Mostchildrenlovejinglingrhymes，andoneneednotbeaborngeniustoimprovisearhymingcoupletonanoccasion。
　　Itisquitecertainthatinnothingintheseearlypoemicules，insuchatleastashavebeenpreservedwithoutthepoet’sknowledgeandagainsthiswill，isthereanythingofgenuinepromise。
　　Hundredsofyoungstershavewrittenasgood，orbetter，OdestotheMoon，StanzasonaFavouriteCanary，LinesonaButterfly。
　　Whatismuchmoretothepointis，thatattheageofeighthewasablenotonlytoread，buttotakedelightinPope’stranslationofHomer。
　　Heusedtogoaboutdeclaimingcertaincoupletswithanairofintenseearnestnesshighlydivertingtothosewhooverheardhim。
　　AboutthistimealsohebegantotranslatethesimplerodesofHorace。
　　Oneoftheseviii。Bk。II。longafterwardssuggestedtohimthethemeofhis“InstansTyrannus“。Ithasbeenputonrecordthathissisterremembershim，asaverylittleboy，walkingroundandroundthedining-roomtable，andspanningoutthescansionofhisverseswithhishandonthesmoothmahogany。Hewasscarcemorethanachildwhen，oneGuyFawkes’day，heheardawomansinginganunfamiliarsong，whoseburdenwas，“FollowingtheQueenoftheGipsies，O!“Thisrefrainhauntedhimoftenintheafteryears。Thatbeautifulfantasticromance，“TheFlightoftheDuchess“，wasbornoutofaninsistentmemoryofthiswoman’ssnatchofsong，heardinchildhood。Hewastenwhen，afterseveral`passionsmalheureuses’，thisprecociousLotharioplungedintoaloveaffairwhoseintensitywasonlyequalledbyitshopelessness。
　　Atrifleoffifteenyears’seniorityandahusbandcomplicatedmatters，butitwasnottillaftertherecklessexpenditureofaHoratianodeuponanunclassicalmistressthathegaveuphope。TheoutcomeofthiswaswhattheelderBrowningregardedasastartlingeffusionofmuchByronicverse。
　　TheyoungRobertyearnedforwastesofoceanandillimitablesands，fordarkeyesandburningcaresses，fordespairthatnothingcouldquenchbutthesilentgrave，and，inparticular，forhollowmockinglaughter。
　　Hisfatherlookedaboutforasuitableschool，anddecidedtoentrusttheboy’sfurthereducationtoMr。Ready，ofPeckham。
　　Hereheremainedtillhewasfourteen。Butalreadyheknewthedominionofdreams。Hischiefenjoyment，onholidayafternoons，wastogainanunfrequentedspot，wherethreehugeelmsre-echoedthetonesofincoherenthumanmusicbornethitherwardbythewestwindsacrossthewastesofLondon。Herehelovedtolieanddream。
　　Alas，thoseelms，thathighremotecoign，havelongsincepassedtothe“hiddenway“whitherthesnowsofyesteryearhavevanished。
　　HewouldlieforhourslookingupondistantLondon
　　agoldencityofthewestliterallyenough，oftentimes，whenthesunlightcamestreaminginlongshaftsfrombehindthetowersofWestminsterandflasheduponthegoldcrossofSt。Paul’s。
　　Thecomingandgoingofthecloud-shadows，thesweepingofsuddenrains，thedullsilvernlightemanatingfromthehazeofmistshroudingthevastcity，withtheaddedtransitorygleamoftroubledwaters，thedriftingoffogs，atthatdistanceseeminglikegiganticveilsconstantlybeingmovedforwardandthenslowlywithdrawn，asthoughsomesinistercreatureoftheatmospherewerecastinganetamongallthedrossanddebrisofhumanlifeforfantasticsustenanceofitsownallthisendless，ever-changing，alwaysnovelphantasmagoriahadforhimanextraordinaryfascination。Oneofthememorablenightsofhisboyhoodwasanevewhenhefoundhisway，notwithoutperturbationofspiritbecauseoftheunfamiliarsolitarydark，tohislovedelms。
　　There，forthefirsttime，hebeheldLondonbynight。
　　Itseemedtohimthenmorewonderfulandappallingthanallthehostofstars。
　　Therewassomethingominousinthatheavypulsatingbreath：
　　visible，inawaningandwaxingofthetremulous，ruddyglowabovetheblackenmassedleaguesofmasonry；audible，inthelowinarticulatemoaningborneeastwardacrossthecrestsofNorwood。
　　Itwasthenandtherethatthetragicsignificanceoflifefirstdimlyawedandappealedtohisquestioningspirit：
　　thattherhythmofhumanityfirsttoucheddeeplyinhimacorrespondingchord。
　　Chapter2。
　　Itwascertainlyaboutthistime，asheadmittedonceinoneofhisrarereminiscentmoods，thatBrowningfelttheartisticimpulsestirringwithinhim，liketherisingofthesapinatree。
　　Herememberedhismother’smusic，andhopedtobeamusician：herecollectedhisfather’sdrawings，andcertainseductivelandscapesandseascapesbypainterswhomhehadheardcalled“theNorwichmen“，andhewishedtobeanartist：thenreminiscencesoftheHomericlinesheloved，ofhauntingverse-melodies，movedhimmostofall。
　　“Ishallnever，intheyearsremaining，Paintyoupictures，no，norcarveyoustatues，Makeyoumusicthatshouldall-expressme：……versealone，onelifeallowsme。“
　　HenowgavewaytothecompulsiveByronicvogue，withanoccasionalrelapsetothepolishedartificialismofhisfather’sidolamongBritishpoets。
　　Therewereseveralballadswrittenatthistime：ifIrememberaright，thepoetspecifiedthe“DeathofHarold“asthethemeofone。Longafterwardshereadtheseboyishforerunnersof“Overtheseaourgalleyswent“，and“HowtheyBroughttheGoodNewsfromGhenttoAix“，andwasamusedbytheirderivativeifdelicatemelodies。
　　Mrs。Browningwasveryproudoftheseearlybloomsofsong，andwhenhertwelve-year-oldson，tiredofvaineffortstoseduceapublisherfromthewarywaysofbusiness，surrenderedindisgusthisneatlycopiedoutandcarefullystitchedMSS。，shelostnoopportunitywhenMr。Browningwasabsent
　　toexpatiateupontheirmerits。AmongthepeopletowhomsheshowedthemwasaMissFlower。Thisladytookthemhome，perusedthem，discerneddormantgeniuslurkingbehindtheboyishhandwriting，readthemtohersisterafterwardstobecomeknownasSarahFlowerAdams，copiedthemoutbeforereturningthem，andpersuadedthecelebratedRev。
　　WilliamJohnsonFoxtoreadthetranscripts。Mr。FoxagreedwithMissFlowerastothepromise，butnotaltogetherastotheactualaccomplishment，noratallastotheadvisabilityofpublication。Theoriginalsaresupposedtohavebeendestroyedbythepoetduringtheeventfulperiodwhen，owingtoafortunategift，poetrybecameanewthingforhim：fromadream，vague，ifseductive，assummer-lightning，transformedtoadominatingreality。
　　Passingabookstalloneday，hesaw，inaboxofsecond-handvolumes，alittlebookadvertisedas“Mr。Shelley’sAtheisticalPoem：veryscarce。“
　　HehadneverheardofShelley，nordidhelearnforalongtimethatthe“DaemonoftheWorld“，andthemiscellaneouspoemsappendedthereto，constitutedaliterarypiracy。Badlyprinted，shamefullymutilated，thesediscardedblossomstouchedhimtoanewemotion。Popebecamefurtherremovedthanever：Byron，even，losthismagneticsupremacy。
　　Fromvagueremarksinreplytohisinquiries，andfromoneortwocasualallusions，helearnedthattherereallywasapoetcalledShelley；
　　thathehadwrittenseveralvolumes；thathewasdead。
　　Strangeasitmayseem，Browningdeclaredoncethatthenewsofthisunknownsinger’sdeathaffectedhimmorepoignantlythandid，ayearorlessearlier，thetidingsofByron’sheroicendatMissolonghi。
　　HebeggedhismothertoprocurehimShelley’sworks，arequestnoteasilycompliedwith，fortheexcellentreasonthatnotoneofthelocalbooksellershadevenheardofthepoet’sname。
　　Ultimately，however，Mrs。BrowninglearnedthatwhatshesoughtwasprocurableattheOlliers’inVereStreet，London。
　　Shewasverypleasedwiththeresultofhervisit。Thebooks，itistrue，seemedunattractive：buttheywouldpleaseRobert，nodoubt。
　　Ifthatpackethadbeenlostweshouldnothavehad“Pauline“：wemighthavehadadifferentBrowning。ItcontainedmostofShelley’swritings，allintheirfirstedition，withtheexceptionof“TheCenci“：
　　inaddition，therewerethreevolumesbyanevenlessknownpoet，JohnKeats，whichkindlyMrs。BrowninghadbeenpersuadedtoincludeinherpurchaseonMr。Ollier’sassurancethattheywerethepoetickindredofShelley’swritings，andthatMr。Keatswasthesubjectoftheelegiacpoeminthepurplepapercover，withtheforeign-lookingtypeandtheimprint“Pisa“atthefootofthetitle-page，entitled“Adonais“。
　　Whataneveningfortheyoungpoetthatmusthavebeen。HetoldafrienditwasaMaynight，andthatinalaburnum，“heavywithitsweightofgold，“
　　andinagreatcopper-beechattheendofaneighbour’sgarden，twonightingalesstroveoneagainsttheother。ForamomentitisapleasantfancytoimaginethattherethesoulsofKeatsandShelleyutteredtheirenfranchisedmusic，notinrivalrybutinwelcome。
　　Wecanrealise，perhaps，somethingofthestartleddelight，ofthesuddenelectrictremors，oftheyoungpoetwhen，witheagereyes，heturnedoverthepagesof“Epipsychidion“or“PrometheusUnbound“，“Alastor“or“Endymion“，ortheOdestoaNightingale，onMelancholy，onaGrecianUrn。
　　MorethanonceBrowningalludedtothisexperienceashisfirstpervasivejoy，hisfirstfreehappinessinoutlook。Ofteninafterlifehewasfain，likehis“wisethrush“，to“recapturethatfirstfinecarefreerapture。“
　　Itwasaneventfuleve。
　　“Andsuddenly，withoutheart-wreck，IawokeAsfromadream。“
　　Thenceforthhispoeticdevelopmentwasrapid，andcontinuous。
　　Shelleyenthralledhimmost。Thefireandspiritofthegreatpoet’sverse，wildandstrangeoften，buteverwithanexquisitenessofmusicwhichseemedtohisadmirer，thenandlater，supreme，thrilledhimtoaverypassionofdelight。Somethingofthemorerichlycoloured，themorehumanrhythmofKeatsaffectedhimalso。Indeed，alinefromtheOdetoaNightingale，incommonwithoneoftheloveliestpassagesin“Epipsychidion“，hauntedhimaboveallothers：