But it was one of those accidents which, suddenly befalling a creative mind, organise its loose and scattered material with a magical potency unattainable by prolonged cogitation.

The story of Pompilia took shape in the gloom and glare of a stormy Italian night of June 1860, as he watched from the balcony of Casa Guidi.

The patient elaboration of after-years wrought into consummate expressiveness the _donnee_ of that hour.

But the conditions under which the elaboration was carried out were pathetically unlike those of the primal vision.

Before the end of June in the following year Mrs Browning died, and Browning presently left Florence for ever.