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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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verb

To make to agree or correspond; to suit one thing to another; to adjust.

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Count Gismond

126 lines
Robert Browning·1812–1889
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hrist God who savest man, save most Of men Count Gismond who saved me!Count Gauthier, when he chose his post, Chose time and place and companyTo suit it; when he struck at lengthMy honour, 'twas with all his strength. And doubtlessly ere he could draw All points to one, he must have schemed!That miserable morning saw Few half so happy as I seemed,While being dressed in queen's arrayTo give our tourney prize away. I thought they loved me, did me grace To please themselves; 'twas all their deed;God makes, or fair or foul, our face; If showing mine so caused to bleedMy cousins' hearts, they should have droppedA word, and straight the play had stopped. They, too, so beauteous! Each a queen By virtue of her brow and breast;Not needing to be crowned, I mean, As I do. E'en when I was dressed,Had either of them spoke, insteadOf glancing sideways with still head! But no: they let me laugh, and sing My birthday song quite through, adjustThe last rose in my garland, fling A last look on the mirror, trustMy arms to each an arm of theirs,And so descend the castle-stairs-- And come out on the morning-troop Of merry friends who kissed my cheek,And called me queen, and made me stoop Under the canopy--a streakThat pierced it, of the outside sun,Powdered with gold its gloom's soft dun-- And they could let me take my state And foolish throne amid applauseOf all come there to celebrate My queen's-day--Oh I think the causeOf much was, they forgot no crowdMakes up for parents in their shroud! However that be, all eyes were bent Upon me, when my cousins castTheirs down; 'twas time I should present The victor's crown, but... there, 'twill lastNo long time... the old mist againBlinds me as then it did. How vain! See! Gismond's at the gate, in talk With his two boys: I can proceed.Well, at that moment, who should stalk Forth boldly--to my face, indeed--But Gauthier, and he thundered "Stay!"And all stayed. "Bring no crowns, I say!" "Bring torches! Wind the penance-sheet About her! Let her shun the chaste,Or lay herself before their feet! Shall she whose body I embracedA night long, queen it in the day?For honour's sake no crowns, I say!" I? What I answered? As I live, I never fancied such a thingAs answer possible to give. What says the body when they springSome monstrous torture-engine's wholeStrength on it? No more says the soul. Till out strode Gismond; then I knew That I was saved. I never metHis face before, but, at first view, I felt quite sure that God had setHimself to Satan; who would spendA minute's mistrust on the end? He strode to Gauthier, in his throat Gave him the lie, then struck his mouthWith one back-handed blow that wrote In blood men's verdict there. North, South,East, West, I looked. The lie was dead,And damned, and truth stood up instead. This glads me most, that I enjoyed The heart of the joy, with my contentIn watching Gismond unalloyed By any doubt of the event:God took that on him--I was bidWatch Gismond for my part: I did. Did I not watch him while he let His armourer just brace his greaves,Rivet his hauberk, on the fret The while! His foot... my memory leavesNo least stamp out, nor how anonHe pulled his ringing gauntlets on. And e'en before the trumpet's sound Was finished, prone lay the false knight,Prone as his lie, upon the ground: Gismond flew at him, used no sleightO' the sword, but open-breasted drove,Cleaving till out the truth he clove. Which done, he dragged him to my feet And said "Here die, but end thy breathIn full confession, lest thou fleet From my first, to God's second death!Say, hast thou lied?" And, "I have liedTo God and her," he said, and died. Then Gismond, kneeling to me, asked What safe my heart holds, though no wordCould I repeat now, if I tasked My powers for ever, to a thirdDear even as you are. Pass the restUntil I sank upon his breast. Over my head his arm he flung Against the world; and scarce I feltHis sword (that dripped by me and swung) A little shifted in its belt:For he began to say the whileHow South our home lay many a mile. So 'mid the shouting multitude We two walked forth to never moreReturn. My cousins have pursued Their life, untroubled as beforeI vexed them. Gauthier's dwelling-placeGod lighten! May his soul find grace! Our elder boy has got the clear Great brow; tho' when his brother's blackFull eye shows scorn, it... Gismond here? And have you brought my tercel back?I just was telling AdelaHow many birds it struck since May.
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