The Early Poems of Alfred Lord Tennyson Part 71

As these white robes are soiled and dark, To yonder shining ground; As this pale taper's earthly spark, To yonder argent round; So shows my soul before the Lamb, My spirit before Thee; So in mine earthly house I am, To that I hope to be.

Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far, Thro' all yon starlight keen, Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star, In raiment white and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors; The flashes come and go; All heaven bursts her starry floors, And strows [3] her lights below, And deepens on and up! the gates Roll back, and far within For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, [4]

To make me pure of sin. [5]

The sabbaths of Eternity, One sabbath deep and wide-- A light upon the shining sea-- The Bridegroom [6] with his bride!

[Footnote 1: In 'Keepsake': not capital in Thou.]

[Footnote 2: In 'Keepsake': On.]

[Footnote 3: In 'Keepsake': Strews.]

[Footnote 4: In 'Keepsake': not capitals in Heavenly and Bridegroom.]

[Footnote 5: In 'Keepsake': To wash me pure from sin.]

[Footnote 6: In 'Keepsake': capital in Bridegroom.]

SIR GALAHAD

Published in 1842. No alteration has been made in it since. This poem may be regarded as a prelude to 'The Holy Grail'. The character of Galahad is deduced princ.i.p.ally from the seventeenth book of the 'Morte d'Arthur'. In the twenty-second chapter of that book St. Joseph of Arimathea says to him: "Thou hast resembled me in two things in that thou hast seen the marvels of the sangreal, and in that thou has been a clean maiden".

My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure.

The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, The hard brands shiver on the steel, The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly, The horse and rider reel:

They reel, they roll in clanging lists, And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend On whom their favours fall!

For them I battle till the end, To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above, My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine: I never felt the kiss of love, Nor maiden's hand in mine.

More bounteous aspects on me beam, Me mightier transports move and thrill; So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer A virgin heart in work and will.

When down the stormy crescent goes, A light before me swims, Between dark stems the forest glows, I hear a noise of hymns: Then by some secret shrine I ride; I hear a voice, but none are there; The stalls are void, the doors are wide, The tapers burning fair.

Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth, The silver vessels sparkle clean, The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, And solemn chaunts resound between.

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark; I leap on board: no helmsman steers: I float till all is dark.

A gentle sound, an awful light!

Three angels bear the holy Grail: With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail.

Ah, blessed vision! blood of G.o.d!

My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars.

When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, The c.o.c.k crows ere the Christmas morn, The streets are dumb with snow.

The tempest crackles on the leads, And, ringing, spins from brand and mail; But o'er the dark a glory spreads, And gilds the driving hail.

I leave the plain, I climb the height; No branchy thicket shelter yields; But blessed forms in whistling storms Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

A maiden knight--to me is given Such hope, I know not fear; I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven That often meet me here.

I muse on joy that will not cease, Pure s.p.a.ces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace, Whose odours haunt my dreams; And, stricken by an angel's hand, This mortal armour that I wear, This weight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

The clouds are broken in the sky, And thro' the mountain-walls A rolling organ-harmony Swells up, and shakes and falls.

Then move the trees, the copses nod, Wings flutter, voices hover clear: "O just and faithful knight of G.o.d!

Ride on! the prize is near".

So pa.s.s I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide, Until I find the holy Grail.

EDWARD GRAY

First published in 1842 but written in or before 1840. See 'Life', i., 209. Not altered since.

Sweet Emma Moreland of yonder town Met me walking on yonder way, "And have you lost your heart?" she said; "And are you married yet, Edward Gray?"

Sweet Emma Moreland spoke to me: Bitterly weeping I turn'd away: "Sweet Emma Moreland, love no more Can touch the heart of Edward Gray.

"Ellen Adair she loved me well, Against her father's and mother's will: To-day I sat for an hour and wept, By Ellen's grave, on the windy hill.

"Shy she was, and I thought her cold; Thought her proud, and fled over the sea; Fill'd I was with folly and spite, When Ellen Adair was dying for me.

"Cruel, cruel the words I said!

Cruelly came they back to-day: 'You're too slight and fickle,' I said, 'To trouble the heart of Edward Gray'.

"There I put my face in the gra.s.s-- Whisper'd, 'Listen to my despair: I repent me of all I did: Speak a little, Ellen Adair!'

"Then I took a pencil, and wrote On the mossy stone, as I lay, 'Here lies the body of Ellen Adair; And here the heart of Edward Gray!'

"Love may come, and love may go, And fly, like a bird, from tree to tree: But I will love no more, no more, Till Ellen Adair come back to me.

"Bitterly wept I over the stone: Bitterly weeping I turn'd away; There lies the body of Ellen Adair!

And there the heart of Edward Gray!"