wmm:
POEMS
POEMS
ALFRED TENNYSON,
POET LAUREATE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. L
A NEW EDITION.
BOSTON:
TICK NOR AND FIELDS,
MDCCCLXII.
It is my wish that with Messrs. Ticknoe And Fields
alone the right of publishing my books in America should
ALFRED TENNYSON.
ISliis Edition contains "In Memoriam " and "Maud," with
all the additional Poems
CONTENTS
OF
VOLUME THE FIRST.
Page
GIARIBEL ..... o .3
LILIAN d
ISABEL 7
MARIANA 10
TO 15
MADELINE 17
SONG. THE OWL 20
SECOND SON&. TO THE SAME 21
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS 22
ODE TO MEMORY 30
SUNG 36
ADELINE 38
A CHARACTER 42
VI CONTENTS.
THE FOET 4i
THE poet's mind 48
THE DTINS SWAN 50
A DIRGE 53
LOVE AND DEATH 56
THE BALLAD OF ORIANA 57
CIRCUMSTANCE . . • 62
THE MERMAN 63
THE MERMAID 65
SONNET TO J. M. K 68
THE LADY OF SHALOTT 72
MARIANA IN THE SOUTH 80
ELEANORE 85
THE miller's DAUGHTER 92
FATIMA 103
CENONE 106
THE SISTERS 119
TO 122
THE PALACE OF ART 123
LADY CLARA VERE DE VERB 139
THE MAT queen: , 143
NEW tear's ETE 147
CONCLUSION 152
CONTENTS. VU
Page
THE L0T0S-KATEI13 158
A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN 167
MARGARET 186
THE BLACKBIRD 190
THE DEATH OF THE OLD TEAR 192
TO J. S 195
" YOU ASK ME WHY, THOUGH ILL AT EASE " 200
"OF OLD SAT FREEDOM ON THE HEIGHTS" 202
" LOVE THOU THY LAND WITH LOVE FAR-BROUGHT " . . . . 204
THE GOOSE 209
THE EPIC 213
MORTE D'ARTHUR 215
THE gardener's DAUGHTER 228
DORA 240
AUDLEY COURT 247
WALKING TO THE MAIL 251
ST. SIMEON STYLITES 256
THE SEA-FAIRIES 265
THE DESERTED HOUSE 267
EDWIN MORRIS; OR, THE LAKE 269
TO , AFTER READING A LIFE AND LETTERS 276
TO E. L., ON HIS TRAVELS IN GREECE 278
" COME NOT WHEN I AM DEAD " 280
THE EAGLE ; A FRAGMENT 280
IN MEMORIAJI 281
TO THE QUEEN.
Revered, beloved, — you that hold
A nobler ofiBce upon earth
Than arms, or power of brain, or birth,
Could give the warrior kings of old,
Victoria, — since your Royal grace
To one of less desert allows
This laurel greener ft'ora the brows
Of him that uttered nothing base ;
And should your greatness, and the care
That yokes with empire, yield you time
To make demand of modern rhyme.
If aught of ancient worth be there ;
Then — while a sweeter music wakes,
And through wild March the throstle calls,
Where, all about your palace-walls.
The sun-lit almond-blossom shakes —
; TO THE QUEEN.
Take, Madam, this poor book of song ;
For, though the faults were thick as dust
In vacant chambers, I could trust
Tour kindness. May you rule us long.
And leave us rulers of your blood
As noble till the latest day !
May children of our children say,
" She wrought her people lasting good ;
" Her court was pure ; her life serene ;
God gave her peace ; her land reposed ;
A thousand claims to reverence closed
In her as Mother, Wife and Queen ;
" And statesmen at her council met
Who knew the seasons, when to take
Occasion by the hand, and make
The bounds of freedom wider yet,
By shaping some august decree.
Which kept her throne unshaken stiU,
Broad-based upon her people's will.
And compassed by the inviolate sea."
March, 1851.
POEMS.
CLARIBEL.
A MELODY.
Where Claribel low-lieth
The breezes pause and die,
Letting the rose-leaves fall :
But the solemn oak-tree sigheth,
Thick-leaved, ambrosial,
With an ancient melody
Of an inward agony,
Where Claribel low-lieth.
At eve the beetle boometh
Athwart the thicket lone :
At noon the wild bee hummeth
About the mossed headstone :
CLAHIBEL.
At midnight the moon cometh
And looketh down alone.
Her song the lintwhite swelleth,
The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth,
The fledgling throstle lispeth,
The slumbrous wave outwelleth,
The babbling runnel crispeth,
The hollow grot replieth
Where Claribel low-lieth.
LILIAN
Airy, fairy Lilian,
Flitting, fairy Lilian,
When I ask her if she love me,
Claps her tiny hands above me,
Laughing all she can ;
She '11 not tell me if she love me,
Cruel little Lilian.
When my passion seeks
Pleasance in love-sighs,
She, looking through and through me
Thoroughly to undo me.
Smiling, never speaks :
So innocent-arch, so cunning-simple,
From beneath her gathered wimple
Glancing with black-beaded eyes,
Till the lightning laughters dimple
The baby-roses in her cheeks ;
Then away she flies.
Prithee weep, May Lilian !
Gayety without eclipse
Wearieth me. May Lilian :
Through my very heart it thrilleth
When from crimson-threadec^ lips
Silver-treble laughter trilleth :
Prithee weep, May Lilian.
Praying all I can,
If prayers will not hush thee.
Airy Lilian,
Like a rose-leaf I will crush thee,
Fairy Lilian.
ISABEL.
Ei(ES not down-dropt nor over-bright, but fed
With the clear-pointed flame of chastity,
Clear without heat, undying, tended by
Pure vestal thoughts in the translucent fane
Of her still spirit ; locks not wide dispread,
Madonna-wise on either side her head ;
Sweet lips whereon perpetually did reign
The summer calm of golden charity,
Were fixed shadows of thy fixed mood.
Revered Isabel, the crown and head.
The stately flower of female fortitude,
Of perfect wifehood and pure lowlihead.
The intuitive decision of a bright
And thorough-edged intellect to part
Error from crime ; a prudence to withhold ;
The laws of marriage charactered in gold
Upon the blanched tablets of her heart ;
A love still burning upward, giving light
To read those laws ; an accent very low
In blandishment, but a most silver flow
Of subtle-paced counsel in distress,
Right to the heart and brain, though undescried,
Winning its way with extreme gentleness
Through all the outworks of suspicious pride ;
A courage to endure and to obey ;
A hate of gossip parlance, and of sway,
Crowned Isabel, through all her placid life,
The queen of marriage, a most perfect wife.
The mellowed reflex of a winter moon ;
A clear stream flowing with a muddy one.
Till in its onward current it absorbs
With swifter movement and in purer light
The vexed eddies of its wayward brother :
A leaning and upbearing parasite.
Clothing the stem, which else had fallen quite,
With clustered flower-bells and ambrosial orbs
Of rich fruit-bunches leaning on each other —
Shadow forth thee : — the world hath not another
(Though all her fairest forms are types of thee,
And thou of God in thy great charity)
Of such a finished chastened punty.
MARIANA.
" Mariana in the moated grange." — Measure for Measure.
With blackest moss the flower-plots
Were thickly crusted, one and all :
The rusted nails fell from the knots
That held the peach to the garden-wall.
The broken sheds looked sad and strange ;
Unlifted was the clinking latch ;
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch
Upon the lonely moated grange.
She only said, " My life is dreary.
He Cometh not," she said ;
She said, " I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead ! "
MARUNA. 11
Her tears fell with the dews at even ;
Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;
She could not look on the sweet heaven,
Either at morn or eventide.
After the flitting of the bats,
"Wlien thickest dark did trance the sky,
She drew her casement-curtain by,
And glanced athwart the glooming flats.
She only said, " The night is dreary,
He cometh not," she said ;
She said, " I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead ! "
III.
Upon the middle of the night.
Waking she heard the night-fowl crow :
The cock sung out an hour ere light :
From the dark fen the oxen's low-
Came to her : without hope of change,
In sleep she seemed to walk forlorn.
Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn
About the lonely moated grange.
12
She only said, " The day is dreary
He Cometh not," she said ;
She said, " I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead ! "
rv.
About a stone-cast from the wall
A sluice with blackened waters slept,
And o'er it many, round and small.
The clustered marish-mosses crept.
Hard by a poplar shook ahvay,
All silver-green with gnarled bark :
For leagues no other tree did mark
The level waste, the rounding gray.
She only said, " My life is dreary,
He Cometh not," she said ;
She said, " I am aweary, aweary,
1 would that I were dead ' "
V.
A nd ever when the moon was low,
And the shrill winds were up and away,
In the white curtain, to and fro,
She saw the gusty shadow sway.
MARIAN.
But when the moon was very low,
And wild winds bound within their cell,
The shadow of the poplar fell
Upon her bed, across her brow.
She only said, " The night is drearj^
He Cometh not," she said ;
She said, " I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead ! "
VI.
All day within the dreamy house
The doors upon their hinges creaked ;
The blue fly sung i' the pane ; the mouse
Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked,
Or from the crevice peered about.
Old faces glimmered through the doors,
Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices called her from without.
She only said, " My life is dreary,
He Cometh not," she said ;
She said, " 1 am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead I "
13
14
vn.
The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,
The slow clock ticking, and the sound
Which to the wooing wind aloof
The poplar, made, did all confound
Her sense ; but most she loathed the hour
When the thick-moted sunbeam lay
Athwart the chambers, and the day
Was sloping toward his western bower.
Then, said she, " I am very dreary,
He will not come," she said ;
She wept, " I am awearj"^, aweary,
O God ! that I were dead ! "
TO
Clear-headed friend, whose joyful scom,
Edged with sharp laughter, cuts atwain
The knots that tangle human creeds,
The wounding cords that bind and strain
The heart until it bleeds,
Ray-fringed eyelids of the morn
Roof not a glance so keen as thine :
If aught of prophecy be mine,
Thou wilt not live in vain.
Low-cowering shall the Sophist sit ;
Falsehood shall bare her plaited brow :
Fair-fronted Truth shall droop not now
With shrilling shafts of subtle wit.
Nor martyr-flames nor trenchant swords
Can do away that ancient lie :
A gentler death shall Falsehood die.
Shot throuofh and through with cunning words
16
Weak Truth, a-leaning on her crutch,
Wan, wasted Truth, in her utmost need.
Thy kingly intellect shall feed,
Until she be an athlete bold,
And weary with a finger's touch
Those writhed limbs of lightning speed ;
Like that strange angel which of old,
Until the breaking of the light,
Wrestled with wandering Israel,
Past Yabbok brook the lingering night,
And heaven's mazed signs stood still
In the dim tract of Penuel.
MADELINE.
Thou art not steeped in golden languors,
No tranced summer calm is thine,
Ever varying Madeline.
Through light and shadow thou dost rangej
Sudden glances, sweet and strange,
Delicious spites, and darling angers.
And airy fonns of flitting change.
Smiling, frowning, evermore,
Thou are perfect in love-lore.
Revealings deep and clear are thine
Of wealthy smiles : but who may know
Whether smile or frown be fleeter ?
Whether smile or frown be sweeter,
Who may know ?
18 MADELINE.
Frowiis perfect-sweet along the brow
Light-glooming over eyes divine,
Like little clouds sun-fringed, are thine,
Ever varying Madeline.
Thy smile and frouii are not aloof
From one another,
Each to each is dearest brother ;
Hues of the silken sheeny woof
Momently shot into each other.
All the mystery is thine ;
Smiling, fro^\^^ing, evermore,
Thou art perfect in love-lore,
Ever varying Madeline.
A subtle, sudden flame.
By veering passion fanned.
About thee breaks and dances ;
When I would kiss thy hand,
The flush of angered shame
O'erflows thy calmer glances,
And o'er black brows drops down
A sudden-curved frown :
But when I turn away,
Thou, willing me to stay,
MADELINE. 19
Wooest not, nor vainly wranglest ,
But, looking fixedly the while,
All my bounding heart entanglest
In a golden-netted smile ;
Then in madness and in bliss,
If my lips should dare to kiss
Thy taper fingers amorously,
Again thou blushest angerly;
And o'er black brows drops down
A sudden-curved frown.
SOI^G. — THE OWL.
When cats run home and light is come,
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring- sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round ;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.
When merry milkmaids click the latch,
And rarely smells the new-mown liay,
And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch
Twice or thrice his roundelay.
Twice or thrice his roundelay ;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.
SECOND SONG,
TO THE SAME.
Thy tiiwhits are lulled, I wot,
Thy tuwhoos of yesternight,
Which upon the dark afloat,
So. took echo with delight,
So took echo with delight.
That her voice, untuneful gro^^m
Wears all day a fainter tone.
I would mock thy chaunt anew ;
But I cannot mimic it ;
Not a whit of thy tuwhoo.
Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,
Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,
With a lengthened loud halloo,
Tuwhoo. tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo-o-o.
RECOLLECTIONS
THE ARABIAN NIGHTS.
When the breeze of a joyful da^^Ti blew free
In the silken sail of infancy,
The tide of time flowed back with me,
The forward-flowing tide of time ;
And many a sheeny summer-mom,
AdoAvn the Tigris I was borne,
By Bagdat's shrines of fretted gold.
High-walled gardens green and old ;
True Mussulman was I and sworn,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS. 23
n.
Anight my shallop, rustling through
The low and bloomed foliage, drove
The fragrant, glistening deeps, and clove
The citron-shadows in the blue :
By garden porches on the brim,
The costly doors flung open wide,
Gold glittering through lamplight dim,
And broidered sofas on each side :
In sooth it was a goodly time.
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
III.
Often, where clear-stemmed platans guard
The outlet, did I turn away
The boat-head do^^'^l a broad canal
From the main river sluiced, where all
The sloping of the moon-lit sward
Was damask-work, and deep inlay
Of braided blooms unmown, which crept
Adown to where the waters slept.
A goodly place, a goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime
Of sfood Haroun Alraschid.
24 RECOLLECTIONS OF
IV.
A motion from the river won
Ridged the smooth level, bearing on
My shallop through the star-strown calm,
Until another night in night
I entered, from the clearer light,
Imbowered vaults of pillared palm.
Imprisoning sweets, which, as they clomb
Heavenward, were stayed beneath the ilome
Of hollow boughs. — A goodly time.
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
Still onward ; and the clear canal
Is rounded to as clear a lake.
From the green rivage many a fall
Of diamond rillets musical.
Through little crystal arches low
Down from the central fountain's flow
Fallen silver-chiming, seemed to shake
The sparkling flints beneath the prow.
A goodly place, a goodly time,
For it was m the golden prime
Of jrood Haroun Alraschid.
THE ARABIAN NIGHTS. 25
VI.
Above through many a bowery turn
A walk with vary-colored shells
Wandered engrained. On either side
All round about the fragrant marge
From fluted vase, and brazen urn,
In order, eastern flowers large
Some dropping low their crimson bells
Half-closed, and others studded wide
With disks and tiars, fed the time
With odor in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
VII.
Far off", and where the lemon-grove
In closest coverture upsprung.
The living airs of middle night
Died round the bulbul as he sung
Not he : but something which possessed
The darkness of the world, delight.
Life, anguish, death, immortal love,
Ceasing not, mingled, unrepressed,
Apart from place, withholding time,
But flattering the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
VOL. I. 3
*26 RECOLLECTIONS OF
Black the garden-bowers and grots
Sliunbered: the solemn palms were ranged
Above, unwooed of summer wind :
A sudden splendor from behind
Flushed all the leaves with rich gold-gre>^n
And, flowing rapidly between
Their interspaces, counterchanged
The level lake with diamond-plots
Of dark and bright. A lovely tm^e,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
Dark-blue the deep sphere overhead,
Distinct with vivid stars inlaid,
Grew darker from that under-flame :
So. leaping lightly from the boat,
With silver anchor left afloat.
In mai^vel whence that glory came
Upon me, as in sleep I sank
In cool soft turf upon the bank.
Entranced with that place and time.
So worthy of the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
THE ARABIAN NIGHTS. 27
X.
Thence through the garden I was drawn -
A realm of pleasance, many a mound,
And many a shadow-chequered laAvn
Full of the city's stilly sound,
And deep myrrh-thickets blowing round
The stately cedar, tamarisks,
Thick rosaries of scented thorn.
Tall orient shrubs, and obelisks
Graven with emblems of the time,
In honor of the golden prime
Of srood Haroun Alraschid.
With dazed vision unawares
From the long alley's lattice shade
Emerged, I came upon the great
Pavilion of the Caliphat.
Right to the carven cedarn doors,
Flung inward over spangled floors,
Broad-based flights of marble stairs
Ran up with golden balustrade,
After the fashion of the time.
And humor of the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
28 EECOLLECTIONS OF
xn.
The fourscore windows all alij^ht
As with the quintessence of flame,
A million tapers flaring bright
From twisted silvers looked to shame
The hollow-vaulted dark, and streamed
Upon the mooned domes aloof
In inmost Bagdat, till there seemed
Hundreds of crescents on the roof
Of night new risen, that marvellc is time.
To celebrate the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
XIII.
Then stole I up, and trancedly
Gazed on the Persian girl alone,
Serene with argent-lidded eyes,
Amorous, and lashes like to rays
Of darkness, and a brow of pearl
Tressed with redolent ebony,
In many a dark delicious curl.
Flowing beneath her rose-hued zone '
The sweetest lady of the time,
Well worthy of the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid. ,
THE ARABIAN NIGHTS. 29
XIV.
Six columns, three on either side,
Pure silver, underpropt a rich
Throne of the massive ore, from which
Down-drooped, in many a floating fold,
Engarlanded and diapered
With inwrought flowers, a cloth of gold.
Thereon, his deep eye laughter-stirred
With merriment of kingly pride.
Sole star of all that place and time,
I saw him — in his golden prime,
The good Haroun Albasciiid !
ODE TO MEMORY.
Thou who stealest fire,
From the fountains of the past,
To glorify the present ; oh, haste,
Visit my low desire !
Strengthen me, enlighten me !
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
n.
Come not as thou camest of late,
Flinging the gloom of yesternight
On the white day ; but robed in softened light
Of orient state.
Whilome thou camest with the morning mist,
Even as a maid, whose stately brow
The dew-impearled winds of dawn have kissed,
When she, as thou,
ODE TO MEMORY. 31
Stays on her floating locks the lovely freight
Of overflowing blooms, and earliest shoots
Of orient green, giving safe pledge of fruits,
Which in wintertide shall star
The black earth with brilliance rare.
Whilome thou earnest with the morning nnst,
And with the evening cloud,
Showering thy gleaned wealth into my open- breast,
(Those peerless flowers which in the rudest wind
Never grow sere.
When rooted in the garden of the mind,
Because they are the earliest of the year.)
Nor was the night thy shroud.
In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest
Thou leddest by the hand thine infant Hope.
The eddying of her garments caught from thee
The light of thy great presence ; and the cope
Of the half-attained futurity,
Though deep, not fathomless.
Was cloven with the million stars that tremble
O'er the deep mind of dauntless hifancy.
Small thought was there of life's distress;
32 ODK TO MEMORY.
For sure she deemed no mist of earth could dull
Those spirit-thrilling eyes so keen and beautiful .•
Sure she was nigher to heaven's spheres,
Listening the lordly music flowing from
The illimitable years.
strengthen me, enlighten me !
1 faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
rv.
Come forth, I charge thee, arise,
Thou of the many tongues, the myriad eyes !
Thou comest not with shows of flaunting vines
Unto mine inner eye,
Divinest memory !
Tliou wert not nursed by the waterfall
Which ever sounds and shines
A pillar of white light upon the wall
Of purple cliffs, aloof descried :
Come from the woods that belt the gray hill-sidi',
The seven elms, the poplars four.
That stand beside my father's door.
And chiefly from the brook that loves
To purl o'er matted, cress and ribbed sand.
ODE TO MEMORY. 33
Or dimple in the dark of rushy coves,
Drawnng into his nan'ow earthen um,
In every elbow and turn,
The filtered tribute of the rough woodland.
! hither lead thy feet !
Pour round mine ears the livelong bleat
Of the thick-fleeced sheep from wattled folds,
Upon the ridged wolds,
When the first matin-song hath wakened loud
Over the dark dewy earth forlorn,
What time the amber morn
Forth gushes from beneath a low-hung cloud.
V.
Large dowries doth the raptured eye
To the young spirit present
When first she is wed ;
And like a bride of old
In triumph led.
With music and sweet showers
Of festal flowers.
Unto the dwelling she must sway.
Well hast thou done, great artist Memory,
In setting round thy first experiment
34 ODE TO MEMORY.
With royal frame-work of wrought gold ;
Needs must thou dearly love thy first essay,
And foremost in thy various gallery
Place it, where sweetest sunlight falls
Upon the storied walls ;
For the discovery
And newness of thine art so pleased thee,
That all which thou hast drauTi of fairest
Or boldest since, but liglitly weighs
With thee unto the love thou bearest
The first-bom of thy genius. Artist-like,
Ever retiring thou dost gaze
On the prime labor of thine early days :
No matter what the sketch might be ;
Whether the high field on the bushles.s Tike,
Or even a sand-built ' Ige
Of heaped hills that mound the sea.
Overblown with murmurs harsh,
Or even a lowly cottage whence we see
Stretched wide and wild the waste enormous marsh,
Where from the frequent bridge,
Like emblems of infinity,
The trenched waters run from sky to sky;
Or a garden bowered close
With plaited alleys of the trailing rose,
ODE TO MEMORY.
Loiig allej's falling down to twilight grots,
Or opening upon level plots
Of crowned lilies, standing near
Purple-spiked lavender :
Whether in after liie retired
From brawling stoniis,
From weary wind,
With youthful fancy reinspired,
We may hold converse with all forms
Of the many-sided mind,
And those whom passion had not blinded,
Subtle-thoughted, myriad-minded,
My friend, with you to live alone,
Methinks were better than' to own
A crown, a sceptre, and a throne.
strengthen me, enlighten me !
1 faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
35
SONG.
A SPIRIT haunts the year's last hours,
Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers :
To himself he talks ;
For at eventide, listening earnestly,
At his work you may hear him sob and sigh
In the walks ;
Earthward he boweth the heavy stalks
Of the mouldering flowers :
Heavily hangs the broad sunflower
Over its grave i' the earth so chiJly;
Heavily hangs the hollyhock,
Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.
n.
The air is damp, and hushed, and close,
As a sick man's room when he taketh reposf
An hour before death ;
SONG. 31
My ^ery heart faints and my whole soul grieves
At the moist rich smell of the rotting leaves,
And the breath
Of the fading edges of box beneath,
And the year's last rose.
Heavily hangs the broad sunflower
Over its grave i' the earth so chilly •
, Heavily hang^ the hollyhock.
Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.
ADELI^'E.
Mystery of mysteries,
Faintly smiling Adeline,
Scarce of earth nor all divine,
Nor unhappy, nor at rest,
But beyond expression fair,
With thy floating flaxen hair;
Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes
Take the heart from out my breast.
Wherefore those dim looks of thine,
Sliadowy, dreaming Adeline ?
Whence that aery bloom of thine.
Like a lily which the sun
Looks through in his sad decline,
And s. rose-bush leans upon,