Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay; In the dimmest Northeast distance dawned Gibraltar grand and gray; "Here and here did England help me : how can I help England?"-say, Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray, While Jove's planet1 rises yonder, silent over Africa. (1845) SHAKESPEARE MATTHEW ARNOLD Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask.-Thou smilest, and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill That to the stars uncrowns his majesty, Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place, Spares but the cloudy border of his base To the foil'd searching of mortality; And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, Self-schooled, self-scanned, self-honored, self-secure, ΙΟ The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me; Yes, that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, 31 Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. THE SPLENDOR FALLS ALFRED TENNYSON ["This song," said Tennyson, "was written after hearing the echoes at Killarney in 1848. When I was there I heard a bugle blown beneath the 'Eagle's Nest,' and eight distinct echoes."] The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, O love, they die in yon rich sky, II They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. (1850) IN MEMORIAM A. H. H. ALFRED TENNYSON [The full title would be "In Memory of Arthur Henry Hallam," Tennyson's college friend and betrothed brother-in-law, who died in 1833. The whole work consists of 131 lyrics, with prologue and epilogue, embodying not merely the expression of the poet's love and grief for his friend, but of the whole problem of the significance of human life, sorrow, and death. The first of the following selections consists of the opening stanzas of the prologue, dealing with the contrast between knowledge and faith-a favorite theme of Tennyson's. The second is a complete lyric on the same theme. The third is the famous lyric for New Year's Eve, expressing the poet's hope for the future of the race. The fourth is a notable example of Tennyson's interest in the new science; in it he interprets spiritually the teachings of geology and biology respecting the development of the earth and of man.] Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove; CVI Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring out the grief that saps the mind, To shape and use. Arise and fly The reeling faun, the sensual feast; Move upward, working out the beast, And let the ape and tiger die. (1850) ODE ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON ALFRED TENNYSON [Tennyson published this poem on the day of the funeral of the "Iron Duke," November 18, 1852. It will be noticed that the ode follows the course of the funeral procession from the moment of its starting from Somerset House to that of the burial in St. Paul's Cathedral. At the opening of the 6th strophe, Lord Nelson, already buried in St. Paul's, is supposed to speak as the procession enters the building, and to be answered by the poet, with a recapitulation of Wellington's military glories. Lines 160-169 are a characteristic expression of Tennyson's political views-distrustful of both "crowns" and "crowds."] CXVIII Contemplate all this work of Time, But trust that those we call the dead 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; I Bury the Great Duke With an empire's lamentation; Let us bury the Great Duke To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation; Mourning when their leaders fall, I If he develop, as the physical creation has, always in the direction of something higher. 2 Or if he make of his sufferings a crown of glory, still advancing. 3 faun. A creature half bestial, half human,here standing for man in a low state of moral development. 19 Mourn, for to us he seems the last, Remembering all his greatness in the past. No more in soldier fashion will he greet With lifted hand the gazer in the street. O friends, our chief state-oracle is mute! Mourn for the man of long-enduring blood, The statesman-warrior, moderate, resolute, Whole in himself, a common good. In his simplicity sublime. 30 O good gray head which all men knew, O voice from which their omens all men drew, O iron nerve to true occasion true, O fallen at length that tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew! 40 Such was he whom we deplore. seen no more. V All is over and done: Render thanks to the Giver, England, for thy son. 1 World-victor's. Napoleon's. Thro' the dome of the golden cross; And the volleying cannon thunder his loss; He knew their voices of old. For many a time in many a clime The tyrant, and asserts his claim Preserve a broad approach of fame, 70 |