I prithee , Rene , charm our ears again With the same song you sang me yesterday . Here are fresh listeners . A very grievous , but convenient cold , Which always racks you when you would not sing . Alack ! you hear , I 've caught poor Rene 's cough . O , fie ! ‘ Ods mercy ! gentlemen , you do me wrong . Ah ! rogues , you 'd shift your sins upon my shoulders . Goon , goon ! Talk yourselves fairly out . Why do you laugh ? Peace ! peace ! What tongue dare echo yon fool 's laugh ? Nay , never raise your hands in wonderment : I 'll strike the dearest friend among ye all Beneath my feet , as if he were a slave , Who dares insult my brother with a laugh ! Shame on ye , sirs ! I have mistaken you . I thought I harboured better friends . Poor fops , Who 've slept in down and satin all your years , Within the circle Lanciotto charmed Round Rimini with his most potent sword !— Fellows whose brows would melt beneath a casque , Whose hands would fray to grasp a brand 's rough hilt , Who ne'er launched more than braggart threats at foes !— Girlish companions of luxurious girls !— Danglers round troubadours and wine-cups !— Men Whose best parts are their clothes ! bundles of silk , Scented like summer ! rag-men , nothing more !— Creatures as generous as monkeys — brave As hunted hares — courteous as grinning apes — Grateful as serpents — useful as lap-dogs — Ha ! I am alone at last ! So let me be , Till Lanciotto fill the vacant room Of these mean knaves , whose friendship is but breath . Brother ! what is this ? Lanciotto , are you mad ? Kind Heaven ! look here — Straight in my eyes . Now answer , do you know How near you were to murder ? Dare you bend Your wicked hand against a heart I love ? Were it for you to mourn your wilful death , With such a bitterness as would be ours , The wish would ne'er have crossed you . While we 're bound Life into life , a chain of loving hearts , Were it not base in you , the middle link , To snap , and scatter all ? Shame , brother , shame ! I thought you better metal . Lanciotto , I heard the bells of Rimini , just now , Exulting o'er your coming marriage-day , While you conspired to teach them gloomier sounds . Why are you sad ? ‘ Twas strange : A sullen antic of his crabbed wit . Fie ! man , You have been ever played on in this sort By your wild fancies . When your heart is high , You make them playthings ; but in lower moods , They seem to sap the essence of your soul , And drain your manhood to its poorest dregs . There sticks the sword , indeed , Just as your tread detached it from its sheath ; Looking more like a blessed cross , I think , Than a bad looking omen . As for blood — Ha , ha ! It sets mine dancing . Pshaw ! away with this ! Deck up your face with smiles . Go trim yourself For the young bride . New velvet , gold , and gems , Do wonders for us . Brother , come ; I 'll be Your tiring-man , for once . Say ‘ tis true ; What do you drive at ? Ha ! Lanciotto , I , who have known you from a stripling up , Never observed , or , if I did , ne'er weighed Your special difference from the rest of men . You 're not Apollo — Nor yet are you A second Pluto . Could I change with you — My graces for your nobler qualities — Your strength , your courage , your renown — by heaven , We 'd e'en change persons , to the finest hair . I am but just . Let me beseech you , brother . To look with greater favour on yourself ; Nor suffer misty phantoms of your brain To take the place of sound realities . Go to Ravenna , wed your bride , and lull Your cruel delusions in domestic peace . Ghosts fly a fireside ; ‘ tis their wont to stalk Through empty houses , and through empty hearts . I know Francesca will be proud of you . Women admire you heroes . Rusty sages , Pale poets , and scarred warriors , have been Their idols ever ; while we fair plump fools Are elbowed to the wall , or only used For vacant pastime . For what ? Nay , Lanciotto , I 'll be a better orator in your behalf , Without your promptings . Ha ! that is right : be gay ! Ply me with jokes ! I 'd rather see you smile Than see the sun shine . An empress , brother , Were honoured by your hand . You are by much Too humble in your reckoning of yourself . I can count virtues in you , to supply Half Italy , if they were parcelled out . Look up ! Your mother , by the bleat . When your wit Went begging , sirrah . For weighty reasons , father . Will you trust Your greatest captain , hope of all the Guelfs , With crafty Guido ? Should the Ghibelins Break faith , and shut Lanciotto in their walls — Sure the temptation would be great enough — What would you do ? But Lanciotto Would be a precious hostage . I go there in his place . Well , giggler ? ‘ Sdeath ! fool , I 'll have you in the stocks . Father , your fool exceeds his privilege . Peace , varlet , peace ! Here 's for your counsel ! Farewell , Lanciotto . You are dull again . More cause to haste me on my happy work . Noble sir , We looked for welcome from your courtesy , Not from your love ; but this unhoped for sight Of smiling faces , and the gentle tone In which you greet us , leave us naught to win Within your hearts . I need not ask , my lord , Where bides the precious object of my search ; For I was sent to find the fairest maid Ravenna boasts , among her many fair . I might extend my travel many a league , And yet return , to take her from your side . I blush to bear so rich a treasure home , As pledge and hostage of a sluggish peace ; For beauty such as hers was meant by Heaven To spur our race to gallant enterprise , And draw contending deities around The dubious battles of a second Troy . As a man Who ever sees Heaven 's purpose in its works , I must suppose so rare a tabernacle Was framed for rarest virtues . Pardon me My public admiration . If my praise Clash with propriety , and bare my words To cooler judgment , ‘ tis not that I wish To win a flatterer 's grudged recompense , And gain by falsehood what I 'd win through love . When I have brushed my travel from my garb , I 'll pay my court in more befitting style . Pray , pardon me . Lady , I believed My post , at starting , one of weight and trust ; When I beheld you , I concluded it A charge of honour and high dignity . I did not think to hear you underrate Your own importance , by dishonouring me . No , not severe ; Say candid , rather . I am somewhat hurt By my reception . If I feel the wound , ‘ Tis not because I suffer from the jest , But that your lips should deal it . Gentle lady — Have you been ? If I implied such slander by my words , They wrong my purpose . If I compliment , ‘ Tis not from habit , but because I thought Your face deserved my homage as its due . When I have clearer insight , and you spread Your inner nature o'er your lineaments , Even that face may darken in the shades Of my opinion . For mere loveliness Needs inward light to keep it always bright . All things look badly to unfriendly eyes . I spoke my first impression ; cooler thought May work strange changes . Unpleasant stuff , To judge by your dark brows . I have essayed Kindness and coldness , yet you are not pleased . How , lady ? Lady , ‘ tis your wish To nettle me , to break my breeding down , And see what natural passions I have hidden Behind the outworks of my etiquette . I neither own nor feel the want of heart With which you charge me . You are more than cruel ; You rouse my nerves until they ache with life , And then pour fire upon them . For myself I would not speak , unless you had compelled . My task is odious to me . Since I came , Heaven bear me witness how my traitor heart Has fought against my duty ; and how oft I wished myself in Lanciotto 's place . Or him in mine . Do I ? Well , Let it remain unguessed . Well interpreted ! The Sphinx were simple in your skilful hands ! But I Have gall to feed my bitterness , while you Jest in the wanton ease of happiness . Stop ! there is peril in our talk . ‘ Tis dangerous to talk about one 's self ; It panders selfishness . My duty waits . I , too , shame upon me . Pray drop me , lady . Somewhat — in feature . No , darker . He was tanned In long campaigns , and battles hotly fought , While I lounged idly with the troubadours , Under the shadow of his watchful sword . He is shorter , I believe , But broader , stronger , more compactly knit . Ah , now you strike the key ! A mind just fitted to his history , An equal balance ‘ twixt desert and fame . No future chronicler shall say of him , His fame outran his merit ; or his merit Halted behind some adverse circumstance , And never won the glory it deserved . My love might weary you , if I rehearsed The simple beauty of his character ; His grandeur and his gentleness of heart , His warlike fire and peaceful love , his faith , His courtesy , his truth . I 'll not deny Some human weakness , to attract our love , Harbours in him , as in the rest of us . Sometimes against our city 's enemies He thunders in the distance , and devotes Their homes to ruin . When the brand has fallen , He ever follows with a healing rain , And in his pity shoulders by revenge . A thorough soldier , lady . He grasps crowns , While I pick at the laurel . To me : Others may think my brother over-nice Upon the point of honour ; over-keen To take offence where no offence is meant ; A thought too prodigal of human life , Holding it naught when weighed against a wrong ; Suspicious of the motives of his friends ; Distrustful of his own high excellence ; And with a certain gloom of temperament , When thus disturbed , that makes him terrible And rash in action . I have heard of this ; I never felt it . I distress you , lady ? Perhaps I throw these points too much in shade , By catching at an enemy 's report . But , then , Lanciotto said , “ You 'll speak of me , Not as I ought to be , but as I am . ” He loathes deceit . O base temptation ! What if I betray His crippled person — imitate his limp — Laugh at his hip , his back , his sullen moods Of childish superstition ?— tread his heart Under my feet , to climb into his place ?— Use his own warrant ‘ gainst himself ; and say , Because I loved her , and misjudged your jest , Therefore I stole her ? Why , a common thief Would hang for just such thinking ! Ha ! ha ! ha !I reckon on her love , as if I held The counsels of her bosom . No , I swear , Francesca would despise so mean a deed . Have I no honour either ? Are my thoughts All bound by her opinions ? I grant it . You shall see , And shape your judgment by your own remark . All that my honour calls for I have said . I do . With the hand , Not with the obligation . O , Heaven , if I have faltered and am weak , Tis from my nature ! Fancies , more accursed Than haunt a murderer 's bedside , throng my brain — Temptations , such as mortal never bore Since Satan whispered in the ear of Eve , Sing in my ear — and all , all are accursed ! At heart I have betrayed my brother 's trust , Francesca 's openly . Turn where I will , As if enclosed within a mirrored hall , I see a traitor . Now to stand erect , Firm on my base of manly constancy ; Or , if I stagger , let me never quit The homely path of duty , for the ways That bloom and glitter with seductive sin ! Some ten-score . Double that . My lady — Alas ! ‘ tis as I feared ! What ails the fool ? He passed me , muttering The strangest garbage in the fiercest tone . “ Ha ! ha ! ” cried he , “ they made a fool of me — motley man , a slave ; as if I felt No stir in me of manly dignity ! Ha ! ha ! a fool — a painted plaything , toy — For men to kick about this dirty world !— My world as well as theirs .— God 's world , I trow ! I will get even with them yet — ha ! ha ! In the democracy of death we 'll square . I 'll crawl and lie beside a king 's own son ; Kiss a young princess , dead lip to dead lip ; Pull the Pope 's nose ; and kick down Charlemagne , Throne , crown , and all , where the old idiot sprawls , Safe as he thinks , rotting in royal state ! ” And then he laughed and gibbered , as if drunk With some infernal ecstasy . Sad again ! Where has the rapture gone of yesterday ? Thus ever up and down ! Arouse yourself , Balance your mind more evenly , and hunt For honey in the wormwood . Not lightly even . I think her heart as virgin as her hand . Of what ? Grammercy ! Lanciotto , are you sane ? You boasted yesterday — Pshaw ! she marries you : ‘ Twere proof enough for me . Me , Lanciotto , me ! For mercy 's sake , Blot out such thoughts — they madden me ! What , love — She love — yet marry you ! You have such wild conjectures ! O ! good heavens , forbear ! The picture which you draw , Wronging yourself by horrid images . You love her , Lanciotto ! O ! Heaven , that I must bear this ! Yes , and more ,— More torture than I dare to think upon , Spreads out before me with the coming years , And holds a record blotted with my tears , As that which I must suffer ! O ! torture , torture ! Conquer for yourself . Two captains share one honour : keep it all . What if I ask to share the spoils ? The bridegroom waits . Sister ! You shall be obeyed . Too well ! ‘ Tis a nice difference . I do . I await you , lady . Lady , I do not understand this scorn . I came , as is my duty , to escort My brother 's bride to him . When next you 're called , I 'll send a lackey . With reason : I would not appear to you Low or contemptible . Lady , I 'll not be catechized . No ! if you press me further , I will say A word to madden you .— Stand still ! You stray Around the margin of a precipice . I know what pleasure ‘ tis to pluck the flowers That hang above destruction , and to gaze Into the dread abyss , to see such things As may be safely seen . Tis perilous : The eye grows dizzy as we gaze below , And a wild wish possesses us to spring Into the vacant air . Beware , beware ! Lest this unholy fascination grow Too strong to conquer ! Lady , come ! O ! no ; I would be kind . But now , while reason over-rides my heart , And seeming anger plays its braggart part — In heaven 's name , come ! It is . Sister ! I cannot . Nothing . Not one . Nothing . Nothing . Never . Nothing that concerns Your happiness , Lanciotto . If I did , Would I not tell unquestioned ? I have . Brother !— Lanciotto , This is sheer frenzy . Join your bride . Lanciotto , this is folly . Let me take Your usual place of honour . He is gone ! Francesca ! Francesca ! Our poem waits . I have been reading while you talked with Ritta . How did you get her off ? I hate the girl : She seems to stand between me and the light . And now for the romance . Where left we off ? Here it is . “ So sat Guenevra and Sir Lancelot ” — ‘ Twere well To follow them in that . My dagger frets me ; let me take it off . In thoughts of love , we 'll lay our weapons by . Draw closer : I am weak in voice to-day . “ So sat Guenevra and Sir Lancelot , Under the blaze of the descending sun , But all his cloudy splendours were forgot . Each bore a thought , the only secret one , Which each had hidden from the other 's heart , Both with sweet mystery well-nigh overrun . Anon , Sir Lancelot , with gentle start , Put by the ripples of her golden hair , Gazing upon her with his lips apart . He marvelled human thing could be so fair ; Essayed to speak ; but in the very deed , His words expired of self-betrayed despair . Little she helped him , at his direst need , Roving her eyes o'er hill , and wood , and sky , Peering intently at the meanest weed ; Ay , doing aught but look in Lancelot 's eye . Then , with the small pique of her velvet shoe , Uprooted she each herb that blossomed nigh ; Or strange wild figures in the dust she drew ; Until she felt Sir Lancelot 's arm around Her waist , upon her cheek his breath like dew . While through his fingers timidly he wound Her shining locks ; and , haply , when he brushed Her ivory skin , Guenevra nearly swound : For where he touched , the quivering surface blushed , Firing her blood with most contagious heat , Till brow , cheek , neck , and bosom , all were flushed . Each heart was listening to the other beat . As twin-born lilies on one golden stalk , Drooping with Summer , in warm languor meet , So met their faces . Down the forest walk Sir Lancelot looked — he looked , east , west , north , south — No soul was nigh , his dearest wish to balk : She smiled ; he kissed her full upon the mouth . ” I 'll read no more ! I am mad ! The torture of unnumbered hours is o'er , The straining cord has broken , and my heart Riots in free delirium ! O , Heaven ! I struggled with it , but it mastered me ! I fought against it , but it beat me down ! I prayed , I wept , but Heaven was deaf to me ; And every tear rolled backward on my heart , To blight and poison ! The love ? No , no ! I 'd dare it all again , Its direst agonies and meanest fears , For that one kiss . Away with fond remorse ! Here , on the brink of ruin , we two stand ; Lock hands with me , and brave the fearful plunge ! Thou canst not name a terror so profound That I will look or falter from . Be bold ! I know thy love — I knew it long ago — Trembled and fled from it . But now I clasp The peril to my breast , and ask of thee A kindred desperation . No , darling , no ! You could not bend me back ; My course is onward ; but my heart is sick With coming fears . Thy lips have not A sorcery to rouse me as this spell . Give , give forever ! Have we not touched the height of human bliss ? And if the sharp rebound may hurl us back Among the prostrate , did we not soar once ?— Taste heavenly nectar , banquet with the gods On high Olympus ? If they cast us , now , Amid the furies , shall we not go down With rich ambrosia clinging to our lips , And richer memories settled in our hearts ? Francesca . The sun is sinking low Upon the ashes of his fading pyre , And gray possesses the eternal blue ; The evening star is stealing after him , Fixed , like a beacon , on the prow of night ; The world is shutting up its heavy eye Upon the stir and bustle of to-day ;— On what shall it awake ? Thou art a siren . Sing , forever sing ; Hearing thy voice , I cannot tell what fate Thou hast provided when the song is o'er ;— But I will venture it . I 've sworn it . What couldst thou ask for that I have not given ? With love I gave thee manly probity , Innocence , honour , self-respect , and peace . Lanciotto will return , and how shall I — O ! shame , to think of it !— how shall I look My brother in the face ? take his frank hand ? Return his tender glances ? I should blaze With guilty blushes . Love thee ! Standing here , With countless miseries upon my head , I say , my love for thee grows day by day . It palters with my conscience , blurs my thoughts Of duty , and confuses my ideas Of right and wrong . Ere long , it will persuade My shaking manhood that all this is just . Die ,— ‘ twere best ; Tis the last desperate comfort of our sin . And so would I , with joy ; But crime has made a craven of me . O ! For some good cause to perish in ! Something A man might die for , looking in God 's face ; Not slinking out of life with guilt like mine Piled on the shoulders of a suicide ! I care not ; anywhere Out of this Rimini . The very things That made the pleasures of my innocence Have turned against me . There is not a tree , Nor house , nor church , nor monument , whose face Took hold upon my thoughts , that does not frown Balefully on me . From their marble tombs My ancestors scowl at me ; and the night Thickens to hear their hisses . I would pray , But heaven jeers at it . Turn where'er I will , A curse pursues me . But my gentleness Seems to reproach me ; and , instead of joy , It whispers horror ! I must go . I must go . Loose thy hold ! ‘ Tis for thy sake , and Lanciotto 's ; I Am as a cipher in the reckoning . I have resolved . Thou canst but stretch the time . Keep me to-day , and I will fly to-morrow — Steal from thee like a thief . Lo ! Heaven is just ! Peace , Francesca , peace ! Yes , I am . But she Has been betrayed ; so she is innocent . Her father tampered with her . I — Lanciotto , shut thy ears ; She would deceive thee . Yes . I dare not . Death . It is false ! If you received my dagger from his hand , He stole it . No ; enough ! I will not load my groaning spirit more ; A lie would crush it . Hold , homicide ! Live happily , after a deed like this ! Away ! thou'rt frantic . I will never lift This wicked hand against thee . And more : Thou canst not offer more than I will bear . I am . Remorseless man , dare you do this , And hope to live ? Die , murderer ! I cannot . O , heaven ! O ! Lanciotto , hold ! Hold , for thy sake ! Thou wilt repent this deed . Hark ! she calls . I pray thee , brother , help me to her side . God bless thee ! No . But for thee .