Shakespeare!—to such name’s sounding, what succeeds Fitly as a silence? Falter forth the spell,— Act follows word, the speaker knows full well, Nor tampers with its magic more than needs. Two names there are: That which the Hebrew reads With his soul only: if from lips it fell, Echo, back thundered by earth, heaven and hell, Would own, “Thou didst create us!” Nought impedes We voice the other name, man’s most of might, Awesomely, lovingly: let awe and love Mutely await their working, leave to sight All of the issue as below—above— Shakespeare’s creation rises: one remove Though dread—this finite from that infinite. _Complete Poetic and Dramatic Works of Robert Browning._ Cambridge edition, U.S.A. 1895. Browning wrote this sonnet as a contribution to the _Shakespearean Show-Book_ issued at the “Shakespearean Show” held in the Albert Hall, London, 29-31 May 1884, in aid of the Hospital for Women in Fulham Road. The sonnet is dated 12 March 1884. WILLIAM WETMORE STORY, 1886 (_b._ 1819) “_The Mighty Makers._” Whose are those forms august that, in the press And busy blames and praises of to-day, Stand so serene above life’s fierce affray With ever youthful strength and loveliness? Those are the mighty makers, whom no stress Of time can shame, nor fashion sweep away, Whom Art begot on Nature in the play Of healthy passion, scorning base excess. Rising perchance in mists, and half obscure When up the horizon of their age they came, Brighter with years they shine in steadier light, Great constellations that will aye endure, Though myriad meteors of ephemeral fame Across them flash, to vanish into night. Such was our Chaucer in the early prime Of English verse, who held to Nature’s hand And walked serenely through its morning land, Gladsome and hale, brushing its dewy rime. And such was Shakespeare, whose strong soul could climb Steeps of sheer terror, sound the ocean grand Of passions deep, or over Fancy’s strand Trip with his fairies, keeping step and time. His too the power to laugh out full and clear, With unembittered joyance, and to move Along the silent, shadowy paths of love As tenderly as Dante, whose austere Stern spirit through the worlds below, above, Unsmiling strode, to tell their tidings here. _Poems._ 1886, vol. ii. pp. 273-4. THOMAS SPENCER BAYNES, 1886 (1823-1887)