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_ NEW YEAR'S DAY AT ASOLO IN THE TREVISAN [A]
[SCENE.-_A large, mean, airy chamber.
A girl, PIPPA,from the silk-mills,
springing out of bed.]
Day!
Faster and more fast,
O'er night's brim, day boils at last;
Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim
Where spurting and suppressed it lay, 5
For not a froth-flake touched the rim
Of yonder gap in the solid gray
Of the eastern cloud, an hour away;
But forth one wavelet, then another, curled,
Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed, 10
Rose, reddened, and its seething breast
Flickered in bounds, grew gold, than overflowed the world. Oh, Day, if I squander a wavelet of thee,
A mite of my twelve hours' treasure,
The least of thy gazes or glances 15
(Be they grants thou art bound to or gifts above measure),
One of thy choices or one of thy chances,
(Be they tasks God imposed thee or freaks at thy pleasure)
--My Day, if I squander such labor or leisure,
Then shame fall on Asolo, mischief on me! 20
Thy long blue solemn hours serenely flowing,
Whence earth, we feel, gets steady help and good--
Thy fitful sunshine-minutes, coming, going,
As if earth turned from work in gamesome mood--
All shall be mine! But thou must treat me not 25
As prosperous ones are treated, those who live
At hand here, and enjoy the higher lot,
In readiness to take what thou wilt give,
And free to let alone what thou refusest;
For, Day, my holiday, if thou ill-usest 30
Me, who am only Pippa--old-year's sorrow,
Cast off last night, will come again tomorrow;
Whereas, if thou prove gentle, I shall borrow
Sufficient strength of thee for new-year's sorrow.
All other men and women that this earth 35
Belongs to, who all days alike possess,
Make general plenty cure particular dearth,
Get more joy one way, if another, less;
Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven
What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven-- 40
Sole light that helps me through the year, thy sun's!
Try now! Take Asolo's Four Happiest Ones--
And let thy morning rain on that superb
Great haughty Ottima; can rain disturb
Her Sebald's homage? All the while thy rain 45
Beats fiercest on her shrub-house windowpane,
He will but press the closer, breathe more warm
Against her cheek; how should she mind the storm?
And, morning past, if midday shed a gloom
O'er Jules and Phene--what care bride and groom 50
Save for their dear selves? 'Tis their marriage-day;
And while they leave church and go home their way,
Hand clasping hand, within each breast would be
Sunbeams and pleasant weather spite of thee.
Then, for another trial, obscure thy eve 55
With mist--will Luigi and his mother grieve--
The lady and her child, unmatched, forsooth,
She in her age, as Luigi in his youth,
For true content? The cheerful town, warm, close,
And safe, the sooner that thou art morose, 60
Receives them. And yet once again, outbreak
In storm at night on Monsignor, they make
Such stir about--whom they expect from Rome
To visit Asolo, his brothers' home,
And say here masses proper to release 65
A soul from pain--what storm dares hurt his peace?
Calm would he pray, with his own thoughts to ward
Thy thunder off, nor want the angels' guard.
But Pippa--just one such mischance would spoil
Her day that lightens the next twelve-month's toil 70
At wearisome silk-winding, coil on coil!
And here I let time slip for naught!
Aha, you foolhardy sunbeam, caught
With a single splash from my ewer!
You that would mock the best pursuer, 75
Was my basin over-deep?
One splash of water ruins you asleep,
And up, up, fleet your brilliant bits
Wheeling and counterwheeling,
Reeling, broken beyond healing-- 80
Now grow together on the ceiling!
That will task your wits.
Whoever it was quenched fire first, hoped to see
Morsel after morsel flee
As merrily, as giddily ... 85
Meantime, what lights my sunbeam on,
Where settles by degrees the radiant cripple?
Oh, is it surely blown, my martagon?
New-blown and ruddy as St. Agnes' nipple,
Plump as the flesh-bunch on some Turk bird's poll! 90
Be sure if corals, branching 'neath the ripple
Of ocean, bud there, fairies watch unroll
Such turban-flowers; I say, such lamps disperse
Thick red flame through that dusk green universe!
I am queen of thee, floweret! 95
And each fleshy blossom
Preserve I not--safer
Than leaves that embower it,
Or shells that embosom--
From weevil and chafer? 100
Laugh through my pane then; solicit the bee;
Gibe him, be sure; and, in midst of thy glee,
Love thy queen, worship me!
--Worship whom else? For am I not, this day,
Whate'er I please? What shall I please today? 105
My morn, noon, eve, and night--how spend my day?
Tomorrow I must be Pippa who winds silk,
The whole year round, to earn just bread and milk.
But, this one day, I have leave to go,
And play out my fancy's fullest games; 110
I may fancy all day--and it shall be so--
That I taste of the pleasures, am called by the names
Of the Happiest Four in our Asolo!
See! Up the hillside yonder, through the morning,
Someone shall love me, as the world calls love; 115
I am no less than Ottima, take warning!
The gardens, and the great stone house above,
And other house for shrubs, all glass in front,
Are mine; where Sebald steals, as he is wont,
To court me, while old Luca yet reposes; 120
And therefore, till the shrub-house door uncloses,
I--what now?--give abundant cause for prate
About me--Ottima, I mean--of late,
Too bold, too confident she'll still face down
The spitefullest of talkers in our town. 125
How we talk in the little town below!
But love, love, love--there's better love, I know!
This foolish love was only day's first offer;
I choose my next love to defy the scoffer;
For do not our Bride and Bridegroom sally 130
Out of Possagno church at noon?
Their house looks over Orcana valley--
Why should not I be the bride as soon
As Ottima? For I saw, beside,
Arrive last night that little bride-- 135
Saw, if you call it seeing her, one flash
Of the pale snow-pure cheek and black bright tresses,
Blacker than all except the black eyelash;
I wonder she contrives those lids no dresses!
So strict was she, the veil 140
Should cover close her pale
Pure cheeks--a bride to look at and scarce touch,
Scarce touch, remember, Jules! For are not such
Used to be tended, flower-like, every feature,
As if one's breath would fray the lily of a creature? 145
A soft and easy life these ladies lead!
Whiteness in us were wonderful indeed.
Oh, save that brow its virgin dimness,
Keep that foot its lady primness,
Let those ankles never swerve 150
From their exquisite reserve,
Yet have to trip along the streets like me,
All but naked to the knee!
How will she ever grant her Jules a bliss
So startling as her real first infant kiss? 155
Oh, no--not envy, this!
--Not envy, sure!--for if you gave me
Leave to take or to refuse,
In earnest, do you think I'd choose
That sort of new love to enslave me? 160
Mine should have lapped me round from the beginning;
As little fear of losing it as winning;
Lovers grow cold, men learn to hate their wives,
And only parents' love can last our lives.
At eve the Son and Mother, gentle pair, 165
Commune inside our turret; what prevents
My being Luigi? While that mossy lair
Of lizards through the wintertime is stirred
With each to each imparting sweet intents
For this new-year, as brooding bird to bird 170
(For I observe of late, the evening walk
Of Luigi and his mother, always ends
Inside our ruined turret, where they talk,
Calmer than lovers, yet more kind than friends),
Let me be cared about, kept out of harm, 175
And schemed for, safe in love as with a charm;
Let me be Luigi! If I only knew
What was my mother's face--my father, too!
Nay, if you come to that, best love of all
Is God's; then why not have God's love befall 180
Myself as, in the palace by the Dome,
Monsignor?--who tonight will bless the home
Of his dead brother; and God bless in turn
That heart which beats, those eyes which mildly burn
With love for all men! I tonight at least, 185
Would be that holy and beloved priest.
Now wait!--even I already seem to share
In God's love: what does New-year's hymn declare?
What other meaning do these verses bear?
_All service ranks the same with God:_ 190
_If now, as formerly he trod_
_Paradise, his presence fills_
_Our earth, each only as God wills_
_Can work--God's puppets, best and worst,_
_Are we; there is no last nor first._ 195
_Say not "a small event!" Why "small"?_
_Costs it more pain that this, ye call_
_A "great event," should come to pass,_
_Than that? Untwine me from the mass_
_Of deeds which make up life, one deed_ 200
_Power shall fall short in or exceed!_
And more of it, and more of it!--oh yes--
I will pass each, and see their happiness,
And envy none--being just as great, no doubt,
Useful to men, and dear to God, as they! 205
A pretty thing to care about
So mightily, this single holiday!
But let the sun shine! Wherefore repine?
--With thee to lead me, O Day of mine,
Down the grass path gray with dew, 210
Under the pine-wood, blind with boughs,
Where the swallow never flew
Nor yet cicala dared carouse--
No, dared carouse!
[She enters the street]
FOOTNOTES:
LINES:
[A] _Asolo in the Trevisan._ Asolo, a fortified medieval town at the foot of a hill surmounted by the ruins of a castle, and situated in the center of the silk-growing and silk-spinning industries, is in the province of Treviso about thirty-three miles northwest of Venice.
62. _Monsignor._ A title conferred upon prelates in the Roman Catholic church. This Monsignor is the chief personage in Part III, or _Night_.
88. _Martagon._ A kind of lily with light purplish flowers. The common name is Turk's Cap. Perhaps that suggested to Browning his comparison to the round bunch of flesh on the head of a Turk bird, or turkey.
131. _Possagno church._ Designed by Canova, who was born at Possagno, an obscure village near Asolo.
181. _The Dome._ The Duomo, or Cathedral, in the center of the town. The palace of the Bishop's brother is close by. _
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