ALFRED TENNYSON Here rose, an athlete, strong to break or bind And here once more like some sick man de- And trusted any cure. 155 But over these she trod; and those great bells And thro' the topmost oriels' colored flame 160 166 And all those names that in their motion were Thro' which the lights, rose, amber, emerald, Flush'd in her temples and her eyes, 170 And from her lips, as morn from Memnon, drew Rivers of melodies. No nightingale delighteth to prolong Her low preamble all alone, 9 More than my soul to hear her echo'd song 175 Singing and murmuring in her feastful mirth, Lord over Nature, Lord of the visible earth, 7 Homer. A hero in the Trojan war. 180 Francis Bacon, who was made Baron Verulam. His name was erroneously given by the Greeks to a colossal statue at Thebes, which was said to give forth a musical sound when the rays of the rising sun touched the stone. Communing with herself: "All these are mine, And let the world have peace or wars, 'Tis one to me." She-when young might divine Crown'd dying day with stars, Making sweet close of his delicious toils 185 In hollow'd moons of gems, To mimic heaven; and clapt her hands and cried, "I marvel if my still delight In this great house so royal-rich and wide "O all things fair to sate my various eyes! 190 195 Full oft the riddle of the painful earth Flash'd thro' her as she sat alone, 210 Yet not the less held she her solemn mirth, 215 And so she throve and prosper'd; so three years Lest she should fail and perish utterly, The abysmal deeps of personality, 12 220 When she would think, where'er she turn'd her sight The airy hand confusion wrought, "13 and divided quite Wrote, "Mene, mene,' The kingdom of her thought. 10 Garlands, chaplets. 12 V. Acts, xii. 21-23. 225 11 St. Matt., viii. 32. 13 Dan., v. 23-29, but read the whole chapter and note the points of resemblance between the "sinful soul" and both Nebuchadnezzar and Belshazzar. 25 And meadow, set with slender galingale;2 30 35 45 Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, V 50 Dear is the memory of our wedded lives, 75 For surely now our household hearths are cold, 86 Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time; 1 Wrapped up in herself, self-centered. 1 Tennyson says of this poem: "The whole poem represents young life, its good side, its deficiencies, and its yearnings.' He tells us further that "Locksley Hall is an imaginary place (tho' the coast is Lincolnshire), and the hero is imaginary." (Memoir, by H. Tennyson, I. 195). But the poem represents not merely young life in general, but a young man at a time when youth in EngTand was stirred by great changes, by the marvels of invention and of scientific discovery. When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see; 15 Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be. In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast; In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest; In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. 20 Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one so young, And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung. And I said, "My Cousin Amy, speak, and speak the truth to me, Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee.' On her pallid cheek and forehead came a colour and a light, 25 As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern night. And she turn'd-her bosom shaken with a sudden storm of sighs All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do me wrong;" Saying, "Dost thou love me, cousin?" weeping, "I have loved thee long." 30 Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands, Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, 35 And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the fullness of the Spring. Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships, And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the lips. |