beautiful dreams, and translated the _Symposium_ so that his wife
might share something of his delight in Plato. Here, ten years later, Heine
sneered, and laughed and wept, and sneered again--drank tea with "la
belle Irlandaise," flirted with Francesca "la ballerina," and wrote
alternately with a feathered quill from the breast of a nightingale and
with a lancet steeped in aquafortis: and here, a quarter of a century
afterward, Robert and Elizabeth Browning also laughed and wept and
"joyed i' the sun," dreamed many dreams, and touched chords of beauty
whose vibration has become incorporated with the larger rhythm of all
that is high and enduring in our literature.

On returning to Florence (Browning with the MS. of the greater part of
his splendid fragmentary tragedy, "In a Balcony," composed mainly while
walking alone through the forest glades), Mrs. Browning found that the
chill breath of the _tramontana_ was affecting her lungs, so a move
was made to Rome, for the passing of the winter (1853-4). In the spring
their little boy, their beloved "Pen,"[22] became ill with malaria. This
delayed their return to Florence till well on in the summer. During this
stay in Rome Mrs. Browning rapidly proceeded with "Aurora Leigh," and
Browning wrote several of his "Men and Women," including the exquisite
'Love among the Ruins,' with its novel metrical music; 'Fra Lippo
Lippi,' where the painter, already immortalised by Landor, has his third
warrant of perpetuity; the 'Epistle of Karshish' (in part);
'Memorabilia' (composed on the Campagna); 'Saul,' a portion of which had
been written and published ten years previously, that noble and lofty
utterance, with its trumpet-like note of the regnant spirit; the
concluding part of "In a Balcony;" and 'Holy Cross Day'--besides,
probably, one or two others. In the late spring (April 27th) also, he
wrote the short dactylic lyric, 'Ben Karshook's Wisdom.' This little
poem was given to a friend for appearance in one of the then popular
_Keepsakes_--literally given, for Browning never contributed to
magazines. The very few exceptions to this rule were the result of a
kindliness stronger than scruple: as when (1844), at request of Lord
Houghton (then Mr. Monckton Milnes), he sent 'Tokay,' the 'Flower's
Name,' and 'Sibrandus Schafnaburgensis,' to "help in making up some
magazine numbers for poor Hood, then at the point of death from
hemorrhage of the lungs, occasioned by the enlargement of the hea