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.

5      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

10    The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)

        And seemed as 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

15    Of joy into the Duchess' 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

20    Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough

        For calling up that spot of joy.  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. 

25    Sir, 'twas all one! My favour 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

30    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

35    This sort of trifling? Even had you skill

        In speech—-(which I have not)—-to make your will

        Quite clear to such an one, and say, ``Just this

        ``Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,

        ``Or there exceed the mark''—-and if she let

40    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

45    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

50    Is ample warrant that no just pretence

        Of mine for 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,

55    Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,

        Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

Reading: Stefan Hawlin, "My Last Duchess", from The Complete Critical Guide to Robert Browning

© Jan Rybicki 2006