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Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

Robert Browning 1812–89

The Lost Leader


JUST for a handful of silver he left us,

Just for a ribbon to stick in his coat—

Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,

Lost all the others she lets us devote;

They, with the gold to give, dol’d him out silver,

So much was theirs who so little allow’d;

How all our copper had gone for his service!

Rags—were they purple, his heart had been proud!

We that had lov’d him so, follow’d him, honor’d him,

Liv’d in his mild and magnificent eye,

Learn’d his great language, caught his clear accents,

Made him our pattern to live and to die!

Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us,

Burns, Shelley, were with us,—they watch from their graves!

He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,

He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves!

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 crouch whom the rest bade aspire.

Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,

One task more declin’d, one more foot-path untrod,

One more devil’s-triumph and sorrow for angels,

One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!

Life’s night begins: let him never come back to us!

There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain,

Forced praise on our part—the glimmer of twilight,

Never glad confident morning again!

Best fight on well, for we taught him—strike gallantly,

Menace our heart ere we master his own;

Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us,

Pardon’d in heaven, the first by the throne!