eas'
of Plato, seeds of creation lying burningly on the Divine Hand--it is
toward these that he struggles. Not with the combination of humanity in
action, but with the primal elements of humanity he has to do; and he
digs where he stands,--preferring to seek them in his own soul as the
nearest reflex of that absolute Mind, according to the intuitions of
which he desires to perceive and speak.'

The objective poet is therefore a fashioner, the subjective is best
described as a seer. The distinction repeats itself in the interest with
which we study their respective lives. We are glad of the biography of
the objective poet because it reveals to us the power by which he works;
we desire still more that of the subjective poet, because it presents us
with another aspect of the work itself. The poetry of such a one is an
effluence much more than a production; it is

'the very radiance and aroma of his personality, projected from it but
not separated. Therefore, in our approach to the poetry, we necessarily
approach the personality of the poet; in apprehending it we apprehend
him, and certainly we cannot love it without loving him.'

The reason of Mr. Browning's prolonged and instinctive reverence
for Shelley is thus set forth in the opening pages of the Essay: he
recognized in his writings the quality of a 'subjective' poet; hence, as
he understands the word, the evidence of a divinely inspired man.

Mr. Browning goes on to say that we need the recorded life in order
quite to determine to which class of inspiration a given work belongs;
and though he regards the work of Shelley as carrying its warrant within
itself, his position leaves ample room for a withdrawal of faith, a
reversal of judgment, if the ascertained facts of the poet's life should
at any future time bear decided witness against him. He is also careful
to avoid drawing too hard and fast a line between the two opposite kinds
of poet. He admits that a pure instance of either is seldom to be found;
he sees no reason why

'these two modes of poetic faculty may not issue hereafter from the same
poet in successive perfect works. . . . A mere running-in of the one
faculty upon the other' being, meanwhile, 'the ordinary circumstance.'

I venture, however, to think, that in his various and necessary
concessions, he lets slip the main point; and for the simple reason that
it is untenable. The terms 'subjective' and 'objective' denote a real
and very important diffe