Lyric Poem · Death & Loss
The Laboratory (Ancien Regime)
1Now that I, tying thy glass mask tightly,
2May gaze through these faint smokes curling whitely,
3As thou pliest thy trade in this devil's-smithy —
4Which is the poison to poison her, prithee?
5He is with her, and they know that I know
6Where they are, what they do: they believe my tears flow
7While they laugh, laugh at me, at me fled to the drear
8Empty church, to pray God in, for them! — I am here!
9Grind away, moisten and mash up thy paste,
10Pound at thy powder, I am not in haste!
11Better sit thus and observe thy strange things,
12Than go where men wait me, and dance at the King's.
13That in the mortar — you call it a gum?
14Ah, the brave tree whence such gold oozings come!
15And yonder soft phial, the exquisite blue,
16Sure to taste sweetly, — is that poison, too?
17Had I but all of them, thee and thy treasures,
18What a wild crowd of Invisible pleasures!
19To carry pure death in an earring, a casket,
20A signet, a fan-mount, a filigree basket!
21Soon, at the King's, a mere lozenge to give
22And Pauline should have just thirty minutes to live!
23But to light a pastille, and Elise, with her head
24And her breast and her arms and her hands, should drop dead!
25Quick — is it finished? The colour's too grim!
26Why not soft like the phial's, enticing and dim?
27Let it brighten her drink, let her turn it and stir,
28And try it and taste, ere she fix and prefer!
29What a drop! She's not little, no minion like me!
30That's why she ensnared him: this never will free
31The soul from those masculine eyes, — say "No!"
32To that pulse's magnificent come-and-go.
33For only last night, as they whispered, I brought
34My own eyes to bear on her so that I thought
35Could I keep them one half-minute fixed, she would fall
36Shrivelled; she fell not: yet this does it all!
37Not that I bid you spare her the pain;
38Let death be felt and the proof remain:
39Brand, burn up, bite into its grace —
40He is sure to remember her dying face!
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“The Laboratory (Ancien Regime)” by Robert Browning — quilloak.com/poems/the-laboratory-ancien-regime
Quick facts
- Poem
- The Laboratory (Ancien Regime)
- Poet
- Robert Browning
- Length
- 48 lines
- Form
- Lyric Poem
- Themes
- Death & Loss, Peace, Love
Craft notes
How this poem works
Measured from the text on this page, not copied from a summary. Counts are approximate: syllables and rhymes come from the CMU Pronouncing Dictionary, which models General American English, so dialect, older pronunciation, and performance can all change what you hear.
- Shape
- 48 lines · 11 stanzas of 4–8 lines
- Line length
- Lines run 10-12 syllables (median 11). No single length dominates, which is normal once elision and contraction are in play.
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Text, source & rights
A traceable edition
Full-text display is based on the committed source record and a United States term-expiry review.
- Author record
- Robert Browning1812–1889
- Source record
- PoetryDBThe Laboratory (Ancien Regime) by robert-browning, PoetryDB transcription
- Display decision
- Full text · United States · reviewed 2026-07-18
- Publication record
- Not recorded in the imported source
- Text fingerprint
- SHA-256 ca0c14404d316713…
- Editorial handling
- Whitespace and stanza breaks normalized for web display; no material wording change recorded.
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