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To whom used my boy George quaff else, Will’t please you sit and look at her? I By the old fool's side that begot him?
said For whom did he cheer and laugh else, “Frà Pandolf” by design, for never read While Noll's damned troopers shot him? Strangers like you that pictured counCHORUS. -- King Charles, and who'll do
tenance, him right now?
The depth and passion of its earnest King Charles, and who's ripe glance, for fight now?
But to myself they turned (since none Give a rouse: here's, in hell's
puts by despite now, The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
I King Charles !
And seemed as they would ask me, if
they durst, III. BOOT AND SADDLE
How such a glance came there; so, not
the first Boot, saddle, to horse and away!
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, Rescue my castle before the hot day
'twas not Brightens to blue from its silvery gray.
Her husband's presence only, called that CHORUS. - Boot, saddle, to horse and
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek : perhaps Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Frà Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
laps “God's luck to gallants that strike up
Over my lady's wrist too much," or the lay
"Paint CHORUS. – Boot, saddle, to horse, and Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat:”
such stuff Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, Was courtesy, she thought, and cause Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Round
enough heads' array:
For calling up that spot of joy. She had Who laughs, “Good fellows ere this, by A heart how shall I say? too soon my fay,
Too easily impressed : she liked whate'er
where. Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her
breast, Laughs when you talk of surrendering, The dropping of the daylight in the “Nay!
West, I've better counsellors; what counsel The bough of cherries some officious fool they?
Broke in the orchard for her, the white CHORUS. - Boot, saddle, to horse, and
She rode with round the terrace all
and each MY LAST DUCHESS
Would draw from her alike the approvFERRARA
Or blush, at least. She That's my last Duchess painted on the
good! but thanked wall,
Somehow - I know not how
as if she Looking as if she were alive. I call
ranked That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name hands
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
She speaks In speech — (which I have not) — to
Say after me, and try to say make your will
My very words, as if each word Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just Came from you of your own accord, this
In your own voice, in your own way: Or that in you disgusts me; here you “This woman's heart and soul and brain miss,
Are mine as much as this gold chain Or there exceed the mark" - and if she
She bids me wear; which" (say again) let
“I choose to make by cherishing Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
A precious thing, or choose to fling Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made
Over the boat-side, ring by ring. excuse,
And yet once more say .
no word E'en then would be some stooping;
more! and I choose
Since words are only words. Give o'er! Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Unless you call me, all the same, When'er I passed her; but who passed Familiarly by my pet name, without
Which if the Three should hear you call, Much the same smile? This grew; I
And me reply to, would proclaim gave commands:
At once our secret to them all. Then all smiles stopped together. There Ask of me, too, command me, blame, she stands
Do, break down the partition-wall As if alive. Will't please you rise? .
'Twixt us, the daylight world beholds We'll meet
Curtained in dusk and splendid folds ! The company below, then. I repeat, What's left but all of me to take? The Count your master's known munifi- I am the Three's : prevent them, slake cence
Your thirst! 'Tis said, the Arab sage, Is ample warrant that no just pretence In practising with gems, can loose Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; Their subtle spirit in his cruce Though his fair daughter's self, as I And leave but ashes : so, sweet mage, avowed
Leave them my ashes when thy use At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go Sucks out my soul, thy heritage ! Together down, sir. Notice Neptune,
though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Past we glide, and past, and past ! Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze What's that poor Agnese doing for me!
Where they make the shutters fast?
Gray Zanobi's just a-wooing
To his couch the purchased bride:
Past we glide!
Past we glide, and past, and past !
heart Why's the Pucci Palace flaring In this my singing.
Like a beacon to the blast? For the stars help me, and the sea bears Guests by hundreds, not one caring part;
If the dear host's neck were wried : The very night is clinging
Past we glide!
The moth's kiss, first!
You were not sure, this eve,
Snow-white must they spring, to blend
How my face, your flower, had pursed
pursue, To a feast of our tribe; Where they need thee to bribe The devil that blasts them unless he
imbibe Thy ... Scatter the vision forever!
Rescue me thou, the only real !
Still he muses
As of old, I am I, thou art thou !
announce there is withering away Some . . . Scatter the vision forever !
As of old, I am I, thou art thou !
Ile muses Oh, which were best, to roam or rest? The land's lap or the water's breast? To sleep on yellow millet-sheaves, Or swim in lucid shallows just Eluding water-lily leaves, An inch from Death's black fingers, thrust To lock you, whom release he must; Which life were best on Summer eves ?
*They trail me, these three godless knaves,
church that saints and saves, Nor stop till, where the cold sea raves By Lido's wet accursed graves, They scoop mine, roll me to its brink, And ... on thy breast I sink!
She replies, musing Dip your arm o'er the boat-side, elbow
deep, As I do: thus: were death so unlike
sleep, Caught this way? Death's to fear from
flame or steel, Or poison doubtless; but from water
feel ! Go find the bottom! Would you stay
me? There ! Now pluck a great blade of that ribbon
grass To plait in where the foolish jewel was, I flung away: since you have praised
my hair, 'Tis proper
to be choice in what I wear.
He speaks Row home? must we row home? Too
surely Know I where its front's demurely
He speaks, musing Lie back; could thought of mine im
prove you? From this shoulder let there spring A wing; from this, another wing; Wings, not legs and feet, shall move you!