Browning himself. He takes for his text a line from Mrs.
Browning:[67]

"The poets pour us wine,"

and denounces those consumers of the wine of poetry, who expect it to
combine strength and sweetness in an impossible degree. Body and
bouquet, he affirms, may be found on the label of a bottle, but not in
the vat from which the bottle was filled. "Mighty" and "mellow" may be
born at once; but the one is for now, the other only for after-time. The
earth, he declares, is his vineyard; his grape, the loves, the hates,
and the thoughts of man; his wine, what these have made it. Bouquet may,
he admits, be artificially given. Flowers grow everywhere which will
supplement the flavour of the grape; and his life holds flowers of
memory, which blossom with every spring. But he denies that his brew
would be the more popular if he stripped his meadow to make it so. How
much do his public drink of that which they profess to approve? They
declare Shakespeare and Milton fit beverage for man and boy. "Look into
their cellars, and see how many barrels are unbroached of the one brand,
what drippings content them of the other. He will be true to his task,
and to Him who set it."

"Wine, pulse in might from me!
It may never emerge in must from vat,
Never fill cask nor furnish can,
Never end sweet, which strong began--
God's gift to gladden the heart of man;
But spirit's at proof, I promise that!
No sparing of juice spoils what should be
Fit brewage--mine for me."
(vol. xiv. p. 148)

At the 18th stanza the figure is changed, and Mr. Browning speaks of his
work (by implication) as a stretch of country which is moor above and
mine below; and in which men will find--what they dig for.

"HOUSE" is written in much the same spirit as "At the Mermaid." It
reminds us that the whole front of a dwelling must come down before the
life within it can be gauged by the vulgar eye; however we may fancy
that this or that poetic utterance has unlocked the door--that it opens
to a "sonnet-key."[68]

"SHOP" is a criticism on those writers, poets or otherwise, who are so
disproportionately absorbed by the material cares of existence as to
place the good of literature in its money-making power; and depicts such
in the character of the shopman who makes the shop his home, instead of
leaving it for some mansion or villa as soon as business h