eal, at last. And since, through his hate, he is
frankly measuring his powers against the good at work in the world,
there cannot remain any doubt of the issue. To bring the rival forces
face to face is just what is wanted.

"I felt quite sure that God had set
Himself to Satan; who would spend
A minute's mistrust on the end?"[B]

[Footnote B:_Count Gismond_.]

It is the same respect for strenuous action and dislike of compromise,
that inspired the pathetic lines in which he condemns the Lost Leader,
who broke "From the van and the free-men, and sunk to the rear and the
slaves." For the good pursues its work without him.

"We shall march prospering,--not thro' his presence;
Songs may inspirit us,--not from his lyre;
Deeds will be done,--while he boasts his quiescence,
Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire:
_Blot out his name_, then, record one lost soul more,
One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,
One more devil's triumph and sorrow for angels,
One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!"[A]

[Footnote A: _The List Leader_.]

Everywhere Browning's ethical teaching has this characteristic feature
of vigorous decisiveness. As Dr. Westcott has said, "No room is left for
indifference or neutrality. There is no surrender to an idle optimism. A
part must be taken and maintained. The spirit in which Luther said
'_Pecca fortiter_' finds in him powerful expression." Browning is
emphatically the poet-militant, and the prophet of struggling manhood.
His words are like trumpet-calls sounded in the van of man's struggle,
wafted back by the winds, and heard through all the din of conflict by
his meaner brethren, who are obscurely fighting for the good in the
throng and crush of life. We catch the tones of this heart-strengthening
music in the earliest poems he sung: nor did his courage fail, or vigour
wane, as the shades of night gathered round him. In the latest of all
his poems, he still speaks of

"One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,
Sleep to wake."

"No, at noon-day in the bustle of man's work-time
Greet the unseen with a cheer!
Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be,
'Strive and thrive'! cry 'Speed!--fight on, fare ever
There as here.'"[A]

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