 | The Poetical Works of Robert Browning |  |
278
XII.
But, do you see, my friend, that thusYou leave Saint Paul for Æschylus?
—Who made his Titan's arch-device
The giving men blind hopes to spice
The meal of life with, else devoured
In bitter haste, while lo, death loured
Before them at the platter's edge!
If faith should be, as I allege,
Quite other than a condiment
To heighten flavours with, or meant
(Like that brave curry of his Grace)
To take at need the victuals' place?
If, having dined, you would digest
Besides, and turning to your rest
Should find instead . . .
| The Poetical Works of Robert Browning | |