CHAPTER XVII. ALFRED TENNYSON (1809). "Not of the howling dervishes of song, Who craze the brain with their delirious dance, Art thou, O sweet historian of the heart! To thee our love and our allegiance, For thy allegiance to the poet's art." LONGFELLOW. ALFRED TENNYSON, one of the greatest poets of our times, was born in 1809 at Somersby, in Lincolnshire, England, of which place his father was rector. He was the third of a large family, several other members of which shared with him in some measure the genius which has won for him his undisputed rank as the first English poet of his time. While a student at Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1829, Tennyson gained the chancellor's medal by a poem in blank verse, entitled "Timbuctoo," in which there is plainly to be seen some impress of his peculiar genius. His literary career, however, may properly be said to date from 1830, in which year a volume appeared called "Poems, chiefly Lyrical." It contained many exquisite pieces, and clearly marked the advent of a true poet: yet it was not received with great favor by the public. Three years afterward another volume made its appearance; and it too, though rich in poetic thought, failed to awaken public interest, and received unkindly criticism at the hands of the reviewers. For nine years thereafter the world heard nothing of Tennyson. In 1842, however, a third effort was made to win favor by the publication of two volumes of poems. The effort was successful, the path to fame and fortune was open before him; and to the encouragement he then received we are largely indebted for the splendid poems which have since proceeded from his pen. Onward from this time the reputation of the ALFRED TENNYSON. poet slowly but surely extended itself. In 1847 appeared "The Princess, a Medley;" and in 1850, "In Memoriam," a tribute of affection to the memory of Arthur Hallam, the chosen friend of the poet in his earlier years at Cambridge. On the death of Wordsworth, in 1850, Tennyson succeeded him as poetlaureate. In 1855 appeared "Maud, and other Poems," which added nothing to the poet's fame. "The Idyls of the King," published in 1859, was everywhere received with enthusiasm. These poems at once took rank as some of the noblest in our language. In 1864 Tennyson published a volume containing “Enoch Arden," one of his most finished and successful works; "Aylmer's Field;" a short piece, "Tithonus," remarkable for its beauty and finish. "The Holy Grail," and other poems, appeared in 1870; and in 1872, "The Tournament," and "Gareth and Lynette." During the period from 1869 to 1872, the second series of the "Idyls of the King" was published. In 1875 Tennyson published a drama called "Queen Mary;" two years later, "The Lover's Tale," begun, and a fragment printed, in 1833, and a second drama entitled "Harold." "Ballads," a score of poems, appeared in 1880, since which time the poet-laureate has made occasional contributions to the leading periodicals. Tennyson's poetry is pure, tender, ennobling. No blot, no stain, mars its beauty. His verse is the most faultless in our language, both as regards the music of its flow, and the art displayed in the choice of words. As a painter, no modern poet has equalled him. His portraits and ideas of women are the most delicate in the whole range of English poetry. His language, although consisting for the most part of strong and pithy Saxon words, is yet the very perfection of all that is elegant and musical in the art of versification. The pleasure which his poetry gives springs largely from the cordial interest he displays in the life and pursuits of men, in his capacity for apprehending their higher and more beautiful aspirations, and in a certain purity and strength of spiritual feeling. Caroline Fox, in her "Memories of Old Friends," says that "Tennyson is a grand specimen of a man, with a magnificent head set on his shoulders, like the capital of a mighty pillar. His hair is long and wavy, and covers a massive head. He wears a beard and mustache, which one begrudges as hiding so much of that firm, powerful, but finely chiselled mouth. His eyes are large and gray, and open wide when a subject interests him; they are well shaded by the noble brow, with its strong lines of thought and suffering." 5 10 ULYSSES. Ir little profits that, an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard and sleep and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed For, always roaming with a hungry heart, cities of men, And manners, climates, councils, governments (Myself not least, but honored of them all), - Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. Gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life 25 Little remains; but every hour is saved A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, 36 To follow knowledge, like a sinking star, This is my son, mine own Telemachus, 35 When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. 40 There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail; There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toiled and wrought and thought with me, The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads, you and I are old. Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. 45 50 Death closes all; but something ere the end, Not unbecoming men that strove with gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep Push off, and, sitting well in order, smite 55 60 |