The Works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate

My nature's prideful sparkle in the blood
Break into furious flame; being repulsed
By Yniol and yourself, I schemed and
wrought

Where first as sullen as a beast new-caged,
And waiting to be treated like a wolf,
Because I knew my deeds were known, I
found,

Instead of scornful pity or pure scorn,
Such fine reserve and noble reticence,
Manners so kind, yet stately, such a grace
Of tenderest courtesy, that I began
To glance behind me at my former life,

Until I overturn'd him; then set up
(With one main purpose ever at my heart)
My haughty jousts, and took a paramour;
Did her mock-honour as the fairest fair,
And, toppling over all antagonism,
So wax'd in pride, that I believed myself And find that it had been the wolf's
Unconquerable, for I was wellnigh mad:
indeed :

And, but for my main purpose in these And oft I talk'd with Dubric, the high
jousts,
saint,

I should have slain your father, seized Who, with mild heat of holy oratory, yourself. Subdued me somewhat to that gentleness, I lived in hope that sometime you would Which, when it weds with manhood, makes a man.

come

To these my lists with him whom best you And you were often there about the Queen, But saw me not, or mark'd not if you

loved;

you came,

saw;

Nor did I care or dare to speak with you,
But kept myself aloof till I was changed;
And fear not, cousin; I am changed
indeed.'

He spoke, and Enid easily believed, Like simple noble natures, credulous

But once you came,-and with your own Of what they long for, good in friend or

true eyes

foe,

There most in those who most have done

them ill.

Beheld the man you loved (I speak as one
Speaks of a service done him) overthrow
My proud self, and my purpose three And when they reach'd the camp the
years old,
King himself

And set his foot upon me, and give me Advanced to greet them, and beholding life.

her

There was I broken down; there was I Tho' pale, yet happy, ask'd her not a

Tho' thence I rode all-shamed, hating the But went apart with Edyrn, whom he held

life

He gave me, meaning to be rid of it.

And all the penance the Queen laid upon

Was but to rest awhile within her court;

In converse for a little, and return'd,
And, gravely smiling, lifted her from

horse,

And kiss'd her with all pureness, brotherlike,

And show'd an empty tent allotted her, And glancing for a minute, till he saw her Pass into it, turn'd to the Prince, and said:

Prince, when of late ye pray'd me for my leave

To move to your own land, and there

defend

Your marches, I was prick'd with some reproof,

One of our noblest, our most valorous,
Sanest and most obedient and indeed
This work of Edyrn wrought upon himself
After a life of violence, seems to me
A thousand-fold more great and wonderful
Than if some knight of mine, risking his
life,

My subject with my subjects under him, Should make an onslaught single on a realm

Of robbers, tho' he slew them one by one,

As one that let foul wrong stagnate and And were himself nigh wounded to the

be,

By having look'd too much thro' alien

eyes,

And wrought too long with delegated

hands,

death.'

So spake the King; low bow'd the

Prince, and felt

His work was neither great nor wonderful,

Not used mine own but now behold me And past to Enid's tent; and thither came

come

To cleanse this common sewer of all my

realm,

The King's own leech to look into his

hurt;

And Enid tended on him there; and there With Edyrn and with others: have ye Her constant motion round him, and the

At Edyrn? have ye seen how nobly Of her sweet tendance hovering over him,

On each of all whom Uther left in charge Of blood and custom wholly out of him, Long since, to guard the justice of the And make all clean, and plant himself

MERLIN AND VIVIEN.

Or guilty, which for bribe had wink'd at

wrong,

And in their chairs set up a stronger race A STORM was coming, but the winds With hearts and hands, and sent a thou

sand men

To till the wastes, and moving everywhere Clear'd the dark places and let in the law, And broke the bandit holds and cleansed the land.

Then, when Geraint was whole again, they past

With Arthur to Caerleon upon Usk. There the great Queen once more embraced her friend,

And clothed her in apparel like the day. And tho' Geraint could never take again That comfort from their converse which he took

Before the Queen's fair name was breathed upon,

He rested well content that all was well. Thence after tarrying for a space they rode, And fifty knights rode with them to the shores

Of Severn, and they past to their own land.

And there he kept the justice of the King!
So vigorously yet mildly, that all hearts
Applauded, and the spiteful whisper died:
And being ever foremost in the chase,
And victor at the tilt and tournament,
They call'd him the great Prince and man
of men.

But Enid, whom the ladies loved to call
Enid the Fair, a grateful people named
Enid the Good; and in their halls arose
The cry of children, Enids and Geraints
Of times to be; nor did he doubt her more,
But rested in her fealty, till he crown'd
A happy life with a fair death, and fell
Against the heathen of the Northern Sea
In battle, fighting for the blameless King.

were still,

And in the wild woods of Broceliande, Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old It look'd a tower of ruin'd masonwork, At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay.

Whence came she? One that bare in bitter grudge

The scorn of Arthur and his Table, Mark The Cornish King, had heard a wandering

voice,

A minstrel of Caerleon by strong storm
Blown into shelter at Tintagil, say
That out of naked knightlike purity
Sir Lancelot worshipt no unmarried girl
But the great Queen herself, fought in her

name,

Sware by her vows like theirs, that high in heaven

Love most, but neither marry, nor are given

In marriage, angels of our Lord's report.

He ceased, and then-for Vivien

sweetly said

(She sat beside the banquet nearest Mark), And is the fair example follow'd, Sir, In Arthur's household ?'-answer'd innocently:

'Ay, by some few-ay, truly-youths

that hold

It more beseems the perfect virgin knight
To worship woman as true wife beyond
All hopes of gaining, than as maiden girl.
They place their pride in Lancelot and
the Queen.

So passionate for an utter purity
Beyond the limit of their bond, are these,
For Arthur bound them not to singleness.

Brave hearts and clean! and yet-God If I were Arthur, I would have thy blood. guide them-young.' Thy blessing, stainless King! I bring thee back,

Then Mark was half in heart to hurl When I have ferreted out their burrow

ings,

his cup Straight at the speaker, but forbore: he The hearts of all this Order in mine hand

rose

To leave the hall, and, Vivien following Ay-so that fate and craft and folly close, Perchance, one curl of Arthur's golden beard.

him, Turn'd to her: 'Here are snakes within

the grass;

And you methinks, O Vivien, save ye fear The monkish manhood, and the mask of pure

Worn by this court, can stir them till they sting.'

To me this narrow grizzled fork of thine Is cleaner-fashion'd --Well, I loved thee first,

That warps the wit.'

Loud laugh'd the graceless Mark. But Vivien, into Camelot stealing, lodged

And Vivien answer'd, smiling scorn- Low in the city, and on a festal day When Guinevere was crossing the great

fully,

Why fear? because that foster'd at thy

court

I savour of thy-virtues ? fear them? no.
As Love, if Love be perfect, casts out fear,
So Hate, if Hate be perfect, casts out fear.
My father died in battle against the King,
My mother on his corpse in open field;
She bore me there, for born from death
was I

wind

hall

Cast herself down, knelt to the Queen, and wail'd.

'Why kneel ye there? What evil have

ye wrought?

Rise!' and the damsel bidden rise arose And stood with folded hands and downward eyes

Among the dead and sown upon the Of glancing corner, and all meekly said, 'None wrought, but suffer'd much, an orphan maid!

And then on thee! and shown the truth

betimes,

That old true filth, and bottom of the well, Where Truth is hidden. Gracious lessons thine

And maxims of the mud! "This Arthur pure!

Great Nature thro' the flesh herself hath made

My father died in battle for thy King,
My mother on his corpse-in open field,
The sad sea-sounding wastes of Lyonesse—
Poor wretch-no friend !-and now by
Mark the King

For that small charm of feature mine,
pursued-

If any such be mine-I fly to thee.

Gives him the lie! There is no being Save, save me thou-Woman of women

My cherub; saith not Holy Writ the The wreath of beauty, thine the crown of

Be thine the balm of pity, O Heaven's Courteous-amends for gauntness-takes own white her handEarth-angel, stainless bride of stainless That glance of theirs, but for the street, KingHelp, for he follows! take me to thyself! A clinging kiss-how hand lingers in

O yield me shelter for mine innocency
Among thy maidens !'

Here her slow sweet eyes Fear-tremulous, but humbly hopeful, rose Fixt on her hearer's, while the Queen who stood

All glittering like May sunshine on May leaves

had been

hand!

Let go at last!-they ride away-to hawk
For waterfowl. Royaller game is mine.
For such a supersensual sensual bond
As that gray cricket chirpt of at our
hearth-

Touch flax with flame-a glance will serve
-the liars !

Ah little rat that borest in the dyke

In green and gold, and plumed with green Thy hole by night to let the boundless deep

Well, we shall test thee farther; but this Ride, ride and dream until ye wake-to

hour

We ride a-hawking with Sir Lancelot.

He hath given us a fair falcon which he train'd;

me!

Then, narrow court and lubber King,

farewell!

For Lancelot will be gracious to the rat, We go to prove it. Bide ye here the And our wise Queen, if knowing that I

while.'

She past; and Vivien murmur'd after 'Go!

I bide the while.' Then thro' the portal

arch

know,

Will hate, loathe, fear-but honour me the more.'

Yet while they rode together down the plain,

Peering askance, and muttering broken- Their talk was all of training, terms of art,

wise,

As one that labours with an evil dream, Beheld the Queen and Lancelot get to horse.

Diet and seeling, jesses, leash and lure.
'She is too noble' he said to check at

pies,

Nor will she rake: there is no baseness in her.'

'Is that the Lancelot ? goodly-ay, but Here when the Queen demanded as by

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