ledges which led up to the peak on which he lived. His side of Parnassus
was thronged.

It was quite otherwise with his brother-poet. Only a few clear-eyed
persons cared to read _Paracelsus_, which appeared in 1835. _Strafford_,
Browning's first drama, had a little more vogue; it was acted for a
while. When _Sordello_, that strange child of genius, was born in 1840,
those who tried to read its first pages declared they were
incomprehensible. It seems that critics in those days had either less
intelligence than we have, or were more impatient and less attentive,
for not only _Sordello_ but even _In Memoriam_ was said to be
exceedingly obscure.

Then, from 1841 to 1846, Browning published at intervals a series of
varied poems and dramas, under the title of _Bells and Pomegranates_.
These, one might imagine, would have grasped the heart of any public
which had a care for poetry. Among them were such diverse poems as
_Pippa Passes_; _A Blot in the 'Scutcheon_; _Saul_; _The Pied Piper of
Hamelin_; _My Last Duchess_; _Waring_. I only mention a few (all different
in note, subject and manner from one another), in order to mark the
variety and range of imaginative power displayed in this wonderful set
of little books. The Bells of poetry's music, hung side by side with
the golden Pomegranates of thought, made the fringe of the robe of this
high priest of song. Rarely have imagination and intellect, ideal faith
and the sense which handles daily life, passion and quietude, the
impulse and self-mastery of an artist, the joy of nature and the fates
of men, grave tragedy and noble grotesque, been mingled together more
fully--bells for the pleasure and fruit for the food of man.

Yet, on the whole, they fell dead on the public. A few, however, loved