“I was the Loved Disciple: mine the meal!”
“But I,” proceeded Peter, “dreamed, a word
“Gave me the headship of our company,
“Made me the Vicar and Vice-regent, gave
“The keys of Heaven and Hell into my hand,
“And o’er the earth, dominion: mine the meal!”
“While I,” submitted in soft under-tone
The Iscariot—sense of his unworthiness
Turning each eye up to the inmost white— (1080)
With long-drawn sigh, yet letting both lips smack,
“I have had just the pitifullest dream
“That ever proved man meanest of his mates,
“And born foot-washer and foot-wiper, nay
“Foot-kisser to each comrade of you all!
“I dreamed I dreamed; and in that mimic dream
“(Impalpable to dream as dream to fact)
“Methought I meanly chose to sleep no wink
“But wait until I heard my brethren breathe;
“Then stole from couch, slipped noiseless to the door,
“Slid downstairs, furtively approached the hearth, (1091)
“Found the fowl duly brown, both back and breast,
“Hissing in harmony with the cricket’s chirp,
“Grilled to a point; said no grace but fell to,
“Nor finished till the skeleton lay bare.
“In penitence for which ignoble dream,
“Lo, I renounce my portion cheerfully!
“Fie on the flesh—be mine the etherial gust,
“And yours the sublunary sustenance!
“See, that whate’er be left, ye give the poor!” (1100)
Down the two scuttled, one on other’s heel,
Stung by a fell surmise; and found, alack,
A goodly savour, both the drumstick-bones,
And that which henceforth took the appropriate name
O’ the merry-thought, in memory of the fact
That to keep wide awake is our best dream.
And his sole joke, “The lion, lo, hath laughed!”—
Just so, the Governor and all that’s great
I’ the city, never meant that Innocence (1110)
Should starve thus while Authority sat at meat.
They meant to fling a bone at banquet’s end,
Wished well to our Pompilia—in their dreams,
Nor bore the secular sword in vain—asleep:
Just so the Archbishop and all good like him
Went to bed meaning to pour oil and wine
I’ the wounds of her, next day,—but long ere day,
They had burned the one and drunk the other: while
Just so, again, contrariwise, the priest
Sustained poor Nature in extremity (1120)
By stuffing barley-bread into her mouth,
Saving Pompilia (grant the parallel)
By the plain homely and straightforward way
Taught him by common-sense. Let others shriek
“Oh what refined expedients did we dream
“Proved us the only fit to help the fair!”
He cried “A carriage waits, jump in with me!”
This recreative pause and breathing-while,—
Back to beseemingness and gravity! (1130)
For Law steps in: Guido appeals to Law,
Demands she arbitrate,—does well for once.
O Law, of thee how neatly was it said
By that old Sophocles, thou hast thy seat
I’ the very breast of Jove, no meanlier throned!
Here is a piece of work now, hitherto
Begun and carried on, concluded near,
Without an eye-glance cast thy sceptre’s way;
And, lo the stumbling and discomfiture!
Well may you call them “lawless,” means men take (1140)
To extricate themselves through mother-wit
When tangled haply in the toils of life!
Guido would try conclusions with his foe,
Whoe’er the foe was and whate’er the offence;
He would recover certain dowry-dues:
Instead of asking Law to lend a hand,
What pother of sword drawn and pistol cocked,
What peddling with forged letters and paid spies,
Politic circumvention!—all to end
As it began—by loss of the fool’s head, (1150)
First in a figure, presently in a fact.
It is a lesson to mankind at large.
How other were the end, would men be sage
And bear confidingly each quarrel straight,
O Law, to thy recipient mother-knees!
How would the children light come and prompt go,
This, with a red-cheeked apple for reward,
The other, peradventure red-cheeked too
I’ the rear, by taste of birch for punishment.
No foolish brawling murders any more! (1160)
Peace for the household, practice for the Fisc,
And plenty for the exchequer of my lords!
Too much to hope, in this world: in the next,
Who knows? Since, why should sit the Twelve enthroned
To judge the tribes, unless the tribes be judged?
And ’tis impossible but offences come:
So, all’s one lawsuit, all one long leet-day!
Entranced awhile at Law’s first beam, outbreak
O’ the business, when the Count’s good angel bade (1170)
“Put up thy sword, born enemy to the ear,
“And let Law listen to thy difference!”
And Law does listen and compose the strife,
Settle the suit, how wisely and how well!
On our Pompilia, faultless to a fault,
Law bends a brow maternally severe,
Implies the worth of perfect chastity,
By fancying the flaw she cannot find.
Superfluous sifting snow, nor helps nor harms:
’Tis safe to censure levity in youth, (1180)
Tax womanhood with indiscretion, sure!
Since toys, permissible to-day, become
Follies to-morrow: prattle shocks in church:
And that curt skirt which lets a maiden skip,
The matron changes for a trailing robe.
Mothers may risk thus much with half-shut eyes
Nodding above their spindles by the fire,
On the chance to hit some hidden fault, else safe.
Just so, Law hazarded a punishment—
If applicable to the circumstance, (1190)
Why, well—if not so apposite, well too.
“Quit the gay range o’ the world,” I
| Previous chapter/page | Back | Home | Email this | Search | Discuss | Bookmark | Next chapter/page |