Robert Browning

[Stanislaw]

How about some of his poetry, like the Bishop orders his tomb at saint praxed church?

[Scheherazade]

I LOVE Robert Browning! :nod:


Porphyria's Lover
The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me---she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
The chill, passion and feeling in this poem... simply beyond words! :)

Thanks for bringing this up, Stan! :smash:

[mono]

I love that poem too, Scheherezade; I think I posted it also in another thread - nice to see others enjoy its haunting feeling too.

[Scheherazade]

Another favorite of mine, with similar elements:

My Last Duchess
Robert Browning


FERRARA

That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
the curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess's cheek: perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much," or Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half flush that dies along her throat": such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of you. She had
A heart--how shall I say?--too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 'twas all one! My favor at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace--all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men--good! but thanked
Somehow--I know not how--as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech--(which I have not)--to make your will
Quite clear to such a one, and say, "Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss
Or there exceed the mark"--and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse
--E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt
Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet
the company below, then. I repeat
The Count your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretense
Of mine dowry will be disallowed
Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea horse, thought a rarity,
Which claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

[Stanislaw]

Well, is it possible that we might be given a scrap of browning? ;)

[Jay]

You think it's gonna work on Chris? :p
*edit* ahem, spelling... d'oh

[Scheherazade]

A gal gotta try ;)

[Jay]

What if Chris likes KitKats, too? You can try braibing him as well ;), just in case pouts don't work :D

[Scheherazade]

Gotta think on this one... Cant give KitKats away that easily...

*puts on her thinking cap on*

[Jay]

Well, so that you know I'm a good student... I could provide the KitKat ;)

*tries to imagine Scheherazade with a cap... esp in a class with a cap... :D:p:D*

[Scheherazade]

A cone shaped cap with the letter D on it???
*raises a well-shaped eyebrow and looks at you*

[Jay]

huh? Not privy with that custom... well, the cone shaped cap was explained... D letter? Either can't remember or it was not included in that explanation

[Scheherazade]

D for dunce... :D

http://dictionary.reference.com/search?r=67&q=dunce

[Jay]

Nope, was imagining you with a baseball cap... Scheherazade in a cone shaped D cap is wrong on SO many levels.

[Scheherazade]

It feels soooooooooooooo right sometimes...

*makes sure not to use up all her 'o's* :D

[Jay]

Does not... if you were not speaking about the baseball cap ;).
Do you wear any cap/hat/whatever?
ahem, hijacking Stan's thread...

[Stanislaw]

Hijacking it back, but staying on jays topic: usually I wear a berret or a tilly.

[Scheherazade]

I dont wear any headgear... my hair is so thick (matching my thick head :p), it is impossible to find something to tuck my hair in...

[Stanislaw]

head band, like the good ole hippies?? lol :D

[Jay]

Scher... what about a helmet? :angel:

[mono]

I have to wear my beanie cap! Due to such cold weather, especially lately, my head (with extremely short, jet black hair) gets cold so easily.

[Jay]

http://www.cswnet.com/~erin/rbpoem.htm - though I'm more of Elizabeth fan
http://eir.library.utoronto.ca/rpo/display/poet37.html

[Stanislaw]

Cool, didn't realize those were around. :)

[ennison]

Browning is Victorian but reads like a modern. He plugged away at what he wanted to do until eventually he was recognised. His dramatic monologues can present difficulties for the reader since there is seldom a preamble or gloss to help. Being an autodidact his learning was frequently of a type different from the mainstream so his readers had to work hard to follow his story / thinking.(Perhaps even more today). Dramatic monologues allowed him to get inside the psychology of his characters and to speak to us 'in character'. The duke speaking in 'My Last Duchess' is an amazing study in pride, arrogance and misogyny. I feel that I've never quite grasped 'Porphyria's Lover' other than vaguely feeling that love here has gone very far wrong. But where the duke is bad, the speaker here is mad.Tennyson (another poetic giant) took some inspiration for 'Maud' from the latter poem.
The difference between Monologue and dramatic monologue is that the latter has a listener within the poem. So in 'Fra Lippo Lippi' the audience is the city watch whose job it is to stop any suspicious characters at night. In 'My Last Duchess' it is the marriage broker. The speaker's relationship to the audience within the poem is one of the questions we have to answer for ourselves and it modifies our relationship with the speaker.
Elizabeth, 'The Portugese' was a smashing poet herself and their marriage a happy one.

Here's the first stanza of 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came' for Browning fans and those who want a taste:

My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
It's edge, at one more victim gained thereby.

And of course

Rats!
They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles
Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women's hats
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats.

Which shows his lighter side but which is also based on a little known tale of a mass kidnapping in Germany. That kind of inspirational source was very much a mark of Browning, the polymath who'd had free reign in his father's massive library as a child.

[ennison]

Don't know why the lines are fully blocked. I typed them indented as in my copy. I'm just a learner at this routine. Apologies.

[Logos]

ennison, if you use the <INDENT></INDENT> tags (but with square brackets) by clicking this icon: http://www.online-literature.com/forums/images/editor/indent.gif
it looks like this:



My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.



and if you use the <CENTER> </CENTER> tags but again with square brackets by clicking on this icon http://www.online-literature.com/forums/images/editor/justifycenter.gif
it looks like this:




My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.



Unless you want total control over formatting, use the <PHP> tags by clicking this icon http://www.online-literature.com/forums/images/editor/php.gif

or the http://www.online-literature.com/forums/images/editor/html.gif <CODE> tages, which comes out looking like this:



My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.




vB Code List :)

http://www.online-literature.com/forums/misc.php?do=bbcode
.
.

[ennison]

Thank you logos.

[lavendar1]

Though I do love the both of them, I wonder...cynically, I suppose, what Browning's real intentions were -- did he really love his wfe, or did he marry her (an established poet) to 'use' her status to promote himself?

[pandora]

Browning's most striking poem is "My last Dutchess" i think

[ennison]

Well since she a bed-ridden invalid walked from her father's house to be his wife I reckon that intelligent woman was moved by the power of love and he too. I don't see how their poetry did anything but complement one and other.