_Luigi._ True, mother. Well for those who live through June!

Great noontides, thunder-storms, all glaring pomps That triumph at the heels of June the G.o.d 155 Leading his revel through our leafy world.

Yes, Chiara will be here.

_Mother._ In June: remember, Yourself appointed that month for her coming.

_Luigi._ Was that low noise the echo?

_Mother._ The night-wind.

She must be grown--with her blue eyes upturned 160 As if life were one long and sweet surprise: In June she comes.

_Luigi._ We were to see together The t.i.tian at Treviso. There, again!

[_From without is heard the voice of_ PIPPA, _singing_--

_A king lived long ago,_ _In the morning of the world,_ 165 _When earth was nigher heaven than now._ _And the king's locks curled,_ _Disparting o'er a forehead full_ _As the milk-white s.p.a.ce 'twixt horn and horn_ _Of some sacrificial bull--_ 170 _Only calm as a babe new-born:_ _For he was got to a sleepy mood,_ _So safe from all decrepitude,_ _Age with its bane, so sure gone by,_ _(The G.o.ds so loved him while he dreamed)_ 175 _That, having lived thus long, there seemed_ _No need the king should ever die._

_Luigi._ No need that sort of king should ever die!

_Among the rocks his city was:_ _Before his palace, in the sun,_ 180 _He sat to see his people pa.s.s,_ _And judge them every one_ _From its threshold of smooth stone._ _They haled him many a valley-thief_ _Caught in the sheep-pens, robber-chief_ 185 _Swarthy and shameless, beggar-cheat,_ _Spy-prowler, or rough pirate found_ _On the sea-sand left aground;_ _And sometimes clung about his feet,_ _With bleeding lid and burning cheek,_ 190 _A woman, bitterest wrong to speak_ _Of one with sullen thickset brows:_ _And sometimes from the prison-house_ _The angry priests a pale wretch brought,_ _Who through some c.h.i.n.k had pushed and pressed_ 195 _On knees and elbows, belly and breast,_ _Worm-like into the temple--caught_ _He was by the very G.o.d,_ _Whoever in the darkness strode_ _Backward and forward, keeping watch_ 200 _O'er his brazen bowls, such rogues to catch!_ _These, all and everyone,_ _The king judged, sitting in the sun._

_Luigi._ That king should still judge sitting in the sun!

_His councilors, on left and right,_ 205 _Looked anxious up--but no surprise_ _Disturbed the king's old smiling eyes,_ _Where the very blue had turned to white._ _'Tis said, a Python scared one day_ _The breathless city, till he came,_ 210 _With forky tongue and eyes on flame,_ _Where the old king sat to judge alway;_ _But when he saw the sweepy hair_ _Girt with a crown of berries rare_ _Which the G.o.d will hardly give to wear_ 215 _To the maiden who singeth, dancing bare_ _In the altar-smoke by the pine-torch lights,_ _At his wondrous forest rites--_ _Seeing this, he did not dare_ _Approach that threshold in the sun,_ 220 _a.s.sault the old king smiling there._ _Such grace had kings when the world begun!_

[PIPPA _pa.s.ses_.

_Luigi._ And such grace have they, now that the world ends!

The Python at the city, on the throne, And brave men, G.o.d would crown for slaying him, 225 Lurk in by-corners lest they fall his prey.

Are crowns yet to be won in this late time, Which weakness makes me hesitate to reach?

Tis G.o.d's voice calls; how could I stay? Farewell!

_Talk by the way, while_ PIPPA _is pa.s.sing from the Turret to the Bishop's Brother's House, close to the Duomo S. Maria. Poor_ Girls _sitting on the steps._

_1st Girl._ There goes a swallow to Venice--the stout seafarer!

Seeing those birds fly makes one wish for wings.

Let us all wish; you wish first!

_2nd Girl._ I? This sunset To finish.

_3rd Girl._ That old--somebody I know, Grayer and older than my grandfather, 5 To give me the same treat he gave last week-- Feeding me on his knee with fig-p.e.c.k.e.rs, Lampreys and red Breganze-wine, and mumbling The while some folly about how well I fare, Let sit and eat my supper quietly: 10 Since had he not himself been late this morning, Detained at--never mind where--had he not-- "Eh, baggage, had I not!"--

_2nd Girl._ How she can lie!

_3rd Girl._ Look there--by the nails!

_2nd Girl._ What makes your fingers red?

_3rd Girl._ Dipping them into wine to write bad words with 15 On the bright table: how he laughed!

_1st Girl._ My turn.

Spring's come and summer's coming. I would wear A long loose gown, down to the feet and hands, With plaits here, close about the throat, all day; And all night lie, the cool long nights, in bed; 20 And have new milk to drink, apples to eat, Deuzans and junetings, leather-coats--ah, I should say, This is away in the fields--miles!

_3rd Girl._ Say at once You'd be at home--she'd always be at home!

Now comes the story of the farm among 25 The cherry orchards, and how April snowed White blossoms on her as she ran. Why, fool, They've rubbed the chalk-mark out, how tall you were, Twisted your starling's neck, broken his cage, Made a dunghill of your garden!

_1st Girl._ They destroy 30 My garden since I left them? Well--perhaps I would have done so--so I hope they have!

A fig-tree curled out of our cottage wall; They called it mine, I have forgotten why, It must have been there long ere I was born: 35 _Cric_--_cric_--I think I hear the wasps o'erhead p.r.i.c.king the papers strung to flutter there And keep off birds in fruit-time--coa.r.s.e long papers, And the wasps eat them, p.r.i.c.k them through and through.

_3rd Girl._ How her mouth twitches! Where was I?--before 40 She broke in with her wishes and long gowns And wasps--would I be such a fool!--Oh, here!

This is my way: I answer everyone Who asks me why I make so much of him-- (If you say, "you love him"--straight "he'll not be gulled!") 45 "He that seduced me when I was a girl Thus high--had eyes like yours, or hair like yours, Brown, red, white"--as the case may be; that pleases!

See how that beetle burnishes in the path!

There sparkles he along the dust; and, there-- 50 Your journey to that maize-tuft spoiled at least!

_1st Girl._ When I was young, they said if you killed one Of those sunshiny beetles, that his friend Up there would shine no more that day nor next.

_2nd Girl._ When you were young? Nor are you young, that's true. 55 How your plump arms, that were, have dropped away!

Why, I can span them. Cecco beats you still?

No matter, so you keep your curious hair.

I wish they'd find a way to dye our hair Your color--any lighter tint, indeed, 60 Than black--the men say they are sick of black, Black eyes, black hair!

_4th Girl._ Sick of yours, like enough.

Do you pretend you ever tasted lampreys And ortolans? Giovita, of the palace, Engaged (but there 's no trusting him) to slice me 65 Polenta with a knife that had cut up An ortolan.

_2nd Girl._ Why, there! Is not that Pippa We are to talk to, under the window--quick!-- Where the lights are?

_1st Girl._ That she? No, or she would sing, For the Intendant said--

_3rd Girl._ Oh, you sing first! 70 Then, if she listens and comes close--I'll tell you-- Sing that song the young English n.o.ble made, Who took you for the purest of the pure, And meant to leave the world for you--what fun!

_2nd Girl_ [_sings_].

_You'll love me yet!--and I can tarry_ 75 _Your love's protracted growing:_ _June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,_ _From seeds of April's sowing._

_I plant a heartful now: some seed_ _At least is sure to strike_ 80 _And yield--what you'll not pluck indeed,_ _Not love, but, may be, like._

_You'll look at least on love's remains,_ _A grave's one violet:_ _Your look?--that pays a thousand pains._ 85 _What's death? You'll love me yet!_

_3rd Girl_ [_to_ PIPPA, _who approaches._] Oh, you may come closer--we shall not eat you! Why, you seem the very person that the great rich handsome Englishman has fallen so violently in love with. I'll tell you all about it. 90

IV.--NIGHT

SCENE.--_Inside the Palace by the Duomo._ MONSIGNOR, _dismissing his_ Attendants.

_Monsignor._ Thanks, friends, many thanks! I chiefly desire life now, that I may recompense every one of you.

Most I know something of already. What, a repast prepared?

_Benedicto benedicatur_--ugh, ugh! Where was I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is 5 mild, very unlike winter weather; but I am a Sicilian, you know, and shiver in your Julys here. To be sure, when 'twas full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross in procession the great square on a.s.sumption Day, you might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in 10 two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [_To the_ Intendant.] Not you, Ugo! [_The others leave the apartment._]

I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo.