"A third would glimmer on her neck To make the necklace shine; Another slid, a sunny fleck, From head to ancle fine.
"Then close and dark my arms I spread, And shadow"d all her rest-- Dropt dews upon her golden head, An acorn in her breast.
"But in a pet she started up, And pluck"d it out, and drew My little oakling from the cup, And flung him in the dew.
"And yet it was a graceful gift-- I felt a pang within As when I see the woodman lift His axe to slay my kin.
"I shook him down because he was The finest on the tree.
He lies beside thee on the gra.s.s.
O kiss him once for me.
"O kiss him twice and thrice for me, That have no lips to kiss, For never yet was oak on lea Shall grow so fair as this."
Step deeper yet in herb and fern, Look further thro" the chace, Spread upward till thy boughs discern The front of Sumner-place.
This fruit of thine by Love is blest, That but a moment lay Where fairer fruit of Love may rest Some happy future day.
I kiss it twice, I kiss it thrice, The warmth it thence shall win To riper life may magnetise The baby-oak within.
But thou, while kingdoms overset, Or lapse from hand to hand, Thy leaf shall never fail, nor yet Thine acorn in the land.
May never saw dismember thee, Nor wielded axe disjoint, That art the fairest-spoken tree From here to Lizard-point.
O rock upon thy towery top All throats that gurgle sweet!
All starry culmination drop Balm-dews to bathe thy feet!
All gra.s.s of silky feather grow-- And while he sinks or swells The full south-breeze around thee blow The sound of minster bells.
The fat earth feed thy branchy root, That under deeply strikes!
The northern morning o"er thee shoot High up, in silver spikes!
Nor ever lightning char thy grain, But, rolling as in sleep, Low thunders bring the mellow rain, That makes thee broad and deep!
And hear me swear a solemn oath, That only by thy side Will I to Olive plight my troth, And gain her for my bride.
And when my marriage morn may fall, She, Dryad-like, shall wear Alternate leaf and acorn-ball In wreath about her hair.
And I will work in prose and rhyme, And praise thee more in both Than bard has honour"d beech or lime, Or that Thessalian growth, [6]
In which the swarthy ringdove sat, And mystic sentence spoke; And more than England honours that, Thy famous brother-oak,
Wherein the younger Charles abode Till all the paths were dim, And far below the Roundhead rode, And humm"d a surly hymn.
[Footnote 1: Spence is a larder and b.u.t.tery. In the "Promptorium Parverum it is defined as "cellarium promptuarium".]
[Footnote 2: Cf. Burns" "G.o.dly laces," "To the Unco Righteous".]
[Footnote 3: All editions previous to 1853 have "staid".]
[Footnote 4: The phrase is Marvell"s. "Cf. To his Coy Mistress" (a favourite poem of Tennyson"s), "my vegetable loves should grow".]
[Footnote 5: 1842 to 1850. "For, ah! the Dryad-days were brief.]
[Footnote 6: A reference to the oracular oaks of Dodona which was, of course, in Epirus, but the Ancients believed, no doubt erroneously, that there was another Dodona in Thessaly. See the article "Dodona" in Smith"s "Dict. of Greek and Roman Geography".]
LOVE AND DUTY
Published first in 1842.
Whether this beautiful poem is autobiographical and has reference to the compulsory separation of Tennyson and Miss Emily Sellwood, afterwards his wife, in 1840, it is impossible for this editor to say, as Lord Tennyson in his "Life" of his father is silent on the subject.
Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts?
Or all the same as if he had not been?
Not so. Shall Error in the round of time Still father Truth? O shall the braggart shout [1]
For some blind glimpse of freedom work itself Thro" madness, hated by the wise, to law System and empire? Sin itself be found The cloudy porch oft opening on the Sun?
And only he, this wonder, dead, become Mere highway dust? or year by year alone Sit brooding in the ruins of a life, Nightmare of youth, the spectre of himself!
If this were thus, if this, indeed, were all, Better the narrow brain, the stony heart, The staring eye glazed o"er with sapless days, The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set gray life, and apathetic end.
But am I not the n.o.bler thro" thy love?
O three times less unworthy! likewise thou Art more thro" Love, and greater than thy years.
The Sun will run his...o...b..t, and the Moon Her circle. Wait, and Love himself will bring The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit Of wisdom. [2] Wait: my faith is large in Time, And that which shapes it to some perfect end.
Will some one say, then why not ill for good?
Why took ye not your pastime? To that man My work shall answer, since I knew the right And did it; for a man is not as G.o.d, But then most G.o.dlike being most a man.-- So let me think "tis well for thee and me-- Ill-fated that I am, what lot is mine Whose foresight preaches peace, my heart so slow To feel it! For how hard it seem"d to me, When eyes, love-languid thro" half-tears, would dwell One earnest, earnest moment upon mine, Then not to dare to see! when thy low voice, Faltering, would break its syllables, to keep My own full-tuned,--hold pa.s.sion in a leash, And not leap forth and fall about thy neck, And on thy bosom, (deep-desired relief!) Rain out the heavy mist of tears, that weigh"d Upon my brain, my senses, and my soul!
For love himself took part against himself To warn us off, and Duty loved of Love-- O this world"s curse--beloved but hated--came Like Death betwixt thy dear embrace and mine, And crying, "Who is this? behold thy bride,"
She push"d me from thee.
If the sense is hard To alien ears, I did not speak to these-- No, not to thee, but to thyself in me: Hard is my doom and thine: thou knowest it all.
Could Love part thus? was it not well to speak, To have spoken once? It could not but be well.
The slow sweet hours that bring us all things good, [3]
The slow sad hours that bring us all things ill, And all good things from evil, brought the night In which we sat together and alone, And to the want, that hollow"d all the heart, Gave utterance by the yearning of an eye, That burn"d upon its object thro" such tears As flow but once a life. The trance gave way To those caresses, when a hundred times In that last kiss, which never was the last, Farewell, like endless welcome, lived and died.
Then follow"d counsel, comfort and the words That make a man feel strong in speaking truth; Till now the dark was worn, and overhead The lights of sunset and of sunrise mix"d In that brief night; the summer night, that paused Among her stars to hear us; stars that hung Love-charm"d to listen: all the wheels of Time Spun round in station, but the end had come.
O then like those, who clench [4] their nerves to rush Upon their dissolution, we two rose, There-closing like an individual life-- In one blind cry of pa.s.sion and of pain, Like bitter accusation ev"n to death, Caught up the whole of love and utter"d it, And bade adieu for ever. Live--yet live-- Shall sharpest pathos blight us, knowing all Life needs for life is possible to will-- Live happy; tend thy flowers; be tended by My blessing! Should my Shadow cross thy thoughts Too sadly for their peace, remand it thou For calmer hours to Memory"s darkest hold, [5]
If not to be forgotten--not at once-- Not all forgotten. Should it cross thy dreams, O might it come like one that looks content, With quiet eyes unfaithful to the truth, And point thee forward to a distant light, Or seem to lift a burthen from thy heart And leave thee freer, till thou wake refresh"d, Then when the first low matin-chirp hath grown Full quire, and morning driv"n her plow of pearl [6]
Far furrowing into light the mounded rack, Beyond the fair green field and eastern sea.
[Footnote 1: As this pa.s.sage is a little obscure, it may not be superfluous to point out that "shout" is a substantive.]
[Footnote 2: The distinction between "knowledge" and "wisdom" is a favourite one with Tennyson. See "In Memoriam", cxiv.; "Locksley Hall", 141, and for the same distinction see Cowper, "Task", vi., 88-99.]
[Footnote 3: Suggested by Theocritus, "Id"., xv., 104-5.]