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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14952-8.txt b/14952-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f1f1e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/14952-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6085 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Selections from Wordsworth and Tennyson, by +William Wordsworth and Alfred Lord Tennyson, et al, Edited by Pelham Edgar + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Selections from Wordsworth and Tennyson + +Author: William Wordsworth and Alfred Lord Tennyson + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [eBook #14952] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH AND +TENNYSON*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH AND TENNYSON + +Edited, with Introduction and Notes + +by + +PELHAM EDGAR, Ph.D. + +Professor of English, Victoria Coll., Univ. of Toronto + +Toronto +The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited + +1917 + + + + + + + +PREFACE + +The poems contained in this volume are those required for Junior +Matriculation, Ontario 1918. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +Wordsworth + + Michael + To the Daisy + To the Cuckoo + Nutting + Influence of Natural Objects + To the Rev. Dr. Wordsworth + Elegiac Stanzas + "It is Not to be Thought of" + Written in London, September, 1802 + London, 1802 + "Dark and More Dark the Shades of Evening Fell" + "Surprised by Joy--Impatient as the Wind" + "Hail, Twilight, Sovereign of One Peaceful Hour" + "I Thought of Thee, My Partner and My Guide" + "Such Age, How Beautiful!" + + + +Tennyson + + Oenone + The Epic + Morte d'Arthur + The Brook + In Memoriam + + + +Wordsworth + + Biographical Sketch + Chronological Table + Appreciations + References on Life and Works + Notes + + + +Tennyson + + Biographical Sketch + Chronological Table + Appreciations + References on Life and Works + Notes + + + + + WORDSWORTH + + + MICHAEL + + A PASTORAL POEM + + If from the public way you turn your steps + Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll, + You will suppose that with an upright path + Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent + The pastoral mountains front you, face to face. + But, courage! for around that boisterous brook + The mountains have all opened out themselves, + And made a hidden valley of their own. + No habitation can be seen; but they + Who journey thither find themselves alone 10 + With a few sheep, with rocks and stones, and kites + That overhead are sailing in the sky. + It is in truth an utter solitude; + Nor should I have made mention of this Dell + But for one object which you might pass by, 15 + Might see and notice not. Beside the brook + Appears a straggling heap of unhewn stones, + And to that simple object appertains + A story,--unenriched with strange events, + Yet not unfit, I deem, for the fireside, 20 + Or for the summer shade. It was the first + Of those domestic tales that spake to me + Of Shepherds, dwellers in the valleys, men + Whom I already loved:--not verily + For their own sakes, but for the fields and hills 25 + Where was their occupation and abode. + And hence this Tale, while I was yet a Boy + Careless of books, yet having felt the power + Of Nature, by the gentle agency + Of natural objects, led me on to feel 30 + For passions that were not my own, and think + (At random and imperfectly indeed) + On man, the heart of man, and human life. + Therefore, although it be a history + Homely and rude, I will relate the same 35 + For the delight of a few natural hearts; + And, with yet fonder feeling, for the sake + Of youthful Poets, who among these hills + Will be my second self when I am gone. + + Upon the forest-side in Grasmere Vale 40 + There dwelt a Shepherd, Michael was his name; + An old man, stout of heart, and strong of limb. + His bodily frame had been from youth to age + Of an unusual strength: his mind was keen, + Intense, and frugal, apt for all affairs, 45 + And in his shepherd's calling he was prompt + And watchful more than ordinary men. + Hence had he learned the meaning of all winds, + Of blasts of every tone; and oftentimes, + When others heeded not, he heard the South 50 + Make subterraneous music, like the noise + Of bagpipers on distant Highland hills. + The Shepherd, at such warning, of his flock + Bethought him, and he to himself would say, + "The winds are now devising work for me!" 55 + And, truly, at all times, the storm, that drives + The traveller to a shelter, summoned him + Up to the mountains: he had been alone + Amid the heart of many thousand mists, + That came to him, and left him, on the heights. 60 + So lived he till his eightieth year was past. + And grossly that man errs, who should suppose + That the green valleys, and the streams and rocks, + Were things indifferent to the Shepherd's thoughts. + Fields, where with cheerful spirits he had breathed 65 + The common air; hills, which with vigorous step + He had so often climbed; which had impressed + So many incidents upon his mind + Of hardship, skill or courage, joy or fear; + Which, like a book, preserved the memory 70 + Of the dumb animals whom he had saved, + Had fed or sheltered, linking to such acts + The certainty of honorable gain; + Those fields, those hills--what could they less?--had laid + Strong hold on his affections, were to him 75 + A pleasurable feeling of blind love, + The pleasure which there is in life itself. + + His days had not been passed in singleness. + His Helpmate was a comely matron, old-- + Though younger than himself full twenty years. 80 + She was a woman of a stirring life, + Whose heart was in her house: two wheels she had + Of antique form; this large, for spinning wool; + That small, for flax; and if one wheel had rest, + It was because the other was at work. 85 + The Pair had but one inmate in their house, + An only Child, who had been born to them + When Michael, telling o'er his years, began + To deem that he was old,--in shepherd's phrase, + With one foot in the grave. This only Son, 90 + With two brave sheep-dogs tried in many a storm, + The one of an inestimable worth, + Made all their household. I may truly say + That they were as a proverb in the vale + For endless industry. When day was gone, 95 + And from their occupations out of doors + The Son and Father were come home, even then + Their labor did not cease; unless when all + Turned to the cleanly supper board, and there, + Each with a mess of pottage and skimmed milk, 100 + Sat round the basket piled with oaten cakes, + And their plain home-made cheese. Yet when the meal + Was ended, Luke (for so the Son was named) + And his old Father both betook themselves + To such convenient work as might employ 105 + Their hands by the fireside; perhaps to card + Wool for the Housewife's spindle, or repair + Some injury done to sickle, flail, or scythe, + Or other implement of house or field. + + Down from the ceiling, by the chimney's edge, 110 + That in our ancient uncouth country style + With huge and black projection overbrowed + Large space beneath, as duly as the light + Of day grew dim the Housewife hung a lamp; + An agèd utensil, which had performed 115 + Service beyond all others of its kind. + Early at evening did it burn,--and late, + Surviving comrade of uncounted hours, + Which, going by from year to year, had found, + And left the couple neither gay perhaps 120 + Nor cheerful, yet with objects and with hopes, + Living a life of eager industry. + And now, when Luke had reached his eighteenth year, + There by the light of this old lamp they sate, + Father and Son, while far into the night 125 + The Housewife plied her own peculiar work, + Making the cottage through the silent hours + Murmur as with the sound of summer flies. + This light was famous in its neighborhood, + And was a public symbol of the life 130 + That thrifty Pair had lived. For, as it chanced; + Their cottage on a plot of rising ground + Stood single, with large prospect, north and south, + High into Easedale, up to Dunmail-Raise, + And westward to the village near the lake; 135 + And from this constant light, so regular, + And so far seen, the House itself, by all + Who dwelt within the limits of the vale, + Both old and young, was named the EVENING STAR. + + Thus living on through such a length of years, 140 + The Shepherd, if he loved himself, must needs + Have loved his Helpmate; but to Michael's heart + This son of his old age was yet more dear-- + Less from instinctive tenderness, the same + Fond spirit that blindly works in the blood of all-- 145 + Than that a child, more than all other gifts + That earth can offer to declining man, + Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts, + And stirrings of inquietude, when they + By tendency of nature needs must fail. 150 + Exceeding was the love he bare to him, + His heart and his heart's joy! For oftentimes + Old Michael, while he was a babe in arms, + Had done him female service, not alone + For pastime and delight, as is the use 155 + Of fathers, but with patient mind enforced + To acts of tenderness; and he had rocked + His cradle, as with a woman's gentle hand. + And in a later time, ere yet the Boy + Had put on boy's attire, did Michael love, 160 + Albeit of a stern, unbending mind, + To have the Young-one in his sight, when he + Wrought in the field, or on his shepherd's stool + Sat with a fettered sheep before him stretched + Under the large old oak, that near his door 165 + Stood single, and, from matchless depth of shade, + Chosen for the shearer's covert from the sun, + Thence in our rustic dialect was called + The CLIPPING TREE, a name which yet it bears. + There, while they two were sitting in the shade, 170 + With others round them, earnest all and blithe, + Would Michael exercise his heart with looks + Of fond correction and reproof bestowed + Upon the Child, if he disturbed the sheep + By catching at their legs, or with his shouts 175 + Scared them while they lay still beneath the shears. + + And when by Heaven's good grace the Boy grew up + A healthy Lad, and carried in his cheek + Two steady roses that were five years old; + Then Michael from a winter coppice cut 180 + With his own hand a sapling, which he hooped + With iron, making it throughout in all + Due requisites a perfect shepherd's staff, + And gave it to the Boy; wherewith equipped + He as a watchman oftentimes was placed 185 + At gate or gap, to stem or turn the flock; + And, to his office prematurely called, + There stood the urchin, as you will divine, + Something between a hindrance and a help; + And for this cause not always, I believe, 190 + Receiving from his Father hire of praise; + Though naught was left undone which staff, or voice, + Or looks, or threatening gestures, could perform, + + But soon as Luke, full ten years old, could stand + Against the mountain blasts; and to the heights, 195 + Not fearing toil, nor length of weary ways, + He with his Father daily went, and they + Were as companions, why should I relate + That objects which the Shepherd loved before + Were dearer now? that from the Boy there came 200 + Feelings and emanations,--things which were + Light to the sun and music to the wind; + And that the old Man's heart seemed born again? + + Thus in his Father's sight the boy grew up: + And now, when he had reached his eighteenth year, 205 + He was his comfort and his daily hope. + + While in this sort the simple household lived + From day to day, to Michael's ear there came + Distressful tidings. Long before the time + Of which I speak, the Shepherd had been bound 210 + In surety for his brother's son, a man + Of an industrious life, and ample means; + But unforeseen misfortunes suddenly + Had pressed upon him; and old Michael now + Was summoned to discharge the forfeiture, 215 + A grievous penalty, but little less + Than half his substance. This unlooked-for claim, + At the first hearing, for a moment took + More hope out of his life than he supposed + That any old man ever could have lost. 220 + As soon as he had armed himself with strength + To look his trouble in the face, it seemed + The Shepherd's sole resource to sell at once + A portion of his patrimonial fields. + Such was his first resolve; he thought again, 225 + And his heart failed him. "Isabel," said he, + Two evenings after he had heard the news, + "I have been toiling more than seventy years, + And in the open sunshine of God's love + Have we all lived; yet if these fields of ours 230 + Should pass into a stranger's hand, I think + That I could not lie quiet in my grave. + Our lot is a hard lot; the sun himself + Has scarcely been more diligent than I; + And I have lived to be a fool at last 235 + To my own family. An evil man + That was, and made an evil choice, if he + Were false to us; and if he were not false, + There are ten thousand to whom loss like this + Had been no sorrow. I forgive him;--but 240 + 'Twere better to be dumb than to talk thus. + + "When I began, my purpose was to speak + Of remedies and of a cheerful hope. + Our Luke shall leave us, Isabel; the land + Shall not go from us, and it shall be free; 245 + He shall possess it, free as is the wind + That passes over it. We have, thou know'st, + Another kinsman; he will be our friend + In this distress. He is a prosperous man, + Thriving in trade; and Luke to him shall go, 250 + And with his kinsman's help and his own thrift + He quickly will repair this loss, and then + He may return to us. If here he stay, + What can be done? Where every one is poor, + What can be gained?" + + At this the old Man paused, 255 + And Isabel sat silent, for her mind + Was busy, looking back into past times. + There's Richard Bateman, thought she to herself, + He was a parish-boy,--at the church-door + They made a gathering for him, shillings, pence, 260 + And half-pennies, wherewith the neighbors bought + A basket, which they filled with pedlar's wares; + And, with his basket on his arm, the lad + Went up to London, found a master there, + Who, out of many, chose the trusty boy 265 + To go and overlook his merchandise + Beyond the seas; where he grew wondrous rich, + And left estates and moneys to the poor, + And at his birthplace built a chapel, floored + With marble, which he sent from foreign lands. 270 + These thoughts, and many others of like sort, + Passed quickly through the mind of Isabel + And her face brightened. The old Man was glad, + And thus resumed: "Well, Isabel, this scheme, + These two days, has been meat and drink to me. 275 + Far more than we have lost is left us yet. + --We have enough--I wish indeed that I + Were younger;--but this hope is a good hope. + Make ready Luke's best garments, of the best + Buy for him more, and let us send him forth 280 + To-morrow, or the next day, or to-night: + --If he _could_ go, the Boy should go to-night." + + Here Michael ceased, and to the fields went forth + With a light heart. The Housewife for five days + Was restless morn and night, and all day long 285 + Wrought on with her best fingers to prepare + Things needful for the journey of her son. + But Isabel was glad when Sunday came + To stop her in her work; for, when she lay + By Michael's side, she through the last two nights 290 + Heard him, how he was troubled in his sleep: + And when they rose at morning she could see + That all his hopes were gone. That day at noon + She said to Luke, while they two by themselves + Were sitting at the door, "Thou must not go: 295 + We have no other Child but thee to lose, + None to remember--do not go away, + For if thou leave thy Father he will die." + The Youth made answer with a jocund voice; + And Isabel, when she had told her fears, 300 + Recovered heart. That evening her best fare + Did she bring forth, and all together sat + Like happy people round a Christmas fire. + + With daylight Isabel resumed her work; + And all the ensuing week the house appeared 305 + As cheerful as a grove in Spring: at length + The expected letter from their kinsman came, + With kind assurances that he would do + His utmost for the welfare of the Boy; + To which requests were added, that forthwith 310 + He might be sent to him. Ten times or more + The letter was read over; Isabel + Went forth to show it to the neighbors round; + Nor was there at that time on English land + A prouder heart than Luke's. When Isabel 315 + Had to her house returned, the old Man said, + "He shall depart to-morrow." To this word + The Housewife answered, talking much of things + Which, if at such short notice he should go, + Would surely be forgotten. But at length 320 + She gave consent, and Michael was at ease. + Near the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll, + In that deep valley, Michael had designed + To build a Sheep-fold; and, before he heard + The tidings of his melancholy loss, 325 + For this same purpose he had gathered up + A heap of stones, which by the streamlet's edge + Lay thrown together, ready for the work. + With Luke that evening thitherward he walked; + And soon as they had reached the place he stopped, 330 + And thus the old man spake to him:--"My Son, + To-morrow thou wilt leave me; with full heart + I look upon thee, for thou art the same + That wert a promise to me ere thy birth + And all thy life hast been my daily joy. 335 + I will relate to thee some little part + Of our two histories; 'twill do thee good + When thou art from me, even if I should touch + On things thou canst not know of.------After thou + First cam'st into the world--as oft befalls 340 + To newborn infants--thou didst sleep away + Two days, and blessings from thy Father's tongue + Then fell upon thee. Day by day passed on, + And still I loved thee with increasing love. + Never to living ear came sweeter sounds 345 + Than when I heard thee by our own fireside + First uttering, without words, a natural tune; + While thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy + Sing at thy Mother's breast. Month followed month, + And in the open fields my life was passed, 350 + And on the mountains; else I think that thou + Hadst been brought up upon thy Father's knees. + But we were playmates, Luke; among these hills, + As well thou knowest, in us the old and young + Have played together, nor with me didst thou 355 + Lack any pleasure which a boy can know." + Luke had a manly heart; but at these words + He sobbed aloud. The old Man grasped his hand, + And said, "Nay, do not take it so--I see + That these are things of which I need not speak. 360 + --Even to the utmost I have been to thee + A kind and a good Father; and herein + I but repay a gift which I myself + Received at others' hands; for, though now old + Beyond the common life of man, I still 365 + Remember them who loved me in my youth. + Both of them sleep together; here they lived, + As all their Forefathers had done; and, when + At length their time was come, they were not loath + To give their bodies to the family mould. 370 + I wished that thou should'st live the life they lived; + But 'tis a long time to look back, my Son, + And see so little gain from threescore years. + These fields were burthened when they came to me; + Till I was forty years of age, not more 375 + Than half of my inheritance was mine. + I toiled and toiled; God blessed me in my work, + And till the three weeks past the land was free. + --It looks as if it never could endure + Another Master. Heaven forgive me, Luke, 380 + If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good + That thou shouldst go." + + At this the old Man paused; + Then, pointing to the stones near which they stood, + Thus, after a short silence, he resumed: + "This was a work for us; and now, my Son, 385 + It is a work for me. But, lay one stone,-- + Here, lay it for me, Luke, with thine own hands. + Nay, Boy, be of good hope; we both may live + To see a better day. At eighty-four + I still am strong and hale;--do thou thy part; 390 + I will do mine.--I will begin again + With many tasks that were resigned to thee; + Up to the heights, and in among the storms, + Will I without thee go again, and do + All works which I was wont to do alone, 395 + Before I knew thy face. Heaven bless thee, Boy! + Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast + With many hopes; it should be so--yes, yes,-- + I knew that thou couldst never have a wish + To leave me, Luke; thou hast been bound to me 400 + Only by links of love: when thou art gone + What will be left to us!--But I forget + My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone, + As I requested; and hereafter, Luke, + When thou art gone away, should evil men 405 + Be thy companions, think of me, my Son, + And of this moment; hither turn thy thoughts, + And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear + And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou + May'st bear in mind the life thy Fathers lived, 410 + Who, being innocent, did for that cause + Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well-- + When thou return'st, thou in this place wilt see + A work which is not here: a covenant + 'Twill be between us; but, whatever fate 415 + Befall thee, I shall love thee to the last, + And bear thy memory with me to the grave." + + The Shepherd ended here; and Luke stooped down, + And, as his Father had requested, laid + The first stone of the Sheep-fold. At the sight 420 + The old Man's grief broke from him; to his heart + He pressed his Son, he kissed him and wept; + And to the house together they returned. + --Hushed was that House in peace, or seeming peace, + Ere the night fell:--with morrow's dawn the Boy 425 + Began his journey, and when he had reached + The public way, he put on a bold face; + And all the neighbors, as he passed their doors, + Came forth with wishes and with farewell prayers, + That followed him till he was out of sight. 430 + + A good report did from their Kinsman come, + Of Luke and his well doing: and the Boy + Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news, + Which, as the Housewife phrased it, were throughout + "The prettiest letters that were ever seen." 435 + Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts. + So, many months passed on; and once again + The Shepherd went about his daily work + With confident and cheerful thoughts; and now + Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour 440 + He to that valley took his way, and there + Wrought at the Sheep-fold. Meantime Luke began + To slacken in his duty; and, at length, + He in the dissolute city gave himself + To evil courses: ignominy and shame 445 + Fell on him, so that he was driven at last + To seek a hiding place beyond the seas. + + There is a comfort in the strength of love; + 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else + Would overset the brain, or break the heart: 450 + I have conversed with more than one who well + Remember the old Man, and what he was + Years after he had heard this heavy news. + His bodily frame had been from youth to age + Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks 455 + He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud, + And listened to the wind; and, as before, + Performed all kinds of labor for his sheep, + And for the land, his small inheritance. + And to that hollow dell from time to time 460 + Did he repair, to build the Fold of which + His flock had need. 'Tis not forgotten yet + The pity which was then in every heart + For the old Man--and 'tis believed by all + That many and many a day he thither went, 465 + And never lifted up a single stone. + + There by the Sheep-fold, sometimes was he seen + Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog, + Then old, beside him, lying at his feet. + The length of full seven years, from time to time 570 + He at the building of this Sheep-fold wrought, + And left the work unfinished when he died. + Three years, or little more, did Isabel + Survive her Husband; at her death the estate + Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. 475 + The Cottage which was named the EVENING STAR + Is gone,--the ploughshare has been through the ground + On which it stood; great changes have been wrought + In all the neighborhood:--yet the oak is left, + That grew beside their door; and the remains 480 + Of the unfinished Sheep-fold may be seen + Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Ghyll. +2. GREEN-HEAD GHYLL. Near Dove Cottage, Wordsworth's home at Grasmere. + +GHYLL. A short, steep, and narrow valley with a stream running through +it. + +5. THE PASTORAL MOUNTAINS. In Professor Knight's _Life of Wordsworth_ +are found fragments which the poet intended for _Michael_ and which +were recovered from Dorothy Wordsworth's manuscript book. Among these +are the following lines, which as Professor Dowden suggests, are given +as Wordsworth's answer to the question, "What feeling for external +nature had such a man as Michael?" The lines, which correspond to +lines 62-77 of the poem, are as follows; + + "No doubt if you in terms direct had asked + Whether beloved the mountains, true it is + That with blunt repetition of your words + He might have stared at you, and said that they + Were frightful to behold, but had you then + Discoursed with him . . . . . . . . + Of his own business and the goings on + Of earth and sky, then truly had you seen + That in his thoughts there were obscurities, + Wonder and admiration, things that wrought + Not less than a religion of his heart." + + +17. In Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal for October 11, 1800, we read: +"After dinner, we walked up Greenhead Gill in search of a +sheepfold. . . The sheepfold is falling away. It is built in the form +of a heart unequally divided." + +48. THE MEANING OF ALL WINDS. This is not a figurative Statement. +Michael knows by experience whether the sound and direction of the wind +forebode storm or fair weather,--precisely the practical kind of +knowledge which a herdsman should possess. + +51. SUBTERRANEOUS. The meaning of this word has given rise to +discussion. "Subterraneous" cannot here be literally employed, unless +it refer to the sound of the wind in hollow places, and beneath +overhanging crags. + +51-52. LIKE THE NOISE, etc. Is there a special appropriateness in the +use of a Scottish simile? What is the general character of the similes +throughout the poem? + +56-77. Wordsworth never attributes to Michael the subtler and more +philosophical sensations which he himself derived from nature. Such +poems as _The Prelude_ or _The Excursion_ contain many elevated +passages on the influence of nature, which would have been exceedingly +inappropriate here. + +115. Scan this line. + +121. NOR CHEERFUL. The epithet seems not well chosen in view of the +fact that all the circumstances of their life breathe a spirit of quiet +cheerfulness. Surely the light (129-131) was a symbol of cheer. + +126. PECULIAR WORK. Bring out the force of the epithet. + +134. EASEDALE. Near Grasmere. DUNMAIL-RAISE. The pass leading from +Grasmere to Keswick. RAISE. A provincial word meaning "an ascent." + +139. THE EVENING STAR. This name was actually given to a neighboring +house. + +143-152. The love of Michael for Luke is inwrought with his love for +his home and for the land which surrounds it. These he desires at his +death to hand down unencumbered to his son. "I have attempted," +Wordsworth wrote to Poole, "to give a picture of a man of strong mind +and lively sensibility, agitated by two of the most powerful affections +of the human heart--the parental affection and the love of property, +_landed_ property, including the feelings of inheritance, home and +personal and family independence." + +145. Scan this line. + +169. THE CLIPPING TREE. Clipping is the word used in the North of +England for shearing. (Wordsworth's note, 1800). + +182. Notice the entire absence of pause at the end of the line. Point +out other instances of run-on lines (_enjambement_). + +259. PARISH-BOY. Depending on charity. + +268-270. Wordsworth added the following note on these lines: "The story +alluded to here is well known in the country. The chapel is called +Ing's Chapel; and is on the right hand side of the road leading from +Kendal to Ambleside." + +283. AND TO THE FIELDS WENT FORTH Observe the inconsistency. The +conversation took place in the evening. See l. 327. + +284f. WITH A LIGHT HEART. Michael's growing misgivings are subtly +represented in the following lines, and the renewal of his hopes. + +367-368. These lines forcibly show how tenaciously Michael's feelings +were rooted in the soil of his home. Hence the extreme pathos of the +situation. + +388. Observe the dramatic force of this line. + +393-396. What unconscious poetry there is in the old man's words! + +420. Scan this line. + +445. Scan this line. + +466. Matthew Arnold commenting on this line says; "The right sort of +verse to choose from Wordsworth, if we are to seize his true and most +characteristic form of expression, is a line like this from Michael: +'And never lifted up a single stone.' There is nothing subtle in it, +no heightening, no study of poetic style strictly so called, at all; +yet it is an expression of the highest and most truly expressive kind." + +467f. Note the noble simplicity and pathos of these closing lines. +There is a reserved force of pent-up pathos here, which without effort +reaches the height of dramatic effectiveness. + + + + + TO THE DAISY + + Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere, + Bold in maternal Nature's care, + And all the long year through the heir + Of joy and sorrow, + Methinks that there abides in thee 5 + Some concord with humanity, + Given to no other flower I see + The forest thorough! + + Is it that Man is soon deprest? + A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest, 10 + Does little on his memory rest, + Or on his reason, + And Thou would'st teach him how to find + A shelter under every wind, + A hope for times that are unkind, 15 + And every season? + + Thou wander'st the wide world about, + Uncheck'd by pride or scrupulous doubt, + With friends to greet thee, or without, + Yet pleased and wilting; 20 + Meek, yielding to the occasion's call, + And all things suffering from all, + Thy function apostolical + In peace fulfilling. + + +8. THOROUGH. This is by derivation the correct form of the modern word +"through." A.S. _thurh_, M.E. _thuruh_. The use of "thorough" is now +purely adjectival, except in archaic or poetic speech. + +24. APOSTOLICAL. The stanza in which this word occurs was omitted in +1827 and 1832, because the expression was censured as almost profane. +Wordsworth in his dictated note to Miss Fenwick has the following: "The +word [apostolical] is adopted with reference to its derivation, implying +something sent out on a mission; and assuredly this little flower, +especially when the subject of verse, may be regarded, in its humble +degree, as administering both to moral and spiritual purposes." + + + + + TO THE CUCKOO + + O blithe New-comer! I have heard, + I hear thee and rejoice. + O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, + Or but a wandering Voice? + + While I am lying on the grass, 5 + Thy twofold shout I hear; + From hill to hill it seems to pass, + At once far off, and near. + + Though babbling only to the Vale + Of sunshine and of flowers, 10 + Thou bringest unto me a tale + Of visionary hours. + + Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! + Even yet thou art to me + No bird, but an invisible thing, 15 + A voice, a mystery; + + The same whom in my schoolboy days + I listened to; that Cry + Which made me look a thousand ways + In bush, and tree, and sky. 20 + + To seek thee did I often rove + Through woods and on the green; + And thou wert still a hope, a love; + Still longed for, never seen. + + And I can listen to thee yet; 25 + Can lie upon the plain + And listen, till I do beget + That golden time again. + + O blessèd Bird! the earth we pace + Again appears to be 30 + An unsubstantial, faery place; + That is fit home for Thee! + + +1. O BLITHE NEW-COMER. The Cuckoo is migratory, and appears in England +in the early spring. Compare _Solitary Reaper_, l. 16. + +I HAV HEARD. i.e., in my youth. + +3. SHALL I CALL THEE BIRD? Compare Shelley. + + Hail to thee, blithe spirit! + Bird thou never wert. + _To a Skylark_. + +4. A WANDERING VOICE? Lacking substantial existence. + +6. TWOFOLD SHOUT. Twofold, because consisting of a double note. Compare +Wordsworth's sonnet, _To the Cuckoo_, l. 4: + + "With its twin notes inseparably paired." + +Wordsworth employs the word "shout" in several of his Cuckoo +descriptions. See _The Excursion_, ii. l. 346-348 and vii. l. 408; also +the following from _Yes! it was the Mountain Echo_: + + Yes! it was the mountain echo, + Solitary, clear, profound, + Answering to the shouting Cuckoo; + Giving to her sound for sound. + + + + + NUTTING + + ------It seems a day + (I speak of one from many singled out), + One of those heavenly days that cannot die; + When, in the eagerness of boyish hope, + I left our cottage threshold, sallying forth 5 + With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung, + A nutting-crook in hand, and turned my steps + Toward some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint, + Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds, + Which for that service had been husbanded, 10 + By exhortation of my frugal Dame,-- + Motley accoutrement, of power to smile + At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, and, in truth, + More ragged than need was! O'er pathless rocks, + Through beds of matted fern and tangled thickets, 15 + Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook + Unvisited, where not a broken bough + Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign + Of devastation; but the hazels rose + Tall and erect, with tempting clusters hung, 20 + A virgin scene! A little while I stood, + Breathing with such suppression of the heart + As joy delights in; and with wise restraint + Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed + The banquet; or beneath the trees I sate 25 + Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played; + A temper known to those, who, after long + And weary expectation, have been blest + With sudden happiness beyond all hope. + Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves 30 + The violets of five seasons reappear + And fade, unseen by any human eye; + Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on + Forever; and I saw the sparkling foam, + And, with my cheek on one of those green stones 35 + That, fleeced with moss, under the shady trees, + Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep, + I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound, + In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay + Tribute to ease; and of its joy secure, 40 + The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, + Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, + And on the vacant air. Then up I rose, + And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash + And merciless ravage: and the shady nook 45 + Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower, + Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up + Their quiet being: and unless I now + Confound my present feelings with the past, + Ere from the mutilated bower I turned 50 + Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings, + I felt a sense of pain when I beheld + The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky.-- + Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades + In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand 55 + Touch,--for there is a spirit in the woods. + + +5. OUR COTTAGE THRESHOLD. "The house at which I was boarded during the +time I was at school." (Wordsworth's note, 1800). The school was the +Hawkshead School. + +9. TRICKED OUT=_dressed_. The verb "to trick"="to dress" is derived +probably from the noun, "trick" in the sense of 'a dexterous artifice,' +'a touch.' See "Century Dictionary." + +CAST-OFF WEEDS=_cast-off clothes_. Wordsworth originally wrote 'of +Beggar's weeds.' What prompted him to change the expression? + +10. FOR THAT SERVICE. i.e., for nutting. + +12-13. OF POWER TO SMILE AT THORNS=_able to defy_, etc. Not because of +their strength, but because so ragged that additional rents were of small +account. + +21. VIRGIN=_unmarred, undevastated_. + +31. Explain the line. Notice the poetical way in which the poet conveys +the idea of solitude, (l. 30-32). + +33. FAIRY WATER-BREAKS=_wavelets, ripples_. _Cf_.:-- + + Many a silvery _water-break_ + Above the golden gravel. + Tennyson, _The Brook_. + +36. FLEECED WITH MOSS. Suggest a reason why the term "fleeced" has +peculiar appropriateness here. + +39-40. Paraphrase these lines to bring out their meaning. + +43-48. THEN UP I ROSE. Contrast this active exuberant pleasure not +unmixed with pain with the passive meditative joy that the preceding +lines express. + +47-48. PATIENTLY GAVE UP THEIR QUIET BEING. Notice the attribution of +life to inanimate nature. Wordsworth constantly held that there was a +mind and all the attributes of mind in nature. _Cf_. l. 56, "for there +is a spirit in the woods." + +53. AND SAW THE INTRUDING SKY. Bring out the force of this passage. + +54. THEN, DEAREST MAIDEN. This is a reference to the poet's Sister, +Dorothy Wordsworth. + +56. FOR THERE IS A SPIRIT IN THE WOODS. _Cf. Tintern Abbey_, 101 f. + + A motion and a spirit that impels + All thinking things, all objects of all thought, + And rolls through all things. + + + + + INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS + + Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! + Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought! + And giv'st to forms and images a breath + And everlasting motion! not in vain, + By day or starlight, thus from my first dawn 5 + Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me + The passions that build up our human soul; + Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man: + But with high objects, with enduring things, + With life and nature: purifying thus 10 + The elements of feeling and of thought, + And sanctifying by such discipline + Both pain and fear,--until we recognize + A grandeur in the beatings of the heart. + + Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to me 15 + With stinted kindness. In November days, + When vapors rolling down the valleys made + A lonely scene more lonesome; among woods + At noon; and 'mid the calm of summer nights, + When, by the margin of the trembling lake, 20 + Beneath the gloomy hills, homeward I went + In solitude, such intercourse was mine: + Mine was it in the fields both day and night, + And by the waters, all the summer long. + And in the frosty season, when the sun 25 + Was set, and, visible for many a mile, + The cottage windows through the twilight blazed, + I heeded not the summons: happy time + It was indeed for all of us; for me + It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud 30 + The village clock tolled six--I wheeled about, + Proud and exulting like an untired horse, + That cares not for his home,--All shod with steel + We hissed along the polished ice, in games + Confederate, imitative of the chase 35 + And woodland pleasures,--the resounding horn, + The pack loud-chiming, and the hunted hare. + So through the darkness and the cold we flew, + And not a voice was idle; with the din + Smitten, the precipices rang aloud; 40 + The leafless trees and every icy crag + Tinkled like iron; while far-distant hills + Into the tumult sent an alien sound + Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars, + Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west 45 + The orange sky of evening died away. + + Not seldom from the uproar I retired + Into a silent bay, or sportively + Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng, + To cut across the reflex of a star; 50 + Image, that, flying still before me, gleamed + Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes, + When we had given our bodies to the wind, + And all the shadowy banks on either side + Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still 55 + The rapid line of motion, then at once + Have I, reclining back upon my heels, + Stopped short, yet still the solitary cliffs + Wheeled by me--even as if the earth had rolled + With visible motion her diurnal round! 60 + Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, + Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched + Till all was tranquil as a summer sea. + + +1-14. In what other poems does Wordsworth describe "the education of +nature?" + +8. Nature's teaching is never sordid nor mercenary, but always purifying +and ennobling. + +10. PURIFYING, also SANCTIFYING (l. 12), refer to "Soul" (l. 2). + +12-14. Human cares are lightened in proportion to our power of +sympathising with nature. The very beatings of our heart acquire a +certain grandeur from the fact that they are a process of nature and +linked thus to the general life of things. It is possible that "beatings +of the heart" may figuratively represent the mere play of the emotions, +and thus have a bearing upon the words "pain and fear" in line 13. + +15. FELLOWSHIP. Communion with nature in her varying aspects as +described in the following lines. + +31. VILLAGE CLOCK. The village was Hawkshead. + +35. CONFEDERATE. Qualifies "we," or "games." Point out the different +shades of meaning for each agreement. + +42. TINKLED LIKE IRON. "When very many are skating together, the sounds +and the noises give an impulse to the icy trees, and the woods all round +the lake _tinkle_." S. T. Coleridge in _The Friend_, ii, 325 (1818). + +42-44. The keenness of Wordsworth's sense perceptions was very +remarkable. His susceptibility to impressions of sound is well +illustrated in this passage, which closes (l. 43-46) with a color picture +of striking beauty and appropriateness. + +50. REFLEX=_reflection_. _Cf_.: + + Like the _reflex_ of the moon + Seen in a wave under green leaves. + Shelley, _Prometheus Unbound_, iii, 4. + +In later editions Wordsworth altered these lines as follows: + +To cut across the image. 1809. To cross the bright reflection. 1820. + +54-60. The effect of rapid motion is admirably described. The spinning +effect which Wordsworth evidently has in mind we have all noticed in the +fields which seem to revolve when viewed from a swiftly moving: train. +However, a skater from the low level of a stream would see only the +fringe of trees sweep past him. The darkness and the height of the banks +would not permit him to see the relatively motionless objects in the +distance in either hand. + +57-58. This method of stopping short upon one's heels might prove +disastrous. + +58-60. The effect of motion persists after the motion has ceased. + +62 63. The apparent motion of the cliffs grows feebler by degrees until +"all was tranquil as a summer sea." In _The_ [Transcriber's note: the +rest of this footnote is missing from the original book because of a +printing error.] + + + + + TO THE REV. DR. WORDSWORTH + + (WITH THE SONNETS TO THE RIVER DUDDON, AND OTHER + POEMS IN THIS COLLECTION, 1820). + + The minstrels played their Christmas tune + To-night beneath my cottage-eaves; + While, smitten by a lofty moon, + The encircling laurels, thick with leaves, + Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen, 5 + That overpowered their natural green. + + Through hill and valley every breeze + Had sunk to rest with folded wings; + Keen was the air, but could not freeze, + Nor check, the music of the strings; 10 + So stout and hardy were the band + That scraped the chords with strenuous hand: + + And who but listened?--till was paid + Respect to every Inmate's claim: + The greeting given, the music played, 15 + In honor of each household name, + Duly pronounced with lusty call, + And "Merry Christmas" wished to all! + + O Brother! I revere the choice + That took thee from thy native hills; 20 + And it is given thee to rejoice: + Though public care full often tills + (Heaven only witness of the toil) + A barren and ungrateful soil. + + Yet, would that Thou, with me and mine, 25 + Hadst heard this never-failing rite; + And seen on other faces shine + A true revival of the light + Which Nature and these rustic Powers, + In simple childhood, spread through ours! 30 + + For pleasure hath not ceased to wait + On these expected annual rounds; + Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate + Call forth the unelaborate sounds, + Or they are offered at the door 35 + That guards the lowliest of the poor. + + How touching, when, at midnight, sweep + Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark + To hear--and sink again-to sleep + Or, at an earlier call, to mark, 40 + By blazing fire, the still suspense + Of self-complacent innocence; + + The mutual nod,--the grave disguise + Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er; + And some unbidden tears that rise 45 + For names once heard, and heard no more; + Tears brightened by the serenade + For infant in the cradle laid. + + Ah! not for emerald fields alone, + With ambient streams more pure and bright 50 + Than fabled Cytherea's zone + Glittering before the Thunderer's sight, + Is to my heart of hearts endeared + The ground where we were born and reared! + + Hail, ancient Manners! sure defence, 55 + Where they survive, of wholesome laws; + Remnants of love whose modest sense + Thus into narrow room withdraws; + Hail, Usages of pristine mould, + And ye that guard them, Mountains old! 60 + + Bear with me, Brother! quench the thought + That slights this passion, or condemns; + If thee fond Fancy ever brought + From the proud margin of the Thames, + And Lambeth's venerable towers, 65 + To humbler streams, and greener bowers. + + Yes, they can make, who fail to fill + Short leisure even in busiest days; + Moments, to cast a look behind, + And profit by those kindly rays 70 + That through the clouds do sometimes steal, + And all the far-off past reveal. + + Hence, while the imperial City's din + Beats frequent on thy satiate ear, + A pleased attention I may win 75 + To agitations less severe, + That neither overwhelm nor cloy, + But fill the hollow vale with joy! + + +Christopher Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth in Cumberland on June 9th, +1774. He received his early education at Hawkshead Grammar School and in +1792 entered Trinity College, Cambridge, as a pensioner. He graduated in +1796 with high honours in mathematics, and in 1798 was elected a fellow +of his college. He took his M.A. degree in 1799 and was awarded the +degree of Doctor of Divinity in 1810. While at Cambridge Christopher had +been tutor to Viscount Canterbury, who introduced him to his father, at +that time Bishop of Norwich. Through the good offices of the Bishop he +was appointed to the rectory of Ashby, Norfolk, and thus, with prospects +settled, he was enabled to marry. On the appointment of the Bishop of +Norwich to the Archbishopric of Canterbury he was appointed domestic +chaplain to the Archbishop. Subsequently in 1816 he was appointed rector +of St. Mary's, Lambeth, the living he held at the time the poem in the +text was written. + +In 1820 Christopher was made Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, a +position he held until his resignation in 1841. He died at Buxted on +February 2nd, 1846. "He was an earnest and deeply religious man; in some +respects a high churchman of the old school, but with sympathy for +whatever was good and noble in others. In politics he was a staunch +Conservative." + +15. THE GREETING GIVEN, THE MUSIC PLAYED. Till the greeting had been +given and the music played. + +17. Attributive to "name" (l. 16.) + +18. Explain the construction of "wished." + +50. AMBIENT=_winding_. + +51. CYTHEREA'S ZONE. The goddess Venus was named Cytherea because she +was supposed to have been born of the foam of the sea near Cythera, an +island off the coast of the Peloponnesus. Venus was the goddess of love, +and her power over the heart was strengthened by the marvellous zone or +girdle she wore. + +52. THE THUNDERER. The reference is to Jupiter, who is generally +represented as seated upon a golden or ivory throne holding in one hand +the thunderbolts, and in the other a sceptre of cypress. + +55-60. Suggest how this stanza is characteristic of Wordsworth. + +65. LAMBETH'S VENERABLE TOWERS. Lambeth Palace, the official residence +of the Archbishop of Canterbury, is on the Thames. Wordsworth's brother +Christopher, afterwards Master of Trinity College, was then (1820) Rector +of Lambeth. + + + + + ELEGIAC STANZAS + + SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM, + PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT. + + I was thy neighbor once, thou rugged Pile! + Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee: + I saw thee every day; and all the while + Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea. + + So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! 5 + So like, so very like, was day to day! + Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there; + It trembled, but it never passed away. + + How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep; + No mood, which season takes away, or brings: 10 + I could have fancied that the mighty Deep + Was even the gentlest, of all gentle Things. + + Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, + To express what then I saw; and add the gleam, + The light that never was. On sea or land, 15 + The consecration, and the Poet's dream; + + I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile, + Amid a world how different from this! + Beside a sea that could not cease to smile; + On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss. 20 + + Thou shouldst have seemed a treasure-house divine + Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;-- + Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine + The very sweetest had to thee been given. + + A Picture had it been of lasting ease, 25 + Elysian quiet, without toil or strife; + No motion but the moving tide, a breeze, + Or merely silent Nature's breathing life. + + Such, in the fond illusion of my heart, + Such Picture would I at that time have made: 30 + And seen the soul of truth in every part, + A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed. + + So once it would have been,--'tis so no more; + I have submitted to a new control: + A power is gone, which nothing can restore; 35 + A deep distress hath humanized my Soul. + + Not for a moment could I now behold + A smiling sea, and be what I have been: + The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old; + This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. 40 + + Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the Friend, + If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore, + This work of thine I blame not, but commend; + This sea in anger, and that dismal shore. + + O 'tis a passionate Work!--yet wise and well, 45 + Well chosen is the spirit that is here; + That Hulk which labors in the deadly swell, + This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear! + + And this huge Castle, standing here sublime, + I love to see the look with which it braves, 50 + Cased in the unfeeling armor of old time, + The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves. + + Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone, + Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind! + Such happiness, wherever it be known, 55 + Is to be pitied: for 'tis surely blind. + + But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, + And frequent sights of what is to be borne! + Such sights, or worse, as are before me here.-- + Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. 60 + + +2. FOUR SUMMER WEEKS. In 1794 Wordsworth spent part of a summer vacation +at the house of his cousin, Mr. Barker, at Rampside, a village near Peele +Castle. + +6-7. Shelley has twice imitated these lines. Compare:-- + + Within the surface of Time's fleeting river + Its wrinkled Image lies, as then it lay + Immovably unquiet, and for ever + It trembles, but it cannot pass away. + _Ode to Liberty_, vi. + +also the following: + + Within the surface of the fleeting river + The wrinkled image of the city lay, + Immovably unquiet, and for ever + It trembles, but it never fades away. + _Evening_. + +9-10. The calm was so complete that it did not seem a transient mood of +the sea, a passing sleep. + +13-16. Compare with the above original reading of 1807 (restored after +1827) the lines which Wordsworth substituted in 1820 and 1827. + + Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, + To express what then I saw; and add a gleam, + The lustre, known to neither sea nor land, + But borrowed from the youthful Poet's dream. + +35-36. A POWER IS GONE--SOUL. The reference is to the death at sea of +his brother Captain John Wordsworth. The poet can no longer see things +wholly idealized. His brother's death has revealed to him, however, the +ennobling virtue of grief. Thus a personal loss is converted into human +gain. Note especially in this connection l. 35 and ll. 53-60. + +54. FROM THE KIND. From our fellow-beings. + + + + + "IT IS NOT TO BE THOUGHT OF" + + It is not to be thought of that the Flood + Of British freedom, which to the open sea + Of the world's praise from dark antiquity + Hath flowed, 'with pomp of waters, unwithstood,' + Roused though it be full often to a mood 5 + Which spurns the check of salutary bands, + That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands + Should perish, and to evil and to good + Be lost forever. In our halls is hung + Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: 10 + We must be free or die, who speak the tongue + That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold + Which Milton held.--In everything we are sprung + Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold. + + +4. 'WITH POMP OF WATERS, UNWITHSTOOD.' This is quoted from Daniel's +_Civil War_, Bk. ii, stanza 7. + + + + + WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1802 + + O Friend! I know not which way I must look + For comfort, being, as I am, oppressed, + To think that now our life is only dressed + For show; mean handiwork of craftsman, cook, + Or groom!--We must run glittering like a brook 5 + In the open sunshine, or we are unblessed: + The wealthiest man among us is the best: + No grandeur now in nature or in book + Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, + This is idolatry; and these we adore: 10 + Plain living and high thinking are no more: + The homely beauty of the good old cause + Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, + And pure religion breathing household laws. + + + + + LONDON, 1802 + + Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: + England hath need of thee: she is a fen + Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen, + Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, + Have forfeited their ancient English dower 5 + Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; + Oh! raise us up, return to us again; + And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. + Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: + Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: 10 + Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, + So didst thou travel on life's common way, + In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart + The lowliest duties on herself did lay. + + + + + "DARK AND MORE DARK THE SHADES OF EVENING FELL" + + Dark and more dark the shades of evening fell; + The wished-for point was reached--but at an hour + When little could be gained from that rich dower + Of Prospect, whereof many thousands tell. + Yet did the glowing west with marvellous power 5 + Salute us; there stood Indian citadel, + Temple of Greece, and minster with its tower + Substantially expressed--a place for bell + Or clock to toll from! Many a tempting isle, + With groves that never were imagined, lay 10 + 'Mid seas how steadfast! objects all for the eye + Of silent rapture, but we felt the while + We should forget them; they are of the sky + And from our earthly memory fade away. + + + + + "SURPRISED BY JOY--IMPATIENT AS THE WIND" + + Surprised by joy--impatient as the wind + I turned to share the transport--Oh! with whom + But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb, + That spot which no vicissitude can find? + Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind-- 5 + But how could I forget thee? Through what power, + Even for the least division of an hour, + Have I been so beguiled as to be blind + To my most grievous loss?--That thought's return + Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, 10 + Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, + Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; + That neither present time, nor years unborn + Could to my sight that heavenly face restore. + + + + + "HAIL, TWILIGHT, SOVEREIGN OF ONE PEACEFUL HOUR" + + Hail, Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour! + Not dull art Thou as undiscerning Night; + But studious only to remove from sight + Day's mutable distinctions.--Ancient Power! + Thus did the waters gleam, the mountains lower, 5 + To the rude Briton, when, in wolf-skin vest + Here roving wild, he laid him down to rest + On the bare rock, or through a leafy bower + Looked ere his eyes were closed. By him was seen + The self-same Vision which we now behold, 10 + At thy meek bidding, shadowy Power! brought forth + These mighty barriers, and the gulf between; + The flood, the stars,--a spectacle as old + As the beginning of the heavens and earth! + + + + + "I THOUGHT OF THEE, MY PARTNER AND MY GUIDE" + + I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, + As being past away.--Vain sympathies! + For, backward, Duddon, as I cast my eyes, + I see what was, and is, and will abide; + Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide; 5 + The Form remains, the Function never dies, + While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, + We Men, who in our morn of youth defied + The elements, must vanish;--be it so! + Enough, if something from our hands have power 10 + To live, and act, and serve the future hour; + And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, + Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, + We feel that we are greater than we know. + + + + + "SUCH AGE, HOW BEAUTIFUL!" + + Such age, how beautiful! O Lady bright, + Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined + By favouring Nature and a saintly Mind + To something purer and more exquisite + Than flesh and blood; whene'er thou meet'est my sight, 5 + When I behold thy blanched unwithered cheek, + Thy temples fringed with locks of gleaming white, + And head that droops because the soul is meek, + Thee with the welcome Snowdrop I compare; + That child of winter, prompting thoughts that climb 10 + From desolation toward the genial prime; + Or with the Moon conquering earth's misty air, + And filling more and more with crystal light + As pensive Evening deepens into night. + + + + + TENNYSON + + + OENONE + + There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier + Than all the valleys of Ionian hills. + The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen, + Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine + And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand 5 + The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down + Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars + The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine + In cataract after cataract to the sea. + Behind the valley topmost Gargarus 10 + Stands up and takes the morning: but in front + The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal + Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel, + The crown of Troas. + + Hither came at noon + Mournful Oenone, wandering forlorn 15 + Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills. + Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck + Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest. + She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine, + Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade 20 + Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff + + "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, + Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: + The grasshopper is silent in the grass: 25 + The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, + Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead + The purple flower droops: the golden bee + Is lily-cradled: I alone awake. + My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, 30 + My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, + And I am all aweary of my life. + + "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, + Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Hear me, O Earth; hear me, O Hills, O Caves 35 + That house the cold crowned snake! O mountain brooks, + I am the daughter of a River-God, + Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all + My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls + Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed, 40 + A cloud that gather'd shape: for it may be + That, while I speak of it, a little while + My heart may wander from its deeper woe. + + "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, + Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 45 + I waited underneath the dawning hills, + Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark, + And dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine: + Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris, + Leading a jet-black goat white-horn'd, white-hooved, 50 + Came up from reedy Simols all alone. + + "O mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Far-off the torrent call'd me from the cleft: + Far up the solitary morning smote + The streaks of virgin snow. With down-dropt eyes 55 + I sat alone: white-breasted like a star + Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin + Droop'd from his shoulder, but his sunny hair + Cluster'd about his temples like a God's; + And his cheek brighten'd as the foam-bow brightens 60 + When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart + Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came. + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm + Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold, 65 + That smelt ambrosially, and while I look'd + And listen'd, the full-flowing river of speech + Came down upon my heart. + "'My own Oenone, + Beautiful-brow'd Oenone, my own soul, + Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingrav'n 70 + "For the most fair," would seem to award it thine + As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt + The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace + Of movement, and the charm of married brows. + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 75 + He prest the blossom of his lips to mine, + And added 'This was cast upon the board, + When all the full-faced presence of the Gods + Ranged in the halls of Peleus; whereupon + Rose feud, with question unto whom 'twere due: 80 + But light-foot Iris brought it yester-eve, + Delivering that to me, by common voice + Elected umpire, Herè comes to-day, + Pallas and Aphroditè, claiming each + This meed of fairest. Thou, within the cave 85 + Behind yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, + Mayst well behold them unbeheld, unheard + Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of Gods.' + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + It was the deep mid-noon: one silvery cloud 90 + Had lost his way between the piney sides + Of this long glen. Then to the bower they came, + Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower, + And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, + Violet, amaracus, and asphodel, 95 + Lotos and lilies: and a wind arose, + And overhead the wandering ivy and vine, + This way and that, in many a wild festoon + Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs + With bunch and berry and flower thro' and thro'. 100 + + "O mother Ida, harken ere I die. + On the tree-tops a crested peacock lit, + And o'er him flow'd a golden cloud, and lean'd + Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant dew. + Then first I heard the voice other, to whom 105 + Coming thro' Heaven, like a light that grows + Larger and clearer, with one mind the Gods + Rise up for reverence. She to Paris made + Proffer of royal power, ample rule + Unquestion'd, overflowing revenue 110 + Wherewith to embellish state, 'from many a vale + And river-sunder'd champaign cloth'd with corn, + Or labour'd mines undrainable of ore. + Honour,' she said, 'and homage, tax and toll, + From many an inland town and haven large, 115 + Mast-throng'd beneath her shadowing citadel + In glassy bays among her tallest towers.' + + "O mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Still she spake on and still she spake of power, + 'Which in all action is the end of all; 120 + Power fitted to the season; wisdom-bred + And throned of wisdom--from all neighbour crowns + Alliance and allegiance, till thy hand + Fail from the sceptre-staff. Such boon from me, + From me, Heaven's Queen, Paris, to thee king-born, 125 + A shepherd all thy life but yet king-born, + Should come most welcome, seeing men, in power + Only, are likest gods, who have attain'd + Rest in a happy place and quiet seats + Above the thunder, with undying bliss 130 + In knowledge of their own supremacy.' + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit + Out at arm's-length, so much the thought of power + Flatter'd his spirit; but Pallas where she stood 135 + Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs + O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed spear + Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold, + The while, above, her full and earnest eye + Over her snow-cold breast and angry cheek 140 + Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply. + + "'Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control; + These three alone lead life to sovereign power. + Yet not for power, (power of herself + Would come uncall'd for) but to live by law, 145 + Acting the law we live by without fear; + And, because right is right, to follow right + Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.' + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Again she said: 'I woo thee not with gifts. 150 + Sequel of guerdon could not alter me + To fairer. Judge thou me by what I am, + So shalt thou find me fairest. + Yet, indeed, + If gazing on divinity disrobed + Thy mortal eyes are frail to judge of fair, 155 + Unbias'd by self-profit, oh! rest thee sure + That I shall love thee well and cleave to thee, + So that my vigour, wedded to thy blood, + Shall strike within thy pulses, like a God's, + To push thee forward thro' a life of shocks, 160 + Dangers, and deeds, until endurance grow + Sinew'd with action, and the full-grown will, + Circled thro' all experiences, pure law, + Commeasure perfect freedom.' + + "Here she ceas'd, + And Paris ponder'd, and I cried, 'O Paris, 165 + Give it to Pallas!' but he heard me not, + Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me! + + "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, + Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Idalian Aphroditè beautiful, 170 + Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in Paphian wells, + With rosy slender fingers backward drew + From her warm brows and bosom her deep hair + Ambrosial, golden round her lucid throat + And shoulder: from the violets her light foot 175 + Shone rosy-white, and o'er her rounded form + Between the shadows of the vine-bunches + Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved. + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, 180 + The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh + Half-whisper'd in his ear, 'I promise thee + The fairest and most loving wife in Greece.' + She spoke and laugh'd: I shut my sight for fear: + But when I look'd, Paris had raised his arm, 185 + And I beheld great Herè's angry eyes, + As she withdrew into the golden cloud, + And I was left alone within the bower; + And from that time to this I am alone, + And I shall be alone until I die. 190 + + "Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Fairest---why fairest wife? am I not fair? + My love hath told me so a thousand times; + Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday, + When I past by, a wild and wanton pard, 195 + Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail + Crouch'd fawning in the weed. Most loving is she? + Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my arms + Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest + Close, close to thine in that quick-falling dew 200 + Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn rains + Flash in the pools of whirling Simois. + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + They came, they cut away my tallest pines, + My dark tall pines, that plumed the craggy ledge 205 + High over the blue gorge, and all between + The snowy peak and snow-white cataract + Foster'd the callow eaglet--from beneath + Whose thick mysterious boughs in the dark morn + The panther's roar came muffled, while I sat 210 + Low in the valley. Never, never more + Shall lone Oenone see the morning mist + Sweep thro' them; never see them overlaid + With narrow moon-lit slips of silver cloud, + Between the loud stream and the trembling stars. 215 + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + I wish that somewhere in the ruin'd folds, + Among the fragments tumbled from the glens, + Or the dry thickets, I could meet with her, + The Abominable, that uninvited came 220 + Into the fair Peleian banquet-hall, + And cast the golden fruit upon the board, + And bred this change; that I might speak my mind, + And tell her to her face how much I hate + Her presence, hated both of Gods and men. 225 + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times, + In this green valley, under this green hill, + Ev'n on this hand, and sitting on this stone? + Seal'd it with kisses? water'd it with tears? 230 + O happy tears, and how unlike to these! + O happy Heaven, how canst thou see my face? + O happy earth, how canst thou bear my weight? + O death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud, + There are enough unhappy on this earth, 235 + Pass by the happy souls, that love to live: + I pray thee, pass before my light of life, + And shadow all my soul, that I may die. + Thou weighest heavy on the heart within, + Weigh heavy on my eyelids: let me die. 240 + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts + Do shape themselves within me, more and more, + Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear + Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills, 245 + Like footsteps upon wool. I dimly see + My far-off doubtful purpose, as a mother + Conjectures of the features of her child + Ere it is born: her child!--a shudder comes + Across me: never child be born of me, 250 + Unblest, to vex me with his father's eyes! + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + Hear me, O earth. I will not die alone, + Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me + Walking the cold and starless road of Death 255 + Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love + With the Greek woman. I will rise and go + Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth + Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says + A fire dances before her, and a sound 260 + Rings ever in her ears of armed men. + What this may be I know not, but I know + That, wheresoe'er I am by night and day, + All earth and air seem only burning fire." + + + + + THE EPIC + + At Francis Allen's on the Christmas-eve,-- + The game of forfeits done--the girls all kiss'd + Beneath the sacred bush and past away-- + The parson Holmes, the poet Everard Hall, + The host, and I sat round the wassail-bowl, 5 + Then half-way ebb'd: and there we held a talk, + How all the old honour had from Christmas gone, + Or gone, or dwindled down to some odd games + In some odd nooks like this; till I, tired out + With cutting eights that day upon the pond, 10 + Where, three times slipping from the outer edge, + I bump'd the ice into three several stars, + Fell in a doze; and half-awake I heard + The parson taking wide and wider sweeps, + New harping on the church-commissioners, 15 + Now hawking at Geology and schism, + Until I woke, and found him settled down + Upon the general decay of faith + Right thro' the world, 'at home was little left, + And none abroad: there was no anchor, none; 20 + To hold by.' Francis, laughing, clapt his hand + On Everard's shoulder, with 'I hold by him.' + 'And I,' quoth Everard, 'by the wassail-bowl.' + 'Why yes,' I said, 'we knew your gift that way + At college: but another which you had, 25 + I mean of verse (for so we held it then), + What came of that?' 'You know,' said Frank, 'he burnt + His epic, his King Arthur, some twelve books'-- + And then to me demanding why? 'Oh, sir, + He thought that nothing new was said, or else 30 + Something so said 'twas nothing---that a truth + Looks freshest in the fashion of the day: + God knows: he has a mint of reasons: ask. + It pleased _me_ well enough,' 'Nay, nay,' said Hall, + 'Why take the style of those heroic times? 35 + For nature brings not back the Mastodon, + Nor we those times; and why should any man + Remodel models? these twelve books of mine + Were faint Homeric echoes, nothing-worth, + Mere chaff and draff, much better burnt.' 'But I,' 40 + Said Francis, 'pick'd the eleventh from this hearth' + And have it: keep a thing, its use will come. + I hoard it as a sugar-plum for Holmes.' + He laugh'd, and I, tho' sleepy, like a horse + That hears the corn-bin open, prick'd my ears; 45 + For I remember'd Everard's college fame + When we were Freshmen: then at my request + He brought it; and the poet little urged, + But with some prelude of disparagement, + Read, mouthing out his hollow oes and aes, 50 + Deep-chested music, and to this result. + + + + + MORTE D'ARTHUR + + So all day long the noise of battle roll'd + Among the mountains by the winter sea; + Until King Arthur's table, man by man, + Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their Lord, + King Arthur: then, because his wound was deep, 5 + The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, + Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights, + And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, + A broken chancel with a broken cross, + That stood on a dark strait of barren land. 10 + On one side lay the Ocean, and on one + Lay a great water, and the moon was full. + + Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: + The sequel of to-day unsolders all + The goodliest fellowship of famous knights 15 + Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep + They sleep--the men I loved. I think that we + Shall never more, at any future time, + Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, + Walking about the gardens and the halls 20 + Of Camelot, as in the days that were. + I perish by this people which I made,-- + Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again + To rule once more--but let what will be, be, + I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm 25 + That without help I cannot last till morn. + Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, + Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how + In those old days, one summer noon, an arm + Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, 30 + Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, + Holding the sword--and how I row'd across + And took it, and have worn it, like a king: + And, wheresoever I am sung or told + In aftertime, this also shall be known: 35 + But now delay not: take Excalibur, + And fling him far into the middle mere: + Watch what thou seest, and lightly being me word.' + + To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere: + 'It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus, 40 + Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm. + A little thing may harm a wounded man. + Yet I thy hest will all perform at full, + Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word.' + + So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept 45 + And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, + Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, + Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang + Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down + By zig-zag paths and juts of pointed rock, 50 + Came on the shining levels of the lake. + + There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, + And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, + Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth + And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt: 55 + For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, + Myriads of topaz-lights and jacinth-work + Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long + That both his eyes were dazzled, as he stood, + This way and that dividing the swift mind, 60 + In act to throw: but at the last it seem'd + Better to leave Excalibur conceal'd + There in the many-knotted waterflags, + That whistled stiff and dry about the marge. + So strode he back slow to the wounded King 65 + + Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: + 'Hast thou performed my mission which I gave? + What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?' + + And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: + 'I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, 70 + And the wild water lapping on the crag.' + + To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale: + 'Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy name, + Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd + Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight: 75 + For surer sign had follow'd, either hand, + Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. + This is a shameful thing for men to lie. + Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again + As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing 80 + I bad thee, watch, and lightly bring me word.' + + Then went Sir Bedivere the second time + Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere, + Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought; + But when he saw the wonder of the hilt, 85 + How curiously and strangely chased, he smote + His palms together, and he cried aloud, + + 'And if indeed I cast the brand away, + Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, + Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, 90 + Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. + What good should follow this, if this were done? + What harm, undone? deep harm to disobey, + Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. + Were it well to obey then, if a king demand 95 + An act unprofitable, against himself? + The King is sick, and knows not what he does. + What record, or what relic of my lord + Should be to aftertime, but empty breath + And rumours of a doubt? but were this kept, 100 + Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, + Some one might show it at a joust of arms, + Saying, "King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, + Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. + Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps 105 + Upon the hidden bases of the hills." + So might some old man speak in the after-time + To all the people, winning reverence. + But now much honour and much fame were lost.' + + So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, 110 + And hid Excalibur the second time, + And so strode back slow to the wounded King. + + Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily: + 'What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?' + + And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: 115 + 'I heard the water lapping on the crag, + And the long ripple washing in the reeds.' + + To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath: + 'Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, + Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! 120 + Authority forgets a dying king, + Laid widow'd of the power in his eye + That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art, + For thou, the latest-left of all my knights, + In whom should meet the offices of all, 125 + Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt; + Either from lust of gold, or like a girl + Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. + Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice, + And the third time may prosper, get thee hence: 130 + But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, + I will arise and slay thee with my hands.' + + Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, + And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged + Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch'd the sword, 135 + And strongly wheel'd and threw it. The great brand + Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, + And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, + Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, + Seen where the moving isles of winter shock 140 + By night, with noises of the northern sea. + So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur: + But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm + Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, + And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 145 + Three times, and drew him under in the mere. + And lightly went the other to the King. + + Then spoke King-Arthur, drawing thicker breath: + 'Now see I by thine eyes that this is done. + Speak out: what is it thou has heard, or seen?' 150 + + And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: + 'Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems + Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, + Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, + Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men, 155 + So great a miracle as yonder hilt. + Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him; + But when I look'd again, behold an arm, + Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, + That caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 160 + Three times, and drew him under in the mere.' + + And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard: + 'My end draws nigh; 'tis time that I were gone. + Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, + And bear me to the margin; yet I fear 165 + My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die.' + + So saying, from the pavement he half rose, + Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, + And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes + As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 170 + Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears, + And would have spoken, but he found not words, + Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee, + O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands, + And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs. 175 + + But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted hard, + Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed + When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the King, + Muttering and murmuring at his ear, 'Quick, quick! + I fear it is too late, and I shall die.' 180 + + But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge, + Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd, + Larger than human on the frozen hills. + He heard the deep behind him, and a cry + Before. His own thought drove him like a goad. 185 + Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves + And barren chasms, and all to left and right + The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based + His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang + Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels-- 190 + And on a sudden, lo! the level lake, + And the long glories of the winter moon. + + Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, + Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, + Beneath them; and descending they were ware 195 + That all the decks were dense with stately forms + Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream--by these + Three Queens with crowns of gold--and from them rose + A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, + And, as it were one voice an agony 200 + Of lamentation, like a wind, that shrills + All night in a waste land, where no one comes, + Or hath come, since the making of the world, + Then murmur'd Arthur, 'Place me in the barge.' + And to the barge they came. There those three Queens 205 + Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept. + But she, that rose the tallest of them all + And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, + And loosed the shatter'd casque, and chafed his hands, + And call'd him by his name, complaining loud, 210 + And dropping bitter tears against his brow + Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white + And colourless, and like the wither'd moon + Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east; + And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops 215 + Of onset; and the light and lustrous curls-- + That made his forehead like a rising sun + High from the daïs-throne--were parch'd with dust; + Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, + Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips. 220 + So like a shatter'd column lay the King; + Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest, + From spur to plume a star of tournament, + Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged + Before the eyes of ladies and of kings. 225 + + Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere, + 'Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? + Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? + For now I see the true old times are dead, + When every morning brought a noble chance, 230 + And every chance brought out a noble knight. + Such times have been not since the light that led + The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. + But now the whole ROUND TABLE is dissolved + Which was an image of the mighty world; 235 + And I, the last, go forth companionless, + And the days darken round me, and the years, + Among new men, strange faces, other minds.' + + And slowly answered Arthur from the barge: + 'The old order changeth, yielding place to new, 240 + And God fulfils Himself in many ways, + Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. + Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? + I have lived my life, and that which I have done + May He within Himself make pure! but thou, 245 + If thou shouldst never see my face again, + Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer + Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice + Rise like a fountain for me night and day. + For what are men better than sheep or goats 250 + That nourish a blind life within the brain, + If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer + Both for themselves and those who call them friend? + For so the whole round earth is every way + Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 255 + But now farewell. I am going a long way + With these thou seest--if indeed I go-- + (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) + To the island-valley of Avilion; + Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 260 + Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies + Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns + And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, + Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.' + + So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 265 + Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan + That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, + Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood + With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere + Revolving many memories, till the hull 270 + Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, + And on the mere the wailing died away. + + * * * * * * + + Here ended Hall, and our last light, that long + Had wink'd and threatened darkness, flared and fell: + At which the Parson, sent to sleep with sound, + And waked with silence, grunted 'Good!' but we 55 + Sat rapt: it was the tone with which he read-- + Perhaps some modern touches here and there + Redeem'd it from the charge of nothingness-- + Or else we loved the man, and prized his work; + I know not: but we sitting, as I said, 60 + The cock crew loud; as at that time of year + The lusty bird takes every hour for dawn: + Then Francis, muttering, like a man ill-used, + 'There now--that's nothing!' drew a little back, + And drove his heel into the smoulder'd log, 65 + That sent a blast of sparkles up the flue: + And so to bed; where yet in sleep I seem'd + To sail with Arthur under looming shores, + Point after point; till on to dawn, when dreams + Begin to feel the truth and stir of day, 70 + To me, methought, who waited with a crowd, + There came a bark that, blowing forward, bore + King Arthur, like a modern gentleman + Of stateliest port; and all the people cried, + 'Arthur is come again: he cannot die.' 75 + Then those that stood upon the hills behind + Repeated--'Come again, and thrice as fair;' + And, further inland, voices echo'd--'Come + With all good things, and war shall be no more.' + At this a hundred bells began to peal, 80 + That with the sound I woke, and heard indeed + The clear church-bells ring in the Christmas-morn. + + + + + THE BROOK + + Here, by this brook, we parted; I to the East + And he for Italy--too late--too late; + One whom the strong sons of the world despise; + For lucky rhymes to him were scrip and share, + And mellow metres more than cent for cent; 5 + Nor could he understand how money breeds; + Thought it a dead thing; yet himself could make + The thing that is not as the thing that is. + O had he lived! In our schoolbooks we say, + Of those that held their heads above the crowd, 10 + They flourish'd then or then; but life in him + Could scarce be said to flourish, only touch'd + On such a time as goes before the leaf, + When all the wood stands in a mist of green, + And nothing perfect: yet the brook he loved, 15 + For which, in branding summers of Bengal, + Or ev'n the sweet half-English Neilgherry air + I panted, seems; as I re-listen to it, + Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy, + To me that loved him; for 'O brook,' he says, 20 + 'O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme, + 'Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies: + + I come from haunts of coot and hern, + I make a sudden sally, + And sparkle out among the fern, 25 + To bicker down a valley. + + By thirty hills I hurry down, + Or slip between the ridges, + By twenty thorps, a little town, + And half a hundred bridges. 30 + + Till last by Philip's farm I flow + To join the brimming river, + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on for ever. + + 'Poor lad, he died at Florence, quite worn out, 35 + Travelling to Naples. There is Darnley bridge, + It has more ivy; there the river; and there + Stands Philip's farm where brook and river meet. + + I chatter over stony ways, + In little sharps and trebles, 40 + I bubble into eddying bays, + I babble on the pebbles. + + With many a curve my banks I fret + By many a field and fallow, + And many a fairy foreland set 45 + With willow-weed and mallow. + + I chatter, chatter, as I flow + To join the brimming river, + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on for ever. 50 + + 'But Philip chattered more than brook or bird; + Old Philip; all about the fields you caught + His weary daylong chirping, like the dry + High-elbow'd grigs that leap in summer grass. + + I wind about, and in and out, 55 + With here a blossom sailing, + And here and there a lusty trout, + And here and there a grayling, + + And here and there a foamy flake + Upon me, as I travel 60 + With many a silvery waterbreak + Above the golden gravel, + + And draw them all along, and flow + To join the brimming river, + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on for ever. + + 'O darling Katie Willows, his one child! + A maiden of our century, yet most meek; + A daughter of our meadows, yet not coarse; + Straight, but as lissome as a hazel wand; 70 + Her eyes a bashful azure, and her hair + In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell + Divides threefold to show the fruit within. + + Sweet Katie, once I did her a good turn, + Her and her far-off cousin and betrothed, 75 + James Willows, of one name and heart with her. + For here I came, twenty years back--the week + Before I parted with poor Edmund; crost + By that old bridge which, half in ruins then, + Still makes a hoary eyebrow for the gleam 80 + Beyond it, where the waters marry--crost, + Whistling a random bar of Bonny Doon, + And push'd at Philip's garden-gate. The gate, + Half-parted from a weak and scolding hinge, + Stuck; and he clamour'd from a casement, "Run" 85 + To Katie somewhere in the walks below, + "Run, Katie!" Katie never ran: she moved + To meet me, winding under woodbine bowers, + A little flutter'd, with her eyelids down, + Fresh apple-blossom, blushing for a boon. 90 + + 'What was it? less of sentiment than sense + Had Katie; not illiterate; nor of those + Who dabbling in the fount of fictive tears, + And nursed by mealy-mouth'd philanthropies, + Divorce the Feeling from her mate the Deed. 95 + 'She told me. She and James had quarrell'd. Why? + What cause of quarrel? None, she said, no cause; + James had no cause: but when I prest the cause, + I learnt that James had flickering jealousies + Which anger'd her. Who anger'd James? I said. 100 + But Katie snatch'd her eyes at once from mine, + And sketching with her slender pointed foot + Some figure like a wizard pentagram + On garden gravel, let my query pass + Unclaimed, in flushing silence, till I ask'd 105 + If James were coming. "Coming every day," + She answer'd, "ever longing to explain, + But evermore her father came across + With some long-winded tale, and broke him short; + And James departed vext with him and her." 110 + How could I help her? "Would I--was it wrong?" + (Claspt hands and that petitionary grace + Of sweet seventeen subdued me ere she spoke) + "O would I take her father for one hour, + For one half-hour, and let him talk to me!" 115 + And even while she spoke, I saw where James + Made toward us, like a wader in the surf, + Beyond the brook, waist-deep in meadow-sweet. + + 'O Katie, what I suffer'd for your sake! + For in I went, and call'd old Philip out 120 + To show the farm: full willingly he rose: + He led me thro' the short sweet-smelling lanes + Of his wheat-suburb, babbling as he went, + He praised his land, his horses, his machines; + He praised his ploughs, his cows, his hogs, his dogs; 125 + He praised his hens, his geese, his guinea-hens, + His pigeons, who in session on their roofs + Approved him, bowing at their own deserts: + Then from the plaintive mother's teat he took + Her blind and shuddering puppies, naming each, 130 + And naming those, his friends, for whom they were: + Then crost the common into Darnley chase + To show Sir Arthur's deer. In copse and fern + Twinkled the innumerable ear and tail. + Then, seated on a serpent-rooted beech, 135 + He pointed out a pasturing colt, and said: + "That was the four-year-old I sold the Squire." + And there he told a long long-winded tale + Of how the Squire had seen the colt at grass, + And how it was the thing his daughter wish'd, 140 + And how he sent the bailiff to the farm + To learn the price, and what the price he ask'd, + And how the bailiff swore that he was mad, + But he stood firm; and so the matter hung; + He gave them line; and five days after that 145 + He met the bailiff at the Golden Fleece, + Who then and there had offer'd something more, + But he stood firm; and so the matter hung; + He knew the man; the colt would fetch its price; + He gave them line: and how by chance at last 150 + (It might be May or April, he forgot, + The last of April or the first of May) + He found the bailiff riding by the farm, + And, talking from the point, he drew him in, + And there he mellow'd all his heart with ale, 155 + Until they closed a bargain, hand in hand. + + 'Then, while I breathed in sight of haven, he, + Poor fellow, could he help it? recommenced, + And ran thro' all the coltish chronicle, + Wild Will, Black Bess, Tantivy, Tallyho, 160 + Reform, White Rose, Bellerophon, the Jilt, + Arbaces, and Phenomenon, and the rest, + Tilt, not to die a listener, I arose, + And with me Philip, talking still; and so + We turn'd our foreheads from the falling sun, 165 + And following our own shadows thrice as long + As when they follow'd us from Philip's door, + Arrived, and found the sun of sweet content + Re-risen in Katie's eyes, and all thing's well. + + I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 170 + I slide by hazel covers; + I move the sweet forget-me-nots + That grow for happy lovers. + + I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, + Among my skimming swallows; 175 + I make the netted sunbeam dance + Against my sandy shallows. + + I murmur under moon and stars + In brambly wildernesses; + I linger by my shingly bars; 180 + I loiter round my cresses; + + And out again I curve and flow + To join the brimming river, + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on for ever. 185 + + Yes, men may come and go; and these are gone, + All gone. My dearest brother, Edmund, sleeps, + Not by the well-known stream and rustic spire, + But unfamiliar Arno, and the dome + Of Brunelleschi; sleeps in peace: and he, 190 + Poor Philip, of all his lavish waste of words + Remains the lean P. W. on his tomb: + I scraped the lichen from it: Katie walks + By the long wash of Australasian seas + Far off, and holds her head to other stars, 195 + And breathes in April autumns. All are gone.' + + So Lawrence Aylmer, seated on a stile + In the long hedge, and rolling in his mind + Old waifs of rhyme, and bowing o'er the brook + A tonsured head in middle age forlorn, 200 + Mused and was mute. On a sudden a low breath + Offender air made tremble in the hedge + The fragile bindweed-bells and briony rings; + And he look'd up. There stood a maiden near, + Waiting to pass. In much amaze he stared 205 + On eyes a bashful azure, and on hair + In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell + Divides threefold to show the fruit within: + Then, wondering, ask'd her 'Are you from the farm?' + 'Yes' answer'd she. 'Pray stay a little: pardon me; 210 + What do they call you?' 'Katie.' 'That were strange. + What surname?' 'Willows.' 'No!' 'That is my name.' + 'Indeed!' and here he look'd so self-perplext, + That Katie laugh'd, and laughing blush'd, till he + Laugh'd also, but as one before he wakes, 215 + Who feels a glimmering strangeness in his dream; + Then looking at her; 'Too happy, fresh and fair, + Too fresh and fair in our sad world's best bloom, + To be the ghost of one who bore your name + About these meadows, twenty years ago. 220 + + 'Have you not heard?' said Katie, 'we came back. + We bought the farm we tenanted before. + Am I so like her? so they said on board. + Sir, if you knew her in her English days, + My mother, as it seems you did, the days 225 + That most she loves to talk of, come with me. + My brother James is in the harvest-field: + But she--you will be welcome--O, come in!' + + + + + IN MEMORIAM + + XXVII + + I envy not in any moods + The captive void of noble rage, + The linnet born within the cage, + That never knew the summer woods: + + I envy not the beast that takes 5 + His license in the field of time, + Unfetter'd by the sense of crime, + To whom a conscience never wakes; + + Nor, what may count itself as blest, + The heart that never plighted troth 10 + But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; + Nor any want-begotten rest. + + I hold it true, whate'er befall; + I feel it, when I sorrow most; + 'Tis better to have loved and lost 15 + Than never to have lov'd at all. + + + LXIV + + Dost thou look back on what hath been, + As some divinely gifted man, + Whose life in low estate began + And on a simple village green; + + Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, 5 + And grasps the skirts of happy chance, + And breasts the blows of circumstance, + And grapples with his evil star; + + Who makes by force his merit known + And lives to clutch the golden keys, 10 + To mould a mighty state's decrees, + And shape the whisper of the throne; + + And moving up from high to higher, + Becomes on Fortune's crowning slope + The pillar of a people's hope, 15 + The centre of a world's desire; + + Yet feels, as in a pensive dream, + When all his active powers are still, + A distant dearness in the hill, + A secret sweetness in the stream, 20 + + The limit of his narrower fate, + While yet beside its vocal springs + He play'd at counsellors and kings, + With one that was his earliest mate; + + Who ploughs with pain his native lea 25 + And reaps the labour of his hands, + Or in the furrow musing stands; + "Does my old friend remember me?" + + + + LXXXIII + + Dip down upon the northern shore, + O sweet new-year delaying long; + Thou doest expectant nature wrong; + Delaying long, delay no more. + + What stays thee from the clouded noons, 5 + Thy sweetness from its proper place? + Can trouble live with April days, + Or sadness in the summer moons? + + Bring orchis, bring the foxglove spire, + The little speedwell's darling blue, 10 + Deep tulips dash'd with fiery dew, + Laburnums, dropping-wells of fire. + + O thou, new-year, delaying long, + Delayest the sorrow in my blood, + That longs to burst a frozen bud 15 + And flood a fresher throat with song. + + + + LXXXVI + + Sweet after showers, ambrosial air, + That rollest from the gorgeous gloom + Of evening over brake and bloom + And meadow, slowly breathing bare + + The round of space, and rapt below 5 + Thro' all the dewy-tassell'd wood, + And shadowing down the horned flood + In ripples, fan my brows and blow + + The fever from my cheek, and sigh + The full new life that feeds thy breath 10 + Throughout my frame, till Doubt and Death, + Ill brethren, let the fancy fly + + From belt to belt of crimson seas + On leagues of odour streaming far, + To where in yonder orient star 15 + A hundred spirits whisper "Peace." + + + + CI + + Unwatch'd, the garden bough shall sway, + The tender blossom flutter down, + Unloved, that beech will gather brown, + This maple burn itself away; + + Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair, 5 + Ray round with flames her disk of seed, + And many a rose-carnation feed + With summer spice the humming air; + + Unloved, by many a sandy bar, + The brook shall babble down the plain, 10 + At noon or when the lesser wain + Is twisting round the polar star; + + Uncared for, gird the windy grove, + And flood the haunts of hern and crake; + Or into silver arrows break 15 + The sailing moon in creek and cove; + + Till from the garden and the wild + A fresh association blow, + And year by year the landscape grow + Familiar to the stranger's child; 20 + + As year by year the labourer tills + His wonted glebe, or lops the glades; + And year by year our memory fades + From all the circle of the hills. + + + + CXIV + + Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail + Against her beauty? May she mix + With men and prosper! Who shall fix + Her pillars? Let her work prevail. + + But on her forehead sits a fire: 5 + She sets her forward countenance + And leaps into the future chance, + Submitting all things to desire. + + Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain-- + She cannot fight the fear of death. 10 + What is she, cut from love and faith, + But some wild Pallas from the brain + + Of Demons? fiery-hot to burst + All barriers in her onward race + For power. Let her know her place; 15 + She is the second, not the first. + + A higher hand must make her mild, + If all be not in vain; and guide + Her footsteps, moving side by side + With wisdom, like the younger child: 20 + + For she is earthly of the mind, + But Wisdom heavenly of the soul. + O friend, who earnest to thy goal + So early, leaving me behind + + I would the great world grew like thee, 25 + Who grewest not alone in power + And knowledge, but by year and hour + In reverence and in charity. + + + + CXV + + Now fades the last long streak of snow, + Now burgeons every maze of quick + About the flowering squares, and thick + By ashen roots the violets blow, + + Now rings the woodland loud and long, 5 + The distance takes a lovelier hue, + And drown'd in yonder living blue + The lark becomes a sightless song. + + Now dance the lights on lawn and lea, + The flocks are whiter down the vale, 10 + And milkier every milky sail + On winding stream or distant sea; + + Where now the seamew pipes, or dives + In yonder greening gleam, and fly + The happy birds, that change their sky 15 + To build and brood, that live their lives + + From land to land; and in my breast + Spring wakens too; and my regret + Becomes an April violet, + And buds and blossoms like the rest. 20 + + + + CXVIII + + Contemplate all this work of Time, + The giant labouring in his youth; + Nor dream of human love and truth, + As dying Nature's earth and lime; + + But trust that those we call the dead 5 + Are breathers of an ampler day + For ever nobler ends. They say, + The solid earth whereon we tread + + In tracts of fluent heat began, + And grew to seeming-random forms, 10 + The seeming prey of cyclic storms, + Till at the last arose the man; + + Who throve and branch'd from clime to clime, + The herald of a higher race, + And of himself in higher place, 15 + If so he type this work of time + + Within himself, from more to more; + Or, crown'd with attributes of woe + Like glories, move his course, and show + That life is not as idle ore, 20 + + But iron dug from central gloom, + And heated hot with burning fears, + And dipt in baths of hissing tears, + And batter'd with the shocks of doom + + To shape and use. Arise and fly 25 + The reeling Faun, the sensual feast; + Move upward, working out the beast + And let the ape and tiger die. + + + + CXXIII + + There rolls the deep where grew the tree. + O earth, what changes hast thou seen! + There where the long street roars hath been + The stillness of the central sea. + + The hills are shadows, and they flow 5 + From form to form, and nothing stands; + They melt like mist, the solid lands, + Like clouds they shape themselves and go. + + But in my spirit will I dwell, + And dream my dream, and hold it true; 10 + For tho' my lips may breathe adieu, + I cannot think the thine farewell. + + + + +WORDSWORTH + +WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + +William Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth, Cumberland, on April 7th, +1770. His father, John Wordsworth, was the agent of Sir J. Lowther, +who later became the first Earl of Lonsdale. At the age of eight the +boy was sent to school at Hawkshead. The impressions of his boyhood +period are related in the autobiographical poem, _The Prelude_, +(written 1805, published 1850), and from this poetical record we +discern how strong the influences of Nature were to shape and develop +his imagination. Wordsworth's father died in 1783, leaving the family +poorly provided for. The main asset was a considerable claim upon the +Earl of Lonsdale, which that individual refused to pay. On his death, +in 1802, the successor to the title and estates paid the amount of the +claim in full with accumulated interest. In the interval, however, the +Wordsworth family remained in very straitened circumstances. Enough +money was provided by Wordsworth's guardians to send him to Cambridge +University In 1787. He entered St. John's College, and after an +undistinguished course graduated without honors in January, 1791. His +vacations were spent chiefly in Hawkshead and Wales, but one memorable +vacation was marked by a walking excursion with a friend through France +and Switzerland, the former country then being on the verge of +revolution. + +Shortly after leaving the University, in November, 1791, Wordsworth +returned to France, remaining there until December of the following +year. During this period he was completely won over to the principles +of the revolution. The later reaction from these principles +constituted the one moral struggle of his life. + +In 1793 his first work appeared before the public--two poems, entitled +_The Evening Walk_ and _Descriptive Sketches_. Coleridge, who read +these pieces at Cambridge, divined that they announced the emergence of +an original poetical genius above the horizon. Readers of the poems +to-day, who are wise after the event, could scarcely divine as much. +At about this period Wordsworth received a bequest of 900 pounds from +Raisley Calvert, which enabled him and his sister Dorothy to take a +small cottage at Racedown in Dorsetshire. Here he wrote a number of +poems in which he worked off the ferment of his revolutionary ideas. +These ideas can scarcely be said to have troubled him much in later +years. + +An important incident in his life, hardly second in importance to the +stimulating companionship of his sister, was his meeting with +Coleridge, which occurred probably towards the close of 1795. +Coleridge, who was but little younger than Wordsworth, had the more +richly equipped, if not the more richly endowed, mind. He was living +at Nether Stowey, and in order to benefit by the stimulus which such a +friendship offered, the Wordsworth's moved to Alfoxden, three miles +away from Stowey (July, 1797). It was during a walking expedition to +the Quantock Hills in November of that year that the poem of _The +Ancient Mariner_ was planned. It was intended that the poem should be +a joint production, but Wordsworth's contribution was confined to the +suggestion of a few details merely, and some scattered lines which are +indicated in the notes to that poem. Their poetic theories were soon +to take definite shape in the publication of the famous _Lyrical +Ballads_ (September, 1798), to which Coleridge contributed _The Ancient +Mariner_, and Wordsworth some characteristic lyrical, reflective, and +narrative poems. The excessive simplicity and alleged triviality of +some of these poems long continued to give offence to the conservative +lovers of poetry. Even to-day we feel that Wordsworth was sometimes +the victim of his own theories. + +In June of this same year (1798) Wordsworth and his sister accompanied +Coleridge to Germany. They soon parted company, the Wordsworths +settling at Goslar, while Coleridge, intent upon study, went in search +of German metaphysics at Gottingen. Wordsworth did not come into any +contract with German life or thought, but sat through the winter by a +stove writing poems for a second edition of the _Lyrical Ballads_. +April, 1799, found the brother and sister again in England. In +December they settled down at Dove Cottage, Town End, Grasmere, and +never, save for brief intervals, abandoned the Lake Country. In 1802, +as has been said, a slight accession of fortune fell to Wordsworth by +the settlement of the Lonsdale claim. The share of each of the family +was 1,800 pounds. On the strength of this wind-fall the poet felt that +he might marry, and accordingly brought home Mary Hutchinson as his +wife. + +The subsequent career of Wordsworth belongs to the history of poetry. +Of events in the ordinary sense there are few to record. He +successively occupies three houses in the Lake Country after abandoning +Dove Cottage. We find him at Allan Bank in 1808, in the Parsonage at +Grasmere in 1810, and at Rydal Mount from 1813 to his death in 1850. +He makes occasional excursions to Scotland or the Continent, and at +long intervals visits London, where Carlyle sees him and records his +vivid impressions. For many years Wordsworth enjoys the sinecure of +Distributor of Stamps for Westmoreland (400 pounds a year), and on his +resignation of that office in his son's favor, he is placed on the +Civil List for a well deserved pension of 300 pounds. On Southey's +death, in 1843, he is appointed Poet Laureate. He died at Grasmere on +April 23rd, 1850. + +Wordsworth's principal long poems are: _The Prelude_ (1805 published +1850); _The Excursion_ (1814); _The White Doe of Rylstone_ (1815) and +_Peter Bell The Waggoner_ (1819). His fame rests principally on his +shorter narrative poems, his meditative lyrics, including his two great +odes, _To Duty_ and _On the Intimations of Immortality_, and on the +sonnets, which rank with the finest in the language. The longer poems +have many fine passages exhibiting his powers of graphic description, +and illustrating his mystical philosophy of nature. + +Thomas Carlyle's description of Wordsworth is of interest: "For the +rest, he talked well in his way; with veracity, easy brevity, and +force, as a wise tradesman would of his tools and workshop, and as no +unwise one could. His voice was good, frank, and sonorous, though +practically clear, distinct, and forcible, rather than melodious; the +tone of him, businesslike, sedately confident; no discourtesy, yet no +anxiety about being courteous. A fine wholesome rusticity, fresh as +his mountain breezes, sat well on the stalwart veteran, and on all he +said and did. You would have said that he was a usually taciturn man, +glad to unlock himself to audience sympathetic and intelligent, when +such offered itself. His face bore marks of much, not always peaceful, +meditation; the look of it not bland or benevolent so much as close, +impregnable, and hard; a man _multa tacere loquive paratus_, in a world +where he had experienced no lack of contradictions as he strode along. +The eyes were not very brilliant, but they had a quiet clearness; there +was enough of brow, and well-shaped; rather too much cheek ('horse +face' I have heard satirists say); face of squarish shape, and +decidedly longish, as I think the head itself was (its length going +horizontal); he was large-boned, lean, but still firm-knit, tall, and +strong-looking when he stood, a right good old steel-gray figure, with +rustic simplicity and dignity about him, and a vivacious strength +looking through him, which might have suited one of those old +steel-gray markgrafs whom Henry the Fowler set up towards the 'marches' +and do battle with the intrusive heathen in a stalwart and judicious +manner." + + +CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE + +Born, April 7, 1770, at Cockermouth, Cumberland. + +Goes to Hawkshead Grammar School, 1778. + +Sent by guardians to St. John's College, Cambridge, October, 1787. + +Foreign tour with Jones, 1790. + +Graduates as B.A. without honors, January, 1791. + +Residence in France, November, 1791, to December, 1792. + +Publication of _The Evening Walk_, and _Descriptive Sketches_, 1793. + +Legacy from Raisley Calvert of 900 pounds, 1794. + +Lives at Racedown, Dorsetshire, autumn of 1795 to summer of 1797. + +Composes _The Borderers_, a tragedy, 1795-1796. + +Close friendship with Coleridge begins in 1797. + +Rents a house at Alfoxden, 1797. + +Genesis of the _Lyrical Ballads_, 1797. + +_Lyrical Ballads_ published September, 1798. + +German visit, September, 1798, to April, 1799. + +Lives at Dove Cottage, Grasmere, December 21, 1799 to 1806, 1807-1808. + +The Lonsdale debt of 8,500 pounds repaid, 1802. + +Marries Mary Hutchinson, October, 1802. + +Death by drowning of his brother, Captain John Wordsworth, 1805. + +Lives at Coleorton, Leicestershire, 1806 to 1807. + +Collected Edition of poems, 1807. + +Lives at Allan Bank, Easedale, 1808 to 1810. + +Lives at the Parsonage, Grasmere, 1810 to 1812. + +Loss of two children and removal to Rydal Mount, Grasmere, 1813 to 1850. + +Appointed distributor of stamps for Westmoreland (400 pounds a year), +1813. + +_The Excursion_ appears, July, 1814. + +Honorary degree of D.C.L. from Oxford, 1839. + +Resigns his office as distributor of stamps, 1842. + +Receives a pension from Sir R. Peel of 300 pounds, 1842. + +Appointed Poet Laureate, 1843. + +Dies at Grasmere, April 23, 1850. + + + +APPRECIATIONS + +Coleridge, with rare insight, summarized Wordsworth's characteristic +defects and merits as follows; + +"The first characteristic, though only occasional defect, which I +appear to myself to find in these poems is the inconstancy of the +style. Under this name I refer to the sudden and unprepared +transitions from lines or sentences of peculiar felicity (at all events +striking and original) to a style, not only unimpassioned but +undistinguished. + +"The second defect I can generalize with tolerable accuracy, if the +reader will pardon an uncouth and newly-coined word. There is, I +should say, not seldom a _matter-of-factness_ in certain poems. This +may be divided into, first, a laborious minuteness and fidelity in the +representation of objects, and there positions, as they appeared to the +poet himself; secondly, the insertion of accidental circumstances, in +order to the full explanation of his living characters, their +dispositions and actions; which circumstances might be necessary to +establish the probability of a statement in real life, when nothing is +taken for granted by the hearer; but appear superfluous in poetry, +where the reader is willing to believe for his own sake. . . + +"Third; an undue predilection for the _dramatic_ form in certain poems, +from which one or other of two evils result. Either the thoughts and +diction are different from that of the poet, and then there arises an +incongruity of style; or they are the same and indistinguishable, where +two are represented as talking, while in truth one man only speaks. . . + +"The fourth class of defects is closely connected with the former; but +yet are such as arise likewise from an intensity of feeling +disproportionate to such knowledge and value of the objects described, +as can be fairly anticipated of men in general, even of the most +cultivated classes; and with which therefore few only, and those few +particularly circumstanced, can be supposed to sympathize: in this +class, I comprise occasional prolixity, repetition, and an eddying, +instead of progression, of thought. . . + +"Fifth and last; thoughts and images too great for the subject. This +is an approximation to what might be called mental bombast, as +distinguished from verbal: for, as in the latter there is a +disproportion of the expressions to the thoughts, so in this there is a +disproportion of thought to the circumstance and occasion. . . + +"To these defects, which . . . are only occasional, I may oppose . . . +the following (for the most part correspondent) excellencies: + +"First; an austere purity of language both grammatically and logically; +in short a perfect appropriateness of the words to the meaning. . . + +"The second characteristic excellence of Mr. Wordsworth's works is--a +correspondent weight and sanity of the thoughts and sentiments, won not +from books, but from the poet's own meditative observations. They are +fresh and have the dew upon them. . . + +"Third; . . . the sinewy strength and originality of single lines and +paragraphs; the frequent _curiosa felicitas_ of his diction. . . + +"Fourth; the perfect truth of nature in his images and descriptions as +taken immediately from nature, and proving a long and genial intimacy +with the very spirit which gives the physiognomic expressions to all +the works of nature. Like a green field reflected in a calm and +perfectly transparent lake, the image is distinguished from the reality +only by its greater softness and lustre. Like the moisture or the +polish on a pebble, genius neither distorts nor false-colors its +objects; but on the contrary, brings out many a vein and many a tint, +which escape the eye of common observation, thus raising to the rank of +gems what had been often kicked away by the hurrying foot of the +traveller on the dusty high-road of custom. . . + +"Fifth; a meditative pathos, a union of deep and subtle thought with +sensibility; a sympathy with man as man; the sympathy indeed of a +contemplator, rather than a fellow-sufferer or co-mate, but of a +contemplator, from whose view no difference of rank conceals the +sameness of the nature; no injuries of wind or weather, of toil, or +even of ignorance, wholly disguise the human face divine. The +superscription and the image of the Creator still remains legible to +_him_ under the dark lines, with which guilt or calamity had cancelled +or cross-barred it. Here the Man and the Poet lose and find themselves +in each other, the one as glorified, the latter as substantiated. In +this mild and philosophic pathos, Wordsworth appears to me without a +compeer. Such as he is; so he writes. + +"Last and pre-eminently, I challenge for this poet the gift of +imagination in the highest and strictest sense of the word. In the +play of fancy, Wordsworth, to my feelings, is not always graceful, and +sometimes recondite. . . But in imaginative power, he stands nearest of +all writers to Shakespeare and Milton; and yet in a kind perfectly +unborrowed and his own." + +These are the grounds upon which Coleridge bases the poetic claims of +Wordsworth. + +Matthew Arnold, in the preface to his well-known collection of +Wordsworth's poems, accords to the poet a rank no less exalted. "I +firmly believe that the poetical performance of Wordsworth is, after +that of Shakespeare and Milton, of which all the world now recognizes +the worth, undoubtedly the most considerable in our language from the +Elizabethan age to the present time." His essential greatness is to be +found in his shorter pieces, despite the frequent intrusion of much +that is very inferior. Still it is "by the great body of powerful and +significant work which remains to him after every reduction and +deduction has been made, that Wordsworth's superiority is proved." + +Coleridge had not dwelt sufficiently, perhaps, upon the joyousness +which results from Wordsworth's philosophy of human life and external +nature. This Matthew Arnold considers to be the prime source of his +greatness. "Wordsworth's poetry is great because of the extraordinary +power with which Wordsworth feels the joy offered to us in the simple +primary affections and duties; and because of the extraordinary power +with which, in case after case, he shows us this joy, and renders it so +as to make us share it." Goethe's poetry, as Wordsworth once said, is +not inevitable enough, is too consciously moulded by the supreme will +of the artist. "But Wordsworth's poetry," writes Arnold, "when he is +at his best, is inevitable, as inevitable as Nature herself. It might +seem that Nature not only gave him the matter for his poem, but wrote +his poem for him." The set poetic style of _The Excursion_ is a +failure, but there is something unique and unmatchable in the simple +grace of his narrative poems and lyrics. "Nature herself seems, I say, +to take the pen out of his hand, and to write for him with her own +bare, sheer, penetrating power. This arises from two causes: from the +profound sincereness with which Wordsworth feels his subject, and also +from the profoundly sincere and natural character of his subject +itself. He can and will treat such a subject with nothing but the most +plain, first hand, almost austere naturalness. His expression may +often be called bald, as, for instance, in the poem of _Resolution and +Independence_; but it is bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with +a baldness which is full of grandeur. . . Wherever we meet with the +successful balance, in Wordsworth, of profound truth of subject with +profound truth of execution, he is unique." + +Professor Dowden has also laid stress upon the harmonious balance of +Wordsworth's nature, his different faculties seeming to interpenetrate +one another, and yield mutual support. He has likewise called +attention to the austere naturalism of which Arnold speaks. +"Wordsworth was a great naturalist in literature, but he was also a +great Idealist; and between the naturalist and the idealist in +Wordsworth no opposition existed: each worked with the other, each +served the other. While Scott, by allying romance with reality, saved +romantic fiction from the extravagances and follies into which it had +fallen, Wordsworth's special work was to open a higher way for +naturalism in art by its union with ideal truth." + +Criticism has long since ceased to ridicule his _Betty Foy_, and his +_Harry Gill_, whose "teeth, they chatter, chatter still." Such +malicious sport proved only too easy for Wordsworth's contemporaries, +and still the essential value of his poetry was unimpaired. + +The range of poetry is indeed inexhaustible, and even the greatest +poets must suffer some subtraction from universal pre-eminence. +Therefore we may frankly admit the deficiencies of Wordsworth,--that he +was lacking in dramatic force and in the power of characterization; +that he was singularly deficient in humor, and therefore in the saving +grace of self-criticism in the capacity to see himself occasionally in +a ridiculous light; that he has little of the romantic glamor and none +of the narrative energy of Scott; that Shelley's lyrical flights leave +him plodding along the dusty highway; and that Byron's preternatural +force makes his passion seen by contrast pale and ineffectual. All +this and more may freely be granted, and yet for his influence upon +English thought, and especially upon the poetic thought of his country, +he must be named after Shakespeare and Milton. The intellectual value +of his work will endure; for leaving aside much valuable doctrine, +which from didactic excess fails as poetry, he has brought into the +world a new philosophy of Nature and has emphasised in a manner +distinctively his own the dignity of simple manhood.--_Pelham Edgar_. + + + +REFERENCES ON WORDSWORTH'S LIFE AND WORKS + +_Wordsworth_ by F. W. H. Myers, in _English Men of Letters_ series. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Wordsworth_ by Walter Raleigh, London: Edward Arnold. + +_Wordsworth_ by Rosaline Masson, in _The People's Books_ series. +London: T. C. & E. C. Jack, + +_Wordsworthiana_ edited by William Knight. Toronto: The Macmillan +Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Essays Chiefly on Poetry_ by Aubrey de Vere, 2 volumes. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Literary Essays_ by Richard Holt Hutton. Toronto: The Macmillan +Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Studies in Literature_ by Edward Dowden. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, +Trubner & Co., Ltd. + +_Aspects of Poetry_ by J. S. C. Shairp. Boston: Houghton Mifflin and +Company. + +_Lives of Great English Writers from Chaucer to Browning_ by Walter S. +Hinchman and Francis B. Gummere. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company. + +_Great English Poets_ by Julian Hill. Philadelphia: George W. Jacobs & +Co. + +_The Greater English Poets of the Nineteenth Century_ by William Morton +Payne. New York: Henry Holt and Company. + +_The Religious Spirit in the Poets_ by W. Boyd Carpenter, New York: +Thomas Y. Crowell & Co, + +_Landscape in Poetry from Homer to Tennyson_ by Francis T. Palgrave. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_A History of Nineteenth Century Literature_ by George Saintsbury. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Personal Traits of British Authors_ by E. T. Mason. New York: Charles +Scribner's Sons. + +_The English Poets_ edited by T. Humphrey Ward, Vol. iv. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Selections from Wordsworth_ edited by Matthew Arnold in _The Golden +Treasury Series_. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Literary Studies_ by Walter Bagehot, Vol. ii. London: Longmans, +Green and Co. + +_A Study of English and American Poets_ by J. Scott Clark. New York: +Charles Scribner's Sons. + +_Prophets of the Century_ edited by Arthur Rickett. London: Ward Lock +and Co., Limited. + +_History of English Literature_ by A. S. Mackenzie. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_A Student's History of English Literature_ by William Edward Simonds. +Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company. + +_Poems of William Wordsworth_ edited by Edward Dowden. Boston: Ginn & +Company. + +_Home Life of Great Authors_ by Hattie Tyng Griswold. Chicago: A. C. +McClurg & Co. + + +NOTES + +MICHAEL + +The poem was composed in 1800, and published in the second volume of the +_Lyrical Ballads_ in the same year. "Written at the Town-end, Grasmere, +about the same time as _The Brothers_. The Sheep-fold, on which so much +of the poem turns, remains, or rather the ruins of it. The character and +circumstances of Luke were taken from a family to whom had belonged, many +years before, the house we lived in at Town-end, along with some fields +and woodlands on the eastern shore of Grasmere. The name of the Evening +Star was not in fact given to this house, but to another on the same side +of the valley, more to the north." + +In a letter to Charles James Fox the poet says: "In the two poems, _The +Brothers_ and _Michael_, I have attempted to draw a picture of the +domestic affections, as I know they exist among a class of men who are +now almost confined to the north of England. They are small independent +_proprietors_ of land, here called 'statesmen' [i.e., estates-men], men +of respectable education, who daily labor on their little properties. . . +Their little tract of land serves as a kind of rallying point for their +domestic feelings, as a tablet upon which they are written, which makes +them objects of memory in a thousand instances, when they would otherwise +be forgotten. The two poems that I have mentioned were written to show +that men who do not wear fine clothes can feel deeply." + +Edward Fulton in a _A Selection of the Shorter Poems of Wordsworth_ +(Macmillan) says: "The reason Wordsworth succeeds best in describing the +type of character portrayed in _Michael_ and _The Brothers_ is, of +course, chiefly because he knew that type best; but the fact that it was +the type for which he himself might have stood as the representative was +not without its effect upon him. His ideal man is but a variation of +himself. As Dean Church puts it: 'The ideal man with Wordsworth is the +hard-headed, frugal, unambitious dalesman of his own hills, with his +strong affections, his simple tastes, and his quiet and beautiful home; +and this dalesman, built up by communion with nature and by meditation +into the poet-philosopher, with his serious faith and his never-failing +spring of enjoyment, is himself.' Types of character wholly alien to his +own have little attraction for him. He is content to look into the +depths of his own heart and to represent what he sees there. His field +of vision, therefore, is a very limited one: it takes in only a few +types. It is _man_, in fact, rather than men, that interests him." + +The poem _Michael_ is well adapted to show Wordsworth's powers of +realism. He describes the poem as "a pastoral," which at once induces a +comparison, greatly to Wordsworth's advantage, with the pseudo-pastorals +of the age of Pope. There the shepherds and shepherdesses were scarcely +the pale shadows of reality, while Wordsworth's poem never swerves from +the line of truth. "The poet," as Sir Henry Taylor says with reference +to _Michael_, "writes in his confidence to impart interest to the +realities of life, deriving both the confidence and the power from the +deep interest which he feels in them. It is an attribute of unusual +susceptibility of imagination to need no extraordinary provocatives; and +when this is combined with intensity of observation and peculiarity of +language, it is the high privilege of the poet so endowed to rest upon +the common realities of life and to dispense with its anomalies." The +student should therefore be careful to observe (1) the truth of +description, and the appropriateness of the description to the +characters; (2) the strong and accurate delineation of the characters +themselves. Not only is this to be noted in the passages where the poet +has taken pains openly to portray their various characteristics, but +there are many passages, or single lines perhaps, which serve more subtly +to delineate them. What proud reserve, what sorrow painfully restrained, +the following line, for example, contains: "Two evenings after he had +heard the news." + + + +TO THE DAISY + +COMPOSED 1802: PUBLISHED 1807 + +"This and the other poems addressed to the same flower were composed at +Town-end, Grasmere, during the earlier part of my residence there." The +three poems on the Daisy were the outpourings of one mood, and were +prompted by the same spirit which moved him to write his poems of humble +life. The sheltered garden flowers have less attraction for him than the +common blossoms by the wayside. In their unobtrusive humility these +"unassuming Common-places of Nature" might be regarded, as the poet says, +"as administering both to moral and spiritual purposes." The "Lesser +Celandine," buffeted by the storm, affords him, on another occasion, a +symbol of meek endurance. + +Shelley and Keats have many beautiful references to flowers in their +poetry. Keats has merely a sensuous delight in their beauty, while +Shelley both revels in their hues and fragrance, and sees in them a +symbol of transitory loveliness. His _Sensitive Plant_ shows his +exquisite sympathy for flower life. + + + +TO THE CUCKOO + +COMPOSED IN THE ORCHARD AT TOWN-END 1802: PUBLISHED 1807 + +Wordsworth, in his Preface to the 1815 edition, has the following note on +ll. 3, 4 of the poem:--"This concise interrogation characterises the +seeming ubiquity of the cuckoo, and dispossesses the creature almost of +corporeal existence; the Imagination being tempted to this exertion of +her power, by a consciousness in the memory that the cuckoo is almost +perpetually heard throughout the season of spring, but seldom becomes an +object of sight." The cuckoo is the bird we associate with the name of +the vale of sunshine and of flowers, and yet its wandering voice brings +back to him the thought of his vanished childhood. We have already +noticed the almost sacred value which Wordsworth attaches to the +impressions of his youth, and even to the memory of these impressions +which remains with him to console his maturer life. The bird is a link +which binds him to his childhood: + + "And I can listen to thee yet; + Can lie upon the plain + And listen, till I do beget + That golden time again." + +In other poems, especially in the _Intimaticns of Immortality_, he speaks +of "the glory and the freshness of a dream," which hallowed nature for +him as a child, and which grew fainter as the "shades of the prison-house +began to close upon the growing Boy". + + + +NUTTING + +COMPOSED 1799; PUBLISHED 1800. + +"Written in Germany; intended as a part of a poem on my own life, but +struck out as not being wanted there. Like most of my schoolfellows, I +was an impassioned Nutter. For this pleasure, the Vale of Esthwaite, +abounding in coppice wood, furnished a very wide range. These verses +arose out of the remembrance of feelings I had often had when a boy, and +particularly in the extensive woods that still stretch from the side of +Esthwaite Lake towards Graythwaite." + +Wordsworth possessed in an unusual degree the power of reviving the +impressions of his youth. Few autobiographical records are so vivid in +this respect as his _Prelude_. In his famous ode on the _Intimations of +Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood_, he dwells upon the +unreflective exultation which in the child responds to the joyousness of +nature, and with a profound intuition that may not be justified in the +facts, he sees in this heedless delight a mystical intimation of +immortality. + +In the poem _Nutting_ the animal exhilaration of boyhood is finely +blended with this deeper feeling of mystery. The boy exultingly +penetrates into one of those woodland retreats where nature seems to be +holding communion with herself. For some moments he is subdued by the +beauty of the place, and lying among the flowers he hears with ecstasy +the murmur of the stream. Then the spirit of ravage peculiar to boyhood +comes over him, and he rudely mars the beauty of the spot: + + "And the shady nook + Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower, + Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up + Their quiet being:" + +Such wantonness seems to his maturer reflection a sacrilege, and even the +boy was not insensible to the silent reproach of the "intruding sky." + +TOUCH,--FOR THERE IS A SPIRIT IN THE WOODS. Many lines might be quoted +from Wordsworth to illustrate his theory of the personal attributes of +nature. In some of his more elevated passages nature in all her +processes is regarded as the intimate revelation of the Godhead, the +radiant garment in which the Deity clothes Himself that our senses may +apprehend Him. Thus, when we touch a tree or a flower we may be said to +touch God himself. In this way the beauty and power of nature become +sacred for Wordsworth, and inspired his verse at times with a solemn +dignity to which other poets have rarely attained. + +The immanence of God in nature, and yet His superiority to His own +revelation of Himself is beautifully expressed in some of the later +verses of _Hart Leap Well_: + + "The Being, that is in the clouds and air, + That is in the green leaves among the groves, + Maintains a deep and reverential care + For the unoffending creatures whom he loves." + +Yet the life in nature is capable of multiplying itself infinitely, and +each of her manifold divisions possesses a distinctive mood; one might +almost say a separate life of its own. It is, in his ability to capture +the true emotional mood which clings to some beautiful object or scene in +nature, and which that object or scene may truly be said to inspire, that +Wordsworth's power lies. + +Wordsworth possessed every attribute necessary to the descriptive +poet,--subtle powers of observation, ears delicately tuned to seize the +very shadow of sound, and a diction of copious strength suggestive beyond +the limits of ordinary expression. Yet purely descriptive poetry he +scorned. "He expatiated much to me one day," writes Mr. Aubrey de Vere, +"as we walked among the hills above Grasmere, on the mode in which Nature +had been described by one of the most justly popular of England's modern +poets--one for whom he preserved a high and affectionate respect +[evidently Sir Walter Scott]. 'He took pains,' Wordsworth said; 'he went +out with his pencil and note-book, and jotted down whatever struck him +most--a river rippling over the sands, a ruined tower on a rock above it, +a promontory, and a mountain-ash waving its red berries. He went home +and wove the whole together into a poetical description.' After a pause, +Wordsworth resumed, with a flashing eye and impassioned voice; 'But +Nature does not permit an inventory to be made of her charms! He should +have left his pencil and note-book at home, fixed his eye as he walked +with a reverent attention on all that surrounded him, and taken all into +a heart that could understand and enjoy. Then, after several days had +passed by, he should have interrogated his memory as to the scene. He +would have discovered that while much of what he had admired was +preserved to him, much was also most wisely obliterated; that which +remained--the picture surviving in his mind--would have presented the +ideal and essential truth of the scene, and done so in a large part by +discarding much which, though in itself striking, was not characteristic. +In every scene many of the most brilliant details are but accidental; a +true eye for Nature does not note them, or at least does not dwell on +them.'" + +The student should learn to compare the descriptive methods of Coleridge +and Wordsworth. See especially Lowell's note quoted on pp. 197-198; also +see pp. 47 f. + + + +INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS + +This poem was composed at Goslar in 1799 as part of the first book of +_The Prelude_ (published in 1850). It was first printed in Coleridge's +periodical _The Friend_, in December, 1809, with the instructive though +pedantic title, "Growth of Genius from the Influences of Natural Objects +on the Imagination, in Boyhood and Early Youth." It appeared in +Wordsworth's poems of 1815 with the following title:--"Influence of +Natural Objects in calling forth and strengthening the Imagination in +Boyhood and Early Youth." + +The opening verses of this poem are still another instance of the +identification of God with nature. As Mr. Stopford Brooke writes, "we +are here in contact with a Person, not with a thought. But who is this +person? Is she only the creation of imagination, having no substantive +reality beyond the mind of Wordsworth? No, she is the poetic +impersonation of an actual Being, the form which the poet gives to the +living Spirit of God in the outward world, in order that he may possess a +metaphysical thought as a subject for his work as an artist." + +_The Lines Composed above Tintern Abbey_ contain the highest expression +which Wordsworth has given to this thought, To the heedless animal +delight in nature had succeeded a season in his youth when the beauty and +power of nature "haunted him like a passion," though he knew not why. +The "dizzy rapture" of those moods he can no longer feel. Yet, + + "Not for this + Faint I nor murmur; other gifts + Have followed, for such loss, I would believe + Abundant recompense. For I have learned + To look on nature, not as in the hour + Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes + The still sad music of humanity, + Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power + To chasten and subdue. _And I have felt + A presence that disturbs me with the joy + Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime + Of something far more deeply interfused, + Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, + And the round ocean and the living air, + And the blue sky, and in the mind of man: + A motion and a spirit, that impels + All thinking things, all objects of all thought, + And rolls through all things_." + +In ll. 42-46, of _The Influence of Natural Objects_, we have an +inimitable Wordsworthian effect. Into the midst of his wild sport the +voice of Nature steals, and subdues his mind to receive the impulses of +peace and beauty from without. We involuntarily think of the boy he has +celebrated, his playmate upon Windermere, who loved to rouse the owls +with mimic hootings, but + + "When a lengthened pause + Of silence came and baffled his best skill, + Then sometimes, in that silence while he hung + Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise + Has carried far into his heart the voice + Of mountain torrents; or the visible scene + Would enter unawares into his mind, + With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, + Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received + Into the bosom of the steady lake." + _The Prelude_, v. 379 f. + + + +ELEGIAC STANZAS + +COMPOSED 1805: PUBLISHED 1807. + +Further references to John Wordsworth will be found in the following +poems:--_To the Daisy_ ("Sweet Flower"), _Elegiac Verses in Memory of My +Brother_, _When to the Attractions of the Busy World_, _The Brothers_, +and _The Happy Warrior_. + +With lines 33-40, and 57-60, compare the _Intimations of Immortality_, +ll. 176-187:-- + + "What though the radiance which was once so bright + Be now for ever taken from my sight, + Though nothing can bring back the hour + Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; + We will grieve not, rather find + Strength in what remains behind; + In the primal sympathy + Which having been must ever be; + In the soothing thoughts that spring + Out of human suffering; + In the faith that looks through death, + In years that bring the philosophic mind." + + + +A BRIEF HISTORY AND DESCRIPTION OF THE SONNET + +The sonnet form was introduced into English poetry by Sir Thomas Wyatt +and the Earl of Surrey. Their experiments in the sonnet were published +in _Tottel's Miscellany_ in 1557, and were prompted by an admiration of +Petrarch and other Italian models. Italy was almost certainly the +original home of the sonnet (sonnet=Ital. _sonetto_, _a little sound_, or +_short strain_, from _suono_, _sound_), and there it has been assiduously +cultivated since the thirteenth century. In the fourteenth century Dante +and Petrarch gave the form a European celebrity. + + +The Structure of the Sonnet. + +Before saying anything of its development in English poetry, it is +advisable to examine an admittedly perfect sonnet, so that we may gain an +idea of the nature of this type of poem, both as to form and substance. +Wordsworth's sonnet upon Milton (_London_, 1802) will serve our purpose +(see page 187). By reference to it you will observe:-- + +(1) That the sonnet is written in iambic pentameter, and consists of +fourteen lines--that number by repeated experimentation having been found +the most appropriate for the expression of a single emotional mood. + +(2) As an examination of the rimes will show (a b b a a b b a: c d d e c +e), there is a natural metrical division at the end of the eighth line. +The first eight lines in technical language are called the "octave," the +last six lines are called the "sestet." The octave is sometimes said to +consist of two quatrains, and the sestet of two tercets. + +(3) There is not only a metrical division between the octave and the +sestet, but the character of the thought also undergoes a subtle change +at that point. It is to be understood, of course, that in the whole poem +there must be both unity of thought and mood. Yet, at the ninth line, +the thought which is introduced in the octave is elaborated, and +presented as it were under another aspect. As Mr. Mark Pattison has +admirably expressed it: "This thought or mood should be led up to, and +opened in the early lines of the sonnet; strictly, in the first quatrain; +in the second quatrain the hearer should be placed in full possession of +it. After the second quatrain there should be a pause--not full, nor +producing the effect of a break--as of one who had finished what he had +got to say, and not preparing a transition to a new subject, but as of +one who is turning over what has been said in the mind to enforce it +further. The opening of the second system, strictly the first tercet, +should turn back upon the thought or sentiment, take it up and carry it +forward to the conclusion. The conclusion should be a resultant summing +the total of the suggestion in the preceding lines. . . . While the +conclusion should leave a sense of finish and completeness, it is +necessary to avoid anything like epigrammatic point." + +(4) An examination of the rimes again will show that greater strictness +prevails in the octave than in the sestet. The most regular type of the +octave may be represented by a b b a a b b a, turning therefore upon two +rimes only. The sestet, though it contains but six lines, is more +liberal in the disposition of its rimes. In the sonnet which we are +examining, the rime system of the sestet in c d d e c e--containing, as +we see, three separate rimes. In the sestet this is permissible, +provided that there is not a riming couplet at the close. + +(5) Again, with reference to the rime, it will be observed that the vowel +terminals of the octave and the sestet are differentiated. Anything +approaching assonance between the two divisions is to be counted as a +defect. + +(6) It is evident that there is unity both of thought and mood in this +sonnet, the sestet being differentiated from the octave, only as above +described. + +(7) It is almost unnecessary to add that there is no slovenly diction, +that the language is dignified in proportion to the theme, and that there +is no obscurity or repetition in thought or phraseology. + +These rules will appear to the young reader of poetry as almost +unnecessarily severe. But it must be remembered that the sonnet is +avowedly a conventional form (though in it much of the finest poetry in +our language is contained), and as such the conventional laws attaching +to all prescribed forms must be observed to win complete success. + +Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton have lent the authority of their great +names to certain distinct variations from the rigid Petrarchan type. The +peculiarity of Spenser's sonnets is that the rime of the octave overflows +into the sestet, thus marring the exquisite balance which should subsist +between the two parts, and yielding an effect of cloying sweetness. +Although the famous stanza-form which he invented in his "Faerie Queene" +has found many imitators, his sonnet innovations are practically +unimportant. + +The Shakespearean sonnet, on the contrary, must be regarded as a +well-established variant from the stricter Italian form. Though +Shakespeare's name has made it famous, it did not originate with him. +Surrey and Daniel had habitually employed it, and in fact it had come to +be recognized as the accepted English form. Its characteristic feature, +as the following sonnet from Shakespeare will show, was a division into +three distinct quatrains, each with alternating rimes, and closed by a +couplet. The transition of thought at the ninth line is usually +observed:-- + + "When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, + I all alone beweep my outcast state, + And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, + And look upon myself, and curse my fate, + Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, + Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, + Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, + With what I most enjoy contented least; + Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, + Haply I think on thee--and then my state, + Like to the lark at break of day arising + From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; + For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings, + That then I scorn to change my state with kings." + +It is Milton's merit that he rescued the sonnet from the snare of verbal +wit in which the Elizabethans had involved it, and made it respond to +other passions than that of love. His sonnets, as imitations of the +Italian form, are more successful than the scattered efforts in that +direction of Wyatt and Surrey. They are indeed regular in all respects, +save that he is not always careful to observe the pause in the thought, +and the subtle change which should divide the octave from the sestet. + +After Milton there is a pause in sonnet-writing for a hundred years. +William Lisles Bowles (1762-1850), memorable for his influence upon +Coleridge, was among the first again to cultivate the form. Coleridge +and Shelley gave the sonnet scant attention, and were careless as to its +structural qualities. Keats, apart from Wordsworth, was the only poet of +the early years of the century who realized its capabilities. He has +written a few of our memorable sonnets, but he was not entirely satisfied +with the accepted form, and experimented upon variations that cannot be +regarded as successful. + +There is no doubt that the stimulus to sonnet-writing in the nineteenth +century came from Wordsworth, and he, as all his recent biographers +admit, received his inspiration from Milton. Wordsworth's sonnets, less +remarkable certainly than a supreme few of Shakespeare's, have still +imposed themselves as models upon all later writers, while the +Shakespearean form has fallen into disuse. A word here, therefore, as to +their form. + +The strict rime movement of the octave a b b a a b b a is observed in +seven only of the present collection of twelve, namely, in the first +sonnet, the second, the third, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, and the +eighth. The rime formula of the octave with which Wordsworth's name is +chiefly associated is a b b a a c c a. The sonnets in which this +additional rime is introduced are the fourth, the ninth, the tenth, the +eleventh and the twelfth. + +As regards the transition from octave to sestet the following sonnets +observe the prescribed law, namely, the second, third, sixth, seventh, +and ninth. The seven remaining sonnets all show some irregularity in +this respect. The first sonnet (_Fair Star_) with its abrupt +_enjambement_ at the close of the octave, and the thought pause in the +body of the first line of the sestet, is a form much employed by Mrs. +Browning, but rigorously avoided by Dante Gabriel Rossetti with his more +scrupulous ideal of sonnet construction. This imperfect transition is +seen again in the fourth, fifth, eighth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth +sonnets. Its boldness certainly amounts to a technical fault in the two +sonnets on _King's College Chapel_. + +In the sestet we naturally expect and find much variety in the +disposition of the rimes. The conclusion of the last sonnet by a couplet +is most unusual in Wordsworth. + + + +"IT IS NOT TO BE THOUGHT OF" + +This sonnet was composed in September, 1802, first published in the +Morning Post in 1803, and subsequently in 1807. + + + +WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1802: + +PUBLISHED 1807 + +"This was written immediately after my return from France to London, when +I could not but be struck, as here described, with the vanity and parade +of our own country, especially in great towns and cities, as contrasted +with the quiet, I may say the desolation, that the Revolution had +produced in France. This must be borne in mind, or else the Reader may +think that in this and the succeeding Sonnets I have exaggerated the +mischief engendered and fostered among us by undisturbed wealth." + + + +LONDON, 1802 + +This sonnet was written in 1803 and published in 1807. + + + +"DARK AND MORE DARK THE SHADES OF EVENING FELL" + +This sonnet was written after a journey across the Hambleton Hills, +Yorkshire. Wordsworth says: "It was composed October 4th, 1802, after a +journey on a day memorable to me--the day of my marriage. The horizon +commanded by those hills is most magnificent." Dorothy Wordsworth, +describing the sky-prospect, says: "Far off from us in the western sky we +saw the shapes of castles, ruins among groves, a great spreading wood, +rocks and single trees, a minster with its tower unusually distinct, +minarets in another quarter, and a round Grecian temple also; the colours +of the shy of a bright gray, and the forms of a sober gray, with dome." + + + +"SURPRISED BY JOY--IMPATIENT AS THE WIND" + +This sonnet was suggested by the poet's daughter Catherine long after her +death. She died in her fourth year, on June 4, 1812. Wordsworth was +absent from home at the time of her death. The sonnet was published in +1815. + + + +"HAIL, TWILIGHT SOVEREIGN OF A PEACEFUL HOUR" + +This sonnet was published in 1815. + + + +"I THOUGHT OF THEE, MY PARTNER AND MY GUIDE" + +This sonnet, which concludes "The River Duddon" series, is usually +entitled "After-Thought". The series was written at intervals, and was +finally published in 1820. "The Duddon rises on Wrynose Fell, near to +'Three Shire Stone,' where Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire meet." + + + +"SUCH AGE, HOW BEAUTIFUL!" + +This sonnet, published in 1827, was inscribed to Lady Fitzgerald at the +time in her seventieth year. + + + + +ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + +Alfred Tennyson was born at Somersby, a small hamlet among the +Lincolnshire wolds, on August 6th, 1809. His father, the Rev. George +Clayton Tennyson, the vicar of Somersby, was a man of large and +cultivated intellect, interested in poetry, mathematics, painting, music, +and architecture, but somewhat harsh and austere in manner, and subject +to fits of gloomy depression, during which his presence was avoided by +his family; he was sincerely devoted to them, however, and himself +supervised their education. His mother, Elizabeth Fytche, the daughter +of the Rev Stephen Fytche of Louth, was a kind-hearted, gentle, refined +woman, beloved by her family and friends. Her influence over her sons +and daughters was unbounded, and over none more so than Alfred, who in +after life recognized to the full what he owed to his mother. + +The family was large, consisting of twelve sons and daughters, of whom +the eldest died in infancy. Alfred was the fourth child, his brothers +Frederick and Charles being older than he. The home life was a very +happy one. The boys and girls were all fond of books, and their games +partook of the nature of the books they had been reading. They were +given to writing, and in this they were encouraged by their father, who +proved himself a wise and discriminating critic. Alfred early showed +signs of his poetic bent; at the age of twelve he had written an epic of +four thousand lines, and even before this a tragedy and innumerable poems +in blank verse. He was not encouraged, however, to preserve these +specimens of his early powers, and they are now lost. + +Alfred attended for a time a small school near his home, but at the age +of seven he was sent to the Grammar School at Louth. While at Louth he +lived with his grandmother, but his days at school were not happy, and he +afterwards looked back over them with almost a shudder. Before he was +twelve he returned home, and began his preparation for the university +under his father's care. His time was not all devoted to serious study, +but was spent in roaming through his father's library, devouring the +great classics of ancient and modern times, and in writing his own poems. +The family each summer removed to Mablethorpe on the Lincolnshire coast. +Here Alfred learned to love the sea in all its moods, a love which lasted +through his life. + +In 1827, after Frederick had entered Cambridge, the two brothers, Charles +and Alfred, being in want of pocket money, resolved to publish a volume +of poems. They made a selection from their numerous poems, and offered +the book to a bookseller in Louth, For some unknown reason he accepted +the book, and soon after, it was published under the title, _Poems by Two +Brothers_. There were in reality three brothers, as some of Frederick's +poems were included in the volume. The brothers were promised 20 pounds, +but more than one half of this sum they had to take out in books. With +the balance they went on a triumphal expedition to the sea, rejoicing in +the successful launching of their first literary effort. + +In 1828 Charles and Alfred Tennyson matriculated at Trinity College, +Cambridge, where their elder brother Frederick had already been for some +time. Alfred was a somewhat shy lad, and did not at once take kindly to +the life of his college. He soon, however, found himself one of a famous +society known as "The Apostles," to which belonged some of the best men +in the University. Not one member of the "Apostles" at this time, but +afterwards made a name for himself, and made his influence felt in the +world of politics or letters. The society met at regular intervals, but +Alfred did not take much part in the debates, preferring to sit silent +and listen to what was said. All his friends had unbounded admiration +for his poetry and unlimited faith in his poetic powers. This faith was +strengthened by the award of the University Prize for English Verse to +Alfred in June, 1829. He did not wish to compete, but on being pressed, +polished up an old poem that he had written some years before, and +presented it for competition, the subject being _Timbuctoo_. The poem +was in blank verse and really showed considerable power; in fact it was a +remarkable poem for one so young. + +Perhaps the most powerful influence on the life of Tennyson was the +friendship he formed while at Cambridge with Arthur Henry Hallam, the son +of the historian, Henry Hallam. The two became inseparable friends, a +friendship strengthened by the engagement of Hallam to the poet's sister. +The two friends agreed to publish a volume of poems as a +joint-production, but Henry Hallam, the elder, did not encourage the +project, and it was dropped. The result was that in 1830, _Poems, +Chiefly Lyrical_, was published with the name of Alfred Tennyson alone on +the title page. The volume was reviewed enthusiastically by Hallam, but +was more or less slated by Christopher North in the columns of +_Blackwoods' Magazine_. Tennyson was very angry about the latter review +and replied to the reviewer in some caustic, but entirely unnecessary, +verses. + +In the same year Hallam and Tennyson made an expedition into Spain to +carry aid to the rebel leader against the king of Spain. The expedition +was not by any means a success. In 1831 Tennyson left Cambridge, without +taking his degree, and shortly after his return home his father died. +The family, however, did not remove from Somersby, but remained there +until 1837. Late in 1832 appeared another volume entitled _Poems by +Alfred Tennyson_. This drew upon the unfortunate author a bitterly +sarcastic article in the _Quarterly_, written probably by its brilliant +editor, John Gibson Lockhart. The result of this article was that +Tennyson was silent for almost ten years, a period spent in ridding +himself of the weaknesses so brutally pointed out by the reviewer. + +In 1833, Arthur Henry Hallam died, and for a time the light of life +seemed to have gone out for Alfred Tennyson. The effect of the death of +Hallam upon the poet was extraordinary. It seemed to have changed the +whole current of his life; indeed he is said, under the strain of the +awful suddeness and unexpectedness of the event, to have contemplated +suicide. But saner thoughts intervened, and he again took up the burden +of life, with the determination to do what he could in helping others. +From this time of storm and stress came _In Memoriam_. + +From 1832 to 1842 Tennyson spent a roving life. Now at home, now in +London, now with his friends in various parts of England. He was +spending his time in finishing his poems, so that when he again came +before the world with a volume, he would be a master. The circle of his +friends was widening, and now included the greater number of the +master-minds of England. He was poor, so poor in fact that he was +reduced to the necessity of borrowing the books he wished to read from +his friends. But during all this time he never wavered in his allegiance +to poetry; he had determined to be a poet, and to devote his life to +poetry. At last in 1842 he published his _Poems_ in two volumes, and the +world was conquered. From this time onwards he was recognized as the +leading poet of his century. + +In 1845, Tennyson, poor still, was granted a pension of 200 pounds, +chiefly through the influence of his friend Richard Monckton Milnes, and +Thomas Carlyle. There was a great deal of criticism regarding this +pension from sources that should have been favorable, but the general +verdict approved the grant. In 1847 appeared _The Princess_, a poem, +which, at that time, did not materially add to his fame; but the poet was +now hailed as one of the great ones of his time, and much was expected of +him. + +In 1850 three most important events in the life of Tennyson happened. He +published _In Memoriam_, in memory of his friend, Arthur Henry Hallam; he +was appointed Poet Laureate, in succession to Wordsworth; and he married +Emily Selwood, a lady to whom he had been engaged for seventeen years, +but whom his poverty had prevented him from leading to the altar. From +this time onwards the life of the poet flowed smoothly. He was happily +married, his fame was established, his books brought him sufficient +income on which to live comfortable and well. From this point there is +little to relate in his career, except the publication of his various +volumes. + +After his marriage Tennyson lived for some time at Twickenham, where in +1852 Hallam Tennyson was born. In 1851 he and his wife visited Italy, a +visit commemorated in _The Daisy_. In 1853 they removed to Farringford +at Freshwater in the Isle of Wight, a residence subsequently purchased +with the proceeds of _Maud_, published in 1855. The poem had a somewhat +mixed reception, being received in some quarters with unstinted abuse and +in others with the warmest praise. In the year that _Maud_ was published +Tennyson received the honorary degree of D.C.L., from Oxford. In 1859 +was published the first four of the _Idylls of the King_, followed in +1864 by _Enoch Arden and Other Poems_. In 1865 his mother died. In 1869 +he occupied Aldworth, an almost inaccessible residence in Surrey, near +London, in order to escape the annoyance of summer visitors to the Isle +of Wight, who insisted on invading his privacy, which, perhaps, more than +any other he especially valued. + +From 1870 to 1880 Tennyson was engaged principally on his dramas--_Queen +Mary_, _Harold_, and _Becket_,--but, with the exception of the last, +these did not prove particularly successful on the stage. In 1880 +_Ballads and Poems_ was published, an astonishing volume from one so +advanced in years. In 1882 the _Promise of May_ was produced in public, +but was soon withdrawn. In 1884 Tennyson was raised to the peerage as +Baron Tennyson of Aldworth and Farringford, after having on two previous +occasions refused a baronetcy. In 1885 _Tiresias and Other Poems_ was +published. In this volume was published _Balin and Balan_, thus +completing the _Idylls of the King_, which now assumed their permanent +order and form. _Demeter and Other Poems_ followed in 1889, including +_Crossing the Bar_. In 1892, on October 6th, the poet died at Aldworth, +"with the moonlight upon his bed and an open Shakespeare by his side." A +few days later he was buried in Westminster Abbey, by the side of Robert +Browning, his friend and contemporary, who had preceded him by only a few +years. + +Carlyle has left us a graphic description of Tennyson as he was in middle +life: "One of the finest--looking men in the world. A great shock of +rough, dusky dark hair; bright, laughing hazel eyes; massive aquiline +face--most massive yet most delicate; of sallow brown complexion, almost +Indian-looking; clothes cynically loose, free-and-easy; smokes infinite +tobacco. His voice is musically metallic--fit for loud laughter and +piercing wail, and all that may lie between; speech and speculation free +and plenteous; I do not meet in these late decades such company over a +pipe! We shall see what he will grow to." To this may be added a +paragraph from Caroline Fox: "Tennyson is a grand specimen of a man, with +a magnificent head set on his shoulders like the capital of a mighty +pillar. His hair is long and wavy and covers a massive head. He wears a +beard and mustache, which one begrudges as hiding so much of that firm, +powerful, but finely-chiselled mouth. His eyes are large and gray, and +open wide when a subject interests him; they are well shaded by the noble +brow, with its strong lines of thought and suffering. I can quite +understand Samuel Lawrence calling it the best balance of head he had +ever seen." + + +CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE + +Born, August 6, 1809, at Somersby, Lincolnshire. + +Goes to Louth Grammar School, 1816. + +Publishes, along with his brother Charles, _Poems by Two Brothers_, 1827. + +Goes to Trinity College, Cambridge, 1828. + +Forms friendship with Arthur Henry Hallam, 1828. + +Wins Vice-Chancellor's Gold Medal for his poem _Timbuctoo_, 1829. + +Publishes _Poems, Chiefly Lyrical_, 1830. + +Makes an expedition to the Pyrenees with Arthur Henry Hallam, 1830. + +Leaves Cambridge, owing to the illness of his father, 1831. + +Visits the Rhine with Arthur Henry Hallam, 1832. + +Publishes _Poems by Alfred Tennyson_, 1832. + +Arthur Henry Hallam dies, 1833. + +Removes from Somersby to High Beech in Epping Forest, 1837. + +Publishes _Poems_ in two volumes, 1842. + +Granted a pension of 200 pounds from the Civil List, 1845. + +Publishes _The Princess_, 1847. + +Publishes _In Memoriam_, 1850. + +Appointed Poet Laureate, 1850. + +Marries Miss Emily Selwood, 1850. + +Tours southern Europe with his wife, 1851. + +Hallam Tennyson born, 1852. + +Writes _Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington_, 1852. + +Takes up his residence at Farringford in the Isle of Wight, 1853. + +Lionel Tennyson born, 1854. + +Writes _The Charge of the Light Brigade_, 1855. + +The University of Oxford confers on him the degree of D.C.L., 1855. + +Publishes _Maud and Other Poems_, 1855. + +Purchases Farringford, 1856. + +Publishes _Idylls of the King_, 1859. + +Writes his _Welcome to Alexandra_, 1863. + +Publishes _Enoch Arden_, 1864; _The Holy Grail_, 1869. + +His mother dies, 1865. + +Purchases land at Haslemere, Surrey, 1868, and begins erection of +Aldworth. + +Publishes _Queen Mary_, 1875; the drama successfully performed by Henry +Irving, 1876. + +Publishes _Harold_, 1876. + +His drama _The Falcon_ produced, 1869. + +Seeks better health by a tour on the Continent with his son Hallam, 1880. + +Publishes _Ballads and Other Poems_, 1880. + +His drama _The Cup_ successfully performed, 1881. + +His drama _The Promise of May_ proves a failure, 1882. + +Raised to the peerage as Baron Tennyson of Aldworth and Farringford, 1884. + +Publishes _Becket_, 1884. + +His son Lionel dies, 1885. + +Publishes _Tiresias and Other Poems_, 1885. This volume contains _Balin +and Balan_, thus completing his _Idylls of the King_. + +Publishes _Demeter and Other Poems_, 1889. + +Dies at Aldworth, October 6, 1892, and is buried in Westminster Abbey. + +The _Death of Oenone_ is published, 1892. + + + +APPRECIATIONS + +"Since the days when Dryden held office no Laureate has been appointed so +distinctly pre-eminent above all his contemporaries, so truly the king of +the poets, as he upon whose brows now rests the Laureate crown. Dryden's +grandeur was sullied, his muse was venal, and his life was vicious; still +in his keeping the office acquired a certain dignity; after his death it +declined into the depths of depredation, and each succeeding dullard +dimmed its failing lustre. The first ray of hope for its revival sprang +into life with the appointment of Southey, to whom succeeded Wordsworth, +a poet of worth and genius, whose name certainly assisted in +resuscitating the ancient dignity of the appointment. Alfred Tennyson +derives less honor from the title than he confers upon it; to him we owe +a debt of gratitude that he has redeemed the laurels with his poetry, +noble, pure, and undefiled as ever poet sung."--_Walter Hamilton_. + +"Tennyson is many sided; he has a great variety of subjects. He has +treated of the classical and the romantic life of the world; he has been +keenly alive to the beauties of nature; and he has tried to sympathize +with the social problems that confront mankind. In this respect he is a +representative poet of the age, for this very diversity of natural gifts +has made him popular with all classes. Perhaps he has not been perfectly +cosmopolitan, and sometimes the theme in his poetry has received a slight +treatment compared to what might have been given it by deeper thinking +and more philosophical poets, but he has caught the spirit of the age and +has expressed its thought, if not always forcibly, at least more +beautifully than any other poet,"--_Charles Read Nutter_. + +"In technical elegance, as an artist in verse, Tennyson is the greatest +of modern poets. Other masters, old and new, have surpassed him in +special instances; but he is the only one who rarely nods, and who always +finishes his verse to the extreme. Here is the absolute sway of metre, +compelling every rhyme and measure needful to the thought; here are +sinuous alliterations, unique and varying breaks and pauses, winged +flights and falls, the glory of sound and color everywhere present, or, +if missing, absent of the poet's free will. The fullness of his art +evades the charm of spontaneity. His original and fastidious art is of +itself a theme for an essay. The poet who studies it may well despair, +he can never excel it; its strength is that of perfection; its weakness, +the ever-perfection which marks a still-life painter."--_Edmund Clarence +Stedman_. + +"A striking quality of Tennyson's poetry is its simplicity, both in +thought and expression. This trait was characteristic of his life, and +so we naturally expect to find it in his verse. Tennyson was too sincere +by nature, and too strongly averse to experimenting in new fields of +poetry, to attempt the affected or unique. He purposely avoided all +subjects which he feared he could not treat with simplicity and +clearness. So, in his shorter poems, there are few obscure or ambiguous +passages, little that is not easy of comprehension. His subjects +themselves tend to prevent ambiguity or obscurity. For he wrote of men +and women as he saw them about him, of their joys and sorrows, their +trials, their ideals,--and in this was nothing complex. Thus there is a +homely quality to his poems, but they are kept from the commonplace by +the great tenderness of his feeling. Had Tennyson been primarily of a +metaphysical or philosophical mind all this might have been different. +True, he was somewhat of a student of philosophy and religion, and some +of his poems are of these subjects, but his thought even here is always +simple and plain, and he never attempted the deep study that was not +characteristic of his nature. No less successful is he in avoiding +obscurity in expression. There are few passages that need much +explanation. In this he offers a striking contrast to Browning, who +often painfully hid his meaning under complex phraseology. His +vocabulary is remarkably large, and when we study his use of words, we +find that in many cases they are from the two-syllabled class. This +matter of choice of clear, simple words and phrases is very important. +For, just so much as our attention is drawn from what a poet says to the +medium, the language in which he says it, so much is its clearness +injured. Vividly to see pictures in our imagination or to be affected by +our emotions, we must not, as we read, experience any jar. In Tennyson +we never have to think of his expressions--except to admire their simple +beauty. Simplicity and beauty, then, are two noticeable qualities of his +poetry."--_Charles Read Nutter_. + +"An idyllic or picturesque mode of conveying his sentiments is the one +natural to Tennyson, if not the only one permitted by his limitations. +He is a born observer of physical nature, and, whenever he applies an +adjective to some object or passingly alludes to some phenomenon which +others have but noted, is almost infallibly correct. He has the unerring +first touch which in a single line proves the artist; and it justly has +been remarked that there is more true English landscape in many an +isolated stanza of _In Memoriam_ than in the whole of _The Seasons_, that +vaunted descriptive poem of a former century."--_Edmund Clarence Stedman_. + +"In describing scenery, his microscopic eye and marvellously delicate ear +are exercised to the utmost in detecting the minutest relations and most +evanescent melodies of the objects before him, in order that his +representation shall include everything which is important to their full +perfection. His pictures of rural English scenery give the inner spirit +as well as the outward form of the objects, and represent them, also, in +their relation to the mind which is gazing on them. The picture in his +mind is spread out before his detecting and dissecting intellect, to be +transformed to words only when it can be done with the most refined +exactness, both as regards color and form and melody."--_E.P. Whipple_. + +"For the most part he wrote of the every day loves and duties of men and +women; of the primal pains and joys of humanity; of the aspirations and +trials which are common to all ages and all classes and independent even +of the diseases of civilization, but he made them new and surprising by +the art which he added to them, by beauty of thought, tenderness of +feeling, and exquisiteness of shaping."--_Stopford A. Brooke_. + +"The tenderness of Tennyson is one of his remarkable qualities--not so +much in itself, for other poets have been more tender--but in combination +with his rough powers. We are not surprised that his rugged strength is +capable of the mighty and tragic tenderness of Rispah, but we could not +think at first that he could feel and realize the exquisite tenderness of +_Elaine_. It is a wonderful thing to have so wide a tenderness, and only +a great poet can possess it and use it well."--_Stopford A. Brooke_. + +"Tennyson is a great master of pathos; knows the very tones that go to +the heart; can arrest every one of these looks of upbraiding or appeal by +which human woe brings the tear into the human eye. The pathos is deep; +but it is the majesty not the prostration of grief."--_Peter Bayne_. + +"Indeed the truth must be strongly borne in upon even the warmest +admirers of Tennyson that his recluse manner of life closed to him many +avenues of communication with the men and women of his day, and that, +whether as a result or cause of his exclusiveness, he had but little of +that restless, intellectual curiosity which constantly whets itself upon +new experiences, finds significance where others see confusion, and +beneath the apparently commonplace in human character reaches some +harmonizing truth. _Rizpah_ and _The Grandmother_ show what a rich +harvest he would have reaped had he cared more frequently to walk the +thoroughfares of life. His finely wrought character studies are very few +in number, and even the range of his types is disappointingly +narrow."--_Pelham Edgar_. + +"No reader of Tennyson can miss the note of patriotism which he +perpetually sounds. He has a deep and genuine love of country, a pride +in the achievements of the past, a confidence in the greatness of the +future. And this sense of patriotism almost reaches insularity of view. +He looks out upon the larger world with a gentle commiseration, and +surveys its un-English habits and constitution with sympathetic contempt. +The patriotism of Tennyson is sober rather than glowing; it is meditative +rather than enthusiastic. Occasionally indeed, his words catch fire, and +the verse leaps onward with a sound of triumph, as in such a poem as _The +Charge of the Light Brigade_ or in such a glorious ballad as _The +Revenge_. Neither of these poems is likely to perish until the glory of +the nation perishes, and her deeds of a splendid chivalrous past sink +into oblivion, which only shameful cowardice can bring upon her. But as +a rule Tennyson's patriotism is not a contagious and inspiring +patriotism. It is meditative, philosophic, self-complacent. It rejoices +in the infallibility of the English judgment, the eternal security of +English institutions, the perfection of English forms of +government."--_W. J. Dawson_. + +"Tennyson always speaks from the side of virtue; and not of that new and +strange virtue which some of our later poets have exalted, and which, +when it is stripped of its fine garments, turns out to be nothing else +than the unrestrained indulgence of every natural impulse; but rather of +that old fashioned virtue whose laws are 'self-reverence, self-knowledge, +self-control,' and which finds its highest embodiment in the morality of +the _New Testament_. There is a spiritual courage in his work, a force +of fate which conquers doubt and darkness, a light of inward hope which +burns dauntless under the shadow of death. Tennyson is the poet of +faith; faith as distinguished from cold dogmatism and the acceptance of +traditional creeds; faith which does not ignore doubt and mystery, but +triumphs over them and faces the unknown with fearless heart. The effect +of Christianity upon the poetry of Tennyson may be felt in its general +moral quality. By this it is not meant that he is always preaching. But +at the same time the poet can hardly help revealing, more by tone and +accent than by definite words, his moral sympathies. He is essentially +and characteristically a poet with a message. His poetry does not exist +merely for the sake of its own perfection of form. It is something more +than the sound of one who has a lovely voice and can play skilfully upon +an instrument. It is a poetry with a meaning and a purpose. It is a +voice that has something to say to us about life. When we read his poems +we feel our hearts uplifted, we feel that, after all it is worth while to +struggle towards the light, it is worth while to try to be upright and +generous and true and loyal and pure, for virtue is victory and goodness +is the only fadeless and immortal crown. The secret of the poet's +influence must lie in his spontaneous witness to the reality and +supremacy of the moral life. His music must thrill us with the +conviction that the humblest child of man has a duty, an ideal, a +destiny. He must sing of justice and of love as a sure reward, a +steadfast law, the safe port and haven of the soul."--_Henry Van Dyke_. + + + +REFERENCES ON TENNYSON'S LIFE AND WORKS + +_Alfred, Lord Tennyson: A Memoir_ by Hallam Tennyson. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. Price $2.00. + +_Tennyson and his Friends_ edited by Hallam, Lord Tennyson. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Alfred, Lord Tennyson: A Study of his Life and Works_ by Arthur Waugh. +London: William Heinemann. + +_Tennyson_ by Sir Alfred Lyall in _English Men of Letters_ series. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Alfred Tennyson_ by Arthur Christopher Benson in _Little Biographies_. +London: Methuen & Co. + +_Alfred Tennyson: A Saintly Life_ by Robert F. Horton. London: J. M. +Dent & Co. + +_Alfred Tennyson_ by Andrew Lang. New York: Dodd, Mead and Company. + +_Tennyson: His Art and Relation to Modern Life_ by Stopford A. Brooke. +London: William Heinemann. + +_A Study of the Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ by Edward Campbell +Tainsh. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_The Poetry of Tennyson_ by Henry Van Dyke. New York: Charles Scribner's +Sons. + +_A Tennyson Primer_ by William Macneile Dixon. New York: Dodd, Mead & +Company. + +_A Handbook to the Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ by Morton Luce. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Tennyson: A Critical Study_ by Stephen Gwynn in the _Victorian Era +Series_. London: Blackie & Sons, Limited. + +_Tennyson, Ruskin, Mill, and Other Literary Estimates_ by Frederic +Harrison. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Lives of Great English Writers from Chaucer to Browning_ by Walter S. +Hinchman and Francis B. Gummere. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company. + +_Personal Sketches of Recent Authors_ by Hattie Tyng Griswold. Chicago: +A. C. McClurg and Company. + +_Records of Tennyson, Ruskin, Browning_ by Anne Ritchie. New York: +Harper & Brothers. + +_Memories of the Tennysons_ by Rev. H. D. Rawnsley. Glasgow: James +Maclehose and Sons. + +_The Teaching of Tennyson_ by John Oats. London: James Bowden. + +_Tennyson as a Religious Teacher_ by Charles F. G. Masterman. London: +Methuen & Co. + +_The Social Ideals of Alfred Tennyson as Related to His Time_ by William +Clark Gordon. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. + +_The Religious Spirit in the Poets_ by W. Boyd Carpenter. New York: +Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. + +_Literary Essays_ by R. H. Hutton. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of +Canada, Limited. + +_Victorian Poets_ by Edmund Clarence Stedman. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin +and Company. + +_The Greater English Poets of the Nineteenth Century_ by William Morton +Payne. New York: Henry Holt and Company. + +_The Masters of English Literature_ by Stephen Gwynn. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_A Study of English and American Poets_ by J. Scott Clark. New York: +Charles Scribner's Sons. + +_The Works of Tennyson with Notes by the Author_ edited with Memoir by +Hallam, Lord Tennyson. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + + + + +NOTES + +OENONE + +"The poem of _Oenone_ is the first of Tennyson's elaborate essays in a +metre over which be afterwards obtained an eminent command. It is also +the first of his idylls and of his classical studies, with their +melodious rendering of the Homeric epithets and the composite words, +which Tennyson had the art of coining after the Greek manner +('lily-cradled,' 'river-sundered,' 'dewy-dashed') for compact description +or ornament. Several additions were made in a later edition; and the +corrections then made show with what sedulous care the poet diversified +the structure of his lines, changing the pauses that break the monotonous +run of blank verse, and avoiding the use of weak terminals when the line +ends in the middle of a sentence. The opening of the poem was in this +manner decidedly improved; yet one may judge that the finest passages are +still to be found almost as they stood in the original version; and the +concluding lines, in which the note of anguish culminates, are left +untouched." + +"Nevertheless the blank verse of _Oenone_ lacks the even flow and +harmonious balance of entire sections in the _Morte d'Arthur_ or +_Ulysses_, where the lines are swift or slow, rise to a point and fall +gradually, in cadences arranged to correspond with the dramatic movement, +showing that the poet has extended and perfected his metrical resources. +The later style is simplified; he has rejected cumbrous metaphor; he is +less sententious; he has pruned away the flowery exuberance and lightened +the sensuous colour of his earlier composition."--_Sir Alfred Lyall_. + +First published in 1832-3. It received its present improved form in the +edition of 1842. The story of Paris and Oenone may be read in Lempriere, +or in any good classical dictionary. Briefly it is as follows:--Paris +was the son of Priam, King of Troy, and Hecuba. It was foretold that he +would bring great ruin on Troy, so his father ordered him to be slain at +birth. The slave, however, did not destroy him, but exposed him upon +Mount Ida, where shepherds found him and, brought him up as one of +themselves. "He gained the esteem of all the shepherds, and his graceful +countenance and manly development recommended him to the favour of +Oenone, a nymph of Ida, whom he married, and with whom he lived in the +most perfect tenderness. Their conjugal bliss was soon disturbed. At +the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, Eris, the goddess of discord, who had +not been invited to partake of the entertainment, showed her displeasure +by throwing into the assembly of gods, who were at the celebration of the +nuptials, a golden apple on which were written the words _Detur +pulchriori_. All the goddesses claimed it as their own: the contention +at first became general, but at last only three, Juno (Herè), Venus +(Aphrodite), and Minerva (Pallas), wished to dispute their respective +right to beauty. The gods, unwilling to become arbiters in an affair of +so tender and delicate a nature, appointed Paris to adjudge the prize of +beauty to the fairest of the goddesses, and indeed the shepherd seemed +properly qualified to decide so great a contest, as his wisdom was so +well established, and his prudence and sagacity so well known. The +goddesses appeared before their judge without any covering or ornament, +and each tried by promises and entreaties to gain the attention of Paris, +and to influence his judgment. Juno promised him a kingdom; Minerva, +military glory; and Venus, the fairest woman in the world for his wife." +(Lempriere.) Paris accorded the apple to Aphrodite, abandoned Oenone, +and after he had been acknowledged the son of Priam went to Sparta, where +he persuaded Helen, the wife of Menelaus, to flee with him to Troy. The +ten years' siege, and the destruction of Troy, resulted from this rash +act. Oenone's significant words at the close of the poem foreshadow this +disaster. Tennyson, in his old age concluded the narrative in the poem +called _The Death of Oenone_. According to the legend Paris, mortally +wounded by one of the arrows of Philoctetes, sought out the abandoned +Oenone that she might heal him of his wound. But he died before he +reached her, "and the nymph, still mindful of their former loves, threw +herself upon his body, and stabbed herself to the heart, after she had +plentifully bathed it with her tears." Tennyson follows another +tradition in which Paris reaches Oenone, who scornfully repels him. He +passed onward through the mist, and dropped dead upon the mountain side. +His old shepherd playmates built his funeral pyre. Oenone follows the +yearning in her heart to where her husband lies, and dies in the flames +that consume him. + +In Chapter IV of Mr. Stopford Brooke's _Tennyson_, there is a valuable +commentary upon _Oenone_. He deals first with the imaginative treatment +of the landscape, which is characteristic of all Tennyson's classical +poems, and instances the remarkable improvement effected in the +descriptive passages in the volume of 1842. "But fine landscape and fine +figure re-drawing are not enough to make a fine poem. Human interest, +human passion, must be greater than Nature, and dominate the subject. +Indeed, all this lovely scenery is nothing in comparison with the sorrow +and love of Oenone, recalling her lost love in the places where once she +lived in joy. This is the main humanity of the poem. But there is more. +Her common sorrow is lifted almost into the proportions of Greek tragedy +by its cause and by its results. It is caused by a quarrel in Olympus, +and the mountain nymph is sacrificed without a thought to the vanity of +the careless gods. That is an ever-recurring tragedy in human history. +Moreover, the personal tragedy deepens when we see the fateful dread in +Oenone's heart that she will, far away, in time hold her lover's life in +her hands, and refuse to give it back to him--a fatality that Tennyson +treated before he died. And, secondly, Oenone's sorrow is lifted into +dignity by the vast results which flowed from its cause. Behind it were +the mighty fates of Troy, the ten years' battle, the anger of Achilles, +the wanderings of Ulysses, the tragedy of Agamemnon, the founding of +Rome, and the three great epics of the ancient world." + +Another point of general interest is to be noted in the poem. Despite +the classical theme the tone is consistently modern, as may be gathered +from the philosophy of the speech of Pallas, and from the tender yielding +nature of Oenone. There is no hint here of the vindictive resentment +which the old classical writers, would have associated with her grief. +Similarly Tennyson has systematically modernised the Arthurian legend in +the _Idylls of the King_, giving us nineteenth century thoughts in a +conventional mediaeval setting. + +A passage from Bayne, puts this question clearly: "Oenone wails +melodiously for Paris without the remotest suggestion of fierceness or +revengeful wrath. She does not upbraid him for having preferred to her +the fairest and most loving wife in Greece, but wonders how any one could +love him better than she does. A Greek poet would have used his whole +power of expression to instil bitterness into her resentful words. The +classic legend, instead of representing Oenone as forgiving Paris, makes +her nurse her wrath throughout all the anguish and terror of the Trojan +War. At its end, her Paris comes back to her. Deprived of Helen, a +broken and baffled man, he returns from the ruins of his native Troy, and +entreats Oenone to heal him of a wound, which, unless she lends her aid, +must be mortal. Oenone gnashes her teeth at him, refuses him the remedy, +and lets him die. In the end, no doubt, she falls into remorse, and +kills herself--this is quite in the spirit of classic legend; implacable +vengeance, soul-sickened with its own victory, dies in despair. That +forgiveness of injuries could be anything but weakness--that it could be +honourable, beautiful, brave--is an entirely Christian idea; and it is +because this idea, although it has not yet practically conquered the +world, although it has indeed but slightly modified the conduct of +nations, has nevertheless secured recognition as ethically and socially +right, that Tennyson could not hope to enlist the sympathy and admiration +of his readers for his Oenone, if he had cast her image in the tearless +bronze of Pagan obduracy." + + +1. IDA. A mountain range in Mysia, near Troy. The scenery is, in part, +idealised, and partly inspired by the valley of Cauteretz. See +_Introduction_, p. xvi. + +2. IONIAN. Ionia was the district adjacent to Mysia. 'Ionian,' +therefore, is equivalent to 'neighbouring.' + +10. TOPMOST GARGARUS. A Latinism, cf. _summus mons_. + +12. TROAS. The Troad (Troas) was the district surrounding Troy. + +ILION=Ilium, another name for Troy. + +14. CROWN=chief ornament. + +22-23. O MOTHER IDA--DIE. Mr. Stedman, in his _Victorian Poets_, devotes +a valuable chapter to the discussion of Tennyson's relation to +Theocritus, both in sentiment and form. "It is in the _Oenone_ that we +discover Tennyson's earliest adaptation of that refrain, which was a +striking beauty of the pastoral elegiac verse; + + "'O mother Ida, hearken ere I die,' + +"is the analogue of (Theocr. II). + + "'See thou; whence came my love, O lady Moon,' etc. + +"Throughout the poem the Syracusan manner and feeling are strictly and +nobly maintained." Note, however, the modernisation already referred to. + +MOTHER IDA. The Greeks constantly personified Nature, and attributed a +separate individual life to rivers, mountains, etc. Wordsworth's +_Excursion_, Book IV., might be read in illustration, especially from the +line beginning-- + + "Once more to distant ages of the world." + +MANY-FOUNTAIN'D IDA. Many streams took their source in Ida. Homer +applies the same epithet to this mountain. + +24-32. These lines are in imitation of certain passages from Theocritus. +See Stedman, _Victorian Poets_, pp. 213 f. They illustrate Tennyson's +skill in mosaic work. + +30. MY EYES--LOVE. Cf. Shakespeare, 2 Henry VI. ii. 3. 17: + + "Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief." + +36. COLD CROWN'D SNAKE. "Cold crown'd" is not a compound epithet, +meaning "with a cold head." Each adjective marks a particular quality. +_Crown'd_ has reference to the semblance of a coronet that the hoods of +certain snakes, such as cobras, possess. + +37. THE DAUGHTER OF A RIVER-GOD. Oenone was the daughter of the river +Cebrenus in Phrygia. + +39-40. AS YONDER WALLS--BREATHED. The walls of Troy were built by +Poseidon (Neptune) and Apollo, whom Jupiter had condemned to serve King +Laomedon of Troas for a year. The stones were charmed into their places +by the breathing of Apollo's flute, as the walls of Thebes are said to +have risen to the strain of Amphion's lyre. Compare _Tithonus_, 62-63: + + "Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing, + When Ilion, like a mist, rose into towers." + +And cf. also _The Princess_, iii. 326. + +42-43. THAT--WOE. Compare _In Memoriam_, V. + +50. WHITE HOOVED. Cf. "hooves" for hoofs, in the _Lady of Shalott_, l. +101. + +51. SIMOIS. One of the many streams flowing from Mount Ida. + +65. HESPERIAN GOLD. The fruit was in colour like the golden apples in +the garden of the Hesperides. The Hesperides were three (or four) +nymphs, the daughters of Hesperus. They dwelt in the remotest west, near +Mount Atlas in Africa, and were appointed to guard the golden apples +which Herè gave to Zeus on the day of their marriage. One of Hercules' +twelve labours was to procure some of these apples. See the articles +_Hesperides_ and _Hercules_ in Lempriere. + +66. SMELT AMBROSIALLY. Ambrosia was the food of the gods. Their drink +was nectar. The food was sweeter than honey, and of most fragrant odour. + +72. WHATEVER OREAD. A classical construction. The Oreads were mountain +nymphs. + +78. FULL-FACED--GODS. This means either that not a face was missing, or +refers to the impressive countenances of the gods. Another possible +interpretation is that all their faces were turned full towards the board +on which the apple was cast. Compare for this epithet _Lotos Eaters_, 7; +and _Princess_, ii. 166. + +79. PELEUS. All the gods, save Eris, were present at the marriage +between Peleus and Thetis, a sea-deity. In her anger Eris threw upon the +banquet-table the apple which Paris now holds in his hand. Peleus and +Thetis were the parents of the famous Achilles. + +81. IRIS. The messenger of the gods. The rainbow is her symbol. + +83. DELIVERING=announcing. + +89-100. These lines, and the opening lines of the poem are among the best +of Tennyson's blank verse lines, and therefore among the best that +English poetry contains. The description owes some of its beauty to +Homer. In its earlier form, in the volume of 1832-3, it is much less +perfect. + +132. A CRESTED PEACOCK. The peacock was sacred to Herè (Juno). + +103. A GOLDEN CLOUD. The gods were wont to recline upon Olympus beneath +a canopy of golden clouds. + +104. DROPPING FRAGRANT DEW. Drops of glittering dew fell from the golden +cloud which shrouded Herè and Zeus. See _Iliad_, XIV, 341 f. + +105 f. Herè was the queen of Heaven. Power was therefore the gift which +she naturally proffered. + +114. Supply the ellipsis. + +121-122. POWER FITTED--WISDOM. Power that adapts itself to every crisis; +power which is born of wisdom and enthroned by wisdom (i.e. does not owe +its supremacy to brute strength). + +121-122. FROM ALL-ALLEGIANCE. Note the ellipsis and the inversion. + +128-131. WHO HAVE ATTAINED--SUPREMACY. Cf. _Lotos Eaters_, l. 155 f, and +_Lucretius_, 104-108. + + The gods, who haunt + The lucid interspace of world and world + Where never creeps a cloud, or moves a wind, + Nor ever falls the least white star of snow, + Nor ever lowest roll of thunder moans. + +137. O'ERTHWARTED WITH=crossed by. + +142 f. Compare the tone of Pallas' speech with what has been said in the +introduction, p. liv f., concerning Tennyson's love of moderation and +restraint, and his belief in the efficacy of law. + +Compare also the general temper of the _Ode on the Death of the Duke of +Wellington_, and especially ll. 201-205. + +144--148. Yet these qualities are not bestowed with power as the end in +view. Power will come without seeking when these great principles of +conduct are observed. The main thing is to live and act by the law of +the higher Life,--and it is the part of wisdom to follow right for its +own sake, whatever the consequences may be. + +151. SEQUEL OF GUERDON. To follow up my words with rewards (such as Herè +proffers) would not make me fairer. + +153-164. Pallas reads the weakness of Paris's character, but disdains to +offer him a more worldly reward. An access of moral courage will be her +sole gift to him, so that he shall front danger and disaster until his +powers of endurance grow strong with action, and his full-grown will +having passed through all experiences, and having become a pure law unto +itself, shall be commensurate with perfect freedom, i.e., shall not know +that it is circumscribed by law. + +This is the philosophy that we find in Wordsworth's _Ode to Duty_. + + Stern Lawgiver! Yet thou dost wear + The Godhead's most benignant grace; + Nor know we anything so fair + As is the smile upon thy face: + Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, + And fragrance in thy footing treads; + Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong, + And the most ancient heavens, through thee, + are fresh and strong. + +165-167. Note how dramatic this interruption is. + +170. IDALIAN APHRODITE. Idalium was a town in Cyprus; an island where +the goddess was especially worshipped. She was frequently called Cypria +or the Cyprian. + +171. FRESH AS THE FOAM. Aphrodite was born from the waves of the sea, +near the Island of Cyprus. + +NEW-BATHED IN PAPHIAN WELLS. Paphos was a town in Cyprus. Aphrodite was +said to have landed at Paphos after her birth from the sea-foam. She is +sometimes called the Paphian or Paphia on this account. + +184. SHE SPOKE AND LAUGH'D. Homer calls her "the laughter-loving +Aphrodite." + +195-l97. A WILD--WEED. The influence of beauty upon the beasts is a +common theme with poets. Cf. Una and the lion in Spenser's _Faery Queen_. + +204. THEY CUT AWAY MY TALLEST PINES. Evidently to make ships for Paris's +expedition to Greece. + +235-240. THERE ARE--DIE. Lamartine in _Le Lac_ (written before 1820) +has a very similar passage. + +250. CASSANDRA. The daughter of King Priam, and therefore the sister of +Paris. She had the gift of prophecy. + +260. A FIRE DANCES. Signifying the burning of Troy. + + + +THE EPIC AND MORTE D'ARTHUR + +First published, with the epilogue as here printed, in 1842. The _Morte +d'Arthur_ was subsequently taken out of the present setting, and with +substantial expansion appeared as the final poem of the _Idylls of the +King_, with the new title, _The Passing of Arthur_. + +Walter Savage Landor doubtless refers to the _Morte d'Arthur_ as early as +1837, when writing to a friend, as follows:--"Yesterday a Mr. Moreton, a +young man of rare judgment, read to me a manuscript by Mr. Tennyson, +being different in style from his printed poems. The subject is the +Death of Arthur. It is more Homeric than any poem of our time, and +rivals some of the noblest parts of the Odyssea." A still earlier +composition is assured by the correspondence of Edward Fitzgerald who +writes that, in 1835, while staying at the Speddings in the Lake Country, +he met Tennyson and heard the poet read the _Morte d'Arthur_ and other +poems of the 1842 volume. They were read out of a MS., "in a little red +book to him and Spedding of a night 'when all the house was mute.'" + +In _The Epic_ we have specific reference to the Homeric influence in +these lines: + + "Nay, nay," said Hall, + "Why take the style of those heroic times? + For nature brings not back the Mastodon, + Nor we those times; and why should any man + Remodel models? these twelve books of mine + Were faint Homeric echoes, nothing-worth," . . . + +Critics have agreed for the most part in considering the _Morte d'Arthur_ +as the most Homeric of Tennyson's poems. Bayne writes: "Not only in the +language is it Homeric, but in the design and manner of treatment. The +concentration of interest on the hero, the absence of all modernism in +the way of love, story or passion painting, the martial clearness, +terseness, brevity of the narrative, with definite specification, at the +same time, are exquisitely true to the Homeric pattern." Brimley notes, +with probably greater precision, that: "They are rather Virgilian than +Homeric echoes; elaborate and stately, not naive and eager to tell their +story; rich in pictorial detail; carefully studied; conscious of their +own art; more anxious for beauty of workmanship than interest of action." + +It has frequently been pointed out in this book how prone Tennyson is to +regard all his subjects from the modern point of view: + + a truth + Looks freshest in the fashion of the day. + +The Epic and the epilogue strongly emphasize this modernity in the varied +modern types of character which they represent, with their diverse +opinions upon contemporary topics. "As to the epilogue," writes Mr. +Brooke (p. 130), "it illustrates all I have been saying about Tennyson's +method with subjects drawn from Greek or romantic times. He filled and +sustained those subjects with thoughts which were as modern as they were +ancient. While he placed his readers in Camelot, Ithaca, or Ida, he made +them feel also that they were standing in London, Oxford, or an English +woodland. When the _Morte d'Arthur_ is finished, the hearer of it sits +rapt. There were 'modern touches here and there,' he says, and when he +sleeps he dreams of + + "King Arthur, like a modern gentleman + Of stateliest port; and all the people cried, + 'Arthur is come again, he cannot die.' + Then those that stood upon the hills behind + Repeated--'Come again, and thrice as fair:' + And, further inland, voices echoed--'Come + With all good things and war shall be no more. + +"The old tale, thus modernised in an epilogue, does not lose its dignity, +for now the recoming of Arthur is the recoming of Christ in a wider and +fairer Christianity. We feel here how the new movement of religion and +theology had sent its full and exciting wave into Tennyson. Arthur's +death in the battle and the mist is the death of a form of Christianity +which, exhausted, died in doubt and darkness. His advent as a modern +gentleman is the coming of a brighter and more loving Christ into the +hearts of men. For so ends the epilogue. When the voices cry, 'Come +again, with all good things,' + + "At this a hundred bells began to peal, + That with the sound I woke, and heard indeed, + The clear church-bells ring in the Christmas-morn." + +THE ALLEGORICAL ELEMENT.--The statement is made on p. xxxv of this book +that in _The Idylls of the King_ "the effort is made to reconcile the +human story with the allegory, and in consequence the issues are +confusedly presented to our mind." It is characteristic of the _Morte +d'Arthur_ fragment that it is apparently free from all allegorical +intention. It is merely a moving human story with a fascinating element +of mystery inspired by the original Celtic legend. An element of +allegory lies in the epilogue, and _The Passing of Arthur_ still further +enforces the allegorical purpose. But here, as Mr. Brooke again writes +(p. 371), "we are close throughout to the ancient tale. No allegory, no +ethics, no rational soul, no preaching symbolism, enter here, to dim, +confuse, or spoil the story. Nothing is added which does not justly +exalt the tale, and what is added is chiefly a greater fulness and +breadth of humanity, a more lovely and supreme Nature, arranged at every +point to enhance into keener life the human feelings of Arthur and his +knight, to lift the ultimate hour of sorrow and of death into nobility. +Arthur is borne to a chapel nigh the field-- + + "A broken chancel with a broken cross, + That stood on a dark strait of barren land; + On one side lay the Ocean, and on one + Lay a great water, and the moon was full. + +"What a noble framework--and with what noble consciousness it is drawn! . +. . . All the landscape--than which nothing better has been invented by +any English poet--lives from point to point as if Nature herself had +created it; but even more alive than the landscape are the two human +figures in it--Sir Bedivere standing by the great water, and Arthur lying +wounded near the chapel, waiting for his knight. Take one passage, which +to hear is to see the thing: + + "So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept, + And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, + Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, + Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang + Shrill, chill with flakes of foam. He, stepping down + By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock, + Came on the shining levels of the lake. + +"Twice he hides the sword, and when Arthur asks: 'What hast thou seen, +what heard?' Bedivere answers: + + "'I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, + And the wild water lapping on the crag,' + +"--lines so steeped in the loneliness of mountain tarns that I never stand +in solitude beside their waters but I hear the verses in my heart. At +the last he throws it. + + "The great brand + Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, + And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, + Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, + Seen where the moving isles of winter shock + By night, with noises of the northern sea. + +"'So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur,' and never yet in poetry did +any sword, flung in the air, flash so superbly. + +"The rest of the natural description is equally alive, and the passage +where the sound echoes the sense, and Bedivere, carrying Arthur, clangs +as he moves among the icy rocks, is as clear a piece of ringing, smiting, +clashing sound as any to be found in Tennyson: + + "Dry clashed his harness in the icy caves + And barren chasms, and all to left and right + The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based + His feet on juts of slippery crag that rung + Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels. + +"We hear all the changes on the vowel _a_--every sound of it used to give +the impression--and then, in a moment, the verse runs into breadth, +smoothness and vastness: for Bedivere comes to the shore and sees the +great water; + + "And on a sudden lo! the level lake, + And the long glories of the winter moon, + +"in which the vowel _o_, in its changes is used, as the vowel _a_ has been +used before. + +"The questions and replies of Arthur and Bedivere, the reproaches of the +King, the excuses of the Knight, the sorrow and the final wrath of +Arthur, are worthy of the landscape, as they ought to be; and the +dominance of the human element in the scene is a piece of noble +artist-work. Arthur is royal to the close, and when he passes away with +the weeping Queens across the mere, unlike the star of the tournament he +was of old, he is still the King. Sir Bedivere, left alone on the +freezing shore, hears the King give his last message to the world. It is +a modern Christian who speaks, but the phrases do not sound out of +harmony with that which might be in Romance. Moreover, the end of the +saying is of Avilion or Avalon--of the old heathen Celtic place where the +wounded are healed and the old made young." + +In the final analysis, therefore, the significance of the _Morte +d'Arthur_ is a significance of beauty rather than moralistic purpose. It +has been said that the reading of Milton's _Lycidas_ is the surest test +of one's powers of poetical appreciation. I fear that the test is too +severe for many readers who can still enjoy a simpler style of poetry. +But any person who can read the _Morte d'Arthur_, and fail to be +impressed by its splendid pictures, and subdued to admiration by the +dignity of its language, need scarcely hope for pleasure from any poetry. + + +THE EPIC + +3. SACRED BUSH. The mistletoe. This plant was sacred to the Celtic +tribes, and was an object of particular veneration with the Druids, +especially when associated with the oak-tree. + +8. OR GONE=either gone. + +18. THE GENERAL DECAY OF FAITH. The story of Arthur is intended to show +how faith survives, although the form be changed. See esp. _Morte +d'Arthur_, ll. 240-242. + +27-28. 'HE BURNT--SOME TWELVE BOOKS.' This must not be taken literally. +See, however, p. xxxiii. of the Biographical Sketch, as to Tennyson's +hesitation in treating the subject. + +48-51. This is self-portraiture. Lord Tennyson's method of reading was +impressive though peculiar. + + +MORTE D'ARTHUR + +THE ARTHURIAN LEGEND. Throughout the mediaeval period three great cycles +of stories commanded the imagination of the poets. Of these cycles one, +the tale of Troy in its curious mediaeval guise, attested the potent +spell of antique legend.[1] The two other great cycles were of later +origin, and centred around the commanding historical figures of +Charlemagne, and the phantom glory of the legendary Arthur. + +[1]The extraordinary interest in the half legendary career of Alexander +the Great must be noticed here, as also the profound respect amounting to +veneration for the Roman poet, Vergil. + + +The origin of the Arthurian story is involved in obscurity. The crudest +form of the myth has doubtless a core of historic truth, and represents +him as a mighty Celtic warrior, who works havoc among the heathen Saxon +invaders. Accretions naturally are added, and a miraculous origin and a +mysterious death throw a superstitious halo around the hero. When the +brilliant personality of Lancelot breaks into the tale, and the legend of +the Holy Grail is superadded, the theme exercised an irresistible +fascination upon the imagination of mediaeval Europe. + +The vicissitudes of the Celtic inhabitants of Britain are as romantic as +any of which history holds record. After the departure of the Roman +invaders from the island, the native population swiftly reasserted +itself. The Picts of Caledonia and the Scots of Ireland were their +natural foes, but conflict with these enemies served only to stimulate +the national life. But actual disaster threatened them when in the fifth +and sixth centuries the heathen Angles and Saxons bore down in +devastating hordes upon the land. It is at this critical period in the +national history that Arthur must have lived. How long or how valiant +the resistance was we cannot know. That it was vain is certain. A large +body of Britons fled from annihilation across the channel, and founded in +the region of Armurica in France, a new Brittany. Meanwhile, in the +older Britain, the foe pressed hard upon their fellow-countrymen, and +drove them into the western limits of the island, into the fastnesses of +Wales, and the rocky parts of Cornwall. Here, and in Northern France, +proud in their defeat and tenacious of the instincts of their race, they +lived and still live, in the imaginative memories of the past. For them +the future held little store of earthly gain, and yet they made the whole +world their debtor. + +Even in the courts of the conqueror Saxon their strange and beautiful +poetry won favour, and in a later century the Norman kings and barons +welcomed eagerly the wandering minstrels from Brittany and Wales. But it +was not from these scattered sources that Celtic traditions became a +European possession, as a brief statement of literary history will +clearly show. + +The first recorded mention of Arthur's name occurs in a brief and +anonymous _History of the Britons_, written in Latin in the tenth +century, and attributed to Nennius. This history is curiously amplified +in the twelfth century by Geoffrey of Monmouth, first in a story dealing +with the prophecies of Merlin, and later in a _History of the Kings of +Britain_. This book, with its brilliant description of the court of +Arthur, gave the legend a widespread popularity. It was four times +within the same century translated into French verse, the most famous of +these renderings being the version of Wace, called _Le Brut_, which makes +some addition to Geoffrey's original, gathered from Breton sources. In +the same century, too, Chrétien de Troyes, the foremost of Arthurian +poets, composed his famous cycle of poems. + +Of all these manifold sources Tennyson was confessedly ignorant. Where +the details are not of his own invention, his _Idylls of the King_ rest +entirely upon Malory's _Morte d'Arthur_, which Caxton printed in 1485, +supplemented in the case of _Enid and Geraint_, and _The Marriage of +Geraint_ by a translation of the Welsh _Mabinogion_ by Lady Charlotte +Guest. + + +THE STORY OF THE IDYLLS.--It is well to remember the events that led up +to Arthur's death. Guinevere's guilty love for Lancelot had been +discovered and revealed by Arthur's nephew, the traitor Modred. The +Queen fled the court and sought refuge with the nuns of Almesbury. +Lancelot fled to his castle in the north, where the King in vain besieged +him. Meanwhile Modred had stirred up a revolt, and leaguing himself with +the Saxon invaders, had usurped Arthur's throne. On his march southward +to resist his nephew, Arthur halts at the nunnery of Almesbury, and in +the Guinevere idyll the moving story of their last farewell is told. +Then the King advanced to meet Modred. The description of that "last +weird battle in the west" is given in _The Passing of Arthur_, and leads +up to the impressive line with which our present poem opens. Towards the +close of that fateful day, there came-- + + A bitter wind, clear from the North, and blew + The mist aside, and with that wind the tide + Rose, and the pale King glanced across the field + Of battle: but no man was moving there; + Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon, + Nor yet of heathen; only the wan wave + Broke in among dead faces, to and fro + Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down + Tumbling the hollow helmets of the fallen, + And shiver'd brands that once had fought with Rome, + And rolling far along the gloomy shores + The voice of days of old and days to be. + +The King speaks despairingly to Bedivere, who answering, swears to him +undying allegiance, and points to the traitor, Modred, who still stands +unharmed: + +Thereupon:-- + + the King + Made at the man: then Modred smote his liege + Hard on the helm which many a heathen sword + Had beaten thin; while Arthur at one blow, + Striking the last stroke with Excalibur, + Slew him, and all but slain himself, he fell. + +4. LYONNESSE. The geography of the _Idylls of the King_ is designedly +vague. The region of Lyonnesse was supposed to be adjacent to Cornwall, +and the sea now covers it. The Scilly Islands are held to have been the +western limit of this fabulous country. + +6. THE BOLD SIR BEDIVERE. The epithet "bold" is used repeatedly in this +vaguely descriptive fashion with Sir Bedivere's name. Cf. lines 39, 69, +115, 151, 226. The use of "permanent epithets" in narrative poetry has +been consecrated by the example of Homer, who constantly employs such +expressions as "the swift-footed Achilles," "wide-ruling Agamemnon," etc. + +Bedivere is described in _The Coming of Arthur_ as follows:-- + + For bold in heart and act and word was he + Whenever slander breathed against the King. + +12. A GREAT WATER. This expression has occasioned much unnecessary +comment on the score of its alleged artificiality. There might be a gain +in definiteness in substituting "lake," or "river," as the case might be, +but there would be a corresponding loss in poetry and in meaning at this +particular place. "Had 'a great lake' been substituted for it, the +phrase would have needed to be translated by the mind into water of a +certain shape and size, before the picture was realized by the +imagination." (Brimley.) It would have, consequently, been more precise, +but "less poetic and pictorial." + +If further justification for the expression were needed it might be +stated that "water" stands for lake in certain parts of England, e.g. +"Dewentwater," etc.; and, what is of more importance, that Malory uses +"water" in the same sense: "The king . . . . saw afore him in a great +water a little ship." _Morte d'Arthur_ iv. 6. + +21. OF CAMELOT. Arthur's capital, as noted in _The Lady of Shalott_. In +speaking of the allegorical meaning of _The Idylls of the King_, Tennyson +states that "Camelot, for instance, a city of shadowy palaces, is +everywhere symbolical of the gradual growth of human beliefs and +institutions, and of the spiritual development of man." Always bear in +mind that Tennyson has also said: "There is no single fact or incident in +the Idylls, however seemingly mystical, which cannot be explained without +any mystery or allegory whatever." + +22. I PERISH--MADE. In _The Coming of Arthur_ this thought is amplified: + + For first Aurelius lived and fought and died, + And after him King Uther fought and died, + But either failed to make the kingdom one. + And after these King Arthur for a space, + _And thro the puissance of his Table Round + Drew all their petty princedoms under him, + Their king and head, and made a realm, and reigned_. + +And in _The Passing of Arthur_ we read: + + Ill doom is mine + To war against my people and my knights. + The king who fights his people fights himself. + +23. THO' MERLINE SWARE--AGAIN. Merlin was the great wizard of Arthur's +court. In the allegorical view of the poem he typifies the intellect, +or, in Tennyson's words: "the sceptical understanding." + +This prophecy concerning Arthur is again referred to in _The Coming of +Arthur_: + + And Merlin in our time + Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn, + Though men may wound him, that he will not die, + But pass and come again. + +This belief is common to all the Arthurian sources. Compare, for +example, Wace's _Brut_: "Arthur, if the story lies not, was mortally +wounded in the body: he had himself borne to Avalon to heal his wounds. +There he is still; the Britons await him, as they say and +understand . . . The prophet spoke truth, and one can doubt, and always +will doubt whether he is dead or living." Dr. Sykes writes that, "The +sleep of Arthur associates the British story with the similar stories of +Charlemagne and Frederick Barbarossa of Germany, Brian in Ireland, +Boabdil el Chico in Spain, etc." + +27. EXCALIBUR. Arthur's magical sword. It is described in _The Coming +of Arthur_, ll. 295 f., as: + + the sword + That rose from out the bosom of the lake, + And Arthur rowed across and took it--rich + With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt, + Bewildering heart and eye--the blade so bright + That men are blinded by it--on one side, + Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world, + "Take me," but turn the blade and ye shall see, + And written in the speech ye speak yourself, + "Cast me away." + +It has been variously held that Excalibur typifies temporal authority, or +spiritual power. The casting away of the sword, therefore, represents +the inevitable change in which human things are involved, and even faith +itself. Compare _Morte d'Arthur_, ll. 240-241. + +Magical weapons and enchanted armour are a portion of the equipment of +almost all the great legendary heroes. Their swords and their horses +usually bear distinctive names. Roland's sword was _Durandal_, and +Charlemagne's was _Joyeuse_. + +37. FLING HIM. The sword is viewed as possessing life. + +THE MIDDLE MERE. Compare a similar classical construction in Oenone, l. +10, topmost Gargarus. + +53-55. THE WINTER MOON--HILT. The frosty air made the moonlight more +than usually brilliant. + +60. THIS WAY--MIND. An echo of Vergil's line, Aeneid, VIII. 20. _Atque +animum nunc huc celerem, nunc dividit illuc_. "And he divides his swift +mind now this way, now that." + +63. MANY-KNOTTED WATER FLAGS. Dr. Sykes has a careful note on this +expression (_Select Poems of Tennyson_; Gage & Co.). "The epithet +many-knotted is difficult to explain. The possible explanations would +refer the description to (1) the root-stock of the flag, which shows +additional bulbs from year to year; (2) the joints in the flower stalks, +of which some half-dozen may be found on each stalk; (3) the large +seed-pods that terminate in stalks, a very noticeable feature when the +plant is sere; (4) the various bunches or knots of iris in a bed of the +plants, so that the whole phrase suggests a thickly matted bed of flags. +I favour the last interpretation, though Tennyson's fondness of technical +accuracy in his references makes the second more than possible." + +70-71. I HEARD--CRAG. It is interesting to read Chapter V., Book XXI. of +Malory in connection with Tennyson's version of the story. He is +throughout true to the spirit of the original. _A propos_ of lines +70-71, we find in Malory: "What saw thou, there?" said the King. "Sir," +he said, "I saw nothing but the waters wap and the waves wan." Tennyson, +in these two lines, gives us a consummate example of creative imitation. + +84. COUNTING THE DEWY PEBBLES. This aptly describes the absorption of +his mind. + +85 f. and 56-58 supra. Compare the description of Excalibur, and of +Bedivere's hesitancy, in Malory's book. "So Sir Bedivere departed, and +by the way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and haft were all +of precious stones, and then he said to himself, 'If I throw this rich +sword in the water, thereof shall never come good, but harm and loss.' +And then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree." + +104. THE LONELY MAIDEN OF THE LAKE. The "Lady of the Lake" was present +at the crowning of Arthur. In the _Coming of Arthur_ she is described as +dwelling-- + + Down in a deep; calm, whatsoever storms + May shake the world, and when the surface rolls + Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord. + +Arthur's first meeting with her is described in Malory:-- "So they rode +till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in +the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, +that held a fair sword in that hand. 'Lo,' said Merlin, 'yonder is that +sword that I spake of.' With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake; +'What damsel is that?' said Arthur. 'That is the Lady of the Lake,' said +Merlin; 'and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place +as any upon earth, and richly beseen.'" + +In _Gareth and Lynette_ the Lady of the Lake is mystically figured forth +upon the great gate of Camelot. + +105-106. NINE YEARS--HILLS. Hallam, Lord Tennyson, in the Memoir, quotes +Fitzgerald's short account of a row on Lake Windermere with the poet; +"'Resting on our oars one calm day on Windermere, whither we had gone for +a week from dear Spedding's (Mirehouse), at the end of May, 1835; resting +on our oars, and looking into the lake quite unruffled and clear, Alfred +quoted from the lines he had lately read us from the MS. of _Morte +d'Arthur_ about the lonely lady of the lake and Excalibur: + + "Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps, + Under the hidden bases of the hills. + +"--Not bad, that. Fitz, is it? + +"This kind of remark he would make when rendering his own or others' +poetry when he came to lines that he particularly admired from no vanity +but from a pure feeling of artistic pleasure." (Vol. I. pp. 152-153). + +112. Note the slowness of the movement expressed in the rhythm of this +line, and compare with it line 168. Contrast the swiftness and energy +expressed in ll. 133-136. + +121. AUTHORITY--KING. This line has been described as Shakespearian. +Its strength is derived from the force of the metaphorical +personification. The boldness of the poetical construction is carried +into the metaphor in the next line. + +129. FOR A MAN. Because a man. + +132. AND SLAY THEE WITH MY HANDS. Compare Malory: "And but if thou do +now as I bid thee, if ever I may see thee, I shall slay thee with mine +own hands, for thou wouldest for my rich sword see me dead." In Rowe and +Webb's edition it is suggested that 'with my hands' is added for one of +two reasons,--either "because he had now no sword; or more probably, +these words are introduced in imitation of Homer's habit of mentioning +specific details: cf. 'he went taking long steps with his feet.'" This +explanation is ingenious, but unnecessary in view of the quotation from +Malory. The note proceeds: "Notice the touch of human personality in the +king's sharp anger; otherwise Arthur is generally represented by Tennyson +as a rather colourless being, and as almost 'too good for human nature's +daily food.'" + +133-142. Brimley in his valuable essay on Tennyson, analyses this poem +in some detail. Of this passage he writes: "A series of brilliant +effects is hit off in these two words, 'made lightnings.' 'Whirl'd in an +arch,' is a splendid instance of sound answering to sense, which the +older critics made so much of; the additional syllable which breaks the +measure, and necessitates an increased rapidity of utterance, seeming to +express to the ear the rush of the sword up its parabolic curve. And +with what lavish richness of presentative power is the boreal aurora, the +collision, the crash, and the thunder of the meeting icebergs, brought +before the eye. An inferior artist would have shouted through a page, +and emptied a whole pallet of colour, without any result but interrupting +his narrative, where Tennyson in three lines strikingly illustrates the +fact he has to tell,--associates it impressively with one of Nature's +grandest phenomena, and gives a complete picture of this phenomenon +besides." The whole essay deserves to be carefully read. + +143. DIPT THE SURFACE. A poetical construction. + +157. Note the personification of the sword. + +182-183. CLOTHED--HILLS. His breath made a vapour in the frosty air +through which his figure loomed of more than human size. Tennyson gives +us the same effect in _Guinevere_, 597: + + The moving vapour rolling round the King, + Who seem'd the phantom of a Giant in it, + Enwound him fold by fold. + +But the classical example is found in Wordsworth's description of the +mountain shepherd in _The Prelude_, Book VIII. + + When up the lonely brooks on rainy days + Angling I went, or trod the trackless hills + By mists bewildered, suddenly mine eyes + Have glanced upon him distant a few steps, + In size a giant, stalking through thick fog, + His sheep like Greenland bears, or as he stepped + Beyond the boundary line of some hill-shadow, + His form hath flashed upon me, glorified + By the deep radiance of the setting sun, + +191-192. AND ON A SUDDEN--MOON. "Do we not," writes Brimley, "seem to +burst from the narrow steep path down the ravine, whose tall precipitous +sides hide the sky and the broad landscape from sight, and come out in a +moment upon-- + + "the level lake, + And the long glories of the winter moon!" + +193. HOVE=hove in sight. + +The closing scene in this drama is impressively described by Malory. "So +Sir Bedivere came again to the King, and told him what he saw. 'Alas,' +said the King, 'help me hence, for I dread me I have tarried over long.' +Then Sir Bedivere took the King upon his back, and so went with him to +that water side. And when they were at the water side, even fast by the +bank hoved a little barge, with many fair ladies in it, and among them +all was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and all they wept and +shrieked when they saw King Arthur. 'Now, put me into the barge,' said +the King: and so they did softly. And there received him three queens +with great mourning, and so they set him down, and in one of their laps +King Arthur laid his head; and then that queen said; 'Ah, dear brother, +why have ye tarried so long from me? Alas, this wound on your head hath +caught overmuch cold.' And so then they rowed from the land; and Sir +Bedivere beheld ail those ladies go from him. Then Sir Bedivere cried; +'Ah, my Lord Arthur, what shall become of me now ye so from me, and leave +me here alone among mine enemies?' 'Comfort thyself,' said the King:, +'and do as well as thou mayest, for in me is no trust for to trust in. +For I will into the vale of Avilion, to heal me of my grievous wound. +And if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul.' But ever the +queens and the ladies wept and shrieked, that it was pity to hear. And, +as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and +wailed, and so took the forest, and so he went all that night. . . . . ." + +It is interesting to note how the poet suggests here and there the +phrasing of his original, but even more interesting to note his +amplifications. It may be doubted whether Tennyson has here surpassed +his original. For its touching simplicity he has substituted a dignified +grandeur, and has involved plain statements in gorgeous rhetoric, as in +his passage upon the efficacy of prayer. The unadorned original had said +only "pray for my soul." + +198. THREE QUEENS WITH CROWNS OF GOLD. "That one was King Arthur's +sister, Morgan le Fay; the other was the Queen of Northgales (Wales); the +third was the Lady of the lake." _Malory_. + +215-216. DASH'D WITH DROPS--OF ONSET. Words are sometimes poetical from +their precision, and sometimes, as here, they suggest without definite +reference. The meaning is "dashed with drops of blood" from the onset or +encounter. + +2t6-220. Arthur is again described in _The Last Tournament_. + + That victor of the Pagan throned in hall, + His hair, a sun that rayed from off a brow + Like hillsnow high in heaven, the steel-blue eyes, + The golden beard that cloth'd his lips with light. + +228. MY FOREHEAD AND MY EYES. Compare the note to line 132. Here the +specific terms are used according to the epical manner instead of the +general term "face." + +232-233. Compare the Gospel of _Matthew_ ii. 11. + +240-242. These often-quoted lines have been already referred to above. +Their very intellectuality is alien to the spirit of the original. In +Tennyson's conception they afford the central meaning of the poem, and +also of the completed _Idylls_. We must bow to the will of God who +brings all things in their due season. Good customs too deeply rooted +are like clear waters grown stagnant. + +254-255. FOR SO--GOD. The idea that the earth is bound by a gold chain +to heaven is comparatively common in literature from Homer downwards. +Archdeacon Hare has a passage in his sermon on _Self-Sacrifice_ which +doubtless was familiar to Tennyson: "This is the golden chain of love, +whereby the whole creation is bound to the throne of the Creator." + +257-258. IF INDEED I GO--DOUBT. There is no reason to suppose that these +lines indicate Tennyson's personal misgivings on the subject of +immortality. + +259. THE ISLAND VALLEY OF AVILION. Mr. Rhys in his _Studies in the +Arthurian Legend_ combats the old idea that Avalon (Avilion) meant the +"Island of Apples" (Welsh aval, apple). The name implies the Island of +King Avalon, a Celtic divinity, who presided among the dead. + +The valley of Avalon was supposed to be near Glastonbury, in +Somersetshire, where Joseph of Arimathea first landed with the Holy Grail. + +67 ff. There is an evident symbolical meaning in this dream. Indeed +Tennyson always appears to use dreams for purposes of symbol. The lines +are an application of the expression; "The old order changeth," etc. The +parson's lamentation expressed in line 18, "Upon the general decay of +faith," is also directly answered by the assertion that the modern Arthur +will arise in modern times. There is a certain grotesqueness in the +likening of King Arthur to "a modern gentleman of stateliest port." But +Tennyson never wanders far from conditions of his own time. As Mr. +Stopford Brooke writes; "Arthur, as the modern gentleman, as the modern +ruler of men, such a ruler as one of our Indian heroes on the frontier, +is the main thing in Tennyson's mind, and his conception of such a man +contains his ethical lesson to his countrymen." + + + +THE BROOK + +Published in 1855 in the volume, _Maud and other Poems_. _The Brook_ is +one of the most successful of Tennyson's idylls, and is in no degree, as +the earlier poem _Dora_ was, a Wordsworthian imitation. The brook +itself, which bickers in and out of the story as in its native valley, +was not the Somersby brook, which does not now "to join the brimming +river," but pours into the sea. The graylings and other details are +imaginary. A literary source has been suggested (see Dr. Sykes' note) in +Goethe's poem, _Das Bächlein_, which begins: + + klar, and clear, + sinn; and think; + du hin? goest thou? +Du Bachlein, silberhell und Thou little brook, silver bright Du eilst +vorüber immerdar, Thou hastenest ever onward, Am Ufer steh' ich, +sinn' und I stand on the brink, think Wo kommst du her? Wo gehst +Whence comest thou? Where + +The Brook replies: + + Schoss, dark rocks, + Moss'. and moss. +Ich komm' aus dunkler Felsen I come from the bosom of the Mein Lauf +geht über Blum' und My course goes over flowers + +The charm of the poem lies in its delicate characterization, in its tone +of pensive memory suffused with cheerfulness, and especially in the song +of the brook, about which the action revolves. Twenty years have wrought +many changes in the human lives of the story, but the brook flows on +forever, and Darnley bridge still spans the brimming river, and shows for +only change a richer growth of ivy. + +6. HOW MONEY BREEDS, i.e. by producing interest at loan. + +8. THE THING THAT--IS. The poet's function is thus described by +Shakespeare: + + As imagination bodies forth + The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen + Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing + A local habitation and a name. + --_Midsummer Night's Dream_, V., 1. + +17. HALF-ENGLISH NEILGHERRY AIR. The Neilgherry Hills are in Madras. +The climate resembles somewhat that of England. + +37. MORE IVY, i.e. than twenty years ago. + +46. WILLOW WEED AND MALLOW. These are marsh plants. + +93-95. NOT ILLITERATE--DEED. Katie was not without reading; but she was +not of those who dabble in sentimental novels (the source of imaginary +tears), and saturate themselves with unctuous charities; and whose powers +to act are sapped by their excess of feeling. + +105. UNCLAIM'D. As having nothing to do with her. Katie resented the +implication in the question of line 100. She therefore disdained to +answer it. Messrs. Rowe and Webb hold that line 100 is a hint that the +speaker, Lawrence Aylmer, was responsible for James's fit of jealousy. + +l25f. Note the art with which the old man's garrulousness is expressed. +The cautious precision of lines 151-152 is particularly apt. + +176. NETTED SUNBEAM. The sunlight reflected like a net-work on the +bottom. The ripples on the surface would have this effect. + +189. ARNO. A river in Italy which flows past Florence. + +189-190. DOME OF BRUNELLESCHI. Brunelleschi (Broo-nei-les'-ké) was an +Italian architect (1377-1444), who completed the cathedral of Santa Maria +in Florence. Its dome is of great size and impressiveness. + +194. BY--SEAS. Tennyson was fond of quoting this line as one of his +roost successful individual lines. Its rhythm is indeed sonorous. + +195-196. AND HOLD--APRIL AUTUMNS. Objection has been taken to the +somewhat pedantic precision of these lines. See, however, the reference +on pp. lxxii.-lxxvii. to Tennyson's employment of science in poetry. + +The fact is familiar, of course, that in the Antipodes the seasons are +the reverse of ours. + +203. BRIONY RINGS. Formed by the tendrils of the plant. + + + +IN MEMORIAM + +The poem, _In Memoriam_, in memory of Arthur Henry Hallam, was published +in 1850, at first anonymously, but the authorship was not long in doubt. + +Arthur Henry Hallam, the son of Henry Hallam, the historian, was born in +1811. He entered Eton in 1822, and remained there until 1827, when he +went to Cambridge. There he met Alfred Tennyson, and the two young men +formed a friendship for one another, broken only by Hallam's early death. +In 1832, he graduated from Cambridge, became engaged to Emily Tennyson, +the sister of Alfred, and entered on the study of law. In 1833, he had a +severe illness and after his recovery was taken by his father for a tour +on the Continent, in the hope of restoring his health. Sir Francis +Hastings Doyle tells the story of his death: "A severe bout of influenza +weakened him, and whilst he was travelling abroad for change of air, and +to recover his strength, one of his usual attacks apparently returned +upon him without warning, whilst he was still unfitted to resist it; so +that when his poor father came back from a walk through the streets of +Vienna, he was lying dead on the sofa where he had been left to take a +short rest. Mr. Hallam sat down to write his letters, and it was only by +slow and imperceptible degrees that a certain anxiety, in consequence of +Arthur's stillness and silence, dawned upon his mind; he drew near to +ascertain why he had not moved nor spoken, and found that all was over." +The body was brought back to England and buried in Clevedon Church, on +the banks of the Severn. + +The effect upon Tennyson of the death of Arthur Hallam was overwhelming. +For a time it "blotted out all joy from his life and made him long for +death, in spite of his feeling that he was in some measure a help and +comfort to his sister." Under the influence of this great sorrow he +wrote _The Two Voices_, _Ulysses_, "_Break, Break, Break_," and began +that exquisite series of lyric poems, afterwards joined together in the +_In Memoriam_. His friendship for Hallam remained throughout life with +him as one of his most precious possessions. + +The poems in the text are selected from the _In Memoriam_, and have a +more or less close connection with each other. It is better, however, to +regard each poem as a separate poem, without any attempt to place it in +its relation to the _In Memoriam_ as a whole. + +The best annotated edition of _In Memoriam_ is that by A. C. Bradley +(Macmillan). Other useful editions are edited by Wallace (Macmillan), +and by Robinson (Cambridge Press). Elizabeth B. Chapman's _Companion to +In Memoriam_ (Macmillan), contains the best analysis of the poem. + + +XXVII + +"The very memory of such an affection as he had cherished for Hallam is +an inspiration. Keen and acute as the sense of loss may be, it purifies +rather than destroys the influence of a hallowed love--its effect is to +idealize and sanctify. This general truth is enforced by several +illustrations."--_Henry E. Shepherd_. + +2. NOBLE RAGE. Fierce love of freedom. + +6. HIS LICENSE. "Lives without law, because untroubled by the promptings +of a higher nature." + +6. FIELD OF TIME. The term of his natural life. + +12. WANT-BEGOTTEN REST. Hallam, Lord Tennyson interprets: "Rest--the +result of some deficiency or narrowness." + +16. NEVER TO HAVE LOVED. Life is enriched by the mere act of having +loved. + + +LXIV + +"Still brooding on all the possible relations of his old friend to the +life and the love that he has left, the poet now compares him to some +genius of lowly birth, who should leave his obscure home to rise to the +highest office of state, and should sometimes in the midst of his +greatness, remember, as in a dream, the dear scenes of old, and it may +be, the humble villager who was his chosen playmate."--Elizabeth R. +Chapman. + +1. DOST THOU, ETC. This section was composed by Tennyson when he was +walking up and down the Strand and Fleet Street in London. + +5. INVIDIOUS BAR. Obstacle to success. Invidious is used in the sense +of "offensive." + +7. CIRCUMSTANCE. Adverse circumstances. + +9. BY FORCE. Strength of character and will. + +10. GOLDEN KEYS. Keys of office of state. + +11. MOULD. As a minister of the Crown. + +14. CROWNING SLOPE. A felicitous phrase. If it were a precipice it +could not be climbed. + +15. PILLAR. That on which they build, and which supports them. + +21. NARROWER. When he was still in his "low estate." + +28. REMEMBER ME. Bradley notes that "the pathetic effect is increased by +the fact that in the two preceding stanzas we are not told that his old +friend does remember him." + + +LXXXIII + +"With the dawning of the New Year, fresh hope quickens in the poet's +breast. He would fain hasten its laggard footsteps, longing for the +flowers of spring and for the glory of summer. Can trouble live in the +spring--the season of life and love and music? Let the spring come, and +he will sing 'for Arthur a sweeter, richer requiem.'"--_Elizabeth R. +Chapman_. + +1. NORTHERN SHORE. Robertson explains: "The north being the last to be +included in the widening circle of lengthening daylight as it readies +further and further down from the equator." + +2. NEW-YEAR. The natural, not the calendar year. The re-awakening of +life in nature. + +5. CLOUDED NOONS. From the noons, which are still clouded. + +6. PROPER. Own. + +9. SPIRE. Flowering spikes. + +10. SPEEDWELL. "The Germander Speedwell is a slender, wiry plant, whose +stem sometimes creeps along the surface of the ground before it grows +upwards. The flowers have four small petals of the brightest blue, and +within the flower at the foot of the petals is a small white circle, with +a little white eye looking up. Two stamens with crimson heads rise from +this white circle, and in the very centre of the flower there is a tiny +green seed-vessel, with a spike coming out of the top."--_C. B. Smith_. + +12. LABURNUMS. + + "And all the gold from each laburnum chain + Drops to the grass." --_To Mary Boyle_. + + +LXXXVI + +"I can open my being also to the reviving influences of Nature--as on a +certain evening, balmy and glorious after the rain, when the breeze +seemed as if it might breathe new life, and waft me across the seas away +from the land of doubt and death to some far off sphere of more than +earthly peace,"--_Arthur W. Robinson_. + +1. SWEET AFTER SHOWERS, ETC. This poem was written at Barmouth. + +1. AMBROSIAL. Ambrosia was the food of the immortal gods. The wind was +from the west and was "divinely reviving." + +4. BREATHING BARE. Making the horizon bare of clouds. + +5. RAPT. Violent motion is not implied. + +6. DEWY-TASSEL'D. From the showers. + +7. HORNED FLOOD. Between two promontaries. + +9. SIGH. "Impart as by a breath or sigh." + +10. NEW LIFE. Due to the new friendship. + +11. DOUBT AND DEATH. These have up to this time haunted him. + +13. FROM BELT, ETC. Tennyson explains: "The west wind rolling to the +Eastern seas till it meets the evening star." + +16. WHISPER "PEACE." Stopford Brooke says of this poem: "Each verse is +linked like bell to bell in a chime to the verse before it, swelling as +they go from thought to thought, and finally rising from the landscape of +earth to the landscape of infinite space. Can anything be more +impassioned and yet more solemn? It has the swiftness of youth and the +nobleness of manhood's sacred joy." + + +CI + +"In the garden, looking round on tree and shrub and flower and brook--all +the friends of many years--a fresh pang comes with the sight of each. +All these will be unwatched, unloved, uncared for; till, perhaps, they +find a home in a stranger's heart, growing dear to him and his, while the +memory fades of those who love them now."--_Elizabeth R. Chapman_. + +10. THE BROOK. The brook at Somersby flowed past the bottom of the +parsonage grounds. It is constantly mentioned in Tennyson's poems. +Hallam Tennyson says that the charm and beauty of the brook haunted his +father through life. + +11. LESSER WAIN. Ursa Minor, or the Little Bear; a small constellation +containing the pole star. Wain means "wagon," another name for the +constellation. + +14. HERN AND CRAKE. Heron and corn-crake. + +21. LABOURER. He does not move away, but stays always there. + +22. GLEBE. Soil. + + +CXIV + +"The world now is all for the spread of knowledge: and I should be the +last to demur. But knowledge has an ardent impetuosity, which in its +present immature condition may be fraught with many perils. Knowledge by +itself, so far from being of necessity heavenly, may even become devilish +in its selfish violence. Everything depends upon its being held in due +subordination to those higher elements in our nature which go to make +wisdom. Would that the ideal aim of our education were to produce such +as he was, in whom every increase in intellectual ability was accompanied +by the growth of some finer grace of the spirit."--_Arthur W. Robinson_. + +4. HER PILLARS. "Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her +seven pillars."--_Proverbs_ 9: 1. + +5. A FIRE. The fire of inspiration. + +6. SETS. Hard, like a flint. + +6. FORWARD. Bold, without reverence. + +7. CHANCE. Of success. + +8. TO DESIRE. Governed by passion, without restraint or self-control. + +10. FEAR OF DEATH. Knowledge does not know what is beyond the grave and +therefore fears death. + +11. CUT FROM LOVE, ETC. Wallace says: "Knowledge, in its own nature, can +have no love, for love is not of the intellect, and knowledge is all of +the intellect: so, too, she can have no faith, for faith in its nature is +a confession of ignorance, since she believes what she cannot know." + +12. PALLAS. Pallas Athene, the goddess of wisdom among the Greeks, was +fabled to have sprung, fully grown and fully armed, from the brain of +Zeus. Wild Pallas means "false wisdom." + +17. A HIGHER HAND. Wisdom. + +23. THY GOAL. The goal of wisdom. + +28. REVERENCE, ETC. In faith and love. + + +CXV + +"Another spring has come, and all its lovely sights and sounds wake +answering chords in the poet's breast. The life within him stirs and +quickens in responsive harmony with the world without. But his regret, +too, blossoms like a flower,"--_Elizabeth R. Chapman_. + +2. BURGEONS. Buds. + +2. MAZE OF QUICK. Quick-set tangle. + +3. SQUARES. Fields. + +8. SIGHTLESS. Invisible. + +14. GREENING. Shining out on the sea. + + + +CXVIII + +"Do not believe that man's soul is like mere matter, or has been +produced, like lower forms in the earlier ages of the earth, only to +perish. Believe that he is destined both to advance to something higher +on the earth, and also to develop in some higher place elsewhere, if he +repeats the process of evolution by subduing the lower within him to the +uses of the higher, whether in peaceful growth or through painful +struggle."--_A. C. Bradley_. + +2. HIS YOUTH. "Limited time, however old or long, must be always young, +compared with the hoary age of eternity." + +4. EARTH AND LIME. Flesh and bone. + +10. SEEMING-RANDOM. But in reality shaped and guided. + +11. CYCLIC STORMS. "Periodic cataclysms," or "storms lasting for whole +ages." + +16. TYPE. Exemplify. + +18. ATTRIBUTES OF WOE. Trial and suffering are the crown of man in this +world. + +20. IDLE. Useless. + +22. HEATED HOT. A reference to the tempering of steel. + +26. REELING FAUN. Human beings with horns, a tail, and goats' feet. +They were more than half-brutish in their nature. + +28. THE APE AND THE TIGER. A reference to the theory of evolution, +although Darwin's _Origin of Species_ did not appear until 1859. + + +CXXIII + +"Again the mysterious play of mighty cosmic forces arrests his thought. +Everything in the material universe is changing, transient; all is in a +state of flux, of motion, of perpetual disintegration or re-integration. +But there is one thing fixed and abiding--that which we call spirit--and +amid all uncertainty, one truth is certain--that to a loving human soul a +parting which shall be eternal is unthinkable."--_Elizabeth R. Chapman_. + +4. STILLNESS. Hallam Tennyson remarks that balloonists say that even in +a storm the middle sea is noiseless. It is the ship that is the cause of +the howling of the wind and the lashing of the storm. + +4. CENTRAL SEA. Far from land. + +8. LIKE CLOUDS, ETC. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/14952-8.zip b/14952-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dad8699 --- /dev/null +++ b/14952-8.zip diff --git a/14952.txt b/14952.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..255d35a --- /dev/null +++ b/14952.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6085 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Selections from Wordsworth and Tennyson, by +William Wordsworth and Alfred Lord Tennyson, et al, Edited by Pelham Edgar + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Selections from Wordsworth and Tennyson + +Author: William Wordsworth and Alfred Lord Tennyson + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [eBook #14952] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH AND +TENNYSON*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +SELECTIONS FROM WORDSWORTH AND TENNYSON + +Edited, with Introduction and Notes + +by + +PELHAM EDGAR, Ph.D. + +Professor of English, Victoria Coll., Univ. of Toronto + +Toronto +The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited + +1917 + + + + + + + +PREFACE + +The poems contained in this volume are those required for Junior +Matriculation, Ontario 1918. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +Wordsworth + + Michael + To the Daisy + To the Cuckoo + Nutting + Influence of Natural Objects + To the Rev. Dr. Wordsworth + Elegiac Stanzas + "It is Not to be Thought of" + Written in London, September, 1802 + London, 1802 + "Dark and More Dark the Shades of Evening Fell" + "Surprised by Joy--Impatient as the Wind" + "Hail, Twilight, Sovereign of One Peaceful Hour" + "I Thought of Thee, My Partner and My Guide" + "Such Age, How Beautiful!" + + + +Tennyson + + Oenone + The Epic + Morte d'Arthur + The Brook + In Memoriam + + + +Wordsworth + + Biographical Sketch + Chronological Table + Appreciations + References on Life and Works + Notes + + + +Tennyson + + Biographical Sketch + Chronological Table + Appreciations + References on Life and Works + Notes + + + + + WORDSWORTH + + + MICHAEL + + A PASTORAL POEM + + If from the public way you turn your steps + Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll, + You will suppose that with an upright path + Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent + The pastoral mountains front you, face to face. + But, courage! for around that boisterous brook + The mountains have all opened out themselves, + And made a hidden valley of their own. + No habitation can be seen; but they + Who journey thither find themselves alone 10 + With a few sheep, with rocks and stones, and kites + That overhead are sailing in the sky. + It is in truth an utter solitude; + Nor should I have made mention of this Dell + But for one object which you might pass by, 15 + Might see and notice not. Beside the brook + Appears a straggling heap of unhewn stones, + And to that simple object appertains + A story,--unenriched with strange events, + Yet not unfit, I deem, for the fireside, 20 + Or for the summer shade. It was the first + Of those domestic tales that spake to me + Of Shepherds, dwellers in the valleys, men + Whom I already loved:--not verily + For their own sakes, but for the fields and hills 25 + Where was their occupation and abode. + And hence this Tale, while I was yet a Boy + Careless of books, yet having felt the power + Of Nature, by the gentle agency + Of natural objects, led me on to feel 30 + For passions that were not my own, and think + (At random and imperfectly indeed) + On man, the heart of man, and human life. + Therefore, although it be a history + Homely and rude, I will relate the same 35 + For the delight of a few natural hearts; + And, with yet fonder feeling, for the sake + Of youthful Poets, who among these hills + Will be my second self when I am gone. + + Upon the forest-side in Grasmere Vale 40 + There dwelt a Shepherd, Michael was his name; + An old man, stout of heart, and strong of limb. + His bodily frame had been from youth to age + Of an unusual strength: his mind was keen, + Intense, and frugal, apt for all affairs, 45 + And in his shepherd's calling he was prompt + And watchful more than ordinary men. + Hence had he learned the meaning of all winds, + Of blasts of every tone; and oftentimes, + When others heeded not, he heard the South 50 + Make subterraneous music, like the noise + Of bagpipers on distant Highland hills. + The Shepherd, at such warning, of his flock + Bethought him, and he to himself would say, + "The winds are now devising work for me!" 55 + And, truly, at all times, the storm, that drives + The traveller to a shelter, summoned him + Up to the mountains: he had been alone + Amid the heart of many thousand mists, + That came to him, and left him, on the heights. 60 + So lived he till his eightieth year was past. + And grossly that man errs, who should suppose + That the green valleys, and the streams and rocks, + Were things indifferent to the Shepherd's thoughts. + Fields, where with cheerful spirits he had breathed 65 + The common air; hills, which with vigorous step + He had so often climbed; which had impressed + So many incidents upon his mind + Of hardship, skill or courage, joy or fear; + Which, like a book, preserved the memory 70 + Of the dumb animals whom he had saved, + Had fed or sheltered, linking to such acts + The certainty of honorable gain; + Those fields, those hills--what could they less?--had laid + Strong hold on his affections, were to him 75 + A pleasurable feeling of blind love, + The pleasure which there is in life itself. + + His days had not been passed in singleness. + His Helpmate was a comely matron, old-- + Though younger than himself full twenty years. 80 + She was a woman of a stirring life, + Whose heart was in her house: two wheels she had + Of antique form; this large, for spinning wool; + That small, for flax; and if one wheel had rest, + It was because the other was at work. 85 + The Pair had but one inmate in their house, + An only Child, who had been born to them + When Michael, telling o'er his years, began + To deem that he was old,--in shepherd's phrase, + With one foot in the grave. This only Son, 90 + With two brave sheep-dogs tried in many a storm, + The one of an inestimable worth, + Made all their household. I may truly say + That they were as a proverb in the vale + For endless industry. When day was gone, 95 + And from their occupations out of doors + The Son and Father were come home, even then + Their labor did not cease; unless when all + Turned to the cleanly supper board, and there, + Each with a mess of pottage and skimmed milk, 100 + Sat round the basket piled with oaten cakes, + And their plain home-made cheese. Yet when the meal + Was ended, Luke (for so the Son was named) + And his old Father both betook themselves + To such convenient work as might employ 105 + Their hands by the fireside; perhaps to card + Wool for the Housewife's spindle, or repair + Some injury done to sickle, flail, or scythe, + Or other implement of house or field. + + Down from the ceiling, by the chimney's edge, 110 + That in our ancient uncouth country style + With huge and black projection overbrowed + Large space beneath, as duly as the light + Of day grew dim the Housewife hung a lamp; + An aged utensil, which had performed 115 + Service beyond all others of its kind. + Early at evening did it burn,--and late, + Surviving comrade of uncounted hours, + Which, going by from year to year, had found, + And left the couple neither gay perhaps 120 + Nor cheerful, yet with objects and with hopes, + Living a life of eager industry. + And now, when Luke had reached his eighteenth year, + There by the light of this old lamp they sate, + Father and Son, while far into the night 125 + The Housewife plied her own peculiar work, + Making the cottage through the silent hours + Murmur as with the sound of summer flies. + This light was famous in its neighborhood, + And was a public symbol of the life 130 + That thrifty Pair had lived. For, as it chanced; + Their cottage on a plot of rising ground + Stood single, with large prospect, north and south, + High into Easedale, up to Dunmail-Raise, + And westward to the village near the lake; 135 + And from this constant light, so regular, + And so far seen, the House itself, by all + Who dwelt within the limits of the vale, + Both old and young, was named the EVENING STAR. + + Thus living on through such a length of years, 140 + The Shepherd, if he loved himself, must needs + Have loved his Helpmate; but to Michael's heart + This son of his old age was yet more dear-- + Less from instinctive tenderness, the same + Fond spirit that blindly works in the blood of all-- 145 + Than that a child, more than all other gifts + That earth can offer to declining man, + Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts, + And stirrings of inquietude, when they + By tendency of nature needs must fail. 150 + Exceeding was the love he bare to him, + His heart and his heart's joy! For oftentimes + Old Michael, while he was a babe in arms, + Had done him female service, not alone + For pastime and delight, as is the use 155 + Of fathers, but with patient mind enforced + To acts of tenderness; and he had rocked + His cradle, as with a woman's gentle hand. + And in a later time, ere yet the Boy + Had put on boy's attire, did Michael love, 160 + Albeit of a stern, unbending mind, + To have the Young-one in his sight, when he + Wrought in the field, or on his shepherd's stool + Sat with a fettered sheep before him stretched + Under the large old oak, that near his door 165 + Stood single, and, from matchless depth of shade, + Chosen for the shearer's covert from the sun, + Thence in our rustic dialect was called + The CLIPPING TREE, a name which yet it bears. + There, while they two were sitting in the shade, 170 + With others round them, earnest all and blithe, + Would Michael exercise his heart with looks + Of fond correction and reproof bestowed + Upon the Child, if he disturbed the sheep + By catching at their legs, or with his shouts 175 + Scared them while they lay still beneath the shears. + + And when by Heaven's good grace the Boy grew up + A healthy Lad, and carried in his cheek + Two steady roses that were five years old; + Then Michael from a winter coppice cut 180 + With his own hand a sapling, which he hooped + With iron, making it throughout in all + Due requisites a perfect shepherd's staff, + And gave it to the Boy; wherewith equipped + He as a watchman oftentimes was placed 185 + At gate or gap, to stem or turn the flock; + And, to his office prematurely called, + There stood the urchin, as you will divine, + Something between a hindrance and a help; + And for this cause not always, I believe, 190 + Receiving from his Father hire of praise; + Though naught was left undone which staff, or voice, + Or looks, or threatening gestures, could perform, + + But soon as Luke, full ten years old, could stand + Against the mountain blasts; and to the heights, 195 + Not fearing toil, nor length of weary ways, + He with his Father daily went, and they + Were as companions, why should I relate + That objects which the Shepherd loved before + Were dearer now? that from the Boy there came 200 + Feelings and emanations,--things which were + Light to the sun and music to the wind; + And that the old Man's heart seemed born again? + + Thus in his Father's sight the boy grew up: + And now, when he had reached his eighteenth year, 205 + He was his comfort and his daily hope. + + While in this sort the simple household lived + From day to day, to Michael's ear there came + Distressful tidings. Long before the time + Of which I speak, the Shepherd had been bound 210 + In surety for his brother's son, a man + Of an industrious life, and ample means; + But unforeseen misfortunes suddenly + Had pressed upon him; and old Michael now + Was summoned to discharge the forfeiture, 215 + A grievous penalty, but little less + Than half his substance. This unlooked-for claim, + At the first hearing, for a moment took + More hope out of his life than he supposed + That any old man ever could have lost. 220 + As soon as he had armed himself with strength + To look his trouble in the face, it seemed + The Shepherd's sole resource to sell at once + A portion of his patrimonial fields. + Such was his first resolve; he thought again, 225 + And his heart failed him. "Isabel," said he, + Two evenings after he had heard the news, + "I have been toiling more than seventy years, + And in the open sunshine of God's love + Have we all lived; yet if these fields of ours 230 + Should pass into a stranger's hand, I think + That I could not lie quiet in my grave. + Our lot is a hard lot; the sun himself + Has scarcely been more diligent than I; + And I have lived to be a fool at last 235 + To my own family. An evil man + That was, and made an evil choice, if he + Were false to us; and if he were not false, + There are ten thousand to whom loss like this + Had been no sorrow. I forgive him;--but 240 + 'Twere better to be dumb than to talk thus. + + "When I began, my purpose was to speak + Of remedies and of a cheerful hope. + Our Luke shall leave us, Isabel; the land + Shall not go from us, and it shall be free; 245 + He shall possess it, free as is the wind + That passes over it. We have, thou know'st, + Another kinsman; he will be our friend + In this distress. He is a prosperous man, + Thriving in trade; and Luke to him shall go, 250 + And with his kinsman's help and his own thrift + He quickly will repair this loss, and then + He may return to us. If here he stay, + What can be done? Where every one is poor, + What can be gained?" + + At this the old Man paused, 255 + And Isabel sat silent, for her mind + Was busy, looking back into past times. + There's Richard Bateman, thought she to herself, + He was a parish-boy,--at the church-door + They made a gathering for him, shillings, pence, 260 + And half-pennies, wherewith the neighbors bought + A basket, which they filled with pedlar's wares; + And, with his basket on his arm, the lad + Went up to London, found a master there, + Who, out of many, chose the trusty boy 265 + To go and overlook his merchandise + Beyond the seas; where he grew wondrous rich, + And left estates and moneys to the poor, + And at his birthplace built a chapel, floored + With marble, which he sent from foreign lands. 270 + These thoughts, and many others of like sort, + Passed quickly through the mind of Isabel + And her face brightened. The old Man was glad, + And thus resumed: "Well, Isabel, this scheme, + These two days, has been meat and drink to me. 275 + Far more than we have lost is left us yet. + --We have enough--I wish indeed that I + Were younger;--but this hope is a good hope. + Make ready Luke's best garments, of the best + Buy for him more, and let us send him forth 280 + To-morrow, or the next day, or to-night: + --If he _could_ go, the Boy should go to-night." + + Here Michael ceased, and to the fields went forth + With a light heart. The Housewife for five days + Was restless morn and night, and all day long 285 + Wrought on with her best fingers to prepare + Things needful for the journey of her son. + But Isabel was glad when Sunday came + To stop her in her work; for, when she lay + By Michael's side, she through the last two nights 290 + Heard him, how he was troubled in his sleep: + And when they rose at morning she could see + That all his hopes were gone. That day at noon + She said to Luke, while they two by themselves + Were sitting at the door, "Thou must not go: 295 + We have no other Child but thee to lose, + None to remember--do not go away, + For if thou leave thy Father he will die." + The Youth made answer with a jocund voice; + And Isabel, when she had told her fears, 300 + Recovered heart. That evening her best fare + Did she bring forth, and all together sat + Like happy people round a Christmas fire. + + With daylight Isabel resumed her work; + And all the ensuing week the house appeared 305 + As cheerful as a grove in Spring: at length + The expected letter from their kinsman came, + With kind assurances that he would do + His utmost for the welfare of the Boy; + To which requests were added, that forthwith 310 + He might be sent to him. Ten times or more + The letter was read over; Isabel + Went forth to show it to the neighbors round; + Nor was there at that time on English land + A prouder heart than Luke's. When Isabel 315 + Had to her house returned, the old Man said, + "He shall depart to-morrow." To this word + The Housewife answered, talking much of things + Which, if at such short notice he should go, + Would surely be forgotten. But at length 320 + She gave consent, and Michael was at ease. + Near the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll, + In that deep valley, Michael had designed + To build a Sheep-fold; and, before he heard + The tidings of his melancholy loss, 325 + For this same purpose he had gathered up + A heap of stones, which by the streamlet's edge + Lay thrown together, ready for the work. + With Luke that evening thitherward he walked; + And soon as they had reached the place he stopped, 330 + And thus the old man spake to him:--"My Son, + To-morrow thou wilt leave me; with full heart + I look upon thee, for thou art the same + That wert a promise to me ere thy birth + And all thy life hast been my daily joy. 335 + I will relate to thee some little part + Of our two histories; 'twill do thee good + When thou art from me, even if I should touch + On things thou canst not know of.------After thou + First cam'st into the world--as oft befalls 340 + To newborn infants--thou didst sleep away + Two days, and blessings from thy Father's tongue + Then fell upon thee. Day by day passed on, + And still I loved thee with increasing love. + Never to living ear came sweeter sounds 345 + Than when I heard thee by our own fireside + First uttering, without words, a natural tune; + While thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy + Sing at thy Mother's breast. Month followed month, + And in the open fields my life was passed, 350 + And on the mountains; else I think that thou + Hadst been brought up upon thy Father's knees. + But we were playmates, Luke; among these hills, + As well thou knowest, in us the old and young + Have played together, nor with me didst thou 355 + Lack any pleasure which a boy can know." + Luke had a manly heart; but at these words + He sobbed aloud. The old Man grasped his hand, + And said, "Nay, do not take it so--I see + That these are things of which I need not speak. 360 + --Even to the utmost I have been to thee + A kind and a good Father; and herein + I but repay a gift which I myself + Received at others' hands; for, though now old + Beyond the common life of man, I still 365 + Remember them who loved me in my youth. + Both of them sleep together; here they lived, + As all their Forefathers had done; and, when + At length their time was come, they were not loath + To give their bodies to the family mould. 370 + I wished that thou should'st live the life they lived; + But 'tis a long time to look back, my Son, + And see so little gain from threescore years. + These fields were burthened when they came to me; + Till I was forty years of age, not more 375 + Than half of my inheritance was mine. + I toiled and toiled; God blessed me in my work, + And till the three weeks past the land was free. + --It looks as if it never could endure + Another Master. Heaven forgive me, Luke, 380 + If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good + That thou shouldst go." + + At this the old Man paused; + Then, pointing to the stones near which they stood, + Thus, after a short silence, he resumed: + "This was a work for us; and now, my Son, 385 + It is a work for me. But, lay one stone,-- + Here, lay it for me, Luke, with thine own hands. + Nay, Boy, be of good hope; we both may live + To see a better day. At eighty-four + I still am strong and hale;--do thou thy part; 390 + I will do mine.--I will begin again + With many tasks that were resigned to thee; + Up to the heights, and in among the storms, + Will I without thee go again, and do + All works which I was wont to do alone, 395 + Before I knew thy face. Heaven bless thee, Boy! + Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast + With many hopes; it should be so--yes, yes,-- + I knew that thou couldst never have a wish + To leave me, Luke; thou hast been bound to me 400 + Only by links of love: when thou art gone + What will be left to us!--But I forget + My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone, + As I requested; and hereafter, Luke, + When thou art gone away, should evil men 405 + Be thy companions, think of me, my Son, + And of this moment; hither turn thy thoughts, + And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear + And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou + May'st bear in mind the life thy Fathers lived, 410 + Who, being innocent, did for that cause + Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well-- + When thou return'st, thou in this place wilt see + A work which is not here: a covenant + 'Twill be between us; but, whatever fate 415 + Befall thee, I shall love thee to the last, + And bear thy memory with me to the grave." + + The Shepherd ended here; and Luke stooped down, + And, as his Father had requested, laid + The first stone of the Sheep-fold. At the sight 420 + The old Man's grief broke from him; to his heart + He pressed his Son, he kissed him and wept; + And to the house together they returned. + --Hushed was that House in peace, or seeming peace, + Ere the night fell:--with morrow's dawn the Boy 425 + Began his journey, and when he had reached + The public way, he put on a bold face; + And all the neighbors, as he passed their doors, + Came forth with wishes and with farewell prayers, + That followed him till he was out of sight. 430 + + A good report did from their Kinsman come, + Of Luke and his well doing: and the Boy + Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news, + Which, as the Housewife phrased it, were throughout + "The prettiest letters that were ever seen." 435 + Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts. + So, many months passed on; and once again + The Shepherd went about his daily work + With confident and cheerful thoughts; and now + Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour 440 + He to that valley took his way, and there + Wrought at the Sheep-fold. Meantime Luke began + To slacken in his duty; and, at length, + He in the dissolute city gave himself + To evil courses: ignominy and shame 445 + Fell on him, so that he was driven at last + To seek a hiding place beyond the seas. + + There is a comfort in the strength of love; + 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else + Would overset the brain, or break the heart: 450 + I have conversed with more than one who well + Remember the old Man, and what he was + Years after he had heard this heavy news. + His bodily frame had been from youth to age + Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks 455 + He went, and still looked up to sun and cloud, + And listened to the wind; and, as before, + Performed all kinds of labor for his sheep, + And for the land, his small inheritance. + And to that hollow dell from time to time 460 + Did he repair, to build the Fold of which + His flock had need. 'Tis not forgotten yet + The pity which was then in every heart + For the old Man--and 'tis believed by all + That many and many a day he thither went, 465 + And never lifted up a single stone. + + There by the Sheep-fold, sometimes was he seen + Sitting alone, or with his faithful Dog, + Then old, beside him, lying at his feet. + The length of full seven years, from time to time 570 + He at the building of this Sheep-fold wrought, + And left the work unfinished when he died. + Three years, or little more, did Isabel + Survive her Husband; at her death the estate + Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. 475 + The Cottage which was named the EVENING STAR + Is gone,--the ploughshare has been through the ground + On which it stood; great changes have been wrought + In all the neighborhood:--yet the oak is left, + That grew beside their door; and the remains 480 + Of the unfinished Sheep-fold may be seen + Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Ghyll. +2. GREEN-HEAD GHYLL. Near Dove Cottage, Wordsworth's home at Grasmere. + +GHYLL. A short, steep, and narrow valley with a stream running through +it. + +5. THE PASTORAL MOUNTAINS. In Professor Knight's _Life of Wordsworth_ +are found fragments which the poet intended for _Michael_ and which +were recovered from Dorothy Wordsworth's manuscript book. Among these +are the following lines, which as Professor Dowden suggests, are given +as Wordsworth's answer to the question, "What feeling for external +nature had such a man as Michael?" The lines, which correspond to +lines 62-77 of the poem, are as follows; + + "No doubt if you in terms direct had asked + Whether beloved the mountains, true it is + That with blunt repetition of your words + He might have stared at you, and said that they + Were frightful to behold, but had you then + Discoursed with him . . . . . . . . + Of his own business and the goings on + Of earth and sky, then truly had you seen + That in his thoughts there were obscurities, + Wonder and admiration, things that wrought + Not less than a religion of his heart." + + +17. In Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal for October 11, 1800, we read: +"After dinner, we walked up Greenhead Gill in search of a +sheepfold. . . The sheepfold is falling away. It is built in the form +of a heart unequally divided." + +48. THE MEANING OF ALL WINDS. This is not a figurative Statement. +Michael knows by experience whether the sound and direction of the wind +forebode storm or fair weather,--precisely the practical kind of +knowledge which a herdsman should possess. + +51. SUBTERRANEOUS. The meaning of this word has given rise to +discussion. "Subterraneous" cannot here be literally employed, unless +it refer to the sound of the wind in hollow places, and beneath +overhanging crags. + +51-52. LIKE THE NOISE, etc. Is there a special appropriateness in the +use of a Scottish simile? What is the general character of the similes +throughout the poem? + +56-77. Wordsworth never attributes to Michael the subtler and more +philosophical sensations which he himself derived from nature. Such +poems as _The Prelude_ or _The Excursion_ contain many elevated +passages on the influence of nature, which would have been exceedingly +inappropriate here. + +115. Scan this line. + +121. NOR CHEERFUL. The epithet seems not well chosen in view of the +fact that all the circumstances of their life breathe a spirit of quiet +cheerfulness. Surely the light (129-131) was a symbol of cheer. + +126. PECULIAR WORK. Bring out the force of the epithet. + +134. EASEDALE. Near Grasmere. DUNMAIL-RAISE. The pass leading from +Grasmere to Keswick. RAISE. A provincial word meaning "an ascent." + +139. THE EVENING STAR. This name was actually given to a neighboring +house. + +143-152. The love of Michael for Luke is inwrought with his love for +his home and for the land which surrounds it. These he desires at his +death to hand down unencumbered to his son. "I have attempted," +Wordsworth wrote to Poole, "to give a picture of a man of strong mind +and lively sensibility, agitated by two of the most powerful affections +of the human heart--the parental affection and the love of property, +_landed_ property, including the feelings of inheritance, home and +personal and family independence." + +145. Scan this line. + +169. THE CLIPPING TREE. Clipping is the word used in the North of +England for shearing. (Wordsworth's note, 1800). + +182. Notice the entire absence of pause at the end of the line. Point +out other instances of run-on lines (_enjambement_). + +259. PARISH-BOY. Depending on charity. + +268-270. Wordsworth added the following note on these lines: "The story +alluded to here is well known in the country. The chapel is called +Ing's Chapel; and is on the right hand side of the road leading from +Kendal to Ambleside." + +283. AND TO THE FIELDS WENT FORTH Observe the inconsistency. The +conversation took place in the evening. See l. 327. + +284f. WITH A LIGHT HEART. Michael's growing misgivings are subtly +represented in the following lines, and the renewal of his hopes. + +367-368. These lines forcibly show how tenaciously Michael's feelings +were rooted in the soil of his home. Hence the extreme pathos of the +situation. + +388. Observe the dramatic force of this line. + +393-396. What unconscious poetry there is in the old man's words! + +420. Scan this line. + +445. Scan this line. + +466. Matthew Arnold commenting on this line says; "The right sort of +verse to choose from Wordsworth, if we are to seize his true and most +characteristic form of expression, is a line like this from Michael: +'And never lifted up a single stone.' There is nothing subtle in it, +no heightening, no study of poetic style strictly so called, at all; +yet it is an expression of the highest and most truly expressive kind." + +467f. Note the noble simplicity and pathos of these closing lines. +There is a reserved force of pent-up pathos here, which without effort +reaches the height of dramatic effectiveness. + + + + + TO THE DAISY + + Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere, + Bold in maternal Nature's care, + And all the long year through the heir + Of joy and sorrow, + Methinks that there abides in thee 5 + Some concord with humanity, + Given to no other flower I see + The forest thorough! + + Is it that Man is soon deprest? + A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest, 10 + Does little on his memory rest, + Or on his reason, + And Thou would'st teach him how to find + A shelter under every wind, + A hope for times that are unkind, 15 + And every season? + + Thou wander'st the wide world about, + Uncheck'd by pride or scrupulous doubt, + With friends to greet thee, or without, + Yet pleased and wilting; 20 + Meek, yielding to the occasion's call, + And all things suffering from all, + Thy function apostolical + In peace fulfilling. + + +8. THOROUGH. This is by derivation the correct form of the modern word +"through." A.S. _thurh_, M.E. _thuruh_. The use of "thorough" is now +purely adjectival, except in archaic or poetic speech. + +24. APOSTOLICAL. The stanza in which this word occurs was omitted in +1827 and 1832, because the expression was censured as almost profane. +Wordsworth in his dictated note to Miss Fenwick has the following: "The +word [apostolical] is adopted with reference to its derivation, implying +something sent out on a mission; and assuredly this little flower, +especially when the subject of verse, may be regarded, in its humble +degree, as administering both to moral and spiritual purposes." + + + + + TO THE CUCKOO + + O blithe New-comer! I have heard, + I hear thee and rejoice. + O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, + Or but a wandering Voice? + + While I am lying on the grass, 5 + Thy twofold shout I hear; + From hill to hill it seems to pass, + At once far off, and near. + + Though babbling only to the Vale + Of sunshine and of flowers, 10 + Thou bringest unto me a tale + Of visionary hours. + + Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! + Even yet thou art to me + No bird, but an invisible thing, 15 + A voice, a mystery; + + The same whom in my schoolboy days + I listened to; that Cry + Which made me look a thousand ways + In bush, and tree, and sky. 20 + + To seek thee did I often rove + Through woods and on the green; + And thou wert still a hope, a love; + Still longed for, never seen. + + And I can listen to thee yet; 25 + Can lie upon the plain + And listen, till I do beget + That golden time again. + + O blessed Bird! the earth we pace + Again appears to be 30 + An unsubstantial, faery place; + That is fit home for Thee! + + +1. O BLITHE NEW-COMER. The Cuckoo is migratory, and appears in England +in the early spring. Compare _Solitary Reaper_, l. 16. + +I HAV HEARD. i.e., in my youth. + +3. SHALL I CALL THEE BIRD? Compare Shelley. + + Hail to thee, blithe spirit! + Bird thou never wert. + _To a Skylark_. + +4. A WANDERING VOICE? Lacking substantial existence. + +6. TWOFOLD SHOUT. Twofold, because consisting of a double note. Compare +Wordsworth's sonnet, _To the Cuckoo_, l. 4: + + "With its twin notes inseparably paired." + +Wordsworth employs the word "shout" in several of his Cuckoo +descriptions. See _The Excursion_, ii. l. 346-348 and vii. l. 408; also +the following from _Yes! it was the Mountain Echo_: + + Yes! it was the mountain echo, + Solitary, clear, profound, + Answering to the shouting Cuckoo; + Giving to her sound for sound. + + + + + NUTTING + + ------It seems a day + (I speak of one from many singled out), + One of those heavenly days that cannot die; + When, in the eagerness of boyish hope, + I left our cottage threshold, sallying forth 5 + With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung, + A nutting-crook in hand, and turned my steps + Toward some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint, + Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds, + Which for that service had been husbanded, 10 + By exhortation of my frugal Dame,-- + Motley accoutrement, of power to smile + At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, and, in truth, + More ragged than need was! O'er pathless rocks, + Through beds of matted fern and tangled thickets, 15 + Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook + Unvisited, where not a broken bough + Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign + Of devastation; but the hazels rose + Tall and erect, with tempting clusters hung, 20 + A virgin scene! A little while I stood, + Breathing with such suppression of the heart + As joy delights in; and with wise restraint + Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed + The banquet; or beneath the trees I sate 25 + Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played; + A temper known to those, who, after long + And weary expectation, have been blest + With sudden happiness beyond all hope. + Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves 30 + The violets of five seasons reappear + And fade, unseen by any human eye; + Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on + Forever; and I saw the sparkling foam, + And, with my cheek on one of those green stones 35 + That, fleeced with moss, under the shady trees, + Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep, + I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound, + In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay + Tribute to ease; and of its joy secure, 40 + The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, + Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, + And on the vacant air. Then up I rose, + And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash + And merciless ravage: and the shady nook 45 + Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower, + Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up + Their quiet being: and unless I now + Confound my present feelings with the past, + Ere from the mutilated bower I turned 50 + Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings, + I felt a sense of pain when I beheld + The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky.-- + Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades + In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand 55 + Touch,--for there is a spirit in the woods. + + +5. OUR COTTAGE THRESHOLD. "The house at which I was boarded during the +time I was at school." (Wordsworth's note, 1800). The school was the +Hawkshead School. + +9. TRICKED OUT=_dressed_. The verb "to trick"="to dress" is derived +probably from the noun, "trick" in the sense of 'a dexterous artifice,' +'a touch.' See "Century Dictionary." + +CAST-OFF WEEDS=_cast-off clothes_. Wordsworth originally wrote 'of +Beggar's weeds.' What prompted him to change the expression? + +10. FOR THAT SERVICE. i.e., for nutting. + +12-13. OF POWER TO SMILE AT THORNS=_able to defy_, etc. Not because of +their strength, but because so ragged that additional rents were of small +account. + +21. VIRGIN=_unmarred, undevastated_. + +31. Explain the line. Notice the poetical way in which the poet conveys +the idea of solitude, (l. 30-32). + +33. FAIRY WATER-BREAKS=_wavelets, ripples_. _Cf_.:-- + + Many a silvery _water-break_ + Above the golden gravel. + Tennyson, _The Brook_. + +36. FLEECED WITH MOSS. Suggest a reason why the term "fleeced" has +peculiar appropriateness here. + +39-40. Paraphrase these lines to bring out their meaning. + +43-48. THEN UP I ROSE. Contrast this active exuberant pleasure not +unmixed with pain with the passive meditative joy that the preceding +lines express. + +47-48. PATIENTLY GAVE UP THEIR QUIET BEING. Notice the attribution of +life to inanimate nature. Wordsworth constantly held that there was a +mind and all the attributes of mind in nature. _Cf_. l. 56, "for there +is a spirit in the woods." + +53. AND SAW THE INTRUDING SKY. Bring out the force of this passage. + +54. THEN, DEAREST MAIDEN. This is a reference to the poet's Sister, +Dorothy Wordsworth. + +56. FOR THERE IS A SPIRIT IN THE WOODS. _Cf. Tintern Abbey_, 101 f. + + A motion and a spirit that impels + All thinking things, all objects of all thought, + And rolls through all things. + + + + + INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS + + Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! + Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought! + And giv'st to forms and images a breath + And everlasting motion! not in vain, + By day or starlight, thus from my first dawn 5 + Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me + The passions that build up our human soul; + Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man: + But with high objects, with enduring things, + With life and nature: purifying thus 10 + The elements of feeling and of thought, + And sanctifying by such discipline + Both pain and fear,--until we recognize + A grandeur in the beatings of the heart. + + Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to me 15 + With stinted kindness. In November days, + When vapors rolling down the valleys made + A lonely scene more lonesome; among woods + At noon; and 'mid the calm of summer nights, + When, by the margin of the trembling lake, 20 + Beneath the gloomy hills, homeward I went + In solitude, such intercourse was mine: + Mine was it in the fields both day and night, + And by the waters, all the summer long. + And in the frosty season, when the sun 25 + Was set, and, visible for many a mile, + The cottage windows through the twilight blazed, + I heeded not the summons: happy time + It was indeed for all of us; for me + It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud 30 + The village clock tolled six--I wheeled about, + Proud and exulting like an untired horse, + That cares not for his home,--All shod with steel + We hissed along the polished ice, in games + Confederate, imitative of the chase 35 + And woodland pleasures,--the resounding horn, + The pack loud-chiming, and the hunted hare. + So through the darkness and the cold we flew, + And not a voice was idle; with the din + Smitten, the precipices rang aloud; 40 + The leafless trees and every icy crag + Tinkled like iron; while far-distant hills + Into the tumult sent an alien sound + Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars, + Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west 45 + The orange sky of evening died away. + + Not seldom from the uproar I retired + Into a silent bay, or sportively + Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng, + To cut across the reflex of a star; 50 + Image, that, flying still before me, gleamed + Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes, + When we had given our bodies to the wind, + And all the shadowy banks on either side + Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still 55 + The rapid line of motion, then at once + Have I, reclining back upon my heels, + Stopped short, yet still the solitary cliffs + Wheeled by me--even as if the earth had rolled + With visible motion her diurnal round! 60 + Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, + Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched + Till all was tranquil as a summer sea. + + +1-14. In what other poems does Wordsworth describe "the education of +nature?" + +8. Nature's teaching is never sordid nor mercenary, but always purifying +and ennobling. + +10. PURIFYING, also SANCTIFYING (l. 12), refer to "Soul" (l. 2). + +12-14. Human cares are lightened in proportion to our power of +sympathising with nature. The very beatings of our heart acquire a +certain grandeur from the fact that they are a process of nature and +linked thus to the general life of things. It is possible that "beatings +of the heart" may figuratively represent the mere play of the emotions, +and thus have a bearing upon the words "pain and fear" in line 13. + +15. FELLOWSHIP. Communion with nature in her varying aspects as +described in the following lines. + +31. VILLAGE CLOCK. The village was Hawkshead. + +35. CONFEDERATE. Qualifies "we," or "games." Point out the different +shades of meaning for each agreement. + +42. TINKLED LIKE IRON. "When very many are skating together, the sounds +and the noises give an impulse to the icy trees, and the woods all round +the lake _tinkle_." S. T. Coleridge in _The Friend_, ii, 325 (1818). + +42-44. The keenness of Wordsworth's sense perceptions was very +remarkable. His susceptibility to impressions of sound is well +illustrated in this passage, which closes (l. 43-46) with a color picture +of striking beauty and appropriateness. + +50. REFLEX=_reflection_. _Cf_.: + + Like the _reflex_ of the moon + Seen in a wave under green leaves. + Shelley, _Prometheus Unbound_, iii, 4. + +In later editions Wordsworth altered these lines as follows: + +To cut across the image. 1809. To cross the bright reflection. 1820. + +54-60. The effect of rapid motion is admirably described. The spinning +effect which Wordsworth evidently has in mind we have all noticed in the +fields which seem to revolve when viewed from a swiftly moving: train. +However, a skater from the low level of a stream would see only the +fringe of trees sweep past him. The darkness and the height of the banks +would not permit him to see the relatively motionless objects in the +distance in either hand. + +57-58. This method of stopping short upon one's heels might prove +disastrous. + +58-60. The effect of motion persists after the motion has ceased. + +62 63. The apparent motion of the cliffs grows feebler by degrees until +"all was tranquil as a summer sea." In _The_ [Transcriber's note: the +rest of this footnote is missing from the original book because of a +printing error.] + + + + + TO THE REV. DR. WORDSWORTH + + (WITH THE SONNETS TO THE RIVER DUDDON, AND OTHER + POEMS IN THIS COLLECTION, 1820). + + The minstrels played their Christmas tune + To-night beneath my cottage-eaves; + While, smitten by a lofty moon, + The encircling laurels, thick with leaves, + Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen, 5 + That overpowered their natural green. + + Through hill and valley every breeze + Had sunk to rest with folded wings; + Keen was the air, but could not freeze, + Nor check, the music of the strings; 10 + So stout and hardy were the band + That scraped the chords with strenuous hand: + + And who but listened?--till was paid + Respect to every Inmate's claim: + The greeting given, the music played, 15 + In honor of each household name, + Duly pronounced with lusty call, + And "Merry Christmas" wished to all! + + O Brother! I revere the choice + That took thee from thy native hills; 20 + And it is given thee to rejoice: + Though public care full often tills + (Heaven only witness of the toil) + A barren and ungrateful soil. + + Yet, would that Thou, with me and mine, 25 + Hadst heard this never-failing rite; + And seen on other faces shine + A true revival of the light + Which Nature and these rustic Powers, + In simple childhood, spread through ours! 30 + + For pleasure hath not ceased to wait + On these expected annual rounds; + Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate + Call forth the unelaborate sounds, + Or they are offered at the door 35 + That guards the lowliest of the poor. + + How touching, when, at midnight, sweep + Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark + To hear--and sink again-to sleep + Or, at an earlier call, to mark, 40 + By blazing fire, the still suspense + Of self-complacent innocence; + + The mutual nod,--the grave disguise + Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er; + And some unbidden tears that rise 45 + For names once heard, and heard no more; + Tears brightened by the serenade + For infant in the cradle laid. + + Ah! not for emerald fields alone, + With ambient streams more pure and bright 50 + Than fabled Cytherea's zone + Glittering before the Thunderer's sight, + Is to my heart of hearts endeared + The ground where we were born and reared! + + Hail, ancient Manners! sure defence, 55 + Where they survive, of wholesome laws; + Remnants of love whose modest sense + Thus into narrow room withdraws; + Hail, Usages of pristine mould, + And ye that guard them, Mountains old! 60 + + Bear with me, Brother! quench the thought + That slights this passion, or condemns; + If thee fond Fancy ever brought + From the proud margin of the Thames, + And Lambeth's venerable towers, 65 + To humbler streams, and greener bowers. + + Yes, they can make, who fail to fill + Short leisure even in busiest days; + Moments, to cast a look behind, + And profit by those kindly rays 70 + That through the clouds do sometimes steal, + And all the far-off past reveal. + + Hence, while the imperial City's din + Beats frequent on thy satiate ear, + A pleased attention I may win 75 + To agitations less severe, + That neither overwhelm nor cloy, + But fill the hollow vale with joy! + + +Christopher Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth in Cumberland on June 9th, +1774. He received his early education at Hawkshead Grammar School and in +1792 entered Trinity College, Cambridge, as a pensioner. He graduated in +1796 with high honours in mathematics, and in 1798 was elected a fellow +of his college. He took his M.A. degree in 1799 and was awarded the +degree of Doctor of Divinity in 1810. While at Cambridge Christopher had +been tutor to Viscount Canterbury, who introduced him to his father, at +that time Bishop of Norwich. Through the good offices of the Bishop he +was appointed to the rectory of Ashby, Norfolk, and thus, with prospects +settled, he was enabled to marry. On the appointment of the Bishop of +Norwich to the Archbishopric of Canterbury he was appointed domestic +chaplain to the Archbishop. Subsequently in 1816 he was appointed rector +of St. Mary's, Lambeth, the living he held at the time the poem in the +text was written. + +In 1820 Christopher was made Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, a +position he held until his resignation in 1841. He died at Buxted on +February 2nd, 1846. "He was an earnest and deeply religious man; in some +respects a high churchman of the old school, but with sympathy for +whatever was good and noble in others. In politics he was a staunch +Conservative." + +15. THE GREETING GIVEN, THE MUSIC PLAYED. Till the greeting had been +given and the music played. + +17. Attributive to "name" (l. 16.) + +18. Explain the construction of "wished." + +50. AMBIENT=_winding_. + +51. CYTHEREA'S ZONE. The goddess Venus was named Cytherea because she +was supposed to have been born of the foam of the sea near Cythera, an +island off the coast of the Peloponnesus. Venus was the goddess of love, +and her power over the heart was strengthened by the marvellous zone or +girdle she wore. + +52. THE THUNDERER. The reference is to Jupiter, who is generally +represented as seated upon a golden or ivory throne holding in one hand +the thunderbolts, and in the other a sceptre of cypress. + +55-60. Suggest how this stanza is characteristic of Wordsworth. + +65. LAMBETH'S VENERABLE TOWERS. Lambeth Palace, the official residence +of the Archbishop of Canterbury, is on the Thames. Wordsworth's brother +Christopher, afterwards Master of Trinity College, was then (1820) Rector +of Lambeth. + + + + + ELEGIAC STANZAS + + SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM, + PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT. + + I was thy neighbor once, thou rugged Pile! + Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee: + I saw thee every day; and all the while + Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea. + + So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! 5 + So like, so very like, was day to day! + Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there; + It trembled, but it never passed away. + + How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep; + No mood, which season takes away, or brings: 10 + I could have fancied that the mighty Deep + Was even the gentlest, of all gentle Things. + + Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, + To express what then I saw; and add the gleam, + The light that never was. On sea or land, 15 + The consecration, and the Poet's dream; + + I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile, + Amid a world how different from this! + Beside a sea that could not cease to smile; + On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss. 20 + + Thou shouldst have seemed a treasure-house divine + Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;-- + Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine + The very sweetest had to thee been given. + + A Picture had it been of lasting ease, 25 + Elysian quiet, without toil or strife; + No motion but the moving tide, a breeze, + Or merely silent Nature's breathing life. + + Such, in the fond illusion of my heart, + Such Picture would I at that time have made: 30 + And seen the soul of truth in every part, + A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed. + + So once it would have been,--'tis so no more; + I have submitted to a new control: + A power is gone, which nothing can restore; 35 + A deep distress hath humanized my Soul. + + Not for a moment could I now behold + A smiling sea, and be what I have been: + The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old; + This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. 40 + + Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the Friend, + If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore, + This work of thine I blame not, but commend; + This sea in anger, and that dismal shore. + + O 'tis a passionate Work!--yet wise and well, 45 + Well chosen is the spirit that is here; + That Hulk which labors in the deadly swell, + This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear! + + And this huge Castle, standing here sublime, + I love to see the look with which it braves, 50 + Cased in the unfeeling armor of old time, + The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves. + + Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone, + Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind! + Such happiness, wherever it be known, 55 + Is to be pitied: for 'tis surely blind. + + But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, + And frequent sights of what is to be borne! + Such sights, or worse, as are before me here.-- + Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. 60 + + +2. FOUR SUMMER WEEKS. In 1794 Wordsworth spent part of a summer vacation +at the house of his cousin, Mr. Barker, at Rampside, a village near Peele +Castle. + +6-7. Shelley has twice imitated these lines. Compare:-- + + Within the surface of Time's fleeting river + Its wrinkled Image lies, as then it lay + Immovably unquiet, and for ever + It trembles, but it cannot pass away. + _Ode to Liberty_, vi. + +also the following: + + Within the surface of the fleeting river + The wrinkled image of the city lay, + Immovably unquiet, and for ever + It trembles, but it never fades away. + _Evening_. + +9-10. The calm was so complete that it did not seem a transient mood of +the sea, a passing sleep. + +13-16. Compare with the above original reading of 1807 (restored after +1827) the lines which Wordsworth substituted in 1820 and 1827. + + Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, + To express what then I saw; and add a gleam, + The lustre, known to neither sea nor land, + But borrowed from the youthful Poet's dream. + +35-36. A POWER IS GONE--SOUL. The reference is to the death at sea of +his brother Captain John Wordsworth. The poet can no longer see things +wholly idealized. His brother's death has revealed to him, however, the +ennobling virtue of grief. Thus a personal loss is converted into human +gain. Note especially in this connection l. 35 and ll. 53-60. + +54. FROM THE KIND. From our fellow-beings. + + + + + "IT IS NOT TO BE THOUGHT OF" + + It is not to be thought of that the Flood + Of British freedom, which to the open sea + Of the world's praise from dark antiquity + Hath flowed, 'with pomp of waters, unwithstood,' + Roused though it be full often to a mood 5 + Which spurns the check of salutary bands, + That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands + Should perish, and to evil and to good + Be lost forever. In our halls is hung + Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: 10 + We must be free or die, who speak the tongue + That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold + Which Milton held.--In everything we are sprung + Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold. + + +4. 'WITH POMP OF WATERS, UNWITHSTOOD.' This is quoted from Daniel's +_Civil War_, Bk. ii, stanza 7. + + + + + WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1802 + + O Friend! I know not which way I must look + For comfort, being, as I am, oppressed, + To think that now our life is only dressed + For show; mean handiwork of craftsman, cook, + Or groom!--We must run glittering like a brook 5 + In the open sunshine, or we are unblessed: + The wealthiest man among us is the best: + No grandeur now in nature or in book + Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, + This is idolatry; and these we adore: 10 + Plain living and high thinking are no more: + The homely beauty of the good old cause + Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, + And pure religion breathing household laws. + + + + + LONDON, 1802 + + Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: + England hath need of thee: she is a fen + Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen, + Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, + Have forfeited their ancient English dower 5 + Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; + Oh! raise us up, return to us again; + And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. + Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: + Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: 10 + Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, + So didst thou travel on life's common way, + In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart + The lowliest duties on herself did lay. + + + + + "DARK AND MORE DARK THE SHADES OF EVENING FELL" + + Dark and more dark the shades of evening fell; + The wished-for point was reached--but at an hour + When little could be gained from that rich dower + Of Prospect, whereof many thousands tell. + Yet did the glowing west with marvellous power 5 + Salute us; there stood Indian citadel, + Temple of Greece, and minster with its tower + Substantially expressed--a place for bell + Or clock to toll from! Many a tempting isle, + With groves that never were imagined, lay 10 + 'Mid seas how steadfast! objects all for the eye + Of silent rapture, but we felt the while + We should forget them; they are of the sky + And from our earthly memory fade away. + + + + + "SURPRISED BY JOY--IMPATIENT AS THE WIND" + + Surprised by joy--impatient as the wind + I turned to share the transport--Oh! with whom + But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb, + That spot which no vicissitude can find? + Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind-- 5 + But how could I forget thee? Through what power, + Even for the least division of an hour, + Have I been so beguiled as to be blind + To my most grievous loss?--That thought's return + Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, 10 + Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, + Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; + That neither present time, nor years unborn + Could to my sight that heavenly face restore. + + + + + "HAIL, TWILIGHT, SOVEREIGN OF ONE PEACEFUL HOUR" + + Hail, Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour! + Not dull art Thou as undiscerning Night; + But studious only to remove from sight + Day's mutable distinctions.--Ancient Power! + Thus did the waters gleam, the mountains lower, 5 + To the rude Briton, when, in wolf-skin vest + Here roving wild, he laid him down to rest + On the bare rock, or through a leafy bower + Looked ere his eyes were closed. By him was seen + The self-same Vision which we now behold, 10 + At thy meek bidding, shadowy Power! brought forth + These mighty barriers, and the gulf between; + The flood, the stars,--a spectacle as old + As the beginning of the heavens and earth! + + + + + "I THOUGHT OF THEE, MY PARTNER AND MY GUIDE" + + I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, + As being past away.--Vain sympathies! + For, backward, Duddon, as I cast my eyes, + I see what was, and is, and will abide; + Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide; 5 + The Form remains, the Function never dies, + While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, + We Men, who in our morn of youth defied + The elements, must vanish;--be it so! + Enough, if something from our hands have power 10 + To live, and act, and serve the future hour; + And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, + Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, + We feel that we are greater than we know. + + + + + "SUCH AGE, HOW BEAUTIFUL!" + + Such age, how beautiful! O Lady bright, + Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined + By favouring Nature and a saintly Mind + To something purer and more exquisite + Than flesh and blood; whene'er thou meet'est my sight, 5 + When I behold thy blanched unwithered cheek, + Thy temples fringed with locks of gleaming white, + And head that droops because the soul is meek, + Thee with the welcome Snowdrop I compare; + That child of winter, prompting thoughts that climb 10 + From desolation toward the genial prime; + Or with the Moon conquering earth's misty air, + And filling more and more with crystal light + As pensive Evening deepens into night. + + + + + TENNYSON + + + OENONE + + There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier + Than all the valleys of Ionian hills. + The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen, + Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine + And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand 5 + The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down + Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars + The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine + In cataract after cataract to the sea. + Behind the valley topmost Gargarus 10 + Stands up and takes the morning: but in front + The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal + Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel, + The crown of Troas. + + Hither came at noon + Mournful Oenone, wandering forlorn 15 + Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills. + Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck + Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest. + She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine, + Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade 20 + Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff + + "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, + Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: + The grasshopper is silent in the grass: 25 + The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, + Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead + The purple flower droops: the golden bee + Is lily-cradled: I alone awake. + My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, 30 + My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, + And I am all aweary of my life. + + "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, + Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Hear me, O Earth; hear me, O Hills, O Caves 35 + That house the cold crowned snake! O mountain brooks, + I am the daughter of a River-God, + Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all + My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls + Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed, 40 + A cloud that gather'd shape: for it may be + That, while I speak of it, a little while + My heart may wander from its deeper woe. + + "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, + Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 45 + I waited underneath the dawning hills, + Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark, + And dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine: + Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris, + Leading a jet-black goat white-horn'd, white-hooved, 50 + Came up from reedy Simols all alone. + + "O mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Far-off the torrent call'd me from the cleft: + Far up the solitary morning smote + The streaks of virgin snow. With down-dropt eyes 55 + I sat alone: white-breasted like a star + Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin + Droop'd from his shoulder, but his sunny hair + Cluster'd about his temples like a God's; + And his cheek brighten'd as the foam-bow brightens 60 + When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart + Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came. + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm + Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold, 65 + That smelt ambrosially, and while I look'd + And listen'd, the full-flowing river of speech + Came down upon my heart. + "'My own Oenone, + Beautiful-brow'd Oenone, my own soul, + Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingrav'n 70 + "For the most fair," would seem to award it thine + As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt + The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace + Of movement, and the charm of married brows. + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 75 + He prest the blossom of his lips to mine, + And added 'This was cast upon the board, + When all the full-faced presence of the Gods + Ranged in the halls of Peleus; whereupon + Rose feud, with question unto whom 'twere due: 80 + But light-foot Iris brought it yester-eve, + Delivering that to me, by common voice + Elected umpire, Here comes to-day, + Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each + This meed of fairest. Thou, within the cave 85 + Behind yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, + Mayst well behold them unbeheld, unheard + Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of Gods.' + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + It was the deep mid-noon: one silvery cloud 90 + Had lost his way between the piney sides + Of this long glen. Then to the bower they came, + Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower, + And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, + Violet, amaracus, and asphodel, 95 + Lotos and lilies: and a wind arose, + And overhead the wandering ivy and vine, + This way and that, in many a wild festoon + Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs + With bunch and berry and flower thro' and thro'. 100 + + "O mother Ida, harken ere I die. + On the tree-tops a crested peacock lit, + And o'er him flow'd a golden cloud, and lean'd + Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant dew. + Then first I heard the voice other, to whom 105 + Coming thro' Heaven, like a light that grows + Larger and clearer, with one mind the Gods + Rise up for reverence. She to Paris made + Proffer of royal power, ample rule + Unquestion'd, overflowing revenue 110 + Wherewith to embellish state, 'from many a vale + And river-sunder'd champaign cloth'd with corn, + Or labour'd mines undrainable of ore. + Honour,' she said, 'and homage, tax and toll, + From many an inland town and haven large, 115 + Mast-throng'd beneath her shadowing citadel + In glassy bays among her tallest towers.' + + "O mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Still she spake on and still she spake of power, + 'Which in all action is the end of all; 120 + Power fitted to the season; wisdom-bred + And throned of wisdom--from all neighbour crowns + Alliance and allegiance, till thy hand + Fail from the sceptre-staff. Such boon from me, + From me, Heaven's Queen, Paris, to thee king-born, 125 + A shepherd all thy life but yet king-born, + Should come most welcome, seeing men, in power + Only, are likest gods, who have attain'd + Rest in a happy place and quiet seats + Above the thunder, with undying bliss 130 + In knowledge of their own supremacy.' + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit + Out at arm's-length, so much the thought of power + Flatter'd his spirit; but Pallas where she stood 135 + Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs + O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed spear + Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold, + The while, above, her full and earnest eye + Over her snow-cold breast and angry cheek 140 + Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply. + + "'Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control; + These three alone lead life to sovereign power. + Yet not for power, (power of herself + Would come uncall'd for) but to live by law, 145 + Acting the law we live by without fear; + And, because right is right, to follow right + Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.' + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Again she said: 'I woo thee not with gifts. 150 + Sequel of guerdon could not alter me + To fairer. Judge thou me by what I am, + So shalt thou find me fairest. + Yet, indeed, + If gazing on divinity disrobed + Thy mortal eyes are frail to judge of fair, 155 + Unbias'd by self-profit, oh! rest thee sure + That I shall love thee well and cleave to thee, + So that my vigour, wedded to thy blood, + Shall strike within thy pulses, like a God's, + To push thee forward thro' a life of shocks, 160 + Dangers, and deeds, until endurance grow + Sinew'd with action, and the full-grown will, + Circled thro' all experiences, pure law, + Commeasure perfect freedom.' + + "Here she ceas'd, + And Paris ponder'd, and I cried, 'O Paris, 165 + Give it to Pallas!' but he heard me not, + Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me! + + "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, + Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Idalian Aphrodite beautiful, 170 + Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in Paphian wells, + With rosy slender fingers backward drew + From her warm brows and bosom her deep hair + Ambrosial, golden round her lucid throat + And shoulder: from the violets her light foot 175 + Shone rosy-white, and o'er her rounded form + Between the shadows of the vine-bunches + Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved. + + "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. + She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, 180 + The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh + Half-whisper'd in his ear, 'I promise thee + The fairest and most loving wife in Greece.' + She spoke and laugh'd: I shut my sight for fear: + But when I look'd, Paris had raised his arm, 185 + And I beheld great Here's angry eyes, + As she withdrew into the golden cloud, + And I was left alone within the bower; + And from that time to this I am alone, + And I shall be alone until I die. 190 + + "Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. + Fairest---why fairest wife? am I not fair? + My love hath told me so a thousand times; + Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday, + When I past by, a wild and wanton pard, 195 + Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail + Crouch'd fawning in the weed. Most loving is she? + Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my arms + Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest + Close, close to thine in that quick-falling dew 200 + Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn rains + Flash in the pools of whirling Simois. + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + They came, they cut away my tallest pines, + My dark tall pines, that plumed the craggy ledge 205 + High over the blue gorge, and all between + The snowy peak and snow-white cataract + Foster'd the callow eaglet--from beneath + Whose thick mysterious boughs in the dark morn + The panther's roar came muffled, while I sat 210 + Low in the valley. Never, never more + Shall lone Oenone see the morning mist + Sweep thro' them; never see them overlaid + With narrow moon-lit slips of silver cloud, + Between the loud stream and the trembling stars. 215 + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + I wish that somewhere in the ruin'd folds, + Among the fragments tumbled from the glens, + Or the dry thickets, I could meet with her, + The Abominable, that uninvited came 220 + Into the fair Peleian banquet-hall, + And cast the golden fruit upon the board, + And bred this change; that I might speak my mind, + And tell her to her face how much I hate + Her presence, hated both of Gods and men. 225 + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times, + In this green valley, under this green hill, + Ev'n on this hand, and sitting on this stone? + Seal'd it with kisses? water'd it with tears? 230 + O happy tears, and how unlike to these! + O happy Heaven, how canst thou see my face? + O happy earth, how canst thou bear my weight? + O death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud, + There are enough unhappy on this earth, 235 + Pass by the happy souls, that love to live: + I pray thee, pass before my light of life, + And shadow all my soul, that I may die. + Thou weighest heavy on the heart within, + Weigh heavy on my eyelids: let me die. 240 + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts + Do shape themselves within me, more and more, + Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear + Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills, 245 + Like footsteps upon wool. I dimly see + My far-off doubtful purpose, as a mother + Conjectures of the features of her child + Ere it is born: her child!--a shudder comes + Across me: never child be born of me, 250 + Unblest, to vex me with his father's eyes! + + "O mother, hear me yet before I die. + Hear me, O earth. I will not die alone, + Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me + Walking the cold and starless road of Death 255 + Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love + With the Greek woman. I will rise and go + Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth + Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says + A fire dances before her, and a sound 260 + Rings ever in her ears of armed men. + What this may be I know not, but I know + That, wheresoe'er I am by night and day, + All earth and air seem only burning fire." + + + + + THE EPIC + + At Francis Allen's on the Christmas-eve,-- + The game of forfeits done--the girls all kiss'd + Beneath the sacred bush and past away-- + The parson Holmes, the poet Everard Hall, + The host, and I sat round the wassail-bowl, 5 + Then half-way ebb'd: and there we held a talk, + How all the old honour had from Christmas gone, + Or gone, or dwindled down to some odd games + In some odd nooks like this; till I, tired out + With cutting eights that day upon the pond, 10 + Where, three times slipping from the outer edge, + I bump'd the ice into three several stars, + Fell in a doze; and half-awake I heard + The parson taking wide and wider sweeps, + New harping on the church-commissioners, 15 + Now hawking at Geology and schism, + Until I woke, and found him settled down + Upon the general decay of faith + Right thro' the world, 'at home was little left, + And none abroad: there was no anchor, none; 20 + To hold by.' Francis, laughing, clapt his hand + On Everard's shoulder, with 'I hold by him.' + 'And I,' quoth Everard, 'by the wassail-bowl.' + 'Why yes,' I said, 'we knew your gift that way + At college: but another which you had, 25 + I mean of verse (for so we held it then), + What came of that?' 'You know,' said Frank, 'he burnt + His epic, his King Arthur, some twelve books'-- + And then to me demanding why? 'Oh, sir, + He thought that nothing new was said, or else 30 + Something so said 'twas nothing---that a truth + Looks freshest in the fashion of the day: + God knows: he has a mint of reasons: ask. + It pleased _me_ well enough,' 'Nay, nay,' said Hall, + 'Why take the style of those heroic times? 35 + For nature brings not back the Mastodon, + Nor we those times; and why should any man + Remodel models? these twelve books of mine + Were faint Homeric echoes, nothing-worth, + Mere chaff and draff, much better burnt.' 'But I,' 40 + Said Francis, 'pick'd the eleventh from this hearth' + And have it: keep a thing, its use will come. + I hoard it as a sugar-plum for Holmes.' + He laugh'd, and I, tho' sleepy, like a horse + That hears the corn-bin open, prick'd my ears; 45 + For I remember'd Everard's college fame + When we were Freshmen: then at my request + He brought it; and the poet little urged, + But with some prelude of disparagement, + Read, mouthing out his hollow oes and aes, 50 + Deep-chested music, and to this result. + + + + + MORTE D'ARTHUR + + So all day long the noise of battle roll'd + Among the mountains by the winter sea; + Until King Arthur's table, man by man, + Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their Lord, + King Arthur: then, because his wound was deep, 5 + The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, + Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights, + And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, + A broken chancel with a broken cross, + That stood on a dark strait of barren land. 10 + On one side lay the Ocean, and on one + Lay a great water, and the moon was full. + + Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: + The sequel of to-day unsolders all + The goodliest fellowship of famous knights 15 + Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep + They sleep--the men I loved. I think that we + Shall never more, at any future time, + Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, + Walking about the gardens and the halls 20 + Of Camelot, as in the days that were. + I perish by this people which I made,-- + Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again + To rule once more--but let what will be, be, + I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm 25 + That without help I cannot last till morn. + Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, + Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how + In those old days, one summer noon, an arm + Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, 30 + Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, + Holding the sword--and how I row'd across + And took it, and have worn it, like a king: + And, wheresoever I am sung or told + In aftertime, this also shall be known: 35 + But now delay not: take Excalibur, + And fling him far into the middle mere: + Watch what thou seest, and lightly being me word.' + + To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere: + 'It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus, 40 + Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm. + A little thing may harm a wounded man. + Yet I thy hest will all perform at full, + Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word.' + + So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept 45 + And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, + Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, + Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang + Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down + By zig-zag paths and juts of pointed rock, 50 + Came on the shining levels of the lake. + + There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, + And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, + Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth + And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt: 55 + For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, + Myriads of topaz-lights and jacinth-work + Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long + That both his eyes were dazzled, as he stood, + This way and that dividing the swift mind, 60 + In act to throw: but at the last it seem'd + Better to leave Excalibur conceal'd + There in the many-knotted waterflags, + That whistled stiff and dry about the marge. + So strode he back slow to the wounded King 65 + + Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: + 'Hast thou performed my mission which I gave? + What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?' + + And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: + 'I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, 70 + And the wild water lapping on the crag.' + + To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale: + 'Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy name, + Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd + Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight: 75 + For surer sign had follow'd, either hand, + Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. + This is a shameful thing for men to lie. + Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again + As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing 80 + I bad thee, watch, and lightly bring me word.' + + Then went Sir Bedivere the second time + Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere, + Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought; + But when he saw the wonder of the hilt, 85 + How curiously and strangely chased, he smote + His palms together, and he cried aloud, + + 'And if indeed I cast the brand away, + Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, + Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, 90 + Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. + What good should follow this, if this were done? + What harm, undone? deep harm to disobey, + Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. + Were it well to obey then, if a king demand 95 + An act unprofitable, against himself? + The King is sick, and knows not what he does. + What record, or what relic of my lord + Should be to aftertime, but empty breath + And rumours of a doubt? but were this kept, 100 + Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, + Some one might show it at a joust of arms, + Saying, "King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, + Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. + Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps 105 + Upon the hidden bases of the hills." + So might some old man speak in the after-time + To all the people, winning reverence. + But now much honour and much fame were lost.' + + So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, 110 + And hid Excalibur the second time, + And so strode back slow to the wounded King. + + Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily: + 'What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?' + + And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: 115 + 'I heard the water lapping on the crag, + And the long ripple washing in the reeds.' + + To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath: + 'Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, + Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! 120 + Authority forgets a dying king, + Laid widow'd of the power in his eye + That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art, + For thou, the latest-left of all my knights, + In whom should meet the offices of all, 125 + Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt; + Either from lust of gold, or like a girl + Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. + Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice, + And the third time may prosper, get thee hence: 130 + But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, + I will arise and slay thee with my hands.' + + Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, + And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged + Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch'd the sword, 135 + And strongly wheel'd and threw it. The great brand + Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, + And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, + Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, + Seen where the moving isles of winter shock 140 + By night, with noises of the northern sea. + So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur: + But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm + Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, + And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 145 + Three times, and drew him under in the mere. + And lightly went the other to the King. + + Then spoke King-Arthur, drawing thicker breath: + 'Now see I by thine eyes that this is done. + Speak out: what is it thou has heard, or seen?' 150 + + And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: + 'Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems + Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, + Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, + Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men, 155 + So great a miracle as yonder hilt. + Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him; + But when I look'd again, behold an arm, + Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, + That caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 160 + Three times, and drew him under in the mere.' + + And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard: + 'My end draws nigh; 'tis time that I were gone. + Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, + And bear me to the margin; yet I fear 165 + My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die.' + + So saying, from the pavement he half rose, + Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, + And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes + As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 170 + Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears, + And would have spoken, but he found not words, + Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee, + O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands, + And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs. 175 + + But, as he walk'd, King Arthur panted hard, + Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed + When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the King, + Muttering and murmuring at his ear, 'Quick, quick! + I fear it is too late, and I shall die.' 180 + + But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge, + Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd, + Larger than human on the frozen hills. + He heard the deep behind him, and a cry + Before. His own thought drove him like a goad. 185 + Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves + And barren chasms, and all to left and right + The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based + His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang + Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels-- 190 + And on a sudden, lo! the level lake, + And the long glories of the winter moon. + + Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, + Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, + Beneath them; and descending they were ware 195 + That all the decks were dense with stately forms + Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream--by these + Three Queens with crowns of gold--and from them rose + A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, + And, as it were one voice an agony 200 + Of lamentation, like a wind, that shrills + All night in a waste land, where no one comes, + Or hath come, since the making of the world, + Then murmur'd Arthur, 'Place me in the barge.' + And to the barge they came. There those three Queens 205 + Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept. + But she, that rose the tallest of them all + And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, + And loosed the shatter'd casque, and chafed his hands, + And call'd him by his name, complaining loud, 210 + And dropping bitter tears against his brow + Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white + And colourless, and like the wither'd moon + Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east; + And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops 215 + Of onset; and the light and lustrous curls-- + That made his forehead like a rising sun + High from the dais-throne--were parch'd with dust; + Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, + Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips. 220 + So like a shatter'd column lay the King; + Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest, + From spur to plume a star of tournament, + Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged + Before the eyes of ladies and of kings. 225 + + Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere, + 'Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? + Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? + For now I see the true old times are dead, + When every morning brought a noble chance, 230 + And every chance brought out a noble knight. + Such times have been not since the light that led + The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. + But now the whole ROUND TABLE is dissolved + Which was an image of the mighty world; 235 + And I, the last, go forth companionless, + And the days darken round me, and the years, + Among new men, strange faces, other minds.' + + And slowly answered Arthur from the barge: + 'The old order changeth, yielding place to new, 240 + And God fulfils Himself in many ways, + Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. + Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? + I have lived my life, and that which I have done + May He within Himself make pure! but thou, 245 + If thou shouldst never see my face again, + Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer + Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice + Rise like a fountain for me night and day. + For what are men better than sheep or goats 250 + That nourish a blind life within the brain, + If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer + Both for themselves and those who call them friend? + For so the whole round earth is every way + Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 255 + But now farewell. I am going a long way + With these thou seest--if indeed I go-- + (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) + To the island-valley of Avilion; + Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 260 + Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies + Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns + And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, + Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.' + + So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 265 + Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan + That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, + Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood + With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere + Revolving many memories, till the hull 270 + Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, + And on the mere the wailing died away. + + * * * * * * + + Here ended Hall, and our last light, that long + Had wink'd and threatened darkness, flared and fell: + At which the Parson, sent to sleep with sound, + And waked with silence, grunted 'Good!' but we 55 + Sat rapt: it was the tone with which he read-- + Perhaps some modern touches here and there + Redeem'd it from the charge of nothingness-- + Or else we loved the man, and prized his work; + I know not: but we sitting, as I said, 60 + The cock crew loud; as at that time of year + The lusty bird takes every hour for dawn: + Then Francis, muttering, like a man ill-used, + 'There now--that's nothing!' drew a little back, + And drove his heel into the smoulder'd log, 65 + That sent a blast of sparkles up the flue: + And so to bed; where yet in sleep I seem'd + To sail with Arthur under looming shores, + Point after point; till on to dawn, when dreams + Begin to feel the truth and stir of day, 70 + To me, methought, who waited with a crowd, + There came a bark that, blowing forward, bore + King Arthur, like a modern gentleman + Of stateliest port; and all the people cried, + 'Arthur is come again: he cannot die.' 75 + Then those that stood upon the hills behind + Repeated--'Come again, and thrice as fair;' + And, further inland, voices echo'd--'Come + With all good things, and war shall be no more.' + At this a hundred bells began to peal, 80 + That with the sound I woke, and heard indeed + The clear church-bells ring in the Christmas-morn. + + + + + THE BROOK + + Here, by this brook, we parted; I to the East + And he for Italy--too late--too late; + One whom the strong sons of the world despise; + For lucky rhymes to him were scrip and share, + And mellow metres more than cent for cent; 5 + Nor could he understand how money breeds; + Thought it a dead thing; yet himself could make + The thing that is not as the thing that is. + O had he lived! In our schoolbooks we say, + Of those that held their heads above the crowd, 10 + They flourish'd then or then; but life in him + Could scarce be said to flourish, only touch'd + On such a time as goes before the leaf, + When all the wood stands in a mist of green, + And nothing perfect: yet the brook he loved, 15 + For which, in branding summers of Bengal, + Or ev'n the sweet half-English Neilgherry air + I panted, seems; as I re-listen to it, + Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy, + To me that loved him; for 'O brook,' he says, 20 + 'O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme, + 'Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies: + + I come from haunts of coot and hern, + I make a sudden sally, + And sparkle out among the fern, 25 + To bicker down a valley. + + By thirty hills I hurry down, + Or slip between the ridges, + By twenty thorps, a little town, + And half a hundred bridges. 30 + + Till last by Philip's farm I flow + To join the brimming river, + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on for ever. + + 'Poor lad, he died at Florence, quite worn out, 35 + Travelling to Naples. There is Darnley bridge, + It has more ivy; there the river; and there + Stands Philip's farm where brook and river meet. + + I chatter over stony ways, + In little sharps and trebles, 40 + I bubble into eddying bays, + I babble on the pebbles. + + With many a curve my banks I fret + By many a field and fallow, + And many a fairy foreland set 45 + With willow-weed and mallow. + + I chatter, chatter, as I flow + To join the brimming river, + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on for ever. 50 + + 'But Philip chattered more than brook or bird; + Old Philip; all about the fields you caught + His weary daylong chirping, like the dry + High-elbow'd grigs that leap in summer grass. + + I wind about, and in and out, 55 + With here a blossom sailing, + And here and there a lusty trout, + And here and there a grayling, + + And here and there a foamy flake + Upon me, as I travel 60 + With many a silvery waterbreak + Above the golden gravel, + + And draw them all along, and flow + To join the brimming river, + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on for ever. + + 'O darling Katie Willows, his one child! + A maiden of our century, yet most meek; + A daughter of our meadows, yet not coarse; + Straight, but as lissome as a hazel wand; 70 + Her eyes a bashful azure, and her hair + In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell + Divides threefold to show the fruit within. + + Sweet Katie, once I did her a good turn, + Her and her far-off cousin and betrothed, 75 + James Willows, of one name and heart with her. + For here I came, twenty years back--the week + Before I parted with poor Edmund; crost + By that old bridge which, half in ruins then, + Still makes a hoary eyebrow for the gleam 80 + Beyond it, where the waters marry--crost, + Whistling a random bar of Bonny Doon, + And push'd at Philip's garden-gate. The gate, + Half-parted from a weak and scolding hinge, + Stuck; and he clamour'd from a casement, "Run" 85 + To Katie somewhere in the walks below, + "Run, Katie!" Katie never ran: she moved + To meet me, winding under woodbine bowers, + A little flutter'd, with her eyelids down, + Fresh apple-blossom, blushing for a boon. 90 + + 'What was it? less of sentiment than sense + Had Katie; not illiterate; nor of those + Who dabbling in the fount of fictive tears, + And nursed by mealy-mouth'd philanthropies, + Divorce the Feeling from her mate the Deed. 95 + 'She told me. She and James had quarrell'd. Why? + What cause of quarrel? None, she said, no cause; + James had no cause: but when I prest the cause, + I learnt that James had flickering jealousies + Which anger'd her. Who anger'd James? I said. 100 + But Katie snatch'd her eyes at once from mine, + And sketching with her slender pointed foot + Some figure like a wizard pentagram + On garden gravel, let my query pass + Unclaimed, in flushing silence, till I ask'd 105 + If James were coming. "Coming every day," + She answer'd, "ever longing to explain, + But evermore her father came across + With some long-winded tale, and broke him short; + And James departed vext with him and her." 110 + How could I help her? "Would I--was it wrong?" + (Claspt hands and that petitionary grace + Of sweet seventeen subdued me ere she spoke) + "O would I take her father for one hour, + For one half-hour, and let him talk to me!" 115 + And even while she spoke, I saw where James + Made toward us, like a wader in the surf, + Beyond the brook, waist-deep in meadow-sweet. + + 'O Katie, what I suffer'd for your sake! + For in I went, and call'd old Philip out 120 + To show the farm: full willingly he rose: + He led me thro' the short sweet-smelling lanes + Of his wheat-suburb, babbling as he went, + He praised his land, his horses, his machines; + He praised his ploughs, his cows, his hogs, his dogs; 125 + He praised his hens, his geese, his guinea-hens, + His pigeons, who in session on their roofs + Approved him, bowing at their own deserts: + Then from the plaintive mother's teat he took + Her blind and shuddering puppies, naming each, 130 + And naming those, his friends, for whom they were: + Then crost the common into Darnley chase + To show Sir Arthur's deer. In copse and fern + Twinkled the innumerable ear and tail. + Then, seated on a serpent-rooted beech, 135 + He pointed out a pasturing colt, and said: + "That was the four-year-old I sold the Squire." + And there he told a long long-winded tale + Of how the Squire had seen the colt at grass, + And how it was the thing his daughter wish'd, 140 + And how he sent the bailiff to the farm + To learn the price, and what the price he ask'd, + And how the bailiff swore that he was mad, + But he stood firm; and so the matter hung; + He gave them line; and five days after that 145 + He met the bailiff at the Golden Fleece, + Who then and there had offer'd something more, + But he stood firm; and so the matter hung; + He knew the man; the colt would fetch its price; + He gave them line: and how by chance at last 150 + (It might be May or April, he forgot, + The last of April or the first of May) + He found the bailiff riding by the farm, + And, talking from the point, he drew him in, + And there he mellow'd all his heart with ale, 155 + Until they closed a bargain, hand in hand. + + 'Then, while I breathed in sight of haven, he, + Poor fellow, could he help it? recommenced, + And ran thro' all the coltish chronicle, + Wild Will, Black Bess, Tantivy, Tallyho, 160 + Reform, White Rose, Bellerophon, the Jilt, + Arbaces, and Phenomenon, and the rest, + Tilt, not to die a listener, I arose, + And with me Philip, talking still; and so + We turn'd our foreheads from the falling sun, 165 + And following our own shadows thrice as long + As when they follow'd us from Philip's door, + Arrived, and found the sun of sweet content + Re-risen in Katie's eyes, and all thing's well. + + I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 170 + I slide by hazel covers; + I move the sweet forget-me-nots + That grow for happy lovers. + + I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, + Among my skimming swallows; 175 + I make the netted sunbeam dance + Against my sandy shallows. + + I murmur under moon and stars + In brambly wildernesses; + I linger by my shingly bars; 180 + I loiter round my cresses; + + And out again I curve and flow + To join the brimming river, + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on for ever. 185 + + Yes, men may come and go; and these are gone, + All gone. My dearest brother, Edmund, sleeps, + Not by the well-known stream and rustic spire, + But unfamiliar Arno, and the dome + Of Brunelleschi; sleeps in peace: and he, 190 + Poor Philip, of all his lavish waste of words + Remains the lean P. W. on his tomb: + I scraped the lichen from it: Katie walks + By the long wash of Australasian seas + Far off, and holds her head to other stars, 195 + And breathes in April autumns. All are gone.' + + So Lawrence Aylmer, seated on a stile + In the long hedge, and rolling in his mind + Old waifs of rhyme, and bowing o'er the brook + A tonsured head in middle age forlorn, 200 + Mused and was mute. On a sudden a low breath + Offender air made tremble in the hedge + The fragile bindweed-bells and briony rings; + And he look'd up. There stood a maiden near, + Waiting to pass. In much amaze he stared 205 + On eyes a bashful azure, and on hair + In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell + Divides threefold to show the fruit within: + Then, wondering, ask'd her 'Are you from the farm?' + 'Yes' answer'd she. 'Pray stay a little: pardon me; 210 + What do they call you?' 'Katie.' 'That were strange. + What surname?' 'Willows.' 'No!' 'That is my name.' + 'Indeed!' and here he look'd so self-perplext, + That Katie laugh'd, and laughing blush'd, till he + Laugh'd also, but as one before he wakes, 215 + Who feels a glimmering strangeness in his dream; + Then looking at her; 'Too happy, fresh and fair, + Too fresh and fair in our sad world's best bloom, + To be the ghost of one who bore your name + About these meadows, twenty years ago. 220 + + 'Have you not heard?' said Katie, 'we came back. + We bought the farm we tenanted before. + Am I so like her? so they said on board. + Sir, if you knew her in her English days, + My mother, as it seems you did, the days 225 + That most she loves to talk of, come with me. + My brother James is in the harvest-field: + But she--you will be welcome--O, come in!' + + + + + IN MEMORIAM + + XXVII + + I envy not in any moods + The captive void of noble rage, + The linnet born within the cage, + That never knew the summer woods: + + I envy not the beast that takes 5 + His license in the field of time, + Unfetter'd by the sense of crime, + To whom a conscience never wakes; + + Nor, what may count itself as blest, + The heart that never plighted troth 10 + But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; + Nor any want-begotten rest. + + I hold it true, whate'er befall; + I feel it, when I sorrow most; + 'Tis better to have loved and lost 15 + Than never to have lov'd at all. + + + LXIV + + Dost thou look back on what hath been, + As some divinely gifted man, + Whose life in low estate began + And on a simple village green; + + Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, 5 + And grasps the skirts of happy chance, + And breasts the blows of circumstance, + And grapples with his evil star; + + Who makes by force his merit known + And lives to clutch the golden keys, 10 + To mould a mighty state's decrees, + And shape the whisper of the throne; + + And moving up from high to higher, + Becomes on Fortune's crowning slope + The pillar of a people's hope, 15 + The centre of a world's desire; + + Yet feels, as in a pensive dream, + When all his active powers are still, + A distant dearness in the hill, + A secret sweetness in the stream, 20 + + The limit of his narrower fate, + While yet beside its vocal springs + He play'd at counsellors and kings, + With one that was his earliest mate; + + Who ploughs with pain his native lea 25 + And reaps the labour of his hands, + Or in the furrow musing stands; + "Does my old friend remember me?" + + + + LXXXIII + + Dip down upon the northern shore, + O sweet new-year delaying long; + Thou doest expectant nature wrong; + Delaying long, delay no more. + + What stays thee from the clouded noons, 5 + Thy sweetness from its proper place? + Can trouble live with April days, + Or sadness in the summer moons? + + Bring orchis, bring the foxglove spire, + The little speedwell's darling blue, 10 + Deep tulips dash'd with fiery dew, + Laburnums, dropping-wells of fire. + + O thou, new-year, delaying long, + Delayest the sorrow in my blood, + That longs to burst a frozen bud 15 + And flood a fresher throat with song. + + + + LXXXVI + + Sweet after showers, ambrosial air, + That rollest from the gorgeous gloom + Of evening over brake and bloom + And meadow, slowly breathing bare + + The round of space, and rapt below 5 + Thro' all the dewy-tassell'd wood, + And shadowing down the horned flood + In ripples, fan my brows and blow + + The fever from my cheek, and sigh + The full new life that feeds thy breath 10 + Throughout my frame, till Doubt and Death, + Ill brethren, let the fancy fly + + From belt to belt of crimson seas + On leagues of odour streaming far, + To where in yonder orient star 15 + A hundred spirits whisper "Peace." + + + + CI + + Unwatch'd, the garden bough shall sway, + The tender blossom flutter down, + Unloved, that beech will gather brown, + This maple burn itself away; + + Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair, 5 + Ray round with flames her disk of seed, + And many a rose-carnation feed + With summer spice the humming air; + + Unloved, by many a sandy bar, + The brook shall babble down the plain, 10 + At noon or when the lesser wain + Is twisting round the polar star; + + Uncared for, gird the windy grove, + And flood the haunts of hern and crake; + Or into silver arrows break 15 + The sailing moon in creek and cove; + + Till from the garden and the wild + A fresh association blow, + And year by year the landscape grow + Familiar to the stranger's child; 20 + + As year by year the labourer tills + His wonted glebe, or lops the glades; + And year by year our memory fades + From all the circle of the hills. + + + + CXIV + + Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail + Against her beauty? May she mix + With men and prosper! Who shall fix + Her pillars? Let her work prevail. + + But on her forehead sits a fire: 5 + She sets her forward countenance + And leaps into the future chance, + Submitting all things to desire. + + Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain-- + She cannot fight the fear of death. 10 + What is she, cut from love and faith, + But some wild Pallas from the brain + + Of Demons? fiery-hot to burst + All barriers in her onward race + For power. Let her know her place; 15 + She is the second, not the first. + + A higher hand must make her mild, + If all be not in vain; and guide + Her footsteps, moving side by side + With wisdom, like the younger child: 20 + + For she is earthly of the mind, + But Wisdom heavenly of the soul. + O friend, who earnest to thy goal + So early, leaving me behind + + I would the great world grew like thee, 25 + Who grewest not alone in power + And knowledge, but by year and hour + In reverence and in charity. + + + + CXV + + Now fades the last long streak of snow, + Now burgeons every maze of quick + About the flowering squares, and thick + By ashen roots the violets blow, + + Now rings the woodland loud and long, 5 + The distance takes a lovelier hue, + And drown'd in yonder living blue + The lark becomes a sightless song. + + Now dance the lights on lawn and lea, + The flocks are whiter down the vale, 10 + And milkier every milky sail + On winding stream or distant sea; + + Where now the seamew pipes, or dives + In yonder greening gleam, and fly + The happy birds, that change their sky 15 + To build and brood, that live their lives + + From land to land; and in my breast + Spring wakens too; and my regret + Becomes an April violet, + And buds and blossoms like the rest. 20 + + + + CXVIII + + Contemplate all this work of Time, + The giant labouring in his youth; + Nor dream of human love and truth, + As dying Nature's earth and lime; + + But trust that those we call the dead 5 + Are breathers of an ampler day + For ever nobler ends. They say, + The solid earth whereon we tread + + In tracts of fluent heat began, + And grew to seeming-random forms, 10 + The seeming prey of cyclic storms, + Till at the last arose the man; + + Who throve and branch'd from clime to clime, + The herald of a higher race, + And of himself in higher place, 15 + If so he type this work of time + + Within himself, from more to more; + Or, crown'd with attributes of woe + Like glories, move his course, and show + That life is not as idle ore, 20 + + But iron dug from central gloom, + And heated hot with burning fears, + And dipt in baths of hissing tears, + And batter'd with the shocks of doom + + To shape and use. Arise and fly 25 + The reeling Faun, the sensual feast; + Move upward, working out the beast + And let the ape and tiger die. + + + + CXXIII + + There rolls the deep where grew the tree. + O earth, what changes hast thou seen! + There where the long street roars hath been + The stillness of the central sea. + + The hills are shadows, and they flow 5 + From form to form, and nothing stands; + They melt like mist, the solid lands, + Like clouds they shape themselves and go. + + But in my spirit will I dwell, + And dream my dream, and hold it true; 10 + For tho' my lips may breathe adieu, + I cannot think the thine farewell. + + + + +WORDSWORTH + +WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + +William Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth, Cumberland, on April 7th, +1770. His father, John Wordsworth, was the agent of Sir J. Lowther, +who later became the first Earl of Lonsdale. At the age of eight the +boy was sent to school at Hawkshead. The impressions of his boyhood +period are related in the autobiographical poem, _The Prelude_, +(written 1805, published 1850), and from this poetical record we +discern how strong the influences of Nature were to shape and develop +his imagination. Wordsworth's father died in 1783, leaving the family +poorly provided for. The main asset was a considerable claim upon the +Earl of Lonsdale, which that individual refused to pay. On his death, +in 1802, the successor to the title and estates paid the amount of the +claim in full with accumulated interest. In the interval, however, the +Wordsworth family remained in very straitened circumstances. Enough +money was provided by Wordsworth's guardians to send him to Cambridge +University In 1787. He entered St. John's College, and after an +undistinguished course graduated without honors in January, 1791. His +vacations were spent chiefly in Hawkshead and Wales, but one memorable +vacation was marked by a walking excursion with a friend through France +and Switzerland, the former country then being on the verge of +revolution. + +Shortly after leaving the University, in November, 1791, Wordsworth +returned to France, remaining there until December of the following +year. During this period he was completely won over to the principles +of the revolution. The later reaction from these principles +constituted the one moral struggle of his life. + +In 1793 his first work appeared before the public--two poems, entitled +_The Evening Walk_ and _Descriptive Sketches_. Coleridge, who read +these pieces at Cambridge, divined that they announced the emergence of +an original poetical genius above the horizon. Readers of the poems +to-day, who are wise after the event, could scarcely divine as much. +At about this period Wordsworth received a bequest of 900 pounds from +Raisley Calvert, which enabled him and his sister Dorothy to take a +small cottage at Racedown in Dorsetshire. Here he wrote a number of +poems in which he worked off the ferment of his revolutionary ideas. +These ideas can scarcely be said to have troubled him much in later +years. + +An important incident in his life, hardly second in importance to the +stimulating companionship of his sister, was his meeting with +Coleridge, which occurred probably towards the close of 1795. +Coleridge, who was but little younger than Wordsworth, had the more +richly equipped, if not the more richly endowed, mind. He was living +at Nether Stowey, and in order to benefit by the stimulus which such a +friendship offered, the Wordsworth's moved to Alfoxden, three miles +away from Stowey (July, 1797). It was during a walking expedition to +the Quantock Hills in November of that year that the poem of _The +Ancient Mariner_ was planned. It was intended that the poem should be +a joint production, but Wordsworth's contribution was confined to the +suggestion of a few details merely, and some scattered lines which are +indicated in the notes to that poem. Their poetic theories were soon +to take definite shape in the publication of the famous _Lyrical +Ballads_ (September, 1798), to which Coleridge contributed _The Ancient +Mariner_, and Wordsworth some characteristic lyrical, reflective, and +narrative poems. The excessive simplicity and alleged triviality of +some of these poems long continued to give offence to the conservative +lovers of poetry. Even to-day we feel that Wordsworth was sometimes +the victim of his own theories. + +In June of this same year (1798) Wordsworth and his sister accompanied +Coleridge to Germany. They soon parted company, the Wordsworths +settling at Goslar, while Coleridge, intent upon study, went in search +of German metaphysics at Gottingen. Wordsworth did not come into any +contract with German life or thought, but sat through the winter by a +stove writing poems for a second edition of the _Lyrical Ballads_. +April, 1799, found the brother and sister again in England. In +December they settled down at Dove Cottage, Town End, Grasmere, and +never, save for brief intervals, abandoned the Lake Country. In 1802, +as has been said, a slight accession of fortune fell to Wordsworth by +the settlement of the Lonsdale claim. The share of each of the family +was 1,800 pounds. On the strength of this wind-fall the poet felt that +he might marry, and accordingly brought home Mary Hutchinson as his +wife. + +The subsequent career of Wordsworth belongs to the history of poetry. +Of events in the ordinary sense there are few to record. He +successively occupies three houses in the Lake Country after abandoning +Dove Cottage. We find him at Allan Bank in 1808, in the Parsonage at +Grasmere in 1810, and at Rydal Mount from 1813 to his death in 1850. +He makes occasional excursions to Scotland or the Continent, and at +long intervals visits London, where Carlyle sees him and records his +vivid impressions. For many years Wordsworth enjoys the sinecure of +Distributor of Stamps for Westmoreland (400 pounds a year), and on his +resignation of that office in his son's favor, he is placed on the +Civil List for a well deserved pension of 300 pounds. On Southey's +death, in 1843, he is appointed Poet Laureate. He died at Grasmere on +April 23rd, 1850. + +Wordsworth's principal long poems are: _The Prelude_ (1805 published +1850); _The Excursion_ (1814); _The White Doe of Rylstone_ (1815) and +_Peter Bell The Waggoner_ (1819). His fame rests principally on his +shorter narrative poems, his meditative lyrics, including his two great +odes, _To Duty_ and _On the Intimations of Immortality_, and on the +sonnets, which rank with the finest in the language. The longer poems +have many fine passages exhibiting his powers of graphic description, +and illustrating his mystical philosophy of nature. + +Thomas Carlyle's description of Wordsworth is of interest: "For the +rest, he talked well in his way; with veracity, easy brevity, and +force, as a wise tradesman would of his tools and workshop, and as no +unwise one could. His voice was good, frank, and sonorous, though +practically clear, distinct, and forcible, rather than melodious; the +tone of him, businesslike, sedately confident; no discourtesy, yet no +anxiety about being courteous. A fine wholesome rusticity, fresh as +his mountain breezes, sat well on the stalwart veteran, and on all he +said and did. You would have said that he was a usually taciturn man, +glad to unlock himself to audience sympathetic and intelligent, when +such offered itself. His face bore marks of much, not always peaceful, +meditation; the look of it not bland or benevolent so much as close, +impregnable, and hard; a man _multa tacere loquive paratus_, in a world +where he had experienced no lack of contradictions as he strode along. +The eyes were not very brilliant, but they had a quiet clearness; there +was enough of brow, and well-shaped; rather too much cheek ('horse +face' I have heard satirists say); face of squarish shape, and +decidedly longish, as I think the head itself was (its length going +horizontal); he was large-boned, lean, but still firm-knit, tall, and +strong-looking when he stood, a right good old steel-gray figure, with +rustic simplicity and dignity about him, and a vivacious strength +looking through him, which might have suited one of those old +steel-gray markgrafs whom Henry the Fowler set up towards the 'marches' +and do battle with the intrusive heathen in a stalwart and judicious +manner." + + +CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE + +Born, April 7, 1770, at Cockermouth, Cumberland. + +Goes to Hawkshead Grammar School, 1778. + +Sent by guardians to St. John's College, Cambridge, October, 1787. + +Foreign tour with Jones, 1790. + +Graduates as B.A. without honors, January, 1791. + +Residence in France, November, 1791, to December, 1792. + +Publication of _The Evening Walk_, and _Descriptive Sketches_, 1793. + +Legacy from Raisley Calvert of 900 pounds, 1794. + +Lives at Racedown, Dorsetshire, autumn of 1795 to summer of 1797. + +Composes _The Borderers_, a tragedy, 1795-1796. + +Close friendship with Coleridge begins in 1797. + +Rents a house at Alfoxden, 1797. + +Genesis of the _Lyrical Ballads_, 1797. + +_Lyrical Ballads_ published September, 1798. + +German visit, September, 1798, to April, 1799. + +Lives at Dove Cottage, Grasmere, December 21, 1799 to 1806, 1807-1808. + +The Lonsdale debt of 8,500 pounds repaid, 1802. + +Marries Mary Hutchinson, October, 1802. + +Death by drowning of his brother, Captain John Wordsworth, 1805. + +Lives at Coleorton, Leicestershire, 1806 to 1807. + +Collected Edition of poems, 1807. + +Lives at Allan Bank, Easedale, 1808 to 1810. + +Lives at the Parsonage, Grasmere, 1810 to 1812. + +Loss of two children and removal to Rydal Mount, Grasmere, 1813 to 1850. + +Appointed distributor of stamps for Westmoreland (400 pounds a year), +1813. + +_The Excursion_ appears, July, 1814. + +Honorary degree of D.C.L. from Oxford, 1839. + +Resigns his office as distributor of stamps, 1842. + +Receives a pension from Sir R. Peel of 300 pounds, 1842. + +Appointed Poet Laureate, 1843. + +Dies at Grasmere, April 23, 1850. + + + +APPRECIATIONS + +Coleridge, with rare insight, summarized Wordsworth's characteristic +defects and merits as follows; + +"The first characteristic, though only occasional defect, which I +appear to myself to find in these poems is the inconstancy of the +style. Under this name I refer to the sudden and unprepared +transitions from lines or sentences of peculiar felicity (at all events +striking and original) to a style, not only unimpassioned but +undistinguished. + +"The second defect I can generalize with tolerable accuracy, if the +reader will pardon an uncouth and newly-coined word. There is, I +should say, not seldom a _matter-of-factness_ in certain poems. This +may be divided into, first, a laborious minuteness and fidelity in the +representation of objects, and there positions, as they appeared to the +poet himself; secondly, the insertion of accidental circumstances, in +order to the full explanation of his living characters, their +dispositions and actions; which circumstances might be necessary to +establish the probability of a statement in real life, when nothing is +taken for granted by the hearer; but appear superfluous in poetry, +where the reader is willing to believe for his own sake. . . + +"Third; an undue predilection for the _dramatic_ form in certain poems, +from which one or other of two evils result. Either the thoughts and +diction are different from that of the poet, and then there arises an +incongruity of style; or they are the same and indistinguishable, where +two are represented as talking, while in truth one man only speaks. . . + +"The fourth class of defects is closely connected with the former; but +yet are such as arise likewise from an intensity of feeling +disproportionate to such knowledge and value of the objects described, +as can be fairly anticipated of men in general, even of the most +cultivated classes; and with which therefore few only, and those few +particularly circumstanced, can be supposed to sympathize: in this +class, I comprise occasional prolixity, repetition, and an eddying, +instead of progression, of thought. . . + +"Fifth and last; thoughts and images too great for the subject. This +is an approximation to what might be called mental bombast, as +distinguished from verbal: for, as in the latter there is a +disproportion of the expressions to the thoughts, so in this there is a +disproportion of thought to the circumstance and occasion. . . + +"To these defects, which . . . are only occasional, I may oppose . . . +the following (for the most part correspondent) excellencies: + +"First; an austere purity of language both grammatically and logically; +in short a perfect appropriateness of the words to the meaning. . . + +"The second characteristic excellence of Mr. Wordsworth's works is--a +correspondent weight and sanity of the thoughts and sentiments, won not +from books, but from the poet's own meditative observations. They are +fresh and have the dew upon them. . . + +"Third; . . . the sinewy strength and originality of single lines and +paragraphs; the frequent _curiosa felicitas_ of his diction. . . + +"Fourth; the perfect truth of nature in his images and descriptions as +taken immediately from nature, and proving a long and genial intimacy +with the very spirit which gives the physiognomic expressions to all +the works of nature. Like a green field reflected in a calm and +perfectly transparent lake, the image is distinguished from the reality +only by its greater softness and lustre. Like the moisture or the +polish on a pebble, genius neither distorts nor false-colors its +objects; but on the contrary, brings out many a vein and many a tint, +which escape the eye of common observation, thus raising to the rank of +gems what had been often kicked away by the hurrying foot of the +traveller on the dusty high-road of custom. . . + +"Fifth; a meditative pathos, a union of deep and subtle thought with +sensibility; a sympathy with man as man; the sympathy indeed of a +contemplator, rather than a fellow-sufferer or co-mate, but of a +contemplator, from whose view no difference of rank conceals the +sameness of the nature; no injuries of wind or weather, of toil, or +even of ignorance, wholly disguise the human face divine. The +superscription and the image of the Creator still remains legible to +_him_ under the dark lines, with which guilt or calamity had cancelled +or cross-barred it. Here the Man and the Poet lose and find themselves +in each other, the one as glorified, the latter as substantiated. In +this mild and philosophic pathos, Wordsworth appears to me without a +compeer. Such as he is; so he writes. + +"Last and pre-eminently, I challenge for this poet the gift of +imagination in the highest and strictest sense of the word. In the +play of fancy, Wordsworth, to my feelings, is not always graceful, and +sometimes recondite. . . But in imaginative power, he stands nearest of +all writers to Shakespeare and Milton; and yet in a kind perfectly +unborrowed and his own." + +These are the grounds upon which Coleridge bases the poetic claims of +Wordsworth. + +Matthew Arnold, in the preface to his well-known collection of +Wordsworth's poems, accords to the poet a rank no less exalted. "I +firmly believe that the poetical performance of Wordsworth is, after +that of Shakespeare and Milton, of which all the world now recognizes +the worth, undoubtedly the most considerable in our language from the +Elizabethan age to the present time." His essential greatness is to be +found in his shorter pieces, despite the frequent intrusion of much +that is very inferior. Still it is "by the great body of powerful and +significant work which remains to him after every reduction and +deduction has been made, that Wordsworth's superiority is proved." + +Coleridge had not dwelt sufficiently, perhaps, upon the joyousness +which results from Wordsworth's philosophy of human life and external +nature. This Matthew Arnold considers to be the prime source of his +greatness. "Wordsworth's poetry is great because of the extraordinary +power with which Wordsworth feels the joy offered to us in the simple +primary affections and duties; and because of the extraordinary power +with which, in case after case, he shows us this joy, and renders it so +as to make us share it." Goethe's poetry, as Wordsworth once said, is +not inevitable enough, is too consciously moulded by the supreme will +of the artist. "But Wordsworth's poetry," writes Arnold, "when he is +at his best, is inevitable, as inevitable as Nature herself. It might +seem that Nature not only gave him the matter for his poem, but wrote +his poem for him." The set poetic style of _The Excursion_ is a +failure, but there is something unique and unmatchable in the simple +grace of his narrative poems and lyrics. "Nature herself seems, I say, +to take the pen out of his hand, and to write for him with her own +bare, sheer, penetrating power. This arises from two causes: from the +profound sincereness with which Wordsworth feels his subject, and also +from the profoundly sincere and natural character of his subject +itself. He can and will treat such a subject with nothing but the most +plain, first hand, almost austere naturalness. His expression may +often be called bald, as, for instance, in the poem of _Resolution and +Independence_; but it is bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with +a baldness which is full of grandeur. . . Wherever we meet with the +successful balance, in Wordsworth, of profound truth of subject with +profound truth of execution, he is unique." + +Professor Dowden has also laid stress upon the harmonious balance of +Wordsworth's nature, his different faculties seeming to interpenetrate +one another, and yield mutual support. He has likewise called +attention to the austere naturalism of which Arnold speaks. +"Wordsworth was a great naturalist in literature, but he was also a +great Idealist; and between the naturalist and the idealist in +Wordsworth no opposition existed: each worked with the other, each +served the other. While Scott, by allying romance with reality, saved +romantic fiction from the extravagances and follies into which it had +fallen, Wordsworth's special work was to open a higher way for +naturalism in art by its union with ideal truth." + +Criticism has long since ceased to ridicule his _Betty Foy_, and his +_Harry Gill_, whose "teeth, they chatter, chatter still." Such +malicious sport proved only too easy for Wordsworth's contemporaries, +and still the essential value of his poetry was unimpaired. + +The range of poetry is indeed inexhaustible, and even the greatest +poets must suffer some subtraction from universal pre-eminence. +Therefore we may frankly admit the deficiencies of Wordsworth,--that he +was lacking in dramatic force and in the power of characterization; +that he was singularly deficient in humor, and therefore in the saving +grace of self-criticism in the capacity to see himself occasionally in +a ridiculous light; that he has little of the romantic glamor and none +of the narrative energy of Scott; that Shelley's lyrical flights leave +him plodding along the dusty highway; and that Byron's preternatural +force makes his passion seen by contrast pale and ineffectual. All +this and more may freely be granted, and yet for his influence upon +English thought, and especially upon the poetic thought of his country, +he must be named after Shakespeare and Milton. The intellectual value +of his work will endure; for leaving aside much valuable doctrine, +which from didactic excess fails as poetry, he has brought into the +world a new philosophy of Nature and has emphasised in a manner +distinctively his own the dignity of simple manhood.--_Pelham Edgar_. + + + +REFERENCES ON WORDSWORTH'S LIFE AND WORKS + +_Wordsworth_ by F. W. H. Myers, in _English Men of Letters_ series. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Wordsworth_ by Walter Raleigh, London: Edward Arnold. + +_Wordsworth_ by Rosaline Masson, in _The People's Books_ series. +London: T. C. & E. C. Jack, + +_Wordsworthiana_ edited by William Knight. Toronto: The Macmillan +Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Essays Chiefly on Poetry_ by Aubrey de Vere, 2 volumes. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Literary Essays_ by Richard Holt Hutton. Toronto: The Macmillan +Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Studies in Literature_ by Edward Dowden. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, +Trubner & Co., Ltd. + +_Aspects of Poetry_ by J. S. C. Shairp. Boston: Houghton Mifflin and +Company. + +_Lives of Great English Writers from Chaucer to Browning_ by Walter S. +Hinchman and Francis B. Gummere. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company. + +_Great English Poets_ by Julian Hill. Philadelphia: George W. Jacobs & +Co. + +_The Greater English Poets of the Nineteenth Century_ by William Morton +Payne. New York: Henry Holt and Company. + +_The Religious Spirit in the Poets_ by W. Boyd Carpenter, New York: +Thomas Y. Crowell & Co, + +_Landscape in Poetry from Homer to Tennyson_ by Francis T. Palgrave. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_A History of Nineteenth Century Literature_ by George Saintsbury. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Personal Traits of British Authors_ by E. T. Mason. New York: Charles +Scribner's Sons. + +_The English Poets_ edited by T. Humphrey Ward, Vol. iv. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Selections from Wordsworth_ edited by Matthew Arnold in _The Golden +Treasury Series_. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Literary Studies_ by Walter Bagehot, Vol. ii. London: Longmans, +Green and Co. + +_A Study of English and American Poets_ by J. Scott Clark. New York: +Charles Scribner's Sons. + +_Prophets of the Century_ edited by Arthur Rickett. London: Ward Lock +and Co., Limited. + +_History of English Literature_ by A. S. Mackenzie. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_A Student's History of English Literature_ by William Edward Simonds. +Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company. + +_Poems of William Wordsworth_ edited by Edward Dowden. Boston: Ginn & +Company. + +_Home Life of Great Authors_ by Hattie Tyng Griswold. Chicago: A. C. +McClurg & Co. + + +NOTES + +MICHAEL + +The poem was composed in 1800, and published in the second volume of the +_Lyrical Ballads_ in the same year. "Written at the Town-end, Grasmere, +about the same time as _The Brothers_. The Sheep-fold, on which so much +of the poem turns, remains, or rather the ruins of it. The character and +circumstances of Luke were taken from a family to whom had belonged, many +years before, the house we lived in at Town-end, along with some fields +and woodlands on the eastern shore of Grasmere. The name of the Evening +Star was not in fact given to this house, but to another on the same side +of the valley, more to the north." + +In a letter to Charles James Fox the poet says: "In the two poems, _The +Brothers_ and _Michael_, I have attempted to draw a picture of the +domestic affections, as I know they exist among a class of men who are +now almost confined to the north of England. They are small independent +_proprietors_ of land, here called 'statesmen' [i.e., estates-men], men +of respectable education, who daily labor on their little properties. . . +Their little tract of land serves as a kind of rallying point for their +domestic feelings, as a tablet upon which they are written, which makes +them objects of memory in a thousand instances, when they would otherwise +be forgotten. The two poems that I have mentioned were written to show +that men who do not wear fine clothes can feel deeply." + +Edward Fulton in a _A Selection of the Shorter Poems of Wordsworth_ +(Macmillan) says: "The reason Wordsworth succeeds best in describing the +type of character portrayed in _Michael_ and _The Brothers_ is, of +course, chiefly because he knew that type best; but the fact that it was +the type for which he himself might have stood as the representative was +not without its effect upon him. His ideal man is but a variation of +himself. As Dean Church puts it: 'The ideal man with Wordsworth is the +hard-headed, frugal, unambitious dalesman of his own hills, with his +strong affections, his simple tastes, and his quiet and beautiful home; +and this dalesman, built up by communion with nature and by meditation +into the poet-philosopher, with his serious faith and his never-failing +spring of enjoyment, is himself.' Types of character wholly alien to his +own have little attraction for him. He is content to look into the +depths of his own heart and to represent what he sees there. His field +of vision, therefore, is a very limited one: it takes in only a few +types. It is _man_, in fact, rather than men, that interests him." + +The poem _Michael_ is well adapted to show Wordsworth's powers of +realism. He describes the poem as "a pastoral," which at once induces a +comparison, greatly to Wordsworth's advantage, with the pseudo-pastorals +of the age of Pope. There the shepherds and shepherdesses were scarcely +the pale shadows of reality, while Wordsworth's poem never swerves from +the line of truth. "The poet," as Sir Henry Taylor says with reference +to _Michael_, "writes in his confidence to impart interest to the +realities of life, deriving both the confidence and the power from the +deep interest which he feels in them. It is an attribute of unusual +susceptibility of imagination to need no extraordinary provocatives; and +when this is combined with intensity of observation and peculiarity of +language, it is the high privilege of the poet so endowed to rest upon +the common realities of life and to dispense with its anomalies." The +student should therefore be careful to observe (1) the truth of +description, and the appropriateness of the description to the +characters; (2) the strong and accurate delineation of the characters +themselves. Not only is this to be noted in the passages where the poet +has taken pains openly to portray their various characteristics, but +there are many passages, or single lines perhaps, which serve more subtly +to delineate them. What proud reserve, what sorrow painfully restrained, +the following line, for example, contains: "Two evenings after he had +heard the news." + + + +TO THE DAISY + +COMPOSED 1802: PUBLISHED 1807 + +"This and the other poems addressed to the same flower were composed at +Town-end, Grasmere, during the earlier part of my residence there." The +three poems on the Daisy were the outpourings of one mood, and were +prompted by the same spirit which moved him to write his poems of humble +life. The sheltered garden flowers have less attraction for him than the +common blossoms by the wayside. In their unobtrusive humility these +"unassuming Common-places of Nature" might be regarded, as the poet says, +"as administering both to moral and spiritual purposes." The "Lesser +Celandine," buffeted by the storm, affords him, on another occasion, a +symbol of meek endurance. + +Shelley and Keats have many beautiful references to flowers in their +poetry. Keats has merely a sensuous delight in their beauty, while +Shelley both revels in their hues and fragrance, and sees in them a +symbol of transitory loveliness. His _Sensitive Plant_ shows his +exquisite sympathy for flower life. + + + +TO THE CUCKOO + +COMPOSED IN THE ORCHARD AT TOWN-END 1802: PUBLISHED 1807 + +Wordsworth, in his Preface to the 1815 edition, has the following note on +ll. 3, 4 of the poem:--"This concise interrogation characterises the +seeming ubiquity of the cuckoo, and dispossesses the creature almost of +corporeal existence; the Imagination being tempted to this exertion of +her power, by a consciousness in the memory that the cuckoo is almost +perpetually heard throughout the season of spring, but seldom becomes an +object of sight." The cuckoo is the bird we associate with the name of +the vale of sunshine and of flowers, and yet its wandering voice brings +back to him the thought of his vanished childhood. We have already +noticed the almost sacred value which Wordsworth attaches to the +impressions of his youth, and even to the memory of these impressions +which remains with him to console his maturer life. The bird is a link +which binds him to his childhood: + + "And I can listen to thee yet; + Can lie upon the plain + And listen, till I do beget + That golden time again." + +In other poems, especially in the _Intimaticns of Immortality_, he speaks +of "the glory and the freshness of a dream," which hallowed nature for +him as a child, and which grew fainter as the "shades of the prison-house +began to close upon the growing Boy". + + + +NUTTING + +COMPOSED 1799; PUBLISHED 1800. + +"Written in Germany; intended as a part of a poem on my own life, but +struck out as not being wanted there. Like most of my schoolfellows, I +was an impassioned Nutter. For this pleasure, the Vale of Esthwaite, +abounding in coppice wood, furnished a very wide range. These verses +arose out of the remembrance of feelings I had often had when a boy, and +particularly in the extensive woods that still stretch from the side of +Esthwaite Lake towards Graythwaite." + +Wordsworth possessed in an unusual degree the power of reviving the +impressions of his youth. Few autobiographical records are so vivid in +this respect as his _Prelude_. In his famous ode on the _Intimations of +Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood_, he dwells upon the +unreflective exultation which in the child responds to the joyousness of +nature, and with a profound intuition that may not be justified in the +facts, he sees in this heedless delight a mystical intimation of +immortality. + +In the poem _Nutting_ the animal exhilaration of boyhood is finely +blended with this deeper feeling of mystery. The boy exultingly +penetrates into one of those woodland retreats where nature seems to be +holding communion with herself. For some moments he is subdued by the +beauty of the place, and lying among the flowers he hears with ecstasy +the murmur of the stream. Then the spirit of ravage peculiar to boyhood +comes over him, and he rudely mars the beauty of the spot: + + "And the shady nook + Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower, + Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up + Their quiet being:" + +Such wantonness seems to his maturer reflection a sacrilege, and even the +boy was not insensible to the silent reproach of the "intruding sky." + +TOUCH,--FOR THERE IS A SPIRIT IN THE WOODS. Many lines might be quoted +from Wordsworth to illustrate his theory of the personal attributes of +nature. In some of his more elevated passages nature in all her +processes is regarded as the intimate revelation of the Godhead, the +radiant garment in which the Deity clothes Himself that our senses may +apprehend Him. Thus, when we touch a tree or a flower we may be said to +touch God himself. In this way the beauty and power of nature become +sacred for Wordsworth, and inspired his verse at times with a solemn +dignity to which other poets have rarely attained. + +The immanence of God in nature, and yet His superiority to His own +revelation of Himself is beautifully expressed in some of the later +verses of _Hart Leap Well_: + + "The Being, that is in the clouds and air, + That is in the green leaves among the groves, + Maintains a deep and reverential care + For the unoffending creatures whom he loves." + +Yet the life in nature is capable of multiplying itself infinitely, and +each of her manifold divisions possesses a distinctive mood; one might +almost say a separate life of its own. It is, in his ability to capture +the true emotional mood which clings to some beautiful object or scene in +nature, and which that object or scene may truly be said to inspire, that +Wordsworth's power lies. + +Wordsworth possessed every attribute necessary to the descriptive +poet,--subtle powers of observation, ears delicately tuned to seize the +very shadow of sound, and a diction of copious strength suggestive beyond +the limits of ordinary expression. Yet purely descriptive poetry he +scorned. "He expatiated much to me one day," writes Mr. Aubrey de Vere, +"as we walked among the hills above Grasmere, on the mode in which Nature +had been described by one of the most justly popular of England's modern +poets--one for whom he preserved a high and affectionate respect +[evidently Sir Walter Scott]. 'He took pains,' Wordsworth said; 'he went +out with his pencil and note-book, and jotted down whatever struck him +most--a river rippling over the sands, a ruined tower on a rock above it, +a promontory, and a mountain-ash waving its red berries. He went home +and wove the whole together into a poetical description.' After a pause, +Wordsworth resumed, with a flashing eye and impassioned voice; 'But +Nature does not permit an inventory to be made of her charms! He should +have left his pencil and note-book at home, fixed his eye as he walked +with a reverent attention on all that surrounded him, and taken all into +a heart that could understand and enjoy. Then, after several days had +passed by, he should have interrogated his memory as to the scene. He +would have discovered that while much of what he had admired was +preserved to him, much was also most wisely obliterated; that which +remained--the picture surviving in his mind--would have presented the +ideal and essential truth of the scene, and done so in a large part by +discarding much which, though in itself striking, was not characteristic. +In every scene many of the most brilliant details are but accidental; a +true eye for Nature does not note them, or at least does not dwell on +them.'" + +The student should learn to compare the descriptive methods of Coleridge +and Wordsworth. See especially Lowell's note quoted on pp. 197-198; also +see pp. 47 f. + + + +INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS + +This poem was composed at Goslar in 1799 as part of the first book of +_The Prelude_ (published in 1850). It was first printed in Coleridge's +periodical _The Friend_, in December, 1809, with the instructive though +pedantic title, "Growth of Genius from the Influences of Natural Objects +on the Imagination, in Boyhood and Early Youth." It appeared in +Wordsworth's poems of 1815 with the following title:--"Influence of +Natural Objects in calling forth and strengthening the Imagination in +Boyhood and Early Youth." + +The opening verses of this poem are still another instance of the +identification of God with nature. As Mr. Stopford Brooke writes, "we +are here in contact with a Person, not with a thought. But who is this +person? Is she only the creation of imagination, having no substantive +reality beyond the mind of Wordsworth? No, she is the poetic +impersonation of an actual Being, the form which the poet gives to the +living Spirit of God in the outward world, in order that he may possess a +metaphysical thought as a subject for his work as an artist." + +_The Lines Composed above Tintern Abbey_ contain the highest expression +which Wordsworth has given to this thought, To the heedless animal +delight in nature had succeeded a season in his youth when the beauty and +power of nature "haunted him like a passion," though he knew not why. +The "dizzy rapture" of those moods he can no longer feel. Yet, + + "Not for this + Faint I nor murmur; other gifts + Have followed, for such loss, I would believe + Abundant recompense. For I have learned + To look on nature, not as in the hour + Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes + The still sad music of humanity, + Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power + To chasten and subdue. _And I have felt + A presence that disturbs me with the joy + Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime + Of something far more deeply interfused, + Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, + And the round ocean and the living air, + And the blue sky, and in the mind of man: + A motion and a spirit, that impels + All thinking things, all objects of all thought, + And rolls through all things_." + +In ll. 42-46, of _The Influence of Natural Objects_, we have an +inimitable Wordsworthian effect. Into the midst of his wild sport the +voice of Nature steals, and subdues his mind to receive the impulses of +peace and beauty from without. We involuntarily think of the boy he has +celebrated, his playmate upon Windermere, who loved to rouse the owls +with mimic hootings, but + + "When a lengthened pause + Of silence came and baffled his best skill, + Then sometimes, in that silence while he hung + Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise + Has carried far into his heart the voice + Of mountain torrents; or the visible scene + Would enter unawares into his mind, + With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, + Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received + Into the bosom of the steady lake." + _The Prelude_, v. 379 f. + + + +ELEGIAC STANZAS + +COMPOSED 1805: PUBLISHED 1807. + +Further references to John Wordsworth will be found in the following +poems:--_To the Daisy_ ("Sweet Flower"), _Elegiac Verses in Memory of My +Brother_, _When to the Attractions of the Busy World_, _The Brothers_, +and _The Happy Warrior_. + +With lines 33-40, and 57-60, compare the _Intimations of Immortality_, +ll. 176-187:-- + + "What though the radiance which was once so bright + Be now for ever taken from my sight, + Though nothing can bring back the hour + Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; + We will grieve not, rather find + Strength in what remains behind; + In the primal sympathy + Which having been must ever be; + In the soothing thoughts that spring + Out of human suffering; + In the faith that looks through death, + In years that bring the philosophic mind." + + + +A BRIEF HISTORY AND DESCRIPTION OF THE SONNET + +The sonnet form was introduced into English poetry by Sir Thomas Wyatt +and the Earl of Surrey. Their experiments in the sonnet were published +in _Tottel's Miscellany_ in 1557, and were prompted by an admiration of +Petrarch and other Italian models. Italy was almost certainly the +original home of the sonnet (sonnet=Ital. _sonetto_, _a little sound_, or +_short strain_, from _suono_, _sound_), and there it has been assiduously +cultivated since the thirteenth century. In the fourteenth century Dante +and Petrarch gave the form a European celebrity. + + +The Structure of the Sonnet. + +Before saying anything of its development in English poetry, it is +advisable to examine an admittedly perfect sonnet, so that we may gain an +idea of the nature of this type of poem, both as to form and substance. +Wordsworth's sonnet upon Milton (_London_, 1802) will serve our purpose +(see page 187). By reference to it you will observe:-- + +(1) That the sonnet is written in iambic pentameter, and consists of +fourteen lines--that number by repeated experimentation having been found +the most appropriate for the expression of a single emotional mood. + +(2) As an examination of the rimes will show (a b b a a b b a: c d d e c +e), there is a natural metrical division at the end of the eighth line. +The first eight lines in technical language are called the "octave," the +last six lines are called the "sestet." The octave is sometimes said to +consist of two quatrains, and the sestet of two tercets. + +(3) There is not only a metrical division between the octave and the +sestet, but the character of the thought also undergoes a subtle change +at that point. It is to be understood, of course, that in the whole poem +there must be both unity of thought and mood. Yet, at the ninth line, +the thought which is introduced in the octave is elaborated, and +presented as it were under another aspect. As Mr. Mark Pattison has +admirably expressed it: "This thought or mood should be led up to, and +opened in the early lines of the sonnet; strictly, in the first quatrain; +in the second quatrain the hearer should be placed in full possession of +it. After the second quatrain there should be a pause--not full, nor +producing the effect of a break--as of one who had finished what he had +got to say, and not preparing a transition to a new subject, but as of +one who is turning over what has been said in the mind to enforce it +further. The opening of the second system, strictly the first tercet, +should turn back upon the thought or sentiment, take it up and carry it +forward to the conclusion. The conclusion should be a resultant summing +the total of the suggestion in the preceding lines. . . . While the +conclusion should leave a sense of finish and completeness, it is +necessary to avoid anything like epigrammatic point." + +(4) An examination of the rimes again will show that greater strictness +prevails in the octave than in the sestet. The most regular type of the +octave may be represented by a b b a a b b a, turning therefore upon two +rimes only. The sestet, though it contains but six lines, is more +liberal in the disposition of its rimes. In the sonnet which we are +examining, the rime system of the sestet in c d d e c e--containing, as +we see, three separate rimes. In the sestet this is permissible, +provided that there is not a riming couplet at the close. + +(5) Again, with reference to the rime, it will be observed that the vowel +terminals of the octave and the sestet are differentiated. Anything +approaching assonance between the two divisions is to be counted as a +defect. + +(6) It is evident that there is unity both of thought and mood in this +sonnet, the sestet being differentiated from the octave, only as above +described. + +(7) It is almost unnecessary to add that there is no slovenly diction, +that the language is dignified in proportion to the theme, and that there +is no obscurity or repetition in thought or phraseology. + +These rules will appear to the young reader of poetry as almost +unnecessarily severe. But it must be remembered that the sonnet is +avowedly a conventional form (though in it much of the finest poetry in +our language is contained), and as such the conventional laws attaching +to all prescribed forms must be observed to win complete success. + +Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton have lent the authority of their great +names to certain distinct variations from the rigid Petrarchan type. The +peculiarity of Spenser's sonnets is that the rime of the octave overflows +into the sestet, thus marring the exquisite balance which should subsist +between the two parts, and yielding an effect of cloying sweetness. +Although the famous stanza-form which he invented in his "Faerie Queene" +has found many imitators, his sonnet innovations are practically +unimportant. + +The Shakespearean sonnet, on the contrary, must be regarded as a +well-established variant from the stricter Italian form. Though +Shakespeare's name has made it famous, it did not originate with him. +Surrey and Daniel had habitually employed it, and in fact it had come to +be recognized as the accepted English form. Its characteristic feature, +as the following sonnet from Shakespeare will show, was a division into +three distinct quatrains, each with alternating rimes, and closed by a +couplet. The transition of thought at the ninth line is usually +observed:-- + + "When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, + I all alone beweep my outcast state, + And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, + And look upon myself, and curse my fate, + Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, + Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, + Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, + With what I most enjoy contented least; + Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, + Haply I think on thee--and then my state, + Like to the lark at break of day arising + From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; + For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings, + That then I scorn to change my state with kings." + +It is Milton's merit that he rescued the sonnet from the snare of verbal +wit in which the Elizabethans had involved it, and made it respond to +other passions than that of love. His sonnets, as imitations of the +Italian form, are more successful than the scattered efforts in that +direction of Wyatt and Surrey. They are indeed regular in all respects, +save that he is not always careful to observe the pause in the thought, +and the subtle change which should divide the octave from the sestet. + +After Milton there is a pause in sonnet-writing for a hundred years. +William Lisles Bowles (1762-1850), memorable for his influence upon +Coleridge, was among the first again to cultivate the form. Coleridge +and Shelley gave the sonnet scant attention, and were careless as to its +structural qualities. Keats, apart from Wordsworth, was the only poet of +the early years of the century who realized its capabilities. He has +written a few of our memorable sonnets, but he was not entirely satisfied +with the accepted form, and experimented upon variations that cannot be +regarded as successful. + +There is no doubt that the stimulus to sonnet-writing in the nineteenth +century came from Wordsworth, and he, as all his recent biographers +admit, received his inspiration from Milton. Wordsworth's sonnets, less +remarkable certainly than a supreme few of Shakespeare's, have still +imposed themselves as models upon all later writers, while the +Shakespearean form has fallen into disuse. A word here, therefore, as to +their form. + +The strict rime movement of the octave a b b a a b b a is observed in +seven only of the present collection of twelve, namely, in the first +sonnet, the second, the third, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, and the +eighth. The rime formula of the octave with which Wordsworth's name is +chiefly associated is a b b a a c c a. The sonnets in which this +additional rime is introduced are the fourth, the ninth, the tenth, the +eleventh and the twelfth. + +As regards the transition from octave to sestet the following sonnets +observe the prescribed law, namely, the second, third, sixth, seventh, +and ninth. The seven remaining sonnets all show some irregularity in +this respect. The first sonnet (_Fair Star_) with its abrupt +_enjambement_ at the close of the octave, and the thought pause in the +body of the first line of the sestet, is a form much employed by Mrs. +Browning, but rigorously avoided by Dante Gabriel Rossetti with his more +scrupulous ideal of sonnet construction. This imperfect transition is +seen again in the fourth, fifth, eighth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth +sonnets. Its boldness certainly amounts to a technical fault in the two +sonnets on _King's College Chapel_. + +In the sestet we naturally expect and find much variety in the +disposition of the rimes. The conclusion of the last sonnet by a couplet +is most unusual in Wordsworth. + + + +"IT IS NOT TO BE THOUGHT OF" + +This sonnet was composed in September, 1802, first published in the +Morning Post in 1803, and subsequently in 1807. + + + +WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1802: + +PUBLISHED 1807 + +"This was written immediately after my return from France to London, when +I could not but be struck, as here described, with the vanity and parade +of our own country, especially in great towns and cities, as contrasted +with the quiet, I may say the desolation, that the Revolution had +produced in France. This must be borne in mind, or else the Reader may +think that in this and the succeeding Sonnets I have exaggerated the +mischief engendered and fostered among us by undisturbed wealth." + + + +LONDON, 1802 + +This sonnet was written in 1803 and published in 1807. + + + +"DARK AND MORE DARK THE SHADES OF EVENING FELL" + +This sonnet was written after a journey across the Hambleton Hills, +Yorkshire. Wordsworth says: "It was composed October 4th, 1802, after a +journey on a day memorable to me--the day of my marriage. The horizon +commanded by those hills is most magnificent." Dorothy Wordsworth, +describing the sky-prospect, says: "Far off from us in the western sky we +saw the shapes of castles, ruins among groves, a great spreading wood, +rocks and single trees, a minster with its tower unusually distinct, +minarets in another quarter, and a round Grecian temple also; the colours +of the shy of a bright gray, and the forms of a sober gray, with dome." + + + +"SURPRISED BY JOY--IMPATIENT AS THE WIND" + +This sonnet was suggested by the poet's daughter Catherine long after her +death. She died in her fourth year, on June 4, 1812. Wordsworth was +absent from home at the time of her death. The sonnet was published in +1815. + + + +"HAIL, TWILIGHT SOVEREIGN OF A PEACEFUL HOUR" + +This sonnet was published in 1815. + + + +"I THOUGHT OF THEE, MY PARTNER AND MY GUIDE" + +This sonnet, which concludes "The River Duddon" series, is usually +entitled "After-Thought". The series was written at intervals, and was +finally published in 1820. "The Duddon rises on Wrynose Fell, near to +'Three Shire Stone,' where Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire meet." + + + +"SUCH AGE, HOW BEAUTIFUL!" + +This sonnet, published in 1827, was inscribed to Lady Fitzgerald at the +time in her seventieth year. + + + + +ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH + +Alfred Tennyson was born at Somersby, a small hamlet among the +Lincolnshire wolds, on August 6th, 1809. His father, the Rev. George +Clayton Tennyson, the vicar of Somersby, was a man of large and +cultivated intellect, interested in poetry, mathematics, painting, music, +and architecture, but somewhat harsh and austere in manner, and subject +to fits of gloomy depression, during which his presence was avoided by +his family; he was sincerely devoted to them, however, and himself +supervised their education. His mother, Elizabeth Fytche, the daughter +of the Rev Stephen Fytche of Louth, was a kind-hearted, gentle, refined +woman, beloved by her family and friends. Her influence over her sons +and daughters was unbounded, and over none more so than Alfred, who in +after life recognized to the full what he owed to his mother. + +The family was large, consisting of twelve sons and daughters, of whom +the eldest died in infancy. Alfred was the fourth child, his brothers +Frederick and Charles being older than he. The home life was a very +happy one. The boys and girls were all fond of books, and their games +partook of the nature of the books they had been reading. They were +given to writing, and in this they were encouraged by their father, who +proved himself a wise and discriminating critic. Alfred early showed +signs of his poetic bent; at the age of twelve he had written an epic of +four thousand lines, and even before this a tragedy and innumerable poems +in blank verse. He was not encouraged, however, to preserve these +specimens of his early powers, and they are now lost. + +Alfred attended for a time a small school near his home, but at the age +of seven he was sent to the Grammar School at Louth. While at Louth he +lived with his grandmother, but his days at school were not happy, and he +afterwards looked back over them with almost a shudder. Before he was +twelve he returned home, and began his preparation for the university +under his father's care. His time was not all devoted to serious study, +but was spent in roaming through his father's library, devouring the +great classics of ancient and modern times, and in writing his own poems. +The family each summer removed to Mablethorpe on the Lincolnshire coast. +Here Alfred learned to love the sea in all its moods, a love which lasted +through his life. + +In 1827, after Frederick had entered Cambridge, the two brothers, Charles +and Alfred, being in want of pocket money, resolved to publish a volume +of poems. They made a selection from their numerous poems, and offered +the book to a bookseller in Louth, For some unknown reason he accepted +the book, and soon after, it was published under the title, _Poems by Two +Brothers_. There were in reality three brothers, as some of Frederick's +poems were included in the volume. The brothers were promised 20 pounds, +but more than one half of this sum they had to take out in books. With +the balance they went on a triumphal expedition to the sea, rejoicing in +the successful launching of their first literary effort. + +In 1828 Charles and Alfred Tennyson matriculated at Trinity College, +Cambridge, where their elder brother Frederick had already been for some +time. Alfred was a somewhat shy lad, and did not at once take kindly to +the life of his college. He soon, however, found himself one of a famous +society known as "The Apostles," to which belonged some of the best men +in the University. Not one member of the "Apostles" at this time, but +afterwards made a name for himself, and made his influence felt in the +world of politics or letters. The society met at regular intervals, but +Alfred did not take much part in the debates, preferring to sit silent +and listen to what was said. All his friends had unbounded admiration +for his poetry and unlimited faith in his poetic powers. This faith was +strengthened by the award of the University Prize for English Verse to +Alfred in June, 1829. He did not wish to compete, but on being pressed, +polished up an old poem that he had written some years before, and +presented it for competition, the subject being _Timbuctoo_. The poem +was in blank verse and really showed considerable power; in fact it was a +remarkable poem for one so young. + +Perhaps the most powerful influence on the life of Tennyson was the +friendship he formed while at Cambridge with Arthur Henry Hallam, the son +of the historian, Henry Hallam. The two became inseparable friends, a +friendship strengthened by the engagement of Hallam to the poet's sister. +The two friends agreed to publish a volume of poems as a +joint-production, but Henry Hallam, the elder, did not encourage the +project, and it was dropped. The result was that in 1830, _Poems, +Chiefly Lyrical_, was published with the name of Alfred Tennyson alone on +the title page. The volume was reviewed enthusiastically by Hallam, but +was more or less slated by Christopher North in the columns of +_Blackwoods' Magazine_. Tennyson was very angry about the latter review +and replied to the reviewer in some caustic, but entirely unnecessary, +verses. + +In the same year Hallam and Tennyson made an expedition into Spain to +carry aid to the rebel leader against the king of Spain. The expedition +was not by any means a success. In 1831 Tennyson left Cambridge, without +taking his degree, and shortly after his return home his father died. +The family, however, did not remove from Somersby, but remained there +until 1837. Late in 1832 appeared another volume entitled _Poems by +Alfred Tennyson_. This drew upon the unfortunate author a bitterly +sarcastic article in the _Quarterly_, written probably by its brilliant +editor, John Gibson Lockhart. The result of this article was that +Tennyson was silent for almost ten years, a period spent in ridding +himself of the weaknesses so brutally pointed out by the reviewer. + +In 1833, Arthur Henry Hallam died, and for a time the light of life +seemed to have gone out for Alfred Tennyson. The effect of the death of +Hallam upon the poet was extraordinary. It seemed to have changed the +whole current of his life; indeed he is said, under the strain of the +awful suddeness and unexpectedness of the event, to have contemplated +suicide. But saner thoughts intervened, and he again took up the burden +of life, with the determination to do what he could in helping others. +From this time of storm and stress came _In Memoriam_. + +From 1832 to 1842 Tennyson spent a roving life. Now at home, now in +London, now with his friends in various parts of England. He was +spending his time in finishing his poems, so that when he again came +before the world with a volume, he would be a master. The circle of his +friends was widening, and now included the greater number of the +master-minds of England. He was poor, so poor in fact that he was +reduced to the necessity of borrowing the books he wished to read from +his friends. But during all this time he never wavered in his allegiance +to poetry; he had determined to be a poet, and to devote his life to +poetry. At last in 1842 he published his _Poems_ in two volumes, and the +world was conquered. From this time onwards he was recognized as the +leading poet of his century. + +In 1845, Tennyson, poor still, was granted a pension of 200 pounds, +chiefly through the influence of his friend Richard Monckton Milnes, and +Thomas Carlyle. There was a great deal of criticism regarding this +pension from sources that should have been favorable, but the general +verdict approved the grant. In 1847 appeared _The Princess_, a poem, +which, at that time, did not materially add to his fame; but the poet was +now hailed as one of the great ones of his time, and much was expected of +him. + +In 1850 three most important events in the life of Tennyson happened. He +published _In Memoriam_, in memory of his friend, Arthur Henry Hallam; he +was appointed Poet Laureate, in succession to Wordsworth; and he married +Emily Selwood, a lady to whom he had been engaged for seventeen years, +but whom his poverty had prevented him from leading to the altar. From +this time onwards the life of the poet flowed smoothly. He was happily +married, his fame was established, his books brought him sufficient +income on which to live comfortable and well. From this point there is +little to relate in his career, except the publication of his various +volumes. + +After his marriage Tennyson lived for some time at Twickenham, where in +1852 Hallam Tennyson was born. In 1851 he and his wife visited Italy, a +visit commemorated in _The Daisy_. In 1853 they removed to Farringford +at Freshwater in the Isle of Wight, a residence subsequently purchased +with the proceeds of _Maud_, published in 1855. The poem had a somewhat +mixed reception, being received in some quarters with unstinted abuse and +in others with the warmest praise. In the year that _Maud_ was published +Tennyson received the honorary degree of D.C.L., from Oxford. In 1859 +was published the first four of the _Idylls of the King_, followed in +1864 by _Enoch Arden and Other Poems_. In 1865 his mother died. In 1869 +he occupied Aldworth, an almost inaccessible residence in Surrey, near +London, in order to escape the annoyance of summer visitors to the Isle +of Wight, who insisted on invading his privacy, which, perhaps, more than +any other he especially valued. + +From 1870 to 1880 Tennyson was engaged principally on his dramas--_Queen +Mary_, _Harold_, and _Becket_,--but, with the exception of the last, +these did not prove particularly successful on the stage. In 1880 +_Ballads and Poems_ was published, an astonishing volume from one so +advanced in years. In 1882 the _Promise of May_ was produced in public, +but was soon withdrawn. In 1884 Tennyson was raised to the peerage as +Baron Tennyson of Aldworth and Farringford, after having on two previous +occasions refused a baronetcy. In 1885 _Tiresias and Other Poems_ was +published. In this volume was published _Balin and Balan_, thus +completing the _Idylls of the King_, which now assumed their permanent +order and form. _Demeter and Other Poems_ followed in 1889, including +_Crossing the Bar_. In 1892, on October 6th, the poet died at Aldworth, +"with the moonlight upon his bed and an open Shakespeare by his side." A +few days later he was buried in Westminster Abbey, by the side of Robert +Browning, his friend and contemporary, who had preceded him by only a few +years. + +Carlyle has left us a graphic description of Tennyson as he was in middle +life: "One of the finest--looking men in the world. A great shock of +rough, dusky dark hair; bright, laughing hazel eyes; massive aquiline +face--most massive yet most delicate; of sallow brown complexion, almost +Indian-looking; clothes cynically loose, free-and-easy; smokes infinite +tobacco. His voice is musically metallic--fit for loud laughter and +piercing wail, and all that may lie between; speech and speculation free +and plenteous; I do not meet in these late decades such company over a +pipe! We shall see what he will grow to." To this may be added a +paragraph from Caroline Fox: "Tennyson is a grand specimen of a man, with +a magnificent head set on his shoulders like the capital of a mighty +pillar. His hair is long and wavy and covers a massive head. He wears a +beard and mustache, which one begrudges as hiding so much of that firm, +powerful, but finely-chiselled mouth. His eyes are large and gray, and +open wide when a subject interests him; they are well shaded by the noble +brow, with its strong lines of thought and suffering. I can quite +understand Samuel Lawrence calling it the best balance of head he had +ever seen." + + +CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE + +Born, August 6, 1809, at Somersby, Lincolnshire. + +Goes to Louth Grammar School, 1816. + +Publishes, along with his brother Charles, _Poems by Two Brothers_, 1827. + +Goes to Trinity College, Cambridge, 1828. + +Forms friendship with Arthur Henry Hallam, 1828. + +Wins Vice-Chancellor's Gold Medal for his poem _Timbuctoo_, 1829. + +Publishes _Poems, Chiefly Lyrical_, 1830. + +Makes an expedition to the Pyrenees with Arthur Henry Hallam, 1830. + +Leaves Cambridge, owing to the illness of his father, 1831. + +Visits the Rhine with Arthur Henry Hallam, 1832. + +Publishes _Poems by Alfred Tennyson_, 1832. + +Arthur Henry Hallam dies, 1833. + +Removes from Somersby to High Beech in Epping Forest, 1837. + +Publishes _Poems_ in two volumes, 1842. + +Granted a pension of 200 pounds from the Civil List, 1845. + +Publishes _The Princess_, 1847. + +Publishes _In Memoriam_, 1850. + +Appointed Poet Laureate, 1850. + +Marries Miss Emily Selwood, 1850. + +Tours southern Europe with his wife, 1851. + +Hallam Tennyson born, 1852. + +Writes _Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington_, 1852. + +Takes up his residence at Farringford in the Isle of Wight, 1853. + +Lionel Tennyson born, 1854. + +Writes _The Charge of the Light Brigade_, 1855. + +The University of Oxford confers on him the degree of D.C.L., 1855. + +Publishes _Maud and Other Poems_, 1855. + +Purchases Farringford, 1856. + +Publishes _Idylls of the King_, 1859. + +Writes his _Welcome to Alexandra_, 1863. + +Publishes _Enoch Arden_, 1864; _The Holy Grail_, 1869. + +His mother dies, 1865. + +Purchases land at Haslemere, Surrey, 1868, and begins erection of +Aldworth. + +Publishes _Queen Mary_, 1875; the drama successfully performed by Henry +Irving, 1876. + +Publishes _Harold_, 1876. + +His drama _The Falcon_ produced, 1869. + +Seeks better health by a tour on the Continent with his son Hallam, 1880. + +Publishes _Ballads and Other Poems_, 1880. + +His drama _The Cup_ successfully performed, 1881. + +His drama _The Promise of May_ proves a failure, 1882. + +Raised to the peerage as Baron Tennyson of Aldworth and Farringford, 1884. + +Publishes _Becket_, 1884. + +His son Lionel dies, 1885. + +Publishes _Tiresias and Other Poems_, 1885. This volume contains _Balin +and Balan_, thus completing his _Idylls of the King_. + +Publishes _Demeter and Other Poems_, 1889. + +Dies at Aldworth, October 6, 1892, and is buried in Westminster Abbey. + +The _Death of Oenone_ is published, 1892. + + + +APPRECIATIONS + +"Since the days when Dryden held office no Laureate has been appointed so +distinctly pre-eminent above all his contemporaries, so truly the king of +the poets, as he upon whose brows now rests the Laureate crown. Dryden's +grandeur was sullied, his muse was venal, and his life was vicious; still +in his keeping the office acquired a certain dignity; after his death it +declined into the depths of depredation, and each succeeding dullard +dimmed its failing lustre. The first ray of hope for its revival sprang +into life with the appointment of Southey, to whom succeeded Wordsworth, +a poet of worth and genius, whose name certainly assisted in +resuscitating the ancient dignity of the appointment. Alfred Tennyson +derives less honor from the title than he confers upon it; to him we owe +a debt of gratitude that he has redeemed the laurels with his poetry, +noble, pure, and undefiled as ever poet sung."--_Walter Hamilton_. + +"Tennyson is many sided; he has a great variety of subjects. He has +treated of the classical and the romantic life of the world; he has been +keenly alive to the beauties of nature; and he has tried to sympathize +with the social problems that confront mankind. In this respect he is a +representative poet of the age, for this very diversity of natural gifts +has made him popular with all classes. Perhaps he has not been perfectly +cosmopolitan, and sometimes the theme in his poetry has received a slight +treatment compared to what might have been given it by deeper thinking +and more philosophical poets, but he has caught the spirit of the age and +has expressed its thought, if not always forcibly, at least more +beautifully than any other poet,"--_Charles Read Nutter_. + +"In technical elegance, as an artist in verse, Tennyson is the greatest +of modern poets. Other masters, old and new, have surpassed him in +special instances; but he is the only one who rarely nods, and who always +finishes his verse to the extreme. Here is the absolute sway of metre, +compelling every rhyme and measure needful to the thought; here are +sinuous alliterations, unique and varying breaks and pauses, winged +flights and falls, the glory of sound and color everywhere present, or, +if missing, absent of the poet's free will. The fullness of his art +evades the charm of spontaneity. His original and fastidious art is of +itself a theme for an essay. The poet who studies it may well despair, +he can never excel it; its strength is that of perfection; its weakness, +the ever-perfection which marks a still-life painter."--_Edmund Clarence +Stedman_. + +"A striking quality of Tennyson's poetry is its simplicity, both in +thought and expression. This trait was characteristic of his life, and +so we naturally expect to find it in his verse. Tennyson was too sincere +by nature, and too strongly averse to experimenting in new fields of +poetry, to attempt the affected or unique. He purposely avoided all +subjects which he feared he could not treat with simplicity and +clearness. So, in his shorter poems, there are few obscure or ambiguous +passages, little that is not easy of comprehension. His subjects +themselves tend to prevent ambiguity or obscurity. For he wrote of men +and women as he saw them about him, of their joys and sorrows, their +trials, their ideals,--and in this was nothing complex. Thus there is a +homely quality to his poems, but they are kept from the commonplace by +the great tenderness of his feeling. Had Tennyson been primarily of a +metaphysical or philosophical mind all this might have been different. +True, he was somewhat of a student of philosophy and religion, and some +of his poems are of these subjects, but his thought even here is always +simple and plain, and he never attempted the deep study that was not +characteristic of his nature. No less successful is he in avoiding +obscurity in expression. There are few passages that need much +explanation. In this he offers a striking contrast to Browning, who +often painfully hid his meaning under complex phraseology. His +vocabulary is remarkably large, and when we study his use of words, we +find that in many cases they are from the two-syllabled class. This +matter of choice of clear, simple words and phrases is very important. +For, just so much as our attention is drawn from what a poet says to the +medium, the language in which he says it, so much is its clearness +injured. Vividly to see pictures in our imagination or to be affected by +our emotions, we must not, as we read, experience any jar. In Tennyson +we never have to think of his expressions--except to admire their simple +beauty. Simplicity and beauty, then, are two noticeable qualities of his +poetry."--_Charles Read Nutter_. + +"An idyllic or picturesque mode of conveying his sentiments is the one +natural to Tennyson, if not the only one permitted by his limitations. +He is a born observer of physical nature, and, whenever he applies an +adjective to some object or passingly alludes to some phenomenon which +others have but noted, is almost infallibly correct. He has the unerring +first touch which in a single line proves the artist; and it justly has +been remarked that there is more true English landscape in many an +isolated stanza of _In Memoriam_ than in the whole of _The Seasons_, that +vaunted descriptive poem of a former century."--_Edmund Clarence Stedman_. + +"In describing scenery, his microscopic eye and marvellously delicate ear +are exercised to the utmost in detecting the minutest relations and most +evanescent melodies of the objects before him, in order that his +representation shall include everything which is important to their full +perfection. His pictures of rural English scenery give the inner spirit +as well as the outward form of the objects, and represent them, also, in +their relation to the mind which is gazing on them. The picture in his +mind is spread out before his detecting and dissecting intellect, to be +transformed to words only when it can be done with the most refined +exactness, both as regards color and form and melody."--_E.P. Whipple_. + +"For the most part he wrote of the every day loves and duties of men and +women; of the primal pains and joys of humanity; of the aspirations and +trials which are common to all ages and all classes and independent even +of the diseases of civilization, but he made them new and surprising by +the art which he added to them, by beauty of thought, tenderness of +feeling, and exquisiteness of shaping."--_Stopford A. Brooke_. + +"The tenderness of Tennyson is one of his remarkable qualities--not so +much in itself, for other poets have been more tender--but in combination +with his rough powers. We are not surprised that his rugged strength is +capable of the mighty and tragic tenderness of Rispah, but we could not +think at first that he could feel and realize the exquisite tenderness of +_Elaine_. It is a wonderful thing to have so wide a tenderness, and only +a great poet can possess it and use it well."--_Stopford A. Brooke_. + +"Tennyson is a great master of pathos; knows the very tones that go to +the heart; can arrest every one of these looks of upbraiding or appeal by +which human woe brings the tear into the human eye. The pathos is deep; +but it is the majesty not the prostration of grief."--_Peter Bayne_. + +"Indeed the truth must be strongly borne in upon even the warmest +admirers of Tennyson that his recluse manner of life closed to him many +avenues of communication with the men and women of his day, and that, +whether as a result or cause of his exclusiveness, he had but little of +that restless, intellectual curiosity which constantly whets itself upon +new experiences, finds significance where others see confusion, and +beneath the apparently commonplace in human character reaches some +harmonizing truth. _Rizpah_ and _The Grandmother_ show what a rich +harvest he would have reaped had he cared more frequently to walk the +thoroughfares of life. His finely wrought character studies are very few +in number, and even the range of his types is disappointingly +narrow."--_Pelham Edgar_. + +"No reader of Tennyson can miss the note of patriotism which he +perpetually sounds. He has a deep and genuine love of country, a pride +in the achievements of the past, a confidence in the greatness of the +future. And this sense of patriotism almost reaches insularity of view. +He looks out upon the larger world with a gentle commiseration, and +surveys its un-English habits and constitution with sympathetic contempt. +The patriotism of Tennyson is sober rather than glowing; it is meditative +rather than enthusiastic. Occasionally indeed, his words catch fire, and +the verse leaps onward with a sound of triumph, as in such a poem as _The +Charge of the Light Brigade_ or in such a glorious ballad as _The +Revenge_. Neither of these poems is likely to perish until the glory of +the nation perishes, and her deeds of a splendid chivalrous past sink +into oblivion, which only shameful cowardice can bring upon her. But as +a rule Tennyson's patriotism is not a contagious and inspiring +patriotism. It is meditative, philosophic, self-complacent. It rejoices +in the infallibility of the English judgment, the eternal security of +English institutions, the perfection of English forms of +government."--_W. J. Dawson_. + +"Tennyson always speaks from the side of virtue; and not of that new and +strange virtue which some of our later poets have exalted, and which, +when it is stripped of its fine garments, turns out to be nothing else +than the unrestrained indulgence of every natural impulse; but rather of +that old fashioned virtue whose laws are 'self-reverence, self-knowledge, +self-control,' and which finds its highest embodiment in the morality of +the _New Testament_. There is a spiritual courage in his work, a force +of fate which conquers doubt and darkness, a light of inward hope which +burns dauntless under the shadow of death. Tennyson is the poet of +faith; faith as distinguished from cold dogmatism and the acceptance of +traditional creeds; faith which does not ignore doubt and mystery, but +triumphs over them and faces the unknown with fearless heart. The effect +of Christianity upon the poetry of Tennyson may be felt in its general +moral quality. By this it is not meant that he is always preaching. But +at the same time the poet can hardly help revealing, more by tone and +accent than by definite words, his moral sympathies. He is essentially +and characteristically a poet with a message. His poetry does not exist +merely for the sake of its own perfection of form. It is something more +than the sound of one who has a lovely voice and can play skilfully upon +an instrument. It is a poetry with a meaning and a purpose. It is a +voice that has something to say to us about life. When we read his poems +we feel our hearts uplifted, we feel that, after all it is worth while to +struggle towards the light, it is worth while to try to be upright and +generous and true and loyal and pure, for virtue is victory and goodness +is the only fadeless and immortal crown. The secret of the poet's +influence must lie in his spontaneous witness to the reality and +supremacy of the moral life. His music must thrill us with the +conviction that the humblest child of man has a duty, an ideal, a +destiny. He must sing of justice and of love as a sure reward, a +steadfast law, the safe port and haven of the soul."--_Henry Van Dyke_. + + + +REFERENCES ON TENNYSON'S LIFE AND WORKS + +_Alfred, Lord Tennyson: A Memoir_ by Hallam Tennyson. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. Price $2.00. + +_Tennyson and his Friends_ edited by Hallam, Lord Tennyson. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Alfred, Lord Tennyson: A Study of his Life and Works_ by Arthur Waugh. +London: William Heinemann. + +_Tennyson_ by Sir Alfred Lyall in _English Men of Letters_ series. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Alfred Tennyson_ by Arthur Christopher Benson in _Little Biographies_. +London: Methuen & Co. + +_Alfred Tennyson: A Saintly Life_ by Robert F. Horton. London: J. M. +Dent & Co. + +_Alfred Tennyson_ by Andrew Lang. New York: Dodd, Mead and Company. + +_Tennyson: His Art and Relation to Modern Life_ by Stopford A. Brooke. +London: William Heinemann. + +_A Study of the Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ by Edward Campbell +Tainsh. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_The Poetry of Tennyson_ by Henry Van Dyke. New York: Charles Scribner's +Sons. + +_A Tennyson Primer_ by William Macneile Dixon. New York: Dodd, Mead & +Company. + +_A Handbook to the Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ by Morton Luce. +Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Tennyson: A Critical Study_ by Stephen Gwynn in the _Victorian Era +Series_. London: Blackie & Sons, Limited. + +_Tennyson, Ruskin, Mill, and Other Literary Estimates_ by Frederic +Harrison. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_Lives of Great English Writers from Chaucer to Browning_ by Walter S. +Hinchman and Francis B. Gummere. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company. + +_Personal Sketches of Recent Authors_ by Hattie Tyng Griswold. Chicago: +A. C. McClurg and Company. + +_Records of Tennyson, Ruskin, Browning_ by Anne Ritchie. New York: +Harper & Brothers. + +_Memories of the Tennysons_ by Rev. H. D. Rawnsley. Glasgow: James +Maclehose and Sons. + +_The Teaching of Tennyson_ by John Oats. London: James Bowden. + +_Tennyson as a Religious Teacher_ by Charles F. G. Masterman. London: +Methuen & Co. + +_The Social Ideals of Alfred Tennyson as Related to His Time_ by William +Clark Gordon. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. + +_The Religious Spirit in the Poets_ by W. Boyd Carpenter. New York: +Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. + +_Literary Essays_ by R. H. Hutton. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of +Canada, Limited. + +_Victorian Poets_ by Edmund Clarence Stedman. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin +and Company. + +_The Greater English Poets of the Nineteenth Century_ by William Morton +Payne. New York: Henry Holt and Company. + +_The Masters of English Literature_ by Stephen Gwynn. Toronto: The +Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + +_A Study of English and American Poets_ by J. Scott Clark. New York: +Charles Scribner's Sons. + +_The Works of Tennyson with Notes by the Author_ edited with Memoir by +Hallam, Lord Tennyson. Toronto: The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. + + + + +NOTES + +OENONE + +"The poem of _Oenone_ is the first of Tennyson's elaborate essays in a +metre over which be afterwards obtained an eminent command. It is also +the first of his idylls and of his classical studies, with their +melodious rendering of the Homeric epithets and the composite words, +which Tennyson had the art of coining after the Greek manner +('lily-cradled,' 'river-sundered,' 'dewy-dashed') for compact description +or ornament. Several additions were made in a later edition; and the +corrections then made show with what sedulous care the poet diversified +the structure of his lines, changing the pauses that break the monotonous +run of blank verse, and avoiding the use of weak terminals when the line +ends in the middle of a sentence. The opening of the poem was in this +manner decidedly improved; yet one may judge that the finest passages are +still to be found almost as they stood in the original version; and the +concluding lines, in which the note of anguish culminates, are left +untouched." + +"Nevertheless the blank verse of _Oenone_ lacks the even flow and +harmonious balance of entire sections in the _Morte d'Arthur_ or +_Ulysses_, where the lines are swift or slow, rise to a point and fall +gradually, in cadences arranged to correspond with the dramatic movement, +showing that the poet has extended and perfected his metrical resources. +The later style is simplified; he has rejected cumbrous metaphor; he is +less sententious; he has pruned away the flowery exuberance and lightened +the sensuous colour of his earlier composition."--_Sir Alfred Lyall_. + +First published in 1832-3. It received its present improved form in the +edition of 1842. The story of Paris and Oenone may be read in Lempriere, +or in any good classical dictionary. Briefly it is as follows:--Paris +was the son of Priam, King of Troy, and Hecuba. It was foretold that he +would bring great ruin on Troy, so his father ordered him to be slain at +birth. The slave, however, did not destroy him, but exposed him upon +Mount Ida, where shepherds found him and, brought him up as one of +themselves. "He gained the esteem of all the shepherds, and his graceful +countenance and manly development recommended him to the favour of +Oenone, a nymph of Ida, whom he married, and with whom he lived in the +most perfect tenderness. Their conjugal bliss was soon disturbed. At +the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, Eris, the goddess of discord, who had +not been invited to partake of the entertainment, showed her displeasure +by throwing into the assembly of gods, who were at the celebration of the +nuptials, a golden apple on which were written the words _Detur +pulchriori_. All the goddesses claimed it as their own: the contention +at first became general, but at last only three, Juno (Here), Venus +(Aphrodite), and Minerva (Pallas), wished to dispute their respective +right to beauty. The gods, unwilling to become arbiters in an affair of +so tender and delicate a nature, appointed Paris to adjudge the prize of +beauty to the fairest of the goddesses, and indeed the shepherd seemed +properly qualified to decide so great a contest, as his wisdom was so +well established, and his prudence and sagacity so well known. The +goddesses appeared before their judge without any covering or ornament, +and each tried by promises and entreaties to gain the attention of Paris, +and to influence his judgment. Juno promised him a kingdom; Minerva, +military glory; and Venus, the fairest woman in the world for his wife." +(Lempriere.) Paris accorded the apple to Aphrodite, abandoned Oenone, +and after he had been acknowledged the son of Priam went to Sparta, where +he persuaded Helen, the wife of Menelaus, to flee with him to Troy. The +ten years' siege, and the destruction of Troy, resulted from this rash +act. Oenone's significant words at the close of the poem foreshadow this +disaster. Tennyson, in his old age concluded the narrative in the poem +called _The Death of Oenone_. According to the legend Paris, mortally +wounded by one of the arrows of Philoctetes, sought out the abandoned +Oenone that she might heal him of his wound. But he died before he +reached her, "and the nymph, still mindful of their former loves, threw +herself upon his body, and stabbed herself to the heart, after she had +plentifully bathed it with her tears." Tennyson follows another +tradition in which Paris reaches Oenone, who scornfully repels him. He +passed onward through the mist, and dropped dead upon the mountain side. +His old shepherd playmates built his funeral pyre. Oenone follows the +yearning in her heart to where her husband lies, and dies in the flames +that consume him. + +In Chapter IV of Mr. Stopford Brooke's _Tennyson_, there is a valuable +commentary upon _Oenone_. He deals first with the imaginative treatment +of the landscape, which is characteristic of all Tennyson's classical +poems, and instances the remarkable improvement effected in the +descriptive passages in the volume of 1842. "But fine landscape and fine +figure re-drawing are not enough to make a fine poem. Human interest, +human passion, must be greater than Nature, and dominate the subject. +Indeed, all this lovely scenery is nothing in comparison with the sorrow +and love of Oenone, recalling her lost love in the places where once she +lived in joy. This is the main humanity of the poem. But there is more. +Her common sorrow is lifted almost into the proportions of Greek tragedy +by its cause and by its results. It is caused by a quarrel in Olympus, +and the mountain nymph is sacrificed without a thought to the vanity of +the careless gods. That is an ever-recurring tragedy in human history. +Moreover, the personal tragedy deepens when we see the fateful dread in +Oenone's heart that she will, far away, in time hold her lover's life in +her hands, and refuse to give it back to him--a fatality that Tennyson +treated before he died. And, secondly, Oenone's sorrow is lifted into +dignity by the vast results which flowed from its cause. Behind it were +the mighty fates of Troy, the ten years' battle, the anger of Achilles, +the wanderings of Ulysses, the tragedy of Agamemnon, the founding of +Rome, and the three great epics of the ancient world." + +Another point of general interest is to be noted in the poem. Despite +the classical theme the tone is consistently modern, as may be gathered +from the philosophy of the speech of Pallas, and from the tender yielding +nature of Oenone. There is no hint here of the vindictive resentment +which the old classical writers, would have associated with her grief. +Similarly Tennyson has systematically modernised the Arthurian legend in +the _Idylls of the King_, giving us nineteenth century thoughts in a +conventional mediaeval setting. + +A passage from Bayne, puts this question clearly: "Oenone wails +melodiously for Paris without the remotest suggestion of fierceness or +revengeful wrath. She does not upbraid him for having preferred to her +the fairest and most loving wife in Greece, but wonders how any one could +love him better than she does. A Greek poet would have used his whole +power of expression to instil bitterness into her resentful words. The +classic legend, instead of representing Oenone as forgiving Paris, makes +her nurse her wrath throughout all the anguish and terror of the Trojan +War. At its end, her Paris comes back to her. Deprived of Helen, a +broken and baffled man, he returns from the ruins of his native Troy, and +entreats Oenone to heal him of a wound, which, unless she lends her aid, +must be mortal. Oenone gnashes her teeth at him, refuses him the remedy, +and lets him die. In the end, no doubt, she falls into remorse, and +kills herself--this is quite in the spirit of classic legend; implacable +vengeance, soul-sickened with its own victory, dies in despair. That +forgiveness of injuries could be anything but weakness--that it could be +honourable, beautiful, brave--is an entirely Christian idea; and it is +because this idea, although it has not yet practically conquered the +world, although it has indeed but slightly modified the conduct of +nations, has nevertheless secured recognition as ethically and socially +right, that Tennyson could not hope to enlist the sympathy and admiration +of his readers for his Oenone, if he had cast her image in the tearless +bronze of Pagan obduracy." + + +1. IDA. A mountain range in Mysia, near Troy. The scenery is, in part, +idealised, and partly inspired by the valley of Cauteretz. See +_Introduction_, p. xvi. + +2. IONIAN. Ionia was the district adjacent to Mysia. 'Ionian,' +therefore, is equivalent to 'neighbouring.' + +10. TOPMOST GARGARUS. A Latinism, cf. _summus mons_. + +12. TROAS. The Troad (Troas) was the district surrounding Troy. + +ILION=Ilium, another name for Troy. + +14. CROWN=chief ornament. + +22-23. O MOTHER IDA--DIE. Mr. Stedman, in his _Victorian Poets_, devotes +a valuable chapter to the discussion of Tennyson's relation to +Theocritus, both in sentiment and form. "It is in the _Oenone_ that we +discover Tennyson's earliest adaptation of that refrain, which was a +striking beauty of the pastoral elegiac verse; + + "'O mother Ida, hearken ere I die,' + +"is the analogue of (Theocr. II). + + "'See thou; whence came my love, O lady Moon,' etc. + +"Throughout the poem the Syracusan manner and feeling are strictly and +nobly maintained." Note, however, the modernisation already referred to. + +MOTHER IDA. The Greeks constantly personified Nature, and attributed a +separate individual life to rivers, mountains, etc. Wordsworth's +_Excursion_, Book IV., might be read in illustration, especially from the +line beginning-- + + "Once more to distant ages of the world." + +MANY-FOUNTAIN'D IDA. Many streams took their source in Ida. Homer +applies the same epithet to this mountain. + +24-32. These lines are in imitation of certain passages from Theocritus. +See Stedman, _Victorian Poets_, pp. 213 f. They illustrate Tennyson's +skill in mosaic work. + +30. MY EYES--LOVE. Cf. Shakespeare, 2 Henry VI. ii. 3. 17: + + "Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief." + +36. COLD CROWN'D SNAKE. "Cold crown'd" is not a compound epithet, +meaning "with a cold head." Each adjective marks a particular quality. +_Crown'd_ has reference to the semblance of a coronet that the hoods of +certain snakes, such as cobras, possess. + +37. THE DAUGHTER OF A RIVER-GOD. Oenone was the daughter of the river +Cebrenus in Phrygia. + +39-40. AS YONDER WALLS--BREATHED. The walls of Troy were built by +Poseidon (Neptune) and Apollo, whom Jupiter had condemned to serve King +Laomedon of Troas for a year. The stones were charmed into their places +by the breathing of Apollo's flute, as the walls of Thebes are said to +have risen to the strain of Amphion's lyre. Compare _Tithonus_, 62-63: + + "Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing, + When Ilion, like a mist, rose into towers." + +And cf. also _The Princess_, iii. 326. + +42-43. THAT--WOE. Compare _In Memoriam_, V. + +50. WHITE HOOVED. Cf. "hooves" for hoofs, in the _Lady of Shalott_, l. +101. + +51. SIMOIS. One of the many streams flowing from Mount Ida. + +65. HESPERIAN GOLD. The fruit was in colour like the golden apples in +the garden of the Hesperides. The Hesperides were three (or four) +nymphs, the daughters of Hesperus. They dwelt in the remotest west, near +Mount Atlas in Africa, and were appointed to guard the golden apples +which Here gave to Zeus on the day of their marriage. One of Hercules' +twelve labours was to procure some of these apples. See the articles +_Hesperides_ and _Hercules_ in Lempriere. + +66. SMELT AMBROSIALLY. Ambrosia was the food of the gods. Their drink +was nectar. The food was sweeter than honey, and of most fragrant odour. + +72. WHATEVER OREAD. A classical construction. The Oreads were mountain +nymphs. + +78. FULL-FACED--GODS. This means either that not a face was missing, or +refers to the impressive countenances of the gods. Another possible +interpretation is that all their faces were turned full towards the board +on which the apple was cast. Compare for this epithet _Lotos Eaters_, 7; +and _Princess_, ii. 166. + +79. PELEUS. All the gods, save Eris, were present at the marriage +between Peleus and Thetis, a sea-deity. In her anger Eris threw upon the +banquet-table the apple which Paris now holds in his hand. Peleus and +Thetis were the parents of the famous Achilles. + +81. IRIS. The messenger of the gods. The rainbow is her symbol. + +83. DELIVERING=announcing. + +89-100. These lines, and the opening lines of the poem are among the best +of Tennyson's blank verse lines, and therefore among the best that +English poetry contains. The description owes some of its beauty to +Homer. In its earlier form, in the volume of 1832-3, it is much less +perfect. + +132. A CRESTED PEACOCK. The peacock was sacred to Here (Juno). + +103. A GOLDEN CLOUD. The gods were wont to recline upon Olympus beneath +a canopy of golden clouds. + +104. DROPPING FRAGRANT DEW. Drops of glittering dew fell from the golden +cloud which shrouded Here and Zeus. See _Iliad_, XIV, 341 f. + +105 f. Here was the queen of Heaven. Power was therefore the gift which +she naturally proffered. + +114. Supply the ellipsis. + +121-122. POWER FITTED--WISDOM. Power that adapts itself to every crisis; +power which is born of wisdom and enthroned by wisdom (i.e. does not owe +its supremacy to brute strength). + +121-122. FROM ALL-ALLEGIANCE. Note the ellipsis and the inversion. + +128-131. WHO HAVE ATTAINED--SUPREMACY. Cf. _Lotos Eaters_, l. 155 f, and +_Lucretius_, 104-108. + + The gods, who haunt + The lucid interspace of world and world + Where never creeps a cloud, or moves a wind, + Nor ever falls the least white star of snow, + Nor ever lowest roll of thunder moans. + +137. O'ERTHWARTED WITH=crossed by. + +142 f. Compare the tone of Pallas' speech with what has been said in the +introduction, p. liv f., concerning Tennyson's love of moderation and +restraint, and his belief in the efficacy of law. + +Compare also the general temper of the _Ode on the Death of the Duke of +Wellington_, and especially ll. 201-205. + +144--148. Yet these qualities are not bestowed with power as the end in +view. Power will come without seeking when these great principles of +conduct are observed. The main thing is to live and act by the law of +the higher Life,--and it is the part of wisdom to follow right for its +own sake, whatever the consequences may be. + +151. SEQUEL OF GUERDON. To follow up my words with rewards (such as Here +proffers) would not make me fairer. + +153-164. Pallas reads the weakness of Paris's character, but disdains to +offer him a more worldly reward. An access of moral courage will be her +sole gift to him, so that he shall front danger and disaster until his +powers of endurance grow strong with action, and his full-grown will +having passed through all experiences, and having become a pure law unto +itself, shall be commensurate with perfect freedom, i.e., shall not know +that it is circumscribed by law. + +This is the philosophy that we find in Wordsworth's _Ode to Duty_. + + Stern Lawgiver! Yet thou dost wear + The Godhead's most benignant grace; + Nor know we anything so fair + As is the smile upon thy face: + Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, + And fragrance in thy footing treads; + Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong, + And the most ancient heavens, through thee, + are fresh and strong. + +165-167. Note how dramatic this interruption is. + +170. IDALIAN APHRODITE. Idalium was a town in Cyprus; an island where +the goddess was especially worshipped. She was frequently called Cypria +or the Cyprian. + +171. FRESH AS THE FOAM. Aphrodite was born from the waves of the sea, +near the Island of Cyprus. + +NEW-BATHED IN PAPHIAN WELLS. Paphos was a town in Cyprus. Aphrodite was +said to have landed at Paphos after her birth from the sea-foam. She is +sometimes called the Paphian or Paphia on this account. + +184. SHE SPOKE AND LAUGH'D. Homer calls her "the laughter-loving +Aphrodite." + +195-l97. A WILD--WEED. The influence of beauty upon the beasts is a +common theme with poets. Cf. Una and the lion in Spenser's _Faery Queen_. + +204. THEY CUT AWAY MY TALLEST PINES. Evidently to make ships for Paris's +expedition to Greece. + +235-240. THERE ARE--DIE. Lamartine in _Le Lac_ (written before 1820) +has a very similar passage. + +250. CASSANDRA. The daughter of King Priam, and therefore the sister of +Paris. She had the gift of prophecy. + +260. A FIRE DANCES. Signifying the burning of Troy. + + + +THE EPIC AND MORTE D'ARTHUR + +First published, with the epilogue as here printed, in 1842. The _Morte +d'Arthur_ was subsequently taken out of the present setting, and with +substantial expansion appeared as the final poem of the _Idylls of the +King_, with the new title, _The Passing of Arthur_. + +Walter Savage Landor doubtless refers to the _Morte d'Arthur_ as early as +1837, when writing to a friend, as follows:--"Yesterday a Mr. Moreton, a +young man of rare judgment, read to me a manuscript by Mr. Tennyson, +being different in style from his printed poems. The subject is the +Death of Arthur. It is more Homeric than any poem of our time, and +rivals some of the noblest parts of the Odyssea." A still earlier +composition is assured by the correspondence of Edward Fitzgerald who +writes that, in 1835, while staying at the Speddings in the Lake Country, +he met Tennyson and heard the poet read the _Morte d'Arthur_ and other +poems of the 1842 volume. They were read out of a MS., "in a little red +book to him and Spedding of a night 'when all the house was mute.'" + +In _The Epic_ we have specific reference to the Homeric influence in +these lines: + + "Nay, nay," said Hall, + "Why take the style of those heroic times? + For nature brings not back the Mastodon, + Nor we those times; and why should any man + Remodel models? these twelve books of mine + Were faint Homeric echoes, nothing-worth," . . . + +Critics have agreed for the most part in considering the _Morte d'Arthur_ +as the most Homeric of Tennyson's poems. Bayne writes: "Not only in the +language is it Homeric, but in the design and manner of treatment. The +concentration of interest on the hero, the absence of all modernism in +the way of love, story or passion painting, the martial clearness, +terseness, brevity of the narrative, with definite specification, at the +same time, are exquisitely true to the Homeric pattern." Brimley notes, +with probably greater precision, that: "They are rather Virgilian than +Homeric echoes; elaborate and stately, not naive and eager to tell their +story; rich in pictorial detail; carefully studied; conscious of their +own art; more anxious for beauty of workmanship than interest of action." + +It has frequently been pointed out in this book how prone Tennyson is to +regard all his subjects from the modern point of view: + + a truth + Looks freshest in the fashion of the day. + +The Epic and the epilogue strongly emphasize this modernity in the varied +modern types of character which they represent, with their diverse +opinions upon contemporary topics. "As to the epilogue," writes Mr. +Brooke (p. 130), "it illustrates all I have been saying about Tennyson's +method with subjects drawn from Greek or romantic times. He filled and +sustained those subjects with thoughts which were as modern as they were +ancient. While he placed his readers in Camelot, Ithaca, or Ida, he made +them feel also that they were standing in London, Oxford, or an English +woodland. When the _Morte d'Arthur_ is finished, the hearer of it sits +rapt. There were 'modern touches here and there,' he says, and when he +sleeps he dreams of + + "King Arthur, like a modern gentleman + Of stateliest port; and all the people cried, + 'Arthur is come again, he cannot die.' + Then those that stood upon the hills behind + Repeated--'Come again, and thrice as fair:' + And, further inland, voices echoed--'Come + With all good things and war shall be no more. + +"The old tale, thus modernised in an epilogue, does not lose its dignity, +for now the recoming of Arthur is the recoming of Christ in a wider and +fairer Christianity. We feel here how the new movement of religion and +theology had sent its full and exciting wave into Tennyson. Arthur's +death in the battle and the mist is the death of a form of Christianity +which, exhausted, died in doubt and darkness. His advent as a modern +gentleman is the coming of a brighter and more loving Christ into the +hearts of men. For so ends the epilogue. When the voices cry, 'Come +again, with all good things,' + + "At this a hundred bells began to peal, + That with the sound I woke, and heard indeed, + The clear church-bells ring in the Christmas-morn." + +THE ALLEGORICAL ELEMENT.--The statement is made on p. xxxv of this book +that in _The Idylls of the King_ "the effort is made to reconcile the +human story with the allegory, and in consequence the issues are +confusedly presented to our mind." It is characteristic of the _Morte +d'Arthur_ fragment that it is apparently free from all allegorical +intention. It is merely a moving human story with a fascinating element +of mystery inspired by the original Celtic legend. An element of +allegory lies in the epilogue, and _The Passing of Arthur_ still further +enforces the allegorical purpose. But here, as Mr. Brooke again writes +(p. 371), "we are close throughout to the ancient tale. No allegory, no +ethics, no rational soul, no preaching symbolism, enter here, to dim, +confuse, or spoil the story. Nothing is added which does not justly +exalt the tale, and what is added is chiefly a greater fulness and +breadth of humanity, a more lovely and supreme Nature, arranged at every +point to enhance into keener life the human feelings of Arthur and his +knight, to lift the ultimate hour of sorrow and of death into nobility. +Arthur is borne to a chapel nigh the field-- + + "A broken chancel with a broken cross, + That stood on a dark strait of barren land; + On one side lay the Ocean, and on one + Lay a great water, and the moon was full. + +"What a noble framework--and with what noble consciousness it is drawn! . +. . . All the landscape--than which nothing better has been invented by +any English poet--lives from point to point as if Nature herself had +created it; but even more alive than the landscape are the two human +figures in it--Sir Bedivere standing by the great water, and Arthur lying +wounded near the chapel, waiting for his knight. Take one passage, which +to hear is to see the thing: + + "So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept, + And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, + Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, + Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang + Shrill, chill with flakes of foam. He, stepping down + By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock, + Came on the shining levels of the lake. + +"Twice he hides the sword, and when Arthur asks: 'What hast thou seen, +what heard?' Bedivere answers: + + "'I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, + And the wild water lapping on the crag,' + +"--lines so steeped in the loneliness of mountain tarns that I never stand +in solitude beside their waters but I hear the verses in my heart. At +the last he throws it. + + "The great brand + Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, + And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, + Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, + Seen where the moving isles of winter shock + By night, with noises of the northern sea. + +"'So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur,' and never yet in poetry did +any sword, flung in the air, flash so superbly. + +"The rest of the natural description is equally alive, and the passage +where the sound echoes the sense, and Bedivere, carrying Arthur, clangs +as he moves among the icy rocks, is as clear a piece of ringing, smiting, +clashing sound as any to be found in Tennyson: + + "Dry clashed his harness in the icy caves + And barren chasms, and all to left and right + The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based + His feet on juts of slippery crag that rung + Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels. + +"We hear all the changes on the vowel _a_--every sound of it used to give +the impression--and then, in a moment, the verse runs into breadth, +smoothness and vastness: for Bedivere comes to the shore and sees the +great water; + + "And on a sudden lo! the level lake, + And the long glories of the winter moon, + +"in which the vowel _o_, in its changes is used, as the vowel _a_ has been +used before. + +"The questions and replies of Arthur and Bedivere, the reproaches of the +King, the excuses of the Knight, the sorrow and the final wrath of +Arthur, are worthy of the landscape, as they ought to be; and the +dominance of the human element in the scene is a piece of noble +artist-work. Arthur is royal to the close, and when he passes away with +the weeping Queens across the mere, unlike the star of the tournament he +was of old, he is still the King. Sir Bedivere, left alone on the +freezing shore, hears the King give his last message to the world. It is +a modern Christian who speaks, but the phrases do not sound out of +harmony with that which might be in Romance. Moreover, the end of the +saying is of Avilion or Avalon--of the old heathen Celtic place where the +wounded are healed and the old made young." + +In the final analysis, therefore, the significance of the _Morte +d'Arthur_ is a significance of beauty rather than moralistic purpose. It +has been said that the reading of Milton's _Lycidas_ is the surest test +of one's powers of poetical appreciation. I fear that the test is too +severe for many readers who can still enjoy a simpler style of poetry. +But any person who can read the _Morte d'Arthur_, and fail to be +impressed by its splendid pictures, and subdued to admiration by the +dignity of its language, need scarcely hope for pleasure from any poetry. + + +THE EPIC + +3. SACRED BUSH. The mistletoe. This plant was sacred to the Celtic +tribes, and was an object of particular veneration with the Druids, +especially when associated with the oak-tree. + +8. OR GONE=either gone. + +18. THE GENERAL DECAY OF FAITH. The story of Arthur is intended to show +how faith survives, although the form be changed. See esp. _Morte +d'Arthur_, ll. 240-242. + +27-28. 'HE BURNT--SOME TWELVE BOOKS.' This must not be taken literally. +See, however, p. xxxiii. of the Biographical Sketch, as to Tennyson's +hesitation in treating the subject. + +48-51. This is self-portraiture. Lord Tennyson's method of reading was +impressive though peculiar. + + +MORTE D'ARTHUR + +THE ARTHURIAN LEGEND. Throughout the mediaeval period three great cycles +of stories commanded the imagination of the poets. Of these cycles one, +the tale of Troy in its curious mediaeval guise, attested the potent +spell of antique legend.[1] The two other great cycles were of later +origin, and centred around the commanding historical figures of +Charlemagne, and the phantom glory of the legendary Arthur. + +[1]The extraordinary interest in the half legendary career of Alexander +the Great must be noticed here, as also the profound respect amounting to +veneration for the Roman poet, Vergil. + + +The origin of the Arthurian story is involved in obscurity. The crudest +form of the myth has doubtless a core of historic truth, and represents +him as a mighty Celtic warrior, who works havoc among the heathen Saxon +invaders. Accretions naturally are added, and a miraculous origin and a +mysterious death throw a superstitious halo around the hero. When the +brilliant personality of Lancelot breaks into the tale, and the legend of +the Holy Grail is superadded, the theme exercised an irresistible +fascination upon the imagination of mediaeval Europe. + +The vicissitudes of the Celtic inhabitants of Britain are as romantic as +any of which history holds record. After the departure of the Roman +invaders from the island, the native population swiftly reasserted +itself. The Picts of Caledonia and the Scots of Ireland were their +natural foes, but conflict with these enemies served only to stimulate +the national life. But actual disaster threatened them when in the fifth +and sixth centuries the heathen Angles and Saxons bore down in +devastating hordes upon the land. It is at this critical period in the +national history that Arthur must have lived. How long or how valiant +the resistance was we cannot know. That it was vain is certain. A large +body of Britons fled from annihilation across the channel, and founded in +the region of Armurica in France, a new Brittany. Meanwhile, in the +older Britain, the foe pressed hard upon their fellow-countrymen, and +drove them into the western limits of the island, into the fastnesses of +Wales, and the rocky parts of Cornwall. Here, and in Northern France, +proud in their defeat and tenacious of the instincts of their race, they +lived and still live, in the imaginative memories of the past. For them +the future held little store of earthly gain, and yet they made the whole +world their debtor. + +Even in the courts of the conqueror Saxon their strange and beautiful +poetry won favour, and in a later century the Norman kings and barons +welcomed eagerly the wandering minstrels from Brittany and Wales. But it +was not from these scattered sources that Celtic traditions became a +European possession, as a brief statement of literary history will +clearly show. + +The first recorded mention of Arthur's name occurs in a brief and +anonymous _History of the Britons_, written in Latin in the tenth +century, and attributed to Nennius. This history is curiously amplified +in the twelfth century by Geoffrey of Monmouth, first in a story dealing +with the prophecies of Merlin, and later in a _History of the Kings of +Britain_. This book, with its brilliant description of the court of +Arthur, gave the legend a widespread popularity. It was four times +within the same century translated into French verse, the most famous of +these renderings being the version of Wace, called _Le Brut_, which makes +some addition to Geoffrey's original, gathered from Breton sources. In +the same century, too, Chretien de Troyes, the foremost of Arthurian +poets, composed his famous cycle of poems. + +Of all these manifold sources Tennyson was confessedly ignorant. Where +the details are not of his own invention, his _Idylls of the King_ rest +entirely upon Malory's _Morte d'Arthur_, which Caxton printed in 1485, +supplemented in the case of _Enid and Geraint_, and _The Marriage of +Geraint_ by a translation of the Welsh _Mabinogion_ by Lady Charlotte +Guest. + + +THE STORY OF THE IDYLLS.--It is well to remember the events that led up +to Arthur's death. Guinevere's guilty love for Lancelot had been +discovered and revealed by Arthur's nephew, the traitor Modred. The +Queen fled the court and sought refuge with the nuns of Almesbury. +Lancelot fled to his castle in the north, where the King in vain besieged +him. Meanwhile Modred had stirred up a revolt, and leaguing himself with +the Saxon invaders, had usurped Arthur's throne. On his march southward +to resist his nephew, Arthur halts at the nunnery of Almesbury, and in +the Guinevere idyll the moving story of their last farewell is told. +Then the King advanced to meet Modred. The description of that "last +weird battle in the west" is given in _The Passing of Arthur_, and leads +up to the impressive line with which our present poem opens. Towards the +close of that fateful day, there came-- + + A bitter wind, clear from the North, and blew + The mist aside, and with that wind the tide + Rose, and the pale King glanced across the field + Of battle: but no man was moving there; + Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon, + Nor yet of heathen; only the wan wave + Broke in among dead faces, to and fro + Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down + Tumbling the hollow helmets of the fallen, + And shiver'd brands that once had fought with Rome, + And rolling far along the gloomy shores + The voice of days of old and days to be. + +The King speaks despairingly to Bedivere, who answering, swears to him +undying allegiance, and points to the traitor, Modred, who still stands +unharmed: + +Thereupon:-- + + the King + Made at the man: then Modred smote his liege + Hard on the helm which many a heathen sword + Had beaten thin; while Arthur at one blow, + Striking the last stroke with Excalibur, + Slew him, and all but slain himself, he fell. + +4. LYONNESSE. The geography of the _Idylls of the King_ is designedly +vague. The region of Lyonnesse was supposed to be adjacent to Cornwall, +and the sea now covers it. The Scilly Islands are held to have been the +western limit of this fabulous country. + +6. THE BOLD SIR BEDIVERE. The epithet "bold" is used repeatedly in this +vaguely descriptive fashion with Sir Bedivere's name. Cf. lines 39, 69, +115, 151, 226. The use of "permanent epithets" in narrative poetry has +been consecrated by the example of Homer, who constantly employs such +expressions as "the swift-footed Achilles," "wide-ruling Agamemnon," etc. + +Bedivere is described in _The Coming of Arthur_ as follows:-- + + For bold in heart and act and word was he + Whenever slander breathed against the King. + +12. A GREAT WATER. This expression has occasioned much unnecessary +comment on the score of its alleged artificiality. There might be a gain +in definiteness in substituting "lake," or "river," as the case might be, +but there would be a corresponding loss in poetry and in meaning at this +particular place. "Had 'a great lake' been substituted for it, the +phrase would have needed to be translated by the mind into water of a +certain shape and size, before the picture was realized by the +imagination." (Brimley.) It would have, consequently, been more precise, +but "less poetic and pictorial." + +If further justification for the expression were needed it might be +stated that "water" stands for lake in certain parts of England, e.g. +"Dewentwater," etc.; and, what is of more importance, that Malory uses +"water" in the same sense: "The king . . . . saw afore him in a great +water a little ship." _Morte d'Arthur_ iv. 6. + +21. OF CAMELOT. Arthur's capital, as noted in _The Lady of Shalott_. In +speaking of the allegorical meaning of _The Idylls of the King_, Tennyson +states that "Camelot, for instance, a city of shadowy palaces, is +everywhere symbolical of the gradual growth of human beliefs and +institutions, and of the spiritual development of man." Always bear in +mind that Tennyson has also said: "There is no single fact or incident in +the Idylls, however seemingly mystical, which cannot be explained without +any mystery or allegory whatever." + +22. I PERISH--MADE. In _The Coming of Arthur_ this thought is amplified: + + For first Aurelius lived and fought and died, + And after him King Uther fought and died, + But either failed to make the kingdom one. + And after these King Arthur for a space, + _And thro the puissance of his Table Round + Drew all their petty princedoms under him, + Their king and head, and made a realm, and reigned_. + +And in _The Passing of Arthur_ we read: + + Ill doom is mine + To war against my people and my knights. + The king who fights his people fights himself. + +23. THO' MERLINE SWARE--AGAIN. Merlin was the great wizard of Arthur's +court. In the allegorical view of the poem he typifies the intellect, +or, in Tennyson's words: "the sceptical understanding." + +This prophecy concerning Arthur is again referred to in _The Coming of +Arthur_: + + And Merlin in our time + Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn, + Though men may wound him, that he will not die, + But pass and come again. + +This belief is common to all the Arthurian sources. Compare, for +example, Wace's _Brut_: "Arthur, if the story lies not, was mortally +wounded in the body: he had himself borne to Avalon to heal his wounds. +There he is still; the Britons await him, as they say and +understand . . . The prophet spoke truth, and one can doubt, and always +will doubt whether he is dead or living." Dr. Sykes writes that, "The +sleep of Arthur associates the British story with the similar stories of +Charlemagne and Frederick Barbarossa of Germany, Brian in Ireland, +Boabdil el Chico in Spain, etc." + +27. EXCALIBUR. Arthur's magical sword. It is described in _The Coming +of Arthur_, ll. 295 f., as: + + the sword + That rose from out the bosom of the lake, + And Arthur rowed across and took it--rich + With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt, + Bewildering heart and eye--the blade so bright + That men are blinded by it--on one side, + Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world, + "Take me," but turn the blade and ye shall see, + And written in the speech ye speak yourself, + "Cast me away." + +It has been variously held that Excalibur typifies temporal authority, or +spiritual power. The casting away of the sword, therefore, represents +the inevitable change in which human things are involved, and even faith +itself. Compare _Morte d'Arthur_, ll. 240-241. + +Magical weapons and enchanted armour are a portion of the equipment of +almost all the great legendary heroes. Their swords and their horses +usually bear distinctive names. Roland's sword was _Durandal_, and +Charlemagne's was _Joyeuse_. + +37. FLING HIM. The sword is viewed as possessing life. + +THE MIDDLE MERE. Compare a similar classical construction in Oenone, l. +10, topmost Gargarus. + +53-55. THE WINTER MOON--HILT. The frosty air made the moonlight more +than usually brilliant. + +60. THIS WAY--MIND. An echo of Vergil's line, Aeneid, VIII. 20. _Atque +animum nunc huc celerem, nunc dividit illuc_. "And he divides his swift +mind now this way, now that." + +63. MANY-KNOTTED WATER FLAGS. Dr. Sykes has a careful note on this +expression (_Select Poems of Tennyson_; Gage & Co.). "The epithet +many-knotted is difficult to explain. The possible explanations would +refer the description to (1) the root-stock of the flag, which shows +additional bulbs from year to year; (2) the joints in the flower stalks, +of which some half-dozen may be found on each stalk; (3) the large +seed-pods that terminate in stalks, a very noticeable feature when the +plant is sere; (4) the various bunches or knots of iris in a bed of the +plants, so that the whole phrase suggests a thickly matted bed of flags. +I favour the last interpretation, though Tennyson's fondness of technical +accuracy in his references makes the second more than possible." + +70-71. I HEARD--CRAG. It is interesting to read Chapter V., Book XXI. of +Malory in connection with Tennyson's version of the story. He is +throughout true to the spirit of the original. _A propos_ of lines +70-71, we find in Malory: "What saw thou, there?" said the King. "Sir," +he said, "I saw nothing but the waters wap and the waves wan." Tennyson, +in these two lines, gives us a consummate example of creative imitation. + +84. COUNTING THE DEWY PEBBLES. This aptly describes the absorption of +his mind. + +85 f. and 56-58 supra. Compare the description of Excalibur, and of +Bedivere's hesitancy, in Malory's book. "So Sir Bedivere departed, and +by the way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and haft were all +of precious stones, and then he said to himself, 'If I throw this rich +sword in the water, thereof shall never come good, but harm and loss.' +And then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree." + +104. THE LONELY MAIDEN OF THE LAKE. The "Lady of the Lake" was present +at the crowning of Arthur. In the _Coming of Arthur_ she is described as +dwelling-- + + Down in a deep; calm, whatsoever storms + May shake the world, and when the surface rolls + Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord. + +Arthur's first meeting with her is described in Malory:-- "So they rode +till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in +the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, +that held a fair sword in that hand. 'Lo,' said Merlin, 'yonder is that +sword that I spake of.' With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake; +'What damsel is that?' said Arthur. 'That is the Lady of the Lake,' said +Merlin; 'and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place +as any upon earth, and richly beseen.'" + +In _Gareth and Lynette_ the Lady of the Lake is mystically figured forth +upon the great gate of Camelot. + +105-106. NINE YEARS--HILLS. Hallam, Lord Tennyson, in the Memoir, quotes +Fitzgerald's short account of a row on Lake Windermere with the poet; +"'Resting on our oars one calm day on Windermere, whither we had gone for +a week from dear Spedding's (Mirehouse), at the end of May, 1835; resting +on our oars, and looking into the lake quite unruffled and clear, Alfred +quoted from the lines he had lately read us from the MS. of _Morte +d'Arthur_ about the lonely lady of the lake and Excalibur: + + "Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps, + Under the hidden bases of the hills. + +"--Not bad, that. Fitz, is it? + +"This kind of remark he would make when rendering his own or others' +poetry when he came to lines that he particularly admired from no vanity +but from a pure feeling of artistic pleasure." (Vol. I. pp. 152-153). + +112. Note the slowness of the movement expressed in the rhythm of this +line, and compare with it line 168. Contrast the swiftness and energy +expressed in ll. 133-136. + +121. AUTHORITY--KING. This line has been described as Shakespearian. +Its strength is derived from the force of the metaphorical +personification. The boldness of the poetical construction is carried +into the metaphor in the next line. + +129. FOR A MAN. Because a man. + +132. AND SLAY THEE WITH MY HANDS. Compare Malory: "And but if thou do +now as I bid thee, if ever I may see thee, I shall slay thee with mine +own hands, for thou wouldest for my rich sword see me dead." In Rowe and +Webb's edition it is suggested that 'with my hands' is added for one of +two reasons,--either "because he had now no sword; or more probably, +these words are introduced in imitation of Homer's habit of mentioning +specific details: cf. 'he went taking long steps with his feet.'" This +explanation is ingenious, but unnecessary in view of the quotation from +Malory. The note proceeds: "Notice the touch of human personality in the +king's sharp anger; otherwise Arthur is generally represented by Tennyson +as a rather colourless being, and as almost 'too good for human nature's +daily food.'" + +133-142. Brimley in his valuable essay on Tennyson, analyses this poem +in some detail. Of this passage he writes: "A series of brilliant +effects is hit off in these two words, 'made lightnings.' 'Whirl'd in an +arch,' is a splendid instance of sound answering to sense, which the +older critics made so much of; the additional syllable which breaks the +measure, and necessitates an increased rapidity of utterance, seeming to +express to the ear the rush of the sword up its parabolic curve. And +with what lavish richness of presentative power is the boreal aurora, the +collision, the crash, and the thunder of the meeting icebergs, brought +before the eye. An inferior artist would have shouted through a page, +and emptied a whole pallet of colour, without any result but interrupting +his narrative, where Tennyson in three lines strikingly illustrates the +fact he has to tell,--associates it impressively with one of Nature's +grandest phenomena, and gives a complete picture of this phenomenon +besides." The whole essay deserves to be carefully read. + +143. DIPT THE SURFACE. A poetical construction. + +157. Note the personification of the sword. + +182-183. CLOTHED--HILLS. His breath made a vapour in the frosty air +through which his figure loomed of more than human size. Tennyson gives +us the same effect in _Guinevere_, 597: + + The moving vapour rolling round the King, + Who seem'd the phantom of a Giant in it, + Enwound him fold by fold. + +But the classical example is found in Wordsworth's description of the +mountain shepherd in _The Prelude_, Book VIII. + + When up the lonely brooks on rainy days + Angling I went, or trod the trackless hills + By mists bewildered, suddenly mine eyes + Have glanced upon him distant a few steps, + In size a giant, stalking through thick fog, + His sheep like Greenland bears, or as he stepped + Beyond the boundary line of some hill-shadow, + His form hath flashed upon me, glorified + By the deep radiance of the setting sun, + +191-192. AND ON A SUDDEN--MOON. "Do we not," writes Brimley, "seem to +burst from the narrow steep path down the ravine, whose tall precipitous +sides hide the sky and the broad landscape from sight, and come out in a +moment upon-- + + "the level lake, + And the long glories of the winter moon!" + +193. HOVE=hove in sight. + +The closing scene in this drama is impressively described by Malory. "So +Sir Bedivere came again to the King, and told him what he saw. 'Alas,' +said the King, 'help me hence, for I dread me I have tarried over long.' +Then Sir Bedivere took the King upon his back, and so went with him to +that water side. And when they were at the water side, even fast by the +bank hoved a little barge, with many fair ladies in it, and among them +all was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and all they wept and +shrieked when they saw King Arthur. 'Now, put me into the barge,' said +the King: and so they did softly. And there received him three queens +with great mourning, and so they set him down, and in one of their laps +King Arthur laid his head; and then that queen said; 'Ah, dear brother, +why have ye tarried so long from me? Alas, this wound on your head hath +caught overmuch cold.' And so then they rowed from the land; and Sir +Bedivere beheld ail those ladies go from him. Then Sir Bedivere cried; +'Ah, my Lord Arthur, what shall become of me now ye so from me, and leave +me here alone among mine enemies?' 'Comfort thyself,' said the King:, +'and do as well as thou mayest, for in me is no trust for to trust in. +For I will into the vale of Avilion, to heal me of my grievous wound. +And if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul.' But ever the +queens and the ladies wept and shrieked, that it was pity to hear. And, +as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and +wailed, and so took the forest, and so he went all that night. . . . . ." + +It is interesting to note how the poet suggests here and there the +phrasing of his original, but even more interesting to note his +amplifications. It may be doubted whether Tennyson has here surpassed +his original. For its touching simplicity he has substituted a dignified +grandeur, and has involved plain statements in gorgeous rhetoric, as in +his passage upon the efficacy of prayer. The unadorned original had said +only "pray for my soul." + +198. THREE QUEENS WITH CROWNS OF GOLD. "That one was King Arthur's +sister, Morgan le Fay; the other was the Queen of Northgales (Wales); the +third was the Lady of the lake." _Malory_. + +215-216. DASH'D WITH DROPS--OF ONSET. Words are sometimes poetical from +their precision, and sometimes, as here, they suggest without definite +reference. The meaning is "dashed with drops of blood" from the onset or +encounter. + +2t6-220. Arthur is again described in _The Last Tournament_. + + That victor of the Pagan throned in hall, + His hair, a sun that rayed from off a brow + Like hillsnow high in heaven, the steel-blue eyes, + The golden beard that cloth'd his lips with light. + +228. MY FOREHEAD AND MY EYES. Compare the note to line 132. Here the +specific terms are used according to the epical manner instead of the +general term "face." + +232-233. Compare the Gospel of _Matthew_ ii. 11. + +240-242. These often-quoted lines have been already referred to above. +Their very intellectuality is alien to the spirit of the original. In +Tennyson's conception they afford the central meaning of the poem, and +also of the completed _Idylls_. We must bow to the will of God who +brings all things in their due season. Good customs too deeply rooted +are like clear waters grown stagnant. + +254-255. FOR SO--GOD. The idea that the earth is bound by a gold chain +to heaven is comparatively common in literature from Homer downwards. +Archdeacon Hare has a passage in his sermon on _Self-Sacrifice_ which +doubtless was familiar to Tennyson: "This is the golden chain of love, +whereby the whole creation is bound to the throne of the Creator." + +257-258. IF INDEED I GO--DOUBT. There is no reason to suppose that these +lines indicate Tennyson's personal misgivings on the subject of +immortality. + +259. THE ISLAND VALLEY OF AVILION. Mr. Rhys in his _Studies in the +Arthurian Legend_ combats the old idea that Avalon (Avilion) meant the +"Island of Apples" (Welsh aval, apple). The name implies the Island of +King Avalon, a Celtic divinity, who presided among the dead. + +The valley of Avalon was supposed to be near Glastonbury, in +Somersetshire, where Joseph of Arimathea first landed with the Holy Grail. + +67 ff. There is an evident symbolical meaning in this dream. Indeed +Tennyson always appears to use dreams for purposes of symbol. The lines +are an application of the expression; "The old order changeth," etc. The +parson's lamentation expressed in line 18, "Upon the general decay of +faith," is also directly answered by the assertion that the modern Arthur +will arise in modern times. There is a certain grotesqueness in the +likening of King Arthur to "a modern gentleman of stateliest port." But +Tennyson never wanders far from conditions of his own time. As Mr. +Stopford Brooke writes; "Arthur, as the modern gentleman, as the modern +ruler of men, such a ruler as one of our Indian heroes on the frontier, +is the main thing in Tennyson's mind, and his conception of such a man +contains his ethical lesson to his countrymen." + + + +THE BROOK + +Published in 1855 in the volume, _Maud and other Poems_. _The Brook_ is +one of the most successful of Tennyson's idylls, and is in no degree, as +the earlier poem _Dora_ was, a Wordsworthian imitation. The brook +itself, which bickers in and out of the story as in its native valley, +was not the Somersby brook, which does not now "to join the brimming +river," but pours into the sea. The graylings and other details are +imaginary. A literary source has been suggested (see Dr. Sykes' note) in +Goethe's poem, _Das Baechlein_, which begins: + + klar, and clear, + sinn; and think; + du hin? goest thou? +Du Bachlein, silberhell und Thou little brook, silver bright Du eilst +vorueber immerdar, Thou hastenest ever onward, Am Ufer steh' ich, +sinn' und I stand on the brink, think Wo kommst du her? Wo gehst +Whence comest thou? Where + +The Brook replies: + + Schoss, dark rocks, + Moss'. and moss. +Ich komm' aus dunkler Felsen I come from the bosom of the Mein Lauf +geht ueber Blum' und My course goes over flowers + +The charm of the poem lies in its delicate characterization, in its tone +of pensive memory suffused with cheerfulness, and especially in the song +of the brook, about which the action revolves. Twenty years have wrought +many changes in the human lives of the story, but the brook flows on +forever, and Darnley bridge still spans the brimming river, and shows for +only change a richer growth of ivy. + +6. HOW MONEY BREEDS, i.e. by producing interest at loan. + +8. THE THING THAT--IS. The poet's function is thus described by +Shakespeare: + + As imagination bodies forth + The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen + Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing + A local habitation and a name. + --_Midsummer Night's Dream_, V., 1. + +17. HALF-ENGLISH NEILGHERRY AIR. The Neilgherry Hills are in Madras. +The climate resembles somewhat that of England. + +37. MORE IVY, i.e. than twenty years ago. + +46. WILLOW WEED AND MALLOW. These are marsh plants. + +93-95. NOT ILLITERATE--DEED. Katie was not without reading; but she was +not of those who dabble in sentimental novels (the source of imaginary +tears), and saturate themselves with unctuous charities; and whose powers +to act are sapped by their excess of feeling. + +105. UNCLAIM'D. As having nothing to do with her. Katie resented the +implication in the question of line 100. She therefore disdained to +answer it. Messrs. Rowe and Webb hold that line 100 is a hint that the +speaker, Lawrence Aylmer, was responsible for James's fit of jealousy. + +l25f. Note the art with which the old man's garrulousness is expressed. +The cautious precision of lines 151-152 is particularly apt. + +176. NETTED SUNBEAM. The sunlight reflected like a net-work on the +bottom. The ripples on the surface would have this effect. + +189. ARNO. A river in Italy which flows past Florence. + +189-190. DOME OF BRUNELLESCHI. Brunelleschi (Broo-nei-les'-ke) was an +Italian architect (1377-1444), who completed the cathedral of Santa Maria +in Florence. Its dome is of great size and impressiveness. + +194. BY--SEAS. Tennyson was fond of quoting this line as one of his +roost successful individual lines. Its rhythm is indeed sonorous. + +195-196. AND HOLD--APRIL AUTUMNS. Objection has been taken to the +somewhat pedantic precision of these lines. See, however, the reference +on pp. lxxii.-lxxvii. to Tennyson's employment of science in poetry. + +The fact is familiar, of course, that in the Antipodes the seasons are +the reverse of ours. + +203. BRIONY RINGS. Formed by the tendrils of the plant. + + + +IN MEMORIAM + +The poem, _In Memoriam_, in memory of Arthur Henry Hallam, was published +in 1850, at first anonymously, but the authorship was not long in doubt. + +Arthur Henry Hallam, the son of Henry Hallam, the historian, was born in +1811. He entered Eton in 1822, and remained there until 1827, when he +went to Cambridge. There he met Alfred Tennyson, and the two young men +formed a friendship for one another, broken only by Hallam's early death. +In 1832, he graduated from Cambridge, became engaged to Emily Tennyson, +the sister of Alfred, and entered on the study of law. In 1833, he had a +severe illness and after his recovery was taken by his father for a tour +on the Continent, in the hope of restoring his health. Sir Francis +Hastings Doyle tells the story of his death: "A severe bout of influenza +weakened him, and whilst he was travelling abroad for change of air, and +to recover his strength, one of his usual attacks apparently returned +upon him without warning, whilst he was still unfitted to resist it; so +that when his poor father came back from a walk through the streets of +Vienna, he was lying dead on the sofa where he had been left to take a +short rest. Mr. Hallam sat down to write his letters, and it was only by +slow and imperceptible degrees that a certain anxiety, in consequence of +Arthur's stillness and silence, dawned upon his mind; he drew near to +ascertain why he had not moved nor spoken, and found that all was over." +The body was brought back to England and buried in Clevedon Church, on +the banks of the Severn. + +The effect upon Tennyson of the death of Arthur Hallam was overwhelming. +For a time it "blotted out all joy from his life and made him long for +death, in spite of his feeling that he was in some measure a help and +comfort to his sister." Under the influence of this great sorrow he +wrote _The Two Voices_, _Ulysses_, "_Break, Break, Break_," and began +that exquisite series of lyric poems, afterwards joined together in the +_In Memoriam_. His friendship for Hallam remained throughout life with +him as one of his most precious possessions. + +The poems in the text are selected from the _In Memoriam_, and have a +more or less close connection with each other. It is better, however, to +regard each poem as a separate poem, without any attempt to place it in +its relation to the _In Memoriam_ as a whole. + +The best annotated edition of _In Memoriam_ is that by A. C. Bradley +(Macmillan). Other useful editions are edited by Wallace (Macmillan), +and by Robinson (Cambridge Press). Elizabeth B. Chapman's _Companion to +In Memoriam_ (Macmillan), contains the best analysis of the poem. + + +XXVII + +"The very memory of such an affection as he had cherished for Hallam is +an inspiration. Keen and acute as the sense of loss may be, it purifies +rather than destroys the influence of a hallowed love--its effect is to +idealize and sanctify. This general truth is enforced by several +illustrations."--_Henry E. Shepherd_. + +2. NOBLE RAGE. Fierce love of freedom. + +6. HIS LICENSE. "Lives without law, because untroubled by the promptings +of a higher nature." + +6. FIELD OF TIME. The term of his natural life. + +12. WANT-BEGOTTEN REST. Hallam, Lord Tennyson interprets: "Rest--the +result of some deficiency or narrowness." + +16. NEVER TO HAVE LOVED. Life is enriched by the mere act of having +loved. + + +LXIV + +"Still brooding on all the possible relations of his old friend to the +life and the love that he has left, the poet now compares him to some +genius of lowly birth, who should leave his obscure home to rise to the +highest office of state, and should sometimes in the midst of his +greatness, remember, as in a dream, the dear scenes of old, and it may +be, the humble villager who was his chosen playmate."--Elizabeth R. +Chapman. + +1. DOST THOU, ETC. This section was composed by Tennyson when he was +walking up and down the Strand and Fleet Street in London. + +5. INVIDIOUS BAR. Obstacle to success. Invidious is used in the sense +of "offensive." + +7. CIRCUMSTANCE. Adverse circumstances. + +9. BY FORCE. Strength of character and will. + +10. GOLDEN KEYS. Keys of office of state. + +11. MOULD. As a minister of the Crown. + +14. CROWNING SLOPE. A felicitous phrase. If it were a precipice it +could not be climbed. + +15. PILLAR. That on which they build, and which supports them. + +21. NARROWER. When he was still in his "low estate." + +28. REMEMBER ME. Bradley notes that "the pathetic effect is increased by +the fact that in the two preceding stanzas we are not told that his old +friend does remember him." + + +LXXXIII + +"With the dawning of the New Year, fresh hope quickens in the poet's +breast. He would fain hasten its laggard footsteps, longing for the +flowers of spring and for the glory of summer. Can trouble live in the +spring--the season of life and love and music? Let the spring come, and +he will sing 'for Arthur a sweeter, richer requiem.'"--_Elizabeth R. +Chapman_. + +1. NORTHERN SHORE. Robertson explains: "The north being the last to be +included in the widening circle of lengthening daylight as it readies +further and further down from the equator." + +2. NEW-YEAR. The natural, not the calendar year. The re-awakening of +life in nature. + +5. CLOUDED NOONS. From the noons, which are still clouded. + +6. PROPER. Own. + +9. SPIRE. Flowering spikes. + +10. SPEEDWELL. "The Germander Speedwell is a slender, wiry plant, whose +stem sometimes creeps along the surface of the ground before it grows +upwards. The flowers have four small petals of the brightest blue, and +within the flower at the foot of the petals is a small white circle, with +a little white eye looking up. Two stamens with crimson heads rise from +this white circle, and in the very centre of the flower there is a tiny +green seed-vessel, with a spike coming out of the top."--_C. B. Smith_. + +12. LABURNUMS. + + "And all the gold from each laburnum chain + Drops to the grass." --_To Mary Boyle_. + + +LXXXVI + +"I can open my being also to the reviving influences of Nature--as on a +certain evening, balmy and glorious after the rain, when the breeze +seemed as if it might breathe new life, and waft me across the seas away +from the land of doubt and death to some far off sphere of more than +earthly peace,"--_Arthur W. Robinson_. + +1. SWEET AFTER SHOWERS, ETC. This poem was written at Barmouth. + +1. AMBROSIAL. Ambrosia was the food of the immortal gods. The wind was +from the west and was "divinely reviving." + +4. BREATHING BARE. Making the horizon bare of clouds. + +5. RAPT. Violent motion is not implied. + +6. DEWY-TASSEL'D. From the showers. + +7. HORNED FLOOD. Between two promontaries. + +9. SIGH. "Impart as by a breath or sigh." + +10. NEW LIFE. Due to the new friendship. + +11. DOUBT AND DEATH. These have up to this time haunted him. + +13. FROM BELT, ETC. Tennyson explains: "The west wind rolling to the +Eastern seas till it meets the evening star." + +16. WHISPER "PEACE." Stopford Brooke says of this poem: "Each verse is +linked like bell to bell in a chime to the verse before it, swelling as +they go from thought to thought, and finally rising from the landscape of +earth to the landscape of infinite space. Can anything be more +impassioned and yet more solemn? It has the swiftness of youth and the +nobleness of manhood's sacred joy." + + +CI + +"In the garden, looking round on tree and shrub and flower and brook--all +the friends of many years--a fresh pang comes with the sight of each. +All these will be unwatched, unloved, uncared for; till, perhaps, they +find a home in a stranger's heart, growing dear to him and his, while the +memory fades of those who love them now."--_Elizabeth R. Chapman_. + +10. THE BROOK. The brook at Somersby flowed past the bottom of the +parsonage grounds. It is constantly mentioned in Tennyson's poems. +Hallam Tennyson says that the charm and beauty of the brook haunted his +father through life. + +11. LESSER WAIN. Ursa Minor, or the Little Bear; a small constellation +containing the pole star. Wain means "wagon," another name for the +constellation. + +14. HERN AND CRAKE. Heron and corn-crake. + +21. LABOURER. He does not move away, but stays always there. + +22. GLEBE. Soil. + + +CXIV + +"The world now is all for the spread of knowledge: and I should be the +last to demur. But knowledge has an ardent impetuosity, which in its +present immature condition may be fraught with many perils. Knowledge by +itself, so far from being of necessity heavenly, may even become devilish +in its selfish violence. Everything depends upon its being held in due +subordination to those higher elements in our nature which go to make +wisdom. Would that the ideal aim of our education were to produce such +as he was, in whom every increase in intellectual ability was accompanied +by the growth of some finer grace of the spirit."--_Arthur W. Robinson_. + +4. HER PILLARS. "Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her +seven pillars."--_Proverbs_ 9: 1. + +5. A FIRE. The fire of inspiration. + +6. SETS. Hard, like a flint. + +6. FORWARD. Bold, without reverence. + +7. CHANCE. Of success. + +8. TO DESIRE. Governed by passion, without restraint or self-control. + +10. FEAR OF DEATH. Knowledge does not know what is beyond the grave and +therefore fears death. + +11. CUT FROM LOVE, ETC. Wallace says: "Knowledge, in its own nature, can +have no love, for love is not of the intellect, and knowledge is all of +the intellect: so, too, she can have no faith, for faith in its nature is +a confession of ignorance, since she believes what she cannot know." + +12. PALLAS. Pallas Athene, the goddess of wisdom among the Greeks, was +fabled to have sprung, fully grown and fully armed, from the brain of +Zeus. Wild Pallas means "false wisdom." + +17. A HIGHER HAND. Wisdom. + +23. THY GOAL. The goal of wisdom. + +28. REVERENCE, ETC. In faith and love. + + +CXV + +"Another spring has come, and all its lovely sights and sounds wake +answering chords in the poet's breast. The life within him stirs and +quickens in responsive harmony with the world without. But his regret, +too, blossoms like a flower,"--_Elizabeth R. Chapman_. + +2. BURGEONS. Buds. + +2. MAZE OF QUICK. Quick-set tangle. + +3. SQUARES. Fields. + +8. SIGHTLESS. Invisible. + +14. GREENING. Shining out on the sea. + + + +CXVIII + +"Do not believe that man's soul is like mere matter, or has been +produced, like lower forms in the earlier ages of the earth, only to +perish. Believe that he is destined both to advance to something higher +on the earth, and also to develop in some higher place elsewhere, if he +repeats the process of evolution by subduing the lower within him to the +uses of the higher, whether in peaceful growth or through painful +struggle."--_A. C. Bradley_. + +2. HIS YOUTH. "Limited time, however old or long, must be always young, +compared with the hoary age of eternity." + +4. EARTH AND LIME. Flesh and bone. + +10. SEEMING-RANDOM. But in reality shaped and guided. + +11. CYCLIC STORMS. "Periodic cataclysms," or "storms lasting for whole +ages." + +16. TYPE. Exemplify. + +18. ATTRIBUTES OF WOE. Trial and suffering are the crown of man in this +world. + +20. IDLE. Useless. + +22. HEATED HOT. A reference to the tempering of steel. + +26. REELING FAUN. Human beings with horns, a tail, and goats' feet. +They were more than half-brutish in their nature. + +28. THE APE AND THE TIGER. A reference to the theory of evolution, +although Darwin's _Origin of Species_ did not appear until 1859. + + +CXXIII + +"Again the mysterious play of mighty cosmic forces arrests his thought. +Everything in the material universe is changing, transient; all is in a +state of flux, of motion, of perpetual disintegration or re-integration. +But there is one thing fixed and abiding--that which we call spirit--and +amid all uncertainty, one truth is certain--that to a loving human soul a +parting which shall be eternal is unthinkable."--_Elizabeth R. Chapman_. + +4. STILLNESS. Hallam Tennyson remarks that balloonists say that even in +a storm the middle sea is noiseless. It is the ship that is the cause of +the howling of the wind and the lashing of the storm. + +4. CENTRAL SEA. Far from land. + +8. LIKE CLOUDS, ETC. 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