heaven above me -- till, mighty to save, Just one lift of thy hand cleared that distance -- God's throne from man's grave! Let me tell out my tale to its ending -- my voice to my heart [200] Which can scarce dare believe in what marvels last night I took part, As this morning I gather the fragments, alone with my sheep! And still fear lest the terrible glory evanish like sleep, For I wake in the gray dewy covert, while Hebron upheaves The dawn struggling with night on his shoulder, and Kidron retrieves Slow the damage of yesterday's sunshine.
15.
I say then, -- my song While I sang thus, assuring the monarch, and, ever more strong, Made a proffer of good to console him -- he slowly resumed His old motions and habitudes kingly. The right hand replumed His black locks to their wonted composure, adjusted the swathes [210] Of his turban, and see -- the huge sweat that his countenance bathes, He wipes off with the robe; and he girds now his loins as of yore, And feels slow for the armlets of price, with the clasp set before. He is Saul, ye remember in glory, -- ere error had bent The broad brow from the daily communion; and still, though much spent Be the life and the bearing that front you, the same, God did choose, To receive what a man may waste, desecrate, never quite lose. So sank he along by the tent-prop, till, stayed by the pile Of his armor and war-cloak and garments, he leaned there awhile, And sat out my singing, -- one arm round the tent-prop, to raise [220] His bent head, and the other hung slack -- till I touched on the praise I foresaw from all men in all time, to the man patient there; And thus ended, the harp falling forward. Then first I was 'ware That he sat, as I say, with my head just above his vast knees Which were thrust out on each side around me, like oak-roots which please To encircle a lamb when it slumbers. I looked up to know If the best I could do had brought solace: he spoke not, but slow Lifted up the hand slack at his side, till he laid it with care Soft and grave, but in mild settled will, on my brow: through my hair The large fingers were pushed, and he bent back my head, with kind power -- All my face back, intent to peruse it, as men do a flower. [231] Thus held he me there with his great eyes that scrutinized mine -- And oh, all my heart how it loved him! but where was the sign? I yearned -- "Could I help thee, my father, inventing a bliss, I would add, to that life of the past, both the future and this; I would give thee new life altogether, as good, ages hence, As this moment, -- had love but the warrant, love's heart to dispense!"
16.
Then the truth came upon me. No harp more -- no song more! outbroke