The Norton Anthology of English literature. Volume 2

2. Prospero's daughter. 3. I.e., the thin stream of cold water that is driven into the warm ocean like a spike between walls.

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129 8 / ROBERT BROWNING

so By moonlight; and the pie� with the long tongue

magpie

That pricks deep into oakwarts for a worm,

And says a plain word when she finds her prize,

But will not eat the ants; the ants themselves

That build a wall of seeds and settled stalks

55 About their hole�He made all these and more,

Made all we see, and us, in spite: how else?

He could not, Himself, make a second self

To be His mate; as well have made Himself:

He would not make what he mislikes or slights,

6o An eyesore to Him, or not worth His pains:

But did, in envy, listlessness, or sport, Make what Himself would fain,0 in a manner, be� gladly

Weaker in most points, stronger in a few,

Worthy, and yet mere playthings all the while,

65 Things He admires and mocks too�that is it.

Because, so brave, so better though they be,

It nothing skills if He begin to plague.4

Look now, I melt a gourd-fruit into mash,

Add honeycomb and pods, I have perceived, 70 Which bite like finches when they bill and kiss� Then, when froth rises bladdery," drink up all,

bubbly

Quick, quick, till maggots scamper through my brain;

Last, throw me on my back i' the seeded thyme,

And wanton, wishing I were born a bird.

75 Put case, unable to be what I wish, I yet could make a live bird out of clay:

Would not I take clay, pinch my Caliban

Able to fly?�for, there, see, he hath wings,

And great comb like the hoopoe's5 to admire,

so And there, a sting to do his foes offense,

There, and I will that he begin to live,

Fly to yon rock-top, nip me off the horns

Of griggs" high up that make the merry din,

grasshoppers

Saucy through their veined wings, and mind me not.

85 In which feat, if his leg snapped, brittle clay,

And he lay stupid-like�why, I should laugh;

And if he, spying me, should fall to weep,

Beseech me to be good, repair his wrong,

Bid his poor leg smart less or grow again�

90 Well, as the chance were, this might take or else

Not take my fancy: I might hear his cry, And give the mankin" three sound legs for one,

little man

Or pluck the other off, leave him like an egg,

And lessoned" he was mine and merely clay.

thus taught

95 Were this no pleasure, lying in the thyme,

Drinking the mash, with brain become alive,

Making and marring clay at will? So He.

'Thinketh, such shows nor right nor wrong in Him,

Nor kind, nor cruel: He is strong and Lord.

IOO 'Am strong myself compared to yonder crabs

4. I.e., the superior virtues of Setebos's creatures 5. Bird with bright plumage. are no help to them if he decides to torture them.

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CALIBAN UPON SETEBOS / 129 9

That march now from the mountain to the sea; 'Let twenty pass, and stone the twenty-first, Loving not, hating not, just choosing so. 'Say, the first straggler that boasts purple spots

105 Shall join the file, one pincer twisted off; 'Say, this bruised fellow shall receive a worm, And two worms he whose nippers end in red; As it likes me each time, I do: so He.

Well then, 'supposeth He is good i' the main,

110 Placable if His mind and ways were guessed, But rougher than His handiwork, be sure! Oh, He hath made things worthier than Himself, And envieth that, so helped, such things do more Than He who made them! What consoles but this?

in That they, unless through Him, do naught at all, And must submit: what other use in things? 'Hath cut a pipe of pithless elder-joint That, blown through, gives exact the scream o' the jay When from her wing you twitch the feathers blue:

120 Sound this, and little birds that hate the jay Flock within stone's throw, glad their foe is hurt: Put case such pipe could prattle and boast forsooth, "I catch the birds, I am the crafty thing, I make the cry my maker cannot make 125 With his great round mouth; he must blow through mine!" Would not I smash it with my foot? So He.

But wherefore rough, why cold and ill at ease? Aha, that is a question! Ask, for that, What knows�the something over Setebos 130 That made Him, or He, may be, found and fought, Worsted, drove off and did to nothing,0 perchance, completely overcame There may be something quiet o'er His head, Out of His reach, that feels nor0 joy nor grief, neither Since both derive from weakness in some way. 135 I joy because the quails come; would not joy Could I bring quails here when I have a mind: This Quiet, all it hath a mind to, doth. 'Esteemeth0 stars the outposts of its couch, he believes But never spends much thought nor care that way. no It may look up, work up�the worse for those It works on! 'Careth but for Setebos6 The many-handed as a cuttlefish, Who, making Himself feared through what He does. Looks up, first, and perceives he cannot soar 145 To what is quiet and hath happy life; Next looks down here, and out of very spite Makes this a bauble-world to ape yon real, These good things to match those as hips7 do grapes. 'Tis solace making baubles, aye, and sport.