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From this it is clear that, to the mind of Spenser, both Ariosto and Tasso were authorities of hardly less gravity than Homer and Virgil. Raleigh, in the splendid sonnet with which he responds to this dedication, enhances the fame of Spenser by affecting to believe that the great Italian, Petrarch, will be jealous of him in the grave.
Shelley also wrote a sonnet to her in August of this same year in celebration of her birthday: Exhibit B "Ever as now with hove and Virtue's glow May thy unwithering soul not cease to burn, Still may thine heart with those pure thoughts o'erflow Which force from mine such quick and warm return." Was the girl of seventeen glad and proud and happy? We may conjecture that she was.
"This sonnet accompanied the letter: "One thought alone brings danger and delight; Bitter and sweet change places in my heart, With doubt, and then with hope, it takes its part, Till peace and rest alike are put to flight. Therefore, dear sister, if this card pursue That keen desire by which I am oppressed, To see you, 'tis because I live distressed, Unless some swift and sweet result ensue.
His muse belongs to that numerous class of females who have no objection to be dirty, while they can be tawdry. When his brilliant conceits are exhausted, he supplies their place with metaphysical quibbles, forced antitheses, bad puns, and execrable charades. In his fifth sonnet he may, I think, be said to have sounded the lowest chasm of the Bathos.
In 1834 he began a little series of contributions to the 'Monthly Repository', extending into 1835-6, and consisting of five poems. The earliest of these was a sonnet, not contained in any edition of Mr. Browning's works, and which, I believe, first reappeared in Mr.
Blank verse is such a such a thing not to be spoken of! Is there anything worse, except it be a sonnet? How many miles of it are ground out every day sometimes that kind comes to me to mock me I could have written a whole poem full of it this afternoon. If there are two lines of that sort in The Captive, I'll burn it all. An awful doubt came to me besides.
He only asks, in one sonnet, where can a balm be found for the heart fretted and torn with eternal cares; when we have thought and striven for some great and good purpose, when all our striving has ended in disaster? His plan, he concludes, is to go out in the quiet night-time and look at the stars.
I have found it so perfect that I am certain it must have cost you a great deal of time." "Time?" exclaimed the cardinal; "Oh! you do not know the marchioness." "Monsignor," I replied, "nothing can be done well without time, and that is why I have not dared to chew to your eminence an answer to the sonnet which I have written in half an hour."
"Do you think Rossetti so wise a preceptor?" "It isn't often that he preaches. When he does, as in that sonnet well, the inspiration may be a little heavy, but he does have something to say." "Then it's the more evident that you marked it for some special reason." "What supernatural insight," she mocked. "Can you read your name between the lines?" "What is it that you want me to do?"
Gilbert," he went on, "do not laugh at me when I tell you that I have evolved a whole kitchen philosophy of my own. I find the kitchen the shrine of our civilization, the focus of all that is comely in life. The ruddy shine of the stove is as beautiful as any sunset. A well-polished jug or spoon is as fair, as complete and beautiful, as any sonnet.
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