Browning's Shorter Poems — Key Ideas to Explore
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no guessing his kith and kin: And nobody could enough admire The tall man and his quaint attire. Quoth one: "It's as my great grandsire, Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, Had walked his way from his painted tombstone!"
He advanced to the council-table: 70 And, "Please your honors," said he, "I'm able, By means of a secret charm, to draw All creatures living beneath the sun, That creep or swim or fly or run, After me so as you never saw! And I chiefly use my charm On creatures that do people harm, The mole and toad and newt and viper; And people call me the Pied Piper." (And here they noticed round his neck 80 A scarf of red and yellow stripe, To match with his coat of self-same cheque: And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying, As if impatient to be playing Upon this pipe, as low it dangled Over his vesture so old-fangled.) "Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am, In Tartary I freed the Cham,° °89 Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats; 90 I eased in Asia the Nizam° °91 Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats: And as for what your brain bewilders, If I can rid your town of rats Will you give me a thousand guilders?" "One? fifty thousand!"--was the exclamation Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.
Into the street the Piper stept, Smiling first a little smile, As if he knew what magic slept 100 In his quiet pipe the while: Then, like a musical adept, To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled; And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, You heard as if an army muttered: And the muttering grew to a grumbling; And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. 110 Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives-- Followed the Piper for their lives. From street to street he piped advancing, And step for step they followed dancing, 120 Until they came to the river Weser, Wherein all plunged and perished! --Save one, who, stout as Julius Cæsar, Swam across and lived to carry (As he, the manuscript he cherished) To Rat-land home his commentary: Which was: "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, And putting apples, wondrous ripe, Into a cider press's gripe; 130 And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks: And it seemed as if a voice (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery Is breathed) called out, 'Oh, rats, rejoice! The world is grown to one vast drysaltery! So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!' 140 And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon, Already staved, like a great sun shone Glorious scarce an inch before me, Just as methought it said, 'Come, bore me!' --I found the Weser rolling o'er me."
You should have heard the Hamelin people Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. "Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles, Poke out the nests and block up the holes! Consult with carpenters and builders, 150 And leave in our town, not even a trace Of the rats!"--when suddenly, up the face Of the Piper perked in the market-place, With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!"
A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue; So did the Corporation, too. For council dinners made rare havoc With Claret,° Moselle,° Vin-de-Grave,° Hock°; °158 And half the money would replenish Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish°. °160 To pay this sum to a wandering fellow With a gypsy coat of red and yellow! "Beside," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink, "Our business was done at the river's brink; We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, And what's dead can't come to life, I think. So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink From the duty of giving you something for drink, And a matter of money to put in your poke; But as for the guilders, what we spoke 170 Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"
The Piper's face fell, and he cried, "No trifling! I can't wait! Beside, I've promised to visit by dinner-time Bagdat, and accept the prime Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, For having left, in the Caliph's° kitchen, °179 Of a nest of scorpions no survivor: 180 With him I proved no bargain-driver, With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! And folks who put me in a passion May find me pipe after another fashion."
"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I brook Being worse treated than a cook? Insulted by a lazy ribald With idle pipe and vesture piebald? You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst! Blow your pipe there till you burst!" 190
Once more he stept into the street, And to his lips again Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; And ere he blew three notes (such sweet, Soft notes as yet musician's cunning Never gave the enraptured air) There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling; Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, 200 Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering, And, like fowls in a farm-yard, when barley is scattering, Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls. With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood As if they were changed into blocks of wood. Unable to move a step, or cry 210 To the children merrily skipping by, --Could only follow with the eye That joyous crowd at the piper's back. But how the Mayor was on the rack, And the wretched Council's bosom beat, As the Piper turned from the High Street To where the Weser rolled its waters, Right in the way of their sons and daughters! However, he turned from South to West, And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 220 And after him the children pressed: Great was the joy in every breast. "He never can cross that mighty top! He's forced to let the piping drop, And we shall see our children stop." When lo, as they reached the mountain-side, A wondrous portal opened wide, As if a cavern were suddenly hollowed; And the Piper advanced, and the children followed, And when all were in, to the very last, 230 The door in the mountain-side shut fast. Did I say all? No! One was lame, And could not dance the whole of the way; And in after years, if you would blame His sadness, he was used to say,-- "It's dull in our town since my playmates left! I can't forget that I'm bereft Of all the pleasant sights they see, Which the Piper also promised me. For he led us, he said, to a joyous land. 240 Joining the town, and just at hand, Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, And flowers put forth a fairer hue, And everything was strange and new: The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, And their dogs outran our fallow deer. And honey-bees had lost their stings, And horses were born with eagles' wings; And just as I became assured, My lame foot would be speedily cured, 250 The music stopped and I stood still, And found myself outside the hill, Left alone against my will, To go now limping as before. And never hear of that country more!"
Alas, alas for Hamelin! There came into many a burgher's pate A text which says that Heaven's gate Opes to the rich at as easy a rate As the needle's eye takes a camel in! 260 The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, To offer the Piper, by word of mouth, Wherever it was men's lot to find him, Silver and gold to his heart's content, If he'd only return the way he went, And bring the children behind him. But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor, And Piper and dancers were gone forever, They made a decree that lawyers never Should think their records dated duly 270 If, after the day of the month and year, These words did not as well appear, "And so long after what happened here On the twenty-second of July, Thirteen hundred and seventy-six;" And the better in memory to fix The place of the children's last retreat, They called it the Pied Piper's Street-- Where any one playing on pipe or tabor Was sure for the future to lose his labour. 280 Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern To shock with mirth a street so solemn; But opposite the place of the cavern They wrote the story on a column, And on the great church window painted The same, to make the world acquainted How their children were stolen away. And there it stands to this very day. And I must not omit to say That in Transylvania there's a tribe 290 Of alien people who ascribe The outlandish ways and dress On which their neighbours lay such stress, To their fathers and mothers having risen Out of some subterraneous prison Into which they were trepanned Long time ago in a mighty band Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, But how or why, they don't understand.
So, Willy, let me and you be wipers 300 Of scores out with all men--especially pipers! And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice, If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise!
Sing me a hero! Quench my thirst Of soul, ye bards! Quoth Bard the first: "Sir Olaf,° the good knight, did don °3 His helm, and eke his habergeon ..." Sir Olaf and his bard----!
"That sin-scathed brow"° (quoth Bard the second), °6 "That eye wide ope as tho' Fate beckoned My hero to some steep, beneath Which precipice smiled tempting Death ..." You too without your host have reckoned! 10
"A beggar-child" (let's hear this third!) "Sat on a quay's edge: like a bird Sang to herself at careless play, And fell into the stream. 'Dismay! Help, you the standers-by!' None stirred.
"Bystanders reason, think of wives And children ere they risk their lives. Over the balustrade has bounced A mere instinctive dog, and pounced Plumb on the prize. 'How well he dives! 20
"'Up he comes with the child, see, tight In mouth, alive too, clutched from quite A depth of ten feet--twelve, I bet! Good dog! What, off again? There's yet Another child to save? All right!
"'How strange we saw no other fall! It's instinct in the animal. Good dog! But he's a long while under: If he got drowned I should not wonder-- Strong current, that against the wall! 30
"'Here he comes, holds in mouth this time --What may the thing be? Well, that's prime! Now, did you ever? Reason reigns In man alone, since all Tray's pains Have fished--the child's doll from the slime!'
"And so, amid the laughter gay, Trotted my hero off,--old Tray,-- Till somebody, prerogatived With reason, reasoned: 'Why he dived, His brain would show us, I should say. 40
"'John, go and catch--or, if needs be, Purchase that animal for me! By vivisection, at expense Of half-an-hour and eighteen pence, How brain secretes dog's soul, we'll see!'"
INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP
You know, we French stormed Ratisbon°: °1 A mile or so away On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind.
Just as perhaps he mused "My plans That soar, to earth may fall, 10 Let once my army-leader Lannes° °11 Waver at yonder wall"-- Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew Until he reached the mound,
Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect°-- °20 (So tight he kept his lips compressed. Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two.
"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon! The Marshal's in the market-place, And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans Where I, to heart's desire, 30 Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans Soared up again like fire.
The chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother-eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes. "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said: "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside, Smiling, the boy fell dead. 40
"HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX"
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 10 Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near Lokeren°, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear: °14 At Boom°, a great yellow star came out to see; °15 At Düffeld°, 'twas morning as plain as could be; °16 And from Mecheln° church-steeple we heard the half-chime, °17 So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"
At Aershot° up leaped of a sudden the sun, °19 And against him the cattle stood black every one, 20 To stare through the mist at us galloping past, And I saw my stout galloper Roland, at last, With resolute shoulders, each butting away The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; And one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. 30
By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, We'll remember at Aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; 40 Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!"
"How they'll greet us!"--and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.
Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 50 Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, Till at length, into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
And all I remember is,--friends flocking round As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. 60
On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety two, Did the English fight the French,--woe to France! And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter thro' the blue. Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,° °5 With the English fleet in view.
'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville; Close on him fled, great and small, Twenty-two good ships in all; 10 And they signalled to the place "Help the winners of a race! Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick--or, quicker still, Here's the English can and will!"
Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board; "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" laughed they: "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored, Shall the '_Formidable_' here, with her twelve and eighty guns Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, 20 And with flow at full beside? Now 'tis slackest ebb of tide. Reach the mooring? Rather say, While rock stands or water runs, Not a ship will leave the bay!"
Then was called a council straight. Brief and bitter the debate: "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound? 30 Better run the ships aground!" (Ended Damfreville his speech). Not a minute more to wait! "Let the Captains all and each Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach! France must undergo her fate.
"Give the word!" But no such word Was ever spoke or heard; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these --A Captain? A Lieutenant? A Mate--first, second, third? 40 No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete! But a simple Breton sailor pressed° by Tourville for the fleet, °43 A poor coasting-pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese.° °44
And, "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé Riel: "Are you mad, you Malouins°? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues? °46 Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell 'Twixt the offing here and Grève where the river disembogues? Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for? 50 Morn and eve, night and day, Have I piloted your bay, Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues! Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way! Only let me lead the line, Have the biggest ship to steer, Get this '_Formidable_' clear, Make the others follow mine, And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, 60 Right to Solidor past Grève, And there lay them safe and sound; And if one ship misbehave, --Keel so much as grate the ground. Why, I've nothing but my life,--here's my head!" cries Hervé Riel.
Not a minute more to wait. "Steer us in then, small and great! Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief. Captains, give the sailor place! He is Admiral, in brief. 70
Still the north-wind, by God's grace! See the noble fellow's face As the big ship, with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound, Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound! See, safe thro' shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock, Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief! The peril, see, is past, 80 All are harboured to the last, And just as Hervé Kiel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate Up the English come, too late!
Franklin T. Baker's 1917 edition of Browning's Shorter Poems frames the poet as especially suited for young readers, praising his 'freedom from sentimentality' and 'liveliness of conception and narration.' The preface explicitly addresses the challenge of Browning's difficulty, comparing it to a nut that 'protects and contains the kernel'—a metaphor that sets the tone for a collection designed to reward patience and ingenuity.
The selection spans dramatic monologues, narrative verse, and lyrics, including well-known pieces like 'My Last Duchess' and 'The Pied Piper of Hamelin.' Baker's notes focus on clarifying references and posing interpretive questions, leaving critical analysis largely to the reader. This edition reflects an educational philosophy that values active engagement over passive consumption.
The Editor's Pedagogical Frame
Baker's preface explicitly targets 'the tastes and capacities of readers of the high-school age,' claiming that 'every poem included has been found by experience to be within the grasp of boys and girls.' This practical orientation shapes the selection: poems like 'Incident of the French Camp' and 'How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix' offer straightforward narratives with clear heroic arcs, while more complex monologues such as 'Andrea del Sarto' and 'The Bishop Orders his Tomb' are included but supported by notes that gloss historical and linguistic details.
The editor's approach is notably non-critical: 'The present edition attempts but little in the way of criticism.' Instead, notes 'cover such matters as are not readily settled by an appeal to the dictionary' and 'suggest questions that are designed to help in interpretation and appreciation.' This leaves the interpretive work to the student, consistent with Baker's view that Browning's difficulties are 'not more repellent to the thoughtful reader than the nut that protects and contains the kernel.'
Contrasting Visions of Ambition and Failure
Two poems in the collection present sharply opposed models of human striving. In 'A Grammarian's Funeral,' the grammarian is celebrated for choosing knowledge over life: 'This high man, aiming at a million, / Misses an unit.' His deathbed labor over Greek particles—'He settled Hoti's business—let it be!— / Properly based Oun'—is framed as heroic, a 'sacred thirst' that scorns earthly reward. The poem's chorus insists his place is 'where meteors shoot, clouds form, / Lightnings are loosened.'
By contrast, 'Andrea del Sarto' presents a painter who has mastered technique but lacks spiritual ambition: 'I often am much wearier than you think.' Andrea bargains with his wife Lucrezia, offering to work for her friend's friend in exchange for her company. His self-awareness—'I am the faultless painter'—does not spur change. Where the grammarian 'ventured neck or nothing,' Andrea settles for 'the five pictures we require,' his art reduced to commerce. The pairing suggests Browning's interest in the moral weight of different kinds of failure.
Dramatic Monologue and the Reader's Role
Several poems in this collection exemplify Browning's signature form, the dramatic monologue, where a speaker reveals character indirectly. In 'My Last Duchess,' the Duke's casual reference to his 'last Duchess' and his 'commands' that 'all smiles stopped together' implicates the reader in deciphering his cruelty. The poem's power lies in what is left unsaid—the Duchess's fate, the envoy's reaction, the Duke's self-incrimination.
'The Laboratory' similarly draws the reader into a speaker's obsessive revenge fantasy, with vivid sensory details: 'Grind away, moisten and mash up thy paste.' The reader must navigate between the speaker's perspective and the implied moral judgment. Baker's notes, which pose questions rather than supply answers, reinforce this interpretive demand. The collection thus trains readers in the kind of active, suspicious reading that Browning's monologues require—a skill the preface implicitly champions as 'a pleasant challenge to the exercise of a little patience and ingenuity.'
Baker's edition offers a curated entry into Browning's work, shaped by a specific educational mission. Readers may find it useful to compare the editorial framing—which emphasizes optimism and vigor—with the darker ironies of poems like 'The Laboratory' or 'Andrea del Sarto.' The notes provide historical and linguistic help but leave interpretation open, making this a text that rewards rereading and discussion. For those new to Browning, the collection's variety of tone and form provides a broad sample of his range.
I finished that old Browning collection and kept thinking about the Pied Piper, how a single tune can carry people somewhere they didn’t plan to go. It reminded me of Coleridge’s quieter pull, that strange glow he leaves behind, like Poems of Coleridge — Reading Notes sitting on a shelf, waiting for a gray afternoon. The same lingering warmth stayed with me, somehow.
Mila Sanchez
1 month agoGrace Johnson
3 weeks agoCharlotte Scott
3 weeks agoLuke Mitchell
1 month agoBefore you leave, reflect on the book
Use these questions to collect your thoughts before moving on.
Madison Lewis
1 month ago