Correspondence

265.  EBB to Mary Moulton-Barrett

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 2, 59–61.

[Hope End]

The first of May. 1827. [1]

 

Earth winks at Heaven, & Heaven at Earth,

In signal for Creation’s mirth!

And down the vales, & up the hills,

There come the voice of birds, & rills,—

Of zephyrs, thro’ the bushes sent,

Blowing a sweet wind instrument–

Of yellow bees that singing pass—

Of field-mice rustling under grass—!

As all things did their joy confess

To be too great for silentness;

And all did con their summer part,

Which nearly they had learnt by heart.

 

Among such sounds, at such a season,

Up bustles Rhyme, to look for Reason!

And having searched each solemn place,

Most like to harbour a grave face—

St Stephens’ Chapel—several styes—

Three tubs—two universities—

Rhyme found her,—to our special ruth,—

At the bottom of a well .. with Truth!–

 

Rhyme, overjoyed as you may think,

Tripped gaily onwards to the brink,

Then (o’er the brink, her body slanted)

Cried—“Reason! if you please, you’re wanted!”

“What: Ho!” said Reason, roused within—

I wanted!! Hath the mighty flow

Of Time’s impetuous Nile, out-brought

A new fertility to thought?

Are Folly’s feet forbade to range?

Is there, on Earth, the sign of change?

That I should be esteemed in season—

That mortal men should come to Reason?”

 

“Why, No!” said Rhyme, & gave a wink, so,—

“I can’t say, Reason, that I think so!

That Nile of yours may still, I doubt,

Waft Folly’s light canoes about;

And men, except a very few,

Esteem your name much more than you;

And think, if what they think they’d tell,

’Tis only in your well, you’re well!

The fact is,—let me make you smile;

I want you for a little while.

You don’t forget my face, I hope?

In the good days of Mr Pope,

And often since, & oft before,

Have you & I talked matters o’er!

Oft have I made your sense go down

Among the Sages of the Town;

And smuggled you,—my kindness shewing,—

Into the trimmest verses going;

And all without the Poet’s knowing!!

Therefore, my friend, to save my lack,

Take bedrid Truth upon your back—

Wait not—but join me on the road!—

I want you for a birthday ode!”

 

Poor Reason, who had cocked her ear

At the first call she chanced to hear,—

And hoped she was to change her station

To form the new administration,

Grew very vexed she had been lending

So much of hope to such an ending!

 

“Avaunt Profane! I save your lack—!

I [2] lift my hand to pour out sack!

I walk, with such as thou, the road!

I [2] wanted for a birthday ode!——

It would indeed be strange, I wis;

And if I stoop to deed like this,

Then may I haunt all meanest places—

And be familiar to all faces!

Then may I play, with boys, at ball!

At skulls, with Spurzheim & his Gall! [3]

At Patience, with the Dowagers!!

And the next time, hexameters

Are writ in English, tho’ you stare,

May Southey’s Readers find me there!

Quoth Rhyme, “You’re fierce! but when you know

Her name, for whom I want you so,—

I think you freely may confess

That so much love, & gentleness,

And so much care, for such a time,

Should bring a Reason for a Rhyme.”

 

Rhyme told that name, I need not tell—

And Reason heard it clear & well—

And Truth said something in the well,

Whereat old Reason bundled out,

And hastened freely on her route,—

Tho’ still declaring, from her heart,

That she & Rhyme should go apart!

 

Rhyme stood aghast—at distance hurled!

The best match-maker in the world,

However, soon grew less forlorn,

Following to tell what you have heard,—

She had, as usual, the last word,

And vowed, to spite her Rival’s scorn,

That, next spring, Paternoster Row

A dozen different works should shew;

Each dealing strikingly, & large, in

Italics, ineundos [sic], margin,

With hot-pressed paper, finest print—

And not a word of Reason in’t!!

_________

Here Reason putting in her claim, desires to tell you, without Rhyme that I am

Your affectionate & grateful

Ba.

Publication: Marks, p. 364 (in part).

Manuscript: Wellesley College.

1. Her 46th birthday.

2. Underscored twice.

3. Johann Christoph Spurzheim (1776–1832) was the pupil and associate of Franz Joseph Gall (1758–1828), physiologist and founder of the “science” of phrenology.

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