THE ITALIAN IN ENGLAND
That second time they hunted me From hill to plain, from shore to sea, And Austria, hounding far and wide Her blood-hounds thro' the country-side, Breathed hot and instant on my trace.—5 I made, six days, a hiding-place Of that dry green old aqueduct Where I and Charles, when boys, have plucked The fireflies from the roof above, Bright creeping thro' the moss they love:10 —How long it seems since Charles was lost! Six days the soldiers crossed and crossed The country in my very sight; And when that peril ceased at night, The sky broke out in red dismay15 With signal-fires. Well, there I lay Close covered o'er in my recess, Up to the neck in ferns and cress, Thinking on Metternich our friend, And Charles's miserable end,20 And much beside, two days; the third, Hunger o'ercame me when I heard The peasants from the village go To work among the maize: you know, With us in Lombardy, they bring25 Provisions packed on mules, a string With little bells that cheer their task, And casks, and boughs on every cask To keep the sun's heat from the wine; These I let pass in jingling line,30 And, close on them, dear noisy crew, The peasants from the village, too; For at the very rear would troop Their wives and sisters in a group To help, I knew. When these had passed,35 I threw my glove to strike the last, Taking the chance: she did not start, Much less cry out, but stooped apart, One instant rapidly glanced round, And saw me beckon from the ground;40 A wild bush grows and hides my crypt, She picked my glove up while she stripped A branch off, then rejoined the rest With that; my glove lay in her breast: Then I drew breath; they disappeared:45 It was for Italy I feared.
An hour, and she returned alone Exactly where my glove was thrown. Meanwhile came many thoughts; on me Rested the hopes of Italy;50 I had devised a certain tale Which, when 't was told her, could not fail Persuade a peasant of its truth; I meant to call a freak of youth This hiding, and give hopes of pay,55 And no temptation to betray. But when I saw that woman's face, It's calm simplicity of grace, Our Italy's own attitude In which she walked thus far, and stood,60 Planting each naked foot so firm, To crush the snake and spare the worm— At first sight of her eyes, I said, "I am that man upon whose head They fix the price, because I hate65 The Austrians over us; the State Will give you gold—oh, gold so much!— If you betray me to their clutch, And be your death, for aught I know, If once they find you saved their foe.70 Now, you must bring me food and drink, And also paper, pen and ink, And carry safe what I shall write To Padua, which you'll reach at night Before the duomo shuts; go in,75 And wait till Tenebrae begin; Walk to the third confessional, Between the pillar and the wall, And kneeling whisper, Whence comes peace? Say it a second time, then cease;80 And if the voice inside returns, From Christ and Freedom; what concerns The cause of Peace?—for answer, slip My letter where you placed your lip; Then come back happy we have done85 Our mother service—I, the son, As you the daughter of our land!"
Three mornings more, she took her stand In the same place, with the same eyes: I was no surer of sunrise90 Than of her coming: we conferred Of her own prospects, and I heard She had a lover—stout and tall, She said—then let her eyelids fall, "He could do much"—as if some doubt95 Entered her heart,—then, passing out, "She could not speak for others, who Had other thoughts; herself she knew": And so she brought me drink and food. After four days, the scouts pursued100 Another path; at last arrived The help my Paduan friends contrived To furnish me: she brought the news. For the first time I could not choose But kiss her hand, and lay my own105 Upon her head—"This faith was shown To Italy, our mother; she Uses my hand and blesses thee." She followed down to the sea-shore; I left and never saw her more.110
How very long since I have thought Concerning—much less wished for—aught Beside the good of Italy, For which I live and mean to die! I never was in love; and since115 Charles proved false, what shall now convince My inmost heart I have a friend? However, if I pleased to spend Real wishes on myself—say, three— I know at least what one should be.120 I would grasp Metternich until I felt his red wet throat distil In blood thro' these two hands. And next, —Nor much for that am I perplexed— Charles, perjured traitor, for his part,125 Should die slow of a broken heart Under his new employers. Last, —Ah, there, what should I wish? For fast Do I grow old and out of strength. If I resolved to seek at length130 My father's house again, how scared They all would look, and unprepared! My brothers live in Austria's pay —Disowned me long ago, men say; And all my early mates who used135 To praise me so—perhaps induced More than one early step of mine— Are turning wise: while some opine "Freedom grows license", some suspect "Haste breeds delay", and recollect140 They always said, such premature Beginnings never could endure! So, with a sullen "All's for best", The land seems settling to its rest. I think then, I should wish to stand145 This evening in that dear, lost land, Over the sea the thousand miles, And know if yet that woman smiles With the calm smile; some little farm She lives in there, no doubt: what harm150 If I sat on the door-side bench, And, while her spindle made a trench Fantastically in the dust, Inquired of all her fortunes—just Her children's ages and their names,155 And what may be the husband's aims For each of them. I'd talk this out, And sit there, for an hour about, Then kiss her hand once more, and lay Mine on her head, and go my way.160
So much for idle wishing—how It steals the time! To business now.
—Robert Browning (By permission)
Preparatory.—What is the historical back-ground of this poem? Suggest the possible details of the exiled patriot's life in England, his surroundings and frame of mind at the moment of speaking.
Reconstruct for yourself the three scenes of which the peasant woman is the centre.
What qualities did the Italian at once recognize in the peasant woman which led him to intrust his safety to her?
79. Whence comes peace? In what Quality of voice is this read? Give your reason. (Introduction, p. [34].)
95. He could do much. How is the doubt in this speech and in the one following indicated by the Inflection? (Introduction, p. [18].)