Now the end's coming; to be sure, it must
Have ended sometime! Tush, why need I speak
Their foolish speech? I cannot bring to mind
One half of it, beside; and do not care
For old Natalia now, nor any of them. 120
Oh, you--what are you?--if I do not try
To say the words Natalia made me learn;
To please your friends--it is to keep myself
Where your voice lifted me, by letting that
Proceed; but can it? Even you, perhaps, 125
Cannot take up, now you have once let fall,
The music's life, and me along with that--
No, or you would! We'll stay, then, as we are--
Above the world.
You creature with the eyes!
If I could look forever up to them, 130
As now you let me--I believe all sin,
All memory of wrong done, suffering borne,
Would drop down, low and lower, to the earth
Whence all that's low comes, and there touch and stay
--Never to overtake the rest of me, 135
All that, unspotted, reaches up to you,
Drawn by those eyes! What rises is myself,
Not me the shame and suffering; but they sink,
Are left, I rise above them. Keep me so,
Above the world! 140
But you sink, for your eyes
Are altering--altered! Stay--"I love you, love"--
I could prevent it if I understood:
More of your words to me; was 't in the tone
Or the words, your power?
Or stay--I will repeat
Their speech, if that contents you! Only change 145
No more, and I shall find it presently
Far back here, in the brain yourself filled up.
Natalia threatened me that harm should follow
Unless I spoke their lesson to the end,
But harm to me, I thought she meant, not you. 150
Your friends--Natalia said they were your friends
And meant you well--because, I doubted it,
Observing (what was very strange to see)
On every face, so different in all else,
The same smile girls like me are used to bear, 155
But never men, men cannot stoop so low;
Yet your friends, speaking of you, used that smile,
That hateful smirk of boundless self-conceit
Which seems to take possession of the world
And make of God a tame confederate, 160
Purveyor to their appetites--you know!
But still Natalia said they were your friends,
And they assented though they smiled the more,
And all came round me--that thin Englishman
With light lank hair seemed leader of the rest; 165
He held a paper--"What we want," said he,
Ending some explanation to his friends,
"Is something slow, involved, and mystical,
To hold Jules long in doubt, yet take his taste
And lure him on until, at innermost 170
Where he seeks sweetness' soul, he may find--this!
--As in the apple's core, the noisome fly;
For insects on the rind are seen at once,
And brushed aside as soon, but this is found
Only when on the lips or loathing tongue." 175
And so he read what I have got by heart:
I'll speak it--"Do not die, love! I am yours"--
No--is not that, or like that, part of words
Yourself began by speaking? Strange to lose
What cost such pains to learn! Is this more right? 180
_I am a painter who cannot paint;_
_In my life, a devil rather than saint;_
_In my brain, as poor a creature too:_
_No end to all I cannot do!_
_Yet do one thing at least I can--_ 185
_Love a man or hate a man_
_Supremely: thus my lore began._
_Through the Valley of Love I went,_
_In the lovingest spot to abide,_
_And just on the verge where I pitched my tent,_ 190
_I found Hate dwelling beside._
_(Let the Bridegroom ask what the painter meant,_
_Of his Bride, of the peerless Bride!)_
_And further, I traversed Hate's grove,_
_In the hatefullest nook to dwell;_ 195
_But lo, where I flung myself prone, couched Love_
_Where the shadow threefold fell._
_(The meaning--those black bride's-eyes above,_
_Not a painter's lip should tell!)_
"And here," said he, "Jules probably will ask, 200
'You have black eyes, Love--you are, sure enough,
My peerless bride--then do you tell indeed
What needs some explanation! What means this?'"
--And I am to go on, without a word--
_So I grew wise in Love and Hate,_ 205
_From simple that I was of late._
_Once when I loved, I would enlace_
_Breast, eyelids, hands, feet, form, and face_
_Of her I loved, in one embrace--_
_As if by mere love I could love immensely!_ 210
_Once, when I hated, I would plunge_
_My sword, and wipe with the first lunge_
_My foe's whole life out like a sponge--_
_As if by mere hate I could hate intensely!_
_But now I am wiser, know better the fashion_ 215
_How passion seeks aid from its opposite passion;_
_And if I see cause to love more, hate more_
_Than ever man loved, ever hated before--_
_And seek in the Valley of Love,_
_The nest, or the nook in Hate's Grove,_ 220
_Where my soul may surely reach_
_The essence, naught less, of each,_
_The Hate of all Hates, the Love_
_Of all Loves, in the Valley or Grove--_
_I find them the very warders_ 225
_Each of the other's borders._
_When I love most, Love is disguised_
_In Hate; and when Hate is surprised_
_In Love, then I hate most: ask_
_How Love smiles through Hate's iron casque,_ 230
_Hate grins through Love's rose-braided mask--_
_And how, having hated thee,_
_I sought long and painfully_
_To reach thy heart, nor prick_
_The skin but pierce to the quick--_ 235
_Ask this, my Jules, and be answered straight_
_By thy bride--how the painter Lutwyche can hate!_