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you best,

Among the numerable-innumerable

Here, in this roaring moon of daffodil Sun, sun, and sun, thro' finite-infinite space And crocus, to put forth and brave the In finite-infinite Time our mortal veil

blast. And shatter'd phantom of that infinite One, For some, descending from the sacred Who made thee unconceivably Thyself

peak Out of His whole World-self and all in Of hoar high-templed Faith, have leagued all

again Live thou ! and of the grain and husk, the Their lot with ours to rove the world grape

about; And ivy-berry, choose; and still depart And some are wilder comrades, sworn to. From death to death thro’ life and life, and

seek find

If any golden harbor be for men
Nearer and ever nearer Him, who wrought In seas of Death and supless gulfs of
Not matter, nor the finite-infinite,

Doubt.
But this main-miracle, that thou art thou,
With power on thine own act and on the
world.

TO THE REV. W. H. BROOK

FIELD
THE HUMAN CRY

First printed in Lord Lyttleton's Memoir

(1869) prefixed to Brookfield's ‘Sermons,' and HALLOWED be Thy name

Halleluiah !

afterwards in the · Ballads' volume. Brook. Infinite Ideality!

field was one of the poet's college friends. Immeasurable Reality! Infinite Personality !

Brooks, for they callid you so that knew Hallowed be Thy name

Halleluiah !

Old Brooks, who loved so well to mouth

my rhymes, We feel we are nothing - for all is Thou How oft we two have heard Saint Mary's and in Thee;

chimes ! We feel we are something that also has How oft the Cantab supper, host and guest, come from Thee;

Would echo helpless laughter to your jest ! We know we are nothing but Thou wilt How oft with him we paced that walk of help us to be.

limes, Hallowed be Thy name Halleluiah! Him, the lost light of those dawn-golden

times,

Who loved you well! Now both are gone SONNETS

to rest. You man of humorous-melancholy mark, Dead of some inward agony

is it so ? PREFATORY SONNET

Our kindlier, trustier Jaques, past away!

I cannot laud this life, it looks so dark. TO 'THE NINETEENTH CENTURY'

Σκιάς όναρ - dream of a shadow, go

God bless you! I shall join you in a day. Contributed to the first number of The Nineteenth Century,' March, 1877, and afterwards included in the Ballads' volume.

MONTENEGRO Those that of late had fleeted far and fast To touch all shores, now leaving to the First printed in “ The Nineteenth Century,' skill

March, 1877. Of others their old craft seaworthy still, Have charter'd this; where, mindful of the They rose to where their sovran eagle past,

sails, Our true co-mates regather round the mast; They kept their faith, their freedom, on Of diverse tongue, but with a common will the height,

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TRANSLATIONS, ETC.

BATTLE OF BRUNANBURH

Chaste, frugal, savage, arm'd by day and

night Against the Turk; whose inroad nowhere

scales Their headlong passes, but his footstep

fails, And red with blood the Crescent reels

from fight before their dauntless hundreds, in prone

flight By thousands down the crags and thro' the

vales. O smallest among peoples ! rough rock

throne Of Freedom ! warriors beating back the Of Turkish Islam for five hundred years, Great Tsernogora! never since thine own Black ridges drew the cloud and brake the

storm Has breathed a race of mightier mountain

A translation from the Anglo-Saxon, first printed in the ‘Ballads ’ volume, with the following prefatory note :

Constantinus, King of the Scots, after having sworn allegiance to Athelstan, allied himself with the Danes of Ireland under Anlaf, and invading England, was defeated by Athelstan and his brother Edmund with great slaughter at Brunanburh in the year 937.'

I

swarm

eers.

1 ATHELSTAN King,
Lord among Earls,
Bracelet-bestower and
Baron of Barons,
He with his brother,
Edmund Atheling,
Gaining a lifelong
Glory in battle,
Slew with the sword-edge
There by Brunanburh,
Brake the shield-wall,
Hew'd the linden-wood, 2

Hack'd the battle-shield,
Sons of Edward with hammer'd brands,

TO VICTOR HUGO

II

Theirs was a greatness
Got from their grandsires
Theirs that so often in

Strife with their enemies
Struck for their hoards and their hearths

and their homes.

III

Contributed to “The Nineteenth Century: for June, 1877. It was written after a visit of Lionel Tennyson to the French poet, who afterwards thanked the author for the sonnet in a letter printed in the 'Memoir' (vol. ii. p. 218). VICTOR in Drama, Victor in Romance, Cloud - weaver of phantasmal hopes and

fears, French of the French, and Lord of human

tears; Child-lover; Bard whose fame-lit laurels

glance Darkening the wreaths of all that would

advance, Beyond our strait, their claim to be thy

peers; Weird Titan by thy winter weight of years As yet unbroken, stormy voice of France ! Who dost not love our England so they

say; I know not — England, France, all man to

be Will make one people ere man's race be And I, desiring that diviner day, Yield thee full thanks for thy full cour

tesy To younger England in the boy my son.

Bow'd the spoiler,
Bent the Scotsman,
Fell the ship-crews

Doom'd to the death.
All the field with blood of the fighters

Flow'd, from when first the great
Sun-star of morning-tide,
Lamp of the Lord God

Lord everlasting,
Glode over earth till the glorious creature

Sank to his setting. I have more or less availed myself of my son's prose translation of this poem in the * Contemporary Review' (November, 1876).

2 Shields of lindenwood.

run:

The welcome of war-knives
IV

Ho that was reft of his
There lay many a man

Folk and his friends that had
Marr'd by the javelin,

Fallen in conflict,
Men of the Northland

Leaving his son too
Shot over shield.

Lost in the carnage,
There was the Scotsman

Mangled to morsels,
Weary of war.

A youngster in wari

XI
We the West-Saxons,

Slender reason had
Long as the daylight

He to be glad of
Lasted, in companies

The clash of the war-glaive -
Troubled the track of the host that we

Traitor and trickster hated;

And spurner of treaties Grimly with swords that were sharp from

He nor had Avlaf the grindstone,

With armies so broken
Fiercely we hack'd at the flyers before us.

A reason for bragging
That they had the better

In perils of battle
Mighty the Mercian,

On places of slaughter
Hard was his hand-play,

The struggle of standards,
Sparing not any of

The rush of the javelins,
Those that with Anlaf,

The crash of the charges,
Warriors over the

The wielding of weapons -
Weltering waters

The play that they play'd with
Borne in the bark's-bosom,

The children of Edward.
Drew to this island
Doom'd to the death.

Then with their nail'd prows

Parted the Norsemen, a Five young kings put asleep by the sword

Blood-redden'd relic of stroke,

Javelins over Seven strong earls of the army of Anlaf The jarring breaker, the deep-sea billow, Fell on the war-field, numberless numbers, Shaping their way toward Dyflen ? again, Shipmen and Scotsmen.

Shamed in their souls.

VI

XII

VII

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Gave to the garbaging war-hawk to gorge

it, and
That gray beast, the wolf of the weald.

XV
Never had huger
Slaughter of heroes
Slain by the sword-edge –
Such as old writers
Have writ of in histories -
Hapt in this isle, since
Up from the East hither
Saxon and Angle from
Over the broad billow
Broke into Britain with
Haughty war-workers who
Harried the Welshman, when
Earls that were lured by the
Hunger of glory gat
Hold of the land.

For like the clear voice when a trumpet

shrills, Blown by the fierce beleaguerers of a town, So rang the clear voice of Æakidês; And when the brazen cry of Æakidês Was heard among the Trojans, all their

hearts Were troubled, and the full-maned horses

whirl'd The chariots backward, knowing griefs at

hand; And sheer-astounded were the charioteers To see the dread, unweariable fire That always o'er the great Peleion's head Burn'd, for the bright-eyed goddess made

it burn. Thrice from the dyke he sent his mighty

shout, Thrice backward reel'd the Trojans and

allies; And there and then twelve of their noblest

died Among their spears and chariots.

ACHILLES OVER THE TRENCH

(ILIAD, XVIII. 202]

TO PRINCESS FREDERICA ON

HER MARRIAGE

First printed in 'The Nineteenth Century' for August, 1877.

Written on the marriage of Princess Freder. ica of Hanover to Baron Alphonse de Pawel. Rammingen at Windsor, April 24, 1880 ; and included in the Ballads' volume.

The Princess was the daughter of George V. of Hanover, who died June 12, 1878. O you that were eyes and light to the

King till he past away From the darkness of life – He saw not his daughter – he blest her:

the blind King sees you to-day, He blesses the wife.

So saying, light-foot Iris pass'd away. Then rose Achilles dear to Zeus; and

round The warrior's puissant shoulders Pallas

flung Her fringed ægis, and around his head The glorious goddess wreath'd a golden

cloud, And from it lighted an all-shining flame. As when a smoke from a city goes to heaven Far off from out an island girt by foes, All day the men contend in grievous war From their own city, but with set of sun Their fires flame thickly, and aloft the glare Flies streaming, if perchance the neighbors

round May see, and sail to help them in the war; So from his head the splendor went to heaFrom wall to dyke he stept, he stood, nor

join'd The Achæans — honoring his wise mother's

word There standing, shouted, and Pallas far Callid; and a boundless panic shook the foe.

SIR JOHN FRANKLIN

ON THE CENOTAPH IN WESTMINSTER

ABBEY

ven.

Written in 1877, and included in the ‘Bal. lads' volume.

Not here ! the white North has thy bones;

and thon, Heroic sailor-soul, Art passing on thine happier voyage now

Toward no earthly pole.

away

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This volume was published in 1885, with the following dedication :

TO MY GOOD FRIEND

ROBERT BROWNING

WHOSE GENIUS AND GENIALITY
WILL BEST APPRECIATE WHAT MAY BE BEST
AND MAKE MOST ALLOWANCE FOR WHAT MAY BE WORST

THIS VOLUME

IS
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

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your diet

Mr. Arthur Waugh (* Alfred Lord Tennyson,' 2d ed., London, 1893), remarks : 'It is charac. teristic of a certain shyness in Tennyson that he never told Browning of the dedication, and it was not until the book was in the hands of the public that the latter learned the circumstance from a friend.'

The poems that follow, as far as the lines' To H. P. H. Princess Beatrice,' were included in the Tiresias' volume. The Idyll, “ Balin and Balan,' also appeared in this volume for the first time. TO E. FITZGERALD

Or on your head their rosy feet,
As if they knew

spares

Whatever moved in that full sheet This introduction to the poem that follows

Let down to Peter at his prayers; was apparently written on or about March 31, 1883, when Fitzgerald was seventy-five years

Who live on milk and meal and grass; of age. He was rather more than a year older And once for ten long weeks I tried than Tennyson, who was born August 6, 1809.

Your table of Pythagoras, He died June 14, 1883, before the volume con- And seem'd at first a thing enskied,' taining the poem was published.

As Shakespeare has it, airy-light

To Aoat above the ways of men, Old Fitz, who from your suburb grange, Then fell from that half-spiritual height Where once I tarried for a while,

Chillid, till I tasted flesh again Glance at the wheeling orb of change, One night when earth was winter-black, And greet it with a kindly smile;

And all the heavens flash'd in frost; Whom yet I see as there you sit

And on me, half-asleep, came back Beneath your sheltering garden-tree, That wholesome heat the blood had lost, And watch your doves about you

flit, And set me climbing icy capes And plant on shoulder, hand, and knee, And glaciers, over which there rollid

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