The Poetical Works of Robert Browning

So commenced
That “Walk” amid true wonders—none to you,
But huge to us ignobly common-sensed,
Purblind, while plain could proper optics view
In that old sepulchre by lightning split,
Whereof the lid bore carven,—any dolt
Imagines why,—Jove's very thunderbolt:
You who could straight perceive, by glance at it,
This tomb must needs be Phaeton's! In a trice,
Confirming that conjecture, close on hand,
Behold, half out, half in the ploughed-up sand,
A chariot-wheel explained its bolt-device:
What other than the Chariot of the Sun
Ever let drop the like? Consult the tome—
I bid inglorious tarriers-at-home—
For greater still surprise the while that “Walk”
Went on and on, to end as it begun,
Choke-full of chances, changes, every one
No whit less wondrous. What was there to baulk

205

Us, who had eyes, from seeing? You with none
Missed not a marvel: wherefore? Let us talk.

The Art of Painting, &c., by Gerard de Lairesse. Translated by J. F. Fritsch. 1778.

University of Virginia Library

III.