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A Grammarians Funeral

By Robert Browning

Topics: classic

Shortly after the Revival of Learning in Europe     Let us begin and carry up this corpse,     Singing together.     Leave we the common crofts, the vulgar thorpes     Each in its tether     Sleeping safe on the bosom of the plain,     Cared-for till cock-crow:     Look out if yonder be not day again     Rimming the rock-row!     Thats the appropriate country; there, mans thought,     Rarer, intenser,     Self-gathered for an outbreak, as it ought,     Chafes in the censer.     Leave we the unlettered plain its herd and crop;     Seek we sepulture     On a tall mountain, citied to the top,     Crowded with culture!     All the peaks soar, but one the rest excels;     Clouds overcome it;     No! yonder sparkle is the citadels     Circling its summit.     Thither our path lies; wind we up the heights:     Wait ye the warning?     Our low life was the levels and the nights;     Hes for the morning.     Step to a tune, square chests, erect each head,     Ware the beholders!     This is our master, famous, calm and dead,     Borne on our shoulders.     Sleep, crop and herd! sleep, darkling thorpe and croft,     Safe from the weather!     He, whom we convoy to his grave aloft,     Singing together,     He was a man born with thy face and throat,     Lyric Apollo!     Long he lived nameless: how should spring take note     Winter would follow?     Till lo, the little touch, and youth was gone!     Cramped and diminished,     Moaned he, New measures, other feet anon!     My dance is finished?     No, thats the worlds way: (keep the mountain-side,     Make for the city!)     He knew the signal, and stepped on with pride     Over mens pity;     Left play for work, and grappled with the world     Bent on escaping:     Whats in the scroll, quoth he, thou keepest furled     Show me their shaping,     Theirs who most studied man, the bard and sage,     Give! So, he gowned him,     Straight got by heart that book to its last page:     Learned, we found him.     Yea, but we found him bald too, eyes like lead,     Accents uncertain:     Time to taste life, another would have said,     Up with the curtain!     This man said rather, Actual life comes next?     Patience a moment!     Grant I have mastered learnings crabbed text,     Still theres the comment.     Let me know all! Prate not of most or least,     Painful or easy!     Even to the crumbs Id fain eat up the feast,     Ay, nor feel queasy.     Oh, such a life as he resolved to live,     When he had learned it,     When he had gathered all books had to give!     Sooner, he spurned it.     Image the whole, then execute the parts,     Fancy the fabric     Quite, ere you build, ere steel strike fire from quartz,     Ere mortar dab brick!     (Heres the town-gate reached: theres the market-place     Gaping before us.)     Yea, this in him was the peculiar grace     (Hearten our chorus!)     That before living hed learn how to live,     No end to learning:     Earn the means first, God surely will contrive     Use for our earning.     Others mistrust and say, But time escapes:     Live now or never!     He said, Whats time? Leave Now for dogs and apes!     Man has Forever.     Back to his book then: deeper drooped his head:     Calculus racked him:     Leaden before, his eyes grew dross of lead:     Tussis attacked him.     Now, master, take a little rest! not he!     (Caution redoubled     Step two abreast, the way winds narrowly!)     Not a whit troubled,     Back to his studies, fresher than at first,     Fierce as a dragon     He (soul-hydroptic with a sacred thirst)     Sucked at the flagon.     Oh, if we draw a circle premature,     Heedless of far gain,     Greedy for quick returns of profit, sure     Bad is our bargain!     Was it not great? did not he throw on God,     (He loves the burthen),     Gods task to make the heavenly period     Perfect the earthen?     Did not he magnify the mind, show clear     Just what it all meant?     He would not discount life, as fools do here,     Paid by instalment.     He ventured neck or nothing, heavens success     Found, or earths failure:     Wilt thou trust death or not? He answered Yes:     Hence with lifes pale lure!     That low man seeks a little thing to do,     Sees it and does it:     This high man, with a great thing to pursue,     Dies ere he knows it.     That low man goes on adding one to one,     His hundreds soon hit:     This high man, aiming at a million,     Misses an unit.     That, has the world here, should he need the next,     Let the world mind him!     This, throws himself on God, and unperplexed     Seeking shall find him.     So, with the throttling hands of death at strife,     Ground he at grammar;     Still, thro the rattle, parts of speech were rife:     While he could stammer     He settled Hotis business, let it be!     Properly based Oun,     Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De,     Dead from the waist down.     Well, heres the platform, heres the proper place:     Hail to your purlieus,     All ye highfliers of the feathered race,     Swallows and curlews!     Heres the top-peak; the multitude below     Live, for they can, there:     This man decided not to Live but Know,     Bury this man there?     Here, heres his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form,     Lightnings are loosened,     Stars come and go! Let joy break with the storm,     Peace let the dew send!     Lofty designs must close in like effects:     Loftily lying,     Leave him, still loftier than the world suspects,     Living and dying.

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"Shortly after the Revival of Learning in Europe..."

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Robert Browning

About Robert Browning

Robert Browning (1812–1889) was a major English Victorian poet who perfected the dramatic monologue form. His poems—including "My Last Duchess," "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," and "Fra Lippo Lippi"—explore psychology, morality, and art through the voices of vividly drawn characters.

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