ct,--the breezy morning fresh
Above, and merry,--all his waving mesh
Laughing with lucid dew-drops rainbow-edged."

All these pages are filled with poetry; the reflective element does not
dominate severely. Bordello's youthful genius craves sympathy, and he
finds it by investing Nature with fanciful forms and attributes. He is
Apollo,--"that shall be the name." How he ransacks the world for his
youth's outfit, as he climbs the ravine in the June weather, and emerges
into the forest, which tries "old surprises on him," amid which he
lingers, deep in the stratagems of his own fancy, till

"aloft would hang
White summer-lightnings; as it sank and sprang
To measure, that whole palpitating breast
Of heaven, 't was Apollo, Nature prest
At eve to worship."

Then comes a portrait of Palma, done with Titian's brush and manner. As
we turn the leaves where favorite passages lie brilliantly athwart the
faded politics of an old story, we are tempted to try spinning its
thread again for the sake of holding up these lines, which are among the
most delicate and sumptuous that Mr. Browning ever wrote. But room is at
present dear as paper. Only turn, for instance, to pages 39-45, 72-74,
the picturesque scenes on pages 84, 85, the opening of Book IV.,
Salinguerra's portrait, like an old picture of Florence, on page 127,
and lines single and by the half-dozen everywhere.

The tragedy of "Strafford" is one of Mr. Browning's earliest
compositions. It was once placed upon the stage by Mr. Macready, but it
is no more of an acting play than all the other pieces of Mr. Browning,
and is too political to be good reading. The characters seem to be
merely reporting the condition of parties under Charles I.; this and the
struggle of the King with the Parliament are told, but are not
represented, the passions of the piece belong too exclusively to the
caucus and the council-chamber, and even the way in which the King
sacrifices Strafford does not dramatically appear. In the last act,
there is much tenderness in the contrast of Stratford's doom with the
unconsciousness of his children, and pathos in his confidence to the
last moment that the King will protect him. The dialogue is generally
too abrupt and exclamatory. Vane speaks well on page 222, and Hampden on
page 231, and there are two good scenes between Charles and Strafford,
where the King's irresolution appears against the Earl's devotedness.
The closing scene o