In the strong passion of a hero’s heart,
Or one great hour constrains herself to sing
Pastoral peace and waters wandering;—
Then hark how on a chord she is rapt and flown
To that true world thou seest not nor hast known,
Nor speech of thine can her strange thought unfold,
The bars’ wild beat, and ripple of running gold.
Not only does Browning unselfishly assert that the sister-art is superior to his own, but he goes further, and doubts if music is not the greatest of all man’s gifts. I do not discuss either contention—leaving musicians to rejoice in the tribute of a great poet.
Although a gem be cast away,