“Of word with word between them all their life,
“Why, she must be the fondest of the frail,
“And fit she for the ‘apage’ he flung,
“Her letters for the flame they went to feed. (1160)
“But, now he sees her face and hears her speech,
“Much he repents him if, in fancy-freak
“For a moment the minutest measurable,
“He coupled her with the first flimsy word
“O’ the self-spun fabric some mean spider- soul
“Furnished forth: stop his films and stamp on him!
“Never was such a tangled knottiness,
“But thus authority cuts the Gordian through,
“And mark how her decision suits the need!
“Here’s troublesomeness, scandal on both sides, (1170)
“Plenty of fault to find, no absolute crime:
“Let each side own its fault and make amends!
“What does a priest in cavalier’s attire
“Consorting publicly with vagrant wives
“In quarters close as the confessional
“Though innocent of harm? ’Tis harm enough:
“Let him pay it, and be relegate a good
“Three years, to spend in some place not too far
“Nor yet too near, midway twixt near and far,
“Rome and Arezzo,—Civita we choose, (1180)
“Where he may lounge away time, live at large,
“Find out the proper function of a priest,
“Nowise an exile,—that were punishment,
“But one our love thus keeps out of harm’s way
“Not more from the husband’s anger than, mayhap
“His own … say, indiscretion, waywardness,
“And wanderings when Easter eves grow warm.
“For the wife,—well, our best step to take with her,
“On her own showing, were to shift her root
“From the old cold shade and unhappy soil (1190)
“Into a generous ground that fronts the south:
“Where, since her callow soul, a-shiver late,
“Craved simply warmth and called mere passers-by
“To the rescue, she should have her fill of shine.
“Do house and husband hinder and not help?
“Why then, forget both and stay here at peace,
“Come into our community, enroll
“Herself along with those good Convertites,
“Those sinners saved, those Magdalens re-made,
“Accept their administration, well bestow (1200)
“Her body and patiently possess her soul,
“Until we see what better can be done.
“Last for the husband: if his tale prove true,
“Well is he rid of two domestic plagues—
“The wife that ailed, do whatsoever he would,
“And friend of hers that undertook the cure.
“See, what a double load we lift from breast!
“Off he may go, return, resume old life,
“Laugh at the priest here and Pompilia there
“In limbo each and punished for their pains, (1210)
“And grateful tell the inquiring neighbourhood—
“In Rome, no wrong but has its remedy.”
The case was closed. Now, am I fair or no
In what I utter? Do I state the facts,
Having forechosen a side? I promised you!
To change his garb, re-trim his tonsure, tie
The clerkly silk round, every plait correct,
Make the impressive entry on his place
Of relegation, thrill his Civita, (1220)
As Ovid, a like sufferer in the cause,
Planted a primrose-patch by Pontus: where,
What with much culture of the sonnet-stave
And converse with the aborigines,
Soft savagery of eyes unused to roll,
And hearts that all awry went pit-a-pat
And wanted setting right in charity,
What were a couple of years to while away?
Pompilia, as enjoined, betook herself
To the aforesaid Convertites, the sisterhood (1230)
In Via Lungara, where the light ones live,
Spin, pray, then sing like linnets o’er the flax.
“Anywhere, anyhow, out of my husband’s house
“Is heaven,” cried she,—was therefore suited so.
But for Count Guido Franceschini, he—
The injured man thus righted—found no heaven
I’ the house when he returned there, I engage,
Was welcomed by the city turned upside down
In a chorus of inquiry. “What, back,—you?
“And no wife? Left her with the Penitents? (1240)
“Ah, being young and pretty, ’twere a shame
“To have her whipped in public: leave the job
“To the priests who understand! Such priests as yours—
“(Pontifex Maximus whipped Vestals once)
“Our madcap Caponsacchi: think of him!
“So, he fired up, showed fight and skill of fence?
“Ay, you drew also, but you did not fight!
“The wiser, ’tis a word and a blow with him,
“True Caponsacchi, of old Head-i’-the-Sack
“That fought at Fiesole ere Florence was: (1250)
“He had done enough, to firk you were too much.
“And did the little lady menace you,
“Make at your breast with your own harmless sword?
“The spitfire! Well, thank God you’re safe and sound,
“Have kept the sixth commandment whether or no
“The lady broke the seventh: I only wish
“I were as saint-like, could contain me so.
“I am a sinner, I fear I should have left
“Sir Priest no nose-tip to turn up at me!”
You, Sir, who listen but interpose no word, (1260)
Ask yourself, had you borne a baiting thus?
Was it enough to make a wise man mad?
Oh, but I’ll have your verdict at the end!
Frets awhile, and aches long, then less and less,
And so is done with. Such was not the scheme
O’ the pleasant Comparini: on Guido’s wound
Ever in due succession, drop by drop,
Came slow distilment from the alembic here
Set on to simmer by Canidian hate, (1270)
Corrosives keeping the man’s misery raw.
First fire-drop,—when he thought to make the best
O’ the bad, to wring from out the sentence passed,
Poor, pitiful, absurd although it were,
Yet what
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