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Poetry Library

— Stephen Crane

I looked here;

I looked there;

Nowhere could I see my love.

And--this time--

…

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noun

A hidden advantage or resource that can be used when needed to ensure success.

“The team's coach kept their best player on the bench, planning to use him as an ace in the hole in the second half.”

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3. For eagles

125 lines
Robert Browning·1812–1889
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A Presbyterian._ Stand back, sirs! _One of Strafford's Followers._ Are we in Geneva? _A Presbyterian._ No, nor in Ireland; we have leave to breathe. _One of Strafford's Followers._ Truly? Behold how privileged we beThat serve "King Pym"! There 's Some-one at WhitehallWho skulks obscure; but Pym struts ... _The Presbyterian._ Nearer. _A Follower of Strafford._ Higher,We look to see him. [_To his_ Companions.] I 'm to have St. JohnIn charge; was he among the knaves just nowThat followed Pym within there? _Another._ The gaunt manTalking with Rudyard. Did the Earl expectPym at his heels so fast? I like it not.(MAXWELL _enters._) _Another._ Why, man, they rush into the net! Here 's Maxwell--Ha, Maxwell? How the brethren flock aroundThe fellow! Do you feel the Earl's hand yetUpon your shoulder, Maxwell? _Maxwell._ Gentlemen,Stand back! a great thing passes here. _A Follower of Strafford._ [_To another._] The EarlIs at his work! [_To_ M.] Say, Maxwell, what great thing!Speak out! [_To a_ Presbyterian.] Friend, I 've a kindness for you!Friend,I 've seen you with St. John: O stockishness!Wear such a ruff, and never call to mindSt. John's head in a charger? How, the plague,Not laugh? _Another._ Say, Maxwell, what great thing! _Another._ Nay, wait:The jest will be to wait. _First._ And who 's to bearThese demure hypocrites? You 'd swear they came ...Came ... just as we come![_A Puritan enters hastily and without observing_ STRAFFORD'SFollowers. _The Puritan._ How goes on the work?Has Pym ... _A Follower of Strafford._ The secret 's out at last. Aha,The carrion 's scented! Welcome, crow the first!Gorge merrily, you with the blinking eye!"King Pym has fallen!" _The Puritan._ Pym? _A Strafford._ Pym! _A Presbyterian._ Only Pym? _Many of Strafford's Followers._ No, brother, not Pym only; Vane aswell,Rudyard as well, Hampden, St. John as well! _A Presbyterian._ My mind misgives: can it be true? _Another._ Lost! Lost! _A Strafford._ Say we true, Maxwell? _The Puritan._ Pride before destruction,A haughty spirit goeth before a fall. _Many of Strafford's Followers._ Ah now! The very thing! A word inseason!A golden apple in a silver pictureTo greet Pym as he passes![_The doors at the back begin to open, noise and light issuing._ _Max._ Stand back, all! _Many of the Presbyterians._ I hold with Pym! And I! _Strafford's Followers._ Now for the text!He comes! Quick! _The Puritan._ How hath the oppressor ceased!The Lord hath broken the staff of the wicked!The sceptre of the rulers, he who smoteThe people in wrath with a continual stroke,That ruled the nations in his anger--heIs persecuted and none hindereth! [_The doors open, and_ STRAFFORD _issues in the greatest disorder,and amid cries from within of_ "Void the House!" _Straf._ Impeach me! Pym! I never struck, I think,The felon on that calm insulting mouthWhen it proclaimed--Pym's mouth proclaimed me ... God!Was it a word, only a word that heldThe outrageous blood back on my heart--which beats!Which beats! Some one word--"Traitor," did he say,Bending that eye, brimful of bitter fire,Upon me? _Max._ In the Commons' name, their servantDemands Lord Strafford's sword. _Straf._ What did you say? _Max._ The Commons bid me ask your lordship's sword. _Straf._ Let us go forth: follow me, gentlemen!Draw your swords too: cut any down that bar us.On the King's service! Maxwell, clear the way! [The Presbyterians _prepare to dispute his passage._ _Straf._ I stay: the King himself shall see me here.Your tablets, fellow![_To_ MAINWARING.] Give that to the King!Yes, Maxwell, for the next half-hour, let be!Nay, you shall take my sword![MAXWELL _advances to take it._Or, no--not that!Their blood, perhaps, may wipe out all thus farAll up to that--not that! Why, friend, you seeWhen the King lays your head beneath my footIt will not pay for that. Go, all of you! _Max._ I dare, my lord, to disobey: none stir! _Straf._ This gentle Maxwell!--Do not touch him, Bryan![_To the_ Presbyterians.] Whichever cur of you will carry thisEscapes his fellow's fate. None saves his life?None? [_Cries from within of_ "STRAFFORD!"Slingsby, I 've loved you at least: make haste!Stab me! I have not time to tell you why.You then, my Bryan! Mainwaring, you then!Is it because I spoke so hastilyAt Allerton? The King had vexed me.[_To the_ Presbyterians.] You!--Not even you? If I live over this,The King is sure to have your heads, you know!But what if I can't live this minute through?Pym, who is there with his pursuing smile![_Louder cries of_ "STRAFFORD!"The King! I troubled him, stood in the wayOf his negotiations, was the oneGreat obstacle to peace, the EnemyOf Scotland: and he sent for me, from York,My safety guaranteed--having preparedA Parliament--I see! And at WhitehallThe Queen was whispering with Vane--I seeThe trap! [_Tearing off the George._I tread a gewgaw underfoot,And cast a memory from me. One stroke, now! [_His own_ Adherents _disarm him. Renewed cries of_ "STRAFFORD!"
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