TENNYSON, ALFRED. 



Surely, surely, slumber in more sweet than toil, 



the shore 



Than labor in t lie deep mid-ocean, wind ami \\ave 



and nar ; 

 (> re-t M. In other mariners, we will not wander 



more. 



In tliis volume Tennyson first used the peculiar 

 fiirm of stiin/.a tlinl he iil'terward made so well 

 known by " In Memoriara," in throe short poems, 

 tin- l>est of which is this, in some respects one of 



his finest : 



Von a-k me, why, tho' ill at ease, 



Within this region I subsist, 



WhoM- spirits falter in the mist, 

 And languish fur the purple seas? 



It i> the land that freemen till, 

 That sober-suited Freedom chose, 

 The laud, where girt with friends or foes 



A mail may speak the thing he will ; 



A hind of settled government, 

 A land of just and old renown, 

 Where Freedom broadens slowly down 



From precedent to precedent : 



Where faction seldom gathers head, 

 But by degrees to fulness wrought, 

 The strength of some diffusive thought 



Hath time and space to work and spread. 



Should banded unions persecute 



Opinion, and induce a time 



When single thought is civil crime, 

 And individual freedom mute ; 



Tho' Power should make from land to 

 laud 



The name of Britain trebly great 



Tho' even- channel of the State 

 Should almost choke with golden sand 



Vet waft me from the harbor-mouth, 



Wild wind ! I seek a warmer sky, 



And I will see before I die 

 The palms and temples of the South. 



In 1842 he published, in two vol- 

 umes, " English Idyls and Other 

 Poems." which at once made him 

 prefiminent among his contempo- 

 raries. Among the new pieces in 

 these volumes were: "Morte D'Ar- 

 thur," "St. Simeon Stylites," "The 

 Talking Oak." "Ulysses," "Locksley Hall," 

 "The Two Voices," and "The Day-Dream." 

 Tin- "Morte D' Arthur" was his first attempt to 

 DB6 the Arthurian legends, and in all his subse- 

 quent " Idyls of the King " there is no finer piece 

 of work. In "St. Simeon Stylites " we have a 

 specimen of the most subtle thinking that Tennv- 

 son ever put into his poetry in fact, it is his only 

 poem in which there is real subtilty of thought. 

 In Browning's hand the legend of St. Simeon's 

 pillar would have suggested a crowd of ideas 

 leading to discussions on religious, literary, iiml 

 mythological themes ; in Tennyson's poem the 

 satire and the pathos with which lie sets forth 

 the image of the poor saint, half dupe and half de- 

 ceiver, is greatly strengthened by the smoothness 

 of the unrhymed measure, and the clearness of 

 the expression : 



Altliu" I In- the basest of mankind. 

 From scalp to sole one slough and crust of sin, 

 Unfit for earth, unfit for heaven, scarce meet 

 For troops of devils, mad with blasphemy, 



I will not cease to grasp the hope I hold 



Of saintdorn, and to clamor, mourn, and sob, 



Battering the gates of heaven with storms of 



prayer, 

 Have mercy, Lord, and take away my sin. 



Let this a'vail, just, dreadful, mighty (iod, 

 This not be all in vain, that thrice ten years, 

 Thriee multiplied by superhuman pangs, 

 In hungers and in thirsts, fevers and eold, 

 In coughs, aches, stitches, ulcerous throes and 



cramps, 



A sign betwixt the meadow and the cloud, 

 Patient on this tall pillar I have borne 

 Kain, wind, frost, heat, hail, damp, and sleet, and 



snow; 



And 1 had hoped that ere this period closed 

 Thou wouldst have caught me up into thy rest, 

 Denying not these weather-beaten limbs 

 The meed of saints, the white robe and the palm. 



O Jesus, if thou wilt not save my soul, 

 Who may be saved ? who is it may be saved ? 

 Who may be made a saint, if I fail here ? 

 Show me the man hath suffered more than I. 

 For did not all thy martyrs die one death ? 

 For either they were stoned, or crucified, 



ALDWOKTH HODSK, WHERE TENKT8ON DIED. 



Or burn'd in fire, or boiled in oil, or sawn 

 In twain beneath the ribs ; but I die here 

 To-day, and whole years long, a life of death. 

 Bear witness, if I could have found a way 

 (And heedfully I sifted all my thought) 

 More slowly-painful to subdue this home 

 Of sin, my flesh, which I despise and hate, 

 I had not stinted practice, O my God. 



And they say then that I work'd miracles, 

 \V hereof my fame js loud amongst mankind. 

 Cured lameness, palsies, cancers. Thou, O God, 

 Knowest alone whether this was or no. 

 Have mercy, mercy ; cover all m\ sin. 



Bethink thee, Lord, while thon and all the saints 

 Enjoy themselves in heaven, and men on earth 

 House in the shade of comfortable roofs. 

 Sit with their wives by tires, eat wholesome food, 

 And wear warm clothes, and even beasts have 



stalls. 



I, 'tween the spring and downfall of the lisrht, 

 Bow down one thousand and two hundred times, 

 To Christ, the Virgin Mother, aud the Saints. 



