Porphyria's Lover - Robert Browning
A Disturbing Monologue of Obsessive Love
The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
Robert Browning’s “Porphyria’s Lover” is a pioneering example of the dramatic monologue—told entirely from the perspective of an unnamed narrator who recounts a stormy evening visit from his lover, Porphyria. She enters his cottage, soothing the atmosphere of wind and rain by making the room warm and beckoning him to express his love. The poem quickly escalates to an unsettling confession: in a moment of twisted possessiveness, the narrator strangles Porphyria with her own hair.
The poem unfolds in the speaker’s fevered inner world, where he reads Porphyria’s every look as confirmation that she “worshipped” him. This single-minded obsession impels him to act so he can preserve her devotion eternally. Browning contrasts the cozy setting of a lit hearth and Porphyria’s tender affection with the chilling outcome: the narrator’s violent assertion of control. His belief that Porphyria experiences no pain and that she remains spiritually ‘with him’ encapsulates the distorted logic fueling his actions.
In “Porphyria’s Lover,” Browning subtly critiques Victorian standards of love and morality. Despite her display of agency (coming to the cottage alone, declaring her love), Porphyria becomes a victim of the narrator’s warped desire to own her devotion completely. His decision to murder her is depicted not as a tragic oversight but as a calm, methodical act carried out under the delusion of genuine love. The final, chilling line—“And yet God has not said a word!”—reveals the speaker’s twisted sense of justification, implying he believes his crime is sanctioned by a higher power.
Overall, Browning’s exploration probes questions about power, madness, and the potential darkness underlying romantic relationships. By capturing the narrator’s every thought and rationalization, the poem confronts us with the disconcerting reality that genuine feelings of love can, in the wrong mind, mingle with jealousy and violence. This daring blend of beauty and horror remains a central hallmark of Browning’s dramatic monologues.
Key points
• Dramatic monologue reveals the narrator’s disturbed mental state.
• Obsessive love blurs boundaries between devotion and destruction.
• Browning questions Victorian notions of gender, power, and morality.
• A chilling look at how a desire for control can distort genuine affection.
