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itmustbemixedwithalloytogainthenecessarypowerofresistance。
Theringonceformedandembossed，thealloyisdisengaged，andapuregoldornamentremains。Mr。Browning’smaterialwasalsoinadequatetohispurpose，thoughfromadifferentcause。
ItwastooHARD。Itwas`purecrudefact’，secretedfromthefluidbeingofthemenandwomenwhoseexperienceithadformed。Initsexistingstateitwouldhavebrokenupundertheartisticattempttoweldandroundit。
Hesuppliedanalloy，thealloyoffancy，orashealsocallsit
ofonefactmore：thisfactbeingtheechoofthosepastexistencesawakenedwithinhisown。Hebreathedintothedeadrecordthebreathofhisownlife；andwhenhisringofevidencehadre-formed，firstinelastictheninsolidstrength，heredelicatelyincised，therebroadlystampedwithhumanthoughtandpassion，hecouldcastfancyaside，andbidhisreadersrecogniseinwhathesetbeforethemunadulteratedhumantruth。“Mrs。Orr。
Ontheafternoonofthedayonwhichhemadehispurchasehereadthebookfromendtoend。“ASpiritlaughedandleaptthrougheverylimb。“Themidsummerheatshadcausedthunder-cloudstocongregateaboveVallombrosaandthewholevalleyofArno：
andtheairinFlorencewaspainfullysultry。ThepoetstoodbyhimselfonhisterraceatCasaGuidi，andashewatchedthefireflieswanderingfromtheenclosedgardens，andthesheet-lightningsquiveringthroughtheheatedatmosphere，hismindwasbusyinrefashioningtheoldtaleoflovelessmarriageandcrime。
“BeneathI’thestreet，quickshownbyopeningsoftheskyWhenflamefellsilentlyfromcloudtocloud，RicherthanthatgoldsnowJoverainedonRhodes，Thetownsmenwalkedbytwosandthrees，andtalked，Drinkingtheblacknessindefaultofair
Abusyhumansensebeneathmyfeet：
Whileinandouttheterrace-plants，androundOnebranchoftalldatura，waxedandwanedThelamp-flyluredthere，wantingthewhiteflower。“
Scenebyscenewasre-enacted，thoughofcourseonlyincertainessentialdetails。ThefinalfoodfortheimaginationwasfoundinapamphletofwhichhecameintopossessionofinLondon，whereseveralimportantmattersweregivenwhichhadnoplaceinthevolumehehadpickedupinFlorence。
Much，farthegreaterpart，ofthefirst“book“isinteresting!
Itismereverse。Asverse，even，itisoftensoinvolved，somusiclessoccasionally，sobanalnowandagain，soinartisticincolouraswellasinform，thatonewould，havingapprehendeditsexplanatoryinterest，passonwithoutregret，wereitnotforthenobleclosethepassionate，out-wellinglinesto“thetruestpoetIhaveeverknown，“thebeautifulsoulwhohadgivenheralltohim，whom，butfouryearsbeforehewrotethesewords，hehadlaidtorestamongthecypressesandilexesoftheoldFlorentinegardenofthedead。
“OlyricLove，halfangelandhalfbirdAndallawonderandawilddesire，
Boldestofheartsthateverbravedthesun，Tooksanctuarywithintheholierblue，Andsangakindredsoulouttohisface，
Yethumanatthered-ripeoftheheart
WhenthefirstsummonsfromthedarklingearthReachedtheeamidthychambers，blanchedtheirblue，Andbaredthemoftheglorytodropdown，Totoilforman，tosufferortodie，
Thisisthesamevoice：canthysoulknowchange？
Hailthen，andhearkenfromtherealmsofhelp!
NevermayIcommencemysong，mydueToGodwhobesttaughtsongbygiftofthee，Exceptwithbentheadandbeseechinghand
Thatstill，despitethedistanceandthedark，Whatwas，againmaybe；someinterchangeOfgrace，somesplendouroncethyverythought，Somebenedictionancientlythysmile：
Neverconclude，butraisinghandandheadThitherwhereeyes，thatcannotreach，yetyearnForallhope，allsustainment，allreward，Theirutmostupandon，soblessingbackInthosethyrealmsofhelp，thatheaventhyhome，Somewhitenesswhich，Ijudge，thyfacemakesproud，Somewannesswhere，Ithink，thyfootmayfall!“
Thereafter，forcloseuponfivethousandwords，thepoemdescendsagaintothelevelofaversifiedtale。Itissavedfromruinbysubtletyofintellect，strikingdramaticverisimilitude，anextraordinaryvigour，andoccasionallinesofrealpoetry。
Retrospectively，apartfromtheinterest，oftenstrainedtotheutmost，mostreaders，Ifancy，willrecallwithlingeringpleasureonlytheopeningof“TheOtherHalfRome“，thedescriptionofPompilia，“withthepatientbrowandlamentablesmile，“withflower-likebody，inwhitehospitalarrayachildwitheyesofinfinitepathos，“whetheraflowerorweed，ruined：whodiditshallaccounttoChrist。“
InthesethreeintroductorybookswehavetheviewofthemattertakenbythosewhosidewithCountGuido，ofthosewhoareallforPompilia，andofthe“superiorperson“，impartialbecausesuperciliouslyindifferent，thoughsufficientlyinterestedto“opine“。
Intheensuingthreebooksamuchhigherpoeticlevelisreached。
Inthefirst，Guidospeaks；inthesecond，Caponsacchi；thethird，thatlustrousopalsetmidwayinthe“Ring“，isPompilia’snarrative。
Herethethreeprotagonistsliveandmovebeforeoureyes。
Thesixthbookmaybesaidtobetheheartofthewholepoem。
TheextremeintellectualsubtletyofGuido’spleastandsquiteunrivalledinpoeticliterature。Incomparingit，foritspoeticbeauty，withothersections，thereadermustbearinmindthatinapoemofadramaticnaturethedramaticproprietiesmustbedominant。
ItwouldbeobviouslyinappropriatetomakeCountGuidoFranceschinispeakwiththedignityofthePope，withtheexquisitepathosofPompilia，withtheardour，likesuppressedmoltenlava，ofCaponsacchi。
Theself-defenceofthelatterisasuperbpieceofdramaticwriting。
Onceortwicetheflamingvolcanoofhisheartburstsupwarduncontrollably，aswhenhecries
“No，sirs，Icannothavetheladydead!
Thaterectform，flashingbrow，fulguranteye，Thatvoiceimmortal(oh，thatvoiceofhers!)
ThatvisionofthepaleelectricswordAngelsgoarmedwiththatwasnotthelastO’thelady。Come，Iseethroughit，youfind，Knowthemanoeuvre!AlsoherselfsaidIhadsavedher：doyoudaresayshespokefalse？
Letmeseeformyselfifitbeso!“
Thanthepoignantpathosandbeautyof“Pompilia“，thereisnothingmoreexquisiteinourliterature。Itstandsalone。HereatlastwehavethepoetwhoistheLancelottoShakespeare’sArthur。
Ittakesasupremeeffortofgeniustobeassimpleasachild。
Howmarvellously，afterthealmostsublimehypocrisyoftheendofGuido’sdefence，afterthebeautifuldignityofCaponsacchi’sclosingwords，culminatingabruptlyintheheart-wrungcry，“Ogreat，just，goodGod!
miserableme!“howmarvellouslycomesuponthereaderthedelicate，tearfultendernessoftheinnocentchild-wife
“Iamjustseventeenyearsandfivemonthsold，And，ifIlivedonedaymore，threefullweeks；
’Tiswritsointhechurch’sregister，LorenzoinLucina，allmynamesAtlength，somanynamesforonepoorchild，FrancescaCamillaVittoriaAngelaPompiliaComparinilaughable!“
Onlytwowritersofouragehavedepictedwomenwiththatimaginativeinsightwhichisatoncemorecomprehensiveandmoreilluminativethanwomen’sowninvisionofthemselvesRobertBrowningandGeorgeMeredith，butnoteventhelatter，mostsubtleanddelicateofallanalystsofthetragi-comedyofhumanlife，hassurpassed“Pompilia“。
ThemeetingandtheswiftuprisingoflovebetweenLucyandRichard，in“TheOrdealofRichardFeveral“，is，itistrue，withinthehighestreachofproseromance：butbetweeneventheloftiestheightofproseromanceandthealtitudesofpoetry，thereisanimpassablegulf。
Andasitiswithsimplicitysoitiswithtenderness。
Onlythesternlystrongcanbesupremelytender。Andinfinitelytenderisthepoetryof“Pompilia“
“Oh，howgoodGodisthatmybabewasborn，Betterthanborn，baptisedandhidawayBeforethishappened，safefrombeinghurt!
ThathadbeensinGodcouldnotwellforgive：
HEWASTOOYOUNGTOSMILEANDSAVEHIMSELF“
orthelineswhichtellhowasalittlegirlshegaveherrosesnottothespickandspanMadonnaoftheChurch，buttothepoor，dilapidatedVirgin，“atourstreet-cornerinalonelyniche，“
withthebabethathadsatuponherkneesbrokenoff：
orthatpassage，withitsexquisitenaivete，wherePompiliarelateswhyshecalledherboyGaetano，becauseshewished“nooldnameforsorrow’ssake，“sochosethelatestadditiontothesaints，electedonlytwenty-fiveyearsbefore
“So，carefuller，perhaps，Toguardanamesakethanthoseoldsaintsgrow，Tiredoutbythistime，seemyownfivesaints!“
orthese
