“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. 
      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
      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
      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
      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. 
      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
      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
      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
      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
      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
      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,
      Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
      Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!”