Your doctors and your proctors, and your deans

Shall not avail you, when the Daybeam sports
New-risen o'er awaken'd Albion - No!
Nor yet your solemn organ-pipes that blow
Melodious thunders thro' your vacant courts
At morn and eve because your manner sorts
Not with this age wherefrom ye stand apart
Because the lips of little children preach
Against you, you that do profess to teach
And teach us nothing, feeding not the heart.

NO MORE

This and the two following poems were contributed to The Gem, a Literary Annual' (London, 1831).

O SAD No More! O sweet No More!
O strange No More!

By a mossed brookbank on a stone
I smelt a wild weed flower alone;
There was a ringing in my ears,

And both my eyes gushed out with tears.
Surely all pleasant things had gone before,
Low-buried fathom deep beneath with thee,
NO MORE!

ANACREONTICS

WITH roses musky-breathed,
And drooping daffodilly,
And silver-leaved lily,
And ivy darkly-wreathed,
I wove a crown before her,
For her I love so dearly,
A garland for Lenora.
With a silken cord I bound it.
Lenora, laughing clearly
A light and thrilling laughter,
About her forehead wound it,
And loved me ever after.

A FRAGMENT

WHERE is the Giant of the Sun, which stood
In the midnoon the glory of old Rhodes,
A perfect Idol with profulgent brows
Far sheening down the purple seas to those
Who sailed from Mizraim underneath the star
Named of the Dragon- and between whose
limbs

Of brassy vastness broad-blown Argosies
Drave into haven? Yet endure unscathed
Of changeful cycles the great Pyramids
Broad-based amid the fleeting sands, and sloped
Into the slumberous summer noon; but where,
Mysterious Egypt, are thine obelisks
Graven with gorgeous emblems undiscerned?
Thy placid Sphinxes brooding o'er the Nile?
Thy shadowing Idols in the colitudes,
Awful Memnonian countenances calm
Looking athwart the burning flats, far off

Seen by the high-necked camel on the verge Journeying southward? Where are thy monu

ments

Piled by the strong and sunborn Anakim
Over their crowned brethren ON and OPH?
Thy Memnon when his peaceful lips are kist
With earliest rays, that from his mother's eyes
Flow over the Arabian bay, no more

Breathes low into the charmed ears of morn
Clear melody flattering the crisped Nile
By columned Thebes. Old Memphis hath gone
down:

The Pharaohs are no more: somewhere in death
They sleep with staring eyes and gilded lips,
Wrapped round with spiced cerements in old
grots

Rock-hewn and sealed for ever.

SONNET

Contributed to 'Friendship's Offering,' an annual, 1832.

ME my own fate to lasting sorrow doometh:
Thy woes are birds of passage, transitory:
Thy spirit, circled with a living glory,
In summer still a summer joy resumeth.
Alone my hopeless melancholy gloometh,

Like a lone cypress, through the twilight hoary.

From an old garden where no flower bloometh,

One cypress on an island promontory.

But yet my lonely spirit follows thine,

As round the rolling earth night follows day: But yet thy lights on my horizon shine

Into my night, when thou art far away.

I am so dark, alas! and thou so bright,
When we two meet there 's never perfect light.

SONNET

Contributed to 'The Englishman's Magazine' for August, 1831; and reprinted in Friendship's Offering,' 1833.

CHECK every outflash, every ruder sally

Of thought and speech; speak low, and give up wholly

Thy spirit to mild-minded Melancholy; This is the place. Through yonder poplar alley

Below the blue-green river windeth slowly; But in the middle of the sombre valley The crispéd waters whisper musically,

And all the haunted place is dark and holy. The nightingale, with long and low preamble, Warbled from yonder knoll of solemn larches. And in and out the woodbine's flowery arches The summer midges wove their wanton gambol.

And all the white-stemmed pinewood slept above

When in this valley first I told my love.

Published in 'Punch,' February 28, 1846, signed Alcibiades'; and followed in the next number (March 7, 1846) by the lines entitled 'Afterthought,' afterwards included as 'Literary Squabbles' in the collected edition of 1872. See p. xv. above.

We know him, out of Shakespeare's art,
And those fine curses which he spoke;
The old Timon, with his noble heart,

That, strongly loathing, greatly broke.

So died the Old: here comes the New.
Regard him: a familiar face:

I thought we knew him: What, it's you,
The padded man- that wears the stays-

Who killed the girls and thrilled the boys
With dandy pathos when you wrote!

WHAT time I wasted youthful hours,
One of the shining winged powers,
Show'd me vast cliffs with crown of towers.

As towards the gracious light I bow'd,
They seem'd high palaces and proud,
Hid now and then with sliding cloud.

He said, 'The labor is not small;
Yet winds the pathway free to all:
Take care thou dost not fear to fall!

BRITONS, GUARD YOUR OWN

Why stay they there to guard a foreign throne?
Seamen, guard your own.

We were the best of marksmen long ago,
We won old battles with our strength, the bow.
Now practise, yeomen,

Like those bowmen,

Till your balls fly as their true shafts have flown.
Yeomen, guard your own.

His soldier-ridden Highness might incline
To take Sardinia, Belgium, or the Rhine:
Shall we stand idle,

Nor seek to bridle

1852.

RISE, Britons, rise, if manhood be not dead;
The world's last tempest darkens overhead;
The Pope has bless'd him;
The Church caress'd him;
He triumphs; maybe we shall stand alone.
Britons, guard your own.

His ruthless host is bought with plunder'd gold,
By lying priests the peasants' votes controll❜d.
All freedom vanish'd,
The true men banish'd,
He triumphs; maybe we shall stand alone.
Britons, guard your own.

Peace-lovers we sweet Peace we all desire
Peace-lovers we- - but who can trust a liar?

Peace-lovers, haters

Of shameless traitors,

We hate not France, but this man's heart of stone.

Britons, guard your own.

We hate not France, but France has lost her voice.

This man is France, the man they call her

choice.

By tricks and spying,

By craft and lying,

And murder was her freedom overthrown.

Britons, guard your own.

Make their cause your own.

Should he land here, and for one hour prevail,
There must no man go back to bear the tale:
No man to bear it

Swear it! we swear it!
Although we fight the banded world alone,
We swear to guard our own.

ADDITIONAL VERSES

To 'God Save the Queen!' written for the marriage of the Princess Royal of England with the Crown Prince of Prussia, January 25, 1858. GOD bless our Prince and Bride! God keep their lands allied,

God save the Queen!
Clothe them with righteousness,
Crown them with happiness,
Them with all blessings bless,

God save the Queen!

Fair fall this hallow'd hour,
Farewell, our England's flower,
God save the Queen!
Farewell, first rose of May!
Let both the peoples say,
God bless thy marriage-day,
God bless the Queen!

THE WAR

Printed in the 'London Times,' May 9, 1859; reprinted in the 'Death of Enone' volume, 1892, with the title, 'Riflemen, Form.'

THERE is a sound of thunder afar,

Storm in the South that darkens the day!
Storm of battle and thunder of war!
Well if it do not roll our way.

Form! form! Riflemen, form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, Riflemen, Riflemen, form!

Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles, or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men Free?
Form! form! Riflemen, form!

Ready, be ready to meet the storm! Riflemen, Riflemen, Riflemen, form!

Let your reforms for a moment go!
Look to your butts, and take good aims!
Better a rotten borough or so

Than a rotten fleet or a city in flames!
Form! form! Riflemen, form!

Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, Riflemen, Riflemen, form!

Form, be ready to do or die!

Form in Freedom's name and the Queen's! True that we have a faithful ally,

But only the devil can tell what he means.
Form! form! Riflemen, form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, Riflemen, Riflemen, form!

THE RINGLET

Printed in the 'Enoch Arden' volume, 1864, but afterwards suppressed.

'YOUR ringlets, your ringlets,

That look so golden-gay,

If you will give me one, but one,
To kiss it night and day,

Then never chilling touch of Time

Will turn it silver-gray;

And then shall I know it is all true gold

To flame and sparkle and stream as of old.
Till all the comets in heaven are cold,

And all her stars decay.'
Then take it, love, and put it by;
This cannot change, nor yet can I.'

2

'My ringlet, my ringlet,

That art so golden-gay,

Now never chilling touch of Time
Can turn thee silver-gray;

And a lad may wink, and a girl may hint,
And a fool may say his say;

For my doubts and fears were all amiss, And I swear henceforth by this and this, That a doubt will only come for a kiss,

And a fear to be kiss'd away.'

• Then kiss it, love, and put it by: If this can change, why so can I.'

Contributed to Good Words,' March, 1868.

I STOOD on a tower in the wet,

And New Year and Old Year met,
And winds were roaring and blowing,
And I said, 'O years that meet in tears,
Have ye aught that is worth the knowing?
Science enough and exploring,
Wanderers coming and going,
Matter enough for deploring,

But aught that is worth the knowing?'
Seas at my feet were flowing,
Waves on the shingle pouring,
Old Year roaring and blowing,
And New Year blowing and roaring.

STANZA

Contributed to the 'Shakespearean ShowBook,' printed in March, 1884, for a fair got up for the Chelsea Hospital for Women.

Nor he that breaks the dams, but he
That thro' the channels of the State
Convoys the people's wish, is great;
His name is pure, his fame is free.

COMPROMISE

Addressed to Mr. Gladstone, then Prime Minister, in November, 1884, when the Fran

chise Bill was being discussed in the House of Lords; and afterwards printed in the Pall Mall Gazette.'

STEERSMAN, be not precipitate in thy act
Of steering, for the river here, my friend,
Parts in two channels, moving to one end.
This goes straight forward to the cataract,
That streams about the bend;

But tho' the cataract seem the nearer way,
Whate'er the crowd on either bank may say,
Take thou the bend, 't will save thee many a
day.

EXPERIMENT IN SAPPHIC METRE

Contributed to Professor Jebb's 'Primer of Greek Literature,' 1877.

Faded every violet, all the roses;
Gone the glorious promise, and the victim
Broken in the anger of Aphrodite
Yields to the victor.

The following 'unpublished fragment' was printed in Ros Rosarum,' an anthology edited by Hon. Mrs. Boyle, 1885:

The night with sudden odor reel'd,
The southern stars a music peal'd,
Warm beams across the meadow stole ;
For Love flew over grove and field,
Said,Open, Rosebud, open, yield
Thy fragrant soul.'

The following prefatory stanza was contributed in 1891 to Pearl,' an English poem of the 14th century, edited by Mr. Israel Gollancz :

We lost you for how long a time,
True Pearl of our poetic prime!
We found you, and you gleam reset
In Britain's lyric coronet.

[Other poems by Tennyson mentioned by Shepherd and Luce in their Bibliographies (neither of which is invariably accurate) as printed, but omitted in the collected editions, are the following: a stanza in the volume of his poems presented to the Princess Louise of Schleswig-Holstein by representatives of the nurses of England; lines on the christening of the daughter of the Duchess of Fife; and lines to the memory of J. R. Lowell. These are not referred to in the Memoir,' and I have not been able to find copies of them.]

VI. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS

Page 1. TO THE QUEEN.

The following is the stanza referring to the Crystal Palace Exhibition of 1851, which originally followed the 6th:

She brought a vast design to pass,
When Europe and the scattered ends
Of our fierce world were mixt as friends
And brethren in her halls of glass.

For an early version of the poem (from a MS. in the Library of the Drexel Institute, Philadelphia), see Jones's 'The Growth of the Idylls of the King,' p. 152. Nine of the thirteen stanzas are entirely unlike the poem as finally published.

Page 2. And statesmen at her councils met, etc. This stanza was once quoted by Mr. Gladstone in the House of Commons with remarkable effect. Lord John Manners, in an argument against political change, had quoted the poet's description of England as

A land of old and wide renown

Where Freedom slowly broadens down. The retort was none the less effective because the passage was taken from a different poem. Page 4. LEONINE ELEGIACS.

The title in 1830 was simply Elegiacs.' In line 6 wood-dove' was 'turtle,' and in 15 ' or ' was 'and.'

For the allusion in The ancient poetess singeth,' etc., compare Locksley Hall Sixty Years After': Hesper, whom the poet call'd the Bringer home of all good things.' The refer ence is to the fragment of Sappho:

Εσπερε, πάντα φέρεις· Φέρεις οἶνον, φέρεις αἶγα, Φέρεις ματέρι παῖδα.

Byron paraphrases it in 'Don Juan' (iii. 107):—
O Hesperus! thou bringest all good things-
Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer,
To the young bird the parent's brooding wings,
The welcome stall to the o'er-labor'd steer;
Whate'er of peace about our hearth-stone clings,
Whate'er our household gods protect of dear,
Are gather'd round us by thy look of rest;
Thou bring'st the child, too, to the mother's breast.

SUPPOSED CONFESSIONS, etc.

of a Second-rate Sensitive Mind not in Unity The original title was Supposed Confessions with Itself.' In the poem as restored the following lines, after line 39, were omitted:

་

A grief not uninformed, and dull,
Hearted with hope, of hope as full
As is the blood with life, or night
And a dark cloud with rich moonlight.
To stand beside a grave, and see
The red small atoms wherewith we
Are built, and smile in calm, and say-
'These little motes and grains shall be
Clothed on with immortality

More glorious than the noon of day.
All that is pass'd into the flowers,
And into beasts and other men,

And all the Norland whirlwind showers
From open vaults, and all the sea
O'erwashes with sharp salts, again
Shall fleet together all, and be
Indued with immortality.'

The only other changes are rosy fingers' for waxen fingers' in 42, and man' for men' in 169.