File:Poems; with introd. by Richard Garnett and illus. by Byam Shaw (1904) (14759542756).jpg

Identifier: poemswithintrodb00browuoft (find matches)
Title: Poems; with introd. by Richard Garnett and illus. by Byam Shaw
Year: 1904 (1900s)
Authors: Browning, Robert, 1812-1889 Garnett, Richard, 1835-1906
Subjects:
Publisher: London G. Bell
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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hose jaws want no fresh hold, Their first would too pleasantly purloin The visitors brisket or surloin : But whos he would prove so fool-hardy? Not the best man of Marignan, pardie ! The sentence no sooner was uttered,Than over the rails a glove fluttered,Fell close to the lion, and rested :The dame twas, who flung it and jestedWith life so, De Lorge had been wooingFor months past; he sate there pursuingHis suit, weighing out with nonchalanceFine speeches like gold from a balance. Sound the trumpet, no true knights a tarrier!De Lorge made one leap at the barrier.Walked straight to the glove,—while the lionNeer moved, kept his far-reaching eye onThe palm-tree-edged desert-springs sapphire,And the musky oiled skin of the Kaffir,—Picked it up, and as calmly retreated,Leaped back where the lady was seated.And full in the face of its ownerFlung the glove— Your hearts queen, you dethrone her ? So should I —cried the King— twas mere vanity, Not love, set that task to humanity ! 130
Text Appearing After Image:
AND FULL IN THE FACE OF ITS OWNERFLUNG THE GLOVE— r^i \^ •V THE GLOVE Lords and ladies alike turned with loathingFrom such a proved wolf in sheeps clothing. Not so, I ; for I caught an expression In her brows undisturbed self-possession Amid the Courts scoffing and merriment,— As if from no pleasing experiment She rose, yet of pain not much heedful So long as the process was needful— As if she had tried in a crucible, To what speeches like gold were reducible, And, finding the finest prove copper, Felt the smoke in her face was but proper; To know what she had not to trust to, Was worth all the ashes, and dust too. She went out mid hooting and laughter; Clement Marot stayed ; I followed after. And asked, as a grace, what it all meant— If she wished not the rash deeds recalment? For I —so I spoke— am a Poet: Human nature,—behoves that I know it! She told me, Too long had I heard Of the deed proved alone by the word : For my love,—what De Lorge would not dare ! With my

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