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While I roved about the forest, long | There they dwelt and there they rioted;

and bitterly meditating, There I heard them in the darkness, at the mystical ceremony, Loosely robed in flying raiment, sang the terrible prophetesses.

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Fear not, isle of blowing woodland, isle of silvery parapets!

Tho' the Roman eagle shadow thee, tho' the gathering enemy narrow thee, Thou shalt wax and he shall dwindle, thou shalt be the mighty one yet! Thine the liberty, thine the glory, thine the deeds to be celebrated, Thine the myriad-rolling ocean, light and shadow illimitable, Thine the lands of lasting summer, manyblossoming Paradises, Thine the North and thine the South and

thine the battle-thunder of God.'

So they chanted: how shall Britain light upon auguries happier? So they chanted in the darkness, and there cometh a victory now.

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blood to be satiated.

Lo the palaces and the temple, lo the colony Cámulodúne ! There they ruled, and thence they wasted all the flourishing territory, Thither at their will they haled the yellow-ringleted Britoness Bloodily, bloodily fall the battle-axe,

unexhausted, inexorable. Shout Icenian, Catieuchlanian, shout Coritanian, Trinobant,

Till the victim hear within and yearn to hurry precipitously Like the leaf in a roaring whirlwind, like the smoke in a hurricane whirl'd. Lo the colony, there they rioted in the city of Cúnobelíne!

There they drank in cups of emerald, there at tables of ebony lay, Rolling on their purple couches in their tender effeminacy.

there there they dwell no more. Burst the gates, and burn the palaces, break the works of the statuary. Take the hoary Roman head and shatter it, hold it abominable,

Cut the Roman boy to pieces in his lust and voluptuousness,

Up

Lash the maiden into swooning, me they lash'd and humiliated, Chop the breasts from off the mother, dash the brains of the little one out, my Britons, on my chariot, on my chargers, trample them under us.' So the Queen Boadicéa, standing loftily Brandishing in her hand a dart and rollcharioted, Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters ing glances lioness-like, Till her people all around the royal in her fierce volubility. Madly dash'd the darts together, writhing chariot agitated,

barbarous lineäments,

Made the noise of frosty woodlands, when they shiver in January, Roar'd as when the rolling breakers boom and blanch on the precipices, Yell'd as when the winds of winter tear an oak on a promontory. So the silent colony hearing her tumul

tuous adversaries

Clash the darts and on the buckler beat with rapid unanimous hand, Thought on all her evil tyrannies, all her pitiless avarice, Till she felt the heart within her fall and flutter tremulously, Then her pulses at the clamoring of her enemy fainted away.

Out of

evil evil flourishes, out of tyranny tyranny buds. Ran the land with Roman slaughter,

multitudinous agonies. Perish'd many a maid and matron, many a valorous legionary.

Fell the colony, city, and citadel, London, Verulam, Camulodúne.

IN QUANTITY.

MILTON. Alcaics.

O MIGHTY-MOUTH'D inventor of harmo nies,

O skill'd to sing of Time or Eternity,

God-gifted organ-voice of England,

Milton, a name to resound for ages; Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel, Starr'd from Jehovah's gorgeous armories,

Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean Rings to the roar of an angel on

set

Me rather all that bowery loneliness, The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring, And bloom profuse and cedar arches

Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean, Where some refulgent sunset of India Streams o'er a rich ambrosial ocean isle, And crimson-hued the stately palmwoods

Whisper in odorous heights of even.

Hendecasyllabics.

O YOU chorus of indolent reviewers,
Irresponsible, indolent reviewers,
Look, I come to the test, a tiny poem
All composed in a metre of Catullus,
All in quantity, careful of my motion,
Like the skater on ice that hardly bears
him,

Lest I fall unawares before the people,
Waking laughter in indolent reviewers.
Should I flounder awhile without a tum-
ble

Thro' this metrification of Catullus, They should speak to me not without a welcome,

All that chorus of indolent reviewers. Hard, hard, hard is it, only not to tumble,

So fantastical is the dainty metre. Wherefore slight me not wholly, nor believe me

Too presumptuous, indolent reviewers.
O blatant Magazines, regard me rather
Since I blush to belaud myself a moment-
As some rare little rose, a piece of in-

most

Horticultural art, or half coquette-like Maiden not to be greeted unbenignly.

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ADDITIONAL POEMS.

NOTE. The Poems which follow include all those which have been omitted by the author from his latest revised editions, or never acknowledged by him. They are here printed, because, although unsanctioned by Mr. Tennyson, they have recently been collected from various sources, and printed in America.

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would not die.

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For nothing visible, they say, had birth A Poem which obtained the Chancellor's Medal at In that blest ground, but it was played

the Cambridge Commencement, MDCCCXXIX.

A. TENNYSON, of Trinity College.

By

about

With its peculiar glory. Then I raised My voice and cried, "Wide Afric, doth thy Sun

Lighten, thy hills enfold a city as fair As those which starred the night o' the elder world?

Or is the rumor of thy Timbuctoo
A dream as frail as those of ancient time?"
A curve of whitening, flashing, ebbing
light!

A rustling of white wings! the bright descent

Of a young Seraph! and he stood beside me There on the ridge, and looked into my

face

With his unutterable, shining orbs,
So that with hasty motion I did veil
My vision with both hands, and saw be-
fore me

Such colored spots as dance athwart the eyes

Of those that gaze upon the noonday Sun. Girt with a zone of flashing gold beneath His breast, and compassed round about his brow

With triple arch of everchanging bows, And circled with the glory of living light And alternation of all hues, he stood.

“O child of man, why muse you here alone

Upon the Mountain, on the dreams of old Which filled the earth with passing loveliness,

Which flung strange music on the howl

ing winds,

And odors rapt from remote Paradise? Thy sense is clogged with dull mortality: Open thine eyes and see.”

I looked, but not Upon his face, for it was wonderful With its exceeding brightness, and the light

Of the great Angel Mind which looked from out

The starry glowing of his restless eyes.
I felt my soul grow mighty, and my spirit
With supernatural excitation bound
Within me, and my mental eye grew large
With such a vast circumference of

thought,

That in my vanity I seemed to stand
Upon the outward verge and bound alone
Of full beatitude. Each failing sense,
As with a momentary flash of light,
Grew thrillingly distinct and keen. I saw
The smallest grain that dappled the dark
earth,

The indistinctest atom in deep air, The Moon's white cities, and the opal width

Of her small glowing lakes, her silver heights

Unvisited with dew of vagrant cloud,
And the unsounded, undescended depth
Of her black hollows. The clear galaxy
Shorn of its hoary lustre, wonderful,
Distinct and vivid with sharp points of
light,

Blaze within blaze, an unimagined depth
And harmony of planet-girded suns
And moon-encircled planets, wheel in
wheel,

Arched the wan sapphire. Nay- the hum of men,

Or other things talking in unknown tongues,

And notes of busy life in distant worlds Beat like a far wave on my anxious ear. A maze of piercing, trackless, thrilling

thoughts,

Involving and embracing each with each, Rapid as fire, inextricably linked, Expanding momently with every sight And sound which struck the palpitating

sense,

The issue of strong impulse, hurried through

The riven rapt brain; as when in some large lake

From pressure of descendent crags, which lapse

Disjointed, crumbling from their parent slope

At slender interval, the level calm Is ridged with restless and increasing spheres

Which break upon each other, each th' effect

Of separate impulse, but more fleet and strong

Than its precursor, till the eye in vain Amid the wild unrest of swimming shade Dappled with hollow and alternate rise Of interpenetrated are, would scan Definite round.

I know not if I shape These things with accurate similitude From visible objects, for but dimly now, Less vivid than a half-forgotten dream, The memory of that mental excellence Comes o'er me, and it may be I entwine The indecision of my present mind With its past clearness, yet it seems to me As even then the torrent of quick thought

Absorbed me from the nature of itself With its own fleetness. Where is he, that borne

Adown the sloping of an arrowy stream, Could link his shallop to the fleeting edge, And muse midway with philosophic calm Upon the wondrous laws which regulate The fierceness of the bounding element? My thoughts which long had grovelled in the slime

Of this dull world, like dusky worms which house

Beneath unshaken waters, but at once Upon some earth-awakening day of Spring Do pass from gloom to glory, and aloft Winnow the purple, bearing on both sides

Double display of star-lit wings, which burn

Fan-like and fibred with intensest bloom; Even so my thoughts erewhile so low, now felt

Unutterable buoyancy and strength To bear them upward through the trackless fields

Of undefined existence far and free. Then first within the South methought

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