File:The country of The ring and the book (1913) (14781446884).jpg

Identifier: countryofringb00trev (find matches)
Title: The country of The ring and the book
Year: 1913 (1910s)
Authors: Treves, Frederick, Sir, 1853-1923
Subjects: Browning, Robert, 1812-1889
Publisher: London : Cassell
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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Text Appearing Before Image:
teness—stoop thou down, my child,Give one good moment to the poor old PopeHeart-sick at having all his world to blame . . . EverywhereI see in the world the intellect of man,That sword, the energy his subtle spear,The knowledge which defends him like a shield—Everywhere ; but they make not up, I think,The marvel of a soul like thine, earths flowerShe holds up to the softened gaze of God! He praises her purity, her patience, the firmness ofher faith, and the nobleness with which she ever re-turned right for wrong and pardon for injury. Hethen continues: My flower,My rose, I gather for the breast of God,This I praise most in thee, where all I praise,That having been obedient to the endAccording to the light allotted, lawPrescribed thy life, still tried, still standing test—Dutiful to the foolish parents first,Submissive next to the bad husband—nay,Tolerant of those meaner miserableThat did his hests, eked out the dole of pain—Thou, patient thus, couldst rise from law to law292
Text Appearing After Image:
The Pope The old to the new, promoted at one cryO the trump of God to the new service, notTo longer bear, but henceforth fight, be foundSublime in new impatience with the foe ! . . .Oh child that didst despise thy life so muchWhen it seemed only thine to keep or lose . . .Thou at first prompting of what I call God,And fools call Nature, didst hear, comprehend,Accept the obligation laid on thee.Mother elect, to save the unborn child . . .To worthily defend that trust of trusts,Life from the Ever Living. Finally he deals with Caponsacchi, placing him next to Pompilia. And surely not so very much apartNeed I place thee, my warrior-priest . . .Irregular, noble scapegrace—son the same !Faulty—and peradventure ours the faultWho still misteach, mislead . . .Nay, Caponsacchi, much I find amiss,Blameworthy, punishable in this freakOf thine, this youth prolonged though age was ripe,This masquerade in sober day, with changeOf motley too—now hypocrites-disguise,Now fools-costume . . .I rath

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