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    Dramatic Lyrics: "When the fight begins within himself, a man's worth something"
    Dramatic Lyrics: "When the fight begins within himself, a man's worth something"
    Dramatic Lyrics: "When the fight begins within himself, a man's worth something"
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    Dramatic Lyrics: "When the fight begins within himself, a man's worth something"

    By Robert Browning

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    Robert Browning is one of the most significant Victorian Poets and, of course, English Poetry.

    Much of his reputation is based upon his mastery of the dramatic monologue although his talents encompassed verse plays and even a well-regarded essay on Shelley during a long and prolific career.

    He was born on May 7th, 1812 in Walmouth, London. Much of his education was home based and Browning was an eclectic and studious student, learning several languages and much else across a myriad of subjects, interests and passions.

    Browning's early career began promisingly. The fragment from his intended long poem Pauline brought him to the attention of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and was followed by Paracelsus, which was praised by both William Wordsworth and Charles Dickens. In 1840 the difficult Sordello, which was seen as willfully obscure, brought his career almost to a standstill.

    Despite these artistic and professional difficulties his personal life was about to become immensely fulfilling. He began a relationship with, and then married, the older and better known Elizabeth Barrett. This new foundation served to energise his writings, his life and his career.

    During their time in Italy they both wrote much of their best work. With her untimely death in 1861 he returned to London and thereafter began several further major projects.

    The collection Dramatis Personae (1864) and the book-length epic poem The Ring and the Book (1868-69) were published and well received; his reputation as a venerated English poet now assured.

    Robert Browning died in Venice on December 12th, 1889.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPortable Poetry
    Release dateJan 1, 2018
    ISBN9781787376359
    Dramatic Lyrics: "When the fight begins within himself, a man's worth something"

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      Book preview

      Dramatic Lyrics - Robert Browning

      Dramatic Lyrics by Robert Browning

      Bells and Pomegranates Number III

      Robert Browning is one of the most significant Victorian Poets and, of course, English Poetry.

      Much of his reputation is based upon his mastery of the dramatic monologue although his talents encompassed verse plays and even a well-regarded essay on Shelley during a long and prolific career.

      He was born on May 7th, 1812 in Walmouth, London.  Much of his education was home based and Browning was an eclectic and studious student, learning several languages and much else across a myriad of subjects, interests and passions.

      Browning's early career began promisingly. The fragment from his intended long poem Pauline brought him to the attention of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and was followed by Paracelsus, which was praised by both William Wordsworth and Charles Dickens. In 1840 the difficult Sordello, which was seen as willfully obscure, brought his career almost to a standstill.

      Despite these artistic and professional difficulties his personal life was about to become immensely fulfilling.  He began a relationship with, and then married, the older and better known Elizabeth Barrett. This new foundation served to energise his writings, his life and his career.

      During their time in Italy they both wrote much of their best work. With her untimely death in 1861 he returned to London and thereafter began several further major projects.

      The collection Dramatis Personae (1864) and the book-length epic poem The Ring and the Book (1868-69) were published and well received; his reputation as a venerated English poet now assured.

      Robert Browning died in Venice on December 12th, 1889.

      Index of Contents

      NOTE

      CAVALIER TUNES

      I. MARCHING ALONG

      II. GIVE A ROUSE

      III. BOOT AND SADDLE

      THE LOST LEADER

      HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX

      THROUGH THE METIDJA TO ABD-EL-KADR

      NATIONALITY IN DRINKS

      GARDEN FANCIES.

      I. THE FLOWER'S NAME

      II. SIBRANDUS SCHAFNABURGENSIS

      SOLILOQUY OF THE SPANISH CLOISTER

      THE LABORATORY

      THE CONFESSIONAL

      CRISTINA

      THE LOST MISTRESS

      EARTH'S IMMORTALITIES

      MEETING AT NIGHT

      PARTING AT MORNING

      SONG: NAY BUT YOU, WHO DO NOT LOVE HER

      A WOMAN'S LAST WORD

      EVELYN HOPE

      LOVE AMONG THE RUINS

      A LOVERS' QUARREL

      UP AT A VILLA―DOWN IN THE CITY

      A TOCCATA OF GALUPPI'S

      OLD PICTURES IN FLORENCE

      DE GUSTIBUS―

      HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD

      HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA

      SAUL

      MY STAR

      BY THE FIRESIDE

      ANY WIFE TO ANY HUSBAND

      TWO IN THE CAMPAGNA

      MISCONCEPTIONS

      A SERENADE AT THE VILLA

      ONE WAY OF LOVE

      ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE

      A PRETTY WOMAN

      RESPECTABILITY

      LOVE IN A LIFE

      LIFE IN A LOVE

      IN THREE DAYS

      IN A YEAR

      WOMEN AND ROSES

      BEFORE

      AFTER

      THE GUARDIAN-ANGEL

      MEMORABILIA

      POPULARITY

      MASTER HUGHES OF SAXE-GOTHA

      ROBERT BROWNING – A SHORT BIOGRAPHY

      ROBERT BROWNING – A CONCISE BIBLIOGRAPHY

      NOTE

      The third number of Bells and Pomegranates, published in 1842, contained a collection of short poems under the general head of Dramatic Lyrics. When Browning made his first collective edition, he redistributed all his groups of poems, retaining this title and making it cover some of the poems included in the original group, but many more first published under other headings. The arrangement here given is that adopted finally by Browning. Such Poems, he says, as the majority in this volume (Dramatic Lyrics) might also come properly enough, I suppose, under the head of Dramatic Pieces; being, though often Lyric in expression, always Dramatic in principle, and so many utterances of so many imaginary persons, not mine. Part of the Poems were inscribed to my dear friend, John Kenyon; I hope the whole may obtain the honor of an association with his memory.

      The third of the Cavalier Tunes was originally entitled My Wife Gertrude. The three songs have been set to music by Dr. Villiers Stanford.

      CAVALIER TUNES

      I. MARCHING ALONG

      Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,

      Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:

      And, pressing a troop unable to stoop

      And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop,

      Marched them along, fifty-score strong,

      Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.

      God for King Charles! Pym and such carles

      To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles!

      Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,

      Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup

      Till you're―

      CHORUS―Marching along, fifty-score strong,

      Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.

      Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell.

      Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well!

      England, good cheer! Rupert is near!

      Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here,

      CHORUS―Marching along, fifty-score strong,

      Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song?

      Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls

      To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles!

      Hold by the right, you double your might;

      So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight,

      CHORUS―March we along, fifty-score strong,

      Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!

      II. GIVE A ROUSE

      King Charles, and who 'll do him right now?

      King Charles, and who 's ripe for fight now?

      Give a rouse: here 's, in hell's despite now,

      King Charles!

      Who gave me the goods that went since?

      Who raised me the house that sank once?

      Who helped me to gold I spent since?

      Who found me in wine you drank once?

      CHORUS―King Charles, and who 'll do him right now?

      King Charles, and who 's ripe for fight now?

      Give a rouse: here' s, in hell's despite now,

      King Charles!

      To whom used my boy George quaff else,

      By the old fool's side that begot him?

      For whom did he cheer and laugh else,

      While Noll's damned troopers shot him?

      CHORUS―King Charles, and who 'll do him right now?

      King Charles, and who 's ripe for fight now?

      Give a rouse: here 's, in hell's despite now,

      King Charles!

      III. BOOT AND SADDLE

      Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

      Rescue my castle before the hot day

      Brightens to blue from its silvery gray.

      CHORUS―Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

      Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you 'd say;

      Many 's the friend there, will listen and pray

      "God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay―

      CHORUS―Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

      Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,

      Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:

      Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,

      CHORUS―Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

      Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,

      Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!

      I 've better counsellors; what counsel they?

      CHORUS―Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"

      THE LOST LEADER

      Browning was beset with questions by people asking if he referred to Wordsworth in this poem. He answered the question more than once, as an artist would: the following letter to Rev. A. B. Grosart, the editor of Wordsworth's Prose Works, sufficiently states his position.

      "19 Warwick-Crescent, W., Feb. 24, '75.

      "DEAR MR. GROSART,―I have been asked the question you now address me with, and as duly answered it, I can't remember how many times; there is no sort of objection to one more assurance or rather confession, on my part, that I did in my hasty youth presume to use the great and venerated personality of Wordsworth as a sort of painter's model; one from which this or the other particular feature may be selected and turned to account; had I intended more, above all, such a boldness as portraying the entire man, I should not have talked about 'handfuls of silver and bits of ribbon.' These never influenced the change of politics in the great poet, whose defection, nevertheless, accompanied as it was by a regular face-about of his special party, was to my juvenile apprehension, and even mature consideration, an event to deplore. But just as in the tapestry on my wall I can recognize figures which have struck out a fancy, on occasion, that though truly enough thus derived, yet would be preposterous as a copy, so, though I dare not deny the original of my little poem, I altogether refuse to have it considered as the 'very effigies' of such a moral and intellectual superiority.

      "Faithfully yours,

      ROBERT BROWNING.

      Just for a handful of silver he left us,

      Just for a riband to stick in his coat―

      Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,

      Lost all the others she lets us devote;

      They, with the gold to give,

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