My Last Duchess FERRARA That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive.

I call That piece a wonder, now: Fr Pandolf's hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Will't please you sit and look at her? I said ``Fr 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 Fr 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

Polish Robert Browning, "Moja ostatnia Ksina" FERRARA Oto ma Ksina ostatnia na cianie, Wyglda jakoby ywa. Czy, panie, Obraz ten nie jest cudem? Ot dziki Pracy rk Fra Pandolfa Ksinej wdziki Tu byszcz. Sid i spjrz prosz. Celowo Fra Pandolfa wspomniaem, gdy owo Oblicze dla obcych jest niezgbione, Bezmiar i ar w spojrzenie wplecione, Do mnie si zatem zwracali (albowiem Stor rozsuwam we wasnej osobie) I pytali, jeli si odwayli, Skd to spojrzenie; liczni wic mwili Tak: Panie, nie tylko w obecnoci Maonka widnia ten pomyk radoci Na Ksinej policzku: byd moe byy Chwile gdy Fra Pandolf mwi: "Okryy Nadto rkawy donie mej Pani" lub "Kolor nie odtworzy delikatnych smug Co nikn na jej szyi." Takie sowa Byy grzecznoci i dla nich gotowa Bya pomyk radoci wzniecid. Serce Jej - jakby rzec? - zbyt szybkie w podzice, Zbyt atwo baamucone; jej wzgldy Gdzie wzrok jej pada, a patrzya wszdy. Wszystko jedno! Jej piersi ma pochwaa, Na zachodzie zmierzch, gdy wiatod znikaa, Ga wini, ktr gupiec zuchway Zerwa w sadzie dla niej, osio biay, Ktrym po tarasie jedzia - wszystkie Te zbieray sowa jej sercu bliskie Lub chod rumieniec. Owszem, dzikowaa Mczyznom, lecz - sam nie wiem - jakby miaa Mj dar, dziewidsetletni rodowd, Za czyj prezent. Czy ta fraszka to powd By uniad si strofowaniem? Wszak Jeli talent mowy - (ktrego mi brak) Wol m wyrazid by mi da: "Zoci Mnie to czy tamto w tobie; moci Panno, to si nie godzi" - na co ona Ustpiaby, pokornie skruszona Bez wymwek - unieniem, zaiste, Byoby to dla mnie, ja za nie zwykem Si uniad. Przechodzc bez wtpienia Umiechaa si, och, lecz kt bez cienia Umiechu j mija? Rozkaz wydaem; Umiech znik. Oto ona stoi, ciaem Jakby ywa. Powstao, prosz. Na dole

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!

Gocie czekaj. Powtrzyd pozwol Sobie: Szczodrod Hrabiego, twego pana Jest obfitym gwarantem, i do wiana Uznane bd me suszne roszczenia, Chod osoba crki do mego mienia Od razu naley. Zejdmy. Zauwa, Panie, t tu oto rzeb Neptuna Na koniku morskim, rzecz to nieczsta, Odla j Klaus, co w Innsbrucku mieszka.

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