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Among the numerable-innumerable Here, in this roaring moon of daffodil
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 tc. From death to death thro' life and life, and
If any golden harbor be for men
TO THE REV. W. H. BROOK
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 call’d 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
Who loved you well! Now both are gone
Dead of some inward agony -- is it so ?
Our kindlier, trustier Jaques, past away!
I cannot laud this life, it looks so dark. TO 'THE NINETEENTH CENTURY'
Exiâs õvap - dream of a shadow, go
God bless you! I shall join you in a day.
Theirs was a greatness
Strife with their enemies
and their homes.
VICTOR in Drama, Victor in Romance, Cloud - weaver of phantasmal bopes 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
Bow'd the spoiler,
Doom'd to the death.
Flow'd, from when first the great
Sank to his setting. 1 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.
The welcome of war-knives
Ho that was reft of his
Folk and his friends that had
Fallen in conflict,
Leaving his son too
Lost in the carnage,
Mangled to morsels,
A youngster in war!
Slender reason had
He to be glad of
of the war-glaive Troubled the track of the host that we
Traitor and trickster bated;
And spurner of treaties Grimly with swords that were sharp from He nor had Aplaf the grindstone,
With armies so broken
A reason for bragging
In perils of battle
On places of slaughter
The struggle of standards,
The rush of the javelins,
The crash of the charges,
The wielding of weapons -
The play that they play'd with
The children of Edward.
Then with their nail'd prows
Parted the Norsemen, a Five young kings put asleep by the sword
Blood-redden'd relic of stroke,
Shamed in their souls.
Also the brethren,
King and Atheling,
Each in his glory,
Went to his own in his own West-SaxonFleeted his vessel to sea with the king in
Glad of the war. Saving his life on the fallow flood.
Many a carcase they left to be carrion, Also the crafty one,
Many a livid one, many a sallow-skin – Constantinus,
Left for the white-tail'd eagle to tear it, Crept to his North again,
and Hoar-headed hero!
Left for the horny-nibb'd raven to rend it,
Slender warrant had
1 Lit. 'the gathering of men.'
Gave to the garbaging war-hawk to gorge For like the clear voice when a trumpet it, and
shrills, That gray beast, the wolf of the weald. 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 Slain by the sword-edge —
Were troubled, and the full-maned horses Such as old writers
whirl'd Have writ of in histories
The chariots backward, knowing griefs at Hapt in this isle, since
hand; Up from the East hither
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 Haughty war-workers who
it burn. Harried the Welshman, when Thrice from the dyke he sent his mighty Earls that were lured by the
shout, Hunger of glory gat
Thrice backward reeld the Trojans and Hold of the land.
allies; And there and then twelve of their noblest
died ACHILLES OVER THE TRENCH Among their spears and chariots.
(ILIAD, XVIII. 202]
TO PRINCESS FREDERICA ON
First printed in ‘The Nineteenth Century' for August, 1877.
So saying, light-foot Iris pass'd away.
Achilles dear to Zeus; and
word There standing, shouted, and Pallas far
away Call’d; and a boundless panic shook the foe
SIR JOHN FRANKLIN
ON THE CENOTAPH IN WESTMINSTER
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.
This volume was published in 1885, with the following dedication :
TO MY GOOD FRIEND
WHOSE GENIUS AND GENIALITY
Mr. Arthur Waugh (* Alfred Lord Tennyson,' 2d 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
As if they knew your diet spares
Whatever moved in that full sheet This introduciion 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 float 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,
Chill’d, 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