Elizabeth Barrett Browning — A Tale of Villafranca

I. My little son, my Florentine,        &nbspSit down beside my knee, And I will tell you why the sign        &nbspOf joy which flushed our Italy Has faded since but yesternight; And why your Florence of delight        &nbspIs mourning as you see. II. A great man (who was crowned one day)        &nbspImagined a great Deed: He shaped it out of cloud and clay,        &nbspHe touched it finely till the seed Possessed the flower: from heart and brain He fed it with large thoughts humane,        &nbspTo help a people’s need. III. He brought it out into the sun—        &nbspThey blessed it to his face: “O great pure Deed, that hast undone        &nbspSo many bad and base! O generous Deed, heroic Deed, Come forth, be perfected, succeed,        &nbspDeliver by God’s grace.” IV. Then sovereigns, statesmen, north and south,        &nbspRose up in wrath and fear, And cried, protesting by one mouth,        &nbsp“What monster have we here? A great Deed at this hour of day? A great just Deed—and not for pay?        &nbspAbsurd,—or insincere.” V. “And if sincere, the heavier blow        &nbspIn that case we shall bear, For where’s our blessed ‘status quo,’        &nbspOur holy treaties, where,— Our rights to sell a race, or buy, Protect and pillage, occupy,        &nbspAnd civilize despair?” VI. Some muttered that the great Deed meant        &nbspA great pretext to sin; And others, the pretext, so lent,        &nbspWas heinous (to begin). Volcanic terms of “great” and “just”? Admit such tongues of flame, the crust        &nbspOf time and law falls in. VII. A great Deed in this world of ours?        &nbspUnheard of the pretence is: It threatens plainly the great Powers;        &nbspIs fatal in all senses. A just Deed in the world?—call out The rifles! be not slack about        &nbspThe national defences. VIII. And many murmured, “From this source        &nbspWhat red blood must be poured!” And some rejoined, “’T is even worse;        &nbspWhat red tape is ignored!” All cursed the Doer for an evil Called here, enlarging on the Devil,—        &nbspThere, monkeying the Lord! IX. Some said it could not be explained,        &nbspSome, could not be excused; And others, “Leave it unrestrained,        &nbspGehenna’s self is loosed.” And all cried “Crush it, maim it, gag it! Set dog-toothed lies to tear it ragged,        &nbspTruncated and traduced!” X. But He stood sad before the sun        &nbsp(The peoples felt their fate). “The world is many,—I am one;        &nbspMy great Deed was too great. God’s fruit of justice ripens slow: Men’s souls are narrow; let them grow.        &nbspMy brothers, we must wait.” XI. The tale is ended, child of mine,        &nbspTurned graver at my knee. They say your eyes, my Florentine,        &nbspAre English: it may be. And yet I’ve marked as blue a pair Following the doves across the square        &nbspAt Venice by the sea. XII. Ah child! ah child! I cannot say        &nbspA word more. You conceive The reason now, why just to-day        &nbspWe see our Florence grieve. Ah child, look up into the sky! In this low world, where great Deeds die,        &nbspWhat matter if we live?