Men and Women (Browning)/Volume 1/Mesmerism
MESMERISM.
1.All I believed is true!I am able yetAll I want to getBy a method as strange as new:Dare I trust the same to you?
2.If at night, when doors are shut,And the wood-worm picks,And the death-watch ticks,And the bar has a flag of smut,And a cat's in the water-butt—
3.And the socket floats and flares,And the house-beams groan,And a foot unknownIs surmised on the garret-stairs,And the locks slip unawares—
4.And the spider, to serve his ends,By a sudden thread,Arms and legs outspread,On the table's midst descends,Comes to find, God knows what friends!—
5.If since eve drew in, I say,I have sate and brought(So to speak) my thoughtTo bear on the woman away,Till I felt my hair turn grey—
6.Till I seemed to have and holdIn the vacancy'Twixt the wall and me,From the hair-plait's chestnut-goldTo the foot in its muslin fold—
7.Have and hold, then and there,Her, from head to foot,Breathing and mute,Passive and yet aware,In the grasp of my steady stare—
8.Hold and have, there and then,All her body and soulThat completes my Whole,All that women add to men,In the clutch of my steady ken—
9.Having and holding, tillI imprint her fastOn the void at lastAs the sun does whom he willBy the calotypist's skill—
10.Then,—if my heart's strength serve,And through all and eachOf the veils I reachTo her soul and never swerve,Knitting an iron nerve—
11.Command her soul to advanceAnd inform the shapeWhich has made escapeAnd before my countenanceAnswers me glance for glance—
12.I, still with a gesture fitOf my hands that bestDo my soul's behest,Pointing the power from it,While myself do steadfast sit—
13.Steadfast and still the sameOn my object bentWhile the hands give ventTo my ardour and my aimAnd break into very flame—
14.Then, I reach, I must believe,Not her soul in vain,For to me againIt reaches, and past retrieveIs wound in the toils I weave—
15.And must follow as I require,As befits a thrall,Bringing flesh and all,Essence and earth-attire,To the source of the tractile fire—
16.Till the house called hers, not mine,With a growing weightSeems to suffocateIf she break not its leaden lineAnd escape from its close confine—
17.Out of doors into the night!On to the mazeOf the wild wood-ways,Not turning to left nor rightFrom the pathway, blind with sight—
18.Making thro' rain and windO'er the broken shrubs,'Twixt the stems and stubs,With a still composed strong mind,Nor a care for the world behind—
19.Swifter and still more swift,As the crowding peaceDoth to joy increaseIn the wide blind eyes uplift,Thro' the darkness and the drift!
20.While I—to the shape, I tooFeel my soul dilateNor a whit abateAnd relax not a gesture dueAs I see my belief come true—
21.For there! have I drawn or noLife to that lip?Do my fingers dipIn a flame which again they throwOn the cheek that breaks a-glow?
22.Ha! was the hair so first?What, unfilleted,Made alive, and spreadThrough the void with a rich outburst,Chestnut gold-interspersed?
23.Like the doors of a casket-shrine,See, on either side,Her two arms divideTill the heart betwixt makes sign,Take me, for I am thine!
24.Now—now—the door is heardHark! the stairs and near—Nearer—and here—Now! and at call the thirdShe enters without a word.
25.On doth she march and onTo the fancied shape—It is past escapeHerself, now—the dream is doneAnd the shadow and she are one.
26.First I will pray. Do ThouThat ownest the soul,Yet wilt grant controulTo another nor disallowFor a time, restrain me now!
27.I admonish me while I may,Not to squander guilt,Since require Thou wiltAt my hand its price one day!What the price is, who can say?