An Introduction to the Study of Robert Browning's Poetry Part 45

11.

But when I sit down to reason, think to take my stand nor swerve, While I triumph o'er a secret wrung from nature's close reserve, In you come with your cold music till I creep through every nerve.

-- St. 11. While I triumph o'er a secret wrung from nature's close reserve: the secret of the soul's immortality.

12.

Yes, you, like a ghostly cricket, creaking where a house was burned: "Dust and ashes, dead and done with, Venice spent what Venice earned.

The soul, doubtless, is immortal--where a soul can be discerned.

13.

"Yours for instance: you know physics, something of geology, Mathematics are your pastime; souls shall rise in their degree; b.u.t.terflies may dread extinction,--you'll not die, it cannot be!

-- St. 13. The idea is involved in this stanza that the soul's continued existence is dependent on its development in this life; the ironic character of the stanza is indicated by the merely intellectual subjects named, physics, geology, mathematics, which do not of themselves, necessarily, contribute to SOUL-development. All from the 2d verse of the 12th stanza down to "Dust and ashes" in the 15th, is what the music, "like a ghostly cricket, creaking where a house was burned", says to the speaker, in the monologue, of the men and women for whom life meant simply a b.u.t.terfly enjoyment.

14.

"As for Venice and her people, merely born to bloom and drop, Here on earth they bore their fruitage, mirth and folly were the crop: What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?

15.

"Dust and ashes!" So you creak it, and I want the heart to scold.

Dear dead women, with such hair, too--what's become of all the gold Used to hang and brush their bosoms? I feel chilly and grown old.

Abt Vogler.

(After he has been extemporizing upon the Musical Instrument of his Invention.)

1.

Would that the structure brave, the manifold music I build, Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their work, Claiming each slave of the sound, at a touch, as when Solomon willed Armies of angels that soar, legions of demons that lurk, Man, brute, reptile, fly,--alien of end and of aim, Adverse, each from the other heaven-high, h.e.l.l-deep removed,-- Should rush into sight at once as he named the ineffable Name, And pile him a palace straight, to pleasure the princess he loved!

-- St. 1. The leading sentence, "Would that the structure brave", etc., is interrupted by the comparison, "as when Solomon willed", etc., and continued in the 2d stanza, "Would it might tarry like his", etc.; the construction of the comparison is, "as when Solomon willed that armies of angels, legions of devils, etc., should rush into sight and pile him a palace straight"; the reference is to the legends of the Koran in regard to Solomon's magical powers.

2.

Would it might tarry like his, the beautiful building of mine, This which my keys in a crowd pressed and importuned to raise!

Ah, one and all, how they helped, would dispart now and now combine, Zealous to hasten the work, heighten their master his praise!

And one would bury his brow with a blind plunge down to h.e.l.l, Burrow a while and build, broad on the roots of things, Then up again swim into sight, having based me my palace well, Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether springs.

-- St. 2. the beautiful building of mine: "Of all our senses, hearing seems to be the most poetical; and because it requires most imagination. We do not simply listen to sounds, but whether they be articulate or inarticulate, we are constantly translating them into the language of sight, with which we are better acquainted; and this is a work of the imaginative faculty."

--'Poetics: an Essay on Poetry'. By E. S. Dallas.

The idea expressed in the above extract is beautifully embodied in the following lines from Coleridge's 'Kubla Khan':--

"It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome, with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who HEARD should SEE them there", etc.

3.

And another would mount and march, like the excellent minion he was, Ay, another and yet another, one crowd but with many a crest, Raising my rampired walls of gold as transparent as gla.s.s, Eager to do and die, yield each his place to the rest: For higher still and higher (as a runner tips with fire, When a great illumination surprises a festal night-- Outlining round and round Rome's dome from s.p.a.ce to spire) Up, the pinnacled glory reached, and the pride of my soul was in sight.

4.

In sight? Not half! for it seemed, it was certain, to match man's birth, Nature in turn conceived, obeying an impulse as I; And the emulous heaven yearned down, made effort to reach the earth, As the earth had done her best, in my pa.s.sion, to scale the sky: Novel splendors burst forth, grew familiar and dwelt with mine, Not a point nor peak but found, but fixed its wandering star; Meteor-moons, b.a.l.l.s of blaze: and they did not pale nor pine, For earth had attained to heaven, there was no more near nor far.

5.

Nay more; for there wanted not who walked in the glare and glow, Presences plain in the place; or, fresh from the Protoplast, Furnished for ages to come, when a kindlier wind should blow, Lured now to begin and live, in a house to their liking at last; Or else the wonderful Dead who have pa.s.sed through the body and gone, But were back once more to breathe in an old world worth their new: What never had been, was now; what was, as it shall be anon; And what is,--shall I say, matched both? for I was made perfect too.

6.

All through my keys that gave their sounds to a wish of my soul, All through my soul that praised as its wish flowed visibly forth, All through music and me! For think, had I painted the whole, Why, there it had stood, to see, nor the process so wonder-worth.

Had I written the same, made verse--still, effect proceeds from cause, Ye know why the forms are fair, ye hear how the tale is told; It is all triumphant art, but art in obedience to laws, Painter and poet are proud, in the artist-list enrolled:--

7.

But here is the finger of G.o.d, a flash of the will that can, Existent behind all laws: that made them, and, lo, they are!

And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man, That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star.

Consider it well: each tone of our scale in itself is naught; It is everywhere in the world--loud, soft, and all is said: Give it to me to use! I mix it with two in my thought, And, there! Ye have heard and seen: consider and bow the head!

8.

Well, it is gone at last, the palace of music I reared; Gone! and the good tears start, the praises that come too slow; For one is a.s.sured at first, one scarce can say that he feared, That he even gave it a thought, the gone thing was to go.

Never to be again! But many more of the kind As good, nay, better perchance: is this your comfort to me?

To me, who must be saved because I cling with my mind To the same, same self, same love, same G.o.d: ay, what was, shall be.

9.