One day, I swooned and got a respite so.
She stooped as I was slowly coming to,
This Margherita, ever on my trace,
And whispered—“Caponsacchi!” (1140)
But woke afloat i’ the wave with upturned eyes,
And found their first sight was a star! I turned—
For the first time, I let her have her will,
Heard passively,—“The imposthume at such head,
“One touch, one lancet-puncture would relieve,—
“And still no glance the good physician’s way
“Who rids you of the torment in a trice!
“Still he writes letters you refuse to hear.
“He may prevent your husband, kill himself, (1150)
“So desperate and all foredone is he!
“Just hear the pretty verse he made to-day!
“I sonnet from Mirtillo. ‘Peerless fair …’
“All poetry is difficult to read,
“—The sense of it is, anyhow, he seeks
“Leave to contrive you an escape from hell,
“And for that purpose asks an interview.
“I can write, I can grant it in your name,
“Or, what is better, lead you to his house.
“Your husband dashes you against the stones; (1160)
“This man would place each fragment in a shrine:
“You hate him, love your husband!”
“It is not true I love my husband,—no,
“Nor hate this man. I listen while you speak,
“—Assured that what you say is false, the same:
“Much as when once, to me a little child,
“A rough gaunt man in rags, with eyes on fire,
“A crowd of boys and idlers at his heels,
“Rushed as I crossed the Square, and held my head (1170)
“In his two hands, ‘Here’s she will let me speak!
“ ‘You little girl, whose eyes do good to mine,
“ ‘I am the Pope, am Sextus, now the Sixth;
“ ‘And that Twelfth Innocent, proclaimed to- day,
“ ‘Is Lucifer disguised in human flesh!
“ ‘The angels, met in conclave, crowned me!’—thus
“He gibbered and I listened; but I knew
“All was delusion, ere folks interposed
“ ‘Unfasten him, the maniac!’ Thus I know
“All your report of Caponsacchi false, (1180)
“Folly or dreaming; I have seen so much
“By that adventure at the spectacle,
“The face I fronted that one first, last time:
“He would belie it by such words and thoughts.
“Therefore while you profess to show him me,
“I ever see his own face. Get you gone!”
“No, by Saint Joseph and the Holy Ghost!
“On your head be the damage, so adieu!”
And so more days, more deeds I must forget, (1190)
Till … what a strange thing now is to declare!
Since I say anything, say all if true!
And how my life seems lengthened as to serve!
It may be idle or inopportune,
But, true?—why, what was all I said but truth,
Even when I found that such as are untrue
Could only take the truth in through a lie?
Now—I am speaking truth to the Truth’s self:
God will lend credit to my words this time.
One vivid daybreak,—who had gone to bed
In the old way my wont those last three years,
Careless until, the cup drained, I should die.
The last sound in my ear, the over-night,
Had been a something let drop on the sly
In prattle by Margherita, “Soon enough
“Gaieties end, now Easter’s past: a week,
“And the Archbishop gets him back to Rome,—
“Everyone leaves the town for Rome, this Spring,—
“Even Caponsacchi, out of heart and hope, (1210)
“Resigns himself and follows with the flock.”
I heard this drop and drop like rain outside
Fast-falling through the darkness while she spoke:
So had I heard with like indifference,
“And Michael’s pair of wings will arrive first
“At Rome to introduce the company,
“Will bear him from our picture where he fights
“Satan,—expect to have that dragon loose
“And never a defender!”—my sole thought
Being still, as night came, “Done, another day! (1220)
“How good to sleep and so get nearer death!”—
When, what, first thing at daybreak, pierced the sleep
With a summons to me? Up I sprang alive,
Light in me, light without me, everywhere
Change! A broad yellow sun-beam was let fall
From heaven to earth,—a sudden drawbridge lay,
Along which marched a myriad merry motes,
Mocking the flies that crossed them and recrossed
In rival dance, companions new-born too.
On the house-eaves, a dripping shag of weed (1230)
Shook diamonds on each dull grey lattice-square,
As first one, then another bird leapt by,
And light was off, and lo was back again,
Always with one voice,—where are two such joys?—
The blessed building-sparrow! I stepped forth,
Stood on the terrace,—o’er the roofs, such sky!
My heart sang, “I too am to go away,
“I too have something I must care about,
“Carry away with me to Rome, to Rome!
“The bird brings hither sticks and hairs and wool, (1240)
“And nowhere else i’ the world; what fly breaks rank,
“Falls out of the procession that befits,
“From window here to window there, with all
“The world to choose,—so well he knows his course?
“I have my purpose and my motive too,
“My march to Rome, like any bird or fly!
“Had I been dead! How right to be alive!
“Last night I almost prayed for leave to die,
“Wished Guido all his pleasure with the sword
“Or the poison,—poison, sword, was but a trick, (1250)
“Harmless, may God forgive him the poor jest!
“My life is
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