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RBRobert Browning

Robert Browning

Life dates: 1812 AD — 1889 AD

English poet whose dramatic and narrative speakers complicate the meaning of a familiar phrase. Read their situations and judgments before attributing a speaker’s claims directly to the writer.

▷ Play this voiceSearch these words ↗Place in time ↗lifefaithjusticetimenatureknowledgeworktruth

Life and writing

Robert Browning lived from 1812 to 1889 and was born in Camberwell, England. The Academy of American Poets describes his early education and the importance of dramatic monologue in his writing. It also records his 1846 marriage to Elizabeth Barrett and their move to Italy. These documented facts provide context for an existing archive identity, not a basis for dating its individual quotations or treating every speaker as autobiographical. The writer’s life and the dramatic situation remain different kinds of evidence.

Count Gismond places its brief declaration that truth prevailed within an account of accusation and violent rescue. A Grammarian’s Funeral gives the comparison between smaller achievements and ambitious pursuit to the mourners of a scholar. Their admiration forms part of the poem’s setting rather than a neutral rule for judging every life. The two selected Bartlett passages match the linked 1898 collection under limited punctuation, case and spacing comparison; aligned line counters must be removed for the longer grammarian excerpt. No anthology wording is replaced, and the editors’ historical notes remain separate from these original reading suggestions.

Reading this voice

Read Count Gismond, especially stanza XIII, and A Grammarian’s Funeral as complete poems. Ask who speaks, what their judgment depends on and what the surrounding narrative leaves open. The 191 associated records include 147 historical anthology entries and 44 contributor-supplied entries whose broader attribution remains independently unverified. The two selected comparisons do not authenticate the complete collections; lifetime years remain distinct from composition dates.

Subjects to explore

Words to begin with

Quotations and sayings

14c. 1850 AD
There! See our roof, its gilt moulding and groining Under those spider-webs lying!... Is it your moral of Life? Such a web, simple and subtle, Weave we on earth here in impotent strife, Backward and forward each throwing his shuttle, Death ending all with a knife? Over our heads truth and nature— Still our life’s zigzags and dodges, Ins and outs, weaving a new legislature— God’s gold just showing its last where that lodges, Palled beneath man’s usurpature. So we o’ershroud stars and roses, Cherub and trophy and garland; Nothings grow something which quietly closes Heaven’s earnest eye; not a glimpse of the far land Gets through our comments and glozes.
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17c. 1850 AD
First of the first, Such I pronounce Pompilia, then as now Perfect in whiteness: stoop thou down, my child.. My rose, I gather for the breast of God.. And surely not so very much apart, Need I place thee, my warrior-priest.. In thought, word and deed, How throughout all thy warfare thou wast pure, I find it easy to believe: and if At any fateful moment of the strange Adventure, the strong passion of that strait, Fear and surprise may have revealed too much,— As when a thundrous midnight, with black air That burns, rain-drops that blister, breaks a spell, Draws out the excessive virtue of some sheathed Shut unsuspected flower that hoards and hides Immensity of sweetness,—so, perchance, Might the surprise and fear release too much The perfect beauty of the body and soul Thou savedst in thy passion for God’s sake, He who is Pity. Was the trial sore? Temptation sharp? Thank God a second time! Why comes temptation but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his feet, And so be pedestaled in triumph?
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19c. 1850 AD
New truths, old truths! sirs, there is nothing new possible to be revealed to us in the moral world; we know all we shall ever know: and it is for simply reminding us, by their various respective expedients, how we do know this and the other matter, that men get called prophets, poets, and the like. A philosopher’s life is spent in discovering that, of the half-dozen truths he knew when a child, such an one is a lie, as the world states it in set terms; and then, after a weary lapse of years, and plenty of hard-thinking, it becomes a truth again after all, as he happens to newly consider it and view it in a different relation with the others: and so he restates it, to the confusion of somebody else in good time. As for adding to the original stock of truths,—impossible!
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21c. 1850 AD
I search but cannot see What purpose serves the soul that strives, or world it tries Conclusions with, unless the fruit of victories Stay, one and all, stored up and guaranteed its own For ever, by some mode whereby shall be made known The gain of every life. ... I say, I cannot think that gains—which will not be Except a special soul had gained them—that such gain Can ever be estranged, do aught but appertain Immortally, by right firm, indefeasible, To who performed the feat, through God’s grace and man’s will.
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22c. 1850 AD
Not on the vulgar mass Called “work” must sentence pass, Things done, that took the eye and had the price; O’er which, from level stand, The low world laid its hand, Found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice: But all, the world’s coarse thumb And finger failed to plumb, So passed in making up the main account; All instincts immature, All purposes unsure, That weighed not as his work, yet swelled the man’s amount: Thoughts hardly to be packed Into a narrow act, Fancies that broke through language and escaped; All, I could never be, All, men ignored in me, This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped, So, take and use thy work: Amend what flaws may lurk, What strain o’ the stuff, what warpings past the aim! My times be in Thy hand! Perfect the cup as planned! Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same.
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23c. 1850 AD
There’s a fancy some lean to and others hate— That, when this life is ended, begins New work for the soul in another state, Where it strives and gets weary, loses and wins: Where the strong and the weak, this world’s congeries, Repeat in large what they practised in small, Through life after life in unlimited series; Only the scale’s to be changed, that’s all. Yet I hardly know. When a soul has seen By the means of Evil that Good is best, And, through earth and its noise, what is heaven’s serene,— When our faith in the same has stood the test— Why, the child grown man, you burn the rod, The uses of labour are surely done; There remaineth a rest for the people of God: And I have had troubles enough, for one.
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24c. 1850 AD
For—see your cellarage! There are forty barrels with Shakespeare’s brand Some five or six are abroach: the rest Stand spigoted, fauceted. Try and test What yourselves call best of the very best! How comes it that still untouched they stand? Why don’t you try tap, advance a stage With the rest in cellarage? For—see your cellarage! There are four big butts of Milton’s brew, How comes it you make old drips and drops Do duty, and there devotion stops? Leave such an abyss of malt and hops Embellied in butts which bungs still glue? You hate your bard! A fig for your rage! Free him from cellarage!
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