The
unlikely love-affair, and marriage, of Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning is
one of the great love stories of the Victorian age. After her return from
Torquay, Elizabeth was largely confined to the house, writing her poetry and
letters. She published in journals and, in 1844, a two-volume collection
of her poetry was published on both sides of the Atlantic, heralding her as one
of the foremost poets of her day. The two volumes reached the house of
Robert Browning, himself a published poet, but struggling to establish himself.
The two began to write to each other, a correspondence, and courtship,
which lasted for two years before they eloped in 1846 to escape the disapproval
of Elizabeth's father. They moved to Italy, where they stayed until Elizabeth's
death in 1861.
"Sonnets from
the Portuguese" were written during the period of Robert's courtship
and are love poems written about her experience of falling and being in love
and often addressed to Robert himself – as in the “Dear” of this sonnet.
This is another
Petrarchan sonnet. The volta again appears half-way through the
8th line, with a switch from the comparison of the world’s ills to a
pen-knife, rendered harmless by being closed and held in the hand of love, to a
comparison of love to lilies that grow by God’s grace.
Let the world’s
sharpness, like a clasping knife,
Shut in upon itself and do no harm
In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,
Shut in upon itself and do no harm
In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,
And let us hear
no sound of human strife
After the click of the shutting.
After the click of the shutting.
The central image is a comparison between the unpleasantness
(“sharpness”) of the world and a
knife, specifically a knife that has a folding blade, like a pen-knife. She imagines the knife shutting, rendering it
harmless, and being held in her hand – a hand that is itself a metaphor for
Love. Once held shut in her hand, the knife
can do no harm – the world with its ills cannot intrude upon the world of the
Lovers. The use of the onomatopoeic “click” taken together with the caesura on “shutting” echoes the action of the clasp knife folding in.
Life
to life –
I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,
And feel as safe as guarded by a charm
Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife
Are weak to injure.
I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,
And feel as safe as guarded by a charm
Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife
Are weak to injure.
The idea of the world being injurious is
continued. However, supported by her
lover, the poet feels safe, as if protected by magic against any harm that the
world can do – however numerous the assailants might be; “worldlings” are people living in the world who, by inference,
intend harm towards the lovers.
Very whitely still
The lilies of our lives may reassure
Their blossoms from their roots, accessible
Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer,
Growing straight, out of man’s reach, on the hill.
God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
The lilies of our lives may reassure
Their blossoms from their roots, accessible
Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer,
Growing straight, out of man’s reach, on the hill.
God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
The sestet switches to a second image, this
time of their Love. It is likened to
white lilies, symbols of purity, which draw nourishment “from their roots”. These roots
are watered from the heavens (by God). They
grow straight and tall on the hillside out of the reach of man. Note the use of commas to separate the three stages of the image as it progresses upward to the "hill", which slows the line, as if reflecting an arduous climb, removing them from the mundane world below until they reach the summit. This idea of God's grace is summarised in the final line – God gave
them their love and only he can take it away.
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