The Early Poems of Alfred Lord Tennyson Part 42

"And there he died: and when I heard my name Sigh'd forth with life, I would not brook my fear [22]

Of the other: with a worm I balk'd his fame.

What else was left? look here!"

(With that she tore her robe apart, and half The polish'd argent of her breast to sight Laid bare. Thereto she pointed with a laugh, Showing the aspick's bite.)

"I died a Queen. The Roman soldier found [23]

Me lying dead, my crown about my brows, A name for ever!--lying robed and crown'd, Worthy a Roman spouse."

Her warbling voice, a lyre of widest range Struck [24] by all pa.s.sion, did fall down and glance From tone to tone, and glided thro' all change Of liveliest utterance.

When she made pause I knew not for delight; Because with sudden motion from the ground She raised her piercing orbs, and fill'd with light The interval of sound.

Still with their fires Love tipt his keenest darts; As once they drew into two burning rings All beams of Love, melting the mighty hearts Of captains and of kings.

Slowly my sense undazzled. Then I heard A noise of some one coming thro' the lawn, And singing clearer than the crested bird, That claps his wings at dawn.

"The torrent brooks of hallow'd Israel From craggy hollows pouring, late and soon, Sound all night long, in falling thro' the dell, Far-heard beneath the moon.

"The balmy moon of blessed Israel Floods all the deep-blue gloom with beams divine: All night the splinter'd crags that wall the dell With spires of silver shine."

As one that museth where broad sunshine laves The lawn by some cathedral, thro' the door Hearing the holy organ rolling waves Of sound on roof and floor,

Within, and anthem sung, is charm'd and tied To where he stands,--so stood I, when that flow Of music left the lips of her that died To save her father's vow;

The daughter of the warrior Gileadite, [25]

A maiden pure; as when she went along From Mizpeh's tower'd gate with welcome light, With timbrel and with song.

My words leapt forth: "Heaven heads the count of crimes With that wild oath". She render'd answer high: "Not so, nor once alone; a thousand times I would be born and die.

"Single I grew, like some green plant, whose root Creeps to the garden water-pipes beneath, Feeding the flower; but ere my flower to fruit Changed, I was ripe for death.

"My G.o.d, my land, my father--these did move Me from my bliss of life, that Nature gave, Lower'd softly with a threefold cord of love Down to a silent grave.

"And I went mourning, 'No fair Hebrew boy Shall smile away my maiden blame among The Hebrew mothers'--emptied of all joy, Leaving the dance and song,

"Leaving the olive-gardens far below, Leaving the promise of my bridal bower, The valleys of grape-loaded vines that glow Beneath the battled tower

"The light white cloud swam over us. Anon We heard the lion roaring from his den; [26]

We saw the large white stars rise one by one, Or, from the darken'd glen,

"Saw G.o.d divide the night with flying flame, And thunder on the everlasting hills.

I heard Him, for He spake, and grief became A solemn scorn of ills.

"When the next moon was roll'd into the sky, Strength came to me that equall'd my desire.

How beautiful a thing it was to die For G.o.d and for my sire!

"It comforts me in this one thought to dwell, That I subdued me to my father's will; Because the kiss he gave me, ere I fell, Sweetens the spirit still.

"Moreover it is written that my race Hew'd Ammon, hip and thigh, from Aroer [27]

On Arnon unto Minneth." Here her face Glow'd, as I look'd at her.

She lock'd her lips: she left me where I stood: "Glory to G.o.d," she sang, and past afar, Thridding the sombre boskage of the wood, Toward the morning-star.

Losing her carol I stood pensively, As one that from a cas.e.m.e.nt leans his head, When midnight bells cease ringing suddenly, And the old year is dead.

"Alas! alas!" a low voice, full of care, Murmur'd beside me: "Turn and look on me: I am that Rosamond, whom men call fair, If what I was I be.

"Would I had been some maiden coa.r.s.e and poor!

O me, that I should ever see the light!

Those dragon eyes of anger'd Eleanor Do haunt me, day and night."

She ceased in tears, fallen from hope and trust: To whom the Egyptian: "O, you tamely died!

You should have clung to Fulvia's waist, and thrust The dagger thro' her side".

With that sharp sound the white dawn's creeping beams, Stol'n to my brain, dissolved the mystery Of folded sleep. The captain of my dreams Ruled in the eastern sky.

Morn broaden'd on the borders of the dark, Ere I saw her, who clasp'd in her last trance Her murder'd father's head, or Joan of Arc, [28]

A light of ancient France;

Or her, who knew that Love can vanquish Death, Who kneeling, with one arm about her king, Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath, [29]

Sweet as new buds in Spring.

No memory labours longer from the deep Gold-mines of thought to lift the hidden ore That glimpses, moving up, than I from sleep To gather and tell o'er

Each little sound and sight. With what dull pain Compa.s.s'd, how eagerly I sought to strike Into that wondrous track of dreams again!

But no two dreams are like.

As when a soul laments, which hath been blest, Desiring what is mingled with past years, In yearnings that can never be exprest By sighs or groans or tears;

Because all words, tho' cull'd [30] with choicest art, Failing to give the bitter of the sweet, Wither beneath the palate, and the heart Faints, faded by its heat.

[Footnote 1: Suggested apparently by Denham, 'Verses on Cowley's Death':--

Old Chaucer, like the morning star To us discovers Day from far.]

[Footnote 2: Here follow in 1833 two stanzas excised in 1842:--

In every land I thought that, more or less, The stronger sterner nature overbore The softer, uncontrolled by gentleness And selfish evermore:

And whether there were any means whereby, In some far aftertime, the gentler mind Might rea.s.sume its just and full degree Of rule among mankind.]

[Footnote 3: 1833. Screamed.]

[Footnote 4: The Latin 'testudo' formed of the shields of soldiers held over their heads.]