The starved, ignoble country in _Childe Roland_, one of the finest pieces of description in Browning, wicked, waste and leprous land, makes Nature herself sick with peevish wrath.

"I cannot help my case," she cries.

"Nothing but the Judgment's fire can cure the place." On the whole, then, for these instances might be supported by many more, Nature is alive in Browning, but she is not humanised at all, nor at all at one with us.

Tennyson does not make her alive, but he does humanise her.

The other poets of the century do make her alive, but they harmonise her in one way or another with us.