God the traitor's hope confound! To this great name of England drink, my friends, [round. And all her glorious empire, round and To all our statesmen so they be True leaders of the land's desire! To both our Houses, may they see Beyond the borough and the shire! We sail'd wherever ship could sail. We founded many a mighty state; Pray God our greatness may not fail Thro' craven fears of being great! Hands all round! God the traitor's hope confound! To this great cause of Freedom drink, my friends, And the great name of England, round and round. 1852. THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE1 HALF a league, half a league, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Volley'd and thunder'd ; Flash'd all their sabres bare, 1 On Dec. 2d he wrote the Charge of the Light Brigade in a few minutes, after reading the description in the Times in which occurred the phrase 'Some one had blundered,' and this was the origin of the metre of his poem." (Life I, 381.) Sabring the gunners there, Cannon to right of them, Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thro' the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred. When can their glory fade? December 9, 1854. THE BROOK I COME from haunts of coot and hern, By thirty hills I hurry down, Till last by Philip's farm I flow I chatter over stony ways, With many a curve my banks I fret And here and there a foamy flake And draw them all along, and flow I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, I murmur under moon and stars I linger by my shingly bars, And out again I curve and flow For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever. 1855. LYRICS FROM MAUD1 PART I V A VOICE by the cedar tree In the meadow under the Hall! me, A passionate ballad gallant and gay, 1 See the Life of Tennyson, I, 393-406. I kiss'd her slender hand, She took the kiss sedately; Maud is not seventeen, But she is tall and stately. I to cry out on pride Who have won her favor! O, Maud were sure of heaven If lowliness could save her! I know the way she went Home with her maiden posy, For her feet have touch'd the meadows And left the daisies rosy. Birds in the high Hall-garden Were crying and calling to her, Where is Maud, Maud, Maud? One is come to woo her. Look, a horse at the door, And little King Charley snarling! Go back, my lord, across the moor, You are not her darling. XVII Go not, happy day, From the shining fields, Go not, happy day, Till the maiden yields. Rosy is the West, Rosy is the South, Roses are her cheeks, And a rose her mouth. When the happy Yes Falters from her lips, Pass and blush the news Over glowing ships; Over blowing seas, Over seas at rest, Pass the happy news, Blush it thro' the West; Till the red man dance By his red cedar-tree, And the red man's babe Leap, beyond the sea. Blush from West to East, Blush from East to West, Till the West is East, Blush it thro' the West. Rosy is the West, Rosy is the South, Roses are her cheeks, And a rose her mouth. But even then I heard her close the door : The gates of heaven are closed, and she is gone. There is none like her, none, Nor will be when our summers have deceased. O, art thou sighing for Lebanon In the long breeze that streams to thy delicious East, Sighing for Lebanon, Dark cedar, tho' thy limbs have here increased, Upon a pastoral slope as fair, And looking to the South and fed Of her whose gentle will has changed my skies. Innumerable, pitiless, passionless eyes, Cold fires, yet with power to burn and brand His nothingness into man. But now shine on, and what care I Who in this stormy gulf have found a pearl The countercharm of space and hollow sky, And do accept my madness, and would die To save from some slight shame one simple girl?— Would die, for sullen-seeming Death may give More life to Love than is or ever was Let no one ask me how it came to pass ; Not die, but live a life of truest breath, And teach true life to fight with mortal wrongs. O, why should Love, like men in drinking songs, Spice his fair banquet with the dust of death? Make answer, Maud my bliss, Maud made my Maud by that long loving kiss, Life of my life, wilt thou not answer this? "The dusky strand of Death inwoven here With dear Love's tie, makes Love himself more dear." Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun she loves, All night have the roses heard To the dancers dancing in tune; And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers, "I wait." She is coming, my own, my sweet; PART II II SEE what a lovely shell, With delicate spire and whorl, What is it? a learned man The tiny cell is forlorn, Slight, to be crush'd with a tap Breton, not Briton: here |