and the minstrel, watching this preparation, stood biting his lips to keep down his smile of pride. Then he began to sing. Sordello was wildly excited, for he recognised what the song was intended to represent, and could supply what the singer, hurrying too much in his enthusiasm, and not fully grasping his own tale, was omitting. Why! was not the story about Sordello himself-about what he had lived through in imagination at Goito? And how poor the passion with which this man told of the beloved one! Eglamor had scarcely 78-88. ceased, and the people's applause was only half-done, Is rendered incomparably ere Sordello had gained his side, and, in spite of angry better by twitchings from the minstrel's friend Naddo, had begun Sordello, his version of the song. Rapid and vivid and rich, his lay flew on, though it could go barely quickly enough to express the ideas that pursued one another in his brain. Naddo, who had interfered with this marvellous performer, fell back aghast, like some Egyptian who, when the bull he has tormented turns round upon him bellowing, sees a scarab beneath its tongue, and knows it is the sacred animal. But the people's feelings were of unmingled delight: they shouted, and pressed about Sordello, and he knew he had gained some prize. While this homage was sinking him into a trance of joy, a sight withheld him for a time: there, at the knees of Adelaide, sat the very maid on whom he had suddenly set eyes in the North Chamber of Goito. This, then, was Palma ! A lock of her hair touched his cheek as, bending over 88-105. him, she said a word or two, and laid on him her own Who is rewarded by scarf, warm from her neck. Then, delirious joy working Palma. in his brain again, the whole scene was hidden from his 105-122. eyes, and he was conscious of nothing until, home at He falls into Goito, he wakened up to find the place the same, but awakens to himself-crowned! Palma's scented scarf was on his neck. A gorgeous dress lay near: is it some prize? He turned inquiringly to the old attendants of the castle, who, explaining how the jongleurs had brought him back, remarked how strange it was that his lonely a trance, and fame. childhood had been spent in the acquisition of so splendid a power of song, with such promotion in it; for Eglamor was dead with spite, and he was Palma's minstrel. 57. 'the proper You.' A prince who would answer Sordello's brilliant conception of what a prince should be, but who yet, of course, would be in real life excelled by Sordello once he began to perform. 65. 'the Jongleurs.' They were in attendance on the troubadours, whose rhymes they often recited, and sometimes imitated in compositions of their own. According to one instructor, the jongleur "must play on the tambourine and the cymbals, and make the symphony resound. To throw and catch little balls, on the point of a knife; to imitate the song of birds; to play tricks, with the basket; to exhibit attacks of castles, and leaps (no doubt, of monkeys) through four hoops," &c., are necessary accomplishments. Sismondi's Literature of Europe (ch. v.-viii.), from which this extract is taken (Roscoe's trans.), gives an account of the troubadours and trouvères. 77. 'that Elys.' "Elys, then," says Browning, "is merely the ideal subject, with such a name, of Eglamor's poem, and referred to in other places as his (Sordello's) type of perfection, realised according to his faculty. (El-lys-the lily.)" (Berdoe's Browning Cyclopædia.) 89. the harassed bull.' One of the marks of the bull destined to, be the god Apis was the shape of a beetle marked upon its tongue. 115. 'A prize?' The dress of the Court-minstrel. 121. 'dead with spite.' They were quite out there (1. 242, &c.) 122-136. had done with Ll. 122-169. Sordello seeks the cause of his marvellous success in song. Hitherto Sordello had done nothing but imagine; now, What Sordello light of heart with his success, he began to think. Eglamor's lay. Surely a discovery would arise out of this song-triumph! For a week he meditated sweetly on that day's experience, from the beginning of Eglamor's song to his own Here was something strange. What had he He had taken the same subject, but had given it better expression, had filled in some essentials and trance. missed out what was without significance for the story. Doubtless he had vastly improved the tale. But had he 137-147. ever thought about the singing itself? He was full of He had taken no pleasure in the vision of Elys, and he never turned aside to see the song for whether he sang beautifully about her or not-though, its own sake. to be sure, giving expression to one part of his vision. had led him to new fancies about her, as a falling cone may draw one's eye up to the dove's nest in the treetop. hearers find in itself? Now, if his hearers had fancies, why did they applaud 147-160. the mere expression of them? Is it possible that they Did his have no fancies and find the song so very beautiful in it so lovely itself? "Well," continued Sordello, "if they, having never beheld her, love my couple of rhymes about Elys as these are loved by me, for whom they only express what I have seen and felt, and who love the praise only because I know what is praised, it is wonderful indeed! I must be a god to them! "Or what if men like Eglamor have made the praise of song fashionable and their hearers worship what they do not understand or really enjoy? "Or, again, have the hearers fancies slow and dim, which song, by expressing them, strengthens and makes clear?" 124. 'a discovery grew.' The 'indirect speech' of 'a discovery grows,' used with a future meaning. 157. 'who have run These fingers.' In the experience of keen imagination. 164. 'And worship what they know not.' Like the Samaritans, and readers of a certain poet. 161-165. Or was their applause conventional? 165-169. Or did his song make their own dim fancies clear? Ll. 169-192. Eglamor is carried to his burial. 169-183. Eglamor is In the midst of his meditations Sordello one day The dead heard a low, dreary chant and the sound of approaching footsteps in the wood beside Goito. So calm it was Goito wood, borne to 183-192. His was a timely end. that the trees were almost motionless. The noonday sun being clouded, the half-closed flowers were fluttering in the gentle breeze-" like a Roman bride," as Eglamor would have put it, "when the cold little spear is inserted in her hair." And indeed it is Eglamor whom these men precede on the way to his long home. It would be good, Naddo thought, to get him laid to rest far from Mantua, the scene of his defeat in minstrelsy; and it is Naddo that heads the jongleurs and trouvères of the procession-a scant company, to tell the truth; for Eglamor's popularity was gone, his worshippers being put to shame by his defeat, and his best friends being almost weary of him. Death, however, had softened them toward the poor singer, but even Naddo was no longer a devotee. "Let us only get through the dirge I have composed for the occasion, and make for home again," he said. 178. 'the Sabine dart.' A little spear (hasta) was inserted in the bride's hair. 'That famous rape' is the rape of the Sabine women by the early Romans, with whom wives were scant. Some historians assert that the story of the rape was invented to explain the custom referred to. 192-206. Eglamor's poetry was the fruit of toil; Sordello's, a spontaneous outburst. Ll. 192-273. Browning pauses to contrast Eglamor, whose poetry was the fruit of effort, and who, as appeared even in his defeat, loved his art for its own sake, with Sordello, and shows the manner of his death. He This Eglamor had been the opposite of Sordello. had gone through much work and long waiting to attain his poetic ideas, even as a worshipper goes through many a rite ere the veil of the shrine is drawn aside and the sanctities are revealed. His fancies had come in answer to patient thinking and practice, and he had fixed them in certain rhymes. These, as he sung them, could bring the fancies into the midst of his life; and 206-219. reverenced though, when he ceased to sing, they did not remain with him as part and parcel of his soul, he could repeat the songs when he would, and bring himself solace and rest. So much did he reverence these poetic ideas that, when his singing came to an end, and he loosed Eglamor them, as it were, from the bonds of his rhymes, he did his fancies: so with a sense of awe, such as Perseus felt when he Sordello's loosed the naked Andromeda from the rock. No rare iarly his own. genius was he, pouring himself forth at will in fire or wave or air, but rather a poor earth-spirit, who, by laboriously rearranging a few materials, reaches the full satisfaction of his aims. were famil 219-239. Then, how he loved his art! It marked him as a man apart. He valued it for its own sake; and thus, Eglamor loved his art: to though having less of this world's goods than any other Sordello song bard, he was little concerned about popular applause or in itself. was nothing popular neglect, since he had this great treasure, while other men must needs be content with hollow things like pomp and wealth and power. To be first in anything is a pride and joy. In the night, when other birds have hid themselves away, the sorriest bat has his time of supremacy; and Eglamor, as he well knew, was noblest poet in this Mantuan corner of the earthhere, amid the woods, about which, while he walked through them with Naddo, he made little poetic conceits. in order that his friend might not suppose him to be thinking of nothing but the triumph he was sure to gain at the coming performance in the city. Forgive the little weakness! No member of the guild of bards had ever made a song like his. 239-250. shown even in You know the rest of the story-how he was exalted by his triumph at the Mantuan Court of Love that That love was fair spring morning, was suddenly overthrown by his defeat, Sordello, and died of grief. Yet so great was his genuine love of poetry that envy was dead within him ere his rival had ceased to sing. Then, for the first time in his life, he joined the applauding crowd and tried to shout-not for delight, but because he was |