Time's Revenges
I've a Friend, over the sea;I like him, but he loves me.It all grew out of the books I write;They find such favour in his sightThat he slaughters you with savage looksBecause you don't admire my books.He does himself though,--and if some veinWere to snap tonight in this heavy brain,To-morrow month, if I lived to try,Round should I just turn quietly,Or out of the bedclothes stretch my handTill I found him, come from his foreign landTo be my nurse in this poor place,And make my broth and wash my faceAnd light my fire and, all the while,Bear with his old good-humoured smileThat I told him "Better have kept awayThan come and kill me, night and day,With, worse than fever throbs and shoots,The creaking of his clumsy boots."I am as sure that this he would do,As that Saint Paul's is striking two.And I think I rather... woe is me!--Yes, rather would see him than not see,If lifting a hand could seat him thereBefore me in the empty chairTo-night, when my head aches indeed,And I can neither think nor readNor make these purple fingers holdThe pen; this garret's freezing cold!
And I've a Lady--there he wakes,The laughing fiend and prince of snakesWithin me, at her name, to prayFate send some creature in the wayOf my love for her, to be down-torn,Upthrust and outward-borne,So I might prove myself that seaOf passion which I needs must be!Call my thoughts false and my fancies quaintAnd my style infirm and its figures faint,All the critics say, and more blame yet,And not one angry word you get.But, please you, wonder I would putMy cheek beneath that lady's footRather than trample under mineThat laurels of the Florentine,And you shall see how the devil spendsA fire God gave for other ends!I tell you, I stride up and downThis garret, crowned with love's best crown,And feasted with love's perfect feast,To think I kill for her, at least,Body and soul and peace and fame,Alike youth's end and manhood's aim,--So is my spirit, as flesh with sin,Filled full, eaten out and inWith the face of her, the eyes of her,The lips, the little chin, the stirOf shadow round her mouth; and she--I'll tell you,--calmly would decreeThat I should roast at a slow fire,
If that would compass her desireAnd make her one whom they inviteTo the famous ball to-morrow night.
There may be heaven; there must be hell;Meantime, there is our earth here--well!
Words in this poem
- favour n.
- Kind regard; propitious aspect; countenance; friendly disposition; kindness; good will. [Written also favour.]
- admire v. t.
- To regard with wonder or astonishment; to view with surprise; to marvel at. [F. admirer, fr. L. admirari; ad + mirari to wonder, for smirari, akin to Gr. smi, and E. smile.]
- tonight adv.
- On this present or coming night. [Prep. to+night]
- bedclothes n.
- Blankets, sheets, coverlets, etc., for a bed.
- clumsy a.
- Stiff or benumbed, as with cold. [OE. clumsed benumbed, fr. clumsen to be benumbed; cf. Icel. klumsa lockjaw, dial. Sw. klummsen benumbed with cold. Cf. 1st Clam, and 1st Clamp.]
- needs adv.
- Of necessity; necessarily; indispensably; -- often with must, and equivalent to of need. [Orig. gen. of need, used as an adverb. Cf. - wards.]
- quaint a.
- Prudent; wise; hence, crafty; artful; wily. [OE. queint, queynte, coint, prudent, wise, cunning, pretty, odd, OF. cointe cultivated, amiable, agreeable, neat, fr. L. cognitus known, p. p. of cognoscere to ]
- angry a.
- Troublesome; vexatious; rigorous. [See Anger.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- stride v. t.
- To walk with long steps, especially in a measured or pompous manner. [AS. stridan to stride, to strive; akin to LG. striden, OFries. strida to strive, D. strijden to strive, to contend, G. streiten, OHG. stritan; of uncertain orig]
- garret n.
- A turret; a watchtower. [OE. garite, garette, watchtower, place of lookout, OF. garite, also meaning, a place of refuge, F. guérite a place of refuge, donjon, sentinel box, fr. OF. gari]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Time's Revenges is in the public domain. This text is taken from Dramatic Romances, Project Gutenberg ebook #4253; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert Browning, Time's Revenges, in Dramatic Lyrics (1842), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #4253, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/browning-dramatic-lyrics/time-s-revenges.html, id L03542.
Form and metre
Time's Revenges is 66 lines in 4 verse paragraphs. It is in rhyming couplets, 91% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.3 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 42% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in octosyllabic couplets, other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABBCCDD--EEFFGGHHIIJJAAKKLLMM seaA · meA · writeB · sightB · looksC · booksC · veinD · brainD · try · quietly · handE · landE · placeF · faceF · whileG · smileG · awayH · dayH · shootsI · bootsI · doJ · twoJ · meA · seeA · thereK · chairK · indeedL · readL · holdM · coldM
- 2 AABBCCDDEEFFGG--HHIIJJKKLLMMNN- wakesA · snakesA · prayB · wayB · tornC · borneC · seaD · beD · quaintE · faintE · yetF · getF · putG · footG · mine · florentine · spendsH · endsH · downI · crownI · feastJ · leastJ · fameK · aimK · sinL · inL · herM · stirM · sheN · decreeN · fire
- 3 -AA desire · inviteA · nightA
- 4 AA hellA · wellA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I've a Friend, over the sea; | 7 | ······· |
| I like him, but he loves me. | 7 | ······· |
| It all grew out of the books I write; | 9 | ········· |
| They find such favour in his sight | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| That he slaughters you with savage looks | 9 | ··/˘··/˘· |
| Because you don't admire my books. | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| He does himself though,--and if some vein | 9 | ··˘/····· |
| Were to snap tonight in this heavy brain, | 10 | ···˘/··/˘· |
| To-morrow month, if I lived to try, | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Round should I just turn quietly, | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| Or out of the bedclothes stretch my hand | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| Till I found him, come from his foreign land | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| To be my nurse in this poor place, | 8 | ········ |
| And make my broth and wash my face | 8 | ········ |
| And light my fire and, all the while, | 8 | ···/···· |
| Bear with his old good-humoured smile | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| That I told him "Better have kept away | 10 | ····/˘··˘/ |
| Than come and kill me, night and day, | 8 | ········ |
| With, worse than fever throbs and shoots, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The creaking of his clumsy boots." | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| I am as sure that this he would do, | 9 | ········· |
| As that Saint Paul's is striking two. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And I think I rather... woe is me! | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| --Yes, rather would see him than not see, | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| If lifting a hand could seat him there | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Before me in the empty chair | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| To-night, when my head aches indeed, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And I can neither think nor read | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Nor make these purple fingers hold | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| The pen; this garret's freezing cold! | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And I've a Lady--there he wakes, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The laughing fiend and prince of snakes | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Within me, at her name, to pray | 8 | ········ |
| Fate send some creature in the way | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Of my love for her, to be down-torn, | 9 | ········· |
| Upthrust and outward-borne, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| So I might prove myself that sea | 8 | ·····/·· |
| Of passion which I needs must be! | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Call my thoughts false and my fancies quaint | 9 | ······/˘· |
| And my style infirm and its figures faint, | 10 | ···˘/··/˘· |
| All the critics say, and more blame yet, | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| And not one angry word you get. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But, please you, wonder I would put | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| My cheek beneath that lady's foot | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Rather than trample under mine | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| That laurels of the Florentine, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| And you shall see how the devil spends | 8 | ······/· |
| A fire God gave for other ends! | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| I tell you, I stride up and down | 8 | ········ |
| This garret, crowned with love's best crown, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And feasted with love's perfect feast, | 8 | ·/˘··/·· |
| To think I kill for her, at least, | 8 | ········ |
| Body and soul and peace and fame, | 8 | /˘······ |
| Alike youth's end and manhood's aim, | 8 | ˘/···/·· |
| --So is my spirit, as flesh with sin, | 8 | ···/···· |
| Filled full, eaten out and in | 8 | ·˘·/˘··· |
| With the face of her, the eyes of her, | 9 | ········· |
| The lips, the little chin, the stir | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Of shadow round her mouth; and she | 8 | ·/······ |
| --I'll tell you,--calmly would decree | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| That I should roast at a slow fire, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| If that would compass her desire | 9 | ···/˘·˘/˘ |
| And make her one whom they invite | 8 | ······˘/ |
| To the famous ball to-morrow night. | 9 | ··/˘··/˘· |
| There may be heaven; there must be hell; | 8 | ···/···· |
| Meantime, there is our earth here--well! | 8 | /···/··· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.