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And then rose up, and with him all his guests
And then some other question'd if she came
"Take my free gift, my cousin, for your wife; And were it only for the giver's sake, And tho' she seem so like the one you lost, Yet cast her not away so suddenly, Lest there be none left here to bring her back: I leave this land forever.” Here he ceased.
But Julian, sitting by her, answer'd all :
Then taking his dear lady by one hand, And bearing on one arm the noble babe, He slowly brought them both to Lionel. And there the widower husband and dead wife Rushed each at each with a cry, that rather seem d For some new death than for a life renew'd; At this the very babe began to wail ; At once they turned, and caught and brought him in To their charmed circle, and, half killing him With kisses, round him closed and claspt again. But Lionel, when at last he freed himself From wife and child, and lifted up a face All over glowing with the sun of life, And love, and boundless thanks — the sight of this So frighted our good friend, that turning to me And saying, “It is over: let us go" — There were our horses ready at the doors We bade them no farewell, but mounting these He past forever from his native land ; And I with him, my Julian, back to mine.
“Now all be dumb, and promise all of you Not to break in on what I say by word Or whisper, while I show you all my heart." And then began the story of his love As here to-day, but not so wordily The passionate moment would not suffer that Past thro' his visions to the burial; thence Down to this last strange hour in his own hall ;
PRINTED EXCLUSIVELY IN THIS EDITION.
As those which starred the night o' the elder worl: ?
Or is the rumor of thy Timbuctoo
A dream as frail as those of ancient time?"
A curve of whitening, flashing, ebbing light! I stood upon the Mountain which o'erlooks
A rustling of white wings ! the bright descent The narrow seas, whose rapid interval
Of a young Seraph! and he stood beside me Parts Afric from green Europe, when the Sun There on the ridge, and looked into my face Had fall'n below th' Atlantic, and above
With his unutterable, shining orbs, The silent heavens were blench'd with faery light, So that with hasty motion I did veil Uncertain whether faery light or cloud,
My vision with both hands, and saw before me Flowing Southward, and the chasms of deep, deep Such colored spots as dance athwart the eyes blue
of those that gaze upon the noonday Sun. Slumber'd unfathomable, and the stars
Girt with a zone of flashing gold beneath Were flooded over with clear glory and pale. His breast, and compassed round about his brow I gazed upon the sheeny coast beyond,
With triple arch of everchanging bows, There where the Giant of old Time infix'd
And circled with the glory of living light The limits of his prowess, pillars high
And alternation of all hues, he stood. Long time erased from earth: even as the Sea “O child of man, why muse you here alone When weary of wild inroad buildeth up
Upon the Mountain, on the dreams of old Huge mounds whereby to stay his yeasty waves. Which filled the earth with passing loveliness, Aud much I mused on legends quaint and old Which flung strange music on the howling winds, Which whilome won the hearts of all on earth And odors rapt from remote Paradise ! Toward their brightness, ev'n as flame draws air; Thy sense is clogged with dull mortality: But had their being in the heart of man
Open thine eyes and see." As air is th' life of flame: and thou wert then
I looked, but not A center'd glory-circled memory,
Upon his face, for it was wonderful Divinest Atalantis, whom the waves
With its exceeding brightness, and the light Have buried deep, and thou of later name,
Of the great Angel Mind which looked from out Imperial Eldorado, roof'd with gold:
The starry glowing of his restless eyes.
With supernatural excitation bound
Upon the outward verge and bound alone
Of full beatitude. Each failing sense, At midnight, in the lone Acropolis,
As with a momentary flash of light, Before the awful genius of the place
Grew thrillingly distinct and keen. I saw Kneels the pale Priestess in deep faith, the while The smallest grain that dappled the dark earth, Above her head the weak lamp dips and winks The indistinctest atom in deep air, Unto the fearful summoning without:
The Moon's white cities, and the opal width
Of her small glowing lakes, her silver heights
Of her black hollows. The clear galaxy
Shorn of its hoary lustre, wonderful,
And harmony of planet-girded suus
A maze of piercing, trackless, thrilling thoughts, Flowing between the clear and polished stems, Involving and embracing each with each, And ever circling round their emerald cones Rapid as fire, inextricably linked, In coronals and glories, such as gird
Expanding momently with every sight The unfading foreheads of the Saints in Heaven? And sound which struck the palpitating sense, For nothing visible, they say, had birth
The issue of strong impulse, hurried through In that blest ground, but it was played about The riven rapt brain ; as when in some large lake With its peculiar glory. Then I raised
From pressure of descendant crags, which lapse My voice and cried, “Wide Afric, doth thy Sun Disjointed, crumbling from their parent slope Lighten, thy hills enfold a city as fair
At slender interval, the level calm * A Poem which obtained the Chancellor's Medal at the Cambridge Is ridged with restless and increasing spheres Commencement, MDCCCXXIX. By A. TENNYSON, of Trinity Col
Which break upon each other, each th' effect lege.
Of separate impulse, but more fleet and strong
Than its precursor, till the eye in vain
My eyes with irresistible sweet tears, Amid the wild unrest of swimming shade
In accents of majestic melody, Dappled with hollow and alternate rise
Like a swoln river's gushings in still night Of interpenetrated arc, would scan
Mingled with floating music, thus he spake: Definite round.
** There is no mightier Spirit than I to sway I know not if I shape
The heart of man; and teach him to attain These things with accurate similitude
By shadowing forth the Unattainable ; From visible objects, for but dimly now,
And step by step to scale that mighty stair Less vivid than a half-forgotten dream,
Whose landing-place is wrapt about with clouds The memory of that mental excellence
Of glory of heaven.* With earliest light of Spring, Comes o'er me, and it may be I entwine
And in the glow of sallow Summertide, The indecision of my present mind
And in red Autumn when the winds are wild With its past clearness, yet it seems to me
With gambols, and when full-voiced Winter roofs As even then the torrent of quick thought
The headland with inviolate white snow, Absorbed me from the nature of itself
I play about his heart a thousand ways, With its own fleetness. Where is he, that borne Visit his eyes with visions, and his ears Adown the sloping of an arrowy stream,
With harmonies of wind and wave and wood, Could link his shalop to the fleeting edge,
- Of winds which tell of waters, and of waters And muse midway with philosophic calm
Betraying the close kisses of the wind Upon the wondrous laws which regulate
And win him unto me: and few there be The fierceness of the bounding element?
So gross of heart who have not felt and known My thoughts which long had grovelled in the slime A higher than they see: they with dim eyes Of this dull world, like dusky worms which house Behold me darkling. Lo! I have given thee Beneath unshaken waters, but at once
To understand my presence, and to feel Upon some earth-awakening day of Spring
My fullness: I have filled thy lips with power. Do pass from gloom to glory, and aloft
I have raised thee nigher to the spheres of heaven, Winnow the purple, bearing on both sides
Man's first, last home: and thon with ravished sense
The illimitable years. I am the Spirit,
All th’ intricate and labyrinthine veins
With growth of shadowing leaf and clusters rare,
Deep-rooted in the living soil of truth; of rampart upon rampart, dome on dome,
So that men's hopes and fears take refuge in Illimitable range of battlement
The fragrance of its complicated glooms, On battlement, and the Imperial height
And cool impleachéd twilights. Child of man, Of canopy o'ercanopied.
Seest thou yon river, whose translucent wave, Behind
Forth issuing from the darkness, windeth through In diamond light up spring the dazzling peaks The argent streets o' the city, imaging Of Pyramids, as far surpassing earth's
The soft inversion of her tremulous domes, As heaven than earth is fairer. Each aloft
Her gardens frequent with the stately palm, Upon his narrowed eminence bore globes
Her pagods hung with music of sweet bells, Of wheeling suns, or stars, or semblances
Her obelisks of rangéd chrysolite, Of either, showering circular abyss
Minarets and towers ? Lo! how he passeth by, of radiance. But the glory of the place
And gulphs himself in sands, as not enduring Stood out a pillared front of burnished gold, To carry through the world thos waves, which bore Interminably high, if gold it were
The reflex of my city in their depths. Or metal more ethereal, and beneath
Oh city: oh latest throne! where I was raised Two doors of blinding brilliance, where no gaze To be a mystery of loveliness Might rest, stood open, and the eye could scan, Unto all eyes, the time is well-nigh come Through length of porch and valve and boundless When I must render up this glorious home hall,
To keen Discovery; soon yon brilliant towers Part of a throne of fiery flame, wherefrom
Shall darken with the waving of her wand; The snowy skirting of a garment hung,
Darken and shrink and shiver into huts, And glimpse of multitude of multitudes
Black specks amid a waste of dreary sand,
Low-built, mud-walled, barbarian settlements.
Thus far the Spirit : Came down upon my eyelids, and I fell.
Then parted heaven-ward on the wing: and I With ministering hand he raised me up:
Was left alone on Calpe, and the moon Then with a mournful and ineffable smile,
Had fallen from the night, and all was dark! Which but to look on for a moment filled
* “ Be ye perfect, even as your father in heaven is perfect."
ELEGIACS.—THE “HOW” AND THE “WHY.”
POEMS PUBLISHED IN THE EDITION OF 1830,
AND OMITTED IN LATER EDITIONS.
The little bird pipeth “why? why?"
In the summer woods when the sun falls low, LOWFLOWING breezes are roaming the broad valley And the great bird sits on the opposite bough, dimmed in the gloming:
And stares in his face, and shouts “how? how?" Thro' the blackstemmed pines only the far river And the black owl scuds down the mellow twilight, shines.
And chants “how? how ?” the whole of the night. Creeping through blossomy rushes and bowers of roseblowing bushes,
Why the life goes when the blood is spilt? Down by the poplar tall rivulets babble and fall. What the life is? where the soul may lie ? Barketh the shepherd-dog cheerly; the grasshopper Why a church is with a steeple built: carolleth clearly ;
And a house with a chimney-pot ? Deeply the turtle coos; shrilly the owlet balloos; Who will riddle me the how and the what? Winds creep: dews fall chilly: in her first sleep Who will riddle me the what and the why?
earth breathes stilly : Over the pools in the burn watergnats murmur and Sadly the far kine loweth: the glimmering water
SUPPOSED CONFESSIONS outfloweth:
OF A SECOND-RATE SENSITIVE MIND NOT IN Twin peaks shadowed with pine slope to the dark
UNITY WITH ITSELF. hyaline. Lowthroned Hesper is stayed between the two Ou God! my God! have mercy now. peaks ; but the Naiad
I faiut, I fall. Men say that thou Throbbing in wild unrest holds him beneath in her
Didst die for me, for such as me, breast.
Patient of ill, and death, and scorn, The ancient poetess singeth that Hesperus all things And that my sin was as a thorn bringeth,
Amoug the thorns that girt thy brow, Smoothing the wearied mind: bring me my love, Wounding thy soul. - That even now, Rosalind.
In this extremest misery Thou comest morning and even; she cometh not
Of ignorance, I should require morning or even.
A sign! and if a bolt of tire
While I do pray to thee alone,
Is not my human pride brought low?
The boastings of my spirit still ?
The joy I had in my free will
All cold, and dead, and corpse-like grown ?
And what is left to me, but thou,
And faith in thee? Men pass me by :
Christians with happy countenances —
And children all seem full of thee !
And women smile with saintlike glances
Like thine own mother's when she bowed
Above thee, on that happy morn
When angels spake to men aloud,
Goodwill to me as well as all
- I one of them: my brothers they: The wheatears whisper to each other:
Brothers in Christ - a world of peace What is it they say? what do they there?
And confidence, day after day; Why two and two make four? why round is not And trust and hope till things should cease, square ?
And then one Heaven receive us all.
To hold a common scorn of death!
And at a burial to hear Whether we wake, or whether we sleep?
The creaking cords which wound and eat Whether we sleep, or whether we die?
Into my human heart, whene'er How you are you? why I am I?
Earth goes to earth, with grief, not fear, Who will riddle me the how and the why?
With hopeful grief, were passing sweet!
A grief not uninformed, and dull,
As is the blood with life, or night
The red small atoms wherewith we
SUPPOSED CONFESSIONS OF A SECOND-RATE SENSITIVE MIND.
Are built, and smile in calm, and say -
All that is pass'd into the flowers,
My Lord, if so it be thy will."
Why not believe then? Why not yet
Thrice happy state again to be
“Yet," said I, in my morn of youth, The unsunned freshness of my strength, When I went forth in quest of truth, "It is man's privilege to doubt, If so be that from doubt at length, Truth may stand forth unmoved of change, An image with profulgent brows, And perfect limbs, as from the storm Of running fires and fluid range of lawless airs at last stood out This excellence and solid form Of constant beauty. For the Ox Feeds in the herb, and sleeps, or fills The hornéd valleys all about, And hollows of the fringed hills In summerheats, with placid lows Unfearing, till his own blood flows About his hoof. And in the flocks The lamb rejoiceth in the year, And raceth freely with his fere, And answers to his mother's calls From the flowered furrow. In a time, Of which he wots not, run short pains Through his warm heart; and then, from whence He knows not, on his light there falls A shadow; and his native slope, Where he was wont to leap and climb, Floats from his sick and filmed eyes, And something in the darkness draws His forehead earthward, and he dies. Shall men live thus, in joy and hope As a young lamb, who cannot dream, Living, but that he shall live on? Shall we not look into the laws of life and death, and things that seem, And things that be, and analyze Our double nature, and compare All creeds till we have found the one, If one there be ?” Ay me! I fear All may not doubt, but every where Some must clasp Idols. Yet, my God, Whom call i Idol ? Let thy dove Shadow me over, and my sins