The Early Poems of Alfred Lord Tennyson Part 85

Argal--This very opinion is only true relatively to the flowing philosophers. (Tennyson's note.)

POEMS OF MDCCCx.x.xIII

"MINE BE THE STRENGTH OF SPIRIT..."

Reprinted without any alteration, except that Power is spelt with a small p, among the _Juvenilia_ in 1871 and onward.

Mine be the strength of spirit, full and free, Like some broad river rus.h.i.+ng down alone, With the selfsame impulse wherewith he was thrown From his loud fount upon the echoing lea:-- Which with increasing might doth forward flee By town, and tower, and hill, and cape, and isle, And in the middle of the green salt sea Keeps his blue waters fresh for many a mile.

Mine be the Power which ever to its sway Will win the wise at once, and by degrees May into uncongenial spirits flow; Even as the great gulfstream of Florida Floats far away into the Northern Seas The lavish growths of Southern Mexico.

TO--

When this poem was republished among the _Juvenilia_ in 1871 several alterations were made in it. For the first stanza was subst.i.tuted the following:--

My life is full of weary days, But good things have not kept aloof, Nor wander'd into other ways: I have not lack'd thy mild reproof, Nor golden largess of thy praise.

The second began "And now shake hands". In the fourth stanza for "sudden laughters" of the jay was subst.i.tuted the felicitous "sudden scritches,"

and the sixth and seventh stanzas were suppressed.

I

All good things have not kept aloof Nor wandered into other ways: I have not lacked thy mild reproof, Nor golden largess of thy praise.

But life is full of weary days.

II

Shake hands, my friend, across the brink Of that deep grave to which I go: Shake hands once more: I cannot sink So far--far down, but I shall know Thy voice, and answer from below.

III

When in the darkness over me The fourhanded mole shall sc.r.a.pe, Plant thou no dusky cypresstree, Nor wreathe thy cap with doleful c.r.a.pe, But pledge me in the flowing grape.

IV

And when the sappy field and wood Grow green beneath the showery gray, And rugged barks begin to bud, And through damp holts newflushed with May, Ring sudden laughters of the Jay,

V

Then let wise Nature work her will, And on my clay her darnels grow; Come only, when the days are still, And at my headstone whisper low, And tell me if the woodbines blow.

VI

If thou art blest, my mother's smile Undimmed, if bees are on the wing: Then cease, my friend, a little while, That I may hear the throstle sing His bridal song, the boast of spring.

VII

Sweet as the noise in parched plains Of bubbling wells that fret the stones, (If any sense in me remains) Thy words will be: thy cheerful tones As welcome to my crumbling bones.

BUONAPARTE

Reprinted without any alteration among 'Early Sonnets' in 1872, and unaltered since.

He thought to quell the stubborn hearts of oak, Madman!--to chain with chains, and bind with bands That island queen who sways the floods and lands From Ind to Ind, but in fair daylight woke, When from her wooden walls, lit by sure hands, With thunders and with lightnings and with smoke, Peal after peal, the British battle broke, Lulling the brine against the Coptic sands.

We taught him lowlier moods, when Elsinore Heard the war moan along the distant sea, Rocking with shatter'd spars, with sudden fires Flamed over: at Trafalgar yet once more We taught him: late he learned humility Perforce, like those whom Gideon school'd with briers.

SONNET

I

Oh, Beauty, pa.s.sing beauty! sweetest Sweet!

How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs?

I only ask to sit beside thy feet.

Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes, Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold My arms about thee--scarcely dare to speak.

And nothing seems to me so wild and bold, As with one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek.